Battlestar Galactica - Perceptions
Virtual Season 2, Episode 10
by Maggie H.
October 8, 2004

From the Adama Journals

     In the course of the last sectar, I have experienced personally the
ultimate pendulum of emotions in both joy and anxiety.  The former stems,
of course, from the happy news of Apollo and Sheba's engagement, and
their eventual sealing, which in all likelihood will not take place for
another sectar or two.  But coupled with this, is the grim reminder of
how we face enemies as great as-- or even more dangerous than-- the Cylon
Empire itself.  Our recent narrow escape from the grasp of a new and
strangely both barbaric, yet advanced, race has made  it  apparent, thank
God, even to the Council of Twelve, that we must fully maintain our
vigilance and our defenses.  Coupled with that is the matter I have still
kept secret regarding Apollo's and Sheba's  terrifying encounter with
Count Iblis, who could conceivably unleash a new trap for us that could
render us powerless with just one wrong decision. 
     And there is one more matter that  I have also been forced to keep
secret-- the fact that one of the slaver aliens, a race called Ziklagi
and capable of altering its form at will, has escaped from custody and is
loose aboard the Fleet. This situation sends a chill through me like no
other in a long while.  The  being, whose origin and goals remain
unknown, has already committed at least one murder, and from what we saw
on the planet Boron-Din, has absolutely no compunction in this regard.
While it is vital this creature be found before more deaths occur, I
cannot risk the possible panic among the people that could result were
these events to become general knowledge, as well as the fact that we are
apparently nearing the territory of this enslaving race. As a result, I
have allowed only six other people to know the full facts; Dr. Salik,
Cassiopeia, Apollo, Colonial Tigh, and Major Croft.  Croft and Tigh have
the daunting, yet critical, task of doing everything humanly possible to
locate this intruder without revealing the true nature of their
investigation to anyone.
     Also, in order that our pilots might be protected while on patrol,
Dr. Wilker's people are working to develop new electronic defenses,
capable of both penetrating the alien's cloak system and blocking their
matter-transport device. I pray to God we succeed. I pray for wisdom as
well. Do we alter course, in the face of this? Do we continue as we have?
I pray, but as yet no sign has been forthcoming.
     These concerns weigh greatly on my mind and soul.  But they are not
the only issues.
     It is because we are a hunted people, always on the run, that I
have, perhaps, failed to adequately address the unique and complex issues
facing the Fleet. At a hard look, while efforts have been made to create
suitable conditions aboard the vast array of ships that comprise our
convoy, they fall far short from what is truly needed.  And so, even in
the face of the anxiety these recent incidents cause me, I am forced to
turn my attention to the immediate problems at hand. Conditions across
the Fleet and aboard each ship are not equitable - and in some cases, I
fear, not even adequate. 
     Without immediate and, perhaps, drastic action, it is quite possible
that the fragile remains of our civilization shall fall apart... as with
the slow spread of decay. Tolerable is not good enough any more, despite
the salvation of our food supply. Most of the citizens of the Fleet still
reside aboard the ships upon which they made their escape from their
Homeworlds. And although many improvements and modifications have been
made - as our limited resources permit - the organization of 
our Fleet... our city in space - for that is what we now are, a
caravaning society - is too haphazard, too weak in places, to sustain us
indefinitely. Changes must be made. And soon.
     By the grace of the Lords of Kobol, all members of the Council of
Twelve seem to share my deep concern, giving us a rare case of much
needed unanimity, where not even the likes of Sire Antipas is prepared to
think of personal self-interest first.  Thus, we have been able to
quickly implement the preliminary stage of what I hope to be vast
improvements for everyone in the Fleet. Step one is to simply get a true
and detailed accounting of each and every member of the Fleet. Such a
census has not been performed since the early days of the Exodus, and it
is painfully obvious that much vital data is missing. I am counting on
all ships' captains to help us rectify that within the next two sectons.
Dr. Wilker has devised a new computer program that will be able to
compile the Fleet's statistics and cross reference even the most minute
detail, once we input the data. That data collection has been assigned to
teams aboard each vessel. Their responsibility is to interview each and
every person on their ship and to evaluate their living conditions.
     Once they have downloaded the information into the central database,
Wilker's program should be able to compile a detailed report to describe
the current status of the Fleet. Aboard the Galactica, I have assigned
the task to Colonial Security and feel more than confident that they will
complete the assignment well within the two-secton time limit. Interviews
have, in fact, already begun with the squadrons. Today they interview Red
Squadron, tomorrow it is Blue, and then Silver Spar the following day.
Once they have finished interviewing all the Warriors and bridge
officers, Colonial Security will move on to the Galactica's support
personnel and civilians.
     Interviews of all Fleet citizens will begin once all ship's captains
have established the teams that will carry out the task. In preparation,
I will make a general Fleet-wide announcement in two or so days.
I am convinced that once the data is compiled and analyzed, we will see
the need for many changes, including the better organization of Fleet
resources and consolidation of some, if not many, of our services, not
the least of which is the education of the Fleet's children.
     My greatest fear, though, is that to truly create a solid and
healthy society within the Fleet, the changes called for will be
dramatic, if not radical, requiring everyone to alter their ways of
thinking to some extent. Unfortunately, throughout the history of
humanity, drastic change has never been achieved lightly nor with ease. I
fear... people will resist, and then we risk falling into... chaos.
     May the Lords of Kobol guide us away from that path.
     Already, I see the signs. Most troublesome is the Il Fadim, the sect
on the Sagittarius that claims to base their beliefs on the Old
Teachings. Yet, they do nothing more, from what I can tell, than spread
discord and fear. I have sent several religious leaders from different
faiths and from different Homeworld to meet with them. All return with
the same message - that their leader, a man named Sherok, will not listen
to reason. Given that the group has, as of yet, done nothing illegal. I
am stymied. I can do nothing more than order that they be monitored
closely by Council Security. To detain them, to arrest Sherok or any of
his followers without clear cause, would, I fear, set a dangerous
precedent and lead to only deeper troubles. For now, the Council has sent
more personnel to the Sagittarius to monitor the situation and to, I
pray, keep the peace.

CHAPTER ONE

     Starbuck glanced at his chrono as he dropped from his viper's
cockpit down to the tarmac of the Sagittarius' landing bay and jogged off
towards the lifts.  30 centons.  The Colonel had been quite clear, even
after the lieutenant had received Apollo's approval.  He had to be back
on  the Galactica by 0900.  Blue Squadron had a full schedule that day,
between cadet training sessions and drills on the laser range, and - as
Tigh had put it - they couldn't afford to have their pilots gallivanting 
around the Fleet, wasting precious  fuel.  
     Frak, thought Starbuck.  They always had a full schedule, be it
routine patrols, cadet training sessions, or inspection duties.  When
they weren't fighting prehistoric creatures, twisted gangsters,  or
barbaric alien races.  Furlons seemed to come few and far between,
lately, since the disaster on the Spica.  The fact that the lieutenant 
just recently  had been granted a full secton-long  furlon after his
mission to defeat the dastardly Association on the Rising Star had made
Tigh scowl at him even harder. 
     Starbuck had calmly explained that he had made a promise to a
certain blonde four yahren-old and her mother, and that it was his duty
as a Colonial Warrior to follow through on that promise.  Did the Colonel
want him to appear uncaring in the eyes of this innocent child?  Tigh had
bit his lip to withhold any comments that might have been on his mind and
had acquiesced.  But.  If he weren't back by 0900, the Colonel had
promised him another fun-filled secton... inspecting the sanitation
ships.
     The lieutenant sighed as he hurried out of the landing bay and took
the lift to the passenger level.  He wasn't sure why colonel Tigh was so
uptight, but he suspected it had something to do with the fact that the
man had not had a furlon since... when?  Starbuck could not recall the
Colonel ever taking so much as a day off to relax and have fun.  A slow
smile spread across the Warrior's lips as he waited for the lift reach
level seven.  Perhaps he needed to talk to Apollo about arranging a
vacation for  the Colonel.  He grinned to himself, several ideas
percolating in his head.
     The doors swooshed open, and Starbuck stepped into the short
corridor that led to the _Sagittarius_' Commons Area.  The section held
the ship's commissary, recreation facilities, communication booths, and
converted storage compartments that were now small shops, all spaced
around a wide-open central area, scattered with tables, chairs, and
makeshift benches  for the people to meet and relax.  He had sent a
message to  Mairwen for her and Cassy to meet him there at 0830, and he
hoped she had received it and would be prompt. He glanced at his chrono
again and snorted.  26 centons.  This would be tight, very tight.  
     As he turned the corner, he focused back on locating Mairwen amidst
the crowd of people already gathered.  He stopped to stare, squinting as
he scanned the tables and benches--
     "You're holding up the line, bud, now move!"
     Starbuck swung his head in the direction of the voice. A man,
dressed in a server's uniform, stood at the end of one of the three
commissary  serving lines that emptied out into the Commons Area off to
his left.  His face was red and screwed in a frown as he motioned for the
next customer to hurry up.  The lieutenant would have ignored the scene
had he not caught a glimpse of the customer: a tall, thin,
scraggly-looking man who stood frozen in place, his hands gripping his
tray, his eyes glued to the floor.  Even from a distance, he looked
terrified to Starbuck.  And that piqued his curiosity. 
     The Warrior had taken no more than two steps, however, when the
server, a large, heavily built man, roared, "Come on!  Move your astrum!" 
He shook a fist at the customer, who flinched, twisting his ear towards
his shoulder, but otherwise, did not move.  
     Starbuck frowned and walked more quickly.  Whatever the problem
might be, he couldn't see how it warranted this kind of reaction from the
server.  And once again, as he trotted closer, he was struck by how...
terrified the other man seemed.  No, something wasn't right.  Then he
noticed the woman who was next in line.  She moved between the two men
and looked at the big worker, her eyes pleading.  She said something, but
Starbuck wasn't close enough to hear.  Then she leaned in to whisper to
the other. 
     "I don't have time for this!"  Ignoring the woman, the server shot a
hand forward to grab the man.
     Starbuck stepped deftly between the two, catching his  arm by the
wrist.  "Is there a problem?"  he held tight to the man's arm and stared
into his eyes.
     "Damn frakking right there is!"  The worker yanked his hand back and
glared at the lieutenant.  "This nutcake is always holding up the line! 
People have things to do, shuttles to catch.  They can't be waiting ten
centons to get their morning meals because some mental case can't make up
his mind, even though he gets the same frakking order every single time!" 

     Starbuck gazed at the raging man, who had sweat beading and dripping
from his forehead and purple veins bulging, and let him blow off his
steam.  After a centon, the man paused  to glare at the lieutenant,
sucking in lungfuls of breath.  
     Starbuck didn't have a chance to respond, however.  An
ear-splitting, high-pitched wail pierced the momentary silence.  The
Warrior swing around to see the other man had dropped to the floor,
curled himself into a fetal ball with his hands pressed against his ears,
and was screaming.  The woman knelt next to him, looking anguished and
helpless.
     "Get that lunatic out of here!"  The server's enraged voice boomed
through the screams.  
     Starbuck turned to face the man, jabbing a finger at him.  "Hey,
just back off!" he shouted above the continuing din, seeing Council
Security approaching from the corner of his eye.  "And calm down!" 
     The server took a step back, clamped his mouth into a thin frown,
and crossed his arms, glaring with barely contained rage at the
lieutenant.
     "Thank you!"  Starbuck gave him a quick, humorless smile and turned
to assess the situation behind him, just as three security guards rushed
up.  One of them had his weapon drawn.  Another reached to yank the
terrified man to his feet.  Reacting on instinct alone, and sensing that
the situation could quickly turn  chaotic - as if the piercing  screams
weren't chaotic enough-- Starbuck stepped in front to shield the man. 
"Just hold on!"
     The guards stopped.  And, blessedly, so did the screams.  Starbuck
felt his ears ringing as he said, "I don't know what the problem is,
exactly..."  he nodded towards the drawn laser.  "But I hardly think
that's necessary."  He kept his eyes focused on the guards and his
expression calm.
     The one stared for a moment behind the Warrior, then put his laser
back into its holster.  "Look," another said,  "with the problems those
Il Fadim types keep stirring up, we can't be too careful."
     The third stepped to within a few centimetron of the Warrior,
scowling.  "The last time I checked," he said, "Council Security had
jurisdiction here.  Not you  Colonial Warriors."
     Starbuck rolled his eyes.  This guy had obviously been hanging
around Sargent Reese way too long.  "All I'm saying," the lieutenant
said, keeping his tone even and clamping down on the urge to make a
sarcastic comment, "is that from what I saw, this guy's just scared."  He
shot a glance to where the customer now sat curled in the arms of the
woman.  "Not a threat."
     The guard sucked in a slow breath, staring past Starbuck to the
scene on the floor behind him, to the scowling worker, who was muttering
under his breath, and back to the Warrior.  "Well we can't just leave
them there," he said finally, the annoyance still evident in his voice,
but his tone less challenging. 
     Starbuck smiled his most charming grin.  "Tell you what," he said,
putting an arm across the guard's shoulders and leading him towards the 
grumbling server.  "Why don't you see to this man's complaint - because
I'm sure that he'd love to tell you exactly what happened - and you
two--"  Starbuck flashed his grin at the other guards.  "You can get this
poor man's business rolling again.  As he said, these customers need to
eat so they can get to work."  He waved towards the stunned looking faces
still in line in the commissary.  "And I'll help this fellow out of the
way."  The security guards gave the lieutenant a quizzical look but
nodded, since it was as good a plan as any.  
     As the three moved away, Starbuck, releasing  a long, slow breath,
turned to the two on the floor.  Already people were stepping carefully
around and past them as the server, waving off the security guard,
concentrated on getting his line moving again.  The strange man who had
started this all sat curled against the woman, leaning against her arms
as he rocked back and forth ever so slightly, wide eyes staring vacantly
ahead.  Starbuck knelt down next to them.  "Is he all right?" he
whispered to the woman.  "Can he move?"
     Short, dark hair framed a worried face as she lifted her head to
gaze at him.  She nodded and gulped in a breath before answering, "Yes, I
think so."  Tears glinted in her eyes, and she wiped quickly at them,
then turned to her companion.  She whispered something in his ear that
even Starbuck couldn't quite catch.  But he started to climb to his feet.
     "Here, let me--"  Starbuck moved to steady the man.
     "No, don't," she said, shaking her head.  "Please don't touch him."
     Starbuck drew his hand back and watched, puzzled and concerned, as
she slowly guided the other to his feet.  The man kept his gaze fixed on
the floor and clung tightly to the woman's arm.  For a moment they just
stood without moving or speaking.  Then gently she began guiding him
towards the corner that led to the exit.  Starbuck stared after them. 
After a moment, the man seemed to relax, and his hands slipped down to
his side.  They paused, and the woman gave the warrior a faint smile. 
"Thank you," she said. "You don't know how much your help back there
meant."  And then she turned and led the man on out.  
     For a moment, Starbuck thought about going  after them, because he
was both troubled and vastly curious about this odd man.  A myriad of
questions crowded through his head as he actually took a step in the
direction of the exit.
     Until a hand on his arm stopped him.  "I thought you said you had to
be back by 0900?"
     "Oh, fr--" Starbuck caught his tongue as he snapped his head around
to see Mairwen standing next to him, with  Cassy behind her.  The little
girl looked wide-eyed and scared.  He bent down to scoop her up.  As he
hugged her against him, he frowned over her shoulder.  "Let me guess. 
It's... "
     "0905."  Mairwen gave him a crooked smile.  
     Starbuck sighed in frustration and carried Cassy to the nearest
bench.  He sat, holding her in his lap, his  brow furrowed, his lips
pursed.
     "Look, if you have to go," said Mairwen, studying him, "we'd
understand."
     Starbuck flashed his grin at her.  "No, I'm not worried about the
time... exactly.  Even Colonel Tigh ought to  give me a break if I tell
him exactly what happened..."  His voice trailed off as his eyes went to
the exit.  Then he looked back to Mairwen with a puzzled expression. 
"What did happen?" he asked quietly.  "Do you know that man?"
     Mairwen sat down next to the lieutenant, careful to keep the
distance between them respectable.  Cassy bounced from Starbuck's lap to
her mother's, to where she could gaze up at him with unabashed adoration. 
The warrior favored her with a big grin and tousled her hair.  
     "I've only seen him a couple of times since we got here,"  Mairwen
said eventually, quietly.  Starbuck continued to flirt with Cassy, but
made eye contact to let her know that he was listening.  "I don't know
his name, but I've heard people talking about him,"  she continued. 
"They say he's mentally deficient, so that woman takes care of him."  
     "Why'd that guy in the commissary get so angry with him?"
     Mairwen sighed.  "I don't know.  I think the man acts...
differently.  Sometimes he moves very slowly, or just stops for no
reason, and..."  she paused to consider her words.  "I think people are
so on edge because of the Il Fadim cult that maybe that worker just... 
snapped."
     Starbuck nodded, remembering the scene.  That certainly made sense. 

     "But," Mairwen said, her voice louder and more cheerful.  "you
didn't come to talk about that.  What did you really want to talk about?"
     Starbuck grinned.  "Ah, yes.  I have a deal for you."
     "Yes?"  Mairwen gave him a puzzled look. 
     "I have all the details worked out, in fact.  If you're interested,
of course," he added as she raised an eyebrow.  
     "Well, if you'd tell me what this deal is, I'll tell you if I'm
interested."
     Starbuck quickly explained that he had a friend who operated a java
kiosk on the Rising Star, a Siress, named Belloby, who wouldn't mind
watching Cassy while Mairwen worked a shift during the day.  And then he
told her what the Siress was willing to pay in daily wages.
     Mairwen stared at him, mouth agape.  "You're joking with me, right?" 

     "Nope!"  Starbuck leaned back against the bench, hands behind his
head.  "I never joke about money, or one's making a livelihood. And I'd
certainly never jerk a friend around. Not about this."
     "But what about paying for her to watch Cassy?  How much will that
be?"
     "Nothing."
     "Nothing?  That's not possible--"  Mairwen frowned at him.  "If
you're just--"
     "She says she misses having children around, and that having a
companion during the day would be all the 'payment' she needs."
     Mairwen looked away, but Starbuck did not miss the glimmer of tears
in her eyes.  "I...  I can't tell you how much this means to us.  This
is more than I ever thought possible..."
     Starbuck stood and scooped Cassy up for another big hug.  "Listen,"
he said quietly.  I grew up without a family, so I know what it's like to
not have much, if anything.  And..."  He let the young girl wriggle free
and watched her as she played with the stuffed equine she had brought
along.  "If I can help even one child not have to go without, then I'll
do it."
     Mairwen smiled at him.  "Well, thank you.  I know you'd better go,
since you're more than a little late, now, but..."  She leaned in a gave
him a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Thank you."
     Starbuck flashed his grin one more time.  "Don't mention it," he
said.  "I'll have Siress Belloby contact you so that you two can work out
the specifics."  He glanced at his chrono and winced.  "Gotta go!"  he
turned and sprinted out, waving as he left.
     Mairwen watched him disappear around the corner and sighed.  

********

     "... should take no more than eight days."  Tigh did not miss a beat
as he spoke, but his gaze drilled the lieutenant as he slipped quietly
into the back of the Ward Room, sliding in next to Boomer.  The briefing
had been going on for a full forty centons, already.  The Colonel
narrowed his eyes, still staring at Starbuck as he continued.  "They'll
begin with Red Squadron today, Blue tomorrow, and Silver Spar the next
day, along with as many of the support personnel and civilian workers as
possible.  Expect to spend at least half a centar, and I don't need to
tell you how important this is.  That should be obvious."  Tigh let his
gaze sweep across the Warriors.  "Any questions?"
     The Warriors murmured quietly among themselves, but no one spoke up.
Tigh nodded and said, "Good, then.  Dismissed."
     "What was he talking about?"  Starbuck leaned in close to Boomer as
the others began filing out past them. Out of the corner of his eye he
saw the Colonel glaring as he started towards him.
     Boomer frowned at him.  "Well, if you'd been here like everyone
else, you'd know."  He shook his head and whispered brusquely, "Just
where were you, anyway?"
     "Detained," answered Starbuck.  He opened his mouth to repeat his
question, but broke off as the Colonel stopped in front of him.  His eyes
were narrowed, his lips a thin line, and he stood with  his hands locked
behind his back.
     "See ya," whispered Boomer.  "Maybe."  He nodded to Tigh. 
"Colonel."  And then he turned quickly to leave.
     The buzz of voices had diminished to an uncomfortable silence, as
Starbuck's superior officer stared at him without blinking, saying
nothing.  The lieutenant straightened his back, assuming his most proper
"at attention" stance.  A quick glance around without moving his head
revealed that only Apollo remained, standing off to his right, and his
expression was far from cheery.  Starbuck sighed inwardly, pulled his
shoulders back even more, and focused on the Colonel, awaiting the
inevitable.
     For nearly two centons, Tigh simply stared at him as he paced back
and forth, apparently pondering his fate.  Starbuck kept himself immobile
and expressionless, but with each passing micron, felt the sinking
sensation that even the truth would not be good enough in this case. So
be it, he thought to himself.  He had experienced most of the
disciplinary measures before - and usually for a valid reason.  The worst
that could happen was a loss of the few privileges they still had and
being docked some of his wages.  No big deal.  He'd been through it
before.  The only thing that irked him was that usually such a
consequence was, he freely admitted, deserved.  Like the time he'd snuck 
a bottle of ambrosa into the billet for an after-centars game of
Pyramid--
     Tigh finally spoke, but it was not to Starbuck.  "Captain, make the
following adjustment to the duty roster for the next secton."
     The lieutenant clenched his teeth.  Great, he's not even going to
give me a chance.  His eyes flickered to Apollo, but his friend had his
gaze focused on the compupad in his hand. 
     "Lieutenant Starbuck is to be reassigned for the next secton to
assist..."  the Colonel began.
     Reassigned?  "Look, I can explain--"
     "The lieutenant will remain at attention!"  Tigh cut him off and
stood nose to nose with the Warrior, doing his best drill sergeant
imitation. 
     "I--"
     The Colonel swung to face Apollo.  "Make that for the next two
sectons."  He turned back to Starbuck, silent, his looking daring him to
say anything further.  
     The lieutenant clamped his jaw and stared straight ahead, wondering
why  his superior officer seemed to have his briefs twisted.  This was
dramatic, even for the Colonel.
     Tigh let out a slow breath and continued after another several
centons.  "Lieutenant Starbuck is to be reassigned for the next two
sectons to the _Orphan Ship_ to assist with the implementation of several
new programs."
     _Orphan Ship_?  Starbuck thought in surprise.  He met Tigh's stern
gaze.  Perhaps there was a method behind the Colonel's madness, after
all...
     "Effective tomorrow," continued Tigh.  "Following your interview
with Colonial Security.  And I'll be happy to arrange for you to be the
first one."  At last, the Colonel gave a dry smile.  He took several
steps back and let his gaze slowly sweep up and down the lieutenant, not
failing to notice the beads of sweat gathering along the Warrior's brow
as he held himself at rigid attention.  "One last thing," he said,
turning to exit.  "I expect a full report - on my desk within the next
centar - as to why a Deputy Squadron  Leader could possibly be 40 centons
late for a mandatory briefing."  With that, Colonel Tigh spun on his heel
and strode out of the Ward Room.  
     Not until he heard the doors swoosh closed did Starbuck let his
shoulders sag with a long exhalation.  He turned a cautious gaze towards
Apollo, who was leaning against a support column, arms folded across his
chest, shaking his head and frowning at him.  
     "What interview?"  Starbuck finally asked, breaking the silence.
     "You'd know if you'd been on time--"
     "Look-- " Starbuck suddenly found himself nose to nose with his
friend as his frustration burst through.  "This was beyond my control! 
I--"
     "Save it for your report!" snapped Apollo.  He jabbed a finger at
the lieutenant's chest.  "It's like the Colonel said, we can't have
senior officers setting the precedent that they can miss mandatory
briefings on a whim.  It sends a message to all the new cadets.  The
wrong message."
     Starbuck took a step back and stared at the captain. He expected
Colonel Tigh to pull rank, but Apollo...?  The lieutenant studied his
friend in silence, for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. 
"Just what did I miss?" he said slowly.  "What's happened that I'm not
aware of?  If," he added, unable to contain the hint of sarcasm, "I might
ask, sir."
     Apollo's expression went dark.  "Nothing,"  he snapped, but Starbuck
could tell that the anger was no longer directed towards him. "Just the
Council of Twelve suggesting that military standards are slipping.  That
discipline is lax and our Warriors, especially the new cadets, are ill
prepared to defend the Fleet.  That's all."
     Starbuck let out a long, slow whistle.  "I see.  And when did all
this come down?"
     Apollo closed his eyes, frustration washing into weariness.  "Just
this morning, early.  The Council called a 'Special Session' to discuss
the 'State of the Fleet.'  According to my father, it was basically just
a gripe session.  But one of the points that came up was some perceived
shortcomings in the military, lately." Apollo shook his head.  "Who knows
where they got their information, but the point remains," he said,
"certain members of the Council will latch on to *any*  detail, true or
not, if it might make Father look anything less than competent."
     Starbuck let his eyes drop to the floor and shuffled his feet. 
"Look, buddy, I'm sorry."
     Apollo slapped his friend on the shoulder.  "Hey, I'm sure you did
have a good reason for  being late."  he glanced at his chrono.  "So
you'd better get busy on that report."
     "Right."  He chewed his lip.
     The captain turned to leave, then looked back.  "Oh, at least you're
lucky the Colonel delayed your reassignment until tomorrow."
     "Oh?"  Starbuck raised an eyebrow, feeling anything but 'lucky,' so
far, that morning.
     "Yeah, you still get to play in the Triad match tonight.  And with
us going up against Boomer and Castor, and our title at risk, I'd have
hated to play with a sub."
     "You're all heart."  Starbuck gave his friend a lopsided grin as
Apollo strode on out.  Then, with a heavy sigh, he headed for the nearest
comcenter.  Hope my luck is better than this for tonight's game, he mused
as he sat down to type up his report.

CHAPTER TWO

     "Ah, there you are," said Sheba, as Cassiopeia entered the
spectator's balcony. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make
it."
     "There was a last minute emergency in Life Station," replied the
medtech, handing out cups of steaming java and mushie bars to her
friends. "Here, I stopped by Starbuck's kiosk and got these... anyway,
one of the maintenance workers in hydroponics fell and broke his legs.
He'll be okay, though." Cassie took her seat, and looked at the arena's
chrono. "Still have a centon or three, I see." She took a sip of her
drink. "How was the pre-game show?"
     "About the same as always," said Athena. "Zed and Zara at their
finest."
     The med-tech frowned, "When did Zara become Zed's analyst on triad
matches?"
     Sheba smirked, "Ever since Starbuck's disastrous performance as
guest analyst last secton made every triad player vow never to work
alongside Zed again no matter how many cubits they were offered.  And
since the smart people in the IFB know that if Zed were talking solo the
whole match, no one would ever want to listen...."
     "Ah," Cassiopeia nodded as she remembered how she'd shared
Starbuck's embarrassment that night.
     The women laughed.  "Too bad that happened.  Any warrior would be
better on screen then either of those two." Athena said.
     "Yeah, but can you imagine Zed or Zara in a Viper?" asked Sheba,
deadpan. Cassie nearly spit out her java laughing.
     "Oh yes. I can hear the Cylons now 'Zed approaching, Imperious
Leader. We must surrender!' '' Her rendition of a Cylon's digital voice
made Athena bellow in jocularity.
     "If only," said Athena, wiping spilled java from her uniform.
     "And speaking of Boomer," Sheba went on, "How is he? Besides taking
all the broadcast awards? I haven't seen much of him since you two got
back from the agro ship."

     "He's back in barracks, and in the Commander's good graces."
     "Well, helping to save the Commander's life back on that planet
probably had something to do with it, I would imagine," said Cain's
daughter. "Not that you did all that bad, from what I heard. taking out
one of those goblin things with a sword." She gave a mock expression of
awe. "Athena: Warrior Princess!"
     "Well, yes." Athena tried to ignore the praise implicit in Sheba's
words. "Anyway, I don't see as much of him now that we're back on our
normal duty cycles. I'm on the bridge, and he's out on patrol." There was
a wistful air to her voice which both women did not fail to catch.
     "How's it going with the Kians?" asked Cassie. "They coming along?"
     "Great. Both are learning to write now, and Major Croft is very
happy with the survival skills they are teaching his Elite Forces guys. I
had no idea there were so many ways to make a knife out of virtually
anything."
     "Technology makes us soft, sometimes," said Cassie. "I have no idea
what I'd do without bone welders and medical scanners to treat patients."
     "Or Vipers," finished Athena. "But they just don't seem to have much
of a sense of, well, propriety. The privacy of other people doesn't seem
to connect for them." Athena opened her mushie bar, and took a bite. "I
mean, there we were, Boomer and I, alone, or so we thought, in some
shrubs and wildflowers clear on the other side of the dome from them, and
suddenly they just burst through. I mean, did it matter that we were..."
Athena stopped, eyes wide, her face turning a shade of red almost a match
for her mushie. "Uh, I..." She took a deep swallow of her java. "Is the
air conditioning off in here? It's kind of..." She looked up, to see both
women staring at her, expressions a mix of laughter and shock. She buried
her face in her hands, muttering something like "Oh God!"
     "Athena?" asked Sheba, first to break the awkward silence. "You and
Boomer...I mean..."
     "Athena?" asked Cassie, gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. 
     "Me and my big mouth. I promised I wouldn't say anything to anyone
about this." She looked up, eying both ladies. "Not until the time was
right."
     "Hey, you know my lips are sealed," said Cassie. "Consider this a
medical consultation."
     "Why keep it secret?" asked Sheba. "I think it's wonderful, Athena. 
Besides," she then lowered her head slightly and decided that she needed
to say this to make her feel better, "You're not the only two who've
um...had to be discreet recently."
     Athena frowned slightly and then she realized what Sheba meant.  As
Sheba hoped, it made her future sister-in-law relax immediately.
"Thanks," said Athena, "It's not that we feel ashamed about it, it's
just.... we felt waiting was in order. After all, I am the Commander's
daughter, and some people might..."
     "I see," said Cassie. "Yes, there are a few who might see that as
social-climbing on Boomer's part. Currying favor with Adama."
     "It's not like we planned it," Athena said, waving one arm in
emphasis. "We were stuck on Ki, in a lousy damp smoke-filled cave full of
smelly barbarians, and it just...happened. My feelings for...I mean
his...well, it all just came out in one big wave."
     "How does Boomer feel?" asked Cassie.
     "He, well, we both want it to go further. Make this a serious
relationship, but felt we needed to give it some time. Time to see if
what we had was...real." She sighed, shaking her head. "But, after
everything that happened with the agro ship being nearly wrecked, and
people kidnapped and those slaver aliens, I guess the flood of
relief...anyway... That's what happened, in a nutshell." She looked into
her nearly-empty java cup. "So, you two. Nothing about this to anyone?
Please?"
     "Silent as the Tombs of Kobol," said Cassie. "Don't worry, Athena."
     "Do you love him?" asked Sheba. Athena turned to look at her fellow
Warrior, and slowly nodded. Sheba smiled, putting a hand to her shoulder.
Athena put hers atop it, and the two smiled. "Same here. Not a word,
Athena," she paused, "And not a word about what I've told you too. 
Apollo and I, we...don't want Adama to think we're disrespectful of the
Codes."
     "Of course," Athena nodded and then decided to take advantage of her
remark to change the subject, "So how goes it with the sealing plans?"
     "Slower than we'd initially figured, what with all the craziness
that's gone on the last couple of sectons.  We've barely had time to get
together since that little order about tightening discipline in the
warrior ranks came down, and since we're still attached to separate
squadrons that only makes it more difficult."
     "Why not just transfer to Blue Squadron?" Cassiopeia asked.
     "I'm this close to doing that," Sheba held her thumb and forefinger
a fraction of an inch apart, "But the Colonel's put a moratorium on
squadron reshuffling for at least another couple sectons, so that won't
give us a chance to speed up our plans for the short term."
     "Don't stall too long," Cassiopeia said lightheartedly.
     "We won't," Sheba smiled back, "No more than a sectar or five
sectons at the outside.  Nothing too formal or fancy.  Heck, if I had my
druthers I'd probably just wear my uniform to the ceremony."
     Athena laughed, "If you got sealed in a flight jacket and combat
boots, Zara and all other experts on fashion would never let you hear the
end of it!"
     "True," Sheba nodded and then decided it was time for the third
member of the group to open up.  The buzzer sounded. Five centons till
game time. She finally cocked an eye at Cassiopeia.
     "I'm curious," she said slowly, deliberately, her lips curled in a
faint grin. "Starbuck all but missed the mandatory briefing this
morning." She paused, a mischievous look in her eyes as she stared at
Cassie. "Just where was he? Sleeping late?"
     "Sheba!" Cassie gave her a look of mock indignation and slapped her
on the shoulder. Then her face grew more serious. "Late, you say? I guess
that explains the short message he sent midday saying that he's going to
be 'unavailable' for the next two sectons due to, as he put it, 'stirring
up the mong' with Colonel Tigh. He said he's been assigned to the Orphan
Ship for the next two sectons." Cassie sighed. "Effective first thing
tomorrow."
     Athena gave her a puzzled look.  "Well," she said, "if he wasn't
with you... where was he?"
     "He told me last evening that he was going over to the Sagittarius
to talk to Mairwen and Cassy--"
     "Who?"  asked Sheba, her eyebrows raising at the two feminine names.
     "Mairwen and Cassy," the medtech repeated, a wry grin on her face. 
"It's a woman and her 4-yahren-old daughter.  He helped them relocate
from the Spica--"
     "Cassiopeia!"  Sheba and Athena both looked at her in amazement. 
"You're telling me that Starbuck went off to see another woman?" said
Sheba.
     "Will you two stop!"  Cassie shook her head and gave a smirk.  "It's
not like that."
     "Oh?" said Athena, looking more than a little skeptical.  "This is
Starbuck we're talking about, right?" 
     Sheba stared at Cassie, incredulous.  "And he told you he was
going?" She shook her head again.
     "Yes, I'm talking about Starbuck," Cassie said, meeting Athena's
gaze.  "And, yes, he told me all about it," she continued, switching her
gaze to Sheba.  "He--"
     "Why, that--" Sheba spat, frowning.
     "No, no!"  Cassie had to laugh.  "It's all right!  In fact, it's
kind of sweet..."
     Athena and Sheba stared at the medtech in disbelief.  "Okaaaaay,"
said Athena finally.  "Explain, please."
     Cassiopeia let out a long breath and described how Starbuck had
helped to calm the child when they were being evacuated from the Spica
and how she, herself, had met the woman and the child during the routine
medical exams of the passengers.  "This little Cassy knows the score,
too," she added with a smile.  "When I had to treat Starbuck for a broken
arm that day--"
     "Broken arm?" asked Athena.  She didn't recall that detail from the
report on the Spica.
     "Yeah," said Sheba.  "He had a run-in with a crazy passenger, that
'Dravius' guy that keeps eluding all the security teams since then."
     "Ah," said Athena, remembering the security reports now.
     "Anyway," said Cassie, "little Cassy announced to everyone in the
the Life Station that Starbuck was my 'boyfriend.'"  She grinned at the
memory.  "You should have seen his face.  He looked like he wanted to be
anywhere but there."
     "So," began Sheba a bit more tentatively, "what's he doing visiting
them?  It still doesn't sound right."
     Cassiopeia smiled at her friend.  "It's okay. Really.  Starbuck and
I have talked about it, because he was worried that I might
misunderstand.  He said that the little four-yahren-old reminds him of
the kids he knew and saw when he grew up in the orphanages.  And how he
had times when he had nothing."  She gazed at Sheba and Athena, her face
thoughtful for a moment before continuing.  "He said he can't stand to
know that even one kid has to live like he did."
     "He can't save them all," noted Sheba.
     "No," said Cassie, "but now that he knows this little girl, he can
help make things better for her, at least."
     Athena chewed her lip for a moment.  "And this really doesn't bother
you?  That he's spending time with this other woman and her child?"
     The noise of the crowd had picked up as the clock counted down the
centon left until game time.  Cassie glanced at the portal through which
the four players would enter in a few moments, then back to Athena and
Sheba.  "No, it doesn't," she said at last.  "It's a feeling, I guess, an
intuition.  Or maybe the pained look that Starbuck gets when he talks
about how things aren't much better aboard the Sagittarius for them."
Cassiopeia paused to catch Athena's eye.  "I trust him," she said
quietly, her words almost lost in the din of the excited crowd.
     Neither Athena nor Sheba knew quite what to say, but were saved any
further comments by the buzzer.  The game was about to begin.

******

     "Are you sure you want to watch a triad game?" Mairwen stood, hands
on hips, gazing quizzically at her daughter. 
     "Yes! Yes!" Cassy bounced on her toes, swinging her soft equine from
side to side. "Let's go!"
     "All right." She raised her eyebrows and shook her head as she
pressed the door release. "But only for a little bit." Mairwen had not
even known that Cassy knew what triad was - let alone had an interest in
the sport - until a  centar previous, when they had eaten their evening
meal in the ship's commissary. As always, the three vidscreens in the
Commons Area had been tuned to the IFB, with some news-type commentary
program droning on. Mairwen seldom took notice of them; she preferred to
eat quickly and return to the quiet and safety of their tiny compartment.
Sometimes, she arranged to meet one of the few people whom she had gotten
to know over the past couple of sectars, but even then, they would hurry
through the meal and then head back to either the friend's quarters or
hers for any real socializing. In her mind - as with so many others
aboard the Sagittarius - the less time spent out in the Commons Area, the
better.
     Cassy, on the other hand, spent much of the time during their meals
gazing around at everything and everyone, barely eating. In fact, had it
not been for her daughter's excitement and anticipation of each trip to
the commissary, Mairwen would have brought the food straight back to
their compartment, since that was where they usually ended up eating it,
anyway. But the little girl had so few opportunities to leave their tiny
space as it was. Thus, three times a day, they would visit the Commons
Area, select their meal, sit for maybe fifteen centons so that Cassy
could gaze at something other than four enclosed metal walls, for a least
a brief time, and then they would finish their meal back in their
quarters. Usually, the brief excursions seemed to satisfy the girl--
until this evening, when she had caught sight of announcement about a
triad game on one of the vidscreens . 
     The eager child had pointed and said with excitement, "Look! Look! I
want to watch that!"
     Mairwen had turned to see the last microns of the announcement
before the screen switched back to the news commentary. "What? Triad?"
     "Yes! Yes!"
     "Whatever for?" Sitting in the Commons Area with a crowd of triad
enthusiasts was the last place she wanted to be with a four-yahren-old.
     "Because it looks fun!" Cassy's grin stretched from ear to ear and
her eyes sparkled. "And, and, because--"
     "Okay," Mairwen had said, interrupting to catch her gaze. "But
listen first."
     Cassy had nodded staring at her mother.
     "We can only stay for a little bit."
     Cassy's smile had momentarily dropped, but she had said, "Okay!" And
then she had bounced ahead as they had headed back to their compartment.
     Mairwen knew the games were broadcast live twice a secton at 2000.
She also knew that the Commons Area would be jam packed. And with that
many people gathered, it would be an open invitation for the Il Fadim to
stir up trouble. But it would tear at her heart to say "no" to Cassy's
request, so maybe if they just went or a bit, enough to satisfy her
daughter's curiosity - surely she'd find the game uninteresting after a
few centons, which was about the length of her attention span, anyway.
     So Mairwen took a deep breath as she grasped Cassy's hand and led
her across the threshold. As the door whooshed closed behind them, she
bit her lip as she felt her heart thumping against her chest, then
squared her shoulders. "Okay, Sweetie," she said with a forced smile,
"let's check out the triad game." 
     "Yeah!" Cassy skipped and hopped beside her mother as they headed
down the long, narrow corridor. 
     "But only for fifteen centons," Mairwen reminded her. "Because then
it will be bedtime."
     "Okay, okay, okay!" the girl chanted in a singsong voice. 

*******

     "Go, go, go, go!"
     The chant of the spectators erupted into a cheer as the four
players, locked arm-in-arm in a circle, broke ranks as the ball shot into
play. Within microns, Boomer snagged a ricochet off the wall and leaped
to slam it into the goal for the first point of the game.
     "Woo hoo!" Athena jumped to her feet, waving her arms. As she
settled back into her seat, she shot her friends a smug look. "Blue Team
can do it this time," she said. "I can feel it!"
     "Oh?" yelled Sheba, trying to be heard over the noise of the crowd.
She cocked an eyebrow at the Lieutenant. "Boomer hasn't played in over
two sectars, thanks to your stint on Agro Ship One."
     "Might be," responded Athena, still grinning, "but he spent a lot of
time either hauling crates or working out when we weren't on duty."
     Sheba had a comeback on the tip of her tongue, but stopped as the
action continued on the court below. Apollo intercepted a pass from
Castor to Boomer. Swirling, he flung the ball at the wall. It hit at the
precise angle which sent it shooting across, away from Blue Team and
right to where Starbuck slipped into position. He grabbed and threw it
into the goal. The game was now tied. Sheba mirrored Athena's earlier
smug grin. "We'll see!" was all she said.

*******

     Mairwen could hear the excited hubbub from the Commons Area before
she and Cassy rounded the corner to the entrance. As they stepped across
the threshold, the sound blossomed into a dim roar as those gathered in
groups around the three vidsccreens cheered a goal. Pulling up a chair
behind the group closest to the exit, she pulled Cassy into her lap and
squinted for a moment at the view of the game over the heads of the other
people. The tiny figures on the screen were barely discernible; Mairwen
let her gaze sweep around the wide open Commons Area, while Cassy - to
her amazement and bemusement - seemed to stare intently at the game. 
     Those gathered to watch were just the typical residents, a few
adolescents scattered among mostly middle-aged to older faces. Cassy was
the only child that she could see. The crowd seemed transifxed by the
action on the screen, yet, their cheers seemed subdued...even hesitant.
Or could it be just her imagination, Mairwen wondered as her gaze
flickered towards the exit every few centons. Perhaps she was being
overly sensitive. Maybe--
     "There!" said Cassy, pointing towards th game. "There he is!"
     "Who" Mairwen squinted once more at the vidscreen. "Who do you see?"
     Cassy bounced on her knee. "Starbuck! That's Starbuck playing
triad!" 
     "Ah." Sure enough, she could just barely recognize the Lieutenant as
the players hustled about the court, leaping, tumbling, blocking. Of
course, now Cassy's sudden fascination in triad made sense. Mairwen
smiled to herself. Her daughter had obviously heard his name on the
announcement. She hugged the girl against her, nestling her chin on the
top of the soft hair on the little one's head, trying to focus on the
game. 
     "What team is he on?" Cassy asked.
     Mairwen shrugged. "I don't know. I think..." She listened for a
moment. "Gold Team. In the red--"
     "If they're 'Gold Team,' why're they wearing red?"
     Mairwen chuckled. "I don't know. You'll have to ask Lieutenant
Starbuck when you see him again."
     Cassy settled back against her chest, and Mairwen found her self
gazing at the game now, trying to follow the rough and tumble play, and
watching Starbuck as he snagged the ball from the Blue Team's fingertips,
it seemed, leaped into the air, swirled, and passed it to his teammate,
Captain Apollo. And the others? She wasn't sure and didn't recognize
their names. Everyone, however, knew of Apollo and Starbuck, the
Commander's son and his wingman. They were the heroes of the Fleet, after
the last battle against the Cylons. The IFB had touted their incredible
feat of infiltrating the Baseship to knock out its sensors - and
returning to tell the tale.
     A true hero, reflected Mairwen, glancing down at Cassy, who stared
in innocent awe at the screen. He had certainly brightened the life of
this small girl, when almost anyone else would never have bothered to
care. She smiled, letting herself enjoy watching the game - and Starbuck.
     But only for a moment. A sudden chill hit her, and she glanced at
her chrono. "Hades," she whispered. They had been there for over thirty
centons. 

********

     Cassie's eyes darted from friend to friend, and her lip curled into
a faint smile. Both were absorbed by the game and the friendly
competition, letting their emotions carry them and not afraid to let go.
And both radiated a pure... joy... that she had not seen from either
since she had gotten to know them. Athena and Boomer might be keeping
their budding relationship low key, taking it slowly, as she had said,
but Cassie, seeing through a woman's eyes, could read the young bridge
officer's true feelings from the glow in her eyes as she followed
Boomer's every move on the triad court. And Sheba... no two people could
be more in love than she and Apollo. And about time, Cassie reflected.
With all they had lost, all of them deserved to be happy, for a change.
     Cassie sighed and turned her attention to the court. She felt a bit
like the odd one out. True, Starbuck had all but committed himself to
her, with his actions if not his words. She had achieved the unheard of
with him - he had been faithful to her for over six sectars - and their
bond seemed to be growing stronger and deeper. She should have felt the
same joy that she saw radiating from Athena and Sheba. And she would
have... had it not been for one little detail. 
     The lie. The cover up. The deception. And Chameleon's refusal to
acknowledge that they had both been wrong - woefully, dangerously wrong -
to conceal the truth from Starbuck. Her heart told her that, now. At the
time, when she had promised the old man that she would not reveal the
truth, but would let him do so when "the time was right," she had been so
enveloped with the emotions of the moment that she had believed
Chameleon. Had trusted him. Now, she knew that, for the old man, the time
would never "be right." He was selfishly and childishly afraid to admit
it - at least, that's how Cassie now saw it. Her last (maybe final?)
conversation with Chameleon a couple of sectons ago, when she had
contacted him from the Life Station during a quiet night shift, had
confirmed that feeling in her mind. 
     For a time following that conversation, Cassie had felt content that
she had made the necessary effort to convince Chameleon to tell Starbuck
the truth, thus absolving herself. But after a few days, that feeling had
eroded into an uneasy, intangible sensation that she needed to do more.
She had to tell him herself. Breaking her word to Chameleon did not
bother her anymore- not after that conversation. But facing Starbuck did.
Oh, Lords, did it send a chill through her.  She knew how he would react.
She knew him far to well to not know how he would react. But she had to
do it. Had to. She valued honesty more than anything in a relationship. 
     She would tell him. Soon. Just as soon as they could find a moment
alone. Which, now that he had been assigned to the Orphan Ship for the
next two sectons, would probably not be until after he returned. She bit
her lip and tried to turn her focus back onto the game. Now that she had
resolved to do this, she wanted to get it over with. The waiting was more
torturous, she was beginning to think, than actually enduring Starbuck's
reaction. 
     "What's wrong?" 
     Cassie snapped her eyes up to find Sheba staring at her, her brow
furrowed in concern. "Nothing." Cassie forced a smile. "Just wishing
Starbuck hadn't gotten himself reassigned for the next two sectons..."
Well, it was the truth, at least, partly...
     Sheba shook her head, smiling. "Yeah, I can imagine." Then her
attention switched back to the court as Apollo made yet another
impressive shot to score. She leaped to her feet, screaming in excitement
and shooting smug looks at Athena. The Lieutenant responded by grinning
and shouting encouragement at Boomer and Castor.
     Cassiopeia sighed again and tried to lose herself, as her two
friends had, in the game. After all, the score was tied once again, and
the lead continually oscillated between the two teams. With a bare twenty
centons remaining on the clock, it was anyone's game, still. She joined
Sheba in cheering for Gold Team, willing herself to forget. At least, for
now. 

********

     "Come on, honey, we need to go." Mairwen whispered the words into
Cassy's ear, scooping the lightweight girl into her arms as she stood and
turned to leave. 
     "Just five more centons?" Cassy wriggled, trying to free herself.
     "No!" Mairwen snapped and squeezed the child against her chest. "We
need to leave now."
     Cassy froze at the tension in her mother's voice and stopped
struggling. Instead, she scrunched her fists around a handful of
Mairwen's tunic and buried her face in her shoulder. 
     The woman bit her lip and hurried towards the exit to the Commons
Area, all the while chiding herself for letting the time slip by like
that. How could she have been so careless? She had let herself become
involved in the game, let her guard down, forgotten the constant fear
that gripped her every time they left their quarters... and it had felt
good. For the first time in... forever, it seemed, she had felt relaxed
and happy as she had watched the two teams playing triad. Watched
Starbuck. Remembering with a warm glow how sweet he had been to her and
Cassy. How kind and caring. How...
     She cut the thought off. No. Don't go there. Don't go there, she
chided herself again. Accept his gift of friendship. Treasure it. She bit
down on her lip, fighting back tears as her quick-paced walk turned into
a near run to get back to their quarters. Her flight, however, was no
longer fueled by fear, but a deep ache. A longing. A void left when the
one she loved most dearly and rely upon - probably too much-- had never
made it off Virgon, leaving just her and Cassy on their own for over a
yahren, now.
     No. She was strong, now. Had to be. Would not, could not, give into
the soul-consuming depression that had gripped her in the first sectars
following the Great Destruction. Only Cassy's unbending happy spirit had
kept it at bay and slowly beat it back. Only her bouncing spirit had
given her the strength to endure first the decadent conditions on the
Spica and now the constant fear of these lunatics here aboard the
Sagittarius. Only Cassy, and now... a friend she never expected to
encounter. A friend. Friend, and friend only, she repeated to herself.
Don't go there--
     She rounded the last turn into the corridor that led to their
quarters, her mind lost in the tangled stream of thoughts and emotions.
And gasped in surprise as she collided with the tall, shrouded figure.
"Oh, pardon me. I..." She looked up, the rest of the sentence dying in
her throat.
     "What is the rush?" The voice was low, unhurried, and gravelly, and
long, spindly fingers gripped Mairwen by the elbow as she tried to jump
back.
     She started to scream, but it caught in her throat as she stared up
into the narrow, sallow face and locked her gaze with the piercing,
steel-grey eyes.
     "My, my... such a beautiful child..." The fingers released Mairwen's
elbow and moved to stroke the top of Cassy's blond head. The child
huddled against her mother's shoulder, eyes wide and fearful, shrinking
back from the strange, shrouded figure. The tremble of anxiety that
surged through the small body sparked the woman into action, however. 
     "Don't you touch her!" Mairwen knocked the hand aside and deftly
twisted around the tall man, facing him as she carefully walked backwards
in the direction of her compartment.
     The man shrugged and spread his arms out. "I mean you no harm, my
dear" he said quietly, voice silky, almost reptilianly, smooth, but the
thin smile on his lips sent a shiver down Mairwen's spine. 
     "Get out of here!" she screamed at him, feeling her composure
crumble into a mixture of fear, anger, and shear panic. "Get out!" The
man tilted his head and stared without blinking as she slammed her hand
against the entry pad to her quarters. The door swooshed open, and she
threw herself across the threshold, banging on the inner pad until the
door had once more- with agonizing slowness-- slid shut. Safe at last.
Mairwen sagged against the wall, squeezing Cassy, who was sobbing
quietly, against her chest and breathing in deep, ragged gulps. For
several long centons she remained there, unable to move, the image of the
shrouded man burning in her mind. 


*********

     Tied. Again. At fourteen points. 
     The lead in the triad game had shifted continuously throughout, with
neither team ever holding more than a one-point margin for more than a
few centons. And only seven centons remained. Apollo snagged yet another
rebounded pass from Starbuck, his fingers somehow grabbing the ball as if
they were covered with adhesive. He spun around in midair and shot the
ball through the goal. 
     Lead to Gold Team once more.
     The ball shot back out into play. Both Apollo and Sargent Castor
leaped for it, slamming into each other shoulder to shoulder. Castor,
however, having the height advantage, wrapped his fingers around the ball
just out of the Captain's reach and whipped it to his partner. He and
Apollo tumbled down, both managing to stay on their feet, but winded from
the impact. Boomer dodged around Starbuck's attempt to block him and
locked eyes with his partner. He passed the ball, feeling the the
adrenaline surge as Castor snagged the pass, leaping high and then
slamming the ball into the goal. 
     Score tied.
     A moment later, the ball popped back into play. Apollo caught the
rebound from the wall. He shuffled left, then right, then moved to shoot
. Boomer jumped to block the ball-- only to see Apollo suddenly shoot the
ball towards Starbuck. Boomer felt disgust that he had fallen for the
feint, again, and he leaped to block the shot as Starbuck swung and
released the ball towards the goal. At the same instant, Castor also dove
to intercept the Lieutenant. The ball sailed into the goal. And both
Boomer and Castor slammed into their opponent. The three crashed to the
court in a jumbled tangle of bodies.
     An instant later, the penalty horn sounded. "Unnecessary roughness,"
boomed the official. "Free shot, Starbuck."
     "Frak, frak, frak!" muttered Boomer as he rolled to his feet. That
was not what they needed-- a chance for Gold Team to finally extend their
lead. The frustration melted into concern, however, as he swung around to
see his friend writhing on the floor, gripping his left knee, his face
contorted. "Hey!" Boomer yelled. "You okay?" 
     "Great! Never better," Starbuck groaned through gritted teeth. "Just
dandy and wonderful! Wanna dance?" 
     Boomer exhaled and shook his head. Another buzzer sounded to suspend
the play, and Apollo stooped down next to his fallen partner. Castor
stood, hands on hips, gazing on as a medtech rushed onto the court and
knelt on the other side of the Lieutenant. He ran his hands along
Starbuck's knee and said something Boomer couldn't hear. The reply,
however, was loud and clear: "Of course it hurts! Frackin son of..."
     The med tech waved his hand in the direction of the official, who
gave the buzzer four short bursts to call a substitute. 
     Boomer caught Castor's eye and sighed in exasperation. If they won,
now, with Apollo paired with a sub, it just wouldn't be the same. He
stared back down to his friend. The med tech had removed Starbuck's
protective padding to reveal an already swollen knee with an angry,
molten bruise. Ouch. 
     "Can you walk?" asked the medtech.
     Starbuck glared at the man, glancing quickly towards Apollo and the
others, then up towards the spectators. "Just get me up, all right?"
     With the Captain on one side and the medic on the other, the two
hoisted the lieutenant to his feet. The crowd cheered, and Starbuck waved
briefly in their direction, then set his jaw, determined to walk off the
court. He took one tentative step, however, and nearly toppled to the
ground. Apollo caught his arm, pulled him up, and slipped his own
shoulder under Starbuck's left arm to support him.
     Growling, the lieutenant brushed off the medtech but allowed Apollo
to assist with his less-than-triumphant departure from the triad game. He
forced a smile and waved at the spectators as they cheered, all the while
maintaining a stream of expletives under his breath as each step sent
piercing pains through his knee. "Frakking goll monging piece of--" he
growled as they stepped out into the corridor and the door slid shut. And
came face to face with Cassiopeia. Behind her stood two more medics with
a stretcher. "I don't need--" he snapped.
     "Cut the felgercarb." Cassie stuck a finger at Starbuck's nose. "And
quit acting like a two-yahren-old. The last thing you want to do is
exacerbate the injury by trying to play hero. Now sit down." She pointed
towards the stretcher, which the medics had placed on the deck.
     Starbuck opened, then shut his mouth, and let Apollo ease him down
onto the stretcher. 
     "Gotta go, buddy," Apollo said quietly, glancing up as Barton, the
lieutenant's substitute, arrived. He gave his friend a slap on the
shoulder. "I'll check in after the game." Then he and the flight sargent
trotted back onto the court. 
     The sound of the crowd crescendoed momentarily as the doors opened,
then slid shut, cutting off the noise and leaving a sudden silence that
echoed in the ears. Starbuck whipped off his helmet, slinging it aside,
then closed his eyes as he ran his hands over his face and through his
sweat-drenched hair, all the while mumbling more choice words.
     "Take it easy, okay?" 
     The Lieutenant opened his eyes to see Cassie kneeling next to him,
running a scanner over the injured joint. Her words were curt but her
eyes revealed concern. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave a soft
smile, then nodded to the other medtech. Starbuck let out a long,
exasperated breath and briefly noted that the man   had finished wrapping
his knee surprisingly fast. 
     "Ready to transport," the medtech said, nodding to the other two. To
Starbuck he said: "Just lay back and enjoy the ride. We'll be back on the
Galactica in about 30 centons."
     Cassie gently guided him onto his back, and the medics hoisted up
the stretcher. Starbuck gave one more defeated sigh and gazed at the
ceiling. "Perfect ending to a perfectly rotten day," he muttered. "Praise
the Lords of Kobol!"

CHAPTER THREE

     "What do you mean I have to stay here another 12 centars?" Starbuck
stared in at Dr. Paye. "It's not like I broke a leg!"  If eyes were
lasers... 
     "Well," the doctor said, "actually, a break would have been much
easier and simpler to repair. And we could have had you in and out in a
mere 20 centons."
     Starbuck smacked the bed with his hand. "But it's just a twisted
knee!"
     "Well, actually, you had torn ligaments and a ripped hamstring,"
said Paye calmly. "Along with the associated neural trauma. We can repair
the damage, but it takes more time to regenerate and heal soft tissues,
especially around a joint, such as the knee, where we're dealing with a
combination of cartilage, ligaments, and muscle. And we-- "
     "All right! All right!" Starbuck waved his hands to cut off the
medical lecture. "I get the picture." He pulled the sheet from the biobed
up around his chest and shifted uncomfortably, carefully, unwilling to
admit that the movement was still painful, despite the soft brace that
had been wrapped around his knee following the first regenerative
treatment. 
     Starbuck glanced at the chrono on the wall and sighed. 0710. He'd
had a whole three centars of sleep, given that it had been nearly 2300
when he'd been carried into the Galactica's Life Station. The emergency
treatment had taken a little over two centars. By then, the Lieutenant
had felt exhausted and had drifted off into a blissful sleep, despite the
tender, throbbing knee. For a whole two centars. At that point, the night
medtech had awakened him to poke and prod him and check his vital signs,
despite his loud protests that it was just a twisted knee - not a major
transplant.
     "Standard procedure," had been the reply.
     The medtech had disappeared back into the Salik's office 20 centons
later, but Starbuck had been too annoyed to fall back to sleep. So he had
shifted and turned as much as possible and grumbled until nearly 0600,
when he'd finally fallen back to sleep.
     And then the morning cycle shift had arrived, which meant another
round of poking and prodding and questions such as, "Well, Lieutenant,
how do you feel?"
     "Frakking tired and sore, since no one lets a guy sleep around
here!" he had snapped at Dr. Paye, who had ignored him and continued with
his list of questions.
     And now to find out that he had twelve more centars of this...
     Paye folded his arms and looked down at the Lieutenant. His voice
was slow and patient - as one might address a young child. "Well, we have
to repeat the regenerative procedure two more times before we can ensure
that the tissues will be completely healed. And then you'll be released."
     "And back on duty?" Starbuck asked.
     "Well, not right away. You'll need to rest for two days, but then
you'll be permitted to return to light duty."
     "Yeah, rest up from a lack of sleep," Starbuck muttered as the
doctor moved away.
     "Oh, it's not that bad," said a familiar voice. He felt a warm touch
on his shoulder and looked up into Cassie's blue eyes. 
     The grumbling frown dissolved into a smile. "Cass..."
     "I can see," she said with mock admonishment, "that you're not
exactly being a model patient." She let her fingers run across his bare
chest; the pile of discarded triad gear still lay on the floor near the
biobed, and she did not fail to note that all he wore, currently, were
military-issue briefs.
     Starbuck caught her hand with his and puller her closer. "I think
the prospect of spending the day here just got brighter." He gazed into
her eyes. "You can check my vitals any time."
     Cassiopeia curled her lip in a sly grin and winked. "My pleasure."
She planted a gentle bite on his chin, with a growl, then pulled back to
a more respectable distance. "Now," she said, "I've got some records to
catch up on, but if you can quit griping at the rest of the staff and
stay out of trouble..." 
     Starbuck pulled the sheet up, draping an arm across his forehead,
and moaned dramatically. "Me? Cause trouble? Oh! Oh, Cassie, I'm too
sick...and I feel faint. It's all going black!" he coughed with equally
bad melodrama. "Maybe you should do a complete exam."
     Cassie cocked an eye at him. "I'm just a medtech. I'd have to call
the doctor to do an exam. Or if you're really that bad, perhaps a priest?
Shall I?"
     Starbuck's eyes went wide. "Suddenly I feel a lot better," he said
quickly. Then he pointed a finger at Cassie. "You would call the
doctor--"
     "You bet, flyboy." Cassie smirked and slapped his shoulder. "Now
behave yourself," she said as she headed towards the duty station.
     Starbuck grinned and watched her move off, admiring the grace to her
movements, then relaxed back onto his pillow, closing his eyes with a
sigh and letting his mind indulge in other thoughts...
     "Sleeping on the job again, I see."
     Starbuck's eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright - then
suppressed a groan when the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through
his still-healing knee. "Colonel, I--" He stared at his four visitors.
     "At ease, Lieutenant." Colonel Tigh stood, hands behind his back,
but with the faintest of smiles on his lip. Behind him were Apollo,
Boomer, and Castor. "We just need to confirm your condition before
releasing a statement to the IFB--"
     "You need to do what?" Starbuck's eyes went wide.
     "After half the Fleet witnessed your injury during the triad game,
the Galactica has been bombarded with calls inquiry about your health."
Tigh's face was stern once more. "And they are tying up vital lines of
communication."
     Starbuck glanced at the others, his eyes settling momentarily on
Sargent Castor, then stared up at the Colonel. "Look, Sir, I--"
     The Colonel actually laughed. "You're not in any more trouble, if
that's what you're worried about."
     Starbuck felt his face flush. "I, well... I thought..." He let his
voice trail off. All except Castor looked far too amused at his
discomfiture. 
     "In fact," continued the Colonel, "I'm here to inform you that,
based on the medical report we received from Dr. Paye, your reassignment
to the Orphan Ship will be delayed a secton."
     "Thanks," responded the Lieutenant drily.
     Tigh pursed his lips. "The Commander and I read your report
yesterday," he said quietly, then paused. 
     Starbuck waited, shifting in his bed but saying nothing.
     "All actions that help preserve the peace among the civilian
population are to be commended," he said, "especially in light of the
volatile nature of the situation aboard the Sagittarius. However."
     Starbuck sighed inwardly. There was always a "however," it seemed.
     "The two-secton reassignment aboard the Orphan Ship stands." Tigh
frowned, his gaze growing distant for a brief moment. "It seems that they
- like everyone else - are in need of some extra assistance. So we'll be
sending rotating shifts of Warriors, starting today - next secton, it'll
be you and two others-- until the matter can be resolved."
     "I see," said Starbuck quietly. Tigh arched an eyebrow. "Uh, sir."
     The Colonel straightened his back. "That's not to say that
yesterday's tardiness is excused. Lieutenant. It's not." For a moment,
Tigh's face reminded him of a judge about to impose sentence of death.
"And the official letter of reprimand has both been entered into your
service record, as well as noted in the Council report." 
     Starbuck noted the distaste evident in his superior's voice at the
mention of the Council. To the Colonel, all he said was, "Yes. Sir."
     "Now," Tigh said, "Sargent Castor is here to conduct your
interview."
     "Interview?"
     Tigh narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Interview. For the Fleet census. One
of those details explained in the briefing you missed yesterday." Tigh
handed Starbuck a data pad, containing the text of the missed briefing. 
     "Right, Colonel, sorry..." 
     "It'll only take about 30 centons," said the Colonel, turning to
leave. He stopped and pointed a finger at the Lieutenant. "But full
cooperation is expected from everyone." He then turned on his heel and
strolled on out. 
     "Yes, Sir," muttered Starbuck to Tigh's receding back. He let out a
long, slow breath, then gazed at the other three. Apollo and Boomer
looked amused. Castor, he decided, looked... uncomfortable. "So," he said
with a grin. "Who won?"
     "Blue Team," answered Boomer with a sigh, sounding less than elated.
"Twenty to sixteen."
     "Hey," said Castor, "look, I'm sorry about..." he pointed in the
general direction of Starbuck's injured knee.
     "Forget it!" Starbuck waved a hand. "Just my bad luck to get caught
in the middle of you two."
     "Still..." Castor shifted uncomfortably.
     "Anyway!" Apollo clasped an hand on the Sergeant's shoulder and
smiled. "We won't worry about it. Until the rematch." The Captain turned
to his friend. "How're you feeling?"
     Starbuck shot a quick glance at Cassie, who was busy sorting through
computer discs at the duty station, and grinned. "Welllllll...I get to
spend the day relaxing and being pampered by a beautiful medtech. What
more could I ask for?" He looked at Castor. "Maybe I should be thanking
you and Boomer."
     Boomer rolled his eyes. Castor shook his head and smiled, looking
more relaxed. 
     "Here." Apollo tossed a uniform onto the biobed and dropped his
boots on the floor. "Thought you might like this, instead of the triad
gear, for when you're discharged."
     "Thanks." Starbuck gave his friend a bemused grin, then sighed,
turning his attention to Castor. "So, let's get this viper out of the
launch tube."
     The Colonial Guard pulled a data pad from a pocket and glanced at
Apollo. "Captain," he said, glancing at Apollo, "I can do yours, too, if
you wish. I can access both files at the same time. And the questions
will be the same."
     "Fine with me," Apollo said, pulling up a chair next to Starbuck's
biobed. 
     Boomer sat on the edge of the bed. "He got Red Squadron yesterday.
It's painless, guys."
     "Except for me," the security guard grimaced as he made sure his
data pad was powered up and ready.  "This is the kind of bureaucratic
felgercarb that guys like Komma are better suited for."
     "Come on Castor, even you Elite Squadron types have to do your share
of paper-pushing once in a while," Boomer needled his partner.
     "I guess so, " Castor sighed as he took a centon to type in some
commands on the data pad, then pulled up a chair of his own, turning it
to face the three Warriors and giving them his down-to-business look.
"The purpose of this interview," he said, "is to simply verify Fleet
records and fill in any bits of information that might be missing, for
whatever reason. It shouldn't take more than ten centons, even."
     "Launch. Uh, I mean shoot," said Starbuck, adjusting his throbbing
knee slightly.
     "All right. First, your names." Castor dutifully entered them, along
with each Warrior's rank, age, Colony of birth, length of service,
current posting, marital status, etc. As expected, everything matched.
     "Of course, that's due to change in a few sectons, you know," said
Starbuck.
     "Change, sir?" asked Castor, looking up from his machine.
     "Yeah. The Captain's heading for Death Row, actually." He waited
until he figured Castor had suffered enough. "He's getting sealed."
     "Uh, yes," said Castor, unsure of whether or not laughter would be
good for him just now. 
     "Starbuck!" hissed Apollo.
     Boomer shot his friend a look that could have peeled the paint off
the bulkhead.  "Will you behave yourself," he whispered.
     "Okay, okay!" said Starbuck, hands raised. 
     "Anyway, yes. Lieutenant Sheba and I are getting sealed in a few
sectons," said Apollo. While Castor, like most aboard the Battlestar, had
heard the scuttlebutt of the approaching nuptials, he nonetheless entered
the data as though it were news, and uttered a muted congratulations.
     "Okay, now. Relations aboard the Fleet. By blood or marriage."  
Apollo mentioned Boxey, and Castor nodded as the data tallied. "And you,
Starbuck?"  
     "No relatives, blood or my marriage."
     Castor stared at the data pad,  frowned, then  gave the lieutenant a
puzzled look. "Sir?" 
     "I said, no relatives aboard the Fleet. Either way. I was raised in
an orphanage on Caprica, and spent time in the fostering system." The way
Starbuck said the word "fostering" spoke volumes about his opinion
thereof.  "I ran away when I was sixteen, and joined the service when..."
     "I see that, sir," replied Castor. " 'The Caprica City Children's
Home'. But you do have a relative listed." He glanced away  for a micron
as Cassie dropped something onto the floor.
     "What?" asked Starbuck. "No way. I'm an orphan. Have been since I
was around five yahrens old."
     "Yes, the Cylon raid on Umbra, back in  7322.One of one thousand
forty-seven children listed as surviving the attack."
     "Correct.  No blood relatives."
     "Well, there is a name here. Someone from the Senior Ship."  Castor
paused, casting a confused  look at first Apollo, then Starbuck.  Now
that he thought about it, he remembered running a deep security check for
Colonel Tigh on the very person... Castor frown and shook his head.  "It
must be a mistake, then.  Fleet records list a man named 'Chameleon' as
your  'father'. "
     "Lemme see that!" Starbuck grabbed the data pad. 
     He read it, then read it again. Sure enough, next to a small photo
of the old con man was his name, and relationship to Starbuck. Starbuck
stared at it for a long time, at first not hearing the "What is it,
Starbuck?" When it finally penetrated, he handed the unit to Apollo, who
read it, then looked slowly around towards Cassiopeia. 
     "Cassie?" said Starbuck, turning to look at the medtech, voice as
soft as air. "What am I..." he began, but Cassie dropped her gaze, her
pale face telling Starbuck all he needed to know.  
     Castor rose and stepped back, watching the scene unfold before him. 
Cassie sank into her chair, face buried in her hands.  Starbuck stared at
her, unblinking and expressionless.  Apollo stood up, placed the data pad
on the bed,  and walked slowly towards the medtech, while Boomer, who had
climbed to his feet to stand next to the head of the biobed, stared from
one friend to another, his eyes wide, shaking his head slowly from side
to side.
     "It's true, isn't it?"  The captain said.  Cassie made no response,
but her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.  He placed a hand on a
shoulder and said nothing for a moment.  Finally, he spoke softly. 
"Cassiopeia, why don't you explain.  I'm sure there was a good reason."
     Castor glanced at Starbuck, whose gaze was still riveted on the
medtech.  His face was blank, except for a slight frown creasing his
brow.  "I believe I have all the information I need," said the sergeant,
retrieving the data pad. He paused a moment, aware that no one was
listening, then turned and strolled out, leaving the them to sort out
what he knew would not be a pleasant situation. 
     None  noticed as the door swooshed shut behind the Colonial Security
Guard.  Apollo waited patiently, his hand still on Cassie's shoulder. 
Finally, she  sniffed and wiped at her face with both hands before
looking up to meet his gaze - briefly.  Her eyes flickered towards
Starbuck, then focused on a spot on the floor.  
     "It's true," she said, her voice barely audible.  "I thought - I
mean, Chameleon, he--"
     "You lied to me, Cass."  
     The medtech glanced up at Starbuck, and their eyes locked for an
instant.  What she saw cut through her soul; raw emotion burned despite
his outward calm.  "Chameleon convinced me that it was for your own
good," she said suddenly, loudly, a pleading edge to her voice.  "He was
afraid that you were going to give up everything."  Her words came
rapidly.  "The service and your friends - everything!-- so he made me
promise to let him tell you.  When the time was right--"
     "And just when was that supposed to be?"   Starbuck's voice was
quiet but curt.
     The captain, trying hard to remain objective,  took a deep breath. 
"Look, I understand why Chameleon might have thought that.," he said,
"But he also knew how important it was to him."
     Cassie looked from Starbuck to Apollo to Boomer and back, finally
able to meet his gaze. "I agree," she said. "That's why I've tried to
convince Chameleon to tell you.  In fact, just last secton I telecommed
him personally and told him that he had to finally tell you,  because
those fears of his don't apply anymore.  And Starbuck, you have to
believe me, I didn't mince words with him about it."
     "And what did he say?" his voice was flat.
     "He said he couldn't.  In fact, he gave me the impression that he
wasn't even going to tell you at any point down the line.." She bit her
lip, fighting back the tears again. "Starbuck, I'm sorry--"
     "You could have told me."
     "I--" Cassie stopped, suddenly all too aware of the truth to those
words. "I was going to," she said, weakly. "But I  wanted to give
Chameleon a chance to... ." her voice trailed off as Starbuck just stared
at her.
     Apollo studied the two for a moment, then cast Boomer a quick,
uncertain  look.  "Okay," he said, breaking the awkward silence, "maybe
we should wait on this conversation until Chameleon can be here."  The
captain chewed his lip.  "I'm sure we can work this all out--"  He
stopped to stare at his friend.  "What are you doing?"
     Starbuck had picked up his tunic from where the captain had tossed
it onto his bed and was pulling it over his head.  
     "Starbuck?"  Boomer tried to put a hand on his friend's shoulder,
but he brushed it off without a word.  Then he tossed aside the sheet and
started to rip off the straps on the knee brace.
     "Hey!"   Boomer and Apollo rushed forward.  
     "Don't!"  Starbuck held up his  hands and glared.  Both men stopped
in their tracks.  Still staring into first Apollo, then Boomer's eyes, he
slowly, methodically removed the brace.
     "Just what do you think you're doing?"  Apollo felt his own anger
rising and his objectivity starting to crumble.
     Starbuck flashed a mirthless grin.  "Getting dressed."  He swung his
legs off the edge of the bed pulled his trousers on, flinching only
slightly as he bent his left knee.
     "Look, Starbuck-- " said Boomer, trying once more to put a hand on
his friend's shoulder.
     The lieutenant jerked away and glared.  The smile was gone, and his
breaths were quick and controlled.  Beads of sweat glistened on his
forehead.  "Stay.  Back," he said in  a low, menacing voice.  He grabbed
the boots  from the floor. 
     Apollo's own control  finally broke. "Are you crazy?  Just where do
you think you're going?" 
     "I need to think."  He grunted as he pulled on the boots, then shot
a look at Cassie, who was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth open.  "And I
can't do it here."
     Boomer and Apollo both took a step forward.  "You--"
     "Don't!  I said don't!"  He gulped in a lungful of air, twisted from
one friend to the other, pointing his finger at them.  He took a step and
nearly toppled to the floor.  Boomer grabbed his arm, but Starbuck shoved
him away.  Roughly.  "Don't try to stop me!"
     Boomer glanced at the Captain, who shook his head, then backed up. 
"Okay!" he said hands held up in a surrender position.  "No one's going
to stop you, but let's take a moment to calm down--"
     "Who's not calm?  I'm calm, very calm."  Starbuck snapped.  "I just
need some air."  He bit off the last word and glared once more at Cassie,
then stared at his friends with a challenging look.  
     Apollo inhaled deeply.  "Look, we'll all leave you alone - here. 
But you need to get off that knee.  It's not healed yet, and you wouldn't
want to mess it up--"
     "No!"  Starbuck hissed.  
     Apollo ran a hand down his face.  He and Boomer both knew that look
in their friend's eyes.  They knew that if they tried to physically stop
him, it would get ugly.  They also knew that the chances of reasoning
with  him at this point were next to nil.  "Okay," the captain said,
knowing the only viable option was to stay back, wait him out...maybe
distract him.  And hope that the fury calmed before he did anything
foolish.  "We won't stop you.  But can you at least put the brace back
on?  And then you can do whatever you want."
     Starbuck glanced at the discarded brace, then down at his knee.  He
took a tentative step and sucked in his breath in obvious pain.  
     "What's going on here?"   All eyes turned to see Dr. Paye, arms
crossed and a questioning look on his face, standing just outside his
office.  His eyes narrowed as he quickly assessed the scene, then
strolled purposefully  towards the group. 
     "Doctor, wait--"  Apollo started to say, put Paye wasn't listening.
     "Well, just what do you think you're doing, Lieutenant?"  the doctor
said sharply.  " We haven't finished the treatments.  You need to stay
off that knee, or you'll injure it further."  He reached for Starbuck's
arm to guide him back to his bed.
     Wrong move.
     "Don't touch me!"  He yanked his arm free and shoved with both
hands.  
     The doctor stumbled backwards, his arms flailing and his eyes wide
in disbelief, before catching his balance.  
     Starbuck, his face red, snapped his head around from one friend to
another, and shouted, "Just leave me alone!  Leave me alone!"  He jabbed
his finger in the air and moved towards the exit, limping as quickly as
he could.  "Stay the frak away from me!"  
     The doors swooshed open, then closed behind him.  Silence filled
their ears as Apollo, Boomer, and a shocked Paye looked from one to
another, their eyes finally coming to rest on Cassiopeia.  The medtech,
her face pale and distraught, stared without blinking at the doors.  
     "Frak, felgercarb, and mong," whispered Boomer.

CHAPTER 4

     "So, do you believe that you made the right decision?" Adama's lips
were pursed but his eyes were sympathetic. He touched his finger tips
together in front of him and leaned back in his chair
     Cassie shook her head and sniffed. "No...I..." She raised her
hands, and then let them fall. "No, I don't." She glanced quickly at
Apollo and Boomer, who sat off to the side, listening silently, and to
Dr. Salik, who stood beside the Commander's desk. "And I knew we were
wrong after I'd had a few days to think about it, but at the time..." Her
voice trailed off.
     Adama glanced at his chrono. Chameleon should arrive aboard the
Galactica soon. A little over a centar ago, Apollo and Boomer had burst
through his office door. Apollo had blurted out, "Father, we have to
speak with Chameleon. Now." The Commander had needed only a micron to
take in the urgency on his son's breathless face and had sent a summons
to the Senior Ship without another word. Next, the Captain had quickly
summarized what had transpired in the Life Station - the surprise
information that the old con man was, after all, Starbuck's father and
the Lieutenant's not-unexpected irate reaction. 
     Adama had closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he processed his son's
words. After several centons of silence, he had sent for Cassiopeia and
Dr. Salik. When the two arrived, it had been evident that the doctor
already knew what had transpired. His face was somber; Cassie's eyes were
puffy and red. The medtech had sank into the chair.
     Without waiting for the commander to speak, Salik had stated, "I am
aware of the situation. Cassiopeia and I have discussed both the medical
and ethical ramifications of withholding information from a patient. To
her credit, she followed all proper procedures in recording the true
results of the paternity test. And withholding information from one
patient at the request of another... " Salik shook his head. "it becomes
a judgment call. Ethically and medically, we have sworn to protect the
privacy and well being of all patients. Or in this case, both patients."
     The  Commander had studied the stars through the portal for a
moment, considering the situation. Then, with a look of concern, he had
turned to Cassie. "I am sure," he said, his voice calm and gentle, "that
you felt what you did was right, at the time. Can you explain?"
     Cassiopeia had taken a deep breath to calm her racing heart, had
wiped at her tear-streaked face, and then had explained as calmly as
possible, describing her conversation with Chameleon on that day when she
had gotten the test results - the positive test results - and how
Chameleon had been emphatic that Starbuck would give up everything if he
new the truth. At the time it had made sense and seemed logical. But not
now...
     "No," Cassie repeated, "I knew the next day that we had been wrong,
but I've been unable to convince Chameleon." 
     "Oh?" Adama prompted. 
     Cassie closed her eyes. "I've tried to get him to tell Starbuck, but
he just skirts the subject. Worse," she said with a bitter tone, "just
the other day, when I all but gave him an ultimatum, he flat out
refused."
Apollo finally spoke. "Didn't you say that you intended to tell
Starbuck?" he asked quietly.
     Cassie choked back a sob. "Yes... yes! I was just trying to, to...
figure out how." Her voice trailed off again and she dropped her head
into her hands once more, unable to hold back the tears.
     The Commander closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You were in a very difficult position," he said at length. "And I'm sure
that Starbuck will come to understand that, given time." He turned to his
son with a frown. "You said that Starbuck stormed out of the Life
Station. Don't you think one of you should have gone after him?" he
asked.
     Apollo shook his head. "No... I think the best thing is to just
leave him alone until he blows off enough steam to be able to listen.
Besides," Apollo said with long sigh, "there aren't that many places he
can go aboard the Galactica. My guess would be that he'll go to the
Celestial Dome. It's the most private place in the Fleet, just about."
     "All right, then" Adama stood, bringing the meeting to an end.
"Cassiopeia, I'll send for you after I've had a chance to talk with
Chameleon. It concerns me," he said, his brow furrowed and a hard edge to
his voice evident now, "that the man refuses to listen to you. Perhaps
he'll listen to me." He looked at Cassie, and his frown melted into a
soft smile. "Go on. We'll send for you later."
     Cassie nodded and climbed to her feet. Chewing her lip, she glanced
at Boomer and Apollo, then hurried out of the Commander's office. 
     As the door closed behind her, Adama walked slowly around to the
front of his desk, his lips pursed. He leaned against it and gazed at the
two Warriors for a moment, then checked his chrono once more. "Perhaps
you should locate Starbuck and see that he's okay," he said at length.
"At the very least, he needs to finish the treatments on his knee."
     "Agreed," said the Captain softly. He could see in his father's eyes
the concern for the wayward Lieutenant who was as much a son to him as
was Apollo. He could also read the  anger that burned beneath - anger at
Chameleon. Apollo understood; he felt it, too. The old man would have a
lot of explaining to do, once he arrived. But, for now...
     Apollo motioned to Boomer. "Come on," he said. "Let's go check the
Celestial Dome."
     "Right." The Lieutenant said with a sigh. He moved to follow the
Captain.
     Apollo turned and started for the exit. But stopped as the door
swooshed open, and Colonel Tigh rushed through, almost colliding with
him. "Whoa, excuse--"
     The Colonel silenced him with an uncharacteristic glare, then
brushed past him before he could say anything further. He came to a halt
in front of the Commander. "Just what does that fool think he's doing?"
His chest heaved as he spoke. "He'll be on report for the next sectar!" 
     Adama blinked and raised his eyebrows. "Who, exactly, has done
what?" he asked as he studied his exec. Tigh may have had a bit of a hot
streak, but he  almost always remained professional. The commander had
seldom seen him this flustered.
     "Starbuck!" he spat the word. Apollo and Boomer looked at each other
in confusion.
     "Perhaps if you were to explain from the beginning..." Adama said,
feeling equally baffled.
     Tigh exhaled sharply and rocked back on his heels. "Right," he said,
pulling himself together. "Core Command reported about ten centons ago
that a Viper launched without clearance. And when I checked with the
launch bay crew, they said that Lieutenant Starbuck--" He took another
deep breath. "-- ignored their repeated attempts to intervene and took a
Viper. Without. Clearance," he repeated, biting off each word. 
     "Frak," muttered Apollo. Boomer closed his eyes and shook his head,
groaning.
     "Colonel--" Adama began.
     "If the Council gets wind that our pilots are joyriding around the
Fleet--"
     "Colonel!" 
     "Yes, Sir." Tigh eyes widened. "Sorry, Sir. It's just that--"
     "That what?"
     "When I got the report on Starbuck, Sire Antipas was just entering
the Bridge."
     "Antipas?" Adama exclaimed, feeling his stomach head south. "What
did he want?"
     "I don't know, sir. But that's why I didn't call you from the Bridge
with this news. Last thing we need is that gol...for Sire Antipas knowing
about Starbuck's behavior, and stirring up any more trouble with the
Council than we already have. Sir. So, I left Omega in charge, with
strict instructions not to tell Antipas about this, and came to you."
     "Thank you, Colonel. You did the right thing."
     Tigh, his mouth a thin line,  gazed from Apollo to Boomer to the
Commander.  "I guessing," he said in an even tone, "that you have a
credible explanation as to why Lieutenant Starbuck would pull  such a
crazy stunt, especially,"  he added curtly, "since he is supposed to be
recovering in the Life Station."
     Adama nodded.  "We do, but there isn't time to explain."   As he
spoke, his intercom sounded. The shuttle from the Senior Ship had just
docked. Adama clicked off, and looked back up at the Colonel. "All right,
get back to the Bridge, and track Starbuck's Viper. Quietly.  And keep me
posted, but do not volunteer any information to Sire Antipas."
     "And if he questions me?"
     "Lie."
     "Understood, Commander," replied Tigh, and with just a hint of a
smile, left Adama's office.
     "What the Hades Hole is Antipas doing on the Bridge?" asked Apollo.
"Unannounced."
     "No good, I'm betting," added Boomer. Adama just nodded.

**********

     "You are cleared to land," the disembodied voice said.
     "Acknowledged."
     Two centons later, Starbuck popped the canopy, watched it rise
slowly, then sat, staring blankly at it, wondering, now, why he had come
here... the tumult of emotions that he had been experiencing  had left
him feeling out of control one centon, then stalled by uncertainty and
disbelief the next.  
     Chameleon's my father...?  The words floated once more through his
thoughts.  But why did he... why would Cass...?  The question was too raw
and painful for him to voice, even silently in his mind.  With a guttural
"Frak!" he flung his helmet off and pulled himself from the cockpit,
swinging his legs over and dropping the short distance to the deck - and
almost collapsed in a heap as his injured knee exploded in pain  and
buckled beneath him.  
     Starbuck, groaning through gritted teeth and, sucking in sharp
breaths, caught himself against the side of his ship.  He pressed himself
against the Viper until the waves of agony subsided and he thought it
safe to risk trying to walk.  Left foot forward, down... now step...
Sharp pains shot through the knee, but it held his weight as he shifted
quickly to his right foot.  With his full attention focused on walking -
and safely away from the other problems--  Starbuck hobbled towards the
lifts, ignoring the curious stares from the maintenance crews of the
Sagittarius.  
     Aboard the turbolift, he balanced on one foot and leaned heavily
against the wall, eyes closed, breathing in long, slow breaths.  Lords,
he felt drained and exhausted.  As the lift bumped to a halt at the
seventh level and the door swooshed open, he concentrated once more
walking.  The corridor ran first by the entrance to the Commons Area,
then turned to the right, where it led between  passenger living
quarters.  As Starbuck traversed the passageway, he was so focused on
staying upright on his feet that he failed to notice the muffled, yet
agitated, rumble of voices coming from the Commons Area...
     By the time he made it to Mairwen's compartment, his face dripped
with sweat, and his right leg burned from the exertion of baring most of
his weight.  He leaned against the wall and pressed the door chime in a
series of two short, three long buzzes - their agreed upon code so that
she would know it was safe to open the door.  A moment later, the door
slid open, and he found himself face to face with a startled looking
Mairwen.  
     And he suddenly had no idea what to say or to do or why he had even
come there in the first place.  How could he explain to her what had
happened when he couldn't even bring himself to think about it right now?
And why, oh why, would he choose to burden her with his problems, when
she had enough of her own to worry about?  Had he not been so exhausted,
he would have turned and fled.  But he couldn't.  Instead, he stood on
the threshold, breathing in gasps, feeling  something that he had seldom,
if ever, felt before - utter indecision and helplessness.

*******

     "They are not your protectors. They are your deceivers!" Sherok
raised a hand high as he spoke. With the hood of his shroud-- the
supposed dress of the followers of the Old Text--pulled back, the man had
an eerie appearance. His face was pale, gaunt, and pock marked, his eyes
were sunken, with dark rings beneath them, and his dull brown hair was
unkempt and matted. As he spoke, his eyes widened; the glare of the
artificial lighting in the Commons Area glinted off them, giving him even
more of an unnatutal, even crazed, look. He swung around staring without
blinking at the morning crowd.
     "Give it a rest!" someone shouted. All they wanted to do was enjoy a
morning meal, take some precious time to socialize, and prepare for the
work cycle ahead. As had become the custom, the Commons Area was crowded,
more so than at any other time, with a large portion of the Sagittarius'
population. 
     Sherok, of course, knew this. In the past he and a few of his
followers would slip quietly from table to table, group to group,
delighting in provoking scowls and interrupting the people's
conversations. Nothing major and nothing that could be reported to
Council Security.
     This time, however, Sherok had at least eight of his deluded
followers with him, roaming throughout the tables, and he continued to
rant. Loudly. "Can't you see?" he shouted, twirling around, eyes blazing.
"They are lying to us! They would have us starve in these metal boxes!"
     "That's a load of felgercarb!" A large man stood to glare at Sherok.
"The Commander has done everything within his power to protect us from
the Cylons! We are all alive because of him!"
     "He deceives us!" shouted one of Sherok's minions. "Our food
supplies run short! Our ships fall apart!"
     An angry buzz of protests rose for a moment. The five Council
Security Guards, standing around the perimeter of the Commons Area,
nervously fingered their lasers, watching and listening and trying to
gauge just if or when the Il Fadim's right to free speech boiled over
into disorderly conduct. 
     "Look, bub," said another big man, rising from one table. Built like
an ambrosia truck, over two and a half metrons tall and dark as night, he
had been a shipyard worker before the Holocaust, and now spent most of
his days sweating and swearing to keep the Sagittarius (sometimes
nicknamed, rather unkindly, 'Old Saggy' ) flying and in one piece. He
moved close to Sherok's minion, and folded his massive arms across his
equally massive chest. "If ya got a problem, maybe ya oughta  take it up
with the  Commander, huh?" he glared down at the troublemaker. "Yeah,
maybe the Commander could just turn us all  around, and we could pick up
a load of new parts, and the  Cylons'll let us use their dockyards, so we
can get fixed up all nice and pretty." A few chuckles rippled about the
room. "Yeah, and while we're at it, maybe we could stock up at the 
market, and get all them nice gourmet goodies ya been missing lately."
     "You tell 'em, Lou!" said the first fellow.
     "So," continued Lou, "unless ya  got some spare parts I could use,
or yer magician over there  can conjour us up some extra grub, shut yer
trap, and let the people eat their meal in peace, pencil-neck!"
     "Lying scum!" said the follower, either brave or suicidal, glaring
up at the towering man. "You lie, just like the Commander, and all the
rest are lying!"
     "Look, worm!" said Lou, putting a hand the size of a frying pan on
the smaller fellow's shoulder, "I would watch what I say  about Commander
Adama. Ain't none of us'd be alive if it..."
     "Unhand me, Infidel Unbeliever!" shrieked the man, bating at Lou's
massive hand. "Do not..."
     "You ungrateful little..." began Lou, picking the fellow up, and
bringing him to eye level. 
     "Lou, cool it, okay?" said one guard. "Just let him go."
     "Yeah, okay," said Lou, letting the other plop back into his chair.
It nearly broke as he landed, and he fell out onto the deck. "But if he's
so eager for  pain, I'll save the  Cylons the  trouble!" He glared at the
rabblerouser, and went to the recycler. He dumped his empties, got a
java, and headed for the door. "Now, unlike some of yas, I got  work  ta
do!" He swung his glare to  Sherok and the rest of his minions. "Ya wanna
help? Get a job!" And so said, he left.
     Sherok had watched the fray without reaction, save a slight
narrowing of the eyes.  As he waited for the din to subside and the crowd
to settle once more, he quietly pulled a small chrono from a pocket in
his shroud, and, with the device concealed in his palm, made note of the
time.  A thin smile touched his lips for a micron as he slipped it back
into the pocket.

********

     Tigh looked at the tracking data Omega handed him, and nodded.
Starbuck's Viper had neither headed out on a patrol vector, nor zoomed
off across the sector. He'd made for, of all things, the Sagittarius. A
former private luxury yacht now crammed to the gunwales with refugees, it
was one of the ships whose passengers had not yet been included in
Adama's census plan. Telemetry indicated that he had landed aboard the
Sagittarius a little over 10 centons previously.  Why in Hades Hole had
Starbuck gone there?  Tigh shook his head, and...
     "Problems, Colonel?" asked a voice. Tigh turned, to see the smiling
visage of Sire Antipas. It was, as usual, the smile of the hungry
serpent, sizing up a potential meal.
     "Uh, none at all, Sire Antipas. Just rechecking our telemetry
calibrations, is all."
     "Oh, really?" said the Sire. "How interesting." He leaned around
Tigh to look at the instruments. 
     Just how much Antipas understood  of what he saw, Tigh wasn't sure. 
It was a tactical plot of the entire Fleet.  Still,  he saw the need for
some fast thinking. 
     "Oh, what happened?" asked Antipas, as the scope went dark.
     "Sorry sir," said Omega, looking at Tigh.  Tigh recognized the look,
and played along with it. "It's the high-volponage transformer for the
screen again, Colonel. I'm not sure we can resurrect it this time."
     "Well, we need those scanners back up immediately!" said Tigh,
glaring. "This is intolerable!"
     "We have put the order in for the new parts, sir."
     "Well,  tell Chief Shadrach to drop whatever other felgercarb his
maintenance team is doing and get them up here now."
"Yes, sir!" 
     Sorry about that," said Tigh, to Antipas. "Like the rest of the
Fleet, we sometimes stretch the components beyond their recommended
lifespan."
     "I trust this won't take long."
     "No, I'm sure not.  Just a little disciplinary reminder to the
Electronics ship and maintenance that the Galactica can't just wait in
line like any other ship for matters such as these."
     "I see," said Antipas, as two maintenance techs entered the bridge.
"Well, tell Adama I was here, will you Colonel?"
     "Of course, Sire. Any message for him?"
     "Just wanted to see how this census was going, Colonel. From the
equus' mouth, as it were. Nothing major." So said, the Sire turned and
left the Bridge. 
     Both Tigh and Omega let out the breath they were holding, and the
screen suddenly came back to life.
     "Good work, Omega."
     "Any time, Colonel."


********

     Mairwen's eyes went wide as she took in his haggard appearance. 
"Lords of Kobol," she breathed, and pulled him gently on in, guiding him
to a chair.  She said a silent prayer that Cassy was playing in the
sleeping area, and then quickly went to let he girl know that she had
"grown up company."  Having been taught not to interrupt such a meeting,
she knew that Cassy would most likely stay out of the way, at least for a
bit, with luck, long enough to figure out what was going on...
     She returned to find the Lieutenant sunk down in the chair, head
back, and hands covering his face.
     "Starbuck...?"  she asked tentatively.  "What's wrong?"
     For a moment, he made no move, no response.  She was about to repeat
the question, when he finally slid his hands down his face, then up
through his hair.  "I should go," he mumbled, not making eye contact.  "I
had no business coming here.  I'll leave, just as soon as--"
     "No, stay,"  Mairwen said.  Her voice was quiet, yet insistent. 
"After all you've done for us, if there's anything that I can do..."
     After a few microns, Starbuck  gazed at her; the depth of pain in
his eyes cut through her, and she bit her lip, wondering what could
possibly have happened.  "I..." he started, but then tried to push
himself out of the chair.  "No, I'd better go."  The overexerted knee,
however, screamed in protest, and he dropped back into the seat, grunting
in pain.
     "You're hurt," she said, feeling anxious and baffled.  "What
happened?"
     Starbuck gave a short, mirthless laugh.  "What , you didn't see the
'infamous triad block'?  I'm surprised. Seems everyone else did--"  He
cut himself off at the frown on her face.
     "We did see part of the game," she said softly, but not that...are
you okay?"  It felt like a stupid question the micron she said it, since
he was obviously not okay.
     He cautiously rubbed his leg.  "I got my knee tore up," he said with
a sigh.  "Still hurts."
     "Shouldn't you be resting or something?"
     "Or something."  He gave her a lopsided grin, one that seemed a bit
more relaxed, at least for a brief moment.  Then his face sank back into
a sullen frown.
     Mairwen studied  the lieutenant and chewed her lip, trying to figure
out a way to help him, to let him open up, to trust her...  She pulled a
chair up and sat across from him.  "Did you," she asked slowly, "have a
fight with Cassiopeia?"
     "Sort of."  He  let out a long, weary breath and closed his eyes. 
After nearly a centon, he opened them and gazed at Mairwen.  "Look, I'm
sorry," he said in a voice that was barely audible.  "I'd explain it to
you, but... I can't even explain it to myself..."  He pressed his palms
against his eyes.  "I shouldn't have come here," he repeated.  
     "Please, I want to help,"  Mairwen said.  "You can tell me as little
or as much as you want, but I'll listen.  Maybe talking about it will
help.  Maybe I can help..."
     Starbuck ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.  "All right," he
said at length.  "Maybe you're right.  I've been avoiding it for the
past--" He glanced at his chrono. "--centar.  And that's not doing any
good.  Maybe..."  He ran his hands down his face again and closed his
eyes.  "All right.  Hades, maybe it'll make sense after I explain it to
you.  Sure doesn't make any sense to me, though..."
     "What?"  Mairwen asked gently.  "What doesn't make sense?"
     Starbuck leaned his head against one hand.  "I just found out that -
that... a man I thought wasn't my father is, and the woman that I care
the most about - care deeply about - and I thought felt the same way -
knew it all along, yet never told me... ."
     Mairwen stared at the lieutenant, trying to make sense of his
convoluted statement.  Finally, she said, "Perhaps if you start from the
beginning and tell me who this man is..."
     "Okay."  Starbuck stared at the wall, blinking slowly.  "About  six
sectars ago, I met a man named Chameleon aboard the Rising Star..."  It
took nearly thirty centons, but Starbuck went on to describe how he had
gotten to know Chameleon, how they had seemed to have a common past, so
they had taken a paternity test.  But, then, he had explained how the old
man had actually created the story to escape from the Borellian Nomen and
had used the coincidence of their backgrounds to get aboard the
Galactica. And he described how the man had both almost gotten him killed
by the Nomen, but also had saved his life. In the end, the test results
had been negative - or that was what Cassie had told everyone. 
     "But, now," he said, shaking his head slowly in confusion, "I find
out that the results were positive. That Chameleon is my father.  That he
and Cassie both lied to me..."  His voice trailed off.
     "Did she say why they  lied?" Mairwen asked after a moment.  She had
listened intently, trying to comprehend everything.  
     "To protect me!"  He spat the words.  "Cassie said that Chameleon
convinced her to wait and let him tell--"
     "He sounds like he's an experting at convincing," Mairwen said
softly.
     "He is.  He's a real conman, all right.  I real pro."  
     "Sounds like," Mairwen said, choosing her words with care, "that
maybe he conned Cassie, too.  Could that be?"
     "I--"  Starbuck stopped.  
     "Maybe it wasn't Cassie," Mairwen continued, sensing that he was
finally starting to think about what had happened, instead of avoiding
it.  "If he had convinced her not to tell, at first, for whatever reason,
I can only imagine how difficult it would be... if I were her... to find
the words to tell the truth...  once the lie had been told."
     Starbuck slowly turned to meet Mairwen's gaze.  His face was weary,
troubled.  "Cassie . .  " he said, his voice a bare whisper.  "Frak!"  He
squeezed his eyes shut and pounded the arm of the chair.  "That lying,
snitrad-- "  He turned pleading eyes towards Mairwen.  "Why didn't he
tell me?  Why would he lie...?"
     "Maybe you should ask Chameleon that question."  Mairwen reached out
a hand and gasped Starbuck's, tentatively, then more firmly when he
didn't pull back.  "I know you care for Cassie, a great deal," she said,
fighting back emotions of her own.  Don't go there... "And I can imagine
that, that... she cares just as much for you."  Mairwen chewed her lip.
"If I ...  if I were her, and I had to tell you something that I knew
would hurt you... even if it were the right thing to do, it'd tear me
up."  
     "Mairwen..."  Starbuck sat forward, staring into her eyes.  
     The look sent an indescribable sensation through her - one she had
to fight back, or she would not be able to finish. So she plowed ahead. 
"He must have thought he had a good reason.  That man--"
     "Chameleon."  Starbuck spat the word.
     "Chameleon must have thought he had a good reason for not telling--"
     "Yeah, he can't tell a straight truth if his life depended on it,
the lying--"
     "For whatever reason," Mairwen cut off what looked to be the start
of a rant, not wanting to  lose his attention, not now.  "He convinced
Cassie to let him tell you.  After all, he's your... father.  I know I'd
probably fall for that kind of persuasion.  But then, if I knew I'd made
the wrong choice later...  how would I find the words to tell you
something like that?"
     Starbuck stared without seeing, his thoughts turned inward for a
long centon.  Then he closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Cass..." he
finally breathed.  "What a mess."  He opened his eyes and gazed at
Mairwen.  "And what an astrum I've been!"
     "One could hardly blame you," said with a faint smile.  "It's rather
important information.  I'm sure your friends will understand.  But." 
She let go of his hand and stood up.  "I bet they're rather worried about
you, as well."
     Starbuck let out a deep sigh, then cast a lopsided, if weary, grin 
at her.  "Is that your way of trying to get rid of me?"
     "Only for your own good."  Mairwen returned the smile.  And mine,
she told herself, as the memory of his warm hands lingered.  "Don't you
think it's time you went back, so that you can ask Chameleon what his
reasons were?"
     Starbuck's face went hard, but only for a moment.  Then it melted
into the first genuine smile since he had arrived.  "You'd make a good
ship's counselor, you know?" 
     Mairwen offered a hand to help him up.  "No, that's what friends are
for - to help each other.  I'm just glad that I can finally return the
favor.  I owe you so much--"
     Starbuck grasped her hand  and pulled her  down, kissing her gently
on the cheek.  "Call it even, now, okay?"
     Mairwen looked away, feeling her cheeks go hot.  "Any time, she
mumbled.  She forced a smile and turned back to face him.  "Now, let's
get you on your feet."   With that, she pulled as he pushed himself out
of the chair.  
     "Arrgh," he moaned as the movement sent shooting pains through his
knee.  "Why couldn't I have at least finished the treatments before
running off like an idiot?"
     "Can you walk?"  Mairwen asked.  
     Starbuck clenched his jaw and said through gritted teeth, "Do I have
a choice?"  When he saw the concern on her face, he added, "Once I get
going, it'll be okay.  It's just stiff from sitting."
     Nice little lie, she told herself, but smiled at him.  "Okay."  
     The lieutenant leaned on her shoulder as he hobbled to the door.  As
it opened, he stopped and turned to face her.  "Thanks," he said softly. 
"And tell Cassy I'm sorry I missed her.  I'll see her next time."  Then
he turned and focused on walking once more, back down the corridor.
     Mairwen watched to be sure that he wasn't going to topple over, then
closed the door.  For a long moment, she stared at it, remembering... the
warm touch of his hands, the soft kiss... 
     "Who was that?"  A small hand gripped the back of her leg.  
     Mairwen quickly swiped at her eyes, then smiled as she turned to
scoop up Cassy.  "Just a friend, sweetie, who needed to talk to someone."

**********

     The door chimed, but Adama continued to stare out the portal of his
office to the star field beyond.  After nearly 30 microns, he said,
"Enter,"  then listened as the door opened and closed.  The sound of
footsteps thudded mutely against the carpeting on the floor.  Clothing
rustled, and Adama could hear the man trying to clear his throat without
being heard.
     The commander, hands behind his back, face expressionless, turned
slowly to face Chameleon.  He pulled himself up to his full height and
stared without blinking for another moment.
     Chameleon fidgeted and squirmed, twiddling his shirt with his
fingers.  "Uh, commander," he said at last into the silence, "You sent
for me?"  he glacned at the other two occupants of the office, Apollo and
Boomer, who were seated, arms crossed, faces somber, below where the
commander was standing.
     Adama pursed his lips, still staring down at the old man.  His gaze
seemed to bore straight through Chameleon, who cleared his throat some
more and glanced around, but avoided meeting anyone's gaze.  After
another centon, the commander drew in a slow breath.  "Do you recall," he
said, his voice neutral, "a conversation that we had about six sectars
ago, concerning Lieutenant Starbuck,  when we shared a drink and drank a
toast, to a positive match on the test results."  Chameleon nodded. 
Adama continued.  "I stated that the last thing  I would want  to happen
was to see Starbuck hurt."  Adama paused, narrowing his eyes.  "You,
apparently, did not share my feeling."
     Chameleon felt his face flush.  "Commander, I, uh, would never--"
     "Your son found out the truth this morning." Adama's voice had risen
just a notch.  "As you can well imagine he was shocked and quite upset. 
In fact..."  Adama inhaled deeply again.  "We don't actually know where
Starbuck is.  When he learned the truth, he fled from the Life Station--
with an injured knee-- took a Viper without clearance and launched off
into space."  His voice had grown louder with each word, each syllable,
until his calm  evaporated and he shouted the last words angrily.
     Chameleon's eyes went wide. "How..." he said weakly, his eyes
flitting towards Apollo and Boomer, who still sat silent and sullen, 
then took a step back as the commander moved to within an arm's length.
     "Tell me," Adama said, his voice lowered to a growl, "why a father
would chose to conceal something like that from his son."
     The old man swallowed to moisten his dry throat.  "Look, I chose to
wait to revel the truth because, because... I thought it was best, at the
time.  I never, never meant to hurt Starbuck.  He was not supposed to
find out--"
     "Well, he did, and now he's missing because of this..."  Adama let
his voice trail off and glared at the man.
     "Commander, I swear-- I swear!-- I chose to not tell Starbuck,
because I wanted to protect him.  He was going to resign the service and
give up all of his friends.  I couldn't let him do that.  I--"
     "So you chose to lie to him - to your son - about the single most
important thing in his life?"
     "I chose to wait until a better time.  Not when he was flying off
the handle and ready to give it all up... give up everything for a crazy
old man who doesn't deserve--"
     "That's the first sensible thing you've said,"  growled the
commander.  "He doesn't deserve a father who would lie, but we can't
change that, now can we?"
     "No, now...  look, Sir..."  Chameleon shuffled from one foot to
another and put on his most pleading face.  "I swear I was going to tell
him.  I--"
     "When?  According to Cassiopeia, you  refused to tell Starbuck the
truth when she last spoke with you, a couple of sectons ago.  'Flat out
refused.'  Those were her words.  How do you explain that?"
     "I, I..."  Chameleon stared at the floor.  "I truly thought it was
best if he didn't know about me.  You're a much better father figure--"
     "Leave me out of this!" roared Adama, his patience down to mere
vapors.  "The one thing  that Starbuck has wanted-- has longed for--  has
been to know about his family and his past.  And you knew that!  Yet
you..."  the words finally failed Adama and he simply glared at the old
con man.
     Chameleon let out a long, slow breath.  "Commander, I am sorry, more
sorry than you'll ever know.  I truly, truly thought I was protecting him
by not revealing  the truth.  I never wanted to hurt him..."  His voice
trailed off and he dropped into a chair, looking  pale  and defeated.
     Adama let the silence hang for a long centon, then said quietly,
"Maybe this explanation will work for Starbuck.  It doesn't work for me." 
With that, he turned and strode out of his office.


********

     "Brave words," said Sherok, as the doors hissed  closed behind Lou.
"But loud words will not stifle truth. The truth burns in your mind!"
Sherok whirled his shroud and raised both arms. "Did the Commander not
report a failure on the agro ship?" His eyes challenged the crowd.
     "Yes!" shouted a woman. "But the problem was fixed!"
     "Was it?" returned Sherok. "Was it?" His voice rose to a shriek.
"How do we know? How do we know? We know only what we are told. And we
believe like good little agnons. Meek followers, you all are!" 
     "Yes! Yes!" chanted his minnions in perfect unison, like worshippers
at a revival meeting. As they did so, no one noticed as Sherok glanced
again at the chrono concealed in a pocket in his shroud. The thin smile
flitted across his lips, then he turned to scan the agitated crowd.
     "Adama says the agro ship  is operational again, but have any of you
seen it? When was the last time food was delivered from there, eh?"
     "Hey," said the first man. "your full of it, buster. I got
transferred to  Agro Ship One as part of the repair crew. We busted our
astrums to get her back up and running again. And she's producing food."
     "You have seen this?" asked Sherok, eyes narrowing, voice silky, a
cloying mixture of both surprise, and contempt.
     "Yeah. I have."
     "Then where is the food?" asked Sherok, now sounding like an Opposer
in court. "Why have we seen no new food?"
     "A lot was lost. Even force growing takes time to bring crops to
full ripeness. I..."
     "Are lying!" hissed Sherok. "Like Adama, like the Council, like all
the rest, you lie!" Sherok moved closer, gazing at the man with eyes that
would frighten the blind. "You Infidel Defiler!" he shrieked. "You..."
     "That's enough!" Sherok swung around to glare at the security guard
that had finally spoken up and was pacing towards him. "You're inciting
trouble here. I must ask--" 
     "Is the truth not permitted here?" Sherok jabbed a finger towards
the guard. "YOU would silence the truth!" He shrieked towards the
ceiling. "Yes, like all so-called authority."
     "That's a load of felgercarb!" screamed someone else. A chorus of
"Yeah, that's right!" rippled through the crowd.
     The security guard drew his laser and nodded towards his comrades,
who did likewise. They moved towards Sherok and his followers. "That's
enough!" he shouted again. "Now either get out, or we'll carry you out!" 
     "See how they fear the truth!"  Sherok twirled away and motioned to
his minions.  He moved slowly towards the exit.  "Ask yourselves!  How do
we know that the food supply was not destroyed?  How do we know?"  He
faced backwards as he walked, ignoring the security guards, who were
waving their lasers at him.  "Lies!"  he screamed.  "LIES!"  His eyes
flickered to the chrono on the wall that marked the time, 0924.
     Their patience strung thin, the crowd's angry yells had swelled into 
a loud din, then subsided, as the madman appeared to be backing down, to
be leaving.  Finally.  After all.
     Yet Sherok stopped just short of the exit. He was not yet finished.
"These ships will not endure for much longer! Have you so quickly
forgotten the Spica? They are OLD! We cannot possible continue this
insane trek!" His eyes darted to the chrono. 0925. A faint smile etched
across his lips as he screamed, "How safe do you REALLY feel?! How safe?
How secure? Trapped in these crumbling metal TOMBS!"
     The security guards, faces red with anger and frustration,  waved
their lasers.  One started to yell, "Get--"
     He never finished.  A low rumble echoed below the deck, the lights
flickered, and then the ship lurched as power to one of the engines
momentarily failed.  
     The sudden movement sent everyone tumbling to the deck.  Nerves,
already frayed, snapped.  People began to panic.  To scream.  To scramble
to their feet and rush  for the exit.  Bodies banged into each other. 
People pushed.  Shoved.  The crowd  bottlenecked at the exit.  Screams of
terror shrieked above the din as bodies slipped beneath the crushing
force of the horde.  Then the  chaos spilled out into the corridor.

***********

     "Report, Colonel."
     Tigh turned to see the commander, followed by a subdued-looking
Chameleon, entering the bridge from his office.  "We are still getting
the auto-beacon from Starbuck's Viper.  He landed aboard the Sagittarius
about 30 centons ago."   
     He paused to consider his next question;  yet, he had a strange
inkling that he knew the answer.  Starbuck may have been a hot head with
an impulsive streak, but pulling something like this seemed out of
character, even for him, unless... and then, for the commander to have
sent for Chameleon, of all people.  Since he had arrived, the two had
been in Adama's office, along with Apollo and Boomer, with orders not to
be disturbed..  Perhaps that had been to simply avoid Sire Anitpas,
but... Tigh didn't think so.  The commander may have found dealing with
the Councilman distasteful, to put it mildly, but  he would not stoopto
petty games.  Finally, the Colonel pursed his lips and said, "Sir, do
Lieutenant Starbuck's actions have anything to do with Chameleon?'  He
nodded towards the old man.
     "Quite so," Adama said quietly, casting a quick glance at the con
man.. Chameleon's eyes were glued to the floor.  Behind him, Apollo and
Boomer, both  faces creased by frowns, stood watching him.  "It would
seem," he said slowly, "that Chameleon is Starbuck's father, after all."
     "I see."  Tigh pursed his lips.  That would, indeed, explain a few
things.
     "Apollo,"  Adama said, turning towards his son, "does Starbuck know
anyone on that ship? Someone who he might go to see in a personal
crisis?"
     "Not that I know of." Apollo looked at Chameleon.  "You wouldn't
know anything, would you?"
     The old man  turned a quick glance to the Captain.  "No, sir," he
replied. "But then Starbuck and I haven't spoken for a while." 
     Adama just grunted.  "What about you, Boomer?"
     The Lieutenant shook his head.  "No idea--"
     "Wait!"  Apollo raised  a hand.  "Now I remember!  There's a couple-
a woman and her young daughter - that Starbuck has been helping out. 
They were relocated after the disaster on the Spica."  Apollo nodded to
himself.  "Yes, I believe they're on the Sagittarius now."
     "Yes," said Boomer, remembering, "he did--"
     "Commander!"
     The five turned at the sound of  Omega's voice.
     "There's been an explosion aboard the Sagittarius!"
     "Lords, not again!"

CHAPTER 5

     The first sensation was the icy coldness of the metal floor against
his ear and cheek.  The second was a blinding, piercing pain drilling
from the center of his back, searing through every nerve, it seemed, when
he tried to move. After an indeterminable amount of time, the pain faded
to a dull throb, and he slowly opened his eyes, careful to move nothing
else, greatly preferring the cold numbness against his face to the prior
agony.  His eyes opened to darkness, nothing on which to focus, and he
closed them again, feeling dizzy, nauseated.  A moan escaped as he tried
to quell the spinning sensation that was welling up from the pit of his
stomach.  His ears were ringing.  Lieutenant Starbuck slipped into
unconsciousness again...
     Gradually, he became aware of a low, persistent moaning and
eventually  realized it was coming from himself.  He stopped and felt his
breaths come in short, shallow gasps, pushing his chest against the
hard floor.  With each breath, he also felt the stabbing pain in the
center of his back that radiated like an electrical shock in all
directions.  By comparison, all of the other aches and pains he felt -
a throbbing in the back of his head, aches in various joints from being
immobile on the hard floor, a throbbing in his knee - were
inconsequential.  He consciously slowed his breathing to move as little
as possible, to escape the sensation of someone drilling a knife through
his back.  The effort, however, was draining, and his head began to reel,
with a feeling of floating, drifting, spinning, that would wash over the
other sensations, then retreat.  
     Now images flitted in and out of his consciousness.  Random
snapshots of recent events.  Cassie.  Apollo. Chameleon.  Mairwen.  Then 
Shouts.  Screams.  Crazed, desperate faces. Madness. Chaos.  He could not
remember why, nor had the strength to think about it.  He simply
experienced the random images, not comprehending their importance or
relevance to his present situation. 

     At last, one consistent sound permeated the chaotic sensations.  A
voice.  A single word repeated over and over:  "hey!"  And then he felt
the gentle nudge on his shoulder.  He opened his eyes, eyelids
flickering, struggling to focus on the shape in front of him, aware
enough to be careful not to move.  He finally recognized the shape as a
foot and legs, belonging to someone kneeling next to him.  When he tried
to speak, though, the only sound he could make was a low moan.  The form
shifted, and Starbuck felt something brush the hair from his eyes, press
against his forehead.
     The voice said, "What happened?" 
     Concentrating, he was able to whisper, in several careful breaths,
"I... don't... know."
     "I am going to move you," the voice said.
     Starbuck felt acute panic.  "No!" he breathed, tensing.  Even that
slight movement was enough to send his back into spasms, as a feeling of
fire burned into his spine. He gasped in agony and gratefully lost
consciousness.

*****

     "What's your status?"  Adama stared at the face on the vidscreen.  
     Captain Tovar rubbed a hand across his face.  "There was an
explosion in the port side thruster.  It knocked the engine off line
briefly, but maintenance crews report that the fire was quickly contained
and damage was minimal."  He took a deep breath.  "We have another
situation, however, Sir."
     "Yes?"  Adama glanced at the faces around him.
     "T