"Relics"
Virtual Season 2, Episode 4
by Senmut

From The Adama Journals

     By the Grace of God, and the wisdom of the Lords of Kobol, the Fleet
continues on its journey, along the Epsilon Vector 22 heading given us
nearly a yahren ago by the mysterious beings of the Ship of Lights. It
has been nearly two sectars since we escaped the grip of the mega star,
and scrapped the irreparably damaged freighter, Spica. Since then, we
have put her metal and other parts to good use, found new quarters for
her population, and, most importantly, seen no indications of Cylon
pursuit. I continue to hold on to my hopes that our last encounter with
them was just that. Our last.
     But of course there are some unresolved issues that remain troubling
to me.  The search effort to locate this fugitive named Dravius, who was
found to have one-quarter of the rare treasures stolen several yahrens
ago from Libra's Antiquities Museum, remains at a dead end.  I fear this
is due more to the general inefficiency that seems to perpetually plague
the ranks of Council Security, which holds jurisdiction for all law
enforcement matters off the Galactica.  Were it in my power to do so, I
would have all members of Council Security drafted into the Colonial
Service and integrated into the structure of Colonial Security, which
handles all matters aboard the Galactica and military ships.  But given
the fallout that remains from the release of Baltar two sectars ago,
there is no way I could dare initiate such a policy measure without
giving Sire Antipas another opening to cut me down before the cameras of
the IFB.
     Young Antipas, sadly, has none of the qualities that made his late
father such a valued member of the Council. With hindsight, I now realize
that the elder Antipas' reluctance to talk about his son, in all the
yahrens that I knew him, betokened a great disappointment in his young
namesake.  Had I realized that, I would have tried to find an alternate
candidate when he was chosen to replace Sire Uri.
     Hindsight though, is never a good thing to dwell on, for anything. 
We know that all too well when we can see so many wrong turns and missed
opportunities that put us in this predicament to begin with.  For now,
the important thing is to make sure that no wrong turns are ever made
again, especially with regard to our efforts to find Earth
     On another note, Lt. Sheba has been temporarily removed from active
flight status as of this date. Dr. Salik informs me that she is suffering
from both a serious respiratory illness, perhaps contracted during her
contact with some of the refugees from the Spica, and from an equally
serious bout of insubordination. It seems that her medical records were
never transferred from the Pegasus, and she is well over time for her
yahrenly flight physical, which she has deliberately avoided on three
occasions, despite direct orders.  While I share her antipathy for the
experience, there can be no exceptions where the safety of the Fleet is
concerned. I will not have another disease lay low our Warriors.  In her
place, Athena has requested a return to active flight status, in order to
keep her qualifications current, and I have agreed.  I agree with her
that it's time she find more to do for herself then just Bridge duty, or
primary school teaching.  Reactivation is approved as of this date.

RELICS
     A Battlestar Galactica story
     Virtual Season 2, Episode 4

     Chapter 1

     Lieutenant Boomer shifted in his seat, kicking himself mentally for
not taking a painkiller before launching. His right shoulder, still
bothering him from the last futile attempt at Triad against Starbuck and
Apollo, had gone from twinge to volcano, and he was glad, as he checked
his chrono, that they'd be turning around for home, soon. His flight had
been out on deep probe for almost half a day now, and so far there hadn't
been so much as a smudge of space dust on the scanners. While that was
good in its own way, after all like everyone else in the Fleet he hoped
never to see the Cylons again, it was nonetheless a bit boring. Still, he
reminded himself, looking out his cockpit at his green charges, sometimes
boring can be good.
     It had been almost a sectar and a half since the Fleet had
encountered anything, and the way ahead of them continued to look clear.
As far as their scanners could peer, space was empty. Now, once they got
back, and his shoulder quit feeling like a Cylon mega-pulsar was being
test-fired inside it, he would make Apollo and Starbuck pay for their
latest presumption on the Triad court. Yes, he had a plan, and...
     "Lieutenant Boomer?" came a voice over his speaker.  Young,
uncertain, untried.
     "Yes, Cadet Oswy?" he replied, all pilot once more.
     "I'm picking up something on my scanner, sir. Two degrees to port on
this heading."
     "What is it?" asked Boomer, reaching down to adjust his own scanner.
Oswy was flying point, so his ship would be the first to detect whatever
it might be.
     "Some kind of coherent EM signature, sir. It looks like a
transmission of some sort."
     "I'm picking it up, too, Boomer," said Athena. "The Warbook has
nothing on it, but it's beginning to look like some kind of scan wave."
     "Yeah. Mine says the same thing, Athena." he adjusted the scanner
through a variety of wavelons. "Still too far away to get much. Cadet
Grumio? Anything on your end?"
     "Same as yourself, sir," replied the other cadet. "Some kind of
scan, but it's intermittent. Not very coherent."
     "No, it is not," said Boomer, after a few more moments.  "And I can
tell ya why. It's a gamma frequency."
     "A what, sir?" asked Oswy.
     Ah, to be green, again, thought Boomer.  "Athena, you want to tell
the class?"
     "A gamma frequency is an antiquated part of the spectrum," she
explained, slipping into teacher mode. "It was used extensively by the
early Colonies, when electronic communications were rediscovered, along
with the early types of scanning equipment."
     "What they used to call radar?" asked Grumio.
     "Very good, Cadet," she replied. "Yes, that was the old term. Gamma
frequencies remained in use, even after the discovery of FTL
communications, until shortly after first contact with the Cylons."
     "And do either of you gentlemen know why?" asked Boomer.
     "Uh, no sir," said Grumio, obviously crestfallen even in audio.
     "I see. Cadet Oswy?"
     "Because those frequencies can skip unpredictably, sir. Doubling or
even tripling of the original frequency. Over extreme distances, it can
propagate unpredictably, and is subject to all sorts of interference,
including jamming."
     "Go to the head of the class, Cadet," said Boomer.  "When we get
back, the ambrosia is on me! Very good. Athena, your students shine."
     "As always," she replied, glad her smirk remained invisible.
     "So," continued Oswy, "once better systems became available, all
gamma frequency systems were phased out of military and civilian usages,
except for short-range domestic broadcast."
     "Well..." began Grumio, clearly annoyed at being outshone by his
fellow cadet, when Oswy interrupted once more.
     "I'm picking up a star, sir. Ma'am. Directly on the line of
transmission. Two degrees port of our present course."
     "Boomer," interjected Athena, a note of caution in her voice. "Could
this be another BaseShip, hiding out here? Waiting for us?"
     "Could be, but remember, that signal Apollo picked up was not a
Cylon lure. I'd stake a yahren's pay on it."
     "Earth, then?"
     "Well, we are still moving along the course we were given, Athena.
It could be."
     "That would be wonderful," said Grumio, a bit dreamily. "Earth."
     "You and me both, Cadet," said Athena.
     "But for the moment, we have a mystery to investigate," said Boomer.
"Cadet Oswy, are you picking up that planet in orbit around that sun?
     "Yes, sir. In fact, I'm reading a binary sun, sir. One a yellow
giant, the other a red dwarf, orbiting about a light-secton out."
     "Very good. Cadet, you and I will circle in, around that red dwarf
sun from the other side, and check it out. Athena, you and Cadet Grumio
hold positions on the heliopause, just in case."
     "Right," replied Athena.
     "Sir," said Grumio, clearly disappointed.
     "Cadet, one thing you learn in a Viper cockpit is patience. Patience
can be the most valuable weapon you have. Lasers, scanners, torpedoes.
They are nothing without the wisdom to use them when and only when
needed, and to know just when that is."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Good. You with me, Cadet Oswy?"
     "Cheek to cheek, sir," chirped the young man.
     "Careful, Cadet, I don't know you that well."
     So said, he and Boomer peeled off, and fired their turbos. Athena
and Grumio slowed their Vipers, keeping their scanners focused upon the
solar system ahead. From here, it was merely a slightly larger than
average yellow dot, the red companion invisible to the naked eye. She
watched the data scroll up, and let the computer chew on it. The
heliopause was coming up.
     "Ma'am?" asked Grumio.
     "Yes, Cadet?"
     "What do you think they'll find?"
     "One thing you will learn about being a Warrior, Cadet? You never
know what you will find out here. Now, look at your scanner. See the
heliopause coming up?"
     "Yes, ma'am."
     "Keep your eyes on that reading, and call out when we hit it."
     "Is your scanner malfunction..."
     "This is a training flight, remember?"
     "Yes, ma'am

     Chapter 2
      
     "Omega," called Colonel Tigh, from his station, down into the "pit,"
"What's the status of Patrol One?"
     "Still beyond both scanner and communications range, Colonel."
     "I see. That's Lt. Boomer's training patrol, correct?"
     "It is, Colonel. He and Lt. Athena, and Cadets Oswy and Grumio.
Their first patrols."
     "Their ETA?"
     "They aren't scheduled to be back in communications range for
another...104 centons, sir."
     "Very well. And Starbuck's patrol?"
     "Patrol Two is also out of range, sir. ETA comm range...26 centons,
Colonel."
     "Very well. I'll be in the Ward Room, Omega, if you need me. Carry
on."
     "Sir."
      
      
     Boomer could almost feel the heat from the red dwarf sun, as he and
Oswy swung around it, heading in towards the newly discovered solar
system. This star, orbiting almost a light-secton out from the inner
primary, had but a single, airless rock in orbit around it. He and Oswy
passed close to the planet's surface, but detected neither signs of life,
nor of Cylons. There were tantalizing hints of a more dynamic past below,
but nothing now, save silence and dust. When it had begun to die, the
star had taken its own children with it.
     "Okay, nothing here, Cadet," said Boomer, turning his Viper towards
the yellow sun shining in his canopy.
     "What does your scanner say about the inner star?"
     "I read nine planets, sir," replied Oswy, speech slow as he digested
what his scanners were telling him. "The signal seems to be coming from
the third one out, Lieutenant. Now that we're closer, it reads as
originating from some sort of satellite in orbit, sir, rather than a
ground source."
     "Very good, Cadet. I read the same. Athena? You getting all this?"
     "Loud and clear, Boomer."
     "We're going in. If I let out a yell, one of you heads back to the
Galactica, the other comes after us. Unless I tell you both to go. You
got me, Cadet Grumio?"
     "I do, sir."
     "Great." Boomer looked up from his instruments as they sailed
inwards, catching sight to starboard of a huge, purple and
orange-streaked gas giant. Even at this distance, it filled his entire
right-side canopy. Atmosphere ripped by horrific winds, it was over four
times the size of Caprica, utterly void of life, or any artificial
satellites.
     Natural ones however, moons glinting in the light of the far-off
sun, it had aplenty. Over a dozen, none bigger then a few score hectares
across. According to the scanners, this was planet number seven. From the
plot his computer gave him, only seven, four, and three were presently on
this side of the sun. As the swirling gas giant fell astern, he focused
scans on the source of the intermittent signal.
     "Sir?" asked Oswy.
     "Yes, Cadet?"
     "I was thinking. This system has nine planets. Isn't Earth's solar
system supposed to have nine as well?"
     "That's the information we were given, Cadet. Both by the ancient
records, the Ship of Light beings, and the painting Starbuck found in his
cell on the Proteus Prison asteroid."
     "Well, this system has nine, and we're getting signals from the
third. Maybe..."
     "But Earth has a single sun, Cadet, according to every source of
information we have. A single yellow sun, similar to the suns in the
Colonies. That red dwarf rules this place out."
     "But it's pretty far out, sir. Maybe it doesn't count, in their
reckoning."
     "Who's reckoning, Cadet? The Ship of Lights?"
     "Well, yes. After all, they, well, they aren't like us, sir.
Maybe..."
     "A star is still a star, Cadet." He looked at his scanner, then to
port at the fourth planet. Much smaller, is looked about the size of a
coin from here, and was ruddy against the inky blackness. Scans said it
was about half the size of Caprica, with a thin atmosphere, light
gravity, no open bodies of water, and only microbial and primitive
vegetation discernable at this distance. It, too, quickly fell astern,
and he gave the approaching third world his full attention. 
     It read as just slightly larger than Caprica, closer in size to
Gemon, and sported a thick atmosphere. He set the computer to scan for
any other transmissions that might be coming from it, and relayed all
data back to Athena and Grumio. He kept scanning as the mysterious world
came into view, a tiny blue dot growing slowly larger as the millicentons
ticked by. At this angle, it was a quarter crescent, and shone like a
jewel on a black velvet glove.
     "She's beautiful," said Oswy, pulling up alongside Boomer's ship.
"Like...like home."
     "Yeah. She is," replied Boomer. For a moment, he let himself
fantasize. Fantasize that this was home, that Caprica was there, and he
could just reach out and...
      He shook his head. No good letting emotion for a lost, wrecked
planet rise up and make him all dewy-eyed.
     Mooning can get you killed. Back to business.  
     They crossed into the day lit side, and soon found the source of the
erratic signal. It was, as they had theorized, an old, beaten-up
satellite. It's very old-fashioned solar panels were chewed up with
countless micro-meteorite strikes, it's casing pitted and scarred, the
whole thing slowly tumbling end over end. That anything inside it even
still worked was a semi-miracle. 
     "Some kind of observation satellite, sir," said Oswy. "Originally in
a geo-synchronous orbit. That must be what we picked up from outside the
system, sir. One of its scanners seems to still be on-line."
     "Barely. And we just happened to be in line with it as it tumbled,
Cadet. According to the scanners, this relic is at least a hundred yahren
old. Maybe more. Okay, let's take a look at the planet."
     "Yes, sir." 
     They left the tumbling satellite behind, and moved in closer. The
planet was covered in wide blue oceans, which covered sixty-seven percent
of the surface. Unlike the other worlds, this one sent the bio-scanners
off the scale. The seas, as well as huge regions of land, were
overflowing with life. Forest, jungles, and animal life in a dizzying
variety of forms. They made one full orbit, coming back into sunlight
over a vast prairie rimmed with rivers and lakes, and dotted with huge
stretches of forests.
     "But nothing else, sir," said Oswy. "That satellite is old, sir. But
I don't see any signs of a civilization that could have produced it."
     "Well, it might be alien, Cadet. Put in orbit here by someone who
wanted to look this place over.
     "Maybe...Look."
     "Sir?"
     "Follow me down, Cadet. Switch to Delta Band."
     "Following, sir," said the other, as Boomer headed towards the
surface. As he scanned the new band, he saw it to.
     "Residual radiation," said Boomer. "And not natural, either."
     "A war, sir?"
     "I'd say so," replied Boomer, as they passed over a range of low but
rugged mountains, capped with snow, and came out over a rolling plain.
There, about ten metrons from the foothills, to their left, in the bend
of a wide river roaring down from the mountain range in spring spate, lay
a huge, sprawling city.
     Or what was left of it. Once-tall buildings were shattered hulks,
their tops seemingly sheared off, as if by the sword of some malevolent
god. Stumps of concrete showed where once mighty bridges had spanned the
flood, vegetation ran riot everywhere, and the traces of what had once
been roads snaked away from the dead city, to be lost in the encroaching
plant life. 
     "My God, sir, it looks like the Cylons hit it."
     "But not recently, Cadet. From the daughter elements I'm scanning in
and around the city, this happened a long time ago. Maybe as long as five
hundred yahren."
     "Five...woo. Any signs of survivors, sir?"
     "You tell me, Cadet," said Boomer. "You are supposed to be scanning,
too."
     "Uh, yes sir. I'm picking up a variety of animal forms, sir. Over a
hundred different biosign signatures so far, but nothing that looks
Human."
     "Who says they'd be Human, Cadet?"
     "No one, sir. But the proportions of that satellite were such as it
could have been assembled by Humans, or something Human-sized, in a
facility like our old clean rooms. The buildings I could see looked
similar to architecture I've seen on Virgon, where I'm from, and Aquaria.
So, I'm assuming something at least similar to us."
     "Architecture, Cadet? I had no idea you were such an expert."
     "My father was an architect, sir. My mother was a master tile setter
and mosaic artist. I grew up with it. In fact, I was just starting my
first yahren at University, when the Holocaust happened. I was going to
be an architect."
     "Well, the Cylons bitched it for all of us, Cadet," replied Boomer.
They had left the dead city behind, and soon found more evidence of the
past inhabitants of this world. On a high stretch of prairie, they saw
the remains of an ancient rail-road, the skeletons of the rusted vehicles
still visible amidst the tall grass. They followed the river, past a
long-breached dam, observed a huge herd of herbivorous creatures similar
to an auroch back home, and soon found more cities. Like the last, they
were all devastated, the one built along the coast where the river
emptied into the sea half-buried in sediment.
     They headed south, along this continent's coastline, finding more
empty and decayed settlements. Not all showed signs of being bombed. A
few had been apparently just abandoned, when civilization here had come
to a screeching halt. 
     "Sir, I'm picking up something," said Oswy.
     "What is it?"
     "An infrared signature of some sort. Very weak, sir."
     "Natural?"
     "I can't tell yet, sir. It's still a long way away."
     "Let's check it out."
     "Right with you, sir."
     They flew in silence for a centon or so, till the scanner beeped.
Oswy sat bolt upright in his seat, and rechecked the readings.
     "Fourteen degrees left, sir. It looks like...fire.'
     "I see it. Yeah, a brush fire, Cadet. Totally natural. Well,
I...hey. See that? Human readings."
     "I see them. Humans. A large concentration, at...what the frack?!"
     "Cadet?"
     "Sir, something coming up behind us. It's airborne, and it's large."
Both pilots switched to full rearscan. It wasn't a Viper, but it was at
least as big. As Boomer turned, trying to resolve it on his scanner, a
blast of something hot and powerful hit his Viper. It staggered the ship,
then something zoomed past, a shadow speeding across his canopy. He
looked up, then down, as a warning beeped. What the frack??? His
autocontrol system was down, and his scanner was flashing alerts. Diodes
fried all across the...
     "FRACK!!!!" he swore, as he looked up, and saw something big heading
directly at him. He shouted Oswy's name, but never heard if he got a
reply. Lasers streaked across his path from above, then seemingly were
swallowed up in the huge thing that was bearing down on his ship, vast,
horribly be-toothed mouth agape. He fired blindly, and the thing veered
violently away.
     But not before hitting him, sending a loud crunch reverberating
through his Viper as his canopy cracked.
     Smoke roiled out from his controls, and the ship began to wobble
violently. From the seemingly endless alarms and lights, he could tell
that his left engine was out, he was leaking fuel, his lasers were
off-line, and he couldn't transmit.
     Oh, yeah, And his landing gear were shot, too.
     "Oswy! Oswy, if you can hear me, get back to the Fleet. I can't make
orbit." He felt the shudder as one engine died. "Going down fast." He
struggled with the stick, but the savaged Viper barely responded. Ahead
he could see dense vegetation, and tried to steer towards it. Maybe, if
there were more of those flying creatures...
     His canopy flew off, and he swore into the screaming air. He dared a
quick look behind him. He was trailing thick dark smoke, laced with
sparks, and he could see a glint of light above, presumably off the
canopy of Oswy's Viper. He reached for the eject control, but a blinding
pain ripped through his shoulder; muscles refusing to respond. He
screamed as he forced them to obey him, at last feeling the release
beneath his fingers. He managed to wrap his fingers about it, and tried
to pull. His whole arm blazed in agony, and...
         Oh fraaaaack..................!!

     Chapter 3

     The odor, musty and faintly astringent, burned his nostrils. 
Lieutenant Starbuck stared from one end of the narrow, dirty corridor to
the other, trying to locate the source of the smell.  He noted remnants
of food debris and refuse in many of the alcove corners, near the portals
to the living quarters.  The lieutenant wrinkled his nose.  This was
hardly up to Fleet standards -- despite Adama's orders to speed things
up, after the Spica disaster, despite the fact that even the Colonial
Warriors spent almost as much time on inspection duty as they did on
patrols. 
     Keeping the corridors sanitary, however, was secondary to making
sure that all engine components were in working order.  Such conditions
as these were noted and a "complaint" was sent to the ship's captain, who
then assumed the responsibility for taking care of the problem. 
Follow-up inspections did not happen until sectons, or even sectars,
later.  A matter of priorities when manpower was limited and stretched so
thin when trying to service 220 ship, many of which were just barely
space-worthy.  
     Starbuck shook his head and frowned, wondering if this were really
an improvement for Mairwen and Cassy - or not.  
     After studying the identification codes next to the entrances, he
headed to his right, looking for compartment C37.  The only sound, above
the far-away vibration of the ship's engines, was the hallow echo of his
boots. Upon returning from his uneventful training patrol, Starbuck had
requested, and received, permission to fly directly to the Sagittarius,
rather than the Galactica, letting Jolly shepherd their trainees back to
base;  he knew that  Mairwen and Cassy had been assigned their new
quarters aboard the old freighter over a sectar ago. True, he had been
busy and had not even had any time on furlon - not even to take advantage
of the remainder of his Gold Pass -- since then, but he had made a
promise.  Buddies look out after each other. Cassy had beamed at him when
he had told her that.  And he had meant to follow up on his promise
several sectons ago, but something always seemed to come up, like leading
the trainee flights, each time he finally resolved to go.
     As he noted the identification codes, Starbuck absently tossed from
hand to hand the object he carried.  It was a small gift for Cassy, a
small, handmade, floppy equine, something Boomer had acquired for him
from the newly established Market Section on the Rising Star during an
inspection tour.  He had stashed it in the emergency supply kit on his
Viper so that he'd have it when he finally made it over to see them.
     There.  Compartment C37. Starbuck stopped, hid the gift behind his
back, and took a deep breath before knocking.  Nothing.  He tried again,
knocking more firmly, since the bulkhead doors were solid and nearly
sound proof. Most actual living quarters had door chimes.  Here, the
storage compartments from the old freighter had been modified and adapted
to their new function.  Starbuck knocked one last time, then waited.  He
was about to give up and check elsewhere when the door slid open, old,
poorly lubricated gears grinding loudly, at last.
     "Lieutenant!"  Mairwen's face looked startled, anxious, even tense,
before a broad smile spread across her lips at last.  
     "Thought I'd drop by and see how things were," Starbuck said, noting
her reaction.  
     Visibly relaxing, she ushered him inside.  "Cassy's taking a nap,"
she said as she motioned for him to sit.
     Starbuck gazed around.  The room was maybe a little bit bigger than
their previous quarters aboard the Spica, but not much.  At least, the
compartment had been modified so that the sleeping area was separated
from the rest of the living space.  They even had a small
food-preparation and storage unit, but not much else: two chairs, a
flimsy, folding table, and a clean but well-worn sofa.  A small array of
toys and objects were scattered on the floor in a corner, Starbuck noted
with a smile.  He sat down on the sofa. Its springs groaned in torment,
and he was certain it must predate Imperious Leader, but it held him up.
     "Can I get you something? Something to drink, maybe?"  Mairwen
asked.  She was pacing slightly, and the tenseness had returned.
     "No, I'm fine," Starbuck said, knowing that she probably didn't have
the libation to spare.  He studied her.
     "Why don't you sit down and tell me how you like your new ship?"  
     "Oh, it's fine."  Mairwen pulled one of the chairs around to face
him but did not sit.  "Maybe I should wake Cassy."
     "Nah, let her sleep a bit more," Starbuck said gently.  "And maybe
you can tell me why you're so uptight... do I make you nervous?"  
     Mairwen laughed briefly and sat.  "No, no!  It's not you."
     "So what, then?"  Starbuck felt puzzled, worried.  Something was
obviously troubling her.  
     "Oh, it's nothing.  I'm just not used to the new place, new people.
So tell me how you've been!"  
     Starbuck eyed her.  He knew there was more to it than just that; he
could sense a tenseness that bordered on fear.  But she seemed unwilling
to elaborate.  "Fine," he answered finally.  "Busy.  If I'm not on
patrol, or training the new pilots, then I'm doing inspections, it seems. 
The commander's determined that what happened on the Spica will not
happen again, so he's got us - Warriors and any other available personnel
- handling the routine-type stuff, so that the techs can concentrate on
the nitty gritty details, like tiny valves and gaskets and fuel
injectors."  He paused and looked away.  "I intended to come by sooner,"
he said slowly, "because I meant what I said to Cassy.  How is she?"
     "She's happy, Lieutenant, happier than when we were on the Spica. 
We've even found some other kids about her age, so she finally has some
new friends."  Mairwen, however, still looked less than content.
     "That's great!"  Starbuck grinned, then let it fade.  "So, what's
really bothering you?  What's wrong?"  
     "Nothing.  I'm just tired," Mairwen insisted.  "I still don't sleep
well.  The explosion on the Spica reminded me too much of the Great
Destruction and what we went through to escape from Virgon that day.
I'm... having nightmares," she said.
     An inner feeling, though, told Starbuck that there was more to it
than just bad dreams and sleepless nights.  She had been reluctant to
open her door.  No, not reluctant. She had been frightened. But he
decided to let it drop, for now.  After all, he didn't really know her,
not well enough, at least, to pry too much into her personal affairs.
     Still, that wouldn't prevent him from checking up on things, as much
as he could, from the Galactica.  "That's too bad," he said at length. 
"Look," he said, watching her reaction, "if there is anything - anything
at all - that I can do, just ask.  Please."  He gave her a steady look. 
"I did, after all, tell  Cassy -"
     "Starbuck!"  A whirlwind of energy burst through the door from the
sleeping section and flew into his lap.  Blue eyes gazed raptly at him
and the small face beamed.  "You've come!"
     Starbuck hugged the girl, then grinned at her.  "Of course! I
promised." She nearly knocked him over, as she wrapped her tiny arms
around his neck.  "Hi, buddy!  How ya doing?"
     "Great!  Great!  I get to go to a playgroup, now, and I've got three
friends but one is my best friend, and me and her always play together. 
And we always play with the toy animals because  we're both gonna be
vet'narians when we grow up." Cassy barely paused for a breath before
continuing for another five centons. 
     Starbuck listened, nodded, and even asked questions when he could
get a word in edgewise.  Finally, she seemed to run out of steam and sat
curled on his lap, her four-yahren-old face alight with a peaceful smile.
     "I brought you something," Starbuck said quietly.  He pulled the
gift out from where he had hidden it when he had sat down - behind his
back on the sofa.  
     "Oh, wow!"  Cassy studied the equine, then hugged it to her chest. 
"Thanks!"
     "So what's its name?" Starbuck asked.
     "It's not an 'it,'" she informed him, authoritatively, hands on
hips.  "It's a 'she,' and her name is..." She paused to think, then said,
"Brownie!"  She wiggled off Starbuck's lap.  "And Brownie needs to meet
her new buddies. 
     'Scuse me!"  With that, she plopped down in her corner, lost in
play, already.
     Starbuck smiled at Mairwen, who was watching her, too.  "She's
precious, you know," he said softly. "And I want to do what I can for
her."
     "But you really don't have to do anything else," Mairwen said. 
"You've got too much of your own to worry about, I'm sure - all those
things that you warriors have done, that you do, to protect that Fleet. 
You are looking out after her."
     "Look, if you're that determined to get rid of me..."
     He was joking, but Mairwen's face went dark.  "I'm not trying to
'get rid' of you, but I don't want you to feel obligated, either.  We're
fine."  Her tone had become clipped, angry.
     "Hey, I was only kidding," he said, raising his hands.  "I don't
feel 'obligated.'  I want to keep in touch.  As a friend.  For her sake." 
He let his eyes settle on Cassy as she played, trying to ease the sudden
tension.  "She's been my inspiration since I met you and her."
     "What do you mean?"  The anger in her voice was gone.  
     "I mean..." Starbuck glanced at Mairwen, then gazed back at Cassy. 
"I mean, she's so radiant and happy, despite all that she's been through. 
She lives in the moment, the here and now, and seems to take things in
stride so easily.  No matter what they say, adults just can't seem to do
that... not like her..."  He nodded at Cassy as his voice trailed off.
     When he looked back at her, Mairwen was studying him.  "I get the
feeling that you mean you, when you say that."
     Starbuck shifted around on the sofa.  "I, well..."  He fixed his
gaze on Cassy once more and changed the subject.  "So you found a play
group and friends for her.  That's great!  Do they get together often?"
     "Not as much as I wish they could."
     "Oh?"  The tension was back, and Starbuck decided that he just
couldn't let it pass.  "Is there a problem... something here that's
bothering you?  It just seems to me that it's  more than just sleepless
nights that's bothering you."
     "I... it's probably nothing."
     "It's not 'nothing' if it's got you this worried."  Starbuck locked
his eyes with hers.  "So please tell me," he said softly.
     Mairwen studied her fingers.  "Okay," she said at length, quietly. 
"Everything's been nice here.  The people are friendly.  They've made
Cassy and me feel accepted, especially now that she has some friends,
finally, but..."
     "But what?"  he prompted gently.
     "But... there's group here, a religious sect, I think, and they make
me nervous."
     "How so?  Are they bothering you and Cassy?"
     "Not exactly, no... but they show up in the commissary sometimes,
and they try to preach to everyone.  And sometimes they do go compartment
to compartment, trying to talk to people."
     "So you thought that I might be one of them when I knocked on your
door?"  Part of the picture was becoming clearer.  
     "Yes.  They can be persistent, sometimes."
     "Do you think they're dangerous?"  Starbuck asked in barely a
whisper, not wanting to disturb Cassy.
     "No, just annoying -"
     "Then why've you seemed so stressed every since I got here?"  He was
too worried to be subtle anymore.  She was not telling him everything, he
could tell.
     "Because they're spreading nonsense, but people are starting to
believe them!"  Mairwen whispered fiercely, finally opening up.  "They
say that the commander is not telling us how bad things really are in the
Fleet and that we're running out of fuel and that we should insist that
we find a place to settle - any planet, not just Earth, before we're dead
in space or before the food stocks run out and we all starve!"
     Starbuck stood up and paced to the door, then back.  "That's crazy!" 
he whispered.  "The commander has done everything in his power to protect
the Fleet and provide for everyone."
     "I know that.  Most people know that, but..."
     "But what?"  Starbuck stared at Mairwen, his eyes flashing with
frustration.
     "But the longer this exodus lasts," she said slowly, quietly, "the
easier it is for people to believe what these zealots say."
     "Just who are they, anyway?"  Starbuck sat down in the other chair,
glancing at Cassy to be sure that she was still lost in play and not
listening.  
     "They call themselves the 'Il Fadim.'  From what I've been told,
that's Sagittarian for 'the Chosen Ones.'"
     "Frak,"  Starbuck whispered, more to himself.  "Look, I -"  His
transceiver beeped, cutting him off.  He plucked it off his belt and
pressed the button.  "Starbuck here."
     "Report to the Galactica bridge immediately."  It was Apollo, and
even through the static of the device, Starbuck could sense the tension
in his voice.  
     He sighed and stood.  "Sagans...Uh, I have to go, but I'll check out
what I can about this group.  Maybe security can keep an eye on them. 'Il
Fadim' you said it was called?"
     She nodded.  "Thank you," Mairwen whispered, looking a bit more relaxed, finally.
     Starbuck took a few extra centons to say goodbye to Cassy, giving
her a goodbye hug, before hurrying out the door and back to his Viper. 
He stood still for a moment, alone in the corridor, and looked back at
the door.
     What a wonderful child. For a moment, he thought of the road not
traveled. What if he had not said no, right before the Holocaust? What if
he and Aurora... He shook his head, dismissing such pointless thoughts,
and headed at a run for the landing bay.  What, he wondered, had happened
now?

      Chapter 4

     As the murky fog of unconsciousness began ever so slowly to lift
from his mind, Boomer was aware of...of...what was he aware of? He didn't
know. The world was a blur, a very dark blur, and he could neither see
nor hear anything meaningful. He tried to move, but couldn't tell if he
had succeeded or not. He tried again, and felt...
     Pain! Like a jolt of electricity, something painful knifed up his
leg, and he heard a deep intake of breath. Or was it a groan? It was the
latter, and with a sudden burst of awareness, Boomer realized that it was
his own voice he was hearing. Slowly, sensation was returning, and he
could feel his head moving. With a supreme effort, he opened his eyes.
The universe was a vast blur, and he squinted, trying to make sense of
his surroundings. It was dim, and something lay across his body. There
was also something warm close by, and as he sniffed the air, he could
smell smoke.
     Lords of Kobol! My Viper! It's burning... 
     With a supreme concentration of effort, he forced himself to move,
and tried to raise himself up. His head swam like he'd had wayyyyy too
much ambrosia, and he woofed his mushies. Twice. Nose wrinkling at the
smell of bile, his head at last cleared enough to make sense of where he
was.
     He was lying on his left side, propped up on one arm now, barely an
arm's length from a small campfire. That was the source of both the heat
and the smoke he'd smelled. Gingerly, he pushed himself up until he was,
at last sitting , gritted his teeth against another shot of pain, both in
his leg and right shoulder, and looked about. It was still daylight, but
he was under a thick canopy of trees, their branches filtering the
sunlight to an ambient green.
     The fire was small, but there was some extra fuel piled next to it.
His helmet lay next to him, and his uniform...
     His uniform jacket was torn, one clasp missing, as well as soiled.
Across his legs lay a coverlet made of some sort of animal skin, thick
with rough fur. As he took more stock of himself, he was forced to
concentrate on his pain. His left leg, as well as his head, was wrapped
in some sort of crude bandage, consisting mostly of some kind of leaves,
bound with vine or sinew of some sort. His pant leg had been torn away,
though he still wore his boots. Raising his fingers to his face, he felt
dry, crusty blood in his eyebrows. With a sudden rush of anxiety, he
checked. Yes, he still wore his gunbelt, and his pistol was still in its
holster. Who or whatever had tended him, had not removed it. He
cautiously straightened up, and looked around some more. Wherever he was,
his Viper, or what was left of it, was nowhere to be seen.
     There was, however, a large cave, not a stones-throw from his
position, as well as a couple of crude huts or sheds. Obviously, someone
had rescued him from his crash, but who? And where were they? He could
see no one about, and was about to call, when he heard a noise. Or rather
two. One, the whoosh of something airborne, was familiar. Totally
unfamiliar was the other, which seemed to come from above the trees. He'd
never heard anything like it before, but it nonetheless made him flinch
in fear. Like the scream of overstressed metal, or venting high-pressure
steam, it was somehow terrifying. He fumbled for the scanner on his belt.
     Only it wasn't there. It lay next to him, a crumpled mess. His
communicator, likewise, was dented and bashed around, seemingly beyond
repair. He tried it, but got only a brief burst of hiss. By the time he
tossed it down, the weird cries had faded. The forest was silent once
more.
     But not for long.
      
     "A what??!" demanded Athena, after Cadet Oswy had given her his
initial report. "Is your breather gear clogged, Cadet?"
     "No, ma'am," replied Oswy, a bit tightly, glad Athena couldn't see
what he was doing with his right middle finger just now. "A large flying
creature, like a giant winged lizard, attacked his Viper. It was
breathing fire, and it rammed his ship."
     "How big was this thing?" asked Grumio.
     "Bigger than a Viper. It seemed to exhale fire, and hit the
Lieutenant's ship with a blast of it." Oswy transmitted his scanner data
to both Vipers. "Then it slammed into his Viper, like one hovermobile
trying to run another off the road. The Lieutenant's ship began to smoke
and trail sparks and debris. I fired at the thing, when it came around
again, and the Lieutenant did too, and the thing fell towards the
ground."
     "Dead?" asked Athena.
     "I would assume so, ma'am. I hit one of it's wings, and blew it
clean off. Then, the Lieutenant caught it directly in the mouth. I don't
see how anything could have survived that."
     "Did you see him land?" Athena asked.
     "I hung around as long as I dared, ma'am. He ordered me to return to
you, but I stayed long enough to see his Viper diving towards a thickly
wooded area. He had two engines out, and no canopy."
     "And then?"
     "I saw two more of the flying creatures approaching, ma'am. I didn't
want to risk it, and the Lieutenant ordered me to return. So, here I am."
They were still sitting on the edge of the system's heliopause, the star
just a dot at this range, the planet invisible. Athena debated for a
moment. A pilot was down, and needed rescue. Yet, she needed to return to
the Galactica, with her charges. Given their position, and half empty
fuel tanks, the Fleet would be in range of the Vipers for only two and a
half more days. Given what Oswy had seen, rescuing Boomer might not be as simple as heading back to the planet, picking him up, and heading home.
On top of that, none of their Vipers was a two-seater version. Mong on a
branch! 
     "Ma'am?" asked Grumio. "What should we do?"
     "Grumio? You head back to the Fleet. Balls to the wall, you hear
me?"
     "Yes, Lieutenant."
     "Once you are in com range, transmit everything you have to the
Galactica. Tell my...the Commander to slow the Fleet. Slowing the Fleet
will give us time for a shuttle rescue."
     "Yes, ma'am. Anything else?" 
     "No. Now get going, Cadet!"
     "On my way, ma'am. You two be careful." So said, Grumio powered up
his ship, and moved away from the others. Once clear, he pointed his nose
towards the Fleet, kicked in his turbos, and was gone.
     "Alright, Cadet. Let's go and find him."
     "What if he's...I mean..."
     "Cadet, I don't want to hear that! Understand me?" Her voice had an
ominous growl.
     "Yes, ma'am."
     "Good. Now follow me!" said Athena, and fired her engines.
      
      
     Boomer turned, as he heard the sounds of something approaching. he
reached for his pistol, and drew it as best his injured shoulder
permitted. As he tried to decide his next move, he could make out the
sound of voices.
     Humans! A few moments later, someone came into view through the
trees, followed by several other people. The leader was not tall, but
wide, with a powerful chest and arms, like a bodybuilder or wrestler, and
flaming red hair and beard. Behind him were others, two carrying a long
pole, to which was tied some sort of dead animal.
     Hunters! Each of the returning band carried a spear, and were clad
in crudely fitting clothes made of animal hides.
     My God! How primitive, he said to himself. He took a breath to
speak, but heard something thud onto the ground behind him. He turned,
and saw another of the forest-dwellers, a youth, armed with a club. The
young one just looked at him, his expression needing no words. 
     Don't even think about it.
     Slowly, Boomer pulled back from the laser, and the youth seemed to
relax a bit. He relieved Boomer of the weapon, then looked up from the
injured man, and called out to the returning band. It was no language
Boomer recognized. It was heavy, somewhat sonorous, and seemed heavy on
the consonants, but he could pick out little, for the boy went very fast.
The band of hunters had by now reached the mouth of the cave, and from
its interior, several women were emerging, the youth joining them. Boomer
wondered why he had been left outside on the ground, but didn't have time
to ponder this very deeply, for the leader of the group, the red-haired
muscular hunter, was moving towards him. Boomer tried to rise to his
feet, but the pain in his leg prevented him from doing so. He looked
about for a crutch of some sort, and grabbed up a long piece of branch
from next to the fire. He lifted himself up, just as the other drew even
with him.
     "I have no idea what you just said," replied Boomer, as the other
spoke. He looked around, but could not see his Languatron. It must still
be in his Viper, wherever that was. If he could get to it, and it was
still mostly intact, maybe he could liberate the first-aid kit. "Uh...my
name is Boomer," he said, tapping his chest. "Boo-mer." He watched the
other. The hunter, or chief, or whatever he was, regarded the Viper pilot
with intelligent, penetrating green eyes, from under a heavy, pronounced
brow ridge, not unlike a Nomen's. Boomer would have said that he was
about 40 or so yahren old, but that, of course, might not mean anything
here.
     "Boo-murr," said the other, getting his tongue around the unfamiliar
syllables. He smiled ever so slightly, showing enormous teeth, and poked
his own chest with his right thumb. "Utu Hegal," said the man with a
certain note of pride in his voice. "Utu Hegal."
     "Uh...Ootoo he gall," Boomer tried repeating, and his effort seemed
to please the other. Utu Hegal nodded, and repeated himself, saying "Utu
Hegal," and adding "lugal kur ngishgi."
     Yeah, thought Boomer. Of course. "Lieutenant Boomer, from the
Battlestar Galactica," he reciprocated. As before, the other made nothing
of it. By signs, Boomer showed his thirst, and he was helped over to the
cave.
     Already, women, as crudely clad as the men, were hard at work
butchering the kill, and he was brought a small wooden bowl, filled with
cold water. It was as the sweetest ambrosia, and he gulped it greedily.
He motioned for another, but an older man, his hair receding and grey,
shook his head. With words far too fast to follow, even had he understood
the language, he seemed to instruct the others in something, and motioned
for Boomer to approach. Once close, he looked at the crude bandaging, and
made some comments.
     Must be the doctor, or medicine man, he thought, as the leaves were
replaced, and a new, pungent unguent was applied. Got to get to my med
kit. He looked around, and saw only forest. 
     Wherever it is.
      
     Chapter 5

     Starbuck paced the wardroom, unable to make himself settle down.
He'd gotten up, gone to the beverage dispenser, downed a java, hit the
head, checked the status board, and then done it all again before Apollo
finally had to order him to sit down.
     "I just..."
     "Starbuck, you're acting like a new father or something," said
Apollo, trying to keep it light, though in reality it was beginning to
get on his nerves. "The way you're going, you'll wear a hole in the deck
before long."
     "I know. I just..."
     "Lieutenant," said Tigh, with just the right amount of authority in
his voice, "we won't know any more, until Cadet Grumio lands, and makes
his report. Until then, either sit down..."
     "But..."
     "... or I'm sure Doctor Salik can find something suitably hideous to
inject you with." The Colonel spared Apollo the tiniest twinkle of the
eye, but had only the classic "Tigh stare" for the Lieutenant. After
letting out a sigh loud enough to be heard across the bridge, Starbuck
sat down. Almost at once, there was a call from the bridge. He half rose,
and Apollo put out a hand to restrain him. 
     "Colonel Tigh?" It was Rigel. "Single patrol craft now entering
scanner range, sir. ETA to Fleet perimeter six centons."
     "Excellent. Have the pilot report to the wardroom as soon as he
lands, and get me Commander Adama."
     "Right away, sir."
     "Now maybe we'll learn something more solid," said Starbuck, tossing
back his third java.
     "Let's hope so, Lieutenant," said Tigh. "Oh, and Starbuck?"
     "Yes, Colonel?"
     "Stop chewing on your cup."
  

     "Lords of Kobol, we're never going to find him in this!" said Oswy,
as they flew over the planet's surface. The distant brush fire he and
Boomer had detected earlier had spread like, well, wildfire, and engulfed
a vast area. The sun hung low on the horizon, the blood red ball the
mackerel sky incarnadine. Enormous herds of bison-like animals were
stampeding away from the flames, but so far, they saw no sign of the
flying dragons.
     Or of Boomer. 
     "I'm not picking up either the transponder or locator beacon,
ma'am," said Oswy. "Both frequencies are dead air."
     "Same here, Cadet. I'm switching to bioscan. You sweep for metals."
     "Aye, ma'am," replied the cadet, and did so. They swept back and
forth across the plain, in a standard search pattern, keeping high enough
to avoid the leaping flames. With one eye on the ground, Athena kept the
other peeled for signs of the dragons. After several centons, she began
to feel fear take hold. Real fear. Not for herself or Oswy, but for
Boomer. If this creature had so damaged his ship, that he hadn't...
     "Lieutenant?" cried Oswy, breaking her train of thought. 
     "Yes, Cadet?"
     "Refined metal concentration, range12.7 metrons, 0.96 to port."
     "Analysis?"
     "Aluminum, tylenium, cupricium, and some tylium traces as well. It's
a Viper, ma'am. Coming up on it now." 
     They slowed, and circled the spot indicated on their scanners. It
was now nearly dark, the target visible only on their infrared system.
The ground around it was still smoldering, the fire having ripped through
the area some while ago. Athena dropped her gear, followed by Oswy. Her
turbines were still whining down when she leapt from the cockpit, and ran
to the wreckage.
     Or what was left of it. The ship had caught on a low rise of rock,
not a thousand paces from the edge of a thick forest. The smoking metal
skeleton of the fighter was still hot in places, filling her nostrils
with an acrid reek. One engine lay across the rock from her, a melted
pile of scrap, the other two at least a metron away, thrown by either the
impact or the explosion. She stopped, taking a deep gulp of air, despite
the smoke. 
     What if he's...maybe he didn't manage to...those dragon things. What
if...
     Shut the frack up, you idiot! she told herself. You won't...
     "Ma'am?" asked Oswy, next to her. She started, unaware she'd spoken
aloud.
     "Uh...I said this was some crack-up, Cadet." She peered inside the
wreckage, but the darkness made it difficult to see anything. Her lantern
showed only more charred wreckage. Her hand scanner however, showed
minimal radiation. Most of Boomer's fuel had gone up, or been dumped
before impact.
     "I think he made it, ma'am," said Oswy, scanning the wreckage as
well. "The cockpit is missing. He must have ejected."
     "Yeah," she said, her gut jumping up and down. "I see that. And
aside from the vegetation, I'm not reading any organic remains."
     "No, ma'am. No bones or tissue at all. He definitely got out before
she crashed, Lieutenant."
     "Thank the Lords," she breathed, her emotions as surprising as they
were strong. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, and fighting
back...tears? "BOOMER!!!!" she cried, her voice echoing across the almost
totally dark prairie. She moved around to the side of the wreckage facing
the forest. "BOOMER!!!??" She scanned as she called, but neither her
ears, nor her machine, got any responses. As she continued to scan, she
noticed that is wasn't so dark as before. She turned around, and saw, on
the opposite horizon, a huge glowing moon rising up out of the darkness. 
     She had to stare at it for a moment or two. Not since leaving home,
for the so-called "Armstice Signing" that had turned into the horrible
ambush at Cimtar, had she seen a rising moon. She had stood, with Zac,
hot-blooded and eager for his first cruise as a newly minted Warrior, on
the cliff behind their home, watching the larger of Caprica's two moons,
Niobe, rise up out of the sea. She shook her head, not wanting to feel
that rush of pain again. Zac, their mother, Caprica, Niobe, and all of
that were gone. Behind her by countless light-yahren. No good...
     "What?" she said, as Oswy once more intruded on her thoughts. This
is no good, girl! She told herself. Woolgathering like that. A whole
fracking Cylon garrison could have snuck up on you, with your head up
your...
     "I said, ma'am, that there's no sign of the cockpit assembly within
my hand-scanner's range. Lieutenant Boomer's cockpit definitely ejected,
rather than was blown clear."
     "Good." She kicked over the wreckage some more, at last finding the
locator beacon unit. Like the rest of the ship, it was melted scrap. She
tossed it onto the still-cooling junk pile. "Okay, let's get back into
our Vipers, and scan for him. If he ejected, he had to have come down,
somewhere."
     "I'm not picking up the cockpit locator beacon either, ma'am."
     "Neither am I, and that worries me." She sniffed, her eyes stinging.
Come on! You...
     They both started, at a sound. It was like the screech of ripping
metal, or a soul in torment. Athena couldn't decide, and didn't want to.
It sent a chill of primal terror down her spine, and she turned, casting
her eyes out into to darkness, pistol at the ready.
     "What the frack was that, ma'am?" asked Oswy, though he already had
a good idea. Athena didn't need to answer him. Up above them, something
crossed the swollen disk of the moon. Something vast, and winged, and
black. Once more, there was the hideous shriek, keening across the
prairie. 

    Chapter 6

     Starbuck shook his head and stared, not believing his eyes, as he
watched the flight recorder scans from Grumio's Viper. Boomer had been
taken down by a...well, a dragon! Like some nightmare from ancient lore,
or fairy tales meant to frighten disobedient children, he'd fallen to
some prehistoric beast.
     "I followed him as far as the forest perimeter, sir," said Grumio to
Adama. "He ordered me away, and to report to Lieutenant Athena. Then, I
lost all telemetry from his Viper."
     "And you are sure you killed this...thing?" asked Adama, looking at
a freeze frame of the creature, belching fire from its maw. He looked
back at the young cadet, still standing ramrod straight.
     "We must have, sir. I shot one of its wings off, and Lieutenant
Boomer managed to get it right in the open mouth before he went down. It
was blown to pieces, Commander."
     "Thank God for that," said Adama. He turned from Grumio to the image
on the monitor of the terrifying beast. "Unfortunately, that won't be the
only one of those things on the planet."
     "Agreed, sir."
     "At ease, Cadet."
     "Sir."
     "And sit!"
     "Yes, sir."
     "Have there been any messages from the rest of the patrol,
Commander?" asked Starbuck, fingers tapping nervously.
     "Nothing. We're still out of comm range."
     "And will be for nearly fifty centars," added Tigh.
     "Sirs," said Grumio, clearly flustered at being debriefed by the
Commander himself, "Lieutenant Athena said to request that the Fleet be
slowed, in order to remain within range long enough for a shuttle
rescue."
     "Sir, do we dare?" asked Tigh. "Lieutenant Giles' patrol picked up
faint signals from the edge of his range. The computer says the nearest
analogue could be Cylon."
     "Well we can't just leave Boomer behind," said Starbuck, a bit
louder than he had intended. "We've got to go after him! Uh, sir."
     "I understand, Lieutenant,' said Adama. "But until we're certain
we're clear behind, slowing the Fleet is too great a risk."
     "How long did you say until that system comes into comm range,
Colonel?" asked Apollo.
     "Just under fifty centars, Captain. And due to the angle of our
course, we'll be within range for barely nine."
     "We can do it, sir," said Starbuck, half rising, body whip-tense.
"Drop tanks on the shuttle, we can head in at top speed. Find Boomer, and
scream back to rendezvous with the Fleet before you're out of range."
     "And if you run into some other unknown trouble on the planet?"
asked Tigh. "Even at maximum speed, " and here he put a plot up on the
main board, "you've got a narrow window for making it back, Lieutenant."
     "Well what about Athena, and the other cadet, uh..."
     "Oswy, sir," supplied Grumio.
     "Oswy. We can't leave them, behind."
     "Nor will we. Once we're in comm range, we'll signal them to
return."
     "If she hears us," said Apollo, tightly, chewing his lower lip.
Though he was outwardly calm, Adama could see the stress his son was
feeling. The anxiety. The fear, for his sister. Only he could hear the
stress in his son's voice, at the very idea of never seeing his sister
again. "You heard Grumio. Before he was out of scanner range, Athena and
Oswy began heading in towards the planet." He stopped, taking a deep
breath. "If they're on the ground, or on the side facing away when we
signal..."
     Adama frowned, not liking the choices before him any better than
Apollo did. If he slowed the Fleet, he increased the chances of rescue.
Yet, doing so increased the danger to the Fleet, if it was indeed true
that whatever Giles had detected meant that after two sectars, the Cylons
had at last picked up their scent again.  And if that were true, that
carried other ramifications he didn't want to think about at that micron.
And, Athena. It was enough to make Adama feel sick inside. Sick at the
thought of losing Athena after already going through the tragedies of Zac
and Ila that he'd never completely put behind him.
     But, as Commander...
     As a father...
     "Very well," he said, clearly not liking the feel of being in a box.
"Prepare a shuttle. Extra tanks, and whatever rescue gear you might need.
And a med tech, in case Boomer's injured."
     "Thank-you, Commander," said Starbuck, unable to hide his relief.
Apollo, despite it being his sister out there, kept his mask in place.
     "Apollo?"
     "Yes, Commander?"
     "I want you to take Cadet Grumio with you." He looked over at the
cadet. "You'll go with them. You will be more familiar with the terrain.
Apollo?"
     "Yes?"
     "I also want a long-range marker beacon in the shuttle, too. With
the rescue window so narrow, I want you to have every edge."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Dismissed," said the Commander, and with that, the meeting was
done. Out in the corridor, Apollo caught up with his buddy. 
     "Hold on, will ya?" asked Apollo. "Wait till you're in your Viper
before you go to lightspeed, alright?"
     "I just don't want to waste time, Apollo. Boomer could be hurt, or
dying. He..."
     "Worrying won't help, Starbuck." He took another deep breath, and
run his hand down his face. "Look, I'm as worried about Boomer as you
are, Buddy. We're all friends, here, as well as Warriors. But you jumping
around like a shorting Cylon isn't going to help."  He realized that he'd
spoken more harshly than he had meant to. "No, go to LifeSation, and have
Dr. Salik give you something to clear that javienne out of your system,
and then requisition whatever we'll need."
     "Right, Apollo. And Apollo?" The Captain turned back to regard him,
eyebrow raised in questioning. "She'll be okay, Apollo. She'll be okay."
Before Apollo could even draw breath to reply, Starbuck was gone.
     "What the Hades..." muttered Apollo, wondering what had put the
thorns under Starbuck's seat cushion all of a sudden. The brash young
Warrior was always the eager one, but he couldn't remember ever seeing
him quite like this. He knew of Starbuck's former romance with his
sister, the breakup of which he'd never mentioned, and Starbuck never
spoke of. Was the other man feeling the embers stirring for Athena, once
more? Was that why he was ready to climb the bulkheads? He shook his
head, and headed for the shuttle hangar deck.
 
     Chapter 7

     "Cassie, I am being totally straight with you," exclaimed Starbuck,
as the socialator-cum-medtech looked at him, arms crossed. Obviously,
Cassie wasn't buying his story.
     "Uh huh. Just like taking off for the Celestra was a disinterested
pursuit of Viper maintenance," she replied. Had she been a judicator,
Starbuck would have expected a sentence of death any micron.
     "Hey, that's not fair. You know what was going on over there.
Chaka."
     "Uh huh. And Aurora."
     "Aurora and I are history, Cassie. Period."
     "And Athena?" Cassie nailed him with her glinting eyes. "The first
patrol mission she's gone on since before Gamoray, and you're taking off
after her."
     "This is a rescue mission, Cassie," he shot back, his voice getting
brittle.
     "And Apollo is perfectly capable of rescuing his sister." She held
up a hand. "AND the fact that Bojay, Brie, Giles, and Cree are all ahead
of you on the duty roster this cycle, what with the fact that Sheba is
still on suspended flight status."
     "How did..."
     "I'm a med tech, remember?" she asked, voice slipping into the
condescending. "I do four or five flight physicals a secton. I know who
is where."
     "Cassie, please. Listen. I am not going because of Athena. What she
and I had was...special, yes. But it's over. Behind us." She looked back
at him like he was some pathetic puppy, with a dripping bone in its
mouth, that kept insisting it hadn't been anywhere near the kitchen. "As
far behind us as Proteus."
     "You still see her, Starbuck."
     "We're Warriors, Cassie. Sometimes, briefings overlap, or we get
posted to inspection details.  And she and Apollo are together a lot, or
with the Commander."
     "Starbuck..." she sighed, shaking her head.
     "Cassiopeia," he said, and her face changed. So casual had their
relationship become, that he rarely called her anything but "Cassie"
anymore. Even when in the throes of passion, it was almost never anything
but her shortened name. Why was he...
     "Starbuck?"
     "It's Boomer. He's the one I'm going after."
     "What?" she raised an eyebrow, as if uncertain she'd heard
correctly. "Boomer? I know you two are old friends, but, well, you're
so...anxious. I..."
     "Cassie, I've never told anyone this story. Not for yahrens.
Please." He bade her sit, and they did so. He looked about her sparse
quarters, just down the corridor from Life Center, and sighed before
beginning. "It was when I was a new cadet. New? Hades Hole, I was as
green as a sapling. I met this somber, straight-laced kid at the Academy,
and we hit it off. He was a whiz at electronics, and I liked Pyramid. He
even tolerated my fumerellos. We meshed."
     "Boomer?"
     "Yeah. When the time came for our first deep space cadet cruise, we
were both posted to the Atlantia. A few days out, we were getting ready
to launch after a briefing, and we climbed into our Vipers. The
two-seater training version. I was to launch first, another guy second,
and Boomer third. The order came, and we hit it." Starbuck fell silent a
few moments, and Cassie wondered why. Was any of this for real, and
Starbuck was truly remembering? Or was this just another incredibly
charm-filled Starbuck fast one?
     "All I remember after that was the world turning on its side, then
nothing. A steam line on the catapult in my launch tube had ruptured, and
slammed my Viper up and into the wall of the tube."
     "Oh my God," she said, fleetingly recalling what Athena had done
with the steam line in a certain launch tube, once upon a time.
     "My ship was rammed in there tight as anything, my upper engine and
fin buried in the wall. The cockpit was jammed shut, and the ship's
emergency fuel dump vent was open, and was leaking fuel. The steam blast
had damaged some electrical systems, and a bus was overloading,
threatening to explode. If it had, with all that fuel, it would have
taken out part of the launch bay."
     "What happened?"
     "When he saw what had happened, Boomer jumped out of his Viper, and
came in after me. He disobeyed a direct order from our Squadron Leader to
leave the bay, and came down the launch tube after me. They were going to
write us off, and seal off the bay, spacing it to avoid an explosion.
Despite all that, he reached my ship, and somehow managed to pry the
canopy off, and pull me out, before the atmospheric force field at the
end of the tube failed. He pulled me out, Cassie, right before it all hit
the fan."
     "The other pilot? The instructor?"
     "He didn't make it," said Starbuck, shaking his head. "Crushed to
death. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Atlantia's
Life Station, and it was almost a secton later. I almost didn't make it,
with the trauma, and the inhaled fuel. If it hadn't been for Boomer,
Cassie, well, you see."
     "Why haven't I ever heard this story before? Apollo and the others
talk about you and your legendary exploits all the time."
     "Apollo doesn't know. No one on the Galactica does. Except Boomer.
We made a...deal, with the Atlantia's Commander. Riordan. The
investigation showed overlooked and sloppy maintenance. Lots of it, too.
If it had come out, with this accident capping it off, he would have been
finished. But, it turned out that the maintenance chief had been slacking
and filing false maintenance and requisition reports for yahren.
Acknowledging receipt of equipment and supplies, selling some of them off
or purchasing only second-rate junk, and pocketing the difference."
     "Why wasn't he punished?"
     "He came from an influential family. Very influential, as in his
father was a senior aid to a member of the Council. Bad news all around.
So, in return for an early retirement for 'medical reasons', the
maintenance chief would forget all about a certain indiscretion between
Commander Riordan and a certain politician's wife. Boomer and I agreed to
it. We had to, who would believe a couple of insubordinate cadets over
the word of the great and powerful, and the truth of the whole incident
was covered up and forgotten." He sighed. "Anyway, after that, Commander
Riordan couldn't do enough for us. If Boomer hadn't managed to slam that
dump valve closed, well..." He shook his head, and looked back to her. He
looked deeply into her eyes, and sought belief. 
     "Starbuck..."
     "Cassie, I..." It was obvious she was still dubious. He stopped, and
moved to a bookshelf. Selecting an old, slim volume, he returned, and
placed it on her thigh. His hand upon it, he placed hers atop his own.
Cassie's eyes widened in surprise. It was The Book of the Word, her
people's most sacred and revered text. From everything she knew, Starbuck
was about as pious and reverent in such matters as a sex fiend in a
girl's school. She had only, in recent centars, begun to re-examine the
faith of her girlhood, and had reached no decisions. But, for him to even
consider...
     "St..."
     "Cassie, upon the...upon the holy book of our ancestors, I swear to
you that everything I have told you here is the truth. Totally. There is
nothing any longer between Athena and myself, and you are the only woman
in my life. Period." He was sweating like a cadet before his first exam,
and she saw truth in his face. 
     Besides, for Starbuck to fall back upon the Book...
     "Very well, Starbuck." She squeezed his hand. "I accept. Now, let's
get those supplies ready." She rose.
     "Cassie, I..."
     "Enough," she replied, putting a fingertip to his lips. "Let's get
going." She saw his face telegraph "lets"? "You need a medtech." And so
said, she left the room. 
 
     Chapter 8

     Boomer watched with a certain morbid fascination as the women in the
cave butchered the hunter's prize, something resembling an antelon, and
prepared it for eating.  It made him recall the times he'd enjoyed meat
in the Officer's Mess and how Greenbean, who had an aversion to meat,
would try to dissuade him or Starbuck with a lecture on how the Livestock
Ship cutters prepared animals for food. Each time, he had brushed off the
blonde ensign's objections. Now, for the first time he had a chance to
see that Greenbean's descriptions had been accurate. But here, in such
primitive conditions, far removed from what the workers on the Livestock
Ship did, he could see what a bloody, smelly procedure it was. It felt
almost like a revelation.
     "Huh?" he said, as one of the hunters, a stocky, brown-haired
fellow, tried to get his attention. The man had tapped him on one
shoulder, interrupting his reverie. He then handed Boomer a hunk of
dripping, bloody meat, with a hunk of bone still in it. Boomer decided to
forego his usual witticisms, and copy the actions of his hosts. The meat
was skewered onto a stick or other implement, and held over the fire. He
picked up one of the crude tools, and followed suit. After a centon or
two, he had to admit it was beginning to smell rather good.  
     "Boo-Murr,"  said one of the hunters, the leader. Boomer looked up,
and was once more struck by the intelligence that gleamed in the other's
eyes. For a moment, he reflected on what sort of person this man might
have been, had he been born in the Colonies, rather than this Stone-Age
backwater.
     "Yes. Ah...Utu-Hegal?" While the women had worked to butcher the
animal, he had fallen into trying to establish some common ground
linguistically with his hosts. The leader, Utu-Hegal, seemed the most
adept at picking up his words. So far, he had managed to convey his name
and rudimentary words like, yes, no, food, hungry, black, fly, fire,
warrior.  It was slow going, to be sure, but the red-haired barbarian
seemed pleased to continue.
     "Boo-Murr fly," he said, making pretty heavy weather of Colonial
Standard. "How Boo-Murr fly?" Boomer tried to explain the concept of a
flying machine, and found to his surprise that the concept didn't seem
beyond these people. Then, upon reflection, he remembered that once, they
had lived in cities, linked by rail, and watched over by satellites.
Doubtless their legends and myths contained references to aircraft of
some sort. He struggled to convey his encounter with the dragon that had
taken him down, but was frustrated by his lack of vocabulary. He was
about to give up, after resorting to hand gestures, when the old medicine
man spoke up.
     "Ushum!" he said, at last divining what Boomer was trying to convey. 
"Ushum." As if on cue, everyone moaned or grunted in recognition of the
word. Getting an idea, Boomer took a piece of charcoal from near the
fire, and sketched a very bad rendition of one of the flying creatures on
a flat stone. Widened eyes, and murmurs of ascent rewarded his efforts. 
     "Ushum, dragon," Boomer went on, pointing again to his crude sketch. 
He seemed to be succeeding, so he drew another picture, this time of his
Viper. Heads shook, and frowns told him he wasn't getting anywhere. On an
inspiration, he tried to draw a fair representation of the cockpit
section of his ship. One of the primitives looked at it, then nodded. He
spoke, too fast for Boomer to follow, and pointed towards the dark
forest. It took a while, but at last he figured out that he had been
found, in the forest, in the ejected cockpit section of his ship, and
been brought here.
     "Good thing I didn't fall in with a bunch of cannibals," he
muttered, and went on. With more pictures, he at last made them
understand that he came from the an-shar-a. Roughly rendered, "the whole
of heaven". It seemed that an, or "sky," had many uses, and he soon
became lost in all the various applications. An-ki. An-sig-a. An-nisig-a. 
He was really wishing for his languatron, but in the end, they understood
that he had ridden into their part of the world on a An-ta-sur-a, or a
"stone from heaven". He chuckled, wondering what the designers of the
Viper would think, having their creation likened to a rock. With nods and
many more hand gestures, he soon was sure that they understood him, then
he decided it was time to eat. 
     One of the women, a young, doe-eyed girl of the sort Starbuck would
have been on in a centon, handed him a small wooden bowl, filled with
what looked like ground-up leaves, mixed with a thick liquid. He sniffed
it. It smelled good. He dipped his food in it, as they did, and decided
it was about the best condiment he'd had in yahren. The meat reminded him
of venison, but with a sharp tang. It was good whatever it was, and he
realized how damn hungry he had become. 
     Too bad I can't bring these people back to the Fleet, he thought
wryly.  They'd probably make better Mess Hall chefs than any of the
current ones. He nodded, thanking the girl, and allowed himself a moment
or two to give her a real look-over. She wasn't tall, none of her people
were, but she reminded him of Sheba with flowing red hair, and a bosom
that would do justice to a supermodel, beneath several necklaces of teeth
and colored stones. The rest of her curves, on open display given her
skimpy attire, were the sort no one could improve on. He spared a quick
look at Utu-Hegal. Yeah. The same nose. Same emerald-green eyes. His
daughter for sure. Best not look too much, and tick off papa.
     Seeing his reaction, the girl handed him another bowl, which she had
filled from a skin bottle.  His eyes widened to the size of cubits, as he
tasted the alien drink. It was alcoholic, that much was certain. But it
wasn't the sour, clotty muck one might have expected, but had the
stinging bite of the most expensive grog. He could just imagine Starbuck
wondering how to make money out of this stuff. It burned the throat a bit
on the way down, but the incredible flavor more than made up for this. 
All in all, it was a most enjoyable meal, topped off by some sort of
fruit, eaten raw.
     "What the..." he began, as he focused on the small berry. It was
red, vaguely heart-shaped, and had its seeds on the outside, like a
strawberry. It tasted like one, too. As the near-forgotten flavor hit
home, he wondered how in Hades a plant, native to the Colonies, could be
growing here, on a planet so far from home?
     The meal finished, everyone cleaned up and seemed to be preparing to
sleep.  Without warning, Boomer once more heard the terrible cry from
above the canopy of the forest. His hosts cringed, and he heard the word
ushum muttered many times. A few of the men grabbed their spears, but
after a while relaxed. Apparently, the danger had passed for now. 
Utu-Hegal set down his spear, and led Boomer to an unoccupied spot in the
cave, and indicated it was his assigned sleeping place. As he surveyed
it, he caught site of something glinting further back. He moved closer,
Utu-Hegal watching him, then following. In the back, leaned up against
the wall of the cave, was a piece of...glass? He touched it. No, it
wasn't glass. Unless he was very wrong, in was transparent tylenium, like
the windows and celestial dome on the Galactica. Some piece of
technology, left over from the destroyed civilization, he decided. He
looked around, still curious, and found another relic. Sticking out of
the cave wall was a pipe. A corroded metallic tube, half covered in the
roots that grew down into the cave from above.
     A pipe? In a cave? Boomer couldn't help but be curious, but he was
also very tired, and decided that the mysteries of this planet could
wait. Returning to his sleeping place, he was aware of two things, as
sleep closed slowly in. The gaze of the doe-eyed girl, on him.
     And those of the young man who had taken his laser away.

     Chapter 9

     "Status?" asked Apollo, at the controls of the shuttle.
     "We've just lost the Fleet on our scanners," replied Starbuck. "On
course for the planet. ETA...19.6 centars."
     "Good," replied the other, and nudged their speed up a bit.
     Lords, he's taking it cool, thought Starbuck. Well Boomer, he
thought further, last time, it was you coming back for me on Atilla.  Now
it's my turn to return the favor. He then couldn't help but smile as he
realized he should have made sure there was a clean uniform packed for
his friend.
     He looked back, and saw Cassie, dozing on one of the seats. He
sighed, and settled in for the long trip.
 
 
     Adama could not sleep. Try as he might, he would drop off, then
dream of his dead wife, trying to tell him something, then wake once more
to the darkness The thought of Athena, lost forever on some primitive
world, filled him with a parent's worst dread. I couldn't save Zac, then
I lost Ila. Now...
     "No," he said to the darkness of his cabin. "Stop it!" He tossed some
more, then gave up, and went to his office. He activated his desk
monitor, and checked the mission status. The shuttle would be out of the
Galactica's scanner range in just under ten centons. After that...
     "Bridge," he called.
     "Bridge," came the reply. Some fresh voice from the night watch he
barely recognized. "Petty Officer Wu, sir."
     "What's our Viper patrol status, Petty Officer?"
     "Captain Bojay's patrol will be landing in 12 centons, sir.
"Lieutenant Barton's in 15 centons, and Lieutenant Croad's in 12."
     "I see. Once they are aboard, plot a new course, Petty Officer."
     "Sir?"
     "You heard me. Once all patrols are aboard, plot a new course,
following that of Captain Apollo's shuttle. And reduce speed by four
points. Inform all ship masters at once."
     "Yes, sir, Commander. Anything else, sir?"
     "No. Thank you, Petty Officer." Adama shut off the link, and leaned
back. He hated himself for not rushing to Athena's aid. He also hated
himself for the very thought of putting a father's concern first. Try as
he might to think of himself as a "modern" man, Adama was deep down
inside very old fashioned. He had never liked the idea of women in combat
situations. True, their situation in being vastly outnumbered by their
Cylon enemies made it important to have numbers, but something buried
deep in his ancestral DNA just had never gotten used to it. And, when it
was his own daughter...
     There had been no more potential Cylon traces since Giles' patrol.
If it was just some unknown alien race, with no interest in them, all
well and good. If not, well, the Cylons would almost certainly be their
usual predictable selves, and continue to probe along the course the
Fleet had been sailing for near to a yahren now. A little detour might
just help throw them off. At least for a while. 
     He rubbed his eyes, then looked at the pictures on his desk. Zac.
Athena. Their mother. Are you telling me something, Beloved? he wondered.
Guiding me? Lords, I need you more than ever, Ila. More than ever.

     Chapter 10

     Athena awoke, for the third or fourth time, and stared out her
canopy into the dark forest. The first moon had risen high, bathing the
land in an eerie radiance, followed a centar or so later by a second. The
two-toned shadows made an eerie landscape downright spooky, reminding
Athena of the kind of nightmares she'd once had as a child about being
lost in places such as these. As night fell, she and Oswy had moved their
Vipers closer to the edge of the forest, and covered them with a
camouflage tarp. A stone's throw to her right, Oswy was sleeping in his
Viper, waiting till the morning to resume the search.
     Her dreams had been unsettling. Once again, Athena had been back in
the Rejuvenation Center, aboard the Galactica, when fire had raged out of
control just outside the bulkhead door. Smoke had surrounded her, and
Boomer had stood in front of her, swathed in flames, until lasers ripped
through the murk, and she was standing again upon the surface of Kobol,
endless hoards of Cylon fighters blotting out the sky, blasting the
ground in an endless wave of blistering light. She snapped awake, swore
as to compare favorably with Commander Cain, and when rest would not come
again, she decided it was better to get back to work.  Athena
straightened her jacket, and then activated her ship's scanners,
wondering if she should wake Oswy and have them double their efforts. She
then decided that it was better to let the green cadet, who had to be far
more nervous inside then she was, get some extra sleep. Fleetingly, she
wondering if Oswy was having trouble sleeping too.
     The forest ahead read as one big blob of living matter, till she
fine-tuned the Hades out of the emitters. She could pick out various
types of life forms. Trees, birds, nocturnal mammals, fish, and, once,
signs of Human readings. This didn't surprise her, since they had picked
up a few traces during their earlier passes, but she couldn't help but
wonder if it was Boomer she was detecting. Much to her relief, she saw no
further sign of the fearsome flying reptiles. She kept on scanning,
changing wavelons again and again, till she at last got a return. Metal.
She tried to run a spectro on it, but there was too much scatter. Either
the forest was interfering in some way, or something else was scattering
her sensor pulses. She focused, refined, and fine-tuned till her eyes
blurred, but her systems were too limited at this angle.
     Still, she plotted the metal trace on a crude map, and would
coordinate scans with Oswy in the morning for a precise fix, then make
for it when the sun returned. They'd find Boomer, and then they'd...
     He's okay, girl. He's an experienced, battle-hardened pilot. Not
some...teary-eyed wannabe like you. You can't even close your eyes, and
you don't...
     He saved your life, you know. In Rejuvenation Center. All of your
lives. He...
     You swore to yourself, Athena. Never again. After Starbuck drifted
away...
     Drifted away because of you, woman. You were why he left, Athena.
You flip-flopped back and forth like a Cylon eye with him. First you
couldn't get enough of him, then you pushed him away, in the locker room
after the Holocaust, then you wanted him again. Can you blame him? When
he took up with Cas...
     Stop it! The past can only drag you back with it! You and Boomer...
     Boomer. O Lords, I hope he's alive. Don't let him be dead...
     Don't....
     And lost in her own musings, Athena drifted off once more, her head
dropping onto her chest, oblivious to all. Herself, her ship, Oswy...
     And the vast, dark-winged thing soaring silently above, looking down
upon the edge of the forest.

     "On course, Commander," came the voice from the Bridge. "All ships
in position behind us."
     "Thank-you," replied Adama, and clicked off. He studied the plotted
course downloaded to his desktop monitor. The Fleet's new course would
take it directly towards the solar system where Boomer had been lost.
Once they reached the heliopause, the Galactica and her charges would
"dive under" the system as it were, always keeping the same distance from
the star, till they at last cleared the heliopause on the other side,
then arc back, resuming their original course. This put them within easy
range of the shuttle for an extended time, and might, he hoped, throw off
any pursuit that might be lingering behind, at least for a while. 
     He looked up at his chrono. No point in trying to go back to bed, he
decided. He was scheduled to go on duty in one centar, four centons. Just
time enough to bathe, shave, and grab his usual spartan breakfast before
logging on. As he put his plate back in its place in his tiny
kitchenette, his chime rang. He sagged.
     Sire Antipas to see him.
     Good thing it was a light breakfast.

     Boomer had been in the midst of a disturbing dream of his own, when
he was awakened by noise all around him. The people in the cave were
moving. He raised himself up on one elbow, and by the glow of damped and
dying fires, saw a blur of motion. Utu-Hegal, one of the other hunters,
named Meskalamdug, and the old medicine man, whose name, he recalled, was
Annipadda, had grabbed up spears. Several of the women were on the move
also, a daggit was barking, and a baby was crying.
     "What's going on?" he asked, as someone moved close by, but the
reply was lost on him. He got to his feet, and moved to the mouth of the
cave. Somewhere, far away, he could hear what sounded like a scream.
Human? Animal? He couldn't be certain. "My laser," he called out, seeking
the youth who had disarmed him. "Where...where the frack..."
     He whirled, as a scream rent the air, the scream of someone dying.

     Yes, a light breakfast, Adama thought grimly as he finished
fastening his dark robe and answered the door. Antipas was dressed in his
full Council robes, his appearance totally immaculate and dashing.
     "Good morning, Adama," the Libran Councilor said in that customary
smooth tone. "I trust all is well?"
     Adama tensed himself, but showed no outward emotion, "Is there a
reason you come down to my quarters to ask that, Sire Antipas?"
     The Councilor shrugged and began to pace away from him, "Perhaps.
Perhaps not."  He turned around and smirked, "You have reason to think
I'm not capable of making a friendly social call to my esteemed colleague
on the Council of Twelve, and our heroic savior?"
     Adama felt his inner disgust with Antipas rising. For all the
clashes he'd had with Council members in the past like Uri, Geller and
Domra, there was something about the younger Antipas that screamed out
total insincerity and dishonesty. The others were men he felt at worst
were merely misguided. Antipas was clearly of a different breed. What
flummery was this?
     "Let's get to the matter at hand," he finally said, "I am due on the
bridge in twelve centons. What brings you here?"
     Antipas drew closer to him. "Adama," he said, "Last night, I had a
chance to speak with an old friend of my father's, Professor Herodotus of
the University ship. He was once curator of the Libran Antiquities
Museum. Needless to say, I was quite surprised to discover that two
sectars ago, rare treasures from that museum, representing some of the
finest examples of my Colony's early history, were recovered by Colonial
Security from the Spica, yet I was not notified of that detail."
     Adama frowned at him, "Why should that concern you, Sire Antipas?"
     "Oh come now, Adama. That should be obvious.  I am the senior most
survivor of Libra's civil government, and representative of her people on
the Council. I think that entitles me to see to it that those treasures
are returned to the proper authority for final dispensation."
     "Meaning I should have contacted you and turned them over to you,
Sire Antipas?" Adama said dubiously.
     "I didn't say that," the Councilor raised a finger and admonished,
"I merely note that given my position as a Libran, I was entitled to know
and have some say in these artifacts' ultimate disposition."
     "In due time," Adama said, finding this conversation a complete
waste of time. "For now, those treasures are evidence in an ongoing
investigation, and will be evidence in the tribunal that will take place
when the thief, Dravius, is finally apprehended. Until then, they will
remain in Colonial Security's possession here aboard the Galactica."
     "Adama, I must protest!" Antipas said testily, rising slightly on
the balls of his feet. "You can not deny the people of my Colony the
chance to reclaim at last what is rightfully theirs...."
     "What exactly would you do with them, Sire Antipas?" the Commander
interrupted, "Do you have accommodations aboard a Libran ship in the
Fleet that could properly display them so that the people could be able
to see them once again?"
     "That will come eventually," squirmed the aubdolous Councilman. "But
for now----"
     "Then what is the rush, Sire Antipas?" Adama shook his head, "My
decision is final. If you want to see them turned over to Libran
authority sooner rather than later, it might help if there was some way
you could help in apprehending this fugitive Dravius, or finding any of
his confederates from the theft, who are bound to have the rest of the
treasure in their possession."
     "That does not come under my responsibility, Adama," a haughty tone
entered Antipas' voice as he drew himself up, "Since I have already seen
in the past from the Baltar matter how intransigent you can be, there is
no point in our conversation continuing. Good day. Commander."
     The Councilor disappeared from the room, leaving Adama alone and
shaking his head in bewilderment as to why Antipas would have come all
the way over here on such a trivial matter.

     Chapter 11

     "Where the frack is my laser?" Boomer asked someone, but they
couldn't understand him. Outside in the darkness, he could see lights
moving, flickering amid the trees of the forest. They didn't seem to be
artificial; he judged them to be torches. He got to his feet, the pain in
his leg thankfully almost gone, and started tearing through the various
sleeping areas. Each family had its own hearth area, as did those of the
single men. He tried to remember which one belonged to the suspicious
one, the one who had taken his weapon. How the Hades did you say it? 
     "Ah...UDUG!!!" he shouted, at last grabbing one of the children by
the shoulder. "Udug??? Weapon?" In answer, the boy shook his spear, and
headed out to join the older men. Cursing skeptically, Boomer turned
back...
     And saw her, the doe-eyed girl who had exchanged glances with him
over food. She took his hand, and pulled him towards a sleeping area.
Under the animal skin cover, she fished out his pistol. "Udug," she said,
pressing it into his hands. He thanked her -- at least, he hoped that's
what it meant; although from her expression he might just as easily have
said something unkind about her grandmother. He checked the weapon.
Fortunately, the young fellow hadn't messed with it. He activated it,
checked the settings, and ran out...
     Just in time to have a spear sail past him with millimetrons to
spare. He hit the ground, rolled, and came around, missing the second
spear that now twanged in the soil where he had been a moment before. He
fired, into the dark...
     And was rewarded by a scream, and the thud of a body at his side. It
was a man, but he could see scant details in the dark, beside the
still-burning clothes where his beam had struck, directly in the chest.
Scurrying away, he took cover behind a rock, and tried to make sense of
what the Hades was going on.
     The cave-dwellers were being attacked, that much was certain.
Another group of people, these riding some kind of running beasts, had
ambushed them in the middle of the night, showing, Boomer decided, about
as much honor as the Cylons. Already, he saw two of Utu-Hegal's people on
the ground, spears or some similar weapons skewering them. He felt rage
fill him. These peaceful people, who had reached out to help a total
stranger...
     He turned at a scream, and saw the girl who'd helped him, her hair
streaming out behind her, being chased by a mounted raider. The beast was
lumbering but fast, running on two legs, with two smaller clawed limbs in
front. The rider swung a sword over his head, bringing it down on the
girl. She tumbled into the ground, in a splash of red.
     Her attacker followed, a micron later. Screaming an obscenity that
would have made Starbuck blush, he fired, directly into the attacker. He
shrieked, dropping the bloody weapon, then his arm, as a second shot sent
it flying. Before the marauder could do aught but scream some more, a
third shot blew the top of his head off, and he slumped, his ride
dragging him in the dust. Boomer killed it as well, then turned to find
another target. In short order, he dispatched two more attackers, then
ducked to avoid a spear. He came back up, and ran, ignoring the pain,
towards a tree near the stream. Sure enough, the raider turned to pursue,
then pulled up short as Boomer turned, and shot him right out of the
saddle. With a scream, the attacker fell back, his mount crushing him
underneath. 
     For a moment, the whole swirling cyclone of carnage stopped. Riders
and victims stared at this new wonder, the only sounds those of daggits,
babies, and the moans of the wounded. In a move of extreme stupidity, one
of the raiders raised his spear, then fell screaming as a laser shot blew
his arm open, sending blood and bone everywhere. The others, seeing which
way the wind was now blowing, turned to flee. Several didn't make it,
shot out of their saddles by Boomer.
     "Everyone okay?" he asked, ridiculously in his own language. As he
turned, he caught a hint of movement, and...
     A blur rushed past him, as two bodies thrashed together. Quicker
than it took to figure it out, the young hunter got up, his hands
drenched in blood, and struck downwards, again and again. There was a
scream, then only sick chopping sounds. The young one got up off the
corpse of the other attacker, still holding the fallen sword he'd grabbed
somewhere. 
     Didn't even see that one! thought Boomer. He looked from the gory
corpse to the suspicious one, and thanked him. He couldn't remember the
words, so he just bowed, wrists together, as he'd seen the others do. The
victorious youth understood him, and nodded. He looked from Boomer, to
the dripping blade he still held, and skewered the dead one with it,
walking away.
     "Boo-Mer!" someone said, and the pilot turned. He heard his name
again, and then it seemed as if everyone was chanting it, like an
religious incantation. Someone pointed to his weapon, and the chant rose
higher. "Boo-Mer! Boo-Mer! Boo-Mer!"

     "Starbuck," said a voice, and the Lieutenant popped awake. 
     "Yeah?"
     "Look at the scanner." Apollo tapped the screen, and Starbuck leaned
over to look.
     "I don't get it."
     "Neither do I."  
     "What is it, sir?" asked Grumio, moving up front. Behind, Cassie was
still sleeping.
     "The Galactica, Cadet. She's changed course. Following us into this
system."
     "Commander Adama didn't say anything about a change of course, sir."
     "I know. And we can't call and ask. We're under radio silence."
     "Cylons?"
     Neither older Warrior answered, and Grumio looked back to the
scanner. As he did so, the shuttle lurched, and a horrid clang
reverberated through her hull.

     The attackers had fled, leaving at least a dozen of their dead
behind. Boomer looked them over, examining them and their mounts. They
had worn leather jerkins, some with a few crude metal plates fixed to
them, as armor. Against the primitive spears of the cave-dwellers, they
were almost as good as a force-field. Unfortunately for them, some of
their victims had been excellent shots, and had skewered them in the
unprotected neck area. Some had carried swords, and he picked one up. It
was remarkably well-forged, given the conditions here, and of iron.
Another one, astonishingly, was bronze.
     The animals were another surprise. They were some sort of reptilian
creatures, with long, evil-looking beaks, and scaly skin. Their feet were
taloned and webbed, somewhat like a bird's, and they gave off a horrid
stench. One was still twitching, not quite dead yet, and Boomer finished
it off.
     The cave-dwellers had fared poorly. Two of them were dead, one an
old woman, the other the shaman/witch-doctor/healer, Annipadda. Suddenly,
with a jolt that felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach, he remembered
the girl who had helped him. He searched, desperately.  "Where, where is
she?" he demanded but met only blank stares in return.  "Frakkin'
language!"
     He found her, by following the weeping. Next to one of the dead
attackers, an older woman knelt, cradling the younger one. Standing over
them was Utu-Hegal, spear in hand, wounded, spattered in blood. Boomer
also knelt to get a closer look, and his gut churned.
     The sword had missed her neck, the attacker's apparent target, but
cut an ugly swath across her upper back. Though not deep, the wound was
long and bloody. He felt for her heart. It was weak, but she wasn't out
yet. Hades Hole!  If only he had his med-kit... Still, he felt a wave of
hope.  The wound was not fatal!
     When one has to, one improvises. He recalled something one of his
instructors had showed them, in Academy survival class. "Come on, let's
get her to the water!" he cried, and when he indicated the stream, they
seemed to understand. Once at the stream side, he ripped open her dress,
and bathed her wound in big handfuls of cold water. The rest followed
suit, and he rinsed out a piece of her clothes, to wipe down the ugly
gash. then, taking a deep breath, he reset his laser to a low setting,
and fired.
     Cries of astonishment went up from the people around him, and the
young hunter said something that was surely understandable in any
language, but Boomer filtered it all out. He drew the low-power beam
across the girl's back, sealing her wound. Without a medscanner, he had
no idea how much damage the blade had done, or whether any bone or organ
was seriously hurt. He was sure glad she was unconscious. Of course, a
few good shots of their native booze, and she could have slept through
the Holocaust!
     Done! Her wound was, if a bit crudely, sealed. He checked his laser,
reset it to kill, and holstered it. As he stood, and the adrenaline began
to ebb, he realized just how tired he still was. But, he still had a
patient. He helped Utu-Hegal carry the girl back to the cave, and set her
near the fire for warmth. As he turned, he saw the hunter/king bowing
before him, as if in worship.
     "Za dingir!" he exclaimed, face almost what one might call enrapt.
"Za dingir!"
     "Felcercarb!"  Boomer muttered in disgust.

     Chapter 12

     "What is it?" asked Cassie, headset in place, now up front in the
shuttle.
     "Space junk," said Starbuck, over the phones. He and Apollo had
suited up, and were doing an EVA of the shuttle. 
     "How bad, sir?" asked Grumio, next to Cassie.
     "Could have been a lot worse," said Apollo, selecting a tool from
the utility belt on his suit. "It hit just forward of the right engine.
It cut the cable trunk to some relays, as well as damaging the tank. A
few milimetrons the other way, and we might not be here to discuss it."
Apollo trailed off, muttering unkind opinions of engineers who put
critical systems in exposed places.
     "How's our fuel?" asked Starbuck.
     "Starboard tank is down to nearly zero, sir," replied Grumio. "Lucky
she didn't explode."
     "Like I said," replied Apollo. "Must be that Starbuck luck,
spreading its aura over us."
     "Told you I belonged on this mission," snickered Starbuck. "Success
follows me everywhere."
     "Apollo, did they have a class in humility at the Academy?" asked
Cassie. "Maybe one a certain person might have missed?"
     "Hey!" cried Starbuck, but he was drowned out by Apollo's laughter.
Grumio's, too. Even newbies like him had heard the tall tales of the
blonde Warrior's ego.
     After the initial clang and rumble of impact, red lights had gone
off all across the board. Apollo had shut the engines down fast, and run
the checks. The hull wasn't pierced, but the extra right tank was venting
badly. Starbuck had pumped what fuel he could into the other tank, but it
was of little help; repairs would have to be preformed on the outside of
the shuttle, if they had any hope of continuing the mission.  Once
outside, with tethers fixed and gravboots firmly planted, they found the
culprit. A piece of space junk, specifically a piece of metal slightly
larger than the shuttle's main hatch, had collided with them, piercing
the tank, and damaging the linkage to the engine.
     "This is a piece of wreckage!" said Apollo, all serious again, as
the object was at last pulled clear. It was milled, had tiny rivets along
one side, and had once been painted a brilliant white. 
     "From a ship?" asked Cassie.
     "Yes," replied the Captain. "Part of a wing, maybe. Hard to tell."
     "How long till we're able to get moving again?"
     "In about...there," said Starbuck. "Try the left auxiliary thruster,
Cassie. It's those blue buttons, to the right of the co-pilot's monitor."
     "Uh...."
     "Here, ma'am," said Grumio, pointing them out.
     "Got 'em."
     "Okay, press the second one from the left. Once."
     "Pressing." She felt the button click under her finger, and the
shuttle vibrated. "Okay, she's lit up."
     "And the thruster's firing. We're moving again."
     "Kinda slow," remarked Cassie, looking at the velocity guage.
     "But at least we aren't just sitting, waiting for more junk to hit
us, ma'am," said Grumio. "Besides, every centon counts, if Lieutenant
Boomer..."
     "Yeah. I know," she nodded. Apollo called in, and she pressed the
next button. The right auxiliary thruster now fired, and soon they were
all blazing away happily. A few moments later, Apollo and Starbuck
returned inside, and ran the checks.
     "Velocity now at point oh one four," said Starbuck. "Increasing."
     "Port engine reads green," said Apollo, and slowly fired her up. The
shuttle shot ahead, and he gently microned the starboard thruster up a
notch at a time.
     "Now at sixty-seven percent, and rising," said Starbuck.
"Starboard's a bit rocky, Apollo."
     "Yeah. She's only going to give us about...seventy-six percent. I
don't dare push her higher."
     "Well, at least we're moving again," said Cassie. "What about our
fuel, Apollo?"
     "We've enough to make it. Barely, but we'll make it."
     "At least we saved some," ventured Grumio. 
     "Yeah, but it's put our ETA at the planet back, almost a half day,"
said Apollo. "Not good."
     "Apollo," said Starbuck. "He's alright! I know it. I know he is!" He
spoke almost like a preacher, pressing home his point with fervor. "He's
gonna make it!"
     "I know," said Apollo, settling back in his seat. "I know."
     I hope.

     "Cadet?" asked Athena, legs cramped and spine screaming from her
night-long vigil in her ship. The sun was just moments from popping over
the horizon, and she was anxious to get going.
     "Here, ma'am," said Oswy. From the sound of his voice, he having as
much fun with his back as she was.
     "Prepare a full scan of the forest ahead, to the unit's widest arc.
I'll do the same. We'll try and prepare a stereoscopic map of what's
ahead."
     "Yes, ma'am." She could hear the click of switches and controls in
his cockpit over the radio. Within a centon or so, they were both
scanning, just as the sun returned. "Yes, I see it," Oswy came back, a
few centons later. "It's definitely the cockpit section of the
Lieutenant's Viper. And I'm picking up Human readings, too. Way way off
into the forest."
     "Yeah," said Athena, rotating the contour map they'd generated.
Ahead was nearly a kilometron of thick forest, with the crumbly land
slowly rising. At a rather high point, was the metallic contact, with the
land beyond gently falling off, towards an area with upthrust rocky
outcrops, and seemingly endless caves, along with numerous Human
readings. There was also a massive infrared signature.
     "A fire, ma'am. It looks like a big one."
     "Oh great. A forest fire."
     "No, it's too localized, ma'am. See the Human contacts around it?
I'd say more like a bonfire of some sort. There's no sign of stampeding
animals, or the flames spreading. A forest fire would be spreading in a
more or less random pattern, depending on the winds. And right now, the
wind is nearly zero."
     "How do you know so much about it, Cadet?" she asked. 
     "My uncle was Chief Forestry Officer for the Virgon Park Service,
ma'am. I used to spend summers with him as a teenager."
     "I see," said Athena, wondering if her own upbringing hadn't been a
bit...well, limited in scope. All she knew was Vipers, Battlestars, and
things military. Maybe, if she'd had wider interests, like normal kids
had...
     She'd be dead, like about 10 billion other Colonists. Shaking her
head, she downloaded the map from her scanner to her datapad, and shut
down her ship. Leaving only the short-range transponder functioning, she
popped her canopy, and climbed down onto the grass, wet with morning dew.
Oswy followed suit, and they checked their survival supplies. Once ready,
they set off into the forest.


     Boomer watched as the last of the dead attackers was tossed onto the
raging bonfire, the flames soon consuming the bodies. It had been his
idea. He didn't know how these people dealt with dead enemies, but it
didn't take a genius to figure out that pretty soon, the smell of all
that ripening meat was going to attract every predator and scavenger in
the forest. And from what he'd seen of the local wildlife, he wasn't all
that crazy about them heading this way.
     They had stripped the dead before immolating them, the savage way
some of them had died turning his gut. He reflected, as he examined their
clothes and weapons, that while he had spent a lifetime practicing a
violent profession, he'd never slaughtered fellow Humans before. Cylons,
Ovions, a few others, but never his own race. And Humans they were, he
was certain. While he was still a babe in the woods as far as the spoken
language was concerned, the written was another matter.
     On one of the swords, a surprisingly well-made bronze blade, he had
found writing. Incised onto the blade were a series of symbols, symbols
eerily similar to some that he remembered from some holoscans he'd
studied once. Scans from a place he'd not been able to visit, because
he'd been flat on his back in the Life Station at the time recovering
from an illness that had nearly killed most of the Viper pilots, but
which he'd been interested in seeing the data on afterwards. Scans from
Kobol, the mother world, taken as the Commander and some of the others
had trudged through the ruins of a once-vast city.  While never a scholar
himself, Boomer had a certain reverence for the past, and remembered a
few similar pictures from one of his childhood school books. Later, when
they were under way again, and when he'd found that a fair amount of scan
data had escaped destruction from the Cylon attack, he'd decided to study
them more closely.
     The Commander had called Eden the largest city on Kobol, before the
Exodus to the Colonies. "It was the first to fall," he'd said. If Boomer
recalled what the data banks had to say, Eden meant something like plain,
or steppeland. He had heard that word, or something like it, from
Utu-Hegal a while ago. As nearly as he could figure it, the attackers
were from a tribe they called the Iginim, who lived in, or on, the
Edinnu. The plains beyond the forest. As he tossed it around in his mind,
he was more and more convinced that Eden, and Edinnu were connected
somehow. A flat, vast plain or prairie. It couldn't be a coincidence, no
way, as if the evidence of the fruit was not enough.
     Nor was it a coincidence, given his performance with the laser last
night, that the people now considered him to be some sort of god. He had
tried to explain that he was no such thing, but the gulf, both linguistic
and cultural, was too wide to be so quickly bridged by any explanation he
had to give. He had at last gotten them to stop kneeling down to him, and
look him in the eyes. Of course, the fact that he had saved the injured
girl didn't help matters in that regard.
     Her name, it seemed, was Pili, and she was the love interest of the
young hunter, named Kudur-Mabug. He went to check on her, turning away
from watching the dead attacker's heads being skewered on sticks, to
check on her. The wound was holding, thanks to his impromptu surgery, but
it was the poultice, found among the dead medicine man's possessions,
that had really saved her, he decided. What should have been a mass of
swollen infection was healing nicely. Almost as good as his med-kit...
     "Hey," he called, to one of the hunters. He wanted to find his crash
site. If he could activate the locator beacon, and get a hold of his
Languatron, things would improve. He was frustrated at his lack on
comprehension, and he was sure Oswy must have returned to the others, and
the patrol must have made it back to the Fleet by now. If they we're
coming after him, and he could get a signal out...
     "Boo-mer," said Utu-Hegal, now wearing one of the captured swords in
his belt, as well as the leather jerkin of one of the attackers, "We go."
He pointed towards the forest, in the direction of where the Viper had
come down. Boomer nodded, and they were off.
     
     Chapter 13
     
     "Any clue as to why, Colonel?" asked Adama.
     "None sir, since we're still under radio silence. The shuttle
stopped abruptly, before reaching the system, and stayed virtually
stationary for just over two centars." Both men looked at the scanners.
The shuttle was clearly visible, once more on course for the mysterious
solar system. "She's under way again, but her speed is down, sir."
     "How much?"
     "Approximately twenty percent, Commander."
     "Concentrated scan on the shuttle, please," ordered Adama. Rigel
complied, and they read the data. Everyone aboard the shuttle was still
alive, so that wasn't it. Engine trouble, Adama decided, from the power
curve he was seeing. Something went wrong, as if there hadn't been enough
go wrong today. The bilious taste of his encounter with Sire Antipas was
still in Adama's mouth. Now, on top of everything, to have the rescue
shuttle run into trouble...
     "Steady as she goes, Colonel."
     "Sir."


     "This is almost like being home, again," said Oswy, as he and Athena
worked their way slowly through the dense forest. 
     "Yes," said Athena, picking a dead twig out of her face, "you
mentioned summers with your un..." She cursed, as she slipped on the dead
foliage, barking her shin on a fallen branch. Damned, fracking piece of
wood!
     "Uncle, Cadet." Lords of Kobol, does this forest have an opposite
side? She looked over at Oswy, finding his way through the tangle like a
real pro. Gonna wipe that smile right off your face, kid...
     "Isn't it wonderful, Lieutenant?" asked Oswy, taking in the sweep of
the verdant thickness. "After all this time, cooped up in big metal
boxes. Fresh, real air." He took a deep breath, then stopped, and looked
down, where a stream crossed their path. He scanned it, then knelt down
and tasted. His face took on the aura of an enraptured lover. "Real
water."
     "Yeah, it's...wonderful, Cadet," snarled Athena, as some forest
creature cried out amidst the tangle. She had never been what one would
have called an outdoor person. Athena's idea of communing with Nature was
taking a stroll through the public gardens of Caprica City with its
neatly aligned pathways and benches for comfort, or a visit to the local
botanical shop with its carefully controlled environment. The wildness of
this planet and all the dangers about them struck her as too much
overcompensation from the controlled environment of the Galactica that
she found herself yearning for more than ever. Athena liked walls, decks,
ceilings, things neat, controlled, orderly and at right angles. Not
this...this wildness all about them.  What the... She whirled about,
reaching for her laser, as something stuck her in the back. What was it?
An animal? Some wild hungry predatory beast? Some...
     Branch.
     "Come on," she sighed, and they continued towards the scanner
traces.


     "What the frack..." said Boomer, as the ground rumbled under his
feet. He stopped, and it did not recur.
     Great. Not only stuck on some Stone-Age rock, but one with
capricaquakes. Aren't I a lucky boy? He looked to his companions, but
they spoke too fast to follow even the few words he was certain of. His
leg was giving him a bad time again, and he signaled for a stop.
Utu-Hegal and Kadur-Mabug sat across from him, on a large rock. As he
took in the surroundings, Boomer returned to his work on the language. He
also returned to his work on a project of sorts. He'd noticed, during the
attack, that neither side seemed to posses the bow. The bad guys had
hurled spears, the hunters the same, or used their chillingly efficient
blowguns.
     It struck him as odd that so simple a weapon should be unknown here.
So, he had decided to advance their crude arsenal, and  -- making use of
skills recalled from his long-ago Academy survival training -- invent it
for them. As he sat, trying to figure out the nouns from the verbs, he
continued working on the latest version. It had been tricky, finding
materials with the right strength and elasticity, but so far...
     Utu-Hegal, who still seemed inclined at times to want to fall down
in worship of him, watched closely as the Warrior's fingers deftly twined
together this and that. He was glued to it, as Boomer knocked his crude
arrow, and pulled back...
     The arrow buried itself in a tree trunk, the twang reverberating for
several moments in the quiet. Both hunters stared wild-eyed at both the
weapon, and the result. Boomer could see their minds working to
assimilate this new wonder, and contemplate its potential. Kadur-Mabug
reached out for it, and Boomer handed it to him. The young buck looked it
over, and tried to draw it. It was tough, but the young man had muscles
like an athlete, and he drew it till it slipped from his fingers. He
yelped in surprise, dropping the weapon, and Utu-Hegal couldn't suppress
a laugh, as the younger man shook and sucked on his wounded fingers.
Boomer took it back, and demonstrated once more. Both men nodded in
appreciation, and in wonder. 
     "Boo-Mer," asked Kadur-Mabug, shaking the new wonder weapon, "make
more?"
     "Sure," replied Boomer, retrieving his arrow from the tree. It took
nearly a centar, but he showed them how to make an arrow from thin
branches, cut and shaped with the primitive flint tools they used. When
he had half a dozen arrows, crudely fletched with leaves, he started the
lessons. Both men were clumsy, but began to show their skill after
several tries. After perhaps another centar, Boomer's leg felt better,
and they resumed their trek.
     Watched closely by unsympathetic eyes.
     
     "Picking up a Viper's beacon, sir," said Grumio, on the shuttle. He
touched Apollo on the arm, and the Captain snapped awake. He was
momentarily cross, having been in the midst of a most pleasant dream
involving a certain Warrior, but quickly recovered himself.  
     "Uhh...Yeah. ID code?"
     "Checking, sir." Grumio routed the signal through the computer. "The
ID number corresponds to Cadet Oswy's Viper, sir."
     "That the only one?"
     "So far, sir. I...wait. Yes, now picking up a second one. There's a
lot of radio noise coming from the dwarf star, sir. It's interfering
right now."
     "Are we in com range, yet?"
     "No, sir," replied Grumio. "We won't reach com range for
another...nine centars, sir."
     "Nine...frack!" grumbled Apollo.
     "Sir?"
     "Nothing, Cadet. How's our speed?"
     "I had to reduce it by another percent and a half, Captain. The
primary manifold on the damaged side was getting near to redline again,
sir."
     "I see. Steady as she goes, Cadet."

        Chapter 14

     Boomer could never remember being in so thick a growth of anything.
He remembered Starbuck once telling him about wandering in the Thorn
Forest on Caprica, scarcely more than a baby, after a Cylon raid that had
destroyed his childhood home. Can't possibly have been this thick! he
decided, as he struggled to make it over a huge fallen log.
     Though not an outdoorsman, Boomer was nonetheless aware that the
forest was not empty. The forest's native creatures were all about them,
and from what he was able to glean from the talk of his companions,
something was watching or pacing them. Both men held their spears in
tight grasps, as if ready for anything that might suddenly leap out from
the endless green gloom. After negotiating a muddy ford, they came to a
small clearing, and both natives stopped, their bodies whip-tight as they
listened.
     Directly above, through a gap in the canopy, sunlight streamed down
like a spear, giving the whole area a weird aspect. There was a hideous
screech, like a soul in torment, and the others looked up, Boomer
following their gaze skywards. After a few microns, his eyes adjusted to
the sunlight, and he could see blue sky and clouds beyond...
     And something vast and winged, momentarily cutting off the light.
Both hunters shuddered, muttering to each other, and shifting their feet.
Boomer himself felt a cold wash of fear, remembering his one and only
encounter with one of the flying dragons. He shook it off, and drew his
laser, ready if the savage beast should...
     But it flew on, letting out another long scream as it did so. Either
it was just patrolling the region, not looking for anything in
particular, or it didn't penetrate the forest cover, even in search of
prey. Either way, Boomer was relieved. He had no desire, whatsoever, to
meet one of the prehistoric beasts ever again
     "Ushum," said Kadur-Mabug, pointing upwards, and Utu-Hegal grunted
in agreement, before launching into a stream of nativespeak Boomer
couldn't begin to follow. They went on for a long time, but beyond kill,
hunt, fly, and mate, he got nothing out of the conversation. After a few
moments, the primitive men seemed to regain their composure, and they
continued on, into the forest.
 
     Athena was wishing that somehow, she'd drawn a different student for
this patrol. While "getting back to nature" had its place, she was
getting mightily annoyed at the minute descriptions coming from Oswy
concerning every plant they encountered on their trek. Nerdy geek!
"Monacious monocotylidon," "deciduous," or even the ever-popular
"sporiferous" meant about as much to her as the inner workings of Cylon
society. A plant was either useful to man, or it was not. A Cylon either
got blown up, or it didn't. To her, it was all the...
     "Oh give it a rest, Cadet!" she snapped, louder than she had
intended, as the other pilot began to detail to her the various kinds of
fungus he'd found. "Who gives a pile of Cylon mong whether it uses spores
or seeds!" Almost as soon as she'd exploded, though, Athena regretted it.
After all, the kid had grown up surrounded by the natural world, and was
in his element. She could no more blame him than she could a long-deaf
musician suddenly able to hear again, or a bereaved parent having their
child restored.
     And, she couldn't stop thinking about Boomer. Was he okay? Had he
survivied? Could he...did...
     "Sorry. I'm just...what was it you were saying, Ca...Oswy?"
     "I..." began Oswy, unsure how to proceed. First, she blew his wings
off, then called him by name. Weird. "I was saying, ma'am, this plant,
here." He motioned her closer. "Recognize this?" he asked, lifting a
fruit-laden branch up into a shaft of sunlight.
     "Strawberry?" she asked, as it sunk in. She picked it, and
cautiously sniffed it. Yes, it was indeed a strawberry, and the very
scent brought back memories of her mother's garden, back behind the house
on Caprica, and the gorgeous red fruit she'd cultivated there. It was one
fruit Athena could never get enough of as a kid. How in Hades had this
plant...
     "Yeah," said Oswy, as she took a taste. It was a bit past prime, but
was welcome nonetheless. She closed her eyes, and let the flavor carry
her back for a moment.
     "Thirteenth Tribe?" she asked at last, looking at the cadet.
     "That's my guess. This is a plant known to us back home. And that's
not all, ma'am. So far, I've seen six plants I recognize from the
Colonies, and one animal. Look here." He called her over to another
plant, from which wafted a sweet odor. "Honeysuckle, ma'am. We have some
on one of the Agro ships. And this?" He pointed at a plant with dark
green leaves. "One of the Ivy family. This one here..." He reached out
and grabbed her hand, before she could touch the leaves. "Careful ma'am.
The leaves secrete a very powerful blistering agent." He ran his scanner
over the plant, and showed her the results.
     "Ouch."
     "Yes. Very dangerous. I fell into some when I was about three. My
face was badly burned, and I almost lost an eye, because of it."
     "I'll defer to your expertise, Cadet." She eyed the innocent-looking
ivy a moment longer, then returned to her scanner. They had found a
well-used animal trail amidst the tangle of the forest, and were making
slightly better time now. According to her instruments, the metallic
contact was dead ahead on this path. That, and...
     "Three contacts, ma'am," said Oswy, back to the mission at hand.
"All male. Approximately one killimetron that way." He pointed.
     "I see them. And something else, too, Cadet. Other life forms,
nearby. Roughly paralleling their movements."
     "I see it, too, ma'am. But not Human." He adjusted his unit. "Not
Human. Not warm-blooded."
     "Sentient?"
     "Impossible to determine that at this range, ma'am. But from the
mass and metabolism, I'd say not."
     "Still," Athena replied, drawing her weapon, and checking it. "You
never know. Come on, Cadet."
     "On your six, ma'am."
 
     "Captain Apollo, sir?" said Cadet Grumio. "Planet now on our
long-range scanner."
     "Good. What's out ETA, Cadet?"
     "Just over seven centars, sir."
     "Understood," sighed Apollo, wishing once more that he could somehow
squeeze more speed out of their wounded engines. "Steady as she goes,
Cadet."
     "Sir." 
 
     While he was no Mighty Hunter, Boomer couldn't shake the sense of
being followed. He looked at his companions, and noticed how edgy they
had become over the last few centons. Yeah, they feel it too, he told
himself, slinging his bow over one shoulder, and slowly rechecking his
pistol, eyes darting about the trees surrounding them. Many yahren of
flying patrols in Cylon space had honed his natural sense of danger. This
was an environment utterly unlike that of a cockpit, speeding through the
void, but it was, still, enemy territory all the same.
     "Utu-Hegal," he asked, quietly. The older hunter turned.
"Uh....lu-erim?" Lu-erim. Enemy. Boomer pointed towards the thick tangle
of the forest.
     "Lu-erim," nodded the older man. "Enn-ummy. Bad."
     "People?" asked Boomer. "Iginim?" The hostile tribe they had
encountered. Utu-hegal shook his head. Apparently, this was something
else, but Boomer couldn't begin to follow the other's words. He tried,
but he felt certain that "flying through a woman's dessert" was not what
the hunter had meant. 
     "Here," said Kudur-Mabug, gesturing. They had reached the edge of a
hill, and looked down, to see some sort of fabric tangled amidst the
foliage. Boomer at once recognized it as his cockpit's parachute. They'd
made it at last! He began to move...

     
Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
     "Ma'am?" asked Oswy, stopping short.
     "Don't know, but it doesn't sound good, Cadet." She checked her
weapon again. "Come on!"
 

     Chapter 15
     
     "Holy Frack!" cried Boomer, at the sound from above him. It sounded
like one of the flying creatures, but closer. He gripped his weapons more
tightly, and quickened his pace towards the downed cockpit. Shreds of the
parachute were still tangled in the trees above, and the lines snarled
all about. The cockpit was on it's side, and as he lifted the parachute
from it, some furry thing darted away. Whatever it was had eaten away
part of the seat cover, but otherwise the cockpit seemed intact. The
hunters, still tense and nervous, moved close to him, their attention
divided between this strange machine, and the noises about them.
Utu-Hegal muttered endlessly, too fast for Boomer to follow, and the
other spat out short clipped words, the sort Boomer needed no Languatron
to translate.
     He checked power, and the reserve battery seemed okay, if a bit
lower than he'd hoped. Reaching across, he flipped the locator beacon on,
and, after a few anxious microns, was rewarded with a low, constant
pulse.
     
     "Commander!" said Rigel, turning from her station.
     "Yes?"
     "Now receiving transmission from Lieutenant Boomer's Viper, sir."
     "Audio?" asked Adama, dropping the paper he was perusing and
switching her scans to his station.
     "No, sir. Just the long-range locator beacon. It's at a low power
level, but the ID code matches Lieutenant Boomer's ship."
     "Excellent. Concentrated scan, please. Try and pinpoint his wreck
site on the planet."
     "Sir."
     "Commander, do we break radio silence, and inform our rescue party?"
asked Tigh.
     "No, Colonel. They'll have picked it up, too. No sense giving a
pursuer more to track us by than they already have. Steady as she goes."
     "Yes, Commander."

     "I can't, Starbuck," said Apollo. "She's redlining, now. Any more
acceleration, and we'll blow the manifold."
     "But..."
     "No buts, Buddy. If we fly apart before getting there, we won't help
Boomer, much."
     "At least we know he's okay, though," said Grumio. "Don't worry,
sir. The Lieutenant's going to make it." He watched, as the shuttle's
computer generated a map of the planet, a flashing dot marking the site
of transmission.
     For the first time since Boomer's ship was attacked, he felt a ray
of hope. He smiled, and went aft to tell Cassie.  
     
     "Duck!" ordered Athena.
     
     Boomer popped the cover on one of the cockpit's emergency equipment
compartments, and inspected the contents. Though the hatch had been badly
dented on landing, the interior was okay. He took out the spare laser,
strapping it and the charge packs to his other hip, the medkit, the food
packs, as well as the scanner, the emergency communit, and Languatron.
The second compartment contained more food, extra clothes, both cold and
warm weather, and a lifemask, with extra oxygen cells. Stuffing as much
as possible into the backpack, he poked his head back into the cockpit
proper, and...
     "Aiyeeeee!!!" cried Kudur-Mabug, and ducked behind the wreckage,
nearly knocking Boomer off his feet. Boomer shouted something uncouth,
and pulled back, too see...
     Something dropping on him from above. It hit the side of the ship,
and bounced off. As he reached for his sidearm, something else flew past,
banging loudly off the cockpit's side. It was a rock! Even as he tried to
make sense of this new attack, something else dropped from above, right
in front of him. It was large, not a rock, carried itself on two legs,
and glared down at him with evil-looking red eyes, in a heavy face with a
short, round snout, filled with wicked teeth. It's hands were clawed, as
were the feet. More like the talons of birds than Human hands, he was
sure they could shred him like a piece of paper with little effort. It
was manifestly another of the weird prehistoric beasts that inhabited
this world, reptilian like the ones ridden by the attacking Iginim, but
more upright. Hissing loudly, mouth agape, it reached for him...
     And screamed, then toppled to the ground dead, Utu-Hegal's spear
skewering its throat, blood spattering Boomer's face and hair. It had all
happened in scarcely four microns, so swift had the creature attacked. Or
rather creatures. More seemed to be emerging from the forest, at least
six, so far as he could tell. He grabbed the scanner, and found another
of the horrid things. Taking aim, he blew it's head off, sending it
tumbling to the forest floor. Then, something slammed hard into him from
behind...

        Chapter 16

     Boomer cried out in pain, as something hard plowed into his back,
and sent him reeling. He felt the laser fly from his hand, and there was
a hissing sound in one ear. Close and terrifying, it was accompanied by a
rank, putrid stench, and what he would have sworn was a laugh. He tried
to turn, to face it, to fight, but something heavy was atop him. Heavy,
and hideously strong. For an instant, he remembered once having wrestled
a Cylon Centurion, on a covert mission.  Pure machines that did not tire,
it was like trying to wrestle a boulder on your chest. But this was
worse. The Cylon had merely been doing what its machine programming told
it to do, without hatred or malice. This slimy, stinking creature seemed
to enjoy what it was doing. Like being entwined in strangling snakes, he
was hefted up, and felt sharp talons rake along his skin. He was brought
eye to eye with the thing, its razor-sharp teeth dipped close, ready to
rip and tear, and he tried to scream.
     Then, blood gushed from the hideous maw, and the reptilian eyes
widened in shock, as he heard the unmistakable sound of a Colonial
pistol. In a sudden spasm, he was clenched even tighter by his attacker. 
Then the reptile screeched loudly, head thrown back. One claw released
Boomer, and he found the strength of the creature ebbing. It fell to the
ground, the Warrior still in its grip, as it lay twitching and writhing,
horrid gasps of pain and reek belching from its mouth. Stifling his own
cries of pain, he worked to wriggle free, then felt something pull him
free. He looked up...
     "Oswy?" he managed to hack out, pain shooting through his side. Each
breath was like a stab, and he bit his lip as the Cadet helped him to his
feet. He tried to wipe the gore from his face...
     And heard the twang of his makeshift bow. As his vision cleared, he
saw Utu-Hegal, bow in hand, take down one of the evil things. It
staggered as the crude arrow skewered its belly. The younger hunter was a
blur of movement, as he swung the captured sword wildly. Boomer tried to
find his own weapon, but his vision wouldn't stop swimming as if he had
had way too much of Starbuck's favorite ambrosia.
     Then, more laser shots ripped the air, followed by a loud cry. Or
was it a scream? It was familiar, and it was female. He turned around,
Oswy's arm supporting him, and saw a female Warrior, hair flailing about
her, take down another of the horrid things. Oswy fired two more shots. 
Then Boomer felt nausea rise up, and he let go, toppling into blessed
blackness.

     He awoke to blessed warmth, and the feel of something soft pressed
against his skin. As consciousness seeped back, he felt his own
breathing, and then heard sounds about him. He opened his eyes, and saw a
blur. He blinked, scrunched his eyes shut, then blinked again. The
colored blob in front of him slowly resolve to...
     "Athena....?" he said, his voice a bit hoarse. Clarity returned with
a snap and flood of relief. "Athena!" His voice cracked as he tried to
sit up, a bit too quickly, and reached out, putting a hand on her
shoulder. "Lords of Kobol, it's really you!"
     "Thank the Lords!" she exclaimed, caressing his brow. "Didn't think
I was going to leave you behind, did you?" she replied, voice tight. They
were back in the cave, the fires of the inhabitants blazing brightly.
Through the mouth of the cave, Boomer could see that the sky was nearly
black. He