The Sum of All Parts, Episode Three: Convergence By Carla Written for, Battlestar Galactica (1978) stories 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 The view of a star field seemingly retreats to a further relative distance as it is gradually framed by an ovoid view port inset in the exterior bulkhead of the main recreational area of the pleasure cruiser Rising Star, and three young men, one dark, one blonde, and one with light brown hair and dressed in varying styles and shades of casual clothing that constituted the typical civilian Colonial attire of trousers, tunics, boots and jackets come into view "Hey, Apollo!" Captain Apollo turned from where he stood between Starbuck and Bojay, near the currently empty stage in the center of the largest of the recreation areas of the pleasure cruiser Rising Star, to smile in recognition as Lieutenant Boomer approached the group. "Since you're all wearing civilian clothing, does that mean that your lovely wife will be attending the party with you tonight?" Boomer's assumed expression of innocence was belied by the twinkling of humour in his dark eyes. He was one of the few members of the Captain's squadron, indeed of any of the Galactica's warriors, that ever dared to have the temerity to even obliquely refer to the primary reason why the three warriors before him had opted not to wear their usual military garb to attend the festivities that were currently getting underway aboard the Fleet's most common center of social gatherings and large formal functions. Tonight's celebration was being held to honour the official sanction by the Council of the Twelve, the civilian governing body of the Colonial Fleet, of the plan put forth by the Fleet's Technical Support and Infrastructure Section to begin building additional ships in order to expand the residential capacity of the Fleet's population. The plans for the first of these proposed ships were to be unveiled for view by the steady stream of party goers that were arriving from the docking bays and into the Rising Star's main reception areas. Apollo adjusted his dark, Kobollian features into a wry, and slightly uncomfortable, expression as he reluctantly recalled the explosive argument that had broken out, between his wife and himself, in the corridor outside of the decontamination chambers on Alpha Landing Bay. He, Boomer and all of the other pilots who lived and worked aboard the Galactica were well aware that, to date, and to the man, when any of the launch bay technicians that had arrived that mid-daily cycle from the Main Access Junction for their shift rotation in the adjoining bay, roughly five centons after the ignition of Apollo's and Sheba's tempers, were prevailed upon to discuss the incident, they spoke of their experience with a distant tone of awe and something akin to fear. Several centons later, Colonel Tigh had stormed onto the landing bay and stonily ordered the couple to the Commander's quarters. Apollo shuddered slightly as he recalled the way that Adama had stood, arms gesticulating aggressively, verbally disciplining both Apollo and Sheba for their inappropriately public dispute. The two junior officers had each assumed a clearly arrogant attitude of attention before the white-haired warrior in the main chamber of his quarters. Over several long centons, the angry looks on the faces of the young couple had barely diminished, as the Commander's temper had begun to rival the volatility of both his son's and that of his son's wife. "Very well then, Father. If you want us to stop arguing, why don't you just give Sheba her own squadron to order around?" Apollo clearly remembered, and doubted that he would ever forget, the moment that his tongue and lips had betrayed him by releasing his thoughts in a loud and admittedly obnoxious tone, Adama had stepped forward with a look of furious outrage at his son's tone of voice, pointing an index finger upward and opening his mouth to respond to the younger man's insubordinate posture, but, before the words had taken form, Colonel Tigh's calming tone had interrupted them. "Commander," the Colonel had stepped into the center of the triangle formed by the position of the other three warriors' feet, "That's not such a bad idea." Adama had paused, reason suddenly returning to his reddened features as he had raised an eyebrow at his Executive Officer's words and crossed his arms, lifting a fist to rest under his chin and assuming a thoughtful posture. Within one daily cycle there had appeared a posting, on the roster, of a new consolidation of shift rotations into the Valkyrie Squadron, under the command of Lieutenant Sheba. Within two more daily cycles, nearly every female pilot on the battlestar had approached and petitioned Captain Apollo in his capacity as the Strike Leader and Squadron Commander, for a transfer to the 'Valkyries', as they were now commonly called. Not a single male warrior had enlisted to their ranks, and their accuracy and skill evaluations had soon registered as rivalling that of Blue, Red and Silver Spar Squadrons. In the interim between the establishment of the Valkyries and the eventual calming of the domestic dispute between the Captain and Cain's daughter, married at the time of the landing bay incident for not more than four sectons, the couple had taken to the habit of wearing civilian dress when they were in public together in an off-duty capacity. At these times, they were careful to scrupulously disregard their ranks as much as a Colonial Warrior's ever-present duty and vigilance allowed, and did not normally discuss matters of a military nature. The Captain and his wingman, usually Starbuck, still had occasion to fly patrol shift rotations with Sheba and her now regular wingman, Deitra, though these maneuvers were conducted with what both Deitra and Starbuck had been heard to describe as 'icily cold and painfully correct military protocol'. No warrior on the Galactica, with the exception of Lieutenants Athena and Starbuck, had ever dared to question Apollo and Sheba as to what had provoked the initial argument, or what dire threat of punishment the Commander had directed at the couple in warning them against a repetition of their combative breach of military decorum. Neither Apollo's sister, nor his wingman, when asked to describe the responses they had received from the Captain and his wife, would consent to share any information at all. "As a matter of fact, Boomer," Apollo responded, with resigned acceptance, to Boomer's characteristically dry and sometimes caustic tone, "Sheba, Athena, and Cassiopeia should be arriving at any micron. Would you care to stay and remark on their wardrobes as well?" "I'm sure they all look lovely, Skipper," Boomer smiled easily at his three friends, "but I think I'll meander over to the main viewing area and get a look at the specs on our first new ship before the crowd gets any thicker. I hear it's going to have a residential capacity of several dozen." "Thinking of putting your name in for a billet?" Starbuck interjected as he slowly twirled a match stick between a thumb and an index finger, "The residential plan is rumoured to include all the amenities. A far cry from the barracks," the blonde Lieutenant flashed a toothy grin at his fellow Blue Squadron member. "Well, I don't think I could bear to be away from you that long, my friend. What sort of trouble would you get yourself into without me?" "Wilker was saying that the ship is going to take a while to assemble, so I wouldn't pack any bags yet." the Captain scanned the large chamber with his bright green eyes, "It looks like it's going to be quite a party. I'm sure we'll catch up with you later, Boomer, once the girls get here." Boomer nodded and took his leave of the other three off-duty warriors. None of the four felt any sense of the quiet observer in the long, hooded cloak who carefully watched them from across the large chamber, through a decorative grill that discreetly covered the stark opening of the recreation area's main entrance. *** Chapter One Scene Two Baltar stood in the long and curving corridor of plain metal bulkheads and a seemingly endless series of unmarked and uniform hatchways and studied his left hand carefully, flexing each skeletal finger in turn and then turning the hand to study its other side. There was something that he was supposed to be doing right now, but his mind had been trapped in a strange fog. Magnets, that was it. There were magnets somewhere that needed to be covered up. It seemed to Baltar that he had been going to cover them with his hands, but the voice had told him to run to the aft launch bay and come to the other ship. He didn't dare disobey the voice. He couldn't quite remember why, but he knew that he was afraid of the voice, and that the voice was getting a new body soon. Baltar, my old friend. Baltar whirled around, pulling the voluminous sleeve of his tattered cloak down over the hand that had occupied his attention for what had seemed like centaurs. Do not despair, Baltar. All is well. Soon, the conquest of our enemies shall be at hand. You shall have your revenge over your isolation and abandonment, and I shall have dominion over those who have wronged me and taken what was rightfully mine. One of their number shall be taken. It matters not to me which one. Proceed to the bridge and enter the navigational co-ordinates that I will provide. Baltar didn't bother speaking. He never quite knew what to say, and any time he had asked questions, they had remained unanswered. The voice told him to do things, and he did them. Sometimes it seemed to him that his hands worked independently of his mind, as if they were not his hands, but someone else's. Soon, the voice would have hands. Maybe then, it could input co-ordinates and prepare the various chambers for company. The voice said that, soon, Baltar would have company. Company was coming and he had to prepare. The guest chamber was to be prepared with a large locking mechanism on its hatch. The voice didn't want guests wandering into dangerous areas of the ship and getting lost. The lock would keep them safe. As these disjointed thoughts ran sporadically through his mind, Baltar ran steadily along the corridor, his long cloak moving like a torn sail behind him, stopping only when he had arrived at the hatchway that led to the main bridge of the large vessel. Baltar liked this ship. It was clean and quiet, and the mattress that he slept on in the small chamber off of the main bridge was much softer than the one he had left on the basestar. Magnets. He had been going to cover the magnets. He stared at the back of his hand as it keyed in the 'open hatch' sequence on the door panel, and then looked up and into the now open hatchway to the bridge. He rushed inside and over to the navigational array to the left of the central command consoles and the upholstered chair that sat empty before them. Watching distractedly, he saw his hands reach for the controls under the main navigational display and begin keying in a series of numbers and symbols. When they had apparently finished their task, Baltar lifted them and stared at them blankly. Baltar. Baltar reflexively covered his hands with his sleeves and turned quickly, scanning the perimeter of the command chamber with his dark, bloodshot eyes. Baltar you are tired. Rest now. I shall awaken you when it is time. As always, Baltar obeyed the voice, and, with a last look at the main forward view screen and the unfamiliar star field that it currently displayed, he ran lightly over to the hatchway adjacent to the weapon control station behind the command chair and, opening the hatch, quickly entered the small chamber that contained his soft mattress. Drawing his cloak around him like a blanket, he curled up on the mattress and, within centons, was snoring softly, the thin fingers of his wayward hands twitching slowly in apparently random movements. *** Chapter One Scene Three "Pardon, my interruption, Miss," a young recreation officer, with the insignia of the Rising Star on his shoulder, proffered a small slip of neatly folded paper, with an elegantly subdued flourish, to one of three young ladies gathered together in the arrival area of the aft shuttle docking bay of the pleasure cruiser. The blonde woman in the brightly coloured and seductively revealing dress turned as the man in the dark grey service provider's uniform touched her elbow politely with an unobtrusive index finger, "I was asked by a Siress at the main viewing area to deliver this message to Medical Technician Cassiopeia. I am told that is you, Miss." "Oh, why thank you," the young woman accepted the paper and nodded as the recreation officer bowed discreetly and departed. Her companions, a dark-haired woman dressed in pale pink, and the other, with light brown hair complemented by an iridescent blue skirt and long-sleeved tunic, watched in curiosity as their friend unfolded the note and peered at several small handwritten lines of script. Their expressions became more serious, even concerned as the blonde woman inhaled sharply and frowned in surprise. "Cassiopeia," Lieutenant Sheba knitted her own brows as she searched her friend's face with her warm brown eyes, "What is it? Is it bad news?" "I have been bound to a secret," Cassiopeia said simply as she folded the paper in half, and then in half again, tucking it deliberately under the wrist band of her dress's billowing red sleeve. She turned and took two steps toward a nearby view port, "and the longer I keep it, the more wrong it becomes for me to do so," the slender blonde woman turned and gave first Sheba, and then Athena, a wry smile, wordlessly, and a little sadly, but clearly conveying that the secret was one that could not yet be divulged. She sighed and, with some effort, assumed a more cheerful expression, "but Sheba wouldn't know anything about secrets, now, would she?" the med-tech and the bridge officer laughed delightedly as they watched the reddening wave of colour sweep up the Valkyrie Squadron Leader's neck and face. "I'm sure Sheba doesn't know what you mean," Athena mirrored Cassiopeia's earlier wry expression, "but I do know that secrets can eat away at you. Why don't you try to find release from whatever promise you made and free yourself from your conflict?' "That sounds like something your Father would say," Sheba laughed in spite of her flushed face, "are you aspiring to a position on the Galactica as an honoured warrior-priestess?" the brown haired woman spoke in a teasing tone to her sister by marriage, linking arms with both her and Cassiopeia and pulling them gently into a walk along the wide corridor, toward the aft entrance to the main recreation area of the pleasure cruiser Rising Star. "Whatever inner conflicts any of us have to contend with will likely still be in evidence after we've been to the viewing of the plans for the first new ship." Sheba glanced first to her left at Athena, and then to her right at Cassiopeia, "Apollo and I have both got a whole shift rotation furlon together, with no important commitments to keep, and Boxey staying over with Corporal Lena and her niece. I want to spend this first evening cycle going to a party!" "And the second?" Cassiopeia giggled and flashed a white smile at the other two women. "And the third?" Athena chuckled softly with a smile of assumed innocence. "That's none of your affair," Sheba said with mock indignation, then shrugged and smiled happily, pulling at her friends' arms again, laughingly running with them, the three of them followed by the colourful folds of their long skirts, looking like flowers against the stark bulkheads of the exterior wall of the corridor. They were oblivious to the young man who stood watching them glide gracefully together out of sight around the curvature of the path formed by the corridor. He brushed a speck of lint from the insignia on the shoulder of his dark grey uniform, and straightened the small metal plate that bore a single word, a name, etched into its surface, John. *** Chapter One Scene Four Boomer stood, hands resting with thumbs hooked over his gun belt. He was on active duty patrol in four centaurs and had not felt the need to alter his dress for such a short period of attendance at the viewing ceremony. He would have time only for some of the formalities and the dedication that would reveal the proposed name of the Fleet's first newly constructed ship. The dark warrior stood looking thoughtfully at the technical specifications display under the small tent-like kiosk near the large artist's rendering behind the long ovoid platform where several members of the Council of the Twelve were already being seated, in chairs that had been arranged in two vertically staggered rows in anticipation of the politicians' arrival, and the arrival of other dignitaries and persons of note that had been involved in the evolution of the ship construction project. "It will require a lot of resources and specialized labour to build a ship of that complexity without a stationary space dock," Boomer turned his attention to the familiar sound of Doctor Wilker's voice. The young warrior nodded at the Chief Science Officer as the slightly built older man in the light coloured uniform tunic moved to stand beside the younger, more muscular, warrior. "It looks like your proposals regarding practical construction protocols were taken seriously," Boomer gestured toward the data displayed in the kiosk before them. then scanned the quickly filling chamber with his dark brown eyes, "and I don't see anyone protesting the prospect of more living area for the Fleet's population. It's not easy for those that share cramped quarters on some of the older cargo vessels." "If all goes according to plan," Wilker crossed his arms and looked dejectedly toward the only remaining empty chair behind those now occupied by all of the members of the Council of the Twelve, save Commander Adama, who had managed to beg off from taking part in the pageantry of the predominantly civilian event by pleading administrative military obligations that required his personal attention. Adama. That clever old strategist could have let me off the hook, as well, Wilker returned his attention to the young man beside him, "If all goes according to plan," he began again, "construction of the new ship should be completed within a yahren." "Looks like they're ready for you on the platform, Doctor," Boomer glanced over at the Inter-Fleet Broadcasting crew that were setting up discreetly in front of a small alcove at the end of the platform opposite the kiosk, and Sire Domra, standing in front of his own chair in the center of the group of Councillors, waving a beckoning gesture in the direction of the two men framed by the blue fabric of the opening of the display kiosk, "I don't think that Sire Domra is gesturing for me to fill that empty chair," the younger man gave the morose scientist a look of sympathy, knowing how little Wilker enjoyed participating in such functions. He was also well aware that the Doctor's primary reason for being here, and subjecting himself to public scrutiny, was to ensure that the agreed upon protocols regarding the new ship's design and construction would be instituted just as the Council had promised the intractable science officer during what had been some heated and near hostile negotiations between the Technical Section and the Civilian Government. "I suppose I'd better get it over with," the Doctor sighed dejectedly and began to step toward the vigorously gesticulating Domra, then paused and turned back to face Boomer once more, "Oh, and Lieutenant, if you have a chance before your next duty period," Wilker eyed the battle dress and sidearm that Boomer was wearing, "stop in on Calvin. Paye's been allowing him to study the specs on the new ship. It seems to center him enough to get him to cooperate during the radiation neutralizing treatments. His memory engrams appear to be responding. Paye says Calvin remembered you visiting him and discussing the effects of the magnetic ore that have incapacitated him. You may be able to help stimulate his recollection of the trauma that initially caused him to steal the ore from the lab to build that portable scanner shield. Paye and Salik both believe that a breakthrough like that might help to diminish the severity of his psychotic episodes." "Sure, Doc," Boomer nodded firmly, "I'll head over to the trauma care section after the dedication," the young warrior looked down at the display on his wrist chronometer, "If I duck out before the Council's collective speech making capacity reaches a terminal point of warm air generation, that should, hopefully, give me about two centaurs before I have to meet my wingman in the launch bay. According to the roster, it's a training patrol. I'm being teamed up with a cadet who needs one more mission evaluation by a ranking pilot before being assigned to a shift rotation with the Valkyries. I'll try my best to get Calvin to talk to me for a centaur, if he's feeling lucid today, and then head to the launch bay from there." Wilker mirrored Boomer's next nod with an air of gratitude for the pilot's offer to visit Wilker's former lab-tech, Calvin. The effects of the formerly sedate lab technician's exposure to the dangerously toxic electromagnetic radiation from one of the ore samples, collected by the Galactica's survey team before the destruction of the mysteriously Cylon-infested, artificially constructed planet that the Fleet had encountered almost half a yahren ago, had left Calvin with a tenuous grasp on reality. The fact that he had clearly recalled the details of a previous visit from Boomer, was an indication to the medical specialists that their patient's mind might be emerging from behind the fog of the radiation poisoning. Doctor Wilker then assumed a grim expression and turned back toward the chair and the public relations duties that awaited him on the platform. Boomer moved away from the kiosk, around the perimeter of the end of the platform, to stand in the front row of the observation area with the ever expanding crowd of people that had almost filled the main viewing area to capacity. *** Chapter One Scene Five "Cassiopeia!" Starbuck lifted his hand and called out in the direction of Cassiopeia's blonde hair. It's distinctive curls stood out amongst a majority of darker shades that graced the heads of other partygoers in the crowd that was expanding in numbers around him while he, Apollo and Bojay made their way, together, to the main observation gallery at the forward of the ship. The three young men, standing together in a loose, but roughly triangular formation beside the nearest access corridor that led directly to the main viewing area were dressed in civilian garb, but had not discarded the straight stance and wary postures that were distinctive among the ranks of the Warriors of the Colonial Fleet. Apollo's white teeth brightened his dark features with a smile as he saw his wife, with his sister and his friend Cassiopeia held such that her arms interlinked in theirs, approach him with her own, rarely seen, carefree posture. The watery blue tunic and skirt that Sheba wore glittered slightly under the soft lighting elements inset into the low ceiling of the short, but wide, corridor that would allow them a direct entrance to the viewing area. She smoothly disentangled herself from the crook'd arms of the other two women, and stepped forward to place her hand in his. They held each others' gaze for a micron, then turned their united attention toward the other four people in their group. "Let's get in there before the crowd stands still in this corridor," Bojay touched the small of Athena's back with the flatness of his left palm, and ushered the dark young woman gracefully, as one would lead a dance, through the congesting crowd with a beckoning wave to the others. "Come on, Apollo," Starbuck smiled merrily at his Captain, friend and wingman, turned to kiss Cassiopeia soundly on the lips, then returned his attention to the dark haired man beside him, "Bojay's right, the great and near great belong in the viewing area, not in the corridor," giggling mischievously, Starbuck and Cassiopeia followed in Bojay and Athena's wake. "You look very lovely this evening cycle, Sheba," Apollo said in a playful attitude of formality, lifting his wife's hand and kissing her fingers gently, "And you look very happy," he looked into her brown eyes, "It's nice to have a couple of daily cycles to ourselves," he exhaled a deep breath in an uncharacteristically relaxed manner and grinned cheerfully, "I've been looking forward to us spending some off-duty time together before evening meal with the family, day after tomorrow," He cocked his head in a slightly dramatic attitude, "then it's back to primary shift rotations, and staggered duty periods in the barracks, to relieve some of the single personnel waiting for their furlons." "I am only interested in the next two daily cycles, Apollo," she cocked her head and eyed him speculatively, "I've discovered that I am enjoying Adama's edict that we go out together, in all but periods of alert status or battle readiness, only in civilian clothing," Sheba gently pulled her hand from his to grasp his elbow instead, and leaned close to him, brushing her lips against his earlobe, "I've noticed that you can be a lot of fun when you don't have your rank insignia on your collar." "Careful," he turned and whispered amusedly into her nearest ear, "disobeying Adama's edict about discussing issues of rank in an off-duty setting could have us assigned to training the cadets in the flight simulator section until Boxey has elevated from the highest level of learning period." he kissed her neck lightly, "My father and Colonel Tigh have informers everywhere, you know." he smiled as he pulled her forward, her arm securely linked to his, through the crowd that was still pouring into the access corridor, following the direction that their four companions had taken. Behind the departing couple, a slender female figure that had stood quite still and quiet with her back to the Captain, leaning against the nearest wall of the corridor, unnoticed by either Sheba or Apollo, lowered the large, desert-style hood of her cloak. The youthful features of her face were strikingly symmetrical, with prominent cheekbones surrounded by an unruly mane of black hair. The cloak fell open at the collar, revealing the uniform tunic and flight jacket of a Colonial Warrior. There were no rank insignia in evidence on her collar, suggesting that she was not an officer, but an enlisted warrior, or a cadet. She smiled thoughtfully, her dark face releasing enough of its serious expression to allow a hint of amusement to escape from within the depths of her intensely green eyes as she watched the couple disappear from her line of sight to make their way through the constantly shifting crowd and into the main viewing area. *** Chapter One Scene Six "...and now, it is my great privilege, and pleasure, to represent the Council of the Twelve, the Technical Support and Infrastructure Section and the Science Section, in dedicating the launch of the first stage of construction of the first Colonial Fleet Residential Cruiser, to be named the Auricon," Domra nodded his grey head, signaling to the young recreation officer who stood ready to remove, with a flourish, the silky red cloth that had been covering the large metal plate with the designation of the new ship etched in simple block letters on it's reflective surface. The plate was to be ultimately mounted on a bulkhead near the navigation control of the yet-to-be constructed ship, the 'Auricon'. The young woman in the long concealing desert-style cloak that covered her pilot's uniform stayed near the back of the crowd, not far from the access corridor into the forward observation gallery. She leaned her athletic body against the corner formed as the edge of the corridor wall became the entryway. She looked down at the display on her wrist chronometer, took in a deep breath through her nostrils and breathed it out slowly between her lips. "Deep cleansing breath?" the young man in the recreation officer's uniform, hands clasped correctly behind his back, red cloth draped neatly over his arm, moved in closely to speak to the woman in a quiet whisper, "Did your father teach you to do that?" the young man had a truly amused smile and a perceivable twinkle in his eye. "As a matter of fact, yes, he did," the young woman's green eyes returned a measure of the twinkle in the eyes of the man in the grey uniform, then she glanced once more at her chronometer and sighed, "I would have liked to speak with them," she smiled wryly at her companion, "but don't worry, I won't be tempted again. I have to meet Boomer at the launch bay." "Yes, indeed," the recreation officer turned with the warrior in the cloak and walked with her through the corridor and into the main observation gallery, "You can get to the next shuttle departing from the Rising Star to the Galactica by simply walking this way," he reached over to take her arm...after a slight feeling of compression from the air surrounding her, the young woman's next awareness was of the two of them standing two decks down, in the small reception area adjacent to the port passenger shuttle boarding access. "Thanks for the lift, John," the pilot lowered her hood and peered at his face, "are you sure no-one recognized you?" "There are only two here who have seen me, and I presented them, at the time, with a much older version," he crossed his arms complacently across his chest, "and during the course of the dedication ceremony, they have each, in turn, stood as close to me as you are standing now, and did not recognize me," his expression became paternal, "See that no-one recognizes you." "How could they? They've not met me, yet," the young warrior resisted the strong emotions that welled up in her chest, then took another of those deep, cleansing breaths, and calmed herself, "Will you be here when Lieutenant Boomer and I get back from our patrol?" "We shall see how events unfold," he responded enigmatically, "Yours is not my only assignment, my dear," he allowed her a tone akin to affection, "There is another matter that requires my attention." "Very well, then," the young woman pulled her voluminous hood once again over her black hair and started for the access to the Galactica bound shuttle. "Artemis," the woman turned at the sound of the young man's voice, "do be careful, won't you? We can't have anything happening to you, or to Lieutenant Boomer." The woman smiled briefly into her companion's eyes, her dark face remaining in the shadows of her cloak, and then silently made her way through the boarding access to the shuttle. The young recreation officer took a deep, cleansing breath, and looked up dramatically at the ceiling of the small reception chamber, arms still crossed, "I know, I know," he uncrossed his arms and wagged a slightly rebuking finger at the ceiling panel, "but we all know very well that I can only work with what I am given. Artemis was the only logical choice. Her impulsive nature is irrelevant. Events are unfolding, as they will, and I must get back to my other assignment, as Artemis must get started on hers." The young man spread his arms with a slight shrug of his shoulders and, with a barely audible sound of rushing air, was gone, disappearing as though into the air, and leaving the reception area empty. *** Chapter One Scene Seven "So, Calvin," Boomer sat down in a chair near the work top where Calvin sat poring over a display of the latest specifications of the yet-to-be-built residential cruiser, Auricon, "Doctor Wilker tells me that you've been feeling a little better," the warrior pulled his chair closer to the work top so that he sat opposite the former lab-tech, "I have to leave on a patrol soon, so I can't stay long. I just wanted to ask you some more about the magnetic ore." Doctor Paye had, on Boomer's arrival at the medical complex, advised him to be direct with Calvin, in hopes of stimulating regeneration of the fragmented memory engrams in the patient's brain and thus reversing the toxic and perception distorting effects of the radiation. "The astral map wasn't the most important thing in the star chamber," Calvin paused in his study of the data display inset into the wall against which one width of the rectangular work top was built and focused his dark blue eyes on Boomer's face. He spoke in an expressionless tone, "it was the ore. It was constructed with an organically modeled matrix and programmed to crystallize. The planet was grown" "Calvin?" Boomer, encouraged by this string of apparently lucid speech, leaned forward and stared deeply into Calvin's eyes, "do you know why you're here, in the care section?" "Lots of nice people here," the dark blue eyes clouded over with a vague expression of vacancy, "they let me read the specs. I like to build things." "Calvin," Boomer tried another tack, "Do you recall building the portable scanner shield? Do you remember just before you took the ore out of the shielded storage section?" the young warrior leaned back into his chair, seeing that his questions were met with a blank stare. "The ore is a conduit for communication," Calvin's eyes focused once more and he reached out to grasp Boomer's forearm, where it sat on the work top between the two men, "It was a medium for him to attempt to destroy the Thirteenth Tribe, but the warrior-priests saw through his lies and stopped their work on the planet. They planted a jungle to grow over the entryways to the power generation devices below and programmed the emitters to give a false scanning signal," Calvin shot a worried look at the door, and gestured for Boomer to lean closer to him once again. When Boomer had come closer, Calvin leaned toward the Lieutenant's ear and whispered, "When Iblis moved through the artificially programmed matrix, it absorbed the electronically interpreted structure into its own basic construct, "Iblis didn't see me, but I saw him. He was going to strike Jain down and I pushed her, but she broke through the rail." Boomer lifted his eyebrows in wonder. This was clearly a breakthrough. Calvin was remembering the first of at least two serious acts of violence that he was believed to have committed, the injury inflicted on Agro-Tech Jain. Boomer knew full well that Starbuck was convinced that Jain had been influenced, at the time, by the insidious Count Iblis, the mysterious manipulator that Apollo and Sheba had, after their bizarre disappearance and reappearance just before the destruction of the concealed basestar that had terrorized the fleet for sectons, staunchly referred to as an incarnation of Mephistopheles. The strange and enigmatic alien had been with the Fleet for a time, so long ago, it seemed to Boomer, and had, if Starbuck was correct, influenced the agro-tech's mind and caused her to become obsessed with Apollo and Sheba. Boomer distantly recalled a time when he, himself, had been the target of the Count's mesmerizing power, then shook his head determinedly and returned his focus to the thin, dishevelled man who sat before him, across the work top. Calvin had suffered from the influence of the electromagnetic ore that has comprised the source of the power for the portable scanner shield that he had made from parts scavenged from Wilker's science lab. He had experienced a sudden psychotic break, at some point, theorized by Paye to be during a time when he, Calvin, had been involved in Lieutenant Starbuck's enormous wagering pool, an entity that had come to involve high stakes and wide-spread wagers on various aspects of Apollo and Sheba and their relationship to one another. Calvin's mind had retreated, somehow, into a delusion that he was an ancient warrior sent to save the couple from some un-named evil. Un-named, that is, until now. Boomer felt a cold chill of realization over the impact of what Calvin was providing with his disjointed speech, independent confirmation of the determined claims made by Starbuck, Apollo and Sheba, that Count Iblis, an evil being intent on the destruction of humanity, had returned to the Galactica in some disembodied form and influenced the minds of certain people in order to exact his revenge on those who had prevented him from fulfilling his agenda to control and then ultimately destroy the Colonial Fleet. "Ask the angel behind you, if you don't believe me," Calvin's eyes clouded with confusion once more, as he peered carefully over Boomer's shoulder, "he's brought a Valkyrie to help you prevent the disruption. You must rescue Baltar, help him the same way you're helping me, and get him back to the Galactica. Without him, the Valkyrie won't exist. Cain can give you the potion, but you have to destroy the Oberon," Calvin's unfocused eyes returned to the display monitor on the wall, "the specs for the new ship, we have to cover up the magnets." "Well, Calvin," Boomer rose from his chair, knowing from the experience of his previous visits, that Calvin had become unaware of the Lieutenant's presence, but speaking to him hopefully, all the same, "I have to be going now. I'll come and see you when I get back." Boomer turned to leave the term care section, pausing only to quickly brief Doctor Paye on the substance of his conversation with Calvin, and suggest that a report of it be submitted to the Commander, with Boomer's notice of intention to report to Adama upon the Lieutenant's return from patrol duty. He grasped wrists with the Doctor, then headed into the corridor and toward the lift access that would take him up to the Access Junction, from where he could take the short walk to the launch bay, and the wingman that waited for him. Calvin turned his bleary eyes and watched Boomer's back disappear through the hatchway, then lifted his face to squint at the man in white who stood before him. The man smiled and touched Calvin's shoulder, sending a feeling of warmth and well-being through the troubled man's senses, and then, as Calvin had seen him do on other occasions, he disappeared with a small sound of rushing air. *** Chapter One Scene Eight Cassiopeia scanned the recreation area with her pale blue eyes. unconsciously touching the note that still lay securely tucked in the band at the end of her flowing red sleeve. "Hey, Cassie," Starbuck moved from behind her and slid his arms around her waist, bending to kiss her bare shoulder, "you don't look like you're having a very good time. You've been scanning the crowds. Who are you looking for?" he gazed at the line of her jaw for a micron, then loosened his grasp on her and stepped to face her directly, taking her hands in his, "If there's something you need some help with..." "Oh, Starbuck," Cassiopeia sighed, and smiled at him sweetly, though sadly, then threw her arms impulsively around his neck, whispering in his ear, "If I were to conceal something, keep a secret from you, that could upset you? Would you be able to forgive me, even if it made you very angry, hurt you badly?" "Cass," Starbuck stepped back, without releasing her hands and looked at her with a frown of concern, "Does this have to do with, well, with Commander Cain?" Starbuck searched her face with his eyes, "It seems as though you've been preoccupied on and off ever since Sheba came home with that flinton," he pulled her hands together and held them to his chest, "It's alright to admit that you still have feelings for him, you know. We, neither of us Cassie, have any entitlement to point fingers at each others complicated personal lives." "Starbuck, it's not like that. Yes, I will always love him, but, no, I wouldn't leave you for him if he were to return. It's you that I'm in love with, that I want to be with, any way that can work between us," Cassiopeia looked deeply into Starbuck's eyes, "It was more the way Sheba gained renewed hope of seeing her father, how important it is to her, I just couldn't stop thinking of you and..." "Hey, Starbuck," Bojay appeared from behind Cassiopeia and threw an arm around each of the two blue-eyed blondes before him, assuming an expression of mock severity, "You two look serious, and that's not allowed. Captain's orders," Bojay removed his left arm from Cassiopeia's pale shoulder, and pointed toward the table at which Apollo, Sheba, and Athena sat, laughing as they watched the comic acrobatic performance being played out on the central platform. The two tiered row of chairs that had graced the platform during the dedication ceremony had been removed to make way for the various forms of entertainment that had been scheduled to appear throughout the course of the evening cycle's festivities, "Have your serious conversations tomorrow. Tonight we all have a good time," Bojay squeezed Starbuck's neck in a mock suggestion of a submission hold and smiled brightly at the two, gesturing for them to follow as he made his way toward the table. "Starbuck, I..." Cassiopeia opened her mouth, a sad look crossing her face. "Cassiopeia," Starbuck let go of her hands and placed his palms gently on either side of her delicately featured face, "Whatever it may be that's troubling your conscience, even if it's a secret that I'd be angry about, would never change the fact that I love you," the Lieutenant was relieved to see the light brightening once more in Cassiopeia's eyes, "Does that help?" "Yes. Yes it does," Cassiopeia smiled at him gratefully, "I hope that it's true in practice as well as theory." "Cass, whatever it is, we'll deal with it together, I promise," Starbuck lowered his arms and reached for one of her small hands, squeezing it gently with his own, "but, for now, we're out, in civilian clothes no less, in order to blend in with Apollo and Sheba," Starbuck could not avoid laughing at the reminder of Adama's edict that the Captain and his wife must appear only in civilian clothing, if they were to be in a public together during off-duty periods. Apollo had suffered the mirth of his wingman, as he had that of Boomer, for several sectons, now, and every Blue Squadron Pilot had made a habit of storing a spare flight suit and sidearm, along with the usual regulation back-up gear, in the utility cabinets adjacent to each of the launch bays, in the event of a full alert that might catch them unprepared for battle readiness, should they be socializing with the Skipper. Giles had put it succinctly, 'I just don't feel comfortable in my uniform around the Skipper when he looks so civilian.' Starbuck smiled at the thought, but it was true that Apollo was a different person without his uniform on, calmer, less volatile, definitely less authoritative, and much less argumentative with his new wife, "so let's set it aside for this evening cycle." "You're right, Starbuck," Cassiopeia struggled to put a more carefree look on her face, "it will wait for another day," she pulled at the hand that grasped her own and started leading him in the direction of the table that currently accommodated their four companions, "for tonight, we'll let it go. After that, remember your promise, because you might not be happy with me." "I couldn't imagine staying mad at you for long, my fairy princess," Starbuck flashed a toothy smile and lifted her fingers to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly, "now, shall we go and join the others for a while? Looks to me like you could use some fun." The two blondes smiled at one another for a several microns, looking deeply into one another's eyes, Cassiopeia feeling a little more hope that things would be alright, and Starbuck feeling concern, but also certainty that, for the usually ebullient Cassiopeia, whatever her secret was, it needed to be told in order for her to have peace of mind. He silently promised himself that, no matter what it was or how it affected him, he would not be the cause of that light disappearing from her eyes. *** Chapter One Scene Nine "Here, better drink your daily allotment of anti-toxin before we head up to make those repairs, Colonel Tolen." The young man looked up at the sound of his name. Even though it had been many sectons since the ranking bridge officer of the Battlestar Pegasus had received a field promotion to the rank of Colonel, the title still seemed unfamiliar, like a new jacket, more comfortable after it has been worn for a time. Tolen nodded as he took the plaston tumbler full of dull grey liquid from Sergeant Roman, the field medic that had been appointed as the battlestar's Chief Medical Officer, and downed it as one quick swallow. Tolen, indeed every member of the small crew, would continue to ingest their allotted quantity of anti-toxin, every daily cycle, until the supply ran out. After that, if they did not power down the magnetic shield that surrounded the ship, dementia would begin to set in. One member of the crew had come close to the brink of death in the early stages of the scanner shield installation, some sectons ago, before the cause of the radiation poisoning had been determined. The anti-toxin had been developed at break-neck speed, and since been distributed to every crew member at regular intervals and in carefully monitored allotments. It was the best thing, the only thing, available to help the sleep-deprived crew to stave off the perception altering effects of the radiation poisoning. Tolen smiled pleasantly at the Sergeant. Rank notwithstanding, with the small number of men that worked, in precisely co-ordinated shift rotations, to keep the Battlestar Pegasus operating under its current state of concealment, Tolen did not discourage familiarity among the crew. They were all tired and underweight, and weakened by the effects of the electromagnetic radiation that moved through their bodies when the scanner shield was operational. Tolen knew well that morale was a priority. As fervent as the skeleton crew of volunteers were in their intentions to follow their Commander anywhere he might choose to lead them, they still needed to retain some measure of hope that they would soon reunite with the Colonial Fleet. The electromagnetic scanner shield was generated by a mechanism that drew its power directly from the ship's main, and currently only, operational, generator. This energy was then filtered through a shielded storage chamber that contained at least twenty-five mega-kilons of the artificially seeded crystalline ore that the Pegasus crew had madly rushed to mine before the return of several entire platoons and ground force units of Cylon centurions to the planet that had been constructed, as Tolen had gleaned from holo-images he had hurriedly snapped of the writings in- and out- side the ancient temple that had contained the star chamber, put there by an anomalous branch of the Thirteenth Tribe, possibly an off-shoot, or sect of the Tenth Lord's last platoon of Warrior-Priests, who purportedly upheld the rule of law, kept the peace and supported the duly elected civil authority in conjunction with the variance of religious and military systems that each of their sects adhered to. These were a group of people that had been considered by many Colonial scholars and investigators of history, both civilian and military, to be the originators of the military clans that had run a ribbon of family lines and traditions through generations of Warriors and Public Servants that had once reinforced the fabric of the largely egalitarian Colonial society, before the Destruction. Now, the only two lines that remained were the two courses displayed on the vertical screen of transparent tylium in the lower gallery aft of the command platform of the Colonial Battlestar Pegasus. One was designated as representing the projected heading through space of the Battlestar Galactica. The other was an understated representation of the high speed marathon, through Cylon held territory, of the Battlestar Pegasus, crippled by its dependency on the toxic and structurally unpredictable ore, but unable to turn off the shield without risking detection by the basestar that the Pegasus crew knew well was still within scanner range of the battlestar's current position. Tolen and his shipmates also knew that the only chance that they had for survival, even before their revered Commander had ordered it begun, was the race out of the Cylons' scanner range, so as to intersect with the Galactica and her Fleet in time to have the Galactica's doctors synthesize a replenishment of the anti-toxin treatment that the Pegasus crew had formulated using the data banks in the near deserted medical complex of the now sparsely populated ship. It was their only chance, and it made their course of action clear. 'Get to the Galactica, or die trying.' These had been Cain's own words. "Thanks, Roman," Tolen returned the empty glass to the medic and keyed a series of commands on the console before him. "Commander, by your leave, Sir," the young Colonel tapped a signal key that would initiate a chiming sound over the audio system in the Commander's quarters. "Yes, Tolen," the gravelly voice of the hardened, battle-weary, but ever dedicated, Cain was unmistakeable to Tolen, his staunch right hand. "Sir, I'm heading up to the forward storage section with Roman. There's a small crack in the secondary bulkhead. We'll be up there welding an airtight girdle of decking plates around the stress points. It should take about 2 centaurs, Commander." "Very well then, Tolen, I'm on my way to relieve you now." "Very good, Sir. Tolen out." Tolen and Roman picked up the portable tech-kits that had become a standard piece of equipment for them, and for every other member of the crew. Maintenance shifts were carried out relentlessly, by all of them, including the Commander, in steady rotation. If they were to meet with the Galactica, they must keep the stress fractured Pegasus from breaking into pieces before then. *** Chapter One Scene Ten "So, Bojay," Sheba said, with an amused tone that she did not bother to conceal from her long-time friend and some-time wingman. She studied Bojay and Athena from her place at the ovoid table that the two currently shared with Sheba and Apollo, "When are you actually going to admit to the Commander that you're engaged to his daughter?" "Now, Sheba," Cassiopeia chided as she took her seat beside the Valkyrie Squadron Leader, smiling endearingly up at Starbuck as he slid the blonde med-tech's chair smoothly under her slender frame, his hands lingering on her shoulders before he took his own seat beside her, "I thought we were all putting our secrets and conflicts aside for the evening cycle," she gave Sheba a conspiratorial side-long glance. "What's that mean?" Bojay lifted his eyebrows at his sometime wingman and dearest friend, "Sheba, do you have a secret conflict that you'd like to share with the group?" Sheba and Apollo turned to share a look with one another, neither responding to Bojay's remark, and looking to their friends as if they were attempting not to laugh. "No conflict, Bojay," Sheba grinned at her husband, who leaned back silently into the upholstery of his chair and took a slow sip from the mug of ale that he had plucked from a passing server's tray while his wife neatly avoided Bojay's question. "I just think that evening meal with Adama would be a lot more comfortable if you didn't appear to be quite so, what's the word?" Sheba tapped her chin with an index finger, and then snapped it in an attitude of inspiration, with its neighbouring finger, against her thumb, "frightened, no terrified." "Don't be too hard on him, Sheba," Apollo laughed softly as he place his mug on the table before him, "You know very well that Father's been deliberately making him suffer." "If only there was a family member who could intervene on his behalf," Athena projected an accusatory tone toward her brother, "someone who could speak to Father in whatever archaic male language is required?" "Yes, Apollo," Sheba, indeed the entire group, eyed Apollo with expressions forming an incongruous mixture of reproach and merriment, "Why don't you speak with him? I've heard you and my esteemed Second Father speak archaic male quite fluently at times. Perhaps you could find some reason to be nice to Bojay that doesn't involve actually admitting that, when it comes to Athena, you are both excessively protective and resistant, to the point of denial, to the concept of her seeing anyone, let alone getting married. It's understandable, but it's a little restrictive." Apollo was initially taken aback by Sheba's directness regarding his rather complex family relationships, and his sister's as yet unspoken, but evident, intention to marry Bojay. However, he had admitted to himself that there were many layers and structures of conduct involved among the three warriors that constituted the triad of his immediate family, father, son, and daughter. He smiled at his wife, seeing her directness as a reminder that she was now his family as well, then turned to look into his sister's blue eyes, so like his own in intensity, if not in colour. "Very well then, Athena," the off-duty Captain assumed a tone that conveyed a discernable measure of sincere formality, "I will speak with Father. Though I am not certain that he is not still angry with me," Apollo turned once more to share a pained look with his wife, the other object of Adama's recent wrath. They both visibly shuddered as they recalled the fury with which they had been disciplined, by Adama, for their dispute in the landing bay, now several sectons ago. Aside from the dress restriction, the one truly public admonishment that the Commander had imposed upon the insubordinate couple was that they must each, independently of one another, spend at least three shift rotation periods per secton conducting Colonial Fleet Warrior Training instruction on the finer points of command strategies and self-discipline. Neither officer could recall a class so far that had not included at least one student who was unable to maintain a straight face throughout the entire period. The situation was made even more painful for the two, in that their own squadron members often attended these events in numbers of six or more so as to audit the training period, ostensibly, to refresh their own skills in self-control and leadership. Apollo and Sheba had each been suffering stoically, in the face of the outright, and contagious giggles of Valkyrie's and Blue Squadron members alike, counting the sectons until their teaching duties would be mercifully ended. "Sheba," Starbuck spoke in a distracted manner as he studied the inevitable fumarello that had appeared in his mobile fingers, "What were you saying about you having a secret?" Starbuck began his equally inevitable search for a match, but was interrupted in his pursuit by the sweetly smiling Sheba, who was reaching carefully along the table past Cassiopeia, and igniting her father's flinton, holding the small flame steady as Starbuck accepted the proffered light. Though Sheba had never smoked, she kept the flinton as a talisman, and reminder, of her legendary father, and had grown into the habit of carrying it with her at all times and keeping it fueled and serviceable. "I was talking about us all putting our various secrets and conflicts aside for the evening cycle," Sheba snapped the flinton's lid over the flame, extinguishing it, and slipped the small icon into a tiny pocket sewn into the sleeve of her tunic. The iridescent blue folds of material moved with her, in a rippling cascade, as she turned toward her husband, and then spoke sweepingly to the others at the table, "We should all walk through the 'Twelve Worlds of Horticultural Biospheres' exhibit, and then join the torch light procession, in remembrance of those who are absent in the flesh." Apollo set down his now empty mug and rose from his chair, taking Sheba's hand and pulling her gently to her feet. Stepping away from the table, his wife beside him, he smiled brightly at their companions. "Let's go and do that," Apollo's dark skin contrasted with the flash of a white tunic collar under the dark casual jacket that the young man adjusted and straightened before he turned to look at his blonde friend, "Starbuck, you can set aside your curiosity long enough to walk through a botanical exhibit, can't you?" Apollo laughed in an easy-going fashion that each person in the group had noticed taking prevalence in his typical off-duty demeanor, "We'll see you all over there," he called over his shoulder as he and his wife walked, arm in arm, through the crowd toward the greenery of the botanical exhibits. *** Chapter One Scene Eleven Commander Adama sat erect in the chair behind his desk, rubbing the fingers of his right hand absently on the work top. The white haired warrior stopped the movement of his hand and directed it instead to key in the 'play back' command on the work top console, beside the designation display identifying the recorded audio log of Lieutenant Boomer's visit with Calvin. Paye had, on the Lieutenant's recommendation, forwarded a record of the conversation directly to the Commander's desk console receiver. The Commander leaned forward with a thoughtful frown as he concentrated on Lieutenant Boomer's deep, mellow, voice, 'I have to leave on a patrol soon, so I can't stay long...'. Adama paused the play back function with the tap of a finger, and looked up from the work top to share a confused look with Colonel Tigh. The dark man had been standing near the main corridor entry, adjacent to Adama's desk, his arms crossed in front of him, his brows knitted in concern as well as confusion. "Commander, that was about six centaurs ago. It sounds from his own words, like Boomer was planning to make his way to the launch bay directly after his visit with Calvin, but there was no patrol due to launch until just a few centons ago," Tigh stepped forward to place his hands on the desk, leaning forward to share a grim look with Adama, "Lieutenant Jolly is certain that Boomer and he were to take that patrol together, but we can't find Boomer anywhere on the ship." "We'll need some verification of Lieutenant Boomer's movements before we start sounding any alerts," The Commander leaned back slightly in his chair, the muscles in his jaw clenching unconsciously, "Tigh, tell Jolly to bring me Blue Squadron's copy of the roster. Paye said Boomer spoke to Wilker on the Rising Star before he went to see Calvin. Get Corporal Komma over there to give Wilker that excuse he wanted to get out of attending the dedication ceremony. Tell Komma not to cause a stir, and have him check in, discreetly, with the Flight Commander while he's there. Apollo and Sheba are planning to stay over the evening cycle for the torch light procession. Have Komma ask whether Apollo made some last micron changes to Boomer's shift rotation. We may be simply looking at a clerical error, but it is not like Apollo, nor any of the other Squadron Leaders, to neglect to properly record a patrol on the main schedule. "Yes, Sir. I'll get right on it," Tigh nodded succinctly and hurried out into the main corridor, the door closing automatically behind him. Adama reached over and adjusted the play back function on the console once more, his expression becoming even more grim as he listened once more to the words that Calvin had spoken to Boomer, "Ask the angel behind you, if you don't believe me. He's brought a Valkyrie to help you prevent the disruption. You must rescue Baltar, help him the same way you're helping me, and get him back to the Galactica. Without him, the Valkyrie won't exist. Cain can give you the potion, but you have to destroy the Oberon." The Oberon, Adama paused the play back once more, and rose from his chair to cross the main chamber of his quarters, stopping in front of the view port, gazing out into the star field, and remembering the name of a ship that he had been certain had been destroyed, in front of his own eyes, at least thirty yahrens ago. *** Chapter One Scene Twelve The lighting elements inset in the ceiling over interior edge of the forward observation gallery of the pleasure cruiser Rising Star had been powered down. Through the darkened gallery, party goers walked with a steady stream of small, hand-held torch lamps, floating past the star field that cast its soft light through the transparent tylium of the observation panels in the outer bulkheads. "It looks to me like you've been having a good time this evening," Apollo spoke quietly to the brown haired woman walking at his side within the stream of the torch light procession, his voice subdued to blend with the gentle murmur of the crowd that moved with the two of them, through the observation gallery, toward the access to the main recreation area, "are you worried you won't have another furlon for a while?" the Captain squeezed Sheba's hand and laughed softly, in a gently mocking tone. "Can't a girl have a good time without an ulterior motive, Skipper?" Sheba whispered into Apollo's ear. "Hey, no ranks. Remember," he leaned closer to her, managing a stern tone at a low volume, "Adama and Tigh have informers everywhere." "Well then, we'd better give them the slip," Sheba giggled impulsively, tightening her grip on her husband's hand and stepped out of the flow of people now turning to step through the wide, low-ceilinged corridor that led into the large main recreation chamber. As evidenced by the music and flashes of vari-coloured lights that filtered out from the larger chamber and into the darkened main corridor, the first of two nights of festivities for the people of the Fleet, in celebration of the planned expansion of their living area, was already under way. The couple slipped through a nearby reception area, and turned down the narrow corridor that led to officers' section of the large block of guest quarters that had been reserved, by Colonel Tigh, for all warriors' convenience during the festivities aboard the Rising Star. The Colonel well knew that all of his pilots needed at least one or two evening cycles, on occasion, to let go of their responsibilities as far as they were able, given the uncertainty of the Cylon threat these last sectons. Though the people of the Fleet had relaxed somewhat, as had the alert status, after the concealed Cylon basestar had been destroyed and a general recovery had been made from the shambles left by the sealing celebration perpetrated, for a duration of seventeen daily cycles, on an unprepared population by Lieutenant Starbuck in honour of Apollo's marriage to Sheba, the possibility of a Cylon attack was never fully absent from their thoughts. "Are you sure you want to..." Apollo turned from the now open door of their appointed guest chamber in time to have his words stopped at his lips by a warm, and rather forceful, kiss from his wife. She tossed the portable torches aside, pushed against his chest with her flattened hands and backed him, both of them laughing softly, through the entrance and into the small chamber, the door closing with a slight whoosh of air behind them. "Are you sure you want to miss the end of the procession?" the Captain asked distractedly as he backed into the chamber, his wife helping him off with his jacket as the backs of his knees connected with the large cushioned day-bed that dominated the interior bulkhead. He landed on the cushioned surface, exhaling sharply as Sheba landed with her arms wrapped around his neck, her chest pressing into his. "I think I'd like us to stay here and have one uninterrupted evening cycle alone, maybe even one more day and night, if the Gods are kind, just you and me," Sheba rolled over from atop his chest and onto her side and leaned on her elbow, her head resting lightly against her shoulder and her long skirt rippling like water over her outstretched legs. Apollo mirrored her attitude and propped himself up on his own elbow, smiling into her warm brown eyes. "No regrets?" the Captain's dark face was brightened by a white smile, asking the question that had become a playful joust between them since the day they'd been sealed in Adama's office, some sectons ago. "Hades of a time to ask me, Apollo," Sheba laughed out her usual response, then reached for the nearby control and dimmed the lights of the small chamber as he leaned over to kiss her. *** Chapter One Scene Thirteen "Starbuck," at the sound of Athena's voice, the young Lieutenant turned from his seat at the gaming table, gesturing to the dealer that he was cashing out. "Athena, Bojay," he said with a smile, as he scooped his winnings into a small currency bag and attached it neatly to his belt, straightening his dark blue mid-thigh length coat, "I thought you'd slipped off like the Captain and his wife." "Speaking of slipping off, where's Cassiopeia got to?" Bojay slid his arm around Athena's waist as the two began to walk with Starbuck, ambling toward the entrance from the chancery to the main corridor. "She went to freshen up, but I suspect she might have stopped in at the main party area," Starbuck pulled a lint covered match from the small side pocket on the hem of the cream coloured tunic sleeve that peeked from under the overlaying sleeve of his jacket, "she's been a little preoccupied this evening," he brandished a fumarello from the larger pocket on the front of his jacket and snapped the match carefully against his thumbnail, pulling the fumarello into ignition with his lips, and then tossing the match into a nearby reclamation unit, "It's been one of those nights when everyone's sort of drifting in and out, doing their own thing," he tilted his blonde head at the couple beside him, as the three of them walked along the dimly lit corridor together, "Apollo and Sheba disappeared sometime during the torch light processional," Starbuck took a slow drag of his fumarello, "And I suppose you two are staying over, as well?" "No, Starbuck," Athena scowled dryly, but in good humour, "Not all of us have two or three day rotations to spend gaming and revelling, "I'm due on the bridge early in the daily cycle tomorrow and Bojay had a routine patrol shortly after that. Say, Isn't that Siress Blassie over there with Cassiopeia?" Athena pointed toward a rest area comprised of various vertical dividing partitions and lounging sofas that had been set out, near the entrance to the main recreation area, for those party-goers who might need to spend a few centons resting their feet or refreshing themselves with provided fluids without having to go all the way to the guest quarters. "Maybe Chameleon's come over to join in the fun," Starbuck's face lit up with a smile at the thought of his friend, the roguish old gamer with whom Starbuck had kept up more that a passing acquaintance. The Lieutenant made it over to the Senior Ship on his off-duty centaurs at least once every secton or so, to visit the old man. Starbuck knew well that Chameleon and Siress Blassie were not often far from one another these days. They had progressed from friends to something more, a comfortable romance that suited them both. "I think they went through this way," Bojay held fast to Athena's hand as the three warriors stepped cautiously into the small maze of vertical partitions, careful not to disturb any worn-out party-goers that might be resting within. The sound of female voices drew them on, "It doesn't matter who wrote the note. He's dying! He just has to tell Starbuck. I won't hide the truth from him any longer. Chameleon must release me from my promise not to reveal that he really is Starbuck's father," Cassiopeia's voice had become more clear as Starbuck, Athena and Bojay stepped out from behind the partition adjacent to the place where Cassiopeia stood speaking to the older, though very attractive, Siress Blassie. Both women started as the group came into view, exchanging a horrified glance with one another, and then standing with their lips parted, each staring directly at Starbuck's equally shocked expression. "Cass," he said blankly, "Chameleon is my..." the next words were prevented from forming by the sudden appearance of Corporal Komma, making his methodical way through the rest area with a quietly busy look on his face. "Ah, Lieutenant, thank the Gods I've found you! Can you tell me where Captain Apollo is?" the Corporal followed the direction of Starbuck's shocked stare to see Cassiopeia, near tears, struggling not to cry, "Have I interrupted something?" "Not now, Komma," Bojay moved forward and made to usher the enlisted man away, "Starbuck's a little busy right now." "I'm sorry, Sirs, but," Komma looked apologetically at Cassiopeia's stricken face, uncertain as to what was happening, but seeing her obvious distress, "now that I've spoken to Wilker, it's plain that Boomer's missing on some false patrol and now I've got to find the Captain and Lieutenant Sheba to verify the squadron rosters." "Komma," Athena cut in, grabbing the young man's arm and frowning into his face, "did you just say that Boomer is missing?" "Yes, Ma'am, it appears so," Komma escaped carefully from both Athena's and Bojay's grasp, "That's why I must find the Captain right away, and get him back to the Galactica to meet with the Commander and everyone else. Doctor Wilker's on his way to the shuttle to wait for us." "Cassiopeia," Starbuck was struggling to absorb first Cassiopeia's words and then Komma's, deciding finally to approach the med-tech first, "Is this the secret that you've been so torn up about?" he stood in front of her, stricken by the content of her words and by the devastated and fearful look on her face. "Oh, Starbuck," she began to cry brokenly, "I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to find out this way. I wouldn't blame you if you're furious with me right now," she lost all control and began to weep into her own upraised hands. "Cassie, please don't cry," Starbuck reached to stub out his still burning fumarello into a metal bowl on a nearby table, then turned back toward her, opening his arms, "I'm not exactly sure how to sort all of this out right now, but I do know that I made myself a promise that I intend to keep," he closed his arms around her trembling shoulders and whispered into her ear, "Bojay, Athena and I are going to get Apollo and Sheba and figure out why Komma here seems to think Boomer's missing. After that's all sorted out, you and I will talk this through," he kissed her gently, coaxing a tentative, and hopeful, smile from her lips, "I'm not furious with you. I know you, Cass. If you've kept this to yourself, then you had a reason. It's like I said, neither of us have any entitlement to point fingers at each other's complicated personal lives," Starbuck kissed her tearstained cheeks and looked toward Athena, Bojay and Komma, now waiting, rather awkwardly, for him to follow them, "you keep the guest chamber, get some rest, talk things through with Siress Blassie. Then, later, when I get back, we'll work this out, together, " he kissed her softly on the lips, relieved to see that some of the fear had left her face, then, squeezing her shoulders gently and giving her a small encouraging smile, he released his grip on her and rushed out with the other three warriors, leaving Cassiopeia and Blassie standing, shocked, staring at one another in blank astonishment. "Your young man has come a long way, hasn't he dear?" Blassie put an arm around Cassiopeia's waist and held her gently as the younger woman began to cry, in relief this time, on the older woman's shoulder. *** Chapter One Scene Fourteen "Now, let me get this straight, Doctor," Adama stood facing the group that Komma and Tigh had gathered to his quarters, leaning back on his desk top, though still maintaining an attitude of attention, "Boomer specifically told you that he had a training mission scheduled within three, possibly four centaurs of the time of your conversation," Adama glanced over at his son's wife, his ever observant warrior's eyes observing that she stood beside her husband in a casual dress uniform, while Apollo had donned flight gear on his arrival aboard the Galactica, as had the other pilots present, "and you're quite sure that he said it was a training mission for a Valkyrie Squadron recruit?" "I'm certain of it, Commander," Wilker's perpetually mournful tone betrayed a hint of uncharacteristic worry, "He specifically said that he would make time to visit Calvin before he had to be in the launch bay." "Sheba?" Adama turned and lifted an eyebrow at the Valkyrie Squadron Leader. "I don't see how that can be, Sir," Sheba reported clearly, standing at attention beside Apollo, "I've sent for Lieutenant Deitra, but I doubt if she would neglect to record a training mission, or any patrol for that matter." "What about the conversation with Calvin, Father?" Apollo gestured toward the console control with which Adama had played Paye's recording of the conversation between Boomer and Calvin, in the medical complex's term care facility, "Why would Calvin bring up a ship that was destroyed in a battle thirty yahrens ago?" "I don't know, Apollo," the Commander shrugged expressively, "It could mean something, or it could simply be a confused bit of information that was floating around in Calvin's disturbed mind." "He mentions Iblis, and angels, Sir," Apollo shared a glance of concern with his wife, both of them remembering their shared conversation with the alien, Diana, who had for a time disguised herself as a Galactica medical technician though she was purportedly a being associated with the Ships of Light that the Fleet had interacted some sectons age within the course of their near tragic dealings with the malevolent Count Iblis, "and he talks about the incident with Agro-Tech Jain and of the Valkyrie Squadron. It sounds like he's still obsessed with Sheba and me." "I'm not certain how it all fits together, Apollo. In any case," Adama scanned the faces before him. Tigh, Corporal Komma, Jolly, Doctor Wilker, Starbuck, Bojay, Athena, Apollo and Sheba, "We do know that Boomer is not on the Galactica, and one of our vipers is unaccounted for. Apollo, on top of the current security shifts from Silver Spar Squadron. I want several two-man patrols from Blue and Valkyrie Squadrons to spread out and try to pick up his trail." The Commander paused as he observed the enigmatic look that passed between Apollo and his wife. "Commander," Sheba spoke carefully, "I won't be going on this mission, Sir." "Now," Adama raised a hand and gestured in the couples' direction, "I realize that Tigh and I have been strict with the two of you about minimizing your on-duty contact, but this is hardly the time to be concerned about such..." "No, Father," the Captain interrupted the Commander, evoking a lift of eyebrows in both Adama and Colonel Tigh, making another quiet glance in Sheba's direction, "Sheba's not going on this mission, but not because of the regulations that you've enforced on us..." the Captain paused, choosing his words carefully, as if in fear of instigating another flare of tempers amongst himself, his wife and his Father. "Adama," Sheba stepped forward and smiled dryly at the white-haired warrior, picking up where her husband had left off, "as Strike Commander, it would be against regulations for Captain Apollo to allow a pregnant warrior to fly a viper. We were going to tell you, and the rest of the family, at evening meal tomorrow. I've made arrangements for the shift rotations, Sir. My wing-man, Deitra, will be taking over my active duties as squadron leader until later next yahren." Adama opened and closed his mouth several times, attempting to decide which of the mixture of emotions that moved within him would control the expression on his face. "I knew it!" said Bojay with a sudden smile, receiving a look from Adama that he found difficult to read. The Silver Spar Squadron Leader decided to remain silent in response, and adopted a more serious, and uncomfortable, expression. At that moment the door chime sounded and, at Adama's cry of 'Enter', Lieutenant Deitra moved gracefully into the Commander's quarters. "By your leave, Sir," the dark young warrior stood beside the Valkyrie Squadron Leader and nodded in deference as she faced Adama, "I've checked the rosters and the launch bays, visually, as Lieutenant Sheba asked me to. There were no trainees from the Valkyrie, or any other squadron due to fly patrol with anyone. I don't know where Boomer went, Sir, but his fighter has gone, and it wasn't on a training mission." "Commander," until now, Starbuck had been hanging back quietly, trying to absorb all that was happening. Cassiopeia's words kept repeating in his mind, He's dying! He just has to tell Starbuck. I won't hide the truth from him any longer. Chameleon must release me from my promise not to reveal that he really is Starbuck's father. He wavered wildly, albeit internally, between reactive anger and his determination to forgive Cassiopeia for her deception all these sectons, since the results of the biological testing that had, as he had been told at the time, ruled out the possibility that the old gambler and charmer, Chameleon, was Starbuck's father. Now, according to Cassiopeia's overheard outburst toward Chameleon's companion, Blassie, it appeared that the results had been positive after all. Starbuck struggled to integrate this change in his perceptions with the added information that Boomer was missing, "happy as we all are at Sheba's news, and as much as I'd like to be back on the Rising Star right now having a long talk with my girl, and with my, well,...I think the primary concern here is that we get launched and start looking for Boomer. If there is a trail to find, it will only get colder the longer we wait." "Of course, Starbuck, you're right," Adama scanned, once more, the faces before him, "Doctor Wilker, you and Komma get to Paye's section and see if you can get anything more specific out of Calvin. Apollo, get the patrol wings together, and ready them for launch. Sheba," the Commander allowed his son's wife a paternal smile, "I foresee that you will be seeing a lot of bridge duty for the next few sectons. You and Athena will report with Tigh and myself to the Command Centre. We must try to establish what route Boomer might have taken if he'd been forced or tricked into an unauthorized patrol. Though how such a thing could have happened is beyond me," Adama ushered the warriors in flight gear to the doorway, reaching to hold back Captain Apollo, with an arm to the young man's elbow, and a fond glance toward Sheba, who had paused with Athena, Doctor Wilker, Komma and Tigh, to allow the pilots first egress through the opening into the corridor. "I am pleased to hear that we'll be acquiring a new family member soon, my Son. We will have some proper congratulations after everyone gets back home safe and sound." "Thank you, Father," Apollo allowed himself a smile as he squeezed his Father's hand briefly, then removed himself gently from the older warrior's grasp and, with a quick kiss on his wife's cheek, was off and running down the corridor toward the launch bay, following behind Starbuck, Jolly, Bojay and Deitra, to meet with the rest of the active duty members of Blue and Valkyrie Squadrons, who were being summoned at that moment by an alert klaxon sounded remotely by Colonel Tigh, just before he stepped from the Commander's quarters and hurried, behind Adama, Athena and Sheba, as they proceeded at a quick march, along the corridor and into the Command Centre. *** Chapter Two Scene One Boomer stood, his back against the bulkhead opposite the door of the small chamber that housed him, staring blankly at the woman he had thought was his wingman. Cadet Artemis was the name that she had given him, upon his arrival at the launch bay. The two pilots had made brief introduction of themselves to one another and then headed off, with clearance from Core Command, on what Boomer had been led to believe was a routine training patrol, a simple exercise of evaluation for the Cadet. But now they stood together, in a small locked chamber, aboard a Cylon controlled ship. From his fighter, surrounded by Cylon raiders, just before a blast of light had taken his consciousness, Boomer had read the name on the hull of the ship. Oberon, he remembered thinking, but that ship was destroyed in the Battle of Altrua, at least three decades ago, then, nothing, until he had awoken in this chamber, Cadet Artemis leaning over him, with a look of concern on her strikingly attractive face. Her face. Something about it was so familiar. However, it was not the company, nor the chamber that preoccupied his attention so much as the condition of his uniform. "Why have our clothes changed colour?" Boomer ran his hand over the sleeve of his flight jacket, certain that it was indeed his familiar jacket, though changed in that it was now a striking shade of brilliant white, as was his entire uniform, "Cadet, do you know what's going on here?" The woman known as Artemis gave Boomer an incongruously happy smile, then checked herself and adopted a more serious demeanor. "Un...Lieutenant Boomer," the young woman in an equally whitened Colonial uniform stepped forward, holding out a cloth with a small bloodstain visible on it, "you're still bleeding, Sir. Sit down, and I'll check that head wound. Baltar's centurions banged us up pretty good bringing us in from the landing bay." "Baltar!" Boomer moved to sit on the bench seat under the roughly trapezoidal view port that was the room's only feature, besides the small turbo-wash adjacent to the, currently locked, hatchway, "He's here? Did you see him while I was knocked out?" "No, Boomer," the young woman pursed her full lips as she carefully dabbed at the deep scratch on the left side of the Lieutenant's forehead, "but I know that he's here. He's the reason we've come. I've been sent to help you rescue Baltar, and get him out of here, back to the Galactica. It's going to be difficult to explain, so I'll need you to trust in my word, as a Warrior of the Colonial Fleet, that what I'm going to tell you is the truth. It will sound fantastic, but I've been brought from your future, back here to your past, to prevent a mistake, an oversight that was made by the beings that have been guiding us to Earth. You visited them once, in an entranced state. You've heard the accounts from..." the young woman hesitated, blinked her green eyes and moved to step into the turbo-wash chamber. Pushing the control on the hand wash basin, she held the cloth under the resulting stream of cool water, wringing it out and returning to finish cleaning Boomer's wound, "You've heard the accounts from the three warriors of your acquaintance who recall interacting with the aliens aboard the Ships of Light. You've heard more than the officially recorded versions contained. You've heard the details that Adama recorded by hand in a personal journal, to keep as accurate an historical record as possible, in spite of the deception he felt obliged to use in omitting those details from the official record." "How can you know that?" Boomer grabbed her wrist, and pulled down the hand that held the damp cloth to his head, "There are only a certain number of people who are supposed to know about that journal. As far as I'm aware, you are not one of them." "Not in your time, Uncle Boomer," the young woman sat down beside Boomer, her wrist still firmly grasped in the dark Lieutenant's strong hand, and smiled at him, with a trusting open smile of familiarity, a smile that had made him certain, upon meeting her in the Galactica's launch bay, that he had seen her before, seen that smile. "Oh my God," Boomer breathed the words in an exhalation of shock as he realized that it was not the girl that he had recognized, but the smile. "I think you know who I am, Uncle Boomer," Artemis let out a breath of her own, one of relief, as Boomer released his grip on her arm, taking the blood-soaked cloth from her hand, and refolding it, as he dabbed tentatively at his forehead, checking the fabric to find that the bleeding appeared to have stopped. He tossed the cloth in the direction of the turbo-wash chamber and leaned back on the firm bench seat, crossing his arms across his chest and adopting a thoughtful attitude as Artemis continued speaking, "and now, I'm going to do my best to explain to you why we are here, together on the Colonial Forces Military Cruiser Oberon, on the eve of the Battle of Altrua, to rescue the greatest traitor that the Colonial population has ever known, in order that at least two of their greatest heroes be saved from an accidental oversight that was caused by a man named Calvin, and his portable electromagnetic scanner screen." *** Chapter Two Scene Two "Starbuck," Apollo pulled his wingman aside, grasping his shoulder, as the two men stood together on the launch bay decking, in the shadow of Starbuck's assigned viper, "On the way here from the Rising Star, Athena told Sheba and me what happened with Cassiopeia," Apollo felt awkward and a little reluctant in addressing his wingman's personal affairs. He remembered clearly the painful sting of Starbuck's angry reaction, a dramatic verbal ending of their friendship, when Apollo and Boomer had checked into Chameleon's background, those many sectons ago, after the old man had insinuated his way into a ride to the Galactica, by suggesting the possibility that he and Starbuck might be related. They had acted on suspicions that had been quite warranted, as evidenced by the Nomen that had acted in a plan to assassinate the old con man for his questionable dealings with them in the guise of his alter-ego, 'Captain Dimitri', and Starbuck along with him. Though Starbuck had ultimately retracted his emotional outburst and forgiven his friends, Apollo was reluctant to pry into what he knew was a deeply personal and conflicted subject for the oft-times cavalier young Lieutenant. Apollo, however, was also well aware of how deeply Starbuck's feelings for Cassiopeia ran, and felt the need to speak to his friend before launching their ships in search of Boomer. "If you want to stay, talk to her, talk to Chameleon,..." "Look, Apollo," Starbuck managed an awkward smile, seeing the love and concern in his closest friend's piercing green eyes, "I appreciate the offer, but you know I have to come with you. It's Boomer," his blue eyes cleared a little, as his awkwardness soon gave way to a small infusion of his gambler's charm, "besides, old buddy, while you've been busy getting married and increasing the population of the Fleet, I've been doing a little bit of evolving." "Evolving?" Apollo released Starbuck's shoulder and crossed his arms loosely across his own chest, looking into the blonde man's face, a bemused expression on his own, "How do you mean?" "I mean that I have come to realize that there are certain things that are too important to discard in anger, like a good friend," Starbuck now grasped the Squadron Commander's shoulder and shook it gently, "and the love of a woman like my Cassiopeia," he released his friend's shoulder and gestured toward his fighter, "Now, if it's all the same to you, Captain, how about we launch our vipers, go fetch Boomer out of whatever hole he's fallen into, and then, get back here so I can make peace with my girl, my Father and whomever's going to be collecting wagers on my new baby pool?" "I guess you really have been evolving, Starbuck," Apollo took a slow breath in and out and started walking past the aft of Starbuck's viper, adopting a warrior's battle-ready expression, "Now, let's launch these vipers. It wouldn't be one of your over the top intrusions into my personal life without Boomer along to hold you back a little!" the squadron leader gave a quick thumbs up and headed for his own fighter, poised at the opening of the next launch tube over. Within microns, both warriors were strapped in, and cleared for launch. At the signal from Core Command, the two vipers that were currently designated 'Alpha One' and 'Alpha Two' launched from the alpha deck of the Battlestar Galactica, to join the other six warriors that awaited their Strike Leader and his wingman, milling gracefully in their vipers, poised to search the direction through open space that the main computer, under Tigh's watchful eye, had evaluated as Boomer's most likely course. *** Chapter Two Scene Three "Tolen, nothing to report out here?" Commander Cain strode deliberately up the steps of the command platform, placing a firm hand on the younger man's shoulder, leaning in to speak quietly, out of earshot of the six other warriors who manned the large, dimly lit lower gallery of the Command Centre of the Battlestar Pegasus, "Roman tells me we've got enough anti-toxin for two, maybe three daily cycles. How soon do you estimate an intersection with Galactica's course?" "Sir," Tolen responded in an equally quiet tone, his expression grim, "Assuming the accuracy of our course projections, giving us the Galactica approaching the nebula at this galaxy's outer rim at the projected time and co-ordinates, and that we don't have any structural breakdowns, we'll be lucky if we make it in six days." "How soon will we be clear of Cylon detection? We can do without the anti-toxin if we can turn off that accursed scanner shield for a while," Cain let go of Tolen's shoulder and moved to stand beside the main command console, his mind working determinedly for a way out of the current dilemma, "There has to be a way for us to improve on our time just enough to make it to the Galactica. After all we've been through to get this far, I refuse to believe that we won't make it, Tolen." "Assuming that there are no more basestars between us and the Galactica, Commander," Tolen keyed in a series of equations on the console and tapped an index finger over the resulting display on the monitor above the control pad, "the computer estimates that we should be clear of all known enemy threats in about three days," the young Colonel straightened to look his Commander in the eye, "We're laying everything on our estimates being accurate, Sir," Tolen paused as he and the Juggernaut shared the same thought, "if we've erred, Commander, and misinterpreted the data regarding Galactica's primary course, or we encounter another basestar, shielded or otherwise..." "Tolen," Cain's eyes were unblinking, his posture straight, and his quiet voice projected the will to quash Tolen's doubts, and his own, "We've done all that we can, from interpreting the writings on that astral map we found in the temple on that magnetic nightmare of a planet, not to mention carrying all that toxic ore up to the ship at full speed, to drawing the Cylons away from the Fleet, and making our way through Cylon held territory beneath this accursed scanner shield. Now, I'm not a particularly spiritual man, Tolen, as you know, but my friend Adama is, and it's my belief that while he's taking a toric course, as we have been, he must ultimately return to his original heading. Constantly returning to that heading is the only tangible means he has of finding the Thirteenth Colony, and it's the only means that we have of finding the Fleet." The two men stood regarding one another for a micron, maybe two, then the Juggernaut turned back toward the steps of the command platform, pausing briefly to look into Tolen's serious young face, "Maintain our current status and heading, Tolen. Have Roman hold back a minimal amount of anti-toxin in case somebody has a psychotic reaction to the radiation. When we've used up the rest, then turn off the shield. We'll find out soon enough after that whether we've eluded the Cylons or not." "Aye, Commander," Tolen said simply. Cain pursed his lips, and, gazed briefly at the scepteron that he had been holding in his free hand, gesturing with it as he had spoken, as was his habit. The polished hardwood baton topped with the stylized form of a winged equine in solid auricon had been a gift from his crew, after a battle that could have ended in a much earlier destruction of the Colonies, had it not been for his sharp strategic warrior's mind. The scepteron had been a gift from his crew, and he had carried it for almost three deca-yahrens, since shortly after he'd taken command of the Pegasus, since before his daughter's birth. It had become more than a symbol of command and respect for him. It had become a talisman, a reminder of his oath as a Colonial Warrior and a symbol of his determination to get the last of his crew to the relative safety of the Colonial Fleet, and himself back to his daughter. "Carry on, Tolen," Cain lifted the edges of his mouth and managed a small smile for his young Executive Officer, "I'll be in my quarters if you need me," the older man made his way back down from the command platform, tucking the scepteron neatly under his arm and making his way out of the Command Centre. *** Chapter Two Scene Four The atmosphere in the Command Centre was busy, though subdued. Every member of the crew knew the feeling of helplessness and dread that came over them whenever one of their own was unaccounted for. Boomer's mysterious disappearance had gone from rumour to confirmed fact in a matter of centaurs. Hope competed with sick fear in the gut of every man and woman who steadfastly performed their bridge duties, all of them glancing, more often than they normally would, at the main view screen, where the vision of the seemingly empty space forward of the Fleet hid the answer to their communal question, How will we find him? Will we find him? "Athena, I think I should call for Corporal Lena and have her bring Boxey to your Father's quarters," Sheba straightened her posture from where she had been leaning, beside her husband's sister, over the display of the tactical communications console at the foot of the command platform, If I know my fellow pilots, our news has spread from the launch bay right down to whomever is preparing the banner for Starbuck's inevitable baby pool." "You go ahead, Sheba," Athena rolled her shoulders as she straightened her own back, stretching her stiffened muscles, "Lena works some of my off-duty shifts, so I know her schedule pretty well. She and her niece usually have morning victuals in the commissary," Athena glanced at the display on her chronometer, "You can probably catch them there. It's likely that they're just sitting down to eat about now. I'll let Father and Tigh know where you've gone. We're just waiting to hear back on the first patrol sweep. There's not much you or I can do to help until we have more data. I'll have you called on Unicom if anything develops." "I guess I'll be getting used to bridge duty, like Adama said," Sheba smiled resignedly at the dark woman beside her, then allowed herself a look of amusement, "I did, however, get Apollo to agree that I would be returning to active duty once his child is on solid food." "Oh, and how did my esteemed brother reach that height of enlightenment?" Athena crossed her arms and chuckled softly, lifting an eyebrow at Sheba. "His solution, in order to bypass the otherwise inevitable intervention of various edicts from Adama and Tigh concerning our child rearing methods, and to maintain some sort of peace at home, is that he, as Flight Commander, will abdicate any independent authority over the matter so long as both Doctor Salik and Colonel Tigh have cleared me for a return from maternity furlon to active flight status." "Is every decision between the two of you going to be a carefully negotiated military campaign?" Athena could not stop the laughter that escaped from her lips at the thought of her brother's impressive strategy in avoiding the wrath of his spouse. "Whatever works," Sheba shrugged with assumed innocence, then crossed her own arms over her chest and adopted a more serious stance, "It's going to be different now that everyone knows. It was kind of fun keeping the baby a secret for a while, with only you and Cassiopeia knowing for sure. Now, all the guys will be treating me differently." "Don't worry about it, Sheba," Athena turned to study the main view screen, as she had many times since entering the Command Centre about two centaurs earlier, "They'll be back to their usual ovine-like behaviour once the novelty wears off," her expression became more serious, as Sheba's had, "Speaking of Cassiopeia, well, I hope she's alright." "I know. I'll go and find her after I've talked to Boxey," Sheba checked her own chronometer display, "I'd better get to Boxey before he runs into any of the pilots or launch bay techs near the crew quarters," Sheba looked up at the view screen, as she also had been doing for the last two centaurs and whispered earnestly, "Please be alright Boomer," she shared a momentary glance of fear with Athena. The two warriors, sisters, then masked their fear as they had learned to do from early ages, with the stoic determination of Colonial Warriors, and of the daughters of Colonial Warriors. "Boomer will be alright," Athena said in a clear, firm voice, grasping Sheba's shoulder briefly, "like I said, I'll have you called on Unicom if anything develops." Sheba nodded, this time sharing a hopeful smile with the dark haired woman beside her, and hurried out to the corridor that led to the Access Junction, to find her son before the news of the expected arrival of his first sibling, and of Boomer's disappearance, found him. *** Chapter Two Scene Five "You expect me to accept this story of yours, Cadet?" Boomer paced liked a caged Scorpian mountain felix, his route the interior perimeter of the small chamber that, if any aspect of his companion's fantastic story was to be believed, was located on the Colonial Military Class Cruiser Oberon, a ship that had been destroyed in a bold strategic maneuver by the legendary Commander Cain, about thirty yahrens ago, according to Boomer's best memory. The Battle of Altrua was a well documented military event that had been studied in detail in the military strategy seminars at the Colonial Military Academy when Boomer himself had been a cadet. "Actually, It's not 'Cadet', Uncle Boomer," the woman called Artemis, from where she sat on the firm bench seat under the chamber's view port, gave Boomer another one of those warm smiles that reminded him eerily of another face, faces, that were quite familiar to him, "I just used that rank to blend myself into the crowd. You wouldn't know every cadet in the Fleet, but you would know all of the officers by name. I couldn't afford you getting suspicious. I'm so sorry I've had to deceive you. I'm actually a Lieutenant, first level, Sir," the young woman's green eyes twinkled with what Boomer took to be genuine affection, and her strikingly dark and symmetrical features took on an assumed look of apology, not so different from the expression one might expect from a mischievous child caught misbehaving, as she stood at attention before him and formed a fist with her right hand, laying her right forearm across her chest in the ancient salute of a Colonial Warrior, "Valkyrie Squadron." "Of course, the future face of the Valkyries, is that it?" Boomer couldn't help smiling in spite of his skepticism. There was something about this mysterious young woman that he truly liked. He found her story incredible, but that face, and those expressions. How could she be anyone else but who she appeared to be? "You're not some kind of Cylon spy, are you? Conditioned to know everything about me and the Galactica?" "Uncle Boomer," Artemis stepped closer to him, standing on the tips of her toes to speak softly into his ear, again giving the impression of a mischievous youngster, "if I were a Cylon spy, would I know that you give a percentage of your pay to the children on the orphan ship? Would I know that you hide a percentage of Uncle Starbuck's winnings from him when he's had too much too drink? Would I know that you've been having a little fling with a certain Valkyrie named..." "Alright! Alright!" Boomer backed up and looked down into the green eyes that still twinkled at him with that unmistakeable air of familiarity. He felt his own face relax into a cautiously friendly expression, "Let's assume for a centon that I believe any of this crazy story. Precisely what is it that we're supposed to do in order to save the future? Save Baltar from an evil, time travelling spirit that's controlling his mind through the radioactive toxins that have poisoned him? If we've actually travelled thirty yahrens into the past, aboard the Oberon, on the eve of the battle no less, then why can't we just try and get to the bridge to contact the nearest Colonial listening post and warn them about the..." Boomer's expression became one of sudden shock, with the impact of another memory from those Academy seminars on the Battle of Altrua, "the dozens of Cylon centurions that were stored, are stored, waiting to be activated, aboard this ship, and the raiders that they're all sitting in." "That's right, Uncle Boomer," Artemis' expression became deadly serious, "If Iblis is successful, he will use Baltar as his instrument of evil to transport the Oberon forward to your time, and through a vast distance, to appear directly forward of the Battlestar Galactica, firing its laser cannons and launching enough Cylon raiders to destroy it, and the Fleet in a matter of centons. That is the event that I've been recruited, we've been recruited to prevent. It was never meant to have happened, and if it does, then the tens of thousands of people in the Colonial Fleet will have ceased to exist, their possible future wiped away because Baltar was transported here by Iblis, in violation of the natural laws that his former people have adhered to for generations," the young woman sighed deeply, breathing in through her nostrils and out, slowly through her mouth, "at least that's what John told me." "John?" Boomer grasped the young woman's shoulders with his strong hands and peered intently into her eyes, "I've heard that name before. Can you tell me where?" "My..." Artemis hesitated, then returned Boomer's look with an equally intent glare of her own, "Apollo and Uncle Starbuck encountered him in the course of their experiences on the planet called Terra. They told you all about it after they got home. You all sat in the Officer's Club, and teased them about seeing strange men in white suits, and how that could get them ordered into catharsis therapy, but you believed their story," the young woman's lip trembled slightly as she continued to stare evenly into Boomer's dark eyes, "because you knew that they were telling the truth, the same way you know now that I am being truthful. Please, Uncle Boomer," tears gathered in the corners of her bright green eyes, "you just have to believe me. If we are not successful, then it will mean annihilation for almost everyone you care about, including my parents, and me." "I'm beginning to accept the possibility that you might be who you say you are," Boomer's tone softened, in spite of his doubting nature. Boomer was, for the most part, a pragmatist. He believed what was in front of him. Yet, he found himself here, with this girl who looked, sounded and behaved so much like..., "Let's assume that I agree to cooperate with this mission. How do you propose that we get Baltar off of the ship and back to my space and time, while you head off home to your, hopefully intact, place in the continuum?" "We're not going to take Baltar off the ship, Uncle Boomer," Artemis reached up to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand, regaining some of her earlier good humour, and smiled once again, this time in determination, "It will appear to everyone here that the ship has been destroyed, but we're going to allow Iblis to take Baltar, and the ship, back to your space and time. When we get there, if all goes well, we should be just in time for the Pegasus to arrive with a small emergency reserve of the anti-toxin that will reverse the effects of the radiation, and enough torpedoes from their last raid of a Cylon outpost to finally destroy the Oberon and all of the Cylons aboard her. Boomer realized that he still held the slender, but athletic, girl's shoulders and loosened the grip of his fingers on the brilliant white material of her flight jacket's sleeves. He continued to stare into her clear eyes for several microns, then opened his mouth to speak... His words were stopped by the dull sound of metal on metal that seemed to be coming from the other side of the chamber's hatchway. The two warriors moved to stand with their backs to the bulkhead that formed the back of the bench seat. The hatch in the opposite bulkhead slid open and a shockingly thin and shabbily dressed Baltar stepped through the hatchway, a friendly smile dominating his emaciated and rather skeletal features, and two Cylon centurions waiting attentively behind him in the corridor. Boomer was taken aback by the man's appearance. This Baltar was not the same man that he remembered. "Ah, Lieutenant Boomer! How wonderful that it's someone I already know that's stopped in on me. You must have a tour of the ship! And this lovely lady," the scrawny figure in the tattered cloak approached Artemis, his smile retreating into a scowl as he studied her from head to toe, as if assessing her appearance, "You are not supposed to be here. You don't belong here, my dear. What are you up to?" "Uh, Baltar?" Boomer spoke quickly as he stepped between Artemis and Baltar, "will you take me on that tour of the ship? We'd, uh, love to see what you've done with the place." "Why, of course!" Baltar beamed with delight as he gestured to Boomer to follow him back out the hatchway. Taking Artemis' hand and giving it a squeeze, Boomer pulled her with him as they followed their intended abductee into the corridor and past the centurions, who fell into pace behind them. The two Colonial Warriors from different times shared a look and a common thought, This may be our chance. It was at this moment that Boomer realized that he had made a conscious choice not only to believe the girl's story, but to help her to carry out her plan. Lords of Kobol, if you're out there, and you actually care about any of this, whatever time or place you're in, Boomer glanced back at the two heavily armed, centurions behind him, then at the serious young warrior beside him, just get us all back where we belong, without any harm coming to the Fleet, and when this is all over, all I ask is to be back on the Galactica having a nice relaxing turbo-wash. *** Chapter Two Scene Six "So, how was your sleepover with Lena and Persephone?" Sheba keyed the 'open door' sequence to the Commander's quarters and smiled down at the boy who stood beside her. "Good, there were two more kids from learning period there." Boxey answered, walking through the now open entry to the main chamber of Adama's personal domain, a place that had become as much a home to him in the two yahrens since he had become Apollo's son by marriage, as the quarters that he shared with his father and second mother, "but I thought I was staying over another day and night. Why did you and Dad come back from the Rising Star a day early? Wasn't it any fun?" the boy bounced, as only a boy of eight yahrens could, onto the bench seat that skirted the wall under the chamber's ovoid view port. Sheba moved, the door swishing to a close behind her, to sit on the adjacent seat to the little boy's right and leaned toward him with her hands clasped across her knees. In the half a yahren that she had been married to Apollo, she had made a determined effort to be a mother to him. It was a role that she did not feel came to her naturally, but Apollo had assured her time and time again, that the boy did not see her as an interloper, trying to take his mother's place. The Captain was, as Sheba well knew, convinced that Boxey would be pleased about the baby, particularly since it was a subject that the boy had brought up before. Apollo had gently tried to convince her, holding her in his arms those many nights that she'd cried in frustration at what she saw as her various failed attempts and inadequacies at mothering, that it was Sheba's own insecurities, that caused her to be so fearful in building her relationship with her new son. He had carefully suggested that she feared Boxey would resent her the way she herself had once resented her Father's former lover, Cassiopeia. A lifetime ago it seemed to her, as she looked down at Boxey's quietly curious expression. "Sure, it was lots of fun, but I'm afraid that your Dad and some of the other pilots had to cut our grown up furlon time short to..." she hesitated, knowing that there was never any easy way to prepare a child for a potential loss, and chose her own Father's method, a direct approach, "Boxey, I'm afraid that your Father and the others are out looking for Boomer. There was a mix up over what time he was supposed to be home, and they're just flying their vipers out to find out what's happened." "It's alright, Sheba," Boxey stepped over to sit beside her, taking her a little by surprise as he pulled her left arm over his shoulders and embraced her waist impulsively with his small arms. "You don't have to pretend you're not worried about Boomer. I know Daddy and Grandpa still think I'm a little kid," he lifted his head to gaze up at her earnestly, "but I'm almost nine yahrens. I know how dangerous it is to be a warrior. Besides, Boomer can fix anything. Even if his viper is broken, he'll still make it home, and not even a whole ship full of old Cylons could stop him." Sheba let out some of the worry she had indeed been trying to hide from him, in the form of a reflexive sob, and tightened the embrace of her arm around his small frame, brushing his hair from his brow with her right hand. "You're right, of course. Boomer will be just fine." Sheba pursed her suddenly dry lips and swallowed hard, "There's another thing I need to tell you. This is good news. At least, I hope you think it is." She pushed her concern for her fellow pilot as far aside as she could, and managed to smile once again, "We were going to tell you tomorrow, after evening meal with your Grandfather and Athena, but we had to tell them early, because, well,..." in spite of Apollo's consistent reassurance during their time together, from the mission to the artificially constructed planet where the Captain had asked her to be sealed with him, roughly a yahren ago, to the previous evening, a few mere centaurs ago now, when they had enjoyed almost all of one rare night completely alone together on the Rising Star, until an atypically unnerved Starbuck, with Komma in tow, had come to fetch them with news of Boomer's disappearance, she still feared Boxey's angry rejection of her. It was an insecurity that was taking some time and effort for her to overcome, and she hoped that her next words to the boy would be a large step toward a victory over her fear. "What I'm trying to tell you, Boxey, is that," she inhaled deeply and then exhaled the words before they could take hold of her lips and refuse to come out, "Your Father and I, we're having a baby. Later next yahren, you're going to have a little brother or sister." Sheba inhaled once again, slowly, and caught the breath in her throat, holding it, as a barrier against the threat of her fears escaping, threatening once again to overwhelm her. "A brother?" Boxey's expression was difficult for Sheba to read, his small brow knitted in a thoughtful attitude, his eyes wide with what she hoped was excitement, even anticipation. "Or, maybe a sister," she spoke softly as her tensely held breath escaped slowly with her words, "What do you think about that, Boxey?" "When Mommy told me that Apollo was going to be my Dad," Sheba watched the boy's expression, wondering if she'd know how to handle what he was about to share, "she said that they were going to have more kids, brothers and sisters for me," the little boy's arms tightened their grip on her, his voice betraying an underlying sadness that was always there when he discussed Serina, something Apollo, and Sheba, had encouraged him to do. They had done their best to make it clear to him, early on in their relationship, that he was to feel no hesitation in sharing thoughts of his lost mother, or in his conviction that her living spirit still occupied a place in their lives, "You know, when Daddy met us on Caprica, after the Cylons shot at us, and the buildings all burned, and the first Muffy ran away, it was just after his little brother went away." "Yes," Sheba said quietly, not certain where Boxey's thoughts were taking him, "your Dad told me about that." "Maybe having a little brother is what made him such a good Dad." "I'm sure it probably helped for him to have some experience." Sheba relaxed a little, feeling encouraged. Boxey had not compared her with Serina, but had in fact given each of them, his first and second mothers, their individual places in his heart, as Apollo had often encouraged him to do. "Sheba, do you think that the baby will be confused because I have another mom?" "Well, I hope not," she waited, still uncertain, keeping her answers short and allowing the boy to express his thoughts to her. "I think," Boxey paused, a sudden smile appearing to wipe away the attitude of deep thought, "I think maybe it would be less confusing for my little brother, if I called you Mom. Would that be okay?" Sheba's heart, it seemed to her, had stopped beating for a micron, as her mind absorbed what Apollo's son had just said to her. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached to hug the boy firmly, a sense of relief sending a warm rush up through her chest "If you'd like to call me Mom," the tears returned and carried out their earlier threat of flowing down her cheeks, as she pulled back from the embrace and once more pushed the hair from his brow with a gentle hand, managing a tremulous and heartfelt smile, "I think that would be just fine." *** Chapter Two Scene Seven "As you can see," Baltar gestured with an emaciated arm, indicating one of the many identical hatchways that spanned the length of the corridor that he, Boomer, Artemis and the two heavily armed Cylon centurions now traversed, "the other guests are still sleeping. Shhh," he moved his index finger to his lips and leaned toward Boomer in a conspiratorial manner, "we don't want to wake them up yet. Not until it's time for the party," Baltar then clutched Boomer's shoulder with a skeletal claw, digging his untrimmed nails into the white fabric of Boomer's flight jacket, throwing an inquisitive and wary look in Artemis' direction, "I wasn't informed that you were bringing a friend. Is she coming to the party, or did she just drop you off? We can send her out the airlock, if you don't want her to stay," Baltar smiled, his stale breath assaulting Boomer's senses, "I know that you've come to help me get the party started, we must escape just as the Pegasus fires, but I think she might be a spy. It says that she doesn't belong here. Is she hiding behind the magnets? We've got to cover them up, you know. Fortunately, the other party guests won't be affected. The magnets don't..." Baltar's voice trailed off as he began to study the hand that still clutched Boomer's shoulder. Releasing his grip, Baltar lifted his hand, moving it close to his own face, and peering intently at the palm and then the back of it. He started suddenly and whirled about with a flurry of his tattered cloak, glancing wildly around as he moved, as if searching for the source of a sound that only he could hear. Covering his hands quickly with his sleeves, he shouted in the direction of the ceiling, "Yes, yes, of course!" Returning his attention to Boomer, Baltar once again adjusted his features into a sly smile, "Come along. No tour would be complete without a peek at the bridge," he whispered loudly in Boomer's direction, "it's where I spend most of my time." With that, Baltar began to walk quickly along the corridor, the centurions gesturing, with their laser rifles at the ready, for the two Colonial Warriors to follow him. Boomer and Artemis shared a backward look and a thought as their warriors' instincts gauged the possibility of incapacitating the centurions behind them. Looking into Artemis' eyes, Boomer shook his head in what any warrior, cadet or lieutenant, would clearly see as an order to take no action. The young woman returned the gesture, after a speculative glance at the centurions' laser rifles, with a slight nod. The centurions pushed the two of them into a faster pace as they continued to follow Baltar. Boomer would have been convinced, even without Artemis' previous intelligence, that Baltar was suffering the after effects of prolonged exposure to the type of radiation that had poisoned Calvin's mind. Calvin, Boomer well knew, had only used a small, palm-sized chunk of the raw ore to power his portable scanner shield. Baltar, on the other hand, may very well have been aboard the concealed baseship that had terrorized the fleet for so many sectons, before it was destroyed by the Galactica's lasers half a yahren ago, just before Apollo and Sheba had been married in a field combat sealing ritual in the Commander's office. If Baltar had been aboard that ship, surrounded by the electromagnetic scanner shield that had concealed the Cylons from the Galactica's scanners for sectons on end, then he may have suffered prolonged exposure to megons of unshielded and deathly toxic ore. He was in much worse shape than Calvin, obviously delusional, and barely conscious of his surroundings. If Artemis' mission was to be accomplished, then Boomer knew that he would have to use the knowledge that he had gleaned from working with Wilker and his lab-techs to help Doctor Paye in his efforts to cure Calvin, and from his conversations with Calvin himself, to find some way to get Baltar, and his centurions, under control in time to remove the traitor from the Oberon. This was to be accomplished after they left this timeline, camouflaged by the apparent destruction of the Oberon at the pending Battle of Altrua, and after their arrival, with the Oberon, in Boomer's proper time, directly in front of the Galactica, and right in the crosshairs of the Pegasus' targeting scanners. Just a walk in the agro-ship park. What could be easier?, Boomer glanced once more at the young black-haired woman by his side, All I have to do is take the word of a self-proclaimed Valkyrie from the future who looks just like..., Artemis turned briefly and returned his gaze with her piercing green eyes as his mind worked methodically and resignedly through the logistics of his current situation, take her at her word that I'm here in the past to help Baltar, who is allegedly not only sick but under the influence of an evil entity that has a grudge against the Fleet and Apollo in particular, the greatest villain in future Colonial history, to perpetrate a fraud on every Colonial Warrior that was at the Battle of Altrua, including Adama and Cain no less, and believed that they had seen the Oberon destroyed. Then, we have to get our astrums off this ship before the vast number of deactivated centurions aboard her are reactivated and launched and get ourselves, and Baltar, out of the way so that Cain and Adama can destroy the Oberon for the second time. Meanwhile, Artemis is to rely on the very aliens that spawned Iblis to begin with and have admitted to having made some error of judgment that has actually allowed events to converge into this mess, to get her back to her own future time without anyone other than me, and now Baltar, having known of her existence in this time and space, Boomer tried one of those deep cleansing breaths that he's seen his Captain perform on more than one stressful occasion. It didn't seem to help. "Here we are," Baltar called in a musical voice, as though he were a recreation officer conducting a tour aboard a pleasure cruiser, "this is my favourite place. We can see all three battlestars from here. It's a lovely view, don't you think?" "Oh my God," Boomer breathed quietly, his mouth opening in awe as he and Artemis and their Cylon guards entered the command chamber behind Baltar. It's true, he looked at Artemis, who stood beside him staring at the main forward view screen, obviously struggling to maintain her stoic expression, We're actually here, in this place and time, Boomer returned his own gaze forward to the large screen where both warriors could plainly see, in stark contrast to the star field framed within its perimeter, three Colonial battlestars in a standard chevron formation, closing in on the Oberon from what Boomer estimated to be a relatively close range. There they were, looking much as Boomer had imagined that they would appear when he, in a now future time from his own past, had studied this moment in those seminars at the Academy, The Atlantia, the Pegasus, and the Galactica. *** Chapter Two Scene Eight "Alpha One, this is Alpha Two," Starbuck's voice came in over the communication array on the console in the cabin of Apollo's viper, worry plainly evident in his voice, expressing some of the same frustration and fear that all of the Galactica's pilots were struggling with over the circumstances of Boomer's mysterious disappearance, "Shall we make any course corrections before we have to turn around?" "To where, Starbuck?" Apollo's voice was controlled, but to the conditioned ear of his best friend and wingman, it betrayed an edge of desperation, "We're only here because the Galactica's computer figured this was the most feasible search pattern." "Captain, Beta Two here," the current Valkyrie Squadron Leader, Deitra, interjected over the multi-ship network frequency that the two men had been broadcasting with, "Just heard from Gamma Wing. They're coming up behind us. They report nothing in their grid, Sir. Bojay and I have seen a whole lot of empty space so far, too. There just don't appear to be any significant signals between us and the nebula at this galaxy's rim. Maybe the other search wings have found him already, Sir. We won't know until we're all back in communication range together." "That's right, Deitra. Boomer could be back in the barracks having a nice relaxing turbo-wash by now." Apollo sighed quietly and studied the scanner displays before him on the console, "Alright everyone," the Captain's voice came in over multi-ship in a reluctantly decisive tone, "we've reached our search range limit. Let's merge the wings into the last search segment for the return trip to the Galactica." Apollo pushed the control stick in his left hand steadily forward, and into a gentle curve that was manifested in the movement of his ship. Coming around in a graceful arc, the Captain and his wingman took the central position as the first two of four pairs of wingmen moved to form one larger formation, spread out to optimal lateral scanner range in a curved blade of scanner signals, every pilot hoping fervently that Boomer would be found, and struggling to control the despair that had begun to build in their hearts. They all knew well that they had no trail to follow, no nearby planets, no place for Boomer to have disappeared to in the vast area of open space comprising this sector of the galaxy that the Galactica was currently traversing. If one of the four groups of eight pilots that had spread out into a three-dimensional ovoid search pattern with the Galactica as its central vertex did not find Boomer within the time that it would now take them to return to their starting point with barely enough fuel to land, then there would simply be nowhere left to search. None of them wished to vocalize the feelings that they all knew so well. It was one of the most difficult reality of being a Warrior of the Colonial Fleet, the prospect of losing one another. Apollo knew that there would be time later to grieve if Boomer did not return, and he was unwilling to allow the thought to occupy him. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, optimizing Boomer's chance of contacting them with a maximum search range. If Boomer was somewhere within the last unilateral search quadrant, then they should be able to detect his presence between here and the Fleet. "Skipper," Jolly's voice came in on the multi-ship, "Gamma One here. Delta wing is on the way. They haven't found a thing, Sir, but there's something on my long range scan display. Greenbean's picked it up, too. It's not registering any stable mass. It could be some sort of spatial anomaly, but I can't tell for sure. It's still pretty far off yet." "Right Jolly, we'll watch our scanner readings until it's within visual range. It's the most tangible thing we've found, so let's keep our eyes on it. All wings, continue along standard unilateral search vector. Let's not miss anything. Boomer needs every chance that we can give him." "Aye, Skipper. Gamma Wing in position." Jolly responded to the Strike Leader's order for himself and his wingman, Greenbean. "Aye, Captain. Beta Wing ready." Bojay's voice came in, verifying for the Captain that he and Deitra were also in their assigned positions within the arc of the scanner array formed by the six vipers. "Delta Wing here, Sir," , Lieutenant Giles' voice broke in on the open channel as he and Lieutenant Barton, the last of the four search wing pairs, moved to join the viper formation. Apollo watched his scanner display, glimpsing Jolly's spatial anomaly at long range, Lords of Kobol, please let that anomaly be a good sign. *** Chapter Two Scene Nine "Cassiopeia?" Sheba entered the main Life Station hatchway and approached the blonde med-tech who sat poring over a display on the main diagnostic station console. "Sheba. How are things on the bridge?" Cassiopeia managed a hopeful smile, "Is there any news about Boomer?" "No. No yet." Sheba controlled her voice carefully, but was unable to hide the dread that had begun to rise within her and the other warriors and support personnel that worked aboard the Galactica. The common thought that occupied all of them was that the search teams would be on their way back about now, and there had as yet been no communications regarding the missing pilot. Sheba shook her head and willed to one side her worried thoughts of Boomer and the pilots who currently searched for him in their vipers. She leaned down on the narrow flat surface atop the diagnostic station, crossing her arms and resting an elbow in each palm, "Athena and Bojay told Apollo and me what happened with Starbuck on the Rising Star," Sheba's face assumed an attitude of friendly concern and her tone conveyed her desire to listen, "I see you've cut your furlon short as well. I can see why you wouldn't want to stay for the rest of the celebration after we'd all gone." "It's alright, Sheba," Cassiopeia pressed 'lock in' key command on the display before her and powered down the monitor that had been holding her attention for several centons, "I spoke to Siress Blassie about Chameleon's illness and the note that I thought she'd sent me. I decided to come back here to consult with Doctor Salik. With Starbuck gone, well, with Starbuck on duty for a while, I thought that I might as well try to get some work done." "That secret that you were talking about yesterday," Sheba looked into her friend's troubled blue eyes, "after you got that message from the recreation officer, you said that you were bound to a secret that was wrongfully kept. You meant that you'd kept Starbuck from knowing that Chameleon really is his father, didn't you?" "Yes, Sheba," the corners of Cassiopeia's eyes filled with tears as she struggled to resist them, "I hope you don't think less of me. I know how strongly you and Apollo must believe that Starbuck had the right to know that Doctor Salik's medical testing was positive, that Chameleon was genetically confirmed as Starbuck's father. Your own family bonds are so important to you. I should never have kept such an unfair secret. I know Starbuck said that we'd work it out together, that he's not furious with me, but I feel so awful," Cassiopeia lost her battle with her tears and, lowering her face into her hands, began to cry in dry, convulsive sobs that racked her slender frame and caused a wave of compassion to course through Sheba's senses. "Oh, Cassie," Sheba lifted her weight from her arms, and moved around to the interior of the diagnostic station to crouch beside the blonde woman's chair. Placing a hand lightly on the arm of the chair, she peered up toward Cassiopeia's face and spoke gently, "I don't believe anyone's angry with you. I think that we all know you well enough by now to be certain that you would never to anything to deliberately hurt someone. I know, all of Starbuck's friends know, that you wouldn't have kept the truth from him without a great deal of reluctance," a crooked smile appeared on Sheba's face as Cassiopeia regained her composure and reached into a small compartment under the console, pulling out a cloth with which she dabbed her tearstained face, "I know I'm a little hard on Starbuck sometimes, Cassie, but in spite of his crazy wagering schemes, I know that he's a man of character. He might be a little hurt, or even angry, but he loves you, and he knows that you love him." "Thanks for the counsel, Sheba," Cassiopeia laughed weakly as she worked at pushing her fears aside, "Has married life softened you on the vagaries of the male mind?" "Softened me in the head, do you mean?" Sheba laughed softly as she rose to her feet and returned to the front of the diagnostic station, leaning once more with her arms crossed in front of her, "Speaking of married life, Apollo and I were obliged to share our news earlier than we'd planned. Adama needed to be told why I'm off active flight duty. It's going to be bridge duty, administration, and cadet instruction for me for a good many sectons," Sheba's words were melancholy, but Cassiopeia knew well how happy the two of them, Sheba and Apollo, had been, only days ago, standing here beside Cassiopeia in the Life Station, when Doctor Salik had confirmed the impending birth of their child. "The rumours have reached Life Station already," Cassiopeia chuckled, her will gaining some victory over her worries, "Bojay apparently told one of the launch bay techs, who told a med-tech coming in from the Senior Ship, and she told a few bridge officers that were in Life Station for routine procedures, then they went back up to the Command Centre. I'd say the whole ship should know by now," Cassiopeia stopped with a sudden thought, "Has anyone told Boxey, yet?" "Yes, I've spent a good part of the day with him in Adama's quarters. I've been back and forth from there to the bridge for centaurs now. He's gone to bed with a book in Adama's chambers. I was going to let him stay over another night, as we'd planned, with Lena and Persephone, but I didn't want him hearing any confused accounts of the search for Boomer," both women shared a grim look as they momentarily exposed their fear over the potential loss of their friend with their expressions, then silently agreed to push it aside. They would not mourn for Boomer unless all hope of his recovery was gone. It was the only way to stay sane in such a tenuous existence as their lives in the Fleet could be. Sheba was the first to smile again, "Boxey asked if it would be alright with me for him to call me 'Mom'," she placed a palm reflexively against her abdomen, "so that the baby won't be confused." "Oh, Sheba," Cassiopeia followed suit and smiled up at her friend, "you see? I've been telling you what an open-hearted boy he is. He's wanted to have brothers and sisters, since, well, since I first met him," Cassiopeia stood and walked around the diagnostic station to stand beside Sheba, placing a hand on the shoulder of Cain's daughter, remembering the tiny boy of six yahrens whose dying mother had charged Cassiopeia to watch over him, "You're a much better mother than you've been telling yourself you are." she chided gently, "Serina would have approved just such as you to be his second mother, to love him and keep him safe. I'm certain of it." "Thank you, Cassiopeia," Sheba's voice failed her slightly as she touched the hand that grasped her shoulder, "There's been so much good news. I hope Boomer gets home soon, with the rest of the pilots, so he can celebrate with us." The two young women stood together for several microns, sharing a silent prayer for their friend's safe return. "Lieutenant Sheba to the Command Centre," the Unicom interrupted their reverie as it broadcasted Lieutenant Rigel's voice throughout the many chambers and corridors of the massive battlestar, "Lieutenant Sheba, please report to the Command Centre." "There," Cassiopeia said, with as much bravado as she could muster, "That's going to be good news," she removed her hand from Sheba's shoulder and moved to return to her console display, "you'd better get going. Let me know when the guys bring Boomer back." "You bet I will," Sheba mirrored her friend's bravado with some of her own before rushing out the main hatchway of the Life Station and toward the lift that would take her on the shortest available route to the Access Junction and then on to the Bridge, to hear whatever news might be awaiting her there. *** Chapter Two Scene Ten "Tolen, you've done it!" Commander Cain slapped his Executive Officer on the shoulder with a victorious laugh, "you've shaved our time by half with that extra capacitor! At least some of the energy coming off the shield works to speed us up. We should be out of Cylon range in a matter of centons now," Cain lifted the scepteron that he held in his other hand, staring at the stylized winged equine that topped it's hard wood length, "Now we can turn off the scanner shield and, once we make it to the Galactica, destroy the last of the ore." "Yes, Sir," Tolen allowed a rare boyish grin to cross his normally serious face, as he turned in his chair to look up at his Commanding Officer, "We've lost some structural integrity with the acceleration, but the Pegasus should hold out until we get into communication range with the Fleet. It will be a relief to be quit of the ringing ears." "Indeed," The Commander nodded gravely, removing his hand from Tolen's shoulder and leaning back against the perimeter rail of the command platform, "No wonder poor Corporal Ormin thought he was hearing voices emanating from the ore. Roman deserves the highest commendation we can give him, for what it's worth, for developing that anti-toxin. Without it, the dementia would have taken us all." "Sir," Tolen reached forward to key in a sequence of commands on the console before him and bringing the main targeting scanner display on-line, "We're picking up eight signals bearing in on our position. They're aligned in an arc, it's a standard Colonial ovoid search quadrant formation. I would guess that they're on their way back to the Galactica. We're right in path of their search grid, Commander," Tolen's smile widened, "Sir, the computer confirms the signals as Colonial vipers, and we're picking up eight human life signs. Shall we power down the scanner and let them know we're here?" "By all means, Tolen," Cain smiled in open amusement, "first bit of fun we've had for a while. What do you want to guess we're going to scare the britches off a few of Adama's poor, unsuspecting pilots?" the Commander laughed heartily and reached over to the communication console, keying in the command that initiated the control for the Unicom, then speaking in the direction of the inset microphone, "Attention, all hands. This is Cain. We've spotted some of the Galactica's people. Report to your primary duty stations. We're bringing down the shield," switching off the Unicom control, Cain stepped back and, tucking his scepteron into the crook of an elbow, braced himself with a hand to the perimeter rail, preparing for the turbulence that he and his skeleton crew all knew would be coming with the powering down of the electromagnetic scanner shield that surrounded the ship, poisoning the crew, and subjecting them to the constant voice-like hum that resonated in their ears when it was in operation, "Tolen, power down that shield, and open a channel to those vipers! It's time for the Pegasus to come back out into the open!" *** Chapter Two Scene Eleven "Sheba!" Athena called out to her brother's wife, hailing her to approach the tactical communication station at which Athena sat. The dark haired woman rose as Sheba drew closer, "Apollo's search wing should be reporting in soon. I thought you'd prefer to be here." "Thanks, Athena," Sheba smiled grimly, "Have you heard from the other search wings yet?" "The third one just came in on a long range signal from Beta Quadrant," the two women adopted stoic expressions as they stood together at the base of the command platform, arms crossed over their breasts, watching the star field on the main viewing screen, knowing that Apollo's group would be the last one to reach the Galactica's maximum communication range. If they had found no sign of the missing pilot..."It will be good news, Sheba," Athena's lip trembled slightly as she turned to the brown haired woman beside her, "it just has to be," she shook her dark head and took a deep breath, calming the muscles of her face back into one of military professionalism, "Boomer will be back. I just know it." "So do I," Sheba said quietly, as they both continued to watch the space directly forward of the Galactica. "Commander!" The two women looked up as Bridge Officer Omega's voice carried down from the command platform. Tigh and Adama rushed over from their position in front of the transparent tylium star chart in the area behind and below the platform, passing by the young warriors on their way up the steps. Responding to the urgent tone of Omega's voice, Athena and Sheba returned quickly to the tactical console. "Report, Omega!" Adama said as he stepped up behind Omega's station, "What have you got?" "Sir! We're picking up a distortion on long range carrier scan. The computer identifies it as," Omega turned and looked up at Tigh and Adama with a concerned expression, "it's been identified as an electromagnetic field with properties similar to the scanner screen that was shielding the concealed baseship that we destroyed half a yahren ago," Omega turned back to his console and snatched a print out from below his console, "the computer estimates a ninety three percent likelihood that there is a large object, such as a ship, hidden within the field." "Adama," Tigh stiffened his jaw spoke in a carefully controlled tone, "If that's another baseship..." "I know, Tigh," the Commander grasped the back of Omega's chair and studied the main display on the console, but it's not shaped like a baseship, is it?" "No. No, it isn't. That signal was spheroid, the shape of the ship it was concealing," Tigh's eyes opened wider and an expression of shock momentarily unclenched his jaw as he turned to join his Commander in a study of the console display, "This signal is ovoid." "Rather like a large cruiser, or perhaps a battlestar, wouldn't you say Tigh?" Adama lifted an eyebrow, and glanced from Tigh to Omega, observing the impact of his words in the surprised, and then thoughtful expressions that their faces assumed. "Commander?" Adama turned at the sound of Sheba's voice. The young woman took the last step up to the command platform and then another step in the older warrior's direction, a look of cautious hope on her face, "Do you think it could be them? After all this time, could it be the Pegasus?" "We'll know soon enough, Sheba," Adama adopted a fatherly tone, as he moved to close the space between them, placing his hands gently on the young woman's shoulders, "We'll be within communications range of that signal within the centaur," he squeezed the slender shoulders encouragingly before releasing his grip and returning to his study of the console display, "Omega," he said quietly, as he watched his son's wife step down from the platform to return to his daughter's side, "Ready the laser cannons, just in case." Omega nodded grimly and keyed in several commands, quietly positioning the Galactica's laser cannon array to converge on the unidentified signal that now flashed directly behind the crosshairs of his console's targeting scanner. *** Chapter Two Scene Twelve Cassiopeia reached for the warm drink in the small victual tray beside the console at which she worked. Lifting the metallic mug to her lips, she slowly sipped the hot yama root mixture. She frowned suddenly and, lowering the mug back down to the tray, reversed and paused the automatic forward function on the display of text that she had been reading. This can't be right, the young woman leaned forward in her chair and shook her head, frowning in confusion, Chameleon, how could you have been exposed to...? "Cassiopeia?" the young woman started slightly and turned to see Doctor Salik approaching quietly from behind her, glancing over her shoulder at the heading attached to the patient file on the display, "Ah, Chameleon. I heard what happened on your furlon. Siress Blassie contacted me a few centaurs ago on a secure channel from the Senior Ship and gave me a fairly thorough account." the Doctor placed a fatherly hand on her slender shoulder, his large, though gentle, fingers grasping the material of her uniform, "This could be a bit of a bureaucratic mess on the medical end. I'll have to rewrite all of those entries that were lost when my personal files were damaged a while back, particularly the notations regarding my permission to you to keep the genetic testing confidential at the request of one of the participants," Salik was encouraged to see a small, though humourless, smile force its way across Cassiopeia's face, "I wouldn't want to lose my best medical technician through a misunderstanding. On a personal level, according to Blassie, it doesn't sound like your young man is going to be holding any serious grudges," the Doctor moved his hand from her shoulder to the back of her chair, assuming a more businesslike manner, "Now, bring me up to speed on Chameleon's illness. I understand Senior Ship Administrator Khufu has been monitoring his progress up to now. According to him, the diagnosis is progressive dementia, associated with a weakening of all physical functions. Basically, they're chalking it up to advanced age and hard living." "It looks that way, Doctor," Cassiopeia's smile broadened briefly, in gratitude and relief this time. Salik, in his usual gruff and understated way, had made himself her conspirator and champion, offering his help to dig her from the emotional and ethical quagmire she had become imprisoned in because of her deceit in keeping Chameleon's secret, "Up to now, there hasn't been any obvious reason to suspect that there were any other major factors involved, but I've been studying the primary test results from the blood samples taken by the Senior Ship staff, and there's something familiar about these levels right here," she pointed with a delicate index finger to a line of print that appeared on the display, focussing her pale blue eyes on the Doctor's face and seeing his expression change dramatically. "You're sure about this?" his voice took on an urgent tone. "Yes, Doctor. I've run the results through the main diagnostics computer three times," Cassiopeia looked up at Salik with a confused and oddly fearful expression, "There's no doubt about the apparent effects, but where's the cause? I think we'd better test the entire population of the Senior Ship, and have the ship itself searched." "Yes. You're right. That's exactly what we'll do. Send a copy of these files to my console, then get a medical team together and be ready to transport by shuttle to the Senior Ship. Oh, and have Doctor Paye report to me immediately. Looks to me like Chameleon's been misdiagnosed," Doctor Salik started toward his office, then paused to turn with a grim look on his face, "I want strict decontamination protocols put in place. That ship is to be quarantined to all but medical staff . We'd better find out how many other false diagnoses may have slipped past the formidable Khufu. He's a very exacting man. He's not likely to be pleased at our overriding his authority, but if he's been spending every working day on that ship with his residents, then he may have been affected as well. I want the medical team to be given strict orders to test every person on that ship, including the staff." "Yes, Doctor," Feeling stronger in spirit at having some direct action to take, Cassiopeia reached determinedly for the communication array near the diagnostic display on the console in front of her as Salik rushed toward his office. Oh Starbuck. I hope we're not too late. I don't know how this could have happened, but we might just have beaten the odds and allowed you some more time to be with your father. *** Chapter Two Scene Thirteen Boomer stood staring at the three battlestars that dominated the main forward view screen of the ship that he now believed to be the Oberon, just as Artemis had claimed. The private suspicion that he had kept to himself, since hearing her fantastic story of time travel and Light Ship aliens, even after he'd decided to go along with her plan, that she may be deluded and her story a sham disappeared like vapour on a hot desert planet. The evidence of his eyes was now causing him to completely accept her story. The Pegasus and the Galactica could have appeared before him in his own time, and still allowed him his doubts, but he had been one of the pilots that Adama had readied for launch, strategically circumventing President Adar's orders to stand down, on that awful day when the Atlantia had been destroyed at the advent of the Destruction, by the 'welcoming committee' of Cylon raiders that had been discovered beyond Cimtar by Apollo and his brother, Zac. The Atlantia had been destroyed before Boomer's eyes on that day, just as Zac's viper had been, yet here she was, clearly discernable on the view screen in formation with her two surviving sister ships. Boomer felt a hand on his elbow and turned to see an expression of determination on the face of the young warrior beside him. He blinked slowly in acknowledgement and glanced at the centurions behind them without moving his head. Artemis returned the silent order with a barely perceptible nod, understanding his direction that, when he gave the order to act, their first priority would be to move against their captors. If they were to have any hope of following through with the mission, and getting Baltar off the ship after the transport of the Oberon, to Boomer's, and Baltar's, appropriate time and space, the centurions would have to be disabled. "Now, then, Lieutenant Boomer," Baltar called out merrily from his place at the weapon control station near the aft bulkhead of the command chamber, "I'll just be needing the override codes for these mines so that I can use them to open the invisible door and get the ship to the party," Baltar smiled broadly, his poorly tended teeth and wide eyes creating an effect that appeared to Boomer to be disturbingly similar to some death masks that he had once seen in the Caprican Museum of Ancient Peoples, "We can't stay and play with all the battlestars, I'm afraid, but I do have some good news," Baltar flounced quickly toward his captives, pushing Artemis aside and clutching Boomer's arm with both of his own claw-like hands, speaking gleefully through his crazed smile, "the Galactica is going to be there. Adama will be so surprised to see that we've made it," Baltar frowned at Boomer's cautiously neutral expression, "Oh, I see. I neglected to tell you who the party was for. Silly me! It's a surprise party for Adama. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees that we've made it the whole way from here to there," the frown became deeper as Baltar's dark eyes bored into Boomer's, "Now, then. Let's program those override codes. I don't want Adama to be disappointed," Baltar pulled Boomer by the arm, with a surprisingly strong force, and led him jerkingly over to the weapon station, "It said that you know the codes." Baltar released his grip on Boomer's arm and, before either of the Colonials could react, leaped quickly over to the nearest of the two centurions, drawing the robot's sidearm and slipping an arm around Artemis' neck, positioning the barrel of the weapon at her temple. "If you don't input the codes, I'm afraid I'll have to shoot this spy," Artemis felt Baltar's warm breath at her ear, "nothing personal, my dear. I'm sure we could have been friends," his voice took on a mournful tone with an incongruous and jarring element of mirth, "if only we'd met after the party." "Baltar," Boomer spoke gently, almost soothingly as he took a miniscule step toward the traitor, Artemis and the two centurions, "you don't have to shoot anybody. I know how to identify the override codes. I can do it for you in a matter of centons, and I will, but tell me, how will the mines 'open the invisible door'?" Seeing the crazed look of malice on Baltar's face, Boomer took a step, backward this time, and attempted to adjust his own face into a calm and friendly expression, "I don't like to be late for a party, my friend," Boomer gestured with a nod to the weapon control station, "come on over here and show me where you want me to enter the codes, then you can take us to see the look on Commander Adama's face." Baltar's unkempt brows furrowed in thoughtful confusion. Releasing his grip on Artemis, but keeping the weapon at the ready, his finger on the trigger, he moved to rejoin Boomer in front of the weapon control console. Baltar reached to key in a short sequence of commands, watching his own hand distractedly as the display on the console flickered, and a sequence of input code requests began to flash. Backing against the aft bulkhead, Baltar gestured with the barrel of the laser pistol in his hand, "Get the override codes, before..." The bulkheads and decking that surrounded them shook violently and the three humans and two centurions in the command chamber were thrown from their feet. "Uncle Boomer!" Artemis cried, "Hurry! Get the override codes and input them. The Pegasus is coming in to finish off the Oberon." The young Valkyrie leaped to her feet in an impressively athletic maneuver, gripping the hilt of the nearest centurion's sword and standing, knees bent and arms akimbo as she lifted the sword smoothly over her head. Boomer rose to his own feet in time to see his fellow warrior bring down the sword with both of her deceptively slender arms and cleave the still prone robot's head cleanly from it's torso. Boomer stumbled over Baltar as the ragged man began to stand. Grabbing Baltar's arm with a forceful grip, Boomer disarmed him efficiently and fired a laser blast directly into the chest panel of the second Cylon, just as Artemis completed a spinning maneuver that removed it's head as well. The two warriors took a micron to look into each other's eyes, and share a Colonial Warrior's smile of satisfaction at a tangible taste of victory, but were brought back abruptly to the task at hand by another volley of laser blasts from the Battlestar Pegasus. Boomer, with a grim look at the forward view screen, pushed a dazed Baltar into the chair in front of the console and began to input the standard Colonial military code sequences that would display the needed override codes, we'll see how well I paid attention at those seminars. There's a particular frequency that Cain used, Boomer glanced at the main viewer once again, to see the Pegasus fast approaching, the Galactica and the Atlantia close behind, that Cain will use to interrupt the signal from the Oberon's computer to the forward weapons array, Boomer snorted derisively as he keyed in a quick series of commands that copied and displayed the machine code text of an incoming signal, pondering the apparent insanity that life so often seemed to serve up to him these days, This must be why Baltar and his puppet master needed me, to get the codes, but if they'd studied their military history a little more thoroughly they'd have known that Cain's maneuver, though it will disable the forward lasers as planned, will also give me the chance to access the override codes as the Pegasus is broadcasting them. If Baltar were in his right mind, he would surely have been able to pull the whole thing off on his own, without me. "Have you got the codes, Uncle Boomer?" Artemis appeared quickly beside him, on the other side of Baltar's chair. "The last one's coming in...now!," Boomer input the last sequence and pressed the initiation control for the mines that Baltar had pre-programmed, "I guess you're not a Cylon spy, after all, Lieutenant Artemis." "What convinced you, Uncle Boomer?" There was that smile and those twinkling green eyes, conveying so much in so little time. "The fact that you didn't finish me off with the sword. They must have really pumped up the ground force training since I graduated from the Academy." In spite of their tenuous situation, Boomer couldn't help but return that smile. Artemis and Boomer laughed together as the command chamber suddenly seemed to turn to brilliant light around them, their uniforms blending into the whiteness and their consciousness overwhelmed with a whining sound that gave them a sense of acceleration. Baltar's invisible doorway opened, enveloping the Oberon, and another entity, a dark shadow that appeared from within a subtle fold in the opening in space and moved over the ship, as if taking hold of it, a mere micron before the ship winked out of sight, leaving behind it a massive explosion with enough force and resulting debris to convince the three battlestar commanders from Boomer's past that the Oberon had been destroyed and that the Cylon filled ship had no further role to play in Colonial history, beyond becoming the subject of future military training seminars. *** Chapter Three Scene One "Well, Captain, you've heard the short version of our sad tale of toxic ore, radiation sickness, and that last acceleration that blew out a secondary energizer. It will be cruising speed from here to the Fleet." Cain leaned on the perimeter rail and glanced down toward the forward gallery below the command platform where Bojay, Deitra and Starbuck were gathered, perched on the edges of several console stations with Sergeant Roman and the half dozen junior officers who currently maintained and monitored the predominantly automated Command Centre, "We'll have long range communication with the Galactica in about half a centaur. If your missing man is between us and them, we should detect him soon. Your other four pilots might have found him already," Cain spoke encouragingly to Apollo of Boomer and the two search wing pairs that Apollo had ordered onward at high speed, still spread into a search formation with scanners at maximum range, to inform the Galactica that contact had been made with the Pegasus. The dark haired Captain stood with his arms crossed, looking toward Tolen, who manned the command console on the other side of the platform. "I hope you're right, Sir," Apollo turned to look into Cain's weary and pallid face and managed a smile, "I must say it was a bit of a shock seeing the Pegasus materialize while we were looking for a viper. I thought for a micron that I might be seeing an apparition." "Tolen and I thought we might just give you a little start." Cain laughed dryly and looked into Apollo's green eyes, "Now then, Captain. You haven't told me yet. How is my daughter? I see Bojay's just fine, and he's told me that Sheba is too, but when I asked for specifics about her all three of your party deferred to you and gained some distance." Cain straightened and tapped Apollo's chest lightly with his ever present scepteron, "No softening up the truth now, Captain. What's happened to her?" "Your daughter, Sir," Apollo took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then answered in a level tone, "Your daughter is fine. She commands her own squadron on the Galactica. She's also married and expecting a child. Her medical status is the primary reason that she wasn't in our search wing," Apollo's smile broadened as he saw first shock and then a quick recovery in the form of a surprised smile spread across the Commander's lean and rugged face. "She's sealed? To who? A pilot, of course. I'd wager my last cubit on that. And Bojay would have surely told me more, if the pilot Sheba's sealed to wasn't here to tell me himself," Cain, ever the strategist, gave the Captain a speculative look, "I recall you being just a bit insubordinate when we last met. A risk taker. Seems to me, my boy, that you and Sheba were at odds with one another almost the whole time. It's as I suspected at the time," Cain tucked the scepteron back under his arm and held it close to his side, laughing once again, this time in genuine merriment, "love at first sight. And Adama, that old war-daggit, gets to share my grandchildren. Probably encouraged the match just for the satisfaction," Cain laughed once more, taking note of the Captain's quietly amused expression, "Now tell me," the Commander of the Pegasus looked down toward the group in the lower gallery once more, resting his eyes briefly on Starbuck, before turning again to Apollo, "How is Cassiopeia?" the tone of this question was quiet and cautious, Cain's good humour subsiding in anticipation of an answer for which, as any wise and experienced strategist would, he had tried to prepare himself. "Cassiopeia and Starbuck have been doing quite well, Sir," Apollo's tone was equally cautious, as he and Cain held each other's gaze for a moment. Cain smiled wryly once more, his sharp, bright eyes scanning the Captain's face, and placed a hand on Apollo's shoulder. Apollo's silent message was clear, she's better off with him. "They have, have they?" the older warrior glanced once more in Starbuck's direction, then back at the Captain with a look of silent understanding, and something akin to bittersweet amusement, "A diplomatic response worthy of Adama, my boy," Cain reached out to grasp the young man's wrist and Apollo mirrored the gesture by grasping the Commander's wrist in return, "and a young man worthy of my daughter. Of that, I have no doubt." "Sir," Tolen's voice carried the short distance from across the command platform, "We've received a status report from Captain Apollo's pilots. I'm sorry Captain," the young Colonel frowned in empathy at Apollo's hopeful look, "they report no sign of your missing man, yet." Tolen turned to look at Cain, his radiation wearied face seeming a little less haggard to his Commanding Officer, "They're approaching Galactica's communication perimeter in less than fifteen centons, Sir. Lieutenant Jolly will relay a message back as soon as they've contacted the Galactica. We're on our way to the Fleet, Sir." "I just can't figure where Boomer could have gone." Apollo moved across the platform to stand beside Tolen, his lips pursed in frustration. Such a momentous day, yet Boomer was still unaccounted for. Both young men watched the scanner displays quietly. Apollo turned at the touch of Cain's hand on his shoulder. "It's like I told you, Son," Cain's slightly weakened posture underscored the grim understanding of a hardened warrior who knows what it means to have suffered hardship and to have lost people under his command, "If your missing man is between us and the Galactica, we should detect him soon." *** Chapter Three Scene Two "Administrator Khufu," Cassiopeia beamed sweetly upward at the Senior Ship's highest ranking official, a decidedly dour and inflexible man, with the tall asceticism and rugged air of a descendant of a desert dwelling people, "We do so appreciate you giving us access to all areas of the ship," the blonde med-tech tilted her head and indicated the hatchway that led from the landing and launch bay to the main corridor that spanned the length of the cruiser class ship, Cheops, designated the Fleet's Senior Ship. According to an edict passed by the Colonial Fleet's civilian authority, the Council of the Twelve, any Fleet citizen over one hundred yahrens with no superior or otherwise preferred accommodation elsewhere, was to be guaranteed a billet aboard her. "May we proceed to Chameleon's quarters, please?" The dour Khufu, ascetic in dress as well as visage, turned down the edges of his mouth, and regarded the group that was arrayed before him. Cassiopeia stood beside Doctor Paye, and behind them in a rough semi-circle waited the group of twelve lab-techs and med-techs, their arms and shoulders bearing the weight of multiple pieces of portable scanning and analysis equipment. Quietly bringing up the rear, as per Doctor Salik's orders, were two Council Security Officers, Reese and Melvin. "Access is open to all in the Fleet. It is our honour to serve the aged and infirm of humanity," Khufu spoke with a thick Scorpian accent, the musical tones of his native tongue bending the inflections of Standard Colonial that flowed from between his down-turned lips, "However, I am not understanding, Medical Technician, the access that is required in particular. Doctor," the Cheops' Administrator looked directly into Doctor Paye's eyes, a feat accomplished without looking downward, an uncommon experience for each of the two tall men who stood at roughly the same height. Lifting an eyebrow in a subtle, yet formally assumed manner, and clasping his hands behind his back, Khufu appeared the epitome of an efficient, and exacting, public servant, "Of what nature is the suspected discovery? What objects or micro-organisms do we anticipate to find? Doctor Salik has transmitted to my staff a series of chemical analysis reports, but did not explain the significance of them. His notation indicates a mistaken diagnosis for one or more residents of our humble ship. There is a toxin aboard, yes?" "Yes, it appears so," Paye responded gravely and gestured toward the hatchway as Cassiopeia had, "If you'll take me to a diagnostic station, I can explain more thoroughly. In the meantime, we'll have the team do an end to end sweep of the ship, starting here in the bay," the young doctor voiced the last words as an order, causing his team to begin opening their tech-kits and powering up their various scanning devices, "Medical Technician Cassiopeia and one of our Security escort will ascertain Chameleon's status. It appears from our initial data analysis that he could be the most severely affected." Paye stepped forward and, med-kit in one hand, gestured to Khufu with the other, an open palm inviting the Administrator to lead the way. Khufu nodded officiously and turned to pass through the hatchway, indicating a smaller access corridor to Cassiopeia and her Security escort, Reese, "Our honoured resident Chameleon may be reached most efficiently along that conduit," with a bow, the Administrator moved his attention from the med-tech and the security officer and ushered Paye along an alternate route that would bring the two men to the Cheops' Navigational and Communications Control and Operational Command Centre, commonly referred to as 'Cheops NavCon' by most of the pilots and technicians of the Fleet. The adjoining three room suite that comprised the Resident Service and Protocol Administration Centre was commonly referred to by those who worked under the formidable Chief Administrator as 'Khufu's Kingdom'. "Thanks for coming over from the Galactica on such short notice," Cassiopeia glanced up at Reese, awkwardly conscious of the often strained relationship between the Council Security Officer and Lieutenant Starbuck, "I wasn't aware that you'd come back on full-time duty. I guess the last of the, uh, projectiles must have made their way back out of the, um, the affected areas," she smiled weakly as she struggled to push aside her memory of Reese's initial visit to the Life Station after he had been disarmed and immobilized by Doctor Wilker's prototype planetary survey daggit drones. The drones had gone on a rampage during the course of a competition organized by Starbuck and ostensibly staged in order to condition the drones for more efficient execution of their survey functions. In the course of preparations and wagering for a carefully plotted race, the drones had experienced an input error and appropriated several large trays of mushies, which they had loaded into the chambers of their erstwhile defunct compression weapons and transformed into gooey projectiles with which they had inundated the Officer's Club and an unfortunately allergic Starbuck. Security Officer Reese had become their next target, not once, but twice. First, in the wreckage of what had once been the Officer's Club, and then in the Commissary, where it had taken the combined efforts of Colonial Military Security, Council Security and several other parties, including Boxey's mechanical friend Muffet Two, who had been used as the template for the design of the survey drones, to contain them and power them down. "The hair has certainly grown back in nicely," Cassiopeia continued with an effort at a professional tone, "Of course, it has been a whole yahren since the incident," her words trailed off weakly as she noted the pained look on the Security Officer's face. The incident was obviously not something that Reese was inclined to discuss. "Here we are," Cassiopeia said cheerfully, and with a small measure of relief, as she stopped before a small hatchway and touched the access chime key on the control panel inset in the bulkhead, "this is the access to Chameleon's chambers." Reese stood slightly behind and to the side of Cassiopeia as they waited together in the cramped and silent corridor. "There doesn't seem to anyone responding," Reese reached forward and touched the chime as Cassiopeia had, though holding it down a micron longer, "It's not a large chamber, I'm guessing," Cassiopeia nodded in confirmation of Reese's remark, "Get behind me, Cassiopeia. I'm entering a security override to open the hatch," the security officer reached forward and keyed in a command sequence that resulted in an immediate response from the hatch. As it swished open, the corridor was suddenly filled with a low hum that seemed to Reese and Cassiopeia to be emanating, not just from the open doorway, but from all around them. Cassiopeia could swear that it sounded like a voice, rumbling in such a low range that its words were not readily discernable. Reese stepped carefully through the hatchway and into the darkened chamber holding a cautioning hand up toward the med-tech behind him, "Slowly, now," he whispered over his shoulder to her, then called in a ringing tone toward the interior of the chamber, "Council Security. Is there anyone here?" Cassiopeia peered around Reese's shoulder and into the small chamber that she had visited before on several occasions. It took several microns for her vision to adjust to the blackness, and then... "Oh my God!" Cassiopeia cried, throwing the strap of her med-kit over her shoulder and running forward as she and Reese both saw what the darkness had been initially hiding from their unprepared eyes, "Chameleon! Blassie! Get away from it! Come out of there, quickly! Reese! Snap out of it! Help me get them out of here!" *** Chapter Three Scene Three "Sheba?" Adama entered the main chamber of his quarters, moving quietly toward the corner seat below the view port. Sheba sat with her feet drawn up onto the seat, her arms circling around her knees. She looked up at the sound of Adama speaking her name, and smiled in greeting as the Commander sat down on the adjacent portion of the seat, facing her across the corner. Adama leaned slightly forward, the fingers of both hands intertwined. "Commander," Sheba straightened and lowered her feet to the deck, mirroring Adama's posture, after reflexively pausing to comb her light brown hair with the fingers of both hands, "My thoughts wandered off. Boxey fell asleep in your bed a while ago, and I found myself out here gazing at the star field. Is there any news about Boomer yet?" "No. I'm afraid not, but we will continue to hope," the Commander's tone was grave, but there was an incongruous twinkle in his deep, brown eyes that caused Sheba to tilt her head, brow furrowed in speculation, as he continued to speak, a small smile forming on his expressive face, "There is news, however, of a different sort. Two of Apollo's search wing pairs have reported in. They have reached our long range communication perimeter. Apollo, Starbuck, Bojay and Deitra have stayed further behind. It appears that they have encountered a ship in need of assistance." "A ship? But no sign of Boomer. What sort of ship is it, Commander?" Sudden realization overtook her as she watched Adama's smile broaden. The Commander stood, offering her his hand and pulling her gently to her feet to stand beside him. "It is the Battlestar Pegasus, Sheba," Adama reached quickly to support her waist with his arm, his smile yielding to a look of alarm, as it appeared to him that her legs were threatening to give way from beneath her, "Sheba, my dear! I am so sorry. I should have better prepared you for the surprise." "It, it's alright, Sir," the Lieutenant found herself clinging weakly to Adama's shoulder as he lowered her back down to the bench seat, kneeling beside her with a look of concern. Recovering herself, somewhat, and clutching her knees with whitened knuckles, she stared into the Commander's face, her shock giving way to a tentative smile, "my Father, Sir?" she waited breathlessly for his response, tears forming in her eyes. "Commander Cain is alive, Sheba. The Pegasus has relayed a message through our returning search wings. The crew is suffering from radiation sickness, but their medic has developed a chemical treatment that protects against the dementia. Jolly is bringing back the last of their anti-toxin supply with him, so that our medics can start synthesizing more of it. It would appear, from Jolly's preliminary report, that our suspicions were correct. Cain and his crew had managed to mine a goodly supply of the ore from beneath the ruins on that artificially constructed planet, and get a rudimentary shield in operation before the Cylons returned in their baseship. The flinton that Apollo found in front of that astral map was a clue left in hope by your Father, to tell us that he was making his way to us through hostile territory using the directional co-ordinates that we've found hidden in the text on the temple wall. The Pegasus and her crew have spent the good part of the last yahren or more beneath an electromagnetic scanner shield much like the one that concealed that basestar that we destroyed.," Adama placed a gentle hand on Sheba's knee, "In any event, we will have time to share war stories later. For now, we will rejoice that your Father is coming home to you, my dear. The Pegasus will be in direct communication range with the Galactica within the next twenty to thirty centons. Their speed is diminished because of a failed energizer, so it could take them a centaur or more to reach visual range, but they are on the way," the Commander stood once more and Sheba rose to join him, her legs supporting her effort this time. "I've been hoping, and yet afraid to hope, for this moment," Sheba's voice was steady and quiet as she faced her husband's father, "and now that it's here, it hardly seems real." "It is real, my daughter," Adama opened his arms and Sheba stepped into them, the floodgates opening as her pent up tears spilled onto his broad shoulder and Adama held her as he would a small child, rocking her slightly back and forth and holding her firmly within his embrace, "your hope is soon to be fulfilled." "And Boomer?" Sheba managed to regain some degree of calm and stepped out of the Commander's embrace, "Is there still hope for him?" "We will continue to search for him," Adama said grimly, "I choose to believe that we will find..." The sound of a loud chime filled the air within the Commander's chambers, as Officer Omega's voice came in over the emergency frequency on Adama's desk top communication device, calling urgently for the Commander to respond. "Adama here. What's happening Omega?" the white haired warrior had rushed across the chamber to depress a key on the communication array, before speaking in the direction of the device. "Sir," Omega's voice emanated once more from the small speaker, "I think you'll want to get back here right away, Commander. We've just had a communication from Doctor Paye on the Cheops. There's a medical emergency over there. The report is a little unclear, Sir, but it sounds like Doctor Paye is saying that his team have found what looks like, well, you'd better come and hear this for yourself. Colonel Tigh has called Doctors Salik and Wilker to the Command Centre to consult with you, Sir." "Very well, Omega. I'm on my way." Adama's brow was furrowed in concern as he turned back to manage a smile for Sheba, "Call for someone to come and sit with Boxey, my dear, and then join us on the bridge. Whatever the nature of this new emergency, I imagine that you will want to be there to hear the first direct communication from the Pegasus." "Thank you, Sir," Sheba managed a weak smile of her own, as she wiped her tearstained cheeks with the back of one hand, struggling to regain a warrior's composure in the face of uncertainty, "I'll be along directly." Adama nodded firmly, taking his leave of his son's wife for the moment, adjusting his expression into one of stern professionalism. and turning on his heel from where he stood beside the desk, to exit back out into the corridor and begin a brisk walk toward the Command Centre and the unknown situation that Omega was obviously reluctant to summarize over the communications array. A medical emergency, on top of everything else. Lords of Kobol. Boomer is missing. Cain and the Pegasus are returning. This convergence of events has the potential for terrible grief as well as profound joy. What ever else may be store for us, I pray that we be given the means to contend with it. *** Chapter Three Scene Four "Cassiopeia!" Doctor Paye called out in relief as Cassiopeia approached him at a hurried pace, an obviously disoriented Siress Blassie held unsteadily in her arms, a bloody gash making it's angry way down the left side of the older woman's forehead. The Doctor had been running along the narrow corridor toward Chameleon's chambers, Administrator Khufu and Security Officer Melvin close behind him, "I was reporting in to Colonel Tigh when someone tripped the emergency klaxon and..." Paye's words were stopped by the sight of Security Officer Reese emerging from the open hatchway several metrons behind the two women, a struggling Chameleon held firmly in his grasp. "No! Let me go! It's almost time. The party must begin when the Oberon gets here!" the crazed expression on the old man's face bore little resemblance to the affable and charming demeanor of the gentleman that Paye had encountered on several previous routine visits to the Senior Ship, Cheops, "The regeneration matrix has to be fully formed before the rift opens!" "Oh, Doctor Paye!" Cassiopeia cried, "The whole chamber is full of black crystals. They've emerged from behind the bulkhead and under the decking, and the sound! It's like a horrible voice, but I can't make out the words. There's some sort of energy field. We walked through it when we entered the chamber. Blassie was laying almost senseless on the floor and Chameleon's in even worse shape than Calvin was. It's the same magnetic ore, Doctor, and it's growing." "I know, Cassiopeia. We've found something similar in the forward section of the ship. I've called the Galactica for additional transport vehicles," Paye moved forward and slid an arm around Blassie's slender waist, supporting the older woman as she moaned and blinked quickly, her voice failing her as she struggled to regain her senses, "Melvin! Help us get these people out of here. Cassiopeia, you're to go with them in the shuttle and straight to the Galactica's Life Station. Inform Doctor Salik that it's as he suspected. This ship is riddled with toxic crystalline ore. We don't know yet how badly everyone's been affected. Khufu, we'll need some help down here! Call for a containment team. We must begin evacuating the ship, now!" Khufu nodded firmly and rushed back the way he had come, his tall angular frame moving with the speed of a practiced athlete toward the intersection with the main corridor, followed by Paye and Cassiopeia quick-walking the slowly reviving Blassie, Reese and Chameleon close behind them, Melvin bringing up the rear. "No!" the enraged Chameleon flailed his thin arms vainly against Reese's broad chest, "the gardener needs my help!" "Come on now, old-timer," Reese embraced the light-weight old man in a firm hug and ran with him into the main corridor, turning toward the nearby landing bay, "you're not thinking clearly. You've been poisoned, and you're not in your right mind." "Melvin!" Paye cried as several members of the medical team rushed toward the group from the direction of the landing bay, "Get back down that corridor with these technicians and evacuate every chamber. We'll fill the shuttle to capacity and get the first group to the Galactica. Move quickly! We must get everyone as far away from that ore as possible! Paye and Cassiopeia rushed onward, stepping into the open hatchway of the shuttle and securing Blassie into a seat with a quick adjustment to the safety harness. "Oh, Cassiopeia," Blassie sobbed, finally regaining her power of speech, "It was horrible. That voice! That voice! And Chameleon," the Siress looked over toward the aft of the shuttle's rear compartment, where Reese stood with the still struggling Chameleon clutched firmly in his arms while Doctor Paye administered a sedative into the old man's arm with an injector that he had pulled from a nearby med-kit, "he's completely incoherent. I tried to calm him, but he pushed me, and, well, if it hadn't been for that man in the white suit, I'm sure he'd have killed us both. Oh, Lords! The man, he said that you were on the way, and that you must put in a call to the agro-ships. He said that you are to have them gather as many ripe fumera leaves as they can and get them to the medical complex. The active ingredient in the anti-toxin can be derived from the leaves," Blassie's voice broke as she buried her face in her hands and began to weep, Cassiopeia holding the older woman's thin shoulders until the wracking sobs subsided. "Fumera leaves?" the med-tech's brow furrowed as she tried to assimilate the meaning of Blassie's words, "What man? We didn't see any man in a white suit." "I know," Blassie lifted her head once more, calming herself with an impressive force of will, her hazel eyes focussing on Cassiopeia's confused expression, "It was the same man from yesterday. He was the one who gave me your note, asking me to meet you on the Rising Star. He got in the way when Chameleon..." Blassie shook her head in confusion, "I don't understand it, and I'm quite certain that you'll think I'm delusional, dear, but, after he told me about the leaves, he smiled and, well, he just disappeared into thin air." "Don't worry, Blassie," Cassiopeia managed an encouraging smile, though it was belied by her otherwise grim expression, "I'm sure we'll sort everything out before long. Right now, let's just get you to the Life Station and have that head wound attended to." "Please, dear," Blassie clutched Cassiopeia's hand as the younger woman began to rise to her feet, "you must promise to relay the order to the agro-ships. I can't explain it, but I know that it's very important. All of our lives might depend on it." "Alright, Blassie," Cassiopeia gently disentangled herself from the older woman's grasp and rose to her feet, "I promise you. I'll go forward and have the pilot open a channel right now. I can't explain it, either, but I know that you're right. It is important." *** Chapter Three Scene Five Lieutenant Sheba walked steadily along the corridor toward the Command Centre, her thoughts, it seemed to her, darting in a multitude of directions within her head, a matter of centons and I'll hear his voice. Another half a centaur or so, and we'll see the Pegasus approaching on the view screen, the realization that Cain was coming back to her, that the Pegasus was limping home after a yahren and a half in hiding, passing through pockets of Cylon held territory, drawing the enemy away from the Fleet with daring strategic maneuvers that only Cain would consider attempting with a crippled ship and a skeleton crew suffering from radiation sickness. Images of the Pegasus' attacks on Gamoray flooded into her mind. How simple those days had seemed, in a way. There were no Colonies to return to, only the satisfaction of knocking down every new structure that the Cylons erected in their then civilian capital. She and Bojay, and the rest of the Juggernaut's crew had spent countless centaurs either attacking the enemy or preparing to attack the enemy. Nothing else had mattered to her then, but making the Cylons pay for the Destruction that they had rained down on humanity. She paused in her forward motion and placed a palm against her abdomen, where Apollo's child now grew, waiting for it's day to be born. Cain was coming home to a different daughter than the one he had left behind. There was so much more that mattered to her now. Her need to avenge the past had begun to yield to her desire to build a future for herself, and for her children. "Pardon me, Lieutenant," Sheba was jostled out of her reverie by a junior bridge officer, their elbows colliding as the young man hurried past her on his way to the bridge. Sheba became suddenly aware of the increasing flow of foot traffic that now moved around her through the corridor. Warriors and support personnel of varying ranks and designations were now stepping purposefully around her. She quickened her own pace, nearly running as she made her way through the entrance to the rear gallery of the Command Centre, emerging into a scene of movement and sound. There was no alert klaxon, but Sheba could plainly see the concerned expressions of the three men on the command platform. "Commander? Colonel?" Sheba rushed up the steps to the platform, where Adama and Tigh stood together, peering at the displays on the command consoles, speaking quietly and urgently to each other, and to Officer Omega. "What is it? What's happened? My Father..." "We should be in contact with the Pegasus at any centon now, Sheba," Colonel Tigh's voice projected a calming tone, "As far as we know, their status is unchanged. It's another matter that we're contending with right now." "Another matter? The medical emergency." Sheba moved to stand with the Executive Officer and the Commander, joining them in their study of the displays on the console before them, "The Cheops? Has there been an accident? These readings look familiar," the young woman pushed her light brown hair behind her ear with a combing gesture of two fingers, sudden comprehension furrowing her brow, her lips parting in shock as she turned toward Adama, "The magnetic ore. Those readings are similar to those we registered on that artificially constructed planet," Sheba saw acknowledgement in the Commander's expression, "My God, the people on the Cheops..." she glanced once more at the electromagnetic wave displayed on the uppermost view screen on the console, "they could be affected, like Calvin and Jain. But how did the ore get onto the Senior Ship? I thought the only remaining samples were in shielded containment storage in Doctor Wilker's lab." "Commander," Lieutenant Rigel's voice carried from the forward gallery where she manned the traffic station, "Agro Transport Alpha requests permission to approach Alpha Landing Bay, Sir," Rigel turned and looked up toward the command platform, a quizzical expression on her face, "they have an emergency organic shipment for the Life Station. Medical priority. Sir, it's a shipment of fumera leaves." "Fumera leaves?" Colonel Tigh's voice rose in pitch, clearly expressing his confusion, "what could Life Station need fumera leaves for?" "I don't know, Tigh," Adama responded, looking at the chronometer display at the top of the console, then smiling slightly as his eyes moved past the Colonel to study Sheba's face, "but we'll sort it out later. Right now, we're expecting a rather important communication." "Yes, Sir," Tigh nodded in understanding, then called down to Rigel, "Have the transport land, Lieutenant, but hold them in the bay until we've verified their orders with Life Station," the Colonel glanced at the forward targeting scanner display, "Are those four vipers from Captain Apollo's search wing in visual range yet?" "Yes, Sir. They're just coming up on forward sensors now," Rigel turned once more, unable to hide the cloud of concern that passed over her face, "There's no sign of Lieutenant Boomer, Colonel." "Understood, Rigel," Tigh was only slightly more successful at hiding his own sorrow over the crew's reluctantly declining hope that Boomer would be found, "Have a technician ready to transport that sample of anti-toxin directly to Doctor Salik, and make sure those pilots don't skip decontamination. Then I want them down in the Life Station for a medical check. The Pegasus is carrying several megons of that ore, and we don't want any more cases of dementia taking us by surprise." "Commander!" Omega's voice interjected, excitement animating his typically stoic young face, "I have a transmission coming in on Alpha Channel, Sir!" "Well, patch it through, Omega!" Adama's own excitement was evident as a pattern of static appeared on the view screen that dominated the uppermost portion of the command console, quickly becoming a series of horizontal parallel lines, then winking out for a fraction of a micron. The four officers on the command platform inhaled and held their breath as they all leaned slightly forward. "Galactica! Are you receiving?" Sheba heard a sob that she realized had come from her own throat, as her breath escaped reflexively from her mouth, "Adama! You old war-daggit!" There before them, on the monitor, was the face that she, indeed all of them, had been waiting to see. Though the features were gaunt, the pale blue eyes slightly sunken, and the complexion displayed an ashen pallor, it was unmistakeably the face of the Living Legend himself, the Juggernaut, Commander Cain, "Adama! You didn't think you'd be able to make it across this galaxy without our help, did you? While you've been frolicking around blowing up planets and concealed basestars, we've been keeping the rest of those gall-monging Cylons off of your sorry tail! And what's this I hear about you marrying off my daughter to the first hot shot Squadron Commander that comes her way?" "We're receiving you loud and clear, Cain!" Adama's smile now beamed in a flash of white teeth, "Welcome home!" the white-haired warrior gestured for his son's wife to step forward, nodding to her in encouragement, "As to your daughter, my friend, she's been waiting to speak to you for a while, now." "Father?" Sheba's voice nearly failed her, "Commander," the Lieutenant mustered as much bravado as she could, and smiled through the tears that were now coursing freely from her eyes, "It's good to see you, Sir." "Baby," Cain's shaggy brows furrowed slightly as his own voice failed him momentarily, "I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long." "That's alright, Father," Sheba's smile expanded as she swallowed hard, turning briefly at the comforting touch of Colonel Tigh's hand firmly grasping her slender shoulder, "We all knew you'd make it eventually," Tigh moved his arm to encircle her waist, and Adama reached over to envelope her small hand in his own as the young woman lost all control and her warm tears fell onto the fabric of the Executive Officer's tunic. She kept her line of sight, however, fixed squarely on the image of her Father's face, "Oh, Daddy. I've missed you so much." "And I've missed you, Baby," Cain's voice regained a measure of his own bravado as he continued to speak, "According to your husband, we've a lot of catching up to do. We'll be within convenient shuttle transport range in about fifteen centons. Adama, I'll be expecting a big celebration once your technicians get that anti-toxin synthesized. The Pegasus is coming home to stay." *** Chapter Three Scene Six Cassiopeia tightened her grip on the shoulder strap of her med-kit and accepted the small electronic device that Doctor Salik held out to her. "If you insist on returning to help Paye and Khufu with the evacuation of the Cheops, at least take this portable radiation sensor with you," the doctor paused before relinquishing his grasp on the device, looking somberly down into her pale blue eyes, "and promise me that you'll head for the shuttle the moment this coloured strip starts turning red. I don't want my most efficient med-tech becoming one of my patients. We've got enough sick people on our hands as it is." Cassiopeia clipped the sensor to her belt and smiled up at Salik, touched by his concern, then glanced over at the team of agro-techs who were busily loading crates of fumera leaves onto the landing bay lift. "Thank you for covering my, uh, back over the fumera transport, Doctor," she locked eyes once more with the big, gruff man who had become more than a superior officer and mentor to her in the last two yahrens. He had become like a parent to her in many ways, so unlike her own father, a travelling merchant who had found it difficult to stay in one place for long. Salik was a rock solid anchor that had taken the former socialator under his wing when she'd shyly approached him for a trainee position, having been favourably referred to him by the senior female med-techs with whom Starbuck had found her a safe haven in those horrible first days after the Destruction. "According to the chemical sequencing of the sample that Sergeant Roman sent with Jolly from the Pegasus, the active ingredient in the anti-toxin is consistent with the nicoton we can extract from the leaves, though I still haven't quite wrapped my head around your account of how you came to order them delivered here from the agro-ship. More metaphysical felgercarb for me to contend with, no doubt," the warmth in the doctor's eyes belied his disapproving expression, "In any event, the leaves will allow us to synthesize a large supply of the anti-toxin in a relatively short period of time. The mystery of Blassie's guardian angel, and mutual notes that neither one of you remembers writing, can be sorted out later, if at all." Salik hesitated as he considered his next words carefully, "Cassiopeia, are you certain that you're not just going off on the evac shuttle to delay an encounter with the Pegasus crew, and Lieutenant Starbuck?" "I won't deny that recent events have been emotionally overwhelming for me, Doctor," Cassiopeia averted her eyes as she felt unexpected tears welling up into her eyes. She swallowed hard and met Salik's steady gaze once more, the tide of stressful tears held back for the present, "but I'm determined to make things right with Starbuck. I won't lose him over this. And Cain, well, he's a great man and I care for him deeply, but, uh,..." the med-tech's face flushed slightly at the sharing of such intimate details of her personal life in spite of her close relationship with Salik, her mentor and surrogate father. "It's alright, Cassiopeia," Salik managed an encouraging smile, "We've all had some degree of complication in our lives at one time or another. It's what you do with it now that matters. The past is there for you to learn from. Feeling guilty about a reluctant secret or the conclusion of a past love affair won't get you anywhere." "Thank you, Doctor," the young woman, after a self-conscious scan of the landing bay, balanced on her toes to reach upward and plant a quick kiss on Salik's stubbled cheek, "and, in spite of any personal complications, I am going back to the Cheops for professional reasons. You have everything in the Life Station under control for the present, and there are still a lot of people to evacuate over there. Doctor Paye is going to need someone to help isolate the more serious cases and prioritize their transport over here to the Galactica. I promise I'll be careful, and I won't shy away from settling the other matters just as soon as the emergency is over." The doctor nodded, his typically gruff expression returning as he turned away from the young woman who had become like a daughter to him. He moved efficiently to step onto the lift beside the last load of fumera leaves. The two of them shared a silent look of understanding as the lift began to move, and slowly broke the line of sight between them. When the doctor had completely disappeared from her view, Cassiopeia took a deep, cleansing breath, Lords, Apollo's habit's are rubbing off on me now. It's a strange and wonderful life here on the Galactica. I'll give it that, exhaling slowly and shaking her head in wry amusement, she moved to board the medical shuttle that was to transport her and several other med-techs and Council Security Officers back to the Cheops to assist in the ongoing evacuation of the residents and all but the most essential members of the crew and staff. *** Chapter Three Scene Seven "Galactica Core Command, this is Alpha Search Wing. Come in Core Command," Apollo felt the thrill of acceleration as he brought his viper around in a graceful arc, glancing through the transparent tylium panel to his right to see that Starbuck's viper was completing a similar maneuver, moving into a standard wing pair formation with Apollo's ship. "Alpha Search Wing, this is Core Command," Rigel's familiar voice filled the air around the Captain's ears as it had on a regular basis for the four yahrens that the young Lieutenant had been the Galactica's primary Traffic Control Officer, "Stand by for Commander Adama." "Apollo!" The Commander's voice now took the place of Rigel's in the space of the viper's cockpit, "Has Tolen briefed you on the situation aboard the Cheops?" "Aye, Sir. We'd just launched when your communication came in to the Pegasus. Bojay and Deitra shouldn't be too far behind us," Apollo's tone was grim, "You're not pulling us from our final sweep for Boomer, are you, Father?" "No, Apollo," Adama's voice was strained, conveying his own concern for the missing pilot, "You and Starbuck maintain a search formation with Beta wing. Jolly and the others found no sign of him on their final sweep between your position and ours. If he's not in this final search sector..." Apollo knew well why his father was having difficulty finishing the sentence. If Boomer's ship was not in the narrow segment of space that constituted the only section of the ovoid search parameter that the Galactica's pilots had not yet thoroughly scanned, then there would be no place left for them to search. This was Boomer's last chance for recovery, and all of the Galactica's warriors knew it. "Commander," Starbuck's voice interjected, his attempt at a level tone not quite successful, "Chameleon and Blassie. How are they? Colonel Tolen's informed us that they were right on top of the highest concentration of the ore crystals." "Doctor Salik has begun treatment, Starbuck. Your," the Lieutenant could hear the slight hesitation in Adama's voice even through the slight static that currently interfered with the reception of his fighter's communication array. The Commander continued, this time with a decisive tone, "Your father's prognosis is good. Paye's team removed him and Siress Blassie from the contaminated area. You can thank Cassiopeia for that. According to Salik, it was she who discovered the true source of Chameleon's illness. Reports are still a little confused at this point, but one thing is clear. If Cassiopeia and Security Officer Reese hadn't found them in time, both Blassie and Chameleon might very well have perished." "Cassiopeia and Reese?" It was Starbuck who hesitated this time. Of all the black-shirts that could have helped to save Chameleon's life, ensuring Starbuck's enduring gratitude for another chance at a relationship with his father, the fickle, and obviously perverse hand of fate had cast Reese, of all people, in that role, "And Cassiopeia, Sir?" Starbuck felt a sharp stab of fear, realizing the significance of what the Commander was telling him, that Cassiopeia had put herself at risk, braving the dangerous corridors of the irradiated Senior Ship, Cheops, to save Chameleon's life, "Is she alright? She wasn't hurt, was she?" "No, Starbuck," the Lieutenant could could sense the Commander's paternal understanding at the young man's concern for the woman that he loved in the mellow tones that emanated from out of the static through the small speaker inset in the console before him, "Salik reports that she's gone back to the Cheops to assist Paye with the evacuation procedures. They should have all but a minimal navigation crew removed to the Galactica within the next centaur." "Thank you, Sir," Starbuck exhaled the breath that had been stopped in his throat at the thought of his beloved Cassiopeia, racked with guilt over the secret that he now realized she had been keeping from him for almost two yahrens, putting herself in danger to try and make things right. "Commander Adama!" Apollo interjected, a tone of urgency apparent in his voice, "I'm picking up some sort of distortion directly forward of your position. I'm receiving data from the Pegasus. They've detected it on their scanners as well. It should be well within your visual range, if Tolen's calculations are correct. God, I hope it's Boomer, but it looks much larger than a viper. We're continuing toward your position in standard search formation. We should be in visual range in about ten centons. The Pegasus won't be far behind. Maybe they can confirm the distortion's designation on their scanners. The static is beginning to get worse, Sir. I'm going to attempt to find a frequency that will cut through it." "Ca - tain!" Bojay's voice came brokenly through the worsening interference as he and his wingman, Deitra, moved into formation with Apollo and Starbuck, "the static is beginning to interfere with the mult-ship network communications. Adjusting frequen-- can y-- hear -e?" Apollo slowly moved the frequency control until Beta Wing's transmission cleared, "Can you hear me, Apollo?" "Yes, Bojay. I read you. Try going down two cycles on your frequency indicator. I think that distortion between us and the Galactica is the source of the interference. It's getting worse as we get closer. You and Deitra stay in visual range in case our communications fail again. The search sector is narrow enough that we don't need to spread out any further," the Captain depressed a key on the communication array, "Pegasus, this is Alpha Wing. Captain Apollo here. We're encountering worsening communication interference. I'm no longer receiving the Galactica. Be advised that we are continuing our search vector toward the Fleet. Adjust your frequency indicators down two or three cycles. Pegasus, do you read?" "We read you, Captain," Apollo heard Cain's voice coming through the static as though from a great distance, but clearly discernable, "Pegasus is maintaining course. We'll be in visual range of the Galactica and the distortion in about six or seven centons. No sign of your missing man?" "Not yet, Sir," Apollo attempted to project an air of hopefulness to the three pilots that shared his multi-ship communication network, but he knew full well, as they did, that Boomer's chances were diminishing with every passing centon that brought them closer to home and the end of their search, "Let's hope that distortion can shed some light on what's happened to him." "Very well, Captain," Cain followed suit, and attempted to hide his own growing concern that the Galactica's Strike Leader might have to face the acceptance that his missing pilot would not be found, "We'll be picking up a visual signal any time now. Keep us apprised. We've got your back." "Aye, Commander," Apollo once more adjusted his communication settings, "Galactica Core Command, if you can still hear me through the static, be advised, Alpha and Beta Wings are approaching visual range, and the Pegasus is right behind us." *** Chapter Three Scene Eight Boomer's consciousness registered movement and light as he tried to identify the sounds that assaulted his ears. There was a high pitched mechanical whine that seemed to be slowly dissipating, and another sound. Boomer's mind struggled for the word that hovered just beyond his comprehension. Laughter. That's what it was. Laughter. His own, and someone else's. flash It all came rushing back to within the perimeter of his awareness. Baltar. Altrua. The Oberon. Artemis. The image of the young dark-maned Valkyrie in the brilliant white Colonial uniform wielding the heavy Cylon broadsword, and slicing neatly through the armoured plating of a centurion's neck, appeared in the forefront of his memory. The laughter subsided, as did the mechanical whine, giving way to the sounds of varied consoles that flashed and beeped in a random electronic symphony of overloading circuits and multiple showers of bluish white sparks. The white light that had surrounded him dimmed and began to reveal the command chamber of the Colonial Military Cruiser Oberon. "Uncle Boomer? Can you hear me?" Artemis stood, as she had during that last volley from the erstwhile Pegasus' laser cannons, clutching the edge of the weapon control station console, her white uniform effecting a sharp contrast to the darkness of her features, and to Boomer's uniform as well, to the now restored hues of brown that captured his bemused attention. He touched the dark brown fabric of his flight jacket, sighed, and took a sharp breath as he turned his head to the side and then back again, lifting his eyebrows, and locking his gaze onto those green eyes that had arrested his attention when he had introduced himself to Artemis, approaching her on the Beta Launch Bay of the Galactica for what, two days ago, Boomer had been made to believe that he was merely on a training inspection patrol with a cadet. This was a type of duty rotation that all of the senior pilots of the Colonial Fleet conducted at least once every secton. "Tell me something," Boomer started and took one step aside as a small shower of sparks erupted briefly from the console beside him, then looked once more into the young woman's eyes, "There was no trainee scheduled for a training patrol, was there? Did you bring your own viper, and then rig Blue Squadron's duty roster?" "John took care of that part, Uncle Boomer," Artemis glanced down as Baltar shifted woozily in the chair that he still occupied. He collapsed backward in a swoon against the upholstered seat. The Valkyrie returned her line of sight to intersect with Boomer's, "There's something I want to give to you before we part company for a while," she reached into the utility pocket on the sleeve of her jacket, pulling out a flinton and a small piece of paper. The flinton flashed of varying shades of white as she methodically replaced it into her pocket, and secured it inside. The paper, she handed to Boomer, "I want you to win Uncle Starbuck's wagering pool." Boomer's lips parted slightly as he looked at the paper. His eyes brightened with a degree of reserved amusement, then he, in turn, secured the note into the pocket that adorned the sleeve of his own jacket. He straightened his posture and moved to cross his arms over his chest, "Did I write it to myself, by any chance?" His words were abruptly displaced in the mid air between the two warriors' positions on either side of the chair out of which Baltar had suddenly sprung, eyes opened wide. "I must wake up the guests!" the emaciated man screamed maniacally, his dark hair flying back and away from his crazed visage, and bringing his skeletal fist down onto a portion of the weapon control grid that both warriors recognized as a remote relay switch that would initiate a cold boost start of the Oberon's automated systems. Although Baltar had successfully initiated the signal that would likely, to the best of Boomer's well conditioned memory of Altrua, power up the Cylon centurions that waited in the Oberon's large bays, the Lieutenant, indeed both warriors, felt a small sense of gratification in their fortuitously timed individual and yet quite well mirrored, respective movements in a sharp and backhanded motion, of Artemis' left fist, and Boomer's right directly into either side of the central area of Baltar's face, sending him backward in a reeling motion and with a final wail, "Adama! Adama's line!" back into a seated position in the chair. "Been ready for the opportunity to do that for a couple of yahrens," Boomer smiled grimly at his now bloodied fist and then at the small cut over Baltar's left eyebrow. After bending to wipe his fist clean against the tread on the bottom of a briefly upraised boot, he grabbed the yoke of Baltar's threadbare tunic and pulled the still dazed man back out of the chair, steering him into a quick walk toward the main hatchway at the aft of the command chamber, "Didn't you say that we'd only have centons to get Baltar, not to mention us off of this ship before the Pegasus blows us into a whole other tomorrow?" he shot a backward glance at Artemis, "Let's go, Lieutenant First Grade. I just wish I had more time to get to know you." "But you will, Uncle Boomer," Artemis retrieved the laser pistol from Baltar from where it still sat atop the weapon control console, as it was when Boomer had secured it after the now severed head of the second of Baltar's centurions had succumbed to Artemis' second well aimed sword swipe, and placed it firmly into a gripping position over the palm of Boomer's right hand, "If all goes well, Sir, you'll get to meet me later next yahren, and I," her white smile broke the surface of her dark complexioned face, "I will be seeing you in my own proper time in about twenty or thirty centons by my reckoning," her expression began to reflect urgency as she looked toward the forward view screen, "I must tell you one more thing, before the Pegasus comes into targeting range. You must give the Commanders, both Adama and Cain, a thorough and truthful account of everything that's happened since you first left for this mission. Adama must record it by hand, not electronically, as dictated by you, into that private journal that we were discussing earlier," her smile returned, "and don't forget to put your wager on that banner that Greenbean's going to hang in the barracks. The wagering and the projections for the secondary and double or nothing permutations should be well underway within a day, by your reckoning," she rushed forward and kissed him on the cheek, jumping back just as quickly and taking hold of the other side of Baltar's tunic, "Now let's get out of here, so that you can give Commander Cain the order to fire at least six forty megon load torpedoes into the Oberon. That will destroy the Cylons and allow me some cover to launch my viper behind yours and then veer off toward certain prearranged co-ordinates within the rift and back to my own Uncle Boomer. If John is right, and the aliens that travel aboard the Ships of Light have corrected their oversight, then my time, your future and mine, has been restored to its previous status." "I look forward to meeting you, Artemis," Boomer smiled warmly into the face of the future Valkyrie, "until later next yahren. Now let's get out of here, so I can go home and have a nice warm turbo-wash in the barracks on my Galactica." The two warriors moved in unison, pushing Baltar through the hatchway, and running, half-dragging the light-weight villain's semi-conscious form along the main corridor to make for the landing bay and effect the change in history that Boomer now took on trust, at the word of this woman whose parentage was no longer in question for him, was indeed the right thing for him to do. He shot a side-long glance at Artemis, tightening his grip on Baltar's tunic, and still grasping the pistol in his right hand. Lords of Kobol, I really meant it when I asked for that nice relaxing turbo-wash. *** Chapter Three Scene Nine "Cain, it's beyond incredible. If I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes..." Adama cried with an inflection of tangible disbelief in the otherwise level tone of his voice as he addressed Cain's image over the Alpha Channel display relay, "I don't pretend to have even a theory as to how this particular ship could be hanging in space between us here and now." "It's the Oberon, or it's a pretty sharp replica," Cain's expression was slightly distorted from the slowly dissipating frequency interference, "Adama, what could it mean?" even through the distortion Cain's own state of shock and disbelief was quite evident on his pallid face, "Assuming that we haven't lost our minds..." "Commander!" Athena's urgently interjecting voice rose up from the tactical station at the foot of the command platform and sliced through the remainder of Cain's remark, "I have a confirmed contact with Lieutenant Boomer. He's joined Captain Apollo's search wing and the five vipers are bearing in on the Oberon in a standard chevron attack formation," she turned and looked upward to direct a quick smile at Adama. "Sir, Captain Apollo has transmitted a Priority Alpha request for the Pegasus to fire six forty megon load torpedoes directly at the Oberon. The interference is diminishing," Omega adjusted the frequency capacitor slide on the upper left corner of the communication console, initiating a burst of static that quickly yielded to the sound of the Galactica Strike Leader's voice. "Commander Cain!" the Captain's voice carried over the open frequency and across the command platform, evoking a small exhalation of relief from Sheba, who had stood silently leaning against the platform rail, "There's no time to discuss this. You must fire the torpedoes and destroy the Oberon. The Cylons are still aboard, and Lieutenant Boomer reports that the raiders are in primary launch mode. If those raiders get by us, they could wipe out the entire fleet in a matter of centons!" Oh, frak, Sheba's relief at hearing the sound of her husband's voice gave way to the sudden consciousness of the possibility that she had, at some point during the last several centaurs, and for the first time in her predominately mobile life, gained a first-hand experience of the sensation of space-sickness, though she managed to maintain an even stance and a level expression by focussing on the smooth surface of the perimeter rail beneath her hands. "Tolen," Cain's decisive voice carried from the speaker on the command console, "ready torpedoes and target that ship," the Commander of the Pegasus smiled with a decidedly boyish grin, "always happy to blast a few Cylons to the depths of Hades Hole. Captain! You pilots had better gain some distance. If this is the Oberon, resurrected by some worse than gall-monging deity to push me over the edge and into the abyss of insanity by putting me in a position to destroy her again, then she may still be loaded with a large supply of mines and a full measure of fuel. Let's get those blast doors down, Adama. This is going to be a pretty impressive blast." Adama nodded grimly at the image of his old comrade gesturing with the ever-present auricon topped scepteron to a point beyond the range of view of the Alpha Channel transmission, "Tolen! Fire!" "Omega!" Adama gestured quickly toward the forward view screen, "Close blast doors! Colonel, inform the Fleet. Instruct all ships to come to a dead stop and await instructions." "Aye, Commander," Tigh issued a series of staccato orders into the microphone on his headset, then called out in a firm voice that rang throughout the massive command chamber, "All hands, man your stations! Brace for concussive impact!" Tigh turned in time to see Sheba lose her battle with the vertigo that was now overcoming her senses and rushed to envelope her swooning form in his strong arms, bracing against the perimeter rail as the blast doors came down, allowing for only a brief view of the sudden burst of light that was now expanding outward from the Oberon. The doors closed with a distant clang of metal on metal as the concussive wave initiated by Cain's appropriated Cylon torpedoes tearing savagely into, and igniting, the fuel storage units on the enigmatic cruiser that had appeared as though from past memory of both remaining Colonial Battlestar Commanders, impacted with the hull of the Galactica. Spiraling in a holding pattern with Apollo, Starbuck, Deitra and Bojay, Boomer smiled in relief as he caught the movement of a small ship, turbos blasting at maximum, disappearing into a dark area of visual distortion. Then there was nothing but light and a slight lateral movement of their fighters and the five Colonial Warriors blinked their eyes, momentarily blinded and rocked by the destruction of the Oberon, and the massive shower of debris that briefly enveloped them in one convulsive wave of energy and dust. "Is everybody alright?" Apollo's voice came in clearly over the multi-ship network, as did positive responses from the four other pilots, "Boomer? Was that another ship I saw launch from that cruiser before it exploded?" "Don't see how that could be, Skipper," Boomer inwardly cringed. Deception was not a habit that he practiced frequently, "Baltar's the only passenger I picked up." "Say again, Boomer?" Apollo's voice had become incredulous in tone, "Did you say that you've got Baltar with you?" Boomer smiled happily as his vision slowly cleared, affording him a view of the two battlestars and several forward positioned ships of the Colonial Fleet. "This may take some explaining, Captain," Boomer glanced over his shoulder to the small fold out, lateral facing seat, behind his own piloting position, that a semi-conscious and slightly bloodied Baltar now occupied, hunched up in the crouching position that Boomer had unceremoniously lifted him into when dumping the psychotic man into the fighter on the bay of the now destroyed Oberon. One step closer to that turbo-wash, Boomer wrinkled his nose, and not a moment too early, it was clear to Boomer that Baltar was the unfortunate source of a decidedly unpleasant odour that now assailed the Lieutenant's nostrils. "If it's all the same to you, Apollo, I wouldn't mind heading home." "Affirmative, Boomer," Apollo laughed in delighted relief and gave the order for Boomer and the rest of the erstwhile search wing to follow his lead in a gracefully arcing landing trajectory toward the Battlestar Galactica, and home. *** Chapter Three Scene Ten Cassiopeia stepped carefully around the corner formed by the sharp turn effected in the corridor along which she and Security Officer Reese walked. The med-tech scanned the area around her as she walked, moving her hand held bio-scan transmitter back and forth in a wide sweeping motion and keeping her eye on the display that would indicate the presence of any stragglers that had been missed in the first rush of the evacuation of the Senior Ship, Cheops. "Medical Technician! Security Officer!" Administrator Khufu's voice, thick with his distinctive Scorpian accent, rang out along the length of the corridor leading up to the turn as he rushed up behind the two with an athletic grace that Cassiopeia amusedly observed to herself could rival that of a professional dancer as he fell into pace beside her, while Reese remained on her other side, the two tall men towering over the petite blonde woman between them, "Paye is returning to us within the span of mere centons with the final empty shuttle from our steadfast Galactica. There is an unknown emergency at the forward of our convoy, but we are ordered by Doctors Salik and Wilker to proceed as we are. The young Corporal Komma has effected an electronically expeditious means of completing our task by confirming the names of those now aboard our blessed battlestar," Khufu raised the portable data storage device that he held in the grasp of his long, meticulously manicured fingers, indicating the text that was displayed on the diminutive screen, "the census has been concluded and, with the remaining skeleton crew accounted for in our poor deserted navigation section, we have now only the missing of two individuals. One has the dubious honour of residency upon our poor unfortunately contaminated ship, and the other is a visitor, an agricultural technician whose kindness of spirit has been moved, over these many sectons, to maintain the air conditioning plants in our public areas. It has been our policy from the first day of our stricken Cheops' designation as Senior Ship and haven for the helpless, that clean air is expeditious to the improved functioning of our esteemed Residents' processing of healthy energies." Cassiopeia and Reese shared a reflexive, though silent, glance of amusement at the superfluity of verbiage that poured musically from the tall, severely dressed Scorpian's mouth. "Komma counted everyone and we only have two people left to find," Reese summarized what he had gleaned from Khufu's exposition. "Precisely, Security Officer," Khufu's expression remained fixed in its usual enigmatic posture as the Administrator managed a graceful and apparently effortless bow, while still walking briskly along the corridor with his two companions. "Wait! I have a reading," Cassiopeia adjusted a series of relays on the parameter panel on the side of the scanning device in her hand, "positive for human life signs," she slowed her pace, as did the two men that flanked her, turning to nod toward one of the many hatchways that lined the silent corridor. "In there, there are human bio-readings in that chamber." "The esteemed Resident Silbius is the usual occupant of this chamber. His was a recent move from another ship. The acquaintance of him has not yet been my humble pleasure," Khufu efficiently keyed in an administrative master code on the control panel inset into the bulkhead that surrounded the hatch, initiating the emergency override that would reveal the interior of the chamber of Sire Silbius, one of the two remaining civilians slated to be located and evacuated before the deployment of the decontamination crew, comprised of every available emergency services worker in the Fleet. Upon their able shoulders was to fall the responsibility of removing every molecule of the offending magnetic ore crystals from every interior surface of the ship. Another crew stood suited up and ready in the Galactica's Beta Landing Bay near a small utility transport vehicle, it's exterior equipped with several safety line anchors and emergency air canisters. Their task would be to visually inspect the exterior of the Cheops as well. Doctor Wilker's orders had been precise, not a single strand of the ore's artificially created and electromagnetically mutated genetic material could be missed, for fear of it regenerating itself once more in exponential expanding outcroppings of synthetically structured, yet effectively organic black stone. Reese placed a hand on Khufu's shoulder and gestured for him to stand aside, stepping past the administrator and into the chamber through the now opened hatchway. "Hello. Is anyone there?" Reese cautiously advanced further into the chamber, Cassiopeia and Khufu close behind him, the three of them suddenly conscious of a sound emanating from the interior of the chamber, a deep low frequencied hum that moved over them in a rhythm not unlike an amplified human heartbeat, instantly evoking a communal sensation of slight nausea, "Sire Silbius? Council Security. We have orders to evacuate this ship, there's an emer..." Reese's words ended early with a strangled cry of horror as he moved his lips in a laboured fashion, struggling to speak from within a state of obvious shock. "Reese, what...?" Cassiopeia moved to stand beside the visibly stunned Security Officer, then clutched his arm reflexively, shrieking loudly in a fearful scream of horror and disbelief at the two entities that she saw before her in the sparse chamber, one human and one...Oh my God. It can't be. But it is. "Security Officer! Medical Technician!" Khufu's voice adopted an authoritarian timbre as he leaped forward to clutch the shoulder of the woman that he knew to be the heretofore missing agricultural technician whom had been visiting the Cheops to care for its cultivated flora, none other than the woman that Cassiopeia clearly recognized as Jain, the second of the Fleet's population known to have exhibited the effects of the radiation triggered dementia, the first having been Calvin, the science laboratory technician that had claimed, among other things, that Jain was in danger, not from him as was believed by Colonial authorities, but from an evil entity that intended harm to Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Sheba in particular, and the entire Fleet in general. The young agro-tech, as in a trance, the pupils of her dark green eyes expanded widely and exhibiting a dull expression of incomprehension, stood blankly against the exterior bulkhead of the chamber staring at the clearly obvious source of the now nearly unbearable sound, the other entity that occupied the group's fascinated attention. Khufu pulled the gaunt dark haired woman back toward the hatchway, starting his two companions out of their frozen postures with the uncharacteristic utterance of a single clearly discernable word, "Run!" *** Chapter Three Scene Eleven "Let's get down to the Life Station," Apollo emerged from the decontamination chamber before its hatch had completely opened and glanced over to see Starbuck stepping out of the chamber to the Captain's right. He scanned the faces of the assembled warriors that had been waiting patiently for Apollo and his wingman, the last of their party to complete the biological enzymatic, sonic and non-visible light scan and microbial eradication that the decontamination chambers afforded them, "Adama was very clear that he wants us to report to Doctor Salik for additional decontamination scans." Apollo's eyes moved briefly to study the faces before him, Starbuck, Deitra, Bojay, smiling as the movement of his eyes stopped with Boomer, "Is it ever good to see you, buddy. I was beginning to think you'd left us." "For a while I thought I had, Captain," Boomer reached up to squeeze the Captain's hand as it had come to rest on his shoulder, "Now, what do you say we get all the poking and prodding in Life Station over with, so I can go to the barracks and have a nice warm turbo-wash?" "Sure, Boomer," Apollo gestured for the group to follow as he started for the nearby lift, "But I suspect you'll be debriefing Adama and Cain before you'll be enjoying that turbo-wash, my friend. I know I'm a little curious as to how you, and Baltar of all people, came to be aboard a mysteriously resurrected Cylon controlled military cruiser that every first yahren cadet knows was destroyed by Commander Cain at Altrua about thirty yahrens ago," the Captain glanced at the group on the lift and, establishing that all hands were safely positioned within the perimeter of the rail, keyed in the command sequence that would take them on the most direct route to the Life Station, "I can't wait to hear this one," his stern words were belied by the expression of relief that was projected by his bright green eyes. "What I don't understand, Boomer," Starbuck jammed a fumarello between his teeth as he dug deeply into his interior jacket pocket, coming up with a match and releasing it's combustive energy with the firm friction of a thumbnail, his face registering an expression of content as he inhaled the fumarello into ignition, "Aside from why you didn't just space Baltar when you had the chance, instead of affording him a ride in your viper and that lovely restraint the techs bundled him off in when we landed" the blonde Lieutenant exhaled in a stream of smoke that curled toward the vent inset high on the aft panel of the lift platform, "is why you left the Galactica in the first place. You weren't scheduled to go out on active patrol until later, with Jolly, but Wilker said that you were definite about taking out a Valkyrie trainee." "That's right," Deitra cut in, looking with concern at the cut on Boomer's forehead, "But we don't have any new trainees coming in for at least a secton or more. Why did you leave on patrol by yourself?" Boomer laughed in amusement, taking the other four warriors off guard, though they all responded with smiles at the sight of Boomer's twinkling brown eyes. "Well," he sighed as he held Apollo's gaze, evoking a speculative tilt of the Captain's head, "like you said, Skipper. That turbo-wash may have to wait until I've spoken to Adama and Cain," Boomer noted the narrowing of Apollo's eyes and the slight nod that communicated the Captain's acknowledgement of Boomer's unspoken message, that he would share no intelligence, not even with the Squadron Commander, until the Commanders had been briefed. Boomer was released from his comrades' scrutiny by the loud chime that indicated the lift's arrival at the corridor outside the main entrance to the Life Station. The access opened and the five warriors found themselves plunged into the chaotic movement of the large mass of people that filled the corridor, some waiting to enter the Life Station, others struggling to exit. "Coming through. Make way, please!" Apollo called, and worked his way, the other four warriors in single file behind him, along the corridor wall and then through the congested entrance, pushing gently through the small sea of humanity that moved around him and stopping only when he had emerged into the main chamber of the Life Station. All five warriors soon stood in a casual formation, waiting for Doctor Salik to make his way over to them. "Captain!" Corporal Komma rushed over from across the chamber, adjusting the headset that threatened to fall from his ear, "We're to process you first, Sir. Commander Adama wants you up to his quarters directly after you've been cleared for the electromagnetic radiation, and Doctor Salik doesn't want any of you near Lieutenant Sheba and the unborn child until you've been cleared as well," Komma moved to stand facing Starbuck, watching the Lieutenant taking a long pull at his fragrant fumarello, releasing the exhaust over Komma's shoulder, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant," the Corporal suddenly snatched the fumarello from its resting place between Starbuck's thumb and forefinger, "I'm under orders to appropriate every source of ripe fumera leaves in the Fleet," Komma winced as he extinguished the smouldering fumarello with his unpractised fingers, "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to hand over any more you may have on your person, Sir." Starbuck stared blankly at the Corporal and then at the Corporal's outstretched palm. "Komma, have you lost your mind?" Starbuck placed him hands on his hips and leaned forward, effecting an intimidating posture and targeting the Corporal with his pale blue eyes, "Why are you confiscating my fumarellos?" "Because, Sir, they're the raw material for the anti-toxin," Komma was interrupted by a loud cry that carried from across the crowded chamber. "Starbuck! Starbuck, my boy," Chameleon rushed forward, eluding the grasp of a pursuing medical technician, and falling into Starbuck's arms, "Cassiopeia, I heard them talking," Chameleon gestured weakly toward the young medical technician who knelt and grasped the old man's arm, "She's still on that ship, she's on the Cheops. She's in terrible danger," Chameleon turned to look up at Apollo, who knelt down beside Starbuck and looked with concern into Chameleon's bloodshot eyes, "Captain, I have a message for you from a man named John. He said that you and Starbuck would remember him. He told me you must know that Count Iblis is using the ore aboard the Cheops to regenerate himself. I don't know what it means, but he said it was important," Chameleon turned once more to look up into his son's blue eyes, "Starbuck, I'm sorry that I dragged Cassiopeia into my deception. Don't be angry with her. It's all my fault, son. I didn't want you to give up your life to get back what you missed. It's not possible. We can only go on from here," Chameleon lapsed into unconsciousness as the med-tech, with Starbuck's help, gently eased the old man onto a nearby treatment platform. "Starbuck," Apollo waited as his wingman touched Chameleon's forehead with a gentle brush of his fingertips, then swallowed hard and moved to rejoin his Captain, "that name." "I know. John. As far as I recall there's only one man we've met with that name, and I've never mentioned his existence to Chameleon," Starbuck glanced over at his father's prostrate form, "Apollo, I've got to get over to the Cheops." "I'm going with you," Apollo held up a hand to stop the protest that was forming in Starbuck's throat, "Boomer, have Komma get you through those decontamination scans and have that gash on your head looked at, then get up to Alpha Deck and debrief Adama. Tell him what Chameleon just said to us. Bojay, Deitra," Apollo turned to the other two warriors who stood before him, awaiting his orders, "After Salik's cleared you two, find Colonel Tigh and get up to speed on the status of the squadrons. Tell him we've gone to assess the situation aboard the Cheops." "But, Sirs," Komma called plaintively as Apollo and Starbuck ran for the hatchway. Starbuck stopped, jammed his hand into the interior of his jacket and rushed over to dump a half dozen fumarellos into Komma's hands, then turned to rejoin Apollo as the two warriors rushed to make their way back to their vipers, and on to the Senior Ship. *** Chapter Three Scene Twelve "There you have it, Sirs," Lieutenant Boomer spoke clearly so that Cain would hear him over the secure Alpha Channel relay that connected the communication array in the Commander's quarters aboard the Pegasus with its counterpart on Adama's desk. Boomer moved his line of sight from the small monitor that displayed the Juggernaut's haggard face to look into his own Commander's face, "Artemis was very clear that I should tell the two of you the entire story, and that you Commander Adama were to record these events in your private hand written journal. She mentioned it specifically." Adama sat, as he had since Boomer had begun his story, on the edge of the desk top with his arms crossed over his chest, an incredulous expression on his face. The Commander shot a reflexive glance at the door to his private chambers. It was there that Tigh had carried Sheba, after her collapse on the command platform, and laid her gently on the Commander's bed, while Adama had discharged the childminder and tucked Boxey into a nearby chair with a book, charging Muffit to remain silently on guard over the two of them, until a medical technician had broken free of the chaos in Life Station to assess Sheba's condition as stable. Though her collapse was attributed to pregnancy induced motion sickness combined with emotional stress, Salik had firmly decreed that, for the present, Sheba should remain quarantined in the Commander's quarters, as far from any sources of the electromagnetic radiation as possible. "It's a Hades of a story, Lieutenant," Cain's voice came from the relay, "If Adama hadn't vouched for your reliability, I'd be recommending you for some catharsis therapy," Cain's voice altered to a less authoritarian tone, "Adama, what do you make of it?" "Well," Adama stood, turned to look down at the monitor and studied his old comrade's radiation ravaged face, "we both saw the Oberon, Cain, here as well as at Altrua. And we have confused reports of the magnetic ore replicating itself on board the Cheops. Apollo and Starbuck haven't checked in since they were cleared for landing in her aft cargo bay some fifteen centons ago, and there hasn't been any word from Administrator Khufu, Doctor Paye, and the last of the evacuation teams," Adama smiled wryly, "You know as well as anyone does, Commander, what effect that ore can have. Whether its synthetically structured matrix has been imprinted with Iblis' genetic code and would somehow aid in his regeneration, well, that type of science is beyond anything we've ever encountered before." "You can tell me more about this mysterious Count after I get over there to see you in person," Cain's voice carried once more from the small speaker, "Your Doctor Salik has instructed us to come over in two small groups to undergo a radiation purge, while your team comes over here to start removing the ore. He's says it's not going to be particularly pleasant, but it's the only way I'm to be allowed near my daughter and grandchild, so I guess there's no getting around it. Besides, it might afford me an opportunity to bump into Baltar and catch up on some old times," Cain laughed delightedly at Adama's long-suffering expression, "As far as the Lieutenant's story goes, I say you record it as suggested, privately. We'll keep it among ourselves. There's no constructive reason to share it with anyone at this juncture. Apollo and Sheba, well, what purpose would it serve, but to give them reason to worry for their childrens' safety? Besides, if this Artemis is, or will be, our granddaughter, Adama, then only time will tell us if her mission was successful. As to what part Baltar, or any of us, is supposed to play in affecting history, all we can do is deal with the present." "Agreed. We will not fear for the future at the expense of the present," Adama's tone had an air of finality as he turned once more to look into Boomer's dark eyes, "Lieutenant, you are to continue to view your experiences surrounding the Oberon and Lieutenant Artemis as classified. My journal will contain the only written record." "By your leave, Sir," Boomer nodded deferentially to Adama and to the image of Cain, "I'd like to head down to the launch bay and confirm Doctor Wilker's ore disposal plan. We have the Pegasus and the Cheops to clean up, and I suspect we may have to launch vipers to disintegrate the crystals with laser bursts once we've spaced them. I don't imagine that it would be safe to leave large pieces of ore floating around for somebody else to stumble on." "Affirmative, Lieutenant," Adama returned the nod and gestured for Boomer to go, "According to Wilker's plan, we have a team in shielded clothing moving the ore from the Pegasus to the scale model powered platform prototype he's developed for the Technical Support and Infrastructure Section and their mobile space dock plan. I have already had Colonel Tigh put the squadrons on readiness alert and, if Apollo and Starbuck aren't back from the Cheops before then, I'll need you to lead Blue Squadron. " "Aye, Sir," Boomer nodded once more, and then, with a tap of a key on the door control panel, disappeared through the main entryway and out of the Commander's quarters. "Quite a story, Adama. Though I have found one element of it that makes me a tentative believer," Cain spoke as he heard the hatch close behind Boomer, "Did I ever tell you about my maternal grandmother?" "Your maternal grandmother?," Adama stared confusedly into the monitor at the other man's now obviously amused likeness, "No, why?" "You would have liked her, Adama. She was a rare beauty, a woman of strong principle, with the heart and the soul of a warrior." Cain sighed and fixed his friend with a pale blue stare, effective in its intensity even through the slight static of the communication relay, "Her name was Artemis. *** Chapter Three Scene Thirteen "What do you mean, you can't reach them? They've been gone for a centaur or more haven't they? And you've done nothing but stand here while everyone is exposed to toxic radiation?" Starbuck's anger was clearly evident as he stood facing Security Officer Melvin, "According to your own information, there are at least two civilians unaccounted for, not to mention Cassiopeia, Reese and Khufu, and they're all likely down that corridor. Why was she allowed to come back aboard the ship in the first place? Why wasn't she held back in the landing bay with the shuttle?" "Look, Starbuck. We tried to talk her out of it, but she was determined to get the last of the stragglers evacuated, so Reese volunteered to go with her," Melvin held up his hands in a placating gesture, taking a step back and away from the irate Lieutenant, "then Khufu went after them to let them know that there were only two names left on the evac list, Agro-Tech Jain and Sire Silbius." "Agro-Tech Jain?" Apollo interjected, taking hold of Melvin's arm, "What was she doing here?" Apollo felt the hairs on his neck rise, and a cold chill run down his spine as he and Starbuck exchanged startled glances. Starbuck had shared with the Captain the account of Jain, the woman who had become obsessed with Apollo and Sheba, crazed from toxic radiation poisoning presumably suffered due to constant proximity to the couple's other demented observer, Calvin, and the ore powering his portable scanner screen device, rushing through the Life Station like a mad spectre, hatefully spewing out the words that had first burned themselves into Starbuck's memory when Count Iblis had spoken them, the day that the malevolent alien had struck Apollo down with a blast of energy that had been intended for Sheba, only to be stripped of some elements of his power by his former people, the aliens aboard the Ships of Light that had acted to restore Apollo's life. Starbuck, Apollo and Sheba had all become firmly convinced that it had truly been some shadow of Count Iblis that had influenced Jain's behaviour, though Salik had cleared the agro-tech of any residual physical effects of the toxic radiation to which she had been exposed. Apollo realized with a sickening heaviness in his stomach, that Jain may have had another exposure point with the ore. It was she who, under the influence of lblis' disembodied will, who had been cultivating the ore aboard the Cheops, turning the ship slowly into an irradiated electromagnet. No wonder Chameleon was so sick. "Khufu said that Jain comes over once or twice a secton to care for the plants in the public areas of the ship," Melvin stared curiously at the two pilots, who's faces had become pale at the mention of Jain, "What is it? Is Jain some kind of security risk?" "You could say that, Melvin," Apollo responded dryly, "Have you tried contacting Khufu over the ship's intercom system?" "Yes, Captain," Melvin looked worriedly at Starbuck, maneuvering around Apollo such that the Captain stood between the Security Officer and the Lieutenant, "It's non-operational. The remaining navcon crew doesn't know why. It just stopped working as soon as the evacuation started. Things have been pretty confused around here." "Enough of this," Starbuck exclaimed, "I'm going down that corridor and getting Cassiopeia off this ship," he ran around the corner that defined the intersection of the main corridor to the smaller one that Starbuck had been told was Cassiopeia's last known path. "Hey, wait up!" Apollo turned to Melvin, his expression clearly communicating that he would broach no arguments from the Council Security Officer, "have the navcon crew put the ship on automatic and get to Doctor Paye and the shuttle. We have to get everyone away from this ore. Be ready to lift off in ten centons," Apollo glanced quickly at his wrist chronometer, "If we're not there by then, go without us. We'll go for our vipers in the aft bay, if we don't make the shuttle." the Captain turned sharply and ran down the secondary corridor, close on Starbuck's heels. "Starbuck!" Apollo rushed onward, seeing Starbuck, a few metrons ahead, suddenly stop and draw his weapon, crouching in an attitude of battle readiness, before an open hatchway, a low frequencied hum became louder to the Captain's ears as he stopped beside Starbuck and drew his own weapon, staring into the chamber before them at the scene that had arrested Starbuck's attention, "Oh my God," Apollo breathed as his mind struggled to perceive the scene before them. Beyond the hatchway with the designation panel marked 'Silbius', was a vortex of darkness and light that seemed to grow as it was fed by a large shadowy area of darkness that covered the exterior bulkhead of the small chamber. A pulsating conduit from the darkness converged over a large formation of angular black crystals that had bitten through the floor decking and risen to form a rough plateau about a metron above the level of the deck. Bolts of electricity were flashing and sparking from the ore, their energy joining with the darkness and creating the vortex, that now seemed to Apollo to be taking on a roughly humanoid form. "Cassiopeia!" Starbuck cried as he pushed against the rushing air and light inside the chamber, "Cass, are you in there?" Apollo squinted as he made out three additional forms standing no more than two metrons ahead. Running forward, he felt himself slowed, as Starbuck had, by the wave of sound that threatened to overwhelm him and push him toward unconsciousness. It seemed to Apollo that he could hear a voice, taunting him, daring him to come closer. From somewhere far away, he heard Starbuck speak, and then Cassiopeia. Suddenly, his hearing and vision cleared as another voice broke through to his consciousness, a voice that he had heard before. Yes, it's me. John, recognition flooded through the Captain as images of his time on the planet Terra, and his encounter with John, one of the aliens from the Ships of Light, sped one after the other through his memory, Apollo, you must destroy the crystal formation. Fire directly into the source of the electromagnetic discharges. Iblis is attempting to use the energy to materialize in human form. Destroy the matrix, then get to the shuttle bay. The energy in the ore will be released in a chain reaction. Don't let anyone back on the ship until the resulting electromagnetic wave has dissipated, Apollo raised his laser pistol, struggling against the apparent thickness of the space around him. Targeting the crackling electrical discharges at the base of the vortex that had now become more defined in a humanoid shape, the Captain took only enough time to lock eyes with the face that had become visible withing the chaotic mass that formed the head of the creature now taking form before him. The face of Count Iblis, as Apollo had last seen him, appeared briefly and another, more sinister voice echoed in the Captain's ears. "We will meet again, Apollo. She shall be mine, and Adama's line shall end at my hand." Apollo fired and then turned to feel the heaviness of the air suddenly lifted. Reese rushed forward holding a stunned Cassiopeia firmly with an arm around her waist. Starbuck, also feeling the sudden lightening of movement, caught the blonde med-tech from the side opposite to Reese, pulling her arm over his shoulder and turning to speak to Apollo... Starbuck's words were cut off by Khufu, Jain's shoulder held firmly in his grasp. Pushing the agro-tech toward Apollo, Khufu turned and shouted back at the now collapsing vortex, "Begone evil convergence of unclean energies!" "Run! Make for the shuttle before the electromagnetic wave spreads!" Apollo's voice spurred the others on as the six of them ran swiftly back to the main corridor and toward the landing bay, while behind them the vortex collapsed and a rippling light began to emanate with a whining scream from the dark ore formations that jutted from the deck behind them. *** Chapter Three Scene Fourteen "Hello, Father," Apollo stepped tentatively through the hatchway of the Commander's quarters, and scanned the room to find the older man sitting quietly on the bench seat adjacent to the view port. The dark haired young man stood quietly, uncertain of Adama's temperament in terms of Apollo's sudden, and unauthorized visit to the Cheops with Starbuck, and the resulting electromagnetic wave that had knocked out all of the electronic connections aboard the Cheops, as well as those of the two vipers that had been left in her aft landing bay. "Apollo," the Captain was relieved to find himself in Adama's firm embrace of greeting. Since the loss of Ila and Zac, the Commander had made a point of initiating more of this type of affectionate contact with his surviving children, "Doctor Salik called to say that you were on your way up. Sheba and Boxey are in the other chamber. He was reading her a book when I last looked in on them. Join me for a moment before you go in," Adama gestured toward the seat under the view port and returned to his own seat, facing his son, "I've read the report you sent up before going through Salik's decontamination procedures," Adama spoke gravely as he leaned forward, intertwining his fingers and placing them over his knees, "You're certain that Iblis was on that ship?" "As certain as I am that you're sitting before me now, Father," Apollo's voice was grim, "But what are we to do about it?" "What can we do, Apollo? We shall carry on, as we have been, though I'm putting the Fleet on readiness alert status. We will be vulnerable to Cylon detection and attack so long as the Cheops and the Pegasus are disabled. The Technical Support and Infrastructure Section will have to postpone construction of the Auricon and focus on getting the mobile space dock operational for a re-fit of the Pegasus. The Electronics Ship has already begun assembling replacement components for the Cheops. Though, on the lighter side, it would appear that you and your wife will be able to disregard the restrictive dress code," Adama's attempt at humour evoked a small laugh from the Captain. "It's going to take some time to put all of the reports together, my Son, and sort out precisely what's happened over the last couple of days." "That's an understatement, Father," Apollo sighed as he leaned back into the yielding upholstery of the seat beneath him, "I don't suppose your question has to do with Boomer's report to you and Commander Cain?" Apollo managed an enigmatic smile and was not surprised to see a similar expression cross Adama's face. The Captain lifted a hand in a gesture of retreat, "It's alright, Father. I don't think I need more information to process than I already have. I'm still trying to figure out if I haven't been hallucinating from exposure to that damned ore," he moved his arm in order to glance at the display on his chronometer, "Sheba and I had originally planned to be getting back from the Rising Star about now to spend the rest of the day with Boxey and then tell everyone about the baby at evening meal." Apollo shifted his weight and leaned forward, "There is something else that I would like to discuss with you, Father, while I have you alone. I promised Athena, before all this madness began, that I would speak with you about Bojay. He wants to marry her, you know." "Yes. I admit that I've been resistant to the idea," Adama sighed and averted his face, rising to stand before the view port, staring out into the star field, blinking his sudden tears into submission, before they were able to spill from his eyes, "I am not behaving sensibly, I know. I suppose the thought of my only daughter marrying makes, in my mind, a more clear division between the past and the present, a line being drawn between us and the lives that we had before the Destruction." "Father, does this have to do with Mother?" Apollo's tone became full with sadness as the images of his mother, and his brother, and his beloved Serina, hovered in his mind. He looked out the view port, his hand resting on Adama's shoulder, "It's been almost two and a half yahrens since the Destruction, and nearly two yahrens since Serina..." the Captain struggled to keep his voice from failing him, as it always did on those very rare occasions when he would speak of his first love aloud, "I am so blessed with the family that I have now, but sometimes when I find myself thinking of Serina, remembering how much I loved her, still love her, I feel so overcome with sadness that she seems so much farther away, a memory, while I go on and find happiness with Sheba. As time goes on, the past, the Destruction gives way to the new, the forward direction of the journey. "Are you suggesting that I have withheld my support of Athena's wish to marry, because I feel as though I am letting go of your mother?" Adama turned to give his son a look of sadness, a tear managing to flow past the defenses of his eyelids, "Perhaps you are right, my Son. There is a certain finality to it, for me," the Commander turned, unclasping his hands and moving to grasp the hand that still touched his shoulder, chuckling with bittersweet remembrance, "I found myself thinking, the other day, of the promise that your mother demanded of you and your brother, and me as well." "I know, Father," Apollo smiled sadly, but with fond affection, as he recalled his mother's stern words, You will, all three of you, stay out of Athena's romantic involvements, particularly where Starbuck is concerned, "I think she knew that Starbuck and Athena would never last as lovers, but Starbuck would always be family, and I think Mother wanted Athena to make her own choices, have some independence apart from us, to be her own person." the Captain paused to swallow hard, holding back some tears of his own, "Father, we must let go of the past, and let Athena move forward. It's not fair to hold her, or any of us, back because we can't say goodbye to Mother," Apollo sighed and coughed away his tears in an effort at lightening the mood, "Father, give Athena your blessing. Bojay is a good man, and I'm certain that Mother would approve," the young man was relieved to see Adama manage a sad smile of his own, "they're not gone, Father, so long as we remember them, and love them. Besides, Athena and I can tell our children all about their Grandmother." Adama's sad smile became one of thoughtful amusement as he found himself recalling Lieutenant Boomer's description of a beautiful young Valkyrie, a Warrior of the Colonial Fleet from a possible future, and Cain's remarks, She was a rare beauty, a woman of strong principle, with the heart and the soul of a warrior, Adama found himself forming an internal response, perhaps from more than one side, Cain, you old war-daggit, Adama laughed aloud, inadvertently startling the younger man before him. "Just look at us, Apollo," the Commander, his natural robustness of positive attitude returning, "wallowing in the past, when the future holds so much promise." "Does this mean that you are going to speak with Athena, Father?" Apollo couldn't help but smile in earnest at Adama's sudden lightness of spirit. He had been uncertain as to how to approach the older man with such a personal and painful subject, and was relieved to realize that all had apparently gone well. "Of course," Adama moved across the chamber toward his desk, "I shall speak with her after the evening meal, "I expect us all to gather this evening as planned. We have much to celebrate, and family to welcome home. In the meantime, I have some records to update, not to mention these multiple reports that I will need to sort through. As for you, my Son," Adama sat back against the well worn upholstery of the chair behind his desk, and picked up a stylus, using it to point toward the entrance to his private chambers, "Your wife and your son have been waiting for you on the other side of that doorway. Unless you have any other emergencies to rush off to, you should go in and be with them for a while, until Cain is released from decontamination and makes what is sure to be a dramatic entrance in about," the white haired warrior glanced at the chronometer display on the communication array, "in about forty five centons." "Yes, Sir," Apollo laughed happily and, with the press of a key on the door control panel, stepped through the resultant opening into his father's private chambers and disappeared inside, the hatch closing firmly behind him. *** Chapter Three Scene Fifteen "You look very far away, my Love," starting slightly at the sound of Sheba's voice behind him, Apollo turned from his study of the view port opposite the entryway to the private dining room in which Adama and several of the evening meal guests had begun to congregate. The largest of the dining chambers, and several sections of private rooms on the pleasure ship Rising Star had been reserved by Adama for the accommodation of the displaced occupants of the currently uninhabitable Senior Ship Cheops and members of the Pegasus crew, while those who were still medically quarantined with high levels of radiation poisoning in their bodies, waited in Life Station, receiving treatment from Doctor Salik. "Any regrets?" Sheba asked with a tilt of her light brown head. "Hades of a time to ask me, wife," Apollo smiled broadly and indicated the view port, "I've been watching Deitra and some of the Valkyries out there beyond the Pegasus, vapourizing a few megons of that ore," the Captain pushed his dress uniform cape back over his shoulder and reached to ensnare his wife's fingers with his own, lifting her hand and kissing her knuckles gently, smiling as he saw the warm flush of colour that began to rise from her throat to her ears. Her pregnancy, it seemed to him, had enhanced the desire between the two of them, giving them a sense of closeness that was new, and even a little frightening, to both of them. He did not understand it completely, but he had chosen not to waste this domestically blissful period of family life before the Lords only knew what sort of chemical imbalances he might be faced with in the form of a pregnant spouse. He had been present for much of both of his siblings' pre-birth development, standing in, for his Mother's sake, as best he could for the oft-absent Adama and he recalled Ila's many varied symptoms with a vague sense of dread, "it's going to be difficult for you, isn't it, not being out there with the Valkyries for a while?" his tone was quietly sympathetic, the understanding of one pilot for the feelings of another evident on his face as he peered into his wife's warm, brown eyes, "unless the motion sickness returns." "It's a frightening thing, Apollo," Sheba's brow furrowed as she stared distantly through the view port, "when Father's face appeared on the Alpha Channel Relay, and again, as the Oberon exploded, I felt so heavy, like I couldn't stand. Adama tells me that the Colonel broke my fall and carried me down the corridor to your Father's chambers. I didn't recover my senses until Boxey woke me, shortly before you got back from the Cheops," Sheba turned once more look into her husband's clear green eyes, "It was Iblis, wasn't it? And Jain was more seriously affected than any of us ever realized, even Diana, the alien of the Ships of Light that posed as a med-tech to intercede in our conflict with the concealed baseship," her eyes became moist as she uttered the words, "He's regained a measure of his previous influence, and he wants to kill me and our child, to punish you and Adama for humiliating him and thwarting his plans," she squeezed his hand reflexively, struggling to hold back her fear. "We will not raise our children in fear, Sheba," Apollo said simply and firmly, letting go of her hand, and lacing her arm over his, pulling her close to his side. "Then, we'll just have to make sure that they learn how to defend themselves," Sheba said determinedly. "Serious conversations?" Starbuck emerged from the dining room entrance to stand in the near empty corridor between the couple at the view port, "Aren't you two coming in for dinner? The Pegasus crew is looking pretty hungry, and Boomer and the others should be arriving soon. It can't take a guy too long to take a turbo-wash," the blonde Lieutenant gazed amusedly into Sheba's eyes, "Commander Cain has been asking for you. He's already got Boxey calling him Grandfather Cain, you know," Starbuck flashed a toothy grin at Apollo, reaching reflexively into his pocket, then sighing sadly, aborting the gesture to hook his thumbs over the edges of either side of his narrow dress uniform belt. "Starbuck," Sheba placed her free hand on Starbuck's forearm, speaking gently, "How is Chameleon? And Cassiopeia, I came upon her speaking with Father earlier. I get the impression that, well, they've put a little discrete distance between the past and the present." "Chameleon is in pretty bad shape, but Salik expects him to recover. The radiation poisoning is under control, and he's still very disoriented. At least he's not as far gone as Baltar," Starbuck sighed and firmly clasped Sheba's hand where it still rested on his arm, "As far as Cassiopeia and I are concerned, since you wish to know so badly, we've reached an agreement," the young man watched his friends mischievously as they awkwardly attempted to avoid any appearance of inappropriate curiosity, ", as soon as Reese and I got her into that shuttle and she came out of that trance that she was in, I told her that I was not interested in going through the motions of being angry or hurt or offended, and then slowly realizing, over a period of wasted sectons, that I don't want to be without her. If she's at fault, then I might as well forgive her, and forgive myself for being so oblivious to the pain that Chameleon's secret was causing her, and all for my sake. I'd rather just skip to the part where I not only have another chance to spend time with my father, but I don't have to waste time letting my girl feel guilty about deceiving me. It's bound to be a little tricky, and maybe even a little painful, but we'll work it out, and Cain, well, uh,..." "It's alright, Starbuck," Sheba disentangled her hands from Apollo's and Starbuck's arms and reached into the small pocket sewn into the hem of the pale green tunic that flowed seductively, at least to Apollo's eyes, over the curves of her body as she moved. Starbuck knit his brows slightly as he saw the object that she now held in her hand, recognizing it as Cain's flinton. "This was a gift from my mother to my father, a talisman that I've carried with me since Apollo found it on that horrible planet that we were trapped on last yahren, a tangible thing to hold in my hand as I hoped against reason for the recovery of my father to me, for a miracle," Sheba grasped Starbuck's hand between both of her own, transferring the flinton smoothly into his palm, "Father has given me his approval to loan this to you, to help you to keep your faith while you wait for your own father's recovery," Sheba leaned forward quickly and gave Starbuck a sisterly kiss on the cheek, "you can give it to Cain's grandchild when he or she becomes a warrior, if you like, a graduation gift from Uncle Starbuck," Apollo's wife placed a palm against her abdomen, "either way, we keep it in the family." Starbuck gave Sheba a warm, and slightly surprised, look of understanding and camaraderie, pocketing the flinton without protest, tearfully recognizing the great value of the gift, particularly coming from the woman, the sister pilot, who had married Starbuck's dearest and most beloved friend. There had been rocky times, and flat out friction, between Starbuck and Sheba through her engagement and then her marriage to Apollo, in part resulting from the massive, ship-wide, wagering pool that the Lieutenant had orchestrated to alleviate the crew's boredom, and possibly make a profit, from varied speculations on the evolution of Apollo's and Sheba's stormy and passionate relationship. Starbuck knew that this was Sheba's way of calling him brother. "Dad!" Boxey's breathless cry interrupted the exchange and gave Starbuck an opportunity to blink away his display of obvious emotion. Boxey leaned against Apollo, insinuating himself under the Captain's protective arm, "Are you and Mom coming in soon, to sit down and wait for the others? Grandfather Cain says that I can stay up late to hear stories about how the Pegasus raced past all those old gall-monging Cylons with all that poisonous ore on board!" Boxey grinned gleefully at Apollo's horrified expression, and rushed back into the dining room, Muffit silently moving to follow his mobile young charge. Suddenly, horror gave way to bemusement, as the dark haired warrior turned to look into Sheba's eyes, while Starbuck watched unabashedly in obvious, and unsuppressed, delight at Apollo's attitude of abject, albeit pleasurable, shock. "Did I just hear Boxey call you 'Mom'?" Sheba smiled as her husband reached up to place a dark hand softly against her pale, lightly freckled cheek, "When did that happen?" Sheba laughed happily, and moved away from Apollo and Starbuck to step through the dining room entrance, turning back to tilt her head and speak cheerfully to the Captain's still bemused visage. "It happened while you were away with your wingman here, saving the Fleet from the latest source of imminent danger," she turned to continue into the dining chamber, "don't loiter in the corridor for too long, fellas. You'll miss all the stories about those 'gall-monging' Cylons," Sheba giggled, her eyes sparkling, then blowing a playful kiss at her husband and allowing Starbuck a quick wink, the daughter of Cain left them to rejoin her Father, and her son, at one end of the long ovoid table that had been prepared for Adama's party. *** Chapter Three Scene Sixteen "That is a nice little family you've got there, my friend, and I appreciate the gravity and generosity of Sheba's loan to me of Cain's flinton" Starbuck spoke softly to the Captain as they watched Sheba disappear into the interior of one of the Rising Star's most spacious dining chambers, then both young men turned in silent accord to gaze at the small image of the Pegasus that was framed, to their perception, within the perimeter of the nearby view port's expanse of transparent tylium, "of course, your lovely wife is well aware that Corporal Komma and his team of science and medical complex thugs have confiscated every fumarello and mature fumera leaf in the Fleet." Apollo was unsuccessful in a half-hearted attempt to hold back his inevitable mirth at the Lieutenant's obvious sorrow over the sudden, unanticipated and indefinite loss of his regular fumarello supply. This was a situation that had caused much laughter in the barracks as the squadrons had begun to move through the first of many shift rotations, exchanging the latest news regarding their currently enforced state of readiness alert, broken up by the promise of a shift for each pilot to spend sharing in the festivities aboard the Rising Star. But first they were launching vipers in their appointed active duty periods and destroying, with their laser cannons, the invasive black crystalline ore as it was being methodically removed from the affected ships with the aid of Doctor Wilker's portable transport and maintenance platform prototype. "Did Boomer tell you anything more about that 'nonexistent' ship he materialized in on?" Starbuck asked the question, though his tone told Apollo that he knew what sort of answer to expect. "Adama and Cain have classified Boomer's report," the Captain spoke in a manner that Starbuck also knew was intended to convey the authority of his rank, even to his friend in this off-shift environment. "And what of Iblis?" Starbuck crossed his arms under the shelter of his uniform cape, leaning against the bulkhead beside the view port, "Are we to disregard what we both know we saw and heard on the Cheops? "No," Apollo gave his friend a level, clear look of his deep green eyes, "Iblis is still a threat, as are the Cylons, but we have Baltar." "Explain to me how us having Baltar back in the Fleet is a good thing?" Starbuck lifted his eyebrows and sighed heavily as he imagined curls of white smoke wafting over his face. "Look at it this way," Apollo lips turned up slightly at the edges, though his face was animated by strategic thinking rather than good humour, "Boomer brings Baltar back under mysterious circumstances, and Adama and Cain decide, not only to keep those circumstances a secret, but to keep Baltar in the secure medical facility as well, in hopes that his senses and memories will be returned to him. The Commanders must believe that Baltar has some role to play in stopping Iblis and the Cylons." "Though I think that might be a stretch of logic, my friend, I suppose the Cylons, and whatever evil programming they serve, are our most immediate threat," Starbuck paced back and forth in front of the view port, then stopped to face his friend, "But how could Baltar possibly help us with that?" "You heard John's voice on the Cheops, didn't you?" Apollo moved a step closer to the view port, "The ore may have been imprinted with Iblis' genetic code, like Calvin's been saying, but that thing that was moving over the bulkhead of that chamber, feeding itself into the electrical discharges coming from the ore, it came from the Oberon. I'm certain of it. Sheba could feel its oppressive evil from the bridge of the Galactica. I believe that it was Iblis in some non-corporeal form. He has managed to alter events, influencing Baltar and Jain, such that various elements of his previous power would come together." Apollo's voice trailed off briefly as he watched the Valkyries heading in for shift rotation, to decontamination and their turn at a celebratory gathering aboard the Rising Star, while Red Squadron moved in to replace them, "If Baltar is a barometer for Iblis' advances toward the Fleet, and my wife and children in particular," the Captain turned to look deeply into his friend's blue eyes, the tone of his voice clearly conveying his conviction, "then keeping Baltar, and Jain for that matter, close by and under strict surveillance, will be the most effective early detection system that we have," Apollo knew that Iblis would not give up easily in attempting to regenerate himself and wreak his revenge on those that had offended him. The evil one's words still rang in Apollo's mind from the memory of that day long ago when Apollo had offered his own life to save Sheba's, Death to her, Apollo. May her soul curse you through eternity. "It's alright, Apollo," Starbuck grasped his friend's shoulder, "Nothing's going to happen to Sheba," Starbuck was gratified to see that he had managed to coax a small smile into appearing on the Captain's worried face, "nor to any of us, at least not until after dinner" the Lieutenant retrieved his hand and lifted his arm to glance at his chronometer, "Boomer should be getting here any time and I want to hear Boxey say 'gall-monging' in front of Commander Adama at least one time. After that, well, I've got a baby pool to check on." "Thanks, Starbuck," Apollo said with a decided tone of sarcasm, though it was softened by a look of warm affection, "If the surveillance resulting from this pool is as thorough as what you subjected us to with the marriage pool, then no-one, evil entity or not, will have an opportunity to get anywhere near Sheba and the baby without the entire population of the Galactica putting a wager on it within centons." "Anything for a friend, Apollo," Starbuck threw an arm over Apollo's shoulder as the two men started for the dining chamber, "Do you suppose any of the refugees from the senior ship smoke fumarellos?" Apollo laughed and shook his head, casting a look of love at his wingman and closest friend, then walked with him into the dining chamber, leaving their worries behind them for the duration of the evening meal and the celebration of the return of the Pegasus. *** Epilogue A shirtless Boomer, his hair still damp from a long, much anticipated, turbo-wash, a green towel thrown over his shoulder, stood peering at a small piece of paper that he'd fished out of the utility pocket on the sleeve of the flight jacket that hung on the corner support at the foot of his bunk. He smiled, refolded the small note carefully, and returned it to his jacket pocket. Whistling softly to himself, he snatched his dress tunic from where he had laid it out on his mattress, donning it quickly. Adjusting the fastenings on the yoke of the garment, he walked purposefully across the main billet chamber of the Blue Squadron Barracks. He stopped, crossing his arms, in front of a large cloth banner that was draped securely over two curtain pegs mounted in the bulkhead surrounding the small chamber that acted as the canteen section. to watch Greenbean, two steps up on a small utility platform, carefully plotting out a large grid. Boomer smiled with a flash of white teeth and dark eyes. Uncrossing his arms, he tapped a finger on the tall blonde man's leg. "Greenbean, can I borrow your stylus for a micron?" the dark warrior held out his other hand, palm facing upward and accepted the stylus that the other warrior placed smilingly into his hand, pulling a rope that lowered the banner to Boomer's eye level. Boomer chose a designation gridline for a date occurring later in the following yahren, ran a finger downward to intersect with another carefully selected gridline indicating the increments of individual daily cycles and stabbed a deliberate finger on the resulting grid point. Lifting the stylus, Boomer wrote clearly in the small rectangle on the large banner, 'gender: girl, hair: black, eyes: green, name: Artemis, double or nothing permutation: first word: 'Boomer'.' Boomer smiled and ran a finger briefly, and affectionately, over the first name that he had written, I look forward to meeting you, and returned the stylus to a waiting Greenbean. He turned to look around the barracks, thinking how good it was to be home, then, he moved purposefully once more, toward his bunk, donning his belt and his dress uniform cape, then off to the shuttle that would take him to the Rising Star and Adama's gathering, oblivious to the two people at the end of the corridor that watched him enter the lift. "Well, John. Artemis and Boomer have been successful. Baltar has returned, and the Pegasus has finished off the Oberon," the speaker turned to study John's enigmatic expression, "Now, why am I still here?" "Your job, for now, is to keep an eye on Baltar," John responded, "He still has a role to play, but Apollo was right. Baltar is a barometer for Iblis. When Iblis has consumed enough sustenance to rebuild his power and strike at the Colonials again, Baltar will be among the first to sense his presence," John turned and allowed his companion an encouraging smile, "and you will be here to see that events unfold as they were meant to," with a barely audible rush of air, John was suddenly gone, leaving the other man to return, for a time, to his place among the Warriors of the Colonial Fleet, an observer for the most part, keeping a vigil, watching for the time when his former brother, Iblis, would strike out at these people once again, attempting to alter their place in history. *** '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.'