Written for, 

Battlestar Galactica (1978) stories <bsg-fanfic@lists.eyrie.org> 

There is no copyright infringement intended by this story. It is for the purpose 
of entertainment only. 



'The Sum of All Parts, Episode Six: Evolution' 

'There are those who believe that life here, began out there. Far across the 
universe with tribes of humans who may have been the forefathers of the 
Egyptians, or the Toltecs, or the Mayans. Some believe that there may yet be 
brothers of man who even now fight to survive somewhere beyond the heavens.' 



Chapter One 

Scene One 


"Dodge and weave, Colonel," Captain Starbuck's voice rang out beneath the 
vaulted ceiling of the large, though sparsely populated chamber of the Physical 
Recreation and Therapy Section, adjacent to the area of the crew quarters that 
comprised the barracks that accommodated the active duty rotation pilots aboard 
the mighty Battlestar Galactica, "you're getting soft now that you're not 
participating so much in the triad tournaments," Starbuck laughed as he lunged 
at Apollo, catching him in a rough hug around the shoulders and bringing him 
down onto the impact absorption mat over which the two men had been practicing a 
series of martial arts and ground combat maneuvers, then grunting with a sudden 
inhalation as Colonel Apollo's elbow connected with the blonde Captain's 
ribcage, loosening Starbuck's grip and sending him backward, to land 
unceremoniously on his back. 

"Not /that/ soft, Captain," a bright smile moved across Apollo's dark face as he 
rose breathlessly to his feet, sweat running in slow rivulets down his bare 
torso and soaking the drawstring waist band of the long, loosely fitted exercise 
trousers that he wore. He proffered an arm to grasp Starbuck's wrist and felt 
the momentary pull of Starbuck's weight as the other man mirrored the handclasp 
and sprang upward to stand beside him, the two of them deliberately slowing 
their breathing and stretching overtaxed muscles as they reached for the soft 
green towels that they had draped carelessly over a nearby equipment station 
upon their arrival in the chambers that comprised what most of the pilots aboard 
the Galactica referred to amongst themselves as the 'Sweat Box', then moved 
together across the width of the main chamber and toward the opening into the 
large turbo wash chamber at the opposite side of the main chamber. 

"I have to admit, buddy, that I didn't see that last move coming," Starbuck shot 
a sideways glance at his closest friend, then turned to wipe his wet face with 
the last dry corner of the towel in his hands and tossed the moist green bundle 
into a nearby maintenance receptacle, "I guess married life has been kind to 
you, my friend, " Starbuck stepped out of his exercise trousers, discarding them 
as he had the damp towel, into the opening of the receptacle and moved toward 
the interior of the turbo wash chamber, calling out cheerfully over his shoulder 
as he stepped beneath a turbo wash output nozzle and depressed an initiation 
panel on the bulkhead before him, closing his eyes and moaning under his breath 
at the soothingly warm pulses of water streamed down over his head. He depressed 
the soap dispensing control and methodically lathered his naked body from head 
to toe, "the wagering pool had several permutations that included you getting a 
little out of shape by now, doing nothing but hanging out up on Alpha Deck, 
checking in on the bridge every so often, when you're not home increasing the 
population of the House of Adama," Starbuck chuckled as he depressed the panel 
once more and stood happily under the restored stream of clear water, revelling 
in its steaming warmth, his protesting muscles releasing their contracted 
tension after the centar of strenuous exercise that they had so recently been 
subjected to, glancing over at Apollo, who stood two metrons away, in much the 
same posture as his friend, under another identical stream of steaming water, "I 
suppose it's a blessing in disguise that your woman is such a lousy cook," 
Starbuck laughed at Apollo's pained expression, reluctantly switching off the 
turbo wash and moving drippingly back to the change area and the lockers that 
contained the two mens' uniforms to pluck a fresh, dry towel from a nearby 
shelf, cinching it over his hips to cover himself from his naked waist down to 
the upper portion of his exercise-hardened thighs and taking down two more fresh 
towels, tossing one at his now approaching and equally wet friend and using the 
other to dry himself in the same methodical manner in which he had earlier 
worked the lather over his fatigued muscles beneath the steady pulse of the 
turbo wash. 

"Athena and Bojay are the ones who just had the baby, Starbuck, not us," Apollo 
spoke amiably, though his green eyes transmitted a speculative light as he 
secured the proffered towel around his hips, then reached for another to dry 
himself as Starbuck had done, adopting a mildly sarcastic tone, "I'm certain 
that my sister's section of the family chronicle, I mean /wagering pool/ banner 
is quite full by now," the Colonel opened a nearby locker, stepping into tightly 
fitted pressure suit that he had worn beneath his uniform upon his arrival at 
the Recreation Section, pulling its thin, though deceptively sturdy fabric over 
the smooth dark skin of his well muscled legs and arms, unconsciously favouring 
his scarred right shoulder as he reached to close the fastenings at the yoke of 
the garment, "in fact, I believe there was a pretty big payout for some of the 
speculations on the selection of my nephew's name. I guess the choice was pretty 
obvious." 

"I kind of figured she might call him Zac," Starbuck spoke the name softly, 
gently, sharing a moment of remembrance with his friend, reading the cloud of 
quiet sorrow that almost always briefly crossed Apollo's face at the mention of 
his brother's name, "Is it going to be difficult for you, hearing the name, 
saying it. It's not like no-one's ever noticed that you and your father and 
Athena, well, none of you has an easy time talking about him, even though it's 
been four yahrens since we lost him." 

"We all talked it over before the baby was born," Apollo took a deep, cleansing 
breath, pushing bittersweet memory aside for the present, "and we decided that 
it was right that Athena should give her son Zac's name. It will be a means for 
us to honour the way he lived, instead of dwelling on the way that he died," the 
Colonel tucked the hem of his tunic into his trousers, fastening the buckle of 
his belt, then reached into the locker, retrieving his flight boots and sitting 
on a nearby bench pull them on, "why so concerned about baby names, Starbuck? 
Thinking of having some of your own?" Apollo laughed at the expression on 
Starbuck's face as it emerged from the opening at the yoke of the tunic that the 
Captain had pulled over his head, donning his flight suit as Colonel Apollo had 
done. 

"So tell, me, Colonel," Starbuck pointedly ignored his friend's teasing remark, 
watching thoughtfully as Apollo finished fastening the buckles on his boots, 
"why is the Executive Officer dressing for active flight duty instead of a 
leisurely tour of the Command Centre? As Squadron Commander, I don't recall 
approving a last centon substitution for any of the Squadron Leaders. Has 
somebody become /indisposed/ on short notice?" 

"As a matter of fact, Squadron Commander, I'm taking Captain Sheba's patrol 
rotation with Deitra tonight, after evening meal. Tomorrow, Valkyrie Leader and 
I will be providing you with some new scheduling parameters for the Valkyries 
/and/ the command crew," Apollo stood and smiled broadly, hooking his fingers 
over his freshly donned gun belt and watching as Starbuck's angular face took on 
a decidedly smug expression. 

"I knew it!" Captain Starbuck moved to clap a hand firmly on Apollo's shoulder, 
both men laughing aloud together as they stood, both now fully dressed in 
virtually identical flight uniforms, the most noticeable distinction being the 
simple gold braid adorning the Colonel's flight jacket collar, "Sheba's 
pregnant, isn't she? You /are/ increasing the number of Adama's grandchildren!" 

"Yes. Doctor Salik verified it for us this morning," Apollo clasped his friend's 
shoulder, peered intently into Starbuck's twinkling blue eyes and raised a 
finger of admonition in the general direction of Starbuck's handsome, and 
decidedly amused features, "Cassiopeia's the only one who knows, besides you and 
Deitra. I expect you to keep this quiet until evening meal aboard the Pegasus 
with the family. Cassiopeia assures us that you're both going to be there. If 
this information hits the chronicle banner before we've told the children and 
the rest of the family, I'll have your hide, Squadron Commander. Do you read 
me?" Apollo's happy smile belied his stern words of warning as the two men 
tightened and then released their respective grips on one another's shoulders, 
co-ordinating their movements easily and unconsciously after long yahrens of 
living, fighting and playing together and walking together through the hatchway 
that led from the turbo wash facility to the corridor outside the main section 
of the crew quarters. 

"/I/ read you, Colonel, Sir," Starbuck laughed delightedly as the two men paused 
to stand outside the hatchway that led into the Squadron Commander's office 
chamber, "but if one Valkyrie knows, you can bet that the rest of them have 
sniffed it out by now. Good luck keeping a secret like /this/ from the 
Galactica's pilots for the rest of the daily cycle," Starbuck laughed again at 
the look of resignation that had begun to settle on the Colonel's face, though 
the young father's smile still remained bright, "After all this time, all those 
permutations on the 'Chronicle Banner' as you've so aptly designated it, we can 
read you and Sheba pretty well." 

Apollo had barely parted his lips to respond when he was interrupted by the 
crackle of the Unicom speaker mounted above the hatchway and the sound of 
Lieutenant Rigel's voice as it was transmitted from a relay in the Galactica's 
Command Centre. 

"Colonel Apollo, report to Life Station. Colonel Apollo, report to the Life 
Station please." 

*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Two 


"Doctor Salik, it's been more than a yahren since there was any noticeable 
activity in that chamber," Adama paced the area of the Life Station deck that 
surrounded the diagnostic station near the Medical Chief's office chamber, his 
hands clasped firmly behind his back, a grave expression on his frowning face, 
"and even then, there was no sign of consciousness. She's been asleep now for 
roughly /two/ yahrens." 

"Commander, you don't have to tell /me/. Both Paye and myself are as mystified 
as anyone, but . . ." Doctor Salik stiffened and leaned forward from where he 
stood beside the diagnostic station, watching over Cassiopeia's uniformed 
shoulder as the young woman adjusted several signal filter frequencies, refining 
the isolation of an energy matrix structure that was in turn displayed on the 
largest of the display monitors inset into the station console, "Commander! 
Cassiopeia has isolated the signal from the surveillance recordings. It's 
confirmed," Salik straightened his posture and turned to regard Captain Sheba, 
who stood to one side, near an interior bulkhead, her hands on Boxey's shoulders 
and the daggit drone, Muffit Two beside them, "Muffit's signal recognition alert 
was genuine. The Guardian Drones have detected an energy matrix that falls 
within their programming parameters for a potential enemy transmission," the 
gruff Doctor turned his attention back toward Adama, who had ceased his pacing 
motion and now stood facing Salik from across the upper work top surface of the 
diagnostic station, his arms crossed over the front of his dark blue uniform 
tunic, his deep brown eyes taking in Salik's serious posture. "Sir, we'd better 
get Wilker and Calvin up here right away. We've already alerted Commander Tigh 
on the Pegasus and recommended that Komma keep a close eye on Drone One. It 
still behaves anomalously on occasion, but Wilker keeps telling me everything's 
fine so long as the drone doesn't detect any open flames while it's in battle 
readiness mode." 

"Sheba! Father!" Colonel Apollo rushed through the Life Station's main hatchway, 
across the width of the chamber, Captain Starbuck close behind him, to join the 
group now gathered near the diagnostic station, "What is it? What's happened?" 
Apollo scanned the faces of the small group, his green eyes stopping to hold 
Sheba's gaze, "Where is Artemis?" 

"Artemis is just fine, Apollo," Captain Sheba smiled, though her expression 
remained difficult for him to read, "she's home on Alpha Deck with Lena and 
Persephone," Sheba squeezed Boxey's shoulders reassuringly, looking down at the 
boy's wide brown eyes, framed by his shining light brown hair, physical traits 
the two had in common such that the people who knew Cain's daughter and Serina's 
son would sometimes pause in surprised reflection upon realizing that they had 
forgotten for a time that Sheba was not Boxey's first mother, "It's Muffit," 
Sheba released her grip on her son's small frame and stepped forward to place an 
open palm against her husband's chest, holding his gaze as he reached up and 
placed his own hand firmly over hers, his dark brow furrowed and his piercing 
green eyes searching her face in momentary confusion as she continued speaking 
in a strangely level and emotionless tone, "Muffit and the two Guardian Drones 
have each individually relayed a signal, all three within the last centar, to 
the command consoles of both the Galactica and the Pegasus," Sheba turned her 
head to regard the multilateral transverse wave that was displayed on the 
monitor on the diagnostic console where Cassiopeia sat quickly compiling 
information, preparing a synopsis for Doctor Wilker to peruse upon his arrival 
from the laboratory down in one of the quietest levels of the ship, the Lambda 
Section, "Apollo," Sheba returned her attention to the Colonel's expression of 
growing concern, "the drones have issued an alert status warning. The signal 
that they've detected appears to be a variation of the mutated matrix that was 
found in the electromagnetically irradiated ore from that artificially 
constructed planet full of Cylons," Sheba did not speak the name that came 
unbidden into both of their minds, though they knew that they each shared the 
same thought as they stood staring grimly into one another's eyes, one word, 
/Iblis/. 

"Wilker!" Salik's chronic annoyance with the quirky scientist was evident in his 
impatient, though oddly fond tone, as the diminutive Doctor Wilker emerged from 
the corridor, his senior laboratory technician, Calvin, in tow, "about time you 
got here," Cassiopeia stood and motioned for Wilker to take her place at the 
diagnostic station, gesturing toward the data on the display over the lower 
parameter panels, then silently moving to stand beside Starbuck, placing her 
trembling hand in his, feeling the gently comforting grip of his strong fingers, 
and biting her lower lip fearfully as Salik continued to speak, "these drones of 
yours are claiming to have detected evidence of a malevolent energy signature," 
Salik placed a hand on the back of Wilker's seat, leaning over one of the small 
scientist's shoulders as Commander Adama mirrored Salik's motion and leaned over 
Wilker's other side, listening intently to Salik's next words, as did the rest 
of the group that now gathered in a rough semi-circle behind the station, 
"Commander," Salik's characteristic bluster was edged with a decidedly firm 
undertone of gravity, "unless Doctor Wilker sees things differently than I do, I 
recommend that you place the Fleet on battle readiness alert." 

"Father? Is Count Iblis going to try and hurt us again?" Apollo turned at the 
frightened tone of his son's voice, reaching to touch the boy's face with a 
gentle palm, releasing his grip on Sheba's hand for the moment and kneeling on 
the deck to face Boxey directly, taking the boy's hands in his own and willing 
himself to project an air of calm and confident reassurance, though he felt his 
own chest tightening with inner dread. 

"Boxey, I want you to try not to worry," Apollo was struck, as he often was when 
he looked into the boy's face, by how much Boxey had grown over the last yahren, 
becoming taller and more angular in appearance as he had moved beyond the 
babyish ways of infancy and started his journey toward adolescence, /When did he 
start calling me 'Father', instead of 'Dad'? He'll be eleven in just a few 
sectars, Serina, so far removed from that little boy of six that I picked up 
that day on the surface of Caprica/, "we'll find out more about this signal 
before we start jumping to any conclusions. Alright?" Apollo smiled comfortingly 
as Boxey nodded an affirmation to his father's words and rose to his feet, 
kissing the boy on the forehead, keeping hold of the small shoulder with one 
hand as he reached once more for Sheba's hand with the other, turning, as did 
the others present at sound of Wilker's characteristically mournful tone. 

"Doctor Salik's initial assessment appears to have been accurate, Commander," 
the scientist lifted his bluish grey eyes to regard Adama's grim expression, 
"the signal seems to be emanating from the Term Care Section of the medical 
complex, " Wilker extended a knobbily knuckled forefinger to tap against the 
display monitor upon which Cassiopeia had isolated a visual representation of 
the signal matrix in question, "specifically, the source of the signal is the 
chamber designated for the comatose patient, former Agro-Tech Jain." 

"Doctor Wilker! I've repaired the initiation sequencer on the portable 
electromagnetically shielded scanning unit!" Lab-Tech Calvin stepped forward 
from where he had been working over the unit on a small table behind where Sheba 
stood clutching Apollo's hand. Calvin had been one of the first and most gravely 
affected past victims of the mutated and toxic electromagnetic radiation that 
had plagued the Colonial Fleet from the time that its source, an insidiously 
noxious black crystalline ore, had been discovered and sampled on the mysterious 
artificially constructed planet, along with a star chart of distinctly Kobollian 
design, and a planetary core populated with vast numbers of Cylon Centurions, 
"Doctor, I should be able to scan Jain at close range without much frequency 
inter . . ." Calvin frowned suddenly as he looked down at the display on the 
main body of the scanning unit," I'm picking up a signal . . ." Calvin abruptly 
smiled and looked up to see Sheba's brown eyes regarding him with open curiosity 
as he moved the scanning wand in a back and forth motion before him, "it's a 
heart beat. Captain, are you pregnant?" 

"Uh . . ." Sheba gasped in astonishment at the question, she and Apollo both 
throwing stunned glances into the bemused faces of the gathered assemblage that 
now regarded them in silent surprise as the significance of Calvin's question 
registered on those, unlike Salik, Cassiopeia and Starbuck, that had not yet 
been informed of her medical condition. 

"Captain Sheba," Calvin continued, nonplussed at his own forward behaviour as he 
stared, fascinated, at the display on the portable scan unit, "I thought at 
first that there was a feedback problem, an echo, but I've verified that the 
unit is working within specified parameters by scanning my own heart rate, as a 
control," Calvin stared blandly into Sheba's widely opened eyes, with a 
scientist's detached air, then smiled amiably, "Congratulations, Captain. 
Colonel," he nodded at the two open-mouthed warriors, glancing down at the 
display once more and moving the wand deliberately over Sheba's abdomen, "it 
looks to me as though there are two heartbeats registering here. That means, 
obviously, that there are two infants. You're expecting twins." Apollo and Sheba 
stared at Calvin, their expressions fixed, each of them struggling for the words 
that refused to emerge from their respectively parted lips. 

"Yaaay!" Boxey cried exuberantly, "Remember, Starbuck? I pre-wagered for twins 
in the next confirmed baby pool permutations! If it's girls, I win the double or 
nothing option!" 


*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Three 


"Sorry we have to miss evening meal over there, Little Sister," Apollo sighed 
apologetically into the video relay feed that connected the console before him, 
where he sat in the office cubicle used primarily as an administrative hub for 
the Galactica's Squadron Commander, Lieutenant Starbuck, to a corresponding 
console in the private quarters, on the Alpha Deck aboard the Battlestar 
Pegasus, that were currently occupied by Lieutenant Athena, and her husband, 
Captain Bojay, Squadron Commander of the Pegasus, the Galactica's sister ship 
and fellow protector of the Colonial Fleet, "I was looking forward to Zac's 
first family gathering," Apollo found that the name of his brother, and now of 
his nephew, had slowly begun to feel more natural coming from his own lips as he 
practiced saying it aloud, after four yahrens of rarely doing so, "Wilker and 
the others have recommended that we maintain strict protocols and discontinue 
all non-essential inter ship traffic until the alert status has lifted." 

"Zac's only two daily cycles old, Apollo," the image of Athena smiled 
reassuringly at her brother from the display monitor on the Colonel's console, 
"I'm certain that he won't mind postponing his first public appearance for a 
little while," Athena's smile turned to mischievous laughter, "Father called and 
told me what happened with Calvin and his scanning unit in the Life Station. I 
suppose you were saving the big announcement until after evening meal?" 

"That's about right," Apollo reddened at the memory of the smirks, outright 
laughter, handclasps, and varied forms of shoulder clapping and embraces that 
had been spontaneously showered on the obviously taken aback young parents in 
reaction to Calvin's revelation of the nature of Sheba's only recently confirmed 
pregnancy. He chuckled softly at his sister's decidedly amused expression, 
"though we hadn't imagined that we were expecting two children, rather than 
one," the Colonel's dark face was brightened by the flash of a toothy smile, 
"we're still a little stunned, I think. It's just beginning to sink in that we 
are now doubling the number of our children. Boxey, of course, is ecstatic," 
Apollo adopted a wistful expression, "he called me 'Father' today, instead of 
'Dad'," the image of the Colonel's sister projected an air of sympathy as he 
sighed once more and leaned back in his chair, crossing his right booted ankle 
over his left knee, "next thing you know, he'll be sixteen, old enough to enlist 
into the Cadet Training Section." 

"He's always wanted to be a pilot, like /you/, Apollo," Athena laughed amiably, 
attempting to lighten her brother's anxious mood, knowing how on edge he was, 
waiting for the attack that both brother and sister believed, as Wilker, Calvin 
and Komma had grimly convinced them, and the others at command level who had 
received the initial briefing regarding the Guardian Drones' first successful 
early detection and alert relay of the specified signal parameters, that 
detection of the signal was only a first step in an attempt to derive a means 
of, not only repelling it, but insulating the ships of the Fleet from its wildly 
varied and destructive effects, as witnessed by the Colonials during previous 
attacks, "Apollo, Boxey still needs you, if that's what you're worried about," 
Athena's voice became softer, more gentle, evoking a sudden warm remembrance for 
the Colonel, of his, and Athena's mother, Ila. 

"You sound more like Mother every day," Apollo said quietly, watching as the 
pale blue eyes on the screen before him glittered more brightly at his words. 

"That's what Father tells me," Athena brushed away a tear, closing her eyes and 
taking a deep, cleansing breath, "listen to us, Apollo. You'd think we were a 
hundred yahrens older than we are," she laughed a little forcedly, turning to a 
more practical topic of conversation, one that the two of them had been verbally 
dancing around, "do you think that we're going to be facing another genomic 
transmission amplifier? Komma says that the structure of the signal that is 
currently emanating from Jain's term care chamber is similar, but not identical 
to /that/ signal. What if Iblis has decided to make another more personally 
directed attack, like what happened to those buckling beams that nearly killed 
you and Sheba last yahren," Athena shuddered, "if it hadn't been for Starbuck 
and Cassiopeia, well, if he could do it once, what's to stop him from doing it 
again? We don't even know who stabbed Boomer in the back, or who slashed me in 
the arm. Neither Bojay nor I have ever been able to recall why I was there alone 
to begin with. We have Baltar's claim that Jain was the one who attacked me, yet 
she clearly never left her bed," Apollo could now plainly see the fear that his 
sister had attempted with such determination, then reluctantly failed to hide 
from her brother's sight at the memory of those brutal attacks that had occurred 
only one yahren previously, "Apollo, what if he goes after the children? He's 
threatened Artemis and Zac is . . ." 

"Zac is going to be fine," Apollo said firmly, willing his sister to gain 
strength from his own attempt at a confident tone, "we are /all/ going to get 
through this and come out on the other sided, /unharmed/," the Colonel and his 
sister shared a long, silent look as they both acknowledged their fears, then 
determined to overcome them. This was the way that Adama and his children had 
agreed that they would face the prospect of another attack from the entity that 
the Colonials had known as Count Iblis, the fallen brother of the aliens that 
travelled on the Ships of Light, and the spurned suitor of Sheba, wife to 
Apollo. 

"Perhaps some of the translations that Tolen and I have been working on will 
give us more information about the signal matrix. I've had roughly two and one 
half yahrens to study those recordings that we brought back from the Kobollian 
styled ruins on the artificially constructed planet. As you know, Father has 
been focussing primarily on the coordinate indicators displayed on the star 
chamber map, but I've discovered some references to an exodus, an escape from 
some hostile force, not near the entrance, or in the star chamber, like the 
references to the exodus of the Thirteen Tribes from Kobol, but in the images 
that you and I recorded in the mouth of the tunnel beneath the ruins," Athena 
and her brother shared a moment of memory of the simple geological survey that 
had culminated in a dramatic rescue from what they had soon discovered was a 
planet crawling with Cylon forces. The resulting destruction of the artificially 
constructed planet had heralded the resurgence of the Cylon threat to the Fleet, 
and the beginning of the Colonial's exposure to the energy matrix that they now 
knew was directly associated with the vengeful entity, Iblis. 

"At least we've confirmed that the co-ordinates that Starbuck, Sheba and I were 
given after our first direct encounter with Iblis, appear to be consistent with 
the coded course plotted on the star chamber map," Apollo pulled his mind away 
from the awful memory of the deadly blast that Iblis had directed at Sheba, 
attempting to kill her in a spiteful fit of anger at Apollo's attempt to save 
her from Iblis' hold over her will, "that gives Father a /little/ ammunition to 
defend his position to the Council of the Twelve." 

"The Council has tired of martial restrictions, once more, Apollo," Athena 
sighed disgustedly, "they never seem to learn from their mistakes, and now 
they've got that old relic, that so called academic that's been making pointed 
remarks about our family at least once every Fifth-Day on that useless Inter 
Fleet Broadcasting discussion program, accusing us of manipulation of the 
restructured ranks and a ridiculous quest for a military government, fanning the 
flames with the Council." 

"Father will calm the Council, Athena," Apollo chuckled wryly, "whilst we are at 
battle readiness alert, Domra and the others will be concerned for the safety of 
their well-padded astrums. Once the alert has lifted, well, then Domra will most 
certainly return to his rant about the civilian government calling the shots," 
the Colonel and his sister shared a genuine smile of amusement, "in the 
meantime, we'll try to carry on as . . ." Apollo's words were interrupted as the 
air around him was filled with the all too familiar sound of battle klaxons. The 
Colonel sprang to his feet, pausing only briefly to speak into the audio relay 
on the console, "It's an all out alert! I've got to go!" 

"Zac and I will be sitting this one out here at home, Brother," Athena nodded 
grimly from the Pegasus' end of the communication relay, sharing a warrior's 
look of the understanding of the threat of danger under which they lived, "be 
careful." 

"I will, Lttle Sister. I will," the Captain reached to end the transmission, 
turned to exit the office chamber, then joined the growing stream of active duty 
pilots that now ran at breakneck speed along the corridor, toward the nearest 
launch bay tram, to travel swiftly along one of the Galactica's many 
strategically located cylindrical tramway tunnels and meet his current wingman, 
Lieutenant Deitra, in the launch bay where they, and the other warriors knew 
that the delta winged vipers would be waiting for their pilots to accelerate 
with them, turbos blasting, into the space around the battleship to face the as 
yet unknown danger that the alert klaxon warned would be awaiting them. 


*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Four 


"Commander Adama," the Colonial Fleet's most senior military officer nodded in 
acknowledgment as he briskly climbed the steps to the deck of the command 
platform to be greeted by the voice of his daughter by marriage, Captain Sheba, 
the Battlestar Galactica's Secondary Executive Officer and Primary Valkyrie 
Squadron Leader, now taking her husband's duty rotation on the bridge, as Apollo 
had taken hers with the Valkyries, her pregnancy precluding her from active 
flight duty, but not, for the present, from serving on the battlestar's bridge 
under her husband's father, "we've observed no indication as to why the alert 
has sounded, Sir," Sheba gestured toward the forward viewing panels of 
transparent tylium that afforded the bridge crew a direct view of the space 
forward of the Galactica, and of the Colonial Fleet, "there doesn't appear to be 
any enemy activity out there, and Omega tells me that we're not registering any 
more anomalous energy readings, though Commander Tigh sent a preliminary 
communication several centons ago ordering the squadrons launched into a 
defensive perimeter anyway, as a precautionary measure. He'll be getting back to 
us on the Alpha Channel after he's received the data from the command sequencer 
recordings on the Pegasus alert klaxon system. Science Officer Komma has 
reported from his station down in the Pegasus' Science Section that he may have 
discovered something on an energy scan relay that might give us some answers." 

"Very good, Captain. I have just come from a meeting with Doctor Paye. The 
signal that the drones detected earlier has not recurred in or near Jain's 
chamber, nor anywhere else in the term care section. Drone Two is patrolling the 
medical complex, but it is almost eerily silent down there. Let us hope that 
this is not the calm before a storm," Adama moved to stand beside Sheba, peering 
over Omega's shoulder at the command console displays, seeing nothing out of the 
ordinary, no readings that registered within the matrix recognition parameters 
programmed into the Galactica's computer systems and designated as necessitating 
an automatic initiation of the ship's alert klaxons. His thoughtful study was 
interrupted by a crackle of static from the audio output ports feeding into the 
small speakers inset into the communication array section of the console. 

"Galactica Squadron Commander to all active wings and communication traffic 
facilitators. Those of you who are not yet aware that the Galactica's Executive 
Officer and Valkyrie Leader are expecting twins, please be advised that our last 
centon substitute Valkyrie Leader shall be stepping in as ranking Alpha Wing and 
Strike Leader for the duration of the current defensive scramble, and a good 
measure of the next half yahren," Captain Starbuck's voice rang out cheerfully 
over the multi ship relay with a transmission frequency that connected his 
fighter's communication array with every other viper currently maintaining a 
defense network in a roughly elliptical holding pattern designed to encompass 
the space surrounding the Colonial Fleet, as well as the respective Unicom 
relays on the bridges of both battlestars, "do the current duty assignments meet 
with your approval, Colonel?" 

"Galactica Strike Leader to Blue Leader," Colonel Apollo's longsuffering tone 
was transmitted as Starbuck's had been, amidst the muffled sounds of surprised 
exclamations and laughter of the varied pilots and bridge crew who had been 
within earshot of Captain Starbuck's colourfully delivered designation of 
command structure protocols for the current alert and potential battle duty 
rotation, "Thank you /so/ much for clarifying that information for public 
consumption, Captain Starbuck. Now, do you think we could keep communication 
traffic to a minimum until we find out what's going on? Has anyone else noticed 
that there doesn't seem to be anything out here that would warrant an all out 
alert?" Apollo glanced downward at his console, seeing nothing of note on any of 
his scan sensor displays, "Galactica Alpha to Galactica Core Command. What is 
the nature of the alert? Galactica, what is our current status? Over." 

"Colonel, Galactica here," Adama regarded Sheba with a small smile of paternal 
sympathy at the reddening flush of self-consciousness that had coloured her face 
with Starbuck's impertinent disclosure of the news of her pregnancy and the 
resulting upturned eyebrows and amused smiles that had been directed her way 
from the crew that manned the Command Centre's lower gallery. The Commander 
afforded himself only a micron to do so, however, and resumed his own 
transmission over the multi ship relay, "We haven't any answers at this 
juncture, Apollo. The only clear fact is that an emergency override initiation 
of the automated alert system has obviously been triggered, but by whom, and for 
what reason, we do not yet know." 


"We're receiving a transmission from Commander Tigh on the Pegasus, Sir," 
Officer Omega interjected, struggling to adjust his own amused expression into 
his usual stoic air of professionalism, "Alpha Channel Relay is now open on the 
main console." 

"Tigh, what's happening over there?" Adama turned his attention to the monitor 
that now displayed Commander Tigh's image, "have you detected whatever is was 
that initiated the alert klaxons?" 

"Komma believes it was the Guardian Drones," Tigh's elegant features were 
contorted into an expression that Adama did not readily recognize, "Drone One 
has positioned itself," Tigh hesitated and exchanged a glance with Colonel 
Tolen, whose tall, angular frame was visible on the display monitor behind his 
Commander, then turned to address his fellow Commander once more, "Drone One has 
positioned itself in the main chamber of Athena's quarters and is emitting some 
sort of low frequency signal, similar to the feedback matrix that Wilker used to 
destroy that amplifier that the Cylons threw at us a half yahren ago," Tigh 
grimaced sympathetically at the look of concern that came over his friend's 
face, "Adama, Komma is suggesting that Drone One may be in the process of 
repelling an enemy signal that is being transmitted at a frequency too low for 
us to hear, furthermore . . ." 

"Commander!" Tigh's words were interrupted as Omega called out urgently to 
Adama, pressing a finger to the earpiece of his headset, an incredulous 
expression overtaking his features, "I have an emergency transmission from the 
console in," Omega shifted his gaze to regard Sheba's quizzical expression, "the 
console in the Executive Officers' quarters. Captain Sheba, Cassiopeia is in 
your quarters with your son and daughter. She reports that everyone is safe, but 
it sounds to me, from her description, that Muffit is behaving in the same way 
as Drone One is over on the Pegasus. Doctor Wilker has just arrived on the scene 
with a technical crew and a security detail. He's ordered Komma to follow the 
same protocols with Drone One." 

"Oh God," dawning realization drained the colour from Sheba's face as she looked 
into Adama's eyes, "the children. A potentially hostile signal is targeting the 
two places in this Fleet occupied by your grandchildren." 

"Sir!" Omega spoke as Adama placed a protective hand upon Sheba's shoulder, 
willing her with his firm grip to draw strength from his determined assumption 
of a calm and decisive air, then turning in response to Omega's voice, the older 
man's eyes following the direction indicated by the young bridge officer's 
extended forefinger to rest their gaze upon the familiar form of Guardian Drone 
Two, who moved silently forward to rest on it's hind limbs, much as a flesh and 
blood daggit would do, and focussed it's expressionless opaque optical sensors 
in a line directly intersecting the space currently occupied by Captain Sheba 
and her two /unborn/ children. "Commander," Omega continued speaking quietly as 
he keyed a sequence of parameter panels on the console before him, "I'm 
detecting a low frequency signal targeting the Command Centre. Drone Two is 
responding as the others have," Omega stared downward at the small drone's 
enigmatic face, "it's creating a dowsing effect and holding the hostile signal 
at bay." 

"Tigh," Adama stared into Sheba's eyes, maintaining as steady a tone as he was 
able, "let's bring all but two squadrons of vipers back from active patrol. I 
think this battle may have to be fought a little closer to home." 

"Agreed," Tigh's image maintained it's grave expression, "let's hope that these 
drones of Wilker's don't have one of their programming conflicts. From the looks 
of things, they might be our only immediate means of combating this new threat." 

"Everything should be just fine," Lab-Tech Calvin crossed the rear gallery to 
stand behind the still form of Drone Two, "Doctor Wilker respectfully requests 
that Captain Sheba report to her quarters. We'd like to contain Drone Two under 
Muffit's supervision, just as a precautionary measure against any input errors, 
but it's unlikely that the drone will be easily convinced to deviate from it's 
primary defensive programming parameters and leave Captain Sheba unprotected." 

"That's just fine," Captain Sheba scowled with unconcealed annoyance as she 
shrugged in surrender with an almost comically resigned glance in Adama's 
direction and moved to make her way down the steps of the command platform to 
join Calvin and Drone Two on the deck of the gallery below, "my first day away 
from active flight status, and I'm being sent to my chambers by an 
overprotective daggit drone! I can only hope that this doesn't prove to be a 
typical trend for the rest of this maternity furlon!" 

*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Five 


"Look, this is ridiculous!" Colonel Apollo could recognize the all too familiar 
volatile edge to the frustrated tone of the voice of his wife, Captain Sheba, a 
voice that he, Starbuck, Boomer and Deitra were greeted with as they entered the 
private chambers that Apollo and Sheba shared with their children, "/I/ am to be 
confined like a prisoner, in my own chambers, because that pile of scrap metal 
says so?!" Sheba turned to regard her husband's confused features and moved to 
stand before him, a noticeably angry cloud settled on her frowning face, 
"Apollo! Would you please inform these, these, /scientists/," the word virtually 
dripped with contempt as she glared at Doctor Wilker and Lab-Tech Calvin, who 
stood near the center of the large main chamber, flanking the small, still form 
of Guardian Drone Two, "tell them that I am /not/ interested in taking orders 
from a retrofitted survey drone that has proven in the past that it doesn't even 
have the cognitive ability required to distinguish the difference between a 
platter of mushies and a supply of incendiary compression pellets!" 

"I . . ." Apollo paused, opening and closing his mouth several times as he took 
in the scene before him, observing the half dozen laboratory technicians who 
moved throughout his family's chambers, scanning the air about them with 
portable sensor units grasped in their hands, his son Boxey slumped resignedly 
in a nearby chair with a hand on Muffit's head, while Cassiopeia, still in her 
med-tech uniform, having reported directly from her rotation in Life Station to 
relieve her alternate, Corporal Lena, from her childminding duties, crouched to 
one side against an interior bulkhead, holding back the delighted toddler, 
Artemis, who clapped her small hands and smiled at the technicians as they waved 
their sensor wands in what she obviously had taken for some sort of mysterious 
game. 

"Boomer!" Artemis' musically high-pitched toddler's voice rang out as she 
giggled and slipped free of Cassiopeia's grasp to run with a stumbling gait, 
unruly black hair framing her face, rushing to greet the dark Lieutenant, 
"Boomer!" Boomer opened his strong arms and lifted the small girl, who laughed 
delightedly, her bright green eyes glowing with affection as she slipped her 
tiny arms around the warrior's neck. Apollo and Sheba sighed together resignedly 
as they regarded their yahren old daughter, who's first, and only word thus far, 
had been 'Boomer'. In the few sectons since Artemis had begun speaking Boomer's 
name, much to the amusement of the pilots who served with her parents, every 
attempt at enticing her to add to her vocabulary had been in vain. Even at her 
beloved Father's hopeful repetitions of 'Mommy?' and 'Daddy?', her standard 
response had thus far been an agreeable smile, a nod of compliance and a look of 
clear understanding, as only a girl of one yahren could project, and one 
inevitable word, "Boomer." 

"Will you knock it off?" Sheba snarled as she slapped away the sensor wand that 
Calvin had extended carefully to wave over her abdomen from behind, attempting 
to surreptitiously take a reading, assessing the condition of her unborn twins, 
"you've taken enough scans to do a documentary on the IFB, for Sagan's sake!" 
the Captain turned once more to stare menacingly into her husband's eyes, "I 
want these lab rodents out of here, Apollo, and I want them out now!" her lip 
curled with disgust as she lifted a finger to point toward the hatchway that led 
to the corridor, "and I want that Council Security detail in the corridor to 
leave with them! /One/ Colonial Security Officer to watch over the children! 
That's my /one/ and only compromise!" 

"Sheba," Apollo took a deep breath, glancing back to scan the faces of the three 
pilots who had accompanied him into his quarters, and who now stood behind him, 
eyebrows lifted in assumed innocence, giving him the clear, though unspoken 
message that there would be no help for him to be had from them. Sheba's 
infamous ire was not something with which Starbuck, Boomer and Deitra were 
willing to interfere, "Sheba, let's be reasonable . . ." 

"Reasonable," Sheba said flatly, "reasonable?" the moment that the word had 
escaped his lips, Apollo knew that the situation could only be doomed to a 
disastrous deterioration of anything remotely resembling reason, at least where 
his ability to communicate in any rational way with his infuriated mate was 
concerned, "are you saying that /I/ am being /unreasonable/?!" 

"No!" Apollo sputtered helplessly, backing up unconsciously to collide with 
Captain Starbuck as Sheba approached, nostrils flared with the threat of an 
explosive fit of temper, "I said no such thing!," Apollo turned and glared as he 
heard the sounds of muffled sniggering escaping from Starbuck's lips, though the 
Squadron Commander, Deitra and Boomer with him, the three of them having all 
seen previous altercations between the Colonel and his wife that had begun in 
this same innocuous manner, just barely managed to refrain from flat out guffaws 
of unconcealed amusement, "I just got here, Sheba! All I know is that Artemis, 
Zac and the twins have all been targeted by an apparently hostile transmission 
that is being jammed by the drones! I know that you're angry about being 
confined, but it's only temporary, until we figure out what to do!" Apollo felt 
a deepening sense of doom as his wife's now thin and bloodless lips parted . . . 

"Doctor Wilker!" Commander Adama's voice carried through the room, eliciting a 
quick response from Starbuck and Deitra, who moved aside to allow the older man 
entry through the hatchway behind them and into the chamber, with Boomer moving 
past them to stand near the bulkhead beside Cassiopeia, Artemis still held 
protectively in his arms, "We have Tigh and Athena on a multiple relay from the 
Pegasus with Corporal Komma standing by, ready to confer with you! Doctor 
Wilker! Do we have any information to work with?" 

"With your permission, Commander," Doctor Wilker spoke in his usual mournful 
tone, a voice that Adama was firmly convinced could surely be capable of sapping 
the hope from the most fervent of zealots, no matter the nature of their 
beliefs, "I'd like to have Chameleon called in from the Orphan Ship as a 
consultant," Wilker and Adama glanced briefly toward Captain Starbuck, hearing 
his surprised intake of breath at the mention of the young warrior's father in 
the context of a scientific consultation, "Chameleon is more familiar than most 
of our lab-techs with the genetically modelled aspects of the basic structure of 
the enemy signal matrix. He's worked with us, and the drones, and he has a 
singular ability to distinguish patterns that our computer systems don't always 
detect," Wilker glanced once more at Starbuck, grimacing in what the young man 
/almost/ believed /might/ be an expression of amusement, though it struck him 
more as appearing much like the response one would have to an acidic bout of 
indigestion, "due to yahrens of counting cards, no doubt." 

"Commander!" Sheba could hold back her ire no longer, "at what point am I going 
to be allowed back to my duty station on the bridge?!," the Captain slapped once 
more at Calvin's sensor wand as it moved over her abdomen, turning to glare at 
the young med-tech with a pointedly unfriendly expression and speaking in a 
frighteningly level tone, "wave that thing at me again /Scan-Boy/, and I'll feed 
it to you intravenously." 

"How about taking /Muffy/ back to the Command Centre with you, Mom?" Boxey's 
words evoked a momentary silence and a turning of heads from the adults in the 
room, "he can protect /you/ from the signal, then you can send Drone Two over to 
the Pegasus to stay with Zac and Athena. If both of the Guardian Drones are 
together, remotely connected to Muffit's communication array, with Komma to 
watch them, they can monitor one another's systems on a short range, isolated 
frequency, and one can shut the other down if the programming flaws start 
recurring. In the unlikely event that they both malfunction, then Muffy can take 
over. They've never refused a direct order from Muffy." 

"And what about you and your sister?" Colonel Apollo stepped forward to gaze 
thoughtfully into his son's face, "where will the two of you be while the Drones 
are on the Pegasus protecting Zac, and Muffit is on the Galactica's bridge with 
your mother? 

"We can camp out in the utility chambers just off the bridge, where the officers 
go to grab a rest period on long duty rotations. That way, Muffit should have 
both Mom and Artemis both well within range of his defensive energy field 
generation matrix," Boxey smiled crookedly at the slightly reluctant look of 
amused realization that had come over Apollo's face, "and /I/ get to be on the 
bridge with /you/ guys when it's quiet, and if I promise to stay out of the 
way," the boy's shrug of assumed self-congratulation belied his nearly eleven 
yahrens and reminded his father disturbingly of Starbuck in the midst of a 
Pyramid game, charming and bluffing his way to his goal with the skill of a 
professional confidence artist, "/everybody/ gets what they want, and you don't 
have to bother backing your way out of an argument with Mom," Boxey shrugged 
once more as his parents regarded him with an air of shocked surprise, "you 
/know/ that you're never going to have a chance at winning, anyway, don't you 
Dad?" 

"Yes, Son, I'm beginning to see what you mean," Apollo looked into his wife's 
eyes and sighed, turning with a longsuffering expression of pained frustration, 
underscored with the slightest hint of reluctant amusement as the warriors 
behind them burst into gales of painfully repressed laughter. 


*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Six 


"Zac will be fine," Captain Bojay's voice murmured soothingly into Athena's ear, 
echoing the words that Apollo had spoken into the inter ship relay from Captain 
Starbuck's office chamber aboard the Galactica, to calm her fears before the 
alert had sounded. She gazed thoughtfully at Drone One and Drone Two, watching 
from across the main chamber of the quarters that she shared with her husband 
and her son as the Guardian Drones alternately ran through some basic diagnostic 
command recognition parameters with Corporal Komma, the military technician and 
electronics specialist currently assigned to coordinate Doctor Wilker's gradual 
upgrading of the Pegasus' Science Section, observing them with a critical eye as 
they maintained the buffering energy field around the space occupied by Zac, the 
infant of a mere two daily cycles that slept in his mother's cradling arms, 
unaware in his warm infant's haze of unknown dreams that he was one of the 
intended targets of the insidious transmission, presumably a variation of the 
signal matrix associated with the malevolent entity known to the Colonials as 
Count Iblis, though the locus of its physical source had yet to be discovered by 
the Science Sections of both of the Colonial Fleet's battlestars, "We can move 
him to the chambers off the Command Centre, as Sheba has done with Artemis on 
the Galactica, if it will make you feel a little safer with the bridge crew 
nearby," Athena shook her head indulgently at Bojay's tone, seeing the fear for 
her safety, and the safety of his newborn son, that he struggled with so much 
effort, and with so little success, to conceal from her. 

"It's alright, Bojay," Athena moved to deposit Zac carefully into the hollow 
formed by a thick, soft blanket positioned in the corner of a large bench seat 
that dominated one interior bulkhead of the chamber, tucking his sleeping form 
gently beneath the edges of the blanket, then turned to stand beside her husband 
once more, "we'll be fine here with Komma and the drones, the communication 
array is still connected to an open feed with the bridges of both battlestars, 
and Doctor Roman will be here a little later to check on us," Athena placed a 
small hand against Bojay's chest, tilting her head and regarding him with a 
sardonic grimace, "there's no way that Commander Tigh will clear me for bridge 
duty this soon, even if I /am/ only sitting in from of a console. I might as 
well stay home," waves of her long dark hair moved over her shoulder as she 
lifted her other hand to gesture toward a small table beside a large upholstered 
chair near the hatchway to the couple's bedchamber, upon which sat a large 
antique book that Bojay recognized as the ancient Field Manual from which he and 
Athena, as well as Sheba and Apollo, had chosen their marriage rituals, and from 
which Cain had chosen seven daily cycles of funeral rituals for himself, an 
event that the Fleet would /long/ remember, "I can use the time to work on some 
translations from the Field Manual, and the images that Apollo and I recorded 
from the ruins on the artificially constructed planet. Remember, it was Cain's 
request that Tolen and I continue the study of the old writings, including the 
Manual, to help Father get the Fleet to Earth, to find the Thirteenth Colony. I 
might even find something that could help us repel this signal," Athena shrugged 
in resigned acceptance, looked once more across the chamber at Komma to see him 
still occupied with the two Guardian Drones, then turned with a sly smile and 
reached to touch the insignia on the collar of Bojay's flight jacket, "in about 
a half yahren, when little Zac is on solid food and this maternity furlon is 
over, I'm expecting the Squadron Commander to clear my request for some active 
flight duty rotations with Cobra Squadron." 

"I think I might be able to put in a good word for you, beautiful," Bojay 
brushed her lips with his own, "I'm aware that there's no way I can talk you out 
of it," the Captain turned to address Corporal Komma, "take good care of them, 
Komma," he nodded as he moved toward the hatchway that would take him from his 
quarters to the main corridor of Alpha Deck and a short walk to the Pegasus' 
Command Centre, "I'll be on the bridge until further notice." 

"You can count on me, Captain," Komma assumed an attitude of attention, saluting 
incongruously with the small hand tool that he had been using to reattach an 
access panel to Drone One's relay junction unit, "the drones are maintaining the 
defensive shield around your son, as well as an open communication channel with 
Muffit on the bridge of the Galactica. We're holding the hostile signal at bay 
until Doctor Wilker can come up with a means of stopping it altogether, Sir." 

"Call if you need me," Bojay reached to squeeze Athena's hand, then winked and 
smiled, kissing her fingers before releasing his grasp on her deceptively 
delicate fingers and disappearing through the hatchway. 

"Don't worry, Lieutenant," Komma reddened and stammered slightly, as he often 
did when addressing Athena, or any other attractive female in the Fleet for that 
matter, the diminutive and boyish Corporal's brilliance with electronics 
contrasting sharply with his lack of confidence when faced with the female of 
his species. It was a quality that Athena found quite endearing in the young 
warrior, and had indeed developed a fondness for the shy Corporal over the 
various planetary survey and other science duty rotations that they had shared 
in the time since the Fleet had begun its journey from the known space of the 
fallen Twelve Colonies. It had been Athena, in fact, who had recommended that 
Komma be offered the position that he now held, and the opportunities for 
advancement that it would afford him, administrating the refit of the Pegasus' 
previously minimized Science Section. The Corporal bent to replace the hand tool 
into its allocated slot in the portable toolkit that he had brought with him 
from the science laboratory then stood and smiled with an admirable attempt at 
confident reassurance for the lovely Lieutenant who had always been so kind and 
encouraging toward him, "I'm certain that Doctor Wilker and Chameleon will make 
some progress soon." 

"Thank you, Komma," Athena turned at a sound from Zac, working his way to 
consciousness with a growing cry of hunger, "I appreciate you being here with 
us," Athena lifted Zac from the hollow of the blanket that cradled him in its 
soft warmth and touched his cheek with a gentle forefinger, making small sounds 
of comfort as she moved toward the hatchway that led to her bedchamber, stopping 
to lift the Field Manual from its place on the nearby table, "I'll be in here 
for a while, Corporal. Make yourself at home. We could be stuck here together 
for a few centars, or longer." 

"That's alright, Lieutenant," Komma's face reddened once more, though he smiled 
amiably and projected an attitude of sincerity, "I can't think of many more 
pleasant duty assignments than being here with you, ma'am." 

"Why, Komma," Athena laughed as she paused before the now opened interior 
hatchway, "I had /no/ idea that you were such a flatterer!" she watched as 
Komma's face reddened further, her laughter giving way to a more serious 
expression, allowing Komma a small view of the fear that lay hidden beyond the 
surface of her pale, blue eyes, "Thanks again, Komma," Athena kissed him 
impulsively on the cheek, grinning with a sisterly affection, swallowing hard to 
quell her fear, then disappeared into the inner chamber, affording herself some 
privacy to nurse her now wailing infant and study the translations she had been 
working to refine, as the Guardian Drones, Komma watching over them, maintained 
the protective energy shield that encompassed her quarters, keeping her son, the 
target of the attacking signal, safely within it's invisible perimeter. 


*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Seven 


"Well, my Son," Commander Adama spoke quietly as he approached the perimeter 
rail of the Galactica's command platform, where Colonel Apollo leaned forward, 
grasping the rail with his white-knuckled hands and staring with a thoughtful 
scowl on his dark face through the panels of transparent tylium that, for the 
five hundred plus yahrens since the Galactica had first been built, had formed 
the real space viewing screen, effectively the windows at the forward of the 
Command Centre of the mighty battlestar. Adama laid an arm across his son's 
muscular frame, grasping the younger man's shoulder with a comfortingly paternal 
squeeze from a large, strong hand, standing beside him and joining him to stare 
out into the apparently open and empty space at the forward of the Fleet, 
"though I realize how selfish this may sound, particularly from a man who is as 
blessed as I, to have had my own son serving on the bridge with me, as my 
Executive Officer, for the good measure of the last half yahren, and in spite of 
the threat of the hostile transmission, I have to admit that I am rather 
enjoying have you and Sheba and the children together here on the bridge with 
me. It seems that my children and I have spent so little time together as a 
group these last few sectons, what with Athena settling in with her new 
responsibilities and her new family aboard the Pegasus, and you and Sheba moving 
back and forth from duty rotations to childminding." 

"I know, Father," Apollo glanced downward toward the center of the forward 
gallery where Boxey sat attentively beside Lieutenant Rigel, listening in with a 
spare headset from an empty seat next to her primary duty station whilst she 
monitored the Fleet's ship to ship communication, viper traffic, and duty 
rotation reports , "I find that I have been noticing the passage of time, 
lately, particularly when I see how much Boxey has grown. It's difficult for me 
to grasp just yet that I am soon to be the father of four children, and before 
my fourth decayahren has passed. I wouldn't have imagined that I'd even be 
married by now, back when our worlds were still ours," Apollo's voiced trailed 
off as an invisible ribbon of remembrance brushed over him, images of past 
heartaches and new beginnings moving unbidden across his consciousness, "so much 
has happened in such a brief and chaotic time," Adama followed his son's gaze, 
embracing for a moment a bittersweet memory of Apollo at Boxey's age, on the 
bridge on the Galactica, doing much the same thing that Boxey now did, learning 
the ways of a warrior at a much younger age than most children did. Apollo 
turned to gaze earnestly into his own father's eyes, "have Sheba and I done the 
right thing, Father?" the Colonel's green eyes bored into Adama's soul, or so it 
seemed to the older man for a moment, as the image of Ila, his beloved wife and 
mother of his children, dead now these four yahrens since the Destruction of 
Caprica, and the home that she had kept for him and for his children when duty 
had allowed them to be there with her, her face superimposed over Apollo's for a 
micron, then gone like a mist, impossible to hold for long, as the Colonel 
continued speaking, "have I given Iblis more innocent targets to threaten?" the 
green eyes moved once more to regard Boxey, who suddenly turned, as if sensing 
his father's study of him, his young face brightening with the smile, less gap-
toothed than it had once been, but still that same crooked smile that had first 
taken hold of Apollo's heart when Apollo had first fallen in love with the boy's 
mother, then taken Boxey as the son of his heart, if not his blood, "at least 
Boxey doesn't appear to be at risk from the transmission, though I'm not certain 
that I understand how the rest of the children, even those unborn, are at risk 
through their genomic heritage, yet you, Athena and I are as immune to the 
signal's effects as Boxey." 

"Doctor Paye believes that the explanation may lie in our ages. His most recent 
consultations with Wilker and Chameleon in the medical complex diagnostics 
laboratory have left him convinced that the distinction is related to the 
evolution of body chemistry as effected through the transition from infancy 
through adolescence and into adulthood," Adama released his son's shoulder with 
a slight shake, chuckling softly in an attempt to relieve the Colonel's poorly 
hidden anxiety, "are you certain that you are not simply fearing another half 
yahren or more of the unpredictable quirks of compulsive behaviour that plagued 
our dear Sheba during her pregnancy with Artemis?" 

"Perhaps there is an /element/ of that, Father," Apollo could not help but 
grimace with a mixture of wry amusement, underscored with a growing sense of 
horror, at the Commander's mention of the wildly varied shifts of mood and 
behaviours that had manifested themselves in Sheba's actions and words as she 
and Apollo had together anticipated with a mixture of fear and eagerness the 
birth of their now yahren old daughter, Artemis. Apollo shot a cautious glance 
across the command platform, where the Colonel's wife, Captain Sheba, leaned 
over Officer Omega's shoulder, watching as the most recent data from Doctor 
Wilker's work station on Lambda Deck moved across the small display monitor on 
the lower right of Omega's console, "Sheba was reacting a little, shall we say, 
/aggressively/, at the prospect of being removed from her duty station because 
of the pregnancy. The discovery that she is carrying twins seems to have taken 
her off guard, as it has me," the steady green eyes held Adama's empathetic 
gaze, "Lords of Kobol, Father, I hope that she doesn't start detecting elusive 
odours again." 

"Let us also pray that Cain's daughter shall see fit to forego any renewed 
attempts at culinary experimentation," Adama shuddered involuntarily at the 
memory of the meals that Sheba had inflicted upon her family and any other 
unsuspecting soul that had been fool-hardy enough to accept a dinner invitation 
from the Valkyrie Leader during the term of her first pregnancy, in the form of 
uniquely prepared lumps of what one could loosely describe as 'food', during a 
period of what Doctor Salik had clinically labelled 'nesting' as the gruff, 
though sympathetic Chief Medical Officer had explained the phenomena to the 
sleep deprived and emotionally drained Apollo, during the height of Sheba's 
sudden, erroneous and blessedly brief belief that she, who had never developed a 
knack for most domestic arts, as had many other women of her age in Colonial 
society, possessed the aptitude to prepare a meal fit for human consumption, 
that these sorts of atypical behaviours were often to be expected with /any/ 
pregnancy, and Salik had bluntly advised the young expectant father to simply, 
'stay out of her way until it blows over'. 

"Commander," Adama and Apollo started at the sound of Sheba's voice, quickly 
recovering themselves and turning to regard the Captain, as she approached the 
two men from across the command platform, "Doctor Wilker says that Chameleon is 
going to lay everything out on transparencies and print-outs on the laboratory 
deck. He's hoping a pattern will emerge, something we can work with. Until 
then," Sheba gazed toward the hatchway to the small utility chambers off the 
rear gallery of the bridge, behind which Muffit, the Guardian Drone, stood watch 
with Cassiopeia over the toddler, Artemis, and maintained the energy field that 
encompassed most of the Command Centre, keeping the grandchildren of Adama 
within it's protective perimeter, and maintaining an open channel to the 
Guardian Drones aboard the Battlestar Pegasus, where Athena's son was still 
surrounded by an identical defensive shield, "until then, Apollo, perhaps you 
should stop hovering over your family and go do some system checks with your 
wingman. Since we've all concurred that we need to maintain our reconnaissance 
patrol rotations, that means that you and Deitra are due to head out in less 
than a centar, which reminds me," an expression that Apollo found difficult to 
read played over Sheba's face, "has everyone had evening meal yet?" Apollo and 
Adama adopted their own expressions of determined stoicism as the Captain's next 
words filled both men with a growing sense of dread, "maybe I should whip 
something up for us to eat!" 

"Nonsense, my dear!" Adama cried suddenly, stepping forward and steering his 
son's wife back toward the command console, "I will not hear of it! /You/ are 
needed /here/, on the command platform! I shall have the commissary make up a 
tray of whatever they're serving the men," Adama lifted a gentle hand of 
interruption as Sheba made to speak, "furthermore, I will not have you, or 
Artemis, wandering out of Muffit's range, not for a micron," the Commander 
smiled paternally, hearing Apollo's sharp exhalation of relief beside him, "now 
then, Colonel. Our acting Executive Officer is quite right. You had best be 
preparing for your patrol. The Guardian Drones have the situation stabilized for 
now, and with a measure of good fortune, perhaps you and Lieutenant Deitra, or 
one of our other patrol wings, shall discover the enemy's hidden location." 

Apollo stood with Adama and Sheba, the three of them turning silently together 
to peer at the unknown space forward of the Galactica. The Colonel sighed, 
touched his lips to his wife's and, waving with an exaggerated salute to his 
son, who laughingly returned the gesture from the place the boy still occupied 
in the front gallery, shared a nod and a quick handclasp with his father and 
Commander, taking his leave of the Command Centre and making for the Alpha 
Launch Bay, where his viper and wingman awaited him. 


*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Eight 


"Cassiopeia?" Captain Starbuck put one booted foot tentatively through the 
opening hatchway, peering into the main chamber of the small utility quarters 
off the rear gallery of the Galactica's Command Centre, then stepped through at 
the sight of his woman's welcoming smile, the hatch /whooshing/ shut behind him, 
"I was just getting up to speed with the command crew here and on the Pegasus," 
Starbuck glanced toward an interior corner of the modestly outfitted sitting 
area where Artemis sat, a thick fur-like blanket beneath her, giggling as the 
Guardian Drone Muffit Two performed a series of tumbles and spins for her 
amusement while still maintaining it's defensive functions, "Sheba asked me to 
let you know that she will be in directly to relieve you until Lena gets here. I 
thought you might like to stretch your legs, let me walk you to your quarters," 
the Galactica's Squadron Commander lowered his voice and stepped forward to 
brush his lips against her cheek, evoking a smile and a slight flush to the pale 
skin of Cassiopeia's face and neck above the yoke of her medical officer's 
uniform, "It'll be a few centars before Boomer and I are to take the next 
Galactican patrol rotation, after Apollo and Deitra get back, so I thought maybe 
I'd catch some sleep before then. It's a little quieter up here on Alpha Deck, a 
little more private," Starbuck grinned brightly as Cassiopeia giggled and 
reached to place her palms against the fabric of the uniform tunic that covered 
the well defined muscles of her lover's broad chest, opening her lips to speak . 
. . 

"Boomer!" Starbuck looked downward, along the line of his well-toned thigh, to 
see Apollo's yahren old daughter looking up at him, felt the small hands 
clutching the buckles of his flight boots as she balanced precariously on her 
chubby toddler's legs, a cheerful smile on her dark face, those distinctive 
green eyes staring into his blue ones with an intensity that he had seen in his 
best friend's eyes many times, /Lords of Kobol! She's so much like him/, the 
resemblance between Apollo and his daughter had been remarked upon by many, and 
was manifested, as those close to the two knew well, in fiery temperament as 
well as physical appearance, "Boomer!" Artemis giggled delightedly as Starbuck 
stepped away from Cassiopeia with an exaggerated shrug of helpless surrender and 
scooped the little girl into his arms, laughing with her as he spun her gently 
around and then held her securely against his chest, a flutter of warmth moving 
over him as the tiny hands reached to touch his face, evoking in him a memory of 
her dramatic birth, a birth with which Starbuck had assisted, while he and Sheba 
had awaited rescue from the crew quarters in which they had been trapped 
together, presumably by the creature, Iblis, who had somehow effected a buckling 
of a supporting beam that had very nearly killed Sheba, shoved out of the way by 
Starbuck and dazed by a piece of falling rubble during the onset of her child's 
birth. 

"Are you ever going to say 'Starbuck'?" the Captain shook his blonde head and 
grinned encouragingly, to be met with Artemis' standard response, an enigmatic 
silence punctuated only by the clear stare of those bright green eyes, "you 
could really help Uncle Starbuck out with some wagering parameters if you'd let 
me know what your next word is going to be, little one," Starbuck kissed the 
little girl on the forehead, then lowered her until her small feet touched the 
deck and she rushed busily from his supporting arms to rejoin Muffit, clapping 
with delight as the drone resumed a series of acrobatic maneuvers designed to 
occupy the active toddler, "now then, where were we?" Starbuck turned his 
attention once more to Cassiopeia's warm smile. 

"I believe that you may have been propositioning me, Captain," Cassiopeia 
whispered, moving toward him, then turning, together with Starbuck, as the 
hatchway opened and Captain Sheba, the Galactica's currently active Executive 
Officer, stepped through. 

"Boomer!" Artemis cried once more, running to enter her mother's embrace as 
Sheba knelt down to greet her firstborn daughter, "Boomer!" 

"Oh, Artemis," Sheba sighed and smirked with reluctant amusement, "can't you 
call me 'Mommy'? Can you say, 'Momma' for me, my sweet little girl?" 

"Boomer!" the little girl took a step back, gazing at Sheba with a determined 
expression that both of her parents, and her assorted childminders, had come to 
know well in her one short yahren of existence, her jaw set firmly as she 
crossed her chubby arms over her chest, "Boomer!" Artemis spoke firmly, then 
smiled and laughed delightedly, kissing her mother on the cheek and rushing back 
to the corner where Muffit and her favourite toys awaited her. 

"Well, at least she's consistent," Cassiopeia giggled and smiled sympathetically 
as she stepped forward to embrace her friend, "she'll start saying more when 
she's ready, Sheba," the blonde stepped back, taking Sheba's hands in hers, 
feeling and seeing the tension that the Captain struggled vainly to conceal, 
"have you had any news from the Science Section, yet?" 

"No," Captain Sheba said quietly, her brown eyes looking deeply into 
Cassiopeia's blue one's, sharing her fear with her friend, a former socialator, 
the past lover of her widowed father, and through the often ironic vagaries of 
destiny, and the dying wishes of Sheba's father, the legendary Commander Cain, a 
legally designated member of Sheba's family, and a similarly recognized Guardian 
and Protector of Sheba's and Apollo's children, "Chameleon is still moving the 
data around, trying to correlate it somehow, and there's nothing new yet from 
Komma on the Pegasus. He's still camped out with the drones in Athena's 
quarters," Sheba swallowed hard and managed to achieve a relatively bland 
expression, pushing her fears deliberately aside, as a warrior's training, and 
her tutelage under her father had taught her to do, "perhaps the patrol wings 
will find something that will help us stop the transmission, and it's source, 
once and for all." 

The three of them, Sheba, Cassiopeia and Starbuck, stood watching as Artemis 
giggled, shoving Muffit's 'foot' away as it gently brushed her cheek in a 
simulation approximating the movements of a flesh and blood daggit at play. 

"Sheba," Starbuck placed a protective hand on the shoulder of his best friend's 
wife, a fellow warrior with whom he had faced much, both happy and sorrowful, in 
the time since she had joined the Colonial Fleet, "we'll get through this. We'll 
find the source of the signal, and we'll stop it," he smiled brightly, "after 
all, it's not like Chameleon to miss a promising permutation, in /any/ kind of 
game, even one of Iblis'." 

"Thanks, Starbuck," Sheba returned Starbuck's determinedly hopeful gaze, then 
shifted her own eyes to regard Cassiopeia, "you two go on," the two women shared 
a glance and a small smile of common understanding, Sheba being aware of how 
little private time that Cassiopeia and Starbuck had been afforded together of 
late, the bridge is quiet for now and Artemis and I will be fine until Lena gets 
here," Sheba gestured toward the hatchway through which she had entered, "go 
relax for a while, I'll see you in a few centars." 

Starbuck released Sheba's shoulder with a gentle squeeze, then ushered 
Cassiopeia through the hatchway, the two of them waving and smiling briefly as 
the hatch closed behind them, leaving a now silent Sheba to contemplate the 
hatch through which they had exited with a friend's indulgent smile, until her 
thoughts were interrupted by a chime from the small communication array inset 
into the bulkhead beside the hatchway into a small adjoining sleeping area. 

"Sheba," the Captain combed her light brown hair with the fingers of one hand as 
she stepped forward to see, displayed on the monitor of the communication array, 
the face of the Pegasus' Chief Medical Officer, a man with whom she had served 
on her father's ship, a comrade in arms whom she had trusted and respected, and 
still did, for that matter, in spite of the knowledge that, among the Colonials 
of the Fleet, only she and Apollo possessed, that Doctor Roman was in actual 
fact, one of the aliens who had travelled in what the Colonials had dubbed 'the 
Ships of Light', an agent of another species, hidden in the Fleet, in part to 
protect Sheba's own children, or so Apollo had told her, as Cain, on his 
deathbed, not more that a half yahren ago had told him. Apollo had shared his 
knowledge with his wife shortly after the last of the seven daily cycles of 
varied complex funeral rituals that the Living Legend had chosen for himself, 
and the two, Apollo and Sheba had stayed up well into one entire night, 
discussing their difficult secret, finally deciding to keep silent, to keep the 
knowledge of Roman's origins to themselves, Sheba stating flatly to her husband 
that if Roman was here to protect her children from the malevolent force that 
threatened them, and since he had served with distinction in his position aboard 
the Pegasus, then she would do nothing to jeopardize his position in the Fleet. 
"I just called to check in on you and the little ones, Captain. How is 
everyone?" Roman's image smiled enigmatically at her from the monitor. 

"You tell me, Roman," Sheba said with a hint of friendly sarcasm, tilting her 
head at the mysterious creature who had been her friend for these many yahrens 
since the Battle of Molecai, a former brother of the evil entity who now stalked 
her from some unknown location, "I was thinking that /you/ might know better 
than /me/." 

*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Nine 


"Deitra," Apollo's voice was transmitted across the space between his viper and 
Deitra's, filling the air space beneath the transparent tylium canopy that 
afforded the Valkyrie Squadron Lieutenant her view of the space through which 
her ship travelled, to the right and slightly behind her current Patrol Leader, 
"have you scanned the second planet in that system in Beta Scan Sector? I'm 
picking up high readings of what looks like refined metals." 

"I see it, Skipper," Lieutenant Deitra reached down to adjust some scan filter 
settings on her console, focussing in on an image of the planet to which Apollo 
had referred, "the atmosphere is breathable, Sir." 

"Yes, yes it is," Apollo glanced across the space that separated them to see 
Deitra's dark, face looking back at him, "what do you say, Lieutenant? Do you 
feel like taking a planetside walk before we head on back to home base?" 

"Sounds good to me, Patrol Leader," Deitra chuckled, feeling as Apollo did, the 
desire that most of the Fleet's populace contended with, in varying measure and 
in varying ways, through the daily cycles of their lives aboard a space-bound 
Fleet, to feel the ground of a planet beneath their feet on occasion, to breath, 
if only for a few centons, an atmosphere that was not recycled through a space 
ship's filtration system, though Deitra's next words belied her eagerness to 
land, "but what will we find? Refined metals, Sir. Could there be a Cylon base 
of some sort down there?" 

"We won't know anything until we take a look, Lieutenant," Apollo input an 
approach trajectory into his targeting scan array and focussed on a landing site 
one hecton distant from the area that his viper's computer had designated as the 
locus of the scan reading that had piqued his curiosity. Refined metals 
indicated civilization, but there was no recognizable sign of intelligent 
organic life forms, "I'm transmitting a landing trajectory to your targeting 
array. Let's try to glide in for the last five or six hectons, Deitra. If 
there's a hostile force down there, we don't want to give them advance notice. 
We'll go in quietly, secure the ships in launch readiness mode, then take a 
short walk to check out those readings." 

"Yes, Sir," Deitra's tone was all business as she aligned her viper along the 
designated trajectory and followed Apollo's path in a graceful rolling arc. Both 
pilots sliced their ships like guided missiles through the outer atmosphere of 
the planet, skillfully adjusting the pitch of their angular ships, positioning 
themselves into a path of least resistance and then cutting the power to their 
turbos, to glide in virtual silence through the nightside sky of the alien 
world, using their night vision scan sensors to make for a large, though tree 
sheltered clearing near what appeared to be a small lake. Deitra held her breath 
unconsciously as she felt the sudden drag of the grassy ground against her 
ship's now fully extended landing struts, adjusting by feel as her training had 
taught her so that she skimmed the surface of the ground, slowing her momentum 
and finally coming to a slightly skidding stop beside the Colonel's viper. 

"Nice landing, Lieutenant," Apollo's quiet voice carried clearly through the 
starlit darkness from the ground beside Deitra's ship as he reached up to offer 
her an arm, grasping her hand as she jumped from her seat beneath the viper's 
opening canopy. She positioned her free hand briefly on his shoulder as she used 
his supporting grip to push herself into a graceful spin to land with her booted 
feet on the grass of the clearing beside the Colonel, "is your console secured?" 

"Yes, Sir," Deitra whispered softly, listening to the sounds of insects and 
birds, breathing in the air of this strange world, feeling deep within her the 
remembrance of her own home planet among the fallen Twelve Colonies, then 
feeling the pain that remembering almost always lifted from a place deep within 
her, the pain of the loss of her world, her family, and the loss of the friends 
and comrades that she had served with upon the doomed Colonial Battlestar 
Atlantia before the Cylons had altered all of their lives forever. Deitra 
swallowed hard and pushed the memories aside, adjusting the emergency survival 
pack that she had thrown over her shoulder upon landing and reaching to check 
her weapon in it's holster and key in a series of standard planetary survey 
recording parameters to the portable scanning unit that she had retrieved from 
beneath her console before exiting her ship, "What's the plan, Skipper?" 

"The locus of the reading is just over that rise, about a five or ten centon 
walk," Apollo spun slowly in a circle as he spoke, adjusting the straps of his 
own pack with one hand, scanning the area immediately around them with the 
scanning unit he held in the other and finding nothing but the same indistinct 
signal that indicated the presence of a large quantity of refined metal, "at the 
first sign of trouble, we'll turn around and make for our ships," Apollo lowered 
the scan unit, securing its strap to his right thigh as Deitra secured hers to 
her left, the leg opposite the one that sported the holster of her sidearm. 

"Colonel?" Deitra fell into step beside Apollo, both of them moving cautiously 
and quietly through the darkness of the trees that surrounded the clearing, "we 
haven't detected anything on our scans thus far that resembles that signal 
matrix that's targeting . . ." the young woman fell silent, reconsidering her 
next words, until Apollo spoke them for her. 

"The signal matrix that's targeting my children, and my nephew," Apollo spoke 
quietly, as Deitra had done, "I know, but we can't make any assumptions. The 
enemy has hidden from us in plain view on more than a few occasions," Apollo 
held up a cautionary hand as the two warriors felt the gentle upward slope that 
they had been climbing begin to level off as they reached the uppermost portion 
of a small rise that would, Apollo hoped, afford them a view of the apparent 
source of the elemental scan readings that they had detected from space. 

"Can you see anything, Colonel?" Deitra hissed as she dropped into a crouch 
beside Apollo at the base of a large tree, watching as he reached backward to 
pull a set of binoculons from his pack. 

"See for yourself, Deitra," Apollo lowered the binoculons, pressed a parameter 
panel to maintain the current viewer settings, and handed them to her. Deitra 
frowned in concerned curiosity as she raised the viewing lenses, gasping at what 
she had been unable to make out in the darkness with her unaided eyes, but saw 
now with the refinement of light wave frequencies by the night vision sensor 
filters that Apollo had initiated. 

"/Oh my God, Skipper/," Deitra breathed in horror as she lowered the viewing 
device and turned to stare into the green eyes that glinted in the starlight 
beside her, "those are /Ovions/ down there!" 

"Change of plan, Lieutenant," Apollo's voice was grim as he replaced the 
binoculons into his pack, then reached to run a quick check of his sidearm, 
"we're going in for a closer look." 


*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Ten 

The Galactica's Squadron Commander, Captain Starbuck lay dozing in a warm haze 
of semi-wakefulness, languorously stretching the muscles of his back as he 
buried his face in Cassiopeia's hair, pulling her to him where she lay within 
the embrace of his strong, firmly muscled arms and inhaling deeply, smiling as 
he revelled in the scent of her skin, kissing her neck softly, then moving to 
pull a soft blanket up over them both and touch his chin to the top of her head 
as she lay with her cheek pressed against the feather soft hairs of his chest. 

"I'm expected back down in the Command Centre in about a centar," Cassiopeia 
spoke quietly into his shoulder, moving the fingertips of one small hand across 
the undulating landscape of the muscles of his abdomen, then up over his torso 
to rest her palm against one side of his sinewy neck, "much as I would like to 
stay here a little longer in paradise with you, my love, I'm afraid my duty 
rotations are not precisely aligned with yours," she listened with the practiced 
ear of a medical technician to the steady sound of his heartbeat as it 
reverberated from within his chest, "besides, with the situation as it is, I'm 
needed. Boxey is always a little restless when his father is away from the ship 
and Sheba won't admit to it easily, but she's frightened out of her mind with 
worry over Artemis, not to mention the two new ones on the way, and little Zac 
over on the Pegasus." 

"I've been thinking lately," Starbuck moved his body over the fabric of the bed 
covering, sliding over and downward on the small mattress in the bedchamber of 
the quarters on Alpha Deck that had once been occupied by the then /Colonel/ 
Tigh, before the Galactica's former Executive Officer had been promoted and 
transferred to the command platform of the Battlestar Pegasus one half yahren 
ago, taking Cain's place as its Commander. Tigh's former quarters aboard the 
Galactica were now designated for the 'Sister Guardian', an abbreviated version, 
suggested by Boxey, in fact, of the seemingly endless list of titles that 
Cassiopeia now held in her capacity as an adopted member of Adama's and Cain's 
families, and a Guardian of the son of Serina. The shorter title had been 
embraced in particular by Colonel Apollo, who had found it impossible to address 
the friend of himself and his wife, his son's childminder and lover of his 
dearest friend, by her formal title of 'Concubine', without a slight stammer of 
embarrassment and a nervous contraction of a small muscle beneath his right eye. 
Starbuck reached to take the hand that lay against his neck, kissing the 
fingertips that had caressed him only microns earlier and staring deeply into 
his lover's pale blue eyes, "you should seal with me, and then we can have some 
children of our own to add to the mix." 

"Starbuck?" Cassiopeia's incredulous tone evoked a mischievous smile from the 
Galactica's Squadron Commander as she stared blankly back at him, into the blue 
eyes so similar in shade to her own, "Starbuck," her voice becoming more steady 
with her repetition of his name, "Starbuck, did I hear you correctly? Did /you/ 
just ask /me/ to . . ." she found herself unable to say the word on her first 
attempt, "did you just ask me to /marry/ you?" 

"Yes, I did," Starbuck sat suddenly upright, taking hold of her upper arms and 
fluidly moving her slender form to sit beside him, the blanket forgotten as it 
fell to her waist, landing as a rippling pool of fabric over their laps as they 
faced one another silently, until Starbuck coughed to clear his throat and 
resumed his unexpected speech, "I've thought about it long and hard and, well, 
I, that is . . ." he clamped his lips shut, aware that his usually effective 
veneer of charm had failed him, then smiled at the perversity of his 
awkwardness, here, in Cassiopeia's bed, both of them bare to the waist, yet here 
he was, stammering like an adolescent who had never even /kissed/ a girl before, 
let alone . . . "Cassie, I don't want you to spend these yahrens looking after 
other people's children, then come out of it with no-one to call /you/ 'Mother'. 
I don't want us to wait fearfully for the enemy threat to magically end whilst 
we could be spending some of that time, like this, /having/ something together," 
Starbuck slid his hands down the length of her arms, feeling her flesh contract 
as though from a sudden chill as he took both of her hands in his own, "I'm not 
talking about changing /everything/. You can still care for Cain's 
grandchildren, /and/ continue your studies with Salik and Paye, /and/, well, 
like I said, we can /be/ together, have some children of our own," he laughed as 
he saw the emotions playing across her stunned features, "and Apollo won't have 
to get that nervous tick every time Boomer or Jolly hollers, 'How are things up 
on Alpha Deck with the wife and the concubine, Skipper?'" 

"Are you /certain/ that this is what you want?" Cassiopeia pulled her hands from 
his grasp, placing one palm against each of his shoulders, a rush of desire 
moving through her as she felt the hard muscles beneath his smooth skin, 
"Starbuck, you know that I'm satisfied with whatever we can have together. If 
you're doing this because you think that I have a void that needs to be filled 
with . . ." 

"Cassiopeia," Starbuck gazed into her now tear-filled eyes, feeling his own lids 
overflowing, and his chest tightening with emotion, "I am asking you to seal 
with me because I love you, I want to be with you, and I want /you/ to be the 
mother of /my/ children," Starbuck's heart seemed to move in his chest as he 
watched the tears spill from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks and stopping 
short at the edge of her incongruously bright smile, laughing and crying with 
her as he pulled her into an embrace, feeling her naked body against his and 
struggling in vain to resist the passion that rose in him, then laughing once 
more as he moved back, holding her again by the upper arms, his eyes drinking in 
the sight of her dishevelled blonde curls and tear-stained face, moving over the 
curve of her breast, down the line of her slender waist, then lifting once more 
to view her stunned expression, "you /do/ want to marry me, don't you Cass?" his 
smile was replaced by a sudden look of concern, even fear, as it dawned on him 
that he had not, since he had made the decision to ask her, for one micron 
considered the possibility that she might reject his proposal, "don't you?" 

"Oh Starbuck!" Cassiopeia sputtered with sobbing laughter, moving her arms from 
beneath his gentle grasp and sliding her hands over his shoulders, lacing her 
fingers through the dark blonde hair that covered the back of his neck, fresh 
tears falling downward from her blinking eyes to flow in small rivulets along 
the line of his well-defined shoulder as she whispered earnestly into his ear, 
"You know that I'll take you any way I can have you, so long as we can be 
together. I won't ask you for more than you are ready to give me," Cassiopeia 
pulled back and moved to look into her lover's clear, blue eyes, "if you're 
certain that this what you want, that you're not doing this because you think 
that I . . ." 

"Cass," Starbuck leaned forward and stopped her words with his lips, brushing 
them against hers, then moved slightly backward, to gaze once more into her 
eyes, "Will you marry me?" 

"Yes," Cassiopeia's smile lit up her face as she sputtered with reflexive 
laughter, pulling the edge of the blanket up over her breasts, assuming a 
posture of exaggerated modesty, "I /will/ marry you, Captain Starbuck! However, 
there is one thing that you're going to have to do before we can be formerly 
engaged." 

"And what is that, my beautiful Cassiopeia?" Starbuck tilted his head and raised 
an inquisitive eyebrow, moving his arm to embrace her as she lay down beside him 
on the bed. 

"Unless I'm mistaken, as a legal Guardian and Concubine of the Houses of . . . 
well, you've heard the whole list," Cassiopeia giggled once more at Starbuck's 
pained expression, knowing full well that Apollo had not been the only target of 
good-natured abuse at the hands of his friends and comrades in Blue Squadron as 
they had delightedly questioned Starbuck about his girlfriend's new /position/, 
"if you want to marry me, you'll have to ask permission from Adama, Apollo /and/ 
Sheba." 

"You think any of them would say no?" Starbuck's laughter mingled with her own 
as he listened for her answer. 

"Not if they know what's good for them," Starbuck paused momentarily at the 
firmness of her tone, mirroring her now serious expression, then feeling a 
broad, toothy smile move across his face as the two of them, laying together in 
one another's arms, laughed together, then made slow, easy love until it was 
time for Cassiopeia to reluctantly take her leave of her now husband-to-be, and 
return to her vigil with Sheba and the children in the Command Centre, while 
Starbuck slept on for another few centars of his rest period, both of them 
having agreed to keep their engagement a secret for a time, until the current 
crisis of the attacking alien signal had passed. 


*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Eleven 


"Baltar?" Calvin nodded in greeting into the watchful eyes of the ever-present, 
two-man Colonial Security detail and, after keying in his 'open door' code, 
stepped through the hatchway before him and into Baltar's chamber as the 
bifurcated panels of perforated transparent tylium that comprised the chamber's 
hatch /swished/ open, "Baltar?" Calvin approached the shelf-like sleeping 
platform, seeing only a blanket covered lump, presumably the crouched and 
quivering form of the most infamous patient to have ever resided in the Secured 
Term Care Section of the Galactica's medical complex. Calvin reached forward 
with a tentative finger to touch the surface of the blanket, connecting with 
what he guessed to be an arm, "Baltar? It's me, Calvin. Someone asked me to come 
down and check on you. Would you like to come out from under that blanket for a 
few centons and have a little visit?" 

"Who sent you? Was it Sheba?" Baltar's snarling face appeared from beneath the 
edge of the blanket, causing Calvin to take a step back in surprise, not only at 
Baltar's sudden emergence, but by his words, as well. 

"Now, what makes you say that?" Calvin effected as bland an expression as he was 
able, attempting to hide the measure of his surprise at Baltar's question. The 
lab-tech moved to pull a small chair from its place against an interior bulkhead 
and positioned it near the center of the chamber, sitting to look at the surface 
of the blanket that Baltar had pulled back up over his head, though a small dark 
cavity remained, revealing a glimpse of Baltar's feverishly bright eyes beneath 
the blanket's frayed edge. As he settled in the chair, sitting comfortably with 
his palms resting lightly on his knees, Calvin thought back to the conversation 
he had had with Captain Sheba only centons ago, as he had completed a 
maintenance scan of the bridge, confirming that there had been no appreciable 
change in the nature or intensity of the enemy signal. 

"Calvin?" Sheba had stepped back as the lab-tech had whirled in wide-eyed horror 
at the sound of the voice of the angry pregnant woman who had threatened him 
with violence several centars earlier that same daily cycle, "Look, Calvin, I'm 
sorry about that scanning wand thing, I, well, I was a little upset and . . ." 

"It's alright, Captain," Calvin had sighed with relief at Sheba's agreeable 
tone, "the crew has been warned that you . . ." his eyes had widened once more 
as he corrected himself, "I, I mean I've been /briefed/ on the side effects of 
your . . ." Calvin had felt his heart sink into his stomach as the acting 
Executive Officer had crossed her arms over her amply curving chest, pursing her 
lips and furrowing her well formed brow into an impatient scowl, "Uh, Captain, 
what I mean to say is, uh," Calvin had resigned himself at that point to a 
violent injury at the hands of the hormonally unpredictable warrior before him, 
a state of mind, now that he recalled it, that had given him a strange sort of 
courage, /she's going to hurt me no matter what I do/, he remembering thinking 
the worst was surely to come as he had smiled weakly and managed to croak out 
the words, "how may I be of service, Captain Sheba, Sir?" his horror at his own 
words had been too immediate and too real for him to have managed to conceal it 
from her, "Ma'am!" he had cried desperately, "I meant to say 'Ma'am'! Oh God, 
just please don't hurt me!" 

"Snap out of it, Calvin!" Sheba had tapped a booted foot impatiently on the 
deck, "I thought Paye and Salik certified that you were fit for duty, that you'd 
recovered from the dementia produced by the radiation you were exposed to!" the 
Captain shook her head, lowering her voice and glancing around her, obviously 
not wanting to be overheard, "Calvin. I need you to do me a favour. I want you 
to find some excuse to go down and check on Baltar in the Term Care Section. I 
have information from a source that I would rather not reveal at this time that 
Baltar may be recovering some of his damaged brain functions. I need someone 
that I can trust, someone who is intimately familiar with the effects of the 
toxic radiation, to go down there and find out what he might know," the Captain 
glanced toward the command platform, where Omega sat poring over the displays on 
the console before him, and Adama sat listening to the Fleet's communication 
traffic with the headset that he wore as he laughingly cradled his yahren old 
granddaughter in his lap, while Muffit sat vigil at the base of the platform, 
"no-one except my husband can know that it was me who asked you to go down 
there, Calvin. You must find some reason to be there that will not be traced 
back to me, or my anonymous source," Sheba's brown eyes bored intently into 
Calvin's, "can you do this for me?" 

"Yes, Ma'am!" Calvin nodded solemnly, having clearly seen the fear that had been 
revealed to him in that moment when he had looked deeply into the Captain's 
brown eyes, "Today is Fourth Day. I stop in there every Second Day or Fourth Day 
as my duties allow. There are several of us that visit with him regularly. I 
know /what/ he is, Captain, but I've felt the effects of that mutated 
electromagnetic radiation first hand, been in direct, and sustained contact, as 
Baltar has, to that ore from the artificially constructed planet, and I wouldn't 
wish that sort of soul-destroying madness upon /any/ sentient being!" 

"Very well then, Calvin, and thanks," Captain Sheba had laid a small hand on his 
arm, a hand that shook involuntarily, surprising Calvin with the gravity of her 
emotion, "I promise you that I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," she had 
smiled then, and nodded, before turning abruptly and ascending the command 
platform to lift her daughter from the Commander's grandfatherly embrace and 
greet Cassiopeia, who had returned from her rest period, her med-tech uniform 
having been exchanged for a civilian dress, a glittering pendant just visible 
behind the drawstring at the yoke of her garment, her garb suggesting to the 
ever-observant Calvin that Cassiopeia would not be returning to the Life Station 
for medical duty unless an emergency required her presence. 

"Did Sheba send you here to spy on me?" Calvin's thoughts returned to the 
present as Baltar's wild black hair became visible from under the edge of the 
slowly receding blanket, "is she worried about the children? Hmmm? Hmmmmm-mmmm-
mmm!" Calvin felt a chill run through him as he listened to Baltar's throaty and 
humourless laughter, "/It/ doesn't want the other ones if /it/ can have 
Artemis," Baltar's face suddenly registered a look of stunned surprise as Calvin 
saw what looked to be an expression of remembrance or, perhaps, /realization/, 
"Artemis? /That/ was the name of the rude girl that helped Lieutenant Boomer to 
abduct me, away from my nice ship," Baltar's eyes became suddenly sly as he 
tilted his head and peered at Calvin's near expressionless face, "but that 
hasn't /happened/ yet," Baltar laughed once more, a throaty chuckle that made 
Calvin's skin crawl, "perhaps /it/ will still give me another chance to have the 
Oberon, to settle in my new home, far away from here, if I help /it/ to get what 
/it/ wants." 

"What does this mysterious entity /want/ from you, Baltar?" Calvin lifted his 
eyebrows in an attempt at an innocuous expression, "perhaps if you tell me, I 
can help you." 

"/It/ wants a human /bride/, of course, the mother of a new species to rule over 
the universe, a rare genetic match that occurs only once every thousand yahrens 
or so," Baltar gazed absently over Calvin's shoulder, speaking in a thoughtful 
tone, for a moment appearing to Calvin to be as sane and lucid as a Tribunal 
Ajudicator, "/it/ nearly had one, until /Apollo/ interfered. The genomic profile 
was . . ." Baltar rushed suddenly at Calvin, a wild look to his now distorted 
features, "No! You're tricking me! You're only trying to help Adama's line to 
destroy everything that I've worked for!" 

"Baltar!" Calvin rose to stand with the small chair presenting a visual barrier 
between him and the suddenly paranoid Baltar, gesturing to the guards to lower 
their stun batons and keep back for the present, "Baltar, no matter what that 
/voice/ tells you, this is /not/ your work, not /your/ destiny," Calvin stared 
intently into the unreadable darkness of Baltar's strangely opaque and 
unnaturally black eyes, willing the tortured soul within to hear his words, to 
resist the madness that held it prisoner, "it's all lies. /It/ won't give you 
any peace. No ship, no freedom, only emptiness. /It/ won't keep any of its 
promises. You must resist it, Baltar, for the sake of your soul!" 

'Hmmm-mmmm-mmm," Baltar's laughter bubbled up lazily from his throat as he 
regarded Calvin, like a scientist regarding an unusual micro organism beneath a 
magnifying lens, pondering its potential for danger, "My soul? My soul," Baltar 
began to laugh more heartily, more manically, apparently deeply amused by 
Calvin's remark, "Hmmmmbwahahahahaha! Do you hope to save my /soul/, my good 
man? "Hmmmm-mmmm-hmmbwahahahahaha!" Baltar leaned forward as Calvin made to take 
his leave of the chamber, clearly realizing that Baltar's brief episode of 
lucidity had come to an end for the present, "give my regards to Apollo and 
Sheba, and to sweet, little Artemis! Hmmm-mmm-mmm! Hmmmm-mmmm-hmmbwahahahahaha!" 
Calvin shook his head sadly nodding once more at the Security Officers as he 
stepped through the hatchway and began to walk briskly along the corridor, 
disguising as best he could the thrill of horror that had moved over him as he 
pondered the significance of Baltar's words, and flinching slightly at the sound 
of the manic laughter that echoed, following him ruthlessly until he entered the 
nearby lift, to breath a reflexive sigh of relief from deep in his chest at the 
silence that was effected by the closing of the lift access hatch, and dreading 
the report that he knew he must make directly to Captain Sheba. 


*** 


Chapter One 

Scene Twelve 


"Are you getting any new readings, Skipper?" Lieutenant Deitra hissed softly 
into Colonel Apollo's ear as the two crouched together in the starlit darkness 
behind a large, rocky outcropping not more than ten metrons distant from the 
entrance to what looked to the two warriors like the opening to a large, 
downward sloping tunnel, "is it a Tylium mine like the one on Carillon?" 

"I'm not picking up anything that looks like tylium," Apollo whispered, studying 
the scanning unit in his hand, "it's some sort of metal, but the matrix 
recognition indicators are fluctuating wildly." 

"Skipper!" the hiss became a barely audible whisper as Deitra yanked 
unceremoniously on Apollo's jacket, pulling him further into the shadows and 
clamping her hand roughly over his mouth, breathing one word into his ear, to 
which he reacted by quickly depressing the parameter panel to switch off the 
soft green glow that emanated from the small display monitor of the scan unit. 
He deftly slipped the unit into the survival pack that he wore slung over his 
right shoulder, then reached for the laser pistol that was holstered on his left 
leg, the word that Deitra had spoken reverberating through his mind, /Cylons!/. 
Deitra removed her hand from his mouth and silently indicated a direction for 
his eyes to follow by aligning a pointed index finger along his cheek. The two 
warriors lay huddled in the darkness, listening in horror as a familiar sound 
filled the air around them, the oscillating hum of the visual scanning sensor of 
a Cylon centurion. 

"By your command," the sound of the robot's quavering mechanical voice filled 
the air around them as they felt each other's muscles tense. Apollo hefted his 
laser pistol slowly, tracking the centurion's forward motion as it stopped 
directly before the tunnel-like opening that was formed by the shelter of the 
outcropping beneath which they now pressed themselves. Apollo felt Deitra's hand 
move carefully away from his face as she slid her arm downward along his back, 
pushed the survival pack to one side, pressed her own back into the 
corresponding pack that she wore strapped over her shoulders and waist, embraced 
him roughly around the shoulders with her free arm and moved with him as they 
edged themselves even further backwards into the darkness that shielded them. 
Drawing her weapon stealthily in the limited space between the two of them, she 
positioned her firing arm over the Colonel's shoulder, targeting the motor 
control unit on the Cylon's upper torso. The machine voice continued as the 
Cylon directed its visual sensor toward a point beyond the range of the 
warriors' limited view, in the open area on the opposite side of the outcropping 
that faced onto the opening to the Ovion mine, "the Ovions have filled the 
transport shuttle to capacity. I have instructed the pilots to return for 
another shipment after they have completed the transfer to the base ship." 

"Excellent, Centurion," though Apollo and Deitra could make out the words, the 
voice of the speaker who replied to the centurion's report sounded to the 
warriors as though it was originating from beyond a barrier, a veil of some 
sort, muffled and distorted by more than the thickness of the stone that 
sheltered them from the enemy's view, "continue the transfers. Inform me when 
the storage containers on the base ship have been filled." 

"By your command," the centurion turned abruptly, moving back in the direction 
from which it had arrived, leaving an empty starlit space for Apollo and Deitra 
to stare warily and breathlessly into, together with-holding their reflexive 
exhalations of relief, listening intently for some sound, some indication that 
the way was clear for them to emerge from the hollow in which they concealed 
themselves. A rumbling vibration moved through the ground beneath them, then the 
briefly thundering sound of firing turbos washed over them as the shuttle that 
had been positioned near the mouth of the tunnel lifted off and moved quickly to 
disappear into the night sky above them. Colonel Apollo glanced downward at his 
chronometer, noting the time, then waited quietly with Deitra for two more 
centons to elapse, after which he leaned back to feel his nose brush against 
Deitra's face, orienting his posture to direct his lips toward her ear and 
whisper one word in a barely audible breath. 

"Now." 

Deitra squeezed the Colonel's arm in silent assent and helpfully pushed the 
straps of his survival pack over his left shoulder and waist from behind, 
fastening them quickly in the darkness with her free hand as the two began to 
crawl slowly toward the opening of their rocky den, laser pistols poised, 
cautiously testing their limbs for the potentially impairing numbness of limited 
circulation and, finding their legs unfolding with adequate control beneath 
them, made their way together, a familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through 
their sharply conditioned nervous systems as they stepped warily to the edge of 
the outcropping to peer into the open area beyond it, uncertain as to what 
measure of danger awaited them there. 

"Careful," the Colonel breathed, taking hold of his wingman's shoulder and 
gesturing toward a second shuttle where Deitra could make out the glittering 
multi-faceted eyes of several Ovions as they moved busily back and forth from 
the opening of the mine to shuttle, "they're loading the next shipment." 

"Shipment of /what/?" Deitra spoke into Apollo's ear, glancing around them, 
sidearm still poised to respond to the metallic glint of Cylon armour in the 
starlight, "we need a sample. If we don't get one now, we'll have to send back 
another patrol." 

"We'll make our way around the clearing toward the shuttle and grab what we can 
without being detected," Apollo scanned the darkness, as Deitra had, for the 
first sign of a returning centurion, "then we cut straight back into the trees, 
/quietly/. Once we make some distance from the clearing, we make for our ships." 

"They're certain to hear us launch, Skipper. We may have glided down without 
setting off any alerts, but we can't launch quietly." 

"We'll time the next shipment that goes out," Apollo lifted his right wrist to 
indicate his chronometer, "the Ovions were told to keep the shuttle traffic 
moving. Like most hive-oriented insectoid species, the Ovions are almost 
compulsively consistent with repetitive actions. We time the lull between 
shipments, then we wait with our vipers and launch a fraction of a micron behind 
them. Hopefully, their own shuttle's turbos will mask the more distant sounds of 
/ours/. 

"I'm ready when you are, Skipper," Deitra checked her weapon and stared grimly 
into Apollo's eyes, "you want to lead?" 

Apollo smiled fondly at Deitra's characteristic bravado, nodding his assent and 
gesturing with a lift of his chin as they moved together, making their slow and 
arduously silent way around the perimeter of the open area within which the 
Ovions worked. 

"Nothing fancy, Lieutenant," the Colonel whispered, "we grab a rock or two, then 
we get back home to report." 

"Aye," Deitra's barely audible reply was the last word that either of them spoke 
until they had completed their mission and then slipped away into the trees, 
running swiftly as they made for their ships, to await the masking sound of the 
Ovions' turbos and launch their vipers into space, determined to elude detection 
by the enemy and return to the Galactica to warn the Colonial Fleet of the 
tangible and ominous enemy threat that they had discovered on an otherwise 
apparently harmless planet. 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene One 


"Are you certain you're up to travelling, Lieutenant?" Commander Tigh's paternal 
concern was evident in his tone, as he stood upon the deck of the Pegasus Alpha 
Launch Bay with his hands crossed over the fabric of the dark blue uniform tunic 
that defined the elegantly angular planes of his chest. He gazed sternly 
downward into the pale blue eyes of his currently furloned Bridge Officer, the 
daughter of his fellow Commander, and the mother of the youngest of the populace 
of the Battlestar Pegasus, the infant for whom Tigh had been designated as one 
of a select few legal Protectors and Guardians, the infant who bore the name of 
a young man with whom Tigh had once had a similar relationship, Athena's beloved 
younger brother, Zac, the first of the warriors who had been killed by the enemy 
at the onset of the massacre that had heralded the onset of the Destruction of 
the Twelve Colonies of Man, some four yahrens past, when Tigh had still been a 
Colonel and the Executive Officer of the Battlestar Galactica. 

"Commander," Athena looked up fondly into the deep brown eyes of her Senior 
Officer, "Zac is almost three daily cycles old, and it perfectly fine health. 
You may not be willing to clear me for bridge duty, let alone active flight 
status, but a shuttle ride to the Galactica is something that we can manage," 
she tilted her head, studying the face of a man who had been a part of her 
family for as far back as she could recall, her father's closest friend and 
faithful comrade, as well as a mentor to and informal protector, much like an 
uncle or second father, of Adama's and Ila's children. She glanced toward the 
open hatchway of the small military shuttle where Corporal Komma, Doctor Roman, 
and the two Guardian Drones awaited her, "Komma assures me that the drones can 
maintain the energy shield around a moving shuttle, and you know full well that 
Doctor Wilker is quite adamant that Zac, Sheba and Artemis must all be within a 
few metrons of one another for whatever it is he's planning to do. Either /we/ 
go over /there/, or Sheba, Artemis and Muffit come over /here/. Chameleon and 
Wilker believe that they may have a means of realigning the defensive matrix, it 
makes the most sense for us to have the Guardian Drones escort Zac to the 
Galactica, where they've been compiling the hard data and apparently 
retrofitting some electronic equipment." 


"Of course you're right, Lieutenant," Commander Tigh smiled grimly, sighing with 
reluctant assent, uncrossing his arms and reaching to grasp her slender 
shoulders with his gracefully formed hands, his long fingers slightly squeezing 
her delicate frame, his dark eyes brightening as he smiled down at the infant, 
Zac, who lay quietly sleeping, wrapped securely in a soft blanket within the 
embrace of his mother's deceptively strong arms, "I suppose I find it difficult 
not to worry about my crew," Tigh's attempt to lighten her burden of anxiety by 
downplaying his fatherly concern evoked a soft chuckle to emerge from Athena's 
smiling lips. 

"Your crew will be fine, you big faker, Sir," Tigh's face registered a mock 
expression of disapproval at her playfully insubordinate tone, then laughed and 
proffered a cheek as she kissed him swiftly, affording him one last 
conspiratorial smile and whispering quietly, "I won't tell them what a softy you 
really are, Commander." 

"Just be careful, Lieutenant," Tigh effected a posture of annoyed disapproval 
that made Athena smile even more broadly, his warm, rich voice belying his 
attempt at authoritative intimidation with a young woman who had been as a 
daughter to him in the yahrens since her birth, an event that the dark Commander 
remembered well, barely more than two deca-yahrens ago on the planet of origin 
that each of the two had once called home, Caprica, "I don't need one of my 
ranking bridge officers flying into danger. We're still sorting out the crew 
assignments as more of the Section Leaders are getting their departments up and 
running. Cain's skeleton crew laid the foundation during the Infrastructure 
Section's refit, but we've still a way to go before our support sections are 
operating as they should be. The medical complex alone needs at least a dozen 
more support staff, and don't get me started on the duty rosters for the 
squadrons." 

"I know," Athena shook her head, "I've seen the master duty rotation parameters 
that Bojay and Starbuck have been working on," Athena and Tigh recalled together 
the often harried expressions of the Primary Squadron Commanders of the Fleet's 
two Protectors, the Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus, as Captain Bojay and 
Captain Starbuck had, every Fifth Day or Third Day, camped out together before a 
large display monitor, in whatever conference or other large chamber aboard 
either of the battlestars was most readily available to them, to pore over the 
carefully positioned lines that formed a network of graphic displays 
representing the ranking and duty rotation distributions of both seasoned and 
newly commissioned Warriors of the Colonial Fleet into a semblance of a workably 
balanced structure. Athena pondered inwardly the odd, even ironic, humour of 
destiny that had moved her to evolve from an existence as a young warrior quite 
hopelessly in love with her elder brother's best friend, to her life as it was 
now, aboard the Battlestar Pegasus, with a husband and a son, serving under the 
man who had been another father to her for the entirety of her young and 
eventful life, "though I admit that it gives one a certain sense of satisfaction 
to see Captain Starbuck doing his own administrative duties. Even /he/ isn't 
charming enough to convince anyone to take on such a mind-numbing balancing task 
for him, though Apollo has pity on him occasionally and gives him a hand." 

"Well," Tigh smiled indulgently at Athena's dry humour, recalling the heartache 
that he had seen in those eyes when it had become clear, those short yahrens 
ago, not only to her, but to everyone who cared to notice, that Starbuck had 
rejected her for Cassiopeia. Tigh understood the tiny fragment of unforgiveness 
over which Athena's broken heart had healed, a fragment of a past injury that 
would be a part of her history forever. The Commander turned to gaze toward the 
shuttle, where the Guardian Drones waited, like sentinels crouched silently at 
either side of the open hatchway, "you'd better get going, Lieutenant. The 
sooner you get there, the sooner we can get you both safely back. Captain 
Bojay's patrol has been redirected to Galactica Landing Bay Alpha. He should be 
touching down in just a few centons." 

"Affirmative, Commander," Athena took a deep, cleansing breath, as had become a 
habit for her to effect a clarity of thought, in part due to her habit of 
meeting with her brother, Colonel Apollo, in the Physical Recreation Section 
adjoining the crew quarters of the Pegasus, every few daily cycles to share in 
the practice of various sets of martial arts and other military style defensive 
ground force maneuvers, then sharing in a few centons of controlled breathing 
and meditation. It was at these times that brother and sister shared the only 
private time they usually had between them, a quiet time to share also in the 
remembrance of the loss that they two had shared, the loss that each one felt 
and understood sharply, as did no other, the loss of their much loved and missed 
younger brother, the third of a trio that would never again be complete, the 
namesake of Athena's son, Zac. Athena nodded simply to her Commander as she 
silently exhaled and turned to take her leave of him, moving upward and then 
through the hatchway of the shuttle, the two Guardian Drones moving smoothly to 
follow as the hatch began to close. Tigh returned her nod, then turned without 
fanfare and began to walk briskly toward the access to the corridor that would 
take him back to rejoin Colonel Tolen and Lieutenant Athena's relief, Officer 
Hilani, atop the command platform of the ship that he had commanded with his 
usual elegant prowess as a Colonial Warrior of considerable experience, this 
last half yahren, since the death of its former commanding officer, the 
legendary Commander Cain. 

/crash/ 

Tigh's brisk pace and contemplative thoughts were interrupted by a sudden 
assault of sound and light upon his senses as the alert klaxon sounded 
throughout the ship and the lighting around him turned a deep, and intimately 
familiar shade of emergency red. Tigh's well-muscled legs carried him now at a 
running pace as he resumed his course for the bridge, silently willing the Lords 
of Kobol to get Athena's barely launched shuttle to the landing bay aboard the 
Galactica before whatever circumstance had evoked the alert might have an 
opportunity to threaten both it, and its vulnerable cargo. 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Two 


"Things could be worse, Skipper," Lieutenant Deitra's thin-lipped grimace 
expressed her reluctant acceptance of her confinement in the quarantine chamber 
that she and Colonel Apollo now shared in the depths of the Galactica's medical 
complex. 

"Oh?" Apollo studied the rectangular panels of transparent tylium that formed an 
elongated cube within which the two warriors now lounged side by side, with only 
a metron between them, on identical utilitarian sleeping platforms, their 
exposed accommodation allowing for outside observation by medical officers and 
visitors from the outer gallery of the chamber, a two metron wide walk way that 
was in turn contained by four imposing outer bulkheads formed of double-layered 
tylinium alloy. The Colonel turned to glance into his wingman's dark eyes, 
managing a wry grimace of his own, "How's that?" 

"They might have decided to make the turbo flush walls transparent as well." 

The two warriors turned their heads, together silently contemplating the 
hatchway that led into the small turbo flush chamber that had afforded them the 
only privacy to be had for what measure of time had seemed to them to be several 
centars from the moment that they had been whisked roughly from the 
decontamination chambers on Alpha Landing Bay by a large team of medical 
officers, technicians and Colonial Military and Council Security Officers, all 
of them wearing self-contained suits of a sort used by emergency personnel when 
handling potentially hazardous chemicals. At the sounding of a priority alert by 
the sensors located within the decontamination chambers that the two warriors 
had entered within centons of arriving in the launch bay, having already 
transmitted their initial report to Commander Adama from their ships before 
arriving home, the Colonel and his wingman had been abruptly snatched from the 
chambers by multiple sets of strong, thickly gloved hands and rushed by the 
shortest route possible into the Life Station, where they had been stripped of 
their uniforms and outfitted with nondescript tunics and trousers that one of 
the technicians had shoved wordlessly into their arms as they were dragged 
quickly along the corridor past the Term Care Section and pushed through the 
transparent hatchway of the quarantine chamber in which they now waited, still 
uncertain, and more than a little concerned, as to the reason that they had been 
deposited there. 

"We should have checked out the mine," Apollo spoke distractedly, taking Deitra 
momentarily off guard with his sudden change of subject, "the Ovions might have 
a hive down there, feeding chambers," the Colonel and his wingman mirrored the 
same grim expression, each silently remembering their individual encounters with 
the horrors that had awaited the survivors of the Destruction of the Colonies 
when they had escaped to what had first appeared to be a welcome respite offered 
by the Ovions at Carillon. 

"We did the right thing, Apollo," Deitra said flatly, lifting a delicately 
sculpted eyebrow and continuing to stare into the Colonel's eyes, seeing the 
guilt that sometimes revealed itself there to the people who knew him, the guilt 
of having been unable to save those that he had lost, especially those who had 
fallen under his command, "If we'd gone into that mine, we likely wouldn't have 
made it out. There was too much activity near the entrance and we had to get 
back here to warn everyone," Deitra's tone of admonishment evoked a small smile 
from the Colonel, who did not fail to hear the affection behind it. Deitra had 
become, in the three and one half yahrens that he had come to know her, one of 
the few people that populated Apollo's tight circle of intimate friends. She had 
been one of the warriors who had fought beside him through his marriage to and 
the tragic loss of his first bride, Serina, had indeed been there on Kobol, 
standing before the crumbling tomb from which Adama, Apollo and Serina had 
barely escaped, standing along with Starbuck and Adama when Serina had been 
struck down from behind by a laser blast from an enemy rifle, thrown to the sand 
before Apollo's feet into the agonizing spasms of a painfully terminal wound. 
Deitra had also been there to join the deathwatch vigil with those closest to 
Apollo, standing stoically outside the small chamber in the Galactica's medical 
complex where he had said his final farewell to his dying wife. The dark 
Lieutenant leaned forward, looking even more deeply into her friend's green 
eyes, "We'd have never made it out of that mine, and as far as one of us staying 
behind, Skipper, that was never an option. You can't throw your life away 
without at least having a few more facts to base the decision on. Besides, there 
are too many people who need you /here/," Deitra smiled, lifting both brows this 
time, managing to coax the Colonel to afford her a broader smile in return, 
intent on reminding him that she had been there, not only for the painful times, 
but for the happier ones as well, having embraced his wife Sheba as one of her 
own, a refugee warrior from another battlestar, accepted her warmly, as had all 
of the women who had so briefly served in battle beside Serina, many of whom 
were now Valkyries, "Valkyrie Leader would never forgive me if I came back from 
a patrol without you." 

"I wish someone would come in and tell us why we're here," Apollo lay back on 
the utilitarian sleeping platform, loosely crossing the ankles of his 
athletically muscled legs and leaning on one elbow to continue facing Deitra, 
who had adopted a similar position across the width of the transparent 
quarantine chamber, "I hope this is just a precautionary measure against a 
potential exposure to something. I'm not liking the prospect of staying in here 
for more than a few centars at a time," the Colonel grinned boyishly, an 
expression that was rarely seen on his face, even by those few people whom he 
trusted and felt at ease with, "no offense to the company, Wingman." 

"No offense taken, Skipper," Deitra gazed distractedly over Apollo's shoulder, 
through the transparent panel that formed one of the lengthways walls of the 
inner chamber, watching the double-thick hatchway that was the only ready access 
into the Quarantine Section, "I'm getting a little jumpy, myself," the 
Lieutenant shifted her gaze to look once more into Apollo's eyes, "do you think 
the ore we collected is what triggered the alert?" 

"It didn't register any appreciable levels of electromagnetic radiation, mutated 
or otherwise, " Apollo sighed and shrugged frustratedly, "I don't see how it 
could have any of the toxic properties of the ore that we found on the 
artificially constructed planet. It can't be the same substance that killed 
Cain, and nearly killed so many others. It doesn't look anything like the sharp, 
black crystals from that other planet. If we'd been exposed directly to anything 
like that, it would take a few days for the dementia and the physical symptoms 
to set in, but the ore would have registered on the magnetic matrix recognition 
sensors of our scanning units," the Colonel pursed his lips and revealed an 
expression rife with fear, "I /can't/ have brought a physical manifestation of 
Iblis' energy matrix back to the Fleet." 

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Skipper," Deitra addressed Apollo's fears head-
on, indeed she was one of the few people from which he was likely to accept this 
measure of personal latitude, "the kids are all going to be fine. I'd put a 
secton's pay on Starbuck's family chronicle wagering pool for that permutation, 
and even if there /is/ something wrong with that ore, it will have been 
contained. We followed decontamination procedures, Apollo," the Colonel managed 
another small smile, grateful for the anchoring calm of Deitra's confident tone, 
"if that sample we brought with us is the problem, then Wilker will have it 
jettisoned and destroyed, just like the crystalline formations that we scraped 
out of the hulls of the Pegasus and the Cheops, then vapourized with our vipers' 
laser cannons." 

Of course, you're right," Apollo put forth a determined effort to disperse the 
cloud