Battlestar Galactica: War Of The Gods
                       Prologue
                    By: Eric Paddon

   "Silver Spar leader, this is core command.  All launch systems
transferred and you are clear to launch."
   As the canopy of Bojay's viper locked into place, he felt a
strange tingle of satisfaction go through him as he savored the
title that Rigel had addressed him by.  It almost seemed just
like old times again.
   "Affirmative core command, we're ready to lead Advance Probe
out."
   With that, he started up the controls and within seconds his
viper had roared off down the launch tube and into the starlit
blackness.  Three additional vipers that were attached to his new
squadron immediately followed.
   "Silver Spar group report," he commanded gently as he took his
viper into the lead position.  The affirming replies from
Lieutenant Jolly, Sergeant Cree and Cadet Danning were dutifully
prompt.
   "Okay," Bojay sounded thoroughly relaxed and injected a note
of dryness, "Since this marks the first official Advance Probe of
the Galactica's brand new Silver Spar Squadron, may I say that it
will be an honor to be leading all of you on the first of many
such long, tiresome probes."
   "When we get back, you should commemorate the event by buying
us all a round at the club, Bojay," Jolly chimed in.
   "You'll do anything for free food and drink, won't you Jolly?"
Bojay replied with good-natured dryness to the fat lieutenant's
quip, "I'll take that under advisement."
   For the next two centars, the four vipers continued on their
course far ahead of the trajectory that the Galactica and her
fleet of 220 ships presently lay on.  It was up to them to see if
there were any dangers to the last remnant of human civilization
that lay ahead of them, be they from their hated enemy the
Cylons, or anything else.
   With nothing to attract their attention, Bojay found himself
thinking how good it felt to be leading a group with the name of
Silver Spar Squadron again, just as he had done for more than
three yahrens aboard the Battlestar Pegasus.  The decision to
form a new Silver Spar group for the Galactica had been Adama's
idea.  The Commander had decided that a flyer of Bojay's
experience needed to command his own group, even if for now it
could only be four vipers.  But as soon as the Fleet developed
the capacity to build new vipers, that would change and Bojay
knew that in no more than a yahren's time from now, he'd be
leading a group almost as large as the one he'd led in his
Pegasus heyday.
   Since the Pegasus's disappearance a month ago, he'd idly
thought on many occasions about who'd taken his place and Sheba's
in the leadership of his old squadron.  He and Sheba had always
intimidated the rest of the Pegasus's flyers with their sheer
brilliance, and he wondered if any one of them would be up to
fulfilling the responsibilities of whatever Cain was doing now.
(Bojay could never let himself think for one micron that the
Pegasus was anything other than alive and well).  There'd been
Lieutenant Banker, Lieutenant Paris, Lieutenant Angus and
Lieutenant Skyler.  All of them competent flyers, but all of them
conditioned more for following orders than giving them.  Which
one would Cain have chosen?  Probably Skyler, he thought.  If the
choice had been left to Bojay, that's who he would have picked.
   Right now though, Bojay knew he couldn't think too much about
the past or the future.  As always, the Fleet had to live with
the constant reminder that they were a hunted people, and even
though nearly a month had passed since the last Cylon attack, the
time for feeling secure had by no means come yet.  And so, he
returned his attention to the scanner, looking for any sign that
the enemy's presence was somewhere nearby.
   As the scanner continued to show the blank reading they all
preferred it to show, Silver Spar Leader finally broke the
monotonous silence that had permeated for most of the last two
centars.
   "This is Flight Leader to Advance Probe.  I think everything
looks okay for the Fleet in this sector.  Let's start thinking
about a last wide sweep and then heading for home.  Copy?"
   "Loud and clear," Jolly said from his position that was off to
one side and slightly in back of where Bojay was flying the lead
position, "Making one final scanner sweep of----"
   And then, the words of Silver Spar group's deputy leader were
cut off as a shining white light, brighter than anything his eyes
had ever beheld in his life, suddenly streaked in front of his
cockpit, causing him to throw up his hands as a shield from the
glare.
   "Bojay!" he shouted.
   It had also passed in front of Silver Spar Leader's cockpit,
and also those of Cree and Danning.  They too, experienced a
similar reaction of abrupt surprise mixed with a slight edge of
alarm.
   "Captain, I'm seeing spots in front of my eyes," Cadet Danning
hastily rubbed his sockets to alleviate the pain, "I can't even
make anything out on the scanner."
   "What in the name of Kobol was that?" Cree blurted.
   "All right, all right, take it easy you guys," Bojay injected
a note of stern authority for the first time as he too, rubbed
his eyes to alleviate the sting the flash had caused, "Whatever
it was is gone now."
   "Nothing I've ever seen anything like before," Cree slowly
regained his bearings as a flashback to a time above an ice
planet called Arcta went through his mind, "If that's some kind
of new Cylon weapon, we're really in trouble."
   "Don't jump to conclusions, Cree," Bojay grew slightly more
stern, "If we're all okay, we'll just ease over in that direction
where it came from."
   "Maybe we'd better alert the fleet," the uneasiness lingered
in Jolly's voice.
   "There's plenty of time for that," Bojay retorted.  On his
first patrol as a Galactica squadron leader, the last thing he
was going to do was allow any kind of panic.
   Suddenly, another flash of light streak over the four Colonial
vipers, with the same intensity as the first one.
   "I not only saw that, I felt it," Jolly said with a slight
exclamation of pain.
   Before Silver Spar Leader could reply, he heard Danning's
nervous voice cut in again, "Captain, there's more of them!  Left
center!"
   Bojay's mouth fell open slightly in amazement as he saw a
whole column of the white round streaks of light come towards
them.
   He shook himself out of his brief stupor and quickly hit his
automatic distress beacon switch.  As determined as he was to not
panic hastily, he knew he had to take some basic precaution.  Now
was not the time to start acting with the reckless daring of his
former commander.
   "Whatever they are, they're coming right at us and fast,"
Jolly stressed the last word as heavily as he could.
   "Activate attack computers," the squadron leader's voice
regained some of its firm edge, "Stand by to intercept."
   As Jolly consulted his target readout, he shook his head in
further disbelief, "I'm not picking them up on my scanner.  Frack
Almighty, I'm not picking anything up."
   "Well they're there and they're not slowing down," an edge of
exasperation entered Bojay's tone, "Stay with them."
   "It looks more like they're staying with us, sir," Danning
jumped in.
   Another large cluster of the white objects then soared
directly toward them, passing over the heads of all four pilots.
   "Captain, I'm ready to take a shot at these things, whatever
they are," Cree spoke up.
   "Not yet, not yet," Bojay felt as if he were losing control of
them already, "Right now, we don't know whether it's hostile, or
if it's just some kind of harmless astral phenomenon.  Now all of
you, stay calm now!"
   Cree resisted the urge to speak-up that he knew from personal
experience that waiting too long to figure out whether it was
hostile or not, could make all the difference in survival.  He
only had to remember two cadets he'd trained with named Bo and
Shields to be reminded of that.
   "Good Lord, they're fast," Bojay looked over his shoulder as
another one zoomed overhead, "Anybody get a good look at them?"
   "No," Jolly said, "But I'll tell you this, whatever they're
flying can outrun us, and could probably outrun the Galactica's
top speed."
   "Let's get out of here," Cree wasn't going to hold himself
back any further, "We've got to warn the Fleet."
   "So far, we don't know if there's anything to warn them
about," Bojay again took a stern edge, "Now hold your positions
and your fire until we get a fix them on them.  I've already
activated the automatic distress beacon just as a precaution."
   "Wait, they're moving up behind us," the urgency in Jolly's
voice increased.
   Again, Bojay looked back.  This time, the cluster came from
behind and streaked right past them.
   "Whoever it is, doesn't seem too interested in us, or else it
would have probably blown us out of the stars by now," the fat
lieutenant continued, "Let's turn around and get out of here."
   As Bojay saw the clusters move away from them, he decided that
this was not the time to be getting too inquisitive about
whatever these things were.
   "Jolly, you speak the wisdom of the Lords.  Okay warriors,
let's turn around and----"
   Before Bojay could finish, something caught his attention from
behind in the corner of his eye.  He looked back and this time,
his mouth fell open in a level of shock far greater than anything
he'd ever experienced in more than ten yahrens of service as a
warrior.
   "Captain?" a note of fear had crept into Danning's voice,
"Captain?"
   Bojay was still too frozen with shock to reply.  Coming up
behind them was a mammoth white ship, bigger than anything his
eyes had ever beheld in his life.  Much bigger than any
battlestar or Cylon baseship that had ever been constructed.
   "Bojay, what in Hades is that?" Jolly's panicked voice filled
his helmet.
   "I see it," he barely managed to get his words out, "Holy
Frack, I have no idea."
   "Captain, my instruments are gone.  I can't read a thing,"
Danning was finding it impossible to hold back the terror he now
felt as he looked at his directional gauge and saw it acting in a
manner he hadn't even seen in his training days
   "Mine are spinning like crazy," Jolly's glance alternated
between his malfunctioning gauge and the sight of what lay behind
them, as a new element that added to the tension was suddenly
injected.  A loud, high-pitched hum, steadily rising in
intensity, "What's that noise...I can't stand it..."
   "Sir, what do we do?" Cree had placed a hand on his helmet as
he felt the intensity of the noise increase inside his cockpit.
   "Divide and run!" Bojay shook his head and tried to get some
of his bearings back, "A four point peel-off on three!"
   "Bojay, I've lost power on all my turbos.  I'm losing speed!"
Jolly shouted as the increased roar of the sound forced him to
raise his voice.
   "I can't do a thing, Captain," Danning felt the pressure
increase on his head and felt as though it was about to explode.
   "No good," both of Cree's hands were clutching his helmet,
"Can't stand the sound."
   Bojay took another look at the ship that now dwarfed his field
of vision.  What was this thing?  What did it mean?
   Before he could think about that any further, the pressure of
the noise finally took its toll.  Silver Spar Leader's eyes
rolled slightly, and he slumped back in his seat as
unconsciousness finally overtook him.

                     Chapter One

   On the lowermost level of the Rising Star, a crowd of more
than 500 exuberant spectators had crammed the galleries
overlooking the triad court below.  Beneath them, they were
witnessing the most intense athletic competition that any of
those present could remember seeing since before the Holocaust.
A tight, even, furious match between the Gold Team of Apollo and
Starbuck, against the Blue Team of Boomer and Sergeant Castor.
On eight previous occasions, these two teams had faced-off and
the results had always been fairly easy victories for the Gold
Team.  But on this occasion, the outcome was less certain than it
had been before.  For the first time, Boomer and Castor were on
the verge of defeating the Gold Team.  They had just scored to
take a 14-13 lead with barely a full centon remaining in the
final period.
   "This is it," Boomer muttered under his breath as the four
players gathered together in the circle formation at the center
of the court to wait for the triad ball to drop into play again,
"Get control of this, and it's finally it."
   Ever since the Galactica warriors had begun playing organized
triad matches several sectars ago, Boomer had felt a sense of
frustration inside over never being able to beat Apollo and
Starbuck.  As much as he loved them as the two best friends he'd
ever known, he had always secretly wished that there could be
just one thing in life that he could say he excelled at better
than them.  Long ago, he had resigned himself to the knowledge
that as warriors they were the best, and that he would have to
content himself with being in their shadow.  But Boomer had
always taken pride in his skill as a triad player ever since he'd
first played the game on the backstreets of Caprica City, and
long believed that there were few who'd mastered the game better
than him.  Losing to Apollo and Starbuck once had been ego-
bruising enough for Boomer.  Losing to them again and again, and
seeing them emerge as the team the fans regarded as the best, was
almost aggravating beyond belief for Boomer's psyche.  It had now
reached the point where beating them just once would be enough
for him.
   The four players clasped hands and began dancing around the
center of the court in their circle formation again as the rubber
triad ball dropped from the ceiling into the space between them.
It caromed off the right side wall, leaving it open for either
Starbuck or Castor.
   As Boomer and Apollo moved back toward the other side into the
rebound positions, the dark-skinned warrior felt his heart rise
with excitement when he saw his muscular partner get to it first.
As soon as his hands were on the ball, Castor spun around and
then launched it toward the corner where Boomer was in perfect
position to receive it on the first bounce off the wall.
   His hands clasped the ball and he felt the surge of excitement
inside him increase.  If he made this shot and scored another
point for his team, that would put it out of reach.  There'd be
no time left for Apollo and Starbuck to win.  He'd finally beat
them for the first time.
   The opening of the scoring circle loomed like an inviting
beacon, waiting for him to put his shot through for the score
that would clinch the victory.  He decided that he would make
that score emphatically, for the benefit of everyone who'd come
to watch expecting to see another triumph for Apollo and
Starbuck.
   Boomer began to move on a run around Apollo's blocking
motions, determined to leap high and slam the ball right into the
opening with authority.  It was a movement he'd patented to
perfection as a child, and had earned him awed admiration from
all of his childhood friends.  Now the people watching would
learn just who the real triad player was!
   Boomer's timing was perfect.  His jump was right on the mark.
His outstretched arm with the ball clasped in his hand rose high
into the air toward the opening until it was perfectly aligned
with it.  And then, as his body started to come back down, his
arm began the sweeping downward motion to the opening and
released the ball.
   But instead of going in, the ball grazed the side of the
opening, which was just enough to cause it bounce all the way
back out to the center of the court.
   What the frack?  Boomer was so stunned that the ball had not
gone in, that he hesitated for a brief instant in getting back to
his feet after he'd come down on the floor.  That couldn't have
missed.  It couldn't have.
   The miss, and Boomer's hesitation in getting back into the
play gave new life for the Gold Team.  Starbuck fielded the ball
after it had ricocheted out and got off a perfect sweeping carom
bounce to Apollo, who was all alone in perfect position thanks to
Boomer's brief delay.  As a result, Apollo had a clean shot at
the opening, which because of his positioning was worth two
points, instead of one.
   Just as Boomer thrust himself into a blocking motion, Apollo
got off his shot.  It landed in the center of the opening,
resulting in two points, and a 15-14 Gold lead just as the buzzer
sounded indicating that time had expired.
   Apollo and Starbuck had won again.  The two victors threw
their arms up in the air in a sign of triumph, and acknowledged
the frenzied cheers of the crowd.  Starbuck was still pumping his
fists in the air with excitement as he and Apollo exited the
court first.
   Boomer was still in a state of near-shock when he felt a tap
on the shoulder from his partner.
   "Come on Boomer," Castor said dejectedly, "Let's get moving.
   The dark-skinned warrior felt as if he were in the middle of a
bad dream as he finally walked off at a slow pace.  When they
emerged in the corridor outside, they could see Apollo talking
with a jubilant Sheba.  Starbuck was further down, slightly
obscured by the guards that had gathered there to keep the
throngs of spectators from getting in.
   "I'm heading for the turbowash, Boomer," Castor said as he
started to make a beeline for the corridor that led in the other
direction.  The burly Colonial Security Guard wasn't in the mood
to talk to either of his opponents at that moment, "Talk to you
later."
   "Yeah," Boomer mumbled as he stumbled forward, just in time to
hear the end of Apollo's conversation with Sheba.
   "I don't know if I'd go so far as to say you were incredible,"
Sheba was saying as she smiled and patted Apollo on the back,
"But I might be able to grant that you were reasonably proficient
and buy you a drink."
   "How generous of you," Apollo chuckled, "You've got a deal.
I'll meet you in the Officers Club on the Galactica later."
   "Just be sure you wash down thoroughly," Sheba threw him a coy
glance as she turned away just in time to see Boomer approaching.
She patted him on the back in consolation before she headed back
toward the spectators tunnel.
   She had only moved ten feet toward the exit when she saw a
grim-faced Colonel Tigh approaching.  She promptly stopped in her
tracks as she realized that the Galactica's executive officer was
not coming to simply congratulate the winners and console the
losers.  This could only mean something serious.
   "Nice game, Boomer," Apollo put his arm around his friend, as
Starbuck moved back toward the both of them.
   "Nice game, yeah," Boomer was all smiles outward, but he
didn't bother concealing the frustration he felt, "Just once I'd
like to beat you two."
   "Well I'm sure there's something you're better at," Starbuck
needled, "Anyway, what'd you expect from a natural-born athlete?"
   Boomer gave his friend a good-natured rap in the stomach with
his headgear, "Natural-born athlete my ass," he managed to grin,
"It wasn't even your shot that won the game.  Just for that,
you're buying."
   "I'm afraid nobody's buying."
   The three warriors turned around and saw Colonel Tigh emerge
from behind with a concerned Sheba trailing him.
   "Emergency meeting on the Galactica, immediately." the
executive officer was blunt.
   Starbuck let out a groan, "For sagan's sake Colonel, we just
ran ourselves ragged in this game.  And I need a drink."
   "You'll need one even more when you find out what's happened,"
Tigh said, "Don't waste a micron in the turbowash.  I've had the
Canaris personally commandeered to rush all of you back."
   "Well, Colonel could you at least give us a little preview?"
Starbuck demanded.
   "Later," Tigh said curtly as he turned and disappeared back
down the tunnel.  Leaving Apollo, Starbuck, Boomer and Sheba
alone to ponder what this could possibly mean.


   Thirty centons later, the four warriors were on the upper deck
of the Galactica's bridge, staring intently at the giant
Navigation Board that Adama stood in front of.  From the micron
Tigh had explained the situation to them on the shuttle trip back
from the Rising Star, the mood on each of their faces had been
downcast.
   "They disappeared here in this sector," Adama said as he moved
his hand across the lower left-side of the board and moved back
to the other side of the railing.
   "And there's been no transmissions of any kind?" Apollo asked.
   "We received one automatic distress signal from Bojay's viper
just before it happened," Tigh said as he kept his hands clamped
on the rail of the topmost level, next to Omega's console.
   "Since then, nothing," Adama finished, "The four of them have
simply vanished."
   Apollo took a brief glance back at the board, "What kind of
land mass is indicated in the area?" he asked with a nervous
edge, "Planets?  Asteroids?  Anything at all they could have
landed on?"
   "I don't know," Adama confessed as he shook his head slightly
and tugged at his left ear, "But our seismic readings indicate
that something has happened there within a time-frame that could
have a bearing on our missing ships."
   "Huh?" Starbuck frowned, "I think you just lost me, Commander.
What's the connection?"
   "We don't know if it is a connection," Adama said, "All we
know is that there are readings of some kind of massive space
explosion or disruption of some kind that happened relatively
recently in or near this same sectar.  We're still too far out
though, to tell if the disruption took place before or after they
disappeared."
   "Then just about anything could have happened to them," Boomer
said glumly, and then stopped short of rattling off a list of
potential possibilities.
   "Yes," the commander nodded.
   At that point, Sheba, who'd been quietly standing off to one
side with a stiff-lipped expression, finally spoke up,
"Commander," her voice cracked slightly, "Bojay's like my family
to me.  He's all that I've got left from...." and then she
trailed off, unable to go any further.
   "I know," Adama said in understanding as he touched her arm,
"I know.  Get your gear and report to the launch bay."
   "Thank you, sir," she smiled weakly and then walked off the
bridge at a determined pace.  Apollo watched her leave and then
slowly made his way over to his father.
   "Father," he said quietly, "Maybe sending her is a mistake."
   "Oh?" Adama glanced at him, noting that there was a strange,
protective note in his son's voice.  It took him a micron to
realize that the last time he'd heard that kind of tone had been
almost a yahren ago, when Apollo had asked him not to send out a
squadron of inexperienced pilots on a mission that had included
Serina.
   "There's been no trace of her father or the Pegasus since they
disappeared a sectar ago," Apollo went on, "And now losing
Bojay..."
   Starbuck moved in to join the conversation and shook his head,
"Look, if emotion's a factor in finding those four pilots, we're
all equally motivated.  Jolly's like a kinsman to me.  And after
what happened at Arcta, I also feel responsible for anything that
happens to Cree."
   "Well, then I guess we've got the right team for the job
then," Apollo decided to admit the obvious.
   "And you can count me in, too," Boomer added.
   "Wait a micron," Adama held up a hand, "Boomer, you have to
stay because I need at least one senior pilot on standby in case
this turns out to be a Cylon ambush of some kind.  For now, I'm
going to just let the three of you do it."
   "Very well sir," Boomer said, feeling that his ego had just
taken another bruising, "I'll have the other squadron pilots come
down to Operations for a full briefing and let them know how
things stand for now."
   "Do that," Adama nodded, "It's best we not keep any of them in
the dark."
   As Boomer left the bridge, the commander turned back to his
son, "Don't take any chances," he said firmly, "If they're not on
any of the planets in the area--"
   "I know," Apollo quietly interrupted, "They wouldn't have fuel
enough to be in continuous flight since they left.  If we don't
find them, we come right back."
   "All right," Adama nodded, "Good luck."
   No sooner had Apollo and Starbuck both left, when Tigh came
down from the topmost level.
   "Commander," he said, "That seismic report.  I don't like the
implications of it.  It was much too sudden and abortive.  It
doesn't fit the profile for anything natural.  If it's an
explosion, it...well it would have to be something else.  And if
I were to make a preliminary guess, I'd say that something
massive crashed with full force into one of the planets in that
sector."
   Adama frowned slightly, "Well if there's a connection with
Silver Spar's disappearance, it wouldn't figure that four ships
would just crash simultaneously?"
   "That's true," Tigh nodded, "And at any rate, that wouldn't
begin to account for the level of this kind of reading.  But
there's the possibility that they could have been on the ground
when whatever it was hit."
   "I suppose anything is possible," Adama turned back to the
board, "Hopefully we should know soon enough."


   For the first thirty centons after the three vipers left the
Galactica, there was a large measure of tension-filled silence.
Each of the warrior's had so much of a personal interest in the
outcome of what they would discover on this mission that none of
them felt in the mood for the normal kind of cockpit small-talk
they would have engaged in.
   With Starbuck, he kept thinking how ironic it was that once
again, he was on a mission to find out what had happened to Cree,
and if he was still alive, just as he'd done at Arcta nearly a
yahren ago, when Starbuck had been on the verge of sacrificing
the good of the mission so he could get a chance to rescue the
young cadet from a Cylon prison cell.  In the time since, he'd
been pleased to see Cree mature considerably as a warrior to the
point where he'd been promoted to sergeant and he wasn't about to
accept the prospect that this time, the young warrior's career
had come to a permanent end.
   He also found himself thinking of Jolly.  He might have
regarded Apollo and Boomer as the two warriors he was personally
closest to, but Jolly was the only one he'd known since his
childhood.  He and Jolly shared the bond of being victims of the
Umbra disaster, more than twenty yahrens ago when a surprise
Cylon attack had totally levelled and destroyed Caprica's fifth
largest city and left hundreds of young children orphaned,
including Starbuck and Jolly.  The two had first met in the
orphanage for Umbra Victims, and when their paths had crossed
again many yahrens later at the Colonial Military Academy,
Starbuck's memory of the fat child from the orphanage he'd
enjoyed playing games with, remained strong enough for him to
make Jolly one of the few people in his inner circle of friends.
   Jolly had told him at the Academy that he'd been able to track
down his real family over time.  Starbuck always envied his
friend for that.  So many victims of the Umbra disaster had been
too young to remember their families, and never know for certain
if their parents had survived the disaster or not.  Starbuck fell
into that unfortunate category.  In all the yahrens since, he'd
never gotten any closer to knowing who his real parents had been,
thus making him a man without a past or heritage.  It was the one
part of his life that he would have gladly traded in an instant.
   "We're approaching Epsilon seven quadrant," Apollo suddenly
broke the silence, "Indications are of one planet only in the
system.  If they had to make a landing, this is the only place
they could have ended up.  ETA to scanning range in one centon."
   Starbuck slowly returned to his awareness of the blackness of
space surrounding him.  He shook his head and seemed to shudder
slightly.
   "You know," he said, "I don't why, but this part of space
makes me nervous for some reason."
   "That's because since we left Gomorrah behind us, we've
reached a point of space that was never mapped by Colonial star
navigation," Apollo said, "From this point on, every star system,
every planet we come across has no name in Colonial records.
It's all virgin territory for us until we find Earth."
   "Kind of makes the whole enormity of the journey more
apparent," Starbuck grunted.
   "There it is," Sheba quietly spoke up, "Planet dead ahead."
   They could see the reddish-gray planet looming up ahead of
them in their field of vision, growing steadily bigger and
bigger.
   "Activating scanners," Apollo sucked in his breath as he hit
the switch on his main console.
   In a matter of microns, the important data was flashing on his
tiny monitor in bold, block letters: NO LIFE FORMS.
   "No life forms," he repeated dejectedly.
   "I wonder why?" for the first time since they'd left, Sheba's
professional instincts seemed to kick in, "The atmospheric
conditions seem right.  There's no reason why the planet should
be devoid of life."
   "I doubt that any explorers or travelers from the colonies
ever made it out this far," Apollo said, "Not unless they had a
visitor leaving Gomorrah who's ship went a hundred-eighty-degrees
in the wrong direction.  This whole area of space is on the
outermost periphery of what we considered the Delphians
territorial domain, even though they never bothered to explore it
for themselves.  That's why we don't have any records starting
with here."
   "You're forgetting something," Sheba said, "Finding no trace
of any kind of human life doesn't bode well for the direction the
Fleet is travelling in to find the lost thirteenth tribe.  If
they really did traverse across the stars to this planet called
Earth, then there have to be some inevitable signs of human life
somewhere along the way that have no connections to the colonies
at all."
   Apollo craned his head toward her viper in half-amusement.  In
only a sectar's time since she'd been thrust into the new
experience of life aboard the Galactica, Sheba had gone out of
her way to learn as much as she possibly could about the saga of
the thirteenth tribe.  On all the occasions he'd spoken with her
since, he was amazed at how she'd embraced the belief in Earth's
existence with as much fervor as his father pursued it with.
   But then again, he mused further, since being parted from the
man who'd been the center of her life, Sheba had been in
desperate need of having something to believe in, in order for
her life to have any new kind of meaning.  Embracing the belief
in Earth as a hope for humanity was the least she could have done
under the circumstances.
   There I go again analyzing her, Apollo suddenly chided
himself.  Why in the name of Kobol do I keep doing that?  It
seems like ever since she came here I've been doing nothing but
wanting to probe her feelings on everything.  What is it about
her that makes me want to do that so much?
   Before he allowed his mind to ponder that question, he
abruptly, deliberately, shut his mind off from those thoughts and
returned to the matter at hand.
   "One problem at a time, Sheba," he said, "Our first concern is
finding traces of Silver Spar patrol.  Let's head on in for a
first look."
   The three vipers then descended into the atmosphere of the
planet.  As soon as the cloud cover dissipated around them, they
were greeted to a strange sight in the sky around them and the
landscape beneath them.
   "Apollo, Starbuck.  Look at the color of the vegetation,"
Sheba said in amazement, "It's all red."
   "Yeah," the same tone was in Apollo's voice, "I've never seen
anything like this before.  Try to find a place to set down and
we'll do some investigating on foot."
   "Hey just over that rise ahead," Starbuck quickly interjected
with a note of excitement, "Look at that."
   As the vipers streaked over the landscape, they were surprised
to first see the sky around them return to a normal color, and
then beneath them, a blackened scarred gully filled with massive
pieces of some kind of wreckage that Apollo didn't recognize.
   "Looks like something big hit this area," the flight leader
said, "So big it destroyed and burned out all the vegetation.
That's why the sky's now a normal color again."
   "I see the wreckage, left-of center," Starbuck said, "Whatever
it was, it's huge."
   "Let's go in," a determined edge entered Apollo's voice as the
three of them brought their vipers back into the red areas beyond
the gully where an open field came in to view.  Less than a
centon later, the three of them were on the ground.
   Sheba was the first to get out of her viper, and she sprinted
across the field to where Apollo and Starbuck had just gotten out
of theirs.  The red glow of the sky cast its strange tint not
only on the surroundings, but on each other as well.
   "This is the strangest light I've ever seen," Apollo shook his
head in disbelief at what seemed like something out of an old
fairy-tale story to him.
   "You two should see yourselves," Starbuck grinned at Apollo
and Sheba, "You both look like a bad contrast picture on a
hovermobile license come to life."
   "So do you Starbuck," Sheba smirked back at him, "And in your
case, you never looked better."
   The brash warrior chuckled as he realized that he'd been
topped.  After the way she had so expertly cut him down to size
when he'd made his subtle proposition attempt before the Gomorrah
commando mission, he realized he should have known better.
   "Well at least the atmosphere readings check out," Apollo's
eyes wandered about the field and the nearby forests,
"Comfortable to breathe in every sense."
   "And yet everything's so eerie," the smirk faded from Sheba's
expression as she stopped to take in the surroundings.
   "But alive," Starbuck tried to reassert an optimistic note.
   "The wreckage is about five hundred metrones that way," Apollo
pointed to an area where the red glow's dissipation became
apparent, "Let's check it out."
   Several centons later, they had emerged in the more reassuring
glow of a normal-tinged sky.  But once they looked beneath them
at what lay in the gully far below, that reassurance promptly
vanished.
   "Would you look at the size of that crater," Apollo said in
near-awe, "Whatever hit this place must have been as big as a
battlestar."
   "And that," Starbuck pointed, "looks like the remains of a
very big ship."
   They stared at the twisted, blackened remains of the massive
craft beneath them, trying to see if it registered any sense of
familiarity with them.
   "About the only reassuring thing I can say, is that that's
obviously not a viper, let alone four of them," Apollo said.
   "I wonder," Starbuck mused, "Are there any records of
battlestars disappearing without a trace since the war began?"
   "Yes," Sheba said as she looked at the wreckage with the same
transfixed amazement, "The Battlestar Callisto disappeared five
hundred yahrens ago with no explanation while on a deep space
intelligence probe, but as big as that thing is, that doesn't
resemble a battlestar or anything Colonial in the least."
   "Let's get a closer look," Apollo said as they started down
the sloping hillside.
   They had only gone twenty feet, when the three of them were
suddenly startled by a sound from behind them.
   "I wouldn't go down there."
   The three warriors all grabbed for their laser pistols as they
spun around and saw something that none of them had expected to
see.  The sight of a man standing at the top of the ridge.
   "Where did he come from?" Sheba whispered in bafflement, "The
scanners said no life forms."
   The man seemed to be slightly middle-aged in appearance, but
for the most part seemed quite handsome.  He was of average
height, with dark brown hair swept back and piercing dark eyes.
His clothes though, were what gave him an almost regal aura.  He
was garbed in elegant white robes from collar to foot and seemed
like someone who belonged more in a royal chamber, than amidst
the emptiness of a deserted planet.
   Despite the man's warning, he made no initial move toward
them, and remained standing on the ridge.  "It's not safe down
there," he spoke again.
   And then, as the three warriors watched in total incredulity,
he slowly made his way down the slope to where the three warriors
were standing.  By the time he reached to within five feet of
them, he added, "The radon levels are extremely high."
   Starbuck was the only one who still had his pistol out, and he
kept it cautiously trained on him, "Where did you come from?" he
demanded.
   "Where did you come from?" the man smiled back with a gentle
retort, "I was here on this planet long before you, I would
think."
   "We mean you no harm," Apollo said, adopting a diplomatic
tone, "You're obviously human.  Do you need our help?"
   "Well I think it's more likely that I can help you," the man
said.
   "How?" Starbuck refused to lower his pistol, "Are there others
like you?"
   The man's face suddenly took on a grave expression, "Not
here."
   Apollo quietly motioned Starbuck to lower his pistol.  As his
friend put it back in his holster, Sheba cautiously spoke for the
first time since they'd seen him, "Was that a ship?" she pointed
sown to the gully without taking her eyes off the stranger.
   The man's eyes gazed down and the grave aura of his expression
only increased, "Yes, it was.  It was destroyed."
   "By whom?" Apollo asked.
   "The Great Powers," he said simply, and then left it at that.
   "You mean the Cylon Empire?" Sheba gently prodded.
   "No," he replied flatly, and once again refused to go further.
   Despite putting his pistol away, Starbuck refused to be as
diplomatic in his tone, "And just who are these 'Powers' as you
call them?"
   "It's not easy to explain," the man was once again cryptic.
He then cast a glance at the wreckage in the distance, "Would you
mind if we moved from here?  I don't want to be reminded of what
happened to my people."
   Even before he had finished though, the man had already
started to move off back up the slop toward the path that led
back to the top of the ridge.
   Cautiously, the three warriors began to follow him.  Apollo
pulled out the portable scanner from his belt pack and quickly
activated it.  As he trained it on the man ahead, he frowned in
disbelief, "Something's wrong with my scanner.  I can't get any
reading."
   The man suddenly stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around,
"That scanner won't be of much use to you.  As I said, the radon
levels are enormous."
   He resumed walking, and again the three Galactica warriors
followed, leaving the massive wreckage of the ship behind them
alone and forgotten for now.


   They moved back into the reddish tinted area, and for a brief
micron Apollo felt a sense of unease go through him when he saw
the mysterious man bathed in the red glow.  He couldn't quite put
his finger on it, but the sight alone seemed like a warning flag
that he should take heed of.
   He watched as the man came to a stop in front of a small pond
on the other side of the meadow where the three vipers were
parked.  His shoulders seemed to sag in weariness, causing Sheba
to come over to him and offer an arm in support.
   "I don't understand it," Starbuck mused quietly to Apollo,
"Who is this guy?"
   Apollo didn't respond immediately.  His attention was still on
the man, and on Sheba.
   "Apollo?" Starbuck gently nudged him.
   "Sorry," Apollo shook his head, "I was just thinking."
   "And?"
   His friend took a breath, "I don't know.  I've got a very
strange feeling about him."
   "That makes two of us," the brash lieutenant grunted.
   "I don't understand how he could survive that crash without a
mark on him."
   "Especially if that ship crashing is the tie-in to what the
Commander was telling us about the massive seismic disturbance
the Galactica's scanners picked up," Starbuck noted.
   "And is there a connection with Silver Spar Squadron's
disappearance?" Apollo added, "I think I'd better do some
delicate probing of him."
   The two of them made their way over to the edge of the pond.
   "I'm very weary," the man was saying to Sheba, "I'm drained of
energy."
   "We have some emergency rations with us," Sheba's tone was
gentle and friendly, as she continued to hold him up by the arm,
"We'll be happy to share them with you."
   The stranger turned and smiled warmly at her, "You're very
kind," his voice matched the grateful benevolence of his smile,
"It's not food I require."
   "Look," Apollo entered the conversation, keeping his tone
cautious and diplomatic, "Mister, ah...."
   "My apologies," the man turned to Apollo and bowed slightly,
"My name is Count Iblis."
   "Count Iblis," Apollo said, "How did you survive the crash?"
   A blank frown came over the face of Count Iblis, "I honestly
don't know," he sounded apologetic, "That might seem difficult to
explain, but I simply can't recall."
   "You spoke of your people," Starbuck said, "Were there people
on that ship?"
   "Yes," Count Iblis admitted, "They are now gone from this
dimension.  Gone to other things," his voice trailed off as he
turned away and looked off into the distance.
   Before any of the warriors could say anything else, he
abruptly turned around and started to cautiously pace in front of
them, "But what about you?  You must have people.  Will you be
returning to them soon?"
   "Yes," Apollo nodded.
   The caution suddenly faded from Iblis's face and was replaced
by an expression of politeness, "I wonder if I might accompany
you?"
   "We'd have to know a little more about you," Apollo said, as
he tried to be firm without being antagonistic, "Where do you
come from?"
   "You do not know my people," Iblis walked several steps away
from them, "They are not of your world."
   Starbuck moved toward him, "Yes, but if they are human, maybe
there's some connection.  Maybe, ah---"
   "Maybe I can help you with your quest," Iblis unexpectedly
interrupted.
   "Oh?" Apollo raised an eyebrow, "What quest was that?"
   "Whatever it is you're looking for," Iblis said simply and
then looked off into the distance, "My knowledge of the universe
is infinite.  If you desire my help, I think we had best be going
immediately."
   And then, the mysterious man in white walked off in the
direction of the three vipers.
   "Well," Apollo said aloud to Sheba and Starbuck, "What's your
preliminary assessment?"
   "Hard to say," Starbuck said, "Likable.  But a bit on the
loony side, if you ask me."
   "I just wish I knew where the frack he came from," Apollo kept
his eye on Iblis's retreating form.
   "You keep asking that," Sheba seemed amazed by the level of
suspicion in his voice, "What does it matter?"
   Apollo looked back at her, equally amazed by her lack of
suspicion, "It should matter a lot, Sheba.  Especially since he's
here for no apparent reason, and we're still left with an
unanswered question about what happened to our missing pilots."
   "I don't even think you bothered to put the question to him,"
she retorted mildly, "Not that he'd probably know a thing about
it anyway.  At least we know he's human.  And he's all alone."
   "Sheba, why are you suddenly so protective of him?" Apollo's
amazement deepened, "So far, he's been nothing but evasive with
us."
   "He's probably just confused and disoriented," she held her
ground, "I think he's in shock from the explosion."
   "That makes sense," Starbuck conceded, "If he ejected from
that ship, the fall may have hurt him."
   "No," Apollo shook his head, "He doesn't look any too tattered
to me.  Robes all neatly immaculate, not a hair out of place.
There has to be more to it than that."
   "Well we just can't leave him behind," Starbuck said.
   "There's always the possibility he could be some kind of spy,"
Apollo suggested, "Someone who was planted here and knew we'd be
coming.  Done after whatever it was that caused Bojay and the
others to disappear."
   As soon as he mentioned the name of her only friend left from
the Pegasus, Sheba looked back at where Iblis was standing, as
though she were inwardly reproaching herself for not being
cautious enough.
   "Apollo, he's only one man," Starbuck pointed out, "If we keep
our guard up, I just don't see what he can do."
   Apollo cast another glance at the mysterious Count Iblis and
finally nodded, "All right.  But first let's make sure he's not
carrying any kind of homing device."
   "Good idea," Sheba said, her voice more cautious than it had
been before, "If this is one of Baltar's little tricks, maybe
it'll backfire."
   "Starbuck, get yourself into orbit and radio the Galactica
that we need a shuttle.  And see if there's any further word from
Silver Spar.  If we're lucky, maybe they've turned up while we've
been away."
   "Right," Starbuck nodded and headed off to where his viper was
parked.  At the same time, Apollo and Sheba went over to the
other side of the meadow where Iblis remained transfixed, looking
up at the sky from time to time.
   They reached the mysterious man just as Starbuck's viper
powered up and took off into the atmosphere to begin its return
trip.
   "We've decided to take you with us," Apollo said.
   "Good," Iblis smiled and then moved off into the center of the
meadow.
   Apollo gave Sheba a sarcastic glance, "Overwhelmed, isn't he?"
   "Apollo," she gently chided, "That's enough.  We've taken all
the precautions we need to for now.  Let's not make things
difficult."
   Apollo kept looking at her for a long micron as though he
wanted to say something else.  But before he could do that, Sheba
had moved off in Iblis's direction.
   As soon as they came to where Iblis was, Apollo and Sheba were
both startled by an entirely new sight.  The sight of mysterious
flashes of white light racing through the sky at tremendous
speed.  They streaked overhead with incredible intensity, and
seemed to give off an ear-piercing sound that both warriors found
deafening.  Apollo and Sheba's hands shot up to their ears in a
vain attempt to block the noise out, but it had little effect.
They both staggered and seemed ready to collapse.
   Yet throughout it all, Iblis remained perfectly erect and
didn't even flinch in response to the sound.  Yet his expression
for the first time appeared to grow slightly angry, and seemed to
border on defiance.
   "What is it?" Sheba moaned in near agony from the noise,
"What's happening?"
   As soon as she'd finished, the noise level slackened off and
the lights began to fade from view.
   "I don't know," Apollo took his hands down and looked at Count
Iblis in amazement, "But it didn't even faze him."
   "We'd better hurry," Iblis spoke up, still looking
suspiciously at the now empty sky, "They're coming back.  They're
looking for me."
   "Looking for you, Count Iblis?" Apollo took a step toward him,
"What are you talking about?  How can some lights in the sky be
looking for you?"
   Iblis turned back and the warm smile returned to his face, "Ah
forgive me.  The lonely dreariness of this place has affected me
too much.  May I say once again how appreciative I am of your
kind offer to take me back to your people."
   "You're most welcome," Apollo straightened his jacket as he
shook off the rest of the unnerving noise's effect from his head,
"Lieutenant Starbuck is signalling our ship to send over a
shuttlecraft that will take you back to our ship.  It should be
here in a matter of time."
   "Thank you," he bowed slightly, "And it occurs to me that I
don't have the pleasure of knowing either of your names."
   "I'm Lieutenant Sheba, and this is Captain Apollo," Sheba
stepped forward and returned the smile, "We're from a ship called
the Battlestar Galactica."
   Iblis looked them over for a brief instant and then slowly
nodded his head.
   "Ah yes," he smiled again, "I have a feeling that I will long
remember both of your names.  Not simply for the kindness you've
shown me today."
   He moved away from them toward their vipers and seemed to cast
an admiring glance at the machinery.
   Apollo shook his head in amazement, "He must be as mad as a
Skorpian hermit."
   Sheba suddenly threw him a disapproving glance, "For sagan's
sake Apollo, do you have to be so rude?"
   "I'm not being rude," he kept his attention on Iblis, "That's
just the way he seems to me.  If he isn't a prime candidate for
the Nuthouse, he's holding something back."
   "Is your first instinct always to be so hostile to people you
don't completely understand?" she retorted in a cold tone that
caused Apollo to look at her.
   "What do you mean by that?" he asked gently.
   She drew herself up and defiantly shook her head, "Nothing,"
she said, "Never mind."
   "No come on," he took her by the arm, "I want to know what you
meant by that, Sheba."
   Sheba took a breath, "All right.  I'm reminded of how you were
ready to think that my father was a madman just because he
pursued a different line of strategic thinking from the one you
preferred."
   Apollo rolled his eyes in disgust, "Oh for the love
of....Sheba, are you trying to tell me that after a whole sectar
of trying to...." he broke off and suddenly walked away, too
angry and hurt to say anything else.
   It only took a micron for Sheba to catch up with him, "Apollo
wait," she took him by the shoulder, "Apollo, I'm sorry.  I
didn't mean...."
   He turned around and calmly exhaled, "Okay," he said gently,
"Okay, let's forget that whole thing.  Let's both agree for now
to just be on our guard about this Count Iblis person and jump to
no more conclusions until the facts warrant it."
   "Agreed," Sheba nodded and extended her hand, "Truce?"
   He smiled and took it, "Truce."
   They came up to Count Iblis, and when Apollo spoke, his tone
was more polite than it had been at any other point.
   "Count Iblis, there's one question I neglected to ask you.
Have you seen any other people like us, or any ships like ours
before or after you came to be here?"
   "Other Colonial warriors?" Iblis thoughtfully mused, "No, I
can't say that I have.  I certainly don't think I'd be in this
lonely predicament of mine if I had seen anyone else."
   Apollo didn't bat an eyelash or lessen the politeness of his
tone, "Excuse me Count Iblis, but do you mean you know what kind
of people we are?  I don't think I mentioned the term Colonial
warriors."
   The stranger broke into a disarming smile, "Yes, I understand
what you mean, Captain.  But I do know of your people.  After
all, as I said, my knowledge of the universe is infinite.
Including the knowledge of your people, and of your quest."
   "And you say you can help us in that?" Apollo folded his arms.
   "Perhaps." he turned away from them, "I feel so fatigued from
my ordeal.  I hope it would not be asking too much if these
questions which I know are legitimate ones, could wait until I am
aboard your ship and have had a chance to recover myself more."
   "That's perfectly all right," Apollo said, "We'll let things
go until then."
   As Iblis moved off again back toward the middle of the meadow,
Apollo shot a glance at Sheba and felt a tinge of unease at the
look of fascination on her face, as she kept her eyes trained on
the stranger.
   He found himself dearly hoping that it didn't mean anything
significant.

                 Chapter Two

   The shuttle arrived twenty centons later and came to a stop in
the middle of the meadow.  Iblis wasted little time in boarding
it.  As soon as it was away, Apollo and Sheba took off in their
vipers, and as soon as they reached escape velocity from the
planet, rendezvoused with Starbuck's viper, which had been
staying in a holding pattern during the entire time.  The three
fighters then assumed a protective flank around the shuttle to
begin escorting it back to the Galactica.
   "Mackin?" Apollo radioed the shuttle pilot, "How's our guest
acting?"
   The voice of the young female shuttle pilot came back through
his headset, "He's acting perfectly normal Captain.  Just sitting
in the back relaxing.  He hasn't said a word since he said hello
to me, but he does seem grateful that he's off that rock."
   "Okay thanks.  Let me know if he says anything, or if
something funny happens."
   "Are you expecting something to happen, sir?" Mackin inquired.
   "I'm not sure, Mackin," Apollo said, "I'm not sure."
   The flight leader then switched frequencies, "Starbuck, did
you get any word from the Galactica on Silver Spar group?"
   "The word was that there's no word, Apollo," Starbuck sounded
dejected, "I hate to say this, but barring a miracle, I don't
know if I have much hope for them at this point."
   "So much for your vaunted optimism, Starbuck," Sheba suddenly
snapped, "I don't want to hear you say that."
   "Look Sheba, I'm only repeating facts."
   "I refuse to believe Bojay's gone," she said, "Somehow, I
think things will turn out all right."
   "How?" Starbuck demanded, "Feel like telling me?"
   "I don't know," her voice trailed off, "Something I felt, when
I was talking to Count Iblis on the planet."
   "I didn't hear him say anything to inspire confidence on that
point, Sheba," Apollo said, choosing his words carefully.
   "Maybe not," she said with slight awe, "And yet at one point,
I could feel it.  Being with him somehow makes me think that
something important and good for all of us is going to happen."
   Apollo promptly choked off the retort he was thinking of and
kept silent.  Starbuck was too incredulous to say anything
himself at this point.
   What's with you, Sheba?  Apollo thought.  Is there any reason
why you want to trust him so willingly?
   The reassuring sight of the Galactica finally came into their
field of vision.  The three vipers landed first in the port
landing bay, followed microns later by the shuttle.
   As Apollo got out of his viper and dropped to the tarmac, he
felt his stomach knot slightly when he saw Sheba instinctively
head toward the shuttle as soon as she was out of her viper.
   At that point, Apollo saw Colonel Tigh step off the turbo lift
and enter the landing bay, with Athena trailing him.  A look of
concern lined the executive officer's face.
   "Starbuck said you needed a shuttle, but there was no sign of
the others," Tigh said, "Would you tell me exactly what happened
there?"
   "We didn't find Silver Spar, but we didn't exactly come up
empty Colonel," Apollo said, "We found somebody."
   Before Apollo could go on, Sheba escorted the mysterious man
up to where they were standing, "May I introduce our guest?" she
smiled and motioned to Iblis, "Count Iblis, this is Colonel Tigh,
and Lieutenant Athena."
   Iblis bowed slightly as he'd done before when he'd introduced
himself on the planet, "An honor, Colonel."
   The executive officer said nothing, and appeared to look him
over with a dubious expression.
   "I know your mind is full of questions," Iblis went on, "But
as I explained to Captain Apollo, I was hoping to find somewhere
to rest after my ordeal."
   "I'll be glad to give you and my father a quick debriefing,"
Apollo said to Tigh, "But I'm sure he'll want to talk to Count
Iblis at length."
   Tigh slowly nodded, "Of course.  Sheba, once you and the count
finish de-con, proceed to the Life Station.  I'm sure Dr. Salik
will help you find some quarters for our guest."
   Sheba was still beaming as she motioned Iblis to follow her
out of the landing bay toward the decontamination chamber.
Standard procedure dictated using it whenever a warrior came back
from a mission that had required him to land on an unknown
planet.
   "As soon as you finish decon, report directly to the
Commander's quarters," Tigh said to Apollo, who was still staring
at where Sheba and Iblis had disappeared, "He'll have to fill me
in later.  I'm only here because I'm on my way over to the agro
ship to see if the crop levels are at a point where some of the
food shortages can be taken care of."
   "Trouble acting up again on that front?" Starbuck asked.
   "Very," Tigh said, "Council Security reported there was a near-
riot aboard the Antares last night over food supply shortages.
We've had to double the detail on all of the passenger
freighters."
   "Council Security couldn't put down a riot of one school child
throwing a tantrum over no mushies for dessert," Starbuck
snorted, "One Colonial Security man like Castor is worth a
hundred men like Reese."
   "Be that as it may, they're all we've got to handle the
situation.  You know what kind of an uproar would happen with the
Council if we had to send in Colonial Security men to handle a
situation like that," Tigh said as he started to move away, "I
know I'll be interested in hearing the report when I get back.
Our guest seems....very interesting."
   Apollo mumbled a half-hearted acknowledgment and then moved
off to the decontamination center, leaving Starbuck and Athena
alone together for the moment.  Immediately, Starbuck felt a wave
of discomfort hit him.  Ever since his relationship with Athena
had fizzled out many sectars ago, he'd gotten the distinct
impression that Athena had been developing a cold hostility
toward him.
   But to his amazement, when Athena spoke, her tone was anything
but antagonistic.
   "There's something bothering him," her eyes were still trained
on her brother, who had finally disappeared from view down the
corridor, "I know that look on his face."
   Starbuck decided it was safe to talk, "Well, I don't think
Count Iblis exactly inspires confidence in him or me, for that
matter."
   "But he seems to with Sheba," Athena noted, "And that appears
to be bothering Apollo already."
   Starbuck chose his next words carefully, "Athena," he said,
"Have you ever gotten the impression that maybe Apollo...."
   "Has some kind of interest in Sheba?" Athena finished without
looking at her one-time boyfriend, "I certainly have.  And what's
sad about it, is that he feels that if he ever admitted that to
himself, let alone anyone else, he'd feel like he was violating
Serina's memory.  That's why he's been keeping it bottled up
inside him as much as he possibly can."
   "You ever plan on telling him that?"
   Athena looked at him and her expression took on that cold aura
Starbuck had been expecting sooner or later, "I will not, and if
you really are his friend, you won't either.  If Apollo's gone
soft on Sheba, then he has to either admit that to himself, or
else Sheba has to get the hint that he really does care and drag
it out of him someday on her terms.  The best thing I can do as
his sister is just steer clear of the whole thing."
   "The best thing?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow, "Are you really
sure of that?"
   "I am," her cold expression deepened, "I have known him longer
than you, Starbuck."
   Starbuck was on the verge of making another retort, but then
decided that he'd only be making things worse.  If it had been
anyone but him, Athena might not have been so hostile.  But the
relative ease in which he had gone over to Cassiopeia after their
break-up had seemingly produced a bitterness in Athena that
wasn't apt to heal for a long time.  Which Starbuck regretted,
because he still cared deeply for Athena in a non-romantic way.
   "I've got to do decon myself," Starbuck said calmly, "Can't
keep Apollo and the Commander waiting."
   He felt an intense sense of relief as he went through the
compartment door and heard it close behind him.


   Ten centons later, with their decontamination procedure
finished, Apollo and Starbuck were both in Adama's quarters
giving him their report on what had happened.
   "And he was all alone on the planet?" the commander was
incredulous as he paced about the room.
   "As far as we could tell," his son said, "Along with the
wreckage of an immense ship of unfamiliar design."
   Adama stopped in front of his desk and looked directly at the
both of them, "What's your report on the wreckage?"
   "Well it was giving off exceptionally high radon levels,"
Apollo explained.
   "We couldn't move into the area without returning to the
Galactica for special gear," Starbuck added.
   "Too bad," Adama mused in disappointment, "And yet he survived
despite the radon levels?"
   "I can only speculate he ejected from the ship before she was
struck," Apollo said, wishing he could come up with a better
possibility than that.
   His father lifted an eyebrow, "Struck by the Cylons?"
   "Not according to him," Starbuck said.
   "Then what?" Adama prodded, "Did he elaborate?"
   "He said something about some 'Great Powers', which didn't
make much sense," the blonde lieutenant went on, "Who knows what
condition his mind was in after going through the encounter he'd
been through."
   "Yet he specifically ruled out the Cylons?"
   "He did."
   "Father," a pointed, urgent edge entered Apollo's voice, "He
seemed to be very evasive.  I don't trust him."
   Adama paused to reflect for a moment before responding.
   "All right," he said as he sat behind his desk, "I want a
complete report on him from the Life Station.  Cranium probe,
neuro systems, everything up to and including psycho electron
recall.  As soon as they're finished with him, I'll see about
meeting with him later."
   The two warriors nodded and left Adama alone to his paperwork.


   After finishing with the decontamination procedure, Sheba led
Iblis down the corridor in the direction of the Galactica's Life
Station.
   "We can stop here for some hypernutrients and a quick energon
treatment," Sheba was saying, "It will get your strength up and
get you through the debriefing."
   Count Iblis, who'd been seemingly paying little attention to
her, abruptly stopped in his tracks and said in a flat monotone,
"No."
   Sheba turned around and looked at him with surprise.
   "Oh it's not that I don't appreciate your concerns," he smiled
as the air of charming warmth returned to his voice, "But I had
my own concerns."
   "We only want to help you," she said reassuringly.
   "I'm sure.  But you don't understand," a distant quality
entered his voice, "I'm not of your world.  It's highly probable
your instruments could be destructive to me."
   "They're the very latest---"
   "For your time," Iblis interrupted and then looked her in the
eye, "For your time, perhaps.  But...as you sensed back on the
planet....by the pond, when you held me by the arm....I
am....quite....different."
   For almost a centon Sheba's gaze was locked on his smiling
visage.  Finding herself thoroughly captivated by his expression
and the soft, gentleness of his words.
   "May I see more of your ship?" Iblis's smile only deepened.
   She smiled back at him, and feeling like there was nothing
else she could possibly say to him, nodded affirmatively, "This
way."
   With that, she moved away from the door to the Life Station
corridor and began leading him in the other direction toward the
turbo lift that led to the Bridge.


   Damn, Athena kept saying to herself over and over again, ever
since her frosty conversation with Starbuck in the landing bay
had ended, and she'd returned to her station on the Bridge.  Just
once, can't I get through a conversation with that man without
treating him like a Piscean Plague?
   And yet, whenever Athena tried to put the whole matter of
Starbuck into some kind of perspective, she found that it was
impossible to be anything other than angry at the man she'd once
been on the verge of marrying before the Holocaust.  It was true
that she'd rebuffed his awkward request to go ahead with those
plans when he'd confronted her in the warrior's locker room, but
to her way of thinking, he should have expected that.  Coming so
soon after the tragic loss of her brother Zac, and her mother
Ila, she found it impossible to think that Starbuck wouldn't
understand her reluctance to formally commit herself in something
as sacred as getting sealed.  At least not yet.
   What still rankled Athena, and what she could never in her
heart forgive Starbuck for, was his refusal to be patient with
her.  Inevitably, over time, she might have been able to overcome
her reluctance.  Surely he could have recognized that, and just
waited her out for a while, when the time would become right to
move forward again.  If he truly loved her, as he said he did on
more than one occasion to her, then he would have waited.
   Instead, it seemed as though he'd been ready to drop her in a
micron and move on to the next woman that crossed his path.
Which turned out to be a young socialator-turned-med tech named
Cassiopeia.  In doing that, she felt a sense of betrayal that was
impossible to forgive or forget, even though she had nothing
against Cassiopeia as a person.  To her way of thinking, Starbuck
hadn't given her a fair chance.
   She'd resigned herself to the fact that Cassiopeia had stolen
Starbuck's heart away forever.  As of yet though, she hadn't been
able to overcome her inner devotion to the man she'd once loved,
to the point where she might feel comfortable seeking someone
else out.
   Damn you for making my life a fracking mess, Starbuck, she
said to herself as she went to the main communications bank on
the far side of the Bridge wall.
   "Omega?" she motioned to the young bridge officer, "Could you
come over here?"
   "Just a micron," Omega adjusted his headset, "Colonel Tigh,
your shuttle is cleared to land in Alpha Bay.  Commander Adama
wants you to report to his quarters as soon as you're back
aboard."
   The bridge officer then came down from his console on the
upper level of the bridge and joined Athena at the communications
banks.
   "Run down the checklist for all of the communications
systems," she said, "They're due for a full inspection now."
   For the next several centons, the two of them went over each
monitor, and each piece of communications circuitry, making sure
that each was in proper working order.
   "Looks to be running smoothly," Athena said.
   All of a sudden, the images on several of the monitors in back
of them were filled with snow and static.
   "What the--?" Athena was caught off guard and then pulled her
earpiece out as she heard the annoying crackling sound of static,
"Omega, what the frack happened?"
   "Can't tell," the bridge officer looked befuddled, "It doesn't
seem possible."
   At that moment, they were both distracted by the sight of
Sheba entering the bridge.  Behind her, Iblis followed her steps,
looking about the bridge with considerable interest.
   "This is our communications center.  Where we can maintain a
constant monitor on all the ships in the Fleet," Sheba was saying
to the man, and then motioned toward the banks, "Lieutenant
Athena, whom you met earlier, is in charge of this station."
   Athena looked up in surprise at the sight of the two people
who had provoked her hostile conversation with Starbuck earlier.
   "A pleasure to see you again, Lieutenant," Iblis smiled and
bowed.
   "Yes," she dimly nodded, "I'm, ah, sorry our hands are a bit
tied right now.  We seem to be receiving some unexpected
electrical interference.  The whole system was fine a centon
ago."
   "Sorry to see that," Sheba said and then looked back at Iblis,
"One of the many problems of space travel.  Electrical voids and
equipment failure.  But I'm sure you understand all that, don't
you?"
   "Completely," Iblis kept smiling, "Completely."
   As Sheba led him away from the banks, Athena found herself
staring at their retreating forms for a while, thinking about the
potential ramifications.  She was so lost in thought that she
didn't initially feel Omega tugging at her sleeve.
   "Look at this," the bridge officer said in amazement, "Now
it's all cleared up again."
   Athena looked back and her eyes widened in amazement at the
sight of the clear images on the monitors.
   Strange, she thought.  When he was here, they were all crazy.
And now that he's gone, they're back to normal.  And why is Sheba
just leading him about in an area like this?
   "Omega," Athena said quietly, "Get hold of the landing bay and
see if Tigh's landed.  I think he has to tell the Commander about
this."


   Adama was still absorbed in administrative paperwork when he
saw his door slide open and a concerned Tigh enter.
   "Ah, I'm glad you're back, Tigh," Adama said, "What's the
situation on the agro-ship?"
   "Adama, I think something more serious just came up," the
executive officer said, "As soon as I was aboard, I got an urgent
message from Athena.  Our strange visitor just left the bridge
with Sheba.  I've got a Security team tracking them down now."
   Adama suddenly dropped his papers onto his desk.
   "Just left the bridge?" his voice was equal parts angry and
stunned, "What sort of ship are we running here?  A perfect
stranger comes aboard the Galactica, and he's suddenly given
access to a sensitive military control center?"
   Tigh stiffened in embarrassment.  At the moment, he was
kicking himself inwardly for not having stayed aboard and keeping
an eye on Iblis himself, instead of going over to the agro-ship
as he'd done.
   "It...does seem a bit out of the ordinary."
   "Out of the ordinary?" Adama's voice angrily rose, "Sheba's
the type of warrior who should know better.  Why would she do
this?"
   "I don't know," Tigh said.
   The commander went over to the intercom and pressed the switch
that tied him into the communications network throughout the
entire ship, "Attention, Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck.
Report back to my quarters immediately."
   Adama looked back at his old friend and seemed on the verge of
seething, "I want some answers about this man, Tigh.  And I want
them now!"


   "Down this way is the Rejuvenation Center," Sheba motioned as
she and Iblis got off the turbo lift and began walking down the
corridor, "The place where we spend much of our spare time
relaxing.  It's not much, but that's because the one we use now
is a rather makeshift kind of set-up.  Our main Rejuvenation
Center is one level up on Alpha Deck, but that entire area was
destroyed in a suicide attack, a sectar ago.  We still haven't
finished all of the renovations on that level."
   Iblis stopped in his tracks and looked at her with disarming
charm yet again, "You're very kind, Sheba.  But I think the time
has come for that debriefing you spoke of with Commander Adama."
   "Oh," she almost seemed disappointed, "Well I'm sure if you
fell like waiting a while longer, they wouldn't object."
   "Perhaps not," he said as his gaze into her face grew more
piercing, "But lead me to Commander Adama."
   Again, Sheba found herself looking at his face with transfixed
awe for nearly a centon before she once again nodded and led him
in the direction he desired to go in.


   As soon as Apollo and Starbuck heard Adama's less than
pleasant voice pipe through the Galactica demanding their
presence, the two warriors were decidedly uneasy about what
they'd be hearing from the Commander.  As soon as they arrived
and he told them what Tigh had reported, their discomfort only
increased.
   "Now where in the name of Hades is he, and how did he get free
run of the ship?" Adama demanded.
   Apollo was in a state of incredulous disbelief.  As concerned
as he'd been by Sheba's overpoliteness toward Iblis, he hadn't
counted on something like this happening.
   "Father," he started awkwardly, "I left him with---"
   But before his son could go any further, the door to Adama's
quarters abruptly slid open and Sheba entered, with Iblis right
behind.  The three men were so surprised by his entrance that
they didn't notice the burst of static that erupted briefly from
the monitor outside the door, and which quickly faded as soon as
the stranger entered the room.
   "You are Commander Adama," Iblis was full of respect as he
bowed slightly, "Count Iblis, at your service."
   Adama's angry expression softened so he could show some
courtesy to Iblis's greeting, "Thank you."  He then turned back
to the three warriors, "I want to see each one of you, later.
Make sure you're in one place so we don't have to look all over
the ship for you."
   "Would the Officers Club be suitable?" Starbuck delicately
asked.
   "Perfectly," the commander responded sourly, "I know you won't
leave there.  Dismissed."
   One-by-one, Sheba, Starbuck and Apollo filed out of the room,
leaving Adama and Iblis alone.
   As soon as they were in the corridor, Starbuck heaved a sigh
of relief, "I don't think I've ever seen him quite
so...unsettled."
   "You'd think we just deserted him or something," Sheba's tone
was light and nonchalant.
   Apollo decided not to be nonchalant with her.
   "Actually, I don't think you can blame him, considering that
you just escorted a perfect stranger into a classified area.
That's not the sort of thing a good commander, whether it's him
or your father, would understand."
   Sheba stopped and stiffened at the harshness of his remark,
"He asked me to--"
   "Do you always do everything you're asked to do?" he demanded.
   "Apollo!"
   "You know what I mean," Apollo calmed down slightly, "Look, we
agreed no prejudging of him before we had more information, but I
don't think giving him free rein aboard the Galactica amounts to
playing things by the book."
   "Look," Sheba said, trying to make him understand, "I know
it's a little hard to explain, but...it wasn't so much as what he
said, as what I felt."
   "Felt?" there was a mixture of concern and dubiousness in
Apollo's response.
   "He needed to feel order and security," she went on, "So I
took him some place where I could help settle him.  And it
worked.  He feels much better now."
   "You've been acting this way ever since we found this Count
Iblis, or he found us," the level of concern in Apollo's voice
increased, which Starbuck found hard not to notice in light of
his earlier talk with Athena, "All that stuff on the planet, and
while we were flying back to the Galactica.  What makes him so
important to you?  You don't know who he is.  None of us do."
   Sheba's eyes then blazed at him with a defiant fury
reminiscent of her father, Commander Cain, "I know he cares."
   "For you?" the question seemed to impulsively come out of
Apollo's mouth.
   "For all of us," she said, "And if I have to explain that to
you, then I guess I've been misjudging you for the last sectar.
Maybe you're not as sensitive as I thought you were."
   Apollo felt like he'd taken a blow to the chin.  He said
nothing as Sheba walked away from him.
   "She thinks you're insensitive?" Starbuck mused aloud as he
watched her disappear down the corridor, "Where the frack does
that leave me, then?"
   He then turned around and saw the look on Apollo's face.
Feeling concerned, Starbuck cautiously came over to his friend
and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Apollo--"
   Abruptly, Apollo pushed him away, "I don't want to talk about
it, Starbuck," he said quietly, "Not now.  Maybe my father will
find out something better to tell us when he gets through with
him."
   An uneasy silence filled the air as the two of them resumed
walking toward the Officers Club.


   As soon as they'd been left alone, Adama had summoned all of
the training in diplomacy he'd received over the yahrens to the
forefront, acting with cautious courtesy, as he offered Count
Iblis a drink.  The stranger gratefully accepted it.
   "As you probably realize, we are in a constant state of
emergency," Adama said, "However, I trust you will find your
quarters here to be suitably comfortable."
   "I'm infinitely grateful to you," Iblis smiled as the two of
them raised their glasses and drank.  Once they had finished,
Iblis set his glass down, "Not simply for your kind hospitality,
but for delivering me from my enemies."
   "Oh?" Adama carefully set his glass down and moved back toward
his desk, "Tell me about them."
   An almost mystic, dark expression came over Count Iblis's face
as he suddenly shifted his gaze toward the stars shining through
the porthole, "They are infinite," he whispered, "They are
everywhere.  They are relentless."
   "Who are they?" Adama kept his tone neutral and cautious,
"What are they called?  Where are they from?"
   Iblis looked back at him, and the charming smile abruptly
returned to his face as if it had been switched on, "Forgive me
my inability to communicate with you.  Those are things you might
not understand."
   "Count Iblis," the commander said patiently, "I've been told
that I'm a fairly bright chap when I'm given a chance."
   "Yes of course," Iblis smiled and came towards him, "And
generous to stop for one more survivor.  That's precisely why I'm
not sure it's wise to burden you with my fight."
   "I don't mean to infer that we can take on more enemies than
we now have," Adama said, "But perhaps we are already fighting a
common foe."
   The stranger's expression darkened and grew pointedly cold,
"There are great and infinitely more dangerous powers in the
universe than your Cylons and all their allies combined."
   Adama refused to be impressed, "Then you do know of the Cylon
Empire and our plight."
   "My knowledge in such matters is infinite," Iblis said, "Let
me use that to bring you a more optimistic epistle."
   "For instance?"
   Iblis looked him in the eye, "You are searching for a place
called Earth."
   The commander didn't bat an eyelash, "My son told you that?"
   "No," Iblis smiled, "But that's not all I know.  You are of
the House of Kobol.  Your tribes are scattered.  The thirteenth
tribe travelled to Earth some seven millenia ago."
   For the first time, Adama seemed impressed with Iblis, "Am I
to understand that you know what became of them when they
settled?"
   "Of course," Iblis said.
   Adama felt a cautious air of optimism fill him.  He was
hearing things he had not been prepared to hear.  Had it not been
for Iblis's use of terminology regarding Kobol and the thirteenth
tribe, he might have been more inclined to write the stranger off
as a madman.  But now he was determined to hear him out
completely.
   "Can you tell me about their civilization?"
   "It has known great rises and falls," he replied cryptically.
   It still seemed impossible to Adama that one man alone could
know so much about the things he had placed the survival of the
human race on.  "Who are you?" the commander demanded calmly,
"Where are you from, that you could know such things?"
   Iblis's silence indicated he wasn't going to get an immediate
answer to that question.
   Adama decided to change tactics again. "Is their civilization
strong enough to help us defeat the Cylons?"
   "Your people will be safe," Iblis said, "Under my leadership."
   Once again, Adama found his mind racing as he tried to come to
terms with the enigma of this man, and the things he was saying.
   "Count Iblis," he decided to retain the initiative, "I don't
believe that's answering the question I put to you.  My question
was, is the civilization of Earth, which you claim to know about,
strong enough to help us defeat the Cylons?"
   "Place yourself under my protection and leadership and you
will know the answer soon enough, Adama," Iblis smiled, "Why do
you think I'm here?  I have come to prepare your way to Earth."

                  Chapter Three

   Three days had passed since the arrival of the mysterious
stranger called Count Iblis.  Despite the magnitude of his
revelations to Adama, the Galactica commander had chosen to
remain cautious in implementing his next moves.  He had shared
the full details of his conversation with Iblis only with Tigh,
and then Apollo and Starbuck, while keeping the details to a bare
minimum with the members of the Council of Twelve.  At the
moment, he knew he couldn't dare run the risk of what one of his
political opponents like Sire Domra, or the young Sire Antipas
might do if the full level of what Iblis had said were made
public.
   Yet despite Adama's attempts to keep word of Count Iblis kept
to a minimum, it failed to prevent rumors from starting to spread
throughout every corner of the Fleet.  Whether it had come from a
Council Security guard listening in on one of the commander's
conversation, or an enthusiastic remark from Sheba to another
warrior who in turn told another person, the word managed to get
around that a remarkable man had arrived who conceivably could
help the Fleet solve all of its major problems.
   For the most part, Count Iblis seemed to accept Adama's
reluctance to press too far ahead in trusting him completely.  No
sooner had Iblis finished his revelation about preparing their
way to Earth, when he had also commented on how past experiences
were dictating Adama's desire for caution, and that he could
appreciate that.
   "You have been the victim of betrayal before by those who
promise so much," Iblis had said to Adama, "I will soon make it
clear to you that you need not fear such a repetition by placing
your trust in me."
   At this point, three days later, the one piece of information
Adama wanted most was a full medical scan of Count Iblis.  After
another meeting with Apollo and Starbuck, he had literally
ordered them to do what they could to insure that such a scan be
taken.
   Apollo and Starbuck entered the Life Station, to see if the
latest attempt to get that important information had finally paid
off.  As soon as he saw the two warriors arrive, Dr. Salik let
out a dismal groan and started to walk away from them.
   "Doctor, wait," Apollo called after him.
   "I know what you want, Apollo," the chief medical officer
refused to turn around, "And I'm sorry, but I still don't have
it."
   "Come on," Apollo finally caught up to him, "Even if he still
refuses to come in himself for a full testing, there are all
kinds of portable scanners.  Surely you can get close enough to
him to get a simple respiratory probe."
   Salik spun around, "I tried that Apollo.  I sent two of my
best technicians to get close to him.  They both came back with
broken scanners."
   "You've got to be kidding," Apollo shook his head in
disbelief.
   "I'm not," the middle-aged doctor said, "I even sent
Cassiopeia.  If you want to see how she failed--"
   "We're interested," Starbuck spoke up.
   "Very well," Salik said and led them over to the other side of
the Life Station where Cassiopeia was busy with the scanning
equipment, "Cassiopeia, suppose you explain how your attempt with
Count Iblis went."
   The blonde med-tech looked up at them and smiled faintly,
"When all of our medical technology fails, we still resort to
blatant feminine wiles."
   "Hmmm," Starbuck injected a note of mock jealousy into his
tone, "And what happened?"
   "Well, I certainly think he was the most charming man I've
ever met," Cassiopeia said candidly.
   "The most charming?" Starbuck smirked at his girlfriend, "You
mean I've been displaced?"
   "Starbuck," Apollo impatiently jabbed his friend in the side,
"Leave the small talk for later."
   "The charming part was all on the outside," Cassiopeia
resumed, "I still have no idea what he's like under that
beautiful smile."
   "Maybe you weren't close enough to get a good scan on him,"
Apollo offered.
   Cassiopeia chuckled, "Apollo, do you mind if we discuss this
without Starbuck around?  Not unless you want to hear more
inevitable side remarks."
   "Hey look, this was all done in the line of duty," Starbuck
said and then cast a sly glance at her, "Wasn't it?"
   She let out another chuckle, "Starbuck, I'd be lying to you if
I told you I wasn't impressed by him.  But the bottom line is
that I still came back with an empty tape.  Let me show you."
   The med-tech placed a thin silver strip into one of the
machines on the table and activated it.
   "What are you talking about, an empty tape?" Starbuck glared
slightly at the rhythmic dancing line on the bottom of the
screen, "That heart rate is dancing around like a Cylon scanner."
   "You're looking at the wrong line," Cassiopeia said, "That's
my pulse rate.  The other line is his."
   She pointed to the line on top.  It was a continuous straight
line, with no indication of any movement.
   "A straight line," Starbuck smirked at her, "Guess you've lost
your touch Cass, to have that kind of effect on him.  Of course
that would tend to make Iblis less advanced if he can't have any
reaction to you."
   "It's not Cassiopeia, gentlemen," Salik re-entered the
conversation, "It's the equipment.  Now either it's defective, or
he's operating on some other wavelength."
   "Or he has some way of deliberately jamming us," Apollo said
with a slightly ominous air.  This latest piece of information
about Count Iblis only made him feel even more nervous about the
man.
   "Possible," Salik conceded, "Although I've yet to see any kind
of species, human or otherwise, with that kind of capability."
   "Doctor," Apollo ventured, "Is it possible that this man,
however handsome, could be an android?"
   "A machine?" the chief medical officer rubbed his chin,
"Designed in every way to look like a man?"
   "Exactly," Apollo nodded.
   "Conceivably programmed as a special project by some other
machines?" Starbuck inquired casually, to see if he understood
where Apollo was going, "Is that what you're thinking Apollo?
That Iblis may be a Cylon underneath that exterior?"
   "Let's just say it's one possibility that deserves to be
considered," Apollo said.
   "Our bio-robotics institutes were well-advanced in that
science before the Holocaust," Salik said, "Dr. Wilker would be
your best expert on that subject.  He might know if the Cylons
had developed the same capacity.  I think he's back here on the
Galactica now."
   "Then I guess a trip to his lab is in order," Apollo said,
"Thanks for the help, Dr. Salik."


   Sheba felt relieved to finally get out of her uniform for the
first time in many days.  Since she had been unable to bring over
any personal effects from the Pegasus, Cassiopeia and Athena had
helped her select a complete civilian wardrobe from some of the
new shops that had been set up aboard one of the recreational
ships in the Fleet, but she had had little opportunity to make
use of them.  Now, she had received a twenty-four centar furlong,
and had decided to spend it in the one place she'd been
frequenting most often since her arrival aboard the Galactica one
month ago, whenever she decided she needed to be alone and
collect her thoughts.
   As she left her quarters, she was pleasantly surprised to see
the smiling form of Count Iblis standing in the corridor, as
though he'd been waiting.
   "Hello Sheba," he said, "You look very attractive."
   Instantly, she felt herself blushing.  She had selected a
simple, casual violet-colored dress that wasn't designed or
intended to be provocative or attract attention.
   "Thank you," she managed to say.
   "Are you off to somewhere?"
   "Yes," she kept her gaze on him, "I was planning a visit to
the agro-ship.  It's one of the few lovely spots in the Fleet."
   "I'd be honored if you'd show it to me," Iblis kept smiling,
"If it's all right with you."
   As she continued to look at him, she knew right away that only
one answer was possible.
   "It's quite all right," Sheba said, "Come with me."
   They rode a shuttle out to the nearby ship that served the
critical function of growing and supplying all agricultural
foodstuffs to the Fleet.  It also served another purpose as a
vast greenhouse for all known species of Colonial plant life that
had been salvaged from the wreckage of the colonies.  In some
sections of the ship, there were trees that towered high towards
the tops of the clear glass domes that dotted the length of the
ship, which to many a visitor, created the illusion of walking
through a vast forest.
   That very illusion was why Sheba enjoyed coming to the agro
ship.  She could still remember how as a child, she had enjoyed
taking long walks through the Caprican woods, where her mind
always felt at its freest, and where her sense of imagination
could run wild.   Coming here to ease her mind from the trauma of
losing everything that had been dear to her had done a lot to
help her adjust to her new life aboard the Galactica.
   Not that the people aboard the Galactica hadn't been doing
their share to help as well.  She had appreciated it from the
very outset that Adama had promised to make her part of his
extended family, and she had seen plenty of kindness from people
like Cassiopeia, Athena, Starbuck.....and Apollo.
   As the shuttle drew closer to the agro ship, she found herself
thinking of Apollo.  The more she thought of him, the more she
felt that he was more of an enigma to her than Count Iblis was.
After a sectar, she had received too many signals from him that
only seemed confusing.  There were many occasions when she
wondered if he was expressing some kind of special interest in
her.  But if that were true, it seemed much too tentative and
restrained to be anything other than ordinary warrior's
camaraderie.  He could be sensitive and gentle on one occasion,
yet on other occasions he struck her as being too arrogantly sure
of himself.  That he alone, was the only person capable of doing
any kind of difficult job, or that his instincts alone about
people were all that mattered, and that any one else's opinion
paled before his.
   "We've arrived," Count Iblis's voice broke her train of
thought.
   "So we have," Sheba smiled, "Let me show you.  It's really
quite beautiful."
   Several centons later, she was leading him through the section
of forest underneath the first dome of the ship.  All around them
was a wide variety of plant life from each of the twelve world.
Tall Caprican oaks, mixed with fragrant Sagitarian spruces, and
dotted along the bottom by the exotic colored flowers from
Skorpia and Aeries.  A first-time visitor always took note of the
somewhat strange clashing of styles, but once he or she began to
walk through the area, they inevitably found themselves
overwhelmed by the beauty of the scenery.
   "Was I right?" she asked, "Isn't it lovely?"
   "A veritable garden," Iblis noted.
   "From what I've learned, they brought a few of everything from
each of the twelve worlds that was possible in the time there was
before this whole journey across the stars began," Sheba said,
"After all, they had no idea what we could expect to find on
Earth."
   She then came to a stop and looked at him with total trust.
She felt absolutely sure that he was capable of answering the
next question.
   "What can we expect to find on Earth?"
   Iblis smiled, "What do you wish to find?"
   "The thing all of us desire the most," she said, "A
civilization strong enough to fight back against the Cylons."
   He looked her in the eye again and faintly shook his head,
"That is not the quest which burns truly closest to your heart."
   Sheba seemed caught off-guard by his comment, "Well of course
it is.  It's what we all want.  How would you know?"
   "I know you," his voice suddenly grew softer and his gaze grew
more intense and piercing, "I feel you.  At this moment I am
closer to your soul than anyone has ever been."
   Sheba found herself unable to take her eyes off him, "You're
unlike anyone I've ever known."
   "Think Sheba," he went on, "Think with your soul.  And I will
tell you your heart's desire."
   There was a mixture of confusion and awe on Sheba's face.
Still, she kept her gaze locked on him.  She found that even if
she'd wanted to turn away from him, she wouldn't have had the
strength to do so.
   "Many thoughts go through you," Iblis said, "You've been
thinking of Apollo only recently.  You are still concerned of
course for your friend Bojay, and whether he is still alive and
well.  But..." Iblis's eyes seemed to narrow in understanding,
"Yes, yes of course.  I should have known sooner."
   And then, Iblis suddenly smiled reassuringly, "You will see
him again."
   "Who?"
   "Your father, the legendary Commander Cain," his smile seemed
to intensify, "You will see him again.  The Battle of Gomorrah
was not the last chapter of his stellar career."
   Sheba's awed bewilderment only increased, "How could you know
what I was feeling?"
   "All people are capable of feeling each other's thoughts,"
Iblis drew closer to her, "It merely takes time and experience.
Place your trust me, and I promise you, all things will be
possible."
   He suddenly pulled her close to him and gently kissed her on
the lips.  Sheba didn't even bother trying to resist.  She only
felt a sensation of awe that for the first time, someone was
offering everything she'd always desired.  A promise of hope for
the future.  And a promise to see her father again.  For the
first time after a long month of loneliness since being parted
from the Pegasus, it seemed as if all the things she'd only been
able to think of dreams could become a reality.  All because of
this one man.
   You are so wrong Apollo, her mind blissfully whispered to
herself, so wrong.
   Too numb to respond herself to Iblis's touch, though she felt
herself dearly wishing that she could, she simply allowed herself
to go limp as she relaxed in his embrace.


   Dr. Wilker's main computer lab aboard the Galactica was
cluttered with a large amount of disassembled machinery when
Apollo and Starbuck entered.  Once they explained their reasons
for coming though, the scientist was all too happy to put his
work aside to talk with them.  Long ago, Apollo had come to
realize that one of Wilker's most distinctive traits was that he
seemed to enjoy talking about his work even more than actually
doing it.
   "Ah yes, android technology," Wilker's eyes seemed to light
up, "There were so many projects that we were on the verge of
unveiling at the time of the Holocaust.  It's such a pity that we
weren't able to salvage the blueprints for any of them, or else I
might have been able to resume them here aboard the Galactica."
   "For what purposes?" Starbuck casually inquired.  The way
Wilker talked so lovingly about them made him feel a trifle
uneasy.  But then again, Starbuck always felt that Wilker was a
trifle odd in his devotion to technology.
   "Quite a few Lieutenant," Wilker said, "Factory drone workers
for one.  And the military even commissioned a feasibility study
on the use of androids to replace viper pilots---"
   "Wait a micron, Doc," Starbuck suddenly interrupted, "Now
there are some things that I'd definitely draw the line at, and
giving up my job to a robot---"
   "If you let me finish, Lieutenant, I was about to say to
replace viper pilots for missions that carried the risk of being
one-way in nature."
   "Care to amend yourself, Starbuck?" Apollo grinned.
   "I guess I should," the brash lieutenant blushed slightly in
embarrassment, "Doc, that's the most brilliant idea I ever heard
of, and I'll gladly contribute two sectars pay to help you
restart that project."
   "The day you contribute two sectars pay to anything but
yourself is the day I see Baltar waltz over from his baseship and
meekly surrender to the Council," Apollo turned back to Wilker,
"Did Colonial Intelligence ever give you any briefings on how far
the Cylons had advanced in artificial human technology?"
   "We never had any indications that they were trying such an
experiment at all, Captain," Wilker said, "The whole idea of the
Cylon robot as we know it is to emulate human form only in terms
of general bipedal structure, certainly not to emulate human
appearance in any specific sense.  The hatred they possess of
humans is so great, that the best guess from Intelligence was
that they were too stubborn to think of such a project, even
though it would have been an ingenious way of carrying out covert
intelligence projects of their own."
   "Then what you're saying is that even though you don't know of
any specific projects, it's still theoretically possible to
construct a human android that can blend in among real humans
without being detected?"
   "Absolutely," the scientist nodded, "It is possible.  But
there are subtle ways for an expert to tell the difference.  For
instance---"
   Before Wilker could go any further, the Red Alert klaxon began
to sound.
   "Sorry Doc," Apollo said hurriedly, "We'll talk to you later."
   "We hope," Starbuck added, as he and Apollo dashed out of the
lab.


   Adama was already on his way to the bridge for a routine
inspection when he heard the klaxon.  He promptly picked up his
pace and arrived somewhat out of breath, expecting to see columns
of attacking Cylon fighters on the main viewing screen.
   When he arrived though, his mouth fell open in amazement when
he saw that the alert was not the result of Cylons, but by
something else entirely.
   Strange mysterious flashes of white light zoomed past the
screen.  They seemed to go by in multiple waves, faster than the
eye could comprehend.
   "What's going on?" Adama demanded.
   A bewildered Tigh turned around, "Unknown, Commander.  There's
not a thing registering on our scanners."
   "That's not entirely accurate, Colonel," Athena called up from
her station, "They're here, but they're just not here long enough
for us to get a reading."
   "They must be travelling at speeds beyond our comprehension,"
Tigh looked back out at the scene in amazement.
   "Commander," Omega said with alarm, "We're receiving distress
calls from every ship in the Fleet.  People are panicking."
   "Put me on unicom," Adama gritted his teeth slightly.  Omega
activated the switch, and the commander's voice was now able to
fill every corridor of each ship throughout the Fleet.
   "People of the Fleet," Adama summoned all the reassurance he
was capable of mustering to his voice, "This is Commander Adama.
Please maintain communications silence.  There is no reason for
alarm.  The ships....or manifestations that we are encountering,
do not appear to be in any way hostile.  Only by keeping the com-
lines free of random signals can we hope to utilize the full
potential of our scanners.  Thank you."
   Adama removed his headset and assumed an authoritive posture,
"Launch Red Squadron for a precautionary intercept.  They are not
to open fire without my authorization."
   "Red Squadron launching," Rigel reported back, "Lieutenant
Greenbean leading four ships in to intercept."
   Adama moved over to the railing of the upper level and shook
his head in amazement at the sight of the white lights.
   "What do you think?" Tigh asked, unable to venture any opinion
of his own.
   "I don't know," the commander shook his head, "And yet
somehow, I suspect that our guest Count Iblis might be able to
tell us."


   Aboard the agro ship, the white lights shot over the clear
dome above where Iblis and Sheba were standing.  He promptly
released her from the kiss they'd been sharing and looked up with
concern.
   "What is it?" Sheba asked with alarm, "What are they?"
   "Don't be frightened," Iblis protectively tightened his hold
of her, "They cannot hurt you as long as you are with me."
   "The lights?  But they're so beautiful---"
   "Don't be beguiled," his voice dropped to a whisper, "They
torture you with a glow that conceals everlasting darkness.  Look
away, Sheba.  Look away."
   She instinctively buried her head in his chest.
   "Yes, my princess," he began to stroke her long brown hair as
he continued to look up at the lights with an almost defiant air,
"You are safe with me."


   The four vipers from Red Squadron, under Greenbean's command,
wasted little time in catching up to where an entire column of
lights seemed to be moving in a steady procession.
   "Giles, Brie, do you see them?" Greenbean radioed to the two
vipers on his right flank.
   "Got them in my sights," Giles said, "Lords of Kobol, look at
those things move."
   "I don't see how in the world we can keep up with them," Brie
shook her head in wide-eyed amazement.  The willowy blonde female
pilot, who'd first been pressed into service when so many
warriors had been struck ill by a mysterious space disease prior
to the Battle of Kobol, almost found herself hoping that they
couldn't keep up with them.  She wasn't sure that this was
something she wanted to learn more about.
   "We're going to do our fracking best to stay with them,"
Greenbean retorted, "Is that understood?"
   "I'm afraid so," Brie whispered.
   "Easy Brie," Dietra chimed in from the fourth viper in the
echelon.  Like Brie, she too was a veteran of the 'Kobol Unit' of
female pilots, "There's no indication they're hostile."
   "All vipers, activate main turbos and pursue at full power!"
Greenbean barked.
   The four vipers instantly went to their maximum speed and at
first, appeared to close in on the lead column of lights.  Then,
without any warning, the lights disappeared completely in the
blink of an eye.
   "Where'd they go?" Brie's bewilderment deepened, "They just
vanished."
   "No," Greenbean shook his head, "They just left us virtually
standing still, compared to their speed."
   "What kind of thing would be capable of that?" Giles spoke up,
"We're going fast enough to be halfway across the stars in a few
centars.  Whatever those suckers are, I'm not sure I'd want to
know what kind of weaponry they possess."
   "So what do we do then?" Brie persisted, "Pursue or turn
back?"
   "Pursue what?" Greenbean said with an edge of exasperation,
"There's nothing on my scanner.  Except a---"
   Greenbean suddenly broke off when he first saw the magnitude
of what was registering on his scanner.  And then, he felt his
eyes almost blinded by something intense flashing from behind.
   "Greenbean!" Giles blurted, "Do you see it?  Do you see it?"
   Red Leader slowly turned around and his mouth dropped open in
horror at the massive white craft that filled his entire width of
vision.
   "Holy frack," he whispered as he suddenly heard a piercing,
deafening hum that caused him to cover his ears.
   "I'm losing all power, Greenbean!" Dietra's voice rose in
futility, "Can't outrun that thing, whatever it is."
   "That sound!" Brie moaned, "That sound!  Oh Lords, make it
stop!"
   And then, there was no further sound from any of the four
pilots in Red Squadron, as they all felt unconsciousness overtake
them.


   "Standby to launch Blue Squadron," Adama said, "Give Captain
Apollo the present coordinates of Red Squadron so they can
rendezvous."
   Athena was staring at her console in horror.
   "Athena?" Adama looked down at his daughter with concern.
   "Father," she whispered, oblivious to her breach in protocol,
"We don't have the coordinates of Red Squadron.  They've
disappeared completely from the scanners."
   "Disappeared?" Adama mounted the steps up to her console,
"What do you mean?"
   "There's no indication they were attacked," Athena said, "They
were there just one micron, and then they were gone.  As if they
were snatched from the face of the universe."
   Tigh seemed to deflate in despair, "Just like what happened to
Silver Spar Squadron."
   "Damn," Adama slowly shook his head and clenched his fist,
"Damn."
   "Do we proceed with the launch of Blue Squadron, Commander?"
   "No," the commander warily looked up at the executive officer,
"Cancel the launch order and cancel the Red Alert."


   "I don't understand this," an angry Starbuck said as he
stepped out of his viper and dropped to the tarmac, "Four vipers
just disappear and the Commander cancels the Red Alert?  What the
frack's going on?"
   "It doesn't make any sense," Apollo said as he joined him,
"Did the Cylons just come and go or something?"
   The groundcrew CWO Jenny, who'd been attending to Starbuck's
viper, suddenly turned to them, "It wasn't Cylons, Captain."
   "What?" Apollo frowned.
   "I was talking to the Bridge a few centons ago when they told
us to get your vipers ready.  They said it was something else.
Giant white lights zooming through space."
   "White lights?" Starbuck frowned, "What do you mean?"
   "I wish I knew," Jenny shook his head, "They said it was the
damndest sight ever."
   Apollo suddenly went ashen as something came back to him.
   "Oh Lord," he whispered, "Oh Lord."
   "Huh?" Starbuck frowned, "Do you know what she's talking
about, Apollo?"
   "I think I do," Apollo said quietly, "We'd better tell the
Commander immediately."
   "About what?"
   "I'll tell you on the way over."



   Ten centons later, Apollo was telling his father about the
same phenomena of white lights that he and Sheba had witnessed on
the planet, after they'd met Count Iblis.
   Adama was clearly angry, "Why didn't you mention those lights
before?" he demanded as he rose from his desk.
   Apollo felt hot with embarrassment, "We thought we were in
some kind of meteorite storm," he said, "And frankly, this Count
Iblis pretty much had our full attention."
   "Did he?" Adama raised his voice, "You took notice of the fact
that he was unaffected by the noise those lights emanated, and
yet that wasn't important when you made your report to me?"
   Apollo hadn't heard such anger from his father directed at him
since he was a child, when he'd often had to fear the prospect of
having a leather belt rapped over his rear as punishment for
something.  He was literally too ashamed to admit the truth that
the reason why he hadn't remembered reporting that detail about
Iblis was because he'd been letting Sheba's preoccupation with
the count overwhelm most of his thinking.
   "Apollo," Starbuck spoke up, "On the way over here, you said
Iblis mentioned something about them being after him."
   "Yes, he did," Apollo admitted, knowing that only made the
situation worse.
   "And you didn't think that was important either?" his father
demanded.
   Apollo flushed an even deeper shade of red.  But he was
determined to not acknowledge the real reason for his failure no
matter what, "Look," he said, "Nothing he was saying made any
sense.  He seemed to be in a state of shock."
   "Suppose he were in a state of shock," Adama folded his arms,
"But suppose he were telling the truth and those beings were
pursuing him?"
   "Well, ah," Apollo nervously exhaled, and then seized on the
opportunity to change the subject to something else, "We've lost
eight ships without a trace, Father.  I don't think we have a
prayer of fighting these beings, whatever they are."
   "I'll tell you one thing," Starbuck said with a rising tide of
exasperation, "I think it's time to take off the diplomatic
gloves.  If this count is letting us send fighters in to be
killed without a chance, then I for one don't think much of him.
I mean he owes us some kind of explanation."
   Adama nodded and turned back to Apollo, "I think he's right.
We're up against something we really don't understand.  Have
Count Iblis brought to me at once."


   After leaving the agro ship, Sheba had taken Iblis over to the
Rising Star, where she led him to the deserted emptiness of the
triad court.
   "So this is where you play your games," he said as he looked
about.
   "Triad," she said as they walked about, "The oldest
competitive contact sport in Colonial history.  For those of us
who can't play it though, it's a lot more than just a game.  It's
a very important part of the well-being of our people.  It gives
them something to root for.  A chance to win and be a part of
something.  A moment to be away from the war and being caged up
inside small metal ships."
   "You don't have to convince me," Iblis said as they came to a
stop underneath the scoring circle, "I'm a great believer in
distraction," he then flashed another smile at her, "Even
pleasure."
   She smiled back, "And what kind of games do they play where
you come from?"
   "Games that amaze you," the mystic quality entered his voice,
"Games of life.  Games of death."
   For the first time since they'd been together, a look of
unease came over Sheba's face, "How horrible."
   He looked at her as if in reproachment, "Far from it.  Death
is not the end.  It's just the beginning."
   "You have a very dark side to you," she said carefully, not
wanting to make it sound like a criticism, "There's something
about you that reminds me of my father.  His love of war and
conflict."
   Iblis smiled again, "That's a very perceptive observation."
   "Maybe that's why..." she started awkwardly then stopped,
"Maybe that's why I think...."
   "Maybe that's why you find me so impressive?" he finished her
thought, "You see so much of the one most dear to you?"
   Sheba felt herself blushing again.
   "You need not answer that, Sheba," he said gently, "The answer
is already clear to me."
   She slowly regained her bearings, "This war you fight, Count
Iblis," she said, "Is it one of your choosing?"
   "I think Commander Adama would like to share in this
discussion."
   They both looked up and saw that Apollo and Starbuck had
entered the court.  There was a firmness in Apollo's bearing and
voice, as he tried with all his strength to mask all of the other
emotions he was feeling.
   "The conversation was between Sheba and myself," Iblis said
coolly as he glared at Apollo.
   Apollo bit his lip slightly but refused to let his voice
crack, "Count Iblis, you will accompany me to the Galactica as my
guest, or as my prisoner.  Your choice."
   Sheba's eyes suddenly blazed with anger, "Apollo, I think
you're being terribly rude.  Of course Count Iblis will go to see
Adama if that is his wish," she then looked at Iblis, "Won't
you?"
   Iblis's implacable glare suddenly vanished as he turned back
to Sheba and smiled at her, "If it is your pleasure, my
princess."
   He casually walked across the court and out into the corridor
without looking at either of the two warriors.  Before Sheba
could follow him out, Apollo impulsively grabbed her by the
shoulder.
   "Sheba," his voice was still level, but if she'd looked
carefully into his eyes, she might have seen an emotion bordering
on genuine fear.  For at that moment, Apollo felt genuinely
frightened for her with an intensity that he would not have felt
if it had been any person other than Sheba, "Are you all right?"
   She was too angry with him inside to notice his eyes, "Of
course.  What are you talking about?"
   "You don't seem like yourself," he said, wishing she would
take the hint he was dropping to her.
   "How would you know?" her voice almost sounded taunting, "You
never really knew me."
   Her gaze then shifted toward Iblis, who was still standing in
the doorway to the corridor.  Apollo almost felt his heart sink
into the pit of his stomach when he saw an almost adoring
expression come over her.
   "This is the only man who has ever truly known me," Sheba said
in a tone that matched her expression.  And then, with a defiant
air, she shook herself loose from Apollo and walked out into the
corridor.
   Before Apollo could emotionally recover himself from what
she'd said, he saw Iblis step back from the doorway on to the
court, so he stood only inches from the warrior.
   "Apollo," his voice was low, but had taken on a distinct edge
of ominous malice, "Don't ever make the mistake of threatening me
again.  Or you'll forfeit your life in the wink of an eye."
   He walked past him and followed Sheba down the corridor.
Starbuck bolted from his position next to Apollo as though he
were ready to charge after the count and challenge him to a
fistfight.
   "Don't," Apollo said quietly, as he grabbed him by the arm,
"There'll be a better time.  Besides," for the first time, his
composure came back, "I think our guest just revealed a hint of
his true color."

                 Chapter Four

   Adama was waiting in the empty conference room where the
determined Council of Twelve usually met for their meetings.  As
if he was to show his authority to its fullest, he had settled in
the President's chair at the head of the Council table, waiting
to confront the mysterious man who had asked Adama to surrender
all of his authority to him alone.
   He finally saw the door slide open and saw Iblis enter with a
flourish of his white robes.  Behind him, Apollo, Starbuck, Sheba
and Athena filed their way in.
   "Be seated," Adama gestured coldly.
   Iblis nodded and took a place at the other end of the table.
   "We have lost eight good warriors in the last several days,"
Adama refused to let up, "What do you know about that?"
   Iblis threw him a disarming look, "I told you that I could
give you protection."
   "How?" Adama knew what was coming anyway, but decided to let
him say it again in the presence of others.
   "Follow me," the count said pointedly, "And I will lead you to
safety."
   "Who are you?" the commander's eyes blazed angrily.
   "I am of another world.  Degree of being developed far in
advance of your own."
   "How can you verify that?"
   "Prepare for me three tests," Iblis leaned back in his chair
and then pointed at the crystal centerpiece of the table, "And as
I have the power to move that object, so I have the power to
deliver your people."
   Iblis remained motionless in his seat and stared at intently
at the centerpiece.  And then, to the stunned amazement of those
present, the object slowly slid across the table from the center
towards the far edge where Iblis sat.
   Adama refused to let what had happen shake the anger from his
visage, "I will ask you once again.  Who are you?  Where do you
come from?"
   Iblis rose from his chair and walked toward them, "I am from
that place where man's ability to comprehend and to will is in
the highest degree of accomplishment."  He stopped and smiled
with a superior air at Adama, "We've learned to use the powers of
the mind to create what you deem to be miracles."
   "For what purposes do you use these 'powers?'"
   The count's expression grew cold, "Adama, I converse with you
out of courtesy.  I know your questions before you ask them.  I
know your fears, your grievances.  That man on your immediate
right for instance, Lieutenant Starbuck.  He's thinking quickly
of the pilots you lost, especially two from the first group.  I
believe that he feels a sense of responsibility for one of them.
A young warrior by the name of Cree, is it not?"
   Starbuck stiffened in amazement at how Iblis had tapped into
exactly what he was thinking at that particular moment.
   "And your son," Iblis continued, "He too is thinking of the
pilots.  Although," he looked at Apollo directly and smiled wryly
at him, "Although that is not the only thing that preoccupies his
mind at the moment with regards to me.  Something of greater
concern burns within him, although modesty forbids me from
mentioning what that is."
   Apollo's face reddened as he knew right away what Iblis was
referring to.  He shot a glance at Sheba, and almost felt
relieved that her attention was still on the count, although his
expression was noticed and instantly understood by both Athena
and Starbuck.
   "The disappearance of your men was not my doing," Iblis turned
back to Adama, "They were beyond my dominion.  But that can
change if you agree to follow me."
   "To Earth?" Adama pressed, "You said to me at our first
meeting that you had come to prepare our way to Earth."
   "If that is your wish."
   "Then it is of no importance to you, where we go."
   "If your destiny is to Earth, let us begin the voyage at once.
I have the ability to lead you to that elusive thirteenth tribe
of the House of Kobol."
   Starbuck cautiously stepped forward, "If you have the power to
do that, Count Iblis," he said, "Then surely you could also have
the power to bring our missing pilots back."
   "That might present a problem," Iblis said.
   Apollo pushed the thoughts about Sheba that had been crowding
his mind aside as he stepped forward, "Even if we include that
among the three tests you will grant us in exchange for your
leadership?"
   "The wishes must extend from this point in time forward," the
count's tone was emphatic, "I cannot change that which already
is.  I am as powerless to honor a request concerning your men, as
I would for a request that the wheels of time be turned back in
order to prevent the destruction of your civilization at the
hands of the Cylons."
   Adama slowly exhaled.  Much of the anger was gone from his
face by this point, but he was still determined to not show any
signs of immediately caving in on the spur of the moment, "You
will have our decision," he said as he rose from his chair.
   "Soon, I trust," Iblis called after him, "Because the powers
you encountered today will return again and again, until you are
under my protection."
   Adama refused to turn around and look back at Iblis as he
quietly stalked out of the room.  Athena and Starbuck were next
to leave.  Before Apollo turned to go, he looked across to the
other side of the room where Sheba was still standing.
   "Sheba?" he quietly called over to her, "Are you coming?"
   "Later," she didn't look at him.  But there was an air of
finality in her voice that indicated that she wouldn't respond to
any protest he made over that.
   Apollo slowly felt his fingers knotting up as he turned and
left the room, leaving Sheba alone with Iblis.
   "Are you convinced, Sheba?" the count asked.
   "Completely," she said, "Soon, they should realize the only
course of action that must be taken."
   "Let us hope so, for your sake and for the sake of all the
people in this Fleet," Iblis drew closer to her, "But in the even
that Adama chooses to act foolishly, it might be a good idea for
me to have had a chance to gauge the feelings of the people, and
how they might react to the prospect of my leadership."
   Again, she found it impossible to take her eyes off him, "Do
you wish to see them now?"
   "I think so," he said, "Perhaps a tour of where there is great
suffering going on.  Aboard one of your passenger freighters, for
instance."


   Far away in another quadrant of space, a lone Cylon basestar
travelled through the stars in a cautious, silent pursuit of the
Galactica and her Fleet of 220 ships.  If it had been up to the
commander of the basestar, he would have gladly ended the
frustrating game of discreetly tracking the Galactica and carried
out the task of destroying her once and for all.  But the events
of the past month had dictated otherwise.
   It was still impossible for Baltar to believe that only a
sectar ago, he had Adama exactly where he wanted him.  He had
finally caught up to his hated enemy with the power of three
basestars at his disposal.  Much more than enough to dispose of
the last Colonial battlestar with ease.  As he had boldly
declared to Lucifer, he would insure that a rout and a massacre
would take place.  One that would elevate him to a level of
prestige and power unmatched in the Cylon Empire, and vindicate
for eternity his decision to betray the human race.
   And then, those plans had been upset by the unexpected arrival
of the Battlestar Pegasus.  The sudden intrusion of the second
battlestar had wrecked all of Baltar's plans for finishing off
Adama.  When the dust had finally settled, Baltar had seen his
two additional basestars destroyed, and serious damage inflicted
on the outer capital of Gomorrah, while the Pegasus had
disappeared before he'd had a chance to confirm its destruction.
   Desperate to salvage something from the disaster of the Battle
of Gomorrah, Baltar had played one last gamble two days later by
having all of his remaining fighters loaded with the deadly
chemical solonite, for the purpose of making suicide hits on the
Galactica.  Hopefully, the damage inflicted from only a handful
of fighters would be so massive that the Galactica would be
destroyed without the need of a sustained battle.
   The last gamble had backfired.  He had inflicted massive
damage to the Galactica (and without knowing it, had almost
killed Adama in the process), but the great battlestar had
defiantly survived.  And in the process, Baltar had lost all of
his remaining fighter strength.  He no longer had any kind of
effective fighting force for a meaningful attack on the
Galactica.   And because the destruction of his other two
basestars left his own ship as the only Cylon warship in the
region, he had been forced to resume the pursuit of Adama with
only a handful of reinforcements from Gomorrah, lest the
Galactica be permitted to get away completely.
   For a sectar, he had played the game of watching from afar and
waiting.  Wondering when the day was going to come when
reinforcement from the Cylon home planet would finally arrive,
and he could resume the chase with new vigor and determination.
   His mind was still obsessed with the subject when Lucifer
entered his throne room, "By your command."
   "Speak," with each passing day, it seemed as though Baltar's
tone had grown more quiet and less boastful than it had once
been.
   "A curious development is taking place at this very moment."
   "What are you talking about?" the human traitor frowned.
   "If you will come to the command center, it might be easier to
explain."
   Baltar calmly stepped out of his throne and followed the IL
Cylon over into the next room, where the main command center was
located.
   "Observe the main external monitor," Lucifer motioned.
   Baltar stared at the screen and his frown deepened.  What he
saw were enormous flashes of white, zooming around the basestar
at speeds far faster than he could comprehend.
   "What are those things?" there was an air of bewilderment in
the human traitor's voice.
   "Unknown," the IL said, "Our interceptors reported a large
number of these flying objects.  They appear to be all around us,
and yet are not.  They move away too quickly for any accurate
registering on our scanners."
   "Adama," Baltar absently mused, "He has scientists aboard the
Galactica.  Perhaps it's a technological breakthrough of some
kind."
   "Let us hope so."
   The human traitor turned to his second-in-command in
amazement, "You would hope that the humans have made so advanced
a breakthrough?"
   "Consider the alternative," Lucifer pointed out, "Which would
be that we have encountered a new and more powerful force in the
universe than our own."
   Baltar took in the IL's remark and began to absently chew his
thumbnail.  If what Lucifer said was true, then he now faced a
prospect that only seemed frightening to him.
   He took another look at the monitor at the parade of lights
zooming past.  The longer he looked at them, the more he felt
some strange sensation come over him.  Something pushing him to
consider ideas he would have found laughable only a sectar ago.
Yet coming at a time when his strength was so depleted, seemed
much easier for him to consider.
   "Launch our remaining interceptors," he drew himself up to a
more firm posture, "See if they can track them to wherever
those...things have come from."
   "By your command."


   After stopping at her quarters to change back into her
uniform, Sheba was once again taking Count Iblis to one of the
ships in the Fleet.  This time however, it was not to a place of
quiet beauty like the agro ship, or of high-class luxury like the
Rising Star.  This time, it was to one of the Fleet's three main
passenger freighters, the Antares.  The Antares had once been a
medium-sized luxury cruiser for short-range interplanetary
travel, designed to carry only 500 people.  As a result of the
Holocaust though, the Antares had been overhauled into something
radically different.  A long-range space freighter with most of
its luxury fittings stripped to accommodate a maximum load of
3000 passengers.  The overcrowding of the ship had led to people
being forced to live in confined spaces no bigger than a
warrior's bunk, where luxuries like privacy were a rarity indeed.
It was almost impossible to maintain proper standards of
cleanliness in such areas, with the result that the lower levels
of the Antares had taken on the quality of the kind of urban slum
that had not existed in any of the colonies for more than a
hundred yahrens before the Holocaust.  They had been derisively
dubbed the "slum corridors".
   The people who lived in the slum corridors were for the most
part, too poor to afford the privilege of gaining access to other
areas of the Antares, let alone the other ships in the Fleet.
They could only sit in their cramped confines, conducting
business amongst each other, where bartering for an extra crumb
of food or a clean set of clothing was considered a major
business activity.
   When they saw the locked door at the end of the corridor, and
saw the sight of a warrior followed an elegantly dressed man in
white robes enter, the inhabitants of the slum corridor
immediately took notice.
   "The people here in these large freighters have fashioned
dwellings as best they could," Sheba was saying to Iblis.
   "It's appalling," the count said with an air of disgust.
   "Who asked you?" an old woman in a tattered green dress and at
least three missing teeth that had fallen out from lack of
treatment, suddenly spoke up from the cramped confines of her
cubicle.
   "Oh please, don't be rude," Sheba stopped and looked at her
with a kind, sympathetic expression, "This man is our friend."
   "Oh?" the old woman's voice dripped with sarcasm, "And where
is the count staying?  What kind of food does he find on his
table?"
   A small cluster of people, equally tattered and bedraggled as
the old woman, but representing a wide cross-section of ages,
suddenly emerged from their own cubicles at the end of the
corridor and had begun to listen in.
   "How did you know who he is?" Sheba was puzzled.
   "Everyone knows who the count is," one of the men who'd
emerged spoke up.  He was in the later stages of middle-age, and
was dressed in what was once an elegantly cut brown Caprican suit
that had become threadbare and ragged over time.  He had the look
of someone who had once been part of the Caprican middle-class
during the days before the Holocaust, enjoying a lifestyle where
concerns over food, cleanliness and health were totally
unthinkable.  "The man who has come to talk to us of miracles."
   "Yes, show us a miracle," the old woman taunted, "Take my
meager rations and multiply them."
   Iblis seemed half-amused by her request, "Is that all you
would have me do?"
   "When you have but a single talon plant to last a sectan," she
said bitterly, "two such plants would be miracle enough."
   "Then you shall have two.  Multiplied by all the ships in the
Fleet, if that is one of Adama's wishes."
   "Just the sort of answer to our prayers we might expect," the
man retorted acidly.
   Iblis looked down at him and held up his hand as if to offer
reassurance, "Feel better, old man," he said, "Stand tall.  I do
not come here by chance.  You follow me, and I will lead you."
   "Adama is the leader of this Fleet!"
   Sheba and Iblis looked up and saw a determined Apollo coming
down from the opposite direction, with Starbuck right behind.
   "You seem to be most interested in keeping track of my
whereabouts, Captain," Iblis said mockingly and then raised his
voice loud enough for all of the people to hear, "But if Adama is
such a great leader then why does he have no compassion for these
people?  They're living like animals!"
   "My father doesn't promise what no man can deliver," Apollo
held his ground, "The only thing he ever promised was survival
and escape from the Cylons following the Holocaust.  And I don't
think he needs a lecture in compassion since if it were not for
him, all of these people would be dying in the wreckage of the
colonies waiting for the Cylon occupation forces to arrive!"
   "That was yesterday, Captain Apollo!" the man spoke up
sharply, "What of the struggle that we face today?  And tomorrow?
And that of our children?"
   "You speak wisely, old man," Iblis smiled, "Adama's past
greatness should not be slighted.  But a leader should maintain
respect only by what he does for you here and now." he turned
back to Apollo, "Adama has but to ask me and these people will
have all the food and comfort they desire.  Yet when the choice
should be so obvious to him, he hesitates."
   "Then forget Adama!" the old woman spoke up, "We'll follow
you.  Fill our cauldrons with food, give us more heat, deliver us
to Earth or anyplace else where we can live in peace."
   "If I give you these things," Iblis said loud enough for all
to hear, "Will you follow me?"
   "Yes!" the people spoke in a near-unified chorus, "Yes, we'll
follow you!"
   "There Apollo," Iblis said above the din that continued to
shout in approval for him, "You have your answer."
   "And just how will you deliver what you promise?"
   "Go to the agro ship," he said, "See for yourself.  In the
meantime Sheba, I think you should accompany me back to the
Galactica, as it will not be long before Adama is forced to
convene the Council of Twelve and make his decision."
   She nodded and followed him back down the corridor to the rear
exit.  It took Apollo a moment to collect himself before he
uneasily turned back to Starbuck, "Let's go."
   As they headed down the corridor, the taunts from the crowd
aimed at Apollo only increased, and seemed as deafening to him as
the noise he'd heard from those white lights.



   When Apollo and Starbuck arrived on the agro ship, they found
that an amazed Dr. Wilker was already there, holding several
enormous pieces of fruit in his hand.
   "What's happened?"  Apollo asked.
   The scientist motioned to the agro ship's chief operations
officer, Carmichael, a short man with a receding hairline who had
once been deputy Agriculture Minister in the Gemonese civil
government.
   "Take a look at this," Carmichael pointed to some of the
numerous fruit-bearing trees that lined the walkways, "I've been
involved in farming for more than forty yahrens, and I can't
explain this.  These trees have suddenly begun to bloom and
multiply overnight.  Only yesterday they were in the hibernal
phase, and at least three sectans away from bearing the first
small pieces of fruit.  And now there are clusters and bunches
growing to twice the normal size."
   "Apollo, this doesn't make sense," Starbuck looked at them in
bewilderment.  He could remember spending part of his childhood
in the agricultural regions of Caprica and he knew right away
that this was totally abnormal.
   Wilker came over to where the three of them were standing,
"Carmichael, I'd like to bring samples of all these fruits and
plants back to the Galactica for immediate study.  There are some
microbiologists on my team who'd love to have a look at these
things."
   "Go right ahead," Carmichael nodded.
   "Let me know what you find," Apollo turned to Wilker, and
Starbuck noticed how an almost desperate edge seemed to enter his
friend's voice, "There has to be some rational explanation for
this.  There has to be."
   "I'm not sure we'll be able to give you one," the scientist
said, "Except that something extraordinary has happened."
   "I'll tell you what is," Carmichael spoke up, "It's a miracle,
that's what it is.  A blessed miracle that's going to solve half
our food shortage problems in no time at all."
   Apollo almost seemed crestfallen by Carmichael's remark,
especially the emphasis on the word 'miracle'.  If that were
indeed true, it only left him more deeply disturbed and troubled
than ever.
   "Okay," he said quietly, "Starbuck, let's head back to the
Galactica."


   All throughout the journey back to the battlestar, Starbuck
had noticed the air of quiet glum in his friend's expression.  In
all the yahrens that he'd known Apollo, he literally could not
remember a time other than the immediate period following
Serina's death where Apollo seemed so depressed.
   "It's a fracking Nuthouse," Apollo whispered under his breath
as he gazed out the porthole of the shuttle, "The inmates have
broken out of the Nuthouse and are taking over now."
   "Come on Apollo," Starbuck said, "Look, I've agreed with you
completely on the need to show caution with Iblis.  But if the
man delivers on what he promises, then what's left for us to
object to?  We get more food, we get a guarantee of safety, we
get a guarantee that we can be led to Earth.  The way you carry
on, you almost seem to wish that Iblis really does turn out to be
some kind of Cylon plant."
   "Or something worse," there was an ominous edge in Apollo's
voice as he shifted his gaze forward, "Or something even worse
than a Cylon trap could be to us.  I'm sorry Starbuck.  Something
inside of me is saying, 'don't trust him.'  There's something
wrong with Iblis and I can feel it."
   Starbuck rolled his eyes, "The way you've been acting, I think
it has more to do with the liking Sheba's taken to him."
   As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Starbuck realized
he'd made an awful mistake broaching the subject of Apollo's
interest in Sheba.  Not just because of what Athena had told him
earlier, but he could still recall a sectar ago, just before the
Cylon suicide attacks, how Apollo had grown visibly angry with
him when he'd jokingly suggested that his friend was developing
some kind of attraction to Sheba.
   He forced himself to glance at Apollo.  His friend had
stiffened visibly, and from the way the veins in his neck were
throbbing, he seemed on the verge of exploding in fury.  Which
only told Starbuck that his hunch about Sheba was absolutely
correct, but that it was too personal a subject for Apollo to
talk about with anyone.
   Apollo drew in his breath and rose from his seat, "I guess
we've got nothing further to talk about."
   "Apollo wait," Starbuck pulled him back down, "I'm sorry, I
ought to know better than that.  It's just that....well sometimes
we feel things we don't even realize.  I mean, we are all human."
   Apollo threw him another cold stare, "Not necessarily," he
said as he got up again, "I'll talk to you later, Starbuck."
   As Apollo moved over to another part of the shuttle, Starbuck
shook his head in amazement, and silently vowed never to raise
the subject of Sheba again.  It was clear that was something
Apollo could only work out in his own mind.


   As soon as the shuttle had arrived, Apollo went straight to
his father's quarters, where he found Adama in a more
philosophical mood than he'd been the last time Apollo had seen
him.
   "Father," Apollo said, "we have to do something.  This man is
convincing everyone he has supernatural powers."
   "I know," Adama nodded as he sipped a glass of ambrosia, "It's
been on my mind a great deal."
   "And?"
   "Apollo," his father contemplated, "Suppose he does have some
extraordinary power."
   "Oh come on," Apollo lowered his head and almost felt his
despair increase.  If it had come to the point where even his
father had started to believe in Iblis, then there was no hope
left at all.
   "Think about it," Adama moved over to the porthole and cast an
idle glance out at the stars, "We're not alone in the universe.
And now that we've left all of charted space as we know it behind
us, should it surprise us that we may have encountered another
kind of lifeform altogether?  Theoretically, there should be an
infinite number of different lifeforms out there."
   Apollo still didn't look up at him, "I know but---"
   "Can you assure me that the very Lords of Kobol from which our
civilization descended, did not themselves come from a race which
evolved in advance at a greater speed than our own?"
   "Father," his son finally looked at him, "I don't think that
interpretation of our origins is explicitly stated in the Book of
the Word.  At least, I don't recall you mentioning that in all
the yahrens of religious training you drilled into me and Athena
and Zac."
   "Perhaps not," Adama smiled thinly and set his glass down,
"Although it is a favorite theory of many of our leading
theologians down through the millenia.  The Book of the Word is a
marvelous guide of instruction in how we live our daily lives,
Apollo.  And yet it contains enough wonderful ambiguities that
have had scholars, believers and skeptics arguing for thousands
of yahrens.  Who's to say that the theory I mentioned is not
correct?"
   "Even if I accepted the premise," Apollo said, "then why would
this advanced race, this.....offshoot of our own stem, not make
themselves known to us?"
   "Perhaps they have," Adama said, "Perhaps Iblis is the first
contact with our ancient forefathers."
   "Count Iblis?" Apollo's eyes widened in disbelief, "If that
were true Father, well....it'd be more frightening a prospect
than the Cylons finishing us off," he then abruptly turned away.
   "Why?"
   Apollo's frustration only increased with every word he spoke,
"Because from this point forward we'd be powerless to control our
own destinies."
   "I'm not so sure," Adama noted, "Now think of it Apollo, he
has asked us to follow him.  He has not commanded it."
   "That's next," his son said flatly.
   "Is it?" Adama shook his head, "Maybe it's possible that he
can't command us."
   "Meaning we have to submit to him of our own free will?"
   "I think that very likely," his father said, "The Book of the
Word is explicit that when it comes to matters of faith, and of
choosing right or wrong, we are all as individuals given a direct
choice in the matter.  We are not....controlled by any impulsive
predestination of any kind.  The idea that faith and salvation in
God is only reserved for a predestined elect is an old heresy
that was condemned eons ago."
   "The way you talk Father, you make Iblis sound like a god
himself."
   Adama smiled thinly, "Not in the literal sense, Apollo.  Would
we not seem like gods ourselves to a race more primitive than our
own?  And if we offered to help such a race, surely we would be
bound by our own laws to ask it of them, not command it.  With
Iblis, it could well be the same way.  Ultimately, he's no more
than a man.  A man from another time, with great powers and great
strengths, but," he held up an emphatic figure, "governed by the
same rules that are universal in nature."
   Apollo decided it was time to get back to the matter at hand,
"What are we going to do?" he quietly demanded, "The people are
ready to follow him, whatever he is."
   "He asked me to propose three tests of his powers," Adama
sighed, "And at the Council meeting tonight, I plan to do just
that."
   "What sort of tests?"
   "I've already had a preliminary talk with all of the members
of the Council," his father said, "The first two were relatively
easy to come up with.  You'll find out what they are tonight."
   "And if he delivers on them?" Apollo sounded as though he was
afraid to know the answer.
   Adama smiled reassuringly and put a hand on his son's
shoulder, "Apollo," he said, "We've survived more than a yahren
of treacherous flight across the stars not just because we've
been able to bring our resources together at a critical time, but
because I firmly believe there has been an ultimate purpose at
work behind our survival.  Planned by someone Who's face has
never been seen by any mortal, and Who is ultimately in control
of all things that happen in this universe.  If it turns out that
placing our trust in Iblis's leadership is a part of that same
plan, then who am I to question that?  The end result will still
work to our ultimate good.  That's the kind of faith we need to
rely on at a critical time such as this.  The very kind of faith
I used to teach many an evening to you about.  Draw on that,
Apollo.  You'll find that it often works."
   Apollo took a breath and then smiled, "I keep telling Boxey
every night, how he has to keep saying his prayers before he goes
to bed.  I guess I have to learn to start doing the same thing
myself, all over again."
   "Go spend some time with him Apollo," Adama said, "Take your
mind off this whole thing for now."
   "I think I will," for the first time in a long while, Apollo
seemed more at ease, "I'll be at the meeting tonight.  And
I'll...be hoping for the best."


   That evening, a subdued Adama called the meeting of the
Council of Twelve to order.
   "We are assembled this evening," Adama began, "so that we may
answer the request put forth to us, by our guest Count Iblis.  A
man who claims to possess remarkable powers, that if put to
proper use, could provide great assistance to the needs of our
people."
   The members all had their eyes trained in fascination on
Iblis, who stood at the far end of the table, looking straight at
Adama.  Waiting with anticipation to hear what the mysterious man
in white had to say.
   "Count Iblis, in the interests of dispensing with all further
preliminaries, I turn the floor over to you," Adama motioned
politely.
   Iblis smiled and began to pace up and down the length of the
Council table.
   "You have agreed on three tests of my strength," he began,
"The first is to deliver your enemy.  The second is to accurately
plot your course to Earth.  The third....." Iblis paused
slightly, "The third you cannot agree on.  Some of you want to
know who I am and where I come from.  The others are satisfied to
accept me because of my work, and are willing to follow blindly,
provided that I guarantee your safety."
   The looks of fascination on the members of the Council all
became ones of stunned amazement.  All except for Adama, who was
staring pensively as though he had already anticipated it.
   "There's no way you could have known," Sire Montrose was the
first who found the strength to speak, though there was no
disguising the astonishment in his voice.  He was one of the
oldest members of the Council, and one of only two who had served
on the body prior to the Holocaust, as the representative from
Cancera for more than fifteen yahrens.  He had retired to private
life three yahrens before the Holocaust, but when eleven of the
twelve sitting members (all save Adama) had been killed in the
destruction of the Battlestar Atlantia, Montrose had willingly
come out of retirement to serve on the body again, "Our decisions
were made in private, and all of us pledged not to speak of it
until...." he trailed off.
   "Has one among us violated that pledge?" another elderly
voice, this one more skeptical, spoke up.  It was Sire Anton, one-
time chief aide to the late President Adar, who had also come out
of retirement to serve on the new Council.  In the early days of
the Galactica's flight from the colonies, Adama had seen Anton as
a potential adversary, especially since Anton had been one of
those who'd willingly lent support to Sire Uri's near-disastrous
proposal to settle on Carillon and destroy all of the Fleet's
weapons of defense.  In the wake of what had happened on Carillon
though, which had caused Uri to resign his seat in disgrace,
Anton had become one of Adama's most stalwart allies on the
Council.
   Iblis turned to Anton and smiled at him, "None of your
colleagues have done any such thing, Sire Anton.  I simply tell
you that which I know, even before it is spoken.  For instance,
though you and I have not met before this evening, I know that
you are the most skeptical member of all, with the possible
exception of Commander Adama."
   Anton's genial eyes narrowed in disbelief.
   "It is because such skepticism remains among some of you,"
Iblis resumed walking up and down the length of the table and his
voice rose, "That I have decided to grant you your first wish,
before you have decided on your third.  I will deliver your enemy
unto you, this very night!"
   An anxious stir went up around the table.
   Anton slowly rose from his chair, "We deliberately couched our
request in imprecise, generic terms, Count Iblis," he said, "We
did this to gauge your intentions.  And now we desire to know
exactly what your idea of delivering our enemy is."
   "What you desire, Sire Anton," Iblis smiled, "You shall find
out soon enough," he then shifted his attention to Adama, "I
think it wise Commander, that you adjourn this meeting for now
and return to your quarters.  And then, you will see the currents
of history move forward as I dictate them."
   And then, with a flourish of his robes, he turned and left the
chamber.


   As Lucifer approached Baltar's throne chair, it struck him
that the human traitor was acting most odd.  Ever since he'd
first made the report to him of the mysterious lights, a morose,
withdrawn aura had come over Baltar, which was totally unlike
him.  After nearly a yahren of watching and studying the human,
he had virtually come to take him entirely for granted and seeing
him act this way was a new experience for the IL.  If Baltar were
truly frightened by these new developments, than a hasty panic,
filled with frenetic activity on his part, was what Lucifer would
have expected.  Certainly not this silent brooding.
   "Report?" Baltar didn't even bother to look Lucifer in the
eye, which further astonished the IL Cylon, "Any further news of
these machines.....these creatures or manifestations, or whatever
they are?"
   "Not much, I fear," Lucifer said, "Our attack craft were
unable to pursue them.  Whatever they may be, they are too swift
for us."
   Baltar was silent for a long moment, still staring off into
the distance.
   "Prepare my personal craft and crew," he finally spoke.
   If Lucifer were capable of doing so, he would have frowned,
"To what end?"
   "Send a long-range signal, unidirectional to the Galactica,
wherever she is," Baltar went on, his voice strangely distant, "I
have Adama's private frequency.  I used it to conduct business
with him many yahrens ago.  Use it.  And tell him, that I wish to
rendezvous under a sign of truce."
   The IL Cylon stood there and wondered if his hearing circuits
had self-destructed.
   "Do I understand you correctly, Baltar?"
   "You heard me, Lucifer," the human traitor still didn't look
at him, and his voice remained strangely hollow, "See to it."
   "Baltar," Lucifer wondered if he was seeing the first signs of
what humans referred to as mental illness, "What business do you
intend to conduct on behalf of the Empire in such a meeting?"
   "To make them understand the seriousness of what we both
face," a forlorn quality now entered his voice, "If they are not
responsible for the....manifestations.  Then perhaps, they might
hold the key for....dealing with them."
   If Lucifer needed any further convincing that Baltar had
crossed the realm into insanity, he now had it.  He knew in an
instant that the ideal thing was for him to say nothing and carry
out the order, because Lucifer knew that if Baltar indeed acted
on this mad idea he was proclaiming, then the IL Cylon would
finally be able to secure for himself the one thing he felt he
should have rightfully received a long time ago.  A command of
his own.
   And yet, Lucifer still found himself unable to keep silent,
simply because seeing Baltar act this way went against everything
he knew about the man.  It seemed as if something else was
controlling Baltar.  Forcing him to do things that were utterly
absurd in nature.
   "With all due respect, I cannot see how your proposal can
possibly succeed," he said, "You actually expect to be treated
under the principles of universal law, when you are the one who
betrayed your brothers, and led them into the annihilation of the
colonies?"
   For the first time, Baltar looked at his second-in-command.
But it was only a fleeting glance, and then he went back to his
slouched posture of looking off into the distance, "It is my life
that I risk," he said, "Do as I ask."
   Lucifer decided to cease arguing the matter.  As far as he was
concerned, his own self-interest dictated that he act
immediately.
   "By your command," he bowed and retreated from the chamber.
   As he left Baltar alone, the IL Cylon almost felt a sensation
of delight go through his circuitry.  For he was convinced that
he was never going to have to say those insufferable words to
Baltar ever again.


   After watching the proceedings of the Council meeting, Apollo
had stopped by the Rejuvenation Center to spend a centar playing
more games with his son Boxey.  After deliberately letting Boxey
win two games of three-dimensional triad, he allowed Athena to
take the little boy back to his quarters so she could put him to
bed.  From there, Apollo had decided to go to the bridge and pass
some time waiting to see if word would come through with regard
to the promise he had heard Count Iblis utter.
   He and Starbuck were idling by the communications banks when
he saw his father enter the bridge, walking at a fast and brisk
pace.
   "Omega," the commander barked, "Bring the Fleet to full alert
readiness."
   "Yes sir," the bridge officer scrambled back to his console to
carry out the order.  Apollo, Starbuck and Colonel Tigh all
promptly converged on Adama.
   "What's happened?" there was an anxious edge in Apollo's
voice.
   Adama had his hands clasped behind his back, shaking his head
in amazement, "You are not going to believe this," he said, "I
have just received a direct communique over my personal videocom
frequency from Baltar."
   "What?" Tigh blurted in shock, "How could---"
   "He remembered my old access code from when he and I conducted
business as fellow members of the Council," Adama sounded as
though he didn't believe it himself, even though he'd been the
one who'd gone through the experience, "He is asking to come
aboard the Galactica under a universal sign of truce, and is
already on his way in his personal craft, alone and unescorted."
   "It has to be a trick," Apollo felt like he'd stepped into an
unreal netherworld, "What reason does he have to want to come
aboard when he knows that it means the end of him?"
   "That is an interesting question, isn't it?" Adama nodded his
head, "Especially in light of the first task Iblis has pledged to
fulfill this night?"
   "You don't think---" Apollo started and then stopped, unable
to go further.
   "Who's to say at this point?" Adama kept his tone firm, "At
any rate, I think the appropriate step is to launch Blue Squadron
immediately to....escort Baltar in."
   Apollo and Starbuck were both off the bridge in a matter of
microns.
   "Colonel," Adama drew in his breath, "Notify the Council,
immediately."


   A centar later, Adama was in his quarters, making a hasty
entry in his journal as he awaited further word on the situation.
   "This is an event unlike any we've experienced since the
destruction of our civilization," Adama intoned solemnly into the
voice recorder, "Baltar's ship is reaching our quadrant and is
being intercepted by an elite squadron, which will escort the
treasonous instrument of our Holocaust directly into our hands.
   "As soon as the Council was notified of this development, it
was only a matter of microns before one of our members leaked the
story to the IFB, who have now broadcast the news to our people.
The word has spread to them like a sunburst in every corner of
the Fleet, with a jubilation that is unprecedented as they know
that Baltar is to be brought before the Council of Twelve and
answer for his crime against all humanity.
   "All is happening then, just as Count Iblis promised.  Our
enemy has been delivered to us.  For myself, the thought that the
man who bears responsibility for the death of my wife, my son,
and so many other things I once cherished, will at last be
brought to justice should give me cause to celebrate more than
anyone else I know.
   "And yet strangely enough, I still find myself wondering if
the fears and suspicions felt by Apollo are true.  If what is
happening to us on this day, is conceivably something that is
designed only to lull us into thinking that our doubts about
Iblis can be set aside, when in fact there remain too many
potential dangers to consider."
   Adama suddenly heard his intercom chime.  He set down the
microphone of his voice recorder and answered it, "Yes?"
   "Commander," Tigh found it almost impossible to keep his voice
businesslike, "Baltar's fighter has landed.  He's being escorted
to the Council Chamber right now."
   "I'm on my way."  Adama rose and left his quarters as fast as
his legs could carry him.






                   Chapter Five

   Throughout the journey from his baseship to the Galactica,
Baltar had carefully considered the remarks he would be making to
the body he had once been a member of for more than five yahrens,
as the delegate from Piscera to the Council of Twelve.  At no
time, did the thought that he would be greeted with scorn,
contempt and hatred ever enter his mind.  He was convinced in his
own mind, that he would be treated with courtesy under the rules
of engagement, which said clearly that the universal sign of
truce was to be honored as a solemn time for adversaries to
communicate with each other over matters of importance.
   Surely they would recognize that if he were making such a bold
step, they would see in an instant that he had something of great
importance to tell them!  Something that was of concern to both
humanity and the Cylon Empire.  And when he was finished, they
would surely be grateful that he had taken such a bold and daring
risk!
   As he stood at the head of the table, he could see some faces
that were familiar to him.  Sire Montrose had served on the
Council at the same time he had, before the Canceran delegate's
initial retirement.  There was also Sire Anton, whom he had
conducted much business with before in the former's capacity as
President Adar's chief aide.  He could also see others whom he
had interacted with many times before over the yahrens in his
capacity as the most pre-eminent merchant in all of the colonies.
Sire Domra.  Sire Geller.  Siress Tinia.  The only face he
initially had trouble with was the young, bearded visage of Sire
Antipas, who's father had been the delegate from Libra at the
time of the Holocaust, and who like Adar and the other members of
the Council Baltar had sat on, had been killed in the Atlantia's
destruction.
   As he looked them all over, and prepared to step forward to
make his initial remarks, Baltar scarcely seemed to comprehend
the expressions of hatred that dripped from the faces of all of
them.  Not simply from the members of the Council, but from the
crowd of spectators who had filled the rear of the chamber to get
a look at the proceedings.
   About the only two people in the room who did not have such an
expression as they stared at Baltar, were Adama, who's expression
was strangely neutral, and Count Iblis, who stood off to one side
with a faint smile.
   Before Baltar could open his mouth, Adama nodded his head, and
Sire Montrose rose from his seat, with a look of intense hatred
and fury.  Adama had specifically chosen Montrose to perform the
honor of formally sentencing Baltar since the elderly Canceran
had more of a sense of personal responsibility in the matter.
Six yahrens earlier, when the Piscean seat had become vacant on
the Council, the planet's civil government had been unable to
successfully elect a new member.  It had come down to three
candidates submitted to the Council as a whole, with the winner
to be determined by a majority vote.  Montrose, more than any
other member, had been instrumental in securing the seat for
Baltar because of the outstanding business relationships they had
enjoyed in negotiating trade agreements between Cancera and
Piscera.  Now, as the elderly sire stood and looked Baltar in the
eye, he felt a sense that at long last, he was about to perform
restitution for the worst mistake of his life.
   "Baltar," he began as he struggled vainly to keep his voice
level in accordance with judicial protocol, "You have been found
guilty of treason against the state, and in violation not only of
the oath you once took as a member of this solemn body, but of
every code of moral and ethical conduct known to man.  You are
sentenced to spend the rest of your life in confinement aboard
the prison barge.  My only regret is that Colonial jurisprudence
saw fit to suspend the death penalty one hundred yahrens ago, and
that your sentence can not be any harsher."
   "No!" Baltar stepped forward in bewilderment that this was
happening, "No, you cannot do this I say.  I came to you under a
sign of truce!"
   "Truce, Baltar?" young Sire Antipas spoke up with a sarcastic
look, "The same sort of truce you offered to this body and to our
civilization a yahren ago, when you claimed that the Cylons were
suing for peace?  And for which men like my father, paid the
price of his life because he trusted you then?"
   "And for which the name of my dear friend Adar became stained
for all eternity because you ruthlessly took advantage of his
desire to be remembered as a man of peace?" Sire Anton joined the
chorus, "You dare to think that you are entitled to any
courtesies under the principles of universal law?"
   "Hear me out!" Baltar placed his hands on the table as he
struggled desperately to regain some kind of initiative, "You
need me!  We need each other.  There is a power in the universe
greater than yours and greater than the Cylon Empire.  It will
destroy us all unless we unite!  You must listen!" his voice rose
to a frantic level.
   "What are you offering this time, Baltar?" Sire Antipas
continued to mock, "First it was an offer that the Cylons would
let us alone in peace.  And now, it as an offer to work together?
I believe we can do without your offers."
   "You don't understand!" Baltar thrust his arms out, not
understanding why this was happening, "Listen!"
   At that moment, Count Iblis suddenly rose from his seated
position on the other side of the room and slowly came over to
where Baltar was standing.
   "May I address the Council?" the man in white inquired
politely.
   Montrose nodded his head in the affirmative and resumed his
seat.  Baltar was looking at the stranger with even greater
befuddlement than when he'd heard his sentence passed down.
   "Baltar," he looked him in the eye and spoke pointedly, "These
people already know of the powers of which you speak.  And there
is nothing you or your Cylon friends can do to combat them.
However, the people of this Fleet have wisely recognized that
they can be safe from them without any need of worthless offers
of help from you."
   Baltar's incredulity deepened, "Who are you?" his voice
dropped to a whisper.
   "I am Count Iblis," he smiled with an almost triumphant air,
"And I will lead these people away from your ruthless pursuit."
   The human traitor suddenly froze as if he had gone into a
state of shock.
   "That voice," he whispered, "I don't know you, and yet there
is something about your voice.  I've heard it before"
   Iblis's triumphant stare only intensified, "It is the voice of
truth.  It will lead these people, just as it has led you to
surrender to their justice."
   "I...came here...of my own free will," a measured
determination returned to Baltar's face as he summoned one last
effort to regain the initiative.
   Iblis's gaze into Baltar's face took on an almost powerful,
blazing expression, as though his stare sent out waves of unknown
power that crashed directly into the traitor's body, "Just as you
willingly drop to your knees to accept your punishment."
   All of those present in the chamber watched in stunned
fascination as Baltar's face suddenly twisted and contorted with
a tide of raging emotions that seemed to suggest a mixture of
sorrowful obedience and horrified fear.  The traitor's hands
clawed at the air as if he were trying to somehow summon some
measure of resistance against the strange force raging inside
him.  It proved to be futile though as, Baltar collapsed to his
knees and began to sob.
   "A..dam..a," Baltar's voice cracked through his sobs,
"Who...is...he?"
   The commander had decided that he'd seen enough.  He calmly
gestured to Sergeant Castor and another Colonial Security guard
who had escorted Baltar to the chamber.
   "Remove him," Adama said quietly.
   As the two guards dragged Baltar out, an air of near-reverent
awe seemed to fill the chamber as Iblis stood triumphantly at the
head of the table.  The way in which he towered above Adama's
seated form almost suggested to many in the room that the change
in leadership had already taken place from a practical, if not
legal standpoint.
   "There were two more prerequisites to our bargain---" Iblis
began.
   "Hold it."
   A startled hush went through the crowd that Iblis had been
interrupted in his moment of glory.  The count raised an eyebrow
in amusement as he directed his gaze toward the source of the
voice.
   "You have something to say, Sire Anton?"
   "I do," the elderly Council member rose from his seat, and
Adama found himself frowning in amazement.  Anton was a man known
for his soft-spoken, gentle demeanor.  But this time, the former
Presidential aide was glaring at Iblis with even more cold
skepticism than he'd shown before.
   "I would like to say at this time," Anton began forcefully,
"That while I stand with all of those present in gratitude that
the traitor has at last been brought to justice, I do not regard
it as sufficient to consider you in fulfillment of the first task
you have promised to us, Count Iblis."
   "My dear Anton!" Sire Domra suddenly shot to his feet, "Your
discourtesy in this hour of glory is inexcusable!"
   "What hour of glory has been brought to us, my dear Domra?"
Anton wheeled around and glared coldly at him, "It is true, that
we rejoice in the capture of Baltar and the administering of
justice to him.  But how does that lessen the plight of endless
pursuit by the Cylons that has plagued us from the micron we left
the colonies behind us forever?  Have all of you become such
starry-eyed fools that you have forgotten the simple fact that
the baseship Baltar came from knows exactly where we are?  And
that even with their commander captured, they have the capacity
to continue their pursuit of us whenever they so choose?"
   Adama felt as if a gift from the Lords of Kobol had suddenly
been presented to him in the form of Anton.  He too had been
worried about the exact same things that Anton was bringing out
into the open, but he had felt that raising them himself would
not be able to sway the Council.  Now that another member had
taken the initiative, he knew that he had a chance.
   "Members of the Council," Adama quietly spoke up, "I believe
that Sire Anton raises a valid point.  The task of delivering our
enemy unto us, can surely not end with Baltar alone."
   "I believe that Count Iblis has sufficiently demonstrated that
we can be safe from any further harm from the Cylons," Domra said
angrily.
   "I prefer a more definite sign, if you don't mind," Anton
acidly retorted and then turned back to Iblis, "If you desire my
full trust in your abilities Count Iblis, you will demonstrate to
us through a clear sign that the danger of pursuit from the
Cylons is over, and that we may resume this journey across the
stars with no more fear.  Only then, will I regard you in
fulfillment of your promise that our enemy has been delivered to
us in total."
   Iblis looked at him with amusement for almost a full centon.
The sight of the handsome, smiling man locked in a seeming
contest of wills with the elderly sire struck all of the
onlookers as a hopeless mismatch.  Many of the onlookers half-
expected to see Iblis force Anton to his knees in the same way
that he had done with Baltar.
   But when Iblis finally spoke, it was in a tone of gentle
acceptance, "I enjoy a good intellectual challenge," he said with
admiration, "Your reasoning is quite impeccable, Sire Anton.  And
quite correct.  The basestar from which Baltar came does know
where you are, and is capable of continuing to monitor the
movements of this Fleet.  It is indeed time for that nuisance
that has caused you to live in perpetual danger for nearly a
yahren, to end at last."
   Iblis came back to the head of the table and looked out to the
members of the Council, "I do not desire to lead you without any
sense of unity in your commitment," he said, "While I am grateful
for the trust that some of you are willing to place in me now,
the objections of those like Sire Anton must be considered.
Accordingly, you will see a further sign from me in the immediate
future that will make it clear to all of you," he emphasized,
"that the danger of Cylon pursuit is past forever.  And that you
will be able to look back on them as no more than a distant, bad
memory."
   "Count Iblis," Sire Geller rose with concern, "If you deliver
this additional sign unto us, will you be counting that against
us as the third and final task?"
   "Not at all," Iblis smiled reassuringly, "As Sire Anton so
eloquently argued, this is to be considered further confirmation
that the first task has been fulfilled.  The third task remains
open to you for future deliberation."  he then paused, "It is
best that we adjourn once again until that additional sign has
been presented to you.  And then, the matters of what lies next
can finally be discussed."
   Iblis turned and with the air of a conquering angel, left the
chamber.  No one dared to immediately follow him out.
   Finally, Adama broke the silence, "If there is no more
business to conduct," he said, "The Council of Twelve stands
adjourned."
   As the members and the spectators slowly filed out, Adama soon
found himself alone with the man who had dared to openly
challenge Iblis in his moment of triumph.
   "I'm curious, Sire Anton," Adama quietly inquired, "Exactly
why?"
   "Why?" Anton smiled, "Perhaps I regard it as penance for my
foolish support of Uri at Carillon, and my constant desire to
never be fooled again by anyone who claims to have found the
ultimate solution to all of our problems."
   "But suppose Iblis does follow through?" Adama asked, "Will
you then willingly accept his leadership?"
   "Perhaps," Anton conceded, "Will it be true of you?"
   Adama sighed, "I find myself still not knowing."
   "Let us hope the outcome is favorable for all of us," Anton
rose from his chair, "Goodnight, Adama."
   "Goodnight."
   Adama remained alone in the darkened chamber in silent
contemplation for several centons before he finally found the
strength to rise from his seat and leave the room.


   For endless centars, Lucifer found himself refusing to budge
from Baltar's throne chair.  Ever since the traitor had left on
his fool's errand, the IL Cylon had wasted little time in
assuming the command position and revelling in it.  At last, he
finally had what should have been his long ago.
   So deep were the waves of pleasure inside his second computer
brain that he didn't instantly notice the gold-plated command
centurion enter the throne room.
   "By your command," the lower-toned voice of the command
centurion spoke.
   Oh how good it felt to hear someone else use that phrase, and
to hear it directed to him!  Lucifer found himself savoring it so
much that the centurion was forced to repeat it once again.
   "Ah yes, speak!" Lucifer finally acknowledged him.
   "There is an urgent message from Gomorrah.  The base commander
insists that he speak with you immediately."
   "That infernal Spektor," Lucifer said with a sarcastic air,
"What could that inferior model possibly want?"
   "He says it is of the highest level of urgency."
   "Oh very well," Lucifer sighed and reluctantly stepped out of
the throne chair, "I shall indulge him.  I wonder what his future
will be like now that his benefactor has disappeared forever."
   Lucifer followed the command centurion into the main
communications center.  He stopped in front of one of the
monitors while another centurion activated it.
   An instant later, the face of an older IL Cylon filled the
screen.
   "An honor to communicate with you, Spektor," Lucifer bowed
slightly, "It has been so long since I last had the pleasure."
   The recently appointed commander and administrator of the
Cylon outer capital refused to reciprocate the pleasantries,
"What have you to report on Baltar?"
   Lucifer was surprised by Spektor's question.  He had been
looking forward to telling Spektor with relish that he was now in
command, and that Baltar had mysteriously disappeared for reasons
unknown.  But the manner in which the older IL asked the question
clearly indicated that Spektor already knew what had happened.
   "Why do you ask, Spektor?"  the newer IL kept his tone
nonchalant.
   "Before he embarked on his most unusual mission to rendezvous
with the Galactica, Baltar saw fit to send me a communique
explaining his actions," Spektor said, "It seemed that he wanted
the Imperious Leader to understand the reasons for why he had so
decided."
   Lucifer found himself wondering if some kind of joke had been
played on him.  The last thing he would have expected was to
discover that Baltar had left behind a discernible record that
would require an explanation on his part.  Once Baltar's fighter
had disappeared, he had been prepared to keep the reasons secret
forever.  And now, that option had already been taken from him.
   "Well Lucifer?" an edge of coldness entered Spektor's voice,
"What have you to report on Baltar's status?  And have these
mysterious lights that concerned him so much returned?"
   "They have not," Lucifer was emphatic, "We are hopeful that
whatever those unknown manifestations were, they will not be of
any concern to us any longer."
   "And Baltar?" Spektor refused to let up.
   Lucifer found himself wishing he had a human face that was
capable of showing a look of disgust.  You really need Baltar in
order to have any hope of advancing further in your career, don't
you?  First your fawning devotion in those dispatches from Atilla
gets him to recommend your name for the Gomorrah command, yet you
no doubt counted on him for more.
   "I cannot say," Lucifer finally spoke, "I can only assume that
whatever Baltar had in mind ended in failure.  Whether it was at
the hands of the strange lights or the Galactica, will probably
never be known."
   "If it be the latter, then what response do you plan?"
   "Response?" Lucifer coldly retorted, "My dear Spektor, I now
find myself in command of but one basestar that possesses only
two squadrons of fighters that you scrounged up for us before we
left the Gomorrah quadrant a sectar ago.  Sufficient for
monitoring the Galactica, but thoroughly inadequate for mounting
any kind of attack."
   "I would reconsider your line of thinking if I were in your
position, Lucifer," the older IL's voice grew grave, "I do not
believe the Imperious Leader will look upon your actions
favorably if you choose to take no appropriate steps in response
to Baltar's disappearance, or possible apprehension."
   "Why are you so confident that the Imperious Leader would be
interested in such a matter?" the newer IL held his ground, "Have
you been in touch with him since his return to the home planet?"
   "In the time while he was still on Gomorrah, I had a chance to
learn that he still valued having Baltar in overall command of
the pursuit," Spektor said, "He certainly left no indication with
me that he was willing to entrust such responsibilities to you.
Especially since your deliberate usurpation of authority at the
Battle of Kobol, when your ill-considered attack disrupted
Baltar's plan for capturing the Galactica, has still not been
forgotten by him."
   Lucifer almost felt his circuitry freeze-up in shock by the
older IL's revelation.  If what Spektor said was true, then he
now understood completely why Imperious Leader had forced him to
remain as Baltar's subordinate all this time.
   "If it is true that there is no hope of recovering Baltar,"
Spektor continued, "Then I would think some proper initiative on
your part would be the only thing to insure that the Imperious
Leader will have no objections to giving you permanent command."
   The newer IL Cylon realized with disgust that he'd been backed
into a corner.  As distasteful as it was for his advanced brain
to admit, his older counterpart had reasoned the situation
perfectly.  He had no choice.
   "Well Lucifer?" a hint of taunting entered Spektor's voice.
   Lucifer carefully drew himself up, "You may inform the
Imperious Leader that a response will be under way shortly."
   "Excellent," Spektor said as the taunting hint became one of
satisfied triumph, "I wish you all success."
   And then, the transmission from Gomorrah abruptly terminated,
leaving Lucifer wishing he could smash the monitor with all his
fury.
   He quickly allowed his rage to pass and then assumed a posture
of authority.
   "Centurion," he commanded, "Order the helm to proceed to the
Galactica's position at full battle speed.  Launch all available
fighters ahead of us to engage her first.  If it comes down to
having to use our missile banks in a head-to-head clash though,
we shall do it."


   "Scanners still report all clear, Commander," Tigh reported as
Adama entered the bridge for morning inspection, "No sign of
activity.  The only trouble I've been getting are a load of
complaints from warriors who want to take part in all the
celebrations going on elsewhere in the Fleet."
   Adama's expression grew stern, "Colonel, the next time that
happens, you let them know this.  If a single warrior leaves his
or her post for a micron while this alert remains in force, that
person is going to spend a full sectar in the brig."
   "Really Adama, are your men not deserving of more compassion?"
   Adama and Tigh spun around and saw Iblis enter.  Immediately,
Adama found himself frowning at how the count could have possibly
arrived so soon after his own arrival.  He certainly should have
noticed him in the corridor if Iblis had been on his way to the
bridge as well.
   "Count Iblis," Adama said patiently, "The only certainty I can
deal with as a result of your promise before the Council last
night, is that I can expect to see a Cylon presence soon.  I will
not be derelict in my duty as Fleet commander by not having my
warriors at the ready to deal with them."
   "For a man who prides himself on the intensity of his own
religious faith, your lack of faith in me is most disappointing,"
Iblis said, "Do you believe for one micron that I would allow any
harm to come to this ship or to your men once the insignificant
force the Cylons throw at you decides to show itself?"
   "Count Iblis," Adama was determined to be firm without being
antagonistic, "The last person who insisted that I had no reason
to go out and meet an attacking force of Cylons was the man you
brought to us last night.  The micron I see something, I am going
to take appropriate action.  If you plan on carrying out your
planned 'demonstration' during that time, then by all means do
so.  But I will not lower my defenses beforehand, merely because
you say that it is all right to."
   "Your adherence to the principles of sound military tactics is
commendable in a sense," Iblis observed, "But in the long-run, it
could prove to be your downfall."
   Tigh found himself gripping the handrail as he tried to keep
the rising tide of anger he was feeling bottled up.  The
commander's expression didn't change, as he folded his arms and
continued to stare firmly at the mysterious count.
   "Is that a threat, Count Iblis?" Adama's response was low and
pointed.
   "Not at all," Iblis was matter-of-fact, "I only state the
obvious.  Once the Cylon threat is taken care of, the Council's
ratification of my leadership becomes a foregone conclusion.  If
your hostility and lack of faith in me continues beyond that
point, they may see fit to take certain matters into their own
hands with regard to your future role in the affairs of the
Fleet.  That's something you should think about."
   He turned and then left the bridge with a flourish that had
become typical of him.
   "Adama," Tigh angrily said as soon as the count was gone,
"What does he think he can do---"
   His old friend held up a hand and cut him off, "I'm not sure,"
he said quietly, "Except that I know for certain that if Iblis
succeeds in this, he will still not have my trust.  And...." he
trailed off and seemed to go into an almost trancelike posture of
deep contemplation.
   "Adama?"
   The commander didn't respond at first.  Instead he moved past
him to the railing and began to stare out the viewing screen at
the infinite number of stars that filled his line of vision.
   "Adama?" the executive officer repeated with an edge of
concern.
   "I wonder," Adama said aloud as he continued to stare out into
space, "I wonder if there is a new possibility about Iblis to be
considered.  Something I may have been blinding myself to all
this time."
   "What do you mean?"
   He turned around and smiled at his old friend, "Not yet, Tigh,
Not yet.  For now, we have to let events take their course.  And
perhaps soon, we'll finally know."


   Apollo had gone to sleep the previous night hoping that the
sense of depression he'd been feeling might be gone when he woke
up.  But when he did wake up, he was not surprised to feel that
same sensation coursing through his body more than ever.
   Simple apprehension about Count Iblis and his motives could
not have accounted alone for Apollo's feelings at that moment.
If that had been his only concern, then his only emotions would
have been ones of caution mixed with fear, but overridden by a
determination to get to the truth and do what had to be done if
he had to take some kind of action against Iblis.
   The depression was being caused by something else.  Something
that he didn't want to admit to himself, let alone to other
people, but which he knew was there nonetheless.
   Apollo glanced at the video monitor on the wall next to his
bed.  The alert standby signal was still flashing, indicating
that he had to get to his duty station as soon as possible.  With
almost sad resignation, he got out of bed and dressed as quickly
as possible.
   He entered the next room where Boxey was fast asleep.  His
son's beloved robot daggit Muffit was lying next to the bed, as
if it were standing guard.
   "Come on Muffit," Apollo gently nudged the daggit on to the
bed, "Time to get him up."  The orange robot leapt onto the bed
and began to nudge the sleeping child with its nose until Boxey
stirred and came awake.
   "Stop Muffit," Boxey gently pushed at his pet as he opened his
eyes, "That's enough."
   "Good morning Boxey," Apollo smiled at his son, "Got to get
yourself up and ready for primary classes."
   "Can't I skip them today?" his son sighed as he sat up in bed
and rubbed his eyes.
   "Sure," his father said, "But only if you feel like going
without mushies and trips to the Rejuvenation Center for the next
sectar."
   As if he needed no other prompting, Boxey threw back the
covers and stepped out of his bed.
   "Hey," Apollo laughed and impulsively picked him up, "Do I
have to use bribery all the time with you?  You'll end up more
like Starbuck that way."
   "That's not so bad, is it?"
   He gently kissed his son on the cheek and set him down, "You
can be just like Starbuck when it comes to being a great warrior
and playing triad.  The rest of him is to avoid at all costs."
   Boxey went over to the closet and pulled out his favorite blue
tunic with the white stripes that ran up the sides, "Dad?" he
asked as he took off his pajamas and started to dress, "Can I ask
you something?"
   He knelt down and helped zip up Boxey's tunic, "Sure son, go
ahead."
   "Do you like Count Iblis?"
   Apollo was taken aback that Boxey was familiar with Iblis's
name.
   "You know about him?" he asked.
   "The kids talk about him in school," Boxey said, "They say
he's a great man who's going to solve all our problems.  Even
better than grandfather can."
   "Your friends may not be right, Boxey," Apollo said gently,
"Count Iblis is an interesting person, but he hasn't proved any
of that yet."
   "Do you think he can?"
   His father sighed, "I really can't say."
   "Do you like him?"
   Apollo looked Boxey in the eye and slowly shook his head, "No
Boxey, I don't."
   "Why?"
   He suddenly got to his feet and turned away from him, "I can't
tell you the reason son," he said quietly, "You wouldn't
understand why.  Not yet at least."
   Apollo then turned back to Boxey and brightened his
expression, "Now you do all your work in school today, and if the
alert standby is over, I promise to take you on in computer triad
again."
   "Okay," Boxey grinned, "But don't let me win this time."
   "You're on," he returned it, "Now get going."
   Boxey then picked up his thick, black schoolwork folder and
left the room.  It took a moment for Apollo to collect himself
before he finally summoned the strength to leave as well.
   As soon as Apollo stepped out into the corridor, the lights
overhead suddenly went red and the high-tone of the klaxon
sounded.  In an instant, his professional instincts kicked in and
all of his troubled thoughts were temporarily forgotten as he
sprinted in the direction of the launch bay.


   "Our fighters will soon be engaging the Galactica's vipers,"
the command centurion reported, "Contact range between us and the
Galactica, three hundred microns and closing.  All missile banks
now on-line."
   Lucifer stared at the scanner with an air of cautious tension.
If all went well, he would earn the very plaudits that Baltar had
so arrogantly been sizing himself up for only a sectar ago.  But
if it failed, the repercussions could be enormous.


   On the Galactica bridge, there was a heavy air of tension as
Adama and Tigh looked at Omega's scanner.
   "Two attacking phalanxes of fighters and a baseship," Tigh
grimly noted, "This looks like everything they can possibly throw
at us."
   "Well it certainly isn't a mismatch, but it's just enough to
do the job of finishing us, if they get in a good strike," Adama
said, equally grim, "That baseship is on a course heading that
means only one thing.  Direct ship-to-ship engagement."
   The commander then rose and barked out with all the authority
he could summon, "Launch all available squadrons to intercept!"
   "Launching all fighters," Omega replied.
   "Bring all batteries to full readiness.  Initiate on-line
sequence for port and starboard missile banks!"
   "Enemy fighters, one hundred microns and closing," Rigel
reported.
   "Commander," Athena looked up from her console, "We're getting
some urgent messages from some of the other ships.  They want to
know where Count Iblis is."
   "That's an interesting question, isn't it?" Adama said with a
sarcastic air, "Where has he gone off to, now that the time has
come for him to fulfill the conditions of his promise?"


   At the precise instant that Adama had posed his angry
question, the enigma that was Count Iblis was standing alone in
the deserted chamber of the Council of Twelve, staring out the
main observation screen that lined the full width of the Council
table.
   If anyone had seen him at that particular moment, they would
have been greeted to a sight that made Iblis's dramatic display
of power to Baltar pale in comparison.
   They would have seen his gaze at its most penetrating.  His
eyes at their most fiery.  His entire bearing more conquering
than ever.
   "Hear me, forces of the Cylon Empire," he whispered in a low,
malevolent and commanding tone, "You are mine to command as I
wish.  All that I will, shall happen but in the blink of an eye.
And my will shall be done!"
   Iblis stretched out his arm and then made a wide sweeping
motion with it.
   After a centon passed, he slowly lowered his arm and with a
triumphant smile, turned and left the empty Council chamber.


   The Galactica's entire viper force had wasted little time in
taking off to intercept the first wave of Cylon fighters that
were approaching.  As senior strike leader, Apollo took his viper
into the lead position.
   "Stand by to intercept," Apollo radioed, "Won't be long now."
   The lead column of fighters then came into their field of
vision.  Apollo sized up the lead Cylon on his attack computer
and saw the image blink, indicating that it was locked in his
sights.
   Suddenly, the blinking image disappeared from his attack
computer.  Before he'd had a chance to press the fire button.
   "What the...?"
   "Apollo!" Starbuck's voice shouted in the most stunned tone he
had ever heard from his friend, "They've all vanished!"
   Apollo's eyes darted forward through his cockpit.  Only a
micron ago, he had seen a large attack formation of Cylon
fighters.  Now he saw only the peaceful blackness of space.
   "Somebody pick them up on the scanners!" Apollo shouted in
bewilderment.
   "They're not on the scanners," Boomer spoke up, "My reading
says they're all gone!"
   "That's impossible!" Apollo refused to believe it, "What about
the baseship?"
   "My readings show that's gone too!" Starbuck said, "Not that
I'm complaining about it."
   "How in the name of Kobol does an entire phalanx of Cylon
fighters and a baseship just vanish into nothing?"
   "I think I know."
   Right away, Apollo recognized Sheba's voice through his
helmet.  And right away, he found the calm, collected tone of her
voice frightening.
   "Count Iblis," she said with near-reverence, "He's made it
possible.  He's ended the Cylon pursuit."


   The startled bewilderment felt by all of the viper pilots was
also felt on the Galactica bridge.
   Adama and Tigh were both too stunned to speak as they
continued to stare at the scanners.  What they had just seen far
exceeded anything they had prepared themselves for.
   "Are all of our fighters accounted for?" Adama finally managed
to force some words out.
   "They are," Omega nodded in amazement, "From all indications,
only the Cylon fighters and the baseship have disappeared."
   "But how?" Tigh demanded, "It doesn't make any sense."
   "Does it, Colonel?"
   They turned around and again saw Iblis standing on the other
side of the bridge.
   "I have now fulfilled the first task in its entirety," the
count said in triumph.
   "How?" Tigh repeated his demand, "What did you do?"
   Iblis smirked, "At this very micron, Colonel Tigh, the
baseship and the fighters now find themselves thrust clear across
the stars from where they were only a few centons ago.  As to how
I made that possible....well, there are things that you can never
be prepared to know.  But what should be of greater concern to
you is the fact that the danger of the Cylon pursuit is now over.
Your people are now free to go anywhere you choose in the
universe, and by the time any other Cylon is able to reach this
vicinity of space again, they will never be able to have any
precise idea of where it is you have gone."
   All of the bridge personnel were staring at Iblis in wide-eyed
wonder and awe.  It was clear that none of them needed any
further convincing.
   Adama though, refused to let himself look weak.  He continued
to stare at Iblis with the most implacable expression he was
capable of.
   Iblis's gaze shifted to Adama and his smile only increased,
"You'd better get the Council summoned immediately, Adama."
   As the count turned to go, one bridge crewman abruptly started
to applaud.  Soon, others found themselves joining in as well.
It finally reached a point where Adama, Tigh and Athena were the
only ones on the bridge who had not joined in.
   Iblis turned back and bowed in acknowledgment of the
accolades.
   "You are most kind," he said in a voice loud enough for all of
them to hear, "And it pleases me to say that the triumphs of the
last day represent only the beginning for all of you."
   As the ovation continued even after Iblis had gone, Tigh
slowly shook his head and said quietly, "I think I am going to be
sick."
   Athena came over from her console and took the commander by
the arm, "Father?" she asked with concern.
   Adama said nothing.  He continued to stare at where Iblis had
disappeared with stone-faced determination.
   Finally, without saying anything else, he left the bridge as
well.


   "Would you repeat that again?" there was no mistaking the
shock in Lucifer's voice.
   "The star charts confirm it," the command centurion said, "We
have been hurtled halfway across the galaxy to the star system of
our home planet, Cylon."
   If ever there was a time Lucifer wished that centurions didn't
talk in that unemotional monotonous drone, this was it.  The
centurion had made the stunning announcement in the same fashion
that he would for a simple maintenance inspection.
   "How can this be?" Lucifer demanded, "What force in the
universe is there that could be capable of doing such a thing?"
   "Unknown."
   The IL Cylon glided back to his throne chair and sat down,
trying to make some kind of sense of what had happened.
   Those lights, he thought.  It could only have been those
mysterious lights that caused it.
   Already, his mind was racing ahead, trying to come up with an
explanation that he would be able to present to the Imperious
Leader.  Especially since it now seemed that it would be possible
for him to do it in person.
   One thing was certain though, Lucifer vowed.  He wasn't about
to let the Imperious Leader have the satisfaction of making him a
scapegoat for the fact that the Galactica's trail had been lost.
If there was one positive lesson he could take from his
experience with Baltar, it was his ability to understand the
traitor's fascinating capacity to constantly survive no matter
what.  And he intended to put that knowledge he'd acquired into
effect.


   Adama was not surprised to see the gesture of ovation that the
bridge personnel had given Iblis be repeated by the members of
the Council as soon as the count made his entrance.  Some of it
was wildly enthusiastic from those like Sire Domra, while Sire
Anton remained only quietly polite, but there was no mistaking
its general unanimity.
   Adama had already decided that insisting on regular protocol
for the meeting was futile, so he simply allowed the applause to
continue and didn't bother exercising his prerogative as
President of the Council to formally recognize Iblis before
letting him speak.  He already knew that any explicit signs of
dissent would not carry at all.
   "It has been done," Iblis began, "The objections raised last
night by Sire Anton have been answered.  As I commanded Baltar to
come here and surrender, so too have I commanded the Cylon
pursuit force to disappear from this region of space.  The
ability of the Empire to track you and harass you, is now gone."
   "We are most grateful, Count Iblis," Domra spoke up, which
produced several choruses of "hear, hear" from some of the other
members.
   "And so we can all consider the first task I promised as
fulfilled," Iblis went on, "But as you are all aware, there were
two more prerequisites to our bargain before you would agree to
follow me.  One, that I would lead you to Earth.  The other, to
be decided among you.  What is your decision?"
   Sire Montrose rose from his seat, "Count Iblis, what has
transpired here in the last day has been an inspiration to all of
us.  I speak for all of us in asking that you give us more time
to consider that which we will propose."
   "I believe that I have already proven myself worthy of your
trust," Iblis was slightly amazed by Montrose's remark, "How long
will this consideration take?"
   "Not long, Count Iblis," Montrose said reassuringly, "Not
long.  It is not that we are ungrateful.  We simply wish to come
to an accord on what would be most beneficial from our
standpoint."
   "Very well," his tone grew pointed, "But may I remind you that
the people are expectant.  Now, they rejoice in the fall of
Baltar and the end of the Cylon pursuit.  But soon they will
demand that the journey to Earth begin, and so long as the
conditions of my third task remain unknown to me, that can not
yet happen."
   A low murmur went up from some of the more impatient members
of the Council.
   "When you have finally decided upon the third task, you will
find me in celebration amongst the people," Iblis bowed
respectfully, "Good day."
   The respectful silence that greeted the count as he made his
exit almost seemed more admiring to Adama than the applause that
had greeted Iblis during his entrance.
   "I believe we should all join in the celebration ourselves,"
Sire Domra broke the silence, "And I see no reason to delay
electing Count Iblis to the Presidency of our Quorum."
   "Second!" Sire Antipas spoke up.
   Another silence came over the chamber as many of the members
began directing their attention on the man who already held the
office of President.  But Adama was thoroughly placid and
unemotional, as though he were waiting for another opportunity.
He had talked to no other member beforehand and could have no way
of knowing if any of them would speak up themselves.  If that
turned out to be the case, he knew then that he would have to
continue from the helpless standpoint of being totally alone.
   But to his relief, Sire Anton was still with him.
   "You ask us to elect him President before the fulfillment of
the other two tasks, Domra?" the ex-Presidential aide
interjected, "You ask us to accelerate the timetable ahead of the
guidelines he himself put to us?"
   "Really, Sire Anton your objections at this point have a more
hollow ring than they did when we last met," Domra said sourly,
"You give one the impression of grasping at straws."
   "I resent your remark, Sire Domra," Anton refused to back
down, "If it is to be our destiny that Count Iblis is to become
our ruler in whom we place all our trust, then I only think it
appropriate that the compact we agreed on before be honored in
full.  That includes fulfillment of both the second task and the
undetermined third task, and not simply a further clarification
of the first task, spectacular as that clarification is."
   "Mr. President," Siress Tinia suddenly entered the discussion
and directed herself to Adama, "We do you a disservice by not
hearing your own feelings on this matter before any decision is
made.  I for one, am most interested in your opinion."
   "Thank you, Siress Tinia," Adama smiled thinly and then came
forward in his presidential seat, "Before I begin, I would like
to preface my remarks with the solemn assurance that what I say
is not motivated by any personal considerations---"
   "Your integrity is honored by all of us, Adama," Anton
interrupted with a reassuring emphasis that he knew would only
make Sire Domra look small if he objected.
   "Thank you Sire Anton," Adama bowed his head in gratitude and
then took on the forceful, measured tone that he always reserved
for when he found himself locked in another dispute with the
Council.
   "My brothers," he began with the parliamentary term that all
of the three female members of the Council knew was not a sleight
of them, "it is true that Count Iblis has done exactly as
promised with regard to the first task.  And I confess to being
no less amazed by the demonstration of force that was evidently
exercised against the Cylon attack force, than the rest of you
are.  These gestures are, as Sire Montrose noted earlier,
inspirational to us.  However," his voice grew more firm, "there
are still questions that remained unanswered.  I confess that I
still find Count Iblis's explanation of the disappearance of our
missing eight warriors to be insufficient for my purposes, as
well as his reluctance to explain the nature of these so-called
'powers' that he claims are responsible for their disappearance.
While I believe that all of us can look upon the events of this
day as sufficient cause for realizing that we do not face the
danger of a sudden betrayal to the Cylons, I somehow find myself
more troubled that the potential dangers that exist now, touch on
matters that are conceivably beyond anything our minds are
capable of comprehending.  I believe that more information, and
more caution is still required before we dare proceed any
further.  Acting now before we put the third task to Iblis would
simply not be in our best interest, as I see it."
   Adama allowed his remarks to hang in the air, waiting for the
reaction to his remarks.
   Sire Montrose, who had known Adama for many yahrens as a
fellow Council member in the pre-Holocaust period, and who had
always admired the commander's eloquence, was no less admiring on
this occasion.
   "Perhaps we are all too overcome by the jubilation we feel
over the surrender of a traitor, and the stunning defeat of our
enemy," Montrose sighed as if he were gently reproaching himself,
"Since the Cylon danger has passed, we can afford to exercise
patience for the short-term.  I am willing to go along with
Commander Adama's line of thinking."
   "How long do you define 'short term'?" Domra sourly
interjected, "When do we finally come to a decision on the third
task?"
   Adama looked at his most vocal Council opponent and refused to
allow a note of disrespect to enter his voice, "Would a delay of
forty-eight centars seem acceptable, Sire Domra?" he inquired,
"That would give all of us sufficient time to partake in the
celebrations that have been happening since last night, and which
are now entering a new phase of excitement.  When we meet again,
we should all be in a more relaxed frame of mind to arrive at a
decision."
   "I second the motion," Anton said.
   Domra looked at Adama and then seemed to reluctantly nod in
agreement.
   "Then if there are no objections," Adama tapped his gavel,
"The Council of Twelve again stands adjourned."
   But as the members filed out, Adama knew that he could not
take much satisfaction in his minor victory.  The most he had
done was buy some time, and unless events took an unexpected turn
in that limited span, he knew that he would no longer be able to
stave off the inevitable coronation of Iblis as the unchallenged
supreme leader of the Fleet.


   Far away in the Imperial Palace of the home planet Cylon, the
last thing the Imperious Leader had expected to see that day was
the sight of an IL Cylon who was supposed to be many sectans of
flight time across the reaches of the galaxy.
   "How can you account for your presence here, Lucifer?" the
Leader didn't bother to conceal his astonishment.
   "I have no way to account for it, Your Eminence," Lucifer kept
his bulbous head lowered slightly, "And yet somehow, the same
phenomena that induced Baltar to seek out the Galactica must
somehow have been responsible for hurling our baseship all the
way back to Cylon in the blink of a human eye."
   "If it is indeed so that there is such a power capable of
that, I suppose I can scarcely blame Baltar for acting as he
did," the Cylon Ruler mused, "If this....power were to return and
bother us further, I scarcely know how we could think of dealing
with such an unexpected menace."
   Lucifer decided it was time for him to seize the initiative.
   "May I say, Your Eminence, that from our standpoint the best
thing we can do is hope that whatever this phenomena was, it will
not return to bother us again with such a dramatic display of
force.  Since we know that we would be impotent if it chose to
act against us in full force, we should turn our attention back
to the matter that is of greater importance to us, and is one
that we can deal with.  And that is resuming the search for the
Galactica."
   "Which will not be an easy task, Lucifer," Imperious Leader
pointed out gravely, "Your baseship was the only one within ten
star systems of being able to track her.  It would take another
basestar almost a sectar of flight time at top speed to reach the
last position you were in, and by the time they arrived, the
Galactica could have gone across the stars in any one of an
infinite number of directions."
   "That is almost certainly a foregone conclusion."
   The Cylon ruler settled back in his throne chair, and seemed
to be summoning the power of the special third computer brain,
that he alone possessed among all other Cylon robots.
   "There is only one option left to us," the Leader finally
spoke, "Our entire fleet of basestars must be dispersed across
the full perimeter of the galaxy as we know it.  We can only hope
that somehow, one of them will be able to lie in wait and
intercept the Galactica at some point.  And then, we will be able
to at long last deliver the final blow against humanity."
   "I concur with your reasoning," Lucifer bowed further, "I am
prepared to lead my ship back out in compliance with your order."
   "You may," Imperious Leader said, "Barring the unlikely return
of Baltar, command is now yours."
   Lucifer felt a slight edge of disappointment that he'd heard
the Leader issue that qualification about Baltar.  But he decided
that it would be virtual suicide for him to say anything about
that.  He knew that an inferior thinking Cylon would not have
been as fortunate to emerge as unscathed from the entire debacle
as he was.
   "We shall begin our journey immediately," the IL Cylon bowed
and then left the chamber.
   Alone, the Imperious Leader's sense of bafflement over the
turn of events continued to rage through his vast three computer
brains.
   "What has become of you, Baltar?" he absently mused aloud.


   At that very instant, Baltar was angrily pacing back and forth
in the confines of his solitary cell aboard the Prison Barge.
The place where all the criminals in the Fleet were kept to live
in lonely isolation.
   He couldn't understand how this turn of events could have
happened.  Only a day ago, he had the security and power of his
baseship and his command.  Now, he'd been reduced to this.  To
the same sort of pathetic existence a common criminal would be
used to.  And one thing he never saw himself as, was a common
criminal.
   How could this be?  his mind raged over and over.  How could
this be?
   Ever since he'd been thrown into his cell, he'd been pondering
that question.  And now he felt that he knew part of the answer.
   "Sit Baltar.  Do not waste idle time pacing."
   Baltar turned around and saw the imposing form of Count Iblis
standing outside his cell.
   "You," Baltar seethed with contempt as he wished he could
reach through the bars and strangle the man in white, "You!"
   "Sit!" Iblis boldly commanded and then dropped his voice to a
friendly level as he added, "Old friend."
   Baltar came up to the cell door and glared at him with angry
defiance, "I will not.  And you cannot ever again force me to do
anything against my will.  I know you.  I remember that voice.  A
voice I have cowered in front of before, and a voice that I have
spoken with many times since.  I know it well."
   A faint smile curled around the corners of Iblis's lips, "Do
you?"
   "The voice of the Cylon Imperious Leader," Baltar said
pointedly, as if he were proud of his deductions, "The voice of
the Leader who sentenced me to death, and the same voice of his
successor who spared me."
   Count Iblis's expression didn't change.
   "The Cylon's a machine," he said simply.
   "Now they are, yes," Baltar nodded as he went on, "But once
they were a race of reptilian beings who allowed themselves to be
overcome by their own technology, and saw their own machine
creations turn on them and destroy them, resulting in their
extinction as a species."
   Iblis continued to smile in amusement, "And when did this
happen?"
   "A thousand yahrens ago," a smug edge entered the traitor's
voice, "At the onset of the thousand yahren war with the humans."
   "Do you know the implications of what you say, Baltar?" Iblis
smirked, "Not only would I have to have been a living reptilian
Cylon at one time myself, but in order for my voice to be that of
the Imperious Leader, it would have to have been transcribed and
placed into the essence of the first machine Leader a thousand
yahrens ago."
   Baltar froze as the full implications suddenly hit him.  He'd
been so stubbornly proud of his initial deductions that the full
weight of what Iblis was saying to him had not occurred to him.
   "I would have to be at least a thousand yahrens old," Iblis
repeated each word with rolling emphasis.
   The human traitor's bravado appeared to shatter as he
helplessly turned away from him and went back to the other end of
his cell.  His shoulders warily sagged as if he felt there was
nothing left for him to say, think or do.
   Suddenly, Baltar froze when he felt the firm touch of a hand
on his shoulder.  He knew it couldn't have been possible since he
had not heard the door to his cell slide open.
   "Do not despair my friend," Iblis's voice said with gentle
reassurance, "All is not lost.  What has happened to you and the
pursuit force is only a temporary necessity.  Things will
change....in time."
   Baltar spun around to say something in response.  But when he
did, his bewilderment increased when he saw that no one was there
in the cell room.  He was completely alone.

                   Chapter Six

   Six centars had passed since the end of the Council meeting,
and Adama had spent almost the entire time in lonely isolation in
his quarters, spending the entire time reading the Book of the
Word and several works in philosophy and theology that he
maintained in his personal library.  Wondering if he could find
some small thing that would provide even the faintest of clues
that could shed more light on the nature of Count Iblis.
   So far, Adama had only found some imprecise leads to consider.
None of them concrete enough to feel comfortable expressing aloud
to anyone.  But all of them put together were enough to reinforce
his firm belief that allowing Count Iblis to assume full
leadership over the Fleet would be wrong.
   "Father?"
   He looked up from his desk and saw his daughter enter.
   "Hello Athena," he set his book down, "I thought you'd be over
on the Rising Star taking part in all the merriment that's
erupted."
   "Father," Athena sat down in the chair in front of Adama's
desk, "I think you need to have a talk with Apollo."
   He carefully closed his books and delicately raised an
eyebrow, "Any particular reason why?"
   "Ever since Apollo brought all our fighters back in, he's been
lying in his quarters brooding," Athena said with concern, "He
said something to Starbuck about not wanting to play in the triad
match tonight.  It's gotten around to everyone in the Fleet."
   "That's interesting," Adama rubbed his chin, "Does he say
why?"
   "I stopped by his quarters but couldn't get a word out of
him," his daughter sighed, "All he said was that he didn't feel
like celebrating."
   "He's not alone," Adama leaned back in his chair, "Apollo has
his doubts about Count Iblis.  And so do I."
   "I have them too, Father," her voice suddenly went up, "I'm
one of those people who stopped believing in miracles a long time
ago, and I think it's terrible the way all these people are
suddenly willing to forget all that you've done for them and go
over to that man, no matter what kind of spectacular stunts he's
pulled off.  But there's something else that's bothering Apollo,
and it isn't just the fact that Iblis has virtually taken over."
   "Oh?" Adama asked with curiosity, "Do you know what that is?"
   Athena lowered her eyes slightly as if she were embarrassed to
be mentioning the subject, "The other night when Count Iblis
was....reading our minds so to speak, he said something about how
there was one thing of greater concern to Apollo than the missing
pilots.  I only needed a micron to realize that he was talking
about Sheba."
   Her father seemed mildly surprised by her comment.
   "I was too wrapped up in Iblis to really pay close attention
to what he meant there," he said, "Do you mean that Apollo is
concerned because of the way Sheba's so willingly accepted
Iblis?"
   "Concerned would be an understatement," she looked up at him,
"Apollo is insanely jealous because he....I don't know how to put
this exactly, because I'm not sure how strong I can say it, but
he has some kind of.....interest in Sheba.  He's had it almost
since the micron she joined us."
   Adama skipped a beat and then a flicker of understanding came
over his face, "Ah yes," he nodded, "Now I realize why he got too
distracted by Iblis to mention those details about the lights in
his initial report.  It finally makes sense." he looked back at
Athena, "So he's basically upset because of the way Sheba and
Iblis have almost become....attached?"
   "That's the only explanation, Father," she said, "If it were
any other warrior he felt close to on another level, he wouldn't
be acting this way.  He'd be like an uncaged animal trying to
take some kind of initiative and do something about it.  But
because it's Sheba...." her voice trailed off.
   He father began to drum his fingers on the table, "So you want
me to have a talk to him about it?"
   "You have to, Father," she said, "Everyone in the Fleet has
been expecting to see him and Starbuck play this triad match for
sectans now.  You know how much watching the best warriors in
this kind of competition means to the people, and not seeing him
play, especially during a time of celebration as this is, could
end up sending all the wrong kinds of signals."
   Adama nodded, "Yes, I know what you mean.  Already, Sire Domra
has been spending the last six centars telling every IFB reporter
in sight that I and Sire Anton have been acting as unnecessary
impediments to seeing the journey to Earth begin under Count
Iblis's leadership.  Apollo not playing could be taken the wrong
way and make things even worse from my standpoint," he rose from
his chair, "I'll do it."
   "Thanks," Athena sounded relieved, "But when you talk to him,
it's important that you don't mention Sheba's name, or even imply
openly that Apollo has some kind of interest in her."
   "Why?" he frowned.
   "Father...." she seemed to struggle for the right words, "I
don't how I can explain this in a way that makes sense.  All I
can tell you is that on the one hand, Apollo is upset because
he's jealous over Sheba, yet at the same time he doesn't want to
admit to anyone, not even himself that he has feelings that deep
for her.  Starbuck told me that when he accidentally raised the
subject once, Apollo was ready to tear his head off."
   Adama's eyes widened when he heard that revelation.
   "Apollo has deluded himself into thinking that he'll be
disgracing Serina's memory if he ever shows any interest in
another woman," Athena continued, "That's why he's trying to keep
all his feelings about Sheba bottled up from not only her, but
from you and me and everyone else close to him.  Mentioning it
directly to him is only going to make him retreat even more into
his shell.  Even if it came from you.  You've got to convince him
why it's important to play tonight without bringing her name up."
   "You're putting quite a challenge to me, Athena," her father
smiled with little mirth, "I can't force him to compete, but I
will talk to him."
   "I'm glad to hear that," she said, "Let me know how it goes."
   As soon as his daughter was gone, Adama found himself sadly
shaking his head.
   Athena, he said to himself, how is it that you can be so full
of gifted insight about the people you love, and yet you never
show enough insight when it comes to yourself?  You've still been
brooding in your heart about letting Starbuck get away for
sectans, and yet you've never wanted to talk to me about it.
   And then, he walked out and began walking down the corridor
that led to Apollo's quarters.


   Apollo was lying in his bed, totally lost in the tortures of
his innermost thoughts.  For most of the time, his arms had been
folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.  The rest
of the time, he'd been absently fondling the holopicture he kept
on the table next to his bed, staring intently at the image of
Serina.
   He heard the clank of Muffit's robot legs entering the next
room and abruptly set the holopicture down.  He got up into a
sitting position and saw a dejected Boxey enter his father's
room, with Muffit trailing behind.
   "Hey Boxey!" Apollo reached out and gave his son a hug, "I
haven't seen you since I got back.  Where've you been hiding?"
   "They let us out of primary classes early because of all the
celebrating," the little boy's voice was downcast, "We all went
over to the Pathmain for a couple centars."
   "That must have been fun," Apollo said brightly as he ran a
hand through his son's hair, "I've heard they've been doing a lot
of things on that recreation ship.  They must have things a lot
more fun then what the Rejuvenation Center has."
   "Yeah," Boxey didn't look at him.
   Concern came over Apollo as he tilted his son's head so that
Boxey was now looking at you, "What's bothering you?  You didn't
even give me a hug back."
   "My friends all say you're a coward," the downcast tone
increased.
   "Boxey, what are you talking about?" Apollo frowned.
   "We were watching the video-com and we heard them say you're
not playing in the games tonight," his son turned away from him
again, "And then all the other kids said it could only be because
you're afraid."
   "Now why would I be afraid?" he tried to inject a note of
reassurance into his voice, but it was clear that it wasn't
having any effect, "Boxey, you've been watching me play every
game we've done since the whole triad league was started.  You
know that Starbuck and I are the best team.  We've never lost
once."
   "Count Iblis says Boomer's team is going to win."
   Apollo had to struggle to keep his face from contorting into
disbelief, "Where did you hear him say that?"
   "He stopped by the Pathmain after we saw the video-com," Boxey
shuffled his feet as he kept his gaze locked on the floor, "All
the other kids were happy to see him and they started talking
with him.  But you said you didn't like him, so I stayed clear."
   Apollo felt himself letting out a sad sigh.  Now Count Iblis
is ruining my son's life too.
   "And that's when they started getting on you?" he gently
asked.
   "Yeah," Boxey still didn't look up, "They said you're afraid
that if you lose, it will prove that Count Iblis is smarter than
Grandfather.  That he should be our new leader."
   "Boxey," Apollo took him by the shoulders, "Take a look at
me."
   The gentle commanding edge in his father's voice finally made
Boxey look up at him.
   "This hasn't got anything to do with your grandfather," he
said, "It has to do with not wanting to waste my time laughing
and carrying on as if there's nothing wrong when there are
friends of mine that might be dying someplace.  People like Giles
and Greenbean and Jolly, who are your friends too.  You can
understand that, can't you?"
   "I...guess so," Boxey lowered his head again and it seemed
more like he was only saying it just to please his father.
   "Good," Apollo forced himself into a brighter tone, "Now you
go tell your friends that it doesn't matter to me who wins the
games, and that I wouldn't even mind seeing Boomer win for a
change."
   For the first time, his son seemed to look slightly reassured.
Boxey impulsively threw his arms around his father and they
shared a quiet hug for nearly a centon before they let go.
   "Go have some fun in the Rejuvenation Center," Apollo smiled
at him, "The way things are going now, there probably won't be
any primary classes for another sectan.  Enjoy it."
   With that, Boxey turned and left his room with Muffit
trailing.  Apollo settled himself back onto his bed and then his
bead perked up when he heard Boxey exclaim, "Grandfather!"
   Apollo looked up and saw that his father was in the next room
holding Boxey and giving him a kiss.  They exchanged a few words
with each other, and Adama then set him down and the little boy
finally departed into the outer corridor.
   Adama slowly made his way into Apollo's room.
   "How long were you there?" his son asked.
   "Long enough to hear the general gist," Adama said and let out
a wistful sigh of reminiscence, "Those kinds of talks are never
easy, are they?  Watching you with Boxey reminded me of the time
I had to console you when you were six.  You came home one
afternoon from primary classes in tears because some kids taunted
you over the fact that I didn't have as many combat ribbons as
Cain."
   Apollo closed his eyes and let out a tiny, embarrassed chuckle
as the memory came back, "I remember."  He then looked up at his
father again, "Did I do as good with Boxey as you did with me?"
   "You did," Adama came up to the foot of his bed, "At least you
were....as honest as you could be."
   His son frowned, "As I could be?"
   "Apollo," Adama said as delicately as he could, "You've been
in the Service nearly ten yahrens.  You've seen plenty of friends
of yours die before your eyes in more than hundreds of combat
engagements, before and after the Holocaust.  And not once did
you ever let yourself brood in despair the way you say that these
missing eight are making you do now."
   Apollo's gaze went back to the ceiling, "Well ah.....the
circumstances this time aren't exactly the same."
   "Apollo," the tiniest hint of a blunt edge now entered his
father's voice, "I'm not going to deny that you are concerned
about them.  But I've just had a long talk with Athena.  Now I'm
not going to go into any specifics, but we both know that there's
another reason for why you're sitting here alone in your quarters
brooding, and the missing pilots have nothing to do with it."
   Apollo's outward expression didn't change but Adama noticed
how the muscles in his face seemed to tighten.
   "I'm not going to presume that I can give you any advice on
how you should handle that....concern of yours." Adama went on,
"But what I can do, is give you my honest opinion that the best
thing you can do, is to do something other than just lie in here
and stare at the ceiling."
   "You think I should play." Apollo said flatly as he kept
avoiding his stare.
   Adama sighed and put a hand on Apollo's shoulder, "Son," he
said tenderly, "Don't make it more difficult for me.  And don't
leave me with two-hundred-twenty ships of celebrating people who
end up outraged that on the day we scored our first clear victory
over the Cylons since we fled the colonies, you aren't willing to
do something as simple as play in a triad match they've all been
looking forward to.  You'd just be serving Count Iblis's cause."
   "Would I?" Apollo whispered forlornly.
   "You can't deny that he's become....quite popular," his father
gently went on, "I think more than half the Fleet is already
willing to dispense with all further preliminaries and start
following him blindly for eternity.  The only way I've been able
to keep the Council in check up to this point, and win a delay
for another forty centars, is because I've been keeping my
objections couched in moderation.  Any brazen act of dissent at
this point, even in something symbolic as your presence at a
triad match, can easily cause events to move forward more rapidly
than they should."
   Apollo slowly shook his head and let out a long, slow exhale.
   "I almost feel like I've gone through a complete role reversal
from a few centons ago," his son said with irony, "Only now, I've
become Boxey."  He finally looked up at his father, "If you think
my not playing will shift the balance his way, then I'll play."
   "Well," Adama said, "I don't think you'll be doing your
missing friends a disservice, or for that matter.....any other
people you might be thinking about."
   Apollo got to his feet and this time nodded in acceptance.
   "As a matter of fact," his father said as he took his son in
his arms, "You might end up helping all of them."
   And just as Apollo had done with Boxey only centons ago, Adama
gave his son a warm, comforting parental embrace.



   When Apollo entered the athlete's room aboard the Rising Star
two centars later, a look of pure relief came over Starbuck, who
had already changed into his triad uniform, while at the same
instant, both Boomer and Castor felt their shoulders sag in
disappointment.
   "I knew it was too good to be true," Boomer said in mock self-
pity.
   "Come on Boomer," Apollo said, forcing himself to sound light-
hearted as he took his gear out of his locker and started to
change, "Remember the old Aquarian proverb about the thrill of
the competitive atmosphere of the game being more important than
the final resolution?"
   "I burned all my Aquarian proverb books the day I graduated
primary school," the dark-skinned warrior retorted, "My response
to the one you're thinking of was as follows: 'Winning is not but
a part of the glorious competition, but is in fact its
entirety.'"
   Apollo laughed at his friend's satirical parody of the
Aquarian writing style and started to put on his gear.
   "See you out in the tunnel," Boomer said, "Castor and I now
have to rethink our game plan."
   As soon as Boomer and the Colonial security guard stepped out
into the corridor that led to the triad court, Starbuck came over
to Apollo and gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder.
   "You don't know how glad I am to see you," Starbuck said with
relief, "Do you know who they were going to pair me up with if
you hadn't showed up?  That fracking snitrod Ortega.  That guy
plays so dirty that if I'd had to play alongside him, I might
have been ready to throw Boomer the match."
   Apollo snapped the rest of his triad uniform into place and
made a final adjustment to the headgear.  "Let's just give it our
best shot, Starbuck."
   "Best shot?" Starbuck cautiously raised an eyebrow, "That's
not the confidence I wanted to have instilled in me, Apollo.  I
wanted to see some of that old swagger about how we can't
possibly lose now."
   "I'll leave the arrogance to you, Starbuck," Apollo gave him a
fraternal tap on the shoulder of his own, "Come on, let's get
going."
   As soon as they entered the corridor that led out to the
court, Apollo froze slightly when he saw Boomer and Castor
standing by the entrance to the court.  And talking with them
were Sheba and Count Iblis.
   Starbuck shot a nervous glance at his friend and saw Apollo
shake his head as though he were trying to come out of a daze.
To Starbuck's relief, Apollo seemed to regain composure and they
resumed walking at a normal, confidant pace.
   Apollo deliberately kept his back to Iblis as he stopped in
the doorway and barely nodded his head in acknowledgment at
Sheba, as though he didn't want his attention to linger on her.
He then quickly shifted his gaze to Boomer and Castor and gave
both his opponents another fraternal tap of respect on the
shoulder.
   "Good luck you two," Apollo smiled, "You always make it
interesting."
   And then, Apollo and Starbuck entered the court first.  As
soon as the packed crowds of spectators in the galleries saw the
best team they had ever seen play emerge, they all rose to their
feet in a thunderous ovation.
   Castor felt his shoulders sag again as he shook his head in
resignation and also went out on to the court to take part in the
practice session.  The muscular security guard received only
polite applause that was barely one-tenth the level it had been
for Apollo and Starbuck.
   Boomer continued to linger in the tunnel, "Based on the crowd
reaction alone, I might as well just forget it," he said aloud.
   "Come on Boomer," Sheba tried to cheer him up, "Don't give up
before you've begun.  You're good."
   "I am good," he let out sigh, "Against Barton and Ortega, or
any of the other ten teams in our league, I am great.  But
against Apollo and Starbuck, I am only respectable against the
ones who are better.  And in this game, respectable doesn't mean
felgercarb." his gaze shifted back out to the court where the
other players were deep into their warm-up session, "I love those
two guys like they were my own brothers.  But when it comes to
this game, I would give anything to beat them just once."
   "I'd heard you felt that way," Count Iblis spoke up for the
first time and smiled at Boomer, "Maybe I can be of help."
   Boomer looked at the man in white and frowned slightly, "I've
yet to see anything that can beat skill, Count Iblis."
   "I think the Commander's son is a trifle too sure of himself,"
Iblis seemed to be goading Boomer, "Maybe that weakness can be
exploited."
   The dark-skinned warrior blinked slightly, and then said with
an amused air, "Well obviously you've never played triad against
Starbuck and Apollo."
   "No," Iblis chuckled, "But I'd like to.  Through you."
   Boomer's frown intensified.
   "How badly would you like to win?" Iblis asked pointedly as he
suddenly gave Boomer a piercing gaze.  His eyes locking directly
on the warrior's.
   Boomer found himself unable to turn away from Iblis's piercing
expression.  The only sensation he felt at that instant was an
unbelievable surge of energy and adrenalin going through his body
that he'd never felt the likes of before.
   "You shouldn't keep your partner waiting," Iblis motioned his
head toward the court, "Go now."
   As if he were in a half-comprehending daze, Boomer barely
nodded and stepped out onto the court.
   Iblis smiled with satisfaction as he watched Boomer for a
brief instant and then turned back to Sheba.
   "Come my princess," he warmly extended his arm, "Let us go up
to the galleries and watch something these spectators have never
seen the likes of before."
   With no hesitation whatsoever, Sheba took hold of his arm and
gently rested her head on his shoulder as he escorted her back up
to the spectators galleries.


   As soon as the first ball dropped into play from overhead, it
seemed to the spectators as though events would follow a
predictable pattern for this game, just as it had done for all
the other occasions when the same teams had met before.
   The first rebound went to Starbuck, who got off a perfect
carom shot to Apollo.  Apollo was in perfect position to make the
first score.
   But as Apollo prepared to throw the easy shot into the scoring
circle, he was startled to see Boomer fly across his field of
vision with a blocking move he had never seen the likes of before
in all the yahrens he'd played the game.  Boomer had initially
been caught badly out of position when the ball had come to
Apollo, and it could only have taken a superhuman move on his
part to be able to stop Apollo from getting off a perfect shot.
Yet he had been able to pull off the impossible and block him.
The ball tipped out of Apollo's hands and shot off the wall where
Castor cleanly fielded it, and before a startled Starbuck could
make a move, the Blue Team had made the first score.
   As the four players moved back into the circle formation to
await the next ball that would drop from above, Apollo shot a
glance at Boomer and instantly realized that something wasn't
right.  There was a haunted, glassy-eyed quality to Boomer's face
that Apollo had never seen before.  It seemed as if his entire
personality had been submerged in a sea of frenetic adrenalin and
energy.
   Something is not right, Apollo thought as they began to dance
around the center and saw the ball drop back into play.
   It ricocheted off the back end of the court and came straight
to Boomer.  This time, Starbuck moved into the position of
blocking him, while Apollo guarded Castor at the other end.
   In all of the previous matches, Starbuck had found that he'd
always been able to outguess his opponents moves toward the
scoring circle through a defensive move he'd dubbed the "trap
strategy."  The idea was to never make any sudden move for the
ball itself but to keep crowding around his opponent, always
letting him maintain possession, but gently forcing him away from
the scoring circles until finally, the helpless opponent was
literally boxed in at one of the triangular corners of the court,
totally incapable of getting off any meaningful shot.  The end
result was always a hasty, panicked shot off the sidewall, which
Apollo would always be in position to field cleanly and turn into
an easy score for the Gold Team.
   Starbuck carefully applied the trap strategy as he'd done so
many times in the past with the same delicate precision he used
in flying his viper and setting up a Cylon fighter in his sights.
He had yet to find a single opponent who'd been able to
successfully escape from the trap, once they found themselves
ensnared in it.
   It initially seemed like the patented strategy was working
again.  Boomer was steadily forced back away from the scoring
circles toward the triangular corner.  It only seemed a matter of
microns before he'd be left with no more maneuvering room and be
forced to relinquish possession with a futile shot.
   Suddenly, Boomer surprised Starbuck and all the spectators in
the galleries, as well as those watching the match on the IFB
throughout the Fleet, when he made a dash right from out of the
corner, and around the blond lieutenant where he was left all
alone to make a perfect leap and easy shot right into the circle.
It was a move that seemed utterly impossible from any practical
standpoint.  Never before could anyone ever recall seeing an
opponent successfully fight his way out after being subjected to
the full strength of the trap strategy.
   The Blue Team was now up by two.  The crowd found themselves
wildly applauding the incredible display of athletic prowess they
were seeing from Boomer.
   In the first tier of seats on one side of the gallery, Adama
slowly shook his head in amazement as he saw the process repeated
again and again on the next six possessions.  Almost
singlehandedly, Boomer had pushed the Blue Team to an early lead
of eight to nothing.
   Amidst the applause, Adama slowly looked up and his eyes
locked on to Count Iblis, who was seated directly across from him
in the first tier of seats on the opposite side of the gallery.
The mysterious man in white was an odd picture of total calm
amidst the sea of frenetic applause and excitement from all the
spectators surrounding him.  Not once did he ever applaud or rise
from his seat.  Not once did he even seem to move even a muscle
of his body.  Yet Adama could see the count's eyes constantly
moving back and forth inside his motionless head, as though they
were following all of the action with perfect, methodical
thinking and planning.
   An inkling of what was truly transpiring beneath them started
to enter the commander's mind.  He thought back again to the
passages from the Book of the Word he had been reading in his
quarters earlier in the day, as well as those in the numerous
philosophical tracts, and a more precise image of what he'd been
considering about Iblis began to enter his mind.  An image that
he found deeply disturbing.
   The early big lead of the Blue Team continued to hold up as
the game progressed.  As the time on the large chronometer of the
scoreboard slowly ticked down to zero, the lead only increased to
a lopsided margin of fifteen to four.
   When the buzzer went off, the crowd erupted in a large,
frenzied delight that they had witnessed something they'd never
expected to see.  The total humiliation of Apollo and Starbuck on
the triad court.
   Apollo and Starbuck both shook their heads in incredulous
disbelief as they tried to let the impact of what had happened on
the court sink in.  At the other side, they saw a jubilant
Sergeant Castor congratulating his partner with a triumphant
embrace.  But to the amazement of Castor, Boomer didn't
reciprocate.
   "Apollo," Starbuck looked over with concern, "Would you look
at him?  That's not what he always said he'd do if he ever beat
us."
   Apollo nodded as they saw the hollow, glassy-eyed expression
linger on Boomer's face as Castor shrugged and pushed him aside.
   "He seemed like that all through the game," Apollo said as he
and Starbuck headed for the exit, "One thing's for certain, he
sure didn't seem normal during the game."
   "Normal?" Starbuck snorted, "I thought I was up against a
superhuman maniac.  No one I know is capable of the stuff he did
out there."
   As Apollo reached the exit, he cast a glance up at the gallery
where Count Iblis was sitting, looking down with his usual
triumphant air.
   "Maybe no one is, Starbuck," Apollo said quietly as he
continued to stare at Iblis, "Maybe no one is."


   After they'd showered in the turbowash, Apollo and Starbuck
changed into their dress uniforms and went up several decks to
the Rising Star's main lounge.  They were both amazed by the
intensity of the festive partying that was going on, as they saw
literally scores of people indulging in the pleasures of good
food, strong drink, and shamelessly open displays of physical
affection.
   "Would you look at this place?" Starbuck said in amazement as
he took his fumarello cigar out of his mouth, "This whole scene
makes the Caprica City Red Light District seem like an Otori Sect
temple by comparison."
   "I sure don't remember anyone being this happy when we won.
Including--" Apollo suddenly stopped in his tracks again when he
saw Iblis seated at a nearby table.  Sheba sat next to him, with
a contented expression on her face as she curled up on his
shoulder holding a full glass of ambrosia.
   "--me," Apollo finally forced the last word of his sentence
out as he continued to stare at Iblis's table.  Standing next to
him, Starbuck could feel a tension erupt in the air as though it
had been fired out of a laser cannon.
   Iblis rose from his chair and extended his hand warmly to the
two warriors, "My dear young friends!" he said cheerily, "There
is a new air of optimism.  Join in it."
   Apollo's expression didn't change.
   "You look so serious," Iblis feigned a scowl and then his
smile returned in an instant, "Brighten yourselves up.  The games
will be as distant a memory as the Cylon pursuit now is before
this night is through."
   Apollo cast an uneasy glance back at the activity going on
throughout the lounge, before resuming his attention with Iblis,
"How long is this party supposed to last?" he softly demanded,
"Most of these people are in critical jobs."
   "Ask me to worry about the Fleet from now," Iblis said with
cheerful reassurance as he raised a glass of ambrosia, "My
commandment is that everyone enjoy life to its fullest."
   "No matter how long it lasts," Starbuck found himself unable
to resist smirking.
   Sheba suddenly got to her feet.  To Apollo, she almost seemed
slightly tipsy as a result of the ambrosia, "Starbuck, Apollo,
you don't just seem to get the point.  We're all saved!  So
relax."
   She let out a giggle and then suddenly took on a coy,
flirtatious look as she drew closer to Apollo, "Oh come on
Apollo," she came up to him, "Let me offer you some consolation."
   "What a wonderful idea," Iblis smiled approvingly.
   Apollo could almost feel his heart pounding beneath his
uniform to the point where he felt it would explode.  There was
so much he wanted to say to Sheba at that moment about so many
different things.  About his concern for her.  And even about the
feelings for her that had been tearing him apart for days now.
But now that the opportunity was being forced upon him, he had no
idea where he could possibly begin.
   Still, he had no intention of refusing her offer as she took
him by the arm and led him out to the dance floor.
   Starbuck watched the two of them with interest, wondering how
it was all going to factor into the equation of what he also knew
had been troubling his friend.
   "They make a handsome couple," Iblis sounded pleased.
   Starbuck turned around and gave him a curious look, "Really?"
he sounded amazed by Iblis's reaction, "I...somehow had the
impression that you were interested in Sheba for yourself."
   "Why should she be limited to one man?" the count's smile
seemed to be a perpetual part of his visage, "Or you and I to one
woman?"
   Starbuck took an amused puff on his cigar, "Hmmm.  I might
actually get to like this place you come from."
   "In your case it would certainly solve all of your problems
surrounding Lieutenant Athena and the charming Cassiopeia."
   The amused expression still didn't fade from the brash
lieutenant's face, "I wasn't aware I still had a problem."
   "True, you have been favoring Cassiopeia more recently," Iblis
conceded, "But if it were possible to do as I suggest, would you
not feel much better?"
   Starbuck took another puff, "I guess you really do know how to
read minds, Count.  Maybe I should buy you another drink with my
compliments."
   "My pleasure," Iblis said as Starbuck carefully followed him
over to the bar.  In the back of his mind, the brash lieutenant
was wondering if it were possible for an advanced being like
Iblis to get drunk.


   On the dance floor, Sheba couldn't help but think in amusement
how awkward Apollo seemed as he tried to keep up with the
rhythmic movements of the dance.  It was one of the more modern
varieties that involved no direct contact between the partners
but had more to do with maintaining tempo with the music.
   "Come on Apollo," she said trying to pep him up as she
increased her own tempo, "Show some spirit.  You dance as though
you're ten yahrens out-of-practice."
   "Yeah, well ah," Apollo found that his thoughts were too
crowded to concentrate on where his feet were landing, "I guess
I'm still surprised you didn't ask Iblis."
   "Apollo," Sheba laughed teasingly, "You almost sound like
you're jealous."
   Apollo suddenly stopped his half-hearted attempt at dancing
and impulsively grabbed her by the arm.  She was stunned to see a
harsh look come over his face.
   "Jealous?" he whispered angrily, "Do you really think in the
time you've known me that I'd let something as petty as jealousy
interfere with my judgment when the lives of every man, woman and
child could be at stake?  Is that what you think?  We'll you're
wrong.  You're dead wrong."
   Sheba shook herself loose from him and glared at him with a
mixture of sadness and hurt.
   "I really misjudged you," she said quietly, "There were
microns you fooled me into thinking you....." she shook her head
again, "I can see that my unfavorable first impression of you
aboard the Pegasus was probably correct after all."
   And before Apollo could say anything else, she stormed away
and left him standing alone and stunned on the dance floor.
   "Oh frack," he whispered under his breath as he slowly
collected himself and walked off the dance floor.
   What's with you, Apollo? he kept saying to himself.  Even if
she raises the subject in fun, your first instinct is to angrily
deny it.  Even when it comes from her.  You seem more frightened
of admitting that to yourself than you are of Iblis.
   Feeling too embarrassed to stay, he walked out of the lounge
as fast as he could go, determined to get back to the Galactica
and away from the celebrating.

                  Chapter Seven

   The next morning, Apollo awoke with a fierce determination to
push all of his concerns about Sheba from his mind for the time
being, and concentrate instead on the enigma of Count Iblis
himself.
   I can't let this get me down, he said to himself.  I can't let
it be my first concern.  If I think hard about Iblis only and
what he is, then all of the other problems should take care of
themself.
   He finished dressing and started to go through the copy of the
Book of the Word that Adama had given to him on his fifth
birthday, and which he had always cherished through the yahrens.
Especially the handwritten inscription his father had written:
"To my son Apollo.  As you grow older in knowledge, may you
always know when to look to the teachings of this Holy book for
inspiration, wisdom and guidance."
   After almost a centar of reading, and seeing things that made
him begin to think more clearly about the enigma of Iblis and who
he might be, his concentration was shattered by the sound of the
klaxon.
   What the--?, Apollo put down the Book in shock.  Have the
Cylons come back again?  Is Iblis finally springing his trap at
long last?
   He dashed into the corridor and was more surprised to find it
deserted.  The sound of a Red Alert klaxon always meant a flurry
of activity from people dashing toward their duty stations and
other pilots sprinting for the turbo lifts to the launch bays.
But not on this occasion.  The Galactica's corridors seemed more
like that of a ghost ship.
   He went over to one of the automatic telecoms on the wall,
"Bridge, this is Captain Apollo.  What's happening?"
   There was a delay of nearly a centon before he finally got a
response.
   "It's those white lights again, Apollo," he heard Colonel
Tigh's voice, which surprised him since he was on a frequency
that should have been manned by a low-level crewman, "They've
come back again."
   Apollo froze.  His initial hunch had been thankfully wrong,
but he realized that this could be even more dangerous.  For
these were the strange manifestations that Iblis claimed to fear,
and that were supposedly responsible for the disappearance of the
eight pilots.
   "Have we got a squadron ready to intercept them?" he asked,
and then heard the executive officer let out a snort of disgust.
   "Apollo, right now you're the first pilot I know of who seems
to be aware that there's an alert going on.  No one else has
responded."
   "What?" Apollo blurted in disbelief, "Has everyone on this
ship lost their mind?"
   "I've been wondering the same thing," Tigh said, "Apollo get
down to the warriors barracks and find out what's going on."
   "I'm on my way over there now," Apollo shut off the telecom
and began sprinting back the other way to the barracks.


   Tigh continued to stare at the glowing orbs speeding in front
of the bridge viewing screen in fascination, when he heard
Adama's footsteps dashing on to the bridge and up the stairs to
the upper level.
   "More of those unidentified ships?" the commander looked out
at the screen with concern.
   The executive officer nodded grimly, "They're either observing
us....or setting us up for something."
   "Still nothing on the scanner?" Adama kept looking at the
incredible sight.
   "No."
   Adama's gaze then shifted to all of the work stations on the
bridge and a dark cloud instantly came over his face.  Barely one-
fourth of them were manned at that moment, and some of the few
who were there were slouched over their consoles instead of
working.
   "What's going on here?" the commander angrily raised his
voice, "Where's Omega?  Rigel?  What's happened to all our
personnel?!"
   "A great many of our personnel are either not back from their
furlongs, or have suddenly checked into the Life Station to
receive medical treatment," Tigh said with brutal frankness.
   "What?!" Adama's voice rose even higher, "What's happened?  A
plague?  A contamination?"
   "No sir," Tigh shook his head, "According to Dr. Salik, it's
the result of a massive overdose of pleasure."
   "You can't be serious!" Adama looked on the verge of exploding
with a fury Tigh had never seen before, "What about curfew for
duty officers?"
   "Apparently some leeway was granted."
   "By whom?" he demanded.
   "Who else?" Tigh smiled mirthlessly, "Count Iblis."
   "Iblis," Adama's voice dropped to a contemptuous whisper, as
he turned and started to descend the bridge steps, "Launch a
security screen immediately.  I want to see Count Iblis in my
quarters at once!"
   "Commander," Tigh stopped him, "So far, Apollo is the only
pilot who's responded to the alert.  He's checking out the
barracks to see what's wrong."


   When Apollo entered the barracks, the sound of the alert
continued to toll its high wail, but it seemed as though none of
the pilots in the room noticed.  They were all slouched on their
beds, many still wearing their clothes from the previous night.
The ones that weren't out cold from sleep or unconsciousness,
were all moaning in agony.  The clear sign of far too much
imbibing of ambrosia and even stronger drinks.
   "What's going on here?!" Apollo shouted, which caused some of
the awake pilots, including Starbuck, to moan even louder.  He
went over to one pilot sitting in a chair and angrily shook him,
"Get moving!  It's a Red Alert!"
   "Aw, c'mon Cap'n," the warrior slurred heavily as Apollo
smelled the heavy amount of what could only be Sagitarian brandy
on his breath, "Whass 'de problem?  Ain't the frackin' Cylons
come back.  We know dat.  Dey're gone."
   Apollo shoved the drunken warrior back into his seat and went
over to the bunks were Boomer and Starbuck lay.
   "Starbuck?" Apollo shook him and then turned to Boomer,
"Boomer, what's going on?  Are you guys deaf?"
   Boomer opened his eyes and looked up at Apollo with a silly
grin, "Hey...Apollo," his words had only a slightly less slurry
quality than the other warrior had, but had a weird sing-song
rhythm, "They tell me I actually beat you last night.  But I
couldn't remember a fracking thing.  That's why I couldn't help
myself at the bar.  Too upset that I played the best game of my
life and slept through it."
   "Will you get up!" Apollo pulled back the sheets and forced
the dark-skinned warrior to a sitting position, "Now come on!"
   "Oh...." Starbuck moaned as he forced himself out of his bunk
and clutched his head which was throbbing massively, "I don't
think everyone made it back to the Galactica." he shook his head
to try and clear it of the pain and the fog that filled it, "That
was some party."
   Apollo had dragged Boomer into a standing position when all of
a sudden the loud noise of firm footsteps caught their attention.
They turned around and saw an angry Count Iblis glaring at them
with contempt.
   "Gentlemen!" he roared, "This is a disgraceful accounting of
yourselves.  The alert is fully twelve centons along and not a
ship has been launched!"
   At that moment, a hatred of Iblis filled Apollo as never
before.  His hatred of Iblis for causing one problem after
another from the very beginning would have been enough to make
him only consider charging him with rage.  The added factor of
his concern over Sheba only made his hatred even more intense,
and made his next action a foregone conclusion.
   "You!" Apollo suddenly charged at him and pushed him back
against the wall of the room, holding Iblis by the throat.
   "Release me!" Iblis shouted as Apollo continued to hold him
with mad fury, "Release me or you forfeit your life!"
   "Apollo!" there was another shout as Adama dashed into the
barracks and came up to them, "Have you lost complete control of
your mind?!  Release him!"
   Apollo slackened his grip but was reluctant to let go of the
man in white, as he continued to seethe with hatred.  Adama
finally had to push the two of them apart.  Slowly, Apollo
staggered back toward where Starbuck and Boomer stood in shock.
The sight they had witnessed had done a lot to partially sober
the both of them up.
   Iblis continued to glare at Apollo, "You just saved your son's
life," he said with contempt to Adama.  The instant the words
were out of his mouth, the commander's expression took on an aura
of controlled anger and hatred that almost matched Apollo's.
   "So this is how you run things aboard your ship, Adama?" Iblis
coldly turned to him, "There may be more things to take up with
the Council than my ascension to the Presidency.  I may relieve
you of your military command as well."
   The count then angrily turned back to the three warriors,
"This may be of no interest to you," his voice dripped with
venom, "But the Fleet is under attack.  Respond to the klaxon now
or I'll have you all arrested!"
   He then stormed out of the barracks with a wild flourish.
Adama didn't exchange any words with the three warriors, but
instead followed Iblis out.  As soon as he was in the corridor
and saw Iblis's retreating form, he summoned all the anger to his
voice.
   "Iblis!"
   Count Iblis stopped in his tracks and turned around as the
commander came up to him so that they were only inches apart.
   "Who was attacking us?" Adama demanded, "What are they?  What
are you?"
   "I have told you all that you are capable of comprehending,"
Iblis said with a stubborn, defiant air.
   "For a man of such remarkable powers that he can make an
entire Cylon attack force simply disappear," Adama went on,
refusing to give up the offensive, "You show very grave concern
for those lifeforces that are observing us so closely."
   "They too are from my dominion," Iblis admitted, "A different
foe entirely from your Cylons.  That is why what I accomplished
yesterday can not be done with them."
   "And that is why you fear them?" Adama refused to let up.
   "I fear no man," the defiance increased in his voice, "No
creature."
   "Not even God?" the commander raised his voice, and saw Iblis
shake his head contemptuously.
   "What do you primitive children know of what you call God?"
Iblis's words dripped with contempt, particularly on the last
one.
   "Only that which has been taught to us through the millenia of
time from the beginning," Adama was not intimidated by the
blaspheme he'd heard, "That we have been given laws that can not
be broken by any man or creature," he placed a strong accent on
the last word himself.
   The smirk suddenly returned to the count's face, "Those laws
do not apply to me," he shook his head.
   "I wonder," Adama kept looking him in the eye.
   "You may find out sooner than you realize," Iblis said, "In
twenty four centars, the Council will confirm me as your new
leader.  And you will have a new set of laws to live by."
   He turned away from Adama and resumed his walk down the
corridor, his white robes billowing behind.
   Adama found himself slowly nodding in understanding.  The
indefinite theories he'd been forming about Iblis had suddenly
drawn closer to the area of total certainty.



   Apollo gave up trying to rouse any more of the pilots once it
was clear he'd forced Starbuck and Boomer to get themselves
prepared for duty.  Of the two of them, Starbuck's faculties
seemed to be coming back more quickly, while Boomer was clearly
having more trouble shaking off the remaining effects of his
hangover.
   Small wonder, Apollo thought to himself.  Starbuck has more
experience shaking these things off.
   He also found himself thinking of what had happened when he'd
looked with fury into Iblis's face.  He had seen a look of pure
evil on the count's face that all but confirmed in his mind the
theory of his own that he'd been developing during his reading of
the Book of the Word.
   As he locked the canopy of his viper into place, he suddenly
recalled the uneasy feeling he'd felt when he'd seen Iblis bathed
in the red glow of the planet they'd found him on, and another
part of the puzzle seemed to click in Apollo's mind.
   He decided those feelings would have to wait until later.  A
more important matter was seeing if finally, some information
could be learned about the strange manifestations of light.
   The three vipers came to life and promptly launched on a
heading that would take them to where the lights had been
reported.
   Suddenly, Boomer broke from the formation and went to his main
turbos.
   "Boomer, where in Hades are you going?" Apollo barked.
   "I got me a bandit at right center," there was still a slurred
quality in Boomer's voice as his viper closed in on one of the
lights, "I'm going to get one of those white lights and make
myself a fireball."
   "Boomer--!"
   Apollo heard the laser blasts emanate from Boomer's viper.
From a distance, he could see them streak across and seemingly
land right on top of the one he'd been chasing.  But it clearly
had no effect, as the light then proceeded at even greater speed.
   "Hey, did you see that?" Boomer's grin could even be heard
over the radio, "I blew him right out of the universe."
   "Boomer," Starbuck gently retorted, "He left you standing
still."
   "Boomer, hold your fracking fire!" Apollo angrily shouted,
"Now unless your brain's gone as soft as a mushie, maybe you can
remember that those things just might start attacking the Fleet
with whatever weaponry they've got themselves if you keep firing
at them!"
   "Sorry Captain, sorry," Boomer mumbled as he banged the sides
of his helmet.  He could have sworn that the ringing in his ears
from his hangover had increased.
   But it took him a micron to realize that it wasn't his
hangover that was causing the ringing.
   "What's that noise?" he muttered even lower as his viper
started to go off on a bearing far away from where he'd left
Apollo and Starbuck.
   "Boomer, where are you going?" Starbuck's voice crackled with
concern, "You're almost off my scanner."
   "Ah, Starbuck, Apollo do you hear me?" he raised his voice as
the noise level increased, "I think something's coming up behind
me."  he clutched his head even tighter, wishing he could rip his
helmet off, "Frack...so loud, I can't stand it!"
   He managed to turn his head around, and the last thing he saw
before he passed out was an enormous white ship of lights
dwarfing his field of vision.


   "Apollo!" Starbuck looked at his scanner in horror, "He's
gone!"
   "What happened to him?" Apollo demanded.
   "I don't know," his friend shook his head as the reality of
the situation hit him, "One micron he was on my scanner and the
next, he was gone."
   "You said he was about to move out of range---"
   "Apollo," Starbuck interrupted, and it was impossible to tell
that he'd been drunk only centons earlier, "He didn't just move
off the scanner and out of range, he disappeared from it!"
   Apollo let out a sigh of reluctance, "Then let's get back and
see if our viper scans came up with anything about those lights."
   "Back?" Starbuck protested, "What about Boomer?  We can't just
leave him out here!"
   "Starbuck," Apollo said calmly as he turned his viper on a
slow roll that would take it back to the battlestar, "He isn't
out here.  He's someplace else.  Someplace....out of our reach."
   "Like where Bojay and Jolly and Cree and all the others are?"
his friend bitterly retorted.
   "Could be," his voice grew quiet in contemplation as the
Galactica drew near, "Could be."


   Once they returned, they wasted little time reporting to the
bridge for consultation with the commander and the executive
officer.  As soon as they'd dispensed with expressing their
sadness over Boomer's disappearance, they returned to the subject
of the lights.
   "From what little we can come up with from our indications
here, it's still possible that they're not necessarily hostile,"
Colonel Tigh said.
   "'Not necessarily hostile'?" Starbuck responded with
incredulity, no longer caring about any possible breaches in
protocol, "What do you call losing nine pilots?"
   Tigh understood the strain Starbuck was under and ignored the
lieutenant's tone, "I don't know the answer to that.  But they've
come by twice and still haven't attacked the Fleet."
   "So far," Starbuck bitterly added.
   "I have to agree," Apollo said, "I get the feeling that
they're studying our ships and our lifeforms to determine our
weaknesses.  To find the best way to destroy us."
   "And you think that all of our missing pilots are alive
somewhere being studied for that purpose?" Adama spoke up for the
first time.
   "I don't know," his son conceded, "But Father, if an attack is
coming, there's only one person among us who knows all about it
and these alien beings that are watching us."
   "If you want my advice, I say we dump him back on the planet
we found him on," Starbuck's emphatic tone increased, "Whatever's
happening, he's at the heart of it."
   "All our troubles began when we brought him aboard!" Apollo
said.
   Adama slowly shook his head, "Suppose I agreed with you?" he
said, "Suppose I did turn us back and do exactly what you just
suggested?  How long do you think it would be before I'd have a
riot on my hands from all the people in the Fleet who support
Iblis?  How long do you think Sire Domra and Sire Antipas and the
rest of my opponents would wait before they strip me of my
authority as surely as Iblis wants to?  What sort of explanation
would I have to give to explain such treatment of the man who
makes Cylon baseships disappear?"
   Both Starbuck and Apollo lowered their heads as the reality of
the situation hit them.
   "I have less than twenty centars now, before the Council will
make him President," Adama went on, "And even my friends on the
Council like Sire Anton tell me they don't see how they can stand
in the way.  The members are still incapable of deciding on a
third task for Iblis, but they are determined to not let that
stop them any longer when it comes to annoiting him as the new
leader."
   "Father, there has to be some way to stop that from
happening!"
   "How?" Tigh asked, "Iblis gives our people everything they
desire.  Hope.  Food."
   "And what is he looking for in return?" Adama mused aloud,
"What price do we pay?  And what's his connection with them?"
   Apollo frowned slightly, as did Starbuck and Tigh.
   "Father, the way you say that, it almost sounds like you have
an idea."
   "Perhaps I do," Adama turned away from them and looked out the
viewing screen, "Perhaps I do."
   He then quietly left the bridge, leaving the three of them to
exchange puzzled glances.
   "So what do we do now?" Starbuck threw up his arms in
exasperation.
   "I don't know," Apollo shook his head, "But maybe he'll soon
have something viable to consider."
   Just then, a dazed-looking Omega, who was still shaking off
the lingering traces of a hangover himself, came over to them.
   "Captain," the bridge officer said, "There's a message from
Dr. Wilker.  He says he has some information on those plants that
started going crazy on the agro ship."
   "Maybe this ties into it," Apollo said, "Come on, Starbuck."


   "The microbiology staff gave them a full examination," Wilker
said as he pointed to the fruit, vegetable and plant samples on
the table, "They were finally able to come to some interesting
conclusions."
   Apollo picked up a ripe yellow Caprican melon.  It was well
over twice it's normal size.
   "There's no question that they've all responded to some
extraordinary stimulus," Wilker went on.
   "What kind of stimulus?" Apollo asked as he set the fruit
down, "Any ideas there?"
   "One theory," Wilker said, "Come over here."
   Apollo and Starbuck followed Wilker to the other side of the
lab where a large number of monitors and charts were set up.
   "Our normal cosmic and seismic monitors went as crazy as a
supernova the other day," the scientist pointed to one set of
readings, "According to calculations from the bridge, those
readings coincided precisely with the first appearances of those
unidentified ships."
   For the first time, Apollo felt a glimmer of hope
   "In other words, those ships might have given off energy that
might have influenced the growth of these plants," he said.
   "They could have," Wilker conceded, "This isn't my normal
field of expertise, but the principle would be no different than
plants leaning towards and receiving energy from a sun."
   "Then you think it was the ships, rather than Count Iblis,
that caused the plants to go crazy and multiply," Starbuck spoke
up.
   "I said it's a possibility," Wilker cautiously emphasized.
   "I still like it better than the alternative," Apollo said
with a small measure of relief, "Thanks for the help."
   Once they were in the hallway, Starbuck noticed the look on
Apollo's face, "What are you thinking now?"
   "I'm not sure," he said, "I think I'll take a centar or two
alone to try and put a few more pieces together.  Why don't you
relax in the Club for awhile?  I'll try to join you later."
   "Okay," Starbuck nodded, "By the way, thanks."
   "For what?" Apollo frowned.
   "For not bringing up that thing you mentioned a few days back
about how the day Baltar peacefully surrendered would also be the
day you saw me give two sectars pay to one of his projects," his
friend smirked.
   "You have no idea how tempted I was to remind him of it,"
Apollo grinned, "After all you indulged in last night, your
salary should go to something like that."
   As Apollo disappeared down the corridor, Starbuck idly
wondered if matters regarding Count Iblis were about to enter a
final stage.


   When Apollo entered his father's quarters, he was taken aback
by what he saw.  Adama was seated behind his desk, his hands on
the table, and his eyes fixated with intense concentration on the
small ornamental eagle symbolizing the House of Kobol.  It almost
seemed as though he were trying to will it to do something.
   And then, Apollo's jaw fell open when he saw the eagle slowly
glide across the desk toward Adama, in the same way that he had
seen Count Iblis cause the ornamental crystal on the Council
table to move.
   "How did you do that?" he whispered.
   Adama slowly rubbed his eyes as he shook himself out of his
trancelike state, "It's impolite not to make your presence
known."
   "Father I'm sorry but---" Apollo was almost at a loss for
words, "I thought I'd finally figured out how Iblis was starting
to pull off these miracles of his, and then I see you...."
   "This is not a miracle, Apollo," Adama shook his head as he
continued rubbing his eyes, "This is a simple test of mind over
matter.  Part of an old, special training program at the Colonial
Military Academy many yahrens ago, when I was a cadet."
   "I don't remember any such training program," Apollo said,
still stunned.
   "They disbanded it over forty yahrens ago," Adama leaned back
in his chair, "A lot of people thought, and perhaps not unjustly,
that instruction in this kind of thing carried too many dangerous
risks.  Tapping the abilities of the human mind to cause objects
to move across tables, altering the shapes of metals.  The chief
complaint was that it was all too easy to think of the potential
for abusing this kind of raw mental power as opposed to using it
for practical military purposes.  So they shut down the program
and placed all the research data in a classified file."
   His father let out a wistful sigh and rubbed his eyes again,
"I can still remember how I used to drive your mother mad when
she'd come home from her work at the Fine Arts Institute and
catch me practicing what I'd learned by bending eating utensils.
She finally forced me to stop the practice.  I think this is the
first time I've tried it out since then."
   "How come I never knew about this?" Apollo was still amazed.
   "Oh it was long before you were born, Apollo," Adama went on,
"And I was under orders not to talk about the program after it
was disbanded.  Ila was the only one I ever broke that rule
with."
   "But what does it mean?"
   "I've pondered that question for many yahrens, Apollo," Adama
said thoughtfully and then looked up at him, "Our life
expectancy, Cylons notwithstanding, is well over a hundred
yahrens now.  And we only possess the ability to harness our
minds for something as insignificant as what I was just able to
accomplish.  I don't know if our species is capable of going any
further.  Especially given our penchant for destroying ourselves
as has so often been the case in our history."
   He then rose from his chair and went over to the porthole,
"But suppose there was another race from a more advanced line,
with lifespans measured by the thousands, or perhaps in terms
that were infinite," his voice grew slightly mystical, "Such a
race would surely be able to have harnessed the full abilities of
the mind to perform what we would consider to be miraculous."
   "And that's what you think we're dealing with?" Apollo asked
with interest, "With Count Iblis and....these strange lights?"
   "I don't think lights is the right term," Adama looked back at
his son, "After all the reading I've been doing in the Book of
the Word, I have a theory about them.  That those 'lights' could
easily be what the first inhabitants of Kobol, the mother world,
referred to in their own primitive way as angels."
   "Angels?" Apollo's awed fascination increased.
   "Yes," Adama said with near-excitement, "Think of them
as....guardians of the universe.  Instruments of the God we
worship who carry out His bidding on a higher plane from our own,
but slightly lower than His.  And all of them held together by a
mandate that their powers are never to be abused by any one of
their own kind."
   "And they're watching him," Apollo realized.
   "Yes," Adama nodded, "They haven't moved against him so far,
because the things he's evidently done himself, such as getting
Baltar to surrender and causing a Cylon taskforce to disappear,
is not an abuse by their standards.  Especially since at this
point, they've been done in the name of our own good.  But what
they're undoubtedly interested in, is what happens later.  When
he plans on doing things that will mean a far less hopeful
outcome for ourselves.  I am certain that what they need to know,
is if Iblis ends up accomplishing that by operating within some
kind of law that even he is still bound by."
   "So that means he's one of them, or----" Apollo abruptly
stopped as his mind fit the last piece of the puzzle together.
   "Or was," his father nodded and finished for him.
   There was a silence that filled the room for nearly a centon
before Apollo spoke again.
   "Father," Apollo said quietly, "Do you realize that the
implications go even beyond that?"
   "Yes," Adama nodded again, "Yes, they do.  It is a frightening
thing to consider, but one that I believe is very likely.  And
the key to confirming that, may lie in the ship that crashed on
the planet where you discovered Iblis.  It's still in range of
us, since we haven't done any moving while waiting for Iblis to
tell us that the journey to Earth has begun."
   "That's exactly what I was thinking."
   "Now you said you couldn't get close to it because of radon
levels."
   "Yes, but with special equipment---"
   "By all means take it with you," Adama touched his shoulder
and lowered his voice to a confidential tone, "Though I have a
feeling you won't be needing it.  Go back there in a shuttle.
Alone.  You mustn't tell anyone of this, and you must forget this
conversation.  Iblis will be able to pick out your thoughts as
easily as listening to a klaxon."
   "I know," Apollo nodded, trying to be as calm as he possibly
could, "And I understand."
   "I hope so," there was a quiet urgency in Adama, "This could
be the most important mission of your life."
   Apollo calmly sucked in his breath, "How will you deal with
the count?  If you run into him, he'll know where I've gone."
   "I'll crowd my mind with other thoughts," his father said,
"That was another part of the Academy program, on how to
outmaneuver an opponent with similar skills.  It's been so long
since I've put this training into effect, but I'm sure I can do
it."
   Apollo let out another sigh of awed amazement, "How is it
after all this time, I'm still learning things about my own
father?"
   Adama smiled back, "How is it after all this time, that I'm
still learning things about my own son."
   Apollo could literally feel the emotional bond between them
surging to a level of strength he'd never experienced before.
Yet because they both knew that total professionalism was called
for in what they had to do, they refused to show it outwardly.
Only a simple, strong handshake passed between them before Apollo
turned and left the room.
   "The Lords be with you," Adama whispered aloud, "My beloved
son."

                  Chapter Eight

   To Apollo's relief, the launch bay seemed deserted as he
carried the pack of special decontamination equipment over his
shoulder and headed for the lone shuttle at the far end of the
tarmac.
   Just as Apollo opened the door to the shuttle, he froze when
he heard the sound of the turbo lift coming to a stop not far
behind him.
   "Apollo!" Starbuck called out and sprinted across the tarmac
to him.
   His friend's expression was tight-lipped, "What are you doing
here, Starbuck?"
   "I'm coming with you," Starbuck said bluntly, "Wherever that
is, I know you're up to something regarding Iblis that just may
result in turning the tables on him."
   "Starbuck," Apollo kept his voice at a low whisper, "I'd love
to have you with me, but I gave my word that I wouldn't tell
anyone about this mission."
   "Well," his friend nonchalantly shrugged, "That's one promise
you already broke."
   "Look, I've got to go," the urgency rose in Apollo's whisper,
"This could mean life or death for all of us."
   "Well in that case buddy, I've got a stake in it, and I'm
coming along."
   Apollo grabbed his wrist, "This is between me and Iblis," he
said emphatically.
   "Oh?" an edge of sarcasm almost came over Starbuck, "Personal.
Single-handed combat with the lives of everyone in the Fleet
hanging in the outcome?  You know Apollo, I thought I'd seen
everything last sectar when you tried to put out all those fires
from the Cylon suicide attacks all by yourself, but this is
really taking the whole burden on your shoulders too far."
   "Starbuck," Apollo said patiently, "I don't think you
understand."
   "More than you think," he retorted.
   "In order for this mission to succeed, it must be a secret."
   "Apollo," Starbuck casually pointed out, "We've got someone in
this Fleet who knows how to read minds.  Now what happens if I
should bump into him?  Do you trust me that much?"
   Apollo rolled his eyes in a mixture of exasperation and
amusement, "Not in a million yahrens, you crazy madacca."
   "Thank you," he smiled.
   "Okay buddy," Apollo motioned him into the shuttle, "Let's
go."


   As soon as Tigh saw Adama enter the bridge, the executive
officer made his way over to him.
   "A shuttle is being launched right now, Commander," he said,
"It wasn't scheduled.  Captain Apollo said to check with you."
   "Yes I know," Adama's tone was casual and businesslike, "The
Antares asked for some special instruction in triad for the sake
of the children on the ship.  Apollo thought it might be
impressive if the real champion went out among the people of the
Fleet."
   "A nice idea," Tigh smiled, "Is that all?"
   "Yes," Adama started to turn away and then stopped, "Oh by the
way, do you happen to know where Count Iblis might be at the
moment?"
   "Yes, he's visiting the agro ship with Sheba, if I'm not
mistaken."
   "I see," Adama's brow furrowed slightly as he thought back to
the conversation he'd had with Athena, "If he should happen to
ask to see me, would you tell him I'm on a sleep cycle."
   "For how long?" Tigh frowned slightly.  It seemed much too
early in the day for Adama to be talking about sleep.
   "Until further notice," Adama smiled as he turned and
departed.


   Aboard the agro ship, Sheba stretched herself out on the
ground amidst the lush gardens under the forward dome, and
nestled her head against Iblis's chest, while he held her in his
arms.  She felt a sense of contentment inside her that she hadn't
known at any time since she'd been parted from the Pegasus.
   What a fool I'd been, she said to herself.   I gave Apollo his
chance last night, and he basically said he didn't care
felgercarb.  I should have known better.  What a self-centered
fool he is.  Thinking he alone knows and understands everything
better than anyone else.
   The more she reflected on it, the more she felt that if Apollo
ever had any kind of interest in her, it was only of the silly,
awkward physical kind that she'd seen from more warriors aboard
the Pegasus than she cared to remember.  So many of her fellow
flyers in Silver Spar Squadron like Lieutenant Banker or
Lieutenant Angus had intense crushes on her, but none of them had
ever summoned the nerve to try and ask Sheba out for any kind of
quiet get-together aboard the Pegasus.  All of them struck her as
either being too intimidated by her presence as an outstanding
warrior, superior in most ways to them, or too fearful of
incurring the wrath of her father if they made too bold an
advance.
   When she'd first sensed a subtle hint from Apollo that maybe
he too had an interest in her, she felt willing to give him more
time to openly express himself than she would have for someone
aboard the Pegasus for two reasons.  The first was that the
absence of her father from the scene removed a potential obstacle
for Apollo to act, and the second was that Sheba felt a slight
attraction to him as well, and dearly wished in her heart that
Apollo would soon find the strength to open up.
   But the moment had not come after more than a sectar.  And
after seeing him react as he'd done the previous night aboard the
Rising Star, she was convinced that all that she'd suspected
about Apollo had been wrong.  He'd seemed too angry to even
consider the possibility that there was an interest in her on his
part.  And that, in her mind, made Apollo worse than all the shy
warriors she'd known aboard the Pegasus.
   As she continued to relax in Iblis's hold amidst the beauty of
the agro ship, she couldn't help but think of how different the
mysterious count was.  With Iblis, she had the sense of being
with someone who she felt truly cared for her, and wasn't afraid
to express it.  A far cry from the lack of openness she'd seen
for too long from other men.
   "It's so beautiful here," she said aloud.
   "A veritable paradise," Iblis commented as he gently stroked
her hair.
   "It's the only place that comes close to what we lost," Sheba
smiled, "Even if it's drifting through space, it's alive.  You
can feel it."
   Suddenly, Iblis loosened his hold of her and got to his feet.
He was staring up at the dome, at the stars shining through, a
look of strange, twisted bewilderment on his face.
   "What's wrong?" Sheba got to her feet and looked at him with
concern.
   "What are you up to, Adama?" Iblis suddenly whispered with
venom.
   And then, to Sheba's surprise, he began walking out at a
hurried pace.
   "Wait!" she called after him, "What's the matter?  Where are
you going?"
   Sheba found that she was too shocked by his sudden departure
to instantly follow after him.  When she finally did summon the
strength to get up, she dashed towards the doorway leading into
the garden.
   When she entered the main corridor of the agro ship that led
back to the docking lounge, she looked about in vain for Iblis
but saw only Carmichael standing off to one side consulting a
clipboard.
   "Where did he go?" she came up to the operations officer and
shook him, "Where did he go?"
   Carmichael frowned in puzzlement, "Who?"
   "Count Iblis!" Sheba demanded.
   "I thought I saw him with you."
   "He came out this way!" she pressed, "You must have seen him!"
   "I didn't," the operations officer was thoroughly baffled,
"Are you feeling all right, Lieutenant?"
   Sheba then pushed him aside and sprinted back to the docking
lounge.


   On the bridge, Tigh was sitting in his chair on the upper deck
going over routine matters when he suddenly saw Athena call over
to him with a look of concern.
   "Colonel," she said, "Alpha shuttle just left scanner range."
   "What?" the executive officer frowned, "The commander said it
was headed for the Antares."
   "It's not going there," she said, "It's present trajectory is
taking it toward the planet where---"
   "Where my ship crashed," the cold voice of Iblis suddenly
filled the air.
   Tigh swivelled around in his chair and saw Iblis standing in
front of him with a look of anger, contempt and hatred on his
face.  The executive officer was startled since there had been no
sound at all to indicate that he'd been approaching.
   Come to think of it, he thought further, there had been no
indication that any shuttle from the agro ship bringing him back
had arrived either.
   "Count Iblis," Tigh said, trying to keep his bewilderment
hidden, "Where did you come from?"
   "Who is on that shuttle?" Iblis demanded sharply.
   "I don't know exactly," the executive officer said warily.
   "Captain Apollo and who else?"
   Tigh knew right away that he wasn't going to succeed in
concealing anything from Iblis.
   "I really don't know," he said truthfully.
   "Where is Adama?" Iblis's eyes blazed with fury.
   "Well...he--"
   "Thank you," the count coldly cut him off and left the bridge.
   The instant he was gone, Tigh hurriedly reached for the video-
com that connected with Adama's quarters.


   Adama was already waiting for him, when he saw Iblis march
into his quarters with an angry flourish.
   "I left orders that I wasn't to be disturbed," Adama said
coldly.
   "You have sent your son in search of my identity," Iblis's
tone was a hundred times more cold.
   "You already told us your identity," the commander softly
retorted with contempt.
   "When a mortal breaks a bargain with me," the venom returned
to his voice, "There is a high price to pay."
   Adama drew himself up to his full bearing and looked him in
the eye, "I don't believe in you, Count Iblis," he said with even
greater contempt, "Unlike those poor souls who were destroyed in
your ship on the planet.  No doubt they followed you, and paid
the price."
   "Which even now they continue to pay for their obedience," a
malevolent smile came over him, "Just as you will be forced to
pay a price for your disobedience.  The price of a life more
meaningful to you than your own."
   He then stormed out of Adama's chambers as a look of horror
came over the commander's face.
   "No!" Adama whispered in anguish as he dashed after him.
   But when he emerged in the corridor, there was no one there.


    As soon as Adama made a general announcement over the unicom
to conduct an immediate search for Count Iblis, a state of what
seemed like controlled panic started to come over the ship.
Within a centar, Adama felt as though it had degenerated into
chaos.
   "Commander," Tigh came over to Adama's station on the upper
level, "No sign of Count Iblis."
   "And nothing from any of the other ships in the Fleet," Rigel
reported before she went back over to her station.
   "If he were anywhere on the Galactica or in the Fleet, we'd
know it," the executive officer added.
   "There is one possibility," Athena spoke up, "A single viper
launched without clearance, about twenty centons ago."
   "I'm sorry," Tigh shook his head, "That was Sheba."
   "Sheba?" Adama's head jerked up, "What happened?"
   "I got the word direct from Jenny, down in the launch bay,"
the executive officer said, "As soon as she came back from the
agro ship, she was asking all kinds of questions with this wild-
eyed look.  Apparently someone in the maintenance crew had seen
Apollo's shuttle leave and mentioned that to her.  Before they
knew it, she'd grabbed her gear and taken off in her viper.  They
tried to stop her before she got to it, but she actually pulled
her laser pistol on them and told them not to make a move.  They
all backed off and let her go."
   "So she went after the shuttle," a look of horror came over
his face as he shot a glance at Athena.
   The same look was on his daughter's face, and she nodded in
silent understanding of what her father was thinking.  They both
knew that Sheba's actions now added another dangerous element of
uncertainty to whatever was going on now.
   "Father," Athena said quietly, refusing to comment on what
they'd been communicating to each other, "You're going to have to
make some kind of statement.  The unicom announcement is the only
thing the IFB and every other communications band in the Fleet is
talking about.  The entire population must know by now."
   "Including the members of the Council," Adama noted with
distaste as he saw the white robed figure of one of the members
suddenly emerge with an angry expression.
   "Adama!" Sire Domra demanded coldly as he entered the bridge
and came up to the commander's post, "What have you to report on
this disappearance of Count Iblis?"
   "I have nothing to report, Sire Domra," Adama refused to show
any courtesy for his most vocal opponent on the Council, "Count
Iblis, for reasons known only to himself, has chosen to
disappear."
   "But he can't!" the sire protested, "The other tasks!  The
promises---"
   "All of which I think have become quite forgotten to him now,"
Adama cut him off sharply, "Sire Domra, as you are no doubt
aware, it is standard procedure for me to transcribe all
conversations in my quarters on a private video-com recorder.  At
tomorrow's meeting of the Council, I intend to show you exactly
what transpired the last time I spoke to Count Iblis, and when
you see it, I think you will discover once and for all the folly
you and the rest of your like-minded colleagues have been
pursuing for the past half-sectan."
   Domra stiffened and his face grew visibly red.  Unable to say
anything else, he turned and left the bridge.
   "That was impressive Adama," Tigh said, "But what if Iblis
shows up---
   "He won't, Tigh," Adama gently cut him off as he shook his
head and looked out at the starry expanse of the viewing screen,
"He's not here.  He's down there.  With them.  Whatever happens
from this point forward is all in their hands."
   The commander let out an almost forlorn sigh and then began to
pray to the God he'd honored all his life with more intensity
than he'd ever expressed before.
                       
                       Chapter Nine

   Throughout the shuttle journey back to the planet, Apollo and
Starbuck were both uncharacteristically silent with each other.
They had both reached a point where they realized that there was
nothing left for them to say to each other, until they reached
the enigma that was the wrecked ship of the equally enigmatic
Count Iblis.
   As they set the shuttle down in the same reddish tinged meadow
they'd landed their vipers in when they first arrived, they both
found themselves taking slow, measured steps during the giant
crater and gully in the distance, where the red tinge of the
planet stopped and the scorched earth that restored normal color
to the sky began.
   When they reached the top of the gully and looked down, they
both found themselves staring in fascination at the twisted
wreckage for what almost seemed like an eternity.
   Apollo took a breath and finally broke the silence, "That's
where the answer lies," he pointed down, "Let's go."
   They started to slowly descend into the gully and drew
steadily closer to the blackened hull.  Starbuck took out his
portable scanner and began to look at the readings.
   "You were right," he said, "No radon readings at all.  Looks
like Iblis was playing another trick on us again."
   They were halfway between the top of the hillside and the
wreckage when their attention was suddenly distracted by the
sound of a viper flying overhead.  The craft's landing gear was
out and it was on an approach heading for the meadow where the
shuttle had set down.
   "What the frack?" Starbuck looked up in surprise, "Did
somebody follow us?"
   He glanced at Apollo and saw his friend take an anguished
breath.
   "Apollo?" Starbuck reached over with concern.
   "It's Sheba," he whispered, "She's come after us."
   "Come after--" Starbuck stopped, "To warn Iblis?"
   "I don't know," he almost sighed, "I don't know anymore."
   "Do we wait for her?"
   Apollo then shook off whatever it was he was thinking and
summoned all of his professionalism back to the forefront, "No,"
he said with determination, "We find out the truth now."
   They resumed walking toward the wreckage.  Both Apollo and
Starbuck were shaking their heads in amazement at the enormity of
the site, as well as the extent of the damage.
   "Everything is pretty well vaporized," Apollo noted, "Whatever
hit this thing must have had the power of a sun."
   Apollo came over to what looked like the remains of a door
that led into some kind of passageway within one large, broken
section of the ship.  There were only several large chunks of the
door still in place, and Apollo delicately pulled at them.  The
blackened, brittle metal snapped off with the delicateness of a
twig breaking in his hands, and now the doorway was open,
offering an unobstructed view of what lay inside.
   Apollo then froze in horror as he saw a sight that in many
ways he had almost been expecting to see, ever since he'd come to
his conclusions about Count Iblis.  But the fact that he'd
prepared himself to see something like it, in no way diminished
the horror and revulsion induced by actually seeing it with his
own eyes.
   "Starbuck!" he shouted.
   His friend had been focused on some of the wreckage further
aft and promptly dashed up to him.  The blonde lieutenant stood
alongside him and also peered in.
   "By all the Lords of---" for the first time in his life,
Starbuck truly felt at a loss for words.
   In front of them, lying underneath a pile of collapsed
wreckage, were the distinct shapes of several bodies.  The upper
half of each body was obscured by the darkness deep inside, but
the lower half of each figure was clearly visible.  Two legs,
vaguely humanoid in shape and length, but covered with some
strange, hairy-like substance all the way down to the bottom...
where each leg ended in a cloven hoof.
   Apollo gently pulled away another piece of wreckage and saw
more detail on the rear of one of the corpses.  An arm was
visible.  Covered in the same hairy substance, it ended in talon
like claws instead of a hand.  And protruding from the back was a
tail that ended in a spiked shape.
   The two warriors were in such a state of shock that they at
first didn't notice Sheba dashing down the incline of the gully,
and sprinting her way toward them.
   "Apollo!" she called out, "Starbuck, what are you doing?"
   "Sheba, stay back!" Starbuck held out his hand as he turned
away from the horrible sight.
   "I won't stay back!" she angrily retorted as she drew closer,
"Not after what you've been doing!  What did you find?"
   "Sheba," Apollo came up to her and grabbed her protectively,
"You don't want to go in there."
   "Let me go!" she snapped as she tried to shake herself loose
from his hold, "I want to see!"
   "You don't!" he kept his hold on her.
   "What else are you trying to hide from me?" her anger
increased, "More evidence that finally proves how wrong you are
about Iblis?  Apollo, when are you finally going to learn?"
   Before Apollo could say anything, Starbuck calmly spoke up,
"Apollo," he said pointedly as he cast another idle glance
inside, "I think maybe you should let her see."
   The logic of the situation finally hit Apollo.  Despite a
reluctance inside him to let go of her, he slowly nodded, "You're
right," he whispered, "You have to see.  Maybe now you can
understand things at last, Sheba."
   He let go of her and motioned her towards where Starbuck was
standing.
   Sheba looked him in the eye with determination, "All right,"
she said, "I'll look."
   She had only moved several steps toward the opening when they
suddenly heard a loud piercing voice howling through the gully.
   "No!"
   The three warriors spun around and saw Iblis standing at the
top of the hill, his robes billowing in a gust of wind.  His arms
went up in an outstretched motion, and a loud crackle of thunder
suddenly erupted above his head.
   "I forbid it!"
   Starbuck and Apollo both pulled out their laser pistols as
they saw him approach.  He didn't simply walk down the slope of
the gully to the bottom.  It almost seemed to them as if he
stepped off the side of the ridge and floated down to the bottom.
Once Iblis had reached the ground he resumed walking until he
came to within ten feet of where the three of them were standing.
   "Sheba," he commanded softly, "Come to me."
   "Don't listen to him!" Apollo shouted as he felt the adrenalin
in his body surge and his heart pumping faster than in any combat
engagement he'd known, "Turn around Sheba and look!"
   For only a micron, her head turned around to face the
wreckage, but her feet did not move from her position.  And then,
as though she were totally drawn to the sight of Iblis, her head
turned away from the wreckage to face him.
   Apollo saw the expression on her face and he felt his heart
sink again.  Sheba's eyes seemed hollow and glassy.  There was a
glazed look to her that suggested that her mind had suddenly gone
off on another plane.
   In this case, Apollo knew all too clear that it had gone over
to Iblis.
   "Don't be deceived, my princess," the reassuring smile lined
Iblis's face, "You are mine.  Come.  Be with me, and you will
know and experience true power and glory beyond your greatest
expectations."
   Her gaze remained locked on him, and she slowly started to
move forward.
   "No!" Apollo grabbed her.
   "Do not touch her!" Iblis said menacingly, "She is mine.  She
has given herself freely to me."
   "Sheba listen to me!" Apollo turned her head around so that
she was facing him, "Listen!  Come out of it!"
   "Let her go!" Iblis raged with fury, "I command it!"
   Apollo looked back at him with contempt, "You command no one
who does not willingly give you dominion.  You have no power over
me.  So it is written in the Book of the Word."
   Iblis visibly stiffened and his look of anger increased, "Then
you know who I am."
   "Oh yes," Apollo angrily gritted his teeth, "I know.  You
aren't just a mere outcast, Count Iblis.  You represent a lot
more than that!"
   He turned his attention back to Sheba and tightened his hold
of her.  As he tried to speak to her, he realized to his horror
that it had almost seemed easier for him to maintain his
composure to Iblis than it did with her.
   "Sheba, listen to me," he had to swallow hard and keep his
voice from breaking, "Think back to the Book of the Word and what
it says about the names Mephistopheles.  Diabolos.  The Prince of
Darkness.  The ruler of all that is evil in our dominion!"
   Her expression remained blank and vacant.
   "Listen to me!" he shouted with a rising level of fear, "Give
yourself to him and you end up like those victims back there in
that ship!  Your soul in eternal bondage to his will!"
   "I will give you one more chance!" Iblis raised his voice in
warning, "Release her, or I strike her down.  Either way, she
will be mine.  You had your chance to communicate your feelings
to her, Captain, and you failed.  Why do you think she so
willingly gave herself to me?"
   As soon as the words came out of Iblis, Apollo's rage
literally exploded.  He let go of Sheba, raised his laser pistol
and fired directly at Iblis.
   His laser blast struck Iblis directly in the chest, but it had
no effect on him.  Except for the fact that his body suddenly
emitted a red glow and his handsome human face vanished for a
brief instant.  Replaced instead by the face of a red-eyed,
hideous creature.
   Apollo and Starbuck were both shocked by the sight and they
found themselves retreating several steps back from him.  Leaving
Sheba exposed in his direct line of sight.
   The glow passed and the human form returned.  Iblis's
expression became more angry and venomous than ever.
   "Death to her, Apollo!" he lifted his hand, "May her soul
curse you through eternity!"
   In the brief instant of time that passed, Apollo found his
mind racing back to another time and place barely a yahren ago on
the sands of the mother planet Kobol.  To a horrible moment
frozen in time when a lone Cylon centurion had suddenly emerged
from behind the columns of one of the ancient ruins and opened
with a barrage of laser fire that had caught Apollo's wife Serina
squarely in the back, mortally wounding her.  It had all happened
just several feet from where Apollo had been standing next to
her, and ever since that day, Apollo's tortured heart had always
wished that he could have been alert enough to step into the line
of fire himself, and spare the life of the only woman he had ever
admitted to loving.
   Now, in this same instant, he sensed that something more
powerful than a laser blast would be thrust squarely at a woman
he knew in his heart he felt some kind of strong emotion for that
he had not felt since Serina.  And like before, it would all
happen only a few feet from where he stood in front of his eyes.
   He knew that he could never live with himself again if he
allowed himself to experience that horror for a second time.  He
knew that he had to prevent it, no matter what.
   Apollo suddenly leapt in front of Sheba just as Iblis's hand
came down in a sweeping motion.  The full force of the crackling
blast of energy slammed directly into Apollo's chest and he
crumpled to the ground in a motionless pile.
   "Apollo!" Starbuck screamed in horror as he dashed up to his
friend and desperately felt his neck for a pulse.  He felt
nothing.  His hand frantically moved down to the chest and felt
no heartbeat.
   "Oh my God!" Starbuck said as he felt tears forming in his
eyes, "He's dead.  Apollo's dead!"  he got to his feet and looked
at Iblis with indescribable hatred and rage, "You killed him!"
   He fired his laser at Iblis.  Again it bounced off his chest.
Again the red glow emitted from his body.  Again, his real face
became visible for a brief instant.  Starbuck's rage only
increased and he fired again at Iblis, where he was again greeted
to the same horrible sight.
   Starbuck finally stopped, knowing that it was a futile gesture
on his part.  He didn't bother holding his emotion back as he
almost felt like crying in helpless frustration.
   Throughout the exchange, Sheba's glazed expression seemed to
slowly fade.  She slowly shook her head as though she were trying
to come out of her stupor and then looked down.  Where she
suddenly saw Apollo's limp and motionless form.
   No sound emitted from her at first, as her mouth fell open
slightly and she dropped to her knees, holding Apollo's body up
for a brief instant.  She seemed to be in a state of shock as the
realization slowly dawned on her for the first time.
   "Sheba," Iblis's voice returned to a gentler tone, "Come."
   Sheba felt the full impact of what had happened hit her with
the force of a battlestar exploding.  Tears started to stream
down her face as she gently cradled Apollo's head in her arms.
When she forced herself to look at Iblis, she threw him a look of
pure hatred.
   "No," she sobbed as she shook her head.
   "Sheba," Iblis repeated tenderly, "You want to come."
   "No!" her voice rose, "I can never follow you again!" she
looked down at Apollo's form again and her sobbing increased, "Oh
Apollo.  What have I done?  What have I done to you?"
   "You didn't do it Sheba," Starbuck kept his attention on
Iblis, "He did it!  He did everything."
   Suddenly a large number of the white lights began to streak
through the sky.  Abruptly, Iblis's head turned up and the
triumphant evil look faded his face.  For the first time, there
was a look of concern in his expression that almost bordered on
fear.
   Starbuck instantly noticed it, "What is it?" he started to
taunt him, "What's wrong, Count?"
   Iblis continued to look up, "Nothing's wrong," for the first
time his self-confidence seemed to have disappeared.
   "Then why do you look so worried?" Starbuck didn't let up,
"Did you break some kind of rule?"
   "It is time for me to go."
   "Why?" Starbuck raised his voice, "Was it in your dominion to
strike down a follower, a soul given to you freely, but not an
innocent?" his voice became a shout, "A soul who's life you took
against his will?"
   "No one has dominion over me!" Iblis raged with defiance, and
yet the panicked edge in his tone was still noticeable.
   "I wonder," Sheba looked at him with hatred as she continued
to cradle Apollo's head in her arms, "I wonder."
   Iblis's gaze suddenly returned to her, and he seemed to gather
his strength for one last time.
   "There will come another time," he said pointedly, "Another
place," the smile then returned, "And we will meet again, my dear
Sheba.  At a time and place where it will be least expected by
you."
   His body then emitted that red glow again, and the last thing
Starbuck and Sheba saw was his true form before he disappeared
completely.  In the blink of an eye he was gone.
   For a centon, the two warriors remained in motionless shock as
they tried to gather their bearings again.
   "It's all so calm now," Sheba's voice cracked as she looked
about the landscape, "It's as if everything was just like it was
before he appeared."
   "All except one thing," Starbuck forced himself to look down,
"Apollo's still dead."
   The blonde lieutenant got to his feet and let out a sad sigh,
"Let's take him home.  I'll put him in the shuttle and you can
follow."
   "No!" she blurted as she clasped his body to her, "I won't
leave him.  They can send someone else to get my viper but I
won't leave him."
   "Okay," Starbuck nodded in understanding as he impulsively
picked up Apollo's laser pistol and placed it back in the holster
of his friend's body, "I understand."


   Together, they slowly carried his body away from the wreckage
of the ship and its evil contents.  Back up to the top of the
hill, where they stumbled briefly along the ridge leading to the
meadow, causing Apollo's laser pistol to tumble out.  They didn't
stop to retrieve it this time.  They had now reached the part of
the planet where the red glow had resumed its domination of the
landscape, and it only fueled their desire to leave this evil
planet as fast as they possibly could.
   As soon as they were inside, they gently lay him down across
several of the seats in the back and strapped his body into
place.  Starbuck slowly went back to the front of the shuttle to
pilot the craft for its long, sad journey back to the Galactica.
   For several centons after the shuttle took off, Sheba refused
to leave Apollo's side.  Over and over, she kept stroking his
hair and face and sobbing uncontrollably.
   "Forgive me," she whimpered over and over, "I finally
understand what you were doing.  Oh God Apollo, forgive me."
   She then kissed him on the forehead and tenderly whispered the
words she'd been wanting to say for a while, "I love you,
Apollo."
   And then, as if she felt she were incapable of doing anything
else, she slowly made her way up to the front and settled into
the other cockpit seat next to Starbuck.
   "I'm sorry," she whispered as she refused to look at him, "It
was all my fault.  The whole thing from the beginning."
   "No," Starbuck sighed, as though he were already putting the
whole thing into some kind of perspective, "You weren't alone.
With the whole ordeal we've gone through as a people, just about
everyone was looking for someone or something to believe in."
   "I should have known better," Sheba seemed as if she were
ready to break down again, "If only Apollo had....or if only I'd
understood him better before...." she trailed off.
   Starbuck knew right away what she was thinking, "Sheba," he
said, "I don't know think you should be hard on yourself.  The
way Apollo acted toward you for the last sectar, I don't blame
you for being confused by the signals he was sending you.  What
you were seeing was a man who was too ashamed to admit he cared a
lot for you."
   "Why?" Sheba turned to him and wiped another tear from her
eye, "Why?"
   Starbuck let out a sigh, "When we get back, go talk to Athena.
She has...a lot of insight about the whole thing."
   "Tell me, Starbuck," she almost pleaded, "I want to know now."
   "Okay," he said quietly, "I'll tell you."
   For the next five centons, he told her about Apollo's marriage
to Serina and the tragic result of that marriage, as well as
Apollo's subsequent obsession with her memory.
   "My God," Sheba whispered, "If only I'd known.  If only I'd
bothered to find out.  I would have understood him.  I would have
listened to him.  I wouldn't have been so foolishly looking for
someone else."
   Starbuck wondered if he'd only made things worse by telling
her, "Look Sheba.  All I'm trying to say is that it's not your
fault the way you're making it out to be.  That's all.  I know
that's what he would have wanted you to think."
   "Do you?" she sniffed and turned away from him.
   "Yeah Sheba, I know," Starbuck whispered and glanced back for
a brief instant at Apollo's body, "I know."
   If there was one thing Starbuck was sure he knew best about
Apollo, it was his friend's total sense of selflessness.  He'd
known that as far back as their first mission together as pilots
aboard the Galactica, nearly eight yahrens ago.  He and Apollo
had been forced together by the previous commander of Blue
Squadron to be wingmates even though there'd been a bit of
coolness in their relations going back to their Academy days,
where Apollo had been in the class two yahrens ahead of him.  But
by the end of that mission, when they'd found themselves
attempting to locate Boomer and Jolly after they'd disappeared
while on an intelligence gathering patrol, the two of them had
been able to establish a bond with each other that resulted in
the closest friendship Starbuck had ever known in his life.
   How ironic, Starbuck thought as he spent several centons
recalling the details of that first mission.  Our first mission
together started with a patrol disappearing.....and so did our
last one.
   Sheba suddenly broke the silence that had settled over the
shuttle, "Do we radio the Galactica?" she whispered forlornly.
   "We'll be in range in a few centons," Starbuck sighed, "Oh
frack, what do I tell the Commander?  Frack, I'd gladly trade my
life to have him back."
   Before Sheba could say anything else, their hearts dropped
slightly when they saw once again, the strange white lights
zooming past the front window of the shuttle.
   "Starbuck?" her voice rose.
   "I see them," he shook his head wondering when this ordeal
would finally be allowed to end, "As if we haven't been through
enough already."
   "What are they?" she moaned with a sense of fear slowly coming
back, "What are they?"
   Before he could reply, they suddenly stopped.
   "Well," Starbuck said cautiously, "Whatever it means, whatever
they are, they're gone now.  Let's hope it stays that way."
   But only microns later, they were suddenly back again, coming
by with greater intensity.
   "Starbuck?" Sheba's hands suddenly went to her ears, "That
sound.  Do you hear it?"
   "Yeah," he was finding it difficult to concentrate on the
instruments, "It's coming from behind us.  Can you get a look at
it?"
   "No," she gasped, "I can't stand it, it's getting louder!"
   "The controls are freezing up!" Starbuck could feel his head
start to spin.  He glanced at Sheba and saw that she'd already
passed out.  His hands went up to his head in a futile effort to
block the sound, but the pain became too overwhelming and he too,
finally blacked out.


   When Starbuck came to, he found himself slouched back in some
kind of chair staring up at an infinite ceiling overhead.  For a
micron, his eyes stung from the dazzling expanse of pure white
all around him.  By the time he adjusted his eyes, he could make
out what seemed like several figures surrounding him, garbed
entirely in white looking garments that came up to the lower
halves of their faces, leaving only the eyes visible.
   "What is this?" Starbuck moaned slightly as he tried to come
upright, "Who are you."
   "Do not attempt to communicate," a rich sounding resonant
voice suddenly spoke, "You are safe."
   Starbuck had no way of knowing which of the beings the voice
had emanated from.  It almost seemed more like he'd heard the
sound inside his brain, rather than with his ears.
   "Sheba?" he tried to come upright but felt some strange
pleasant sensation course through his body that held him back
briefly.  As soon as he relaxed and allowed it to take full
effect, he suddenly felt all the pain and tension disappear from
his body.
   "His restons are normal and are responding to balcon
infusion," the voice continued, "Allow him to rise."
   One of the beings approached Starbuck and waved its hand
across his forehead without actually touching him.  It was
another sensation Starbuck had never known the likes of before,
as he finally felt the strength to rise from his chair.
   Despite the sensations he felt, he still looked about the room
with caution, "Who are you?" he repeated, "Where's Sheba?"
   "The companion you refer to will join you as soon as she is
able."
   Starbuck then took a look at his uniform and was startled to
see that it had turned completely white.
   "Where are you?" he whispered in awe.
   "Within a dimension quite apart from your own," the voice
continued in that same, rich mellow tone that radiated nothing
but pure beneficence.
   "Yeah well," Starbuck's eyes darted about the room at each of
the beings surrounding him, "I can hear you and I can see you,
but--"
   "That is by our choice," the voice interrupted.  Starbuck
couldn't tell whether it came from another being or if the same
one was speaking all this time.
   "Well I'm not so sure," Starbuck took some tentative steps
across a floor that did not seem hard to him toward the being
that was nearest to him.  He reached out to touch it, and was
stunned to see it go right through the being's face.
   "Starbuck!"
   Starbuck turned around and saw Sheba running towards him from
another side of the room.  Her uniform had also turned white but
she otherwise seemed fine.
   They shared a friendly embrace of thanks, "Are you all right?"
he asked with concern.
   "I....I don't know," she looked about with confusion,
"I...think maybe we're dead."
   Starbuck turned back to face the beings with a mixture of
confusion and apprehension, "Is that right?  We're dead and
you're....angels?"
   "Oddly enough there is some truth in your speculations," the
voice spoke again, "It is time.  If you will follow me."
   One of the beings ahead of them began to move down what seemed
like a vast passageway.  With trepidation rising in them, but
both realizing that it was pointless to think of doing otherwise,
they followed it.
   "I'll tell you," Starbuck sighed in awe, "There aren't many
places I've been in my life where I felt like I wasn't in
complete control, but this is an exception."
   Sheba almost felt like chuckling mirthlessly at his remark as
they continued to walk through the passageway.  But then they
stepped out into a room even more open in vastness than the one
they'd come from, and where the light was even brighter.
   At the far end of the room, lying on a pedestal, was Apollo's
motionless form.
   "Apollo!" Sheba cried out and then started to sob again as she
collapsed into Starbuck's arms, "Oh Starbuck, I thought this was
all some horrible awful dream.  But it's true.  We lived it all."
   "What are you doing with him?" Starbuck angrily demanded of
all the beings that surrounded the pedestal where Apollo lay,
"Can't you leave him alone?  He's of no possible use to you!"
   "Precisely the opposite," the voice said, "He is of great
value to us."
   "What?" Starbuck's face contorted slightly.
   "He and any like him who have the courage to grow beyond the
limitations of the flesh."
   "Starbuck, what are they saying?" Sheba buried her head in his
shoulder.
   "You're asking me?" he found it hard not to fall back on the
only safeguard he felt he had left, in the form of his wit.
   "Starbuck, you have a most promising spirit.  A trifle
unrestrained, but perhaps with Apollo's continued fellowship--"
   "Oh please!" Sheba looked up and interrupted with anguish,
"I've already lived through his death once before.  Don't keep
reminding me of it."
   "Apollo was not meant to die.  It was you Sheba, that Count
Iblis meant to destroy."
   "We know that," Starbuck said, trying to get some kind of
sense of where this was all going, "What are you leading up to?"
   "Apollo sacrificed his mortal body to save your spirit from
falling, Sheba.  Though he never at any time wanted to
acknowledge the feelings he held for you, they were nonetheless
strong enough in his heart that they made him act and engage in
such an act of self-sacrifice."
   Sheba suddenly stopped crying and a look of deep contemplation
and understanding began to come over her.
   "Are you willing now, to perform a similar act of self-
sacrifice in order to bring him back?"
   "Whatever you're going to do to us, get it over with!"
Starbuck suddenly snapped angrily.
   "No Starbuck, wait," Sheba let go of him and slowly made her
way towards the beings that stood in front of the pedestal Apollo
lay on, "Maybe these....Maybe these people aren't so unlike us."
   "What are you, delirious?"
   "No, I mean it," she looked at them with awe and a dawning
sense of understanding, "They know who we are, and all about us."
   "Yes," Starbuck said skeptically, "And that gives them a
pretty big advantage."
   "But I think...." she slowly moved forward and then looked up
at the beings with firm determination, "Yes," she said as
strongly as she could, "If it's possible, I will trade my life
for Apollo's.  Knowing what I do.....how could I not be so
willing?"
   Starbuck was looking at her dumbfoundedly when he heard the
voice speak again.
   "What about you, Starbuck?  Did you not say inside your ship
that you would gladly trade places with Apollo?"
   "How," he felt the nervous apprehension return to him, "How
could you know that?"
   There was no response.  They only saw the light above Apollo
suddenly glowing with more intensity for nearly a centon.
   And then....Apollo slowly moved and came up to a sitting
position.
   "Apollo!" Sheba instantly dashed up to where he lay and threw
her arms around him tightly. "You're alive, it's a miracle."
   "Sheba," Apollo whispered in a daze as he felt her embrace.
He instantly reciprocated and hugged her back.
   The two of them looked at each other for what almost seemed
like an eternity.  Too stunned and moved to say anything to each
other.
   "Apollo," she whispered as she refused to let go of him,
"Forgive me."
   He almost instantly started to shake his head.
   "No Sheba," he said, "Forgive me for not having been honest
enough with you."
   Watching from the other end of the room, a stunned Starbuck
suddenly discovered that there were tears streaming down his face
in both gratitude and joy.
   "I don't know who you are," his voice cracked, "But whatever
you want from me, you can have."
   "We want nothing from you."
   "Then why are you....doing all this?"
   "Because we fight a common foe.  The forces of darkness and
evil throughout the stars."
   "But why are you bothering with us?" Starbuck looked at one of
the beings with incredulity, "We come from a simple handful of
human survivors."
   "Because as you are now, we once were.  As we are now, you may
become."
   "How?" Starbuck looked at the being.
   "Only so long as faith in the One who is even higher than all
of us, remains an essential part of your lives and your
civilization.  All of those who remain faithful to those
principles will always find themselves welcome to take part in
this struggle that we now wage."
   "Meaning our civilization will continue and survive?" Starbuck
chose his words carefully.
   "It has the capability to do so and ultimately flourish
again."
   "On Earth?"
   "Perhaps."
   "Will you show us the way?"
   "Perhaps we can give you a beginning that will allow your
journey to move forward."
   Starbuck looked over and saw Sheba helping Apollo off the
pedestal and slowly guiding him back to where Starbuck stood.
   "And what about Count Iblis?" Starbuck turned back to the
being, "He is---was one of you?"
   "He uses his powers to corrupt and lead others away from
truth," the voice suddenly became grave, "Unfortunate souls such
as the victims of the ship you found.  People who belonged to an
alien race and who trusted him to the end.  What you saw in the
wreckage was not the remains of what they truly once were.  It
was only what they became after they gave themselves to him, and
in which form they continue to exist in the bondage of their
souls.  Such a similar fate also befell the original race of
Cylons."
   "What?" Starbuck's eyes widened, as did those of Sheba and
Apollo who were still gingerly making their way toward him,
"Iblis was tied up in that?"
   "We tell you this, only because you will not retain this
knowledge beyond this chamber," the voice continued, "A thousand
yahrens ago, the Cylon race was torn apart by a great planetary
civil war.  Iblis took the form of a living Cylon and through his
powers, gave one side the technology needed to win the war by
developing the Cylon robot as you know it.  The foundation for
what led to the race's very extinction.  His deeds are revered to
this day by the Empire, for it is the transcribed essence of his
voice that is used for all of the Imperious Leaders."
   "And is that why he had the ability to cause
that....disappearance of the Cylon pursuit force?"
   "Correct.  Iblis has the power of total control over the Cylon
Empire, as it is in essence, his very creation.  But he seldom
makes use of it anymore for it is of little value to him.  That
is why he turns his efforts to other races, in the hopes of
finding more souls to conquer for his dominion."
   By this point, Apollo and Sheba had reached Starbuck.
Starbuck reached his hand out to his, and they clasped each other
in a sign of friendship.
   "But if all this is so," Sheba spoke up, "Why can't you stop
him?"
   "Because we cannot interfere with freedom of choice.  His,
yours, anyone's.  Even those who choose the foolish path of
following him."
   "But you interfered in the greatest of all choices," Apollo
spoke for the first time as he slowly found himself coming to
terms with all that had happened.
   "You were only dead by primitive measures.  And it was not
Count Iblis's right to take your life.  He must now forfeit some
payment of our choosing."
   "How?" Apollo asked.
   "That is not for you to know.  But always be wary of the
legions he continues to command.  The danger of those who act in
his name is no less great as it is from himself.  Remember that
knowledge well, as it is now time for you to return to your
people."
   "One last concern," Apollo said, "There were nine warriors who
disappeared.  Were you responsible for that?"
   "Regrettably, it was necessary to take your comrades into the
protection of our dominion at critical points in time.  They will
all be returned safely with reasonable explanations.  And now it
is time for you to return."
   "Wait!" Apollo held up a hand, "Are we to forget this
experience and all the knowledge you've revealed to us?"
   "You will remember all that will be needed for the immediate
future.  Perhaps if circumstances require it, you may be seeing
us again."
   Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba felt the light around them grown
even brighter until it reached the point where they could no
longer see the beings or make out any features in the rooms.  And
then, without hearing any deafening noises, they all felt their
surroundings go dark as they passed out.


   When they came to, they found themselves back in the shuttle,
with looks of absolute confusion on their faces.  And memories
that were largely blank.
   "Apollo?" Starbuck looked around the shuttle and saw his
friend sitting on the passenger seat, "Do you have any idea why
or what--?"
   "No," Apollo shook his head, "I don't think I have the
slightest idea how or why...." his voice trailed off.
   Sheba carefully removed her headset and came back from the
cockpit area to where he was sitting.
   "Apollo," she looked at him with concern, "Are you all right?"
   "I'm not sure," he managed to smile at her, "Physically, I
never felt better.  At this micron though, I can't say the same
about my brain."
   "I'm feeling kind of the same way," she said, "I'm not sure I
know what happened.  Do you.....remember anything?"
   Apollo looked into her face for a moment.  A tiny recollection
was starting to come back to him.  A recollection of concern and
fear for her well-being.  A recollection of.....feelings for her.
Feelings that he was now willing to admit to himself, existed and
ran deep.  But also ones that he still felt a sense of discomfort
about expressing openly for now.
   Beyond that, there was little else that he could recall at
that moment.
   "I'm not sure," he said finally, "Thanks for caring though.
What about you?"
   "Pretty much the same," she said as she kept looking at him.
   A recollection was forming in Sheba's mind.  A recollection
that was but a simple realization in her heart.  A realization
that she loved Apollo.
   Yet with that recollection, also came another.  A recollection
of some story she seemed to remember Starbuck telling her about.
A story that made it easy for her to understand why she needed to
be patient with Apollo for the time being, and not act
impulsively.
   Unless future events dictated otherwise.
   "Apollo?  Sheba?" Starbuck called back to them, "Something's
happening with the scanner.  I'm getting contacts registering
just ahead of us, travelling in the same direction of the Fleet."
   The two of them came back to the front with concern, "Can you
identify?" Apollo asked.
   "Just a micron," Starbuck hit some switches and his eyes
suddenly lit up, "Lords of Kobol, I'm counting nine vipers!"
   "Can you radio them?" Sheba felt herself crossing her fingers.
   "I sure can," Starbuck flicked a switch, "This is Alpha
Shuttle to viper craft.  Alpha shuttle to any viper craft, please
respond."
   "This is Silver Spar leader," a familiar voice piped through,
"Glad to know you're out here with us too, Starbuck!"
   "Bojay?" Starbuck grinned while expressions of joy came over
Apollo and Sheba, "Bojay, your group all accounted for?"
   "We're all here," Bojay said, "My group, Greenbean's, and
Boomer.  We're all together.  Don't ask me how or why.  I'm not
sure any of us know how it's possible."
   "We'll try to make sense of it later, Bojay," Starbuck kept
grinning, "In the meantime, we're following you guys in to home."
   "That big rock in the stars never looked more lovely," Bojay
matched Starbuck's tone, "Someone on board owes us a free drink."
   The air of festive banter between the shuttle and the viper
pilots continued all the way back to the Galactica.
Overshadowing completely for now, any puzzling questions in their
minds over what had happened to them.

                     Epilogue

   For several centars after the return of the shuttle and the
vipers, there was only jubilation aboard the Galactica, as the
happy reunion with the missing warriors more than offset any of
the concerns some had been having over Count Iblis's
disappearance.  They found that while none of the missing nine
could come up with any precise explanation of what had happened,
they all seemed unanimous in declaring that it had been some kind
of deception pulled off by Iblis, but that whatever unknown plot
he'd been conspiring in, had somehow gone awry, and they'd been
able to make their escape, even though none of them were sure
just where it was they had escaped from.
   It was enough for Adama to seize the opportunity to make a
public video broadcast to the people of the Fleet, in which he
played the recording of his last conversation with Iblis, and
presented it with the interpretation that whatever Iblis was, he
had been preparing some kind of giant trap for the people of the
Fleet, and his open threat against the life of Captain Apollo was
only confirmation of Iblis's unknown true intentions.  The
unanimous declarations of the missing pilots that they regarded
Iblis as responsible for what had happened to them, appeared to
reinforce that interpretation.
   To Adama's relief, the broadcast seemed to make a genuine
impact on the public reaction to Count Iblis's disappearance, and
helped to ease the sense of panic that had set in.  Even though
Adama knew that what he had presented to the people could not
have been the full and accurate truth of what had truly
transpired.
   As a result, when Adama gathered Apollo, Starbuck, Sheba and
Boomer to join him, Cassiopeia and Athena in his quarters for
dinner, the jubilation they'd felt had now been replaced by a
deep, burning curiosity to try and find out more information.
   "Dr. Salik tells me that when he examined you, he found that
you had experienced some kind of physical duress," Adama said to
Apollo as he decided to gently break the ice.
   "Well," Apollo said in a more quiet tone, "It's kind of odd,
Father.  I really feel fine, and yet at the same time I also have
this feeling that something really incredible happened to me."
   "Do you know what?" he gently prodded.
   "That's the strange part of it Father, I can't tell you," he
shook his head, "It was like being caught up in some kind of
vortex.  Some kind of....force field.  You come out of it with
your sensors scrambled."
   "There's one thing about it that's really puzzling me," Boomer
spoke up, as he too was still trying to put events into some kind
of perspective, since his mind was still a jumble about a lot of
things too, "You took the shuttle to the planet.  Now that's
where the nine of us suddenly came to after....whatever it was
that happened to us, and we all took our vipers back to the
Galactica.  But if the three of you left before we did, how did
we make it back to the Fleet ahead of you?"
   "Something....happened," Starbuck shrugged, unable to think of
anything else, "Something I can't explain."
   "I don't think any of us know," Apollo said, still in that
slightly distant tone, "I really don't remember anything after
challenging Count Iblis."
   Adama's eyes widened when he heard that revelation, "You
challenged Count Iblis?"
   His son nodded faintly.
   "And...you won," Adama could think of nothing else he could
say.
   "No Adama," Sheba said quietly, "He challenged Count Iblis...
and lost."
   The amazed, incredulous looks on the others at the table only
increased.
   "Lost?" Cassiopeia couldn't believe it, "That's not possible.
Apollo's here and Iblis isn't."
   "This is what I remember," Starbuck said delicately as he
tried to pierce through the clouds of fog swirling in his mind,
"Count Iblis tried to kill Sheba....And Apollo got in his way."
   "Is that all you remember?" Athena gently prodded.
   "No," Starbuck admitted, "I also....remember Sheba and I
taking Apollo's.....body.  And....putting it on the shuttle and
leaving the planet."
   "His body?" Adama leaned back in his chair in astonishment.
   "Yeah," Starbuck's voice trailed off.
   "Well," Boomer ventured, "You came back to the Galactica, and
Apollo was only briefly stunned for a bit, not too badly,
and.....the three of you frightened Iblis away."
   "Yeah....." Starbuck absently nodded, "That...must be it."
   "It has to be it," Sheba admitted.
   Starbuck suddenly got up from his chair and started moving
toward the large porthole directly behind Adama's chair.
   "There was one thing," his gaze was focused on the window,
looking out into space, "A light....A sound....It was beautiful."
   "Yes," Sheba said, "It was."
   Apollo found himself getting up and going over to where
Starbuck was, "It was as if....there was something good....and
pure.....and caring out there."
   Sheba also got up from her chair and joined them.  The three
of them were all gazing out at the stars with a transfixed sense
of awe and wonder.
   Adama finally broke the silence that had come over the others
at the table, "There are very few who have had the opportunity to
experience the light of good and truth....firsthand."
   Sheba turned around and looked at him, "You mean that's what
happened to us?  We got....caught in the war between good and
evil."
   "We've always been caught between good and evil throughout our
history," Adama mused philosophically, "That will continue even
if were to find Earth."
   "Earth," Apollo suddenly found himself saying aloud, "Quadrant
Alpha, nineteen million sectars by----"
   "By Epsilon Vector 22," Starbuck also found himself saying,
and not knowing how or why he could be saying it, "On a circular
reckoning course of zero-zero-zero, point.....nine."
   And to her amazement, Sheba found herself adding, "In a star
system with nine planets....and one sun."
   It was a long time before anyone in the room found the
strength to say anything else, as Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba
absently returned their gaze to the stars outside.....and the
things that lay beyond.

The End