The Sum of All Parts, Episode Four: Reflections 
By Carla

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

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

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

Chapter One
Scene One

     There was a vague rushing of sound and a sliver of light barely
visible. Apollo's mind reached vainly for the conversation that he had
been maintaining with Cassiopeia. He found himself falling into a
feverish unconsciousness instead. He began to dream of a conversation
that he'd had two days previously, not with Cassiopeia, but with Sheba.
She and Apollo had paused in front of an ovoid view port, inset into the
bulkhead at the end of the corridor outside the main entrance to Adama's
quarters. The casual evening meal they were about to attend had been
planned by Adama in celebration of the imminent completion of the re-fit
of the Battlestar Pegasus. At long last, the badly damaged ship had been
restored, though the restoration of her Commander's health had been a
slower, more painful process.
     "The Celestial Chamber. We haven't been up there in a while," Apollo
laughed quietly and kissed her fingers, recalling the ceremony
inaugurating the enormous mobile docking and maintenance structure that
had been completed and presented in full assembly by the Fleet's
Technical Support and Infrastructure Section. After a celebratory meal,
Apollo and Sheba had given in to an impulsive decision to retreat past
the ship's massive thundering thrusters and up to the Celestial Chamber.
The air in the dome had been well recycled as the Captain had, since
viewing that long ago transmission that Sheba had managed to momentarily
record, periodically checked the enhanced Gamma Frequency receiver array
in the battlestar's last remaining erstwhile observation dome. Even Sheba
had doubted his determination that the transmission they had received
that evening cycle, two yahrens ago, when Apollo had first shared his
secret refuge with Sheba, and with Starbuck and Cassiopeia, could
possibly have been a signal from Earth. She humoured him over it, and he
forgave her for that, because he could offer no convincing argument as to
why he felt so strongly that his instincts were correct.
     "I remember," Sheba responded, herself recalling that rare evening
alone together, with no immediate responsibilities, some sectons ago,
that the two of them had escaped for a time and left the hinged outer
shield of the dome in place, illuminating their private space with
nothing more than the display lights of the observation platform console
and the chronometers on their wrists. It was several centaurs later,
after making love in the relative darkness, that they had readjusted
their uniforms and opened the blast shield. They had then leaned easily
against the transparent tylium of the exposed dome that afforded them a
virtually panoramic view of the star field above the plane formed by the
upper hull of the Galactica. They had watched together as the great
mobile docking clamps had embraced the width of the Battlestar Pegasus at
three equidistant points along its length. Apollo had slipped his arm
around his wife and held her against him as they sat leisurely on the
jackets that they had tossed to the deck earlier, their legs stretched
out before them, their gun belts tucked neatly up on the deck of the
observation platform above them. Sheba had leaned her head against her
husband's chest and watched with awe as her father's ship began its
labour intensive journey toward recovery and re-fit, having suffered the
effects of its treacherous and desperate race through Cylon held
territory to a relatively secure haven within the Colonial Fleet for its
radiation weakened crew, and its crippled systems. It had been the last
time that Sheba had fit comfortably into her uniform before being
officially assigned to light duty and maternity furlon.
     "Don't you two ever argue any more?" Starbuck said sadly, starting
the couple from their mutual reverie and approaching from behind them,
placing an arm loosely on each of their shoulders, "I've lost a lot of
speculations on wagers since you started being all pleasant and
agreeable," Starbuck rested a mournful gaze worthy of Doctor Wilker on
Sheba, and lifted his eyebrows hopefully, "After the baby's born, will
you be picking a fight with Apollo? I could use a winning streak."
     "Would that help ease the pain you've suffered from the great
fumarello confiscation?" Sheba responded with a posture of assumed
innocence, batting her warm brown eyes at him and smiling mischievously,
"We feel so sorry for you, Starbuck."
     Apollo laughed and released his wife's hand, slipping from under his
best friend's arm and walking toward the viewport. He hooked his thumbs
over either side of his gun belt and then turned back to face Sheba and
Starbuck, the Battlestar Pegasus framed by the ovoid pane of transparent
tylium behind him.
     "What's wrong Starbuck?" Apollo's eyes reflected his mood of
merriment, "The loneliness with you and Cassiopeia on incompatible work
periods coupled with the wait for a mature fumera plant and the promise
of smoke curling upward with the rest of your exhaled hot air got you
needing to manipulate the odds on your regular wagering pool of our once
personal lives?"
     Starbuck sometimes found himself so used to the persona of his buddy
as the epitome of a poor card player, that he sometimes forgot what a
brilliant strategist Apollo was in other ways. The Captain had focussed
his mental targeting scanners on Starbuck's normally well hidden, but
constant craving for one of his sorely missed fumarellos. Starbuck sighed
in defeat and turned to smile at Sheba, removing his arm from her
shoulder and crooking his elbow invitingly, gesturing with a nod toward
the nearby hatchway that led into the large main chamber of Commander
Adama's office and quarters.
     "As your heartless spouse has just reminded me, Sheba," the
Lieutenant smiled warmly at his best friend's wife, "Cassiopeia is
working and so my arm is available."
     "Well," Sheba smirked in amusement, taking the proffered arm, then
looking briefly into Apollo's eyes, "I guess we'd better go in. Father
will be very pleased that the re-fit is nearly complete," the smirk
became a small laugh of sympathy as she read in Apollo's good-natured,
though pained expression his expectation that for Commander Cain 'very
pleased' would likely be a variation of some form of arrogance that had a
way of putting the Captain's teeth on edge. He hid it well, so as not to
allow the Juggernaut to sense his slight annoyance. In the sectons since
the Pegasus had rejoined the Fleet, Cain had enjoyed baiting the reserved
and thoughtful, though occasionally hot-headed, husband of his daughter,
though he refrained from doing it in all but casual family venues such as
the evening meal that awaited the three young people as they moved toward
the hatchway. In spite of his role as Cain's target, however, the Captain
did give the overbearing Commander credit in that Cain did not make light
of Apollo's authority as the Galactica's Squadron Commander. In this
newly blended family, rank was not a subject that was open to ridicule,
no matter how good-natured.
     The rushing sound replaced the memory of Sheba's laughter, and a
sharp pain of awareness told the Captain that he was awake. The shaft of
light reappeared and widened, slowly coming into focus as Cassiopeia's
voice sounded gently into his ear, and a soft hand touched his forehead.
     "Apollo," he winced as she secured the loosened bandage that held
his injured arm in place and looked up into her pale blue eyes, "try not
to move."
     "Cassiopeia," he spoke with difficulty, his dry lips not cooperating
with his efforts, "how long?"
     "It's alright, Apollo," the med-tech smiled encouragingly and
grasped the Captain's hand, "Just try to stay awake. The rescue team  is
cutting through the bulkhead. We should have you in Life Station within a
centaur," Cassiopeia's smile disappeared as she pursed her lips, watching
Apollo drift back into unconsciousness, tears threatening to spill from
her eyes. Lords of Kobol, if you're really there, help me to keep him
alive until then. 

Chapter One
Scene Two

     "Starbuck?" Sheba's eyes opened as she sat upright and focussed
slowly on the blonde Lieutenant from across the chamber.
     "About time you woke up, Sheba," Starbuck turned from his study of
the cross-beam that had collapsed over the hatchway, sealing the opening,
and rendering the control panel useless. He smiled with a flash of bright
teeth and an accomplished effort at an air of bravado, holding up the
small utility tool that he had been using as a tap code instrument to
communicate with the party on the other side of the thick bulkhead,
"there's a crew out in the corridor. Colonel Tigh sounded a message out
against the bulkhead. If I remember my tap codes correctly, it sounds
like they're almost ready to start cutting their way through to us. We'll
have you in the Life Station in no time, and me in the Officers' Club
with a strong drink, telling the guys what a hero I am for saving your
life. The Squadron Commander might just have to put me in for a
commendation."
     "The guys don't know the half of it," Sheba said dully from where
she sat on the small cot against the bulkhead opposite the hatchway.
Touching her hand tentatively to the bump on the back of her head, she
flinched and then lifted her feet back up from the deck, covering them
with the edge of the blanket beneath her, and rested the small of her
back against the yielding softness of the flight jacket that Starbuck had
bundled and placed beneath her head as she had lost consciousness on the
cot where he had deposited her, stunned and limp from the blow that she
had suffered to her head when the bulkhead had given way and various
pieces of rubble had been dislodged from the ceiling of the small
chamber. 
     "What do you mean?" Starbuck tucked the utility tool into a small
groove at the bottom of the buckle of his uniform belt and dusted his
hands on his thighs, then rubbed his palms together absently, sighing
inwardly at the brief pang of his desire for a fumarello, imagining the
exhaust from a satisfied exhalation of smoke streaming dreamily from his
parted lips. He turned to look down at his best friend's wife, his heart
aching at the sight of her expression. The fear in her eyes seemed
palpable to him as he struggled to conceal his own substantial anxiety.
     "Starbuck," Sheba glanced up at him with a self-conscious air, "How
could I be any good at looking after a baby. I was an only child," Sheba
winced as a painful spasm washed over her, then breathed away the pain to
look fearfully into Starbuck's light blue eyes, "I know that Boxey and I
have done alright together, but what do I know about babies? I've never
been so frightened in my whole life," she smiled weakly, "please don't
tell any of the guys," Starbuck returned the smile with a quizzical
expression, as she continued speaking in an uncharacteristically hesitant
manner, "I sealed with the Squadron Commander, the third highest ranking
officer on this battlestar, half a yahren after he proposed to me, then
got pregnant before the rest of the yahren was over. That alone is fodder
enough for the guys in Silver Spar to tease me about, uh, marrying my way
up the chain of command," she combed her hands through her light brown
hair, wincing as she made contact with the lump on the back of her skull,
then crossed her arms loosely over her abdomen, attempting to maintain
the smile, but with little success, "Imagine if any of them heard me
saying I'm scared now, far too late to have any regrets," Sheba's attempt
at bravado finally failed as tears flowed from her eyes and she began to
sob quietly.
     "Sheba," Starbuck moved to sit down on the blanket beside her and
firmly wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently back and forth
with her head against his broad shoulder, "none of those guys would give
you a hard time about that and, according to Boxey, you're more than just
alright as a mother. You don't have to pretend you're not scared. It's
me. Starbuck." He caught her eye as she raised her head to look at him
and wiped her tearstained cheek with the back of her hand, "After all
we've been through together, sweet lady, can't you tell that I'm far more
frightened than you are right now?"
     Sheba's dark eyes widened in shock, horror, even anger, then began
to register amusement as she sputtered with reflexive laughter.
     "Starbuck," she swiped a hand through tears of laughter this time
and relaxed visibly, throwing a glance at the rubble in front of the
hatchway, "remind me, when this is all over, to give you that fumarello
that I have hidden in the Valkyrie barracks.
     Starbuck's face was momentarily frozen into an expression of
disbelief. He looked appraisingly at Sheba's tearstained face and then
smiled broadly, pulling her back into a warm hug.
     "Sheba," his laughter betrayed a slightly manic air as it carried
away some of his own fear, "I bow to a superior force," he released his
grip on her and sat back against the bulkhead beside her, "You may have
broken me this time."
     "I think you'll land on your feet, Hot Shot," Sheba inhaled deeply
as another wave of pain moved over her, "Just don't expect me to name
this baby after you."

Chapter One
Scene Three

     The Triad court was still and empty. Boxey sat staring up at the
transparent barrier between the playing arena and the spectator seating
areas. Though not as formal and softly upholstered as the facilities
aboard the Rising Star, this court had one prime viewing box that he had,
on occasion, been invited to share with various family members and
friends of his parents.
     Whirr. Bark. Bark.
     "It's alright, Muffit," Boxey's subdued voice echoed softly after
the resonating sounds of his mechanical companion's warning. Looking
toward the entrance, the boy saw Lieutenant Bojay approaching.
     "Hey, Boxey," Bojay spoke quietly, avoiding much of the echo that
the triad court afforded. Sitting down near the boy, the Silver Spar
Squadron Commander leaned forward, loosely resting his hands on his own
knees in an attitude of thoughtful repose, "Quite a few people are
looking for you. Your Aunt Athena and your Grandfathers are very
worried."
     "I know," Boxey wiped at his tearstained cheeks with an already damp
sleeve, "but I couldn't stand waiting in the Life Station. Doctor Salik
says the baby might come before they get Mom and Starbuck out of that
chamber in the crew quarters, and Doctor Paye is rushing around getting
ready to operate on Daddy 'cause Cassiopeia told the emergency crew that
he's hurt really bad, and they won't get him out for at least another
centaur."
     Bojay glanced around the brightly coloured playing area that
surrounded the two of them, then turned to look at the boy. Since
volunteering with Athena to take on a Mixed Youth Triad League coaching
rotation every Fifth-Day, Bojay had become one of Boxey's confidantes. At
nearly nine yahrens, the boy had received parental permission to join the
team comprised of interested children between nine and twelve yahrens
whose home was the Galactica. League practice matches with teams from all
manner of ships and groups of ships throughout the Fleet were held every
Fifth-Day on the Galactica's courts or sometimes on the more formal
playing area aboard the Rising Star.
     "Boxey, I know that it's really scary to have to wait for both of
them to be rescued," Bojay touched a hand to the boy's shoulder, "but you
and Muffit need to come back with me to let everyone know that you're
alright," the young Lieutenant stood, offering the boy a hand up, and
gently pulling him to his feet, "Let's go, pal," Bojay gestured toward
the exit, "I'll just take you straight to the Commander's quarters," he
smiled encouragingly, walking slowly along the corridor beside Boxey
toward the lift that would travel directly up to the Access Junction, a
relatively short walk from the Command Centre, "That's where he and
Commander Cain were headed when I last saw them. There's no reason for
you to go back to the Life Station right now, but you mustn't go off
alone like that again. We're still not certain precisely why those two
particular bulkhead support beams collapsed," Bojay paused to key in the
'open door' sequence on the lift control panel and he and Boxey stepped
together onto the deck of the lift, the door closing firmly behind them,
and a slight pressure of sudden gravity weighing down their senses,
"Until we figure out what's happened, pal, we can't have an unarmed
junior warrior moving around the Galactica alone. Not until we know that
it's safe."
     "Bojay?" Boxey looked up speculatively into the Lieutenant's brown
eyes, "Is it true that Baltar got loose from the medical complex? Count
Iblis told him to hurt Daddy, and Mom, too."
     "Where did you hear that, Boxey?" Bojay was unsuccessful in
concealing the shock that had registered on his face in reaction to the
boy's words, "Who's been talking to you about Count Iblis and Baltar?"
     "Well, uh, they weren't actually talking to me," Boxey looked
downward at the deck, absently petting Muffit, the daggit drone that
crouched silently beside him, "Grandfather Adama and Grandfather Cain
were talking in Doctor Salik's office chamber," the boy shot Bojay a
guilty, slightly fearful look, "I didn't mean to listen at first,
but...you won't tell, will you, Bojay?"
     "No, Boxey. I won't tell," Bojay placed a reassuring hand on a small
shoulder, "but no more wandering off alone. Deal?"
     "Deal," Boxey said with a small expression of relief as the lift
door opened and the warrior and the boy stepped down onto the decking of
the large main chamber of the Access Junction. "Bojay?" Boxey's voice
echoed here more loudly than it had down in the Triad court.
     "Yeah, Boxey?" Bojay paused in his effort to usher the boy toward
the entry to the main corridor, hearing the fearful tone in the timbre of
the child's voice, "What is it?"
     Bark. Bark. Whirr. The sound of the daggit drone's alert caught
Bojay's attention as Boxey's next words registered clearly on the young
man's awareness.
     "Isn't that Baltar over there?
     Bojay felt the cool rush of sudden alertness coupled with the
response of the reactive reflexes that had been sharply honed by his
military conditioning. He moved his hand to his gun belt and swept the
child behind him in one fluid motion, turning to face the direction that
Boxey had indicated with a pointing finger.
     "Stay behind me, Boxey," Bojay said in a quiet level tone, "If he
gets between us, order Muffit to take him down and secure him, then run
as fast as you can to the Command Centre for help. Do you understand me?"
     "Yes," Boxey responded just as quietly, leaning down to whisper
clearly into Muffit's audio input relay, as Doctor Wilker and Apollo had
taught him, "Muffy, defensive alert status."
     Whirr. The small drone responded with one barely audible sound as
it's defensive programming mode shifted and a military style crosshair
overlay appeared on it's incoming visual input sensors. Dead center in
the targeting area, from Muffit Two's perspective, was the chest of an
emaciated figure standing five metrons distant near the center of the
large chamber, wearing a loosely fitted medical tunic and trousers,
partially obscured by a long hooded cloak.
     "Excuse me, Lieutenant," Baltar sang out pleasantly, "Could you
direct me to Captain Apollo's son, please?" manic laughter echoed
throughout the large Junction chamber as Baltar lifted a tool of a sort
that was unfamiliar to Bojay. The origin of the tool, however, was the
least of Bojay's immediate concerns. What captured his attention as he
slowly drew his laser pistol from its holster and backed Boxey against
the bulkhead behind them,  was the end of the tool that sported a very
large, serrated blade. The blade was liberally stained with what Bojay
could only assume was a redly wet smear of freshly spilled blood.

Chapter One
Scene Four

     Apollo shifted his weight, a virtual spear of pain impaling the
length of his spinal column. He breathed his way through the waves of
unconsciousness that threatened to take him back into the stupor of shock
that he had been in for the last two centaurs. He brought his right hand
up to feel his own bare skin, then the edge of the wide bandages that
Cassiopeia had skillfully wrapped to dress the neatly stitched wound in
his chest, and support his shattered right shoulder and clavicle. The
Captain pulled himself up on the rolled blanket that supported his neck,
moving his left arm carefully to effect a smooth, easy movement, and thus
avoid the painful result of his previous attempt.
     "Cassiopeia," Apollo's own voice seemed weak and far away to him,
his grip on consciousness still tenuous.
     "Apollo!" the med-tech turned from where she crouched nearby,
assessing the remains of the supplies in her med-kit, portioning out the
pain suppressant that she was certain Apollo would need before the rescue
team gained entry through the bulkhead, "thank the Lords that you're
awake. How do you feel?"
     "I, uh, I've felt better," he attempted a dry laugh that came out as
a cough, "What happened? I remember hearing a loud noise, and pulling you
away from the door," Apollo gestured with a movement of his eyes to his
right shoulder, "My arm. It's broken isn't it?"
     "Yes," Cassiopeia knelt down beside the Captain, touching the side
of his neck, relieved that she found no evidence of a dangerously high
temperature, but quietly concerned about the trickle of blood that had
escaped from the corner of his lips. She knew that this could be an
indication of internal bleeding, "The support beam over the hatchway came
down. You pushed me out of the way and got hit pretty hard with some
rubble. Your shoulder and collarbone are broken, you have at least two
fractured ribs and a pretty nasty gash on your chest. The powered
instruments in the med-kit are all inoperative. I had to sew it up for
you with a needle and filament. Stay as still as you can so as not to
tear it open," Cassiopeia smiled as comfortingly as she could into
Apollo's pain-clouded eyes, "Listen," she glanced toward the inoperative
hatchway, "it sounds like they've started cutting through the metal," the
two were silent as they strained to hear the rushing sound of the torch
that was now tearing through the surface of the bulkhead from the
corridor side,"you'll feel better once we get you to Life Station, to
Doctors Salik and Paye."
     "Life Station," Apollo struggled to think clearly through the fog
that blurred his thoughts as well as his vision, realizing that
Cassiopeia must have given him a sedative before she'd stitched up the
chest wound, "Sheba," sudden realization made him move to sit up, but his
protesting body held him back with a sharp intake of breath that, in
turn, stimulated an overwhelming contraction of pain in the muscles of
his chest, "She was on her way there. Starbuck. Somebody sent for me. The
baby," he felt himself falling back under the dark blanket of
unconsciousness, his ability to focus his thoughts slipping away despite
his struggle to remain conscious.
     Cassiopeia held his left shoulder firmly with one hand, while
steadying his right elbow with the other, easing him carefully back down
to a reclining position. She pushed the sweat dampened hair from his brow
with her fingertips, peering into his half-closed eyes, noting worriedly
that there was an increasingly cloudy quality to them. He's in shock, and
he probably has internal bleeding. His colour isn't right.
     "Cassiopeia," Apollo's tone evoked an attitude of deepened concern
in Cassiopeia's posture. She had come to know the Captain well since
their first meeting, a lifetime ago in the days shortly after the
Destruction, when he and Starbuck had rescued a dazed and injured
Cassiopeia from the frustration and resentment of the religious
extremists on that dreadful ship. Cassiopeia remembered with fondness
that it had been Apollo who had gently lifted her to her feet, cradling
her broken arm, and throwing a look of righteous indignation at the
people who were verbally reviling the then socialator. "If anything
happens to Sheba, if I were to lose her," his voice failed him
momentarily as Cassiopeia grasped his left hand, squeezing his fingers
gently. She leaned in to position her ear over his lips as he spoke
quietly, sounding much like a young boy reluctantly sharing a secret too
big for him to bear, "If I were to lose her, I don't think that I could
live another day longer."
     Cassiopeia quickly pushed aside the sense of fear that rose in her
chest at the deadly serious quality of his words, and placed her free
hand against his cheek, silently willing him to gain strength from the
touch of her hand.
     "Cass..." Apollo lost sight of her pale face as unconsciousness took
him once again and the images of the last two days began to drift
disconnectedly through his clouded mind. There was a vague memory of
Boxey's laughter as Apollo and Sheba had watched from the sidelines with
several other parents and guardians, cheering him on as Bojay and Athena
had put the Youth Triad League Teams through their paces. Then other
memories, borne on pieces of what seemed like the glass from a broken
mirror, fell with vague sounds of voices and machines as they glinted and
turned before his inner eyes. He tried to focus on one single image, but
the fragments fell tantalizing out of his mental reach until the sound of
another familiar voice became louder and one of the reflective shards
slowed its motion to reveal the image of the launch bay set against the
profile of his best friend and wingman, Starbuck, as the two of them had
made their way to the vipers and the routine security patrol that awaited
them.
     "That was some meal, buddy," Starbuck smirked amusedly as his friend
and Captain shot him a pained look, "The look on your face when you found
out that your father and mine have been involved in a clandestine, no,
make that classified Pyramid cabal designed to pump Baltar for
information. Good thing you weren't chewing your food when Cain told you
how he came up with the idea," Starbuck gave his friend a sudden,
speculative look, "you know, your wife's father is as bad at cards as you
are. Interesting how much you two have in common."
     "Very funny, Starbuck," Apollo sighed resignedly and fixed his
wingman with a wry expression, the lights of the launch bay reflecting
against his arresting green eyes, "I suppose you knew that Chameleon had
been enlisted as one of Adama's secret agents, along with Wilker and
Salik, from the beginning of this bizarre Seventh-Day gambling circle in
the medical complex!"
     "We-e-ell," Starbuck lifted his eyebrows with assumed innocence and
gave Apollo his best charming smile, "they had to have someone available
as a last centon replacement player and consultant in case there were any
cancellations," Starbuck patted his jacket down absently, a gesture
Apollo recognized as a reaction to his friend's desire for a fumarello.
It would be another two sectons at least before the agro-ships had enough
fumera leaves available for recreational smoking purposes. Almost every
available leaf and fumarello, including Starbuck's own supply, had been
commandeered half a yahren ago when Cassiopeia had received that
enigmatic message through Chameleon's companion, Blassie, that the fumera
leaves were needed in Life Station to provide the active ingredient in
the chemical treatment that would stave off the inevitable dementia that
resulted from prolonged exposure to the electromagnetic radiation of the
artificially constructed ore that had eroded the health of Cain, his
crew, and many others before it had been methodically eradicated and
disintegrated in space by the well-aimed laser bursts fired from the
laser turrets of the Galactica's viper wings as they had fired on the
offending black crystals, making certain that the pieces were vapourized
and dispersed into space, presumably rendered incapable of further
regeneration, "Look," Starbuck's expression became more serious as the
two men came to a stop beside the portable steps leading up to the pilot
seat of Apollo's viper, "you said it yourself, Apollo. Baltar is a
barometer for Iblis, and possibly the Cylons. There might be information
that he has in that irradiated brain of his that could help us defend
ourselves against our enemies. Besides, Salik says the card playing is
good therapy for Chameleon. He's almost completely recovered," the two
friends smiled together, each happy that Starbuck had finally come to
know Chameleon as his father. Throughout a difficult recuperation from
toxic radiation poisoning, the older man had accepted his son's
forgiveness and begun to forgive himself for his deception and the burden
that it had placed on Starbuck's love, Cassiopeia, one of only two people
that had shared the secret of his true identity as Starbuck's father for
the two yahrens since Chameleon had begged her to allow him to be
Starbuck's friend, rather than a father, a father who faced the prospect
of watching a son give up everything that was meaningful in his young
life in order to recapture something that could only be renewed, not
relived.
     "Starbuck," Cassiopeia could hear the barely audible name that
escaped from the unconscious Captain's lips. She touched his face gently,
listening to the sound of the cutting torch as the directed flame ate its
way slowly through the bulkhead from the corridor on the other side.
     "Hold on, Apollo," she whispered, concealing her fear from him as
best she could, "Just hold on a little longer."

Chapter One
Scene Five

     Sheba leaned woozily against Starbuck's shoulder, still stunned from
the blow she had suffered to her head but unable to completely relax as
the spasms heralding her child's birth had become more frequent and more
painful. Starbuck's strong arm tightened slightly around her shoulders as
he felt her move against him.
     "How are you feeling, Sheba?" he spoke quietly in the direction of
her ear, "You drifted off there for a while."
     "My head's a little sore," she admitted, wincing as he moved to
touch the lump on the back of her skull.
     "You might have a slight concussion," he held up his hand, extending
his first three fingers upward, "how many fingers do you see?"
     "One of each," she said dryly, managing a small smile as Starbuck
lowered his hand and laughed softly.
     "Well then, I guess we can rule out a concussion. You've just got a
hard head and a terrible sense of humour," he pulled his other arm gently
from behind her, flexing his stiff fingers and turning to face her with a
serious expression, "I don't think there's a cure for that."
     Sheba's responding laughter was cut off by a painful tightening of
the muscles of her abdomen. She slowly breathed her way through the waves
of discomfort and paused to listen to the muffled sounds of the rescue
crew in the corridor beyond the bulkhead.
     "It sounds like they've made it through the outer bulkhead," she
looked into Starbuck's clear blue eyes, a hopeful tone creeping
tentatively into her voice, "they should be through within half a
centaur," she moved her palms across her abdomen, tensing as another
spasm took hold of her, and once more breathing her way back out from
under the waves of pain, "they'll be cutting it close, Starbuck."
     "I know," he looked into her warm brown eyes and smiled as brightly
as he could, "but don't worry. I've had the best emergency medical
training that the Academy could provide."
     "Are you saying you've delivered a baby before?" Sheba's tone was
less than reassured, "or did you just get through the lecture with the
plaston infant and the holo-images of an actual birth?
     "The lecture," he said flatly, "but somebody stole the plaston baby,
so we had to use a triad ball.," he smiled once more, absently patting
his tunic in his chronically vain search for a fumarello, "and I'll have
you know that I achieved the highest level in the class," he paused for
effect before continuing with a final remark, "I scored the only goal."
     "We're doomed," Sheba said, as she and Starbuck continued to look
into one another's eyes, then both began to sputter with nervous
laughter. Sheba wiped an errant tear from her cheek and leaned back
against the cushion of Starbuck's jacket, laying her head once more
against his shoulder as he replaced his arm around her slender shoulders.
The two sat wordlessly listening as the sounds from beyond the bulkhead
became louder and discolouration from the heat of the cutting torch
became evident at a point on the bulkhead very near its junction point
with the floor decking. Sheba watched as the spot of colour began to glow
redly and a wisp of smoke began to rise from the point of contact with
the flame of the torch. She felt herself drifting off once more, her
vision blurring in spite of her earlier jest, becoming aware of a memory.
Boomer. I hope he's alright, her mind took her backward as she began to
sleep, and dream, fitfully within Starbuck's gentle embrace.
     Shortly after the evening meal in Adama's quarters, two days
previously, Apollo, giving her a quick kiss on the lips and an admonition
to try and rest as Doctor Salik had ordered, had departed with Starbuck
for the launch bay and their scheduled patrol, leaving her propped on the
bench seat in Adama's quarters.
     "Mom?" Boxey had approached quietly,  carefully proffering a mug of
hot yama root extract, "want some? Grandpa just made it."
     "Sure, thanks Boxey," Sheba smiled and accepted the mug, taking a
small sip and then resting the drink on a nearby table top, gesturing for
Boxey to sit beside her, "so, that was some great practice you guys had
earlier. Are you going for the championship this season?"
     "You bet!" Bojay interjected as he and Athena sat side by side on
the seat adjacent to Sheba and Boxey, setting their own drinks down near
hers, "the Galactican team is definitely in the running with some very
solid wins so early in the season. Plus, they have a great coaching team
this rotation!" he turned to smile at his wife-to-be, "Isn't that right,
Coach?"
     "Whatever you say, Coach." Athena laughed indulgently and then
turned to address Sheba, a more serious tone creeping into her voice,
"You look tired, Sheba. Are you certain that you haven't been overdoing
things? You were on your feet during most of the triad practice, and you
didn't have much of an appetite tonight. Are you sure you don't want to
crawl into bed and sleep for a few centaurs?" concern was evident on her
normally rather impassive face, "My niece or nephew should be here any
time now and your opportunities for rest might be limited once he or she
has arrived."
     "That right, Baby," Commander Cain sat down beside his daughter, he
and Adama having moved to join the younger members of their family to sit
beneath the view port, drinks in hand, "you do look tired," the
Juggernaut kissed his daughter's forehead and pulled back with a smile
and a gently teasing tone, "beautiful, but tired."
     The chiming of the door control panel had cut off Sheba's intended
response. She and the others watched as Adama rose, setting down his
drink, and approaching the main hatchway. The hatch opened as the
Commander pressed the relay on the interior panel to reveal the grim
features of Colonel Tigh.
     "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Commander," Tigh entered the chamber at
a gesture from his superior, glancing briefly toward the group that still
sat under the view port, "Sir, I'm afraid I have some disturbing news.
It's Lieutenant Boomer," the Colonel paused as Cain rose to join the two
men in front of Adama's desk, "He's in the Life Station under
observation. Commander, Doctor Salik believes he's been deliberately
assaulted!"
     "Boomer," Sheba muttered just before a painful spasm jolted her from
her semi-conscious reverie, "Starbuck?" panic and disorientation were
evident in her voice. This spasm had been far more severe than the
previous ones. 
     "I'm right here," Starbuck's voice seemed to be coming from very far
away, "Just hang in there, sweet lady. They'll be through the interior
panel of the bulkhead in about ten or fifteen centons."
     "I don't think we have that long, Starbuck," stark realization had
set in as the amniotic fluids surrounding her child had been abruptly
released and another spasm had followed almost immediately after the one
that had awakened her, "Time to use that Academy training, hot shot," she
looked up at him, vainly struggling to focus on his face, "the baby's
coming right now, and I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from
confusing my offspring with a triad ball."

Chapter One
Scene Six

     "Adama! Now, don't give me a hard time. I can only sit and wait like
an old woman for so long. There hasn't been any word from Bojay or Athena
yet, from the sounds of it. We've got to hope that the boy is safe with
that drone of his. After all, it does have tactical defense programming,"
Commander Cain's voice carried to Adama's ears from the lower gallery of
the Galactica's Command Centre as he rushed up the steps of the command
platform, having spent the last centaur monitoring ship-wide
communications from the console in Adama's quarters, giving in
reluctantly to his fellow Commander's insistence that he do so in order
to preserve the delicate balance of his slowly returning vigour, his
radiation damaged metabolism having weakened his ability to stand or move
about for any length of time without becoming dangerously fatigued. He
joined Adama and Omega as they pored over the multiple displays on the
command console, "Any updates from the rescue teams?"
     "The team outside the damaged area of the crew quarters has just
reported in," Adama responded, pushing his concern for Boxey aside as
best he could, comforting himself with the knowledge that there were
several searchers out looking for the boy and that Cain was quite
correct. Should Boxey be confronted by Baltar or any other individual who
might wish him harm, Muffit would surely foil their evil intentions. He
placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder, "they're almost through the
interior panel of the bulkhead. Tigh reports that Starbuck's last
communication through tap code indicated that," the white-haired warrior
paused as he tightened his grip on the material of the Pegasus
Commander's jacket, sharing the other's expression of worry, yet silently
willing both of them to remain calm, "Starbuck has indicated that the
child's birth is imminent. The medical team will have to move fast once
the panel is cut open."
     "It would appear that whomever took Boomer out of circulation may
have chosen their timing deliberately, Adama," Cain spoke quietly so as
not to be heard by Omega or the warriors in the lower gallery, "The
Lieutenant either had inside information, or he's the luckiest gambler
I've ever encountered. He was right on the money with his wager from the
looks of it, for what small advantage that knowledge might give us now."
     The two men stood together, uppermost in both of their minds, the
memory of a conversation that they'd had in the Galactica's Life Station
less than two days previously, taking them back to the centons after the
evening meal when Tigh had arrived at Adama's quarters with news of
Lieutenant Boomer's near deadly encounter with an unknown assailant.
     "Why?" Adama asked as he stood beside the support chamber and
studied Boomer's unconscious features through the sheet of transparent
tylium that revealed the young man's head and upper torso, "By the Lords
of Kobol, why would anyone wish to harm him?"
     "There is someone," Cain's barely audible voice quietly interrupted
Adama's troubled reverie, causing the Galactica's Commander to turn and
regard his old comrade with an upraised brow, "someone who would wish to
have Lieutenant Boomer here out of circulation at a specific time, a time
when someone close to us would be most vulnerable."
     "You're referring to Boomer's confidential report to the two of us
regarding the events aboard the Oberon," Adama's voice mirrored Cain's in
its lowered tone as the two men glanced across the main chamber of the
Life Station where Sheba sat on a large upholstered bench with Boxey,
holding the frightened child tightly and stroking his hair while Athena
and Bojay stood nearby, their arms crossed and their faces grim as they
waited for news of Boomer's prognosis. Adama turned to look into Cain's
eyes, a sense of dread tightening the muscles of his jaw. Both men had
accepted the veracity of Lieutenant Boomer's account of his experiences
aboard the mysteriously resurrected ship, the Colonial Military Cruiser
Oberon, some half a yahren ago now, and of his brief association with
Apollo's and Sheba's daughter-to-be, a time traveller from a future that
had been, or was to be, somehow threatened by Iblis' influence over and
manipulation of Baltar in particular. "You believe that Iblis is
responsible for this."
     "As do you, Adama," Cain raised the ever-present scepteron that he
clutched white-knuckled in one hand and tapped it gently against the palm
of the other, "we've been waiting for this, considering our strategy, but
we were so occupied with keeping our eyes on Sheba and the baby that we
neglected to consider one very important thing," the Juggernaut paused,
closing his fingers around the auricon wings that adorned the top of the
scepteron and maintaining his whispering tone, "there is one person who
may know the precise centaur of Artemis' birth, the most opportune time
for Baltar, or some other poor soul under Iblis' thrall, to strike out at
Sheba, the mother of Apollo's child, the current vessel of the
continuation of both our families' lines. Boomer must surely have been
intended, by the forces that brought him and Artemis together, to be
nearby, vigilant of danger during the birth of our grandchild. It seems
convenient, does it not, that he has been suddenly incapacitated so near
in time to the expected occurrence of that particular event?"
     "You make a compelling point, my friend," Adama once more looked
down to study Boomer's deceptively peaceful features, "and even if you
are mistaken, although I do not for a micron believe that you are, we
cannot ignore the fact that the individual who stabbed Lieutenant Boomer
in the back is still at large." Both men glanced once more across the
chamber toward Sheba, who returned their gaze with an inquisitive
expression of her own, her brow furrowed in concern for her friend and
fellow warrior who lay unconscious, suffering the effects of a grisly
attack from an unknown assailant who, according to Doctor Salik's initial
analysis of the wound that had very nearly cost Boomer his life, must be
armed with a weapon in the form of a large serrated blade that had been
plunged forcefully through the muscles of Boomer's back to pierce the
protective membranes of one of the Lieutenant's lungs. "As to whether
Boomer has any specific knowledge of the timing of a potential attack on
Sheba, with him unconscious there isn't any way to..."
     "Hold on, Adama," sudden inspiration had compelled Cain to
interject, "do you know where Blue Squadron keeps the banner for that
baby pool that Starbuck devised last yahren? My daughter tells me it's an
evolution of a wagering pool of massive proportions with multiple
permutations regarding the timing of our grandchild's birth," the
Commander of the Pegasus lifted his eyebrows hopefully, "Is it likely
that Lieutenant Boomer's placed a bet?"
     "Cain, you may be right," Adama's jaw tightened with decision as he
and Cain now shared the same hopeful expression, "We must get our hands
on that banner, or whatever data unit is backing it up, and get every
detail of the wagers, if any, that Lieutenant Boomer has made. I happen
to know that he is not a gambling man by nature. But if he were betting
on a sure thing..." the Galactica's Commander paused, glancing once more
across the chamber at Cain's pregnant daughter, "which is why I am
wagering, as I can clearly see you are, that any information Boomer has
written on that banner will not have been a guess, "Adama smiled grimly,
"it will have been something that our alleged grand-daughter told him as
a fact. A fact that he was not obligated, or inclined, to share with us."
     "Commander!" Omega's voice carrying from across the command platform
drew the attention of the two men from their mutual remembrance of the
events of the previous two days and back to the present in the Command
Centre, "I'm receiving word from Colonel Tigh. He's on his way from the
crew quarters to relieve you on the bridge, Sir," the young man pressed a
finger to the ear piece on his headset and smiled briefly, "the Colonel
sends his congratulations! Your grand-daughter arrived about five centons
ago, just before the rescue team gained access to the chamber. Lieutenant
Starbuck has apparently assisted in the delivery. Lieutenant Sheba may
have a minor concussion, but an initial examination by Sergeant Roman
indicates that mother and child should be fine," Omega pursed his lips
and cocked his head as additional information came in over his headset,
"the Sergeant is heading over to the storage section to assist with
Captain Apollo. The other crew will soon be through the bulkhead there as
well. Doctor Paye is standing by in Life Station to ready the Captain for
surgery."
     A ripple of sound moved through the lower gallery as the crew
absorbed the news that their Commander's grandchild had been safely,
though unconventionally, delivered. The subdued expression of relief was
soon cut short, quite abruptly, by a scream of horror from the direction
of the hatchway through which Cain had arrived only centons earlier.
There, framed in the doorway, stood Lieutenant Bojay, Boxey beside him.
It was not, however, the sight of these two that had elicited the scream
from a nearby crew member, nor the sight of the drawn laser pistol in
Bojay's right hand, but the sight of the large, serrated and bloodied
blade that was grasped firmly in his left.
     "Grandpa Adama! Grandpa Cain!" Boxey cried excitedly, rushing
forward to stand at the base of the command platform, staring up at the
two men with widely opened eyes, "Come quick! Muffy's got Baltar! He
tried to hurt me and Bojay, but Muffy took away his knife and pinned him
to the deck in the Junction!"

Chapter One
Scene Seven

     "Cassiopeia!" Sergeant Roman's voice was becoming more audible
through the thick metal of the interior bulkhead, "Hold on in there!
We'll be through in a few more centons! Get back from the bulkhead and
try to be patient! We'll have you out before you know it!" Though she
barely knew the Pegasus' medical officer, the deep timbre of Sergeant
Roman's voice had a perceptibly calming effect on Cassiopeia's rattled
nerves
     "I hear you! Please hurry! The Captain's in shock! We must get him
to Life Station right away!" She moved away from the rapidly heating
metal to crouch on the floor beside the Captain's prone form, "Just a
little longer, Apollo," she whispered, touching his neck to feel a weak
and irregular pulsing of the main artery, "just a little longer."
     Cassiopeia's voice seemed very far away, elusive. Apollo struggled
to respond, but found himself unable to focus. Falling shards of glass
moved in flashes of sound and light, reflecting blurred and muffled
visions of familiar people and places, but staying frustratingly far from
his mental grasp. Suddenly, one spinning fragment slowed and stopped
before him, the image of a star field clearly displayed through the
comfortingly familiar barrier of a viper canopy. Patrol. He'd been out on
patrol with Starbuck. Sheba's face swam before him as though it was a
brief wisp of vapour, bringing with it the memory of the touch of her
lips on his as he'd taken his leave of her after the evening meal in
Adama's quarters. He'd admonished her to rest, but had known that she
likely wouldn't. She'd been impatient for their child to be born, tired
of the various aches and pains and occasional spasms that Doctor Salik
had explained were a sign that the time was near. Sheba. The intangible
image of her face disappeared as a voice broke through to his awareness,
displacing his thoughts of his wife and bringing him back to the display
on the console of his viper.
     "Apollo," the multi-ship network frequency indicator on Apollo's
communication array flashed briefly as the relay broadcasted Starbuck's
voice into the space that surrounded the Captain in the canopy of his
viper, "You've been pretty quiet the last few centaurs since we started
back home. Thinking up some strategy to get in on tomorrow evening's
Pyramid game?"
     "Laugh it up, Starbuck." Apollo grimaced and as he ran one of many
routine checks on the system indicators on the console before him, "What
I don't understand is why, until last evening's meal, no-one mentioned
any of this to me, or to Sheba, for that matter. And how could you let
your own father get involved in this, this..." the Captain paused as he
struggled for a word to express his opinion of the regular Seventh-Day
Pyramid game that Cain, Adama and Salik had orchestrated to extract
information from Baltar's disoriented mind, "this insane plot to find out
what Baltar knows, if anything, by gambling with him? Are you certain it
wasn't your idea? You, I could see finding a way to engage the enemy in a
card game."
     "Now, now, buddy," Starbuck admonished gleefully, "Do I need to
remind you that it was your father, and Sheba's, who helped Salik put the
whole plan in motion? It was Adama that recruited Chameleon in the first
place." Apollo glanced across the open space between the two ships'
transparent tylium canopies to see the flash of white teeth from
Starbuck's broad smile. "Anyway, it's like I told you. The whole thing
has been great therapy for Chameleon. Salik and Paye have determined that
he's almost fully recovered from the effects of the radiation he was
exposed to on the Cheops. He and Blassie are back in top form, attending
every function Khufu can throw at the Senior Ship residents, including
the morning martial arts instruction."
     "It's good to see that you two have become so close, Starbuck,"
Apollo reluctantly returned the smile with one of his own, shaking his
head at his own inability to stay annoyed with his charismatic friend, "I
guess you're not too old to break in a new father after all."
     "I'm just glad Cassiopeia's managed to cheer up." Starbuck's voice
took on an uncharacteristically serious tone, "It took some effort to
convince her that I'm really not angry. She was so afraid that I'd hate
her for keeping Chameleon's secret."
     "It's like you said," Apollo knew how rare it was for Starbuck to
share such a confidence, even with his best friend, "you've evolved.
Maybe you'll even consider settling down and..."
     "Now hold on there, my friend," Starbuck's serious demeanor was
replaced by an attempt at a more flippant tone, though Apollo recognized
the nervous timbre of his friend's laughter, realizing with a private
sense of satisfaction that he had touched a nerve, "just because you're
busy becoming domesticated and fathering your very own warrior clan,
doesn't mean the rest of us are ready to give up on our freedom any time
soon. At least Boomer hasn't caught the sealing bug."
     "Yet," Apollo laughed dryly, "I recall seeing our Boomer in a rather
intimate posture with a  certain member of my wife's squadron right after
the last shift rotation. They were looking a little domesticated to me."
     "You're just feeling lonely, Apollo. The only married man in Blue
Squadron." Starbuck's laughter took on an easier, teasing tone, "Speaking
of your little warrior clan, have you decided who's going to stay home
with the kids once Sheba's no longer on maternity furlon."
     "We thought maybe we'd let you and Cassiopeia look after them while
we're working," Apollo took one more dig at his wingman and his aversion
to the domesticity that he claimed he wanted no part of, "sort of a
practice run for when you have your own."
     "Alpha Recon Patrol," Lieutenant Rigel's voice coming in on the
multi-ship frequency stopped any reply that might have been forthcoming,
"this is Core Command. Come in, Alpha Patrol. Over."
     "Core Command, this is Alpha One," Apollo's voice became all
business as he once more checked his system indicators, "Nothing unusual
to report out here. No sign of enemy activity. Is there a problem? I
wasn't expecting to contact you for another centaur. Over."
     "Alpha Patrol, Colonel Tigh here," the Colonel's deep voice replaced
Rigel's over the multi-ship, "the Commander wants you two back here
soonest possible, maximum velocity. You're cleared for landing on Alpha
Bay. Report to the Commander's quarters when you get out of
decontamination. Over."
     "Affirmative, Colonel. At maximum speed, we should be there in
thirty centons," Apollo fought back the feeling of anxiety that had begun
to rise in his stomach, "Colonel? What's happened? Why the hurry? Over."
     "We've got a situation here, Captain," Apollo and Starbuck exchanged
glances once more across the open space between them, "Lieutenant
Boomer's been injured. He's in the Life Station in serious but stable
condition. Commanders Adama and Cain want you two back here right away. I
can't explain it right now. Just get back here as fast as you can. Over."
     "Affirmative, Core Command. Alpha Recon Patrol is coming in at
maximum speed. Over and out, Sir."
     "What do you suppose they're not telling us?" Starbuck's words
suddenly faded as another, softer tone sounded in Apollo's ear.
     "Apollo? Can you hear me," a return to semi-consciousness overtook
Apollo's senses as the memory of the last few centons of the previous
day's patrol gave way to a bright flash of light and sound, and a sudden
sensation of pain accompanied by the sound of Cassiopeia's voice, "we're
taking you to the Life Station. Hold on just a few centons longer. Doctor
Paye is waiting for us."
     "Captain," a deep male voice replaced Cassiopeia's, "This is
Sergeant Roman. We're lifting you onto the transport platform. It's going
to hurt, but only briefly. Try to stay calm. You're going to be just
fine."
     A blinding flash of pain was the last conscious sensation that
Apollo felt before darkness enveloped him once more and the rescue team
began to rush him to the Life Station, running full tilt alongside the
platform and making their way along the corridor toward the access to the
medical complex where Doctor Paye was preparing for the emergency surgery
that was to repair the damage done by the mysteriously collapsing beam
that had very nearly cost the Captain his life.

Chapter One
Scene Eight

     Adama, Cain, and a detachment of three armed Security Force
Officers, followed closely on Lieutenant Bojay's heels as they rushed
along the corridor from the Command Centre, making for the Junction. The
sight that greeted them as they entered the main chamber brought all but
Bojay to an abrupt stop. Although Boxey had informed his grandfathers of
Baltar's status, they were taken aback nonetheless. There, on the deck
near the bulkhead inset with the long array of express lift access
hatchways, Muffet Two was positioned with his front feet firmly planted
on Baltar's shoulders and his hind feet stretched back to hold down the
upper portions of the man's legs.
     Whirr! Bark! Bark! Muffit greeted the warriors, moving up and down
and eliciting a moan from the emaciated and dishevelled figure beneath
him.
     "Call it off! Get it off me!" Baltar's voice was slurred with
obvious disorientation as his clouded eyes focussed briefly on the men
who now moved to stand in a rough circle above him, "Adama! Call it off!"
     "We'll call it off, alright, you felgercarb sucking fiend from
Hades' Pit!" Cain's undiluted venom spewed forth as he pointed his
auricon topped scepteron to a point above Baltar's fear contorted face,
"then you'll be lucky if all we do it beat the gall-monging pogees out of
you, you ovine scum!"
     "Cain!" Adama spoke forcefully, laying his own hand on Cain's and
exerting a gentle but firm downward pressure, slowly lowering it and the
scepteron, "I feel the same way that you do, but more violence will not
solve any of our problems. Let us secure this, this, prisoner," Adama
spat out the word as though it were an epithet, then began again as he
struggled to control his own emotions, "let us have him secured in the
brig. We shall deal with him at our leisure after we have attended to our
children in the Life Station."
     "Commander Adama's right, Sir," Bojay interjected, "Besides, there's
something that's not adding up here," the young man holstered his pistol
and lifted the blade that he still grasped in his left hand, it's
serrated edge still glistening with congealing blood, "Boomer was stabbed
two days ago. This blood is fresh. That means there's at least one more
victim out there and, judging from the amount of blood on this blade,
whomever it is, they're in pretty bad shape."
     "You've got a point, there, my boy," Cain reluctantly acceded to the
other mens' cautionary words and took one backward step, staggering
slightly from the over-exertion that his furious outburst had wreaked
upon his radiation damaged metabolism. Bojay and Adama moved to flank
him, discretely supporting him by the elbows as he regained his balance.
Nodding in thanks, the Juggernaut moved himself out of the other mens'
grasp and straightened his posture, adjusting the hem of his jacket and
staring down at Baltar, who now sobbed reflexively beneath Muffit's
expressionless gaze and ferron grip, "Of course, you're both right. We've
got to find this other victim, and fast. Besides, Apollo should be in
surgery by now, and Sheba..."
     "Athena!" Cain, Adama, and the others turned at the cry of alarm
that escaped from Bojay's throat, following his horrified gaze with their
own as they looked to see Lieutenant Athena stumbling through the entry
way from the corridor that led to Alpha Landing Bay, a steady stream of
blood flowing liberally past the fingers of her right hand as she
attempted to apply pressure to a gaping wound in her upper left arm.
Dropping the bloodied blade to the deck with a reverberating clatter,
Bojay rushed to catch the young woman as she slid to her knees along the
frame of the hatchway leaving an ugly red smear of blood in her wake.
Bojay lifted her in his arms and wordlessly made for the express lift
access that would carry them directly down to the corridor outside the
Life Station.
     "You men!" Adama shouted to the three Security Force Officers,
"Secure the prisoner in the brig! Muffit! Go with them. Follow their
orders! Your prime directive is to keep Baltar confined! Maintain
military defense mode! If Baltar attempts to escape," Adama looked down
at Baltar with a mixture disgust and  barely controlled rage, "Kill him!"
     Bark! Whirr! Bark! Muffet moved to allow the Security Detail to
hoist Baltar unceremoniously to his feet and drag him toward the express
lift access to the Security Section, one of them stooping to retrieve the
blade that Bojay had dropped.
     Adama and Cain rushed to join Bojay and Athena, barely making it
through the access and onto the decking of the lift before the hatch
closed firmly behind them.
     "Athena!" Adama cried, reaching to support her head as she hung
semi-conscious in Bojay's arms, blood pouring from the wound to pool on
the deck below her, "By the Lords of Kobol! Baltar shall pay for this!"
     "Father," the young woman struggled to speak through her dry lips,
her face an alarmingly ashen shade of grey, her pale blue eyes clouded
with pain, "Father, it wasn't Baltar. Oh God! Boxey! Baltar took the
knife. He's after Boxey, but he's not the one who stabbed me. It was..."
unconsciousness took her as she lost her struggle to speak.
     "Athena. Boxey's safe. Baltar's in custody," Bojay whispered
desperately into her ear, forcing down the surge of panic that rose in
his chest as he continued to hold her tightly in his arms, feeling the
warmth of her blood as it saturated the front of his uniform, "Athena,
who was it? Who did this to you?"
     A chime sounded, indicating that the lift had reached it's
destination and the three men rushed through the opening hatch,
supporting Athena's weight as they ran the short distance along the
corridor to the main entrance of the Life Station.
     "We need some help, here!" Cain cried as the group emerged into
medical facility.
     "Oh my God!" Cassiopeia's voice rang out as she and Starbuck turned
from where they stood together with Sergeant Roman, behind the diagnostic
station at the rear of the Life Station. There was a pause of only a
fraction of a micron before Cassiopeia and Roman rushed forward, ushering
Bojay toward a nearby treatment platform to deposit Athena's limp and
bloodied form gently onto it's surface. "Doctor Salik! Come Quickly!"
     At the sound of Cassiopeia's cry, Doctor Salik emerged from the rear
of the Life Station, taking in the scene before him with a steady,
practiced eye.
     "Get me a support chamber!" Salik's gruff voice took on a commanding
tone as he moved forward and briefly examined the wound on Athena's arm,
"Cassiopeia, start her on a plasma infusion. She's lost a lot of blood!"
     Athena moaned slightly as Salik, Cassiopeia and Roman lifted her
smoothly, depositing her into the support chamber that two med-techs had
quickly wheeled through a nearby hatchway upon hearing Salik's command.
The group then hurried with the chamber and it's unconscious occupant
back through the hatchway and further into the medical complex, leaving
the group of stunned and horrified warriors behind them, taking no time
for pleasantries in their rush to treat the gushing wound and replenish
the Lieutenant's depleted blood supply.
     "Commander!" Adama turned at the sound of Starbuck's voice, the
young man having moved to join the other three warriors where they stood
grimly in the center of the Life Station's main chamber, "What in Hades
is going on around here? First Boomer, then Apollo and Sheba, now Athena.
How many more of us are going to be harmed before this insanity ends?"
     Adama turned to focus his anguished gaze on the young man beside
him, taking in Starbuck's filthy and dishevelled appearance, the
Lieutenant having yet to take the opportunity to change out of the torn
and bloodied uniform that he had been wearing throughout his ordeal with
Sheba in the crew quarters.
     "Only the Lords of Kobol know, Starbuck," Adama's deep baritone
seemed to fill the air surrounding them, "Only the Lords of Kobol know."

Chapter One
Scene Nine

     "None of this is my fault," Baltar muttered as he paced steadily
back and forth across the width of the small chamber in which he had been
confined for what he guessed might be half a centaur or more. Time had
been an elusive concept for him since the voice had come and gone, and
then come again. He remembered the raider that had rescued him from the
solitude of the planet on which he had been marooned after he had upheld
his end of the bargain he'd made with Adama, providing the information
that had facilitated Apollo and Starbuck's sabotage of the baseship that
the Galactica had then destroyed. That was a yahren ago, no two, no...he
wasn't certain. The daily cycles had blended together into one long
seamless blur of confusion since the voice had taken over his will.
     Whirr. Bark. Bark.
     "None of this is my fault," Baltar paused to peer through one of the
circular holes in the secured bifurcated hatch that separated him from
the daggit drone. Muffit crouched in the adjoining chamber in a position
of attack readiness, observing him impassively with his expressionless
eyes. Baltar twisted his neck to catch a glimpse of the three security
officers who sat together at a small table, barely within the scope of
his vision, near the entrance to the main chamber of the Galactica's
brig, quietly playing a hand of Pyramid as they kept watch over Baltar
and the drone that guarded the hatchway to his cell, "I didn't harm
anyone!" he called out in an incongruously musical tone. The officers
glanced upward and, seeing that Muffit still maintained his vigil in
front of the hatchway, wordlessly returned their attention to the game.
"I didn't hurt the girl, and I wouldn't have harmed the boy, either," he
slumped to the deck and looked once more into Muffit's face, whispering
hoarsely, as though appealing to the drone for understanding, "ask the
other one, the one who told me that it was disappointed, angry with me
because of the Pyramid games. I didn't mean to tell them about it. They
tricked me. It was that Chameleon character. Turns out he's Lieutenant
Starbuck's father for Sagan's sake. He seemed so innocuous, so harmless
and friendly. He told me that he'd been ill, just like me, but it was all
a trick. They want to know what it's planning. Well, the plan is very
simple. It wants Adama and Apollo and everyone they care about to suffer
and die. Then it wants her back. It says that she belongs to it. 'My
princess', it called her. Now the other one tells me that it's angry. I
was tricked. Adama, those doctors, that damned Chameleon, and Starbuck,"
the name dripped icily from Baltar's lips, "they all colluded against me.
I wouldn't be surprised if they'd marked the cards. They haven't any
honour, you know. I should have known better. Lieutenant Boomer's at
fault, you know. He ruined everything. If he hadn't brought that rude
girl aboard my nice clean ship and interrupted my party plans, then,
well, it was going to make me a governor on a populated planet with a
mild weather pattern. I could have ruled in peace, retired, a beloved
leader cared for in my old age by my grateful subjects. I think I might
even have asked to have Lucifer reprogrammed to serve as my valet. But
that's all over now. I'm not the sort of man who often resorts to
violence, but when Boomer let Cain destroy my lovely ship, well, that
wasn't very nice. At least it managed to bring some of its essence back
before the ship was destroyed. They'll try to blame me for stabbing
Boomer, you know, and the girl. Well, the other one did that. I was still
in that damned cell in the medical complex when they brought Boomer in
and made such a fuss over him. The other one let me out while they were
all so busy. They don't even know that she's awake. They think she's
still sleeping."
     Whirr. Bark. Bark.
     "You don't believe me?" Baltar rose and began to pace once more,
back and forth, his feet following the steady rhythm of his heartbeat,
then stopped once more and dove toward the hatch, pushing his face
against one of the round openings, the edges pressing into his forehead
and the line of his jaw, distorting his expression and making his dark
eyes appear to bulge from their sockets, "open the door, my mechanical
friend, and I'll take you to the other one. She can tell you. She's the
one who stabbed Boomer, and Adama's daughter. She's the one who gave me
the blade and told me to find the boy. She was trying to get me shot. I
can see that now. She wants to have it all to herself. She's its
favourite now. Adama's line! Adama's line! She's going to help him to
bring Adama's line to an end!"
     "And just who is she, Baltar?" Cain's voice rang out as he moved to
stand behind Muffit, the security officers at the ready beside him, laser
pistols in hand, the only sound the steady tapping of the stylized
auricon wings of the Commander's scepteron against his open palm, "Who is
this backstabbing accomplice of yours? And before you decide to start
lying to me, you treacherous son of an Aerian desert daggit," the tapping
stopped and the Pegasus wings moved to point in the direction of Baltar's
chest, "rest assured that the consequences will be much less comfortable
for you than a Seventh-Day Pyramid game with the boys," Cain leaned
forward and fixed Baltar with an icy blue gaze, "I'm finished using
strategy and intrigue to extract information from your demented mind.
It's time for a more direct approach, for what little benefit we might
gain. Sounds to me from your own crazed ranting that your puppet master
may have cut you loose and backed another equine in this race. If you
have any hope for mercy, you'll tell me who sabotaged the beams in the
crew quarters and the storage section. Tell me who stabbed Boomer and
Athena. Talk or die, Baltar. Nobody tries to hurt my little girl and the
people she loves and gets away with it."
     Bark! Bark! Whirr! Muffit Two bounced slowly up and down one time as
if punctuating Cain's words, while Baltar swallowed hard and backed away
from the hatchway, unable to turn away from Cain's steady glare, his
confused senses registering only one emotion: fear. Stark, mind-numbing
fear.

Chapter Two
Scene One

     "Baltar has to have been lying, Adama," Cain tucked his scepteron
along the crook of his arm and stared grimly down at the young woman who
lay unconscious in the small treatment chamber in the term care section
of the Galactica's medical complex, her dark brown hair neatly draped
across the cushion that supported her head, multiple sensor relays and
tubes connecting various parts of her body to the array of machines that
monitored and supported her weakened bodily functions, "How could this
woman have been involved? According to Paye, she's been unconscious for
sectons!"
     "Wilker has confirmed a match of the finger and palm imprints on the
weapon, Cain," Adama's brow was furrowed in confusion and frustration as
he gazed at the occupant of support platform that separated the two men,
the sound of the respiration unit emitting a steady rhythm as it inflated
and compressed the woman's lungs, maintaining a steady flow of
life-supporting oxygen throughout her damaged body, "he insists that
there is no doubt that Agro-Tech Jain's hands were on that weapon when
Athena's blood was spilled," Adama moved toward the hatchway that led to
the main corridor of the term care section, gesturing for Cain to join
him. Throwing a last, backward look at Jain's pale face, the two warriors
exited the chamber and walked together along the corridor toward the Life
Station, "Jain was initially brought to our attention when she was pushed
from an upper deck on Agro Ship Seven. It's likely that her fall was
accidental, if anything that Lab-Tech Calvin says can be believed. He was
nearly as demented as Baltar by the time he was apprehended by Salik with
that portable scanner shield of his."
     "I've read the reports you had compiled, Adama," Cain's voice was
thoughtful, "apparently Jain was a lonely, depressed woman, obsessed with
Apollo and Sheba, opening herself up to Iblis' influence. Calvin claims
he was trying to rescue the poor girl, and Apollo and Sheba," the
Commander of the Pegasus lowered his voice as several med-techs hurried
by, nodding respectfully as they made way past their senior officers,
"Salik had cleared her medically after she'd apparently recovered from
her 'possession' or 'metaphysical felgercarb' as Salik describes it. She
was put back on light duty, then she surfaced again on the Cheops," Cain
and Adama paused before the hatchway that led to a small side entryway
into the main chamber of the Life Station, "as you well know, Chameleon
came across her while she was tending that garden of irradiated ore
crystals that she was growing within the bulkheads of the Senior Ship. If
Cassiopeia and the others hadn't evacuated the Cheops in time, well, who
knows what would have happened? I can tell you from my own experience
within the scanner shield that we generated around the Pegasus to get
past those gall-monging Cylons, that prolonged exposure would be enough
to give a strong man thoughts of homicide, or worse."
     "Yes," Adama clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head
slowly, trying to make sense of it all, "Apollo and Starbuck were quite
insistent that it was Iblis' form that was taking shape in the main
chamber of Chameleon's quarters before Apollo destroyed the crystal
formation that was apparently acting as a focal point for the
regeneration process. We have no way of knowing how much of Iblis' life
force might have passed through Jain's body before Apollo fired his
weapon," Adama reached for the control panel beside the hatchway, keying
in the 'open door' sequence, "I'm having Wilker install surveillance
equipment in and around Jain's chamber. If anything unusual happens,
let's hope we can capture it on a data crystal."
     "This is madness, Adama," Cain's frustration was evident as the two
men stepped through the now opened hatchway, "Why did that reptilian scum
from the steaming swamps of Hades have to target Sheba? From Starbuck's
description of his, Apollo's and Sheba's first encounter with Iblis, it
appears that he began to exert his influence over her almost immediately.
If it hadn't been for Apollo, Iblis would have killed my little girl! And
now he's after her again. But why, Adama? Why? She wanted no part of his
evil dominion once his true nature was revealed to her. What could this
evil son of a daggit gain from pursuing her now."
     "Revenge, perhaps," Adama's lowered voice was grave as he paused
once more to look into his friend's worried blue eyes, "Sheba rejected
him after Apollo attempted to pull her back from the brink of eternal
darkness, nearly losing his own life in the process. A arrogant creature
of malevolence like Iblis surely would not forget such a humiliating
defeat at the hands of mere mortals. According to Starbuck, Iblis assured
Sheba that he would return, that they would meet again. Those words were
echoed by Jain in the Life Station mere centons before we encountered and
destroyed that shielded Cylon baseship last yahren. If it hadn't been for
the intervention of the alien from the Ships of Light, in the guise of a
med-tech called Diana, well, who knows what may have happened?"
     "It's a strange universe, Adama," Cain pursed his lips in thought,
lifting his scepteron and studying the stylized Pegasus that adorned its
top, then looked wearily into his comrade's warm, brown eyes, "times were
simpler when we were young, my friend. We went out on missions, held the
enemy's tyrannical forces at bay, then returned to the Colonies to remind
us of what we were fighting for. I think I'm in Salik's camp," a wry
smile crossed the Juggernaut's pale, drawn face, "I don't much care for
this metaphysical felgercarb. Give me a fast ship with a fully charged
laser cannon and point me in the direction of the enemy. That's something
I can understand, something I can sink my teeth into. This creature, this
Iblis, and his ability to influence these poor souls like Jain, is beyond
my ability to comprehend."
     "Yes," Adama placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, "times did
seem simpler back then, didn't they Cain? The Colonies and the clear
division between right and wrong, good and evil. They seem so far behind
us now, and recent events, well," the white-haired warrior shook his
friend's shoulder gently, "perhaps we should just be grateful that our
children are safe, in spite of Iblis' efforts to the contrary."
     "Commanders!" Cassiopeia's voice interrupted the two mens' reverie
as she rushed to join them from across the Life Station's main chamber,
"Good news! Boomer's awake! He's out of the support chamber and breathing
on his own! Doctor Salik's treatment has repaired most of the damage to
his lung, and there's no sign of infection. He's still very weak, but
he's well on his way to recovery!"
     "Excellent!" Adama squeezed Cain's shoulder once more before
releasing it, "Perhaps he can shed some light on this business with
Jain!" the Galactica's Commander rushed off in the direction from which
Cassiopeia had approached, unaware for the moment that Cain did not
immediately follow him.
     "Cassiopeia," Cain said the name with a gentle warmth that was not
lost on the young med-tech, "I see you're holding up alright. From the
looks of Apollo's injuries, he saved you from a nasty encounter with that
beam."
     "That's Apollo," Cassiopeia smiled up at her former lover, making an
attempt at mock bravado, her face colouring slightly under his
affectionate gaze, "always putting himself in danger. An incorrigible
hero, like all of you hot shot warriors."
     "Like Starbuck?" Cain tucked the scepteron back along the crook of
one arm and reached for Cassiopeia's hand with the other, giving her
fingers a gentle squeeze, "I'm glad he wasn't taken from you during all
this insanity and chaos," the two shared a look, knowing each others'
thoughts in that moment, remembering and cherishing the love that they
had once shared, and still did, after a fashion, "I can see that you are
the love of his life, as if there could be any doubt."
     "Well," bittersweet tears formed in the corners of Cassiopeia's
clear blue eyes as she silently acknowledged the bond that she and Cain
would always have, even though their romance was over, and Cassiopeia's
heart now clearly belonged to Starbuck, "like Sheba was telling me when
the rescue team brought her and the baby in from the crew quarters, let's
just be grateful that she didn't feel compelled to name your grandchild
after him," she allowed herself to giggle delightedly, holding her tears
at bay, "that would have been just a little too much for all of us to
handle."
     Cain shared her laughter, smiling as he lifted her hand to his lips
and kissed her fingers gently, giving them another affectionate squeeze,
then releasing them and taking his silent leave of her, following the
path that Adama had taken across the Life Station to the small chamber
that Boomer currently occupied, hoping to find some of the answers they
sought.
     Cassiopeia watched as Cain disappeared from her view, smiling once
more and expelling a deep breath, pondering the strange and awesome,
sometimes painful, but often wonderful movements of destiny that had
brought her to this place and time and allowed her to be with Starbuck,
while still keeping Cain as her friend.
     It's never boring, that's for sure, she laughed again, then assumed
a more serious expression as she moved to return to her duties, caring
for her injured friends in the Life Station, hoping that destiny had
decided to calm things down for just a little while.  

Chapter Two
Scene Two

     Bojay stood with his face upturned under the pulsing stream of the
turbowash, his eyes closed as the steaming stream of water rinsed the
last of the lathered soap from his aching muscles. He'd almost begun to
relax when, opening his eyes and glancing downward to reach for the
control that would stop the flow of liquid from above him, he caught
sight of the diluted pinkish-red hue of the soap residue as it was
flushed away toward the bowels of the Galactica to be processed through
the ship's massive water reclamation system.
     Athena. The memory of her limp form in his arms as he, Adama and
Cain had rushed her to the Life Station sliced through his awareness like
the blade that had opened the artery in her arm. He had a vague memory of
Cain's angry epithets as the Commander of the Pegasus had stormed out of
the Life Station, presumably to 'beat some information out of that
gall-monging Baltar'. It had been half a centaur, at least, before Salik
had returned from treating  the young woman's injuries to announce that
she was stable, though sure to remain unconscious for some time, until a
life-saving influx of blood plasma had taken effect on her weakened
functions. It had required a direct order from Adama to convince the
young man to retire to the barracks and change out of the uniform that
had been soaked through to his skin with his wife-to-be's life's blood.
Though Bojay had opened his mouth to protest, Starbuck had taken hold of
his fellow Lieutenant's arm and pulled him firmly toward the hatchway,
insisting on accompanying him to the barracks.
     "Look, Bojay, there's nothing more that you or I can do here right
now," Starbuck's voice had reached through his panicked senses, "I'm in
need of a fresh uniform, myself. Let's go. When Athena wakes up, you
don't want her to see you looking like this, do you?"
     Bojay watched numbly as the last of the blood stained lather
retreated down the drain in the floor of the large turbowash chamber. He
stood, naked and alone, Starbuck having quickly washed and wrapped a
soft, green towel around his waist, scooping up Bojay's uniform with his
own, leaving the Silver Spar Squadron Leader to calm himself and scrub
away the congealing blood that had stubbornly stained his chest.
     Athena. The memory of the ashen colour of her face and the cloudy
quality of her eyes gave way to the image of her face on another, happier
occasion. It had been less than half a yahren ago, shortly after the
return of the Pegasus, that they had formally announced their intention
to be sealed. Bojay smiled in spite of his frayed nerves, recalling the
sight of her shining blue eyes as she had rushed into his arms that day
in the docking lounge, having just embarked from the passenger shuttle to
meet him for a much anticipated furlon aboard the Fleet's pleasure
cruiser Rising Star. His mind rushed back to that moment, one of the
happiest of his life.
     "Father has given us his blessing!" Athena blurted out excitedly,
moving out of his embrace, resting her delicate fingers against his chest
and smiling with unabashed joy, barely able to contain her happiness,
"Apollo had a brief talk with him, just like he promised!" she paused and
tilted her head, her expression becoming speculative, though her voice
had a teasing tone, "You don't look very happy, Bojay. You haven't
changed your mind about wanting to marry me, have you?"
     "Of course not," he laughed quietly as leaned forward to kiss her
gently on the lips, "I just don't want to start off our life together
with your father having doubts about the match. I know how important his
opinion is to you. I don't see how one conversation with Apollo could
alter his assessment of me so dramatically."
     "Bojay, it's not about you, or even me," Athena laced her arm over
his as they walked together through the hatchway and into the reception
area, and then along the corridor that would take them to the forward
observation lounge, "it's about Father and his, well, he's just been
having a difficult time with the thought of his only daughter being
sealed. It's brought up a lot of unresolved pain over losing Mother and
Zac the way we did," a momentary cloud passed over her lovely face, as it
always did on those rare occasions when she mentioned her mother and
younger brother, two of the multitude of victims that had fallen at the
hands of the Cylon Empire during the ambush that had devastated the
Twelve Colonies and precipitated the lonely, uncertain quest upon which
the Colonial Fleet now travelled through unfamiliar space, in hopes that
they would find Earth and a new home amongst the descendants of the
Thirteenth Colony, "Father's had to let go of his view of me as his
little girl. There's a certain finality to it, as though he's having to
close the door on the past, and say goodbye to our family the way that it
was. Time has begun to pass, and the wounds of the Destruction are slowly
beginning to heal, but the prospect of me getting sealed has been a
reminder to him that time passing and all of us making a future for
ourselves also means that Mother and Zac are even further away, that
we..."  Her words ended in a reflexive sob as her eyes filled with tears.
     "Athena, I'm sorry, I..."
     "No, it's alright Bojay," she wiped away the tears that had spilled
down her cheeks and gave him a bittersweet smile, then lowered her gaze,
absently brushing a stray thread from the front of his flight jacket as
the two of them paused before the hatchway that led to the observation
lounge, "it's not easy for any of us to dwell for too long on all that we
lost when the Cylons took our worlds away from us, but for Father, well,
he's had to be particularly strong. In his position as a leader, it's he
who's had to be a comfort, not just for Apollo and me, but for everyone
under his command, for the entire Fleet, the last remnants of the
Colonies of Man. For him to finally accept that our family is moving on,
evolving and changing forever, without Mother, without Zac. It's like I
said, there's a certain finality to it that he hasn't wanted to face, the
closing of a door that can never truly be reopened."
     "It's a good thing, then," Bojay touched a forefinger to the tip of
her chin lifting it gently such that she met his gaze once more, "that
the Pegasus has returned. With Cain back amongst us, your Father won't be
quite so isolated by his rank and responsibilities."
     "Perhaps you're right," the smile broadened as she blinked away the
last of her tears, "at any rate, you can rest assured that Father
harbours no hard feelings toward you, in particular. As I said, he's
given us his blessing and we can make a formal announcement, set a date,
and get married, without any concerns regarding his approval."
     Bojay pulled her close and bent to kiss her once more, feeling the
warmth of her lips against his, then...
     "Bojay!" Starbuck's voice brought his senses crashing back to the
present as a towel connected none too gently with his face, "Come on, get
dried off and get dressed! I sure you're clean enough by now to pass an
inspection from your wife-to-be!"
     Bojay wrapped the towel around his waist and turned to regard
Starbuck as the blonde Lieutenant, dressed now in a fresh uniform,
extended an arm over which another freshly laundered uniform was draped.
     "Athena?" Bojay spoke the name in the form of a hesitant question as
he accepted the proffered uniform and followed Starbuck, the two of them
emerging together from the turbowash chamber and into the main chamber of
the barracks, "Is she...?"
     "She's awake," Starbuck patted his tunic absently in an unconscious
and chronic search for a fumarello that was not there, "the Commander
just sent word from Life Station," Starbuck paused and smiled
sympathetically as he read the expression on Bojay's face with the
practiced eye of an habitual gambler, "I know. It's an emotional thing,
almost losing somebody you love, my friend, but she's alright. Let go of
it, Bojay. She's alive. You haven't lost her."
     At Starbuck's words, the hot tears began to flow from Bojay's eyes.
The emotions that he'd held at bay since being confronted with the vision
of Athena slumping to the deck, the blood gushing from the wound
inflicted by the grisly blade that had fallen from his fingers as he'd
rushed to catch her, were finally released as Starbuck's strong arm
embraced his shoulders and the young man began to sob with relief.
     "Thanks, Starbuck," Bojay struggled to regain his composure as
Starbuck steadied him. 
     "No problem, buddy," Starbuck smiled brightly as he snatched another
towel from a nearby shelf, snapping it sharply against Bojay's bare
chest, "you pull yourself together and meet me at the lift," the young
man started for the hatchway that led to the corridor beyond the
barracks, "and don't think this means you'll be getting a hug every time
you step out of the turbowash!" Starbuck laughed over his shoulder as he
passed through the hatchway, "I have a reputation to consider, you know!"
     Bojay smiled, rushing to dress, eagerness to be at Athena's side
rivalled only by the desire to make her would-be assassin pay for every
precious drop of her violently spilled blood.

Chapter Two
Scene Three

     "Captain. How good of you to join us," Doctor Paye's tone belied the
relief that he felt beneath an habitually assumed veneer of
professionalism. He scanned the print out in his hand, glancing briefly
at the bank of machines that monitored Apollo's weakened metabolism,
"there are quite a few people that have been waiting for you to wake up."
     "The beam," Apollo's voice was barely audible as his eyelids
fluttered and he struggled to rise above the heavy fog that enveloped his
senses, "Cassiopeia..."
     "She's fine, Apollo," Paye leaned close to the young warrior's ear,
speaking slowly and softly, "you pushed her out of the way in time. Try
not to move. You've suffered some fairly extensive injuries. I've fused
the broken bones, but the soft tissue and internal damage will take a
while to heal. I'm afraid you won't be commanding any more missions for a
while," the tall young doctor straightened his spine and reached across
the treatment platform to adjust several of the relays that controlled
the bank of machines that currently sustained and monitored the Captain's
condition.
     "Sheba," Apollo felt as though he was floating in a vast chamber of
liquid, the pain suppressants that saturated his system giving him a
sense of distance, his mind seeming separate from his body, "Starbuck
went with her to..." a film of perspiration began to form on the
Captain's brow, "the baby..."
     "Take it easy, Captain," Paye leaned down once more to speak quietly
into Apollo's ear, "your wife is well, as is your son, and your
daughter."
     "Daughter," Apollo repeated the doctor's last word, comprehension
slowly flowing through the haze of the drugs that kept his mind from
registering the sharp pain that would otherwise have surely overwhelmed
his senses. It seemed to him that Paye was speaking once more, but the
doctor's words were lost, as was Apollo's struggle to remain awake. He
felt himself falling, moving through open space, a dense star field
surrounding him as the shards of reflective fragments fell once more,
taunting him with vague sounds and images, tantalizingly close to his
awareness, yet remaining beyond his reach, until one image came into
focus. His downward motion slowed as he felt the viper come to a stop.
The landing bay. He and Starbuck had been returning from the day-long
patrol when Tigh's urgent message had brought them home at full
thrusters. Suddenly, he found himself emerging from the decontamination
chamber to join Starbuck in the corridor. The two young men hurried, as
Tigh had ordered over the multi-ship frequency, to the Commander's
quarters, where they found Adama and Cain waiting grimly for their
arrival.
     "Father," Apollo stepped quickly through the hatchway and into the
main chamber of Adama's quarters, "what is it? What's happened? Colonel
Tigh said that Boomer's been injured."
     "I don't understand, Sirs. Has there been some sort of accident?"
Starbuck joined Apollo to stand before Adama and Cain, adopting an
expression of concern that was already evident on the two older mens'
faces.
     "No accident, Starbuck," Cain's voice was grim, "some murderous
coward has stabbed Lieutenant Boomer in the back, and I don't believe we
need to stretch our imaginations to figure who it was," the Juggernaut
turned to share a meaningful glance with Adama.
     "Yes," Adama nodded gravely as he looked, first into Starbuck's
eyes, then into his son's, "it appears that Baltar has somehow managed to
escape from the secured area of the term care section. The medical
complex has been thoroughly searched," the Galactica's Commander shook
his white head and furrowed his brow, "there is no sign of him. He is at
large somewhere on the ship and, if Doctor Wilker's forensic assessment
of Boomer's injury is accurate, he is likely armed with a weapon, a large
serrated blade of some sort."
     "Oh my God," Apollo breathed the words with a growing sense of
horror, "Baltar's still out of his head, even with all the progress he's
made playing Pyramid every Seventh daily cycle," Apollo's voice conveyed
an undertone of annoyance, even sarcasm, barely stopping short of flat
out insubordination, as he knew full well that Baltar's card playing
'therapy' had been not only approved by both Adama and Cain, but
conceived by them as well. As Apollo had discovered the previous evening
before leaving the Galactica for a routine patrol, Adama had even gone so
far as to participate in some of the games, "and if he's still bound to
acting as an instrument of Iblis' will..." the Captain found himself
unable to speak the thought that was on all four mens' minds, that the
primary targets of any further violence perpetrated by Baltar were likely
to be Apollo's wife and unborn child.
     "Sheba and Boxey are still down in the Life Station," Adama's words
evoked a deepening of the expression of concern on the Captain's face,
"We all went down there together after evening meal last night. Boomer
was injured only centons after the two of you left for patrol," the
Commander placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, "Sheba became
slightly ill shortly afterward, and Doctor Salik ordered her to remain
for observation, but he assures us that this is merely a symptom that the
child is due to arrive soon. Bojay and Athena have been periodically
checking in on them, and I've assigned Croft and his Colonial Security
Force, along with Council Security, to patrol key areas of the ship."
     "And Baltar? We've got to find him!" Starbuck moved forward, cutting
off any emotionally charged remarks that might escape from Apollo's lips,
casting a look of concern at the expression in the Captain's glittering
green eyes, recognizing the signs of a potential outburst of the young
man's sometimes volatile temper. Those in Apollo's tightly meshed circle
of friends and family knew the warning signs all too well.
     "We can't just gather up everyone who might be a target and
quarantine them in Life Station indefinitely," Apollo's voice was
ominously calm, suggesting to the other men the potential of an impending
storm of emotion, "We've got to find that maniac before some other poor
soul falls victim to his demented actions!"
     "We'll find him, Apollo. That minion of Hades' spawn won't elude us
for long," Cain said, touching the top of his ever-present scepteron
lightly to the sleeve of Apollo's flight jacket, "in the meantime, my
boy, your family is waiting for you down in the Life Station."
     "Quite right," Adama ushered his son back toward the hatchway,
"Apollo, you go on down to the medical complex," Starbuck, go with him,"
Adama raised a hand to head off any protests from the two young warriors,
"I don't want you two getting any ideas about going anywhere but down to
the Life Station just yet. That is an order!"
     "Father," Apollo managed to interject, "I am  not a child. You don't
need to assign Starbuck to escort me to..."
     "My son," Adama's tone was clearly not to be argued with, "you may
not be a child, but you are certainly one of Iblis' most coveted
targets," the older man softened his tone as he now grasped both of his
son's shoulders and gave them a firm squeeze, "and I shall not have your
children losing their father before the younger has even been born!"
     "Apollo?" Starbuck's voice seemed suddenly far away, "Can you hear
me, buddy?"
     "Starbuck," the Captain struggled to move, "Sheba and Boxey, we've
got to get down to the Life Station..."
     "Easy, Apollo. We're already there," Apollo felt a firm hand on his
left shoulder, "Sheba and Boxey are just fine, and so is your little
girl," Starbuck's voice began to register through the effects of the
powerful pain suppressants that coursed through the Captain's
bloodstream, "Congratulate me, I've successfully delivered my first, real
live infant! I didn't score a goal this time, but everything still turned
out fine!"
     "Delivered?" Apollo's thoughts came crashing into focus,
"You've...what?!" the Captain's green eyes cleared momentarily as he
gazed upward into his friend's smiling face, the significance of the
Lieutenant's words becoming horrifyingly clear to him, "You? Starbuck,
what are you saying?"
     "I'm saying that I've finally been given the opportunity to apply my
emergency medical training certification from that last yahren at the
Academy!" Starbuck's blue eyes twinkled with amusement at his friend's
now horrified expression, "Just call me Uncle Starbuck!"
     "Oh my God!" Apollo once more lost his struggle to stay conscious,
able only to form one tangible thought before the oblivion of sleep again
took hold of him, Lords of Kobol. There'll be no living with him now.

Chapter Two
Scene Four

     Apollo floated through space, images and sounds still elusively
evading his mental grasp. There had seemed a moment when one voice had
assumed a clarity that focussed his attention.
     Sheba, he was certain that he had heard her voice, but her words had
been lost in the fog that enveloped him. Though the fog had begun to
recede, it was replaced by a feeling of sharp pain that also acted to
cloud his thoughts.
     The storage section. He had been, no, he had been going to take
Sheba home, to the area of the ship designated for the crew quarters. His
mind drifted back to his arrival, with Starbuck, in the Life Station, and
the sight of Sheba sitting quietly in Doctor Salik's office chamber, her
face exhibiting an uncharacteristic pallor as she sat with Boxey perched
beside her on the edge of the large chair behind Salik's work area. 
     "Sheba?" the Captain moved quickly to kneel before his wife and son,
placing a gentle hand on Boxey's head and leaning over to kiss the boy's
forehead, glancing upward with an expression of concern, "I hear you've
been stuck here for a while."
     "Boxey's been keeping me company," Sheba smiled down at the boy,
then met her husband's concerned gaze, "I just feel a little queasy,
that's all."
     "And it started shortly after Boomer was hurt," the tone of Apollo's
voice evoked what he saw as an expression of remembrance on Sheba's face,
"just as it did half a yahren ago, shortly after the Oberon appeared and
we found..." Apollo looked down at Boxey's upturned face, "Son," the
Captain said gently, moving his hand downward to touch the boy's
shoulder, "I saw Athena and Bojay out there in the main chamber. Go and
wait with them, would you?"
     "You're not going to argue, are you?" Boxey studied first Apollo's
face, then Sheba's.
     "Of course not," Apollo smiled gently at the boy, seeing the fearful
expression in his eyes, "It's alright, Son. I just want to speak with
your mother for a moment," the young man kissed the boy's forehead once
more, "We're not going to argue, and I'm sure Boomer will be fine. Now,
you and Muffy go and see Athena for a centon. We won't be long, I
promise."
     "Come on Muffy," Boxey sighed resignedly and patted his mechanical
companion on the head, "they're going to talk about stuff they don't want
us to hear."
     Apollo and Sheba watched as the boy and the drone moved together
through the entryway of the office chamber and joined Lieutenants Athena
and Bojay where they stood with Starbuck and Cassiopeia.
     "You've been quite well throughout the entire pregnancy," Apollo
rose to sit on the edge of Salik's desk, taking his wife's hands in his
own and peering worriedly into her eyes, "except for two times. The first
was half a yahren ago, when the Pegasus returned to the Fleet, in time to
destroy the Oberon, and that bizarre garden of radioactive ore was
discovered on the Cheops," Sheba's face became grim as the significance
of her husband's words struck home, "and now, you're ill again."
     "Apollo," Sheba's tone was fearful as she spoke the words that both
of them were thinking. Apollo had reluctantly shared with her his account
of the events aboard the Senior Ship Cheops, how he had been instructed
by a voice that he'd recognized as belonging to the alien that he'd known
as John to stop the evil Count, whose regenerating form and voice had, at
that time, been unmistakeably perceived by both him and Starbuck, "you
believe that Iblis is behind Boomer's injury, don't you? And that,
somehow, I'm being affected by his foul presence," Sheba's fingers moved
reflexively within the embrace of his hands, "you think that I'm
sensitive to his presence somehow, through my past association with him,
and his desire for revenge on both of us."
     "Captain," Apollo's response to Sheba's words was cut short by
Salik's voice. The young man rose to his feet as the doctor entered the
office chamber, "Now that you're here, I think it would be a good idea
for you to take your wife home and stay with her there, where she can be
comfortable and I don't have to field any more of her arguments that she
knows better than the medical staff," the doctor's gruff tone softened as
he touched a large hand to Sheba's shoulder, and gave her a small,
indulgent, even fatherly, smile, "I'm only allowing this on the condition
that you return here immediately if you begin to experience any more
severe symptoms. That baby is coming soon, young lady, and I won't
tolerate any impulsive behaviour," the doctor turned to face the Captain
this time, "from either one of you."
     "Very well, Doctor," Apollo nodded in deference toward the older man
and turned to help his wife to her feet, "but first, what about Boomer?
Cain and Adama told us he's been stabbed, and that Baltar is missing from
the term care section."
     "Boomer's a lucky man," Salik responded as the three of them moved
to join Starbuck and Cassiopeia, who stood together near the diagnostic
station outside the office chamber, "whatever he was stabbed with pierced
one of his lungs, but the two bridge officers who found him got him here
in time, and we've managed to repair the damage. He'll be unconscious for
a good while, but he's out of danger. As far as Baltar goes," the
doctor's jaw clenched with unexpressed emotion, "let's hope the security
teams pick him up soon. They're bound to find him eventually."
     "Starbuck, I'm taking Sheba and Boxey home, and," the Captain
paused, feeling a sudden sense of worry as he scanned the chamber, "where
is Boxey?"
     "It's alright, Apollo," Cassiopeia's musical tones interjected,
"Athena and Bojay took him for a walk to the commissary to stretch his
legs and get a bite to eat. You two go ahead. I'll make sure and tell
them to drop him at your quarters after they get back."
     Apollo's answer was lost as Cassiopeia's face began to blur and
shift, floating away amongst the reflective shards that came and went
with the blackness that enveloped him. Suddenly, another face appeared,
framed by a familiar sweep of shining light brown hair.
     "Sheba?" her voice cut through the blackness, pushing the memory of
the previous day aside.
     "Apollo?" she spoke softly as she peered into his half-opened eyes,
"Can you hear me?"
     "We were going home, you and I, but then," he struggled toward
clarity,  recent events still jumbled in his drug hazed mind, "Baltar.
He's loose on the ship. Cassiopeia needed someone with command clearance
to open a secure storage unit. We were trapped, stuck in the storage
section," his fingers moved, clutching Sheba's hand, "Cassiopeia. The
beam came down. She was right beneath it," he began to lose his struggle
to remain conscious, "the baby," his eyes refocused on his wife's face.
     "Easy, love. Baltar's been confined in the brig, and Cassiopeia's
fine. The baby, well, she's sleeping in the next chamber, waiting to meet
you, as soon as you're able," Sheba smiled through her tears and pushed
the hair back from his sweat dampened brow with the fingertips of her
free hand."
     "She?" recollection that his child had been born momentarily cleared
a little more of the cloudiness from the Captain's eyes, "we have a
daughter."
     "Yes, Apollo," she whispered into his ear as unconsciousness began
to overwhelm him once more, "I've named her Artemis, just as we planned,
'Artemis' for a girl."
     His fingers squeezed hers once more as he smiled, his lips parting
to speak, though all but one of his words were lost in the oblivion of
sleep.
     "Artemis..." the name was formed with a laboured breath and his hand
relaxed its grip on Sheba's as he descended back into a disorienting
dream of falling shards of glass, catching a glimpse of a reflection, an
image of an arrestingly beautiful young woman with an unruly mane of
space-black hair and piercing green eyes, her lips upturned at the edges
into an enigmatic smile. At her throat, a bright light reflected against
the insignia of a Colonial Warrior. A fraction of a micron before the
image disappeared into the darkness, he recognized the smile. Though he
was certain that he had never seen the woman before, the smile that
seemed so familiar to him looked like one that he had seen countless
times in the mirror inset in the wall near the turbowash in his quarters.
The smile that he had glimpsed in a dream, though it had appeared to him
on another's face, was his own.

Chapter Two
Scene Five

     "Starbuck?" Lieutenant Starbuck turned with a smile at the sound of
Cassiopeia's voice, moving his arm in a wide arc to rest it upon her
slender shoulders as she stepped forward to lean against him, placing a
palm upon his chest and hugging his waist with her free arm. Standing
together, they looked down at the small form that lay carefully bundled
in the center of the small, open support chamber before them. Cassiopeia
lifted her gaze once more to mirror Starbuck's smile, though hers
required an effort born of weariness from her chaotic duties during what
was now the third daily cycle since her duty period had begun, "Sheba
seems a lot steadier now that she's spoken to Apollo," the med-tech
sighed and reached down to touch the infant's cheek. It seems as though
there are very few of us left uninjured to welcome Artemis on her first
day with us. At least the Commander can tell Boxey that his father is
alive and bound for recovery. The poor little fellow has been waiting up
on the bridge with Colonel Tigh since they brought Athena in," Cassiopeia
lifted her hand to touch Starbuck's cheek, tilting her head to regard him
appraisingly, "and thanks to you, his mother and little sister have made
it through quite an ordeal in one piece. Starbuck, how do you manage to
always get yourself right into the middle of every single emergency?"
     "You should talk, Cassie. If it hadn't been for Apollo..." Starbuck
found himself unable to finish the sentence. The image of Cassiopeia
struggling to emerge from the realm of semi-consciousness as Apollo now
did in the adjoining chamber was too difficult for him to consider, let
alone describe aloud," At least we're all alive," Starbuck's expression
became uncharacteristically serious, "for now, until the next one of us
falls. Boomer, Apollo, Athena," Starbuck gritted his teeth and shook his
head in frustration, "How can we fight the enemy and foil his plans when
we can't even see him coming?"
     "What was it that made those support beams buckle? Those two
particular beams." the emphasis in Cassiopeia's voice held clear meaning
to Starbuck. The beam that had given way above her in the storage
section, a fraction of a micron before the Captain had thrown her roughly
from beneath it, had done so, as Cassiopeia has previously described to
Starbuck, and to Sergeant Roman, as if an enormous invisible hand had
reached from below it and yanked it violently downward in a directed
thrust. Had Apollo not acted to save Cassiopeia, they would both have
surely been killed under the weight of the massive piece if tylinium
alloy. "You believe it was Count Iblis, don't you? He's able to reach out
and strike at us, at Apollo and Sheba, in some non-corporeal form."
     "That's a distinct possibility, Cass," Starbuck tightened the grip
of his hand on her shoulder, leaning close and kissing her neck, the
image of a second beam that had buckled in the crew quarters imposing
itself into his mind's eye. This beam had been positioned over his own
head, and Sheba's, and had given way, in a shower of rubble, at the
precise time as and in a similar fashion to the first beam in the storage
section, the one that had come frighteningly close to becoming the
instrument of Apollo's violent death. Starbuck straightened and, with a
last quiet look into Artemis' small face, framed by thick black hair and
puckered endearingly into an attitude of an infant's peaceful slumber,
ushered Cassiopeia gently toward the hatchway that led back into the
adjoining chamber, where Sheba kept a silent vigil by Apollo's side,
"Let's hope we find some way to drive that foul demon back to Hades,
where he belongs, before someone else gets hurt, or worse."
     "With any amount of good fortune, you may get your wish,
Lieutenant," Doctor Salik touched a meaty hand to Starbuck's shoulder,
intercepting the couple as they moved to enter the chamber occupied by
Apollo and Sheba, then turning toward Cassiopeia, a sympathetic smile
appearing on his previously stoic visage, "Cassiopeia, go on into the
observation chamber next to my office and get some sleep. You're dead on
your feet," the smile gave way once more to a stern expression as the
Doctor raised his other hand, stopping Cassiopeia's words of protest
before they escaped from her lips, "Commanders Cain and Adama are in need
of Starbuck's assistance, and you've not had a rest period for over two
daily cycles now. Go and get a few centaurs of sleep, young lady. That's
an order! I've no use for a medical technician who's not functioning at
optimal efficiency. Sergeant Roman will come and sit with Sheba and the
infant for a while," the doctor redirected his gaze back to Starbuck's
inquisitive expression, "Lieutenant, the Commanders are waiting for us in
the recovery section."
     "Starbuck, you'd better get going," Cassiopeia gave the Lieutenant a
quick kiss on the cheek, "I'll be fine," she smiled fondly at Doctor
Salik, "I'll just stay and help Sheba with the baby for a few more
centons until Roman comes," she glanced across the chamber at Sheba, who
sat in the large, soft chair that Sergeant Roman had previously
appropriated from Doctor Salik's office chamber and placed beside the
treatment platform where Apollo still lay dozing in a semi-conscious
slumber, "then, I promise that I'll go and get some sleep. To be honest,
Doctor, I really don't think I can stay awake much longer anyway."
     Starbuck smiled, returning the kiss with a wink and a quick squeeze
of Cassiopeia's hand before following the Doctor through the hatchway
that opened into the main chamber of the Life Station.
     Cassiopeia stood for a moment, watching the two men disappear into
the river of chaotic activity that moved through the Life Station, then
turned once more to regard the figure in the chair beside the treatment
platform.
     "Sheba?" Cassiopeia moved to join her friend, placing her hands
gently on Sheba's shoulders and smiling into the Lieutenant's now
upturned face, "How is he doing?"
     "He woke up for a few centons, Cassiopeia," relief was evident in
Sheba's tone, "he's coming out of it."
     "He should be fully conscious within the next centaur or two," both
women turned at the sound of Sergeant Roman's voice, "Doctors Paye and
Salik have given him a very good prognosis," the Pegasus medical officer
strode over to place a firm hand on Cassiopeia's shoulder, "I'll relieve
you here, Med-Tech," the Sergeant smiled fondly down at Sheba, "the
Lieutenant and I can discuss old times aboard the Pegasus while she waits
for her husband to wake up."
     "Is this what it takes to get a little attention from the Pegasus
crew?" Sheba raised her eyebrows in exaggerated frustration, then smiled
roguishly up at Roman, "You've all been so busy with the re-fit, that
I've barely even seen my Father, let alone the rest of you," the smile
was darkened by a shadow as she turned her shining brown head to look
once more at Apollo's prone form.
     "It's alright, Sheba," Cassiopeia spoke gently, but firmly, "Roman's
right. The prognosis is very good," the med-tech turned toward Roman,
"I'm going to get some sleep now, Sergeant," she glanced down at Sheba,
then toward the door to the chamber where Artemis lay, "Look after them
for me, won't you?"
     "Of course," Roman's eyes revealed a deep layer of understanding as
he smiled with a flash of while teeth and moved to kneel beside Sheba's
chair. Cassiopeia turned to take her leave of them, moving past the busy
flow of personnel in the Life Station's main chamber and making her way
into the small chamber adjacent to Salik's office, collapsing lightly
onto the crisp coverings of the treatment platform within.
     Three daily cycles, Cassiopeia laid a graceful arm over her eyes to
block out the light from the hatchway, Lords, if there's to be any more
evil done, then let it happen after I've had a couple of centaurs of
sleep, the thought was barely formed before the young woman passed into a
deep slumber of exhaustion, oblivious for the moment to the sounds of the
busy Life Station beyond the darkened chamber's hatchway. 

Chapter Two
Scene Six 

     "You want me to what?" Starbuck stared at the men assembled before
him in the small recovery chamber. Adama, Cain, Salik, Paye, Wilker and
Chameleon returned his gaze with varying degrees of resignation. The
young man turned to regard Boomer, who lay bruised and bandaged, having
regained consciousness after his encounter with the large serrated blade
that had ultimately been confiscated from Baltar, "Boomer, are you saying
that Baltar didn't stab you?"
     "I'm not certain who it was," Boomer spoke softly and winced with
obvious pain as he took in a shallow breath, "but I know that it was
Baltar that I saw in the corridor in front of me just before I felt the
pain in my back," Boomer paused and took another shallow breath, then
spoke once more in a laboured tone, "someone else is responsible for the
violence, and wants you all to think that Baltar is acting alone."
     "Baltar claims that Agro-Tech Jain is the one," Cain strode forward,
touching his scepteron gently to Starbuck's shoulder, "but she's been in
a coma for half a yahren. Our surveillance equipment has yet to reveal
any unusual activity in or near her care chamber," the older man lowered
the stick and peered earnestly into Starbuck's eyes, "We have to get more
information out of Baltar, and you might be the only one who can do it,"
Cain smiled grimly over his shoulder at Adama, "After our little chat
down in the brig, I don't think Baltar will be willing to speak with me
again," Cain's smiled broadened as he observed his fellow Commander's
lips purse slightly at the mention of Cain's interrogation of Baltar
shortly after Adama, Cain and Bojay had rushed Athena into the Life
Station, bleeding from a deep wound in her left arm. In spite of Adama's
own fury over the attack upon his daughter, the Galactican Commander was
not entirely comfortable with Cain's torture of Baltar. It was a moral
quandary that Cain well knew Adama would consciously push aside as his
strategic warrior's mind focussed on the crisis at hand.
     "Baltar knows everything now," Starbuck shrugged in frustration,
moving to stand beside Chameleon, looking down fondly at the older,
frailer man, "once he realized that you are my father, he became even
more paranoid than before," the younger man placed a gentle hand on
Chameleon's shoulder, then turned to address Adama, "Sir. Surely Baltar's
grasp on reality is tenuous at best. Maybe we should be thinking in
broader terms. This whole thing goes well beyond Baltar and Jain,"
Starbuck looked deeply into his commander's brown eyes, "It's Iblis that
we're up against, Commander. How can we fight an enemy that can wreak
havoc on us without revealing himself in any sort of substantial form?"
     "Calvin," Boomer coughed gently as he exhaled the name, "Doctor
Wilker! Calvin's theory!"
     "Yes, Lieutenant," Doctor Wilker's mournful tone was underscored
with assurance, "I've already thought of that. Komma is on his way up
from the science lab. He's bringing Baltar's Cylon comrades up with him,
and my former lab technician Calvin has volunteered to act as a control
subject. He's suffered past traumatic exposure to the electromagnetically
irradiated ore samples that were sourced from the artificially
constructed planet where we encountered the Cylons two and a half yahrens
ago," Wilker paused, as if to punctuate the gravity of his words, "If
Calvin is subsequently rendered sensitive to the proximity of similar
energy patterns, then he may be aware of their presence, and perhaps
their source. If the Cylons are programmed with Iblis' engramatic
structure imposed as a basic sub matrix within their circuitry, then
Calvin might have some impressions to share when the Cylons are activated
in his vicinity."
     "Now, hold on!" Starbuck cried, vainly patting down his tunic in
search of the ever absent fumarellos that he had craved since that day
when the Pegasus had returned to the Fleet, the day that Komma had
confiscated Starbuck's fumarellos, adding them to the collection of
mature fumera leaves that had provided the Galactica's medical facility
with the active ingredient in the radiation treatment serum that had been
derived from the desperate experiments conducted by the Pegasus crew
under the direction of Sergeant Roman to come up with a drug that would
block out the psychological effects of the toxic radiation emitted by the
ore that had powered the battlestar's scanner shield as it had raced
through Cylon held territory to rejoin the Colonial Fleet. Starbuck had
been waiting now for about half a yahren for the first new crop of mature
fumera leaves to be harvested from the agro-ships and processed into,
among other things, fumarellos. With a sigh, Starbuck forced his
attention back to the present, "Not only am I being asked to play Pyramid
with Baltar, though it's clear to a blind man that he's lost his mind,"
Starbuck peered once more into Adama's eyes, gesturing with a toss of his
head toward Wilker, "but the mad scientist of Lambda deck, here, is going
to be allowed to power up two Cylon centurions in the middle of the
medical complex. Sir," the young man attempted a weak smile as his glance
moved from Adama to Cain and then back again, "couldn't we let your
granddaughter enjoy the general impression on her first day with us, that
we are not all completely insane?"
     Suddenly, the familiar sound, the mechanical hum of a Cylon
centurion in motion, registered on the consciousness of all the men in
the care chamber, bringing grim expressions to their faces as the
inevitable, individual, memories of Cylon tyranny and emotionless
brutality that had touched all of their lives came unbidden into the
conscious realm of their minds.
     "I'm here, Doctor Wilker!" Corporal Komma's voice rang out from the
corridor, cutting off any potential replies to Starbuck's words, and
stopping the Lieutenant's conditioned and reflexive movement to unholster
his weapon, precipitated by the sound of the approaching robots, that he
now realized were being ambulated under the direction of a wireless
remote control unit held firmly in Komma's hands. "Where do you want me
to put these centurions?" The clean shaven, ever-cheerful, Komma leaned
through the hatchway, suddenly snapping to attention as he spied Adama
and Cain, "Sirs! Corporal Komma reporting with the hardware from Lambda
Section, Sirs!"
     "Easy, Son," Cain lifted an eyebrow at the diminutive Corporal,
gesturing over the young man's shoulder with his scepteron, "That
centurion's heading into the turbo flush."
     "Uh, oh my, uh," Komma backed hurriedly through the hatchway, "By
your leave, Sirs," he managed to squeak before rushing down the corridor,
pushing a sequence of key pads that shut down both centurions causing
them to crumple noisily to the deck of the corridor.
     "I'd better get out there and help him," Wilker's voice betrayed no
hint of optimism as he shook his head and walked slowly through the
hatchway to join Komma, who was unsuccessfully trying to manipulate the
Cylons back to an upright position.
     "That's just swell," Boomer's voice carried through the silence from
where he lay on the care platform, causing Adama, Cain, Salik, Paye,
Chameleon and Starbuck to turn and regard him questioningly, "Starbuck
gets to play cards with Baltar and his mysterious voices, while I get to
share the facilities with a couple of centurions," the Lieutenant's voice
trailed off as he yielded to the sleep that overtook him in his weakened
condition, "I know I'm not dreaming this. I would never make up something
this crazy on my own." 

Chapter Two
Scene Seven 

     "You need to rest," Bojay's insistent voice carried into the
corridor as Doctor Salik and Commander Adama passed through the hatchway
leading into a recovery chamber two hatchways distant from the one that
Boomer now occupied.
     "Father! Doctor Salik!" Athena sighed loudly as she extended her
bandaged left arm for Doctor Salik's inspection, "Would you please tell
Bojay that I'm perfectly alright. I can get out of bed now, can't I
Doctor?" the young woman's tone was hopeful, almost pleading.
     "Well," Salik peered into Athena's eyes with a professional scowl,
seeing only the expected signs of fatigue that had followed Athena's
encounter with the large serrated blade that had already incapacitated
Boomer and the emergency blood replenishment procedures that had revived
the injured woman, "Your young man's right. You do need rest. If you
don't overdo it, young lady, I'll authorize you to be released from the
care section. However," the doctor's voice betrayed a hint of fatherly
affection and admonishment for the young woman he had known since her
infancy, "I won't have you returning to light duty for at least five
daily cycles. Understood?"
     "Understood, Doctor," Athena smiled, keeping her response brief.
Having received the answer she had hoped for, she felt it prudent to not
risk Salik rethinking his decision, "I promise I'll be good."
     "Hmm," Salik smiled reluctantly as he left the room, Athena's
playful promise bringing back memories of the tiny girl who had sometimes
come to his Life Station with varied bumps and bruises, usually with an
equally battered sibling in tow.
     "Athena," Adama nodded at Salik as the doctor took his leave, then
moved forward to touch his daughter's cheek with his outstretched palm,
"Thank the Lords of Kobol that you are still with us, my dear," the
Commander smiled in thanks as Bojay offered him the small seat that the
young man had occupied beside the recovery platform. "Is there anything
more you can remember about the attack?" Adama settled into the chair and
moved his arm to gently squeeze Athena's uninjured right arm, "We know
that Baltar didn't stab you, but who did?"
     "That's just it, Father," Athena looked over her Father's shoulder
to share a glance with Bojay, then returned her pale blue gaze to Adama's
face, "Bojay and I have been going over it, but our memories are, well,
confused," Athena's brows furrowed and a tone of frustration entered her
voice, "We can't figure out how we got separated to begin with. We'd left
the Life Station while Apollo and Sheba were still trapped by those
failed beams. We were heading over to the Triad Courts to see if Boxey
had run off to hide there with Muffit, then..." Athena's voice trailed
off as she struggled with her lack of remembrance.
     "The next thing I remember," Bojay interjected, pausing as Adama
turned to look up questioningly at his daughter's husband-to-be, "I was
in one of the Triad Court Chambers with Boxey," Bojay's pained expression
deepened as he too struggled to remember, "I, well, Sir, I just don't
understand why Athena and I split up. Baltar was at large and we were
together, and," Bojay extended his arms outward in a shrug of
frustration, "and then we weren't together, and, at the time, it all
seemed so perfectly normal. Sir, what's happening? Why can't we
remember?"
     "I am not certain, Bojay," Adama's voice was grim as he lifted his
hand from Athena's arm and stood to place it on Bojay's shoulder, "but I
intend to find out," the Commander turned to look down at his daughter
once more, "Athena, Bojay, the two of you stay together this time. Do not
leave the medical complex without informing anyone, and report anything
unusual, no matter how seemingly insignificant," the older man smiled
briefly, " In the meantime, I am going to fetch Boxey from the Command
Centre. Artemis has yet to meet her brother."
     "Artemis?" Athena returned the smile, "the baby's arrived? She has
yet to meet her aunt as well," Athena hesitated at the cautious
expression on Adama's face, "Sheba? Apollo? Are they...?"
     "Sheba is up and around already, in spite of a bump on the head.
Apollo, well, he's out of danger, but he hasn't fully awakened yet. The
doctors say that he should be more lucid in a few centaurs," Adama looked
into his daughter's icy blue eyes, "It appears that the Lords of Kobol
have seen fit to pull both of my children from the grasp of darkness. We
will have much to celebrate when this is over," Adama kissed his
daughter's forehead and nodded to his son-to-be, following Doctor Salik's
path back out through the hatchway and into the corridor.
     "Help me out of this get-up, will you?" Bojay turned from where he
stood, gazing thoughtfully at the hatchway, to see his wife-to-be
struggling with the fastenings to the large medical issue tunic that was
tied about her slight frame, grasping vainly at the fabric with her one
good arm, "You did bring me a spare uniform, didn't you?"
     "Cassiopeia had one sent over from the laundry, as a matter of
fact," Bojay laughingly opened the small locker that contained the bridge
officer blues that were Athena's most common attire, tossing the fresh
uniform onto the small chair beside the recovery platform, where Athena
now sat with her slim, dark legs dangling from the edge. He pulled the
offending medical tunic up over her head in one fluid motion, then
wrapped her in it gently and lifted her to her feet, "Are you certain
it's safe for you to get dressed just yet?" the young man smiled
playfully, leaning his brown head forward to whisper in Athena's ear,
"Maybe I should check you over for any signs of danger."
     "I'll give you some danger, Flyboy," Athena laughed as she
disentangled herself from Bojay's gentle grasp and reached for her
uniform tunic, "if you don't help me get dressed so that I can go check
on my family."
     "Are you going to find it difficult?" Bojay wasn't specific, but he
knew that Athena understood the meaning of his question.
     "You mean, not serving on the Galactica with my father and my
brother?"
     "Among other things, yes."
     "So long as we're together, my love," Athena shook her long dark
hair as it escaped through the yoke of the tunic that Bojay had helped
her to lift over her head, "Besides, it's not like we won't be coming
back over from the Pegasus for evening meal at least twice a secton with
Father and the others," Athena winced as her injured arm was cautiously
encased in dark blue fabric, "and you being assigned as Pegasus Squadron
Commander will be an excellent opportunity for us to have that wedding
and make the move together," she smiled as Bojay knelt before her to ease
her feet into her boots, "unless, of course, you're having second
thoughts."
     "Never," Bojay felt the slender foot sliding under his fingers
through the material of the second boot, then stood and once more helped
Athena to her feet, leaning forward to kiss her...

     crash

     Athena and Bojay started as the sound carried from somewhere outside
the chamber. They rushed together out into the corridor, almost colliding
with three Council Security Officers.
     "Sorry, Athena," Security Officer Reese cried, as he paused briefly
to help Bojay to steady the jostled young woman, "Are you alright? I've
got to run. We have a situation in the Life Station."
     "What sort of situation, Reese?" Athena gestured with her good arm
to both young men that she was able to stand on her own.
     "I was told there's a hostage situation," Reese cried over his
shoulder as he took his leave of the two warriors, "Baltar's centurions
are holed up with Komma in Salik's office chamber."
     It took only a micron for Reese's words to take their effect on
Athena and Bojay. The two of them shared expressions of shock and
disbelief  before they began to run down the corridor together, following
the Security Officers' path.

Chapter Two
Scene Eight

     "Hold your fire! Komma's still alive in there!" Commander Cain's
voice rang out through the large main chamber of the Life Station as
Athena and Bojay rushed through the hatchway. "Bojay! Athena! Get Down!
That gall-monging piece of Cylon scrap metal has managed to arm itself!"
Cain crouched beside Starbuck, both men with sidearms drawn, behind the
diagnostic station near the entryway to Doctor Salik's office chamber.
Bojay and Athena reacted as their military conditioning dictated and
crouched down quickly behind a portable equipment platform as a laser
burst exploded over their heads.
     "Boxey!" Athena looked up to see the boy entering the suddenly
opening hatchway, Adama close behind him, "Father, no! Weapons fire! Get
Down!" Athena made to rush her nephew and father, but found herself
gripped firmly in Bojay's arms.
     "Look out, Commander!" Council Security Officer Reese cried,
unceremoniously scooping up Boxey as he launched himself at Adama, the
three of them tumbling into the corridor in a tangle of arms and legs
before the automatically closing hatch blocked them from Athena's view.
     "They'll be alright, Athena," Bojay hissed as she shot him a
thin-lipped look, "You're injured! For Sagan's sake, just stay here while
I make my way over to Cain and Starbuck," Bojay kissed her quickly,
stopping the words of protest that had formed on the edges of her lips,
"We may need a diversion to help us rush the office chamber, so listen
for a signal!" the brown-haired Lieutenant sprang suddenly to his feet,
drawing his laser pistol and racing across the chamber in a semi-crouched
position to land beside Starbuck in a shower of renewed laser fire,
"Commander! Starbuck! What's happened? I thought those things were
deactivated!"
     "Wilker had Komma bring them up from the science lab under wireless
remote control," Starbuck breathed through clenched teeth, peering
cautiously over the edge of the diagnostic station, "I was winning a hand
of Pyramid against Baltar and Muffit, then suddenly, all Hades broke
loose. The centurions went crazy, grabbing the wireless control and
Komma. Then they disarmed a Council Security Officer and started to make
for Apollo's chamber until Sheba and Roman drove them back," Starbuck
lowered himself back down to the floor and shook his head at Cain, "Roman
and Cassiopeia are still pinned down in the observation chamber, but the
Cylons don't seem too concerned over them. That might give Roman an
advantage, if we can draw them out."
     "Sheba?" Bojay asked shooting a look of concern at the other two
men.
     "She's fine," Cain responded, smiling briefly at the brotherly
concern in Bojay's voice, "My little girl had a laser pistol stashed
under Artemis' sleeping chamber. She managed to provide Roman some cover
fire, but he only made it as far as the observation chamber. Cassiopeia
pulled him through the hatchway before those Cylons could get off another
shot. Sheba and Apollo and the baby are behind us, but Cassiopeia and
Roman are in the hot zone."
     "Hold on, Starbuck," Bojay stared suddenly at the Blue Squadron
pilot beside him, "Did you say that you were playing a Pyramid game with
Baltar? And Muffit?!" the young man's tone was incredulous, "What in
Hades is going on around here? Has the whole universe gone mad?"
     "Never mind all that!" Cain gave his sidearm a quick check and
lifted his scepteron from the deck beside him with his free hand, "The
drone is busy keeping Baltar secured behind that bank of monitoring
equipment over there, so we're on our own with the centurions. There's
some movement! They're coming out. Look alive, men! If I know Roman,
he'll be making his move at the first opportunity. This might be our
chance to rush those accursed machines and keep Komma in one piece!"
     "Oh my God," Starbuck breathed softly as the three warriors peered
carefully over the edge of the diagnostic station, "They've got that
pistol planted against Komma's head. If we rush them now, he's daggit
mush."
     "Hold..." Komma's voice was tremulous, but he coughed softly and
continued with renewed determination, "Hold your fire!" the Corporal
glanced to the side, his eyes widening as he spied Sergeant Roman slowly
making his way, weapon drawn, to a flanking position relative to the
Cylon nearest the entryway to the observation chamber where the Sergeant
had taken cover with Cassiopeia. Roman nodded encouragingly, indicating
for Komma to continue. "The, uh, the Cylons have authorized me to, uh,
deliver a message," Komma held up what appeared to the onlookers
scattered throughout the large chamber to be a standard  military issue
Colonial Languatron with varied pieces of equipment attached to its
circuitry by several bundles of insulated wires, and, with a last
desperate glance in Roman's direction, spun suddenly on his heels,
knocking the laser pistol away from his temple and throwing himself to
the deck, rolling to a stop beside the diagnostic station, then finding
himself being hauled roughly to a secure position as Cain, Starbuck and
Bojay all grabbed various parts of his amazingly crisp and immaculate
uniform and leaped over him to crouch over the upper surface of the
diagnostic station and fire point blank at the stumbling centurion with
their sidearms, sending it reeling to the deck in a shower of sparks.
     "Take cover!" Roman cried, as he rushed the second centurion, firing
at the control panel on the robot's chest, causing it to fall to the deck
and share its companion's fate.
     A blanket of silence fell over the large chamber as various heads
slowly appeared from behind almost every vertical structure in sight.
     "Father!" Sheba's voice broke the silence as Cain turned to see her
crouched in the hatchway behind him, "Is everyone alright out there?"
     "We're fine, Baby," Cain sighed with relief and staggered slightly,
feeling a strong hand discreetly clutching his elbow and keeping him from
losing his footing as a wave of vertigo overtook him. Cain exchanged a
quiet look with Starbuck, nodding his thanks as his radiation ravaged
body regained the strength to hold him upright, then holstered his weapon
and turned to open his arms and embrace his daughter, "I'm not certain
what in Hades just happened here, but at least you and Artemis are
alright."
     "Starbuck!" Cassiopeia rushed to the blonde Lieutenant's side, "Oh
my God! Komma!" the young woman crouched quickly beside the Corporal, who
lay dazed at Starbuck's feet, staring blankly up at the ceiling, "Komma!
Say something! Can you hear me?"
     "Momma?" Komma smiled dreamily up at the med-tech, a happy smile on
his slightly bloodied lips, "are the mushies ready yet?"
     "There, there, Komma," Starbuck holstered his own weapon and made to
lift Komma to his feet, "the mushies won't be ready for a while. You just
relax for a micron."
     "Get it off me! Get it off me!" a high pitched whine carried from
behind the nearby bank of monitoring equipment.
     Bark. Bark. Grrr.
     "Ah yes. Baltar." Cain said thoughtfully, "I don't suppose we could
order the drone to..."
     "Cain!" Adama rushed through the now opened hatchway, followed by
Reese and Boxey, "By the Lords of Kobol! Is everyone alright? Oh God!
What's happened here?"
     Any responses to the Commander's questions were cut short by a
sudden burst of static emanating from the tiny speaker inset in the face
of the Languatron that lay where it had fallen, amongst the jumbled
pieces of the felled centurion nearest the observation chamber hatchway,
where Sergeant Roman stood, his pistol held ready.
     Sheba, my princess. Did I not tell you when last we were together in
your realm? There will come another time, another place. Then we will
meet again.
     Sheba gasped and tightened her grip on Cain's arm, clearly
recognizing the words that had been spoken to her those many sectons ago,
on that lonely planet as she and Starbuck had stood before the wreckage
of a vast ship of nameless dead souls, Apollo prone on the ground at
their feet, while the voice of the enemy had taunted them. It was the
voice of death, the creature that had nearly, but for Apollo's
intervention, taken her soul into the abyss of eternal darkness.
     Iblis.

Chapter Two
Scene Nine

     Baltar remained silent as Reese and the other two Council Security
Officers pulled him roughly from under Muffit's ferron grip and began to
walk him toward the secured care section access.
     "Wait," Adama's deep voice rumbled through the Life Station's main
chamber, stopping the security detail in their tracks, "Bring him here,"
Adama gestured for Reese and the others to approach him where he stood
beside Cain near the diagnostic station, "Baltar," the Galactica's
Commander met Baltar's wild-eyed and seemingly unfocussed gaze with his
own steely expression, "What is Iblis' agenda? How can we stop him?"
     "Hmmphf," Baltar smiled incongruously, releasing a guttural sound of
assumed merriment, "Adama, my old friend," the thin man leaned forward, a
thick lock of his wild black hair falling over his forehead, brushing
softly against the small scar over his left eye, a trophy of an encounter
with Lieutenant Boomer's fist throwing him backward into unconsciousness
and away from the Oberon, the ship to which Iblis had somehow transported
Baltar, some thirty yahrens into the past, in a mysterious effort to
strike out at the members of the Colonial Fleet who had foiled Iblis'
conquest of their wills, their very souls. "You really are incredible,
you know. You blame me for everything, yet you've proven nothing. I don't
know anything," Baltar softened his gleeful expression into one of
impressively dramatic pathos, "I'm sick. I can't remember. You can't
expect me to..."
     Sheba, my princess. Did I not tell you when last we were together in
your realm? There will come another time, another place. Then we will
meet again.
     Baltar's face was drained of colour as Cain had replayed the
recorded message with a tap of a control key on the Languatron that the
Cylons had forced Komma at gunpoint to adapt into a memory transfer
device in order, according to a dazed Komma's initial report to the two
Commanders, that the centurions could upload the audio data from within
their own circuitry.
     "No. No. I, I don't know anything about that voice!" Baltar screamed
with agony and made to grab at his own head with his now shackled arms,
"I can't hear that voice! You can't make me!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh-ha-ha-mmmmmbwahahaha!"
     Adama watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as Baltar
began to laugh maniacally, extending his frontward shackled wrists toward
the white-haired warrior and gazing down at his own hands, studying the
palms intently as he continued to cackle with the same emotionless, yet
strangely manic laughter.
     "Might as well lock him up again, Adama," Cain sighed in frustration
as he handed the Languatron to a grim-faced Doctor Wilker, who had
emerged from behind the cover of a large treatment platform where he and
several medical technicians had taken cover when the wireless remote
control unit had suddenly failed and the laser fire from the rogue
centurions had begun. Cain scrutinized the crazed Baltar with a look of
disgust reminiscent of a man encountering a putrid aroma, "unless of
course you've changed your mind about making an executive exception to
the Colonial Military Corporal Punishment Code," Cain's blue eyes managed
a slight twinkle as he smiled grimly, yet hopefully, at Adama, "then we
could just space him out an airlock and use his scant remains for target
practice."
     "That is becoming a more attractive proposal as time goes on and
more people keep succumbing to violence," Adama glared at Baltar, whose
laughter trailed off as another emotion began to alter his gaunt
expression. Adama recognized it as fear, If he fears death, then he is
not completely mad. Boomer had described to the two Commanders the future
Artemis that he had encountered aboard the Oberon after an intervention
from the seemingly benevolent beings that travelled on the Ships of Light
that the Fleet had encountered on previous occasions. According to
Boomer's classified report, Artemis had been adamant that Baltar must be
returned to the Fleet in time to fulfill a destiny that would have him
averting the demise of several people, including herself. A sudden chill
ran down Adama's spine as he thought of his newly born granddaughter,
resting in the arms of her mother beside the treatment platform that held
the unconscious form of Adama's first born son, "Why are you even here,
Baltar? Were you returned to us in order for you to be a conduit of your
master's evil attacks against us? What will it take to end this state of
constant danger? Do you know, or are you just a senseless pawn in all
this?" Adama thought he could see a glimmer of stealth in Baltar's dark
eyes.
     "Adama," Baltar smiled ingratiatingly as he backed away slowly from
the diagnostic station, the three Council Security Officers flanking him
closely, ready to lunge at any sudden movements, "please," Baltar
extended his still shackled wrists, "I am just a victim of circumstance,
a man with no..."
     "By your command" the centurion nearest the diagnostic station, the
first to go down under the warriors' fire and the only one of the two
still in a state of relatively functional assembly, rose with astonishing
swiftness to its feet, reaching for a sword that, naturally, no longer
rested in the hilt on the Cylon's belt, having been locked away in the
Security Section at the time of the Cylons' arrival, with Baltar, on the
Galactica those many sectons ago when Iblis had briefly travelled with
the Colonial Fleet, offering Baltar's surrender as evidence of his own
power with a safe arrival on Earth dangling before the Colonials as a
prize in return for their submission to his dominance over them. The
centurion moved toward Baltar, it's arms extended, the eerily mechanical
voice of Iblis emanating from its audio array, "We thank you for your
service, Baltar. Your usefulness to us is at an end."
     Baltar screeched in horror, clutching his own throat and dropping to
his knees, babbling incoherently as the centurion drew nearer, then
suddenly erupted into a second shower of sparks as Lieutenant Starbuck
delivered a well placed laser blast to it's chest, then fired once more,
targeting the optical scanning sensor in the robot's cranium.
     "Frak!" Starbuck swore softly, realizing that his second shot had
been low, severing the connective joints in the Cylon's neck with a
trajectory such that the entire cranial unit flew upward like a triad
ball in play. "Incoming!" the young man hollered as he dove to the deck,
hauling Cassiopeia down with him and shielding her body with his own. 
     "Huh?" Baltar smiled hopefully as he peered between his fingers,
seeing the centurion's body crumple to the deck for the second time,
rising to his feet and opening his mouth to speak when, suddenly, the
Cylon's disembodied head connected squarely with Baltar's own, creating
the effect of a rather poorly fitted helmet.
     Adama, Cain, and the others still assembled in the Life Station
winced almost in unison at the sickening crunch of the Cylon head's
abrupt dispersion of velocity against Baltar's skull, then gasped as the
traitor turned to regard them with a look that was difficult to read.
Boxey had later described it as 'surprise, mixed with something that made
him look drunk'.
     "Adaba...Adabma...Old Friend," Baltar staggered awkwardly forward on
legs that appeared to lack any solid substance, "I'd like to file an
official complaint. Your treatment of political, wrongfully accused,
prisoners is abon...abomim...abomidal..." Baltar coughed slightly, and
leaned forward precariously, Cylon head bobbing back and forth in a
dizzying circular motion, "it's not very good," these last words seemed
to deflate Baltar like a balloon, as he crumpled to the floor with a
clang of his makeshift helmet and another group wince from the hushed
observers.
     "Lords of Kobol! By all that's holy!" Cain muttered, holstering his
reflexively drawn weapon.
     "Holy Frak," Adama breathed quietly, turning to share a look of
utter astonishment with the Pegasus Commander, then sputtered suddenly
with uncontrolled laughter, which quickly overtook both men as they fell
into a loose embrace, howling with mirth as Doctor Salik and several
medical technicians rushed to lift the softly babbling Baltar to a
portable treatment platform and off to a secure treatment chamber. Adama
coughed noisily, wiping tears from his eyes as he struggled to compose
himself
     "Such language, Adama. You're swearing like an old war-daggit!" Cain
stammered helplessly, his own failing efforts at control clearly evident,
"Adama, as worried as I am about the threat to the kids, I've got to
admit it," the Juggernaut managed a reasonably level tone, "that was the
funniest gall-monging thing I've ever seen in my life, and believe me,
I've seen a few." The two men dissolved once more into peals of laughter.
In spite of their best efforts, it was several centons before they, and
the crew members in the Life Station with them, were able to stop.

Chapter Three
Scene One

     Apollo felt himself rising upward, emerging from the realm of
restless and confused semi-consciousness. Weapons fire. The sound of
laser pistols discharging somewhere nearby had been unmistakeable to his
experienced warrior's ear. Had it been a dream? He wasn't certain. The
image of Sheba, attired in a dressing gown with a laser pistol in her
hand flashed before him, then shattered into pieces like a broken mirror
as he felt the stabbing pain of consciousness taking a firmer hold of his
injured flesh and pulling his mind from the fog that had dulled his
senses for what he guessed uncertainly must have been several centaurs by
now. A light suddenly flashed before his eyes, accentuating the pain that
now wracked his body, causing him to squint and attempt to avert his
gaze.
     "He's waking up," Doctor Paye's voice reached him from beyond the
small diagnostic torch that the tall man once more flashed before the
Captain's face, peering intently downward to assess the photo-reactive
condition of the optic organs, "Captain, try not to move too quickly.
We've repaired the shattered shoulder joint and collar bone, as well as
some broken ribs, but the soft tissue will take longer to heal," Paye
pocketed his torch and gently insinuated first one, and then another,
soft cushion behind Apollo's back and neck, carefully easing the injured
warrior's torso into a more upright position.
     "Looks like you're going to be sharing a good portion of my furlon
schedule for a few sectons, Skipper," Sheba barely held back a sob of
relief as she entered from the adjoining chamber, Boxey close beside her,
clutching her hand fearfully as he took in the Captain's haggard and
bruised appearance. The young woman squeezed Boxey's hand reassuringly,
gesturing gently for the boy to step forward in Apollo's direction. Her
eyes overflowed with tears that had been held back since her first sight
of Apollo shortly after he had emerged from the surgical section, several
centaurs, almost an entire daily cycle earlier.
     "Dad!" Boxey raced to the Captain's side, then stopped suddenly,
glancing up the length of Doctor Paye's tall frame, "I'd give you a hug,
but I'm not allowed to yet," the boy planted himself in the large chair
that normally sat in Doctor Salik's office chamber, "you sure missed a
lot of stuff, being asleep for so long!"
     Apollo laughed weakly as Paye made some precise adjustments to the
placement of the Captain's recently repaired right shoulder, replacing
the positioning bandage that held the joint stiffly immobile. Though the
bones had been fused, they were still quite fragile, structurally
weakened until the healing process and much physical therapy could slowly
return them and their connective tissues to a less delicate condition.
Doctor Paye nodded and took his leave silently, touching Sheba's arm
reassuringly, then moving to exit through the hatchway and into the main
chamber of the Life Station. 
     "How long have I been sleeping?" Apollo moved his head slowly, then
allowed his gradually clearing green eyes to complete the movement and
gaze at his son, then upward at his wife.
     "It's been a few centaurs, now," Sheba reached forward to touch his
face with her fingertips, "Boxey's right. You have missed a few things,"
she paused and looked over her shoulder toward the hatchway leading into
the small adjoining chamber, from which Cassiopeia now emerged, carrying
a small bundle in her arms, "including a new arrival."
     "Artemis, meet your father," the med-tech settled the infant
carefully within the curve of Apollo's left arm then, quietly, and with a
noticeably tired smile, exited the chamber.
     "Artemis," Apollo stroked a small cheek that rested near his index
finger, "Welcome, Little One," the Captain shared a look with his wife,
"She's beautiful," a mischievous glimmer illuminated his eyes, "No
regrets?"
     "Hades of a time to ask me, Skipper," Sheba managed to smile at the
words that had become an affectionate banter between them since their
marriage, then gestured toward Artemis' small form, "She's been sleeping
peacefully, even through the laser fire."
     "Laser fire?" Apollo's tone became grim as his pain-jumbled and
drug-numbed senses began to orient themselves to a state of full
consciousness, "I thought I'd dreamed that," the Captain gazed downward
with a degree of wonder at his daughter's face, the reality of her
arrival profoundly impressing itself upon him.
     "You should've seen it, Dad!" Boxey cried excitedly, "Grandpa Adama
and me came down from the bridge, but Reese knocked us down in the
corridor, so we missed the first shoot-out!" Apollo stared open-mouthed
as the details of Boxey's breathlessly animated narration were processed
somewhere in the still sluggish synapses spanning the space between the
Captain's ears and brain, "Bojay says that Muffy had to secure Baltar
after the centurions broke up the card game. Starbuck got out, but
Corporal Komma was trapped and those old Cylons wouldn't let him go. Mom
and Sergeant Roman helped Starbuck and Grandpa Cain pin the Cylons down
in the office chamber, and Cassiopeia was stuck in the observation
chamber with Roman! Mom and me didn't get to see Starbuck knock Baltar
out with a Cylon's head, but don't worry! I think Muffy got the whole
thing on a recording crystal!" Boxey jumped impulsively forward, leaning
with exaggerated care over the infant and planting a gentle kiss on
Apollo's cheek, "I'm going to see if Muffit's off-duty! He hasn't met
Artemis yet, either!" The boy rushed to the hatchway that Paye had
disappeared through only centons earlier, "I love you, Dad!" he called
over his shoulder as he raced off in search of his mechanical companion.
     "Well," Apollo's voice was subdued as he gazed at the now empty
hatchway, then moved his green eyes once more to meet Sheba's warm, brown
gaze, "it sounds like I have a little catching up to do," a soft gurgling
sound from the infant who still lay cradled against his dark, muscular
arm, evoked a downward glance from the young Captain, "Artemis, it seems
that you've arrived into a state of chaos," he repositioned his uninjured
arm as Sheba lifted the infant gently and sat on the edge of the
treatment platform beside him, then reached over to push the damp locks
of black hair from his brow. Apollo gazed drowsily into his wife's eyes
once more, his heart aching at the sight of her tears, frustrated at
being unable to embrace her and ease her fears, then continued speaking
softly to his daughter, "Might as well get used to it, Baby. It gets this
way a lot around here," the Captain drifted off into unconsciousness once
more, though this time his fragmented dreams were replaced by a restful
and restorative slumber that would replenish a measure of the young man's
usual vigour.
     "You should get some more rest, Baby." Sheba started slightly at the
sound of her Father's voice, "You didn't tell Apollo about Iblis' message
yet, did you?" Cain looked down thoughtfully at Apollo's sleeping form.
     "No Sir," Sheba wiped away the tears that still spilled from her
eyes, "I don't want to frighten Boxey any more than we can help, and,
well, I guess I just don't want to think about it for a while," her
shining light brown hair fell across her cheek as she bent to kiss her
child's fingers where they lightly grasped one of her own, "Oh Father,
what sort of danger have we brought Artemis into?
     "I know, Baby. You're afraid for her," Cain reached up and brushed
the hair from her face, pushing it gently behind her ear, then placed his
hand protectively on her slender shoulder, joining her in her silent
study of Artemis' small face, "She'll be fine, I promise."
     Sheba could see through this particular variation of her Father's
characteristically dramatic and blustering demeanor. She knew it was more
than just his usual bravado. It was an attempt to comfort and soothe her,
a strategy that had almost always banished her fears when she had been a
child. Many imagined monsters had been banished from her childhood
bedchamber, on Cain's rare homebound furlons, with that very same tone.
     "Sir!" Sheba's remembrance was cut short by Lieutenant Bojay, who
hovered discreetly just inside the hatchway. The young man directed an
affectionate smile at Sheba, his more-than-sister and erstwhile wingman,
then returned his attention to Cain, "Commander Adama asked me to fetch
you, Sir. There's something for you to see in the operations centre of
the term care section."
     "Duty calls, daughter," Cain kissed Sheba gently on the forehead,
"get some rest and try not to get my granddaughter involved in any more
shoot-outs while I'm gone," Cain winked playfully and pressed a palm
briefly against Sheba's tear-stained cheek, relieved to see a lightening,
though slight, of the worry that had darkened her features since the
sound of Iblis' voice had taunted her from the speaker of the
reconfigured Languatron that Corporal Komma had reluctantly reconfigured
at enemy gunpoint.
     "Father, I make no promises," Sheba smiled tremulously, "It's like
Apollo said," the young mother spoke softly to the infant in her arms,
"Might as well get used to it, Baby. It gets this way a lot around here."

Chapter Three
Scene Two

     "Athena, are you certain that you've sufficiently recovered to be
assisting with all this? Your injury was quite severe, my daughter,"
Adama made note of the young woman's uncharacteristically light pallor,
as he passed through the hatchway, entering the compact chamber that
served as a remote observation station for the medical complex, to stand
beside his daughter, a look of worry crossing his face, "Perhaps you
should stop for some rest, regain some strength," the Commander looked
down at the display on the monitor inset in the console before them,
"there is very little for you to do at this juncture. Go use my quarters
and get some sleep. I'll post a security detail in the outer chamber."
     "Father," Athena lowered her chin and regarded Adama with a slightly
chiding expression that suddenly evoked in his mind the image of her
mother, one of two victims of the Holocaust whose loss Adama had never
completely forgiven the gods for inflicting upon him and his two
surviving children. He assumed the neutral expression of a practiced
diplomat as he attempted to hide any outward evidence of his momentary
encounter with the bittersweet pain that reminders of Ila and their son
Zac always summoned to his senses, usually to be pushed aside for fear,
whether rational or not, that the enormity of his loss could potentially
consume him. Furrowing her brow slightly, and with one last intent look
into the Commander's deep brown eyes, Athena lowered herself to a nearby
seat and winced as her injured left arm was jostled slightly by the edge
of an upholstered arm rest, "I'll admit that I'm fatigued, but I promise
I'll not over extend myself," the young woman swivelled her seat to stare
with a bridge officer's practiced gaze of assessment at the monitor,
"besides, you can use my help in acquiring a better resolution from this
recording. It's obviously been affected by a surge of electromagnetically
based energy. I'll stay at least until Doctor Wilker gets back from
Lambda Section. He said something about strategic defense capacity and
rushed down there to fetch something. If only Boomer was up and around,"
Athena sighed and tapped a sequence of key pads with her right hand,
holding her injured left arm immobile at her side, "he's more adept with
these filter settings than I am."
     "Doctor Wilker sent me up to give you a hand, Lieutenant," Corporal
Komma stopped abruptly before Adama and nodded with an attitude of
military precision, "By your leave, Commander, Sir," the young man
stepped forward at the older warrior's nod of approval and silent gesture
to join  Athena at the remote observation console. Komma reddened
slightly as he looked down into the pale blue eyes of the strikingly
beautiful bridge officer, shyness making him awkward at finding himself
in such close quarters with the Commander's attractive daughter, as it
had done to many other young men in the course of Athena's young life.
"Um, yes!" the young man's fingers quickly keyed in a sequence of
commands that produced a tagged data file summary screen,  "According to
the activity recorded here, the resolution of the recordings has
apparently been distorted by an electromagnetic field that seems to have
been localized within the bulkheads of this patient's term care chamber,"
Komma stabbed a finger at a line of text in a list that flickered with a
soft greenish glow on the monitor display.
     Adama and Athena both leaned forward to view the script at the point
of the screen directly above Komma's finger, neither of them registering
any great measure of surprise.
     "And just what are you doing here, young lady?" the three warriors
turned at the sound of Doctor Salik's voice behind them, "Lieutenant
Athena! Komma can take things from here. Besides, Wilker's apparently on
his way up from that cavern of mechanical horrors that he's nested in
down on Lambda deck with some equipment that's supposed to do something
or other," the Doctor's voice and expression both softened as he leaned
slightly downward, studying Athena's pale face, "you lost a lot of blood
from that attack. Even with the relatively immediate effect of the plasma
infusions, you still need to rest. That arm will take some time to heal."
     "That's what I've been telling her, Doctor," Bojay spoke with a tone
of frustration as he moved to stand in the hatchway of the small chamber,
Commander Cain emerging from the corridor to stand beside him, "but she
won't listen. She seems to think that she's invulnerable."
     "She's a warrior," Cain said, tucking his scepteron in the crook of
an arm and leaning slightly against the frame of the open hatchway, his
own face exhibiting a slight pallor, a symptom of the weakening effects
of the radiation poisoning from which he had been slow to recover, "she
finds it difficult to sit idly by and wait while others are in the thick
of the battle," the Juggernaut smiled paternally down at Adama's
daughter, his own daughter's sister through marriage, inwardly amused at
her defiance in the face of her weakened health, "just the sort of
officer that's going to enable our people to survive this journey, to
move on past this surreal assault from that gall-monging architect of the
Cylons' empire of evil," Cain turned to share a grim expression with
Adama, "we must find a way to detect and interfere with that foul
creature's energy. I don't understand or know what to make of all this,
this..." Cain struggled for the appropriate term as he gestured toward
the console over which Komma still worked.
     "Metaphysical felgercarb?" Salik's gruff voice suggested helpfully.
     "Yes! Thank you, Doctor," Cain shifted his weight, stepping forward
and peering at the display on the secondary monitor to Komma's immediate
right, "I don't know what to make of all this metaphysical felgercarb,
Adama, but I'm passing my limit of patience at seeing that frightened
look in my little girl's eyes, particularly today, on what should be a
day of celebration," Cain's gaze once more intersected Adama's with an
expression of grim determination, "Iblis must be stopped. This reptilian
psychopath's malevolent terrorism must come to an end. If we can find a
way to detect his presence electronically, then perhaps we can find a way
to destroy him."
     "Whether or not we may find a way to destroy Iblis, I cannot say,"
Adama nodded, "but perhaps we can find some means of holding him at bay,
a mechanism by which to repel his attacks."
     "I may have the solution we've been hoping for, Commander," Doctor
Wilker's mournful voice filled their ears as the group gathered in the
observation chamber turned to look out into the corridor, gasps of
surprise escaping their lips as their eyes took in the sight of the
equipment that Doctor Wilker had in tow.
     There, beside the diminutive hollow-cheeked scientist, crouched two
of Doctor Wilker's more infamous creations. It had been about two and a
half yahrens since Drone One and Drone Two, the planetary survey daggit
drones, patterned after Boxey's companion Muffit, and equipped with
compression weapons capable of firing high velocity incendiary pellets at
an incredible rate of speed and accuracy, had commandeered several
platters of mushies as improvised ammunition and caused a good deal of
destruction in the Officer's Club. In that time, the account of
Lieutenant Starbuck's daggit drone race gone bad had become the stuff of
legend among the crew of the Galactica, indeed the entire Fleet. No-one
who had seen the effect of the barrage of high velocity mushies and the
mayhem and destruction that had ensued through several sections of the
ship had been able to forget the circumstances of a mushie covered
Starbuck succumbing to, not only a painful blow to the skull, but an
unexpected allergic reaction to mushies as well. The drones had been
spared the sentence of being summarily dismantled, however, by acting in
concert with Muffit to use their tactical military programming to save
the lives of several members of the crew who had become trapped on an
artificially constructed planet occupied by Cylon forces.
     "I believe that the survey drones may have the capacity to detect
the, uh, phenomena, much as our surveillance equipment does, but with a
couple of major differences," Wilker lifted an eyebrow, as if pausing for
effect, "One, they are specifically shielded against the worst of the
electromagnetic effects of the toxic radiation. Two," the scientist
lifted the edges of his chronically down-turned mouth in what some could
loosely term a slight smile, "they have the capacity to act in an
autonomous way when confronted with certain types of input," Wilker
scanned the faces before him hopefully, then shook his head sadly and
continued speaking, "They can theoretically not only be configured to
detect Iblis' presence, but act almost instantly to repel him as well!" 
     "Hounds of Hades," Cain breathed quietly.
     "You might not be too far off the mark with that title, my friend,"
Adama responded as the assembled group stood quietly, regarding the two
small drones, considering that they might be, if Wilker was correct, the
Fleet's best defense against the most dangerous of threats to it's
safety, if not it's very survival.
     Bark. Bark. Rrrr. Drone One waggled a forelimb in a gesture
approximating a friendly wave.
     "Oh Lords!" Bojay murmured,  reluctantly recalling the most
disgusting allergic skin inflammation that he had ever personally
witnessed, "has anyone told Starbuck?"

Chapter Three
Scene Three

     "You want me to what?" Boomer gazed up incredulously at Adama, then
scanned the group that flanked the Commander where he stood at the side
of the recovery platform. Cain, Bojay, Starbuck and Athena nodded in
unison, verifying to Boomer that he had not been suffering from a bizarre
post-operative delusion.
     "That's what I said when they asked me to play cards with Baltar,
just before Muffit caught him cheating and the cranial unit from that
Cylon connected with his thick skull. Of course, that was just after
Iblis somehow overrode the wireless remote unit and had the centurions
take Komma hostage and force him to rig up the Languatron!" Starbuck
stood regarding the look of confusion and astonishment that crossed
Boomer's drawn, but attentive features, "at this point Buddy, you might
as well just do whatever they ask you to, and try not to think about it
too thoroughly," Starbuck sighed and hooked his thumbs over either side
of his gun belt, sharing a look of resignation with the warriors
assembled beside him, "it's for the best. Believe me."
     "Boomer," Adama interjected, giving Starbuck a squint of
disapproval, "I would not have asked you to accept this duty if we had a
better alternative. Paye and Salik agree that you're up to the task, so
long as you don't do anything strenuous."
     "Well," Boomer swung his legs stiffly over the edge of the platform,
grimacing as the recently repaired tissues in his upper back protested
with a sharp pain, "If I'm to be stuck in a bed, then it might as well be
during a mission. Then, at least the Fleet Currency Section will be
paying me to be a target."
     "The room is ready for him now, Commander," Cassiopeia moved through
the hatchway extending an arm draped with a thick green dressing gown,
"Boomer, I brought you a robe."
     "I thought Salik ordered you to get some sleep?" Starbuck smiled,
his own expression betraying the fatigue he also felt after the last
three daily cycles with barely any sleep, and gripped her upper arm with
an affectionate squeeze.
     "I tried that, remember?" Cassiopeia smiled wearily at Starbuck's
concerned and protective demeanor, then gently laughed off his concern
and moved to help Boomer negotiate a weakened arm through a voluminous
sleeve, "I slept for at least two centaurs before the shooting started,
then Apollo woke up and I couldn't bear to miss seeing him meet his
daughter for the first time," the med-tech moved lightly to Boomer's
other side, pulling the other sleeve of the garment gently over his right
arm, "Commander," she lifted her head to address Adama once more, "Doctor
Paye says that Apollo can be moved as soon as he's able to maintain a
conscious state for at least a centaur."
     "Thank you, Cassiopeia," Adama's expression softened at the news of
the improvement in the Captain's condition, "I shall look in on my son
after we have Lieutenant Boomer in position," the Commander and the
others stepped back as Starbuck and Cassiopeia helped Boomer to rise
slowly to his feet, each taking an arm in a careful, but firm grip,
walking with him toward the hatchway. Adama clasped his hands behind his
back and walked beside Cassiopeia, on Boomer's right side, Starbuck still
grasping his friend's left arm and the others from the recovery chamber
following closely behind them, "Is my grandson with Jolly?"
     "He should be by now, Sir," Cassiopeia replied, "he was waiting with
Corporal Komma and Sergeant Roman when I left him in Life Station. Muffit
and the other drones have been equipped with a non-metallic wireless
communication array. It should be unaffected by electromagnetic
radiation. Commander?" Adama lifted his eyebrows at her questioning tone,
"this is going to work, isn't it?
     "Only the Lords of Kobol know the answer to that question,
Cassiopeia," Adama spoke solemnly as he turned to exchange a glance with
Cain, who walked slowly behind Boomer, with Bojay and Athena keeping pace
to either side, "But what other options do we have at this juncture? If
this plan might meet with even a small measure of success, then we must
make the attempt."
     "In here, Boomer," Cassiopeia gestured with a nod toward a nearby
hatchway, "just a few more steps," she and Starbuck slowly walked, with
the injured Lieutenant held firmly between them, toward a recovery
platform quite similar in appearance to the one that he had vacated only
centons ago.
     "What I don't understand," Boomer spoke in a loud tone, aware that
the room had been rigged with several audio recording units, "is why
Iblis is even producing a measurable field of energy? When we first
encountered him, our scanning devices didn't register his presence at
all."
     "For one thing," Doctor Wilker's voice emanated, with a slight burst
of static, from the Unicom speaker over the hatchway, the scientist
having adjusted the audio feed from the communication array station that
he had assembled in the adjoining chamber to bypass the Unicom system and
isolate the speaker in Boomer's chamber from the other broadcast units
that comprised the vast communication network that operated through
multiple relay configurations throughout the chambers and corridors of
the vast Battlestar Galactica, "we weren't familiar at that time with the
nature of the energy matrix that was imprinted on the electromagnetically
irradiated ore that started us on this line of research," in typical
form, Doctor Wilker had downplayed the dramatic past incidents involving
Calvin, a former lab technician who had succumbed to the toxic energy of
an ore sample that he had purloined from the science lab and used as an
active component of a portable scanner shield. Calvin had suffered what
was thought by the medical staff to be a psychotic break and had acted
under the impression that he had been sent by angels to protect certain
individuals in the Fleet, including Apollo and Sheba, "for another, it is
quite possible that the energy readings shift according to the form that
the entity we know as Iblis has taken. When he was here with us in solid
form, he may have had a more effortless ability to manipulate his
surroundings, perhaps even to create an illusion, like a form of group
hypnosis, that made us believe that he had registered no discernable
readings that our equipment could detect."
     "And why do we believe that whoever stabbed me will be making
another attempt?" Boomer settled himself on the edge of the recovery
platform's yielding mattress, momentarily overtaxed by the effort to
remain on his feet. Starbuck and Cassiopeia released their guardian-like
grip on the young Lieutenant as he propped himself gingerly against the
large supporting cushion that Cassiopeia quietly tucked behind him.  
     "We're not certain that they will, Boomer," Adama stood within the
frame of the open hatchway, turning to take his leave of the chamber,
"but you, Apollo, Sheba and Athena have all been attacked. I do not enjoy
the prospect of putting you in any more danger, but if we are to assume,
as I do, that these attacks were intended to be fatal, then we may assume
that another attack may be imminent. If appearances weigh in our favour,
then perhaps our assassin, believing that you are vulnerable here in this
unremarkable and unsecured room, will make another attempt. When that
happens, we shall be ready," Adama raised his voice slightly, addressing
the unseen microphones hidden throughout the chamber, "Doctor Wilker!
Keep me apprised of any developments. I'll be in the Life Station for a
few centons, and then up in the Command Centre." the Galactica's
Commander pursed his lips grimly, not waiting for a reply, as he gestured
with a questioning nod at Cain, who nodded back firmly and joined his
fellow Commander, walking together with him through the hatchway and out
into the corridor, leaving the others gathered in the chamber at Boomer's
bedside, exchanging worried glances.
     "Are you all going to be hiding under the bed when the next maniac
comes to kill me?" Boomer spoke wryly, crossing his arms over his chest
and scanning the faces of his friends. Bojay, Athena, and Starbuck stood
watching quietly as Cassiopeia completed a cursory check of the injured
warrior's vital signs, noted them down on a data pad that she had pulled
from the pocket of her tunic. She rose to join the others, all four of
them looking down at Boomer with a shared gaze of sympathy, and more than
a little concern. Starbuck stepped forward patting himself down absently,
in the chronic search for the fumarello that was not there, then
returning his hands to rest on either side of his gun belt.
     "Think of it this way, Boomer," Starbuck gestured with a hand in a
circular movement indicating the chamber around them, "It's like taking a
paid leave to a full service resort."
     "Mm-hmm," Boomer responded dryly and settled further into the
cushion with a deep sigh, "And I suppose you're supposed to be the
entertainment?"
     "No, Boomer," Starbuck's tone was serious now, "I'm just here for
back up."

Chapter Three
Scene Four

     "Hello, Father," Apollo spoke quietly as Adama, Cain close behind
him, entered the small chamber where the Captain lay in an upright
position, his back and neck supported by the cushions that Doctor Paye
had arranged behind him. Sheba glanced up and nodded a greeting to both
men from where she sat, one leg tucked gracefully under the other, on the
edge of the mattress facing her husband. In the space upon the mattress
between them, their infant daughter, barely a daily cycle old now, lay
wrapped in a soft green blanket.
     "Apollo," Adama's heart felt as though it were swelling in his chest
at the sight of his injured son looking down into Artemis' small face
with an expression of wonder in his pain wearied, though clear, green
eyes. Adama recalled in a flash that first instant, more than two
deca-yahrens ago, home on Caprica, when he himself had gazed down into
the face of his eldest child for the first time, "How do you feel, my
son?" the Galactica's Commander moved forward to place a hand gently on
Apollo's left shoulder, his relief over Apollo's improved condition
plainly evident in his deep brown eyes.
     "Much better, thank you Father," Apollo reached up with his
uninjured left hand to touch Adama's hand reassuringly, "I hear things
have been a little chaotic while I've been sleeping. Boxey said something
about you being tackled to the floor by Council Security just before my
hotshot wife here joined in on a gun battle," the Captain shot a mock
look of disapproval at Sheba, then turned with a slight wince of pain to
direct a more serious expression into his Father's eyes, "Boxey also
mentioned another card game that Chameleon orchestrated for you. Did you
get any useful information out of Baltar?"
     "Nothing more than the usual, apparently incoherent babbling, I'm
afraid," Adama sighed and exchanged a glance with Cain, "none of our
methods have produced any results."
     "What Adama means," Cain laid a gentle arm over Sheba's shoulder,
smiling roguishly down at Artemis as she gurgled softly in an infant's
dream, "is that beating the pogees out of that traitorous, gall-monging,
Cylon astrum-kissing, demon consorting, felgercarb for brains and sorry
excuse for a waste of human entrails, Baltar," the Pegasus Commander
paused, taking a slow breath and peering into Artemis' slowly opening
eyes, already glinting with a suggestion of green through their current
shade of infant blue, "well, that didn't work any better than a rigged
game of Pyramid," Cain extended the smallest finger of his right hand,
allowing Artemis to hold it in a reflexive grip of her own tiny fingers,
"the only progress that we've made has been with that poor agro-tech."
     "Jain," Sheba spoke the name distractedly, "I just can't understand
how she figures into all this, and why," the Lieutenant leaned back
against Cain's shoulder, accepting the warm and comforting embrace of her
father's arm, "she became obsessed with us, then almost got herself
killed when Calvin got involved. Even the aliens that travel on the Ships
of Light who intervened to help us don't appear to have realized the
extent and nature of her connection with..." after hearing the voice of
Count Iblis speaking to her, clearly taunting her through the speaker on
the Languatron in the Life Station just centaurs ago, Sheba found it
difficult to speak the creature's name.
     "Doctor Wilker believes that the electromagnetic radiation that
poisoned both Jain and Calvin may have had a distorting effect upon
whatever skills or technology Iblis' former brothers may have used to
assess Jain's condition," Adama released his son's shoulder and clasped
his hands behind his back, pacing slowly to and fro as he spoke, a grim
expression furrowing his brow, "due in part to information provided by
Calvin, Wilker has formed the opinion that the toxic radiation may have
prevented Iblis' former brothers from detecting the extent of Jain's
involvement. Apollo, when you and Sheba encountered the alien who called
herself Diana, you reported that her people seemed quite certain that
Jain was merely a victim of circumstance, a disturbed girl who simply got
swept away by the forces converging around her, no more," Adama paused in
his motion, unclasping his hands and spreading them in a gesture that
indicated a large measure of frustration, "if the advanced beings who
pilot those Ships of Light, who have illustrated to us on several
occasions the awesome extent of their abilities, can be misled by the
effects of the radiation, then how are we to repel this evil attack?"
     "Adama," Cain disentangled himself gently from the grasp of his
daughter and granddaughter and moved to stand beside his fellow
Commander, "we can't keep going in circles, questioning and
second-guessing ourselves. We have a plan. Let's follow through with it
and see where it takes us."
     "You are right, of course, my friend," Adama managed a humourless
smile, "we must go on. What alternative is there?"
      "And just what is this plan of yours, Father?" Apollo's tone was
cautious, as though he feared that he might not like the answer to his
question, "We've been assured that Boxey's involvement is peripheral,
that he's observing the action from the remote observation station with
Jolly and Athena, but Jolly was vague about what it is that's being
observed and why Muffit is involved," the Captain shifted his weight,
impatient already with his confinement, "it's frustrating having to lay
here waiting for news."
     "I know, my Son," Adama smiled in sympathy, remembering his own
recuperation after the Cylon death squadrons had rammed the Control
Centre and the landing bays those many sectons ago, shortly after the
Pegasus had disappeared once more into deep space, having taken on Baltar
and the Cylon base ships that had threatened the Fleet. Adama had
undergone emergency surgery during the crisis of the out-of-control fire
that had threatened the ship and the lives of many of her crew and
civilian inhabitants. "It is a matter of strategic deduction," the white
haired Commander moved to stand beside Apollo's bed, "The malevolent
force that was unleashed when we first collected those ore samples wants
Boomer out of the way. We are reasonably certain that Iblis shall strike
again, and that Boomer, who was the first to fall, will be his next
likely target," Adama paused and regarded Apollo's progressively more
suspicious expression, "that is why we have placed Boomer in an
apparently vulnerable position, alone in a recovery chamber quite near to
the one occupied by Jain. Though she is in a comatose state, the
surveillance equipment that was installed in her chamber has registered
certain anomalous readings that are consistent with the frequencies of
the energy that was emitted by the artificially constructed ore. Jain is
involved, and if she is being used as a puppet by Iblis, then we must
find a way to put an end to it once and for all," Adama gazed grimly at
the young family before him, his determination to end the threat to them
stronger than ever, "and that is why, along with a remote surveillance
team watching over Boomer from the adjoining chamber, Doctor Wilker has
reactivated Drone One and Drone Two and put them in strategic military
defense mode. They are electromagnetically shielded, as you know, and
they have been equipped with a recognition program that should enable
them to detect anything resembling the matrix that the technicians have
managed to isolate from the molecular imaging data compiled on the ore
before we destroyed the last remaining samples," the Commander found
himself struggling to maintain a stoic expression at the look of helpless
consternation that now crossed Apollo's pale face, "Wilker has replaced
the compression weapons with pulse rifles that have been reconfigured to
release a directed wave of electromagnetically based energy that he
assures us will have a damping effect against the specified target,"
Adama paused and coughed quietly, assuming an expression that belied his
own sense of disbelief at the sound of the words that now crossed his
lips, "The drones have been put in position, under cover of a portable
equipment platform, beneath Lieutenant Boomer's bed."
     "Commander Cain! Commander Adama!" Sergeant Roman's sudden entry
into the room interrupted Apollo's words before they could escape from
his parted lips. "Come quickly, Sirs! Lieutenant Athena's just called
from the remote observation station. There is an energy matrix
registering in Jain's chamber!"
     Cain and Adama nodded quickly in farewell to their children and
summarily rushed from the chamber, Roman close on their heels, leaving
Apollo and Sheba staring together at the now empty hatchway through which
their fathers had disappeared.
     "Sheba," Apollo said quietly, turning toward his wife.
     "Yes?" Sheba responded, running her fingers reflexively through her
shining light brown hair, and returning his gaze with a lift of her
eyebrows.
     "Did Father just say that we are attempting to repel the wrath of
Mephistopheles by placing two armed daggit drones under Boomer's bed?"
     "Yes, Apollo. I believe he did," Sheba glanced once more at the
hatchway.
     "Any regrets now, Lieutenant?" Apollo's tone evoked a small smile
from his wife.
     "Hades of a time to ask me, Skipper," Sheba and Apollo stared at one
another, then found their confusion and fear dissolving briefly into a
rush of sudden laughter.

Chapter Three
Scene Five

     "You must make certain that you are in a convenient position as they
are moving Baltar," Sergeant Roman stopped his fast paced walk along the
corridor toward the Life Station and turned smoothly to face the source
of the voice that had addressed him.
     "Yes, John," the acting Chief Medical Officer of the Battlestar
Pegasus crossing his lean, though well muscled arms across his chest, "I
am familiar with the plan, as you well know," Roman began to walk once
more along the corridor, gesturing for the alien known as John to join
him, "I presume that you are shielded?"
     "Yes, you are the only one who can see me," John said with a smile,
nodding in a playful manner at a passing bridge officer, who was
obviously oblivious to the alien's presence.
     "I shouldn't have any difficulty in maneuvering Baltar into position
at the appropriate time," Roman spoke quietly, barely moving his lips, so
as not to be seen by passers-by as speaking aloud to empty space,
"attention required for the final refits aboard the Pegasus in concert
with the activity in the medical complex here on the Galactica have given
me the opportunity to move about quite freely. Cain and Adama are not
surprised at my presence when they see me, as they both well know that I
have been travelling back and forth between the two battlestars on varied
errands for several sectons, now."
     "You must find it difficult, at times," John eyed Roman with a
speculative expression, "living amongst them, hiding your true nature."
     "Don't worry," Roman's voice had a hard edge that contrasted sharply
with John's softer tones, "I'm not in danger of succumbing to the
temptation of power as our former brother did," the alien known to the
Colonial Fleet as Sergeant Roman stopped his progress along the corridor
once more, gesturing this time for his companion to stand facing him, "I
know what my mission is, and I shall carry it out."
     "It could take a few more yahrens by Colonial reckoning," John's
smile was warm as he touched Roman's shoulder with a gentle hand, "even
after current events unfold, you will likely be needed here for much of
the Fleet's journey to come. Artemis and the rest of her family are very
important to her people, and her people are very important to us."
     "It's not so bad," Roman glanced along the length of the corridor in
either direction and, finding it empty of traffic, relaxed in his posture
and continued speaking to John, his fellow alien to the Fleet, the two of
them members of the species that the Colonials of the Fleet knew only as
the aliens from the Ships of Light, "in fact, I'm never bored by these
people. All those sectons with Cain and his crew from the battle of
Molecay, right through the Destruction, to the exodus to the Galactica
for all but a few of us, then racing across Cylon controlled space under
a toxic shield powered by a mutated variant of our former brother's
energy matrix, were a lesson in human tenacity. Cain himself could
plainly hear the voice of Count Iblis on numerous occasions, emanating
from the ore, pressuring the Commander to surrender, to destroy himself
and his ship. Though a mass psychosis of the crew was barely averted by
the anti-toxin that we discovered, Cain stood fast with minimal
treatments, with little hesitation at every onslaught. It was the thought
of getting his crew safely through the ordeal, and the hope of seeing his
daughter again, that kept him moving forward, denying Iblis' subliminal
pressure toward suicide and destruction of the ship as an option."
     "You've grown to admire them," John's voice betrayed a touch of
concern, "losing your objectivity could be dangerous, Roman."
     "I admit that it's difficult not to absorb some of the energy of
these people, John," the Sergeant smiled and nodded amiably to a medical
technician who emerged from the nearby hatchway to the Life Station,
assuming a pose of casual hesitation until the young woman disappeared
into the access to the express lift, "but I haven't lost sight of my
assignment," Roman continued, hearing the lift access close with a dull
thud of metal on metal, "nudging Baltar the rest of the way back into his
proper place within this continuum sequence is my immediate priority, and
no-one will be the wiser. If necessary, some memory engrams may have to
be disabled, but hopefully not. Sadly, Council Security is not all that
difficult to maneuver around," Roman glanced once more to and fro along
the length of the empty corridor, "then, I shall move on to the next
phase of my mission, back aboard the Pegasus."
     "Yes," John's face took on a thoughtful aspect as he gazed
distractedly in the direction of the medical complex, then shook himself
out of his reverie an looked once more into Roman's dark, black-brown
eyes, "do they know yet?"
     "Only the doctors, Adama, Tolen and myself know for certain,"
Roman's smile lost some of its good humour, "though some of the others
have begun to suspect. Apollo, Starbuck and Cassiopeia have all noticed
some signs."
     "And Sheba?" John asked quietly, his tone more conversational than
interrogative, as he already knew the answer to his question.
     "She's been seeing what she wants to see," Roman sighed, "she has
grown slightly since Iblis' seduction of her, but she still suffers
behind a barrier of guilt and fear. Iblis is feeding from it as we
speak."
     "I know," John sighed and shook his head sadly, "she punishes
herself for the crime of weakness," he straightened the hem of his
brilliantly white tunic with a tug of both hands and smiled once more,
this time with confident determination, "only time and Apollo's continued
support and fellowship will help to rid her of those demons. Forgiving
one's self seems difficult for these people at times."
     "That's one of the reasons that I'm still here," Roman's tone
reflected some of the same determination as John's. Both men knew that
their course was set. They had merely to follow its complex weavings in
and out of the lives of the people of the Fleet, while avoiding
detection. Roman shared a last look of mutual understanding with John,
then gestured toward the chronometer on his wrist and smiled wryly, "I'd
better get going. It'll be time soon, and we don't want to have to back
track and try to do this over again. We made enough mistakes with Jain
and Calvin. We, in fact, are partly responsible for the Captain's
injuries, for much of the evil that's happened due to Iblis' displacement
of Baltar from the timeline, so let's try to do it right this time."
     "A very human-sounding sentiment, Roman," John's affectionately
mocking tone echoed in the Sergeant's ears as the white haired man
disappeared with the soft sound of rushing air, leaving Roman alone in
the corridor, "let's hope it works this time."
     "It has to," Roman whispered to the empty space that John had
occupied only microns ago, "Iblis can't be allowed to win this particular
battle. There's too much at stake, for all of us," with a sigh and a
shake of his head, Roman assumed an innocuous expression and moved to
enter the hatchway into the Life Station.

Chapter Three
Scene Six

     Lieutenant Boomer lay in his most recent accommodation, gingerly
moving and stretching his muscular shoulders, testing, with an athlete's
reflex, the limits to which his mobility had been hampered by the
piercing of his back and lung with the same serrated blade that had then
been turned on Athena and was ultimately confiscated by Bojay from the
skeletal hand of a psychotic Baltar. Boomer scowled in the direction of
the audio visual recording device that he knew was secreted in the
ventilation grate above the hatchway in the bulkhead opposite to his
position. They'd better not get me zapped back to some past historical
battle aboard a ship loaded with Cylons, or stuck in some corner of the
commissary with those two drones firing cutlery at me, or I swear, by all
the gods that have allowed Starbuck to miss out on this kind of
felgercarb duty all of these yahrens that I will give up my commission
and get a job marketing cosmetic fragrances on one of the commerce barges
and...
     "Is everything alright in there, Boomer?" The injured man started
from his bitter reverie of personal woe at the sound of Lieutenant
Starbuck's voice broadcasting through the Unicom speaker above the
ventilation grate, "You look a little agitated, Buddy."
     "Oh, it's nothing," Boomer sighed with a slightly martyred air and
shifted restlessly, adjusting his back carefully to a position of
relative comfort, "I was just contemplating my new career as bait in a
trap. I feel like I'm sitting in a web waiting for an arachon to suck out
what little is left of my brain. I can't believe that I agreed to do
this, not that I was offered a choice."
     "Come on now, Boomer," Starbuck's voice held a tone of sympathy, "if
you'd refused the assignment, you'd just be laying on a bed anyway.
Besides, Bojay and I are right here in the next chamber with Wilker and
Komma. At the first indication of signal recognition from the drones,
we'll be ready."
     "Ready to do what, exactly?" Boomer glared once more at the grate
that concealed the recording device, "You told me that you tried shooting
Iblis with a laser pistol once before, remember?"
     "I know," even over the Unicom relay, the hollow tone in Starbuck's
voice was evident. Only too well did the blonde Lieutenant recall the
surface of that lonely planet where Apollo had fallen at Iblis' hand, the
creature laughing at the onslaught of laser bursts from an enraged
Starbuck's sidearm, absorbing the deadly energy with a horrifying shift
of appearance that Starbuck and Sheba believed had been a glimpse of the
Count's true face, that of a beast, bearing little resemblance to the
charming humanoid that had held Sheba, and many others in the Fleet
securely in his thrall, "but things are different now, Boomer," Starbuck
made an effort to sound encouraging, "we have the drones to sniff out the
electromagnetic frequencies that will warn us of another effort by that
reptilian Count to occupy some of our space."
     "Well, let's hope the Count doesn't have a lit flinton and a tray of
mushies with him if he decides to crash the party," Boomer's reference to
the programming malfunction regarding the flame and the victuals being
interpreted as a threat and a supply of ammunition, respectively, that
had initiated the drones' past destruction of the Officers' Club brought
an audible groan from Starbuck's lips through to the Unicom relay and a
smile of bitter satisfaction to Boomer's face, "What's the matter,
Starbuck? Still looking for a fumarello to calm your nerves?"
     "Uh-huuh," from the adjoining chamber, Starbuck made a sound of
reluctant surrender as he opened his lips to form a reply to his friend's
caustic remark, but his words were stopped by a softly chiming sound
emanating from the console over which Doctor Wilker, Corporal Komma and
Lieutenant Bojay huddled together, "It's show-time," Starbuck hissed into
the Unicom relay, and poised for action, his eyes glued to the monitor
inset in the console and his hand clasped firmly around the hilt of his
laser pistol. The chiming sound had indicated a recognition signal from
Drone One. It was the recognition signal that indicated the presence of
an energy signature that the drone had identified as consistent with the
pattern of the energy matrix imprinted on the artificially created ore, a
manifestation that the Colonial scientists were convinced was a mutated
version of the energy matrix that defined the substance of the creature
known to them as Count Iblis, and believed by most of them to be a
manifestation of Mephistopheles, the most powerful and malevolent of all
demons, the Prince of Darkness described in the old writings from the
time of the Lords of Kobol and before. We must be insane or desperate, or
both. We're fighting Iblis with a couple of survey drones armed with
electromagnetic pulse waves, Starbuck leaned forward to see the
designation text flashing on the display beside a graphic representation
of the now triangulated source of the signal, "Jain" Starbuck exchanged a
glance with Bojay, "it's Jain's recovery chamber. That's the source of
the energy signature."
     "Not any more, it's not," Komma keyed in several command sequences
on the console before him, isolating and magnifying the area surrounding
the flashing dot that represented the signal source on the scanner grid
above the display monitor, "it's on the move, but it's not headed toward
Boomer," Komma and Doctor Wilker exchanged equally mournful expressions
of dismay.
     "Where?" Bojay hissed impatiently, "Where is it going, Komma?"
     "Life Station," Wilker's voice interjected as the scientist reached
for a headset, touching the relay on the audio feed, "Drone One! Drone
Two!" the Doctor's voice echoed in the adjoining chamber, where Boomer
lay listening to the soft mechanical whirring of the drones beneath his
bed, waiting with them for the Doctor's pending command, "Override
Authorization Alpha! Discontinue current input processing. Input stored
files designated 'Operation Decoy'," Wilker tripped a relay on the Unicom
control, "Lieutenant Athena! Please tell Muffit to activate the
amplification unit and join the other drones in Life Station! The entity
appears to be targeting Lieutenant Sheba's energy signature."
     "What in...?" Boomer cried, his words cut off as the two prototype
survey drones let loose a series of sharp mechanical barking sounds, then
tucked and rolled themselves quickly from beneath his bed. They rose to
their haunches, spinning to face the exit, then tore their way abruptly
through the hatchway, ripping the hatch summarily from its metal track
and tossing it effortlessly to the deck of the corridor as they turned
toward the intersection of corridors that led to the main chamber of the
Life Station, leaving Boomer open-mouthed in the chamber behind them.
     "It looks like someone should have thought to tell them to use the
control panel to open the door," Cassiopeia entered the now defunct
hatchway, Artemis cradled securely in her arms, smiling as she moved to
make way for a portable medical transport platform guided carefully in
its motion by Doctor Paye, Doctor Salik, and two Military Security
Officers. On the platform Captain Apollo reclined, several cushions
supporting his upper body and injured right arm.
     "Sorry to move in on you like this, Boomer," Apollo smiled drowsily
as the platform was nudged to a rest along the wall to Boomer's left, "we
got bumped out of our last accommodation without any warning."
     "I guess we wore out our welcome," Sheba nodded to the two Security
Officers who now flanked either side of the mangled hatchway as she
entered the room and sat lightly on the foot of Boomer's bed, touching a
small electronic mechanism that was clipped to the lapel of her dressing
gown, a dark military issue green garment in the same style as the one
that Boomer still wore, "like my new jewellery, Boomer?"
     "Wait a centon," Boomer's eyes narrowed as he recognized the object
to which Sheba referred, "isn't that Calvin's portable shield generator
mechanism? But, I don't understand. Why are you wearing that? Without a
sample of the ore to power it, it won't shield you from someone who's
scanning for your energy signature."
     "I'm not shielding myself from detection, Boomer," Sheba laughed
softly at the confused look in Boomer's dark eyes, "this thing can't hide
anything from view without the ore, but it can still generate a shield
matrix. Right now, it's emitting a signal that is consistent with the
unique energy signature of an individual in Life Station who is wearing
identical unit, electromagnetically masquerading as me," Sheba saw
understanding beginning to dawn as the light in Boomer's eyes shifted
slightly, "Your friend Calvin was always the true volunteer in this,
Boomer. You were the decoy, diverting attention from us while Adama had
us moved. Whatever aspect of Iblis that came out of Jain's chamber is
apparently invisible to the eye. Muffit and the other two drones, and a
number of warriors and security officers are all converging on Life
Station, where Calvin is waiting with a pulse rifle like the ones the
drones are rigged with. With Calvin and the drones triangulating their
fire, Wilker believes that they may be able to repel, or possibly confine
the evil entity that's been terrorizing us, before it realizes that it's
pursuing a false signal."

Chapter Three
Scene Seven

     Baltar staggered between two burly Council Security Officers, each
gripping one of his skeletal upper arms through the fabric of the green
dressing gown that hung loosely from his bruised and emaciated frame, as
they escorted him from one of the small emergency treatment chambers
adjoining the main chamber of the Life Station and moved briskly toward
the secured term care section of the medical complex.
     "Ouch, slow down," Baltar whined in a grating, nasal tone that
failed to have any perceptible influence upon his escorts, "I've been
injured, you know," he cringed at the sensation of sharp pain that
coursed through his spinal column as he attempted to turn his head, the
movement restricted, not only by the pain of the injury sustained to
Baltar's skull from the impact of the falling Cylon cranium in the Life
Station, but by the bandages that the medical technicians on duty had
swathed about Baltar's head and neck, partially immobilizing them to
prevent further injury to his neck and spine, "Curse that Starbuck! Curse
them all! Why? Why has this happened to me? I was to have been long gone
from this time and space. I was promised a new beginning and I kept my
end of the bargain! Oh, to have been so deceived by so many treacherous
villains!"
     Whoomphf
     A sudden burst of brilliant light blinded Baltar, who reacted in
silent shock, blinking reflexively as he struggled to focus on the
blurred humanoid form that slowly approached him out of what seemed like
a dense white fog.
     "Wha...who..." his own voice seemed muffled to Baltar as he lifted
his shackled wrists, attempting to shield his eyes from the light that
distorted and shaded the features of the figure before him. He jumped
back as the figure gestured with a shadowy arm and his shackles fell with
a muted clang to the deck at his feet. Looking down through the slowly
undulating wisps of mist that enveloped him, a sudden thought took hold
of him, security, where did the security officers go? Baltar took
another, more cautious step backward, "Who are you? What do you want?"
     Silence, Baltar, the voice was soft, almost comforting in its gentle
tone, Listen. You must go to the Life Station, Baltar felt a hand touch
his bandaged brow, an unaccustomed warmth and long absent sense of
well-being flooded through him for the briefest of moments, fulfill this
measure of your destiny, Baltar. Perhaps your role here today may serve
to earn you some measure of redemption. In any case, when you are
interrogated, you will remember only the bright light, nothing more. Go
now. Listen for your master's voice. Follow it into the beam from
Calvin's weapon, then, forget.
     Baltar felt the achingly welcome warmth of the stranger's touch
recede as the white fog subsided and he found himself, bloodied and
bruised, the end of the bandage encasing his head and neck unfastened and
beginning to unravel, lying face down on the deck, the security officers
unconscious on either side of him. He rose slowly to his feet, staring
blankly at the designation text displayed on the nearby bulkhead that
indicated the direction back to the Life Station's main chamber. Life
Station. Baltar became aware of a sound at the periphery of his
consciousness. His skin dimpled as from a cold draft as he recognized the
sound. The voice.
     Listen for your master's voice. Follow it into the beam from
Calvin's weapon, then, forget.
     Baltar began to run toward the entrance to the Life Station,
oblivious to the distant sound of voices and running feet, hearing only
the thrumming pulse of Count Iblis' energy signature, beckoning him as
though it were a beacon, drawing him closer. His only concern was to
enter the beam. Yes, follow it into the beam. That's what the warm voice
had said he must do. He must fulfill his destiny, and then forget.
     Baltar ran, his bandages unravelling in loose coils of fabric behind
him. He barely saw the faces or heard the gasps of surprise from the
varied personnel that he passed in the corridor, focussed only on his
desire to enter the beam. That was a measure of his destiny, to enter the
beam. His recollection of why he must do so was slipping away, but his
determination remained as he ran on, thin legs pumping under the skimpy
medical issue tunic that flapped loosely under the oversized robe, his
now tangled bandages trailing behind him, giving him the appearance of an
ancient Kobollian corpse, suddenly reanimated and emerging from its
sarcophagus. Several who observed him in the corridor that daily cycle
were later to report that Baltar had effected an appearance not unlike
that of a costumed performer participating in a tightly budgeted
production of a traditional Caprican Spirit March Drama.
     Baltar ran on, his limbs pumping wildly, pursuing the steady thrum
that now pulsed through his body, the rhythm of the electromagnetic wave
that heralded the presence of the entity that had, only microns
previously, sped from its mysterious source in Jain's recovery chamber
and found itself in the Life Station, not enveloping the coveted
Lieutenant Sheba in it's dark, ever shifting grasp, but instead, abruptly
confined within a triangle formed by the unexpected and heavily armed
Calvin and the two survey drones, weapons firing beams of electromagnetic
energy that connected to form a tangible perimeter to the triangular
trap. Baltar flew through the main hatchway, tripping directly over
Muffit Two, who sat quietly on the deck beside a crouching Athena,
amplification unit transmitting input to Drones One and Two, directing
them to maintain their fire. Baltar somersaulted in an impressively well
executed, though unintended, aerial maneuver that propelled him directly
into the path of the energy beam flowing from Calvin's retrofitted pulse
rifle, interrupting the flow of energy in the leg of the triangle between
Calvin and Drone One. A sudden explosion of electrical bolts and fiery
sparks burst forth from the remaining two legs of the triangle, throwing
Calvin and the two drones backward and engulfing the shadowy form that
had been snared by the electromagnetic discharge of the pulse weapons. A
scream of deafeningly painful intensity roared forth from the sphere that
hovered, flashing and revolving in a massive discharge of bluish white
light, reflecting glowingly off of random puffs of smoke.
     No-one has dominion over me! the words seemed to emanate, not
through the air from the glowing and smoking sphere of electromagnetic
discharge, but directly into the minds of all those present in the Life
Station and adjoining corridors and chambers, Another time! Another
place! I shall replenish my reserves of power, and I shall return to
claim what is mine. Death to them, Adama. Death to you all!
     A sudden, silent darkness enveloped the Life Station for a fraction
of a micron as the contracting ball of energy seemed to implode, winking
out of existence in a small puff of smoke and apparently taking its
unwilling occupant with it, then the emergency energizer units powered up
with a loud humming sound, restoring light and life support systems to
the now electronically damaged Life Station chamber.
     "Adama!" Tigh's voice blasted loudly from the shielded communication
array behind the diagnostic station near Doctor Salik's office chamber
over which Adama and Cain now crouched breathlessly together, "Commander
Adama! Commander Cain! What's happening down there?"
     "Tigh!" Adama tripped the relay on the non-metallic communication
console that transmitted his voice to the console in the Command Centre,
where Tigh stood tensely on the command platform, Officer Omega beside
him, both men sharing a look of relief at the sound of Adama's voice,
"Tigh! It's worked! By the Lords of Kobol. It looks as though the crisis
may have been averted. And it's all thanks to Baltar!"
     "Baltar?!" Tigh pressed a finger to the earpiece of his headset and
exchanged a look of abject confusion with Omega, "Commander, I'm not
certain that I'm receiving you clearly, but you should know what's been
happening up here! Shortly before the entity was detected in the recovery
chamber, our instruments registered a rift similar to the one that we
observed in the, er, incident with the Oberon. Sir, just as that last
energy surge in Life Station dissipated, there was a bright discharge
visible within the rift, then the whole thing just disappeared, closed in
on itself."
     "We'll sort through the data later, Tigh," the Commander's voice was
clearly jubilant, "in the meanwhile, if you need me, I'll be visiting
with my granddaughter in the recovery section."
     "Aye, Commander," Tigh closed the communication relay and turned to
Omega, his brow furrowing, "Omega, did I just hear the Commander say,
'it's all thanks to Baltar'?"
     "Yes, Colonel," Omega's characteristically impressive ability to
maintain a neutral expression was challenged in his effort to speak
succinctly, "I believe that was the phrase, Sir."

Chapter Three
Scene Eight

     "Easy Boomer," Bojay started forward slightly, as did Starbuck, each
of them reaching to support one of Boomer's arms as he stumbled in his
stiff walk along the corridor to Adama's quarters, "you don't want to
miss dinner because you were too stubborn to let us transport you with a
conveyance of some sort."
     "Yeah, Boomer," Starbuck grinned with a flash of straight white
teeth, "what gives? I wouldn't have thought that you'd give up the
opportunity to take a free ride along the corridor on a medical platform
with a couple of attractive med-techs on either side." 
     "No insult to the med-techs, but I'm still having visions from two
days ago. I'll never be able to forget the sight of Baltar as they
wheeled him past me in the corridor," Boomer shuddered slightly,
recalling the stiff, corpse-like posture and thin, outstretched arms of
the blackened figure on the emergency medical transport platform and the
aroma of the still-smoking bandages that Doctors Salik, Paye and Wilker
later determined had acted to insulate Baltar against the worst of the
electrical discharge in the Life Station when he had intersected the leg
of the triangle formed by the beams that had been firing from Lab-Tech
Calvin's, and the survey drones' modified pulse rifles, "he looked like
he'd been cooked on a spit."
     "At least Artemis is alright," Starbuck changed the subject quickly
as he felt a shudder go down his own back at the memory of the smell of
burning hair and fabric that had settled over the Life Station after
Iblis had been apparently banished to some other plane of existence, at
least for the present, "which reminds me," the blonde Lieutenant now
regarded Boomer with a speculative frown, "that was some clean sweep you
made on the baby pool. Are you certain you haven't been accessing some
sort of inside information?"
     "Just lucky, I guess," Boomer said with an expression that Starbuck
found difficult to read, "Now I'm just waiting for the permutations to
develop. I happen to know for a fact that Artemis' first word will be
'Boomer'."
     "I don't know about that, Buddy," Starbuck's smile widened, "not to
detract from your impressive winning streak, but, my face was the first
thing she saw as she drew her first breath of recirculated, Galactican
air. That was a pretty pivotal moment."
     "Poor kid," Boomer said dryly as he paused before the hatchway
leading to the Commander's quarters and the casual evening meal that
awaited them, "I'll have to do my best to see that she isn't permanently
traumatized by that experience," the injured man leaned against the
bulkhead briefly, his walk down the corridor having taxed his damaged
lung and the recently repaired wound on his back, "by the way, have you
enjoyed that smoke Sheba gave you yet, Uncle Starbuck, or are you still
hesitating over selfishly consuming the only fumarello currently known to
exist in the Fleet?" Boomer smiled sweetly at his friend as Bojay
guffawed derisively and touched the control pad beside the hatch,
activating the chime in the chamber within.
     The hatch opened, and, obeying Adama's gesture to enter the chamber,
the three warriors stepped through, Starbuck reflexively touching the
pocket on the sleeve of his jacket, where Cain's flinton and Sheba's
fumarello lay ready, should he decide to introduce one object to the
other after the evening meal. His momentary craving was followed by a
swift kiss on the cheek from Cassiopeia as she moved forward to greet
him, three day old Artemis held securely in her arms.
     "Come in, come in," Adama ushered the warriors into the chamber,
"Boxey, pull out a chair for Lieutenant Boomer." As Starbuck and Bojay
helped Boomer to ease himself downward and into the welcome cushion of
the proffered chair, Adama began pouring drinks from an ornate decanter
that currently dominated the center of the large dining table. Athena
leaned casually against her father's nearby desk, her injured left arm
immobilized in a neatly wound sling as Cassiopeia paced the room
unobtrusively, soothing a wakeful Artemis until her parents were to
emerge from the adjoining chambers, where Adama had insistently moved
Apollo, Sheba and the children, under the care of Cassiopeia and other
carefully chosen caretakers, until such time that both of the young
parents were better recovered from recent events and injuries. The
Commander himself had opted to bunk in a small utilitarian rest chamber
off the bridge for his sleep periods, while retaining the main chamber of
his quarters for his daily duties. Truth be told, Adama had immensely
enjoyed the last two daily cycles, with his son close by.    
     Athena straightened as Bojay moved to place a protective arm around
her waist, guiding her gently to walk with him toward the view port
across the chamber from the group near the table. Visible within the
ovoid frame of the view port was the Battlestar Pegasus, her re-fit
virtually complete, waiting only for the obligatory pomp and ceremony
from the Council of the Twelve and the Infrastructure Section to initiate
her return to active status as a guardian of the Colonial Fleet. No
longer was she to be suspended helplessly within the embrace of the
mobile docking clamps that had facilitated the extensive repairs on her
systems and structure over the many sectons since Cain and his crew had
emerged from beneath the prison of the toxic scanner shield that had both
protected and poisoned them as they had sped desperately through Cylon
controlled space to rejoin the Galactica and the Colonial Fleet.
     "How did you manage to escape being housed here with the rest of the
family?" Bojay spoke teasingly as they stood together gazing thoughtfully
out of the view port, "not enough chambers to go around?"
     "Just lucky, I guess," Athena laughed and moved into his embrace,
reaching up with her uninjured right arm to touch the insignia on the
collar of his flight jacket, "Captain."
     "Not quite yet," Bojay added his laughter to her own, "Cain and
Adama haven't finalized all of the new assignments," he reached up to
brush aside a stray lock of her dark hair, tucking it gently behind her
ear, "but don't worry. I'll make sure that I'm properly promoted to
Captain before the sealing ceremony. I wouldn't want a ranking Bridge
Officer to feel like she's marrying beneath her station.
     "Not many people above the command platform, ranking or not,
Lieutenant," the two laughed together once more, gazing through the view
port at the ship that was soon to be their home, lost for a few microns
in their plans for a future together as husband and wife.
     "She's a sight for sore eyes, isn't she?" Cain started the young
lovers from their reverie, moving to stand with them, studying the
Pegasus, lost for a moment in thoughts of his own, "She'll be in good
hands with Tolen, and the two of you."
     "Sir?" Bojay narrowed his eyes, studying Cain's pale face and rugged
features, suddenly aware of how frail the Commander appeared. It's not
something I've wanted to see the realization that the pending
redistribution of ranking officers between the two battlestars was not
simply a matter of balancing the duty rosters becoming horrifyingly clear
to him.
     "Hmmm?" Cain turned to look into Bojay's brown eyes, sharing a
briefly piercing look with his surrogate son that only served to feed the
young man's growing suspicion, "Oh, just an old war-daggit thinking out
loud, admiring his own ship," Cain lifted his glass, saluting the
Pegasus, "to the Pegasus! May she keep all who serve on her, and all who
depend on her, safe from harm, for however long her journey continues."
     "Here, here!" Adama moved to stand beside Athena, glancing across
her at Cain, and then at Bojay, now is not the time, the message in
Adama's eyes was not missed on the soon to be Strike Leader of the
Battlestar Pegasus "to the Pegasus and her crew!" Adama drained his glass
and kissed his daughter's cheek, then lowered his glass to a nearby table
and, ever the proper host, assumed an attitude of conviviality that acted
to mask his own inner concerns. He moved toward the nearby hatchway to
the inner chamber, "I'll go in and see what's keeping Apollo and Sheba.
Boxey went in after them, but he hasn't resurfaced yet."
     "Alright, Father," Adama's diversionary tactics were not lost on
Athena, either, "I'll go and check on the food."
     "We have much to celebrate, today," Cain spoke softly to Bojay as
Adama and Athena moved away to attend to their respective errands,
"There'll be time enough tomorrow for whatever difficulties you may have
yet to encounter."
     "Aye, Sir," Bojay's voice nearly failed him as he pushed his fears
aside, "today, we celebrate," he felt the Juggernaut's hand touch his
shoulder as the two of them, the older man and the younger, stood
together for several centons longer, gazing through the view port at the
Battlestar Pegasus, each contemplating their own individual thoughts of
the future.  

Chapter Three
Scene Nine

     "Apollo," Sheba lovingly smoothed the rumpled yoke of her husband's
soft white tunic into place, concealing all but the uppermost of the web
of tylinium based surgical filament that adhered firmly to the damaged
areas of the Captain's upper body, providing a network of exo-skeletal
support to the muscles surrounding the recently repaired bones and
tissues of his ribcage, shoulder and neck, "are you certain that you're
up to the evening meal? If you need to rest..."
     "You're fussing over me," Apollo shifted his weight, flinching and
inhaling reflexively through his clenched teeth in reaction to the sharp
pain that travelled suddenly from his right shoulder blade to the muscles
surrounding the angry scar on his upper chest. His damaged and still
fragile ribs strained under the pressure of his movements. He steadied
himself with the supporting arm that Sheba placed firmly against the
small of his back, then turned carefully to look deeply into her warm,
brown eyes, reaching out with his uninjured left arm and grasping her
free hand tightly, "It was me who was to have been looking after you and
the children."
     "Well, I'm just fine, Skipper," Sheba laughed quietly, "Boxey is
still in one piece, as you can see from the tangle of boy and daggit
limbs on the bed behind you, and Artemis is with Cassiopeia for the
moment, being fussed over quite thoroughly, no doubt."
     "I'll get it!" Boxey's voice rang out at the sounding of the chime
that indicated a visitor at the hatchway.  The boy jumped down from the
large bed that dominated the chamber, his companion Muffit close on his
heels, "Grandpa! Mom and Dad are almost ready!"
     "Ah, splendid," Adama stepped forward into the chamber, "Cain and
most of the others have arrived," the white haired warrior regarded Sheba
with a fond smile, "I believe that you may have trouble retrieving
Artemis from her admirers, my dear."
     "I'm certain that they'll relinquish her when she requires some
maintenance, Sir," Sheba gently removed her arm from her husband's waist,
kissing him lightly on the cheek and moving past Adama toward the
hatchway, "Come along, Boxey," she rested a guiding hand on the boy's
shoulder, perceiving Adama's subtle indication that he wished to speak
with Apollo alone, "let's go on in and join the party," Apollo and Adama
watched together as Sheba and Boxey, Muffit close behind moved into the
fragments of sound, voices and the movement of chairs and glassware, that
carried through the hatchway, to be muffled once more as the hatch closed
behind them.
     "Athena tells me that you have agreed to step in as a temporary
Youth Triad League coach until she can come up with a more permanent
replacement, now that she and Bojay will be accepting their new
assignments and moving to the Pegasus," Adama reached forward to steady
his son as the young man moved stiffly to sit on the foot of the nearby
bed.
     "Well, Father," Apollo said resignedly as the older man sat
carefully beside him, "Doctor Salik and Colonel Tigh clearly won't allow
me near a viper until I've passed the fitness requirements, so I'll be
restricted to administrative duties for a while. Boxey is more than
agreeable with the prospect of us spending more time together and I'm
confident that I can convince some of the Blue Squadron pilots to take a
turn helping out, when the duty roster allows, running the team through
some drills," Apollo smiled humourlessly, "I suspect that both Boomer and
Sheba will be seeing the inside of a viper before I do," the young man
paused thoughtfully, regarding Adama with a speculative expression, "I'm
certain that Commander Cain will watch over Athena as he would his own
daughter."
     "I am certain that he shall," Adama's tone was grave, conveying a
sorrowful message, "for as long as he is able."
     "He's dying, isn't he Father?" Apollo had noticed the ever
increasing signs of fatigue that had become evident in Cain's demeanor
and appearance of late, "the radiation poisoning is too severe."
     "Yes," Adama stood and gazed out the view port at the head of the
bed, "Doctor Salik tells us that he may have several sectons, even half a
yahren, perhaps more," the Commander's voice was grim, "that's the
closest he's willing to come to a projection."
     "Sheba doesn't want to know," Apollo said sadly, staring at the
hatchway through which his wife and son had disappeared only centons
before, "though I'm certain she's realized how ill he is, I believe that
she's not been willing to accept the truth as yet."
     "It will be difficult for her, Apollo," Adama moved to sit once more
at Apollo's side, touching his son's uninjured left shoulder in a gesture
of sympathy, "to lose him again, this time with no hope of recovery or
reunion, and the cruel irony that he should be a victim of Iblis'
malevolent touch..."
     "Yes, Father," Apollo nodded and swallowed hard, resisting the
tangible, and painful, surge of emotion that seemed almost certain to
rush from his shattered chest up into his throat, "Sheba and the children
must spend as much time with him as possible, now, while he's still as
she will wish to remember him," the young man turned to Adama with a look
of helpless frustration in his bright green eyes, "but what's to stop
Iblis from striking again? How can we be certain that any of them are
safe?"
     "That is one of the reasons that we, Cain and I, have ordered Wilker
to maintain Drone One and Drone Two on strategic alert status, patrolling
the corridors of the Galactica and the Pegasus indefinitely, watchful for
anomalous energy signatures."
     "Father, what's to stop Baltar from escaping again?" Apollo was
uncertain how to react to the prospect of Wilker's survey drones acting
as ever wakeful guardians, watching over Apollo's children in particular,
"We're not even certain of how he got loose in the first place. Wilker
says that Jain acted as some sort of 'focal point' for Iblis' energy
matrix, but he's not certain how. None of the recording devices gave us
anything decisive and Baltar is the only one who ever claimed to have
actually seen Jain out of her recovery chamber. Furthermore, over the
last two daily cycles, several of us have discovered lapses in our
memories of events. Athena barely remembers her own attack, or why she
and Bojay separated when they knew Baltar was loose, and neither
Cassiopeia nor I can recall why she needed someone with command clearance
to open the secure medical storage section," the Captain shook his head
slightly, "I remember a deep fog, a series of fragmented memories,
Father, reflections on pieces of broken glass, nothing more."
     "Baltar will be secured in the term care section until he recovers
his senses," the Commander paused at the memory of Baltar, bandages
smoking, as the medical technicians had wheeled him from the Life Station
and into the surgical section, his dark eyes staring upward, the frozen
claw-like hands reaching out vainly before him, "if indeed he does
recover them. He received quite a jolt when he crossed the path of that
energy beam. As to the confusion of events," the Commander shrugged in a
slightly exaggerated gesture of helplessness, "who is to say why your
memories have been distorted? Sheba and Starbuck are just as unclear as
to why they were in that  particular corridor in the crew section,
nowhere near their destination, and Salik insists that he has no memory
of allowing Sheba to leave the Life Station in the first place, though he
can plainly observe himself on the surveillance recording from the relay
in his office chamber, doing just that. You were there yourself, having
just returned from patrol with Starbuck. It makes no sense, Apollo."
     "At any rate, Father," Apollo sighed and reached for his father's
shoulder with his uninjured left hand, accepting the older man's help as
Adama lifted the Captain gently to his feet, moving to stand beside him,
"I suppose we'd better go in for supper. Commander Cain will have Boxey
adding 'gall-monging' to every sentence all evening, if he's not
intercepted in time. I'm afraid Sheba finds it much more amusing than I
do."
     "She finds it difficult to disagree with her father," Adama laughed
in commiseration, then assumed a dramatically longsuffering expression,
"unlike my own children, who seem to challenge me at every turn some
daily cycles."
     "Only when you are wrong, Father," Apollo grasped Adama's shoulder
for support as the two walked amiably together toward the hatchway that
would admit them to the gathering of their family and friends in the main
chamber beyond, "Athena and I would presume to challenge you only when
you are wrong!"
     Father and Son laughed as they moved through the opening hatchway,
oblivious to the figure in white who stood behind them, hidden from their
view by virtue of his advanced technology, a thoughtful and sympathetic
look crossing his face before he departed, with a sudden, though barely
audible rush of air, as the hatch closed behind them. 

***

Epilogue

     He lounged fitfully on a small sleeping platform in a chamber deep
within the secured section of the Battlestar Galactica's medical complex.
Everything around him seemed blurred, confused, nameless. Even himself.
The man called Salik had questioned him over and over again, but he been
unable to formulate any coherent responses.
     "How are you feeling, Baltar?" He looked up as the hatchway opened,
revealing a young man with lean wiry muscles, short dark hair and very
dark brown eyes. "Do you remember me?"
     "Yes, no...I'm not certain," Baltar said fearfully, looking up at
the stranger, then backing against the bulkhead to cower at the head of
his bed, having glimpsed the two heavily armed security officers who
guarded the entrance to the small, utilitarian chamber.
     "It's alright, Baltar," Sergeant Roman nodded reassuringly to the
guards, who remained in the corridor, leaning watchfully against the
bulkhead opposite to the hatchway as the Chief Medical Officer of the
Battlestar Pegasus entered, the transparent, bifurcated hatch closing
behind him, "I am not here to harm you," Roman settled quietly into the
single small chair in the chamber and leaned forward slightly to study
Baltar's dark, fearful eyes, "I've just come to ask you what you
remember."
     "I...I don't know you...do I?" Baltar squinted into Roman's face,
"why am I wrapped in these...these..." Baltar's voice trailed off as he
became suddenly fascinated by the sight of his heavily bandaged hands.
     "Bandages?" Roman prompted, waiting hopefully for a response, a
glimmer of recognition, familiarity of some form with an object or a
spoken word, "is that what you meant to say, Baltar? You were injured
when you came into contact with an electromagnetic energy field. The
bandages are there to cover the burns while Doctor Salik's chemical
treatment works to regenerate the skin cells. In two or three sectons,
the bandages will no longer be needed," Roman narrowed his eyes, peering
even more intently at Baltar's vacantly confused expression, "what is
wrong with your hands, Baltar?," the erstwhile medic become doctor spoke
quietly, withholding his words from the ears of the security detail
beyond the perforated, transparent tylium hatch, "what do you see?"
     "I see blood," Baltar's eyes focussed abruptly on Roman's face, the
injured man's voice was level and clear, though barely audible,
exhibiting a degree of calm calculation that had been absent from
Baltar's repertoire of expression for some time, "I see the blood of my
people on my hands," Baltar lifted his bandaged hands once more and gazed
down at them thoughtfully, "it doesn't matter to anyone that I was also
deceived. I stood in Adama's back yard with a centurion, too late to find
any survivors that could be of any use to us, and knew that I could never
turn back. My only hope is to strike the best bargain that I can."
     "The bargain has been altered once again, Baltar," Roman said
earnestly, pausing as Baltar lifted his gaze, staring at Roman
speculatively, as if struggling on the perimeter of comprehension,
"Iblis, the Cylons, they have no further use for you. Co-operate with
Adama and Cain. Tell them what little you know. Help them in exchange for
mercy. It is your only avenue of redemption, Baltar, here, among your own
people."
     "Hmmphf," Baltar pursed his lips and glanced once more at his
bandaged fingers, examining them with contempt, "I have no people. I
tried to achieve an end to a thousand yahren conflict, and instead my
world was..." a sudden, sly, realization glittered in Baltar's dark eyes
as he looked up once more at Roman, as if seeing the young man for the
first time, "my own people. Where are your people?"
     "Where they need to be. Some of them are watching over you, ready to
help, whether you like it or not, Baltar," Roman sighed patiently and
smiled, cocking his head, regarding Baltar's bandaged features, "If you
feel inspired to take responsibility for your own spirit, I shall be
nearby to encourage you to choose your path carefully. I may even be here
when Chameleon arranges the next card game. In the meanwhile, forget."
     Baltar blinked, his eyes losing their tenuous hold on a clear image
of the man in the chair before him. He looked down at his own hands,
grasping for a thought, an idea, a tenuous hold on the remembrance of
something.
     "I...don't know you...do I?" Baltar glanced worriedly at the guards
in the corridor, then squinted at Roman, struggling once more to focus
his vision.
     "No," Roman rose to go, pushing the back of the small chair against
the bulkhead and placing a sympathetic hand on Baltar's shoulder, "But
perhaps you shall remember me later. I shall be back periodically to
check in on you."
     Baltar watched as Roman stepped through the hatchway, listening as
the medical officer's footfalls receded down the corridor. He then
scrambled back into a corner of the bed as the hatch closed and the
guards returned to their positions at either end of the short stretch of
unbroken corridor that defined the outer limits of the view from Baltar's
chamber. There was something about the young stranger that he knew was
significant, but he was unable to grasp all but one single scrap of
information that his clouded mind had managed to retain. One word.
     Baltar. My name is Baltar.


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.