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 of doubt that had settled over him, "I just wish that we weren't stuck in 
here with no . . ." 

Apollo's words were cut short by the /swish/ of the outer hatchway of the 
Quarantine Section. The Colonel and his wingman each swung their legs over the 
edges of their respective sleeping platforms and stood together, their bare feet 
moving silently over the transparent tylium panel that formed the deck of the 
inner chamber that they occupied as they came to a stop, standing side by side 
as Doctor Paye and Lab Technician Calvin entered the observation area, Captain 
Starbuck and Lieutenant Boomer close behind them. 

"Well, well, well," Captain Starbuck drawled as he hooked his fingers over the 
edge of his gun belt, a bright toothy smile crossing his face, "don't /you two/ 
look cozy in there." 

"Very funny, Starbuck," Apollo adopted the long-suffering tone that often 
punctuated one of Starbuck's amiably taunting remarks, particularly when said 
remark was directed at his best friend, the Colonel, "have you come to get us 
out of here?" 

"That's right, Colonel," Lieutenant Boomer stepped forward to stand beside 
Starbuck, his hands on his hips in a posture similar to the Captain's, "Paye and 
Calvin here have come to perform some final precautionary scans, then you'll be 
cleared to join the rest of us in the main chamber of the Life Station," Boomer 
shared an enigmatic glance with Starbuck at the sight of Apollo's inquisitively 
lifted eyebrow. 

"Sheba and the kids are fine, Apollo, Zac included," Starbuck smiled comforting 
at his friend through the barrier of the transparent panel between them, "Wilker 
and Chameleon have promised to explain it to all of us once we get you two out 
of that box." 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Three 


"Ah, Colonel! Lieutenant!" the mournfully monotone greeting voiced by Doctor 
Wilker at the arrival of Apollo and Deitra precipitated a turning of heads among 
the large group that stood assembled near the center of the main chamber of the 
Battlestar Galactica's Life Station. Apollo scanned the group of faces, 
exchanging glances of confusion with Deitra as the two stepped inside, allowing 
Starbuck, Boomer, Paye and Calvin to enter through the hatchway behind them. 

"What . . ." his family, all of them, stood gathered before him, Adama, Athena 
and Bojay, little Zac swaddled in a blanket in his father's arms, Boxey and 
Artemis, and behind them, her hand resting on their son's shoulder, a look of 
abject relief in her brown eyes . . . "Sheba?" she moved forward and embraced 
him briefly, smiling as she stepped back, running the fingers of one hand 
through her shining light brown hair, an indication to him that though she was 
relieved to see him, anxious emotions still plagued her consciousness, "will 
someone please tell me what's going . . ." 

A high pitched squeal was evoked by his words as his yahren old daughter 
laughingly recognized the barefoot man in the military medical issue tunic and 
trousers, who had captured her attention by embracing her mother, as the father 
who usually appeared to her in the more familiar uniform of a Colonial Warrior. 
Apollo turned and skillfully fielded the small projectile that had catapulted 
herself into his arms, echoing her laughter with his own, eerily similar, though 
much deeper tones, and smiling into her small, dark face as she placed a tiny 
palm on either side of his face and smiled happily in return, peering into his 
face intently, her bright green eyes a startlingly near match to the shade of 
his own. 

"Hey, Baby! I don't suppose that /now/ would be a good time for you to say, 
'Daddy'," the Colonel spoke dryly as he waited for the first and, thus far, only 
word in his daughter's vocabulary to predictably emerge from her lips. 

"Boomer!" the little girl spoke determinedly, giggling with a typical toddler's 
toothy smile, then slipped her arms around her father's neck, snuggling 
comfortably against his shoulder as he cradled her to him, holding her securely 
within the crook of his right arm. 

"I didn't think so," Apollo and Sheba turned together to glance thin lipped, in 
mock disgust, at Lieutenant Boomer, who returned their pained expressions with a 
wide eyed look of exaggerated innocence, and an expressive shrug of his broad 
shoulders. Apollo turned once more, this time to face Commander Adama, "Father, 
what's going on here? Has this got something to do with the mine we discovered? 
Have the Cylons attacked? Why were Deitra and I hauled into quarantine by that 
mob of hazard suited . . ." 

"Have patience, my son," Adama's firm tone captured the silent attention of 
everyone in the chamber, "as our current protocols require, the Fleet was 
brought to alert status the centon that we received your transmission reporting 
confirmed enemy activity within patrol range. Commander Tigh and I had no sooner 
reduced the initial alert status order to a less critical battle readiness 
level, when your decontamination chamber alarms were triggered by, well, Doctor 
Wilker has insisted that we all be gathered together to be briefed with findings 
that may answer some of our questions," the older man turned, gesturing toward 
the diminutive scientist, who stepped forward from where he stood, beside 
Starbuck's father, Chameleon, between them, a portable utility platform, stuffed 
to overflowing capacity with what appeared to have become an habitual stack of 
plaston transparencies and reams of fibre paper print outs, each one having been 
carefully catalogued and marked with a symbology that was understood in full 
only by the two quirky men who had been poring over them together. 

"You will be pleased to know, Colonel, that you and Lieutenant Deitra are free 
of the toxins and symptoms that we've been testing you for over the last five 
centars that we've had you under observation in quarantine," Wilker appeared 
unmoved by the open-mouthed looks of outrage on Apollo's and Deitra's faces, 
"though the ore that you brought back from your patrol /did/ trigger the 
decontamination alarms, it is /not/ harmful, /not/ identical to the toxic 
electromagnetically irradiated ore that we have encountered in previous 
instances. Wilker extended a finger to indicate a tray atop a second portable 
platform, upon it, two fist-sized chunks of light grey rock, open to the 
atmosphere of the chamber in which the group now stood, the rocks that Apollo 
and Deitra had scooped from the ground as the two had fled to their vipers to 
warn the Colonial Fleet of the Ovion mining operation, and the Cylon presence 
that they had stumbled upon during their patrol. 

"But why did the ore trigger the alarms?" Apollo unconsciously shifted his grip 
on his daughter, lifting her small form slightly upward to rest more securely 
over his shoulder as she tightened her chubby arms around his neck and began to 
doze into sleepfulness, "how can you be certain it's safe?" 

"All in good time, my boy," Chameleon interjected and stepped forward to join 
Doctor Wilker, reaching up to touch Artemis' cheek with a gentle finger, smiling 
over Apollo's shoulder at his son, Captain Starbuck, then lowering his hand and 
clearing his throat, turning to address Captain Sheba, "before we go any 
further, there is another, more immediate finding that we have agreed we /must/ 
share with you," Chameleon turned to mirror an enigmatic glance from Wilker, who 
nodded gravely in what appeared to be silent accord. Chameleon looked once more 
into Sheba's brown eyes, his voice becoming very soft and soothing, "Athena and 
Apollo do not carry the targeted genomic structure," Starbuck's father placed a 
gentle hand upon each of her shoulders as he continued speaking, assuming a look 
of empathetic encouragement when he saw the fear that began to creep over her 
face, "it's /you/, Sheba. /Your/ genomic structure is the one that the enemy 
signal appears to be targeting More specifically, it is your childrens' 
prepubescent variant of the genetic structure from your paternal line that is 
attracting the transmission." 

"But that doesn't make any sense," Athena spoke up suddenly, her brows furrowed 
in confusion, "if the enemy is targeting Sheba's family line, her genetic matrix 
as it is manifested in her prepubescent offspring, then why is /our/ son being 
targeted? Zac is related to Sheba by marriage, not blood." 

"Yes, that's true," Doctor Wilker moved to stand before Athena, his gaze resting 
upon the infant that Bojay still cradled in his arms, standing beside his wife, 
both of the young parents exchanging confused glances, as did most of the others 
in the large group now gathered around the Galactica's mournful Chief Science 
Officer, "and that is why I had Chameleon look through the data once more, 
specifically noting little Zac's paternal genetic patterns and Artemis' maternal 
line," Wilker turned and nodded once more at Chameleon, who maintained his 
gentle grasp upon Sheba's shoulders as he spoke the words that he and Wilker 
were clearly taking care to choose with precision, "we have discovered that you 
and Bojay have a paternal parent in common. Captain Bojay is your brother, 
Sheba. You and he share the same father. Doctors Salik and Roman each confirmed 
our findings, just a few centons ago." 

The silence in the room seemed to become charged with the astonishment that 
moved over the group in the Life Station. 

"But, if Father had . . ." Sheba blinked reflexively as Chameleon and Wilker 
both moved aside, clearing the metron of space between Bojay and Sheba, the two 
friends and comrades who had been so close for so long staring blankly at one 
another as though meeting for the first time. Sheba shook her head, unable to 
alter her shocked expression, "It's not true. He would have /told/ me. He would 
have told /us/, Bojay!" 

"Unless he didn't know," Bojay spoke distractedly as he looked down into the 
face of his sleeping son, then returned his attention to Sheba, watching as 
Apollo moved with concern to place a supporting left arm across the small of the 
obviously weak-kneed Valkyrie Leader's back, still holding Artemis with his 
right. Bojay's face took on a strange expression as he continued to speak, 
realization beginning to settle over his mind, "Sheba, I'm five yahrens older 
than you are. Your parents were married only a two yahrens before you were born, 
isn't that right?" he paused as Sheba nodded dumbly, "you know the story, Sheba, 
my mother told me that my father had died before I was born." 

"Why would she lie to you? Why would she keep you from /him/, not tell him that 
he had a son?" Sheba leaned heavily against her husband as he tightened his 
steady supporting hold on her shock-numbed form, Cassiopeia rushing forward from 
where she had stood behind the Colonel with her arm linked loosely in 
Starbuck's, to mirror Apollo's action on Sheba's other side and catch the 
Captain as she slid downward, settling dazedly into a small, cushioned chair 
that Calvin now unceremoniously shoved beneath her, "Why?" Sheba suddenly placed 
a hand on her chest, a great heaving exhalation of emotion causing a deep gasp 
to escape her still parted lips, "Oh my god!" she smiled incongruously as hot 
tears began to flow down her cheeks, "Bojay! This means that I . . . I have a 
brother!" 

Bojay carefully settled his infant son into Athena's arms, moving to kneel 
before Sheba, his faithful friend and sister of his heart, to embrace her as the 
sister of his blood as well. 

*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Four 


"Father?" Colonel Apollo turned at the sound of his son's voice reaching him 
from the edge of the open hatchway to where the Galactica's Executive Officer 
stood fastening his belt at the center of the small utility space adjoining 
Doctor Salik's office chamber, having had his flight uniform returned to him, 
tested and cleared for hazardous materials, by a medical technician from the 
Quarantine Section, allowing him to discard the medical issue tunic and trousers 
that he had been wearing, as had Deitra, who had retired to another nearby 
chamber to change, since the beginning of their shared confinement in the 
quarantine chamber, a good eight centars previously. 

"Hey, Son," Apollo spoke softly as he donned his jacket, then knelt on the deck 
before the boy, reaching to pull him into a firm embrace. Father and son held 
one another for a moment, until the Colonel moved back to take two small hands 
into his own, staring with a gentle smile into Boxey's eyes, the eyes so like 
Serina's that there were moments when the Colonel could see her image there, 
fleetingly brief in a wisp of a peripheral mist, but clearly enough that he 
could make out her arrestingly beautiful face, smiling sadly, though lovingly, 
reminding him that it was her death that had precipitated Apollo rediscovering a 
faith that he had never held so closely to his heart until he had felt the 
unbearably painful prospect of living on without her. His need to believe that 
her spirit still existed, in some form that was forever connected to his, and to 
Boxey's, had moved him to rediscover a system of belief that he had once pushed 
aside, scorned as illogical, having no basis in known fact. His mind shot him 
back to a moment, on a twilit slope of sand and rubble, staring up at the ruins 
of the ancient temple of the last of the Great Lords of the Planet Kobol, 
holding her from behind as she had turned with that sultry, and lovingly mocking 
expression, smiling seductively at him through the darkness, so warm, so alive, 
and so much in love, as he had been in return, teasingly calling him, 'dear 
practical', intent on convincing him that there was something important to be 
found in Adama's mysticism, /I only wish that it hadn't taken losing you, my 
love, for me to find my way/, "tell me something, Boxey," Apollo pulled his 
thoughts back to the present, tucking his complicated and bittersweet 
remembrance away for another time when he could peer privately into that piece 
of him that would forever belong to Serina, "what was it that made you decide to 
start calling me 'Father' instead of 'Dad'?" 

"I guess it just started coming out that way. I'll have to start using a more 
formal title when I'm sixteen anyway, when I can enlist in the Cadet Corps. Do 
you mind?" Boxey tilted his head, studying his father's bright green eyes with a 
characteristically playful grin, the mist returning for a fraction of a micron 
with a reflection of the boy that Apollo had first met those brief four yahrens 
ago in the wake of the Destruction of Caprica, so close and yet so distant from 
the boy of nearly eleven yahrens that stood before him now, "you're not feeling 
old, are you, /Dad/?" 

"No," Apollo flashed a toothy smile at the boy's inimitable sense of comedic 
timing, "at least I wasn't until you mentioned it, and cadet training is more 
than five yahrens off yet, young man," he tousled the boy's chronically 
untrimmed hair, "do your Father a favour, Son, and don't be in /too/ much of a 
hurry to grow up," the warrior stood and ushered Boxey into Doctor Salik's 
vacant office chamber, sitting on the edge of the small desktop as Boxey jumped 
into the upholstered depths of the Doctor's favourite chair, "how are you 
holding up, Son?" Boxey looked up to once more gaze into those bright green eyes 
that seemed to read him so well at times, as Apollo continued speaking, "there's 
been a lot to take in over the last couple of daily cycles." 

"Do you think that Grandpa Cain knew about Bojay really being Mom's brother from 
birth?" 

"I don't think so, Boxey," Apollo smiled inwardly at Boxey's sometimes abrupt 
habit of cutting through the felgercarb and coming directly to the point, a 
practice that he came by honestly from his own maternal bloodline, "even if he'd 
kept a secret like that for some reason we can't know, he surely would have told 
Sheba and Bojay, made certain that /someone/ knew before he went away last 
yahren," Apollo placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, "I think that it's far 
more likely that Bojay's mother, for her own personal reasons, kept the truth 
from everyone, although it's difficult for me to imagine why. Perhaps we'll 
never know," Apollo assumed a quiet look of contemplation, "but, the one thing I 
/do/ know, is that your Mother is going to need us to be strong for her right 
now." 

"And you have been," father and son turned to regard Captain Sheba where she had 
stepped quietly to lean against the open hatchway of the office chamber, her 
hands crossed over her ample, uniformed chest and a wistful smile crossing her 
face. 

"How long have /you/ been standing there?" Apollo shared a nod with Boxey, 
leaning down to kiss the hair that continually resisted all efforts to stop it 
from falling over the boy's brow, then moved to slip an arm loosely around his 
wife's only slightly thickened waist, hopeful, in spite of the fears that he 
shared with her for the safety of their children, thinking of the two newest 
members of their family who had begun to grew within her, "I thought that Doctor 
Salik had you resting in a quiet chamber for a while." 

"I'm fine. It was just a big shock, and Bojay and I were both taken off guard, 
but I'm certain that we'll be alright. It's a little difficult to process 
everything that's happened, and to have that damned transmission endlessly 
blasting at us from out of nowhere with nothing but three little drones to hold 
it at bay," Apollo and Boxey watched in sorrowful silence as Sheba lost her 
assumed veneer of calm, unable to maintain the bravado that she had been relying 
on, perhaps even hiding behind, and began to sob in large dry gulps of air. 


"Don't worry, Mom," Boxey sprang from the chair to join his parents at the 
hatchway, slipping his arms around the crook of his second mother's arm, peering 
up at her earnestly, inwardly willing her to smile once more, "Muffit and the 
other two Guardian Drones are maintaining the defensive shield around the whole 
medical complex. They'll keep Artemis and Zac and the babies safe until Doctor 
Wilker finds a way to stop the signal." 

"You know, Boxey," Sheba rested a gentle palm against the boy's cheek, smiling 
down at him through her tears, swallowing hard to regain her composure, "I don't 
believe I've ever told you what a great kid you are." 

"Sure you have, plenty of times," Boxey's ingenuous faith had broken through a 
small measure of the darkness of spirit that had refused to release her from the 
moment that the alien transmission had begun it's malevolent assault upon the 
grandchildren of Adama and Cain, "and you agreed to be my Mom, didn't you?" The 
boy laughed suddenly as the smile widened across Sheba's tear-stained face, 
extending his small hand, index finger pointed directly at the uniformed chest 
of his father, the Colonel, "and you were even willing to take /Father/ as part 
of the deal!" 

Sheba sputtered ignominiously with sudden snorting laughter at the look of 
stunned indignation that was chased across her husband's face by a grudgingly 
boyish smile, clapped her hand over her mouth and nose and giggled fitfully as 
she and the son of her heart shared a moment of lovingly mischievous hilarity at 
Apollo's amusedly horrified expense. 

"Well," the Colonel gazed with mock admonishment from one set of brown eyes to 
another, pausing for a moment to consider, as a deep, primal emotion expanded 
within his chest, that they were /his/, his wife, his son, his family, and how 
lucky he felt to be with them, the muscles of his jaw tightening as he inwardly 
renewed his determination that no harm should come to them, or any of the others 
that he loved and desperately desired to protect, then gestured with a slight 
wave of his hand toward the small corridor that opened onto the Life Station, 
"now that I have my clothes back, if not my dignity, perhaps we'd better get 
back out there and see if there's been any progress made with the . . ." 
Apollo's words were cut short by the sudden arrival of a breathless Cassiopeia. 

"Sheba!" the blonde woman smiled brightly as she reached for her friend's hand, 
giving it a firm, encouraging squeeze, and sharing a hopeful smile with Apollo 
and Boxey as well, "Doctor Wilker thinks he might have found something! 
Commander Adama has asked me to fetch you, all of you. Everyone's waiting for us 
out in the main chamber." 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Five 


"Commander," Apollo emerged into the main chamber of the Galactica's Life 
Station, following his wife, his son, and Cassiopeia to join Adama where the 
older man stood near the edge of the group now gathered around the nearby 
diagnostic station, waiting with the others as Doctors Paye, Salik, Wilker and 
Roman conducted a hushed conference together over a display on the diagnostic 
console, "shouldn't at least one of us be on the bridge, Sir?" 

"After we've heard what Doctor Wilker has to say, Colonel," Adama moved quietly, 
pulling Apollo to one side, leaving Sheba, Bojay, Athena, Cassiopeia and the 
children to stand watching as Komma and Calvin crouched on either side of Drone 
One, performing a routine check of the mechanical daggit's still fully 
operational systems. Adama clasped his hands behind his back, pursing his lips 
slightly and furrowing his brow, "as the situation stands, since shortly after 
you and your wingman were released from quarantine, I have only just arrived 
/here/ after a relatively uneventful three centars on the bridge with Starbuck 
and Omega," the Commander's solemn eyes betrayed a gleam of amusement as they 
swiftly scanned Apollo from collar to boots and back up regard those bright 
green eyes, the eyes of his mother, Ila, "I see that the Quarantine Section has 
kindly released your clothing as well, my Son. I was initially prepared to have 
someone fetch you and Lieutenant Deitra some fresh uniforms, however, the 
conflict between Doctor Salik and the Civilian Emergency Protocol Enforcement 
Officer after the incident with Agro-Tech Jain cultivating that ore within the 
bulkheads of the Cheops has resulted in. . ." 

"Yes, Father," Apollo interjected dryly, placing his hands on his hips and 
grimacing, his own eyes betraying a hint of amusedly annoyed self-deprecation, 
"Doctor Paye gave both Deitra and myself a detailed briefing as to why we 
weren't to be allowed anything but medical issue tunics and trousers until our 
clothing was returned to us, though we could interact freely with everyone so 
long as we remained in the medical complex. It made no sense to me then, and I 
am certain that it shall remain a cryptic mystery, no matter /who/ tries 
explaining it to me in future. I /do/ know that the Executive Officer shall be 
addressing an urgent need for some streamlining of the administrative excess in 
the medical complex bureaucracy at the next Section Leaders Meeting!" Apollo 
took a deep, cleansing breath, as had become his habit when attempting to 
control his emotions and refocus his mind, while Adama smiled reflexively and 
unlaced his fingers from behind his back to place an arm over his son's sturdy 
shoulders, giving the Colonel a slight shake as the younger man continued 
speaking, all sign of amusement, or annoyance, replaced by an expression of 
gravity as he returned his attention to more immediate concerns, "what about the 
Cylons and the Ovions, Sir? That planet is virtually on a dead reckoning along 
the Fleet's primary course heading and that base ship that they were loading 
with the transport shuttles couldn't have been very far away." 

"I know," Adama's grave tone matched his son's for a moment, "Commander Tigh has 
the situation in hand. Since Zac was shuttled aboard the Galactica, there has 
been no recurrence of the enemy signal aboard the Pegasus. Perhaps that 
circumstance shall serve to give us an advantage of some sort. In any case, 
battle readiness alert is still in effect. The Pegasus' navigation section shall 
contend with the change of course, processing and assigning new navigational 
parameters for all ships and assuming a slow, toric course, detouring the Fleet 
to avoid the planet and its system, and hopefully the Cylons. Starbuck has the 
Galactica's bridge. When I left him a few centons ago, he was coordinating the 
defensive viper wings with Lieutenant Masud over the multi ship network. Silver 
Spar and Red Squadrons are currently patrolling the space surrounding the Fleet. 
Sheba has already sent Deitra and Boomer down to the barracks to lead Valkyrie 
and Blue Squadrons through the next wing rotations," Adama removed his arm from 
Apollo's with an encouraging squeeze, "Fleet security is in good hands while we 
find out what . . ." 

"We're ready for you Commander, Colonel," Doctor Wilker's chronically sorrowful 
monotone captured the attention of all in the chamber as Father and Son, the 
Commander and his Primary Executive Officer, moved together to join the 
assemblage that now formed a rough semi circle before the console of the 
diagnostic station, "now remember, we've still got a lot of data to go through, 
and I must emphasize that our findings are only /preliminary/, based upon 
Chameleon's projections of . . ." 

"Doctor Wilker," Colonel Apollo struggled to swallow the wave of frustrated 
anxiety that had escaped from his lips, turning suddenly at the touch of Sheba's 
trembling hand through the sleeve of his flight jacket where it covered the 
crook of his elbow, a glimmer of a smile crossing his dark features as he 
adjusted his voice to a more subdued volume and placed his own hand over his 
wife's slender fingers, enclosing them protectively with his own and returning 
his sombre attention to the small scientist who stood, wiry arms crossed loosely 
over the pale science officer's uniform that covered the diminutive doctor's 
bony chest. "Doctor Wilker, I am certain that we all appreciate the complexity 
and large quantity of the data that you've had to contend with over the last 
three daily cycles, but if you wouldn't mind, I think that we can all agree to 
keep our minds open to any new facts that may develop if you'll just get /to/ 
it, please," Doctor Wilker could see plainly with his bluish-grey eyes as he 
studied Apollo's face and posture, having known the Colonel literally since the 
day of his birth, that Apollo's confinement in the medical complex had taken its 
toll on the younger man's temper, though Apollo managed to maintain a level tone 
of voice as he continued speaking, "just spit it out, Doctor!" 

"It's the ore," Doctor Wilker uncrossed his arms and reached over to the 
portable platform upon which lay the tray displaying the two rocks that Apollo 
and Deitra had retrieved from the area near the mouth of the Ovion mine that 
they had discovered while on patrol, "it's what set off the decontamination 
alert sensors," Wilker held up a fist sized piece of nondescript grey rock, "it 
has the same elemental matrix as the ore that came from the artificially 
constructed planet," Wilker paused as a palpable thrill of horror moved over the 
group who stood before him, "now hear me out! I'm not saying that this ore is 
the /same/ as the other /toxically irradiated/ ore!" Wilker tossed the rock 
carelessly back onto the tray, then gestured toward the wave frequency indicator 
display that now moved steadily across one of the smaller monitors inset into 
the diagnostic console, "this is the low level energy matrix that is currently 
being given off by these two pieces of rock. /This/, on the other hand," a 
gesturing finger moved to indicate another monitor near the top of the console 
upon which was displayed another, more erratically fluctuating wave, "/this/ is 
a recorded image of the signal that came from the ore that Calvin originally 
used to make the sensor shield that poisoned him, and . . ." 

"It's the energy matrix of the mutated electromagnetic radiation that killed, 
that /murdered/ my father," Sheba said flatly, tightening her grip on her 
husband's arm while he in turn tightened his hold over her hand, "a form of 
which is targeting . . ." she turned to look into first Apollo's and then 
Athena's and finally Bojay's eyes, seeing the reflections of her own fear 
staring back at her, "/our/ children." 

"Yes, but /this/ ore is different," Wilker gestured once more to the first 
monitor nearer to the base of the console where the steady pulse, indicating a 
form of electrical energy, continued to move across the display, "there is 
virtually no trace of any magnetic properties, no oscillating wave frequency 
emanating from this substance. Though there is every indication that this ore 
has also been artificially grown, it has displayed none of the mutated 
properties, such as the blackened appearance and accelerated crystallization 
process, not to mention the effects on the human metabolism, observed in the 
previous samples," Wilker turned to stare intently into Lieutenant Athena's 
eyes, and then returned his gaze to Captain Sheba, silently projecting an air of 
calm and reason, speaking gently into her fearful brown gaze, "I guarantee you 
that this ore poses no danger to any of us, /including/ the children. Though 
they are still being targeted by the transmission that the drones are blocking, 
they are in no way at risk through proximity to /these/ samples." 

"Doctor Wilker," Adama's voice clearly revealed his confusion, "what is it that 
you are telling us? As interesting, and frankly, /disturbing/ as this 
development is, if this material does not pose any immediate danger, then what 
makes it so significant?" 

"I believe that /this/ ore, the same ore that Colonel Apollo's patrol discovered 
the Ovions mining for the Cylons," Wilker crossed his arms once more over his 
slender chest, "I believe that this ore possesses an identical elemental 
structure to the one that would have been exhibited in the ore that we 
previously encountered, /before/ it was mutated by a magnetically based energy 
matrix." 


"Before the entity known as /Iblis/ imprinted his essence upon it," Adama's deep 
voice now revealed a dawning realization, "Doctor, are you telling us that 
/this/ is a sample of the ore from which the artificially constructed planet was 
originally grown, the planet upon which our survey team found clear evidence of 
a Kobollian presence, perhaps even that of the Thirteenth Colony?" 

"Yes, Commander," Wilker nodded mournfully into Adama's steady gaze, as the 
others in the group exchanged confused and troubled glances, "I believe it to be 
so, Sir." 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Six 


"But it doesn't make any sense," Captain Starbuck stood upon the command 
platform of the Battlestar Galactica, thumbs hooked over his gun belt, gazing in 
astonishment at the faces of Commander Adama and Colonel Apollo as they appeared 
in the monitor before him, a background view of the main chamber of the Life 
Station clearly visible behind them. Father and son stared at him grimly through 
the video feed of an isolated multi ship communication relay network connecting 
them from their location in the Galactica's medical complex to the command 
console of the Battlestar Galactica, and to that of the Battlestar Pegasus, 
where Commander Tigh, with an expression of consternation momentarily realigning 
the elegant planes of his face, regarded an identical image to the one that 
Starbuck viewed of the two warriors on the display monitor inset near the center 
of the console atop the command platform of the Battlestar Pegasus, while the 
sound of Starbuck's voice emanated from a nearby audio output port, "why would 
the Colonists have turned around and gone back the way that they came, to that 
particular place, in order to /grow/ an entire planet? To what end? To build the 
temple with the star chamber? Are we missing something? Did the Thirteenth 
Colony alter their course for some reason? Does this mean that we're going in 
the wrong direction? /Are/ we headed for Earth? Were we ever?" 

"The evidence may lend itself to a very different interpretation, Starbuck," 
Adama's grave tone carried clearly over the multi ship relay, "I believe that 
this development may indeed /confirm/ that our current primary heading is 
leading us along the trail left by the Thirteenth Colony, the path to Earth," 
the Galactica's Commander paused, glancing first at the images of Tigh and Tolen 
as he could see them on one small display monitor to the left of the 
communication array, and then to the right, at the figures of Starbuck and Omega 
standing attentively upon the Galactica's bridge, framed before a background 
view of the large transparent tylium panel that displayed a chart of the 
currently known space surrounding the Colonial Fleet, "consider for a moment, 
the possibility that /this/ second planet was constructed /later/ than the first 
one, not /before/." 

"Adama," Commander Tigh's words burst forth over the isolated, three way multi 
ship network with a wave of sudden realization, "that could mean that the 
Thirteenth Tribe left the first planet with a supply of the original ore, taken 
by them /before/ the structure of the planet's artificially cultivated 
crystalline crust was mutated by the toxic electromagnetic energy matrix," there 
was a pause as Tigh assumed a thoughtful expression, "perhaps there is some 
property of the uncontaminated ore that can help us to refine our isolation of 
the enemy transmission!" 

"Precisely what Doctor Wilker has been saying, Tigh," both Commanders of the 
Colonial Fleet had shared a tentative undercurrent of fresh hope in their tones, 
"however, this leaves us with the difficult decision of whether to alter our new 
course heading and return to the planet." 

"We must return," Colonel Apollo set his jaw in an unconscious expression of his 
inner unrest, "Deitra and I didn't stop to see the interior of that mine," Adama 
and Apollo shared a silent gaze, the older man seeing the glimmer of pain that 
passed over his son's bright green eyes, a wound that had been inflicted in that 
moment on the bridge of the Galactica, these four yahrens past, when Apollo had 
stood listening, gazing into Adama's eyes as Tigh had told the young Captain and 
Squadron Commander that his brother, Zac, had been killed by the enemy. Adama 
knew that his one surviving son still struggled with the self-imposed guilt at 
having left his only brother behind at the Ambush of Cimtar, choosing his duty 
over Zac's life, making the possibility that he might have left even one unknown 
victim behind to suffer at the hands of the enemy that had taken so much from 
them all, even more difficult an emotional burden for Apollo to push aside, 
"Father, I know that returning to the Fleet without stopping was the right thing 
for us to do, but there could be sentient beings down there, being victimized, 
/eaten/ by the Ovions, just as /our/ people were at Carillon." 

"The Squadron Commander shall take a recon wing," Starbuck spoke firmly from his 
third of the triad of multi ship relays that formed the network amongst the 
three groups of warriors that now struggled to choose the Colonial Fleet's next 
maneuver, "Valkyrie Leader is consigned to Life Station with Muffit and his pack 
of Guardian Drones until Wilker and my Father make some progress," Starbuck's 
eyes stared into the image of Apollo's face on the monitor before him, "the 
Commander and the Colonel are needed here aboard the Galactica. Boomer and I 
shall head straight for the planet, take a quiet look around, and then come 
straight back," Starbuck lifted a hand, "aaahh-ahhh," an extended index finger 
punctuated his next words, cutting off the protest that he, as well as Adama, 
had anticipated from the demeanour of the Executive Officer, "/Colonel Apollo/ 
may know the way to the mine on the ground, but so does his wingman, /Lieutenant 
Deitra/. /She/ can lead us in. The Colonel and Valkyrie Leader are needed by 
their children in the Life Station, and Masud and Jolly can handle the squadron 
rotations," Starbuck smiled amiably as he laced the fingers of both hands behind 
his back and shared a fleeting glance of exaggerated gravity with Omega and 
Rigel, who both smiled briefly in acknowledgement of the Captain's strategic, 
and habitual ability to escape bridge duty for his preferred duty assignment 
beneath the canopy of a viper, as they continued to work busily at their 
stations on the command platform, listening intently to the voices speaking in 
turns over their headsets and sifting through the data that moved in the form of 
wave patterns and spatial grids across multiple display monitors of the command 
console. Starbuck directed his attention toward Adama, "Commander Adama, Sir, if 
you are agreeable to taking the bridge, I shall order the Recon Patrol to go 
forward." 

"Tigh?" Adama lifted a questioning eyebrow, regarding the angles of his fellow 
Commander's thoughtful face where it now dominated the imaging surface of the 
monitor to the left of the Life Station communication array.. 

"The Captain's plan is sound, Adama," Tigh sighed resignedly, "ideally, I'd 
prefer the Fleet to avoid the planet altogether, however, Wilker's analysis of 
the ore samples changes everything. If the Cylons have an entire base ship 
loaded to capacity with the raw material for . . ." 


"Cassiopeia! Athena, wait, don't touch it!" 

The feed from the Life Station relay went suddenly black, cutting off Tigh's 
words to Adama and effecting a flurry of activity upon the command platforms of 
both battlestars. 

"Adama! Tigh to Galactica! Starbuck! We've lost the relay! Hilani says that her 
console has registered some sort of localized electrical surge!" 

"Life Station! Can anyone hear me? What's happening down there? Commander Tigh! 
I'm going down there!" Captain Starbuck ran for the steps leading down from the 
command platform to the gallery below, his mind unable to dispel the chilling 
sound of Corporal Komma's voice as it had been clearly heard by him crying out 
those two names with a frightening urgency, /Cassiopeia. Athena/, "Omega!" 
Starbuck called back over his shoulder as he made for the hatchway that would 
lead him to the Command Centre Access Junction and an expedited route to the 
Life Station, "Omega! You have the bridge!" Omega and Rigel exchanged grave 
expressions as Omega called out an affirmative response toward Starbuck's back 
as the Squadron Commander disappeared through the hatchway. 

"Omega," Tigh's authoritative tone came through the remaining leg of the 
isolated multi ship network that had been evidently interrupted by an un-
quantified form of electrical energy, "let's get some security down there behind 
the Captain!. The Pegasus has the external defensive network and Fleet 
operations in hand. Galactica Bridge, focus on establishing the situation in 
Life Station. I want a status report right now!" 

"Aye, Commander Tigh," Omega responded crisply, his lean, angular features 
recovering a measure of his habitual stoicism in the face of the unknown, a 
position in which Omega had been assigned by fate, or so he often believed, 
unlike most of the Galactica's other non-combatant warriors, to find himself on 
an almost daily cycle basis since the Galactica had fled the Colonies more than 
four yahrens previously, "I have Colonial Security Chief, Sergeant Croft and his 
team on the way from the Security Section right now, Sir." 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Seven 


"Starbuck!" Cassiopeia's voice washed over the Squadron Commander's senses in a 
tide of relief as he entered the Galactica's Life Station, stopping near the 
center of the chamber beside Commander Adama, mere microns behind the Colonial 
Security force of thirteen men and women who had forced the inoperative main 
hatchway and swiftly formed a circle, weapons at the ready, surrounding and 
methodically studying the group of warriors, technicians, scientists, children 
and three still apparently functioning Guardian Daggit Drones that stood arrayed 
in scattered groups about the large chamber, awash in the dark red and deep 
black shadows of the emergency lighting that coloured the space around them. 

"Commander!" Sergeant Croft stepped forward to stand before Adama, "the bridge 
reports having registered a powerful electrical surge in this chamber. 
Communication is down," the former Colonial Colonel, whose rank had been 
stripped upon his imprisonment for treason, among other crimes, a lifetime ago, 
before the Destruction and his eventual release from the Fleet's Prison Barge, 
as rewarded by the Colonial Military Authority, Commander Adama, upon Croft's 
voluntary contribution to the successful completion of the ground force 
operation upon the wintry planet Arcta, to destroy the Ravishal Pulsar, an ill-
conceived weapon that had threatened the Colonial Fleet barely three quarters of 
a yahren after the Destruction of the Colonies. It had been shortly after the 
return from that chaotically surreal and sorrowful mission, when Croft had 
received his pardon, but found himself at a loss in the midst of his grief over 
the tragic sacrifice of his estranged wife, the medic Leta, who had moved to 
block with her own body a Cylon laser blast that would surely have killed Croft 
had she not intervened. It had been Apollo who, still slowly beginning to emerge 
from the fog of grief that had enveloped him in the sectons after his loss of 
his bride, Serina, determined to afford Croft the new beginning, the opportunity 
for redemption, that Apollo passionately believed that the fallen former 
Garrison Commander had earned, had approached his father, the Commander, and 
requested that Croft be afforded the enlisted rank of Sergeant and the position 
of Chief of Security with authority over the Galactica's Emergency Military 
Security Force and Ground Force Training Section. Though the civilian authority, 
Council Security in particular, had protested at such a position of trust being 
awarded to a rehabilitated convict holding an enlisted rank, Sergeant Croft had 
since proven himself to be an apt leader, as well as a skilled instructor and 
had never given Adama pause to regret the appointment, "Sir!" Croft continued as 
he took in the scene before him, ascertaining in a quick, though thorough visual 
scan of the chamber that there appeared to be no immediate danger, and making a 
mental note of the locations in the chamber of the three children and one 
pregnant woman of the group whose security in particular he had warned his team 
to prioritize, in the event of weapons fire, or any other unanticipated threat, 
"is everyone accounted for?" 

"Boomer!" yahren old Artemis shouted her only word and rushed from her position 
behind her grandfather, to collide solidly with Croft's booted leg, narrowly 
missing an abrupt connection of her backside with the deck in the fraction of a 
micron that it took for the Security Chief to scoop the little girl up to rest 
securely against his solidly muscled and heavily armoured chest, smiling ever so 
slightly into her small, dark, sombre and silently thoughtful face before 
transferring her promptly into Commander Adama's now proffered arms. 

"Yes, Sergeant. No-one appears to have been harmed by the electrical discharge," 
Adama's level tone served to soothe the hyper vigilant attitude with which 
Captain Starbuck and Croft's Colonial Security detail had entered into the red 
murkiness and black shadows of the emergency lighting that still flashed 
silently, though rhythmically throughout the Life Station's interior, "It 
appears as though everyone is alright," as if at Adama's order, the lighting in 
the chamber suddenly returned to standard operating levels, evoking a general 
exhalation of relief. Adama smiled down at his granddaughter reassuringly, then 
handed the child to Colonel Apollo, as he and Captain Bojay stepped forward to 
join Adama, Starbuck and Croft. 

"The drones are still maintaining the defensive energy shield, Doctor Wilker!" 
From across the chamber, Starbuck could hear that Corporal Komma's voice had 
none of the frightening urgency that it had expressed over the multi ship at the 
moment of . . . 

"What's happened here?" Starbuck glanced about the chamber, exhaling softly as 
he caught Cassiopeia's eye where she stood beside Athena, near a portable work 
station over which Doctors Salik, Paye, Wilker and Roman all gathered, Chameleon 
with them, huddled in a softly muttering group, staring down at something that 
Starbuck could not see, "Commander, we heard Komma's voice calling out to 
Cassiopeia and Athena, then . . ." Starbuck turned quickly to Croft, "Sergeant! 
Have someone report our status to Omega on the bridge, then get some portable 
communication equipment in here so that the Techs can re-establish the multi 
ship relay with the bridges of the Galactica /and/ the Pegasus," Starbuck 
returned his attention to Adama as Croft nodded crisply and turned to address 
one of his subordinate Security Officers, "Sir, whatever caused that surge of 
electrical energy must have blown every electrical relay in this chamber." 

"Affirmative, Captain," Croft nodded as he returned to Starbuck's side, "the 
Guardian Drones are the only machines whose electronic components are still 
operational. I presume that is because they have more sophisticated and 
autonomously adaptable redundancy buffers." 

That is correct, Chief," Doctor Wilker's mournful tone interjected, causing the 
five warriors to turn as one and follow Adama to step forward to join the group 
still gathered across the chamber. Adama stepped forward, Apollo beside him, 
still holding Artemis, Bojay on his other side, and Starbuck and Croft close 
behind, as the diminutive scientist continued to speak, "but the Guardian Drones 
are not the /only/ machines that were apparently shielded from the feedback 
surge," Adama and the others peered down at the portable work station, it's flat 
work top supporting, not only the two ore samples that Colonel Apollo's patrol 
had retrieved from the mouth of the Ovion mine roughly one half daily cycle 
previously, but two /other/ items as well. 

"It's the necklace that Artemis found in our quarters down in the crew section 
half a yahren ago, just before Grandpa Cain had to go away," Boxey moved to 
stand between Apollo and Cassiopeia, looking up into Starbuck's face with wide-
eyed wonder, "when Doctor Wilker had Calvin and Komma perform the conductivity 
tests on the ore samples, the amulet started glowing! All the auricon has melted 
away, and underneath, it's the same colour as the ore that Dad and Deitra 
brought back from Patrol!" 

"Glowing?" Starbuck, reflexively placing a protective arm around Cassiopeia's 
slender waist, stared down with confusion as did most of the others in the 
group, at the two pieces of rock and the now dull grey amulet that Cassiopeia 
had torn from her neck at the onset of the electrical surge and the strange 
heatless evapouration of what all had assumed to be a layer of auricon that had 
previously coated the necklace, "and the same thing happened to /that/ as well?" 
Starbuck pointed at the fourth item that lay on the work top, an item with which 
all in the chamber were familiar to varying measures, the ancient book, thought 
to be nearly as old as the Book of the Word, the Field Manual of the Warrior 
Priests of Kobol, the book that Athena had been studying and had carried with 
her from the Pegasus. Inset into its cover was the matching icon to Cassiopeia's 
amulet, the raised metallic symbol that graced the center of the book, the 
ancient symbol of a Guardian that Apollo had recognized, while he had held the 
death watch vigil with Cassiopeia, the two of them waiting, as Boxey and Artemis 
had slumbered nearby and Sheba had sat with the dying Cain in the adjoining 
chamber, the virtually identical symbols that Cassiopeia had realized graced 
both the necklace and the book. 

"Yes," Doctor Wilker said simply, glancing up briefly as Sheba moved away from 
where she had been standing, several metrons behind Komma and the drones, away 
from the bustling activity of Croft's team at the console of the diagnostic 
station near the main hatchway, quietly speaking with Lab-Tech Calvin. The 
Captain combed the fingers of one hand through her shining light brown hair, 
then moved to take her husband's arm, the two of them sharing an enigmatic 
glance as Doctor Wilker continued speaking, addressing Adama with an expression 
that the Commander found quite unreadable, "preliminary analysis with the few 
instruments still operating in the Life Station suggests that these amulets are 
not merely decorative icons, but small /electronic devices/," Wilker paused once 
more to scan the stunned faces that stared at him with rapt astonishment, 
lifting the dull grey ovoid amulet that had formerly graced Cassiopeia's neck 
with a surface of glittering auricon, "Commander Adama. It is my initial 
conjecture that these amulets are machines fashioned to repel a specific type of 
energy pattern," Wilker reached to accept a plaston transparency from 
Chameleon's ready hand, "/this/ pattern." 

"Doctor Wilker," Adama breathed with wonder, "/that/ is a representation of the 
energy matrix that you believe to have caused the mutation in the ore from the 
first planet that we encountered!" the Commander's eyes widened and the muscles 
of his jaw tensed as realization competed with confusion and awe within the 
depths of his warm brown eyes, "Doctor, are you saying that these amulets are 
machines fabricated by the Ancients to repel . . . /Count Iblis/?!" 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Eight 


"How are you feeling, Beautiful?" Colonel Apollo moved to sit by the side of his 
prone wife upon the edge of the sleeping platform in the small observation 
chamber near Doctor Salik's office where she had retired to rest at the doctor's 
stern order, the gruff Chief Medical Officer having noted the signs of stress 
and fatigue that had become apparent to his practiced physician's eye as he had 
studied Captain Sheba's face. 

"I'm fine, Skipper," Sheba rose to lean on her elbow, reaching to touch Apollo's 
dark face with her free hand, "Doctor Salik is an alarmist. How long have I been 
sleeping?" 

"About a centar," Apollo grasped the fingers that touched his face and moved to 
kiss them gently, then bent forward to kiss his wife's forehead as well, 
"Starbuck, Boomer and Deitra left for the planet shortly after Salik sent you in 
here. We'll have a bit of a wait until they're due to report back, so I took the 
opportunity to slip back down here to check on you," the Colonel lifted a finger 
of mock admonishment, "before you ask, /yes/, the children are fine. I left 
Boxey up in the Command Centre with Father and Omega. Artemis and Zac are with 
Athena, Bojay and Cassiopeia out in the main chamber, along with Croft and half 
of his security team," the Colonel attempted a reassuring smile and reached down 
to stroke Sheba's light brown hair away from her face as she laid her head 
against his thigh, anxiety and fatigue evident in the furrowing of her brow and 
the darkness beneath her reddened eyes, "you're thinking about Calvin's visit 
with Baltar, aren't you?" 

"I can't help it," Sheba failed in her attempt to hide her fear, alone with her 
husband within the relatively private confines of the observation chamber, his 
piercing green eyes seeming as though they could see right through her, "Baltar 
referred to Artemis by name . . ." 

"Artemis' destiny shall not be decided by Iblis' evil machinations," Doctor 
Roman entered the small chamber, moving to stand with his hand resting 
comfortingly on Apollo's shoulder, pausing as Sheba rose to a sitting position, 
taking hold of her husband's arm, tucking her legs beneath her and turning to 
face the young medic become doctor with whom she had served aboard her father's 
ship, an alien from the Ships of Light sent to repair the damage that had, 
according to him, been perpetrated over the destiny of the humans of the 
Colonial Fleet, of which Apollo and Sheba were the only two to know of Roman's 
deception, that his position as a Lieutenant and the Pegasus' Chief Medical 
Officer had been earned under an alias as a Sergeant, a field medic who had 
joined the crew of Cain's ship before the Battle of Molecay, before the 
Destruction of the Colonies, another life-time ago, before Sheba and Bojay had 
stumbled upon Apollo and Starbuck on patrol near Gamoray, long before she had 
been evacuated from the Pegasus to the Colonial Fleet, when the daughter of Cain 
had served as Squadron Commander under her Father's command. Sheba's lips pouted 
slightly as she struggled with her conflicting emotions, trusting Roman as a 
proven friend and comrade, yet always aware that his was a multi-faceted agenda, 
not only to defend the malevolently targeted innocents of the Fleet, but to 
restore the continuum of history itself back to some order of destiny that Sheba 
and Apollo had only Roman's word was the right and proper one. Roman could see 
Sheba's fearful thoughts played out in her expression, his voice subdued and 
gentle as he leaned toward her and spoke with quiet conviction, his dark eyes 
staring earnestly into hers, willing her to believe him, "the amulets and the 
Guardian Drones are preventing the transmission from reaching the children." 

"But, for how long? The drones are not invulnerable, and the amulets . . ." 
Sheba said flatly, placing her free hand over her abdomen, her fear for her 
unborn children impossible for her to hide from two such as Apollo and Roman, 
who both knew her so well, "Roman, did /you/ leave that necklace for Artemis to 
find last yahren?" 

"Not me, but another /like/ me, of your acquaintance, in fact," Roman spoke 
cryptically, as he often did, removed his hand from Colonel Apollo's shoulder, 
crossed his wiry, though muscular arms over his chest and moved to lean against 
the edge of the sleeping platform, facing Apollo and Sheba with an ambiguously 
amiable smile, "the amulet was originally used as a defensive shield generator 
by a group from among the Warrior Priests of Ancient Kobol known as the 
Guardians of Time. It, /and/ the amulet from the book shall serve as templates 
for Doctor Wilker and his technicians to fabricate more," Roman tilted his head, 
his smile becoming warmer and his expression softening once more as he looked 
again into Sheba's brown eyes, feeling rather than seeing the fear, the 
lingering scars of guilt over her past acceptance of Iblis' insidious promises 
and glib charms, self-inflicted wounds that reminded her of how near to an 
eternity of darkness she had allowed herself to be led, in her loneliness and 
sorrow in that time when the fate of Cain and the Pegasus, still missing in 
action, had been a painful uncertainty for her, how close she had been, were it 
not for Apollo's willing sacrifice of his life for hers, to becoming another of 
Iblis' willing victims, an undead bride of Mephistopheles, the shame that still 
haunted her consciousness, that even Apollo's expressed and sincere forgiveness 
had never completely dispelled. Roman could see all of this, and much more, in 
the tearful glimmering of those expressive eyes that he had come to know so 
well, his fondness for Sheba evident in his gently soothing tone, "even if the 
transmission continues for a time, the children shall not be exposed to its 
hypnotic effects so long as they are protected by the defensive shielding. The 
Guardian Drones and the amulets are very well shielded, just as the energy 
output of any /one/ of them is sufficient to maintain the shielding around the 
children." 

"What about Baltar?" Colonel Apollo touched the trembling fingers that clutched 
his arm, willing his wife to let go of her fear, his heart aching to comfort 
her, though his own fear threatened to overtake him as well, "why did you have 
Sheba send Calvin down there to interview him? Is Iblis in direct contact with 
Baltar?" the Galactica's Executive Officer leaned forward, a compelling 
intensity emanating from his bright green eyes, "Roman, does Baltar consider 
Artemis a target? Is he lucid enough to . . ." 

"Sheba?" at the sound of Captain Bojay's voice, the three of them turned to 
watch the Pegasus Squadron Commander enter through the chamber's open hatchway, 
Colonel Apollo's question postponed for a later, more opportune moment alone 
with the alien that he knew as Doctor Roman. Bojay moved toward the trio at the 
edge of the sleeping platform, smiling down into Sheba's eyes, the newness of 
their recently discovered lineage as brother and sister still resting awkwardly 
upon the two of them, his own blue eyes now seeming to Sheba so much like those 
of Cain, that she wondered how she could ever have missed the resemblance, "I'm 
sorry to interrupt, but Doctor Wilker would like to do a few more metabolic 
scans of Artemis, Zac, and the . . ." 

/crash/ 

Bojay whirled at the sound of clattering metal and multiple voices, drawing his 
weapon, as did Apollo, Sheba and Roman, as the words spoken by the voice of 
Security Chief Croft carried clearly from the main chamber and through the still 
open hatchway before them. 

"Alert status! Everyone stay near the center of the chamber! I want every man, 
woman and child in this medical complex accounted for immediately! You, there! 
Komma! Fetch Colonel Apollo from the observation chamber! Lab-Tech Calvin! Can 
you open a portable emergency communication relay to the bridge using one of the 
Guardian Drones?" 

"Croft! What is it? What's happened?" Apollo's eyes sought out the familiar form 
of the Galactica's Military Security Chief, as he and Bojay dodged a near 
collision with a wide-eyed Corporal Komma, rushing into the Life Station's main 
chamber, Sheba and Roman close behind them to stop beside Croft, who stood, feet 
planted firmly in an attitude of hyper alertness, laser rifle at the ready, near 
the center of the chamber. 

"Sir, there's been another energy surge," Croft responded grimly, "one of the 
patients has disappeared from the term care section," Croft nodded toward the 
approaching figure of Doctor Paye, "Doctor?" 

"Colonel, it's Agro-Tech Jain," the Doctor shrugged helplessly, his tall, 
angular frame exhibiting a posture of astonishment, "she's disappeared," Doctor 
Paye's gaze moved from Apollo's stunned face, then to Sheba's, knowing well the 
history that these two in particular had with the comatose Jain, a woman who had 
been mysteriously obsessed with the couple since before their marriage, in the 
time when the presence of Count Iblis had used her to attack them, influencing 
this enigmatic woman in some manner that even the aliens from the Ships of Light 
had apparently failed to detect. Paye turned and addressed two others who knew 
Jain's story quite well, "Doctor Salik, Doctor Wilker," Paye paused, his posture 
still betraying his starkly stunned senses, as he turned once more to face the 
highest ranking warrior present, "Colonel Apollo, we can't find a sign of her 
anywhere in the medical complex. Sir, from what my med-techs are telling me, it 
. . . well . . . it appears that Jain may have been somehow /teleported/ out of 
her term care chamber!" 

"Apollo! Bridge to Colonel Apollo,/Whirr, Bark, Rrrr/," Apollo looked down, his 
mouth still open in shock, to see his childrens' mechanical Guardian, the daggit 
drone, Muffit Two, staring up at him with its large expressionless eyes, 
surreally, or so it seemed to him, broadcasting the voice of the Colonel's 
father, Commander Adama. 

*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Nine 


"There it is, fellas," Lieutenant Deitra hissed into the darkening twilight of 
the planet that she and her temporarily assigned wingman, Colonel Apollo, had 
visited roughly two daily cycles previously, peering cautiously over the edge of 
the same outcropping of rock beneath which the two had huddled, weapons ready, 
listening to the strangely muffled voice that had conveyed the authority 
required to issue orders to a Cylon centurion. Her thoughts returning to the 
present, Deitra glanced to her left, into the contrasting shadows cast by the 
planet's setting sun upon the face of her current Wing Leader, Captain Starbuck, 
then turned to regard Lieutenant Boomer, who crouched at her right, "there's no 
sign of Ovions /or/ Cylons. I don't see any shuttles either," Deitra focussed 
her gaze back to her left, to the points of light that reflected from Starbuck's 
blue eyes in the darkening space that surrounded the three warriors, "it's so 
quiet and empty, like it's been abandoned. Do you think that the Ovions might 
have left with the Cylons once they finished loading the base ship?" 

"The scanner isn't registering any discernable readings of organic life forms on 
broad spectrum sensors, and I'm not seeing anything that resembles any known 
enemy transmission patterns," Boomer methodically adjusted a greenly glowing 
parameter panel on the side of the portable scanning unit that he had unclipped 
from the anchoring strap around his left thigh, "well boys and girls," Deitra 
and Starbuck smiled wryly into the darkness at the familiar and dryly sardonic 
tones of Boomer's deep voice, "shall we take a look inside that mine while we're 
here? The sooner we go in, the sooner we can come back out." 

"Very well then. Secure your packs and maintain battle readiness," Captain 
Starbuck responded with an exaggerated sigh of resignation as he reflexively 
touched his hand to the utility pocket on his flight jacket's sleeve, then 
shrugged his shoulders against the regulation survival pack that Commander Adama 
had decreed, over the course of these four yahrens of uncertain patrols since 
the beginning of the refugee Colonial Fleet's journey in search of the 
Thirteenth Tribe of Man, should be donned by any warrior leaving visual range of 
his or her ship during a mission. Starbuck pulled his laser pistol from the 
holster strapped to his right leg, "let's see if anyone's home." 

"The Skipper was taking it on his shoulders about us not stopping the first time 
to determine whether the Ovions have a hive and some feeding chambers down 
there," Deitra hefted her own weapon, moving with her companions to step 
cautiously from behind the outcropping and toward the large open area that lay 
between them and the opening to the mine, "So am I, for that matter. When we get 
back home, I'd like to be able to tell him with confidence that we didn't leave 
anyone behind . . ." Deitra paused as a memory crossed her mind, of a young 
Captain and his bride, mere daily cycles into their marriage, standing together, 
embracing one another in the eerie darkness before the largest of the ruined 
tombs of the planet Kobol, so desperately in love in the midst of such 
disastrous chaos, and unsuspecting that this was to be their last night together 
in this life. Deitra's mind then flashed forward to a time shortly after the 
confirmation of Captain Sheba's first pregnancy, and the beginning of the 
Valkyrie Squadron Leader's maternity furlon, after the late Commander Cain and 
the Battlestar Pegasus had returned to the Fleet, when the Skipper and his 
sometime wingman, Deitra, had returned from a long and almost painfully 
uneventful patrol, to drink together in a near vacant Officer's Club, allowing 
themselves a rare rest period, inhibitions lowered by a slight glow of 
drunkenness, wry white smiles crossing the dark features of two habitually 
serious faces as they had spoken softly, though freely, of shared missions and 
memories that the two warriors had in common and of individual scars that 
neither of the two were often known to share with anyone, even those that they 
trusted as friends. Deitra had shared her most personal, and painfully 
bittersweet, memories of the Battlestar Atlantia, the ship that had been her 
home before the Destruction, and the home of all her closest friends and 
comrades, in another lifetime when she had been a military shuttle pilot, 
escorting dignitaries, endlessly it had sometimes seemed, from one battlestar to 
another, yearning for the space under the canopy of a viper, until Baltar's 
collusion with the enemy and manipulation of President Adar and the Council of 
the Twelve had altered the course of her life forever, strangely fulfilling one 
dream, while dashing so many others, and taking nearly everyone she had ever 
known from her in one horrific daily cycle. Apollo had spoken of the loss of his 
mother, Ila, and the sight of the rubble that had once been his family home on 
the surface of the planet Caprica, and of his brother, Zac, the first of so many 
warriors to have died at the ambush at Cimtar. Then, the two of them had spoken 
of Serina, and of Sheba, and of Deitra's loves as well, both past and present, 
"I know how important it is to him." 

"To all of us," Boomer reassured her with a quiet whisper as they followed 
Starbuck's silent gesture to move forward into a stealthily cautious single file 
formation, walking softly along the forested edge of the clearing, making their 
way, weapons still at the ready, toward the large opening that would lead them 
into the mine. 

The growing darkness gave way to a soft glow of starlight as the three warriors 
stayed close to the shadow of the trees, moving soundlessly toward the large 
opening carved into the rock face that dominated one edge of the clearing, 
sharing glances that conveyed their battle readiness alert attitudes before 
Starbuck, then Deitra and finally Boomer, all stepped warily into the mouth of 
the tunnel, following the gentle downward grade of the surface beneath their 
booted feet. Boomer pulled a small audio and visual recording unit from his 
pack, clipping it securely to the uppermost portion of the strap over his left 
shoulder, tapping the power initiation and automatic function relays on its 
parameter panel. 

"The ground's levelling off," Captain Starbuck's whisper echoed softly against 
the surfaces of the tunnel walls that surrounded the trio, "there's some sort of 
light source ahead. Keep close to the wall, battle ready. We don't know that 
this planet isn't packed full of centurions like that other one was, and we 
don't have Muffit and his pack to help us fight our way back to our ships," 
Starbuck held his weapon at the ready, his arm close to his body, moving in an 
arachon-like motion, his lean, though well-toned muscles pressed tightly against 
the roughness of the tunnel's circumference, Boomer and Deitra moving in silent 
concert behind him. He paused as he reached an opening in the rock face, peering 
cautiously into the mouth of a subsidiary corridor off the main tunnel. Starbuck 
dropped suddenly to a low crouching posture, his breath catching in his throat 
as the significance of what he was seeing registered on his warrior's 
conditioned senses, "Oh my God!" the whisper echoed more loudly than he had 
intended, causing his companions to start slightly and move to flank him, 
covering the roughly hewn doorway and taking in the sight of the chamber beyond. 

Starbuck had a fleeting vision of the flinton and fumarello that lay securely 
within the confines of the utility pocket of his flight jacket sleeve, almost 
feeling the tendrils of soothing smoke curling tantalizingly upward from his 
parted lips and slightly flared nostrils, then another, less comforting memory 
of a damp and dimly lit cell within the Proteus Prison and the drawings that had 
been accredited to a mysterious, mute stranger that the refugees, the 
descendants of the 'original sinners' of Proteus had named 'the Silent One'. 

"What is it, Starbuck?" Boomer's eyes followed the direction of Starbuck's 
nodding gesture, his eyes widening and his finger tensing in preparedness over 
the firing mechanism of his sidearm, "Easy!" Boomer hissed, hearing Deitra's 
inadvertent gasp as she leaned forward to share in the sight that had evoked her 
companions' shocked expressions. 

"It's a star map, a drawing of a solar system," Starbuck lifted his eyebrows 
with wonder, lowering his weapon and stepping forward into a small, steeply 
vaulted chamber with smoothly textured, greyish ore laden walls, covered with 
hieroglyphs, symbols that appeared distinctly Kobollian in nature, and various 
types of maps and colourful drawings, "it's a drawing of the planet Earth," the 
Captain gestured with the barrel of his laser pistol, "and there, above it," 
Boomer and Deitra entered the chamber behind Starbuck to stare dumbly at the 
walls that surrounded them as Starbuck continued speaking in a hushed tone, his 
soft whisper echoing gently upward to dissipate through a small, starlit opening 
in the ceiling high above the warriors' heads, "it's the symbol from the Field 
Manual, and from /Cassiopeia's necklace/! Boomer, get some recordings of 
everything displayed on these walls. The Commander /must/ be right. The 
Thirteenth Colony must have constructed this planet, and left us some coded co-
ordinates leading toward Earth's star system, like the ones that Apollo and 
Athena found on the /other/ planet," Starbuck turned toward Deitra, lifting his 
eyebrows and smiling with a hint of his signature roguish flair, "Deitra, my 
dear, looks like we may have some good news to report to the Skipper after all. 
This might just make up for the eight centars or so that you two spent in the 
Quarantine Section!" 

"Starbuck! Deitra! The entrance!" Starbuck and Deitra whirled at Boomer's 
sudden, urgent tone, turning, weapons raised, to inhale sharply at the sight 
that greeted their incredulous eyes, at the figure that stood framed in the 
opening before them. 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Ten 


"Baltar?" a softly feminine voice was calling his name from somewhere far away, 
"my Lord Baltar!" he lay upon the sleeping platform, the thick blanket moving to 
uncover his face as his muddled senses struggled to identify the unknown woman 
who had called his name in such a sultry, compelling and vaguely familiar voice, 
"Baltar! Are you going to sleep away the entire daily cycle? I thought we might 
share a little morning meal. Some fresh fruit and ambrosia, perhaps?" Baltar 
blinked at the diffused light that assaulted his unfocussed eyes with the final 
cascading of the blanket's edge against the evening cycle's growth of whiskers 
that roughened the planes of his face, "it will be our last opportunity for a 
daily cycle together before your shuttle is to leave for the Atlantia, my /Lord 
Governor/." 

"Not 'Governor' just yet, my dear," Baltar smiled into the face that had begun 
to take form above him, his eyes becoming accustomed to the early morning light 
that now streamed in from the open balcony off the upper story chamber of the 
palatial estate that had been acquired at President Adar's request for Baltar's 
use during the preparations for the final confirmation of the armistice 
negotiations between the Council of the Twelve and the soon to arrive 
representatives of the Cylon Empire. The cool Caprican breeze floated in from 
the nearby oceanfront, flavouring the air around them with salt, "after the war 
is officially over," he stretched his arms upward, lacing the fingers of both 
hands behind his head, his meticulously trimmed hair prickling his palms as his 
smile widened into something more akin to a smug leer, "after the war is over, 
/then/ you may call me 'Lord Governor', or perhaps 'Your Worship'," the leer 
gave way to a throaty chuckle of calculation as Baltar's companion took a slow 
sip from the goblet in her heavily bejewelled hand, tugging seductively at the 
ribbon-like belt of her voluminous, though blatantly transparent dressing gown 
with the other and watching him appraisingly from over the goblet's rim. 

"And your wife, /my Lord/?" the hand reached first to gently position the empty 
goblet beside its identical mate upon a bedside table, then moved in a fluidly 
practiced motion to rest palm down against the curling tendrils of hair upon the 
upper portion of Baltar's chest, making its way downward, raking the bedcovering 
from his body with curled, claw-like fingers, "after you've carried out your 
plans, what will /she/ be calling you?" 

"I have already laid it out for you, /my dear/," the hand of Baltar's lover slid 
across a once firm abdomen that had become softened and thickened over the 
sectons with an increasingly decadent and sedentary lifestyle, sharply manicured 
fingernails leaving reddened trails behind them upon the surface of his flesh. 
Baltar struck like a Caprican Cobra, snatching roughly at her braceletted 
wrists, putting her slender form off balance and pulling her to him with a 
predatory glint reflecting from his dark eyes, "my wife and I have a mutually 
beneficial association by which /I/ am afforded the convenience of /her/ 
family's resources and business interests, whilst /she/ enjoys the advantages of 
a prestigious social position, thanks to /my/ connections and my pending 
position as the simple man of the people who will bring peace to the Twelve 
Colonies of Man for the first time in over one thousand yahrens," Baltar kissed 
the pinkly painted lips that had parted in surprise at his sudden movement, 
bruising them carelessly with his own, then released the slender arms, pushing 
his companion away, reaching for the fuller of the two goblets that stood 
together on the nearby table top with one hand and folding a large cushion 
behind himself with the other, "I am confident that you shall concur with me 
that there can be no compelling advantage for /either/ of us in altering any 
bargains at this juncture," Baltar took a long, slow sip of ambrosia as his 
companion had done, watching her playfully petulant, though subtly calculating 
expression as he returned the goblet to the table top, "you and I shall still 
have some /tasks/ to perform after the treaty has been finalized," he opened his 
arms, beckoning her with his now deceptively amiable smile, laughing softly as 
she moved into his embrace, kissing her way along his collar bone until he 
slipped his fingers into her long, undressed hair, lifting her head for her to 
face him, "in four daily cycles, when the negotiations have been concluded, 
/you/ shall assume your designated position in President Adar's bedchamber, and 
offer /him/ a drink," his fingers tightened the tension against her hair, 
pulling her closer to feel his hot breath on her face, "see that your personal 
ambitions do not interfere with /your/ task," he kissed her nose in an 
incongruously gentle and intimate gesture, "/then/ we shall discuss your 
position under /my/ administration," Baltar released his grip, snatching the 
bedcovering from between them, throwing her onto her back, the two of them 
laughing humourlessly and mirroring sly expressions of smug and unapologetic 
self-satisfaction as he pulled the blanket up over his head . . . 

"Baltar!" the insidiously tantalizing sting of the salt air and the faint hint 
of floral perfume disappeared from the range of his consciousness with an abrupt 
removal of the tattered blanket from over his head and two strong hands 
clutching his skeletally thin shoulders. Baltar's long black hair fell back from 
his forehead as he cowered backward into the bulkhead against which his sleeping 
platform was aligned, struggling to escape from the reality of the secured term 
care chamber and the ferron grip of the fingers that maintained their hold upon 
him, "Baltar! It's me! It's Doctor Roman! Baltar! Tell me! Tell me what you 
remember!" 

"She was going to follow through. She would have done the job," Baltar's voice 
became eerily calm as he looked into Roman's eyes, "I am certain that she 
wouldn't have betrayed me. Adar never suspected, poor old fool, that his 
mistress was . . ." Baltar blinked and recoiled suddenly, his moment of lucidity 
giving way to an expression of panic, "You! I know you! I know you! Stay back! I 
want my ship! Artemis and Boomer shall pay for taking the Oberon from me! Time 
is not linear. /It/ will send me back, to take the Oberon once more!" Roman's 
firm hands were not dislodged by Baltar's desperate animal-like squirming, 
"Apollo shall pay for his interference, with his own blood for currency," two 
sets of dark eyes shared a long and silent gaze, one calm and steady, the other 
crazed and fearful, "perhaps the next time around, Lieutenant Boomer will leave 
that rude girl at home," Baltar tilted his head, a thoughtful furrowing of his 
brow suggesting a struggle to capture an elusive memory, "they hurt me, you 
know. They cut my head. The left side of my head. The two of them hit me! 
Colonial Warriors backhanding an unarmed man in the face! I have a scar. I 
remember, you see, because the centurions bloodied Boomer's head as well, in the 
same place. There was one other, but I wasn't there and I don't know if the . . 
." Baltar's expression became suddenly sly, "Why did /it/ tell Jain to . . ." 
the voice trailed off as the last glimmer of lucidity retreated from Baltar's 
tenuous grasp, "give my regards to Blassie. She wasn't intended to escape with 
only a cut on the forehead, but Cassiopeia, the Guardian, stood in the way of 
the regeneration transmission! Hmmm-mmm-mmm," Roman sighed resignedly as Baltar 
began to laugh, "but that doesn't matter now. /It/ doesn't need Boomer or 
Chameleon, or Blassie, or the Cheops, for that matter. /It/ has the ore. The 
Cylons and the Ovions shall perfect the new . . ." the eyes became strangely 
opaque, expressionless, to Roman's view, like those of Muffit and the other two 
Guardian Drones that continued to maintain the defensive shield around the 
targets of the relentless enemy transmission, where they still congregated, in 
the Galactica's Life Station. 

"Perfect the new /what/, Baltar?" Roman released his hold on Baltar's emaciated 
shoulders and sat down slowly upon the edge of the sleeping platform, gazing 
intently to catch a glimpse of the madness that was perceptible only to the 
young doctor's alien senses, beyond the mirrors of Baltar's eyes, "are the 
Cylons building another amplifier? What has Jain got to do with /any/ of this?" 
Roman leaned forward and spoke earnestly, willing Baltar to regain a measure of 
control, "it's not too late to alter your path, Baltar! Remember what it was 
like to choose your /own/ destiny!" 

"Hmmphf!" Baltar sputtered with humourless, dry laughter that echoed eerily 
about the small chamber, "Hmm-hmmphffbwahahahaha! I see no compelling advantage 
for /me/ in altering any bargains at this juncture," Roman moved to stand, 
straightening the hem of his medical officer's pale uniform tunic, pursing his 
lips as he turned to take his leave of the chamber, nodded amiably to the 
warriors currently assigned to the ever-present security detail outside Baltar's 
current quarters in the secured section of the Galactica's medical facility, 
accepting the holster and sidearm that he had removed and placed in their care 
upon arriving to visit with the patient. He exhaled with an uncharacteristic 
posture of private frustration as the voice of Baltar's madness echoed, 
following him along the corridor toward the nearest access to Life Station, 
"Mmmbwaahahahahaha! /It/ shall find a way past the Guardians, all of them! They 
shall all pay for Apollo's interference! Their souls shall curse him through 
eternity, through all the ages! Bwahahaha . . ." 

Roman shrugged as he entered the access to the main chamber of the Life Station, 
Baltar's manic laughter dissipating behind him as he assumed a pleasantly 
cheerful expression, checking his sidearm and moving to join the scattered 
groups of parents, children and various technicians and medical officers that 
still currently populated the Life Station, awaiting an end to the threat of the 
enemy transmission and the state of battle readiness that the Colonial Fleet of 
Man had been under since it was first detected by the Guardian Drones, an alert 
status that Roman was now certain, after tentatively deciphering the slips of 
Baltar's serpent's tongue, the Fleet would be operating under for some time to 
come. 


*** 


Chapter Two 

Scene Eleven 


"Colonel!" Adama's formal greeting was belied by the paternal concern that 
underscored the mellow, bass baritone of his voice, "have you any news of the 
disappearance in Life Station?" 

"Doctor Wilker's working on it, Sir," Colonel Apollo stepped quickly up the 
stairs leading to the plateau of the command platform to stand facing his 
father, the Commander, "the energy scans made by the surveillance equipment 
covering Jain's term care chamber all registered a form of electromagnetic 
radiation. Chameleon has found a correlation in structure between it and the 
signal that we registered before that Cylon amplifier appeared half a yahren 
ago," Apollo turned with his father to regard the view of the space afforded to 
them by the large transparent tylium panels of the observation screen that 
dominated the forward-most portion of the Battlestar Galactica's Command Centre, 
"Wilker and the other science officers are convinced that Jain has been remotely 
/teleported/ to some unknown location. Two of Paye's med-techs were arriving to 
administer some muscle mobility treatments when the patient disappeared before 
their eyes. All they've been able to remember, now that the shock has begun to 
wear off, is a low pitched sound, like a heavy vibration." 

"It would appear that the Cylons may have refined their technology over the last 
half yahren," Adama's concern turned to grave deliberation as the two men, 
father and son, turned to face one another, deep brown eyes meeting the piercing 
green gaze that had been inherited from the Colonel's mother, Ila, "but why 
Jain?" the Commander clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace back 
and forth across the platform, a thoughtful expression furrowing his brow, "what 
/is/ the significance of this woman?" 

"The enemy needs her, for some reason," Apollo shook his head in frustration, 
moving to stand near Officer Omega at the command console, the two younger men 
nodding briefly in silent greeting as Omega continued to monitor the data that 
moved across the various display monitors and gauges before him. Apollo turned 
at the feel of Adama's hand upon his shoulder, "Father, have we had any word 
from Starbuck's patrol?" 

"Not yet, my Son," Adama and Apollo moved to stand side by side at the section 
of the perimeter rail that defined the edge of the command platform and afforded 
them a view of the large screen mounted upon the massive bulkhead across the 
chamber of the Command Centre where a virtual representation of the space 
forward and beyond the visual range of the Colonial Fleet was currently 
displayed, "we should be within transmission range of our patrol within the next 
two centars. Tigh reports from the Pegasus that he and Tolen have plotted and 
relayed the required course corrections for all ships to facilitate the Fleet's 
long range communication capacity with the space surrounding that planet." 

"And if the base ship is nearby?" Apollo spoke quietly, still staring at the 
viewing screen, his lips pursed with tension, "what are the Cylons doing with a 
base ship loaded with artificially cultivated ore? As you know, Deitra and I saw 
the Ovions with part of a shipment of refined metal. Considering the range of 
those shuttles they were loading, that base ship had to have been well within 
the distance of our most distant communication range from the planet." 

"They must be building something. It could be a weapon or a defensive shielding 
mechanism," Adama spoke with reluctant resignation, "another amplifier, 
perhaps," the older man turned to sit against the rail, arms now crossed over 
his chest, continuing to speak quietly into the younger man's ear, "Apollo, 
whatever it may be that our enemies are preparing to unleash upon us, for the 
present, the children are safe." 

"Yes, Father," Apollo gripped the perimeter rail with whitened knuckles, "but 
Sheba has become progressively more ill and fatigued," the Colonel took in and 
exhaled a deep cleansing breath, closing his eyes briefly, composing himself in 
an effort to prevent his fear from escaping into an overt expression, then 
returning his gaze to meet Adama's, failing to disguise the emotion that 
struggled to overwhelm him, "only twice before has she been ill like this. Once 
when Baltar appeared aboard the Oberon only to have it destroyed by Cain and the 
Pegasus. That was shortly after we'd found out she was pregnant, when she 
collapsed into Tigh's arms here on the command platform, then again about a half 
yahren later, just before Artemis was born, when those beams buckled and nearly 
killed us, along with Starbuck and Cassiopeia. Father, both of those events were 
accompanied by a manifestation of Count Iblis, an attempt on his part to wreak 
some sort of demented, twisted revenge upon us, upon me, for taking Sheba from 
him, and upon her for having rejected his dominion over her. I believe that 
Iblis is reaching out to Sheba somehow, weakening her even though she is 
apparently shielded from the transmission. Salik and Paye are keeping a watch on 
her, though she insists that she's fine and that they're worried over nothing," 
the Colonel's voice caught in his throat, tears threatening to overflow from his 
fatigue reddened eyes as his fingers tightened their grip on the perimeter rail. 

"Have faith, my Son," Adama uncrossed his arms, turning to place one of them 
across the younger man's slightly hunched shoulders, embracing him firmly, 
"Doctor Wilker and the others shall find a solution, and perhaps Starbuck's 
patrol shall return with some useful intelligence regarding the enemy's plans." 

"Let's hope that they get in and out without incident," Apollo moved slowly away 
from his father's embrace, smiling gratefully at Adama's attempt to comfort him, 
then staring down toward the forward gallery, studying the animated profile of 
his own son, Boxey. The boy now sat at one of his favourite haunts within the 
vast chamber of the Command Centre that had been a part of his home for the last 
four yahrens of his life, since he and his mother had escaped the Destruction of 
the planet of his birth to become a part of Apollo's family. Seeing him here and 
now at almost eleven yahrens, the image of the small boy with the gap-toothed 
grin that Apollo held close to his heart as a precious memory now reluctantly 
and gradually giving way to the reality of a taller, more angular frame, the 
light brown hair hanging carelessly untrimmed to brush against the yoke of 
Boxey's tunic as he perched beside an indulgent Lieutenant Rigel, listening 
intently into the headset that she had provided him, the perceptive and 
sympathetic young bridge officer knowing that it would provide the boy with a 
distraction from the fear of the threat against his family. Apollo pursed his 
lips at the memory of four yahrens past, of the small boy, following his 
mechanical companion, Muffit Two, from the lift that had carried them to the 
lower chambers of the Ovion hive beneath the surface of the doomed planet 
Carillon, to stand frozen in the path of the lowering blade of a Cylon 
centurion, but to be mercifully saved by the warrior who was to become the boy's 
father. Apollo turned once more to look into his father's deep brown eyes, 
drawing strength from Adama's comforting gaze, but still anxiously awaiting some 
news from the second patrol to approach the mysterious, artificially cultivated 
planet, the second such marvel of organic construction that the Colonial Fleet 
had encountered in the last two and one half yahrens, "let's hope that they 
haven't found another Carillon down there." 

"Starbuck and the others will be alright, Apollo," Adama smiled thoughtfully, 
having followed the direction of the Colonel's gaze with his own, his own memory 
straying for a micron back to a time when the man who stood before him had been 
but a small boy, . . . 

"Commander," Omega's voice broke through Adama's nostalgic reverie, "I have 
Doctor Paye for you and the Colonel on the relay from Life Station, Sir." 

"Doctor Paye!" Adama cried hopefully as he and Apollo rushed forward to stand 
behind Omega at the command console and view the portion of the tall doctor's 
lean frame that was visible on the monitor before them, "have you some promising 
news for us?" 

"I believe so, Commander," Doctor Paye's voice carried across the command 
platform, "Colonel, we have what we think may be a biological means of 
neutralizing the transmission's effects. Apollo," Paye spoke with a perceptible 
degree of urgency, "I need you to bring Boxey down here to give us a blood and 
tissue sample. 

"Boxey?" Apollo asked in undisguised confusion, "but I thought he was immune to 
the effects of the transmission?" 

"Precisely," Doctor Paye smiled enigmatically, "we believe that Boxey's 
individual genomic characteristics, his genetic matrix, may hold the key to 
developing a biological defense against the signal's effects," Apollo and Adama 
shared a stunned glance, then turned back silently to stare at Paye's image, "I 
have consulted with Doctor's Salik, Wilker and Roman. We are all in /very/ 
hopeful agreement that a small sample of Boxey's blood may provide us with the 
raw material for a vaccination that shall . . . well, perhaps if you could bring 
the boy back down to Life Station so that I can explain it to him directly." 

"Yes," Apollo roused himself from his shocked posture and glanced this time 
toward the forward gallery, where Boxey still sat beside Lieutenant Rigel, 
"Boxey and I will be there directly, Doctor." 


***