Part - 1  
 
It was the night of the Traditional Caprican Spirit March, and Boxey had begged Apollo 
to volunteer as a parent escort for the traditional Childrens' costumed march through the 
dimly lit corridors of the Galactica.  
 
Apollo sighed as he adjusted the jacket of his civilian garb. This was the closest 
compromise he had been willing to make for Boxey in terms of dressing for the occasion. 
He shook his head with a smile, remembering a childhood of yahrenly Spirit Marches 
with his mother, Siress Ila, holding his hand and walking with him and his friends, 
appearing at neighbours doors bearing receptacles shaped like . . .

Part 2
 
. . . skulls.     On the other hand, Boxey was traditionally garbed, having worked on his 
costume for the last two sectons.  The boy's face was smudged with white and black 
paint, giving him a ghoulish appearance.  A long, black cloak swept the floor.  In his hand 
was a painted piece of plasticon that resembled a scythe.  His hair was dyed black--
temporarily, the child had promised--and spiked out in various directions atop his head.  
At his heels was Muffit, rather conspicuous as a Hound of Hades Hole.  His orange fur 
had been dyed blood red.  
    "See, Dad.  I told you the other parents would be dressed in costume." Boxey hissed, 
looking around at the other escorts.  Sure enough, they had dressed to die, as was 
tradition.  
    "So you did, Boxey." Apollo agreed, not wanting to get into this one more time.     "I 
don't understand why . . ."  
    Abruptly, Boxey's complaints turned into a high pitched scream when a . . .

Part 3  
 
. . . shower of mushies erupted from a nearby hatchway, followed by two women in 
traditional Seers' garb. Apollo sighed resignedly and smiled as he recognized his sister's 
smiling blue eyes in the space between the over-sized hat and cloth face mask of one of 
the Seers. Boxey lifted his plasticon skull and laughed delightedly as the two figures in 
hats and oversized skirts and cloaks distributed colourfully wrapped sweets to each child 
as the march continued toward the Command Centre.  
 
"Hey, Skipper," Sheba's voice came from beneath the second Seers' mask with an 
affectionately flirtatious tone, "Nice costume. What are you? A stick in the mud?"  
 
"Very funny," the Captain whispered, blushing slightly as she brushed up against him, 
her gesture disguised by her voluminous costume, "Don't you know? Aren't you a Seer?"  
 
"Hey, Dad!" Boxey's excited voice interjected, "Look! It's Starbuck, and he's dressed as . 
. . "

Part 4  
 
    ". . . a werelupus!"  
    Apollo's mouth dropped open in shock as Starbuck prowled towards them.  His face, 
hands and feet were covered in what looked like animal hair, and his garments were 
tattered and torn.  He paused and raised his head upward, howling.  
    "Arr-arr-aroo!"  
    Boxey and the other children giggled loudly, storming towards the warrior, raising 
their plasticon skulls towards him eagerly.  
    Starbuck bared his teeth, growling at them.  They paused uncertainly.  Then in a voice 
that was gravelly and unfamiliar he rasped, "Game or goodie.  I choose 'game'.  Follow 
me children . . . if you dare." Then he howled again, taking off for an open stairwell and 
disappearing into the darkness within.

Part 5  
 
"Let's get him kids," Athena's voice rang through the corridor as she activated a portable 
torch and holding it high over the stairwell access, "But take care! We don't want to wake 
the whole pack!"  
 
The crowd in the corridor began to ascend quickly up the steps as Sheba and Athena 
handed torches to the escorts.  
 
"Who convinced him to dress up?" Apollo asked dryly as Sheba handed him his torch. He 
activated the control and shone the light near the brim of her large hat, illuminating her 
warm, brown eyes, "Or did Starbuck get bitten by a werelupus?"  
 
"Come on, Dad! Let's get him!" Boxey cried as he followed Athena up the steps, leaving 
Apollo and Sheba momentarily alone in the corridor. The Captain looked carefully 
around before reaching to lower the Seers' mask and leaning downward to kiss her.  
 
"Hey, guys," the couple started as they turned to stare at Starbuck and Cassiopiea, dressed 
in the traditional garb of Otari Spirit Worshippers. Apollo and Sheba exchanged a look of 
shock after absorbing the sight of Starbuck, clean shaven as usual, and wearing the light 
brown cloak of an Otari elder, "Nice costume, Apollo. What are you? A stick in the 
mud?"  
 
"But," Apollo stammered, then looked with confusion, and then concern, toward the 
stairwell that Boxey had ascended only microns earlier, "Who . . . "

Part 6

    "I believe it's 'boo' not 'hoo'." Starbuck told Apollo with a 
grin.  "Of course, if you put them together, then it changes the mood 
totally . . ." He shrugged as Cassiopeia delivered a playful groan.
    "Did you see that werelupus?" Apollo asked tentatively.  How on 
Caprica did Starbuck pull that?  Holoptic images.  It had to be.  He 
glanced around looking for a vidfeed, but saw none.  "I'd have sworn it 
was you."
    Sheba nodded.  "Me too.  He was a dead ringer.  Hairy, poorly 
dressed, drooling . . ." Her face crinkled in amusement at Starbuck's 
abrupt look of outrage.
    "Hey, Captain, I know you like us subordinate officers to 
multi-task, but this is ridiculous." Starbuck grinned, winking at 
Cassie. 
    "Seriously, Starbuck, legend has it that the werelupus often takes 
the form of its next victim." Sheba told him in warning.  "At least 
that's what my grandfather always told me."
    Starbuck sniffed, shaking his head at her, "You should know by now 
never to put 'seriously' and 'Starbuck' in the same sentence.  There's a 
severe chemical reaction.  Good try, Sheba.  But I'm not buying it.  
Let's go, Cass.  We have us a werelupus to catch." With that, they 
disappeared into the stairwell.
    "Are you ready?" Sheba asked, when Apollo hesitated.
    "I'm not sure . . ."


Part 7  
 
"Apollo. What /is/ it with you and the Spirit March? There's something you're not telling 
me," Sheba looked into his eyes speculatively, "It's not a religious thing is it? Athena's 
thrown herself into it."  
 
"No, no. It's nothing like that," Apollo attempted a carefree smile, but Sheba could see the 
tension beneath the surface, "It's just, well, I guess I just remember . . . "  
 
"Arroooooo!" a mournful howl emanated from the stairwell, followed by the shrieks and 
laughter of the Spirit Marchers.  
 
"Let's go, Skipper," Sheba kissed him impulsively on the lips, then replaced her Seers' 
mask over her mouth and nose, adopting a dramatic and ominous tone, "Any stick in the 
mud stragglers will become werelupi snacks!"  
 
Apollo closed his eyes and swallowed hard, /Why did she have to say that? It's just a 
stupid childhood memory, Skipper. There are /no/ real werelupi. Let it go and have a 
good time. Do it for Boxey's sake/, he took Sheba's hand and, the two of them raising 
their torches to light their way, they ascended the stairs to follow their friends, oblivious 
to the dark forms that moved quietly through the shadows in the corridor behind them.

Part 8
   Starbuck grabbed Cassie's hand in the dimly lit corridor, turning and pulling her against 
him suddenly, enjoying the sudden impact of her curvaceous figure.  He slipped his arms 
around her and pulled her closer, grinning down at her and then kissing her gently.  "I'm 
glad you dragged me into this." 
     "I knew you would have a good time," she replied.  "I can't believe you haven't 
participated in a Spirit March since you were a child.  On Gemon, it was a time for 
families to . . ." She abruptly shut her mouth, looking at him with wide, soulful eyes.  
"I'm sorry." 
     "Don't be." He shrugged.  "I have to admit that as a child I spent more time getting 
into trouble than participating in the marches.  It was easy to slip away from the marchers 
and chaperones." His gaze slipped from hers for a moment, and a smile lingered on his 
lips.  "I was always out looking for the spirits and demons that were supposed to come 
alive for just that night.  I was more interested in proving they existed, than in eating 
sweets." 
     "A child not interested in sweets?" Cassie asked in mock horror. 
     "Hey, there were too many adults trying to offer us healthy alternatives.  After 
dumping out my skull one yahren, and finding nothing but pomons and dental floss, I 
gave up on the march." 
     Cassie laughed.  "You're exaggerating . . ." Then a rustle behind them drew her 
attention.  
     They both turned to see a small cloaked figure disappearing down a hatch. 
     "Hey, kid!" Starbuck cried, lurching forward.  "Not that way!  It's off limits!"  He 
reached the hatch, peering down into darkness.  "Hey!  Come back here!" 
     "Who was it?" Cassie asked.  "I didn't even see a face!" 
     "I don't know.  He moved so fast, that I didn't see his . . . or her face." Starbuck shook 
his head.  "I better go get the kid back though.  He'll get lost down there, especially in the 
dark." He headed down the ladder, pulling out his ignitor and holding it up victoriously.  
"Flintex.  It's not just an ignitor. It's the primo name in flame." 
     "Oh, stop it." She chuckled, as his head disappeared beneath the deck.  Cassie watched 
him get swallowed up by the darkness, wishing she could still see him, but understanding 
he wasn't likely to light his way until he had his feet on the lower deck.  He needed both 
hands to climb.  "Be careful, Starbuck." 
     His voice had a resonant quality as it rose back up to her. "If a kid can do it in the 
dark, then I think. . . " . 
     Suddenly, a ferocious snarl cut off his words.   
     "Hey!  What the frack . . .Aaahhhh!" He cried in pain.   
     "Starbuck!" Cassie shrieked, hearing the sound of the igniter he was holding bouncing 
off the ladder on its way down, and then the thud of a body hitting the deck.  "Starbuck!" 
she shrieked again, her heart in her throat as she prayed for an answer.   
     "Aar-aar-arooooooooo!" echoed up from the darkness. 
     At that moment, Apollo and Sheba arrived on the run.

Part 9  
 
"Cassiopeia!" Apollo cried as he and Sheba rushed to the edge of the open hatch, "What's 
wrong? Is that Starbuck we heard?"  
 
"Oh Apollo," Cassiopeia's fright widened eyes reflected the light from his torch, "He 
went after one of the children and I think there's something down there with him! It 
sounded like some kind of animal!"  
 
Apollo knelt beside the hatchway, lowering his torch through the opening, seeing nothing 
but the emptiness of the access tunnel below him until a metallic glint caught his eye. He 
recognized Starbuck's ingnitor laying on the decking at the foot of the access ladder but 
said nothing as he glanced upward into Cassiopeia's frightened features.  
 
"Apollo, there you are!" the three of them turned as Athena emerged from the adjacent 
corridor, "Where's Boxey got to? He promised to wait right here until you and Sheba 
caught up with us. He was planning on scaring you when you came around the corner," 
Athena scanned the three shadowed faces that looked at her with deathly serious 
expressions, "Cassiopeia? Sheba? What's wrong?"  
 
"Athena," Apollo set his torch down beside the hatchway and stood quickly, grasping his 
sister's upper arms, struggling to control the panic that was rising within him, "Boxey was 
here? Right here?"  
 
"Yes," Athena pulled the Seer's mask down, exposing her confused features to the light of 
Sheba's torch,"I don't understand," she looked at the open hatchway, "He and Muffit were 
right over there in that corner only two or three centons ago."  
 
"It must have been Boxey that rushed down the hatch!," Cassiopeia cried.  
 
"Athena," Apollo fought back the sick feeling in his gut, "You and Cassiopeia join the 
rest of the Marchers. Make sure everyone's accounted for and get them on to the next 
lighted area. Wait for us there. Sheba, you come with me," the Captain began to descend 
into the darkness of the access tunnel, "We've got to find Boxey and Starbuck."  
 
"Right," Sheba's voice was all business as she tore off the voluminous Seer's skirt to 
reveal a comfortable pair of trousers and boots underneath, "Let's go," tossing a torch 
down to Apollo, she began to climb down the ladder, pausing to look up at Athena and 
Cassiopeia, smiling forcedly and using an expression that had become common amongst 
those on the Galactica whose lives had been touched by Lieutenant Starbuck's legendary 
schemes, "Let's not jump to conclusions. I'm sure it'll turn out to be some kind of 
Starbuckian Uncertainty. He's probably enlisted Boxey into a Spirit March prank. 
Besides, it's not like there's actually a werelupus running around."  
 
Sheba disappeared into the tunnel and Cassiopiea picked up the extra torch that Apollo 
had left beside the hatchway. She turned to speak to Athena when suddenly . . .

Part 10 
     . . . she heard a giggle.  Followed by a whirring of a decidedly daggit-like nature. 
     "Boxey!" Cassie snapped.  "Come out here this instant, young man!" 
     "Boxey?" Athena asked more calmly. 
     From the opposite dimly lit corner, beneath a ladder leading upwards, a black cloth 
suddenly flipped up to reveal the child and the daggit.  Boxey slunk forward, his head 
downcast.   
     "I thought it was funny.  Starbuck really put one over on Dad." Boxey peaked up at 
them cautiously, his eyes wide and innocent. 
     "Your father was beside himself with worry, Boxey." Athena gently reprimanded her 
nephew. 
     "But Athena, we're supposed to play games during the Spirit March.  Starbuck told me 
so." 
     Athena quirked an eyebrow, glancing at Cassiopeia and then shaking her head.  "Oh?  
When did Starbuck tell you this?" 
     "Last night." The boy replied. 
     "Last night?" Cassie replied.  "Boxey, Starbuck was with me last night.  You were 
long in bed by the time he . . . uh, well, wasn't with me."  
     "He told me in my dreams, Cassiopeia." Boxey insisted.  "And he was dressed just like 
the werelupus that he dressed up like tonight." 
     "In your dreams?" Cassie asked, frowning.  "Boxey, didn't you see Starbuck go down 
the hatch . . . not dressed like a werelupus?" 
     "Yes." The boy nodded.  
     "Doesn't that seem odd?  That one moment he can be dressed like a werelupus, and the 
next he can be in a Spirit Marcher's cloak?" 
     Boxey shook his head.  "I once heard Starbuck say that he can get undressed in two 
microns flat when the mood struck him, and he could get dressed again in five . . . but 
only if strictly necessary." The boy frowned,  "I never understood that last bit  . . ." 
 
----- 
     Apollo fingered Starbuck's ignitor as he followed a trail of what looked, smelled and 
even tasted like blood.  Sheba was still grimacing over that little fact, wishing he hadn't 
shared it. His guts were churning at the thought of his son being missing, as well as the 
lieutenant.  The howls of what sounded like the werelupus were still echoing through his 
head.  Starbuck, if this is a practical joke, you're going to be doing disciplinary duties in 
your sleep . . . 
     "Apollo!" Sheba cried, shining her torch on a crumpled figure lying prone on the deck, 
the trail of blood ending there. 
     They sprinted forward, and Apollo dropped to his knees, rolling the cloaked figure 
over.  He drew in a breath when he saw the blood that covered Starbuck's neck and lower 
right jaw.  He gently felt for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he detected that 
steady bounding beneath his fingers. 
     "Starbuck?" Apollo whispered, as he pointed his torch at his friend. 
     "Where's the blood coming from?" Sheba asked, a trifle suspiciously.  She stepped 
forward, shining her light down the black corridor, and called,  "Boxey!" 
     There was no answer. 
     Apollo pushed down the cloak, revealing an ugly, jagged tear in the warrior's right 
shoulder, close to his neck.  He let out a startled breath.  Lords, he had been so certain it 
was some kind of faked blood capsule.  He pulled the cloak down further, and the man in 
his arms stirred, groaning.  "Sheba, he's wounded!" 
     "What?" She cried in surprise, whirling around, and dropping to her knees other 
Starbuck's other side, to shine her light on his wound.  She looked across at Apollo, who 
was as white as a . . . ghost.  "What could have done this?" 
     "Werelupus." Apollo muttered, shaking off the consuming fear that was gripping him 
by the throat.  He had to get it together.  Boxey was out there somewhere.  He grabbed 
Starbuck's cloak, ripping a large piece off and turning it into a field dressing.  Then he 
pressed it to the lieutenant's shoulder. 
     Startled blue eyes flew open, and Starbuck lurched upward, his forehead connecting 
with Sheba's.  The field dressing went flying.  Apollo stared in disbelief as Sheba's eyes 
rolled up in her head, and she slumped to the side, falling to the deck. 
    "Oh, my head!" Starbuck groaned.  "What the frack . . ." He put a shaky hand to his 
forehead. 
    "Where's Boxey?" Apollo asked, not caring how desperate he sounded. 
    "Boxey?" Starbuck replied, groaning as he twisted to look at the fallen Sheba.  "Wha . . 
." 
    "Cassiopeia said you followed Boxey down the ladderwell." Apollo gripped him by the 
cloak, in a half supportive, half threatening posture.  Mostly, he wanted the other 
focussed and listening.  "Where's my son, Starbuck?" 
    "I . . . don't know." Starbuck replied.  "I was following some little kid . . . at least I 
thought it was a little kid . . ." He winced, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue and 
swallowing hard.  "Boxey's missing?" 
    "YES!" Apollo replied, glancing at Sheba who was now groaning and rolling to her 
side.  As guilty as he felt, Boxey was all that mattered right now.  Especially with that 
thing running around . . . The legends were right.  It did take the form of its next victim. 
     "I was on the ladder and I heard a growl behind me." Starbuck told him, seeming to 
choose his words carefully.  "I was in midair, Apollo.  There shouldn't have been 
anything behind me.  I was on a frackin' ladder!" The pitch of his voice rose abruptly. 
    "Easy, buddy." Apollo murmured, slowly pushing him back down.  It could be shock.  
"What then?" 
    Starbuck slowly moved his right hand, wincing slightly as he pushed his hair from his 
eyes.  "It doesn't hurt much.  Isn't that kinda weird?" His eyes were wide and confused. 
    "Starbuck . . ." Apollo purposely kept his voice calm, though he wanted to shake the 
lieutenant.  "Boxey is missing.  Tell me what happened next." 
    "Ohhhhh." Sheba murmured, rolling over.  She held a hand to her head, slowly sitting 
up, her eyes glazed. 
    "I . . .turned around to look and these glowing red, bloodshot eyes were staring back at 
me.  Right into mine.  This horrible, fetid breath hit me in the face.  Then I saw this flash 
of teeth. . . felt them graze my neck . . .I twisted away . . ." Starbuck shook his head 
slightly, shuddering.  "I don't remember anything after that." 
    "It must have dragged you all this way . . ." Apollo mused, looking forward and back. 
    "But where's Boxey?" Sheba asked, holding her hand to her head. "And I'm fine, 
thanks for asking." 
    Apollo looked at her apologetically.  "I have to find him, Sheba." 
    "We will.  But we can't leave Starbuck here." Sheba leaned over the injured warrior.  
"Are you well enough to move?" 
    "If I'm well enough to give you a head injury, I guess I'm well enough to walk."

Part 11
"Athena, I can't let you go alone!" Cassiopeia pleaded, holding the Lieutenant's torch as 
Athena discarded her Seer's costume to reveal a casual outfit similar to Sheba's, "We 
don't know what's really going on, and that snarl that I heard in the tunnel . . . "  
 
"Cassiopeia," Athena glanced at Boxey, who waited by the access to the corridor down 
which the Spirit Marchers had gone, whispering softly to avoid being overheard by the 
boy, "I have to catch up with Apollo and let him know that Boxey's safe. If there's danger 
down there, he won't think twice about facing it if he believes Boxey's safety is at risk."  
 
"Why don't you take Muffy with you?" Both women started at the sound of Boxey's 
voice. Obviously, his hearing was much more acute than either had realized.  
 
"Boxey," Athena began to speak with her best learning period instructor tone, then 
stopped as she reconsidered Boxey's suggestion, eyeing the blood red Muffit 
thoughtfully, "you know, that's not a bad idea. Muffit can use his tracking sensors to lead 
me to the others. Plus, if there /is/ some lunatic, other than Starbuck, running aroung in 
the dark pretending to be a werelupus, I think our mechanical Hound from Hades can 
handle him. All we have to do is get Muffit down into the tunnel," she turned back to see 
the worry evident on Cassiopeia's face, "Cassiopeia, help me lower him down. We'll use 
the sashes from our costumes."  
 
***  
 
"How's your head, Sheba?" Apollo asked hesitantly, moving closer to her as they walked 
behind Starbuck, holding their torches high to light the way along the access tunnel.  
 
"It's alright, Apollo," Sheba responded dryly, "It only hurts when I breathe," she smiled 
slightly at the guilty look that crossed his face, "Oh, Apollo. I know you're worried about 
Boxey. I'm not going to have some kind of fit because you didn't rush to my side when 
Spirit March Boy here head-butted me," She offered him her hand, and widened her smile 
when he reached to take it and squeezed his fingers firmly, "We'll find him, /and/ the 
idiot in the werelupus costume that attacked Starbuck. We'll probably find that it's some 
poor disturbed fool who's taken the occasion too seriously. Besides, Muffit is 
programmed to protect Boxey. The drone wouldn't let anything happen to him. Just focus 
on that."  
 
Apollo raised her hand to his lips, quickly kissing her fingers, then parting his lips to 
speak . . .  
 
"When you two love-avians are finished making up back there, I think you'd better have a 
look at this," Starbuck turned to face his friends, wincing as a pain shot through his 
wounded shoulder, and extending his other arm, brandishing the now lit ignitor that 
Apollo had recovered and returned to him, illuminating an object that lay on the deck by 
his feet.  
 
"It looks like animal hair," Apollo said, kneeling on the deck and gingerly touching the 
pile of what looked to him like fur.  
 
"Is it a costume?" Sheba asked.  
 
"No," Starbuck said, wincing again as he slowly knelt beside the Captain, "It's just a pile 
of hair. No glue. No cloth," he locked eyes with Sheba and Apollo in turn, "What in 
Hades is going on here? Apollo, what is it? Ever since Adama decided to approve the 
Spirit March, you've been preoccupied with something unpleasant. Now you've got a look 
on your face that tells me you know something. What is it? Does it have something to do 
with your aversion to participating in this thing?"  
 
"It's a case of history repeating itself, Starbuck," Apollo lifted a tuft of fur from the deck 
and studied it grimly beneath the torch that he still held in his other hand, "It has to do 
with an experience I had on Caprica, back before my sister and brother were born, when I 
was a kid participating in the local Spirit March with Mother," he tossed the fur back 
down on the deck, standing and offering Starbuck a hand up, steadying the injured man as 
he rose to join Apollo and Sheba, the three of them forming a rough triangle around the 
mysterious pile of hair, "We ran into a werelupus that night, and narrowly escaped with 
our lives," he looked down at the deck, then lifted his eyes to see the shocked looks on his 
companions faces, "I know how it must sound, but it's the truth. Mother and I kept it 
between the two of us. Father and Athena don't know. I've never told anyone about it 
until now. It's the reason I'm such a," he paused and attempted a humourless smile, "It's 
the reason I'm such a 'stick in the mud' over the Spirit March."  
 
"Aaaaaaarrrrrooooo!" Starbuck and Sheba stared at Apollo in abject shock as an eerie 
howl echoed along the length of the tunnel, as if punctuating Apollo's shocking 
revelation.

Part 12 
 
     "Is Muffit okay?" Boxey's voice was anxious, and Athena knew he was barely holding 
back tears. 
     "Yes, Boxey.  He's okay." Athena called back up to him, leaning over the drone that 
she and Cassie had been carefully lowering down the ladderwell when another gruesome 
howl had startled them, and they had dropped it.  Now, the daggit whirred, and its ears 
twitched in the torchlight, as if it had something to say about that. 
     "Muffit is one tough daggit, Boxey," Cassie put an arm around the boy.  "Don't 
worry." 
     "I'm not worried, Cassiopeia," Boxey replied, his voice more confident now that he 
knew his beloved daggit was unharmed.   
     Cassie smiled, and gave the boy a quick squeeze, wishing she could have the 
confidence of a seven-yahren-old boy.  "Be careful, Athena," she called down. 
 
* * * * *  
     A shiver ran down Apollo's spine as the last echo of the werelupus' howl disappeared 
into the darkness. He sighed as Sheba and Starbuck looked at him as if he was a few 
Vipers short of a squadron after his revelation about almost being killed by a werelupus 
as a child.  "Why do you think Mother and I decided to keep it quiet?" 
     "Apollo, you must have been very young . . ." Sheba ventured.  Simply stated, she 
thought the Spirit March was a fun celebration, but she hadn't been raised to believe in 
mythological creatures.  The Cylons were the real enemy, and they were scary enough to 
occupy the nightmares of most Colonial children on a fulltime basis.  "And very scared . . 
.  And I'll bet you had a very active imagination." 
     "Sheba, I didn't imagine it." Apollo replied, remembering his mother, a gentle and 
intelligent soul, fiercely defending her child and herself as the werelupus attempted to 
corner them.  Climb, son, climb!  Lupi can't climb trees!  When their desperate calls for 
help had finally been answered, the men who had arrived had insisted it was a rabid 
daggit who had been snapping at their heels, nothing more.  Their numbers had scared the 
beast away into the night.  However, the memory had remained.  Apollo glanced at 
Starbuck who was uncharacteristically not making any smart astrum remarks.  As his 
friend of over a deca-yahren, it alerted the captain.  "Are you okay?" 
     "Other than a gaping wound in my shoulder, I'm fantastic.  Thanks for asking." 
Starbuck replied, evasively. 
     "What?" Apollo asked, putting a hand on Starbuck's good shoulder.  "Spill it." 
     The blond lieutenant glanced at Sheba, and seemed to ponder whether or not he should 
answer.  Finally, "I . . .uh, had a little run in with a werelupus myself, as a child." 
     "Starbuck, if it wasn't for that shoulder wound . . ." Sheba hazarded, a part of her still 
suspicious that they were being "Starbucked".  She paused, shining her torch on the 
lieutenant.  The further they had gone, the less affected by the wound he had seemed.  
"Wait a centon, let me look at that." 
     She handed Apollo her torch and pushed Starbuck's cloak aside once again.  Apollo's 
makeshift field dressing, bound around his shoulder with strips of cloth, had held.  She 
quickly moved it aside, gasping as she stared in disbelief at the intact tissue that was an 
angry wound only centons before.  "That's impossible!" 
     "How does it feel, Starbuck?" Apollo asked, feeling bile rising in his throat.  He'd 
rather deal with Cylons anyday than this. . . 
     "Kind of numb . . ." The lieutenant replied, letting out a jagged breath of horror .  
Then he startled as a low murmur filled the air. 
     *Hail, Hail, Hail, great lupus spirit, Hail!  A boon we ask thee, mighty shade.  Within 
this circle we have made.  Make a werelupus strong and bold.  The terror alike of young 
and old.* 
     Apollo and Sheba pivoted, shining their torches, gasping when they saw a dozen or 
more small cloaked figures surrounding them, chanting eerily.  Shining, red eyes stared 
out from dark hoods that revealed nothing else.   
     "What the . . . ?" Apollo breathed, pivoting again when a animalistic cry of pain and 
fear came from right behind him.  The hair on the back of his neck bristled as he gazed at 
Starbuck, crumpled on the deck amidst the animal hair, his hands covering his face, 
grunting and gasping horribly . . . 
     *Haste, Haste, Haste, lonely spirit, Haste!  Here, wan and drear, magic spell making, 
Findest thou - shaking, quaking.  Softly fan him as he lie.  And thy mystic touch apply.* 
     "Starbuck!" Sheba cried, when he began convulsing, a howl of terror torn from his 
throat.  She stepped towards him, but Apollo grabbed her by the arm. 
     "No!" The captain shouted.  "Don't touch him!" 
 
* * * * * 
*Magic incantation liberated from "The Werewolf Page".

Part 13
/Bark. Bark. Whirr./  
 
"What is it, Muffit?" Athena lifted her torch to light the way as she followed the daggit 
drone. Having ordered Muffit to follow Apollo's scent, she was hopeful that it was her 
brother's face that she would see illuminated by the light source. Instead, it was a much 
different sight that met her startled eyes, "Starbuck! What the Hades . . . ?" she rushed 
forward, pausing in horror at the sight of the normally brash Lieutenant, trussed up like a 
Spirit Night Avian Dinner with the sash from his Otari Spirit Worshipper robe, his mouth 
gagged and his arms and feet securely tied behind his back.  
 
"Mmmmfff!" Starbuck's eyes widened as he writhed vainly on the deck.  
 
"Oh my God!" Athena cried as she quickly knelt beside him, setting down her torch and 
loosening the gag from his mouth.  
 
"Athena!" Starbuck coughed dryly, spitting cloth fibres from him mouth as Athena 
tugged at the knots that secured his limbs, "There's some sort of Spirit Worship Cabal 
running around down here! There were at least a dozen of them wearing dark hooded 
robes. I didn't see their faces. They snatched me off the ladder when I came down after 
one of the kids," he pulled his arms free and quickly helped Athena to untie the restraints 
around his ankles, "Cassiopeia! I left her up there alone!"  
 
"She's fine, Starbuck," Athena spoke soothingly, "She and Boxey were on their way to 
join the other Spirit Marchers when Muffit and I left them. What about Sheba and 
Apollo? Haven't you seen them?"  
 
"No," Starbuck staggered as he tried to stand, his limbs numb from being so tightly 
bound, painful pricks of sensation returning as the blood flow resumed its unhindered 
course through his body, "They're down here, too?"  
 
"Boxey told us that you came to him in his dreams last night, dressed as a werelupus, 
telling him you were playing a prank on Apollo," Athena and Starbuck shared a look of 
confusion and dread, "Starbuck, Muffit is tracking Apollo. If you haven't seen him, that 
could mean that whomever dumped you here has back-tracked and are now /behind/ 
Apollo and Sheba."  
 
"Let's go," Starbuck reached for the torch and stood stiffly, grasping Athena's shoulder 
for support, "We've got to find them before those freaks get hold of them."  
 
"Muffit!" Athena hissed into the darkness beyond the perimeter of the torch's light, "Find 
Apollo!"  
 
/Whirr. Bark. Bark./ The little drone bounced up and down briefly, then began to move 
forward purposefully, Athena and the quickly recovering Starbuck close behind him.  
 
***  
 
"That's not Starbuck!" Apollo cried, pulling Sheba close to him taking her free hand and 
circling slowly, holding the torch firmly, gripping the handle in readiness to use it as a 
weapon if need be, mentally cursing the civilian garb he now wore and wishing for the 
comforting weight of the laser pistol that he has removed with his uniform and securely 
locked in the weapon cabinet in his quarters.  
 
"Not Starbuck? Apollo, what . . . " Sheba jabbed with her own torch as one of the figures 
surrounding them attempted to rush her, connecting with its midriff and evoking a grunt 
of pain and a quick retreat. Apollo and Sheba pivoted slowly, their backs to one another, 
"What the Hades is going on? This can't be happening. There are no such thing as werelu. 
. . "  
 
"Arrr-arrr-arrrroooo!" the creature that they had thought was Starbuck sprang suddenly to 
its feet, it's yellow eyes glowing in the torchlight, spittle flying from it's lips. The even 
white smile had been replaced by a long hairy muzzle sporting an array of needle-sharp 
teeth. It began to advance on the two warriors, its long talon-like claws reaching for them, 
"What's the matter, Apollo?" it growled tauntingly, with Starbuck's voice, "No tree to 
climb down here? Mother can't save you this time! Game or Goodies, kids!"  
 
"Be ready when I say 'go', Sheba . . . " Apollo hissed into her ear, tightening his grip on 
her hand, pulling her with him as he suddenly lunged at one of the hooded figures that 
milled around them, "Go!" he cried, as his torch handle connected with a sickening 
crunch of breaking bone against the leg of the figure, who crumpled to the deck with a 
cry of pain. Apollo and Sheba moved quickly through the hole they had made in the 
circle, brandishing their torches in a final threatening gesture, giving the creature within 
the broken circle one final horrified look, then turning to run back the way they had 
come.  
 
"Apollo," Sheba cried breathlessly, tightening her hold on his hand and on her torch 
handle as they ran, "We've got to get to a communication console and sound the alert! 
That thing. It could make itself look like anyone!"  
 
"Not until after it kills Starbuck!" Apollo responded, his own jagged breathing competing 
with the rhythm of his pounding heart, "When Mother and I saw it, it was shaped like one 
of my neighbours. The next morning the neighbour was gone. The authorities said he was 
apparently mauled and eaten by a rabid daggit. They never found him /or/ the daggit, 
only blood and hair in his wrecked house."  
 
"Oh Lords!" Sheba cried, "The stories are true. The werelupus takes on the form of its 
next, AAAAAH!" Sheba suddenly fell to the deck, tripping over something that she had 
not seen in the darkness.  
 
/Bark. Bark. Whirr./  
 
"Muffit!" Apollo reached down to help Sheba back to her feet, "Sheba, are you alright? 
You've tripped over Muffy!"  
 
"I, I think so," Sheba lifted her hand to her forehead, "It's just a little scrape."  
 
"Apollo!" Athena cried as she and Starbuck approached in a pool of torchlight, "What the 
. . ."  
 
"Athena!" Apollo interrupted as he gazed down at Muffit, "Where is Boxey?"  
 
"He's fine, Apollo," Athena reached to touch his arm, "I left him with Cassiopeia."  
 
"Sheba, you're bleeding!" Starbuck cried, tearing a strip off of his robe, and pressing it 
against the small gash on her forehead, "What's going /on/ down here?"  
 
"Aaaaaarrrrrooooo!"

Part 14 
    
     The warriors whirled, all gazing down the dark passageway that the howl had come 
from.  Muffit grrrrrr'd, his ears twitching.  Apollo grabbed Starbuck, thrusting the 
lieutenant behind him.  "Let's move!  Starbuck, the werelupus is after you!" 
     "Not again . . ." Starbuck murmured, letting his friend propel him forward into a run.   
     "What do you mean 'again'?" Apollo asked, pointing his torch behind them.  It seemed 
clear.  Then why was his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest?  "You've 
encountered a werelupus before?" 
     "Well . . . everyone else told me it was a rabid daggit, but I was sure . . ." Starbuck 
looked at the others uncertainly.  "Forget it.  You'll think I'm crazy." 
     "When?  Where?" Apollo asked, gripping his friend's arm briefly, urging him on. 
     "Not long after I was moved to the Caprica City Orphanage.  The night of the Spirit 
March." He paused, to look behind.  "Lords, that must have been about . . ." 
     "About twenty yahrens ago?" Apollo asked anxiously.  "The yahren that Annulus was 
attacked and destroyed by the Cylons." 
     "Yeah, exactly." Starbuck gasped.  "I was in Annulus when it was hit.  I'd been there 
since the Cylons levelled Umbra.  But . . . how did you know?"  
     "My mother and I tangled with a werelupus that night in Caprica City, Starbuck.  We 
barely escaped." Apollo told him, overwhelmed by the coincidence. 
     "You're not saying this is the same werelupus, are you?" Sheba asked hesitantly, 
weighing the words and their possible consequences. 
     "This is crazy." Athena added.   
     "Told you so," Starbuck glanced at Apollo.  "Look, I don't know about a werelupus, 
but there's a bunch of short, robed lunatics running around down here . . .Hey, now that I 
think about it, that kid I thought I was chasing down here to begin with, was probably one 
of them." 
     "They were luring you, Starbuck." Apollo insisted. 
     "But why?  They caught him, tied him up, and left him." Athena asked.  "Can we 
introduce an element of logic here, please?  Why would a werelupus be after Starbuck?" 
     "Legends say that once a werelupus has tasted the blood of a victim, it pursues him 
until its bloodlust has finally been sated." Apollo replied.  He shrugged when Sheba rose 
an eyebrow.  "I studied a few of the legends after meeting one face to muzzle." 
     "Did the werelupus taste your blood, Starbuck?" Sheba asked tentatively.  This 
couldn't be happening. It was too bizarre. 
     "I tripped, when I was running away that night.  I tore my leg up pretty bad." Starbuck 
explained, looking back over his shoulder.  "I remember jumping off a bridge, onto a 
hover-transport as it passed underneath.  That thing was right on my tail.  If the transport 
hadn't come along when it did . . . Well, let's just say I was lucky." 
     "So it could have . . ." Sheba's features twisted in disgust, "tasted your blood from 
where you fell?" 
     "I suppose." Starbuck replied, glancing at Apollo.  "But . . . why did it go after you?  
Pretending to be me?"

Part 15  
 
"That's a good question, Starbuck," Apollo gestured for the group to hurry toward the 
ladder that would take them out of the access tunnel and back up to the small stairwell on 
Alpha Deck,"The creature that Mother and I encountered approached us in the form of a 
neighbour. We didn't know him well. I don't know why we were targeted. I don't 
remember being injured, so how could it be blood lust?" Apollo gently pushed his sister 
toward the ladder, "Hurry, let's get out of here and get help before they catch up to us." 
Athena, then Sheba, Starbuck close behind her, ascended the ladder.  
 
"Hurry, Apollo," Starbuck called down as the Captain took a last look around, tossing 
down his torch and hoisting Muffet under his right arm, using his left to climb up the 
ladder and join the others. Starbuck reached down for Muffit, then helped Apollo up 
through the hatchway. All four warriors peered down at the pool of light thrown by 
Apollo's discarded torch near the foot of the ladder. "I don't hear a thing," Starbuck 
whispered hoarsely, drawing his tattered robe around his waist, feeling the chill of the 
darkened stairwell landing, wishing that he had thought to wear a change of clothes and a 
laser pistol belt beneath his Otari Spirit Worshipper costume. He turned down one side of 
his mouth wryly at the thought of /why/ he and Cassiopeia had neglected to overdress for 
the occasion, and sighed sadly at the thought that his post - Spirit March plans had been 
interrupted by . . .  
 
"Arr-arrr-aaaaaarrrrrroooooo!" the howl carried ringingly along the tunnel beneath them.  
 
"Quick, Starbuck!" Apollo cried, "Let's get this hatch closed! Then we can try to trap 
them in the tunnel!" The two men slammed the hatch shut and Apollo keyed his 
command override sequence into it's locking mechanism control, blocking any access 
from the other side.  
 
"We need to get the lights back on!" Sheba said as she and Athena gathered up the two 
remaining torches. She touched a finger tentatively to her bruised and bloodied forehead, 
gratified to see that the bleeding from the small wound appeared to have stopped, then 
looked down at the tunnel access and over at Apollo, responding to his words with an 
expression of renewed horror, "The tunnel. We've got to split up and close the hatches on 
either side of this one before those lunatics disappear into the Spirit March crowd! There 
should be a communication console between here and the next tunnel access to the aft!"  
 
"We'll go aft, Sheba," Apollo took the torch from her, and grasped her other hand with his 
own, "Starbuck, you and Athena take Muffit and get to the other forward hatch. Lock it 
down, then head back to join Cassiopeia and the others. We'll meet you there as soon as 
we've locked down the aft hatch and called for help."  
 
"Aaaaaarrrrrroooooo!" the four young people started as something heavy collided with 
the hatch below them.  
 
/Whirr. Bark. Bark./ The blood red Muffit bounced once and assumed a posture that 
Apollo recognized as a protective stance.  
 
"Let's move!" the Captain hissed urgently. He pulled Sheba toward the aftmost of several 
downward branching sets of steps while Starbuck, Athena and Muffit headed for the steps 
furthest forward, "And for Sagan's sake, be careful!"  
 
***  
 
"I sure hope Muffy's alright," Boxey said, attempting a degree of bravado, but failing to 
hide his fear, "Cassiopeia? Daddy will be here soon, won't he?"  
 
Cassiopeia squeezed the boy's hand as she hurried him up the final flight of steps, holding 
her torch high and fighting to hide her own sense of deepening dread. /We should have 
met the other Spirit Marchers by now. Oh Lords, where are they?/, she smiled down at 
Boxey reassuringly.  
 
"Don't worry, Boxey," she pulled the boy onto the final landing, "Your father and Muffit, 
and the others, will be just fine."  
 
"Boxey! Cassiopeia!" the woman and the boy started and turned at the deep male voice 
behind them.  
 
"Who's there?" Cassiopeia cried, pulling Boxey close with one arm across his small chest 
and brandishing her torch with the other, "Show yourself!"  
 
"Cassiopeia! It's me, Boomer. I just got back from patrol. I promised to help with the 
holo-equipment, remember?" Cassiopeia exhaled sharply in relief as the Blue Squadron 
Lieutenant, dressed in his usual flight uniform, stepped forward, his brows knitted in 
concern at the tremulous tones of fear in the med-tech's voice, "What's going on? Where 
are Apollo and Starbuck? "  
 
"Boxey? Where's Muffit? And where did Sheba get to?" Cassiopeia opened her mouth in 
shock as Athena stepped forward, still wearing her Seer's robe, lighting her torch and 
holding it high, "Don't tell me that she and Apollo slipped off together. She was supposed 
to help us with the Spirit March finale. We've got a great holographic cartoon spectre 
ready to scare the Marchers half to . . . Cassiopeia? What is it? What's wrong?"  
 
"But, but," Cassiopeia and Boxey exchanged a look of shocked confusion, then stared 
once more at the young woman before them in the voluminous Seer's costume, "You 
went down in the tunnel with Muffit. You went to look for Apollo and Sheba, and 
Starbuck." Cassiopiea swallowed hard, "Oh my God. /Starbuck/. If you're here, Athena, 
then who . . . "  
 
"Aaaaaarrrrrroooooo!" As the sudden howling sound echoed through the small chamber 
of the landing, Cassiopeia tightened her grip on a frightened Boxey, feeling his heart 
pounding against her arm.  
 
"What in Hades was that?" Boomer cried as he reached for his laser pistol.  
 
"I don't know," said Athena, tightening her grip on the torch handle in her hand and 
moving to stand behind Boomer, placing a hand on his shoulder and peering into the 
darkness beyond the nearby main hatchway, "but it sounded like it came from that 
direction!"

Part 16 
      
     One moment he was leading Athena towards the forward hatch, the next, Muffit had 
unexpectedly lunged into his kneecaps, knocking Starbuck to the deck.  Simultaneously, a 
bloodchilling howl resonated through his skull from directly above him, and something 
hairy and powerful brushed his head and shoulders, as it lurched over him.  Starbuck 
struck the deck hard, abruptly rolling to the side and regaining his feet.  He shone his 
torch, gasping in horror at the sight before him.   
     Now Athena with facial hair was a horrifying sight indeed.  It made her look like a 
young Adama, after six sectons of furlon, with no sonic shaver.  But even Adama didn't 
shave his knuckles--at least as far as Starbuck was aware--and even the best of dental 
technicians would be challenged to do anything about the vicious teeth that were bared in 
his direction, and the frothing at the corners of the muzzle. 
     "My mate is waiting for you in his lair." The she-lupus told him, her voice raspy, but 
still Athena-like.  An impossibly long tongue laved her lips, saliva dripping from her 
muzzle.  "And a tasty treat you'll make." 
     The luminescent yellow eyes flickered over him derisively, eying him like its next 
meal.  He moved slightly to the right, the werelupus, snarled and shadowed him.  He 
veered to the left, the werelupus followed.  She was toying with him.  Letting him know 
she was quicker, more instinctive than he could ever be.  Starbuck swallowed the lump in 
his throat, painfully aware that all that stood between him and the ferocious creature was 
the torch he held in his hand as a makeshift weapon. 
     Whir!  Bark!  Bark!   
     And a daggit. 
 
* * * * * 
     "Apollo!" Sheba gasped, just short of the hatch.  "Was that . . .?" 
     "Behind us!" Apollo agreed, torn between closing the hatch, and turning back.  
"Frack!" he cried, sprinting the last few metrons, and grabbing the hatch, heaving it up 
and into place.  "How could it be so fast?" 
     "I don't know," Sheba gasped, catching sight of the comm unit in the periphery of her 
vision, and heading for it.  She stopped short when she realized it had been physically 
torn off the wall, and destroyed.  "Damn!  It's useless!" 
     "C'mon!  We have to help Athena and Starbuck!" Apollo shouted, racing back down 
the corridor. 
 
* * * * * 
     "Give it to me straight," Boomer told Cassie.  "Was Starbuck planning anything 
tonight?  Is this a practical joke of some kind?" 
     "Boomer, I practically had to drag Starbuck by his fumarello to get him to come to 
this.  He hates Spirit Night.  Hates it with a passion." Cassie explained, resting her hand 
on his sleeve.  "He told me he hasn't taken part in one since he was a child." 
     Boomer drew a deep breath, "Look, I don't know what's going on, but you two take 
Boxey and catch up with the others.  I think you should stick together.  I'll go check out 
that . . ." 
     Aar-aar-aroooooooo! 
     "Yeah. That." Boomer added, pulling his laser.  He nodded his thanks as Athena 
handed him her torch, then turned and retreated back the way he had come. 
     "Be careful, Boomer," Athena whispered, knowing he probably couldn't hear her by 
now.  Then she smiled down at her nephew, mussing his hair and steering him gently 
forward by his shoulder.  "Let's go find the others."

Part 17  
 
"Who are you? Where's the real Athena?" Starbuck tightened his grip on the torch handle, 
"If you've harmed her . . . "  
 
"Oh, relax," the female werelupus rumbled toothily, still sounding earily like Athena, 
"your little bridge buddy is fine, Bucky. I won't be eating her until after the ritual. Then, I 
think I'll try Sheba's form for a while. The blood from her wound tasted fine. I can play 
with Apollo for a while, watch him find out that his wingman's been eaten by my mate, 
and then hand him Sheba's head before my mate eats him to wash you down."  
 
Starbuck swung suddenly with the torch, catching the beast on the collarbone and sending 
her staggaring backward, struggling to regain her balance.  
 
"Now, Muffy!" Starbuck cried, "Standard defense mode. Bring her down, daggit!"  
 
/Whirr. Bark. Bark./  
 
Muffet lunged like a missile, hitting the creature directly in the midsection and twisting in 
the air, landing unceremoniously, with all four feet planted closely together, directly on 
the now prone werelupus' face.  
 
"Eeeew!" Starbuck opened his mouth in horror and dismay at the sickening /crunch/ of 
the creature's skull as it gave way under the force of the blood red drone's precision 
landing, "Good boy, Muffy! I think you killed it! You're really taking this 'Hades Hound' 
thing seriously!"  
 
/Bark. Bark. Whirr./  
 
***  
 
"Starbuck? Muffy!" Apollo rounded the corner with the torch held high and stopped cold 
as he saw the bloody mess on the deck under Muffit's feet, causing Sheba to collide with 
him from behind.  
 
"Ooomph," Sheba exhaled audibly and clutched Apollo's arm for support, "Apollo, what . 
. . Oh my God! Athena?"  
 
"No," Starbuck emerged from the darkness with a broken torch handle in his hand, "It's 
not Athena. She was one of /them/. The other one we encountered in the access tunnel is 
apparently her mate. They were planning on eating both Athena and me after some sort of 
ritual in their lair," he stared grimly at Apollo, "then, she said the plan was to kill Sheba 
and toy with /you/ for a while."  
 
"Oh my Lords," Sheba cried in frustration, "What are we going to do? The other 
werelupus will surely have escaped from the tunnel through the forward hatch!"  
 
"We know where it's going," Apollo stared grimly at Starbuck, "You're the next intended 
victim, buddy, and when that thing finds out that you've killed it's mate, I'm thinking it 
will be coming straight for you."  
 
"Thanks, pal," Starbuck swallowed hard and attempted a weak smile, "You have a way of 
making a guy feel special."  
 
"Well," Sheba stepped forward, still regarding the mess on the deck with a look of 
disbelief, "If Starbuck's the bait, we'd better get the trap ready," she turned to look at 
Muffit, "and we'd better make sure the Hound from Hades is there to finish off the 
target."  
 
***  
 
Boomer moved liked a felix along the darkened corridor, the sounds of the Spirit March 
celebration fading behind him. /I swear, if this is one of Starbuck's schemes . . . /  
 
"Aaaaarrrrrooooo - oooooooh!"  
 

From out of the darkness, a hairy form hurtled forward. Boomer reacted with 
sharply conditioned reflexes and raised his laser pistol, swivelling to catch sight of his 
target within the soft pool of light cast by the torch.  
 
"Don't shoot, Boomer! Oh my God! Hold your fire! I'm just having a little Spirit March 
fun! I thought you were setting up the holographic equipment for the spectre show. What 
in Hades is wrong with you? Have you gone space happy?"  
 
"Starbuck!" Boomer let out the breath that he had been holding and lowered his pistol, a 
tone of annoyance underscoring his voice, "Is that supposed to be a werelupus costume? 
You look like the carpet in the Officers' Club. How long has that thing been in storage?"  
 
"Oh, I haven't had the old fur coat out in a while, Boomer," Starbuck's eyes began to glow 
yellow in the darkness and his mouth opened to reveal his sharpened teeth, "Perhaps I can 
alter it to accomodate you. Games or Goodies, buddy?"  
 
"You're not Starbuck, are you?" Boomer asked dryly, not waiting for an answer as he 
once more raised his pistol, taking careful aim at, at, well, whatever it was.  
 
Suddenly, from out of the darkness behind the beast, a figure in a black hood bolted 
forward, jostling Boomer's arm and taking the brunt of the laser blast full on.  
 
"Sorry I can't stay," the creature sprang forward, pinning Boomer to the bulkhead and 
purring into his ear with a shower of spittle, in an eerie approximation of Starbuck's most 
charming tone, "I'm having Starbuck for evening meal," the sharp teeth flashed, reflecting 
the soft light from the fallen torch, "catch you later, Boomer," with one last rumbling 
snarl, the creature disappeared into the darkness.  
 
Boomer leaned against the bulkhead, slowing his breathing and holding his laser pistol at 
the ready. He moved to kneel beside the small hooded figure on the deck at his feet. He 
reached for the hood, intending to pull it open.  
 
"Boomer!" Apollo, Starbuck and Sheba stopped short, Muffit at their heels, as Boomer 
wheeled around, balancing on one knee and reflexively aiming his pistol in the direction 
of Apollo's voice, "Hold your fire!"

Part 18 
 
     "Hold it!" Boomer snapped as the three warriors and one daggit drew closer.   
     "Boomer, it's us!" Apollo told him, raising his hands nonetheless. 
     "Don't be offended, buddy, but something resembling Starbuck just tried that line with 
me.  Everybody, get your hands up.  You especially, Bucko." Boomer warned them, his 
laser not wavering as they fanned out to flank him. 
     "Look, Boomer, I . . . oomph!" Sheba huffed as a mightly shove from behind 
propelled her forward.  Her eyes widened as Boomer raised his weapon, his face wide-
eyed in alarm.  "Noooo!" 
     "NO!" Apollo's yell joined Sheba's, and Muffit's insistent barks added to the din. 
     Boomer let his fingers slip from the weapon, catching the lieutenant in his arms.  She 
gasped to catch her breath as she stared up at him in disbelief.  It felt as though she would 
never stop trembling. 
     "I thought you were going to fire," Sheba whispered. 
     "I nearly did . . ." Boomer admitted, glancing up to see Apollo shaking his head, and 
dropping to his knees in relief.  "But when Muffit barked . . ." he shrugged, not really 
having an explanation as to why he would take the daggit's word--or bark--over his 
friends'.  Probably, because werelupi don't take the form of mechanical daggits, Boom-
Boom. 
     "Thank the Lords," Apollo murmured, patting Muffit's red fur reassuringly, suddenly 
mindful that he had programmed Sheba, in addition to Boxey, into Muffit's automatic 
defensive mode. 
     Boomer nodded, and then hesitated, looking around cautiously.  "Where's Starbuck?"  
      
 
* * * * * 
     Its elbow was cinched tightly around his throat, dragging him easily backwards, 
cutting off his airway, and his ability to defend himself, as Starbuck scrambled repeatedly 
to get leverage, and failed.  It had happened so quickly that he hadn't expected it.  One 
moment he was sure good ole Boomer was about to shoot Sheba dead, and the next a grip 
like a vise was around his throat, and hauling him through the darkness as though he 
weighed no more than a triad ball.  Well, okay, a big triad ball.  If there was ever a time 
he wished for that dang daggit to be tagging along, sniffing him in embarrassing places 
for mushies . . . 
     "You will pay for killing Lowella. . . slowly and painfully you will die." The hot, fetid 
breath assaulted his senses, making him want to toss his mushies.  Blood breath.  "I will 
rip your flesh to pieces, one bite at a time . . . I will force feed you your own eyeballs, and 
let you rinse them down with your blood." 
     And the worst part was that Starbuck couldn't even choke out a witty retort. 
 
* * * * * 
     "Now what exactly do we have here?" Apollo asked, squatting down beside the 
hooded figure.  Yes, they had to find Starbuck, but first, he wanted to see what a member 
of this maniacal cabal looked like.  Gingerly, he lift the cowl, pulling it back slowly.  He 
gasped, dropping it, and falling back on his astrum in shock. 
     "What?" Sheba asked, reaching for the hood. 
     "Sheba, don't!" Apollo warned her. 
     Of course, she did anyway.  Like it contained something venemous, she touched it 
lightly and lightening fast, tossing it away from the being it concealed.  Beneath, the face 
was that of a child, about Boxey's age, almost angelic in appearance.  Curly blonde hair 
framed her cherubic features. 
     "Oh, dear God . . ." Boomer gasped, his chest suddenly heaving with horror.  "What 
have I done?" His hands shook, and he backed away slowly from the body, finally 
covering his face, a sound like that of a wounded animal torn from his throat as he 
dropped to his knees. 
    Apollo bit his lip hard, hoping it would wake him from this nightmare.  The coppery 
taste in his mouth alerted him to the fact that he had drawn blood.  Somehow, it didn't 
really matter. 
     Muffit started yipping, moving from side to side by the small, still form. 
     "Apollo, Boomer, look!" Sheba cried, pointing at the child. 
     Impossibly, a warm breeze swept through the passageway.  The men startled at its 
unlikely existence, then glanced towards the child.  A glimmering prism of light had 
appeared over her, then seemed to envelop her, lifting her from the deck, and encasing 
her in its warm glow.  The multi-coloured lights brightened, sparkling, and blinking, until 
they had to shield their eyes from its glare.  In another instant, all went black, except for 
the glow from their torches.  When they looked back, the child was gone. 
     Sheba crossed to Boomer, sinking to her knees and gripping his hands.  She waited for 
the soulful, brown eyes to meet her own.  "She was some kind of . . . victim of the 
werelupus, Boomer.  A child of darkness.  You didn't kill her.  He did that a long time 
ago."   
     Apollo placed a hand on Boomer's shoulder, squeezing gently.  "If anything, Boomer, 
you set her free." 
     "Still . . ." Boomer choked out, his face showing the tracks of his tears.  "I thought I . . 
." 
     "Easy, buddy." Apollo squeezed harder this time.  "Pull it together.  We still need to 
find Starbuck." He glanced towards the daggit.  "Muffit, find Starbuck!"

Part 19  
 
/Whirr. Bark. Whirr./  
 
"That's right, Muffy," Apollo held the torch high, illuminating the corridor along which 
the little daggit drone was leading him, "find Starbuck!"  
 
"Apollo," Sheba touched the Captain's arm and nodded toward a nearby communication 
console, "that one's been ripped out, too. At least it probably means Muffit's on the right 
trail," she glanced over at Boomer, who flanked Apollo's other side, his weapon drawn, 
"By the way, Skipper," she managed a wry smile as Apollo flushed slightly and shot her a 
surprised look. Skipper was a title she normally used to address him in private,"thanks for 
programming the Hades Hound to interfere if I'm about to get shot."  
 
"Well, uh," Apollo shot a look of his own in Boomer's direction, then responded in a 
barely audible whisper, "Muffy's gotten used to having you around, I guess."  
 
"Uh, /Skipper/," Boomer's habitually dry tone caused Apollo to start slightly, "When you 
two are finished trying to pretend that you didn't primarily program Sheba's image into 
Muffy's data array so that she could sneak into your chambers late at night without 
waking everyone in the crew quarter section, maybe you'd like to explain to me just what 
the Hades is going on here. Why has this thing targeted you and Starbuck?"  
 
"Boomer," Sheba stared at him, sudden realization reddening her face, "do /all/ of the 
guys know about that, er, /crew quarter/ thing?  
 
"Yes, Sheba," Boomer shot her a sympathetic look, "/all/ of us, including Boxey and 
anyone within earshot of, uh, the /crew quarter/ thing when it's, er, /happening/."  
 
"Boomer," Apollo's voice cracked slightly as he promised himself that, when this was all 
over, he would have Wilker improve the soundproofing around his private chamber. He 
cleared his throat and started again, "Never mind that now. The important thing is that 
we've got to find Starbuck. He said the female werelupus that Muffit killed told him he 
was to be eaten in the creatures' lair after some sort of ritual. Let's hope there's enough 
time before then to catch this thing before it reverts to human form for another yahren."  
 
"Do you really believe the legends?" Sheba asked, recovering her composure and pushing 
aside the realization that surely all of her fellow pilots had been aware of her passionate 
love affair with the Captain for some sectons now. "If I remember my grandfather's 
stories correctly, then this thing was awakened by a chant spoken by its followers at a 
certain centar of the Caprican Spirit March cycle, and it won't revert completely to human 
form until after the last centar of the cycle, when the lights are due to be switched back 
on.  
 
"That's in three centars," Apollo said as he looked at the irridescent display on his 
chronometer, "if we don't catch it before then, it could assume any shape it pleases, after 
it kills Starbuck."  
 
/Bark. Bark. Whirr./ The three warriors slowed their pace as Muffit bounced up and down 
excitedly, pawing at a closed hatchway near the end of the corridor. They moved forward, 
Apollo holding the torch aloft, and studied the designation label printed on the hatch.  
 
/Reclamation Tank Access. Authorized Personnel Only/  
 
"Oh, Lords," Sheba breathed, "Why do the evil flesh-eating monsters always have to hole 
up some place stinky?"  
 
***  
 
"Lowella?" Starbuck, his robe tattered almost to the point of indecency, was once again 
trussed up like a Spirit Night Avian Dinner and secured to a vertical support on the side 
of a large reclamation tank, smiled weakly at the impressive array of teeth displayed only 
micrometrons from his face, "I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name."  
 
"Silence, human," the werelupus growled, "I know that you killed my mate. You smell 
like her blood," the creature sniffed Starbuck's jaw line, then exhaled a foul spray of 
spittle into the warrior's face, "what I can't figure out is what sort of weapon you used to 
crush her beautiful skull. Now I'll have to have my minions bring me a new mate. Maybe 
that pretty blonde med-tech would make a good werelupus. /That/ would even the score a 
little, smart guy."  
 
"What is it with you?" Starbuck struggled vainly against the restraints, "why are you out 
to get me? Look, I can sort of understand following your nature. You /are/ a mythological 
flesh-eating werelupus, after all. But, what I /don't/ understand is why you seem to have a 
personal grudge against me, and Apollo as well. You /are/ the same werelupus that 
attacked me at Annulus when I was a kid, aren't you? And you killed Apollo's neighbour, 
then tried to kill him and his mother?"  
 
"That's right, hot shot," Starbuck was uncertain as to how to respond. It was ooky enough 
listening to this thing speak to him in his own voice, but he found its distorted physical 
resemblance to him to be very disturbing.  
 
"But /why/? Why us in particular. What could you have had against the both of us? We 
didn't even /know/ each other then.  
 
"It was in part to prevent you both from ever meeting that I was summoned to dispatch 
you and your friend. My master assigned me to destroy you both before you could be 
allowed to destroy him."  
 
"What the . . . ? Who in Hades is your master? And why is he so scared of Apollo and 
me?"  
 
"I guess it won't do any harm to tell you now, /dinner/," the creature smiled, if you could 
call that a smile, "My master's name, as you know him, is . . . "  
 
/Bark. Bark.Whirr./  
 
"Get it, Muffy! Standard defense mode! Bring it down and kill it!"  
 
"No! Apollo!" Starbuck cried as Muffit launched himself like a blood-red rocket at the 
werelupus, "It was just about to tell me who . . . "

art 20 
 
     "Heel, Muffit!" Apollo cried sharply, realizing that the werelupus already had jagged 
claws wrapped around Starbuck's neck, its yellow eyes glowing, and its teeth 
millimetrons from the warrior's throat.  There wasn't enough time for the daggit to attack 
the werelupus, without the beast first killing Starbuck.  Now maybe if the still shell 
shocked Boomer had fired his laser . . .  
     "Heel?" Boomer muttered.  "Couldn't you have come up with something more military 
than 'heel'?" 
     "That's not really helpful, Boomer." Apollo returned, slowly approaching the 
salivating werelupus with hands raised to show he had no weapons.  "You don't really 
want to rip his throat out now.  If you don't complete the ritual, then you'll be unable to 
revert to your true form for the rest of the yahren.  You'll have to create an entirely new 
alias, and that won't be easy if we all know you look like Starbuck.  We'll find you." 
     "How did you know that?" The werelupus snarled, spittle flying from its lips into 
Starbuck's face.  The warrior grimaced. 
     "I've read the legends." Apollo returned.  The legends pertaining to the werelupus 
were varied and extensive, and could have filled several tomes.  Each culture had their 
own theories, specific to their regions, and going back to Kobol.  Even modern day 
culture had immortalized the werelupus in holo-vids. 
     "And do you know what the ritual is?" The beast snarled. 
     "Could it have anything to do with force feeding me my own eyeballs, and rinsing 
them down with my blood?" Starbuck asked tentatively, sucking a breath through his 
clenched teeth.  The werelupus snarled in his face, and rested a long, razor-sharp claw at 
the edge of his right eye.  "Yes?  No?  Just curious." 
     "Wait a centon.  Starbuck said something about you telling us who . . . who what, 
Starbuck?" Sheba inserted, always a champion for continuity. 
     "Who his master is." Starbuck replied, pressing his head back against the reclamation 
tank, and wrinkling his nose against the plethora of unpleasant odours.  "Who is your 
master, boy?" 
     The werelupus raised its head, snarling and snapping aggressively, then swept a claw 
downward, ripping a generous strip of the tattered robe from Starbuck's torso.  "Don't call 
me 'boy'." A growl erupted from low in its throat. 
     "It's getting a bit drafty in here." Starbuck muttered, aware that his chest and abdomen 
were now exposed, revealing his toned chest.  His cloak was so tattered, it was looking 
like a grass skirt, which was something that he doubted the Otori would have 
appreciated.  Then a stinging sensation hit him, and he gazed downward in horror to see 
his blood raising to the surface where the claws had been a moment before.  At least it 
had stopped at his belly.  That the Lords for small favours.  "Is somebody going to shoot 
this maniac?  Or crush its skull?  Boomer?  Muffy?" 
     "Your master?" Apollo repeated to the beast, his interest piqued.  "Who is your 
master?" 
     "The most ancient of immortals." The beast replied, its claws again sinking into 
Starbuck's neck.  "I cannot speak his name.  It is forbidden." 
     "Well, that kind of closes that discussion." Boomer stated, suddenly aware of small, 
cloaked figures that were now surrounding them, forming a perfect circle, and murmuring 
inaudible incantations, as though performing some kind of ritual  . . .  "Now how do we 
free the children?" 
     "Only death can free the children," The werelupus growled. 
     "Can you be more specific?  Your death?  My death?  Their death?" Starbuck gulped. 
     "Let's start with yours!" The lupus howled, its jaws opening impossibly wide. 
     "Help . . ." Starbuck squeaked, as the foul breath enveloped him, and the teeth closed 
in on his throat . . .

Part 21  
 
"Wait!" Apollo pointed toward Muffit, who remained in a position outside the circle of 
small hooded figures that would afford the little drone a virtually clear shot at the 
werelupus, "I can always have Muffy take you out the way he did your mate! If Starbuck 
dies, you follow him. No options. "  
 
"Aaaaaarrrrrroooooo!" the werelupus moved away from Starbuck, pivoting to face 
Apollo, "You. My master wants /you/ to suffer most of all. Watch as Starbuck dies, then 
/this/ one," the creature extended a claw to point directly at Sheba, "then maybe I'll take 
the time to dismember your pup, Boxey!"  
 
/Whirr. Bark. Bark./  
 
"Easy, Muffit," Apollo's voice was cold and level as he moved to stand between Sheba 
and the werelupus, "Don't kill it . . . yet."  
 
"Uh, guys?" Starbuck called with a weak laugh, attempting to shift his weight within the 
confines of the restraints that held him fast to the tank support, "It's kind of cold in here. 
Do you think we can find out who the evil dark master is and why he or she wants us 
dead? Then maybe we can make a deal with the werelupus, offer him some breath 
freshening solution perhaps? Besides, What's the harm in allowing it to look like me for a 
yahren? I could get a really cool tattoo so you can tell us apart! We could all get tattoos! 
We could do a calendar!"  
 
"Starbuck! Get hold of yourself!" Apollo spoke again with a calm, icy tone, gesturing 
with the slightest movement of his fingers for Muffit to move unobtrusively through the 
perimeter of the circling children turned ghouls, maneuvering to a position between 
Starbuck and the werelupus. A small slot opened in the armoured control panel on 
Muffit's shoulders and a small, silently spinning circular cutting blade on a wire-thin 
prehensile cantilevered metal arm emerged and began slicing through Starbuck's 
restraints. Apollo spoke quickly to the werelupus, distracting it's attention away from the 
now nearly free Starbuck, "Tell me," Apollo nodded slightly as the cutting tool retracted 
back into the slot and Starbuck, cinching the last remaining shreds of his costume around 
his waist, moved in concert with Muffit, such that the warrior and the drone were 
flanking either side of the creature, remaining for the time being, outside its range of 
vision. "Tell me," Apollo shrugged in an exaggerated fashion evoking a position of 
'launch-readiness' in Muffit, "Why did you come after us at Annulus? Why did you kill 
the neighbour?"  
 
"I didn't /kill/ your neighbour, /Skipper/," the werelupus chuckled, if you could call that a 
chuckle, "I /was/ your neighbour. I lived near you for an entire yahren, waiting for the 
Spirit Night to come, with the proper ritual incantation from some of my master's 
followers, so that I might take my true form and eat your flesh, you little punk. If your 
Mother hadn't turned out to be a martial arts expert, I would have had your little astrum!"  
 
"Now, Muffy! Take him down, but don't kill him! Starbuck, grab those rags! Tie its arms! 
Quickly!" Apollo and Sheba rushed forwad, grabbing the creature's legs, while Boomer 
circled slowly, laser pistol at the ready, covering the circle of hooded ghouls, who 
maintained their steady, mindless shuffling and chanting, seeming strangely oblivious to 
the predicament of their leader.  
 
"Alright, you hairy piece of . . . "  
 
"Starbuck!" Apollo grabbed his friend's shoulders, pushing him back from the now 
securely bound werelupus, "We need to get information! The lights come on in less than 
a centar! We might still be able to free the rest of these children, /and/ get the answers we 
want!"  
 
"Not so fast, Captain!" a deep, resonating voice carried from the direction of the main 
hatchway to the reclamation chamber. Apollo turned toward the sound, noting that the 
ghouls had ceased their movement and chanting, dropping silently to the deck in clearly 
submissive postures.  
 
"You!" Apollo spoke in a voice devoid of emotion, staring at the newcomer, but not with 
surprise, "I suspected that you would be at the center of all this," he gestured toward the 
efficiently trussed werelupus, "I presume that /you/ are this thing's dark master?"  
 
"That is correct, my good Captain," the figure moved forward into the torchlight, evoking 
a gasp of recognition from Sheba and a threatening step forward from both Starbuck and 
Boomer, "When last we met, the name I used was . . . "

Part 22 
 
     " . . . Damian the Third." He rose his hands, and a white cloak fanned out as if he was 
a falco about to take flight.  He glanced at the four warriors who were suddenly regarding 
him as though he was a few flames short of eternal damnation.  He dropped his hands, not 
feeling he was getting the reverence he had expected.  "Why are you looking at me like 
that?" 
     "Iblis." Sheba frowned.  "You told us your name was 'Iblis', not 'Damian the Third'." 
     "Oh." He nodded slowly.  "I really have to stick with just one name.  It would be much 
less confusing for everyone." 
     "Master!  Help me!" The werelupus cried, struggling in its restraints. 
     "Ruprecht, how did a creature of darkness let himself be overcome by mere mortals?" 
Iblis asked in disdain, raising his hand in his minion's direction. 
     "No, Master!" The beast screamed pitifully, before bursting into flames before their 
eyes.  Its shrieks of agony were only outdone by the terrible smell of burning flesh.  Then 
Iblis wrinkled his nose, screwing up his face horribly before he tipped his head back and  
. . . sneezed.  The flaming werelupus exploded, fiery flesh bursting outward in all 
directions. 
     Apollo grabbed Sheba, diving to the deck and covering her body with his.  In a milli-
centon, he was aware of Muffit's solid form covering his protectively.  Overhead, the 
flaming projectiles flew over them like missiles, and Apollo prayed that Boomer and 
Starbuck had found cover as further screams of agony filled his ears. 
     "Apollo!" Sheba screamed as the tortuous wails seemed to physically penetrate her 
body and soul, flowing through her bloodstream and crossing neural synapses, until her 
entire existence was the terror of the Beings around them.  With every breath, the 
sensation peaked, until she thought she would explode.  As irrational as she knew it was, 
she was filled with a desperate urge to run for the hatch.  She heaved herself forward. 
     "Sheba, keep your head down!" Apollo hollered, feeling her trying to lurch upward, 
and pressing her back into the deck.  For a slender young woman, she had an 
unbelievable amount of strength.  Then it hit him that Iblis was doing this.  Still trying to 
kill those that he loved so Apollo could suffer their loss.  But Iblis wouldn't win.  Apollo 
could protect Sheba once again. 
     Those he loved . . .  
     Apollo turned his head, desperately seeking out Starbuck.  His best friend lay only 
metrons away, his body and face pressed against the deck, his face contorted in a rictus of 
agony.  A fireball shot over his head, nearly singing his dark, blond hair.  His body was 
tensed, his fingernails clawing into the deck.  He looked like he couldn't take much more 
. . . 
     "Starbuck!" Apollo screamed over the horror around him. 
     Against all odds, the lieutenant's panicked blue eyes locked on his for an instant.  Then 
a blood-curdling scream filled Starbuck's senses, making his body shake with the 
desperate need to escape.  Every muscle screamed at him to move, and his eyes flickered 
towards the hatch.  He had to get out.  Had to escape.  He sucked in a deep breath. 
     "Starbuck, stay down!" Apollo screamed.

Part 23  
 
/Must reach it. Almost there/, Starbuck crawled forward through the wave of hot 
compression that squeezed the breath from his lungs, his nostrils filled with the smell of 
the werelupus' burnt flesh and hair, /Got it!/, Starbuck closed his hand over the ignitor 
that had fallen from the werelupus' filthy garment.  
 
"Starbuck!" Apollo cried, "This is no time for a smoke!"  
 
"Fire with fire," Starbuck responded, inhaling a  blast of heated air, his body writhing in 
pain, "Fire with fire!" he extended his hand toward Apollo, proffering the ignitor and 
grimacing as he peered intently to a point behind Apollo.  
 
"Apollo!' Boomer's voice came from somewhere beyond Apollo's range of vision, "The 
pressure equalizing valves on the sewage! Behind you!"  
 
Understanding dawned on the Captain's face as he reached for the ignitor, slipping his 
other arm around Sheba's waist in a ferron grip and swivelling quickly, flipping open the 
hinged top of the ignitor shell.  
 
"Muffet, take out the valves!" the drone moved like a, well, like a drone moving really 
fast, as Apollo struck the mechanism and tossed the flaming ignitor toward the pipes that 
now vented explosively flammable methon gas, "Everybody roll behind that tank! 
Move!" Apollo shouted, grabbing Sheba unceremoniously and hugging her close to him, 
rolling with her to a position under the shelter of  the large reclamation tank that Starbuck 
had been tied to earlier. The gas rushing from the pipes ignited in a half dozen horizontal 
plumes of flame, giving an effect similar to a viper's turbo thruster exhaust. The Captain 
had a blurred view of a blood red Muffit tucking and rolling, clutching Starbuck in an 
embrace of his four short, yet powerful, mechanical limbs. They rolled toward Boomer, 
who was in the process of diving behing the other side of the reclamation tank.  
 
"Nooooooo!" Damian the Third, er, /Iblis/, cried out in fury as the burning methon 
plumes engulfed his evil fire balls and threw him backward through the hatchway from 
whence he had entered, "Why didn't I close the portal in the corridor when I came 
through? Oh, felgercaaaaarrrrrrrbbbbb . . . "  
 
Apollo heard nothing in the sudden dark silence. Reaching for Sheba, he was relieved to 
feel her warm breath on his neck. He kissed her impulsively and, as the kiss ended, he 
became aware of a sound. Laughter. It was the sound of childrens' laughter.  
 
Suddenly, in an audible rush of energy, the lights of the Galactica returned to a level of 
standard illumination, signalling the traditional end to the Caprican Spirit Night 
Festivities.  
 
"Oh my God, it stinks in here!" Boomer emerged, with a dishevelled, nearly naked and 
well scorched Starbuck supported under one arm, an equally scorched Muffit close on 
their heels.  
 
"You can help me up now, Skipper," Sheba whispered as she stared into Apollo's green 
eyes.  
 
'Hmm?" he stared dreamily, smiling into her warm brown eyes, until the sound of the 
laughter brought his attention back to his surroundings and away from thoughts of . . .  
"Oh! Right!" Apollo released his tight embracing grip on Sheba and rose, helping her to 
her feet.  
 
"Apollo!" she cried, her eyes widening, "The children! Look! It's a miracle!"  
 
The four warriors and one blood red daggit drone froze and stared at the now brightly lit, 
and very stinky, scene before them.

Part 24
"Well, how will we explain this one in the official record?" Adama asked Tigh as 
Starbuck and Apollo limped out of his quarters, presumably to find Starbuck some fresh 
clothing to replace the last remaining strip of scorched cloth that was wrapped 
precariously about the young man's midsection, "This story of werelupi and bewitched 
orphans is beyond my understanding. My own son and daughter, the ultimate skeptics, 
have bought into this belief that Boxey was approached in a dream, and my own beloved 
Ila was once a target. That neighbour seemed like such a nice man. He cut my grass while 
I was away on assignment. He came over for fire roasted meat on holidays, for Sagan's 
sake!" The Commander paused thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with his hand, "Come to 
think of it, he had his portion rare and never used any utensils. I thought at the time it was 
just a case of poor upbringing."  
 
"Adama," Tigh spoke quietly, sitting in an chair near the large desk, giving his old friend 
a serious look, "We're still wading through the bizarre reports coming from all over the 
ship. The place went crazy while the lights were out. It's enough to make a strong man 
shake in his boots. If Iblis has been able to threaten our people, using something as 
innocuous as a yahrenly children's festival as a conduit for his foul egress, then what hope 
is there for us?"  
 
"Ah, but Tigh," Adama rose from the large upholstered chair behind his desk and moved 
around to lean against the front of the work top, looking down at the Executive Officer," 
Iblis, or Damian, or whatever he chooses to call himself, was unsuccessful in his efforts."  
 
"This time," Tigh's voice was grim, "Who's to say he won't try again, with some even 
/more/ hideous minions under his control?"  
 
"It's likely that he will, Tigh," Adama crossed his arms, and stared determinedly toward 
the view port on the wall opposite to his desk, "There's another Spirit March next 
yahren," the Commander looked down at the Colonel, his jaw firmly clenched, "And 
we'll be ready for him! I already have costumes picked out for us."  
 
Tigh raised an elegant eyebrow, comprehension and horror dawning in his expression, 
"Adama! You don't mean . . . ?!"  
 
***  
'Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny, the last battlestar, Galactica, leads a rag tag fugitive 
fleet on a lonely quest. A shining planet known as Earth.'  
 
/Bwaaa-haaa-aaaa-aaaa! Another time, another place. Well, alright, same place. But, we 
shall meet again!  Games or Goodies, kids? Aaaaaarrrrrrroooooo!/



Tigh raised an elegant eyebrow, comprehension and horror dawning in his 
expression, "Adama! You don't mean . . . ?!"

==================

And now...





  "Yes, Tigh." Adama swallowed hard. "A sequel!"