Battlestar Galactica: Operation: Discovery
Virtual Season 4, Episode 2
August, 2014

Previously, in Transformations: 

     "Wow," said Cree, looking at the wreck before them. "This thing must
have hit pretty hard." 
     "Yeah, deep gully. Trees reipped out. But she burned, Cree. Not much
left of her." 
     The wreck before them was of respectable size, perhaps a bit smaller
than the Celestra,. It had come down in the jungle and come to rest
against a ledge of rock, then burned out. Now overgrown by countless
yahrens of creeping rainforest, little more than the frame, crumpled
thruster bells, and some internal compartmentalization remained.
     "Think the crew got off, Sir?" Cree asked as they moved along the
hull. No paint, no script, or other identification remained on the
vegetation covered wreck. 
     "Uh, no," said Giles, as the two Warriors came to what remained of
the flight deck. There, still in their seats, were two charred skeletons,
likewise entangled in the creeping green. "I'll be the crash killed 'em."
     "They look Human, Sir. But how..." 
     "Not quite, Cree. Look."
     "Holy Lords!"


The following debriefing proceeded immediately, prior to the events in
Operation: Adama: 


     Giles and Cree were in the Galactica's Ward Room, debriefing their
flight with Commander Adama, while their Cylon wingmates were present via
the com link. After recounting their find, Adama was incredulous. "Are
you sure, Captain?" 
     "Yes, Sir," Giles replied. "The dead crew look human, but then
again, they're not completely human." 
     "You do know who these people may be, in all likelihood?" Adama
asked. 
     "Yes, Sir," Giles said. "The same people who kidnapped the woman
from Earth, and whose ship we found a while back." 
     "Yes, it appears almost certain. Very well," Adama nodded. "Thank
you for your report." He turned to the Cylon flight leader. "My thanks as
well. By remaining in a cover position, your flight was able to protect
the Viper pilots while they investigated the wreck." 
     The Centurion nodded. "By your Command." 
     "All right: we're finished here," Adama said. "Dismissed." 
     After Giles and Cree left, and the Cylon signed off, Adama was
thinking. Could it be who he thought it was? He was concerned, and though
the aliens' home system was still a considerable distance off, the Lords
knew how far, was it a kidnapping mission, similar to what had happened
to Wagner, or could the wreck have been an exploratory mission gone
wrong? 
     Only time would tell.


From the Medical Logs of Doctor Cassiopeia: 

     It has been four days, since the rescue of Commander Adama, Doctor
Salik, and Bojay, from the militarist rulers of the planet Kradina.
Despite having been beaten badly by his interrogators, Bojay has
responded well to treatment, and was released this morning, to light
duty. Doctor Salik has also been released, and is expected to return to
duty tomorrow. However, in part due to his greater age, Commander Adama
has been slow to recover, and is still in LifeStation. The beating, as
well as the alien drugs used in the interrogation, have depleted his
system to a larger degree, and he will require at least two more days of
observation, until he can be certified fit to return to duty. In the
interim, Colonel Tigh is in operational command. 
     As for myself, I am pleased that my own interrogation and
imprisonment by the alien security forces went no further than it did. I
do not know how well I would have handled it. Personally, I must admit
that, in my opinion, the civilization of this People's whatever it was,
is a blot on the universe, likely to, in time, should it get the chance,
to metastasize into something like the Eastern Alliance of Terra, or even
the Cylon Empire, I pray the Lords of Kobol that never happens, and am
thankful that we are well quit of the place. 


From the Adama Journals: 

  
      It has been a full sectan, since our rescue from Kradina, a world
ruled at least in part by a brutal military dictatorship, and the
resumption of our journey. I have been released from the LifeStation, and
am on light duties for the moment. My enforced leisure has given me time,
both to talk with Captain Byrne and Commander Allen about Earth, and even
Allen's wife Kalysha about her own homeworld of Harkaelis, but to review
the data we have so far on the aliens who have been observing Earth for
some deca-yahrens, and who kidnapped Sergeant Wagner, leaving her in
stasis, only to be discovered by our Warriors aboard a derelict vessel.
While their technology, what we know of it, is not particularly
formidable by our standards, I must remember that what we have examined
is from a minimum of forty or more Earth yahrens ago. We do not as yet
know what advances in this field they may have made, or the status of
their own war with a mysterious enemy. While my resolve to reach Earth
has never been greater, the last thing I want is for the Fleet to wind up
flying into a war zone, between antagonists more advanced than any we
have faced since fleeing the Colonies. Something like that could be
exactly the sort of thing to awake the dormant threat on the Council that
remains: Siress Lydia. Ever since she in effect blackmailed me into
letting her become Vice-President of the Council, (lest she publicly
expose the near tactical blunder I made prior to the battle that resulted
in Baltar's defection and the beginning of the detente), she hs amazingly
bided her time and not once made any serious challenge to my authority.
But everything I know about Siress Lydia I know is part of a calculated
mindset that wants to strike when the opportunity presents itself. That
certainly explains her relationship with Captain Byrne, which, despite
its sometimes "on again, off again" aspects, has left Byrne loath to any
suggestion as to what Lydia's true nature is. More than once, he's coldy
ended conversations with Apollo and Starbuck whenever they tried to
explain what they know of the kind of person Lydia is really like. Out of
tact, the matter has never come up again. If Byrne is ever going to be
convinced otherwise, he'll have to see Lydia at her worst for himself. 
     As he clicked off, Adama called up the data on recent patrols. The
system where Giles and Cree had found the wreck was about seven degrees,
x-minus twelve, off their Epsilon vector 22 course, and had they not been
delayed by recent events, would already have moved to check it out. He
looked again at the video scans of the crashed ship. It had been a long
time, overgrown by yahrens of jungle vegetation. Still, it might hold
additional information even so, and as they taught at the Academy, there
is no knowledge that is not power. 
     So..
     There was only one way to find out. He went to the Bridge, where he
found Colonel Tigh standing watch. "Colonel." 
     "Commander?" Tigh asked. He and the Commander were old friends, and
had served together for many yahrens, first as Viper pilots, then as CO
and XO of the Galactica. 
     "Colonel, inform all ships. We're setting course for the system that
Giles' patrol reconnoitered a few days back. There's some resources there
we can use, and a strange wreck that needs further investigation." 
     "Right away, Commander," Tigh said. He relayed the orders to Omega,
and the Fleet was soon on its new heading. "Course laid in and set,
Commander. ETA at the system, thirty Centars at Fleet speed." 
     "Thank you, Tigh," Adama said. He thought for a moment. "Colonel,
get me Captain Byrne and Sergeant Wagner on the Constellation, and
Commander Allen on the Adelade. Feed this to my quarters." 
     "Commander?" This change in course was rather abrupt, coming as it
did without preamble, but the XO knew that sooner or later, he'd find out
for himself. Just like everyone else. Adama gestured him closer. 
     "This has to be private for now, but in time, my friend," Adama
said. "Don't worry." 
     "Yes, Commander." 


     Aboard the Constellation, Captain Kevin Byrne, USN, former CAG on
the carrier U.S.S. Constellation and a former astronaut, was wondering
what the Commander wanted to discuss with him. He was in his cabin,
waiting for the com line to be patched in, when the chime at the door
sounded. "Enter." 
     "Sir?" Staff Sergeant Lauren Wagner, USAF, asked as she came into
the cabin. She was his Master-at-Arms, and was responsible for shipboard
security, as well as any boarding parties, as the recent affair involving
the two renegade councilmen and the Il Fadim terrorists had shown. 
     "The Commander wants to talk to the both of us, and Allen, as well,"
Byrne said. "No idea what he wants." 
     Nodding, she sat down as one monitor came to life. It was Byrne's
fellow refugee from Earth, Commander Cedric Allen, RAN, who commanded the
Adelade. "Kev, what's this all about?" 
     "Your guess is as good as mine, Ced, But the Commander wants all of
us for something," Byrne replied. Then the other screen came to life,
with Adama's image. "Commander?" 
     "Captain, Commander, and Sergeant," Adama said, "One of our patrols
was out during Apollo's ritual, and they found a wrecked ship on a
planet." He called up the image of the wreck, and the skeletal remains
Giles and Cree had found. "I realize they're skeletal, but do they look
familiar?" 
     Byrne looked at Wagner. She had been abducted from Earth by a
humanoid race that had been planning to invade Earth, until another alien
race, the Ke'zar, had gone to war with her abductors, putting their plans
for Earth on permanent hold. Her ship had wound up in the Fleet's path
due to a runaway FTL drive, and until her rescue, she had spent forty
Earth years in stasis. Now, fully recovered, she was anxious to get home,
but also wanted revenge upon those who had taken her, and who knew how
many others, from Earth. "Sergeant?" 
     "Commander, it's possible. It could be them, but I just don't know."
Wagner said. "What happened to their ship?" 
     "No idea as yet, except that it crashed, with no survivors. But once
we get to that system, a landing party will be sent down, to recover the
remains, and salvage the wreck for the recycling ship," Adama said. 
     "Commander," Allen said. "We're still quite a ways from their
charted space. This could have been some kind of exploratory mission." 
     "I agree with Commander Allen," Byrne said. "They may have had
scientific exploration going on while they were proceeding with their
plans for Earth." 
     "Sir," Wagner asked. "Permission to speak freely?"
     "Of course, Sergeant," Adama said. "Say whatever's on your mind." 
     "Thank you, sir," Wagner replied. "Sir, I just hope this is it with
them for a long time. While I don't want their whole race wiped out,
anyone involved in abducting people from Earth fully deserves whatever
comes to them." She paused, then went on, "Sir, what if these people knew
they were going to lose this war, and had a fallback plan?" 
     "A fallback plan? Could you explain further?" Adama asked, and both
Byrne and Allen were also paying close attention. 
     "Yes, sir," Wagner said. "What if they realized that the Ke'zar were
going win? Not just a tactical defeat, but they lose the whole thing? I
mean total defeat. So they come up with a plan to ensure not just their
race survives, but their government, religious structure, everything.
Nothing gets left to chance." 
      Byrne was speechless, then he composed himself. "So you're saying,
Sergeant, that these....people, had a contingency plan in case they lost
this war?"
     "Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm saying." 
     "Commander," Allen spoke next. "Countries on Earth have had
contingency plans for what to do if they lost a war and were occupied:
setting up resistance movements, arms caches, that sort of thing. This
takes it to a whole new level entirely." 
     "Indeed," Adama said. "But where would they get the resources?" 
     "That's easy enough, Commander," Byrne said. He'd listened to what
Wagner had said, and thought for a few moments. "They could use what they
had in mind for Earth: not the troops, mind-they need those to defend
their home planet and whatever outposts they still have, but the ships,
equipment, some of the personnel. Take that, and load up their 'best and
brightest', plus their whole cultural database: art, music, literature,
movies, history, science, everything, and head off into deep space. And
do that before the Ke'zar launch their final assault." 
     "Not quite what we've done with the Fleet," Adama noted. "But
something like this would have to be kept secret within the highest
levels of their government." 
     "Yes, Sir," Byrne said. "And only those totally and completely
dedicated to the regime would be allowed to go. Even then, there'd be a
pretty rigorous selection process." 
     "And leave the 'defeatists and cowards', say, to face the wrath of
the Ke'zar," Allen commented. 
     "Exactly," Adama said.  
     "Yes, sir," Byrne agreed. "Just like the U.S or Australian
Governments back home: not every cabinet member would know about
something like this. And the fewer who know, the less chance of something
like this leaking out. Especially to those who are, well...'unworthy'." 
     "I see your point, Captain," Adama said. 
     "Sir, I have a suggestion," Wagner said. 
     "Yes, Sergeant?" Adama asked. 
     "Sir, why not send a party down to check the wreck? See if it's
really them, and not a coincidence?" 
     "Doctor Salik will be going down with a team to recover the remains,
before a salvage party recovers what it can of the wreck," Adama said.
"And samples of the ship's hull will be taken for analysis, to compare
with your derelict." 
     "Commander," Byrne said. "Someone needs to get there before they do,
check the area thoroughly, to make sure the area's safe. There's no
intelligent life there, but dangerous local fauna could make
things...interesting." 
     "Agreed," Adama said. "Captain, you may send a party down ahead of
Salik. Check the area, make sure it's safe for the main party, and
remember to search for any useful water or food sources." 
     "Yes, sir." Byrne said. 
     "Any other questions?" Adama asked. Byrne and Wagner shook their
heads no. But Allen did have something to say. "Good luck, Kev. You and
the Sergeant." 
     "Precisely my sentiments," Adama said. "Good luck, and don't take
any unnecessary chances." 
     "Yes, sir." Byrne said. 


     Three Centars later, the shuttle Armstrong left the Constellation's
docking bay, along with two Vipers from Katana Squadron, and two Raiders
from the Base Ship. Byrne had left Constellation in Mr. Dante's capable
hands, and had decided to lead this landing party personally. His
Zohrloch Gunnery Officer, Lieutenant Malik, had asked to come along, to
accompany his Captain, and be sort of a bodyguard. Knowing Zohrloch
sensibilities, Byrne granted the request, though Sergeant Wagner was in
charge on the ground. She had brought along her deputy, Metxan, and a
half-dozen Warriors from Katana Squadron as backup. 
     Byrne turned to Ensign Adele, his shuttle pilot. "ETA?" 
     "Two Centars, at this speed, Sir," she replied. 
     "Good," Byrne said. He and the landing party went over the data from
Giles and Cree's recon. "This wreck looks like it's been here for a
while. Only question is: how long?"
     "That, sir, is a very good question," Malik said. "I have never seen
a wreck like this." 
     "Sergeant?" Byrne turned to Wagner. 
     "It looks like the ship I was on, but it's way smaller," she
replied. "It's pretty well burned out and corroded. It could be them, but
I don't know. Sorry, sir." 
     Nodding, Byrne said, "We'll know soon enough." 
     One thing about the landing party: all were armed. Captain Byrne had
brought along his original SCAR Mark-17 rifle, and Mr. Malik was armed
with a Colonial copy-the same one, in fact, that he had used when the
Constellation had brought in the escape shuttle from the Delta. Sergeant
Wagner had her HK-416 assault rifle, and her Mark-23 pistol, while Mextan
and the Warriors all had laser rifles and pistols. Even though the likely
enemy would be any dangerous wildlife, "better safe than sorry" was the
mantra this day. 
     Soon, the shuttle and its escorts were approaching the target
planet. Byrne got on the line and ordered the fighters to check out the
northern latitudes, to search for any glacier-fed freshwater lakes. That
was Commander Adama's preference in terms of fresh water for the Fleet,
and both flight leaders acknowledged the order, while the Armstrong
headed for the target location. Within centons, the shuttle had landed in
the same clearing the two Vipers had landed earlier, and the party had
disembarked. "All right," Byrne said, issuing his orders. "Ensign, you
and Sergeant Enyo stay here to watch the ship." Seeing the two nod, he
added, "Check in every fifteen centons, on the com," 
     "Yes, sir," Adele replied. 
     "All right, Sergeant," Byrne said to Wagner. "Your party until we
reach the wreck." 
     "Yes, sir!" Wagner said.  She saw a path leading away from the
clearing in the direction of the crash site. "Metxan, take point. We
follow this game trail until we find the wreck site." 
     "Ma'am," Mextan replied. He got his laser rifle at the ready and
went on ahead. 
     She looked at her CO, then waved her hand forward. "All right: let's
move out." 
     Half a Centar later, the party arrived at the wreck site. Mextan was
waiting, and he waved Byrne and Wagner forward. "Sir, Ma'am." 
     "What have you got?" Byrne asked. 
     "Sir, I found the Viper pilots' boot prints, but there's some animal
tracks here as well." 
     "How fresh are they?" Byrne wondered aloud. He was also clicking the
safety off his rifle. 
     "A day, maybe two, Sir," the Security Trooper said. "They've moved
on, though." 
     Nodding, Byrne looked at Wagner. "Suggestions, Sergeant?" He could
see, through the wreckage and the undergrowth, the cockpit area. 
     "Sir, I'd send Mextan and two of the Katana guys along one side, the
rest on the other. You, me, and Mr. Malik go inside," Wagner said. 
     "That's how we'll do it," Byrne decided. "Mextan, take two Katana
guys and do just that to port. The rest of you: starboard side. Mr.
Malik, you and the Sergeant with me. We're going inside." 
     The Zohrloch nodded, then said, "Sir, may I suggest that the
Sergeant and I go ahead of you?" 
     Byrne nodded. "Of course, I'll be right behind you." 
     Wagner  nodded. "Back-to-Back, then?" 
     "Certainly, Sergeant," Malik said, grasping his SCAR rifle. 
     She nodded again, then took out a small flashlight that usually
rested in her crime-scene kit. She taped it to the muzzle of her rifle,
then turned it on. "Let's go." 
     While Metxan and the Warriors examined the outside of the ship,
Byrne's party approached a large hole in the port side, overhung with
vines and a small tree, roughly amidships. Wagner nodded to Malik, then
she went inside, covering the way forward, while Malik did the same,
covering the way aft. "Clear front," Wagner reported. 
     "Clear aft," Malik said. 
     Byrne then came in, holding his own flashlight, and swept around.
"My God, this ship really burned." There wasn't much to see, other than
charred plating and hanging cables.
     "No doubt, sir," Wagner said. 
     "All right: let's go forward." Byrne ordered. 
     Wagner and Malik looked at each other and nodded. The pair moved
forward, stepping gingerly over wreckage, with Byrne right behind. They
hadn't gone very far when Wagner called out, "Frak!" 
     "What is it, Sergeant?" Bryne asked. 
     "Take a look, sir," Wagner said, motioning Malik to look where she
was pointing her rifle. 
     "Debris, Captain," Malik reported. "Our way forward is blocked." 
     "What?" Byrne asked as he came up to the pair. 
     "See for yourself, sir," Wagner said. 
     Byrne came up and waved his flashlight around. Sure enough, there
was a considerable pile of debris ahead, abetted by some serious plant
growth, and pushing ahead was out of the question. Not without any kind
of damage-control tools. "Lovely." He called into his communicator.
"Metxan?" 
     "Sir?" 
     "Anything on your end?" 
     "No, sir," Metxan replied. "We're getting close to the cockpit area,
though. No markings, and no debris so far,"
     "All right: we're coming out to join you. The way forward here's
blocked," said Byrne. 
     "Yes, sir. We'll be here," Metxan replied. 
     "We'll be there shortly. Byrne out," responded Byrne. He looked at
the Sergeant and Malik. "Let's go." 
     Wagner nodded. "Sir." 
     Just as the trio got back to their entry point, Wagner noticed
something on the deck. "What's this?" She asked, pointing her rifle and
light at a small piece of metal. 
     Malik got down on one knee and picked it up. He examined it in the
light. "It appears to be a plate of some kind. A manufacturer's data
plate, perhaps?" 
     Byrne looked at it in the light. "Let's go outside." 
     After leaving the wreck, the trio examined the piece of metal. Sure
enough, Byrne thought, it did remind him of a data plate. "Sergeant?" 
     "Can't tell," Wagner replied. She turned it over. There was some
kind of script, but it was so corroded and charred, she couldn't tell.
"Maybe they can find out on Galactica." 
     "All right," Byrne decided. "Bag it and let's go." 
     The trio then headed to the cockpit area via the port side, and they
were soon there, with Metxan and his men waiting for them. And on the
starboard side, the other three Warriors. "Anything?" Byrne asked. 
     "No, sir," Metxan said, and the Katana men nodded affirmatively."
Not a thing. This ship's burned to a crisp. And it was a good while ago."

     Byrne nodded, then he saw Wagner approach the cockpit, with its two
skeletons still in their seats. She took the flashlight off her rifle,
then tossed the weapon to Metxan. "Sergeant?" 
     "Looking for shoulder patches, sir," Wagner said. "The scum who took
me had them on both shoulders." 
     "After all this time? Sergeant, that's not very likely." 
     "Sir, you never know," Wagner pointed out. 
     "Be careful, Sergeant," Byrne told her. 
     "Yes, sir," she replied as she went along the port side of the
cockpit. 
     "Anything?" Malik asked. 
     "Nothing yet." Wagner then went along the forward side, then checked
the starboard, scanning the skeletons with her flashlight. Then something
caught her eye, then, "Ugh!" 
     Several weapons were quickly pointed where she had the light
pointed. Then an insecton similar to a centipede crawled out of one of
the skulls' eye sockets. "Well, that's one thing Salik's going to have to
worry about," Metxan chuckled. 
     "I hate those kind of bugs!" Wagner said. "Yeech!" She turned off
the light and came back. "Nothing, sir. Their uniforms may have been
fireproof, but the patches-if they had them, weren't." 
     "These guys never had a chance: they got trapped in their seats by
the crash, and couldn't get out when the fire came their way. Or they
died on impact," Byrne commented. "Even if it was them, that's no way to
die." 
     "I'll go along with that, sir," Wagner agreed. "The guy on the left,
though: he didn't die in the fire." 
     "What do you mean, Sergeant?" Byrne asked. 
     "There's a half-melted pistol of some kind on the right, next to his
seat. And there's a hole in his right temple." Wagner said. 
     "So one may have died in the crash, and the other, to keep from
burning alive, killed himself," Malik commented. "Best to die on one's
own terms, rather than be incinerated like that." 
     "You sound like you've seen it before, Mr. Malik," Byrne said. 
     "Yes, sir: at the Academy on Eridu. A friend of mine was burned to
death when a shuttle crashed during training."
     "No argument there, Mr. Malik," Byrne said. "I've seen it before.
All right," he motioned to Metxan. "You and your two men, go back along
the port side and see if there's anything you missed." 
     "Yes, sir," Mextan said. 
     "You three," Byrne continued, pointing to the other three Katana
Warriors. "Go back along the starboard side. Same drill: see if there's
anything you missed." 
     "Sir," the senior Warrior nodded. 
     "All right: go, I'll call this in." 
     Both groups went off on their tasks, while Byrne called the
Armstrong. 
     "Adele here, sir," his pilot replied. 
     "Anything from the Vipers?" 
     "Yes, sir. Several freshwater lakes, from 45 to 65 degrees north
latitude. Their locations have been marked, and the Vipers and Raiders
have assumed a high cover pattern in orbit." Adele told her CO. 
     "Good. Contact the Galactica, and advise them the crash site is
secure. The salvage team will have to exercise caution, as the wreck may
be unstable internally. Tell the Commander that Salik's people can come
down anytime." 
     "Yes, sir." Adele replied. "I'll get that off right away." 
     "And inform them of the water." 
     "Sir." 
     On the Galactica Bridge, Adama and Tigh were waiting on word of the
landing party. Apart from the business with the Otaglim, this was Byrne's
first real landing mission, and Adama was anxious to see how he
performed. Then Omega called the CO and XO, who were at the plot board.
"Commander, message from Captain Byrne."
     "What is it, Omega?" Adama asked. 
     "It reads: 'Crash site secured and freshwater lakes located and
marked. Wreck unstable, and salvage team will have to exercise caution.
Doctor Salik's team can come down any time.'" 
     "Very well, Omega." Adama said, then he turned to Tigh. "Colonel,
inform the Doctor, Tell him to assemble his team, and get down to the
surface." 
     "Yes, Commander." 
     "Contact all ships, and see if any are in immediate need of fresh
water, and notify the mineral ship. Let's get those mining teams after
the deposits the patrol reported." 
     "Sir." 
     A Centar later, Byrne and his party watched as Salik led his team to
the crash site. Four of Croft's troopers had accompanied the Fleet's CMO
down, just in case, while the Doctor had brought Cassie and several
medtechs along with him. "Captain," Salik called. 
     "Doc," Byrne replied. "It's all yours. You'll have to be careful
getting them out: this wreck's unstable. Not to mention pretty well
overgrown." 
     "We've been told," Salik said. 
     "As long as you know," Byrne replied. "One of them, you won't have
much time determining cause of death: there's a bullet hole in his right
temple, and a half-melted pistol next to the seat." 
     "Thanks, Captain," Salik responded. "We'll take it from here." 
      "They're all yours," Byrne said. "Just watch for insectons around
the skeletons: one of 'em gave the Sergeant a scare." 
     "We'll keep that in mind, Captain," Salik replied. 
      Byrne nodded. "All right. My people, let's get back to the ship." 
     After returning to the Armstrong, lifting off, and rejoining the
Vipers and Raiders, Byrne looked again at the small piece of metal. Sure
enough, it did look like a data plate. After returning to the
Constellation, and going through Decon, a message was waiting for him.
Commander Adama requested his presence, and Sergeant Wagner's, aboard
Galactica, as soon as possible. Both of them got cleaned up, and changed
uniforms, before heading over to the battlestar. 


     After landing on the Galactica, Byrne and Wagner went straight to
Commander Adama's quarters. There, the Commander, along with Colonel
Tigh, was waiting. "Captain, Sergeant," Adama said. 
     "Commander," Byrne said, as he and Wagner saluted. 
     "At ease, and welcome back, both of you," Adama said. "What did you
find?" 
     "Well, sir," Byrne said. "There's no visual way to tell whose ship
that was. Not just the impact and fire, but she's been exposed to the
elements, with all the vegetation that's grown up alongside-and
within-the wreck, and it's been there for who knows how long?" 
     Adama nodded. "And were the remains recognizable?" 
     "No, sir," Wagner said. "I checked them out, looking for insignia or
patches on what was left of their clothes. Nothing. Though one of them
didn't die in the fire or on impact."  
     "What do you mean, Sergeant?" Tigh asked. 
     "There was a half-melted pistol next to the seat, and he, well, I'm
assuming it was a he, had a nice hole in his right temple, sir," Wagner
replied. "He probably shot himself rather than die in the fire." 
     "Not an unusual fate," Adama noted. "That has happened more times
than I'd admit." 
     "Just like on Earth, Commander," Byrne said. "We did find this,
though." He handed the small plastic bag with the piece of metal to the
Commander. "It looks like a manufacturer's data plate, but it's so
charred and corroded, there's no way to tell, at least, right now. We'll
need Wilker to have a good look at this piece, Sir." 
     "You're certain?" Adama asked. 
     "Yes, sir," Byrne said. "There's some kind of script there, but it's
unrecognizable. Maybe Wilker's people can make some sense of it, since
that they can get back to the translation work, now that the Il Fadim are
in our wake-literally and figuratively." 
     "Quite so, Captain," Adama said. "Get that to him as soon as you're
finished here." 
     "Yes, sir." 
     "All right, then: your thoughts on this? Sergeant, you first," said
Adama. 
     "Sir, I just don't know. It could be them, but then again, given how
old the wreck appears to be, the condition it's in, it may just be a
coincidence," Wagner said. "Sir, I'm wondering, did any of your
exploratory missions reach this far?" 
     "I'm afraid not, Sergeant. We're well past any charted space that
was known to us in the Colonies," Adama pointed out. 
     "I see, sir," Wagner nodded.
     "So, Commander," Byrne said. "We'll have to wait on Salik's tests,
and Wilker, too. If, that is, he can find out what's on this plate." 
     Adama nodded. "Agreed, Captain, Sergeant." He looked at Tigh.
"Anything to add, Colonel?" 
     "No, Commander," Tigh replied. 
     "Very well," Adama said. "Get that piece to Doctor Wilker, and well
done, both of you. And pass that along to the rest of your landing
party." 
     Byrne and Wagner looked at each other. "Yes, sir." 
     "All right, dismissed." 
     With that, Byrne and Wagner saluted and left the cabin, leaving
Adama and Tigh. "Colonel? 
     "Commander, I wouldn't describe the Sergeant as a 'ticking bomb',
but she's definitely got some unfinished business with those aliens, no
doubt about it," Tigh said. 
     "Old friend," Adama replied. "Can you blame her? I admit that I
actually agree with her feelings on the matter, and I sympathize with her
desire to punish those responsible for the abductions. Whenever I look
out and see Baltar's ship, I've had to suppress my own thoughts of
revenge. The Sergeant will learn to do so as well, given time. Let's just
hope, though, that our two peoples never meet." 
     "Yes, Commander." Tigh nodded. "That's one thing we do not need." 
     "Agreed, Colonel," Adama said. "Now, about the water and other
resources?" 
     "Commander, eight ships have indicated that their fresh water tanks
could use topping up, We've also had a report that some of the pipes on
the sanitation ship have developed serious cracking,with considerable
leakage, and she's lost nearly twenty percent of her water. She'll need
to dock with the Hepastos for repairs.
     "Make it so, Colonel," Adama ordered. "And the resources?" 
      Tigh nodded. "As for the Tylium detected, it's of sufficient purity
to make extraction practical. And Command Centurion Moray indicates that
the Base Ship can use some more fighter fuel, while some of the smaller
ships are starting to run low. The miners say, though, there's more than
enough for our immediate needs," the XO reported.
     "Excellent, Tigh. Have all of that taken care of as soon as
possible," Adama replied.
     "Of course, Commander." 

     Byrne and Wagner went straight to Wilker's lab. Byrne had been here
before, but for Wagner, this was  a first. "Is he as...well, eccentric as
they say he is?" She asked her CO. 
     "That's what Apollo's told me. From what I've seen, there's no
reason to doubt it," Byrne said. "He's also stubborn: he'll work on his
own pet project and whatever you want him to do can wait. Unless the
Commander lights a fire under his ass." 
     "Let me guess: just like some eggheads back home?" Wagner asked. 
     "You got it, Sergeant," Byrne said. "He also built Muffit, I hear."
     "Sir?"
     "Boxey's robot dog." 
     "Oh, wonderful, Sir." 
     The door to Wilker's lab opened just as they got there, and Hummer
was coming out. "Technician." 
     "Captain Byrne, Sergeant," Hummer replied. "Looking for the Doctor?"

     "Right you are," Byrne said. "Is he in?" 
     "He is," the tech replied. "Go right on in." 
     The two went into the lab. Baltar's two pilots sat disassembled on
some shelves, while Commander Septimus sat inert on a work table, still
missing his legs and an arm. Wagner was incredulous. "What is this, sir?
It looks like Jabba the Hutt's torture room for Droids from Return of the
Jedi." 
     "It's kinda weird, yeah," Byrne admitted. 
     "Sir, it looks like Night of the Living Dead meets Radio Shack." 
     Byrne chuckled as he  looked around for Wilker, and then found him.
"Doc." 
     "Captain, Sergeant," Wilker replied. "I heard about your trip to the
planet. You have something for me?" 
     "That we do, Doc," Byrne said. "Sergeant." 
     Wagner produced the plastic bag with the piece of metal. "We found
this in the wreck. It might be a data plate of some kind." 
     The scientist took the bag and examined the metal without opening
the bag. "There's some kind of script here, yes. Is that what's got
you-and the Commander-so interested?" 
     "That's right, Doc," Byrne said. "Can you tell if it's, well....the
abductors' writing, or an unknown race's?" 
     "It may take a few days, Captain," Wilker replied. "If we had the
equipment we had back at the Academy labs, or the University of Caprica,
it'd take a day. Here, though..." 
     "I know, Doc," Byrne said. "Just do the best you can." 
     "I'll let you know," Wilker replied. "Oh, I've got some more
material on the aliens." 
     "What? Some more, Doc?" Byrne asked. 
     "Yes. I'm not yet ready to present it, but have a look: we've
translated more documents, and are making progress on some of their
artifacts," Wilker said. 
     "Documents?" Wagner asked. 
     "Yes, and one mentions you, Sergeant," Wilker said, handing her a
paper. "Specifically." 
     "Me?" She took the paper, scanned it, looked at her CO, then
scowled. "This isn't possible." 
     "It is, Sergeant," Wilker said. "The medical officer on that ship
was upset that you weren't pregnant. Very." 
     "Sergeant?" Byrne asked. 
     "He made a promise to one of his colleagues at the lab on that
prison planet to bring him a pregnant 'Te'rean.' And he's not happy that
'Subject seventy-two, female, wasn't," Wagner growled. "He wanted a
pregnant woman for a what he called 'a wide range of experiments.' The
Son of a Bitch! At least this bastard either took a suicide pill or
suffocated." Good riddance-and hope you burned up in that scout ship they
dumped you in, she thought. 
     "Now you know, Doc," Byrne said. "She wants anyone involved with
those abductions dead." 
     "I don't blame her, Captain," the scientist replied. "There's
another: one of the interrogators was recalled to the home world." He
handed Wagner another paper. 
     "I remember this guy. He had a scar on the left side of his face. He
must've left after they put me on ice," Wagner said. "And he was pretty
insistent that I answer their questions. The other one, the one you did
find, went along with him. And  he was one very eager bastard, I can tell
you!" 
     "How insistent?" Byrne asked. Then again, he might not want to know.
He'd met former POWs from both Vietnam and Iraq, including two of the
women held in Iraq, and not all were willing to mention some aspects of
their captivity. And Wagner, no doubt, had some things that she didn't
want to talk about-yet. 
     Her eyes shifted to a shelf piled with artifacts from the derelict.
"Captain, see that thing...what looks like a cattle prod?" 
     "What about.....let me guess, this bastard used it on you?" Asked
Byrne. His tone of voice suggested that he already knew the answer. 
     "Yeah. He came over to the table, asked his questions, and when I
didn't respond as desired, he....used that on certain parts of my body,"
Wagner said. "If I ever find this Son of a Bitch, he's a dead man." 
     "Maybe the Ke'zar saved you the trouble," Wilker said hopefully.
"We've found some more about the initial conflict, but no way to tell who
won, of course." 
     "Like who started it?" Byrne asked. 
     "Right on that, Captain," Wilker said. "Seems the Ke'zar struck
first. Why, we still don't know. But the alien material indicates they
hit fast and hard." 
     "Good for them, Doc," Wagner said. "Anything else?" 
     "Not right now: there's some more that Pliny and his students are
double-checking, but in a couple of sectons or so, we'll be ready for
another briefing." Wilker replied. 
     Byrne nodded. "Thanks, Doc."
     "Anytime, Captain." 
     As the two headed out of the lab, Byrne looked at Wagner. He knew
she was still angry, and had a cure for that in mind. "Need a drink?" 
     "Yes, sir, I do," she replied. "If, one day, we find this SOB, I
will kill him, no matter what. That's a promise." 
     "You know what?" Byrne said, and he saw her shake her head. "I'd be
in line right behind you. Let's head to the O Club." 
     Captain Byrne and Sergeant Wagner went into the Officers' Club, and
saw several familiar faces. Apollo and Sheba were there, along with
Sargamesh, Korl, as well as Boomer and Starbuck. They waved, and their
friends acknowledged them. Byrne went up to the bar, and found Freeman at
his usual place, tending bar. "Freeman." 
     The refugee from Proteus Prison smiled. "Always glad to see you,
Captain! What can I get you and the Sergeant?" 
     "A beer for each of us, Freeman. And it's not likely to be the
last." Byrne said. 
     "Coming up, Captain." Freeman said, drawing two beers and then
putting them in front of the two. 
     "Thanks," Byrne said, as he dropped two coins on the bar. "Keep the
change," and he saw Freeman nod. The two went over to Apollo's table, and
Byrne asked, "Got room for two more?" 
     "Anytime, Captain," Apollo said. "And I see the Sergeant has that
same angry glare she had the last time." 
     "You've got that right," Lauren said. "The more we find out about
the aliens who took me, the harder it is for me not to wipe out anyone
involved in those abductions." 
     "That bad?" Starbuck asked. He had similar feelings towards Cassie's
abductors, the Isch'tck. Hades, he still loathed the Ovions, dead though
they were, for what they did in the mines. 
     "Yeah," Byrne said. "First things first. That wreck? It's been there
a long time. She crashed hard, burned hot, and frankly, there's not much
left." 
     Heads nodded. "So what did you find?" Boomer asked. 
     "Some kind of metal plate. We think it's a manufacturer's data
plate, but it's so charred and corroded that we couldn't tell. There's
some script on it, but we couldn't tell whose it was. The abductors' or
someone else's entirely. Wilker's got it, and is running some tests,"
Byrne said. 
     "We heard there were two skeletons?" Sheba wanted to know. 
     "You got it," Lauren said. "I checked them for any insignia or
uniform patches, Nothing. And one of them didn't die in the fire." 
     "Didn't die in the fire?" 
     "No. There was a half-melted pistol next to the seat, and a nice
hole in his right temple. He must've been unable to escape, and shot
himself to avoid burning alive in the fire," Wagner said. 
     Sargamesh nodded. "Better to die by one's own hand in those
circumstances, rather than be consumed by the flames." 
     "Got that right," said Byrne. Like most everyone here, he'd seen
pilots crash and burn with no chance of survival. 
     "Even if it was them," Wagner added, "that's no way to die." 
     "So what were they doing there?" Apollo wanted to know. "We're who
knows how far from their home system." 
     "Maybe it was an exploratory mission gone bad," Boomer pointed out.
"Anyone think about that?" 
     "The Commander did," Byrne said. "Anything's possible. Not to
mention it may not even be them. We won't know until Salik's tests get
run on the remains." 
     Heads nodded. "So what's got you angry, Sergeant?" Apollo asked.
"You didn't look too happy when you came in." 
     Wagner took a deep breath. "Wilker found some more documents. One of
'em was about me." 
     Sheba was curious. "You?" She saw Wagner nod. "What did it say?" 
     "The ship's medical officer was upset that I wasn't pregnant. He
apparently promised a....colleague at that prison planet's 'experimental
facility' a pregnant Earth woman. For 'various research experiments,' he
said." 
     "The Slug!" Sargamesh said. "A helpless pregnant woman as a research
subject?! His heart needs to be ripped out! These people have no sense of
honor in them at all!" His fellow Zohrloch Warrior, Korl, muttered some
curses in Eridese that would've melted a Cylon. 
     "Well, the medical officer either swallowed a suicide pill or
suffocated when their life support system was turned off," Byrne pointed
out. "Either way, his ticket's been punched." There were some stares, and
Byrne had to explain this new "Earthism."  "This other....animal? Let's
hope the Ke'zar took care of this bastard." 
     "Hear, hear," Boomer said, raising his mug, and everyone followed. 
     "What else did Wilker say?" Starbuck asked. 
     "He found another document: one of the interrogators was recalled to
the home world, probably after they put me on ice," Wagner said. 
     "I thought there was just the one we found," Apollo remembered. 
     "That was the one who initially interrogated me," Lauren said. "This
guy came in when I wasn't being cooperative, and took over." She took
another swig from her beer glass. "They probably thought I needed 'expert
handling' or whatever." 
     "That bad?" Sheba asked, and wondering at the same time if she'd be
better off not knowing.
     "Yeah. Big fellow, with a scar down the side of his face. He took
some kind of electrical prod, and when I didn't answer his questions the
way he wanted, he....well, you get the idea," Lauren replied.
     "He's no interrogator, he's a torturer," Starbuck said with some
contempt in his voice. "I take it you'd like to see this guy dead?" 
     "In a heartbeat," Lauren said. "If the Ke'zar haven't killed him,
then I want to take a shot at him. As far as I'm concerned, he's a 'dead
man walking.'" 
     Apollo looked at her. "You sure about that, Sergeant?" 
     "I am. Even if it's a less than one percent chance, and that's
probably a best case scenario, then yeah, I'd take a shot at him, given
the opportunity." 
     "Apollo, you know what?" Byrne asked. 
     "What?' 
     "I'd be right in line behind her." 
     "I'd be feeling the same way," Sheba said. "At least the ones who
abducted you did pay." 
     Wagner nodded. "That they did." 
     "Just remember," Apollo said. "This all took place forty yahrens
ago. Chances are, the Ke'zar took care of this guy for you, and the
others." 
     "I'll go along with that," Wagner said. "Hope to God that's what
they did." 
     Heads nodded. "So when should Salik have his results?" Starbuck
asked. 
     "Shouldn't be that long," Sheba said. "He works pretty fast,
compared to Wilker." 
     "Not arguing that," Apollo said. "He's not as....eccentric as
Wilker." 
     "Well, a couple days, three at the most, and he should have
something," Starbuck said. He'd picked up some of how Salik worked from
Cassie. 
     While the group in the Officers' Club was chatting, Salik had
returned from the planet, leaving the wreck to the crew from the
recycling ship, and in two body bags, he had the skeletal remains. Once
he and his party reached Life Center, the skeletons were removed, and the
bones properly arranged on a pair of tables. "Cassie," he remarked to his
newest MO. "You know what we really could use, but don't have?" 
     Cassie looked up from the skull with the hole in the right temple.
"What's that, Doctor?" 
     "A forensic anthropologist," Salik said. "Having one around would be
a help in a case like this. Still, they're humanoid enough." 
     "Not that much difference, on first glance, Doctor," Cassie said.
"This one, though, he didn't die of a laser wound. This hole looks like a
projectile entrance wound." She pointed with a gloved hand to the hole in
the right temple. 
     "Looks like an old-fashioned slugthrower, I'll admit. Or not so
old-fashioned, if Croft's people are using them now, along with Sergeant
Wagner." Salik nodded, going over the skull. He had done the autopsy on
the man that Wagner had shot, prior to the Il Fadim business getting
crazy. "Did our medtechs send that pistol to Wilker?" 
     "They did," Cassie replied. "He should have it by now." 
     "Good. Let's check the teeth. We should be able to get some DNA from
those, and try and get some from the larger bones," Salik said. 
     Just as he said that, the telecom buzzed, and Cassie took the call.
"Doctor, Commander Adama for you." She handed Salik the telecom. 
     "Yes, Commander?" 
     "Doctor," Adama said. "How long until you've gotten the test
results?" 
     "Commander, we've just started. Things like this don't take a
Centar, like they do in certain vid-show dramas," Salik replied. 
     "I realize that, Doctor, but if these remains are who some people
think they are, it does raise new and troubling concerns." 
     "Commander, as soon as I know, you'll be informed," Salik told the
Commander.
     "Understood, Doctor. I'll leave you to your work. And please have a
report as soon as possible."
     "You'll have it, as soon as the results come in." 
     "Thank you, Doctor," Adama replied, and then the connection was
broken. 
     Salik came back to the table. "The Commander's worried." 
     "About what, Doctor?" Cassie asked. 
     "These two individuals may be the same type of aliens who abducted
Sergeant Wagner." Salik said. "He didn't say that specifically, but he
left that impression." 
     "If they are, well, if one died in the fire, and this one," Cassie
said, holding the skull, "did himself in, I imagine that Wagner would say
'good riddance.' And I'd be saying the same thing." 
     Salik put his hand on her shoulder. "I know, Cassie. Let's get to
work." 
     As it turned out, Wilker was examining the pistol at the same time
Salik and Cassie were examining the remains. He checked it, and it did
turn out to be a very advanced slugthower, more advanced, even, than the
weapons Wagner had demonstrated to Croft, and that both she and Croft had
used. There wasn't that much in the way of metals used, but some advanced
plastics and polymers, combined with only the most essential metal parts,
and that made it a lightweight and potentially formidable weapon.
Unfortunately, the fire had half-melted the plastic components, and thus
there were no identifiable markings. Wilker put it aside, and went to
check one of the weapons recovered from the derelict. He came to a pistol
that was very similar, and compared the two. There were similarities, but
not enough to rule in or out a match. He removed the barrel and compared
it to the one just found. Yes, it was similar, but still...Wilker took
out a file and made some scrapings. He did the same to the barrel from
the new acquisition, and decided to run a comparison. It would take a few
Centars, at least, but he'd know for sure if this recent find was a
weapon used by "the abductors" as some were calling these aliens. 
     While Wilker was working on the weapon, Technician Hummer was going
over the metal plate. He was familiar with such data plates, and though
he had never flown as a pilot in his life (apart from a joyride in his
father's personal craft, once), he'd seen them on shuttles and other
craft. Working carefully, he removed layers of dirt, soot, and rust off
the plate in a chemical bath,, and then placed it in a scanner. The
scanner took a complete set of three-dimensional images of the plate, and
also scanned the plate's composition. Once he had the composition data,
Hummer had the computer run it against information gleamed from the
derelict. It would take a while, and though this equipment wasn't as
capable as, say, that at the University of Caprica, or the Sagertarian
Institute of Technology (Sadly, the military was a bit behind when it
came to upgrades of everything but weapons, it seemed), there was every
chance it might just force this small piece of metal to yield its
secrets. Once that was going, he went back to the computer. More alien
documents were coming out of the translation matrix that Pliny and his
students had developed, and Hummer began examining them. If this stuff is
all true, the tech thought, and there's no reason not to think so, no
wonder Byrne, Allen, and Wagner-and Wagner especially, have this loathing
for these...people. Considering what happened to her, frankly, he didn't
blame them one bit if they wanted anyone involved in all of this dead.
Well, maybe these Ke'zar, whoever they were, had done all of them a
favor. "Ke'zar Threat Increasing, Forces For Te'ra Operation Recalled at
Once," this new document read. He read it, and muttered, "Holy Frak!" He
turned to Wilker, "Doctor, could you come and look at this? I think
Captain Byrne and Sergeant Wagner need to see this. And the Commander." 
     Byrne and Wagner were about to leave the Officer's Club when they
were paged over the Galactica's PA system to come to Wilker's lab. They
took their leave of their friends, paid Freeman for the second round of
beers, then went right to Wilker's lab. To their mutual surprise,
Commander Adama was there also. "Commander," Byrne said as both saluted. 
     "Captain, Sergeant," Adama said. "The Doctor has something for all
of us, it seems."
     "Yes, sir." Byrne replied. "He had some material for us earlier,
when we brought that plate to him." 
     Adama nodded. "Did he? Now I'm curious as to what it is." He led
them into the lab, where both Wilker and Hummer were waiting. "Doctor,
Technician. I take it this is important?" 
     "Yes, Commander, it is," Wilker nodded. "We've only just begun work
on the plate and the pistol from the wreck, and while that's going on,
we've gotten a new document from the translation matrix. I think all
three of you need to see it." He turned to Hummer. "Put it up, please." 
     "Doc," Hummer replied. He worked his computer keyboard, then the new
document came up on the monitor. And Adama, Byrne, and Wagner were paying
close attention. 
     "Well," Adama said. "They were assembling their invasion force, it
seems. And beginning preliminary exercises." 
     "Yes, sir," Byrne noted. "And their High Command wasn't happy with
that first exercise." 
     "Sir?" Wagner asked. "How could that be? Unless we responded with
the missile subs, it would've been game over for us." 
     "Something got them upset," Byrne replied. "This Grand Admiral,
whoever he was, got himself 'relieved', and a new Fleet Commander
appointed to take his place." 
     "I imagine that under this combined military/religious
dictatorship," Adama noted, "he was 'relieved of duty' and of life. In
other words, he was executed, in all likelihood." 
     "It doesn't say that, Commander," Wilker replied. "But, knowing what
little we do about this race, that is a probability." 
     "Sir, what about suicide for failure, like in Imperial Japan?"
Wagner asked Byrne. 
     "Or Ancient Rome. Not unusual in militaristic cultures," Byrne
replied. "It's possible, Sergeant."
     Nodding, Adama asked, "What else is there in this document?" 
     "Sir," Hummer said, "you'll all want to see this." He scrolled down,
"Sirs, Ma'am, have a look." 
     "Holy..." Byrne said. "The Ke'zar struck while this fleet was
prepping for the next exercise?" 
     "It appears to be so," Adama noted. "The aliens are focused on their
plans for Earth, and they're struck from an unexpected direction." 
     "What was it you said earlier, Doc?" Wagner said. "Fast and hard?" 
     "Right you are, Sergeant," Wilker replied. "This document confirms
that previous one." 
     Byrne nodded. "And the invasion fleet was recalled. But to where?"
He said, reading the document on the monitor. "Their home world would be
my guess, though." 
     "That, we haven't figured out yet," Wilker said. He picked up the
documents that he had shown to Byrne and Wagner earlier. "Commander, you
need to see these as well." 
     Adama took the papers and went over them. He looked at Wagner, who
was already familiar with them, then at Wilker. "You are sure about
these?" 
     "Yes, sir. We haven't translated the names much, and these are among
those still a mystery, but whoever this scientist is on that prison
planet, and this interrogator-" 
     "You mean torturer," Byrne cut in. 
     "Ah, yes," Wilker said, slightly annoyed at the interruption, "They
were well regarded, it seems." 
     Adama looked at Byrne, who was quite calm, and Wagner, who was
showing some signs of anger-and with good reason, he knew. "Comments?" 
     "Sir," Wagner said. "That medical officer and everyone on that ship
have paid already. This.....scientist, and this interrogator, hopefully,
the Ke'zar did them in. You do know, sir, how I feel on this." 
      "That I do, Sergeant. Hopefully, you're correct, and the Ke'zar
have done you-and Earth-a great service," Adama said. "Captain?" 
     "I'll go along with that, Commander," Byrne replied. "It may be a
million-to-one chance, but what if we do meet these people? Not these
specific individuals, but..." 
     "I do know what you mean, Captain, and some plans need to be drawn
up," Adama said. "I'll talk with Colonel Tigh, Baltar-yes, I know, but he
will need to be consulted, and some members of the Council." 
     "At least Pelias, Xaviar, and Tinia, and most of the rest, have
brains, unlike some of those you've told us about." Byrne said. He had
the military man's usual distaste for politics and politicians, and he
let that show in his tone of voice.
     "Quite," Adama replied. And the Commander understood what Byrne
meant. He knew full well what Uri, Antipas, Domra, Montrose, and Geller
would be saying in this situation. And none of it any good. "Of course,
the both of you, and Commander Allen, will be involved as well." 
     "Yes, Sir," Byrne said, and Wagner nodded. 
     Adama turned to Wilker. "How long until you have anything on the
metal plate and the weapon?" 
     "It'll be a few Centars at least, Commander," the scientist replied.
"This isn't some vid-show drama." 
     Adama nodded. "Of course, Doctor. Please let me know when you have
new information."
     "Certainly, Commander," Wilker replied. 
     While the tests were ongoing, the mining operation was proceeding
apace, as was the fresh water collection. Though a problem had arisen
with the Sanitation Ship; her captain had decided to perform an IRAN
(Inspect and Repair As Necessary) regarding the ship's piping, and found
that there would be more work needed to get her back to full capability
than first thought. Several other ships' captains also decided to conduct
similar inspections, as the opportunity presented itself, and as it did
turn out, two other ships needed to have the same type of work done. That
meant the Fleet would be in this system for at least another secton,
possibly two. 
     A few days into the stay, Commander Adama was told that results from
the tests on the remains as well as the pistol and metal plate were in.
There was another briefing in the Ward Room on the Galactica, with Baltar
present via com, and the other principals present. "All right, Doctor
Salik will open the proceedings," Adama said, nodding to the Fleet CMO.
"Doctor, the floor is yours." 
     "Thank you, Commander," Salik said. He punched up holo images of the
skeletons as they were found, then on the examination table in Life
Center, then began. "Commander, everyone, I'll get to the point straight
away. It's them." He pointed to Wagner. "Sergeant Wagner's abductors." 
     Wagner winced, but muttered to Byrne, who was seated next to her. "I
had a gut feeling it was them, sir." 
     "Now we know, Sergeant," Byrne replied. "Doc," he asked Salik. "How
long have they been there?" 
     "I can't narrow it down more precisely with the equipment I have
available, Captain," the CMO said."But I can safely say this ship crashed 
about fifty to seventy yahrens ago." 
     "You're sure about this, Doctor?" Adama asked. 
     "DNA doesn't lie, Commander," Salik responded. "I was able to
extract DNA from their teeth, as well as some of the larger bones. No
doubt at all, and a second test ruled out a false positive. It's them." 
     "Cause of death?" Sire Pelias asked. 
     "With one, Sire, it was fairly obvious," Salik replied, calling up a
close-up of the skull with the hole in the temple. "A single projectile
wound to the temple. With the other one," Salik paused, calling up an
image of the reassembled second skeleton, "it's difficult to determine,
but a fair assumption would be that he died either from the fire, or from
blunt force trauma on impact. His ribs, sternum, and legs all had
fractures, and there was a small skull fracture as well." 
     "He may have been knocked unconscious in the crash," Apollo
ventured. "Only to die in the fire." 
     "A distinct possibility, Captain," Salik acknowledged. "But we'll
never know." 
     Baltar then spoke up,  "This raises a whole new question: what were
they doing here?" 
     "Quite so, Baltar," Adama said. He had been thinking about that
himself. 
     "An exploratory mission gone wrong?" Tigh asked. "The size of the
ship, and only two crew, and no weapons emplacements, or other military
capability, would fit that kind of mission." 
     "Even with all their Earth-related activity?" Sire Pelias asked. 
     "Sire, I may be able to answer that," Byrne said, and he saw the
Sire nod, as well as the Commander. 
     "Please, Captain," Adama said. "If you can do so." 
     "Thank you, Commander," Byrne said. "My guess, and this is a guess
only, is that their exploration activities were probably separate from
their military. Sort of like NASA  in my country. Though we don't have a
military space force, NASA's space activities-both human and robotic, are
separate from those of the military and the intelligence community." 
     "Didn't we have a similar exploration service, Commander?" Pelias
asked. "I mean, before the war with the Cylons." 
     "I believe so, Sire," Adama said. "And I do recall some had hopes
that the service would be revived, before the Fall of the Colonies." 
     Hearing that, Apollo remembered his own hopes pre-Holocaust of
getting back to deep space exploration. Before he and Zac had found the
Cylon strike force that would ambush the Colonial Fleet. 
"Yes, Commander," Apollo said. "But why this far from their home world?
We're still who knows how far from anything on the charts we found in the
derelict." 
     "Maybe they had a colonial empire, centurons ago?" Pelias asked.
"They may have had hopes of reviving it." 
     "Possible," Sarah, aka Nizaka of Ziklag, said, speaking for the
first time. "The collapse, then resurgence, of empires is a historical
fact. From what little we know of this government, given its brutal
methodology, a return to past glories might have been one of their
promises after taking power." 
     Byrne nodded, then thought to himself. It was an old story back
home. Attempts to revive the old Soviet Union, Saddam Hussein's desire to
revive the glory of Ancient Babylon, Serbian dreams of a "Greater
Serbia," it was all very familiar. 
     "Quite so," Adama said. He nodded to Salik. "Do you have anything
else, Doctor?" 
     "No, Sir," Salik replied. "I'll keep the remains for future
reference, however." 
     "Understood," Adama said. "Doctor Wilker?" 
     Wilker stood up for his presentation. "Commander, everyone," he
began. "First of all, the material found at the crash site." He called up
images of the metal plate found by the initial landing party, as well as
the pistol found in the wreck. "The metal plate, unfortunately, was too
charred and corroded to reveal much. All we could determine was that the
script was likely the abductors', but as to what it meant, that, we
couldn't tell. It was just there too long, and too exposed to the
elements, as well as the fire, for us to recover much." 
     Adama nodded. "That's unfortunate, Doctor. What else do you have?" 
     "The pistol, though, was interesting." Wilker turned to Wagner.
"Sergeant, could you place your own weapon on the table?" 
     Wagner took out her Mark-23, making sure the safety was still on,
then she put the weapon on the table, as Wilker asked. "Doc?"
     "As a comparison, your weapon is heavier, but the slug assemblies
are similar. The alien weapon, though..." Wilker paused, calling up the
holo-images of the weapon, alongside a pistol recovered in the derelict's
armory, "it's a mix of plastics and polymer, with metal parts. About half
and half. The derelict's weapon, though, about three-quarters of this
lightweight composite, and twenty-five percent metal." He looked at
Wagner. "Thank you, Sergeant." 
     She nodded, and replaced the weapon in her holster. "You're welcome,
Doc." 
     "One other thing, Commander," Wilker said. "Chances are, these two
weapons were built in the same factory." 
     "It's possible, Doctor?" Adama asked. 
     "Very," the scientist replied. 
     "I see," Adama replied. "And the documents?" Though Adama knew full
well what some of those documents would be, as did Byrne and Wagner. 
     "I was just getting to that," Wilker said. He punched up the first
document. "This one refers to Sergeant Wagner specifically." The alien
script scrolled down, and the translation alongside it. Then Wilker
paused it. 
     "Lords of Kobol..." Starbuck said. He had been told of the document
by Byrne and Wagner at the Officers' Club, along with Apollo. 
     Siress Tinia  scowled, then looked at Wagner, then turned to the
Commander. "Commander, this, this is again, some of the vilest things
we've found since we fled the Colonies." She looked at Wagner again, who
was calm, but still showing signs of anger. "This, this....scientist
wanted a pregnant human for experimentation! And the medical officer was
upset that the Sergeant wasn't pregnant?" 
     "So it would seem," Adama nodded. He turned to Sarah. "Comments?" 
     "Commander, all I can say is that, from what we know of the
Ziklagi," Sarah said, keeping care to maintain her cover, "they, too,
would be capable of such....atrocities. This race clearly has no regard
for other life, other than their own, at all. Obviously, other species
are either treated as inferior, and are useful as tools, or lab fodder. "

     Sire Pelias read the document again, then turned to Adama.
"Commander, a, a, pregnant woman as a, well, a lab rodention. Who would
ever conceive of such a thing?" 
     "Unfortunately, Sire, it's happened on Earth," Allen said. "The
Nazis and Imperial Japan  in the Second World War, and their....policies
of genocide and racial purity." 
     "You've mentioned that before, Commander Allen," Adama said,
nodding. "But these....people have taken that to a whole new level,
apparently." He turned to Wilker, "What else do you have?" 
     "There's another document, one that refers to an interrogator on the
ship. He was recalled to the home world, sometime after Sergeant Wagner
was put into stasis," Wilker replied. He called up the new document. 
     "Sergeant?" Pelias asked, seeing Wagner glaring at the document. 
     She turned to Salik. "Doc, you only autopsied one of the
interrogators. He must've been this ship's regularly assigned one. This
other....animal, well, they must have decided I needed 'special
handling', or whatever," and she saw Salik nod. 
     "What happened, Sergeant?" Tinia asked. 
     "Siress, this happened after the medical exam. They put a blanket
over me while I'm still strapped to the table, and it wasn't for
modesty's sake, I can tell you. The ship's interrogator came and asked me
about the Great Falls Airport, where my unit's stationed; Malmstrom Air
Force Base, which is the support base for the missile wing, and the silo
fields themselves." Wagner said, memories coming back. 
     "I take it he wasn't happy with your responses?" Tigh said. 
     "Apparently not, Sir," Wagner said. "He left the room, and he came
back with this other fellow. Big guy, a lot muscular than the others, and
he had this scar on one side of his face, like he'd been in a knife fight
with somebody," she said. After pausing to take a drink of water, she
went on, " This guy pulled the blanket off of me, and asked me the same
questions. I knew they didn't have anyone's best interests at heart, so I
told them either I didn't know, or couldn't tell them." 
     "And they didn't like that," Pelias said. It wasn't a question. 
     "No, Sire. The regular interrogator went and got this electrical
prod-Wilker has it in his lab-and handed it to this new guy. He asked me
again, and I said no. Then he....went to work, and that's all I want to
say," Wagner said, her voice shaking. 
     "Understandable, Sergeant," Adama said. "After that, they put you in
stasis, then." 
     "Yes, sir. After they inflicted some more pain, with that prod. One
of them said-and their automatic translator was still on-'how well they
squirm,' and they both laughed. They didn't like my answers, so these two
left, and the examiner came back. He puts this mask over my face, I pass
out, and the next thing I know, I'm in Salik's Life Center, with several
of his people attending to me, and the first thing I do is kick one in
the jaw." 
     "Understandable, Sergeant," Salik replied. "You were having a
flashback to when you were aboard that ship." 
     "That's right, Doc," Wagner said. "I don't think I've said this
before, but I'm sorry for kicking that medtech of yours. Hope he's OK." 
     Salik nodded. "I understand, Sergeant, and he's since made a full
recovery." 
     "Glad to hear it, Doc," Wagner said. 
     Adama nodded at that, then asked Wilker. "Do you have anything else,
Doctor?" Though he knew there was likely one more document, but....
     "Commander, we have one more document ready. Pliny and his students
have some more that they're confident of releasing in a secton or two, as
I said, but they want to double-check their work before they're ready to
release it," Wilker replied. He called up the final document. "It's one
that was produced just after the outbreak of war with the Ke'zar." 
     Adama nodded, as did Byrne and Wagner. They were already familiar
with it. But they waited to get the others' reaction. And that didn't
take long. 
     "So they were assembling their invasion fleet?" Allen asked. "Looks
like someone wasn't happy with that initial exercise." 
     "I'll go along with that," Apollo said. "Looks like this 'Grand
Admiral' botched this preliminary exercise, and he got sacked for it." 
     "In all likelihood, Captain," Wilker said, "he was probably
executed." 
     "For incompetence and/or negligence," Allen said. "Reminds me of the
old Soviet military in 1941-2." 
     "You're probably right, Ced," Byrne replied. "Stalin's purges
eliminated a lot of talented and capable commanders, and the guys who
were promoted to fill the slots were worse then those shot or sent to
labor camps. When the Germans attacked in 1941, there was a second round
of purges-to clean out the militarily incompetent, and many officers
who'd been dismissed were reinstated-some right out of a labor camp-for
combat duty." 
     "What about suicide for failure?" Wagner asked. "Like in Imperial
Japan or," nodding at her CO, "Ancient Rome?" 
     "Possible," Sarah replied. "Or this officer was given a choice:
suicide, and your family will not be harmed. Or execution, and the family
also pays. Not unheard of in militaristic or totalitarian societies." 
Like mine, she reminisced. 
     Byrne and Allen both nodded. Nazi Germany had treated Rommel like
that, and Stalin had done the same to several of his cronies in the 
1930s.
     "It was common in some of the Colonies pre-Unification," Apollo
said. "I remember my Colonial History at the Academy: in those days,
several Colonies had nations ruled by dictatorships. And they could be
just as ruthless in dealing with military foul-ups." 
     "Indeed," Adama said as Wilker continued to scroll the document. "A
new Fleet Commander was appointed, only to have the Ke'Zar strike,
forcing a recall of the Fleet." 
     "To where?" Tigh asked. 
     "Good question, Colonel," Byrne said. "The homeworld would be my
guess." 
     "Unfortunately, it doesn't say," Wilker said apologetically. 
     "That is very possible, though," Pelias noted. "Recall the Fleet to
defend the home planet, or at the very least, prepare for redeployment
elsewhere." 
     "A strong possibility, Sire," Adama said. "Though there is another
option." 
     "Commander?" Tigh asked. 
     "I'll let Captain Byrne and the Sergeant explain." 
     "Commander," Byrne said. "This assumes that the aliens knew they
were going to lose the war. Obviously, we don't know how these Ke'zar
treat those they've defeated, but what if the aliens at some point-maybe
some of their military leadership, and some politicians,  knew that it
was going to be all over soon? They have a fallback plan. People like
this usually do." 
     "A fallback plan?" Pelias asked. "What do you mean?" 
     "It's not setting up an insurgency, or any kind of guerrilla war,
Sire," Byrne replied. "They load ships-whether it's the Earth Invasion
Fleet or others, with their 'best and brightest', their whole cultural
history, and families whose loyalty to the regime is beyond any doubt-and
even then, the selection process would be very rigorous. And they leave
prior to whatever final offensive the Ke'zar launch. When it's all over,
they're nowhere to be found." 
     "And go where?" Siress Tinia asked. 
     "Anywhere the Ke'zar won't follow, Siress," Byrne said. "Not quite
what you've done here, as what you people did was a race against time,
but they take off into deep space. Probably to a place or places already
scouted ahead of time." 
     Allen nodded. "And leaving the 'defeatists, cowards, and weaklings'
to face the Ke'zar's wrath. Those who are, well....unworthy." 
     "Exactly, Commander," Adama said, recalling the previous
conversation on the matter. "Even so, this would be very tightly held at
the highest levels of their government." 
     "And not every government minister would know. The fewer people who
know about the plan, and can be trusted with it, the better. Because if
it leaks...." Byrne added. 
     "A 'revolt of the masses', in all probability," Sarah said.
"Something this regime would realize that it would be over for
them-before the Ke'zar launch whatever final offensive that they have in
mind." 
     "And who would go?" Tinia asked. She was finding this possibility a
very interesting parallel with what had been done with the Fleet. 
     "They'd take their key people: scientists, engineers, members of the
intelligentsia.  Anyone needed to restart their civilization. Along with
their families. As well as those people who, as I said, are totally
devoted to the regime, and can be counted on to keep this a secret. I'd
even bet their 'Supreme Leader' might even stay behind, appointing a
successor to take over once they're established on whatever new world
they've settled," Byrne said. "Possibly several hundred thousand people
in all." 
    "I get it," Apollo said. "If their political leadership is staying,
then things must not be so bad-at least, that's what most people would be
thinking. Up until the Ke'zar Fleet smashes into their home system." 
     "Regimes like this would have total control of the media, and no
alternative sources," Allen said. "They wouldn't know until the end." 
     "Exactly," Sarah added. 
     "One other thing, Commander," Byrne said. "They'd also take along
enough military power not only for self-defense, but to subjugate any
native race on whatever planet they settle-say, for example, at the wind
and water era. Minimal losses, and they can use the natives as forced
labor, or for whatever." 
     "Or," Apollo said. "If the natives are primitive enough, they can
set themselves up to rule as gods." 
     "Like they had in mind for Earth, if they'd succeeded," Wagner
pointed out. "Not good." 
     "No," Wilker agreed. "Commander, there's one other thing, but I
thought it best not to bring it for this presentation." He looked at
Wagner. "They recorded her entire examination and.....interrogation. From
start to finish." 
     "WHAT? Both Byrne and Wagner said at the same time. 
     "Yes, They did," Wilker replied. "A full copy was found in the
Captain's files, another of the examination in the Medical Officer's
terminal, and one of the....interrogation in the interrogator's." 
     Adama looked around the table. Everyone there was quite disgusted at
this new development, and even Baltar was clearly angered. He turned to
Sarah. "Would the Ziklagi do this as well?" 
     "Based on what we know of them," she replied. "Almost certainly." 
     "Were they doing this for their own sick amusement?" Asked Pelias.
"Or was this some kind of wicked record-keeping?" 
     "The latter, Sire," Wilker said. "Copies were attached to the
respective reports by the two officers, and the full recording was
attached to the Captain's final report. A reference was made to it in the
abduction log, but there was also a separate report just on her." 
     "Did they do this with the others they took?" Wagner asked, trying
to stay calm in the midst of her anger. "Not only the ones they released,
but the ones they kept?" 
     "Yes. We're certain of that," Wilker responded. "All of the reports
have the recordings attached." 
     "Commander," Byrne said. "I'd appreciate it if those recordings were
kept secured. No access unless it's with your authorization." 
     "So ordered," Adama said. "Anything else, Doctor?" 
     "Not at this time, Commander," the scientist replied. "Pliny and his
students have some more material they're working on, and we should have
more to report in a couple of sectons or so." 
     "Just as long it's not as....disgusting as what you've reported,"
Tinia said. 
     "No guarantee of that, Siress," Wilker said. "Not with these
people." 
     "All right, is there anything else?" Adama asked. He saw Tinia nod.
"Siress Tinia?" 
     "Commander, I suggest that we'd better start thinking about what to
do if we do meet these people. Even if the chances are slim, the
possibility can't be ruled out." 
     "Agreed," Baltar said. "If we've now found two of their ships, it's
quite possible-even if it's a slim chance all the same, that we may
encounter more of them in the foreseeable future." 
     "A good point, Baltar," Adama said. "In a few days, we'll have a
military planning meeting, if nothing arises in the interim, to consider
this. It will also come up, however, at the next Council session." Heads
nodded around the table. "Captain, Commander, Sergeant, anything to add?"

     Both Byrne and Allen shook their heads no, but Wagner did.
"Commander, all I can say is this: Let's hope the Ke'zar took care of
these....people. Because I don't want to get home and have to tell them
that there's a predatory alien race out there that's close to Earth-and
I'm not talking about the Cylons." 
     "A valid concern, Sergeant," Adama said, nodding. "Any other
comments?" Heads shook no. "Very well, we're adjourned. 
     As the meeting broke up, Byrne, Allen, and Wagner got together. "You
two up for a few rounds at the O Club?" Byrne asked, and he knew full
well that Wagner would be in the mood. 
     "If you're buying, Kev," Allen replied with a grin. He never turned
down an offer of a free drink or three. 
     "Yes, sir," Wagner said. "But before that, I need some trigger time
at the range, if you know what I mean." 
     "I sure do, Sergeant," Byrne replied. Cranking off some rounds was a
good way to get rid of stress-and he knew full well that she had some
anger boiling. Though aboard Constellation, Wagner used the ship's gym to
blow off steam. This day, though, she wanted to do it-literally. "Let's
go, then." 
     As the trio left, Apollo watched them go, as Commander Adama came up
to him. "Father?" 
     "Apollo," Adama said. "I see you noticed the Sergeant's anger." 
     "Yes, sir, and she has very good reasons to be angry," his son
replied. "Not to mention wanting two specific individuals dead, it
seems." 
     Sire Pelias came up. "And I don't blame her at all, Commander." 
     Adama nodded. "Sire." 
     "If she killed not just those two individuals, but every last one of
those involved with these abductions, she will have done the galaxy a
favor," Pelias commented. 
     "In the ideal world, Sire," Adama said, "I would agree with you.
However, the real world is quite different. Chances are, the Ke'zar have
done that job for her." 
     "Quite so, Commander, but what if this....torturer, for want of a
better term, escaped?" Pelias asked. "Captain Byrne has told us that war
criminals from their Second World War were still being hunted, even at
the time when his mission launched. The passage of time is not an excuse
for allowing similar crimes to go unpunished."  
     "I understand, Sire," Adama said.
     "Commander, Sire," Apollo said, "I think there might be a way. I'm
no scholar of the law by any means, but wasn't there a statute passed
that said crimes committed against humans by aliens could be prosecuted
in our courts? I think it was an anti-piracy measure, a long time ago,
but..." 
     "We all did anti-piracy duty at one time or another, Apollo," Adama
said, recalling his destroyer and cruiser days, and even the occasional
sweep by a battlestar. "Yes, I think you're right. I'll speak to Sire
Solon on this. Maybe we can see that in the unlikely, but still possible,
eventuality that this....person does fall into our hands, some measure of
justice-not just for the Sergeant, but for all those who were abducted,
can be found." 
     "And we've got all the evidence," Pelias said. "It's as good as a
confession." 


     After a decent walk, for which the three Earthers only reinforced
their awe at the battlestar's size, they came to the SF Area. As they
approached, the hatch opened, and Castor came out. He turned and saw the
trio, and came to attention. "Captain, Commander," 
     "Lieutenant," Byrne replied, saluting. "You do know Commander
Allen?" 
     "Of course, sir. That reception after your ships were formally
commissioned. It's been a while, though." 
     "You're right about that," Allen replied. 
     "Ah-hem," Wagner said. 
     "Sorry, Sergeant," Castor replied, trying to suppress a wink. He was
trying to keep his...crush on her quiet, if possible, until he asked her
out. Which he hadn't just yet."What brings all of you over here?" 
     "I need some time on the range, if it's okay with the Major," Wagner
replied. 
     "We're not using it right now," Castor said, gesturing. "Go on in," 
     "Sir?" Wagner asked, and Byrne nodded. She then went on ahead. 
"Captain, if you don't mind me asking, but she's upset about something,"
observed Castor. "Il Fadim leftovers?" 
     "No. Wilker had another briefing. Long story short, we found out
what definitely would've happened to her if she'd been pregnant when
abducted, and what did happen to her after the medical exam on the
derelict." Byrne said. 
     "And none of it any good," Castor said. It wasn't a question.
     "Right on that, Mate," Allen said. "Now, she wants a scientist on
this prison planet, and an interrogator-or torturer, if you want to be
specific, in the same condition. As she wants 'em very dead.." 
     "Lords of Kobol," replied Castor. "She's got good reason to. Anyway,
if you want to see the Major, he's in his office." 
     "All right. Thanks, Castor," Byrne said. 
     "Anytime, Captain," Castor said, heading off to the Security Office.

     The two Earth officers went into the SF Area, and looked to their
left. Sure enough, Wagner was picking up one of the SiG-Sauer copies and
loading a magazine. She chambered a round, then went to the range. Then
Byrne and Allen went to Croft's office. The door was open, and Byrne saw
the commando leader at his desk. "Major?" 
     "Captain Byrne! Nice to have you drop by. And Commander Allen, I
see," Croft said. "Haven't seen you since that reception." 
     "Sorry, Major, but I haven't been as....involved, as Byrne and
Wagner have," Allen replied. 
     Croft nodded. "What brings you around here? Want some range time
like Wagner does?" 
     "Maybe, Byrne said. "She needs it more than we do, Major. Wilker had
another briefing." 
     The SF leader nodded. "I was supposed to be there, but I had to
decline, as we're a little busy. We lost a man on the Delta raid, you
know, and right now, there's fifteen new trainees competing for that
slot," 
     "And you're running these guys into the ground," Byrne said. Though
he'd never trained with the SEALS, he had had Naval Academy classmates
who had gone to SEAL Training, and only one had made it all the way
through that rigorous program. 
     "Right on that, Captain," Croft said, seeing both Earth officers
nod. "So what'd they find out? Nothing good, I'd bet." 
     "You'd win on that," Allen said. "Be glad she wasn't pregnant.
Because the medical officer on that ship promised a scientist at that
prison planet's 'experimental facility' a pregnant Earth woman." 
     "For what?" Croft asked, and clearly shocked. 
     "'A wide range of experiments,' is what the scientist said. They
found it in the medical officer's message files," said Byrne. 
     "WHAT?" Croft yelled."A...," he stopped, dropping his voice. "A
pregnant woman as a lab experiment?" 
     "Yeah," Byrne said. "And that's not all. They also brought in a
specialist torturer when she refused to answer the ship's interrogator." 
     "No wonder she wants the guys who did this wiped out," Croft said,
while in the background, they could hear the blam-blam of Wagner's
firearm. "And I'm not getting in her way. Sick pack of Borays!" 
     "It's worse: they also recorded the whole thing-the medical exam,
her....interrogation, the works," replied Byrne. "That, Wilker didn't
show." 
     "Of all the.....," Croft said, his voice trailing off. "Now I've
heard everything. Well, Captain, if you want all the time on the range
you want, you guys are welcome to it. And I'll promise you-and her-this:
if we get within strike range of that prison planet, I'll lead the Team
to that 'research facility', free anyone held there, kill every last
member of the staff, and turn it into a smoking crater. And we'll get the
other prisoners out as well. Just like on Boron-Din." 
     "Thanks for the offer. If the Ke'zar didn't beat us, we'll take you
up on it." Byrne said. "This all happened forty yahrens ago, remember?" 
     "I know," Croft replied. "Still...there's always a chance." 
     Byrne nodded, thinking of Holocaust survivors on Earth who had
waited a generation-or more, for justice to be done.. "Yeah." 
     "Anyway, got to go: the trainees have had enough rest. Time to see
if they can do more than they ever thought they could do," Croft said. 
     "Good luck getting them into shape," Allen said. 
     "They're the ones who need the luck," Croft said with a wry smile,
heading off to the Physical Training Area. "Sargamesh and Korl are taking
charge of the next round." 
     "God have mercy on them," Allen muttered, with a smile. 
     While Wagner was shooting off rounds, and both Byrne and Allen were
talking with Croft, Commander Adama went to see Sire Solon. Apollo's
comment about an old anti-piracy statute had intrigued him, and he wanted
to get the particulars, and see if it could be applied in this case. What
would be Solon's reaction, though? He was wondering about that as he went
into Solon's office. 
     "Commander?" One of Solon's aides asked. 
     "Is Sire Solon available?" Adama asked. "If he's busy...."
     "He's free at the moment, sir. Go right in," the aide replied. 
     Adama nodded, then went into Solon's office. It had belonged to a
Fleet Legal Officer prior to the Holocaust, and thus boasted the largest
law library in the Fleet. Only Sire Memnon's private collection, and the
man's own memory, came anywhere close. Solon was at his desk, and rose as
the Commander entered. "Sire," 
     "Commander," Solon replied. "To what do I owe this honor?" 
     "Sire, I was wondering about something;  a point of law. You do know
Sergeant Wagner's history, and her, well...unfinished business with those
who abducted her?" 
     "Yes, Commander," Solon replied. "Not much more than what's been on
IFB, but gossip does get around. I believe she wants anyone involved with
these abductions summarily terminated." 
     "Sire, you're quite right," Adama said. "Now, the aliens got into a
war with another race, known as the Ke'zar, who may very well have done
the job for her. But, what if one of these individuals escaped? And
though it's a very slim chance, and he fell into our hands somehow?" 
     "What are you getting at, Commander?" Solon wanted to know. 
     "What I'm getting at is this, Sire," Adama replied. "I want to know
if a crime committed by an alien against a human is still prosecutable
under our legal code. There was an anti-piracy statute passed,
centi-yahrens ago, which seemed to allow for such prosecutions. Even if
the humans involved were not citizens of the Colonies. But I'm not a 
legal expert." 
     "I think I know what you have in mind, Commander," Solon said.
"Those cases were prosecuted by Fleet Legal, if' memory serves, not the
civilian courts, in most cases. If there is such a statute, we'll find it
in the law library, or, if not, I'll speak to Sire Memnon. You do have a
Tribunal in mind?" 
     "Yes, Sire, I do. If we somehow did apprehend a specific individual,
one who.....I'll say this straight out: he tortured her on that ship. We
have all the evidence about her abduction, and I'll have access granted
to you and a member of your staff to see what has been developed," Adama
said. 
     "Commander," Solon nodded. "You have everything?" 
     "Yes. Even audio and video of her medical examination and
her.....interrogation," Adama replied. "However, I would request that any
copies made of such audio and video be kept under the tightest security
you can, for obvious reasons." 
     "Of course, Commander," Solon said. He'd seen enough graphic
crime-scene imagery in his career to understand.  "I'll get on it right
away. Even if we do not find this person, it will be an interesting legal
exercise." 
     "It certainly will, Sire. If it is possible, then maybe, just maybe,
some measure of justice can be obtained for her, and those others who
were taken from Earth." 
     "Understood, Commander." 


     In the SF Area, Byrne and Allen went into the weapons range. As they
entered, both put on earplugs, remembering the need for hearing
protection on a firing range, and they saw Wagner with an MP-5. She was
taking aim at a target, and she called out "Weapon hot," then she started
putting rounds downrange. The two officers nodded, then went to the
control booth, where Sergeant Corbis, one of those she had originally
trained as an instructor, was doing range master duty. "Sergeant," Byrne
said. 
     "Captain Byrne," Corbis nodded as he rose. 
     "As you were," Byrne said. "You know Commander Allen?" 
     "Only from various IFB shows, sir," Corbis said, putting out his
hand. "A pleasure to meet you, sir." 
     "Sergeant," Allen said, shaking hands. He looked at Wagner. "How
much has she fired?" 
     "Sir, three magazines from the SiG-Sauer,  and she's had two already
from the MP-5," Corbis said. "She's got this look on her face that says
'Don't frak with me.', uh, sirs." 
     "I know, Sergeant," Byrne said. "We've got a similar saying back
home." As he said that, Wagner began firing the MP-5 on full automatic,
putting four- and five-round bursts downrange. It wasn't long until she
was finished with that weapon, and called out, "Weapon clear." 
     Corbis, in the control booth, nodded. "Mark-17, Sergeant?" 
     She nodded, then went over and picked up a Mark-17 SCAR rifle and
two magazines. She put a clip in the weapon, pulled back the charging
handle, then called "Weapon hot," then began to shoot on semiautomatic.
After burning the first magazine on semiautomatic, she reloaded, and shot
the second one on full automatic, with three-round bursts. When she was
finished, she replaced the weapons in their racks, cleaned up the spent
casings for reloading, and took off her earplugs. And all three in the
booth could see a grin on her face. The same grin, Byrne and Corbis knew,
she had when she'd first demonstrated the weapons. "All finished." 
     Byrne and Allen came out of the booth. "Feeling better, Sergeant?"
Byrne asked. 
     "So much better, Sir," Wagner said with a grin. "Now and then you
just have to blow hell out of something." She nodded to the control
booth. "Thanks, Corbis." 
     Corbis came out of the booth. "Anytime, Sergeant. Captain,
Commander? If you guys want some range time, just let the Major know, and
we'll get you set up." 
     "Thanks, Sergeant. We'll take you up on that," Byrne said. "Now, are
you guys ready for a few beers?" 
     Wagner grinned. "If you're buying, Sir." 
     "Take this advice from a superior: never turn down a free beer,
Sergeant," Allen said. "Especially if the superior is paying."
     "Yes, sir," Wagner nodded. 
     As the trio left, they heard some yelling from the training area.
"MOVE IT! YOU GUTLESS, DRIED OUT, CRIPPLED WORMS! MOVE! MOVE!" 
     "What's going on?" Wagner asked. "That's not Major Croft." 
     The three went over, and found the SF trainees, being run ragged.
With the two Zohrloch warriors in their faces. And giving a boot in the
backside to anyone lagging, and more shouting. 
     "MY AGED MOTHER COULD DO THIS FASTER THAN YOU!" Korl was yelling.
"AND SHE USES A HOVERCHAIR! LET'S SEE SOME DOUBLE TIME!" 
     Byrne saw Croft standing there, arms folded, and grinning. "Major." 
     "Captain," Croft replied. "I see the Sergeant's looking a whole lot
better." 
     "That I am, sir," Wagner replied. "What..." 
     "New trainees. We lost Kunis on the Delta mission, and these guys
are competing to fill the slot." 
     "Reminds me of SEAL training," Byrne observed. "That has a 75%
attrition rate." 
     "Or Air Force Pararescue," Wagner said. "Same thing there, or so I
understand." 
     Allen nodded. "And the Australian SAS or our Navy Combat Diving
Teams. They rip most trainees to shreds." 
     Croft nodded. He'd heard these names before. SF units on Earth, and
he'd been wondering: what can we learn from them, and they from us? It
was an interesting proposition. "Well, this is just the first day.
They've already had the obstacle course, and now..." 
     "A clean run," Byrne observed. "Then the next one has empty packs,
then the one after that has full packs." 
     "Yes, sir," Croft said. "But we're not ready for that yet." 
     "Sir?" Wagner asked. She noted that the trainees had finished the
run, and were getting a brief respite. 
     "They didn't get it fast enough," Croft noted. "Sargamesh?" 
     "Sir!" The Zohrloch warrior asked. Typically, not a drop of sweat
was seen on the two Zohrloch. 
     "Have them go and do it again. Faster, if you please." 
     "Yes, sir!" Sargamesh replied. He nodded to Korl, and with a lot
more shouting, both of them got the trainees up and running again. 
     "Fifteen guys for one slot," Wagner observed. "It's going to be a
mess." 
     "Not exactly, Sergeant," Croft said. "I'll keep four or five.
They'll be in a replacement pool, in case we have casualties, or injuries
in training accidents." 
     Byrne and Allen nodded. SF units on Earth did the same thing. "Good
call, Major," Byrne said. "When we get to Earth, there'll be quite a few
SF units who are going to want to have some long talks with you. And
they'll be paying for the beer." 
     "I'll be looking forward to that," Croft said, laughing. 
     The trio took their leave of Croft, and as they headed off to the
Officers' Club, but before the hatch closed, they heard a lot of
shouting. "AZGUL'S BEARD! DO I HAVE TO SHOVE HOT COALS DOWN YOUR PANTS?
MOVE, MAGGOTS!!. Hearing that,  Allen chuckled, "Ever wish you'd been a
SEAL, Kev?" 
     "No, Ced," Byrne replied. "I did have five of my Annapolis
classmates try for SEALS. Only one made it. Three of 'em dropped out, and
the fourth broke a leg in training. They offered to recycle him through
after he healed up, but he declined. Last I heard, he was a destroyer
skipper." 
     "He's probably glad to be driving ships, Sir," Wagner quipped. 
     "Why's that, Sergeant?" Byrne asked. 
     "It's safer than being a SEAL, sir. And the lifestyle's probably
more predictable." 
     And the two officers laughed. "It is that," Byrne agreed. 
     Soon, the trio were at the back at the entrance to the Officers'
Club. Just as they got there, Sheba came up. "Lieutenant," Byrne said. 
     "Captain Byrne," Sheba nodded. "And Commander Allen and Sergeant
Wagner." She saw the other two nod. "What brings you here?" 
     "After what we heard today?" Allen said. "We all need to drown our
sorrows." 
     "Or take them for a little swim," Wagner quipped. 
     Sheba nodded understanding.  "Let me guess: there was another
briefing, and you guys weren't happy at what Wilker found?" 
     "Right on that," Byrne said as they went inside the Club. There,
they saw Apollo, Starbuck, and Boomer at a table. They waved, and  Byrne
said to Sheba. "We'll fill you in." 
     She nodded again as they bellied up to the bar, and Freeman came
over. "Folks, what can I get for ya today? Your new usual, Lady Sheba?" 
     Sheba nodded, and put a coin on the bar. 
     "And your three, Captain?" 
     "Three beers, Freeman. And today, you might want to keep them
coming," Byrne said. 
     The barkeep nodded, and drew three beers. "Here you go, Captain." 
     "Thanks," Byrne said. "On my tab, Freeman."
     "Right ya be, Captain," the barkeep replied. 
     After they got their beers, the trio went over to Apollo's table.
"Got room for three more?" Byrne asked. 
     "Not a problem, Captain," Apollo said. "Pull up, guys." 
     "Thanks, Apollo," Byrne said. "You guys all know Commander Allen?" 
     "Haven't seen you as often as we see these two," Starbuck quipped.
"But then, you haven't been as...busy as they have." 
     "Right on that, Mate," Allen said. "Adelade's been pretty quiet
compared to Constellation." 
     Nodding, Apollo turned to his wife. "How'd the patrol go? You had
Hunley again, right?" 
     "Same thing as last time. Boring," Sheba said. "A whole lot of
nothing. The two of us were bored, but I don't know if our Cylon friends
even know the concept." 
     "Maybe they'll learn it," Starbuck quipped. 
     "If programming code could embody boring, they personify it," Sheba
remarked, taking a sip of her mineral water. 
     "I hear you. How's Hunley turning out?" Byrne asked. 
     "She's got what it takes, Captain," Sheba said. "Once she finishes
her refresher training, she's back on the flight schedule full-time." 
     Nodding, Byrne said, "Dante will be glad to hear that. They've still
got a....relationship going?" 
     "So she says," Sheba said. "So, what did Wilker say? This is the
second time I've missed out on a briefing."
     "Not just Wilker, but Salik, too," Apollo said. "That wreck and the
skeletons? He ran DNA on the skeletons, and it's them." 
     Sheba looked at Wagner, and saw that this time, she was quite calm
as she sipped her beer "Her pals." It wasn't a question.
     "Right on that," Lauren said. "And the only good thing was that
they've been dead for fifty to seventy years...yahrens, and maybe more." 
     "That's what Salik said," Allen remarked. "Like she said: the only
good thing about it." 
     "So," Sheba asked. "What were they doing here?" 
     "No other remains, and a smaller ship than the one we found Lauren
in. No flight recorder, and just a burned-out hulk," Boomer said.
"Probably an exploratory mission gone bad." 
     Sheba nodded. "And let me guess: Wilker officially revealed what
he'd found about the torturer, and that scientist." 
     "Yeah," Apollo said. "Still disgusting, no matter what. And that's
not all," he said, motioning to Lauren
     "What else was there?" Sheba asked.
     "Wilker found they recorded my examination and.....interrogation,
for want of a better term," Wagner said. "Not for their own sick
amusement, but for record-keeping. Hell, maybe both, but who knows?"
     "Lords of Kobol," Sheba whispered. "These people have no conscience
at all." 
      "No doubt about that," Allen said. "But that's not all. Wilker
found this out: they were assembling their invasion force." 
     Sheba looked at her husband, who nodded. "They were more farther
along in that than we thought." 
     "Yeah, and they weren't happy with the Fleet's first exercise. The
fleet commander was, well....relieved of duty," said Byrne. 
     "As in, his last sight was probably the inside of an airlock,"
Starbuck quipped. 
     "Or they gave him a bullet to the back of the head," Wagner said.
"Then they dumped him out with the garbage." 
     "Which is what you want to do with anyone involved with those
abductions," Apollo quipped, and he saw her nod. 
     "Right on that," Wagner replied. "After they've either posed for a
firing squad, or I've hunted down and killed every last one-if the Ke'zar
didn't save me the trouble." 
     "And I don't blame her for that, Apollo," Sheba said. 
     Apollo nodded, "That's not all: the Ke'zar struck the aliens just
after they got their new Fleet Commander. They were recalled, but we
don't know where." 
     "Their home planet?" 
     "Maybe," Allen said. "But Kev's got another idea." 
     "What is it?" Sheba asked. 
     Byrne and Wagner explained for a few centons. When they were
finished, Sheba-and the others, were incredulous. "Their own Exodus?" She
asked. 
     "It's a possibility," Byrne admitted. "Along with a complete 180,
and they just decide to make a final stand: you know: 'the gods are on
the side of the righteous, we will never surrender,' and all of that.
Like an Islamic Jihad, or the Japanese in World War II, back home." He
paused, then went on. "Anything's possible with these guys." 
     "But if they did have their own Exodus," Apollo noted. "We might
encounter them-or some of them, anyway. It's a long shot, but there's
still a chance." 
     "Yeah," Byrne said. He saw that Allen and Wagner had finished their
beers. "Freeman? One more, for the three of us." 
     "Comin' right up, Captain," the barkeep nodded, as he handed a drink
to Croad, at the bar.  
     "So what now?" Sheba asked. She was also wondering what her father
would be thinking of all this. 
     "The Commander wants a military planning meeting in a few days, so
we can decide on possible rules of engagement, courses of action, and so
on," Apollo said. 
     "Good idea," Allen said. "It beats doing things as you go along." 
     Apollo nodded. "A repeat of the Ziklagi debacle isn't a good  idea,"
he said. "But there's something else." 
     "What?" Byrne asked. 
     "After you guys left-and where'd you take off to, by the way?"
Apollo wanted to know. 
     "The SF Area," Byrne said. "Wagner needed some time on the range." 
     "And you made some practice targets go away," Boomer commented. 
     "Right on that," Lauren said, grinning. "Always a pleasure to blow
the daylights out of something." 
     "Apollo, we need to get trained on those," Sheba said. 
     "Yeah," Apollo nodded. "Anyway, as I was saying, my Father came up,
and so did Sire Pelias. We talked, and one thing came up: there may be an
old anti-piracy law that's still on the books. It says that any crime
committed by an alien against a Human can be prosecuted in our courts. If
the party in question can be found within Human jurisdiction. So, if we
run into these specific people, Sergeant...."
     "What do you mean, Apollo?" Byrne asked. He'd been at JAG, and knew
that under U.S. Law, terrorists who committed murder of Americans on
foreign soil had been tried in American courts. 
     "The Commander's going to talk to Sire Solon and see if this law's
still in force. If it is, and there's enough evidence, he might-and I
mean might-be able to put a Tribunal together," Apollo replied. "This is
rarefied legal territory, to say the least."  
     "After all this time?" Starbuck asked. "Even if it's a
million-to-one shot at finding and catching this animal?" 
     "That's what he's going to ask Solon to find out,"said Apollo. "And
Sergeant, it'd be a whole lot better than you just walking up to this guy
and putting a couple of slugs into his head." 
     "There is that," Wagner admitted. "But, and this is a but, what if
we do find this scumbag, and can't capture him for whatever reason? If
that's the case, then I'll still want a shot at this guy. And I mean it."

     "Agreed," Byrne said. "And you know what Croft said?
      Sheba looked at him. "What'd he say?" 
     "He said that if we passed within strike range of that prison
planet, he'd lead the SF Team to that 'experimental facility,' free
anyone held there, kill the entire staff, and leave a crater behind. And
get all the other prisoners out, like what you guys did at Boron-Din." 
     "And Croft meant it, I imagine," Boomer observed. 
     "You got it," Byrne said. 
     "You read the after-action report on that?" Boomer asked. 
     "I did," Byrne said, and he saw Allen and Wagner nod. "That, I gotta
say, you guys did a fabulous job there. And the way Athena took out the
one who tried to attack the Commander? The lady deserves a medal." 
     "She got one," Boomer said with pride. 
     "Like these guys," Wagner said. "Sent to where they belong." 
     "Well," Apollo admitted, "I don't blame you three for feeling like
that-and Croft, too." 
     "Keep in mind, Apollo," Sheba pointed out. "This all happened forty
yahrens ago. The Ke'zar probably saved them the trouble." 
     "I'll drink to that," Wagner said, hoisting her beer glass. 
     Clink. 


     A few days later, Commander Adama was in his inner office, preparing
for the upcoming military planning meeting. In fact, the meeting was to
be held that very afternoon. Though Baltar and Moray would be present via
com, the other principals would be there in person. Adama was still
hoping that a meeting between the Fleet and these aliens would never
happen, but he remembered the Ziklagi debacle, and that a repeat of that
incident was not an option. As Byrne and Starbuck had said, it might be a
million-to-one chance, given the vastness of the universe, but an
encounter couldn't be ruled out, especially if the aliens had mounted
their own Exodus prior to the Ke'zar's final assault.  He was interrupted
in his thoughts by the chime at his door. "Enter." 
     Sire Solon came in. "Commander." 
     "Sire," Adama said, rising from his chair. "A pleasure to see you."
He motioned Solon to sit. "Do you have anything about that....matter we
discussed earlier?" 
     "It does, Commander, and I may have some good news for you," Solon
replied, handing Adama a folder containing hard copy. "I've spoken with
Sire Memnon, and he does recall such a statute having been passed, it
having been discussed in a class when he was a law student. He was able
to direct my aides to the appropriate citations in the Colonial Military
Law Code, as well as the Colonial Code, for some of these cases were
handled by civilian courts, as well as military ones." 
     "The bottom line, Sire?" Adama asked. 
     "Put it simply, Commander," Solon said. "If, and I do mean if, we
find this individual, then yes, we can try him. Among the offenses
covered by the statute are kidnapping and torture, though it was meant
primarily to be applied to pirates, but it may be applied here." 
     Adama nodded. "Have you reviewed the evidence?" He asked. 
     Solon gave a nod. "Yes, Commander, I have. Not the first time I've
seen a criminal act recorded for posterity by those committing it, I must
say. Though it is....graphic." 
     "Now you do understand the Sergeant's feelings on this matter, as
well as for the others who were taken?"
     "I do, Commander," Solon replied. "In her case, it would be an
open-and-shut matter. As for the others, though the victims are not under
our jurisdiction, we could introduce those abductions to show a prior
pattern of this behavior on the defendant's part. And should we recover
any additional victims, their cases could be added to the indictment, of
course." 
     "Very good, Sire," Adama said. "It does look a whole lot better than
simply letting Wagner summarily terminate this individual, no matter how
deserving of it they may be." Though I wouldn't blame her in the end if
that did happen, he thought to himself. 
     "It certainly does, Commander," Solon agreed. "As for the evidence,
Doctor Wilker has assured me that this material will be reexamined again,
so that this person's name can be translated, and a proper indictment
prepared. We do have a rough draft of one, however, already waiting." 
     Adama nodded, and thought for a moment. The Opposition seemed to
have this laid out nicely. "Now, Sire, I'll play Hades' advocate here:
what would the Protection attempt in this case?" 
     "Sire Memnon actually did raise this, Commander," Solon replied.
"The best argument from that perspective would be that the defendant was
only following orders from above, and that failure to follow such orders
could have had serious consequences for himself, and quite possibly his
family." 
     "I see.." Adama said. "Have you talked to Captain Byrne? He did
serve for a time in his military's legal branch, and may know how similar
tribunals have worked on Earth." 
     "That is an interesting avenue," Solon replied. "He has mentioned
something called 'The Nuremberg Trials', where that was a defense, as
well as other state-sanctioned atrocities. Perhaps we can learn something
from him on this matter."
     "Hopefully," Adama mused, going over the screen-captures from the
alien video. What in Hades Hole was it, that permitted advanced,
intelligent beings to act in ways every bit as brutal and horrific as the
Cylons? Not just in Colonial History, but in every culture he'd
encountered in his career, from his Cadet days, until fleeing the
Colonies. It always seemed that someone, for whatever reason, was
willing, even eager, to commit acts of hellish savagery. Everyone from
the Pinians at the edge of Colonial Space, to the Eastern Alliance, the
Ziklagio, even on Earth. No one seemed immune, and here was a Humanoid
race, obviously an advanced and sophisticated one,  treating others so
much like themselves, with all the concern and pity of a janitor
scrubbing mold off a floor. 
     Why, Lord? Why?  
     "Have you had Sergeant Wagner over for an interview, or even a
deposition?" He asked, shaking off his musings. 
     "Yes, Commander. She not only testified in a deposition, but left a
sworn affidavit, recounting her abduction," Solon said. 
     "Excellent, Sire," Adama said. "Though the chances are slim, at
best, that we'll have
 any sort of Tribunal...." 
     "True, Commander," Solon agreed. "But, if we do find and capture
this individual, then the legal process can work its course. And, as you
said, some measure of justice for Sergeant Wagner, as well as those
others who were taken, can be found." 
     "Part of me hopes we never encounter them, Sire." 
     "I can understand that, Commander." 

     
     A couple of centars later, Adama was in the Ward Room again, this
time for the planning conference. Though Baltar and Moray were present
via com, all of the other principals were present, with Siress Lydia,
Siress Tinia, and Sires Pelias and Xaviar representing the Council.
Colonel Tigh, Apollo, Croft, and the other squadron commanders were
there, along with Byrne, Allen, and Wagner. As was Doctor Wilker, for he
had completed an evaluation of the alien derelict's technical capability,
and would have a comparison between the Galactica and the Base Ship on
one hand, and the derelict on the other.  Adama nodded, first to those in
the room, then to Baltar and Moray, then spoke. "Good afternoon. I'm
pleased that you all could attend, either in person, or via com," Adama
said, motioning to Baltar and Moray, who nodded. "As you know by now, the
wreck discovered on the world below us was a ship belonging to the race
we know as the Abductors: the race that was not only planning to invade
Earth, but also responsible for an as yet undetermined number of
abductions from Earth, whether temporary, or, as in Sergeant Wagner's
case-along with at least several hundred others-permanent." He saw Wagner
nod, then went on. "While we are as yet not even close to their charted
space, thanks to the data from their navigation charts and the derelict's
own navigation equipment, the fact that we have discovered two of their
ships within a short period of time raises the possibility, however slim,
that we may have an encounter with these people." 
     Lydia, who had not been at the last briefing, asked, "What are the
chances of that, Commander?" 
     Adama turned to her."As some have said earlier, 'about a
million-to-one', Siress. But there is a chance nonetheless, and since
none of us have a desire to repeat the Zikalgi debacle, some contingency
planning is called for." 
     "I understand, Commander," she replied.
     "Now, Doctor Wilker will report on where the aliens stand
technologically, and then we can discuss our options, and plans can be
drawn up to cover possible contingencies," Adama said. "Doctor," he said
as he turned to Wilker. "you may begin." 
     The scientist nodded. "Commander, everyone, While we don't have the
equipment that would have narrowed things down any further, I can give a
rough estimate of where the aliens are in relation to us and the Cylons,"
Wilker said. "First of all, their general technological level is roughly
that of the Eastern Alliance of Terra." 
     "'Roughly,' Doctor?" Adama asked. 
     "Yes, Commander," Wilker replied. "While the Alliance is ahead of
these people in some areas, the aliens are ahead of the Alliance in
others-especially shipboard weaponry." 
     "How so?" Asked Tigh. 
     "Colonel, the Eastern Alliance had no shipboard energy weapons, only
Kinetic Energy weapons such as railguns. These people, on the other hand,
do. And they're as powerful as what we had at the outbreak of the war
with the Cylons," Wilker reported. 
     Apollo asked, "That means we'd outrange them, in other words? Both
fighter turbo lasers and the shipboard weapons on the big ships in the
Fleet?" 
     "Yes, Captain, that's what I'm saying," Wilker said. 
     "So they're not dangerous after all?" Lydia asked. 
     "No, Siress, that's not it. They could do a number of things to even
the odds-such as swarm the Galactica and Base Ship with sheer weight of
numbers-if, that is, they have the ships to spare," Xaviar said. "And
that has potential to cause us trouble." 
     "Cylon doctrine," Moray said from the Base Ship, and heads nodded at
that. 
     "What about their sensors?" Adama wanted to know. 
     "Just getting to that, Commander," Wilker said, calling up a holo
display comparing the scanners of the derelict's estimated capability,
and those of the Galactica and the Base Ship. "Now, I couldn't get things
narrowed down any further than this, due to the equipment available to
us, but I was able to determine this: the aliens' detection range is
between one-quarter and one-third that of either the Galactica or the
Base Ship." He then called up another display. "For fighters, either a
Viper or Raider' s sensors would outrange them by fifty percent, maybe
more." 
     "So, Doc," Byrne asked, "We'd see them long before they could see
us? That's what you're saying?" 
     "Yes, Captain," Wilker said. "That's exactly what I'm saying." 
     "That, with our weapons superiority," Baltar commented, "means we
could even kill them before they knew they were under attack." 
     "I never thought I'd agree with Baltar on anything," Sire Pelias
said. "But in this case, he's right." 
     "If combat were necessary," Tinia pointed out. "Or, we could evade,
and avoid combat entirely." 
     "Not necessarily, Siress," Tigh said. "We can't exactly turn the
Fleet onto an evasion course instantly. They could still scan us." 
     "Combat may be unavoidable," Apollo said. "If we've had a fighter
encounter, and something resulted from that, say." 
     Adama nodded at that. "Doctor, anything that would resemble our
Warbook on the alien vessel? If we can identify types of ships, and get
the data, that would aid our patrols and our own shipboard scans
immensely." 
     "Not ready yet, Commander, though I do have Technician Hummer
working on that. They do have a Warbook, but it's an actual printed book,
not a computer program. The book has to be scanned-page by page,
translated, then duplicated and disseminated, and, as you know,
Commander, that takes time." 
     "Understood, Doctor," Adama noted. "What about communications?" 
     "Very simple, Commander. Their communications are equal to the
Eastern Alliance's. Very similar, in fact, to what was on the Destroyer,"
Wilker reported. 
     "Doc," Byrne asked. "They can fly faster than they can communicate?"
He'd read the report on that ship as a comparison to the alien derelict. 
     "Essentially, yes, Captain," Wilker replied. "The Alliance didn't
have that problem, though their communications were more advanced than
these people-and they needed relay stations for their communications from
their outposts and their ships to Terra. These people, though..."
     "So," Allen noted. "They have to go into FTL and get to a base or
rendezvous with another ship before they can relay their information, in
other words?" 
     "That's about it, Commander Allen," Wilker responded.  
     "In essence, Doctor, we have nearly all of the advantages, except
possibly that of numbers?" Asked Tigh. 
     "Correct, Colonel." 
     Adama paused, taking in the information. While it was now completely
obvious that the aliens were not a technological threat, they still had
the potential to cause trouble. And that was the last thing Adama wanted.
"Thank you, Doctor," Adama said to Wilker, and the scientist nodded and
sat down. He looked around the table, and at the com, where Baltar and
Moray had been joined by Orion. "Now, the chances of an encounter, let
alone a confrontation, with these people are slim, at most. But, the
possibility cannot be entirely ruled out, and some rules of engagement
need to be issued." 
     "Sensible," Xaviar nodded. 
     "Now, this concerns not only our fighter squadrons," Adama said,
directing his words at Apollo, the other squadron commanders, and Orion,
"but also the captains of the Century, Adelade, and Constelllation." 
     "Understood, Adama," Baltar said, and both Moray and Orion nodded.
As did the others. 
     "If you detect them first, stay out of their sensor range and track
them. We need information on their ships' performance, especially their
sensors. Especially their effective-as opposed to estimated-range," Adama
said. "Not to mention their course, and if they're headed for any
particular star system-which may indicate a colony or base." 
     "Yes, Commander," Apollo said. "But what if they do maneuver to try
and pick us up? Anything's possible out on a patrol-they could hide in a
gas cloud, or near an asteroid, and track us." 
     "Quite so, Apollo," Adama replied. "Still, try and avoid visual
contact if at all possible. If not, take evasive action. Do not fire
unless fired upon first. We're not at war with these people, and that's
the last thing we need." 
     "Of course, Adama," Baltar said. "But if our ships are fired on?" 
     "Return fire, and call for assistance. We'll get help out there as
soon as possible." 
     "Very well, Adama. May I suggest that if we do encounter them,
having additional fighters on alert as a precaution?" Baltar asked. 
     "Certainly," Adama said. 
     "Commander, if I may?" Byrne asked. 
     "Captain," Adama nodded. 
     "Sir, may I add this suggestion: on Earth, locking someone up with
fire-control equipment is tantamount to a hostile act. That means that
either a surface-to-air missile battery, an anti-aircraft gun battery, a
missile-armed ship, or an enemy aircraft, has you in his sights and he's
ready to shoot. In that case, we were taught to shoot first." 
     "Hit before you are hit, in other words?" Tigh asked. 
     Byrne nodded yes. "Locking someone up is tantamount to pointing a
lethal weapon at you, and that  means trouble. May I suggest, Commander,
that if one of their ships locks up a fighter-or another ship, they have
authorization to shoot?" 
     Adama looked at Xaviar-who had Fleet experience before leaving the
service to run his family business. He nodded approval. The Commander
also looked at both Tigh and Apollo, and both also were in agreement.
"Very well, if that happens, then you may fire first." 
     "Thanks, Commander," Byrne said. "And if they find us first?" 
     "Commander," Xaviar said. "I understand your reluctance to have a
sustained confrontation with these people, but if we are detected, it
might bring about what we don't want: an attack." 
     "Are you sure?" Siress Lydia asked. This was getting too much for
her comfort. 
     "Siress," Allen said. "They may not care that this is a refugee
fleet. Not to mention that if we told them we're looking for Earth..." 
     "And add to that we're human, and to them....." Byrne added, his
voice trailing off. 
     "They may not like that," Pelias finished for Byrne, who nodded. 
     "Tigh?" Adama asked his Exec. 
     "I understand what they're implying, Commander," the XO replied. "If
they do detect us, then we can't allow them to escape with the
information." 
     "No choice in that matter," Tinia said. She'd picked up some
military knowledge in her time on the Council to understand the
consequences of action-or inaction. 
     "Agreed," Adama said reluctantly. In that case, he knew, there'd be
no choice. "In that situation, capturing the ship, rather than destroying
it, would be the best, unless, of course, they do go down fighting." 
     "Commander?" Pelias asked. 
     "Updated information, and possibly captured crew members for
interrogation, Sire, is what we'd gain in that instance," Adama replied,
and he saw Pelias nod. 
     "Then we'd know if we were actually in their territory, or outside
it, based on what we find." Byrne said.
     "Correct, Captain," Adama replied. "And then after that, our further
course of action would depend on the situation. An evasive Fleet course,
going around the threat, or simply pressing ahead. But, that kind of
decision would have to wait until we actually have an encounter," and he
saw heads nod at that. 
     "What are the chances, Commander? Siress Lydia asked. "Realistically
speaking?" 
     "It's been said that it's likely to be a million-to-one chance,
Siress," Adama responded. "At best." He paused, then continued, "Given
our past experiences, especially with the Ziklagi, a repeat of that
debacle is not an option at all. So, it's best to be prepared, even if
the chance is a slim one." 
     "About as much a chance of a cold day in Hades," Pelias commented.
"But still possible, regardless." 
     "Exactly, Sire," Adama said. He looked around the room. "Any other
questions?" Then he looked at the com. "Baltar, anything to add?" 
     "No, but a measure of prudence in this matter is called for," Baltar
replied. 
     "Indeed," Adama replied. "Anything else?" He saw Allen nod.
"Commander Allen?" 
     "Sir, we need to remember that this information is based on a ship
that's over forty yahrens old, if not older. If, and I do mean if, the
war isn't over, their R&D effort will be going full speed ahead, and
their ships will have vastly improved capabilities in all aspects:
weapons, sensors, propulsion, and so on. To assume that their
technological base has remained stagnant can be described as foolhardy at
best, and at worst, criminally naive," Allen said, reminding many of
their own past history, and not just in the war with the Cylons, but for
the Earthers, it reminded them of how military R&D had been accelerated
by both World Wars and the Cold War. 
     "What are you getting at, Ced?" Byrne asked. 
     "We may have to prepare for the possibility that the war with the
Ke'zar is still ongoing. Not to mention that if the regime's die-hards
did flee the homeworld in advance of a defeat, they brought some of their
military-industrial capabilities with them. Or, as is more likely,
they've just begun to reconstitute some of that capability," replied
Allen. 
     "Any one of those possibilities is quite logical," Moray added. 
     "Sir, there's something else," Allen said, nodding at Adama. "Their
antimatter drive. Now, the ship that Sergeant Wagner was on had to
jettison its drive to avoid a reactor overload, so we have no performance
data. All we've got is the engineering manuals, and that's only paper
data. Chances are, over forty yahrens, they've improved it." 
     "Understood, Commander," Adama replied. He turned to Wilker. "Get
Chief Twilly to assist you with an updated threat assessment. See what
you can do to extrapolate based on the alien ship's engineering manual
and see how far they may have come since. And assume the following as
well: they've had forty yahrens to improve, they've only just begun, and
the last-they've stagnated-for obvious reasons." 
     "Yes, Commander," Wilker replied. "This will be more art than
science, however, and have a lot of guesswork." 
     "Welcome to the intelligence business, Doc," Byrne said. "Now you're
producing what they do: Best Case, Worst Case, and Middle Case
estimates." And he saw the scientist turn pale, which meant he'd never
done anything like this before. 
     "It also means, Commander," Allen said, "We need to get our hands on
whatever tech they've got now. Which means any ship-to-ship action has to
involve a boarding." 
     "An excellent suggestion," Baltar added. "The intelligence windfall
would be tremendous in that instance." 
     Adama looked at Tigh, and saw the Exec nod. Apollo and Xaviar did as
well. "All right: anything else?" There were no more questions or
comments. "Very well, we're adjourned." 
     As the meeting broke up, Byrne, Allen, and Wagner stood out in the
corridor, and were talking. "Well, Ced, Sergeant, looks like the ball's
rolling on this. Even if it's a million-to-one shot." 
     "Right on that, Kev," Allen replied. "But there's the other problem.
Like the man said, we sure don't know how far these...people have come in
forty years." 
     "I hate to agree with a piece of scum like Baltar," Byrne said. "But
he's right. These folks could have made some advances since then, and
they could surprise us. Or, they'd still be so far behind, they'd hardly
know they were in a fight before their ships start blowing up around
them." 
     "That, Sir," Wagner added, 'is their problem." She looked at her two
superior officers. "Sirs, remember: if you're in a fair fight, you didn't
plan the mission properly." 
     "Murphy's Law of Combat," Byrne agreed. "Though Ced, you did raise
an important point. The war could still be ongoing, or, if they're smart,
they've taken some of their R&D capabilities with them as they fled." 
     "Better safe than sorry," Allen replied. He turned to Wagner.
"Sergeant, I don't know if I've told you this, but if you had been on
RB-33, and found that....pile of Koala crap you're looking for?" 
     "Yes, Sir?" Wagner asked. 
     "If you had killed him then and there, all the station authorities
would've done is charged you for the cleanup. If they found you, that
is." Allen said. 
     "That bad?" 
     "That lawman of yours in Tombstone, what's his name, Wyatt Earp? If
he'd been there, he would've had a tall job ahead of him in cleaning up
that Sodom in space. Assuming he lived, that is. Of course, if you'd done
it in my place, the drinks would've been on the house." 
     "Well, Sir," Wagner said, "If we find a similar station, and
this....scumbag is there, he's mine." She was patting her Mark-23 in its
holster. 
     "And I'll back you up, Sergeant," Byrne replied. "And all of your
buddies with Croft's team, will too, I reckon." He saw her grin, then one
of Sire Solon's aides came up. "Yes?" 
     "Captain Byrne, they told me you were here. Sire Solon wants to talk
to you. Something about a 'Nuremberg Trial?'" The aide replied, brows
crinkled, and looking at his pad. 
     "I'll be right there," Byrne said. "Ced, you and the Sergeant head
on to the O-Club. Tell Freeman that anything you guys order is on my
tab." 
     "What's this about, Kev?" Allen asked. 
     "Best not to keep the JAG waiting," Byrne grinned. "I'll let you
guys know." 


     Byrne followed the aide to Sire Solon's office, and he was struck by
a sense of deja vu. , and after he entered, it reminded him of Admiral
Lohr's office back at JAG, for the atmosphere was much the same. Even
though it was deep in the bowels of a starship. The aide spoke to Solon's
secretary, who then called him, and then said, "The Sire's been waiting,
Captain. Please, go right in." And Byrne did so. 
     "Sire." 
     "Captain Byrne," Solon said. "I know we've met socially before, and
had some business more recently, but please, be seated." The Chief
Opposer then pulled out a folder. "I'd like you to have a look at this,"
he said, handing it to Byrne. 
     He took the folder and perused its contents. "Are you sure about
this, Sire? I mean, can you really put this guy in front of a
Court-M...Tribunal?" 
     "We think so, Captain, and I do realize now why the Sergeant wants
this individual terminated-" 
     "'Terminated with extreme prejudice' is the term we use on occasion,
Sire," Byrne reminded him. 
     "Ah, yes. As I was saying, we do have a statute that would enable a
Tribunal of this individual, if we did manage to apprehend him," Solon
replied. 
     "And that gives Sergeant Wagner her day in court," Byrne said,
rereading the material, and though it made him wince, he did see the
image caps from the alien video.
     "Yes, it's disgusting, isn't it?" 
      "Like something out of a nightmare," he replied, half to himself.
"I'll admit, it would give her a chance to get a key answer to all of
this, and Wilker's translation work so far hasn't found that answer: not
only in her case, but all the others. Why?" 
     Solon nodded. "Something, that I, too, would like to have, as
establishing motive is very important, as you know. I understand you've
had some legal experience in your Navy?" 
     "I'm not a trained legal officer, Sire," Byrne replied. "That means
I never went to law school and got a degree. It was more like a branch
officer exchange program, for officers of one specialty to see how other
parts of the Navy worked. More like my Admiral told me I had no choice." 
     "I see," Solon replied. 
     "Your aide mentioned the Nuremberg Trials?" 
     "Yes. You've mentioned them before. They were after your Second
World War, correct?" Solon asked. 
    "They were. The top political, military, and economic leadership of 
the dictatorship of Nazi Germany, that is, those who survived the war,
were put on trial by the victorious Allies for very heinous crimes:
genocide, launching a war of aggression, conspiracy, crimes against
humanity, and so on," Byrne said. "The trial, though it did have some
faults, got it right." 
     "How many defendants?" Solon asked. One of his aides was there as
well, taking notes. 
     "Twenty-two originally, but one committed suicide prior to trial.
One was tried in absentia-Martin Bormann, the Nazi Party Secretary and
Hitler's right-hand man." 
     "How did it work?" Solon wanted to know. 
     Byrne nodded. "The defendants were all presumed innocent, and their
guilt had to be proven beyond a reasonable doubt." Solon nodded at that.
The presumption of innocence, even for those accused of the most heinous
crimes was so important. Without the presumption, no one was safe. "They
were able to call witnesses and produce evidence on their behalf, and the
prosecution had a large body of evidence-some of it being documents
signed by the defendants themselves-as well as their own witnesses,
films, and so on. When it was all over, three were acquitted, twelve
sentenced to death, though one cheated the hangman and committed suicide,
while the rest received prison terms ranging from ten yahrens to life." 
     Solon nodded. "I see. And what was the principal defense?" 
     "That they were only following orders," Byrne replied. "It didn't
work. The Court ruled that 'superior orders' was not a defense, but the
fact that a defendant was following orders from above could be used in
mitigation of punishment."
     "So," Solon commented. "If, and I do mean if, we were able to
apprehend this individual, I was told by Sire Memnon that his Protector
would likely argue that he was only following orders from above. Failure
to do so might have had serious consequences for not only himself, but
his family." 
     "A court on Earth may or may not allow that as a defense, Sire. It's
been tried several times since Nuremberg, with mixed results," Byrne
said. "But, if there's no other possible defense, you'd have to allow it.
Even though this is an open-and-shut case." 
     "Yes," Solon agreed. "As distasteful as it is, you may be right,
Captain." 
     "Well, let's hope it turns out to be academic, and we never meet
these creeps." 
     "I can't say that I disagree with that, Captain." 
     While Captain Byrne was talking with Sire Solon, Commander Allen and
Sergeant Wagner were at the bar in the Officers' Club, and they were
talking about what they'd just discussed in the meeting. "Well, Sir,"
Wagner was saying, "It may be a million-to-one shot, but..."
     "Yeah," Allen said, taking a swig from his beer glass. One of these
days, the Colonials would learn the meaning of warm beer.  "And you might
just get your revenge." 
     "Might, Sir," she reminded him. "And understand, I don't want the
whole race wiped out to pay for the sins of a few. After what happened to
the Colonials." 
     "Sort of like a survivor of Auschwitz," Allen noted. "You don't just
want the guards nailed to the wall, but the bloody officers, and anyone
above them." 
     "Not just that, Sir," Wagner said. "I want their Eichmann, too, and
whoever gave him his orders. Anyone involved in the abductions, running
that lab, and that abductee colony." 
     Allen knew she meant it. "And have all of 'em pose for rifle fire."
It wasn't a question.
     "Yes, Sir. Each and every one of 'em. Either they pose for a firing
squad, or they have a good old-fashioned necktie party, like we used to
do in the Old West days," Wagner replied. "To be wished for, anyway." She
looked over at the doorway, as Castor came in. "Ah." 
     "Freeman, my usual."
     "Comin' right at ya," the barkeep replied. He handed Castor a mug. 
     "Thanks," Castor replied. "Lauren, care to sit?" 
     Hearing that, Allen said, "Watch it, Sergeant. You know what to do
if he gets out of hand." 
     "Sir," Lauren replied. "The last time somebody was 'out of hand' in
trying to pick me up?" 
     "Yes?" 
     "I decked him," she replied, then went over with Castor to a table.
     "Short date," Allen muttered. 
     "Lauren," Castor said, "It's been a while, and...well, I was
wondering,,,,"
     "Let me guess," Lauren replied. "You're asking me out on a date." 
     "Date, uh, Calendar...oh, yeah, date." These Earthisms! " Yeah, you
could say that," Castor replied. "Dinner in the Astral Lounge on the
Rising Star, a cabin for the night...."
     "It's been a while, I'll admit," Lauren said. "Why not? A good night
out might be just what I need. I've been hitting it hard lately." 
     "We all have," Castor reminded her. 
     "I know," she said. "I'll find out when I've got some R&R coming up,
and I'll let you know." 
     "Okay, then," Castor replied. "It's a date?" 
     "You got a date. Just remember you're luckier than the last guy who
tried to pick me up." 
     "I remember you saying that. You decked the guy." 
     "Something like that," Lauren said. She saw Captain Byrne coming in,
and she could tell by his expression that he wanted to talk to her.
"Looks like the Captain wants to talk. I'll see you later." 
     Castor nodded, and she got up and headed to the bar. "Captain?" 
     "I see Castor's got his eye on you, Sergeant," Byrne said. He turned
to Freeman. "A beer, Freeman, and a good one." 
     Freeman nodded. "Comin' right up, Captain." He drew the beer and
handed the glass to Byrne. "Here ya go." 
     "Thanks," Byrne said. "Ced," he nodded. 
     "Kev. What'd Solon want?"
     Byrne sat in a barstool. "Well, hold onto your drinks, because he
said that he can try the....animal the Sergeant's looking for." 
     "What?" Allen asked. 
     "Is he serious? Their laws actually allow it?" Wagner replied.
"Given the odds?" 
     "He's serious, all right," Byrne said. "Even if it's a slim chance
at finding and catching this sleazebag, yeah. There's a statute under
Colonial Law that applies, and they can put him in front of what we'd
call a court-martial. And prosecute him." 
     "And kidnapping and torture are the charges," Allen commented. "One
count of each." 
     "You're right on that," Byrne said. "He's got an indictment drafted,
and all Solon's people need are two things. First, a name, and second, a
warm body in custody." He turned to Wagner. "And then, Sergeant, you get
your day in court." 
     "He's serious?" Wagner asked. 
     "You got it, Sergeant," replied Byrne. "You get your day in court,
and by extension, all the others they took." 
     "Well, hot damn!" She thought for a centon, sipping her beer. Though
she was a Deputy Sheriff back home, she was also in the military, and
right now, that was where she was taking her thoughts. "Sir, the lawman
in me would want this animal tried, sentenced, and caged, but...."
     "'But' Sergeant?" Allen asked. 
     "The military person in me wants this guy hunted down and taken all
the way out. No questions asked, no regret, and no remorse." 
     Castor came up for a refill. He'd overheard everything. "Lauren, I
don't blame you at all." 
     "Thanks. Though before I kill him, I'd like the answer to the one
question: Why? Not just me specifically, but why in general," Wagner
said. 
     "He'd probably take the ' I was only obeying orders' defense," Byrne
said. "Solon didn't like it, but when I told him it might be his only
defense, he understood." 
     She nodded, then motioned for another beer. After Freeman handed her
a fresh glass, she said, "Not good enough. He's a small fish, compared
with whoever ordered the abductions, organized them, and ran the whole
works. But what he did to me, and who knows how many others? He's a dead
man, as far as I'm concerned." 
     "Not blaming you at all," Allen said, and both Byrne and Castor
nodded. "But it's a slim chance, at best, of finding this sicko. Just
don't let it get to you, Sergeant." 
     "Yeah," Byrne said. "And the war may still be going on, for all we
know. Or the Ke'zar went and blasted these folks back to the Stone Age." 
     "Won't shed any tears," Wagner said. "If we get there, and find a
bunch of radioactive craters where they had cities, and they're no longer
a threat to anybody, I won't complain. Much." 
     "No argument there," Castor said. 
     "And hopefully, we find that abductee colony, and take them home." 
     "If they want to," Allen said. "Remember, chances are, they've been
there so long-and their descendants-that planet's home now.  They may not
want to go back to Earth." 
     Byrne nodded. "They should have the chance to go home. If any of 'em
want to, then we should give them a ride to Earth. If that world's their
new home, maybe we can help 'em out. And for sure, when we do get to
Earth, there's going to be some pressure to do something to help anyway."

     "You're right on that, Kev," Allen said. Then there was a beep. He
checked his communicator. "That was the Adelade. Duty calls." Allen
pushed back from the bar.
     "Tell Kalysha I said hello," Byrne said. 
     "Hear, Hear." Allen said, and both Wagner and Castor raised their
drinks. 

     A couple days later, Byrne was back aboard Galactica. Off and on,
ever since taking command of Constellation, he'd been taking care of
something near and dear to his heart: his Viper qualification. Though
he'd been busy with getting his ship ready, and the day-to-day minutae of
commanding the ship, he still insisted on becoming Viper qualified. Not
that he expected to be flying every day, but enough to "keep my hand in",
as he said to Jen. Now, he was taking his final qualification exams:
first in the simulator, then in a real Viper....
     He rolled sharply left, then saw the blue pencils of light scream
past his right wing, his thrusters were screaming, and the ship was
vibrating. Hitting his thrust reversers, he watched the Raider come
closer, then he snapped the Viper around, before opened fire at the
target. All of his shots went wide of the target....
     But one. That shot tore into the left engine of the Cylon Raider,
sending sparks and debris belching out the back. The fighter rolled, then
spun, and as it did, the whole left side flared up and then blew apart,
and the Raider fireballed. 
     "Got the bastard," Byrne shouted as he flew past the fireball and
cooling wreckage. 
     "Sure did, Captain, and nicely done," Barton said over his headset.
"Especially the last one." 
     "How many did that make?" 
     "Six," replied Barton. 
     Byrne nodded in his cockpit as the Galactica loomed closer. Then
Barton obscured his view, as he stood over Byrne's cockpit. The stars
disappeared, and the canopy popped. "So." 
     "Very good, Captain," Barton replied. 
     "Any doubts?" Byrne asked as he took off his helmet, and got out of
the simulator. He stood on the deck. "Well?" 
     "Well...." Barton thought for a centon. "You passed. With flying
colors." 
     "Good," Byrne said. He was dressed as a Viper pilot would, but with
one major difference: instead of a Galactica patch on both shoulders of
the jacket, he had an American flag patch on his right. He was still a
U.S. Navy officer, after all. "When do I take my qualification flight?
The real one?" 
     "That's up to Captain Apollo. As the Strike Leader, he makes that
call. But based on these marks, he'll approve. I'm sure of it."
     "Good," Byrne said as he put his helmet down.  I thought Starbuck
was supposed to be here for this." 
     "Yes, Sir, he was," Barton admitted. 
     "So how come you're pulling this duty?" Byrne asked. 
     "I made one tactical error...I played Pyramid with him last night." 
     "And lost," Byrne noted. "Starbuck being Starbuck again. And doing
whatever it took to get out of the least glamorous duty..." If only my
old flight instructor....he thought to himself. 
     Then Apollo came in. "Well, Barton, how'd he do?"
     "Top twenty percent, Captain. He's ready, by me." 
     "All right. Let's go and do it. Right now," Apollo said. 
     Barton looked at his CO. Then at Captain Byrne. "Sir?" 
     "I had a feeling he'd pass today. I took the liberty of having two
Vipers prepped and ready in Alpha Bay. We'll go on a standard training
run, then have some mock combat," Apollo said. 
     And Byrne grinned at hearing those words. "One thing about the
combat." 
     "What's that?" Apollo asked. 
     "Loser buys." 

     
     On the Bridge, Commander Adama was handed a pad by Petty Officer Wu.
It was a maintenance report, and nothing critical. Everything was getting
back to normal, though the Fleet would have to be in this system for a
couple more days. After signing it, he turned to his console. All was
normal. He was thinking about turning over the Bridge to Tigh, and
enjoying a nice lunch with Athena, when Omega came to him. "Yes, Omega?"
     "Sir, this is from Captain Apollo." The Bridge officer handed Adama
a pad with a message.
     Adama's eyes widened. He showed it to Tigh. "I was wondering how
soon this would happen." 
     The Exec took a look at the message."He said he was serious. But
why?"
     "Simple, Tigh. He's first and foremost, a fighter pilot. Just as the
both of us were. And he told me that after the business with the Otaglim,
he wants his own pilots to see that he's willing to take the same risks
they do when they go out on a mission. If they see that, then they're
willing to do anything to get the job done," Adama told the Exec. "And
they'll follow him through the Gates of Hades and back, if necessary." 
     "Just like Cain," Tigh noted. Cain had maintained his Viper
qualification, and had even led the interception of two Cylon tankers
prior to the Battle of Gamoray. And he'd heard from Sheba that Cain had
led other strikes during those two yahrens as well. 
     "Quite," Adama said. "This will be interesting to see." 
     "As long as nothing interferes with their flight, again," Tigh
commented. 


     Aboard Constellation, Sergeant Wagner was in the Security Office,
and to her, it was another routine day. Nothing much on her plate, thank
God, and with those Il Fadim creeps gone for good, it would stay that
way. Hopefully. It was almost that time in her duty day for her physical
training with Mr. Malik, and she was about to head to the cabin she
shared with Jen when her PDA buzzed. She checked it, smiled, then went to
the cabin. She opened the door, and found Jen busy with some homework.
"Jen." 
     "What's up?" Physics was still physics, no matter where in the
universe you were. Though thanks to her father, she had more of a leg up
than most of her classmates-and just about everyone was taking their
coursework electronically. But she detested homework, and that trait was
also universal. 
     "Your dad's about to qualify on a Viper. Want to come on up to the
Bridge?" 
     "What?" Jen asked. "He told me he was thinking about it, but..."
     "No buts, Jen. This is for real. Come on." Lauren said. 
     Jen followed her roommate up to the Bridge, and found Mr. Dante
standing watch in her dad's place. He smiled, then showed her and Lauren
her dad's station, where a pair of monitors would show the action. "How
does this work? I mean, the qualification?" Jen asked.  
     Dante nodded. He'd been over it with Hunley. "Basically, they go
out, beyond scanner range, and fly a short-range patrol. Then they come
back, and usually engage in some mock combat before returning to the
Galactica." 
     "So the excitement won't come until they're coming back?" Jen asked.

     "Pretty much," Lauren said. "Sir, this could take a while?" 
     "Not long, these flights only last a centar or so. If they don't run
into anything out there." 
     Nodding, Jen sat down in her dad's chair, while Lauren stood behind
her. 


     In Galactica's Alpha Launch Bay, Byrne and Apollo headed towards
their respective Vipers. As they did so, a small crowd had gathered.
Mainly Apollo's fellow pilots, but many of those had flown against Byrne
in the simulator-and they'd come off second-best. And as Byrne headed to
his Viper, Boomer, Starbuck, Jolly, and several others he'd beaten were
gathered around. "Well, Captain," Byrne said to Boomer. "Taking my side?"

     "You could put it that way," Boomer said, and several others nodded.
"You did prove that fighter tactics aren't all that much different,
wherever they come from." Much to my sorrow, Boomer thought. He had Byrne
dead in his sights more than once, only to be outmaneuvered and then
outshot by the Captain. Seven chances out of ten, in fact.  
     "And let me guess: Starbuck's taking bets as to who's going to win
the fight." It wasn't a question. 
     Several heads turned to Starbuck. He said nothing, but the
expression on his face said it all. 
     "I take it that's a 'yes,'" Byrne said. "Apollo's going to buy. One
way or another." Byrne turned as he began his preflight walk-around. When
he finished, he then got into the cockpit and did his final preflight
checks. Before he closed the canopy, Boomer came up. "Good luck." 
     "Thanks." 
     At Apollo's ship, Sheba was talking to her husband. "Apollo, you
think you can beat him?" 
     "It'll be a fair fight," Apollo said. "He's good, and some of his
tactics made the transition from an atmospheric fighter to a Viper. And
I've got the edge in Viper experience, after all."  
     "Don't underestimate him," Sheba told him. "He nailed me a couple of
times in the simulator. Captain Byrne's not to be taken lightly." 
     "Not just that," Bojay said. "He may be a lot older than you, but
when I reported aboard Pegasus, Cain had me go up against him. Not in a
simulator, but for real. And I lost." 
     "Don't worry," Apollo said. "He's the one who's going to be buying
the first two or three rounds." 
     "Famous last words, Apollo," Bojay reminded him, looking at Sheba.
"I said the same thing when I faced Cain." 
     "And you wound up buying," Sheba said, giving her old squadron mate
from the Pegasus a reminder of days past. 
     "Right on that," Bojay said. 
     Apollo nodded, then did his own preflight, then got into the
cockpit. Before closing the canopy, he nodded to Byrne and asked,
"Ready?" 
     "Whenever you are," Byrne replied. "Let's go." 
     As flight leader, it was Apollo who requested clearance to launch.
And Rigel gave the call. "Transferring launch control to Training Flight
One. Launch when ready." 
     "Copy," Apollo replied. He hit the TURBO button on his stick and the
Viper shot down the launch track and into space. Then it was Byrne's
turn. 
     Though there was no "Shooter" to give the launch signal, out of
habit, he gave a salute to those in the launch bay, engaged his own
turbos, and his Viper shot into space. Byrne then formed up with Apollo,
and the two Vipers headed off on their flight. It would take them out of
the solar system the Fleet was currently in. 


     The first half of the flight had gone pretty much normal. Byrne had
flown a couple of patrols in the simulator, and so far, the flight had
been pretty much what he expected. He was treating it as just another
mission, like those he'd flown over the No-Fly Zones in Bosnia and Iraq.
But instead of MiGs or SAMs, the threats out here were totally unknown.
And they came at you faster.....
     One thing Apollo noted was that Byrne, unlike Starbuck or Jolly, was
all business. None of the banter or other wisecracks that one usually had
with one's patrol partner. From what Byrne had told him, he'd flown
similar patrols over a couple of unstable countries, and the locals down
below had threatened to shoot at patrolling aircraft, and so pilots and
other crew members had to be very attentive at all times, and keep their
situational awareness razor-sharp. A not-undesirable trait in a pilot,
Apollo knew, but the banter one had with one's partner did a lot to break
up the boredom, especially on a long patrol. He'll come around, Apollo
thought, but not today. This one's all business. Then Byrne called him.
"Yes, Captain?" 
     "Lead, target on my scanner. Starboard and below. Z-minus 23,000.
Looks like a lone planetoid." Byrne called. 
     "Got it," Apollo replied. "Let's check it out." 
     The two Vipers flew towards the planetoid It was a cold, dark,
airless rock in space, and to Byrne, it was proof of something that
astronomers on Earth had been predicting. "Now this is weird." 
     "What do you mean?" Apollo replied. 
     "Some of our own astronomers back home were theorizing that when a
gas giant winds up very close to its parent star, with all the gravity
interactions, it kicks out all the other planets and moons-other than its
own, anyhow. This might be one, because it's not orbiting another star." 

     Apollo remembered that their own astronomers back in the Colonies
had similar theories, and whenever a rogue planetoid was found, it was
promptly added to their navigation charts. "Same here, Captain. Let's see
what we have." 
     "Good idea. This is a nice place for someone to hide." 
     And that, Apollo knew from experience, recalling Cimtar. Not just
Cylons, but pirates and smugglers (sometimes one and the same) liked
these kind of planetoids to hide outposts, supply caches, and even remote
sensors. "Let's go." 
     Both Vipers flew down to the planetoid, and the surface was
thoroughly scanned. Nothing artificial on the surface, and nothing out of
the ordinary on the mineral scan. Not even Tylium, or anything else the
Fleet could use. Then, with the planetoid scanned and cataloged, both
fighters left it to eternal darkness and headed back to the Fleet. And
once they got within scanner range of the Fleet...
     "All right, Apollo, how do you want it?" Byrne asked. "First kill
wins, or best two out of three?" 
     Apollo thought for a centon. Best to give Byrne a fair shot at him.
"Two out of three. Set your fire control to training mode, then stand by
to break." 
     Byrne nodded in his cockpit, turning his lasers down to one-one
thousandth power. Enough for the computer to register a hit, but no more.
It wouldn't do good for his qualification to blow Apollo out of the sky.
"Ready." 
     "Break!" 
     Both Vipers peeled off, flew away from each other, and then came at
each other, head-on. Apollo thought this first one would be easy, as
Byrne came head on, but just as Apollo was about to lock Byrne up, Byrne
pulled his Viper into a vertical climb, and Apollo matched him. Soon,
both fighters were in a climb, and when Byrne rolled his fighter to put
his canopy to Apollo's fighter, Apollo matched it, so that both were in
the climb, canopy-to-canopy. The two combatants looked at each other as
they pulled. 
     "What's he doing?" Jena asked on Constellation's bridge. 
     "Remember that show Dogfights your father brought along and showed?"
Lauren said. "He's doing some of the same things here." 
     "Yeah, but it's been a while," Jen said, her eyes glued to the
monitor. 
     "That's an atmospheric fighter tactic," Tigh noted on Galactica's
bridge. 
     Adama nodded. "Yes, it is, old friend. And still effective, as
you'll see." 
     In the climb, Apollo had had enough. He put the nose of his Viper
down, and began to pull away. But as he did, Byrne put his nose down,
rolled in, and was soon on Apollo's tail. And in his cockpit, Byrne
smiled as the Strike Leader's Viper lined up in his sights, then flashed,
signaling lock-on. He hit the FIRE button.... "Got you, Captain." 
     "Frak!" Apollo yelled as his computer pinged, logging the hit-in his
left engine. This, he hadn't expected. Now, though, he'd show who was
boss here. "All right, next one." Byrne's talks on how fighters flew and
fought in Earth's atmosphere suddenly came back to him. Now he knew where
that maneuver had come from. 
     For the next fight, both fighters flew away again, then this time,
Byrne seemed to slow down. Apollo, though, closed in. However, he knew
that what seemed to be an easy kill was not likely, and though he came
in, he was cautious. 
     Byrne saw that Apollo wasn't taking the bait, and rolled sharply
away, then turned into his attacker. 
     Apollo saw it, then he pulled sharply up, then rolled back into
Byrne. It became what on Earth was called a rolling scissors, with both
pilots trying to gain the advantage on the other. And it went on for two
or three centons...
     "What the..." Starbuck was saying in Red Squadron's Ready Room.
There, and in the other squadron ready rooms, pilots were following the
fight on the main scanner screen. 
     "Looks like one of those documentaries he showed us about fighter
combat on Earth," Boomer said. "First one to make a mistake, dies." 
     In the scissors, Apollo had made the first mistake. He'd gotten
slightly ahead of Byrne, who thought, That just cost you. But he couldn't
shoot just yet, as Apollo's fighter, in theory, if it blew, might take
out both of them. But just as the distance opened up, Apollo rolled away.
Byrne tried to lock him up, but failed. And then he saw Apollo turning
back into him. Just as Apollo was about to lock him up, Byrne cut his
throttle and hit his reverse thrusters. 
     That took Apollo by surprise, and he overshot. Byrne then reapplied
full power, and went into a barrel roll. And dropped in right into the
kill slot behind Apollo and locked him up. "Got you, Captain," Byrne
grinned as he pushed the firing stud. "Two out of three...." 
     "FRAK!" Apollo yelled as both flight computers logged him as
"killed."  
     In the ready rooms, jaws dropped for the most part, though a few
weren't surprised. Boomer grinned, as he'd been beaten by Byrne in the
simulator, and on a training flight. Sheba, too, knew that Byrne wasn't
to be dismissed, or treated lightly. And those who'd trained with Byrne
in the simulator also knew from experience that he could be dangerous. 
     "Okay, bucko," Boomer turned to Starbuck. "Who won the pool?"
     Starbuck consulted his pad. "Time of fight, four centons, fifty-five
microns. Winner, Captain Byrne." He checked again. "It's Hunley." 
     "Let's head for the landing bay." 
     On the bridge, Adama turned to Tigh. "Well, Colonel?" 
     The Exec nodded. "He proved his theory right. Fighter tactics are
still the same, regardless of the weapons used or where the fight takes
place. Want to bet those were his tactics, not ours?" 
     "No bets, Colonel," Adama noted. "Those were his, no doubt." He
turned to Rigel. "Bring them in." 
     "Yes, Commander." Turning back to her station, she slid a ten-cubit
piece over to Wu. "Damn." 

     On Constellation's bridge, Jen and Lauren hugged. "Looks like Pop's
now a fighter pilot again." 
     "Only once in a while," Lauren said. "He said he'd only fly to keep
his hand in." 
     "I know," Jen replied. 
     "Your father has done you proud," Mr. Malik said, coming up and
hugging Jen. "I know you are proud of him."
     "You bet I am," Jena replied. Then she left the Bridge, for she had
some homework to finish up. But as she left, she was all smiles. 

     In Galactica's Alpha Landing Bay, a small crowd had gathered to
watch as both Vipers came in and landed. Sheba, Bojay, Cree, and several
others gathered around Apollo's ship as the Strike Leader popped his
canopy. "I don't believe it!" Apollo said. "Those were his tactics, not
ours." 
     "What else did you think he'd do?" Bojay asked. "Put him in a
cockpit, and he'll fly the way he was originally trained." 
     "Next time, Apollo, listen to your wife when she gives you advice,"
Sheba reminded him. "You underestimated him." 
     Humbled, Apollo nodded apologetically. "That I did. Well, he's
qualified. No doubt about it. And we need to go back and have a look at
some of their tactics." 
     "Yeah," Sheba nodded. 
     "Well," Apollo said. "Time to be humble." 
     "Logical," Sargamesh noted, standing behind Sheba."When one has been
humbled." His fellow countryman, Korl, was trying hard not to grin.
     Over at Byrne's Viper, Boomer, Starbuck, Hunley, and several others
were offering congratulations. "Well done, Captain," Boomer said, shaking
Byrne's hand.
     "Thanks, Boomer," Byrne replied. "And before you ask, yeah, those
were my tactics. Not yours." 
     "Looks like they work," Starbuck quipped. "Even in space." 
     "I can see farther and shoot farther in a Viper than I could on
Earth in an F-14, and the weapons are a lot more advanced, and the
fighters a hell of a lot faster,  but it's still the same. Find the
enemy, get into a shooting position, and kill him. That's been the basics
of fighter combat on Earth ever since we started putting guns on
aircraft." 
     "And you made it work here," Starbuck said. This time, he wasn't
joking. 
     "Right you are," Byrne said. "So who won the pool?" 
     "Hunley," said Korl, losing the fight not to laugh. He looked at
Starbuck. 
     "Hunley," Starbuck said, chastened. 
     "One thing, Lieutenant," Byrne said, turning in her direction. "Next
time you and Mr. Dante go out for the evening?" 
     Hunley nodded. "Yes, Sir?" 
     "You can pay for dinner." 
     "I hadn't thought of that, but....Yes, sir!" She replied. 
     Then Apollo came over, with Sheba, Bojay, and several others right
behind. "Well fought, Apollo," Byrne said, holding out his hand. And
Apollo took it, returning Byrne's Earth-style handshake. 
     "Looks like I'll have to take a look again at those Earth tactics
you mentioned," Apollo said, shaking Byrne's hand. "You were flying your
style, not ours." 
     Byrne grinned. "You're right about that. And you found out that some
of what we do on Earth applies out here." 
     "I did," Apollo admitted. 
     Then Flight Sergeant Barton came over with a pad and stylus. "Sir, I
think this requires your signature," he said to Apollo. 
     "I know what this is," Boomer noted. 
     Apollo nodded, then signed. "Print it out, Sergeant. I'll give it to
him in the Club." 
     Barton let out a grin. "Yes, Sir," then he headed off to the
Training Office to print out the necessary copies. 
     "That makes it official," Apollo turned to Byrne. "Captain, you're
now a qualified Viper pilot. Congratulations." 
     "Thanks, Apollo," Byrne said. "I need to go change, then I'll see
you in the Club. Remember: you're buying." 
     "But how can I," Apollo asked, all innocent. "I'm dead, after all." 
     "We'll take it out of your will," Byrne said, and everyone laughed. 


     After Byrne had changed into his shipboard khakis, he went to the
O-Club, and found Apollo, Sheba, Boomer, Starbuck, and quite a few other
pilots there, from all of the squadrons. "Okay, Captain, first couple
rounds are on you." 
     Apollo sighed, then nodded. "Freeman..." 
     "I know how this works, Captain," the barkeep said, drawing a beer
for Captain Byrne. "Down to a science, it is." 
     "Thanks, Freeman," Byrne said. Just then, Barton came in with
Byrne's copy of his Viper qualification. 
     "Sir," Barton said to Apollo, "Here you are." 
     "Thanks, Barton," Apollo said, with a slight grin. "Well, now.
Nothing like losing to a real professional." 
     "A great honor," Sargamesh said, and Korl nodded. 
     "You're a real challenge in the cockpit, Captain," Apollo said. 
     Byrne nodded. Unlike some pilots he knew back home, he had no
intention of rubbing it in. "The irony is this: all my combat in fighters
has been air-to-ground," he admitted. 
     "By the way you flew, I wouldn't have noticed," Boomer jumped in. 
     "I sure didn't," Apollo admitted. Still...
     "Why's that, Captain?" Brie asked Byrne. 
     "Simple: I missed out on one conflict where there was some
air-to-air combat, the first couple of days, but after that, all
air-to-ground," Byrne said, recalling the 1999 Kosovo War. "And in both
Iraq and Afghanistan, the other side's air force  wouldn't come up and
play, as in Iraq.  Or they were taken out on the ground, which happened
in Afghanistan." 
     "Well, Captain," Apollo said. "You did show your tactics work in
space. Something we'll have to take a hard and serious look at." 
     Byrne nodded. "Anything to improve the edge. Because, chances are,
the next enemy you face is going to be a living, breathing one. With
organic brains that can think outside the box, and imagine the
unexpected, the untried, and the downright insane, just as we can. And
they'll be using tactics, not numbers, to get their edge." 
     Several pilots nodded at that, especially those who'd flown against
the Ziklagi. "We learned that, the hard way," Starbuck admitted. "All
that time flying against Cylons, and we forgot how a living enemy
fights." 
     "There you go, then," Byrne said. "A biological enemy can overcome
and adapt. Cylons don't,from all the after-action reports I've read, or
at least, it takes a while for them to adapt, and they make up for that
with sheer numbers." 
     "True," Apollo admitted. "Now, Captain, here you go. You're now
officially a qualified Viper pilot." Apollo handed over the document to
Byrne, who took it and shook his hand.
     "Thanks, Apollo," Byrne said as applause erupted. Just as he was
about to raise his beer glass, he saw someone coming into the Club.
"Commander on the Deck!" 
     "As you were, all of you," Adama said as he came into the Club. "I
see our newest Viper pilot hasn't lost his touch." 
     "Some things you never forget, Commander," said Byrne. "Once they
put me in the simulator, and in the real thing, it all came back to me." 
     "I know the feeling. Two yahrens as Commander Kronus' aide kept me
out of the cockpit," Adama replied. "Once it was time to requalify, as
you said, it all came back to me." 
     "Glad to see I'm not the only one," Byrne noted. 
     "Not just you," Apollo pointed out. "We had a few former Warriors
who were able to come back and qualify, and Athena as well." Not once,
but twice, Apollo said to himself. 
     "Commander, I'd like to hear about some of your fights," Byrne
asked. 
     "One of these days, you and I will discuss those," Adama said. 
     "I'd be glad to hear those stories," Byrne nodded. 
     "So..." Adama turned to his son. "You're buying?" 
     "That's the rule," Boomer said. 
     "Afraid so, Father," said Apollo. 
     "In that case.....Freeman, one of Captain Byrne's beers, please."
Adama told the barkeep. 
     Freeman nodded, drew the beer, and said, "Here ya go, Commander,"
handing Adama a glass. 
     "A toast?" Adama asked. 
     Byrne nodded. "To fighter pilots: past, present, and future." He
raised his glass. 
     And the others did as well, even Sheba, who was sticking to mineral
water. "Hear, Hear," Adama said. 

     Shortly afterwards, Byrne went down to Alpha Bay, and caught a
shuttle back to Constellation. When he arrived, he noticed a good-sized
welcoming committee in his ship's landing bay. As the shuttle taxied to
its space, he saw Mr. Dante, Mr. Malik, Jena, Sergeant Wagner, and a
number of others there, waiting to greet him. Word traveled fast, he
knew, but this fast? He felt the shuttle stop, the pilot nodded to him as
the hatch opened, and he stepped out back onto his ship. "Permission to
come aboard?" He asked Mr. Dante, saluting. 
     "Granted, Captain, welcome back, and congratulations!" Dante said,
returning the salute. 
     As Dante said that, everyone was applauding. 
     Byrne smiled, shook hands with Dante, Malik, the two squadron
commanders, and Wagner, and gave Jena a big hug-the biggest he'd given
her since they'd been rescued. "Congratulations, Pop," Jena said. "I know
you wanted to start flying again." 
     "It's not like I'll be going out every day," Byrne said. "Just
enough to keep my hand in." 
     "Congratulations, sir," Wagner said. "Looks like somebody's going to
be painting "Fly Navy" on one of those Vipers." 
     "If I could, I would," Byrne nodded. "And I wouldn't mind if someone
did." He turned to Dante and nodded. 
     Dante returned it, and shouted, "All right, people! This isn't a
holiday!  Back to work." 
     As the crowd broke up, Mr. Malik came back to the Captain. "Sir,
there must be a...proper celebration." 
     "Of course, Mr. Malik. And tonight's dinner night, I believe," Byrne
replied. "You'll be there, of course." 
     "But of course, Sir," Malik replied. And he knew that as a Zohrloch,
he could stay sober when most Humans would be in a drunken stupor-if not
outright unconscious. And he knew how pilots celebrated such times in
their careers, if his own service was any guide. 
     As he, Jena, and Wagner headed on back to their cabins, Byrne asked
his daughter, "Did you finish your homework?" 
     She rolled her eyes.
     "You knew I'd ask."
      "Yes, Pop." 
     "In between watching you whip Apollo's....,uh, sir,"  Wagner said.
"We watched from the Bridge." 
     "Remember: good grades in Physics means you have an edge on people
when they're applying for flight training," Byrne said to his daughter.
"Here as well as at home." 
     "I know," Jen replied. "If we get home reasonably soon, then I can
go to Annapolis...." Jen was already thinking about attending her
father's alma mater, if she got the chance. 
     Her father smiled. "And there's some things you could teach them." 
     "Yeah, Pop," she said. "So...big dinner? 
     "A good one," Byrne said as they got to her and Wagner's cabin. 
"Now I need to talk with Lauren for a few." 
     "Sure thing," she said, and went on inside. 
     "Sir, If you don't mind my asking, you're just going to fly on
occasion, and just to keep proficiency?" Wagner asked. 
     "That's right, Sergeant, and for her sake." Byrne replied, motioning
to the cabin door. 
     "Sir...well, that's good to hear." 
     "She's lost her mother, quite brutally, and, well...almost lost me,
too. So I know my limits," Byrne said. "Not like Cain, who Apollo and
Sheba said led strikes, though his proper place as skipper  was on the
Bridge of the Pegasus." 
     "Thank you, sir." Wagner replied, pleased with her Captain's candor.
And she knew that, apart from Jen, she was his closest confidant aboard
ship. 
     "Now, Sergeant, I believe you're due for the R&R rotation in a few
days?" 
     "Yes, sir," Wagner said. "Two more days. And Castor's already asked
me out on a date." 
     "The man has taste, if I may say so, without a breakdown in
discipline." 
     "Discipline...oh...never, sir." She replied, making a chopping
motion with her hand. "Discipline." 
     "That's good to hear. Three days on the Rising Star, a couple of
nice dinners, and I can guess the rest," Byrne said. 
     Wagner's expression grew coy. "Well, sir...haven't had any in forty
years." 
     "Figures. Hope you and  Castor enjoy the food, and whatever comes
later," Byrne said. "Just take my advice: not as your CO, but as somebody
with a lot of, well...experience in shoreside....events." 
     "Lay it on me, sir," Wagner said. 
     "Just don't wear him out," Byrne told her. "If he gets tired, just
lay back, get some sleep, then get some more when he wakes up." 
     Wagner let out an evil-looking grin. It had been a long time since
she'd been...insatiable. "Yes, sir." 
     "Carry on." 
     "Yes, sir!" 


     A couple days later, and the Fleet was still in the system. Some of
the repairs were taking longer than expected, and given the age of some
of the ships, that didn't surprise Adama or Tigh in the least. Chief
Twily expected that all repairs would be finished in three more days,
assuming, of course, nothing else came up. It was just that the sheer
numbers of piping that needed to be inspected, and when necessary,
replaced, had been seriously underestimated. At least patrols continued
to show the area clear. 
     That same day, aboard Constellation, Sergeant Wager got word that
her R&R time started that day, at 1800. So she logged out, showered, and
changed. Then, she packed a bag, and as she was finishing up, Jen was
there. "Hope you have a good time."
     "So do I. It's been, God, forty years, since I had some real time
off," Lauren said. "Other than the time I was an alien popsicle." 
     "Who's it going to be with?" Jen asked, grinning. 
     "My little secret."
     "Come on roomie!" Jen said. "You can tell me." 
     "I'll let you know-after," Lauren smiled. 
     "Let me guess: some of those 'knuckle-draggers' you hang out with.
Pop's told me about some of those SF guys you've been training." 
     "Maybe," Lauren admitted. "Or I might meet some really cute Viper
pilot." 
     "As long as it's not Starbuck," Jen said. "I've heard from some
people he juggles girlfriends a lot."
     "Where'd you hear that?" She asked. Then she knew that Jen had a
good set of ears. "Definitely not him," Lauren said. "I'll tell you when
I get back."
     "Okay, but you still owe me that 'girls day in.' You know, the one
those Il Fadim crazies interrupted?"
     "I know, and when I get back, I'll make it up to you. Like I
promised." 
     Jen smiled. She knew that Lauren meant it. She hugged her roomie.
"Have a good time." 
     "I will." Lauren said. She picked up her bag, and headed on out to
the landing bay. There, she found several other crew members waiting for
the R&R shuttle to board, and she found a familiar face. "Ensign," she
said to Adele. "Not flying us?"
     "Not today, Sergeant," Adele said. "My R&R's coming, and I see yours
is, too."
     "You've got that right," Lauren said. "Got a boyfriend?" 
     "No, but I'm hoping to take care of that," Adele replied. "Or just
have some good company. Somebody who doesn't look like a control panel." 
     "We call that 'having a one-night stand,' back home." 
     Adele grinned. "Believe it or not, Sergeant, on some of the
Colonies?"
     "Yeah?" 
     "They said the same thing." 
     Lauren had a laugh. "Then we've got more in common than we thought
we did." 
     Then it was time to board. Everyone found a seat, the shuttle lifted
off, and within twenty Centons, was in the Rising Star's docking bay.
Everyone disembarked, and headed to check in. Chief Steward Zeibert was
handling that, and when Lauren and Adele came up, he was all smiles.
"Ladies." 
     "Chief," Adele said. "You do know Sergeant Wagner?"
     "But of course," Zeibert said. "From IFB, and, I believe, a few
shopping excursions. Welcome aboard, Sergeant." 
     "Thank you," Lauren replied. "How does this work?" She looked at the
ship's layout on a lighted panel. 
     "No problem: you're on D Deck, Sergeant, and your cabin is D-6.
Ensign, you're in D-8," Zeibert said, pointing with a finger.
     "Okay," Lauren said. "Pre-Holocaust, what kind of class was that?"
     "Ah," Zeibert said. "A Deck was for the Elite Class, B was First,
along with C and then D. Below that are the dining, shopping, recreation,
and gambling areas, and other passenger spaces. Including a swimming pool
or Aquacade." 
     "Gee, and I forgot my bathing suit back home," Lauren joked.
"Thanks, Chief," and she saw Zeibert nod. 
    "There's a shop that sells those," Adele said. "I've been there a
couple of times." 
     "Good to know," Lauren said. "Well, lead on. Man, I could use some
decent coffee." 
     "Coffee?" Adele wondered. 
     "Uh...Java." 
     "I know a good place, it's the best in the Fleet. Rogelio's. On the
promenade."
     Lauren smiled. She'd been there once before with Captain Byrne, and
to her, it was the best thing to Earth coffee she'd had in the Fleet.
"I've been there, once before. Lead on, then." 
     "Let's get our cabins first," Adele said. 

     Both of them went up to D Deck, and to Lauren's surprise, most of
the cabins on that deck were reserved for military personnel on R&R. "Let
me guess: these rich folks don't want to rub shoulders with the people
who keep them alive and breathing to spend money?" 
     "That's one way of putting it," Adele nodded. "Somebody else said
once that if all these people see is each other, they just live in their
own world. Though they do have to mingle: the shopping area, the
Aquacade, dining hall and lounges, that sort of thing. And some of 'em
don't like it that their children join the military instead of staying in
the Elite Class." 
     Lauren nodded as they got off the lift. "Reminds me of those
unlamented councilmen-the two I could've, and probably should've, shot." 
     "No argument there," Adele said. "I take it in your country on
Earth, things are a lot different?"
     "A lot. We don't have an aristocracy in America, for starters."
Lauren said. "In fact, it's against our Constitution. We've got plenty of
rich folks, and our share of snobby ones, but quite a few got their money
the old-fashioned way: they worked hard, saved their money, made the
right investments and other choices, and that's that." 
     "Interesting," Adele nodded as they went down the corridor. "And
that part of the country you're from? Montana, isn't it?" 
     "Fourth largest state in America," Lauren said proudly. "And one of
the least populated. If you people want to settle in my country when you
get to Earth, that's a state where you'd be quite welcome." 
     They got to their cabins just then. "When we're having our java, I'd
like to know more." Adele said. 
     "Be glad to," Lauren said. They used the key cards to open their
cabins. And to Lauren's surprise, their cabins connected. "For what was
the cheapest passenger accommodations, you could still make a suite," she
said out loud. Then she put her bag down and checked the cabin. A private
bath and turboflush, and a single bed, what on Earth would be a
double-size, with an entertainment suite, and a small window. About what
one would find on a cruise liner back home, in a cheap outside cabin. She
nodded, checked her PDA, and sent a text to a certain someone. Then she
pocketed her key card, and went out into the corridor. Adele was there,
waiting. "Ready."
     "Then let's go." 

     The both of them went to the Shopping Promenade, Lauren been here
before, when she and Captain Byrne had taken care of her various uniform
orders. Adele took her what she called "The best Java stand in the
Fleet." And it was familiar to Lauren from her last visit with Captain
Byrne: Rogelio's. And Lauren recognized the proprietress as well:
Mariwen. "Nice to see you again," 
     Mariwen nodded. "And nice to see you, Sergeant." She handed Lauren a
nice cup of Java. "I saw you on IFB, when you helped put those Il Fadim
lunatics away."
     "Just doing my job," Lauren replied. Then she and Adele found a
table and sat. "So...you want to know about my home state?"
     "Very much," Adele replied. "I was a city girl, and didn't get out
into the country very much." 
     "Before I tell you, how'd you get aboard this fleet?" Lauren asked.
     "Long story, so I'll tell you the short version," Adele said. "I was
going to the University of Virgon, and had an apartment off-campus. That
night was supposed to be the greatest celebration in human history, but
it became a night filled with fire and death. I barely made it to the
spaceport, and got myself aboard this freighter that was so ancient and
so overloaded, we barely made it off the planet." 
     "How bad?" 
     "Bad." Adele recalled. "We had several people die, and the Captain
firewalled the engines to get away, and at the time nobody knew why, but
when I was in shuttle training, I ran into the former Third Mate. He said
that they saw three Base Stars close to the planet. Two were firing on
the planet, and the third was launching its landing barges."
     "They were putting their troops on the ground," Lauren said. She
recognized that at once.
     "Yeah," Adele said. "I just hope my parents and other relatives died
before that. We lived in a suburb of Port Virgona, that was a big
shipbuilding town, and...."
     "Better to be killed in the attack, than to be rounded up and
butchered," nodded Lauren. She'd seen the images of that terrible day,
and read accounts of some of those who'd made it off-world before the
Cylons implemented their "Final Solution" for Colonial Humanity.....
     Adele looked at her. "That's what I've hoped." She took a drink of
Java, and asked. "What about you?"
     "You'd love my home state," Lauren replied. "I'm Montana born and
raised, and apart from my time on active duty, I've lived there all my
life-until those aliens put me on ice."
     "I saw your IFB interview, what's your, what do you call it? State?"
Adele saw Lauren nod. "What's it like?"
     "It's the fourth largest state in America, and one of the least
populated. There's quite a few wilderness areas, we've got two national
parks, more wildlife than you'd ever want to see, and a large reservoir
that, if you took a canoe or boat trip, you might not see anyone for a
few days," Lauren said. "And there's prairie, rolling hills, and wide
open spaces." 
     "And the missile base," Adele nodded. "Why they took you." 
     "Yeah," Lauren admitted. "There's two hundred  missile silos up in
the north-central part of the state, and if you want to attack the U.S.,
they're a prime target, whether you're one of our enemies on Earth, or
from beyond it." 
     "Still, it seems like a nice place. Maybe when we get to Earth..."'
     Lauren smiled. "We've got some weird folks there, on the fringe, but
by and large, in my state, we feel there's room enough for everyone."
Then Lauren's PDA buzzed. She checked it. "Well...looks like I have a
friend for dinner." 
     "Care to tell me who?" 
     "My little secret," Lauren grinned. "I'll tell you later." 

     Lauren went back to her cabin, and changed into her dress uniform.
The message said on her PDA said,  "Main Dining Hall," and that meant
dressing up. Back home, she hardly dressed up, unless she had to go to
court to testify, in which case, her Sheriff's Department uniform did the
job, or there was a unit inspection at Great Falls, and then dress
uniform was the order of the day. Lauren remembered her last encounter
with finery: her sister's wedding, God, a long time ago! After she
changed, she pocketed her key card, and went to the lift, and up to the
Main Dining Hall. 
     When she got there, she went to the reception room, found a vacant
table for two, and sat down. While she waited, Lauren noticed several
other military personnel in their dress uniforms, and though Zeibert and
the staff were very hospitable towards them, the regulars seemed to be
giving the military people  the proverbial cold shoulder. Then she
noticed a tap on her shoulder. It was Sire Pelias. "Oh, Sire."
     "Sergeant," Pelias said. "What brings you over here to the Rising
Star?" 
     "Three days of R&R," Lauren said. "And hopefully, a friend joining
me for dinner." 
     "Ah, a furlon," said Pelias. "Mind if I sit? I, too, am waiting on a
dinner companion. Sire Xaviar." 
     "Go right ahead," she replied, and the young sire took a seat.
"Sire, if you don't mind my saying this, some of your friends seem to be,
well...not that supportive of military personnel." 
     "Unfortunately, that's true," Pelias admitted. "It seems to run in
most families, though it's an attitude that's slowly changing." 
     "How's that?" 
     Pelias nodded. "More and more of their children are deciding to join
the military. I'm pleased to say. Not as many as either Commander Adama,
Siress Tinia, or I would like, but enough." 
     "Reminds me of something," Lauren said. "Has Captain Byrne told you
about the Vietnam War and its effects on our society in America?" 
     "Yes, at least the basic facts, and that was shameful, I agree. Even
if you disagree with the war, the Warriors are not to blame," Pelias
said. "And he said that mistake wasn't repeated after your Gulf War." 
     "Right on that, Sire," Lauren said. "When I came back to Great Falls
with the rest of us from my unit who'd volunteered to go, we got a
welcome-home that was, well, partly to thank us for a job well done, but
also thanking the Vietnam vets, who never got any kind of welcome-home
celebration." 
     "Again, a shame and disgrace," Pelias acknowledged. "And that was
the honorable thing to do, thanking those who'd gone before you." 
     She nodded. "Yeah, well...when we get home, I'm going to want to
hide, because there's going to be members of the news media going after
me wherever I go. Wanting the 'exclusive' and all that."
     Pelias laughed. "Yes, your counterparts to IFB." He looked at her.
"And where's Jena?" 
     "She's got some coursework, with mid-terms coming up, so she's
pretty busy," Lauren nodded. 
     "It's good that she's pursuing her education," Pelias nodded.
"Growing up on that planet was not conducive to one." 
     "You're right, Sire. Captain Byrne's told me that, if we get home in
time, she wants to go the Naval Academy." Then she noticed a familiar
face coming into the room. They exchanged nods, and then she said,
"Excuse me, Sire. But my friend's arrived." 
     He looked over and saw who Lauren was referring to, in dress
uniform, coming their way. "Ah. Have a good evening, and say hello to
Jena for me." 
     "I will," Lauren said as she got up and went over to Castor. "I see
you got away."
     "Only for tonight: I have to be back aboard Galactica by 0800,"
Castor said. "But we can have a good evening, at least. Barring a
disaster." 
     "We can," she replied. 

     Zeibert nodded at the duo, and he found them a window table for two,
and after they scanned a menu, they ordered. "I'll have the sole," Lauren
said, and Castor decided on a Roast Piscean Squab. Then they got to
conversation. "Let me guess: You're curious about me and my home state." 
     "That, and the fact that you went to war," Castor said. "What was
it, the 'Gulf War'? Before those aliens snatched you?"
     "Yeah," she nodded. "Only now, it's the 'First Gulf War' now. Seems
there was another one, after I was taken. Anyway, you'd love Montana:
it's got more wildlife than people, lots of wide open country where you
could travel for days on foot and never see another soul, prairie and
rolling hills, and lots of wilderness; camping, hiking, fishing, hunting,
that sort of thing." 
     "Sounds like a beautiful place," Castor nodded wistfully. 
     "It is. I was born and raised there, and when we get to Earth, I'm
going back." 
     "It's home for you, and maybe..."
     "Maybe some of you folks can find a home there. Or in other parts of
America. We're mostly a nation of immigrants, and we're proud of it."
Lauren said. "How about you?" 
     "I was from Brauron, a  small suburb of Caprica City. Born there,
went to school there, and when I got out of Secondary School, I went down
to the recruiting office and signed up."
     "Let me guess: sort of what Captain Byrne calls, 'Join the Navy and
see the world, only in your case, it was 'Join the Fleet and see the
galaxy.'" Lauren said. 
     "Partly," Castor said. "Part of it was that I was duty-bound, with
the Colonies being at war, and part of it was that if I joined up, I'd
get a recruitment bonus, and when my term was expired, I'd have money to
pay for University." 
     Just like a lot of people back home, Lauren thought: do four or six
years in the military, get out, and go to school on the GI Bill. "With
me, it was getting away and learning a career field. I was in the Air
Force's Combat Security Police, and when I left the Air Force, joining
the Sheriff's Department, the Air National Guard, and  all.." 
     "'Air Force? Air National Guard? Sheriff?" Castor asked. "How's that
different from the 'Navy' that Captain Byrne is in?" 
     She explained the difference between the services, how the
difference between active and reserve branches worked, and civilian law
enforcement. Then their server brought their meals. "Looks good," Castor
said. "You?" 
     "Captain Byrne told me about the sole," Lauren replied, "and he was
right!" The both of them well enjoyed their dinner, and so when they were
finished, Castor took her back to the reception area. "Well, Castor, now
what?" 
     "I was sort of...well, leaving that up to you." 
     Her expression grew coy. "Let's go to my cabin." 
     "Yes. Let's." Castor smiled. He had a pretty good idea of what she
had in mind. 
     And so they did, and as she went into the turboflush and wash,
Castor was looking around. "First time in one of these," he commented.
"I've never been in the R&R Center." 
     "Your time's not due?" She asked over the sound of the shower. 
     "Not yet. I gave my spot in the rotation to a friend in the Special
Forces Unit so he could get sealed." He saw her stick her head out. "Uh,
what you call, 'married.', I think." 
     "I get it. So he and his bride could have their three days all
together." Lauren said. 
     "Yeah. He saved my astrum, a while back. So I have a few sectans to
go before it's my turn," said Castor. 
     "All good things come to those who wait, as my grandmother used to
say," said Lauren as she came out, wearing only a towel, and letting her
hair hang loose. 
     "And you've been waiting forty yahrens...." Castor smiled as he
started to take off his dress uniform. 
     "Something like that," she grinned as she let the towel drop to the
floor, and her assets were....revealed. 
     "Your boyfriend was a lucky man," Castor said as he got out of his
clothes. 
     "He was that," she smiled as they got onto the bed. "I'll be on top
first, if you don't mind." 

     Later on, in her Cabin, Adele was awakened by the sounds coming from
next door. Her date, a Viper pilot from Green Squadron, was sound asleep
in bed after they'd gone at each other, but she could hear the sounds of
passion coming from Lauren's cabin. "After forty yahrens, you finally got
some. Have a  good time, Lauren." She said to herself, but out loud. Then
she smiled, woke her man up, and said, "My turn to be on top." 

     The next morning, Lauren woke up to find herself alone in bed. She
checked the chrono and it read 0640. Knowing Castor had to catch the
first shuttle back to the Galactica, she wasn't angry. Besides, how many
times did they do it before he'd fallen asleep? Enough, she knew, smiling
at that. And she'd followed the Captain's advice, and let him get some
sleep, then when he woke up in the middle of the shipboard 'night',
they'd gone at it again. She sat up in bed, and let the sheets fall off
her bare body. Then, she found a handwritten note on the pillow next to
her. It was short, but to her, sweet. "Hope you had a wonderful evening,
and we can do this again sometime. I had a good time, and hope you did
too. Castor." She smiled, and said to herself. "We sure did, and we can."
Then she just plain said, "What the hell," then fell back and went back
to sleep, fully intending to sleep in as long as she could. 

     Later, Lauren finally woke up, and  for good about 0930, and after
turbowashing and getting back into her BDUs,she went up to the Astral
Lounge for Breakfast. She found it a little bit loud for the morning, and
saw that an old Triad match was being replayed on the video monitors. To
her, it seemed like the place could be a sports bar back home, like
Applebee's or Red Robin, and the various trophies and sports jerseys on
one wall bore that out. She saw Adele sitting at a table, going over a
menu, and went on over to join her. "Have a good night?" 
     "I sure did," Adele replied. "And I heard you next door, having some
fun, too, from the sound of it." The shuttle pilot grinned. "And who was
it? Anyone I know?" 
     "Castor, from the SF Unit." Lauren nodded. "He was good, I'll tell
you that much." 
     "Repeatedly," Adele said, grinning, seeing Lauren's expression.
"Those rooms aren't soundproofed that well, and..."
     Lauren's face turned slightly red. "Well...look at it this way. I
haven't had any for forty yea...yahrens, locked up like a glorified
icicle, and well, I was making up for lost time." 
     "Point taken." 
     "How about you?" Lauren asked as the server came over to take their
order. 
     "He was good: a classmate from officer training, before they
streamed us into either Shuttles or Vipers," Adele replied. "He was good
enough for a one-night stand, but I'll be on the lookout again tonight.
Or...how about going to the Triad matches?"
     "Triad...I've seen the video of those," Lauren said as she ordered a
two-egg breakfast, and the server entered it in the pad. "They trying to
kill each other?" 
     "Not exactly," Adele laughed. "If you don't know the game, it can
look that way. I thought they were, the first time I saw a match."
     "I'll bet. I've got to show you and some others what both Captain
Byrne and Commander Allen brought: video of some of Earth's sporting
events. You'd like Football, and maybe Ice Hockey, and some of these
Triad players might like the Australian Football that Commander Allen
played." 
     "Two different kinds?" 
     "Yes," Lauren said. "The U.S and Australia have two different
versions of the same basic game." 
     "Why's that?" 
     "I don't know, I'm not Australian. But they have no safety equipment
in their game. No helmets, pads, etc,, like in our football. They think
it makes you a wimp. And people have been killed playing the Australian
football..." said Lauren. 
     "Some of them might," Adele admitted. "We've got our own team
sports, but..."
     "You don't have the room to play," Lauren finished for her. "So you
make do." 
     "That's right," she replied. Then the server brought their
breakfast. "So what else do you have in mind?" 
     "I need a swimsuit, and I'm going to hit the Aquacade," Lauren said
as she dug in. "And The Captain, Jena, Mr. Dante, Mr. Malik, and a few
others gave me a shopping list and the money to buy what's on it. The
Captain said that I'd be good at it, based on an experience with his
aunt, since women have this genetic predisposition." 
     "For what?" 
     "Shopping," Lauren replied, and both of them laughed. 


     After breakfast, Lauren went to the Shopping Promenade. Though she
had several stops on her agenda, the first was more like business. She
went into Jasen's shop, and found the tailor hard at work. "Jasen!"
     "Ah, Sergeant Wagner, I see," the tailor said, looking up from a
gown he was working on. "Just putting the finishing touches on a sealing
gown. What can I do for you? More uniforms, perhaps?" 
     "No, not yet. I'm just wondering if you've had a visit from Major
Croft." 
     The tailor smiled. "As a matter of fact, yes. He was here a couple
of sectans ago, after the Il Fadim affair concluded, and ordered a number
of uniforms. Your design, in fact." 
     "He did? I see he followed my advice," Wagner said. "How many?"
     "Enough for his entire Team," the tailor said proudly. "Always glad
to be of service to the military, even if that attitude is unpopular
among several of my clients." 
     "Yeah...so I've been told by Sire Pelias. If those scum had had
their way, you'd be out of a job, in all likelihood." 
     "Yes," Jasen admitted. "Given how...revealing, shall we say, some of
my creations can be, it's not a surprise." 
     Lauren nodded. "With how nutty those people were? You're right on,
Jasen." She looked around the shop. "I notice you don't have swimwear."
     "That's two doors down," the tailor replied. "But Corintha does good
work. And her prices are affordable." 
     "Good to hear that," Lauren said. "If we, that is, Captain Byrne,
Jena, or myself, need anything else, we'll let you know." 
     "The Earth-style civilian clothes for the three of you were a
challenge, I'll admit, but...certainly!" Exclaimed the tailor. "Always
glad to have repeat customers." 
     She shook his hand. "You're the best. We'll be in touch." 
     "I'll be waiting, Sergeant." 
     She nodded, and went to the Swimwear shop. It sold both men's and
women's swimwear, and the proprietress, Cornitha, a striking woman of
near-middle age, welcomed her with a smile. "I see our Earth lady finally
graces my shop." 
     "Jasen said you come highly recommended," Lauren said, "And your
prices are affordable to most folks." 
     "Quite," Cornitha replied. "I have a varied clientele, and many are
not full-time residents aboard ship, so I have to vary my inventory as a
result." She looked Lauren over. "And what style interests you?" 
     Lauren looked around. "I generally wore a two-piece suit back home,
so...what have you got there?" 
     "Come this way, then." Cornitha showed Lauren some of the available
two-piece suits, and Lauren was a little surprised. 
     "The tops are okay, but...the bottoms are a bit, well.....skimpy in
the back." 
     "Yes, well...that's mainly due to demand for that style, and the
other reason is material." 
     Lauren nodded. "Or lack thereof." 
     "Sad, but true," Cornitha replied with a shrug. "I do have other
designs on my computer, including one-piece, but until we have a stopover
somewhere, and a lot more material can be obtained...""
     "Say no more," said Lauren, hand raised. "Until then, make do with
what you have." She sighed. "Okay... this one looks good." She pointed to
a nice red suit. 
     "Excellent choice, Sergeant," Cornitha said. "And you're in luck:
I'm one of the few establishments aboard ship that gives discounts to
military personnel. Ten percent, as a matter of fact."
     Lauren nodded, lifting it off the rack. "That's nice. Okay, then.
I'd like to try it on, first."
     "The fitting rooms are right over there," Cornitha pointed to the
right. "No one else's here now, so it's all yours." 
     "Thanks." 
     Lauren went in and changed. Then she came out and checked herself in
the mirror. "Man oh man. If Jerry could see me in this, he'd be
drooling," She thought aloud. 
     "Pardon?"
     "Just thinking. If my boyfriend back home saw me in this, he'd be
drooling." 
     Cornitha laughed. "That's not an uncommon thought from customers..
I've heard it more than once." She took a look at Lauren. "And how do you
like it?"
     "It's a little more...revealing than I'd normally want, in the
tailgate. But....it'll have to do. I'll take it," Lauren said. "Let me go
change."
     "Certainly," Cornitha said. 
     After getting dressed, Lauren came back and paid with her debit
code. "Thanks again." 
     "Anytime," Cornitha replied. "And thank you, Sergeant. If those Il
Fadim had had their way, I'd probably be out of work. If not life. That
death list....." 
     "You're welcome, Ma'am. Just doing my job. Though I'm wondering
about something."
     "Yes?" 
     "How many of 'em are still alive? Between the other cons who were
marooned, and those lizards, there's probably not that many left," Lauren
said. 
     "Well, considering what they had planned....goodbye and good
riddance," Cornitha spat. 
     "No arguing about that," Lauren said. "Thanks again."
     "My pleasure." 


      After that, she did the shopping that her shipmates had asked, and
then went back to her cabin. She decided to give the swimsuit its trial,
right then and there. Lauren then went to the Aquacade, and to her, it
was nothing like anyplace she'd been. Certainly not on a Deputy's pay. 
Oh, she knew about how some Vegas resorts had several pools, with swim-up
bars,multiple hot tubs, and the like, but this place...with large bay
windows that showed the stars, as well as some of the other ships in the
Fleet, and it was just...well, amazing. Lauren then went to the women's
changing room, and was able to rent a locker for a few quantums, and then
she changed. When she came out, she found a familiar face. "Thought I'd
find you here."
     "So you found Cornitha's shop, I see," Adele said. "And we have
similar tastes."
     "Yeah," Lauren admitted. "And notice the guys paying a lot of
attention?" 
     "It could be worse," Adele chuckled. 
     "Let me guess: this could be clothing-optional," Lauren noted. "We
have places like that back home." 
     "And so did we," Adele said. "And there's one guy in this entire
fleet who'd be spending a lot of time watching, and probably more, if he
had the chance."
     "Starbuck," nodded Lauren. "Based on what I've heard." 
     "No doubt," Adele commented. " He thinks of himself as this Fleet's
love god. Okay, let's get in the water." 
     It had been a long time since she'd been swimming, but Lauren loved
it. After some time in the pool, both enjoyed some time in a hot tub,
just relaxing and talking. They were still at it, alternating between the
pool and the hot tub, having gone at last for the massage and rub-down,
when it was almost time for dinner. Both of them went to change, then
Adele asked, "Dinner?" 
     "Why not? It's not like we've got dinner companions tonight," Lauren
said. "Let's go change, back to the cabins, and I'll meet you in the
Astral Lounge."
    "Fine by me," Adele said. "And I've got a surprise. I'll fill you in
when I see you there."


     Later on, they met in the Astral Lounge for dinner, and to Lauren,
it reminded her of a bar on Super Bowl Sunday. Because not only was it
crowded, but it was loud! She looked around and saw Adele wave her over
to a table. "Found you!" 
     "This place is busy on Triad night," Adele said. "I got us a couple
of ducats to the matches. How'd you like to see some?"
     'It'll be...interesting," Lauren said. "When we were here for
breakfast, they were replaying some on the monitors. I'm still surprised
nobody gets killed." 
     "Well, it's interesting, I'll admit. And I'm not a fan, but I do
like a good match. But the top players aren't here. Apollo, Starbuck,
Boomer, Castor-" 
     "He plays?" Lauren interrupted. "He didn't mention that."
     "Probably because you didn't ask," Adele replied. "He's a popular
player."
     "So I've heard." 
     "And speaking of getting killed," Adele said. She recounted the late
Flight Sergeant Ortega and his sordid tale. Of his murder after a
particularly nasty match, and Starbuck's Tribunal for it.
     "So, it's just guys?" 
     "No, women play, too. And they do have mixed male-female teams." 
     "This, I've got to see," Lauren said. 
     "Let's eat first." 
     "Roger that," Lauren said. After meandering their way through the
menu, they ate, then Adele suggested going back to Rogellio's for some
Java. While they were headed there, Adele filled Lauren in on the place,
which served a variety of beverages, not just Java. She explained how it
had something of a history. Owned by Siress Belloby on the QT, it had
been instrumental in bringing down a would-be crime lord, some time back,
and Starbuck had ran the place, working undercover. They came up to the
counter and Adele saw the girl working the counter. "Hi, Cassy, how's
your mom?" 
     "Just fine, Adele," the girl replied. "Nice to see you, and your
Earth friend again. I saw you on IFB." 
     "God, has everyone seen that?" Lauren asked. 
     "Just about," Cassy replied. "Whatcha both have?" 
      "Hmm..." Adele looked at the menu board. "I'll have a spiced
Aquarian Apocalypse." 
     "Coming up! And you?" 
     "Uh...just a plain Java, with cream, please." Lauren said, hoping
she read the menu right. 
     "You got it," Cassy said. As the girl filled the orders, her mother,
Mariwen, came out and exchanged pleasantries with Adele, and shook hands
with the woman from Earth. 
     "I'd like to know about Earth javas, if you can," Mariwen said, and
Lauren agreed. They then moved off with their drinks. 
     "Anyway, after it was over, Starbuck returned to duty, and Belloby
got these two to run it. Rumor has it that it was through Starbuck's good
offices." 
     "Starbuck ran a coffee stand?" Said Lauren, unsure whether or not to
laugh or what, as they went to the Triad arena, and found their seats.
"Good Lord!"
     "You know, Captain Byrne said the same thing, when he heard the
story." 
     "Really." 
     "He did," Adele replied. 

     The two sat down, and just as they did, the PA came alive. "Welcome,
Ladies and Gentlemen, to this evening's Triad matches! We have a full
slate of rib-pounding, gut-busting Triad. Tonight's action has a Men's
matchup, featuring Team Bronze and Team Yellow, a Women's match, with
Team Orange and Team Black, and a mixed match, with Team Maroon and Team
Gold. So sit back, relax, and cheer on your favorite teams!" 
     Adele explained the rules to Lauren, and as the first match got
underway, it started to make sense. But to her, it looked like a cross
between basketball and football, and about as rough as a hockey match.
And she noticed something else: in the broadcast booth, there was a
familiar face from the Galactica. Captain Boomer. "What's he doing here?"

     "He plays with Castor, and when he's not, he's providing some
commentary," Adele replied. "Starbuck tried it once, and he did so badly
that he vowed never to get in the broadcast booth again." 
     "I don't blame him," Lauren said. She noticed as the match went on
that some fans were pretty vocal in insulting their team when they were
behind, not to mention insulting the other team. "Is it always like
this?" She asked, nursing her java. 
     "It is," Adele admitted. "Are your sporting events this loud?" 
     "The indoor ones? They can get pretty loud," Lauren said as the
first match came to an end, when Yellow came out on top of Bronze. Then
there was a fifteen Centon intermission, and much to Lauren's
surprise-and disgust, an IFB camera crew came over. "Oh, crap."
     "What?" Adele asked. Then she saw it. "Oh, felgercarb. These
creeps."
     "Yeah. The less I have to do with those vermin, the better." 
     "That's a first," Adele said as the crew came to them. 
     "What?" 
     "IFB being called vermin." 
     "Back home, the news media can get pretty obnoxious," Lauren said.
"These....people. I've watched some of their stuff. They take it to a
whole new level." 
     "You mean take it down to a whole new level," and the both of them
smiled. 
     Then the journalator came over. "And how does one of our Earthers
like the game?" As he stuck a microphone next to Lauren, his voice
reminded her of Great Falls' worst used-car salesmen-a couple of whom
she'd helped investigate.
     "It's...interesting, I'll say that much," Lauren replied. 
     "Is there anything like it on Earth?" The journalator asked. 
     "Not in my country, I can tell you." 
     The reporter nodded. "Do you think Triad might catch on among your
people, when we get to Earth?" 
     "Well," Lauren said with a smile. "We'll have to wait and see, won't
we?" 
     "Enjoy the rest of the matches, Sergeant," the reporter said as he
got up. 
     "Thanks," she said. After the reporter and cameraman had left,
Lauren breathed a sigh of relief. "Glad that's done. I don't care for
news media-whether it's ours back home, or yours." 
     Adele smiled. "Lots of people don't care for the people who are on
IFB-Zara and Zed especially. If Serina had stayed at her old job, people
would have a much better opinion of them." 
     Lauren nodded. She'd heard about Apollo's first wife, who had been a
Colonies-wide broadcast journalator on Caprica. From what she'd heard,
and seen a few surviving clips, Serina had been like Diane Sawyer or
Barbara Walters back home, always on the big story. But after Carillon,
she'd joined the service, training first as a shuttle pilot, then when
Blue Squadron had fallen sick due to an alien bug, qualifying as a Viper
pilot. She had been killed after the Battle of Kobol, by a lone
Centurion, and left Apollo a widower, and Boxey an orphan. "So I've
heard." 
     The next match-the women's, got going, and Lauren found that the
women were just as rough-and-tumble as the guys were! When she'd been
abducted, she had heard that women's hockey was going to be in the Winter
Olympics in 1998, and Captain Byrne had told her that had indeed
happened, Team USA had won the first gold medal, but the next three had
gone to Canada. He had no idea what had happened in 2014 in Sochi, but he
hoped that Team USA had finally broken its drought. "Are your girls
trying to show they're just as tough as the guys?" 
     "Pretty much!" Adele said with pride. "They play to the same
standard the guys do."  
     After the women's match came the mixed doubles, and neither team
showed any mercy to the other. And to Lauren's eye, the fans seemed to
like it that way. She also knew that on Earth, there would be some folks
who'd be appalled at the idea of a coed team, but there would also be
those who'd love the idea. Not to mention the skimpy outfits. "You know,
there are some folks back home who'd like this." 
     "What do you mean?" 
     "We don't have any coed sports teams, and this would be the first.
Not to mention the skimpy outfits." 
     Adele had a good laugh at that. "Never thought about that." 
     After the match ended, that was it, and the crowd began to file out.
"What's next?" 
     "Care to hit the gambling deck?" Adele asked. 
     "Not much of a gambler, I'll admit," Lauren said. Though back home,
she didn't mind the occasional poker game. "I'll settle for a nightcap,
then head off to bed." 
     "Let's go, then." 

     Both of them went back to the Astral Lounge, and to their surprise,
someone there was waiting for them: Captain Boomer. "I saw you, Sergeant,
in the crowd. What'd you think of your first Triad matches?" 
     "I'll admit," Lauren said. "It's not like anything we have back
home. There's a couple of sports that, if you mixed the two, could come
close, though." 
     "Interesting," Boomer said. He motioned the barkeep over. "What do
you ladies want?" 
     "Sure Athena won't kick you out for this?" Lauren said. 
     Boomer laughed. "No. Besides, as soon as I finish this conversation,
I'm headed back to Galactica." 
     "Fair enough, sir," Adele said. 
     "Two beers," Lauren said. "I'll pay." 
     The barkeep nodded and drew the two beers. She paid, and the trio
resumed talking. "So what's closest to Triad?" Boomer asked. 
     "In America and Canada, we have football and ice hockey," Lauren
explained, and she described both sports. "And in Australia, they have a
version of our football that's a lot more rough-and-tumble. No safety
equipment, helmets, etc. It's so rough people have been killed playing
it." 
     Boomer nodded. "It's been said that Triad was like that in the early
days." 
     "Sir," Lauren said. "Talk to Captain Byrne and Commander Allen. They
can show you what our sports look like, and see what you might be
interested in."
     "I'll do that. Thanks, Sergeant, and you two have a good night." 
     "Give our regards to Athena and the babies," Adele said.
     "I'll do that,"  Boomer said. Then he headed off to the shuttle bay.

     Both nodded, and they stayed in the lounge for a centar, hoping to
get some male company for the rest of the night. They were unsuccessful,
and so Lauren and Adele went back to their cabins, and got a good night's
sleep. 


     The next morning, Lauren woke up, and found that the chrono said
0830. She sat up in bed, and decided to go ahead and get up. After
hitting the head and the wash, Lauren got dressed into her BDUs, then
headed on to the Astral Lounge for breakfast. There, she found Adele.
"Well, what's on tap for today? We've got until when?" 
     "The Shuttle back to Constellation leaves at 1700," Adele replied.
"I've flown the rotation a few times." 
     "So.." Lauren said. "Some shopping?" 
     "Why not?" Adele asked as the server came by to take their breakfast
orders. "Then back to the pool. Like you, I'm not much for the gambling
deck." 
     "Same here. No luck at all when it comes to cards." 
     They placed their orders, then after their breakfast came, they
chatted, until Lauren fell silent. She was looking out a port, at the
stars. "Whatcha thinking?" Adele asked as the server brought their order. 
"You're wondering about something." 
     "You know what I've been thinking about?" Lauren asked. 
     "What?" 
     "Those Il Fadim nuts." 
     "You're kidding," Adele said. "What for?" 
     Lauren smiled. "Oh, just wondering how many of those crazies are
still alive," she said, in between a bite of egg. "Between the murderers,
pirates, sex offenders, and other scum on one hand, and the lizards and
other hungry wildlife on the other..." 
     Adele laughed. "Those aren't good odds. Even Starbuck wouldn't take
any bets on those." 
     "No doubt about that," Lauren said. "Either they got the hint and
calmed down, or the cons decided to shut them up for good." 
     "Never thought about that," Adele said. "And I bet the cons decided
to get rid of them anyway. Remember, they wanted to outlaw everything
fun." 
     "Tell me about it. And wherever I've been on this ship, people have
thanked me for helping get rid of those creeps," Lauren said after taking
a long sip of juice. "You know, though, it's a horrible idea."
     "What is?" 
     "A culture descended from those loonies," she shuddered. 
     "Lords of Kobol, I hope not," Adele said. 

     After they ate, the both of them went to the shopping deck. Though
most of the wares in the various shops were out of their price range,
there was nothing wrong with either window-shopping or trying things on,
and deciding that saving up was a good idea, then coming back and picking
that item up later. Then they hit the Aquacade, and spent a pleasant time
in the pool and hot tub. Then it was time to head back to their cabins,
check out, and get to the departure area. My, how time flew, Lauren
thought as they headed back to the departure area. Maybe a day trip with
Jena might be possible later, she added. 

     The shuttle came, and they boarded along with the rest of those
headed back to their ships. Constellation had several crew headed back,
and there was the usual banter about who had the most fun, and who had
the most enjoyable company. And when the shuttle arrived back on
Constellation, Lauren and Adele were surprised to see Jen there, waiting,
along with Mr. Dante. "Permission to come aboard, sir?" 
     "Granted," Dante said. He had a pad and stylus, and checked everyone
back in. Then Jen came to her roomie. 
     "Have a good time?" 
     "Yeah, and I'll fill you in on it. And I got everything on the
list," Lauren said, holding up her shopping bags. She turned to Adele.
"That was good. When our turn comes again..."
     "We need to do it again," the Ensign replied. "Lords of Kobol, every
day!" 
     "You got it," Lauren said. Then she and Jen went back to their
cabin. "Let me guess: you're wondering who I spent time with.." 
     Jen grinned. "You could say that. So, who was it?" 
     "Not here," Lauren said as they went through the corridors. Only
when they got into the cabin did she say. "Castor. But only for one
night." 
     "Well?" Jen asked. 
     "We had a nice dinner, and what you could call some.....private
time." Lauren said with a wink and a nod. And she could tell that Jen
knew full well what she meant by that. 
     "Yeah...well, at least you had fun. What else?" 
     "Adele introduced me to Triad," Lauren said. "It might catch on back
home, but who knows?" 
     Jen nodded. "So, when do we have our 'girls day in'?" 
     "Next duty day off," Lauren said. "I promise." 
     "Fine by me." 


     The next afternoon, the report Adama had been waiting for finally
came. All ship repairs completed. He left his office and went to the
Galactica's Bridge, where he found Tigh standing watch. "Tigh, all ship
repairs are completed. When's the patrol set to return?" 
     "Apollo's patrol should return in two centars, Commander." The XO
replied, after checking a console. 
     "Very well," Adama nodded. "When the patrol returns, we'll get back
on course." 
     Two centars later, the patrol returned. After the debrief, Adama was
satisfied.  Just another whole lot of nothing. He returned to the Bridge
and informed Tigh. "Colonel, signal the Fleet. Set course for Earth." 
     "Commander," Tigh nodded, and he relayed the order. Then the Fleet
headed out on its heading for Earth. 


     Two days later, Sheba and Hunley, with Flight Leader Vettius and his
element, entered a solar system that had been on the edge of the Fleet's
scanners. A system with seven planets, and a G-type star, with one in the
Life Zone, it was a system worth investigation. The outer planets had
very little to offer, with two of them being gas giants, and their moons
being largely ice and/or rock, with little resources to interest anyone.
The patrol then closed in on the three inner planets, and the second
world was the one in the Life Zone. The innermost world was an airless
rock that was way too close to the star to have an atmosphere, let alone
support life on its nearly molten surface, while the third world was a
cold desert, with an atmosphere too thin to support advanced life forms,
on the surface, anyway. Then the patrol closed on the second planet, a
yellowish-orange ball with clouds totally obscuring its surface. 
     "Lieutenant," Hunley called. "The second planet's showing up on my
scanners. And it's a runaway greenhouse with no chance for life.
Temperatures nearly five hundred, on the surface,with heavy
concentrations of carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, and sulfuric acid.
Winds over three hundred kilometrons an hour, and wow! There's heavy
volcanic activity in the southern hemisphere. " 
     "Verified," Vettitus confirmed. "No life forms could exist on this
world." 
     "FRAK!" Sheba yelled. "I'll take the moon." Their scanners had shown
this world to have a moon, and the moon was similar to Earth's. The data
from the alien maps had been translated and fed into their computers, and 
this moon easily could have been Earth's, being an airless rock, and the
same size, as well as at roughly the same distance from its parent world.
Then she noticed something on her scanners. "Picking up something on the
surface, near the equator of the moon. It looks artificial." 
     "What is it?" Hunley called. "I'm right on you." 
     "Don't know yet," Sheba said. "Vettius, come with me. Hunley, you
and Castus cover us." 
     "Copy," Hunley replied. 
     "By your command," Castus said. 

     While the two cover ships went into a high orbit, Sheba and Vettius
went down to investigate further. What they found when they came into the
day side was a surprise to Sheba, and even the Centurion flight leader
was impressed. A large mining facility, with loading docks, with ores
piled on the docks, apparently awaiting shipment, several storage tanks
filled with tylium, and a large quantity of equipment. But there was
something else: ruined structures blasted to vacuum, torn and twisted
wreckage everywhere, and space-suited bodies on the surface. "Mother of
Kobol," Sheba muttered. Then she said, "What happened here?" 
     "There is no sign of any attacker," Vettius said. " I am not
scanning any weapons signatures. This could have been an accident." 
     Sheba nodded. Mines, especially those for Tylium, were prone to
having bad things happen, and such things happened all too often, she
knew. Especially if the mine operators were cutting some corners to save
a few cubits. "If they sent a distress call, no one heard it."
     "Logical," Vettius said. "That would explain the bodies on the
surface." 
     "It would," agreed Sheba. "Back to the Fleet. This stash of
minerals, and the Tylium, we can't just leave it here. Form on me, and
let's go." 
     "By your command." 

     Unknown to the Vipers and Raiders, another ship was in the system.
Had it been detected, it would have been familiar to the fighter crews,
as it matched the derelict that had been found with Sergeant Wagner in
stasis. Not using its active sensors, the sensor operators were using
passive systems, and the ship was "running silent." Though the fighters
were nearly at the limit of those sensors, the exhaust and the radiation
of the fighters were able to be detected. The sensor operator called for
his commander. "Unknown ships on passive sensors." 
     The commander came over. "Signature?" 
     "Unknown," the operator responded. "They appear to be small craft of
some sort. Not any known Ke'zar signatures." 
     "Maintain surveillance," the commander replied. Then he went over to
his own station. He checked his order book. Had the Ke'zar tracked them
to this area of the galaxy? By the True Path, was there anywhere free of
those scum? His orders were clear: if any ships, regardless of origin,
entered the system, he was to attack. The mine had to be protected at all
costs. Though the mine was largely a wreck, Command still hoped to
reactivate it. The ores were too valuable, and the need too great, to
give up. And if the strangers were not the Ke'zar, but alien? The orders
were the same. No one could be allowed to leave the system....


The End