****************** DISCLAIMER: This story is ment for the enjoyment of both the scribbler, in lieu of expense trips to the shrink a/k/a cheap therapy, and the reader, so they will not join the scribbler on that expense couch even though we could qualify for a 'group rate' a/k/a escape from Real Life. This story or any others scribbled by the scribbler a/k/a Lady Rae is not intended in any way to infringe on the copyrights held by Glen Larson or any other production company that can, will, or possibly maybe produce, tape, film, use claymation or do a live musical theatre production of Battlestar Galactica. The scribbler promises faithfully that she is only borrowing the characters of Battlestar Galactica and will return them to thier dark, lonely vault where she found them pining for freedom. They may be a little mussed up, a little hyper when they return, but the scribbler promises to return them semi-unscathed. :-PPPPPPPPPPP So there!!!!!!!!! Faces of Deception - Chapter 1A By Lady Rae It had been a long day and it looked as though it was going to be an even longer evening, or so thought the young woman to herself ruefully as she tried to walk crisply down the dimly lit corridor. The corners of her mouth moved upward in a sarcastic grin as she contemplated the question of day or night -- just who would realistically realize the difference, being trapped living in a fleet of ships in the darkest reaches of space, running for their lives. With only the glow of artificial light illuminating their way through their ships and chronometers telling the populous what time of day it was. It wasn't like they were living back on the colonies where you knew what time it was even if you didn't have a chronometer to look at. The sun in the sky, the stars at night, the heat of the day, the touch of chill in the air at night, the sights, smells and sounds associated with living on a world, the stark beauty that was central semi-tropical regions of Canceria Did she want to remember the sights, sounds and smells of Canceria? Did she want to remember what it was like to wake up with the sun every morning and go to bed with the three moons illuminating the dark sky at night. Did she want to remember the sounds of the bazaar in the old part of the city? The smells of food cooking, the shouts of street vendors advertising their wares, the sounds of women and men bargaining the price down to what they thought was acceptable. The happy sounds of the children shouting and squealing as they ran through the passages of the bazaar. Devaki lifted her head higher in the air, a determined look crossed her face as she pushed the memories that threatened to come forward in her mind, undermining everything that she had worked so hard to suppress these past yahrens. Did she want to sink back into the pit of depression that she fought so hard to overcome after the destruction? As she walked down the darkened corridor, Devaki found herself remembering the searing, painful memories of what she wanted to forget -- the early morning centares of that cool spring morning when she was shaken out of bed with the sound of laser fire bombarding the quiet neighborhood where she had lived, awakening her, her fiancée Cerran, and his five yahren old daughter Tysh and his seven yahren old son Israel. Hiding in their home, too frightened to move, Tysh holding on to her little feline, Mischief and crying loudly in Devaki's arms, Israel trying to be brave, but visibly terrified of what was happening around them. Devaki stopped abruptly, wishing she could erase the visions from her mind, but she could not. She desperately wanted to block out Israel's screams of terror as the stonewalls gave way around them, burying Israel and Cerran underneath their weight, crushing them to death. Devaki ran as she clutched a crying Tysh in tightly to her, the child still clutching her small kitten in her arms, who was mewing softly. Finally the bombing stopped, silence ensued for a short amount of time. Devaki could remember the sound of distant bombing, Tysh's muffled cries, the missing voices of Cerran and Israel. She could remember to cold she felt, the fight that she had with herself in her mind to stay focused, save herself and Tysh. Devaki still wished she knew how she and Tysh made it onto a ship after they had gathered several packs with their belongings. Tysh hid her tiny feline under her shirt. Slowly Devaki's labored breathing returned to normal as she pushed those memories back behind the door in her mind where she kept them, safely tucked away, so that she could deal with the life she led now. As she regained composure, continuing to walk down the corridor, her lips slightly upturn into a hint of any smile that made her face almost show its true beauty as she felt herself back in control of her thoughts and emotions. The slight smiled changed again to a hard line as she scowled at herself, angry for letting herself think about the past, living on a planet, having the simple pleasure of knowing if it were day or night, believing that a happy family life was with in her grasp. The Cancerian woman despised living the life that she did right now, but she had no other choice if she wanted to survive and she was a survivor. Always had been, even when she lived with her family on Canceria. Her father who had worked his way up from proverty, through the ranks of law enforcement to become a Protector in his later years, had taught her well all the tricks of the trade and the skills of survival, which she used to the fullest that knowledge every single day of her life - from using it to help her keep Tysh happy and well cared for to using that knowledge in her chosen profession. Her mother had proclaimed Devaki's career choice 'a grisly job', but had not tried to dissuade her oldest daughter from her choice, not even towards a profession that she thought was more befitting a young woman. No, her mother had just accepted Devaki's decision, just as she had accepted her husband's career choice. Devaki felt that her mother had been a very wise woman, knowing her daughter better than she ever admitted that she did, understanding the independent Devaki when it seemed no one else did but her father. Her mother would let Devaki go with her father when he would respond to a call, when he would venture out into the field, looking for the answers to questions that others were afraid to ask, then would accompany him into the Colonial Justice Center to attend matters being held before the Courts. She had visited sites with her father and during her career that would make most people turn away and become violently ill from the sight and the smells. What got to Devaki most were the smells. The smell of death, of rotting flesh that had not been discovered for sectons, even sectars. She always carried a tube of menthol vapors on her just in case she got called to a scene where a body laid undetected for too long. Her father had called the vapors a necessary tool of the trade. Devaki considered it the only way to keep down her stomach when the smells were just too overpowering. The sight of death never bothered her, but the smells did. Her youngest sister Anika called her line of work that of an undertaker or grave keeper, but Devaki felt her job was more important than that. She found out who robbed people of the most precious possession they had - their lives. She was a chief investigator for the Colonial Law Enforcement Agency and her specialty was criminal termination, but she called it by it's true term and that term was 'murder.' Chief Investigator Devaki briskly turned the corner and found herself confronted by a small crowd that had congregated itself outside the doorway that led to the victim's living quarters. She stopped for just a micron, her dark brown eyes scanning the crowd, until she found the person that she was looking for - her partner, Tayen. He seemed in deep discussion with another member of their team, a young man that looked as though he was memorizing every word that her dark skinned partner was saying. The dark haired, fair skinned woman inwardly sighed to herself as she pushed back some loose strands of her long straight dark hair. Devaki wished she had the patience that Tayen seemed to have with people new to the Agency, but she just didn't. She admitted only to herself that the young man Tayen was having the discussion with at that micron, was a quick study. Marc had a good mind; the skills to analyze the most minuscule detail or fact and arrive at a conclusion that seasoned investigators had problems arriving at. Devaki grudgingly admitted to Tayen on one occasion that she felt Marc could possibly have a promising future with the Agency as time went on, but she still felt that he was still a little too green to be much of a contributor to the team at that time. Devaki made her way through the small crowd, standing off to the side, quietly observing everything that was going on around her and inside the victim's living quarters. She knew the people working the crime scene were from the different colonial law enforcement agencies aboard the fleet and she had worked with most of them at some point in her career. Devaki noted cynically that several of Reese's blackshirts were in charge of crowd control outside the crime scene. Unfortunately the Chief Investigator could not help but hope that no one had let any one of those bumbling idiots near the crime scene. The last investigation she had been assigned to, she had been forced to accept Reese and four of his so-called 'Security Force's' help, something she vowed there and then that she would never agree to again. Instead of assisting, they had practically destroyed the crime scene, contaminating key pieces of evidence and nearly letting a killer go free to kill again. Tayen looked up at that micron, nodding to his partner of five yahrens his understanding; his dark eyes flashed at her a silent message of patience. Devaki knew that look well. It was one that her partner had flashed her many times over the yahrens upon her arrival at a crime scene. Tayen also was well aware of her dislike for Reese and his people, and her opinion of them, using much stronger terms for them than his, which included 'inept.' He had pointed out to her on more than one occasion that they had to work with the Council's security force whether they liked it or not. Tayen knew full well that Devaki's problems would with the Blackshirt's would be minimal if only they would follow rules and regulations, not make up their own as they saw fit. Tayen wrapped up his conversation with the young intern, turning his attention towards the woman who had just arrived. The dark skinned Librian knew that she was not pleased to see Reese and his clowns on scene, but he also knew that CLEA had to get along with the Councils twits, even through they were more of a hindrance than help. He had not been very surprised when he had heard through the LE grapevine that Reese could not keep people who had any promise in law enforcement any longer than they had to stay. One Chief had told him a couple of sectons ago that once any rookie got a dose of Reese's brand of leadership, they transferred to other law enforcement agencies within the fleet or within the Colonial Service. The Council's Security Force was the butt of many jokes within the fleet as they were within the colonies. Tayen walked slowly by the open doorway, observing the living quarters and the condition within, then turned and continued over to his partner. "What's the situation?" Devaki spoke in a terse voice, her eyes not missing anything that was happening around her. Tayen smiled to himself and shook his head slightly as he stopped to stand beside Devaki. Leave it to her to skip the common pleasantries. "Good evening to you too, partner." Tayen replied, as Devaki crossed her arms over her chest and gave him one of her famous looks, one that showed her impatience to get this done and over with. "Ta-yen…" Devaki slowly drew out his name. "Okay." Tayen conceded. He knew how far he could string his partner along before he was forced to give her details. "The corpse is a young woman, around 28 yahrens old. Lab assistant on the Keltor with a Dr. Miaz." "Termination?" "Well, now that I'm not sure about. All indications right at this micron point to a suicide, but…" "You don't agree." Devaki finished his sentence for her partner, her interest heightened because of his slight hesitation. "Honestly, no, but I have not proof on that either, Devi. All I have is a hunch and my gut, and both are telling me loud and clear that this is not a suicide." "Well, I've been known to gamble on your hunches and your gut in the past. They have never let me down, so I'm willing to go with them again." Devaki nodded over to the small crowd that had gathered outside the victim's living quarters. "Word spreads fast of death, doesn't it, and then the vultures come out to pick the bones clean." Devaki shook her head in disgust as she turned her attention towards her partner. "Has the victim's family been notified?" Tayen nodded his response to Devaki's question as he turned and started towards the doorway leading into the young woman's quarters. "Yes. In fact, her oldest brother is here already. It seems he was already on his way here to meet his sister." "Reason?" Devaki asked as she fell into step beside her tall partner. "Seems that he had been quite concerned about his sister over the past couple of sectons. She had been acting strangely for the past couple of sectares, so he was coming to speak to her about it." Devaki sighed as they passed the small crowd and several members of the Blackshirts, to stop outside the doorway into the crime scene. She noted several people walking around, looking over the situation with their hands in their pockets, one investigator was even jotting down what looked to be observations as he carefully walked around the scene. "Everyone in there has been fully briefed as to procedures?" Tayen nodded. "Every single person that is in that room and everyone who is outside has been spoken to and quizzed about proper procedures. Rules one, two, three, four and five of criminal investigative procedures: Don't touch anything!" "Good." Devaki turned her attention back to the subject they were discussing just several microns before "It took that long for the brother to confront the victim about the concern he had about her so-called strange behavior. Doesn't that seem just a bit excessive amount of time to wait?" Devaki looked over the scene before her, noting the furnishings of the living quarters, the atmosphere of casual hominess, the abundance of plants throughout the living space. "Maybe they weren't a close family." "No," countered Tayen as he looked over the quarters, then glanced at the slender figure lying face down on the floor, pale blonde hair streaming over the body and the gray floor. "I didn't get that impression in the few centons that I got to speak with him." "Did you bring your notepad?" Tayen brought the small box-like computer terminal out of the pocket of his tunic. "Rules six, seven, eight, nine and ten - Write *everything* down." He powered up the small handheld system. "All set and ready to go." "Let's begin." Devaki started into the room, but was immediately confronted by a young woman in a council security uniform. "Sorry, madam. This area is off limit to civilians." Devaki pulled her identification out of the pocket of her jacket. "Chief Investigator Devaki and Investigator Tayen of the Colonial Law Enforcement Agency." The young woman looked over her identification, scanned it with her ID Verification Scanner, then repeated the process with Tayen's. Satisfied with the readout, the young woman handed both ID's back to the investigators. "Thank you. You may proceed." The young woman stepped back to her position by the entryway. As they entered the room, Tayen whispered over to Devaki, "She reminds me of you, about 15 yahrens ago." "At least someone on the Blackshirts is efficient and follows procedure." "You scare me at times, Devi. You really do scare me." Tayen replied in a somewhat leery tone as he glanced over at his partner, who was ignoring him, seemingly busy taking in the scene before her.