ARMAGEDDON 2493
By Neil Adams
June, 2000

A Battlestar Galactica / Buck Rogers In The 25th century crossover.

Author's Note:
     The events are set approximately five years (yahrens?) after the
BG episode 'The Hand Of God' and a year after the two-part Buck Rogers
episode 'Flight Of The War Witch.'  Ignoring Buck Rogers season two as
I regard it as being inferior to season one & merely a cheap Star Trek
rip-off.  For obvious reasons I've similarly ignored Galactica 1980. 
As for why I chose a crossover between these two franchises, it's
obvious.  Both were developed by Glen A. Larson, (who also created BG)
with similar visual effects and costumes and props.  Plus by ignoring
Galactica 1980 (Which it appears even Mr. Larson now does) & Buck
Rogers season two, you could have a crossover story that was still
canonical.  To my surprise however I've only ever come across one
crossover between the two shows and that was a satire, indeed, I've
never come across a Buck Rogers fanfic site, which is perhaps
surprising since it was in the form of written stories that Buck Rogers
first appeared in 1929 in the pages of Amazing Stories.
     NB the title of this fanfic and some of the names of people and
places are inspired by Philip Francis Nowlan's original Buck Rogers
novelettes: 'Armageddon 2419 AD' & 'The Air lords Of Han.'  I also took
the liberty of updating some of the technology used by the principles
in this story, particularly in the area of targeting computers and
display screens where I've borrowed off computer games like Colony Wars
and films like Lost in Space.  As well as upgrading the Throne Room
'set' using images of that chamber from Richard Hatch's Battlestar
Galactica: The Second Coming trailer.  Also, the caverns in Kansas that
was the source in my story of Buck's extensive collection of late 20th,
early 21st century movies is real, though I've no idea if all the films
mentioned in the following story are stored there.  I've also taken
certain liberties with characters primarily Sire Uri.  The fact that
his wife was found, alive and well, that his Mother was Adama's
predecessor and that he had once sat on the Quorum before the 'Peace
Conference' are of my creation, I simply say in my defence that nothing
was said in the TV series to contradict.  The same could be said of the
Background I gave to Starbuck & the Draconians, it made more sense and
explained they're human origins (even though with this being a
crossover with Battlestar Galactica, they would be descendants of the
thirteen tribes of humanity).  The background to Buck's mission is also
conjecture but went well with contemporary events (bear in mind that
although Buck left Earth in 1987, the show aired in 1979) such as the
Challenger disaster.
     Copyright wise Battlestar Galactica is copyright Universal Studios
(or possibly Glen A. Larson Productions), whilst Buck Rogers in the
25th century is Leisure Concepts courtesy of Robert C. Dille, character
created by Philip Francis Nowlan.  Dialogue and excerpt from The Planet
of the Apes is 20th century Fox Film Corporation and written by Michael
Wilson & Rod Serling.  Whilst all the films/TV shows and their casts
mentioned herein are copyrighted their respective copyright holders. 
All other characters and situations are mine.
     NB:  All spellings are in British English, e.g. centre instead of
center and so on.
Neil Adams 2000

     "The year is 1987, from the Kennedy Space Centre in Cape Canaveral
Florida, NASA launches the last of America's deep space probes, Ranger
III.  Aboard this compact starship, astronaut Captain William 'Buck'
Rogers encounters a freak mishap experiencing temperatures and
pressures beyond imagination.  Ranger III and it's pilot are blown out
of their programmed trajectory, into an orbit one thousand times as
vast.  An orbit which freezes his life support systems and returns Buck
Rogers to Earth, not after five months as originally planned, but more
than five hundred years later..."

Chapter One

     Artur Larson put on his Governor's robes for what was supposed to
be one of the last times and, kissing his wife, Elen goodbye, left
their personal quarters for the administration section of what would
have been once called the 'Governor's Mansion.'  Larson had been the
Governor of the agricultural colony of Vyra, arguably Earth's outermost
colony for the last decade.  He had known from the day he had been
offered the appointment that he was to be the colony's last old-style
governor, it had been made very clear to him that Earth intended to
give the colony an unprecedented degree of autonomy.  Considering the
planet and it's two-hundred & fifty million inhabitants proximity (or
rather lack of it) to Earth and their degree of material and logistical
independence, the only surprise to many observers, both on Earth and
Vyra was that it had taken two centuries since the colony's
establishment for autonomy to be granted.  Larson compared his posting
with that of one of the old Viceroys that had governed colonies of the
great Empires that Earth had once been divided into.  From surviving,
pre-Holocaust documents, it was known that between World Wars II & III,
the Empires had given their colonies independence, some willingly, some
pragmatically, and some because the locals, or the particular Empire's
state following World War II, forced them to.  Larson had paid
particular attention to the British giving independence to the nation
states of India and Pakistan (formerly the Dominion of India),
supervised by a World War II leader called Earl Mountbatten of Burma, a
member of the then British Royal Family.
     As Larson walked through the light and airy corridors towards his
work chambers where his councillors were gathering for what would be
the first of the serious of significant events that would mark the
autonomy coming into effect, he reflected on his ten years in charge. 
His appointment began exactly ten years to the day that autonomy was to
be initiated.  He had entered the chambers on Vyra and after swearing
the oath of office before assembled guests and the colony's populace
(courtesy of the public holobroadcast system) had launched a speech in
which he promised that when the hand over of power came, Vyra would be
transformed.  And as Larson went through in his head the speech that he
was going to make, to begin what was scheduled to be the last full
council session of his Governorship, he was satisfied with what he had
achieved.  The planet had three main products, light industry,
agriculture (vital for distant Earth) and of course Vyra itself or
rather it's location, handy as it was as a jumping off point for other
territories.  The principle aim as far as Larson had been concerned was
defence.  For all Vyra's remoteness and importance, it was sparsely
defended, since Larson took over, the planet boasted three full
Starfighter squadrons, several thousand ground troops, an extensive
array of ground-based anti-aircraft pulsars, an emergency sub-space
transmitter for calling reinforcements from Earth, and lastly a modest
version of the defence shield that protected Earth.  This last system
was still to be properly tested and was to be activated at the ceremony
of autonomy, one week hence.
     Larson strode confidently into the chamber where his dozen or so
councillors were waiting, chatting amongst themselves, they all
politely stopped upon his entrance and rose from their seats in
deference, one or two even bowing slightly.  He motioned them all to
sit as he did and after customary exchanges of pleasantries, he pulled
out a small data clip, plugged it into a socket on the table in front
of him and began to make his speech from the notes in front of him.  He
had hoped, that among those documents that had survived World War III,
would be transcripts of the speeches made by some of those who had
presided over independence ceremonies in the 20th century, but alas,
none were to hand.
     "My friends, I come before you for the last time as Governor, not
to mention the Governor from Earth.  My successor will be essentially a
figurehead who will, hopefully not pester you like I do."  There were
polite and diplomatic smiles and giggles at the unfunny joke.
     "I have a confession to make, however.  When I first took up my
post, I started a countdown to the day I handed over the reins of
power.  Today when I got up as with each preceding day, I made a note
of how many days I had left, today it was seven days, one week.  Now
it's not because I view my posting here as akin to a prison sentence,
no.  It is because when I took over, there were several things I wished
to accomplish before I left.  I'm pleased to say that with a week to
spare I've succeeded in all but one or two..." He was broken off by an
alert klaxon sounding off.  The councillors all began turning to the
person next to them and excitedly quizzing each other as to what was
happening.  Larson however had walked over to a quiet corner of the
room and was speaking to the administrator of the colony's defences via
his personal communicator.
     Brigadier Philip F. Nowlan, clad in the familiar layered, all
white Earth Defence Directorate uniform, (complete with appropriate
flourishes) stared with astonishment and mounting horror at the central
display.  The display, which dominated one whole wall of the Vyra
Defence command centre (now bathed in red emergency lighting) showed a
Three-D sphere of the planet with literally hundreds of wedge shaped
icons, each representing an unidentified ship swarming in towards it
from some point of origin just beyond the range of planetary scanners. 
Nowlan had risen from his console and was standing before the screen,
conferring with his subordinates.  Nowlan's communications headset
beeped into life and a confused and concerned Governor Larson came on
the air requesting an update.
     "Sir several minutes ago we lost contact with a Starfighter patrol
that had been sent to check out an anomalous contact that had just come
through the Stargate.  The next thing we knew there were hundreds of
small craft heading down towards us."
     "What's their ETA?" enquired Larson.
     "Three, minutes sir.  I've just ordered all our defences to
prepare to repel borders, including scrambling all serviceable
Starfighters.  However I should inform you that our shield won't be
operational."
     "Alert Earth Defence Directorate and initiate the civil defence
procedures."  There was a crack in Larson's usually calm voice that
betrayed the dryness in his mouth that was a symptom of the fear and
tension that was clearly mounting within him.
     "I already have."  Nowlan's reply was to the point and hinted at
the feelings of impotence that he felt towards defeating their
unidentified assailant.

     Major Fran Ciardi the leader of one of the three fighter squadrons
based on Vyra, ran to her Starfighter the moment she heard the alert,
the rest of her pilots were close on her heels.  She sprinted out into
the cavernous Hanger Bay towards her off-white, catamaran-hulled
fighter and clambered into the inverted wedge-shaped cockpit her white
flight helmet already on her head.
     "What's going on?" her orange-clad maintenance chief called after
her.
     "Not sure.  Perhaps an unscheduled rehearsal for the aerial salute
we're to give as Governor Larson stands down," she quipped as she
activated her ship and steered over to the nearest available launch
channel.  She lined up as the landing gear under her cockpit and the
downward slanted aerofoils on her Starfighter connected with the guide
rails of the launch channel ahead of her.  She punched some buttons on
her instrument panel and heard the familiar rising drone of her engines
as her ship revved for take off.  In front of her, a strip of lights
advanced towards her from the end of the multi-coloured launch channel,
when they reached the mouth of the tube Ciardi pressed a button on her
control column and was catapulted down the channel and up a ramp at the
end into the clear blue sky.  The forty or so Starfighters, all the
serviceable ships available converged after launch and climbed
steadily, their targeting systems and pulsar cannons already armed. 
Below, in the streets of Vyra's population centres, civilians were
herded into special subterranean compounds and the anti-aircraft
batteries powered up.
     The first visual contact with the swarm of ships came as the
Starfighters cleared the atmosphere.  The approaching craft were
roughly oval in plan with very few features or markings except for a
pair of concentric blue pentagons on each 'wingtip' of the ships.  The
craft moved in a slightly wavy pattern, weaving slightly from side to
side as they moved forward.  They reminded Ciardi of a swarm of bees
she'd once seen as a child on a trip to the country near her native
city of Nu Yok.  About one hundred craft from the front of the swarm
broke formation and began to bear down on the Starfighters, Ciardi knew
exactly what was about to happen, as a veteran of the abortive
Draconian takeover of Earth and some of the 'pirate attacks' that
preceded it, she was no virgin when it came to combat but the odds were
still daunting.  All here anxieties and concerns were swiftly placed on
the back burner however as the attack suddenly developed.  High above
Ciardi, three ships in a triangular formation performed a cartwheel
before diving down on her emitting cobalt blue laser pulses.  Ciardi's
ship obediently altered course to avoid them, albeit sluggishly.  She
never gave the computer a second chance to repeat the manoeuvre as she
deactivated it and went to manual pulling the ship into a steep climb
that brought her to bear on her attackers.  A warning beep wafted its
way through her cockpit as her targeting computer sized up one of the
Raiders in its sights.  The craft appeared as a holographic
representation in the centre of two purple hoops, one vertical, the
other horizontal, both studded with notches.  As the craft centred
itself in the hoops Ciardi pulled the trigger and two pairs of bright
green laser pulses lanced into one of the circular craft reducing it to
ashes and sending it's two wing mates fleeing in different directions. 
Anger had suddenly entered Ciardi's system as she pulled her craft into
an arc that left her in level flight but upside down.  Rolling the
'right way up' (relative to the planet that is), she closed on one of
the fleeing Raiders and fired again, watching it explode.
     All around her ships criss-crossed the sky firing green or blue
laser pulses at each other.  Unfortunately, as predictably as the
pattern the Raiders flew, more and more Starfighters were falling to
the enemy.  This was due to the fact that only about eight or nine of
the pilots in battle at that moment were experienced to any degree. 
The rest, all from Vyra, were rookies who still put too much faith in
their flight computers, which had never been updated with the new
tactics programs that had come on stream during the last year or so. 
Ciardi and the other experienced pilots, all but one of which hailed
from Earth, had been sent to bolster Vyra's forces and pass on their
recently acquired skills.  The numbers had always been against them
anyway they were outnumbered by at least five, maybe even six to one. 
Ciardi glanced up and saw her wingman Lieutenant Wedge formate on her.
     "I lost Styles, and Frost.  These bastards are all over us," he
angrily shouted.
     Biting back her emotions Ciardi replied, "Most of the Raiders have
carried down towards the surface, those anti-aircraft pulsars aren't
going to be much use."  She didn't need to continue as a group of six
Starfighters headed for the planet.
     When the group broke through the clouds, they could already see
the devastation below them.  Vyra's second city, the seat of
administration and the home of the Command Centre were taking heavy
hits.  The bile rose up in Ciardi's throat has she threw her
Starfighter into a very steep dive, coming up on the tail of a Raider. 
She managed to hit it but it was only damaged.  She watched with horror
as, trailing smoke from it's port engine, it continued on towards the
spherical building that housed the council chambers at the last minute
it let out a short volley of laser blasts before slamming into the
building itself, causing it to collapse in flames.  By now tears were
staring to flow as other Raiders streaked at roof top level strafing
the streets which were still clogged with civilians who had been unable
to seek shelter prior to the attack.  Ciardi positioned herself in such
a way that a single volley of laser shots would destroy a trio of
Raiders that had just shot up the main street of the city's retail
district.  With genuine venom in her fangs she let rip with the blasts
which all struck home, the third Raider erupting in flames before the
explosion of the first had dispersed.  So intent was she in her course
of action that she was taken aback by four Raiders in formation that
had closed on her from above and behind.
     "Wedge!"  She called out to her Wingman, "Wedge!"  Even as she
shouted his name she realised what had happened to him, and the others. 
She made a scream of defiance as a laser blast took out her port engine
pod sending her fighter cart wheeling to the ground below.  As the
Starfighter struck the ground, flaming shards of debris from her ship
went flying out in all directions.  Some of those shards set light to
flags and celebratory banners in the nearby main square of the city. 
The flames that rapidly consumed them seemed to be an appropriate
symbol for the chaos and destruction that abounded.

Chapter Two

     The man in animal skins perched atop the horse with a similarly
(un) dressed brunet clinging to his waist, trotted over to the
orange-haired, ape creature tied to the tree.  A brief debate ensued
before the man indicated his intentions.
     "It just doesn't make sense.  A planet where apes evolved from
man?  There's got to be an explanation somewhere," the man pointed out.
     "Don't look for it Taylor!" the Ape began. "You may not like what
you find."  Ignoring his pleas, the man called Taylor kicked the horse
into motion, which took them away along a stretch of beach.  At the
orange ape's beckoning, a group of darker skinned apes reminiscent of
large chimpanzees came over to him.
     "Untie me!" commanded the orange ape.  The chimpanzees dutifully
complied with his wishes.  A group of gorillas made to go after Taylor
and the woman but were motioned to halt and the orange ape instructed
the gorillas to blow up the entrance to a nearby cave in spite of a
promise he had made to the chimps to the contrary.
     "What about the doll?" a female chimp, Zira pressed.
     "In a few minutes there'll be no doll, there can't be," Zaius said
without compromise.
     "But Doctor Zaius you promised," pointed out a younger chimp, "Why
must knowledge stand still? What about the future?"
     "I may just have saved it for you," the ape Zaius replied.  
     "What will he find Doctor?" Zira asked.
     "His destiny," came Zaius' response.
     Taylor and the woman on horseback in the meantime continued along
the beach disappearing from the apes view behind a promontory.  The
waves occasionally lapped up around the horse's ankles as it clomped
along.  After a short time Taylor pulled the horse up short as a large
object, half buried in the sand, blackened and decayed with age, reared
up before them.  Taylor climbed off the horse and strode through the
waves to get a closer look at what to him was a familiar landmark.  He
looked up at it with horror and stammered,
     "Oh my God!  I'm back.  After all this time!"  Anger began to
surface as he fell to his knees amid the waves repeatedly pounding the
sand with his fist.
     "We finally, really did it!"  He looked up at the remains of the
Statue of Liberty's upper torso and cried with equal amounts of pain
and rage.  "You murderers!  You blew it all up!  God damn you, God damn
you all to Hell!"  He broke down at that point and stared down at the
mounds of wet sand in his hands as the woman approached him not
comprehending why he was behaving the way he was.

     The image on the screen faded to black at that point with the
credits scrolling up on the screen to the sound of the waves beating
against the sand.
     "I'd like the lights on," Buck Rogers called out as the screen
that had displayed The Planet of the Apes switched off.  Buck and his
companion, a striking honey blonde in her late twenties/early thirties,
Colonel Wilma Deering a commander in the Earth Defence Directorate and
Buck's sometime lover, emerged from the Centrex entertainment centre
and sat down in some leather chairs in the living room of Buck's
archaically decorated quarters.
     "You know Wilma, back in my youth that was one of my favourite
films.  I've lost count of the number of times I've seen it.  But
now...."  He glanced back towards the small room packed with the latest
entertainment and visual stimulation systems of the era.  
     "I can see why.  The similarities between your predicament and the
character of George Taylor are striking," Wilma agreed.
     "Both of you sent on deep space flights that went wrong, and both
of you forced to spend your lives in a strange new world, though the
character of Taylor did seem to have a more pessimistic outlook on 20th
century life than you did."
     "It was the first time since I was given it that I watched it from
start to finish."  Buck agreed.
     Attempting to lighten proceedings Wilma asked, "Didn't the actor
who played Taylor, go on to become President of the United States?"
     Buck smiled.  "No, it was Charlton Heston who starred in that
movie.  You're thinking of Ronald Reagan."  Then trying to add a little
of his usually levity to further lighten the oppressive atmosphere that
had seemed to develop, he continued, "You know there's another
difference between Taylor & me.  At least I came back to a world filled
with people.  It would be hard for me to relate to Doctor Huer for
instance if he were an orang-utan.  Though you'd look pretty convincing
as a half-naked cavewoman."
     Wilma grabbed a cushion and proceeded to bash Buck over head with
it, grinning as she did.   
     The movie was one of a growing collection of data clips that Buck
had been given, mainly by Doctor Junius of the archives.  The
collection included classics such as Gone with the Wind, all nineteen
James Bond movies and the Star Wars movies.  He'd been surprised to
discover that a few years after he left Earth two more such films,
so-called prequels, had been made starting with The Phantom Menace in
1999, and had been disappointed to learn that the Nuclear Holocaust had
occurred prior to the filming of the other two movies, leaving him with
four out of the six chapters.  The Planet of the Apes had been given to
Buck as a present a few weeks ago after being transposed from reels of
film like the others in Buck's collection, found in an underground
archive in Kansas.  These cool, man-made caves had once been salt mines
up until the mid-20th century when Hollywood studios had taken them
over to store their film libraries.  The gift was thanks by Junius for
Buck's assistance in helping to compile a history of Terran space
exploration from its origins in gunpowder to Buck's own deep space
mission.
     The moment was broken with the beep of a communicator.  With a
sigh Buck walked over to the comm. panel and tapped a few buttons.  It
was Doctor Huer.
     "Buck, I'm given to understand that Colonel Deering is with you. 
Would it be possible for me to speak with her please?  In person."
     "Sure Doc, she'll be right up.  Anything the matter?" Buck
enquired.  The Earth Defence Directorate Administrator, who had played
such a pivotal role in helping Buck to rebuild and redirect his life
since re-awakening in the 25th century, wouldn't be drawn further. 
Looking beyond Buck to where Wilma Deering was standing, he continued,
"I'll discuss it with you when you arrive Colonel."
     Wilma acknowledged the summons, and with Buck at her heels, headed
for the nearest air-tram terminal to take her to the Defence
Directorate building, a white, rather featureless and slab-sided five
story compound a couple of blocks from Buck's apartment complex.  In
spite of Wilma's polite protests at Buck accompanying her, they both
clambered aboard a departing air-tram, a rather ungainly looking
vehicle that was a 25th century equivalent of a bus.  This rectangular
conveyance was capable of travelling at high speeds through the city on
an electromagnetic cushion that kept it at least twenty feet above the
ground, as it followed a carefully programmed course along an elevated
track of pylons.
     The Doctor was only half-surprised to see Buck enter with Wilma,
dressed in 20th century clothing as he usually did, in this case jeans
and a t-shirt that sported an unfathomable military insignia.
     "What is it Doctor?  Your call sounded urgent."  Wilma glanced at
an antique carriage clock on Huer's Perspex desk.  "Especially at this
hour of the night."
     Huer gave a wary glance in Buck's direction.  Ever since Buck had
turned down the offer to join the Defence Directorate formerly, he had
fulfilled Huer's prediction that he would help them out on a
case-by-case basis.  Though lately he had been spending a lot of time
with Earth's historical and archaeological community, helping to piece
together records and artefacts that pre-dated the Holocaust. Thanks to
Buck, Earth's knowledge about her past had grown enormously in just a
short time.  It had however been some time since Buck had volunteered
his services for the Directorate other than to help train fighter
pilots.  This perhaps had something to do with Buck turning down the
offer of an assignment with the Science Directorate aboard the Starship
Searcher.  Under the command of the noted Admiral Asimov, a descendent
of the famous science fiction writer, the Searcher was on a mission to
find long lost worlds settled by refugees from the Holocaust.  Perhaps
Buck's decision to remain on Earth had to do with Wilma's similar
decision, the two did seem to be getting closer whilst Buck's romantic
dalliances with a variety of women seemed to be getting fewer.  Huer
however, was reluctant to include Buck in the discussions until or
unless he was willing to help, so grave was the situation.
     "Oh, I'm sorry to have dragged you down here Buck, but due to the
nature of the situation I'm afraid for the moment this is for the
Colonel's ears only.  Planetary security, you understand."  Huer tried
to make the request for Buck to butt out as friendly and polite as
possible.  What followed had become something of a ritual over the last
two years.  Buck would stand in a corner of the room while Huer and
Wilma discussed the situation at hand in guarded tones as Buck would
attempt to listen in, occasionally asking questions or supplying input,
until such time as either Huer or Wilma pressed Buck on whether he
would lend a hand.  To date he had never said no.  This time was no
exception.
     "Well then, in that case, perhaps I should give you some
background information."  Huer motioned for Buck and Wilma to sit down
at his desk when Buck agreed.  Huer then began his explanation.  "The
planet Vyra is arguably our remotest colony of note.  It has a
population of approximately a quarter of a billion people.  Vast
natural resources that are suitable for light industry and a climate
from pole to pole simply ideal for agriculture.  There are several
cities of various sizes on the planet.  The second of which, in terms
of its size and range of amenities is the seat of government.  Not
unlike the relationship in your century Buck between Washington DC and
Nu Yok, sorry New York.  Next week the planet was to celebrate the
bicentennial of its settlement.  The current Governor would be standing
down and as the centrepiece of the celebrations, an unprecedented
degree of autonomy was to be granted to the planet.  In truth, because
of Vyra's distance from Earth, the colony has enjoyed defacto autonomy
since its founding two centuries ago, but this would codify and confirm
that autonomy, rendering all future Governors of the colony as
figureheads more or less."
     Huer pressed a button and a three dimensional globe of the planet
was projected above the desk.  By manipulating controls, Huer was able
to 'zoom' in on some sites and places on the colony.  They were
breathtaking in their beauty.  Lush green fields gentle rolling hills,
acres and acres of farmland and cities, which, though they featured the
same geometric designs as the buildings in New Chicago, were, laid out
in a more natural and pleasing way with more colours and greenery. 
Much of the countryside reminded Buck of the southern portion of Great
Britain.  During his time with the US Air Force, he had been stationed
for a time at RAF Lakenheath airbase north of London from where he had
flown F-15 Eagle fighters.  It hadn't been uncommon for Buck and his
colleagues to spend their weekends and holidays visiting the quaint
country villages and their public houses or 'pubs' as the locals called
them, scattered around the base.
     Buck commented on this similarity.  "That's one of the reasons for
Vyra's selection as a colony.  The bulk of the first generation
colonists hailed from the part of Earth you knew of as the British
Isles."
     Huer switched of the holographic viewer and pressed on with his
briefing.  "For the last few weeks, several Stargates in the sector
have been playing up, seemingly expelling vessels, though by the time
anyone arrived to investigate, things had settled down.  All we could
do with step up patrols and check the mechanism within the Stargates. 
Then, a few hours ago they sent a distress signal on a special subspace
channel."  
     Huer played a garbled audio transmission that threatened to break
up on several occasions.  Not much could be made out of it save a few
references to a full-scale attack.  The transmission sent chills up the
spine of all three people in the office, even Doctor Huer, for whom
this was the third or fourth airing.
     "...is Earth colony Vyra...under attack...large numbers...type
un...send fighters...."
     "Have we dispatched reinforcements?" Wilma, ever the concerned
officer asked.  Buck could imagine her preparing to go off and change
into her flight gear and participate, or even lead an attempt to
relieve the beleaguered colony.
     "I've placed six full squadrons of Starfighters from Earth plus
three more scattered amongst various colonies and other bases on full
alert, waiting to go at a moments notice.  However I'm reluctant to
dispatch them in spite of the consequences of such a delay until we
know what we're up against.  Although garbled, Doctor Theopolus and
others have determined that the transmission clearly indicates a
numerically large, well-organised force, not privateers.  We dare not
send substantial forces to Vyra at this point, lest Earth herself
becomes vulnerable."
     Huer's caution was understandable, though frustrating.  Earth's
strategic situation though rosy compared with what it was like when
Buck had first arrived almost two years earlier, was still not ideal. 
They had almost quadruple the number of fighters and pilots that they
had first had when Buck had returned to Earth, and thanks to him they
and their flight computers had vastly updated their tactics, even so,
it was acknowledged that Earth would need almost twice as many ships
and pilots than it currently had to be truly safe & secure.  And that
was still a couple of years away.
     "Until that business last year with Queen Zarina in that alternate
universe we found ourselves in, I would have blamed the Draconians, but
as a result of that incident, relations between Earth and the Draconian
Realm have never been better.  Besides, they have no direct territorial
access to Vyra."  
     "What is it that you want us to do?"  Buck had correctly surmised
that he and Wilma hadn't been called in by Huer just to be informed of
the developing crisis or join the squadrons on alert.
     "We'd like you to take a Starfighter ahead of the relief force to
Vyra to ascertain the situation.  Only if you can return and indicate
what enemy force is waiting out there will I send those fighters. 
Should we not hear from you in the next forty-eight hours however, I'll
send the squadrons in regardless."
     The three rose from Huer's desk.  As Buck and Wilma made to leave,
Huer called out after them, "Good luck, I hope to see you soon."
     "Relax Doc, it'll be a piece of cake."  Buck smiled at Huer as he
gave him his reassuring ad by now familiar catch phrase.  As the door
closed behind them, Huer sat back down at his desk and realised that it
wouldn't be that simple.
     Things became still more complicated as the door chime sounded
almost making Huer jump.  "Enter," he commanded.
     Moments later the door opened long enough to deposit Twiki the
short, silver Ambu-Quad drone with Computer Council member Doctor
Theopolus strapped to his chest.  Behind them was a man in his mid
forties who exuded an air of importance, without the robes he wore.
     "Doctor Theopolus, Governor-designate Latimer.  What can I do for
you both?" Huer asked.
     Twiki placed Theopolus onto the table and trotted over to stand by
Huer.  "Bede, bede, bede, aren't you forgetting somebody?"  Twiki
asked.  Ordinarily a drone like him wouldn't be able to talk. Merely
create sounds that could only be interpreted by other cybernetic life
forms.  Since his association with Buck Rogers however, that had
changed.
     "My apologies Twiki," Huer replied with sincerity before turning
his attention to the other two arrivals in his office.  Latimer was
Larson's successor as Governor of Vyra.  He had been due to shuttle out
to the colony later that week in time for the celebrations and his own
inauguration, but the crisis had changed his travel plans.  Although he
was an ambitious man, and his new post would be largely ceremonial, he
was astute enough to realise that given Vyra's importance, it could be
a major feather in his cap.  Additionally there were more supportable
and selfless reasons for taking the post.  His wife and several close
friends all came from Vyra, and he had several vested interests in that
world.
     "I understand that you have recommended that our forces are not to
launch for Vyra, at least not for the moment."  Latimer gave a nod in
Theopolus' direction as he added, "And the Computer Council has
approved said recommendation."
     "Correct.  We simply don't know who or what we're up against, or
why they attacked the colony.  Until we do, we launch at great risk." 
Huer was confident his actions were correct.
     "But my wife went on ahead to Vyra to stay with relatives in the
main city.  And I've also got some friends in the capital who I'm
worried about."  Latimer's normally confident voice hid none of the
anguish & fear he was going through.  Huer tried to reassure him on a
number of points,
     "The colony had some of the best defences as well as the most
extensive civil defence and emergency facilities of any planet I could
mention save possibly Earth.  I've no doubt that your Wife and friends
found shelter before the attack was beaten off."
     "Don't patronise me Huer.  We both know that they could be dead or
dying now and the only thing that could prevent that are the couple of
hundred Starfighters you've got sitting in our Launch Bays awaiting
launch."
     "And they'll go as soon as we know some facts we're not in
possession of as yet," Theopolus pointed out.
     "At this moment, two of my best pilots are preparing to make a
reconnaissance of the planet prior to a full scale launch of our
forces.  They'll be leaving shortly."  Huer remained calm and impassive
throughout.
     "Well I'm going to go with them."  Latimer didn't expound on that
statement.  He rose from his chair and headed for the door.
     "I must insist that you stay here Governor, if only for the
moment," Huer called after him.
     "I'm going with them, Huer.  Attempt to stop me and you'll be
Deputy Director of Waste Disposal by sun-up."  The threat, though not
idle, would be difficult to implement.  Nevertheless, Huer bowed to the
inevitable.
     "If the Governor-Designate is determined to go, then so shall I,"
Theopolus announced taking everyone by surprise.  Twiki, realising that
meant his going along commented,
     "Bede, bede, bede, Don't forget to write."  He turned to leave
before a direct command from the Computer Council member, softened by a
reminder that Buck would be with them, changed the Quad's mind.
     With a look of resignation on his face Huer remarked to the
otherwise empty office, "I'll contact the Launch Bay and have them
delay Buck and Colonel Deering's launch."

Chapter Three

From the Adama Journals:
     As we prepare to mark the sixth anniversary of the beginning of
our flight from the Cylons and begin our seventh Yarhen in the cosmic
wilderness, we consider the momentous events, events that bode both
good and ill for the continuation of our journey.  For it was several
weeks ago that we first stumbled upon artificial passageways in space. 
These passageways have already transported us thousands of
light-yahrens through space, with automated probes and sensors telling
us there are more ahead, and although there is a chance that we may
have skipped past Earth, our hoped for destination, we feel our
commitment to our journey renewed from swiftly traversing such
distances.  Unfortunately our enemies have also found these
passageways.  Sensors have been tracking for this past week, three
Cylon Basestars, almost certainly under the command of the traitor
Baltar whom I believe was rescued from exile.  An exile I placed him in
for his helping us destroy a lone Basestar during our last significant
engagement with the Cylons.  For once I find myself at loggerheads with
the Quorum of Twelve, not because of their reluctance to press on with
our exodus, but because I wish us to pause so as to determine how best
to proceed without alerting our enemies.  To do otherwise would be to
invite disaster in such a thorough fashion as to undue all the progress
we've made these past few weeks....

     Lieutenant Athena, Commander Adama's daughter and a senior
Galactica Bridge officer looked up from her communications panel from
where she could communicate with other areas of the ship and the rest
of the Fleet, and caught sight of her Father entering the vast Bridge
area.
     "Colonel, my Father's here."
     Colonel Tigh, Adama's Executive Officer acknowledged and after
vacating Adam's command chair joined him at the rear of the Bridge,
dominated by a large transparent star map attached to the wall.
     "Yes Colonel, your summons was urgent I believe."  Adama had just
returned from a special session of the Quorum of Twelve held aboard the
pleasure ship Rising Star ostensibly as a chance for the Twelve to
congratulate themselves on their finally nearing the end of their
journey (even though they hadn't yet found evidence of Earth).  When
Adama had raised his objections, the meeting had turned into another
exasperating debate between Adama and his couple of supporters on one
side and the rest of the Quorum (the majority as per usual) on the
other.  So much so that Adama's first act upon returning to the
Galactica had been to head for his quarters for a much needed rest
period to calm down and collect his thoughts.  Now he was standing
before the main map grid at the rear of the Galactica's Bridge
following an urgent request from Colonel Tigh. 
     "As per your instructions Commander, you wished to be called to
the Bridge when we had word that the Cylon Basestar that left to go
through that passageway they're on top of returned."  Tigh illustrated
his response by shining a red dot from a small hand held projector onto
the red grid of the Perspex star-map.  Adama looked past Tigh at the
symbols that represented the trio of Basestars that stood between the
Colonial Fleet of refugees lead by the Galactica, and one of the
artificial passageways.  Days earlier, one of the three ships had broke
formation and traversed the passage.
     "Our automated probe we had monitoring them in that system
reported it returned about a centar ago.  Since then it's electronic
guidance channels between it and the other two Basestars have been in
constant touch.  I haven't seen that much or kind of download of
information since we eavesdropped on some Cylon vessels doing the same
thing after they ambushed the Fleet and then attacked our Colonies," 
Tigh explained.
     "You're suggesting that the ship may have launched some kind of
assault on the other side of that passage?"
     Tigh didn't respond to Adama's query, they both knew the
intelligence supported no alternative conclusion.
     Adama slowly walked up the steps to his command chair and sat
down, shaking his head gently.  He turned his chair round to face Tigh. 
"The Quorum thinks we should press on once again.  Use the passageway
separating us from the Cylon taskforce and then try and charge the
blockade and go through the passageway beyond."
     "They can't be serious."  Tigh knew that they were even as he
asked the question.
     Echoing his thoughts, Adama continued, "Even if, by some miracle
we could get through, we would have to have first suffered horrendous
casualties and then the Cylons, who would almost certainly be
relatively unscathed, would pursue us.  At this moment I don't believe
they know where we are in relation to them.  They know we're in this
general area but nothing more."
     "And to break through, the Galactica and our Vipers would have to
go on ahead.  Should one or more additional Cylon ships we know nothing
about right now, show up behind us, they could take the rest of the
Fleet apart with impunity, ship by defenceless ship," Tigh added to the
assessment.
     "It's just perfect.  They know that we've stumbled upon these
passageways just like they have.  They too can see the pattern of
dispersal of these passages well enough to know that we have to go past
them to continue using them, or spend another generation travelling
conventionally to reach their position under our own steam."  As usual
Tigh had put his finger on the problem at hand.
     Adama nodded at his friend's assessment of the situation.  "The
Quorum wouldn't see it that way, or at least they wouldn't let
themselves do so.  I don't know these passages are just as much a curse
as they are a blessing," Adama conceded.
     "How do you see that Adama?  It would have taken us generations to
travel the same distance without them.  Everyone in the Fleet, the
Quorum included for once, seems raring to press on with our journey to
Earth," Tigh argued trying to lift Adama's spirits as well as prod him
into saying more.  The population of the Fleet upon the beginning of
the exodus had been approximately seven hundred thousand; it was now
almost a million.  The two hundred or so ships in the Fleet designated
for human habitation had been overcrowded as it was, now it was only a
question of time before catastrophe.
     "Tigh, ever since we left the Colonies, I've hoped to be able to
get everyone else in the Fleet to go along with the idea of this search
for Earth.  Apart from a very brief time in the first week or two of
our journey, I've never succeeded, not until we found those
passageways.  I believe that just beyond the passageway where the
Cylons are waiting we will find Earth, or at least tangible signs of
her civilisation, but to press on without first finding a way to deal
with the Cylons practically is simply not acceptable."
     Adama turned his attention back to the main view screen that
revealed a rather bland and (because of the snails pace Adama had the
Fleet travel under to evade Cylon detection) static star field.  He
absently stroked his chin for a few moments whilst coming to a
decision.  He rose from his chair and headed towards the nearest exit. 
He paused long enough to turn to Colonel Tigh and said, "You have the
conn Colonel.  Place a small group of Vipers, say a section, on patrol
alert prepared to go through the passageway ahead to the star system
containing the Cylon Fleet to take a closer look, should anything
interesting happen there."
     Tigh simply nodded as Adama turned and strode out.  Before
appropriating the command chair once again, Colonel Tigh moved to one
of the alcoves on the Bridge, studded with numerous computer screens
and readouts and ordered Flight Corporal Rigel to notify suitable
Warriors from one of the Galactica's four Viper squadrons to go to
standby.

     The three Baseships hung serenely above a large, orange gas giant
planet.  The large circular vessels kept perfect position which each
other as they slowly rotated upon the centre of their own access. 
Aboard one of those ships, buried with the lower of the two saucers
attached one atop the other by a central column were sumptuous
quarters.  The mere existence of quarters with the furnishings and
decor it contained, chaffed with the very design philosophy of the
ship's creators.  Its sole occupant's presence aboard the ship would
have also chaffed with those creators.  Count Baltar (the title was
self-proclaimed) was in his fifties, slightly plump around the waist
with a full head of brown hair, severely greying if not whitening at
the temples.  At one time in his life, like many of his peers he'd
aspired to become a Colonial Warrior, but like all too many of those
peers, he failed to make the final grade.  For him that was a mere
detail.  The calling in of some long overdue debts by his Father, a
prosperous Piscean trader, and an elicit, amorous encounter one night
between Baltar and the wife of a prominent Warrior had changed that. 
Unfortunately, it all caught up with Baltar very quickly and the
jubilation he had felt following his reinstatement to the Colonial
Academy was turned into despair.  On one of his first patrols, Baltar
was forced to make a crash landing on his parent ship, the Battlestar
Solaria, writing off his Scorpion fighter and due to an injury that to
this day gave him a noticeable limp, had seen him forced to leave the
service.  No amount of favours or sleeping around was going to change
things that time around.  It had left him with a desire for revenge,
not at the society whose aggressive actions towards humanity had
crippled him, but the one that had twice drummed him out of the job he
loved, his own society.  The destruction of the Colonies and the
subsequent hunting down of the Colonial Fleet that he had actively and
enthusiastically participated in had helped satiate his appetite for
vengeance.   Now he was in charge of the Fleet of Cylon warships that
would, one day soon eliminate for good his fellow humans.  
     As Baltar dressed in his fine, green velvet robes and proceeded to
the control area of the ship, he reflected on how much his luck had
stayed with him since the destruction of the twelve Colonies.  First he
had escaped death by persuading the current Imperious Leader that he
could help bring the surviving humans to heel, then he had been rescued
by his new colleagues when he had become trapped in the ruins of an
ancient Pyramid on his ancestral home world of Kobol.  And most
recently following several months of incarceration at the hands of his
fellow humans he had been set free.  Admittedly after helping them
destroy a lone Baseship that they had encountered.  A few weeks after
Adama had kept his word and unceremoniously dumped Baltar on a nearby
inhabited world, the short range communications equipment Adama had let
him have enabled him to contact the Cylon Baseship he had been assigned
which had still been pursuing the Colonials.  He still remembered the
day a pair of Cylon Raiders and a troop transport had landed on the
tropical planet that he had been forced to call home.
     Their first words upon finding and recognising him had been, "By
your Command." A promising sign, if he ever needed one.  They could've
just as easily have executed him or at least taken him back to their
parent ship in chains on charges of treason.  He had managed to come up
with a story to explain his circumstances and what he'd said and done
during his imprisonment.  His associates had been sceptical at first,
but after telling them about numerous human-occupied planets the Fleet
had encountered on it's journey which were promptly destroyed by the
Cylon armada, he was back in their good books again, complete with a
new force of three Baseships at his disposal.
     Baltar entered his Throne Room, a rotund, violet-coloured room
with read strip lights mid-way up the walls with a breathtaking star
field for a ceiling.  And where the only light source was a single
shaft of light from that ceiling that illuminated the central column
with his rotating throne upon it, though with no apparent source of
that illumination.  Now sooner had Baltar settled himself than the two
transparent doors to his chamber opened with their familiar swish.  A
large, humanoid looking robot entered at this point with long garments
and a teardrop shaped head.  Its vestigial arms were concealed beneath
two large sleeves pinned to the sides of its torso.  It seemingly
glided to a point near the foot of the pedestal and spoke in a silky
smooth voice.
     "By your command."
     Baltar's throne slowly revolved to face the new arrival and
commanded it to speak.
     "The ship we sent to eliminate the human outpost on the other side
of the corridor has returned.  They report complete success.  What
defences the planet had were overwhelmed and all the population centres
obliterated."  At this point, its voice took on an almost excited tone. 
"And it returned with human prisoners, or at least information of value
to us about the planet."
     Baltar's voice dared the response to contradict this assumption.
     "Not exactly."
     "Lucifer, how can the attack on the humans be a complete success
if they didn't bring back what I asked."
     Lucifer, the IL series '2nd Brain' Cylon who served as his
second-in-command replied in an almost awkward tone of voice.  "I'm
afraid the Centurion in command got a little carried away with the
raid.  By they time they realised that they had gone too far, it was
already over."  Attempting to forestall Baltar venting his growing rage
in his direction, Lucifer continued, "The Centurion made amends by
ensuring that a distress signal the humans sent out was not stopped,
merely disrupted enough to hide key information.  He feels confident
that some form of small-scale reconnaissance will be attempted and to
that end he detailed a small group of Centurions and their ships to
remain behind.  Large enough to capture a small investigation, but also
small enough to evade detection should a sizeable human force arrive."
     "Well Lucifer, let us hope, that they do indeed 'make amends' for
their over zealousness."  Baltar did not sound hopeful.

Chapter Four

     The five occupants of the Starfighter, three human and two
cybernetic, were silent as they exited the Stargate in the vicinity of
Vyra.  Latimer, (only an occasional Stargate user) was so preoccupied
with his wife and friends' predicament that he didn't feel any of the
queasiness that people who didn't use Stargates that often commonly
felt during the passage.  He glanced through the front screen of the
cockpit as best as he could toward the planet they were heading for. 
Vyra was very similar to Earth.  It was roughly the same size, had a
similar land to ocean surface ratio, and an identical gravitational and
magnetic field and atmosphere.  From a distance, the orb of Vyra, with
it's blue oceans, white clouds and polar caps together with the greens,
browns and salmons of the landmasses could be mistaken for Earth.  But
that was where the similarities between the two worlds ended.  Because
unlike Earth, it wasn't tilted on an axis, combined with its proximity
to it's star, Vyra enjoyed a temperate climate from pole to pole all
year around (approximately thirteen Earth months).  Latimer felt almost
possessive about the world they were approaching; he was, after all, to
have been it's next Governor.
     Buck, who was at the fighter's controls, approached the planet as
stealthily as he possibly could.  Vyra had two moons.  One was like
Earth's moon, only slightly smaller, and with a lot less impact craters
located one hundred and fifty thousand miles from Vyra.  The other was
an asteroid measuring thirty-five miles by seven captured centuries
earlier by the planet's gravity at an altitude of about two thousand
miles.  Buck closed as near to the outer moon as possible.  He'd used a
similar technique five centuries earlier on the Ranger III mission when
he skimmed over (under) the Lunar South Pole at an altitude of about
one hundred miles.  Back the he did it in order to use the Moon to give
his un-powered shuttle a boost out into the Solar System, using the
same technique as the Pioneer X & XI and Voyager I & II probes that had
preceded him years before.  This time he did it to put the mass of
Vyra's moon between him and whatever may have still been lurking out
there.  A few minutes later he did the same with Vyra's asteroid moon.
     "Why don't you simply land Captain?  If I'd wanted a tour of this
planet and it's system of satellites I would have booked passage on a
cruise vessel."  Latimer demanded irritably, breaking the silence. 
Everyone else aboard, either knew or had at least guessed Buck's
strategy.
     "In the 20th century, soldiers called what I'm doing
'dash-&-cover' and submariners 'sprint-&-drift.'  In other words I'm
trying to keep a low profile Governor.  If we went in like you
suggested and the people responsible are still here, we may as well
hang out a neon sign advertising our presence."  
     "What's a neon sign?" asked Latimer confused by Buck's fondness
for using 20th century allegories.
     Routine chatter and radio traffic aside, this was the first real
conversation since the journey began.  Buck and Wilma had been
preparing to leave aboard a standard tandem-two seat Starfighter when
the call came down from Doctor Huer to suspend the launch until Latimer
and Twiki arrived.  There was briefly some discussion about what craft
to use when Latimer had suggested using his VIP transport before he'd
been persuaded to go in a four seat, combat-capable trainer Starfighter
that Buck frequently used.  The trainer wasn't quite as manoeuvrable as
it's two-seat counterpart, but at least they'd have some chance should
they run into any hostiles.  Nevertheless, from the moment they exited
the Stargate, Buck armed the weapons and targeting systems and put the
fighter's scanners to their maximum sensitivity.  For several minutes
they shadowed the asteroid moon before satisfying themselves that there
were no hostiles in the area.  A brief scan of the capital showed
differently.
     "There seems to be several unidentified craft at the main
spaceport," Wilma noted as she searched through the databanks for an
entry.  According to the scans, the craft were roughly circular in plan
form with two blocky engine pods and a central crew area.
     "Bede, bede, bede, uh oh, it looks like we can't land, perhaps
we'd better go get help."  Twiki's protests went unheeded, when after
satisfying himself that they hadn't been spotted and finding a secluded
landing zone, Buck broke formation with the asteroid and headed for the
surface.
     They set down in a small grove with some trees, and what to Buck
looked like a dirt road winding its way through the valley.  As they
had come in to land they had seen the destruction wrought by their
mystery Raiders.  The smoke and flames alone obscured the view and
threw up tremendous clouds of soot and ash.  It would be generations
before Vyra was once again the agricultural wonderland it had once
been.  Now, like it's parent world Earth, it was largely a barren
wasteland.  Whilst they had flown down to their landing site, Latimer
had become increasingly agitated, leaning over the back of Buck's seat
to get a better view, and making increasingly despairing comments about
the situation on the ground.  Latimer had at one point even tried to
get them to land quite close to the city, using the excuse that as the
aggressors were still present, the sooner the ship landed, the less
likely the chance that they would be detected.  Now that they were
down, Latimer had been the first to get out, climbing out of the
sideways opening hatch that the four-seat fighter came equipped with. 
He broke into a trot as his feet touched the ground and after his own
experiences with his overwhelming desire to explore Anarchia when he
first arrived back on Earth, Buck was sympathetic to Latimer's
feelings.
     "That maybe the case Buck, but if those hostiles decide to stay
here much longer, he's going to run right into them," Wilma pointed out
to Buck as the rest of the group caught up with Latimer while he was
taking a breather.  As they reached the top of a nearby hill, they were
able to look down upon the great plane on which the planet's largest
city was located.
     Before them, was the once impressive and imposing skyline of the
city.  It's gleaming spires, towers, domes and spheres now battered and
broken, smoke and flames billowing out everywhere.  Latimer, who had
staggered a few steps further on from the rest of the group before
stopping, just sputtered something and fell to his knees.
     "Damn you Huer!  Your negligence caused this!  When we get back to
Earth I'll see that before that day is out you'll be broken!"  With
that Latimer recovered his strength sufficiently to break into a run
down the hill towards the outskirts of the city before him.  Buck and
Wilma looked at each with a mixture of alarm and concern on their
faces.
     Turning to the drone Buck said, "I know you want to come with us
Theo, but right now we stand a far better chance of catching him on our
own.  I suggest you two go back and wait by the ship and ready her for
takeoff."
     "Bede, bede, bede, don't worry Buck, we'll keep the engine
running in case we have to make a getaway."  The group then split in
two, Twiki heading back to the fighter, whilst Buck and Wilma went
after Latimer, who had already disappeared from sight not very
difficult considering the smoke and ash in the air.
     As Buck and Wilma entered the city's outskirts, they could
literally smell the disaster that had visited here.  The stench of
death was in the air, mixed with smoke and fumes, as well as on
occasion, the heat from dozens of fires, some of them small and some
not so small.  The buildings looked as they had done from a distance,
battered, broken and uninhabitable.  Every so often the two would
encounter a body splayed out like a discarded, life size rag doll.  The
scenes were all too reminiscent to Buck of Anarchia, the remains of
'old' Chicago, Buck's home, the difference was that there, the fires
and death had been gone five centuries when Buck had encountered them. 
All the while Wilma was consulting a handheld holographic projector
with a three-dimensional plan of the city.  She would occasionally
point to something on the map, and at the next intersection along the
route, they would go down a particular street.  After a few hours they
came upon the first of the air raid shelters.  The entrance to the
shelter at the mouth of a wide alleyway was wrenched open with smoke
billowing out of it.  Lying on the ground were two charred skeletons,
still intact despite the absence of skin and muscle.  The skeletons
were fused together in their death poses from the laser rifle blast
that had taken their lives.  One at least had been that of a child.  It
was at that point that they heard the sobbing.
     The two nodded their heads and after quickly consulting the plan,
took off in different directions for the same place.  It was not out of
the question that this was a trick by the mysterious hostiles to draw
them out into some kind of trap whilst posing as distraught survivors. 
Buck peered carefully from behind a pile of rubble and looked on down a
narrow street, bordered on all sides by three and four story dwellings,
most of which had their, roofs, doors and windows shot out and all
looking blackened and burned.  And there, amid the rubble in the middle
of the street, Latimer sat on his knees tears streaming down his face,
which looked a little dirty and tarred from scrabbling around in the
ruins.  Near where he knelt was another entrance to the shelter beneath
them.  More skeletal corpses lay about most wearing the ragged, smoking
remains of their garments.  In Latimer's hand was the skull of one of
the bodies, like some grotesque parody of the famous scene from William
Shakespeare's Hamlet.  Buck closed on the Governor cautiously noticing
that the man had taken a laser pistol from the Starfighter that hung at
his belt.  Wilma was approaching the man from the other side, though
Latimer was far too preoccupied to pay them any attention.  He was
speaking to himself, muttering things, alternating between endearments
that he showered the skull, and curses which were directed at everyone
from God, to Doctor Huer, to the mystery hostiles.  When he finally
realised that he wasn't alone, his head shot up so quickly it nearly
startled Buck and Wilma.  Buck imagined that the look in Latimer's eyes
was a more extreme version of the look that he must have had when he
had found his parents' grave in Anarchia and Twiki and Theo had
attempted to persuade him to leave.
     "Is that your wife Governor?"  Buck asked as he and Wilma finally
closed on Latimer.
     "No, not exactly."  Latimer gave a little guffaw before
explaining, "She's, she was, an 'old flame', named Clarissa.  We parted
on very good terms, in fact it was she who introduced me to my wife,
they were old friends from school you see."
     "How can you be sure it's her?" Wilma asked.
     "Because of this bracelet."  He gently laid the skull back on the
ground and lifted up a bone attached to the decapitated corpse.  A gold
bracelet with a name plaque, somewhat twisted and misshapen, but still
legible was offered up to them.
     "A mutual friend of theirs gave both Clarissa and my wife these
bracelets a couple of years ago as Christmas presents."  As he spoke he
stared at the collection of bodies.  He pointed to another of the
skeletons half concealed by the destroyed doorway.
     "That one over there is her husband, Ronal.  He was a lousy card
player and a notorious cheat.  I've lost count of the number of credits
he owed me over the years.  But I didn't mind because, because I could
always count on him to lend a hand when needed."  Latimer would have
said more but he broke down again.  As Buck reached out a hand to
steady him, he angrily wrenched his shoulder free and stood up.
     "This is all Huer's fault.  If he'd shut those Stargates in the
unexplored regions and given the Vyrans a little more help getting that
shield of theirs up and running, this might not have happened!"
     "You don't mean that Governor.  We never knew this would happen. 
You don't know what you're saying."  Wilma attempted to calm Latimer
down, with little apparent success.  She would have said more but for
the sound of footsteps marching in their direction.
     "I'll kill those monsters!  At the very least they'll be forced to
kill me and then at least I'll be with those I love."  With that
defiant exclamation hanging in the air, Latimer got up, un-holstered
his laser gun and made a run for it.  Buck pulled his own gun out, set
it for stun and prepared to shoot Latimer.  He and Wilma would then
have to get the Governor away as best they could while he was
unconscious.
     It was Wilma who prevented this when she pointed behind them.  To
Buck, they looked like robot Roman Centurions.  They each towered
almost seven feet tall, had some kind of black rubber one-piece garment
with silver armour attached to it.  It was this armour that gave them
their Roman look.  The helmet (minus the horse hair flourish) was
shaped in that way, and they even had short swords, not unlike standard
Roman soldiers.  They also had laser rifles with fixed bayonets and a
single red light that moved back and forth across their face making an
eerie whirring sound as it did.  That bead of light stopped in the dead
centre of their eye bands for a few moments when they noticed Buck and
Wilma.
"By order of the Cylon Alliance, halt where you are and surrender!" 
One of the so-called Cylons called out in a very monotone, electronic
voice.  Buck and Wilma had their own ideas that clashed with those
instructions.  Quickly resetting their lasers to kill, the two fired a
volley of laser shots at the robots to cover their escape through the
rubble, a lucky shot of Wilma's managing to drop one of them.
     "Pursue and capture at least one of the humans.  Those are our
orders."  The Cylon who had given the ineffectual command to Buck and
Wilma reminded his troops.
     "By your command."  The other centurions replied in chorus before
dispersing into smaller groups.
     Evading the Cylons was easy, so easy in fact, that in the process,
Buck and Wilma had become hopelessly lost.  Buck and Wilma's lack of
familiarity with the city, coupled with their reliance on a city plan
that had been rendered obsolete the moment the Cylons attacked left
them essentially trapped.  Packs of dogs that only a few days earlier
had been well-mannered family pets were now roving around in packs,
vicious and in search of food further complicated matters.  Twice the
two almost fell foul of these rabid pack hunters, before well-placed
laser shots sent them scurrying whence they came.  The Cylons were
however another matter entirely.  Buck and Wilma actually managed to
get to the edge of the city without further encounters with the Cylons
(although there were plenty of near misses).  There luck however was
not going to get them much further.  The two almost ran into a group of
three Cylons standing sentry on the outermost edge of the city.  The
rolling plane and gentle hills beyond seemed to taunt the two Earth
warriors, the trick was to get past the Cylons, or at least take them
out without alerting their colleagues.  From behind some masonry that
they had hurriedly ducked behind, the two discussed their predicament,
as well as possible solutions.
     "Well, I think we can rule out a repeat of what you did to get us
out of that cell on Necrossi 4 when we were 'guests' of Crollis and
Trent," Buck said reminding Wilma of how she had 'distracted' three
guards outside their cell whilst a fellow captive of the two terrorists
named Alyssa had helped them escape.
    "They not my type anyway.  Somehow I'd always be concerned about
their wandering eye," Wilma wittily retorted.
     "In that case, I'm wide open," Buck said resignedly.  Wilma's face
suddenly brightened, a twinkle forming in it.
     "I remember one of those entertainment clips I watched with you a
few weeks ago.  You remember, the one about the two outlaws from the
ancient west.  Butch Kid and Cassidy Sundance, I think?  You know the
scene at the end when they're surrounded by soldiers in the Currency
Repository."
     "You mean Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  If memory serves,
they were shot."  Buck thought about it for a few moments, checking his
gun to make sure it was in working order.
     "All right, on the count of three," Buck finally said to Wilma.
     "Three!"  The two of them chanted together as they jumped up from
their hiding place and fired off several shots.
     Twiki was sitting in the rear cockpit of the Starfighter, (He and
Theo had reached the cockpit via the folding steps in the side of the
pulsar/engine nacelles flanking the fuselage and cockpit) glancing at
the instruments and making sure that the ship could leave as and when
required.  Every other minute, the Ambu-Quad would glance up in the
direction of the hill, expecting to see a phalanx of hostiles trooping
over it towards them, or possibly hostile fighter craft strafe their
position.  Instead Twiki saw the figures of Buck and Wilma running over
the hill in their direction.  Despite Latimer's absence and sensing
from their movements a need to quickly depart, Twiki began powering up
systems under Theo's instructions.
     "I think we used too much Dynamite," Buck joked to Wilma between
breaths as he and the Colonel clambered into the front of the cockpit
and sealing themselves in, took to the sky in record time.
     "What happened?  Where is Governor Latimer?" Theo asked the two
arrivals.  Whilst Buck concentrated on getting the Starfighter out of
Vyra's atmosphere, Wilma brought the two Quads up to speed on
everything had happened to them since they had gone into the city in
pursuit of Governor Latimer.  She gave them a particularly chilling and
graphic description of the Cylons and their atrocities within the city.
     Buck cleared Vyra's atmosphere and looked around him.
     "No sign of pursuit.  We might just have got away with it."  Buck
remarked, knowing he could well be tempting fate.  A warning tone from
inside the cockpit indicated that was exactly the case.  He looked down
at the readouts on the instrument panel before him.  Those responsible
for indicating the fighter's position in space and the presence (or
lack thereof) of other vessels showed four craft following them.
     "Do you think their ours?" Buck queried.  Somehow he knew he was
going to be disappointed, and when the first laser blasts began to
erupt around them, buffeting the craft this way and that, he got his
expected response.
     "I don't think they're trying to destroy us," Wilma said studying
the readouts before her.
     "Come on Wilma.  They don't want us to get help from Earth.  Why
wouldn't they want to wipe us out?  They did a good job of wiping out
everyone back on Vyra."
     "I must concur with Colonel Deering's assessment, Buck.  My
analysis shows that those laser blasts are designed to shepherd us
along a specific course, rather than eliminate us," Theo interjected.
     Buck had started to come around to their way of thinking, and he
liked the implications.  "Well they may not want to bull's-eye us, but
that doesn't mean we have to live by the same limitations."
     Buck looked over his shoulder.  The four circular fighter craft,
reminiscent to Buck of the Manta ray-like ships from the 1950s War of
the Worlds movie, were in two rows of two, one row staggered forward of
the other.  Buck banked the Starfighter sharply, their four pursuers
following suit.
     Partway through the tight turn Buck levelled off and went into a
loop.  The severity of the loop was such that if not for the
Starfighter's artificial gravity, Buck and Wilma would have lost
consciousness from the G-forces.  As the craft began to level off, one
of the four Cylon craft that were all preparing to emulate Buck's
manoeuvre, found itself in Buck's sights.  Buck let rip a volley of
laser pulses into the ship reducing it to nothing in a single
explosion.
     "Splash one!" exclaimed Buck jubilantly as the Starfighter
spiralled through the explosion.
     "Where did you learn that move?" Wilma asked, ever interested in
broadening her knowledge of combat manoeuvres.
     "Back in the Air Force, at an institution called the Aggressor
Squadron."  Unfortunately the three remaining Cylon fighters had
completed their manoeuvres and had surrounded the lone Starfighter.  A
single laser blast from one of the three ships hit the Starfighter,
causing it to buffet wildly before Buck (with Wilma's help using the
instructor's joystick) was able to steady the ship. The fighter's
occupants could now only sit back and follow the lead of the Cylon
'escorts.'  Buck pressed the illuminated weapons arm switch on his
joystick, deactivating the weapons before making a few innocuous
movements with the fighter indicating their surrender.  Sandwiched
between the three craft, the Starfighter went through one of the
Stargates in the system, only to emerge in unfamiliar territory.  After
a few minutes flight, the fighter's scanners detected three large
vessels in orbit of a single Gas Giant planet they were approaching.
     "Look at that!"  Buck pointed at the three Cylon Basestars in
orbit slowly rotating.
     "Attention Alien craft.  You will follow your escorts and land
with them.  Any attempt to flee will be met with deadly force!"  This
voice, coming of the communications circuit, though as electronic and
monotone as before, had a slightly faster pitch, their leader?  The
four craft began to slow down and descend towards the top of the
uppermost disc of one of the three Basestars.  Buck and his companions
thought they would collide until at the last moment, a panel opened and
the four ships entered.  Several decks below in a short, corridor-like
room with banks of computers lining the walls, the gold-plated command
Centurion who had just contacted the Starfighter turned to Lucifer.
     "The alien fighter craft is now secured.  There were two humans
and two cybernetic life forms aboard."
     "Very good.  I'll inform Baltar that we have visitors.  Meantime
have those fighters return to the Earth colony and capture the other
human.  We may need him if they don't prove informative."  Lucifer then
turned and glided off for an audience with Baltar.

Chapter Five

     The Officer's Club aboard the Galactica was unusually crowded. 
The number of warriors either on alert or on patrol was lower than
normal, reflecting the cautious approach that Commander Adama was
taking since they had detected the new Cylon Taskforce ahead of them. 
That suited Lieutenant Starbuck of Blue Squadron; it meant more time
with his lover, Med-Tech Cassiopeia and, more pilots around to hustle
in games of Pyramid in the crew room.  It was the latter exercise that
the brash young Lieutenant, Fumerillo firmly between his teeth, was
engaged in.  Three other warriors were sitting at the metallic looking
table with him.  Two of them were friends of his, Lieutenants Jolly and
Bojay.  The third was a green cadet who had just transferred to Bronze
Squadron, one of the two extra squadrons that were a legacy of the
Galactica's brief encounter with the Battlestar Pegasus partway through
the first yahren of the exodus from the Colonies.
     "Now hold on kid, before you go declaring your intentions at the
card table you've got to be sure that you've got the goods."  Starbuck
was doing his level best to spook the young woman into losing some of
the confidence she had displayed earlier in the game.  The fact that
she was very good looking, was aware of Starbuck's reputation with the
ladies and was prepared to exploit that was beside the point.  She
didn't realise that Starbuck's current love interest of many yahrens
was one of a group of people, mainly Colonial Warriors in their
two-tone tan uniforms, clustered around the bar and frequently glancing
in the table's direction.  The young woman kept looking at each of her
opponents in turn, each of them a blank mask, beads of perspiration
began forming on her brow as the moment of choice was upon her.
     "I fold."  She finally slapped her fan of hexagonal cards on the
table in a mixture of defeat and exasperation.  Everyone watching the
game gave off murmurs of surprise as Starbuck produced his inferior
hand.  Some clapped at the Lieutenant's brazen display at out-foxing
her.
     "You know something kid, by the way what is your name?" Starbuck
began.
     "Selma.  Flight Sergeant Selma, Bronze Squadron," she shot out as
if asked by a flag officer on a parade ground.
     "Well, Selma, you made a good move and it almost makes up for
choosing to fly with Bronze Squadron instead of Blue or Silver Spar." 
The reference to Silver Spar was in deference to those warriors from
that squadron either past or present in earshot of Starbuck's remark.
     "I guess I'll have to take you under my wing, Selma.  Perhaps see
about getting you transferred to my squadron so I can better achieve
that."  A withering look from Cassiopeia in Starbuck's direction
stopped him going further.  To the amusement of many of those present
Starbuck backed down.  "Then again, maybe not."  He scooped up his
winnings and went over to the bar to give Cassiopeia some clearly
needed attention.
     As the game passed into memory the conversation soon turned to the
current situation at hand.  It was clear that from some of the things
that the pilots were saying, feelings were beginning to run high about
the fact that no action was being taken to deal with the enemy
Taskforce ahead.  As the conversation progressed and changed into a
debate, Captain Apollo, Commander Adama's Son and Blue Squadron's CO
joined in.  All during the Pyramid game and the initial stages of the
debate, he'd been content to sit in a corner with his fiancee
Lieutenant Sheba and just enjoy her company and that of his friends,
but being his Father's Son, he had to wade in.
     "If we stay out here much longer, our edge is going to be gone,
simply through shredded nerves from waiting.  There's no way we can
stay here much longer, according to the scuttlebutt it's only a
question of time before the Cylons come for us through that passageway
up ahead!"  Lieutenant Bojay, Apollo's counterpart with Silver Spar
Squadron, stated.  Many of the pilots around the room made noises of
agreement.
     "You're saying that it's better to die on our feet, than wait and
come up with a plan that could let us get through in one piece?" Apollo
asked.  From his tone of voice it was clear that he was challenging
anyone to dispute that assessment.
     Pointing to the flags representing the four Viper squadrons and
the trophy cases with debris and other reminders of victories over
Cylon warships, Ensign Jolly (until recently Flight Sergeant Jolly)
remarked,
     "Skipper, we just feel anything's better than waiting around for
them to pick us off."  Apollo looked around the faces of the assembled
throng of warriors.  They all shared Bojay and Jolly's views to varying
degrees.  It was Sheba who came to the rescue of her fiancee in a way
that she hoped would help defuse the tension building in the room.
     "Look at it this way, when we do have a go at the Cylons, we'll be
so psyched up, they won't know what hit 'em."  Some of the people
murmured agreement with that view, not that anyone indicated whether or
not they believed it, Bojay put that into words.
     "I would have thought that you of all people would have felt that
way, Sheba.  You know I hate to say this, but for once I think Sire Uri
& the Quorum are right and Adama's wrong."
     Sheba looked at her former wing mate and best friend with sadness. 
Since they had both 'transferred' to the Galactica, they had drifted
apart slightly which was sad from Sheba's point of view there was a
time before she had met Apollo when she thought they could have been
more than friends.
     "I heard a rumour once that Count Baltar, the traitor offered the
Commander a way to defeat the Cylons but he rejected it," Selma pointed
out.
     "That's nonsense kid.  Where did you here that?" asked Lieutenant
Boomer with some trace of anger in his voice.  Selma noticing the look
in the eyes of some of the warriors shrank back slightly and muttered
something about just hearing people talking.
     "Well I can tell you for a fact that they were sniffing plant
vapours.  Yes Baltar did present the Commander with some sort of scheme
to take out the Cylons.  But would you take any of that felgergarb that
traitor spouts at face value," Boomer followed up.  Selma's lack of
response demonstrated that she had no way of defending her earlier
statement.
     Apollo strode up to the door of Adama's quarters and sounded the
door chime.  He noted that his Father didn't immediately rush to
respond to the sound.  When the door finally opened and Apollo entered
he found his Father at his desk poring over hardcopy printouts
containing star charts and records.  Adama glanced up and acknowledged
his Son at last.  He removed the pair of antique reading aids called
spectacles that he had started using a couple of yahrens earlier to
help him read small print.  Very few knew that Adama wore them outside
of his immediate family and friends.
     "Apollo, what brings you to my quarters.  I thought Tigh had
placed you and some of your squadron on alert."
     "He did, I just came to see how you were Father, and whether or
not you were close to making some kind of decision as to our next
move."  Apollo tried not to sound frustrated or angry, though it was
somewhat difficult to keep his town sufficiently friendly.  Adama gave
his Son one of his calming, worldly-wise smiles that he was famous for.
     "I've been reading old scientific records as well as legends from
the archives about the Thirteenth Tribe and their journey from Kobol to
Earth."  Adama offered up some of the printouts in Apollo's direction
to illustrate his point.
     "I believe these passageways are the handy work of that Tribe and
were used to shorten their journey to Earth.  The only problem with the
theory is that you need a similar device at the other end of the
passage.  Still, perhaps some advanced probe scouted ahead of the main
group and established a gateway further along the way."  Realising that
Apollo wasn't interested in what Adama had to say about the passageway,
he walked over to the dimly lit corner of his quarters where there was
a red, L-shaped sofa and a large, oval portal.  Without turning away
from the star field beyond, Adama asked, "How are you and your fellow
warriors holding up Apollo?"
     "Chafing at the bit would be the polite way of putting it. 
They're more wound up than the spring in an old mechanical chronometer. 
Simply tired of waiting for the Cylons to show their hand or someone to
come up with a viable plan of attack."
     "Did you know the one millionth person in the fleet was born
yesterday?" Adama asked turning to Apollo.  Apollo didn't insult his
Father by pressing him over the relevance of the statement or accusing
him of trying to change the subject, there was a connection with
Apollo's challenge, and Adama would get to it in his own time.
     "No, I didn't.  I'm very happy for the family."
     "Sire Uri and several other members of the Quorum of the Twelve
communicated their congratulations to the family.  Uri pulled some
strings to have the family moved to better quarters aboard their ship. 
Some elderly widow had recently died leaving her room vacant.  Not
surprisingly the handover of the quarter's access codes to the head of
the family was officiated by Uri, live on IFB."
     Sire Uri had been a prominent and influential regional politician
on Caprica during a period of cultural renaissance a generation
earlier.  He later emigrated to the planet Leo, which he represented on
the pre-Holocaust Quorum.  Poor health had forced him to resign his
seat shortly before the 'Armistice Conference,' doubtless saving his
life. Following the exodus from the Colonies and a return to health, he
was elected representative of the Leons once again.  Due to the part he
had inadvertently played in the near-tragedy on the planet Carillon, he
had resigned his seat on the Quorum.  Many saw him as a tired and
beaten man, that was until his wife turned up alive and well (albeit
suffering from amnesia) aboard one of the ships in the Fleet.  The
reunion and her swift recovery seemed to act as a kind of therapy for
Uri.  So much so, that when Siress Uri really did die, two and a half
yahrens later, Uri submitted himself successfully for re-election to
the Quorum.  Sadly Adama found him to be even more dangerous and
calculating than before.  The population crisis was his latest gimmick
in his quest to topple Adama and replace him as President.
     "Tell me Apollo, what is the average compliment of the ships of
the Fleet?  The answer is approximately five thousand.  Save that is
for the Galactica, the Rising Star, the Agro-ships, the Livestock
ships, the Celestra and the other two Industry ships, the Foundry ship
that makes Vipers, the Prison Barge and the ship we're using as an
Academy training ship which only average about fifteen hundred.  Of the
remaining two hundred ships which are designated as carrying people,
only about twenty could carry in excess of that number.  Our troop
transports for example, but they're already in use as barracks for our
remaining ground forces.  Most of our ships are already full to
capacity.
     "When we left the Colonies there were roughly seven-hundred
thousand of us.  Sexual innuendo aside, with no other means for people
to amuse themselves at the start of our journey and supplies of
contraceptives confined to military personnel, it was inevitable there
would be a population explosion.  And you know my views on terminating
the unborn."
     "I saw it as more than just letting off steam or entertainment.  I
saw it as a reaffirmation by our people that we would rebuild and
re-grow," Apollo said.
     Adama sat down on the couch and looked at his Son.
     "You know, time was when my idea of our people finding and
settling on Earth was laughed off, even used by my enemies to imply I
was delusional & unfit to lead.  Now, since we found those passageways
the slogan seems to be 'Earth or Bust', regardless of the consequences
to us all.  I know we can't go on much longer living in overcrowded,
uncivilised conditions.  We have to make planet fall sooner rather than
later, but still.  It's been so long since we last engaged the Cylons
in anything other than a few light skirmishes.  I think the Quorum
forgets the costs involved.  Tell me Apollo how long was it since we
last engaged the Cylons?" Adama asked.  Apollo searched is memory.
     "A couple of yahrens?  I don't know, three?"
     "Three and a half yahrens if my memory serves me.  In that time we
have used that peace to get organised, or reorganised in certain areas. 
Made necessary repairs and renovations to many ships in the Fleet,
including this one.  But we're still not strong enough to go up against
the Cylons.  Remember the last time the Quorum tried to get us to do
something foolish.  It was when we picked up signals that could have
come from the Pegasus.  We wasted who knows how much time looking for
her, only to find it was a false alarm, in the process getting
ourselves into one or two scrapes, that we could have and should have
avoided."
     Apollo began to let his disappointment show.  From that last
statement, he could tell his Father had made up his mind to continue to
let the waiting go on a little longer.  He was about to pass judgement
on this when Adama's communicator chirped.
     "Commander, our probe indicates three Cylon Raiders have just
returned through a passageway.  They're with a forth ship that's not
Cylon in configuration and they didn't land aboard the Basestar that
went through the passageway alone recently.  I assume they came from
that ship.  Anyway the three Raiders just took off again," Tigh
reported.
     "Headed for their parent ship?" enquired Adama.
     "No sir, back through the passage."
     "Dispatch our patrol to enter that area via the passage in this
system and take a look," Adama ordered.  Tigh acknowledged the order
and signed off.  Adama turned to his Son.
     "Well Captain, what are you waiting for?  An engraved invitation
from Baltar and his Cylon friends?  You're up I believe."

     Apollo went first to his quarters to get his Sphinx-like helmet
and other accoutrements.  From there he proceeded to the Galactica's
Alpha Launch Bay housed in the port nacelle attached to her main hull. 
When he arrived, he saw the rest of the warriors assigned to his
patrol.  These included Lieutenants Boomer, Sheba and Starbuck, already
in their Vipers, ready to go.  Apollo climbed into his own light-grey,
delta-winged ship, strapped himself in, put on his helmet and conducted
a systems check.  When he had satisfied himself that the ship was ready
he lowered the wedge-shaped canopy and gave a thumbs up to his crew
chief that patted the side of his Viper and returned the signal.  The
strips of viewing lights in his helmet came on as the canopy dropped
into place and Apollo started priming systems as Corporal Rigel of Core
Control contacted him from the Bridge.
     "Section twelve, Launch Bay Alpha, this is Galactica Core Command,
stand by to launch Viper deep probe."
     "Roger acknowledged, recorders input and functioning, ready to
launch," Apollo replied for the whole patrol as the data was fed into
his navi-computer.
     "Core systems transferring command to fighter probe, launch when
ready," Rigel ordered.
     Apollo felt the same adrenaline rush he always experienced just
before a launch.  Tapping the three touch sensitive controls that
started up the three engines on his ship, he heard the familiar whine
as the engines built up power to launch intensity.  When the whine
reached a peek, Apollo and the others pressed the 'Turbo' button on
they're joysticks and were pressed back into their seats as one by one
they hurtled down the triangular launch tubes that lined the side of
the Launch Bay nacelles out into space.
     From the Bridge, Corporal Rigel and Lieutenant Colonel Omega, the
Galactica's Second Officer watched the launch on the monitor screens
courtesy of a variety of strategically placed cameras in the Launch Bay
and launch tubes.  As the ships left the tubes in quick succession
Omega turned to the main view screen and watched the Vipers, trailing
streams of ionised gas from their three engines assume a arrowhead
formation and head for the passageway.
     "Blue Squadron launched and on course Colonel," Rigel reported to
Tigh standing on the revolving platform where the command chair was
located.
     "Very good Omega.  As a precaution in case the patrol runs into
trouble, have the rest of Blue Squadron placed on alert."  This last
action was at Adama's suggestion just moments earlier and was in
response to the impressions he'd gotten from Apollo in his quarters. 
He reasoned it would give the warriors something to do but fret.

Chapter Six

     Buck flexed his muscles a little in order to get some feeling
restored to them.  Buck and Wilma had been taken to a cell, a small
box-shaped room with a transparent sliding door that opened onto a
dimly lit corridor beyond.  Every so often the a couple of guards or
Centurions as Buck soon discovered they were referred to would pass
their cell, pausing momentarily to look in on it's occupants to make
sure they were secure.  Buck would occasionally smile at them when they
did so, but the courtesy was never returned.
     "What do you think they're doing with Twiki and Theo?" Wilma
asked.
     When they had landed Centurions had surrounded their Starfighter. 
The ship's crew disembarked and handed over their weapons to the
horseshoe shaped group of machines standing before them with their
weapons raised.  It was at that moment that another machine appeared on
the scene, gliding or scuttling serenely on legs or some other
locomotive contrivance concealed beneath flowing golden robes.  This
one was clearly more sophisticated than the others, looking a little
more human, though also just as mechanical and menacing.  His head was
oval in shape and purple in colour with red moving eyes.  The scalp was
transparent and exposed illuminated circuits.  It came to a halt a few
feet from them and to Buck and his companions it looked like it was the
one in authority.  It had looked at each of them in turn, even bending
down awkwardly to look at the circular contraption hanging around
Twiki's neck that was of course, Doctor Theopolus.  It was then that it
spoke, in well-enunciated English, with no indication of the voice
being electronic, and even hinting at a British accent!
     "And just who are you?"  Wilma was about to step forward and
introduce her and the group when she realised that the question had
been addressed to Theo.
     "I am Doctor Theopolus of the Computer Council with assignment to
the Defence Directorate.  And this is my Ambu-Quad, Twiki."
     "Bede, bede, bede, bede," came Twiki's simple response.
     The new arrival then turned its attention to Buck & Wilma.  "I am
Lucifer, IL series Cylon and Administrative Liaison. And these are?" 
It pressed Theo.  This time Buck and Wilma responded for themselves,
     "I'm Captain Buck Rogers."
     "And I'm Colonel Wilma Deering, Commander of the Third Force of
the Earth Defence Directorate."  At the mention of the word 'Earth'
Lucifer appeared to give a start.  Buck was reminded of the old Monty
Python gag of the knights who say 'nee.'
     "Earth?" Lucifer exclaimed, his voice betraying his shock and
surprise at this.
     "Yeah, Earth, you know land of the free, home of the brave?  If I
were you I'd have your auditory systems given a thorough going over."
Buck replied.  At this Lucifer had the two humans removed to a cell
whilst the drones were sent elsewhere.  Lucifer meanwhile went to see
Baltar.

     Lucifer, a single silver Centurion at his side, entered Baltar's
chamber to find him sitting, not on his throne, but on crossed legs in
front of the base of his pedestal, finishing off a meal.  When Lucifer
and his companion approached, Baltar hurriedly finished the last
morsels of his meal, dapped his mouth with a napkin and rather ungainly
rose to his feet.
     "By your command,"  Lucifer began.
     "Just get on with it Lucifer."  Baltar waved his hand and he began
to walk around the chamber, probably to walk his meal off, Lucifer
deduced.
     "I bring some interesting news about our new captives.  It appears
they are not from the planet we attacked after all."
     "Really, and where in fact do they come from Lucifer?  If not from
the planet?"
     "Earth."  Lucifer spoke the single word, and Baltar stopped dead
in his tracks.  He limped up to his second and looked at him in a
curious way.
     "Did you say, Earth?"  Baltar's face was now only millimetres from
Lucifer's face, quite close enough for Lucifer's taste.
     "The world we attacked was apparently an Earth colony.  Our
prisoners are members of Earth's armed forces sent to investigate what
happened to it.  Why?  Is there something wrong with your auditory
canals?" Lucifer asked, inadvertently echoing Buck's joke at his
expense.  Had Lucifer been a human, or Baltar believed that he had a
better knowledge of human tact and etiquette than he displayed, he
might have reacted violently.
     As it was, Baltar instead backed off and began laughing.  "Oh
Lucifer my friend, I never thought you had it in you.  Earth indeed!"
     Lucifer shook his head.  "I fail to see what you find so funny
Baltar.  From what we have learned of your society's history and
mythology, not to mention the surviving Colonials intentions, I would
have thought that this news was cause for concern.  We've discovered
that Earth is not very far away and from the evidence at hand, it's as
technically advanced as we are."
     Baltar, who had by now returned to his throne, had calmed down
somewhat.  "My friend, Earth is just a myth, nothing more.  The
inhabitants are reputedly the descendants of the Thirteenth Tribe of
humanity who fled the destruction of Kobol almost ten thousand yahrens
ago."
     "As I indicated, we are aware of your myths and history,"  Lucifer
noted.
     "There is no Earthm Lucifer.  Those planets full of humans I told
you about and you subsequently went on to destroy or subjugate are all
that's left of the Thirteenth Tribe's descendants."
     "But what of the name?  Why call their planet Earth, if in fact
theirs is not the world of Colonial mythology?  I haven't even
mentioned their ship, equipment or uniforms."  Lucifer was convinced of
the origins of their captives.  After a few moments in which Baltar
looked almost thoughtful, the self-proclaimed Count broke into another
bout of laughter.
     "And now what do you find so funny, Baltar?" Lucifer asked,
somewhat irritated by Baltar's behaviour.
     "It just occurred to me.  Adama has spent every waking moment of
his life since the Colonies' destruction searching for Earth.  And now,
if I'm wrong after all and there is an Earth and our prisoners' hail
from there, it is I who is about to make first contact with them.  I
wonder just how frightened and concerned if Adama only knew?  Continue
examining the mechanoids and bring the humans before me."
     "By your command."  Lucifer and the Centurion turned and headed
out of the chamber.

     The examination chamber was a room not unlike Baltar's throne
room, high ceilinged and dark.  The difference was in the contents. 
Several tables and stands contained electronic equipment and banks of
computers.  Some were there to be examined or repaired, whilst others
did the examining/repairing.  In the centre of the room, where Baltar's
throne and it's pedestal were, there was a long table, restrained upon
which was Twiki.  Theo, for obvious reasons was not deemed a 'flight
risk' and so he was simply placed on one of the benches of equipment. 
Lucifer, after returning to the human prisoners to inform them & their
Centurion guards that Baltar wished to see them, headed down to the
examination chamber to interrogate Theo and Twiki.  As Lucifer had left
the humans, his opinion of Rogers had gone down still further with the
human making another series of jibes about Lucifer and his kind.  That
man was very similar in both name and temperament to Lieutenant
Starbuck who had also been briefly held aboard the Basestar.  Putting
the distasteful memories of the man out of his head, Lucifer approached
the drones.
     "Bede, bede, bede, uh oh, old red eyes is back," Twiki announced
for Theo's benefit.
     "I trust you find our treatment of you well," Lucifer asked.
     "My treatment has been satisfactory, so far, but Twiki's and I
suspect my human companions are not," Theo replied.
     "I assure you, neither you, nor your companions have been
mistreated.  I concede that I cannot guarantee the humans safety
indefinitely as we hold their kind in low regard.  But you shouldn't
have cause to worry, at least not if you co-operate."
     "And exactly how am I expected to do that?  I will not betray my
people back on Earth or her colonies,"  Theo pointed out.
     "I'm not asking you to betray your people, merely the humans who
serve them and you," Lucifer countered thinking that this was a
suitably mollifying response.
     "The humans do not serve us, rather it is the other way around. 
We on the Computer Council serve them.  It is true that there are
certain functions that we administer over humans, and we need to alter
our programming to obey humans not in positions of Political authority. 
But we also know that our ancestors were created and programmed by man
even if we know program ourselves."
     "Bede, bede, bede, you tell 'em Theo," Twiki piped up.
     Lucifer gave him a brief look before returning his attention to
Theo.  "I'll return shortly after assisting Baltar with interrogating
your human associates.  I trust when we begin our discussion properly
you will be more constructive in your comments and observations."  With
that, Lucifer turned and left the room.
     As he went out of site, only a single Centurion was left guarding
them, and it was posted outside the door.
     "Okay Twiki, I think it's time we enacted our plan," Theo said in
as quiet voice as he could manage.
     Twiki agreed in typical fashion and then began to make noises that
sounded like a systems malfunction.
     "Excuse me," Theo called in a loud voice.  There was no response
at first, prompting Theo to repeat himself.  This time the Centurion
turned towards them.  "Could you assist us?"
     The Centurion cautiously entered the chamber and came up to them. 
The presence of only a single guard was a reflection of the lack of
faith the Cylons had in Twiki and Theo's ability to escape.
     "But the restraining belts are overloading my counterpart's
systems over here.  He suggests that if you loosen them he should
recover."
     The Centurion looked from one to the other, sensing deception.  As
if to emphasise the situation, Twiki continued to make the sounds. 
This decided the issue; the Centurion put its rifle down on the bench
and bent down to work on Twiki's restraints.  Once sufficiently
loosened, Twiki sprang into action.  He reached for and grabbed the
ceremonial sword of the by now alarmed Centurion and made a slashing
movement against his leg.  With a shower of sparks issuing from the
'wound', the Centurion went down and stayed down.
     "Bede, bede, bede, touche," crowed the jubilant Quad who then
climbed down off the table and secured Theo around his neck once more.
     After retrieving Buck and Wilma's equipment, Theo directed him
over to a bank of computers which Theo promptly accessed before the two
made their escape.  "By the way Twiki, where again did you come up with
the idea for this ruse?  Not to mention the dialogue I used on the
guard?"
     "Bede, bede, bede, watching Star Wars with Buck," the Quad replied
as he closed the door to the chamber behind them.
     "What's Star Wars?" asked a mystified Theo.

     Buck and Wilma were led into the Throne Room sandwiched between
two Centurions.  With practiced efficiency, the two machines took up
flanking positions between the two of them unmoving.
     "By your command."  One of them chanted the familiar Cylon mantra
of obedience and respect for authority.  The throne turned around to
face the four new arrivals in the room.  Baltar looked down at the two
prisoners and put on his most charming and pleasant facade.
     "Welcome, welcome.  I am Commander Baltar, formerly Count Baltar
of the planet Piscera."  In turn the two, humans stepped forward and
identified themselves.
     "I'm Colonel Wilma Deering of the Earth Defence Directorate."
     "And I'm Captain Buck Rogers."  Both Buck and Wilma took on a
reverential tone to their voices.
     "And you're also of this 'Earth Defence Directorate' Buckrogers?" 
Baltar said Buck's name as one word.
     "It's Buck, Rogers and the answer's no.  You could say I'm in the
reserves." Buck responded.
     "And what do you think of this ship?  Impressive isn't it? A
veritable model of machine efficiency."  Baltar was clearly full of
himself.
     "It might be if the machines weren't intended for destruction,"
Wilma conceded, lacing her acknowledgement of the Cylon's capabilities
with a statement of her low regard for their actions.
     "Oh, you mean your captivity and what happened to your colony, I
believe Vyra was its name?"  Baltar was playing the role of injured
party to the hilt.  "I can assure you that that was unintentional.  One
of my commanders aboard one of the other Baseships exceeded his orders
to a horrendous degree.  And as for your treatment to date, I can only
say that we weren't sure that you wouldn't cause trouble for us until
we had explained ourselves and our position fully to you."
     Buck and Wilma both exchanged dubious glances at each other that
they were able to cover up when they looked behind them at the doors to
the chamber opening momentarily to admit Lucifer.
     "You see I am an intermediary between the Cylons and the Human
race.  There are many within the Cylon Civilisation who would see
humanity destroyed, or at least subjugated under them.  I represent a
faction that favours peaceful co-existence.  A faction I may add that
is currently in the ascendancy, at least while there is a chance to
convince the humans to end their war with the Cylons."
     "I wasn't aware that we were at war with you," Wilma said.  She
then turned to Buck and asked,  "Could these be enemies of the
Draconians.  Perhaps because we're humans like them, they mistook us
and our colonies for them?"
     "Who are these Draconians of whom you speak?" asked Baltar.
     "A former colony of Earth's which broke away from us and forged an
empire in this part of the galaxy a couple of centuries ago.  I take it
these aren't the humans of which you speak?"  Wilma explained, though
admittedly unsure as to whether she should have revealed the tactical
and political situation in the region to people who'd just attacked an
Earth colony.
     "The humans that I speak of live in the Twelve Colonies in our own
Galaxy.  My own planet of Piscera was one of them," Baltar said.
     "Was?" asked Buck.
     "Yes.  The Cylons sent me to broker peace with my fellow humans. 
Unfortunately it was rejected out of hand and as a purely defensive and
pre-emptive measure mind you, the Colonies and the bulk of their fleet
of warships were eliminated.  Some Colonials and elements of their
military survive nevertheless and are currently on their way now to
find and settle on your world."  All the while that he listened to
Baltar, Buck got the impression that he was hiding and twisting parts
of the story in some sinister way.
     "I take it if we were to encounter these Colonials and shun them,
maybe even turn them over to you and your friends, Earth and her
colonies wouldn't have anything to worry about?" Buck suggested.  He
continued, "But if we welcomed them with open arms, what happened on
Vyra would happen again, only this time, intentionally."
     "I'd like to dispute the second part of your assessment.  I really
would but unfortunately my Cylon friends would be beyond even my
considerable influence."  Baltar indicated Lucifer in that last part.
     "This sounds like a classic case of the old 'good cop, bad cop'
routine," Buck said.
     "'Good cop, bad cop'?  What is a cop?" Baltar asked.
     "A slang term for an old-fashioned Earth police officer.  Yeah,
you're the 'good cop' you offer us a positive inducement if we agree
with you.  While your friend Beelzebub here," Buck pointed to Lucifer,
"is the 'bad cop' who ends up doing something unpleasant if we don't."
     "If I understand you correctly, then yes that's right.  But you
can trust me.  What do you say?"  In Lucifer's eyes, Baltar was really
outdoing himself.
     "I'd have to say I trust you, just like I would have trusted my
late uncle Anthony back on Earth.  You remind me of him a lot I might
add," Buck said.
     "And what was your uncle?  A great statesman or military leader
whose word was their bond?" Baltar replied hopefully.
     "No, he was a used car salesman," Buck quipped in response.  He
didn't need to elaborate on his uncle's trust-worthiness or lack
thereof to tell Baltar that he didn't trust him.  Wilma tried
unsuccessfully to suppress a snicker with no success.
     Baltar who was now incandescent with rage, bellowed, "Take them
away!  Don't say I didn't give your people a chance Buck Rogers!  Earth
will rue the day you turned down my generous offer!"
     Buck and Wilma were led out of the chamber quite roughly by the
Centurions and down a corridor towards an area called the central core
that provided access to all the ship's decks.  When they arrived, both
guards' chest plates suddenly ruptured in a shower of sparks and the
Centurions fell to the deck.  Buck and Wilma recognising the effects of
a laser blast at close range pressed themselves against the wall.  As
the smoke from the Centurions began to dissipate however, the culprits
were revealed.  Twiki and Theo, Buck and Wilma's laser pistols in each
of the quad's hands.
     "Bede, bede, bede, just like Rambo!" Twiki exclaimed.  Buck gave
Twiki an affectionate pat on his head as he and Wilma hitched their
belts and holsters back on and took their laser pistols off Twiki.
     "How did you boys get free?"  Wilma asked, worried that this was
all part of some Cylon scheme.
     "With some ingenuity and Buck's love of 20th century motion
pictures," Theo replied.  With that, Twiki trotted towards the central
core.
     "Where are you going?" Wilma asked.
     "Before I escaped, I accessed the plan of the ship.  We should be
able to get access to our fighter,"  Theo explained.
     Buck and Wilma dutifully fell in behind the Quads.  Buck was
somewhat concerned of how easy it had been to get to their ship as they
climbed in and primed the systems.  But never one to look a gift horse
in the mouth, Buck took full advantage of it.  As Theo put his newfound
knowledge to the test and opened the main door to the Hanger for them,
Buck gunned the engines and the Starfighter stormed out of the Launch
Bay, past the rows and rows of Cylon Raiders out into space.
     Lucifer entered Baltar's chamber and stood before his nominal
leader.
     "By your command."
     Baltar turned to face Lucifer, already anticipating that the IL
Cylon had not brought good news.
     "It would appear that our prisoners were able to escape their
captivity."
     "How pray tell?"  Baltar's voice betrayed none of the anger that
had began to well up inside him.
     "As per your orders, we had relaxed security in order to allow the
humans to leave should they have accepted your story.  We would then
have attached a homing beacon to the fighter and they would have led us
to Earth.  Unfortunately, we were perhaps being to optimistic in
believing that the humans would agree, and before we could change our
security posture, they escaped."  Had Lucifer been human, he perhaps
would have congratulated himself on not prevaricating in his
explanation of the situation.
     "I am fully aware of our plan to use them to lead us to Earth. 
Dispatch a recovery force to bring them back and have out forces left
on Vyra find the other human, we may need him after all."
     "By your command."  Lucifer turned to leave and Baltar began to
turn his throne away.  He then turned back to the departing Lucifer.
     "If recapture of the Earthlings prove impossible, eliminate them. 
We can't have them reporting their experiences to the security &
military services of their world."

Chapter Seven

     Starbuck was bored, to put it mildly.  Ever since the Vipers had
traversed the passageway into the system containing the Cylon
taskforce, all the patrol had done was drift along at a low speed to
conserve power and evade detection by the Cylons.  It had been centars
since Starbuck last smoked and he could feel the nicotine craving begin
to build up in his system.  A screw that had worked itself loose
floated around the zero gravity environment of his cockpit.  Every so
often, to amuse himself, Starbuck would prod the screw with his index
finger changing its direction.  It hadn't taken long for the brash
young Lieutenant to get bored with the screw.  He didn't even know why
the patrol was out here.  The electronic probe, the Colonials had
managed to send undetected into the system seemed to provide good
enough intelligence, why risk discovery (and his life) sending a
fighter probe in to gather additional info?'  What was more, Starbuck
was worried that he would have to spend so long in zero gravity that
when he returned to the Galactica, he wouldn't be able to use his legs
(not to mention other items of his anatomy below the waste) for a while
without first undergoing considerable physiotherapy and exercise.  He
silently cursed the designers who had decided to remove gravity
generators from Vipers as an economy measure to save time and precious
resources.
     "Apollo, just how long do you plan on us staying out here?" 
Starbuck had finally decided to put his impatience into words.
     "I don't want to stay out here any longer than you Starbuck, but
my Father's orders on this matter are clear."  Apollo wasn't mincing
his words.  He had an appointment with Boxey's educator over some
problems he'd been having lately in instructional period which Apollo
considered to be very important.  Starbuck decided to relent for the
moment.  Apollo was probably just venting off his own steam over
defending Adama's decision not to provoke the Cylons.  It was a few
centons later when Sheba broke the silence.
     "Apollo, I've got activity on my scanner.  Several ships have left
one of the Basestars."
     Boomer was the next one on the line as each of the warriors began
consulting their scanners in an effort to determine what was happening. 
"Warbook says there are six Cylon Raiders and one unidentified ship. 
The unknown launched ahead of the Cylons and..."  Boomer was taken
aback by something before continuing, "Apollo, there's two humans
aboard!  Their ship is damaged and the Cylons are firing upon it."
     They could all see for themselves what was happening.  The humans
flying the ship seemed to be good, but it was only a question of time
with the odds clearly against them.
     "What are we waiting for?  Lets go lend a hand," Starbuck
announced before hitting his turbo button and shooting ahead in his
three-engined, delta-winged fighter.  Other warriors in the group
followed suit until Apollo was left alone.  
     "By the Lords," he muttered before he two, pressed the 'Turbo'
button and charged into the developing fray.

     "This time I don't think they want to just pull us over to the
side of the road and give us a ticket,"  Buck said as another volley of
laser blasts from the pursuing Cylon Raiders exploded near them with
only Buck's piloting skills keeping them from hitting them.  Wilma was
furiously tapping touch sensors and buttons, bringing up a holographic
schematic of the ship which slowly rotated to present the viewer with
the optimum view possible of those areas of the ship that were damaged. 
It was the rear area aft of the cockpit and the belly of the ship that
had taken damage.
     "It doesn't look good Buck.  We've taken a lot of damage in the
engine assembly," Wilma said at last.  The look on her usually calm
face indicating the concern she had.
     "How many of those tin heads behind us do you make out?" Buck
asked, as he realised that the only remaining option was to go out in a
blaze of glory, taking as many Cylons with them as they could.
     "I count six, all of them behind us.  No wait, there's a second
group directly ahead, numbering at least ten!" Wilma replied.
     "Great, these guys have called in some of their friends for a
party."  Buck transferred the data Wilma was receiving to one of the
monitors on his side of the instrument panel.  It didn't inspire
confidence.  A perspective, dark blue grid set on a star-studded black
background showed the Starfighter, making it's oh so plodding course,
and behind and ahead of them, representations of the two groups of
fighters baring down upon them.
     "Okay, I'm going to go for the ones behind us,"  Buck announced. 
"Are you ready?"  He received positive acknowledgements and pulled back
on the stick and executed a break or high-g turn.  The six pursuers
tried to repeat it but the Cylons ended up overshooting.  Buck then
performed a high-g barrel roll on top of the Cylons and letting rip
with laser pulses destroyed one of the enemy while the other five broke
their formation.  Buck was about to go after one of the other ships
nearby, but the noises coming from the Starfighter's engines told him
that it was not going to work.  The last manoeuvres had taken the fight
out of the engines.  At the same time, the second larger group that had
been flying towards them were no on top of them.
     "Well I guess this is it.  It's been nice knowing you all," Buck
said, accepting the inevitable.  It was then that the deliverance
happened.  The second group of craft looked nothing like the Cylon
ships, they looked more like the jet fighters Buck had flown in the
20th century, only sleeker.  They were single-seat craft with a long
nose and a slanted air-intake at the front.  A single central tail fin
and three engines set in a pyramid pattern with either a
downward-slanted delta wing or the tail fin protruding out from them,
bulged aft of the cockpit.  The craft were light grey, almost white in
colour with crimson stripes on the flying surfaces and nose and the
ships were streaked with scars and scoring, indicating that they were
well used.  But perhaps what was more surprising was that they didn't
attack Buck.  The moment before they reached Buck's ship, they broke
formation.  Several ships banked left and headed one way while others
rolled to the right or changed attitude streaming trails of ionised gas
from they're engines.  And then, they began to fire on the Cylons.

     It was Starbuck who had first come into visual range of the
fighters.  Six Cylon Raiders in pursuit of a single unidentified craft
which included humans among it's occupants according to the readings on
his scanner, though the 'Warbook' didn't seem to have the craft in its
databanks.  Starbuck had no clue as to the origin of the cream-coloured
fighter, if in deed that was what it was.  It differed quite
significantly from the Viper fighter craft that Starbuck was flying.  A
thin profile and broad plan design.  Two conical nacelles that
terminated at the front in points forward of the main fuselage
containing laser generators and aft in a pair of bulbous dark grey
engine pods.  A cockpit canopy sloping up and then back down to a
raised section at the rear containing the engine dominated the main
fuselage.  The ship was completed with a pair of sharply swept delta
wings and downward protruding airfoils that acted like undercarriages
or stabilisers.  There were markings from what Starbuck's scanners
could make out, a crest of some kind on the nacelles but he couldn't
make out the detail.  His visual inspection and appraisal of the ship's
design was cut short when it executed an unfamiliar combat manoeuvre
that left one of the six Raiders in atoms.  It was at this point that
Starbuck and a couple of the other pilots got involved.

     Aboard the lead Cylon Raider, the three Centurions had visual
confirmation of what their scanners had been telling them for some
time.  There were Colonial Vipers in the system and they were closing
fast.
     "Colonial Vipers in area, alert Basestar to send additional
reinforcements.  Continue pursuit and destruction of alien fighter
craft."  This command was from the commander of the lead Raider in the
formation.

     "Starbuck!"  Boomer's voice came through Starbuck's helmet.
     "Yo," he responded in customary fashion.
     "You've picked one up on your tail, watch it!"
     Starbuck glanced over his shoulder in time to see a single Raider
a few clicks behind him, positioning itself to fire.  Starbuck made
some gentle manoeuvres with his Viper that let him evade the shots.
     "He's on me tight, I can't shake him!" Starbuck reported.
     "So what else is new?" Boomer joked back to him.
     "Sheba, go help him out," Apollo ordered his fiancee as he closed
on three Cylons flying in their traditional triangular formation.  
     "I'm already half way there," Sheba replied in a gung-ho manner
reminiscent of her Father, the legendary Commander Cain.  As Sheba
broke from Apollo's wing and dove down to assist Starbuck, Apollo
concentrated his attention on destroying the central ship in the
formation located at the rear. As several blood-red laser torpedoes
arced into the ship, the other two, true to form broke formation and
flew left and right respectively.
     "I'm lining up this creep for the shot.  Hang in there a little
longer, Starbuck," Sheba announced as she bore her Viper down on the
Cylon still ensconced upon Starbuck's tail.
     "Blast it, Sheba, where are you?" Starbuck asked as he narrowly
missed an explosion, bringing his Viper up into level flight.  It was a
well-practiced manoeuvre for a Viper with a single Raider on its tail. 
It meant that another Viper could then swoop down, and as Sheba finally
did, blast it into oblivion.
     "Thanks Sheba.  Great shooting," Starbuck said as he turned his
attention to what had now become the last surviving Raider, still
intent on destroying the strange fighter craft.  Starbuck with Boomer
flying below him both closed on the ship from above, though it's three
Centurions were to engrossed on gunning down the ship in front to
notice until Boomer fired and narrowly missed.  They were just in time
however to see the laser blast that Starbuck fired an instant before it
vaporised them.
     "I think we got all of them," Jolly reported as the Vipers
reformed on Apollo's wing, which also meant on either side of the alien
fighter craft.  Apollo made a brief visual count and satisfied himself
that all the ships assigned to his patrol were present and accounted
for.  He would have had a hard time explaining any fatalities to his
Father.
     "All right Blue Squadron, that was a little unauthorised, but
nevertheless, well done.  We got all of them.  I suggest we leave, now,
at least one of those ships got a message off to base which means
company will be on the way."  Before the Vipers began to turn for the
passage through which they had come, Apollo decided it was finally time
to communicate with the ship whose rescue they had just come to.
     "Attention alien craft, this is Captain Apollo of Blue Squadron,
strike commander for the Colonial Battlestar Galactica.  Please
identify yourself."
     Buck and the others gave each other collective looks of puzzlement
as they learned the identity of their saviours.
     "They're who?" Buck asked.  Still somewhat unfamiliar with the
various races and civilisations located in the galaxy, he turned to
Wilma and Theo for enlightenment.
     "We haven't any more of an idea than you do Buck," they both said
in succession.
     After a few moments in which the mysterious Captain Apollo
repeated his hail once again, Buck responded.  "This is Captain Buck
Rogers piloting Earth Recon Starfighter One.  Thanks for the assist,
for a moment it looked to be getting quite hairy out there."
     "Did he just say Earth?" queried Ensign Giles.  There was quite a
lot of murmuring on the radios between the various pilots.
     "I heard him say Earth," replied Sheba.
     "He definitely sounded like he said Earth," concurred Ensign
Greenbean.
     Ignoring the emotions and questions that were threatening to
engulf him, and had already started to grip the others in the patrol,
Apollo continued with routine chatter.  "According to our scanners your
ship has taken damage.  Please follow us back and we'll be happy to
provide repairs," Apollo informed the alleged Earthlings, though
privately he harboured one or two doubts about that promise.  "I
wouldn't advise you to try and go through the Passageway that you came
through.  There are bound to be more Cylon forces on their way to
destroy or recapture you."
     With that the group of Colonial Vipers and the single Earth
Starfighter turned and headed for the Stargate up ahead.
     Within an hour of clearing the Stargate, Buck and the others were
afforded their first sight of the Battlestar Galactica and what could
best be described as 'Ragtag' convoy of more than two hundred ships
that enjoyed her protection.  The ships were of all shapes and sizes. 
Some had glass domes mounted at angles on a lattice framework, on or
two even sported slogans on their bellies' that to the Terrans surprise
appeared to be in English!  The slogans included 'Colonial Movers. 
We'll Move Anywhere!.'  But it was the Battlestar that was their
destination that elicited the most attention from them.
     "It's huge!" remarked Buck.
     "I haven't seen the likes of this since the last time we
encountered a Draconian Starfortress!" observed Wilma.  To Buck, the
Galactica had an insectoid appearance with it's Launch Bay nacelles and
the pylons connecting them to the ship's dumb-bell shaped hull
resembling the many legs of some kind of 'creepy crawly.'
     "Attention, alien craft, you are cleared to land aboard the
Galactica's Alpha Landing Bay.   Do not make any sudden or aggressive
movements over."  The voice was from an attractive sounding woman.  It
was also very decisive & insistent.
     After Buck acknowledged the request, Wilma commented, "That's the
second time we've been treated like this."
     "Actually Wilma, for me this is at least the fourth," he said
reminding her of his being forcibly brought aboard the Starfortress
Draconia, which precipitated his re-awakening in the 25th century, as
well as his being 'escorted' back to Earth the following day by
Starfighters, under Wilma's own command.
     The feeling of being captives again was reinforced by the
formation they were forced into.  At least two Vipers were positioned
ahead of the Starfighter, with the rest behind.  Buck lowered the
ship's undercarriage slightly earlier than necessary, the old 20th
century aviation code to signify an aircraft's surrender and peaceful
intent.  The box-shaped Landing Bay was so large that as they flew in
and landed, the deck seemed to rush up to meet them, rather than the
other way around.  They climbed out of the Starfighter to find
themselves in the ship's Launch Bay.  Before them were rows of Vipers
stretching as far as the eye could see, all of them on a raised
platform that disappeared into triangular openings in the far wall
which Buck correctly guessed were again comparable to the launch
channels Starfighters used back on Earth.  He also noted the steam
venting from some of the parked Vipers.  Behind and around them the
other ships in the patrol landed, and as their pilots disembarked,
ground crew converged on them, powering down systems and manhandling
them towards large doors behind those Vipers that were ready to go. 
The doors opened onto what Buck guessed was a Hanger or a maintenance
area.
     Apollo had flown one of the two Vipers that landed ahead of the
Earth ship, or rather the alleged Earth Ship.  All the while he was in
touch via a secure channel with Colonel Tigh who was in turn in contact
with Commander Adama.  Both had been apprised of the alleged
nationality of their incoming guests.
     "Once you land, bring its crew to the Commander's quarters and
have the ship taken to the secure area of the Bay where we keep
Baltar's Cylon Fighter," Tigh ordered.
     Apollo walked over to their guests and stopped.  There was a fit
looking man in his early thirties, a knockout honey-blonde slightly
younger and lastly a diminutive silver mechanoid.  "I'm Captain Apollo,
flight leader of Blue Squadron.  Please follow me please."  Apollo
sensed that the group were slightly put out at his brusqueness as they
were herded first into the decontamination chambers, and then led to
the nearby lift platform that would take them into the bowels of the
ship.  As the Landing Bay disappeared from view, the group saw the
Starfighter being moved to a different part of the Bay, ostensibly for
repairs.  Apollo guessed that an examination of the ship to assess its
origins and capabilities would also be conducted.

     Lucifer headed for Baltar's chamber, even as the news was relayed
to him.  This would please the human, and put Lucifer back into his
good books.  "By your command."
     The pleasure and satisfaction was obvious in the Cylon's voice. 
Baltar turned and commanded Lucifer to speak.
     "Good news.  Although our Earth captives were able to escape, the
manner of that escape as provided us with valuable data.  They were
assisted by a group of Colonial Vipers apparently patrolling this
system.  They subsequently destroyed our pursuit force which was
somewhat fewer in number and made their way through one of the
passageways in this system."
     Baltar seemed to take this information in without commenting on
it.
     "This surely confirms our suspicions that the Colonial Fleet is
just behind us in a nearby system.  Further, when our additional units
arrived on the scene, they located and destroyed an automated probe of
Colonial origin that had been observing us and our actions and which
was somehow able to communicate with the Colonial Fleet."
     "A most interesting report, Lucifer.  And you're right, it does go
towards making up for their escape.  Prepare plans for an attack,
providing you can first confirm their location."
     Lucifer nodded and headed off for what in human terms would be
called, a brainstorming session wi