Battlestar Galactica: Collective Guilt
Virtual Second Season, Episode 5
By Eric Paddon
Epaddon@aol.com

                    Battlestar Galactica: Collective Guilt

                           From The Adama Journals

     It has been two days now since the Fleet resumed its journey across
the stars after two remarkable sectans of planetary study.  What started
under difficult circumstances with the disappearance of Lieutenant Boomer
and my daughter Athena while on a survey mission, has ended on a happier
note with large quantities of tylium mined for use by the ships in our
Fleet that desperately need it to keep traveling.  But no less
significant is the incredible discovery of the largest civilization we
have ever found since our journey began, with a definite link to the
Thirteenth Tribe's original expedition to Earth.  We saw with our own
eyes the proof of how a large contingent that was part of that expedition
broke off from the main Fleet to establish a civilization of their own,
only to see it end in a destruction more tragic than the destruction of
Kobol itself turned out to be.  Leaving in its wake descendants that
regressed into total primal savagery with nary a trace remaining of the
intelligence and greatness that their ancestors once possessed.
     Studies made by some of our experts in Kobollian language have
confirmed that the destruction of the civilization took place much
earlier than initial surveys suggested.  Although the technology found on
this planet corresponded to that of our own late fifth millennia, almost
parallel to that of the still mysterious Terran human civilization, it
seems more evident that most of this technology was present at the very
beginning.  The age of the ruins in fact dates to a time that given the
dating we have in the Book of the Word for when the Exodus took place,
amounted to perhaps no more than fifty to a hundred yahrens after they
could have settled the planet.  Thus, the destruction of this would-be
oasis of human civilization, was in all likelihood engineered by the very
people who first took it upon themselves to break off from their brothers
in the Thirteenth Tribe who chose to continue the journey to Earth.
     While more detailed studies of the fragmentary records await to be
made, a grim picture of how events might have unfolded is already shaping
in my mind.  I think back to how in our own Colonies, the Twelve Tribes
that fled Kobol to settle them, all destroyed the technology and science
they'd brought with them as a sign of repentance to the Almighty for the
sins that had led to Kobol's destruction.  I can not help but wonder that
what happened at this stage of the Thirteenth Tribe's journey was an
argument over whether to do the same once they arrived on Earth.  And the
faction that wanted to preserve their technology and their knowledge was
the one that chose to break away and settle on this planet, ignorant of
the dangers it posed with its bizarre...creatures.  Thus, being comprised
of the same generation that misused technology on Kobol to cause the
Mother world's destruction, they made their own civilization's
destruction a foregone conclusion.  And so, once the technology was gone
forever, the descendants, having never been prepared for a life without
the means to make things easy for them, could only inevitably in time
regress to a state of savagery that may or may not have existed  since
mankind was first created.  Leaving us with the sorry state of humanity
that now exists on that planet.  Forever beyond our ability to help, and
who can only be left to find their way back themselves...if it is
possible for them to do so.  And as I see the faces of those wretched
souls, I wonder...could such a fate overtake us if we do not stay true to
the principles the Almighty has laid down before us, as we continue this
journey?
     On a more personal note, the safe return of Athena from this ordeal
has left me relieved beyond measure.  And I am glad to see that she bears 
no scars or ill-effects from the experience.  Although...there is
something about her that does seem different.  Something I'm not yet able
to put my finger on, and which if it does exist, is something I can only
wait for her to be open about...if she ever chooses to do so.
     While many problems remain for us, I at least should take comfort
that for now, for the first time in a very long while, we might be able
to look forward to even more hopeful results in the near future.

                         Chapter One     

     The old woman lay stretched out on the cot that was too short for
her.  Her face was heavily wrinkled, her eyes slightly sunken.  Her left
arm hung limply by her side, no longer capable of any basic function, the
result of her injuries sustained in the Destruction more than a yahren
ago.  In the long time since, she had slowly felt the remaining functions
of her body begin to shut down, one by one as if a bank of lights were
slowly being turned off one at a time.  She knew it was an inevitable
progression toward death.
     And yet, despite that realization, the old woman at that instant,
was in anything but a depressed mood.  Instead, she was smiling.  Smiling
at the younger woman who was attending to her bedside by reading from an
old book she had discovered.  For the last several sectars, the younger
woman had made it a point to come around and read aloud from some of the
few books that had been saved for the benefit of those whose eyes no
longer had the strength to read.  In this particular case, the old woman
was hearing the familiar words of a favorite Gemonese romance novel that
she'd remembered well from her youth.
     ".....To know that her hopes and dreams had not been shattered after
all, and were in fact as alive and real as they had been from the day she
first set her goals..."
     The old woman opened her eyes and looked up, even though she was
blind, "Why did you stop?"
     "I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "For a micron, I'd thought---"
     "That I'd fallen asleep?  Never.  Not for a story like this one."
     The younger woman brushed back a lock of black hair that fell over
her forehead.  "I have to admit, it's not the most eloquently written
story I've ever come across."
     "And I'd agree with you," the old woman sighed, "It's not that the
story is well-written , it's just that it...reminds me of better days. 
Happier days before all...all of this."
     The younger woman's expression tightened somewhat, as she glanced
down at the floor awkwardly.
     "You don't have to continue," the old woman said as she settled back
in her bed, "I'd like to save the ending for tomorrow and be surprised. 
After all these yahrens I've practically forgotten how it came out."
     "Of course," she smiled as she closed the book and patted her on the
shoulder.  "Until tomorrow then.  If there's anything else you need,
don't hesitate to signal Operations."
     "You're such an angel, Claudia," the blind woman said, "I've never
met anyone with a more tender heart than yours."
     The woman named Claudia smiled thinly and said nothing.  If the old
woman could have seen better, she would have seen a tiny flush of
embarrassment come over her face.
     Claudia moved off to the other side of the large room that housed so
many other elderly and infirmed people of the Fleet, set up in so many
makeshift beds so they could be attended to and looked after.  For them,
they had all reached a stage in life where normal movement and functions
of the body were gone forever, necessitating constant attention from a
trained staff of volunteers who could only try to make what remained of
their lives as comfortable as possible.  Of the twenty people who
regularly staffed this section of the Seniors Ship, Claudia, would have
been instantly chosen as the most liked and beloved member of the staff.
     Claudia had the look of a woman who devoted herself intently to her
work.  It showed in the tiny wrinkles in her face and the worn look of
her hands.  And yet, her deep black hair and classically shaped features
also suggested someone who had to have been a great beauty at one time
and who undoubtedly would still seem that way if she ever applied some
make-up and put on an elegant gown.  But no one who knew Claudia could
ever recall seeing her that way.  And on more than one occasion, when a
male colleague had attempted to ask her on a date to the Rising Star, she
had firmly refused, expressing a total disdain for all forms of elegance
and luxury.
     "We have so much work here helping people who'll never know any
luxuries again in their lives."  She'd rebuked her would-be suitor.  "I
have no intention of every indulging in that kind of thing again."
     That only further enhanced Claudia's reputation among her colleagues
as the most selfless worker they could ever recall.  Someone who devoted
her energies to humanitarian work literally every centar of each cycle.
     "I don't know whether she's crazy or a saint," the executive officer
of the Seniors Ship had said to the Captain one day, after making a
routine inspection of facilities.  "It's amazing how she can be so
wrapped up in all this and have no desire to just get some relief from it
once in a while."
     "Strange," The Captain agreed, "Someone like that deserves some
honor.  Tell the Operations Chief to see what can be done."
     The captain had given that order two sectans ago.  Now, events were
about to move forward that would change Claudia's life forever.


     "Sit down, Claudia," the genial face of Townsend, operations chief
for the Seniors Ship was smiling as she entered his office, "I hope you
don't mind coming by here for a few centons."
     "I hope it won't be too long," she said as she sat down and brushed
the lock of hair over her forehead again.  Her voice had a cultured,
clipped tone of elegance, suggesting some kind of formal education
background.  "There are people to whom I need to attend."
     "You never like to be away from your work, do you?" he sighed,
"Claudia, you are so remarkable.  I've been involved in this kind of work
myself for more yahrens than I care to admit, but even I never devoted
myself to it the way you do.  If it isn't reading a book to a blind
woman, it's feeding someone who can't lift their arms, or taking a centar
to play a card game with someone who's lonely.  Don't you ever think of
yourself?"
     "Only when I need to eat, sleep or wash myself," she cracked a faint
smile, "That's all the luxury I dare permit."
     "I'm surprised you haven't burned yourself out," he said in awed
amazement, "But at any rate, I hope you can allow yourself the luxury of
being recognized for your efforts."
     Her smile became a frown, "I don't understand."
     "What I mean is, the work you do needs to be honored and recognized
as an example for all of the people in the Fleet to look up to," Townsend
rose from his chair, "That's why I've made arrangements for Siress Lydia
of the Council of Twelve to come down and meet you personally."
     Inside, Claudia felt as if she had just been hit over the back of
the head.  She sat frozen for what seemed an eternity to her, her mouth
tightening in what was a torrent of fear.
     "Claudia?" Townsend stared at her, "Are you all right?"
     Finally, she managed to shake herself back to reality.  "I'm sorry,
I....look, I appreciate the sentiment but there's really no reason for
that."
     "I don't understand," the operations chief was baffled, "This is
about giving you some well-deserved honors."
     "No," she got to her feet, "Look...I'm not ungrateful or anything
like that, but...I don't want public honors for what I do."
     "This isn't about public honors, or ceremonies," Townsend said,
"Just a private meeting with Siress Lydia, so she can see firsthand what
you do, and then a dignified resolution of the Council recognizing your
work, and maybe nothing more than a private audience with Commander
Adama.  No one else has to take part in it."
     Claudia was shaking her head, "I'm sorry.  I can't accept."
     Townsend rose from his chair.  The friendliness was gone from his
face, "I'm afraid you don't have any choice, Claudia.  This isn't just
about honoring you for your efforts, it's also about getting some greater
recognition for our efforts in general before the Council.  That happens
to matter a great deal to me."
     "Then find someone else to honor," Claudia's tone grew angry and
defiant, "I won't do it."
     "You're the best example of what our work is about!" his voice rose,
"And this is no longer a request, it is an order!  If you don't do this,
then you'll leave me no choice but to have you dismissed and reassigned
elsewhere.  And if you think that would be unreasonable of me, well,
you'd just have to make a formal protest with those same people in
authority you don't want to meet over giving you honors."
     She shook her head again in disgust, "Spoken like a true
bureautician who cares more about public relations and image than the
simple nature of the work we're supposed to be doing."
     "Maybe that's true.  Sue me," Townsend shrugged, "But if there
weren't a few bureauticians like me to keep the infrastructure of an
operation like this running, and making sure that people in real
authority are kept aware of what we do, we wouldn't last a sectan. 
That's a sad reality of life."  He paused as his eyes narrowed, "Just
what is your problem, Claudia?  Why are you so...reclusive?"
     "What I choose to do with my life outside of my work is my business,
Townsend.  And if that means I want to keep a low profile, that ought to
be respected."
     "It is.  That's why I asked that this function be completely
private.  I already showed all the deference I could to your feelings by
doing that.  But I will not let you decline the award by not showing the
courtesy to meet with Siress Lydia and with Commander Adama.  That is
final, and unless you have another subject to talk about, you can go
now."
     Claudia bit her lip and felt a torrent of anguish building through
her, but she knew she was helpless to say or do anything at this point. 
Instead, she turned and left Townsend's office and walked as quickly as
she could to the privacy of her own quarters on the other side of the
Senior Ship.  
     When the compartment door was closed and she knew she was alone she
quietly slammed her fist against the wall and tried her best not to break
down.  It had taken her all her inner strength to move on from one
horrible chapter in her life before, and now she was going to have to
find it again.


     For one of the few times in her life, Cassiopeia found herself
wishing she'd taken a course in alien zoology during her long-ago medical
studies.  Since coming back from the mission to the planet with its
myriad quantities of oversized flying and reptilian creatures, she'd
spent a good deal of spare time studying the samples of body parts
brought back for further study.  Ordinarily, such studies would have come
under the responsibility of a member of Dr. Wilker's staff of scientists,
but with Wilker's lab aboard the Galactica still not fully rebuilt since
its destruction in the battle with the lone Cylon basestar (which had
also destroyed that mysterious recording of the unknown spacecraft that
had been picked up in the Celestial Dome), the Life Station had temporary
control of the samples for now.  Giving Cassiopeia the opportunity to
study them as much as she wanted to.
     Did species like these ever exist in our own home worlds?  She
thought in awe as she studied the teeth samples from a rapton through the
magnifiers.  God help us if they exist on Earth!
     Finally, Dr. Salik noticed her riveted to the magnifiers and gently
tapped her on the shoulder.
     "You're off-duty now, Cassiopeia," the Chief Medical Officer said
gently, "And I'd rather those magnifiers be freed up for the work we
usually do.  Go down to the Club and relax."
     "Oh!  Sorry, Doctor, I-----."
     "I understand.  It's not easy to take your eyes off those things,
but...I think you've done enough."
     "I guess so," the blonde med-tech smiled and rose, "It's just that
Starbuck's drawn deep patrol the last two cycles, first with Giles and
now tonight with Greenbean, so there isn't much else to do."  She then
added in a wry, half-serious tone, "But, I guess even I know that one
doesn't always need his company in order to just go out and have some
fun."
     "I would hope so," Salik smiled with that paternal air that she'd
always found endearing, "See you tomorrow, Cassie."
     The med-tech left and decided to go to the Officer's Club, which she
was entitled to visit as often as she wanted.  When she arrived, she got
herself a mild glass of white ambrosia, and was prepared to enjoy it in
quiet at the bar, when she heard a voice call over to her.
     "Cassiopeia!" Sheba waved to her from a table in the corner of the
club.  Commander Cain's daughter was alone this evening, which struck the
med-tech as odd.  Of late, Sheba and Apollo had been spending a good deal
of time together, and Cassiopeia would have thought tonight would be no
exception.  She picked up her drink and headed over to the table.
     "Thanks for coming," Sheba said as she sipped from her half-empty
tankard.  "I could use some company."
     "No problem," Cassiopeia said, "I would have thought you'd already
have company this evening."
     "Apollo?" she let out a mirthless chuckle.  "Not tonight.  He had to
help Boomer finish writing up the final report on those primitive humans. 
And besides, after what happened yesterday, it's probably just as well."
     "What do you mean?" Cassiopeia frowned slightly.
     She let out a sigh, "For a couple sectars, we've had nothing but one
happy date after another, and then...we finally did something we'd been
putting off for a long time, and that was introducing me to Boxey."
     Already, Cassiopeia had an inkling of where she was going.  "What
happened?"
     Sheba shook her head with sadness and took another sip from her
tankard.  "It was a total disaster," she said.  "Boxey, he....he was just
sullen and aloof the whole time we were together throughout dinner. 
I've----" she shook her head again, "I've been racking my brain trying to
think of what I possibly could have said or done to make him act that
way, but I can't come up with an answer.  I...told him how Apollo had
said so much about him, and how I was looking forward to becoming his
friend, but....it was as if he just didn't want to accept me at all. I
offered to spend an afternoon in the Rejuvenation Center with him, but he
said he had some studies to do for an exam.  And then, I found out from
Apollo that he'd made that up, that there was no exam to prepare for.  He
just...didn't want to spend any time alone with me.  I even offered to
take him to the next triad match his father plays in, but he said, 'My
Dad never lets me go to those things.'  God, it was...just awful.  I felt
like I wanted to crawl into a hole."
     She now looked directly at Cassiopeia, "I admit, I've never felt
that comfortable around children, but...I know how important it is to
make a good impression with Boxey, because if I can't, then-----" she
trailed off, not wanting to go any further.
     Cassiopeia reached out and touched her shoulder, "Sheba, don't let
it get you down.  Boxey's... gotten too used to having only one parent in
his life.  It's probably just...a natural resistance to the prospect of
some big changes in his life that might someday happen."
     "I'm not sure," Sheba shook his head, "You had to be there,
Cassiopeia, and you'd see how there was just this inner hostility from
the outset.  Polite indifference I was prepared for, but-----" she shook
her head, not sure of what else she could say.
     "Have you and Apollo talked about this?"
     "We spent about three centars after Boxey went to bed talking about
it.  For now, we...both agreed that it was best to not have any more
dinners with Boxey until we could figure out what was wrong."  She
paused, "Apollo and I both know that if Boxey isn't willing to accept me,
then...there's no point in Apollo and I seeing each other any longer,
and...neither of us want to confront that possibility.  So for now,
we'll...keep going out with each other and avoid dealing with the
situation until we have to."  Sheba lowered her head so she was staring
down at the table, "I love him, Cassie.  If I had to let go of him,
I'd...have a lot of trouble getting over it."
     The med-tech squeezed her shoulder again, "Sheba," she said, "You
have to be willing to give him a chance.  Besides," she wasn't sure if
she should say the next thing on her mind, but decided she had to, "This
kind of reaction from Boxey, it's....well it is something you should be
able to relate to in some way."
     She looked up at her, and for brief micron Cassiopeia was worried
that Sheba might take her comment the wrong way, but to her relief she
just nodded in agreement.
     "I know what you mean," Sheba said quietly, "Boxey's in the same
position I was in, when you came into my father's life.  You think
he...he's afraid his mother's memory will become forgotten if Apollo and
I ever....that is..." she stopped, again not willing to express openly
certain thoughts about her future that were deep inside.
     "It's possible," Cassiopeia admitted, "Apollo had to do a lot of
reassuring to Boxey after Serina died that her spirit would always be
with them in order to get him to come to terms with the finality of it. 
It'd certainly help if you and Apollo did things...well different from
the way your father acted after I came into his life, which I know had a
lot to do with why you and I didn't hit it off."
     "I suppose we could try that," Sheba folded her hands in
contemplation, "Cassie, I'd do anything that would help settle this
matter, because I'm well aware of the kind of responsibility I'd have to
take on for Boxey if it came to that, and I....I want to do a good job of
it."
     "I know you do," Cassiopeia said sympathetically.  In this one
conversation, she could now see how much Sheba really was in love with
Apollo, and how she had only one goal in mind for what she wanted to see
come out of it, someday.
     "If...Apollo and I are to do things...different as you say, I guess
what I really need to understand better is what kind of person Serina
was.  And what kind of mother she was."
     "That might be a good idea," Cassiopeia said.  "Have...you and
Apollo talked much about that?"
     "Some," she admitted, "He told me about all the difficulty Serina
went through when she had Boxey.  Being a single parent trying to raise a
child and have a career at the same time.  I guess that had to have taken
a lot of self-sacrifice on her part."
     "Yes," the med-tech nodded, "I had a couple talks with her before
she and Apollo were sealed.  I think what surprised me most about Serina
was how she had so much faith despite all she'd gone through."
     "Really?"
     "Yes.  She...lived up to her name in every sense of the word."
     Sheba idly took another sip from her near-empty tankard, "What I
can't do is be a clone of her.  I have to be mindful of what has the
potential to upset Boxey if I started doing something or saying something
identical to the way she did things.  I...have to find a way of giving
Boxey what he needs in a way he can accept, and I can feel comfortable
with."
     "You'd have to sound Apollo out more on that," the med-tech said,
"But what you might do is go over to the Electronics Ship, where the IFB
broadcasts from, and see if they have any of Serina's old BNC broadcasts
on file.  Maybe...maybe if you had a chance to see and hear her talk,
you'd come away with more of the understanding you need about her."
     Commander Cain's daughter slowly nodded, "That sounds like a good
idea.  I'll definitely look into that.  And Cassie...thanks for
listening."
     "Sheba, always know that I'm hear to listen whenever you need to
talk to someone about this, or anything else."
     "Thanks," she smiled as she clasped her hand in friendship, "That
means a lot to me, Cassie.  I won't forget."
     And then, Sheba rose from her chair and quietly left the Club,
leaving Cassiopeia alone to contemplate how sad it was that Sheba had to
find herself in this position, just when it seemed like things were
really brightening up for the first time in her life since Cain's
disappearance.
     By all the Lords, she prayed silently as she finished her ambrosia, 
let it work out for her.

                    Chapter Two

     Siress Lydia, one-time member of the Aerian Senate, and now a member
of the Council of Twelve, took a sip of ambrosia from her elegantly
designed chalice, and settled back in the plush comfort of her chair.  To
her left was a large window offering a wide view of the many ships in the
Fleet that she would be visiting as part of her own personal inspection
tour for the Council.  Every sectar, it was another member's turn to make
personal tours of numerous ships and write up their observations, leaving
a documented record of how the Fleet seemed from a wide number of
perspectives.
     I suppose it had to be my turn sooner or later, she thought with
disgust as her jeweled hand set the chalice down on the table in front of
her.  The idea of leaving the comfort of her own quarters aboard the
Rising Star, along with the other luxuries that ship had to offer, in
order to see the underside of what existed in the Fleet excited her as
much as the prospect of going through a Cylon attack.
     Maybe that makes me a heartless elitist who doesn't care about the
plight of the masses, Lydia thought as she took another sip.  So be it. 
Representing the people doesn't mean I should be expected to spend my
time among them.  And they feel the same way about people from the Elite
Class, so doesn't it all cancel out in the end?
     One thing she could take satisfaction in was that she at least had a
personal luxury shuttle at her disposal.  However many ships she had to
visit with appalling conditions in hygiene and decay, she could always
use this leftover reminder of the good old days (indeed, it had been
aboard this very personal shuttle that she and her entourage had used to
escape from the Colonies the night of the Destruction) to travel to these
ships in style.
     One look at Siress Lydia would have been enough to tell anyone she
belonged in the Elite Class.  A stunningly beautiful auburn haired woman
in her early forties, she had a taste for elegant fashion, preferring
gowns that had a way of showing off the contours of her figure, or if she
felt in a more wicked frame of mind, exposing a bit more of her cleavage
than more modest women would have done.  Jewelry almost always adorned
her hands, arms and ears.  It was often said of her that the only time
she ever dressed down was when she was required to wear the formal
matronly robes for a Council of the Twelve meeting.
     For Siress Lydia, politics had always been something she regarded as
a permanent passport to the life of luxury she craved.  Most of her
established wealth on Aeries had come from her husband, a wealthy Aerian
industrialist whom she had always loathed and not had normal marital
relations with for a decade before the Destruction had left him dead with
few tears shed by her.  But the marriage had at least opened the door to
let her run for political office on Aeries, and her engaging personality
and sense of style had won the voters over and gotten her elected to the
Aerian Senate.  As a legislator, her career had been undistinguished, but
the glamorous parties she threw at her mansion were always the talk of
not just her home planet, but of all the Colonies.  It had insured a high
public profile for her, independent of her husband's reputation in
industry, which had left her more than satisfied with her life before it
had all come to an end with the Destruction.
     The unexpected appointment she'd received to the newly constituted
Council of the Twelve after the Destruction, was one that she knew came
largely as a result of her public reputation.  She had met Adama's wife
Ila on several occasions, and left enough of a positive impression that
had undoubtedly been relayed to the Galactica commander and stuck in the
back of his mind when he had made his decision on who to select for the
membership of the Council.  In the yahren since, she had been one of the
more quiet members of the Council, seldom regarding it as her place to
speak out on important matters, and more content to keep a sharp eye on
where the winds of fortune were blowing at a particular centon.  Besides,
she preferred keeping her reputation as the politician who symbolized
elegance and style rather than controversy.
     "Siress Lydia?"
     She reached up and answered the intercom, "Yes?"
     "We'll be landing aboard the Senior Ship in three centons."  The
shuttle captain's voice was obedient and deferential.  He had been a part
of her entourage for yahrens and had always been devoted to her.  So
devoted that at one time, he had been one of her lovers, and he had
stayed on out of the hope he'd one day have that status again.
     But there wasn't much chance of that happening anytime soon.  Not
when she had a more prize catch of late to share her bed with.  And he
was seated across from her on the other side of the shuttle, carefully
sipping a drink of his own.
     "The Senior Ship is actually the least difficulty touring," Sire
Antipas said, "Her passengers are far more...docile then those unruly
urchins aboard the Orphans Ship."
     "I would hope so!" Lydia shuddered as she set her chalice down in a
secure container and then had the drink table retract in preparation for
the landing, "Still, it's not going to be pleasant seeing all those
elderly people who can't make a decent living any longer packed together. 
It always leaves me worried that that's going to be my ultimate Fate
before all is said and done."
     Antipas smiled, "For you, my dear Lydia, there is no chance of that
ever happening.  One way or the other, we are going to be settled
somewhere long before you reach the stage of life where you would have to
worry about that."
     "I thank you," she returned the smile.  Since Antipas had joined the
Council to replace Sire Uri, the dashing Libran had long fascinated the
attractive Siress.  Still, she had not considered it her place to make a
play for him and she had held herself back.  But one sectar ago, Antipas
had unexpectedly begun a game of seduction and charm that had now become
a discrete love affair, and by far the most satisfying one Lydia had
known in her life.  And with each passing day, she had found herself
becoming more and more convinced that sooner or later, Antipas was likely
to become the new leader of the Colonial Nation.  As much as she enjoyed
the personal thrills the relationship gave her, she also knew that
attaching herself to him could conceivably bring even greater advantages
for the long-term.  "It was good of you to accompany me on this, and make
the whole inspection tour easier."
     "Though in order to maintain Council propriety, it's best I remain
in the waiting area of these ships as you make your tours, since total
objectivity, free of anyone else's influence, is required for these
reports."
     "I understand," Lydia nodded and then smiled coyly, "I expect the
pleasure of your company later in more pleasant surroundings."
     He returned it and raised his chalice.


     Claudia had found herself unable to sleep much of the night.  And as
she feared, when sleep finally came the thoughts troubling her most
intruded on her dreams.  Leading only to a horrible nightmare.
     "I thought you would approve!  You would have received more than you
could ever have imagined."
     "NO!  Not this way!"
     And then, the smell of burnt flesh, the sight of crumbling wreckage
and the sounds of anguished death cries mixed in with Cylon fighters
flying overhead all came together, and drove her awake, sweating
profusely and on the verge of screaming.  Still, she managed to keep
herself from doing so.
     "Oh dear Lords of Kobol," she clasped her hands together in
anguished prayer, bowing her head, "Please help me.  Please don't let
this new beginning you gave me come to an end."
     At this point though, she couldn't see anyway avoiding it.  Not with
Siress Lydia coming by to present her with an honor.  The number of
people who had a knowledge for her face were few by Claudia's reckoning. 
Perhaps no more than could be counted on one hand.  But Lydia was one of
them.  That much she was sure of.
     She took several deep breaths, threw back the sheets and stumbled
over to the sink basin.  She splashed some water against her face and
then took a look in the mirror.  Wishing she could think of some way of
changing her appearance, but knowing it was futile at this point.
     I should have dyed my hair blonde or something else, she thought as
she slowly began to dress.  Feeling the need for distraction, she
switched on the small video-com unit mounted above her bed.
     "....It has been more than two sectars since Commander Adama's
controversial decision to release Baltar from the Prison Barge.  But as a
recent study taken indicates, negative sentiment over this decision among
the people of the Fleet has not completely died down.  Zed, you have more
on this?"
     "Yes Zara, we at the IFB commissioned a scientific survey of more
than 800 people in the Fleet representing a cross-section of all
categories and the results show that more than 65% either had
reservations or disapproved strongly of Commander Adama's unilateral
decision to release Baltar.  In addition, we found that over 75% felt
that some consultation with the Council of Twelve was required before the
decision was made, although on the brighter side for the Commander, more
than 70% do believe his decision was made out of honorable intentions. 
What this suggests for the future....."
     The IFB co-anchor's voice was then silenced by Claudia's hand
slamming the video-com off.  She stood sprawled against the wall, her
hand occasionally rapping against it, and this time she didn't even
bother to hold back the tears.
     It took her three centons to finally force herself away.  The first
thing she noticed as she pulled her hand back from the wall was the
circular band of whiter skin on the fourth finger.  The sign of a ring
she had once worn for so many yahrens but which she had discarded a
yahren ago.  But even though the ring was long gone and destroyed, it
still managed to leave its telltale reminder to Claudia of her past.
     Maybe I should have cut the finger off.  No, then I'd just be
reminded of it more.
     "Okay, 'Claudia'," she said aloud, "Back to work.  It's probably
your last day doing something you love so much.  Let it end with
dignity."
     When she entered the corridor and those who knew her well saw her,
they saw only the Claudia they knew.  With a warm smile and her head held
high.

     Townsend had been waiting in the docking area for Lydia.  Once the
elegant siress emerged through the docking ring, he was quick to greet
her.
     "It's an honor to have you aboard, Siress," the Operations Chief
said, "I hope you'll find your visit a pleasant one."
     Anything but, Lydia said to herself as she tried not to make a face
over the generally cluttered condition of the docking area.  She planned
on spending at most, no more than one centar aboard this ship. 
Externally though, it was time to show the face of the siress everyone
had admired.  She flashed a smile, "I am looking forward to seeing the
fine work you've been doing up close."
     "Well I'm just a bureautician.  It's the staff of this ship who
really keep things going.  In particular, the one my communique
mentioned, Claudia."
     "Yes, I took the time to read her background file before I left. 
Not much about her personally, I noticed.  No family or other relatives?"
     "I believe she lost everyone she knew in the Destruction," Townsend
said as they began walking down the corridor that led to the main turbo
lift.  "She never talks about those days.  With Claudia, only her work
comes first."
     "The reports say how devoted she is," even Lydia had to admit to
herself that she'd been impressed with what she'd read on Claudia's work. 
"I can see why you were anxious to have some kind of recognition bestowed
on her."
     "You have it with you?"
     "Of course," she held up a small box, which contained a
commemorative medallion inside.  "Ordinarily this would be done in a more
formal setting, but you said she doesn't have much use for that kind of
ceremony."
     "I'd say no use," Townsend chuckled, "It's one of the strangest
things about her.  You yourself know how important it is to enjoy the
finer things in life.  All people should do that at least once in awhile,
but with her there's a total desire to avoid those kind of things.  I
don't think she's ever been off this ship once since she started working
here."
     Sounds like the kind of person who'd instinctively hate me, Lydia
thought.  I'll have to keep up a good facade in front of her the whole
time I give her this.
     As the boarded the turbo lift, the one thing Lydia found herself
dreading the most was the thought of Townsend prolonging her stay aboard
this ship.


     By instinct, Claudia had gone first to the old woman she'd been
reading to yesterday.  She had only a little more to go in the book, and
if she didn't get the chance to finish the story it would have weighed
heavily on her conscience.
     The old woman was glad she'd come and had the expression of an
anxious child as she settled back in her bed to listen to Claudia read. 
It only took her fifteen centons to get to the book's finish and when she
was done she looked up and saw the old woman smiling contentedly.
     "Thank you so much, Claudia," she said, "Hearing that story again
makes me remember how wonderful life used to be.  It helps me realize
that no matter what things are like now, I was very lucky."
     The social worker set the book down and squeezed her hand, "You
should still think of yourself as lucky.  When you can still appreciate
things in life like a good story and look for the other joys that can
still be found, that means you've still got a lot going for you.  That
you don't have to be filled with despair or guilt about...anything to
regret."  Unlike me, she then added silently to herself.
     "That's true," she nodded, "I...certainly don't have regrets about
my life.  It's so good for people like you to remind me of that,
Claudia."
     "That's what our job is," Claudia said as she rose, "I have to go
now.  I've...enjoyed sharing this book with you."
     "The Lords bless you."
     I wish they would, the black-haired social worker sighed as she
moved to the next room to consult with the Duty Supervisor over which
people needed to have their meals brought to them.  She saw that two were
expected in the next few centons.  There was Chronos, a man so old and
with no teeth remaining, that he could only take nourishment through a
straw.  And there was the woman Estelle, who was probably the same age as
Chronos but who at least could still manage solid food.  She went over to
the food dispensary where the meals for each bedridden senior in this
section of the ship were all carefully pre-programmed by computer, and
could be accessed on a centon's notice.  What she needed for the two
people could fit on a single tray so she could handle them in one trip.
     She took care of Estelle's meal first, giving her a bright, "Good
morning" that always produced a smile from her in return, before setting
up the table on her bed and locking it into place so the food tray could
have a solid base to rest on.  When it was in place, she leaned down and
whispered with a mischievous smile, "Don't tell a soul I did this,
Estelle, but I had a friend smuggle this packet of Skorpian bee honey
out.  It should make your meal a lot more palatable."
     "Bless you," her wrinkled face smiled, "You remembered my telling
you last sectar how I'd love to taste that again if it were possible."
     "With me, all things are possible for those like you," Claudia
pulled out the small packet, tore it open and squeezed the thick, golden
substance over most of the otherwise bland food.  She had asked a
maintenance worker on the Senior Ship who regularly made trips to the
Agro-Ship to see about getting one packet of the ordinarily expensive
condiment so she could give Estelle a happy reminder of her long-ago
youth.  "But always remember to keep this our secret."
     "Of course."
     Claudia finished cutting the food into manageable pieces and handed
the utensil to her, "You should be able to manage it now.  Take care."
     "The Lords bless you,"
     As she moved off to take care of Chronos' liquid meal, she wondered
if hearing that phrase from so many people might make an impact.  For
now, she wasn't sure it would be enough.
     Damn it, she felt a rising tide of exasperation.  Why doesn't she
show up down here and get this over with?
     She pushed that thought out of her mind long enough to take care of
Chronos.  It was tougher to find ways of brightening his meals like she'd
done with Estelle, but on occasion she'd been known to give him a little
taste of ambrosia in a smuggled shot glass that always managed to leave
the otherwise silent man in a brighter mood.  She only regretted that she
wasn't able to do that today on what was probably the last time she would
attend to him.
     As Chronos sucked on the straw to feed himself, she readjusted the
blankets on his bed to make sure he was as comfortable as he could be. 
She had finished retucking a corner when the centon she'd been waiting
for and dreading, finally came.
     "Claudia!" she heard Townsend's voice behind her.
     She wondered if she should avoid turning her head at first.  But
then, she realized that would only make the whole thing less dignified. 
Better to respond immediately and face them both, since she knew Lydia
had to be there with the Operations Chief.
     She turned around and saw she was right.  Lydia was exactly as she
remembered her, all adorned and bejeweled in the finest splendor money
could be.  Just as it had once been for her as well.
     "Hi!" Claudia didn't bat an eyelash.
     "Siress Lydia, I'd like you to meet the Senior Ship's Guardian
Angel, Claudia."  Townsend motioned, "Claudia, this is Siress Lydia of
the Council of Twelve."
     "Your reputation precedes you, Siress," Claudia smiled as she got to
her feet and extended her hand.
     "As does yours," the Siress returned the smile and accepted the
handshake, "I'm sure Townsend has told you that in addition to conducting
my routine inspection for the Council, I'm also here to present-----,"
     Claudia wondered how many microns it would take before the first
chord of recognition would come over Lydia's face.  It had taken only
fifteen, which was longer than she'd expected.
     "Yes?" Claudia tried not to notice, "You're here to present
something?"
     Lydia blinked twice and frowned for an instant then shook herself
back to a normal expression, "Ah, I was saying to present you with some
overdue recognition.  Perhaps the best place for that is in Chief
Townsend's office?"
     "I would think so," the Operations Chief said, oblivious to what had
just transpired.  "It should be no trouble at all."
     "Yes," Lydia was staring at Claudia's face again, her air one of
disbelieving recognition.
     She knows, Claudia thought.  But she just can't believe it, so
that's why she's not saying anything.  
     They went over to Townsend's office.  The Operations Chief was
beaming with pride as he turned to Lydia, "Well, Siress, if we may
perform the due honors?"
     Slowly, she nodded and opened the box containing the medallion.  She
then motioned Claudia to come closer.  It took all of Claudia's strength
to show no reaction.
     "Claudia, on behalf of the Council of Twelve, I present you with
this medallion of Distinguished Service, one of the highest civilian
honors known to us.  Your tireless effort on behalf of improving the
well-being of our elderly and infirm is a shining example to us all."
     As Claudia lowered her head so Lydia could place the medallion over
her neck, she seemed surprised that the siress had been able to get
through the entire speech without fumbling her words.  She wondered if
now was going to be the point when Lydia would probe with a question
designed to confirm her suspicions.
     "Siress Lydia," Claudia said after she raised her head, "While I am
not given much to this kind of ceremony...it is appreciated.  I thank you
and the Council and accept it not for myself, but for those whom I've
tried to help this past yahren."
     "Most commendable," Lydia nodded and paused for an instant, "Tell me
Claudia, do you come from Piscera, by any chance?"
     There it was, she thought.  The first probing question at last.
     "As a matter of fact, I do," Claudia decided not to shade the truth. 
"I spent most of my entire life their before the Destruction."
     "I see," she nodded, and Claudia could tell she wasn't sure whether
she should ask another question.  Especially not with Townsend present. 
"A remarkable planet, Piscera."
     "Well, I think that just about does it for now," Townsend said,
"Unless either of you want some refreshment?"
     "No, I don't think so, Chief Townsend.  I'd much prefer to proceed
with the rest of the tour."
     "And I do have my duties to return to," Claudia said and then bowed
respectfully, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Siress Lydia."
     "Mine too," she was starting intently at her again, her mind filled
with disbelieving suspicion.  "Perhaps we shall meet again sometime and
have a greater opportunity to...talk."
     She looked her in the eye, "Perhaps."
     When Claudia left Townsend's office, she only felt a gnawing
uncertainty going through her.  Lydia had obviously recognized her but
had chosen not to say anything for now.  And what she did with that
information, she had no way of knowing.
     Unless...she stopped and pondered, unless she took matters into her
own hands first.
     She looked back and saw that Lydia and Townsend were headed for the
central turbo lift to resume the rest of the inspection tour.  She knew
that as soon as the siress was off the ship, she planned on asking the
Operations Chief for a major favor.


     Throughout the rest of the tour, Lydia was largely oblivious to her
surroundings and to Townsend's descriptions.  She was still in a daze
over her meeting with the woman called Claudia.
     It couldn't be, she kept saying to herself over and over again.  And
why would she be here if it's true?
     When she finally went through the docking ring to re-enter her
shuttle, she was still so befuddled, she didn't even notice Antipas at
first, instead going over to her chair by the window and fixing herself a
drink.
     "Lydia?"
     She looked up and saw Antipas staring down with concern.
     "Oh!  Sorry, I----,"
     "Are you all right?" the handsome Councilor asked, "You look as if
you've seen a ghost."
     Lydia looked out the window and put a hand to her chin. "I think I
have."

                         Chapter Three

     "Three days now since leaving the planet behind us," Adama said into
the microphone as he began his journal entry for the day, "The final
report from Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Boomer reached my desk this
morning, and for the most part offers nothing substantially new to what I
speculated yesterday about the origins of this civilization's descent
from Kobollian greatness to primitive barbarism.  If my impressions are
to be altered, they can only come after many sectars of study by scholars
more expert than I in Kobollian language...and by that time, it is my
hope that new opportunities will have crossed our path to render these
questions about the planet left behind academic."
     The chime to his door sounded, and the Commander shut off the
recorder.  "Enter!"
     The door opened, and Adama lifted an eyebrow as he saw a woman he
didn't recognize enter.
     "Commander," she was visibly trembling, "My name is Claudia.  I
believe you received a report from Operations Chief Townsend of the
Senior Ship about me."
     "Claudia?" Adama frowned and then felt a light of recognition.  "Ah,
yes.  I remember now.  Chief Townsend put you up for a Distinguished
Service medallion, and asked if I might give you a private audience."
     "Yes," Claudia nodded.  "I...apologize for coming over to the
Galactica on short notice, but...I considered it important to see you
right away, now that...well now that Siress Lydia has presented me with
the honor," she absently fingered the medallion that still hung from
about her neck.  Throughout her entire journey from the Senior Ship,
she'd wondered why she didn't take it off, but there was a part of her
that took pride in what it stood for and what she had accomplished.  If
Adama could see that, it might prove to be helpful for her.
     "Well...this is a bit unexpected, Claudia," Adama said, "You caught
me catching up with some administrative matters I needed to attend to,
but I think perhaps later today I might be able to spare a centar and
discuss the work you do on the Senior Ship.  It is of great interest to
me."
     "Commander," Claudia drew herself up, "I...didn't come here to talk
to you about my work.  It's...something else.  I'm assuming you haven't
heard yet from Siress Lydia, and I wanted to see you personally before
you heard the news from her."
     "Heard what?" the Commander frowned.
     Claudia looked around, "Could I sit down?"
     "Go ahead," Adama motioned.  Looking nervous, the black-haired
social worker sat down in front of Adama, who was leaning back in his
chair with a curious expression.
     "I..." she was finding it so hard to find the right words, since
this was something she never expected or wanted to be open about again in
her life, "Commander, I...well, I suppose I should start by saying I met
your wife once."
     His eyes narrowed.  "Yes?"
     "About five yahrens ago at a party for the Council members and their
spouses at Siress Lydia's mansion.  You...you weren't there, but your
wife went to represent you."
     "Claudia," Adama was baffled to hear this aged woman in the simple
homespun garments talk about knowing his wife from an elegant party, "I'm
not sure I understand what you're leading up to.  You met my wife at a
party..." he stopped and frowned, "How could you have met her there
anyway?"
     Claudia closed her eyes and slowly exhaled, "I probably look like I
was one of the servants.  But...that wasn't it.  I...."  Get on with it! 
She found herself screaming inside, "Look, maybe I can explain it best
this way.  My name isn't really Claudia.  It's...." more hesitation,
finding it difficult to speak a name of someone she felt had ceased to be
a yahren ago, "My name is Ayesha."
     It took Adama three microns for the name to register in his mind. 
When it did, his eyes widened in amazement.
     "Ayesha," he said slowly, "That means you're....."
     "I'm Baltar's wife," she said, finally looking him in the eye.  "And
I'm as guilty as he is."
     Adama could scarcely believe what he was hearing as memories of Ila
talking about that party suddenly went through his head at a rapid pace. 
Betraying no other emotions, he turned on the intercom to the Bridge.
     "Colonel Tigh, until further notice, I'm not to be disturbed."
     He then looked at her carefully.  The woman who now called herself
Claudia was looking down at the floor with the greatest expression of
shame and guilt he'd ever seen on a person's face.
     "Tell me your story," Adama said gently, "From the beginning."


     "Omega, see to it those com-line circuits get checked again.  We've
been having a few breakdowns the last few cycles."
     Finished with that part of the Bridge, Athena moved over to the next
area to continue her mandatory survey.  In the past, she'd always found
this kind of work tedious, but after the ordeal of what she'd gone
through on the planet, she doubted she'd ever volunteer for that kind of
assignment for a long time to come.
     Even the one thing from the experience that had seemed like such a
wonderful new opportunity at the time no longer seemed as meaningful.  In
the two sectans since her return to the Fleet, she and Boomer had not
shared a single conversation about their experience together on the
planet.  As if both of them felt too awkward to revisit the subject now
that they were back in the safety and comfort of the Galactica.
     She was preparing to begin the next part of her survey when she
suddenly saw Boomer standing in the compartment entryway to the Bridge,
his arms folded and his eyes focused on her.  It was obvious from the
expression on his face that he'd decided it was time to talk to her at
last.
     She gave him a silent nod of understanding and went over to tell
Colonel Tigh she would be taking a break for the next few centons.  The
executive officer didn't give her request any special thought and didn't
see her go to the entryway to meet Boomer.
     When the compartment door closed and they knew they were alone,
Athena decided to speak first.
     "I guess it's time we talk about...an unspoken matter."
     "Yeah," Boomer nodded, his expression somewhat awkward,  
"We...really haven't had any time to do that since we got back."
     "No, I guess not," Athena shook her head, "They kept us both pretty
busy filing action reports."
     "Yeah, I just finished mine last night.  Oh, and you'll be
interested to know that Oswy's out of the Life Station now and will be
back to duty in a sectan.  Grumio, too.  Arm back in fighting trim. "
     "I'm glad to hear that.  Give them my best."
     "You'll also be glad to know that I saw to it that a couple
of...stowaways have been placed in a secure location for now where there
won't be any questions asked."
     "And how did you pull that off?" she smiled crookedly.
     "I'd rather not say.  Better to keep you out of any potential
trouble with the Commander."
     "That's kind of you."
     "Least I could do," he stopped and shook his head in amazement,
"Frack, we really are beating around the bush, aren't we?  About...that
other matter?"
     "Yeah," Athena nodded, "I guess...things seem different now that
we're back safe and sound among everyone else."  She paused, "I ah...took
the liberty of making sure that my post-mission physical yielded
nothing....unexpected as a result of what happened."
     Boomer's eyes narrowed, "You mean you told Cassiopeia?"
     "No, no," she shook her head, "I just mean that if...something
unexpected happened, she would have been bound to notice....and she
didn't.  So that means what happened is still...our secret."
     "Well that's a relief," he sighed, "I think we're learning something
about how...what gets brought out in the face of great pressure in a
situation like we were in, isn't necessarily the kind of thing that will
hold true when we get back to the real world.  I...have to be honest,
I've been struggling a great deal over this since I got back, just like I
know you have to have been doing."
     "True," the black-haired lieutenant conceded, "I mean...are any of
us prepared to let people like Apollo or Starbuck know about...us?"
     "Or the Commander," Boomer added, "Athena, I guess what it comes
down to is this.  If we think that what we shared down on that planet
means something special about how we...feel about each other, I think we
have to start over from the beginning and see how much we enjoy each
other's company in a more...normal context.  That means...well it means
we shouldn't even think about doing what we did again.  Certainly not now
at least."
     "I think you're right," Athena nodded, "If...we are to do something,
it ought to be something a little more low-key, like...well maybe you can
invite me to the next triad match you're not playing in, or we can have
dinner together on the Rising Star some night.  Something like that where
we can...see if we really enjoy each other's company that much."
     "That's a good idea," Boomer said, "I'll do what I can about that
real soon.  I promise.  Just...give me some time."
     "I will," she then smiled with self-deprecation, "Besides, after
Starbuck, I want to take any new relationship very slowly."
     He clasped her hand and smiled back.  "Well...I guess we've cleared
that up for now.  I'll let you get back to work, and I'll be in touch."
     "I'll look forward to it."
     But they found themselves unable to move away from each other just
yet.  Finally, Boomer snuck a glance behind him to make sure no one was
approaching, and then leaned down to give her a very quick kiss on the
lips.
     Athena said nothing as she watched him walk away, but she did feel
glad that there were signs that what she and the warrior had shared
hadn't been something to easily dismiss after all.  With that ray of
hope, she knew she could afford to be patient...for now.

     After finishing the inspection tours, Lydia had brought her shuttle
back to the Rising Star, where over a light dinner with Antipas, she'd
finally revealed her suspicions about the woman named Claudia.
     "Baltar's wife?" Antipas lifted an eyebrow.
     "I'm positive," Lydia nodded, "Ayesha was...the kind of woman who
always stood out in a crowd.  I remember when she attended that party for
the Council members at my mansion how...awed I was of her.  So beautiful
and elegant, and above all so *determined* to get ahead in life.  She and
Baltar were a perfect match for each other."
     "And now we find her as a humanitarian worker aboard the Senior
Ship, with a new name.  Sounds like someone who found herself quite
ashamed of her background after the Holocaust," he shrugged, "It's
interesting, but...I'm not sure it means much."
     "Does it?" Lydia asked pointedly, "I think you're wrong.  It could
mean a great deal."
     Antipas set down his chalice, which this time was filled with water,
and frowned.  "How so?"
     "Suppose special arrangements were made for her to get a new
identity," Lydia said, "Suppose that Ayesha has friends in high places
who've been looking after her needs all this time."
     "Adama?  Even I wouldn't be prepared to think that of him."
     "Maybe not.  But....there is the matter of public perception,
especially in light of the disposition of her husband."
     A faint smile curled at the corners of the beautiful siress' lips as
she said the words, and in an instant Antipas realized that seducing her
was paying more dividends then he could ever have anticipated.
     "That's an interesting way of putting it," he returned the faint
smile.  "Let's discuss this some more...in more intimate surroundings."


     "I...suppose for me it all goes back to when I decided as a young
university student that the skeptics were right and the Book of the Word
a giant fraud.  Renouncing all belief in a Deity or the idea that there's
punishment in some life beyond made it easy for me to become a totally
amoral person," Claudia was feeling her tongue loosened in a way that she
never thought possible.  "And so, I set out in life with this
determination to get ahead by any means necessary.  That meant if I had
to use sex, bribery or any other kind of corrupt conduct, so be it.  What
did it matter in the end?  Anyway, after spending all of my 20s engaging
in that kind of conduct, and finding myself very rich in the world of
Piscean trading, that's how I happened to meet Baltar.  And...well it was
like magic between us.  There was a...I don't know what the right word
is, I guess it's chemistry, that just made us go to each other like an
insectoid to a floodlight.  And he didn't waste any time dissolving his
second marriage to marry me.  We...in our own way, we were happy because
we found how much we complemented each other.  We were both cut from the
same amoral fabric, and that the only thing that mattered in life was
getting ahead by any means necessary."
     "So you knew all about the...unethical practices he engaged in as a
Piscean merchant."  Adama was finding her narrative fascinating.  The
image of the haggard, simply dressed woman named Claudia didn't jibe at
all with the image of the stunningly elegant Councilor's wife that Ila
had met, and spent many centars describing to him.  If he hadn't heard it
from her own voice, he never would have connected the two people together
as the same individual.
     "I practically encouraged it," she said, "Commander, you must
understand this.  I wasn't some naive innocent who didn't know what her
husband was doing behind the scenes.  He was *always* open about it, and
like I said a lot of the time I was encouraging him to do it, and damned
be the moral and ethical questions.  We both felt that the only reason
why humanity was gradually losing the war against the Cylons was because
there was too much weakness in leadership concerned with ethics and
morality.  And that the only hope for humanity was for leadership with a
different attitude.  So that's why..." she lowered her head, "That's why
I encouraged him to try for the Piscean seat on the Council."
     "And he used all sorts of...means to get himself elected,"
     "Yes," she nodded, "You're...probably aware of all of that, so I
won't waste my time rehashing those points.  Suffice to say, for him it
was the opportunity to achieve more power, and for me, as his wife, it
was the opportunity to share in all that."
     "All right then," Adama folded his hands and leaned forward, "The
next and most important question is this.  Did you have any advance
knowledge of Baltar's deal with the Cylons?"
     The woman who was now having to think of herself as Ayesha again
looked him in the eye.  "Upon my oath on the Book of the Word and the
Lords of Kobol I now believe in again, Commander, the answer is no.  I
*never* in my wildest imagination thought that selling our race out to
the Cylons was in his mind.  What I saw in Baltar was the chance for more
determined, more ruthless leadership emerging, and if that meant seeing
him become an absolute dictator of the Colonies to wage a tougher effort
against the Cylons, then I was all for that.  And yes, I *wanted* to see
that happen some day because I...." she lowered her head in shame,
"Because my greatest fantasy was to be his queen in his absolute
dictatorship.  Where the two of us could literally control the fate of
all the Twelve worlds by our own edicts and whims.  But selling out? 
Doing something that could result in so much death and destruction?  No. 
Never.  I never thought it could come to something like that."
     Adama wasn't sure whether to believe her on that point.  Baltar's
deception campaign had been a process that stretched out more than six
sectars from the time he'd first made contact with the Cylon Empire to
bring their message of peace, to the day of the Destruction.  The idea
that he would have kept his ambitious wife in the dark over that seemed
to stretch credibility.  And yet, there was something in Ayesha's tone
that made him more inclined to believe she was telling the truth.
     "I think...Baltar was afraid I would object," she went on, "And that
from his standpoint, what he wanted to do was present things after the
fact to me, when he envisioned seeing Piscera spared by the Cylons for
him to rule over with me as his queen.  He...must have come to realize
that becoming absolute ruler of the Colonies in a tougher fight against
the Cylons was a futile hope, and that the best he could hope for
was...the kind of unholy arrangement he struck that would give him
control of an entire colony to rule over.  And that afterwards, I would
come to accept that.  At least...knowing him, that's what I think he had
in mind."
     "You never saw him after the Destruction."
     "No," Ayesha shook her head, "On the night he and his pilot
Charybdis left Piscera for the Peace Conference on the Atlantia, he just
gave me a cryptic message about how the two of us were going to come into
more rewards and powers then we could ever have hoped for.  And then....I
was on the deck of our villa when I saw the Cylon fighters overhead and
the attack began, and....that was when I realized in a flash what Baltar
had done.  Because he had been so intimately involved in meeting with the
Imperious Leader and talking about how he had singlehandedly hammered out
the details of the peace treaty, there was no way he could have been
fooled that easily.  I knew that somehow, he had done something
unspeakable, and it...God, it left me shattered.  I...was such an
emotional wreck I was barely paying attention when a Cylon bomb caused a
giant tree near the villa to crash on the roof and practically destroy
it."
     "How did you get off Piscera?"  Adama was still not ready to pass
any judgment on her yet.  His tone staying as neutral as it could be.
     "That's the funny part of it all, Commander," she was smiling
mirthlessly, "I honestly can't recall most of the details of how I got
away from my villa and out to the aerodrome where the refugees were
gathering.  All I remember was hearing the broadcast you made giving
everyone in the Colonies the coordinates for the rendezvous point with
the Galactica.  I remember your specifically mentioning Baltar's name as
the one responsible for our plight, and...I think I may have gotten by
without being noticed because I was in such an awful tattered shape that
night and so upset, that I...didn't look like my usual glamorous self. 
The next thing I remember was being processed aboard a ship that
ultimately was designated as the Senior Ship.  Until this very day, I
never set foot off it."
     "You took a new name and started your new career as a humanitarian
worker, looking after the needs of the old and the infirmed."
     "Yes," she lowered her head, "I...had to think of something
productive.  Something where I could do what I hadn't done at anytime in
my life, and that was give myself to others.  Helping them, and meeting
their needs.  Putting the life of selfishness and deceit behind me
forever and starting with a clean slate.  And...with my ship being turned
into the Senior Ship, that presented the best opportunity for me."
     Adama absently drummed his fingers on the table, knowing this next
question would be difficult, "And when Baltar was captured?"
     Ayesha kept staring at the floor, "I...tried not to think about him
even though technically under the law he is still my husband.  Though God
knows there were many sleepless nights when I wanted to go over to the
Prison Barge and just look him in the eye and ask him, why.  Why had he
done it?  But...I already knew in my mind what he would say.  That one of
his motives was to do it for me, and make me his queen of a puppet state
on Piscera ruled by him.  And he would probably then say how his decision
was motivated by every instinct he and I had both shared through all the
yahrens of our marriage on what we needed to do to achieve power for
ourselves."  She shook her head again, "And he would have been right. 
We...were two of a kind.  I may not have been part of his planning,
but...I carried the same impulses and instincts within me.  I fed off the
same lusts and desires he carried and never...never thought of trying to
influence him in another direction."
     She looked at Adama again, "That's why even now, I can't say that I
hate him.  Because I have no right to judge him that way when...I'm
ultimately as guilty as he is."
     "Do you really believe that, Ayesha?" Adama was now becoming more
convinced that she hadn't held anything back from him.  "You really feel
this sense of...responsibility for what happened to all of us?"
     "Yes," again she lowered her head.  "Do with me what you wish,
Commander.  I've...tried to come to terms with what happened, and I'd
hoped I'd be able to consider my life as Baltar's wife a closed chapter,
and that I could spend the rest of my life making what little amends I
can as Claudia the social worker, but....now that I've had to open up
about this, I now realize I have to answer in full for my own
responsibility in what happened."
     "Why did you come to me, Ayesha?" Adama asked, "Why not just open up
to one of your friends aboard the Senior Ship, or seek out a high priest
who would have been required by law to keep your confession
confidential?"
     "I don't know," she admitted, "I...just felt that since you were
going to hear about me eventually from Lydia, I'd be forced to see you
sooner or later, and I...wanted to see you privately before anything else
happened.  I'm...not appealing to you for mercy, I just...wanted you to
hear all the facts from me first, and....then you might be in a position
to judge me fairly."
     "Well, it was good of you to be forthcoming under these
circumstances," Adama rose from his chair, "As to what becomes of
you...I'm afraid I couldn't possibly answer that question at this time. 
In the absence of any formal statement from Siress Lydia or anyone else
requesting that charges be brought against you, I'd prefer to defer any
action for now."
     "I don't understand," Ayesha was confused, "What do I do for now?"
     "That is a good question," the Commander put a hand on his chin,
"For now, I think it best you remain aboard the Galactica.  As a guest. 
I will see to it that you be given proper accommodations, and should the
situation change requiring a...public proceeding, you will be available
for it on quick notice.  For now, I would suggest you simply maintain
your present identity of Claudia and explain that you are being given a
special tour of the Galactica in recognition for your humanitarian work
aboard the Senior Ship."  He paused, "I can also say at this time that
what you have done...will be a consideration in any future proceeding. 
If it should come to that."
     "I see," she wasn't sure how she should treat this news at this
point.  On one level she had been given a temporary reprieve, but there
was one part of her that wished events would move forward, now that the
matter of her real identity was out in the open.  How long she could let
herself stay in this state of limbo was something she didn't know the
answer to.
     "Present this pass to Colonial Security," Adama handed her a
document, "It entitles you to guest quarter accommodations aboard the
Galactica.  I'm also giving you my personal telecom number so you can
contact me directly at anytime.  I can assure you that if and when
matters move forward with regard to your...situation, I will do all I can
to see to it that a...fair and just outcome results."
     "I expected nothing less of you, Commander," she rose from her chair
and took the offered pass, "No matter what happens to me, I have great
faith in your ability to do what is right.  You've...more than proved
that this past yahren."
     "Even with regard to your...husband's release?" Adama knew it
probably wasn't tactful to ask that question, but under the
circumstances, he wanted to know the answer.
     Ayesha sighed, "Yes, even with regard to that.  When I heard the
details of what happened, I knew right away that you had no choice. 
My...husband has always been a man who loves only one thing more than
power and that's being a survivor.  So yes, I do understand why you did
what you did.  As for me, knowing he's not in the Fleet any longer
actually makes me feel better, because that way I don't have to worry
about him being there to tempt me any longer."
     She placed the pass in the folds of her tunic and then pulled the
hood over the top of her head, "Thank you, Commander.  Until later."
     When she was gone, Adama shook his head as if he'd just come out of
a dream and collapsed into his chair.


     After finishing their dinner in the Rising Star's Main Dining Hall,
Antipas and Lydia had stopped in the luxury ship's Market Section,
located not too far from the ship's Astral Lounge and Chancery.  The
Market Section had been established only in the last few sectars as a
place for independent merchants and businessmen to do business with the
wealthy members of Elite Class who resided aboard the luxury ship.  In
the past, such merchants could have been found only on the main market
ship in the Fleet, the liner Pathmain, but it had soon become evident
that greater opportunities for doing business with those who had more
money could come only if a new marketplace were established aboard the
Rising Star itself, whereas the customers aboard the Pathmain tended to
be those from the lower and middle classes.  Thus, those merchants who
had more luxurious goods to offer, found themselves transferring their
kiosks to the Rising Star and seeing their profits double almost
immediately.
     In Lydia's case, her favorite kiosk was that of an Aerian spice
merchant named Jubal.  He had a large supply of spices and fragrances
from her home planet that the Siress often purchased for her own quarters
and her private shuttle, as they lent an aura of home that she felt she
couldn't capture anywhere else.
     "Good evening, Jubal," she said, "I'm in need of a new cache of
cinnamon leaves.  Do you have any?"
     The merchant smiled, "Carefully cultivated aboard the Agro-Ship so I
can sell them to a woman of outstanding taste as you, Siress Lydia."
     "I thank you," she smiled back and opened her billfold, "The going
rate is still twenty cubits an ounce, right?"
     "Correct."
     "Just a micron," Antipas said, "I think it only fair that this
evening, I do the honors.  Especially as I have hard money in my
possession," he reached into his pocket satchel, and took out a handful
of gold coins.  "Three hundred twenty cubits for one pound.  Keep the
remainder for yourself, in honor of the fine service you provide people
like the good siress."
     "Why thank you, Sire Antipas!" Jubal felt gratified, "That is most
generous."
     "Simply within our good nature," he picked up the packets of
fragrant spices and handed them to the beautiful siress, "For you, my
dear Lydia.  Something to brighten up your quarters."
     "You're too kind," she smiled as she took them and then locked her
arm around his, "I wish the Libran merchants had something of note I
could get to reciprocate."
     "In good time," Antipas said, relaxing in her hold, "For now, let us
attend to other matters."
     "Goodbye, Jubal!" Lydia waved back at the merchant before they
exited the marketplace.
     Jubal smiled with satisfaction and went back to counting the gold
coins Antipas had handed him.  The councilman had overpaid him by more
than fifty cubits, which amounted to the best tip he'd ever received.
     But then...his satisfied feeling faded when he suddenly remembered
what always happened to windfalls like this.  And if he didn't act
quickly, he was going to lose this windfall as fast as he'd received it.
     The Aerian merchant bent down and hurriedly opened his cash vault,
determined to get his new earnings safe and secure.  It took him more
than three centons to open the door and get the three hundred plus cubits
inside before closing the vault.
     When he got to his feet his eyes fell on a folded sheet of paper
lying on the front of his kiosk.  He felt a chill creep up his back as
his mind developed an inkling of what this message would say.  Jubal
opened it and then found his worst fears confirmed.
     "No," he whispered under his breath, "Not this time.  You aren't
getting any more from me!"
     And then, with a contemptuous air he tore up the note and scattered
it on the floor.



     Sergeant Castor never liked it when he drew the assignment of
manning the Colonial Security Operations Center for an entire shift. 
Like most Colonial Security guards, he preferred the freedom of
patrolling the battlestar's numerous corridors and soaking up the
warship's unique sense of atmosphere.  Plus, walking the length of the
battlestar in rotation with the other guards was always the best way of
getting in one's daily exercise, and in Castor's case that always meant
the easiest way of staying fit and trim for the next triad match that he
and Boomer, regarded as the second best team in the league next to Apollo
and Starbuck, would take part in.
     Today though, his entire shift would be spent sitting behind a desk
coordinating the patrol points of the other on-duty guards and where they
were supposed to be at a given instant.  As well as attending to the
matter of ongoing investigations such as the never-ending mystery of the
fugitive from the destroyed freighter Spica named Dravius, and answering
any questions that might come up for Security to handle on this day.
     A far cry from last sectan and actually going on an Elite Forces
mission for the first time in a yahren, he mused as he started to go
through the stack of paperwork on the desk.  He had barely gotten started
when he saw a slightly middle-aged black-haired woman in civilian
clothing enter the room.
     "Can I help you?" he looked up.
     "Yes," Ayesha pulled out the pass Adama had given her, "My name is
Claudia.  Commander Adama's putting me up in guest quarters for now."
     "Can I see that?" Castor motioned and then took the document.  As
soon as he saw the Commander's seal he nodded, "Looks in order.  Okay,
here's your security key for access to VIP Quarters #1, that's located on
Delta Deck."
     "Thank you," she took the key, "I think I can find that myself."
     "If you need anything, just give us a call.  That particular room
hasn't been used since Baltar had it just before we released him, but
don't worry it's been well-fumigated since then."
     Ayesha froze slightly at first and then struggled to crack a smile. 
"I appreciate that, Sergeant."
     "Anytime."
     As soon as Baltar's wife was out in the corridor she found herself
looking up and wondering how much longer she was going to be tortured by
reminders of him.


     Since Ayesha's departure, Adama had spent most of his time going
over the report from the Senior Ship on all the work she had done the
last yahren as Claudia the social worker.  What he saw was more than he
would have expected from anyone in a similar position.  What especially
fascinated him was the numerous quotations from staff and patients alike
that invariably contained the same word when describing her: selfless.
     What a contrast, he though as he again recalled the conversation
with Ila, five yahrens ago.  His wife, who had been a great beauty
herself, had said more than once that Ayesha had singlehandedly caused
all heads to whip toward her and brought all conversation to a stop when
she had entered the room with her husband.  Ila had even admitted to more
than a little envy when she'd seen the beautiful off-the-shoulder formal
gown Ayesha had been wearing.  But, she'd then noted, it soon became
clear to her that Baltar's wife was indeed a perfect match for her
husband.  The same air of arrogance, swagger and cold ruthlessness that
lurked behind whatever pleasant expressions lined their faces.
     "From what you've told me of Baltar," Ila had said, "I now have to
wonder if she's the real power behind the throne.  She's two inches
taller than him and at times seems a lot more imposing."
     And now, Adama had met that same woman for the first time and seen
only a hollow shell of what Ila had described to him.  And a woman who
carried a burden in her heart greater than anything he could ever recall
seeing in someone.
     Now the difficult question for Adama though, was what action, if
any, was required?
     What the Commander found most troubling was what Ayesha faced even
if she was subjected to a public hearing and acquitted of any wrongdoing. 
He knew and understood the sentiments of the people, and how much anger
and bitterness they carried in their hearts over how they had been
betrayed.  That alone explained those poll numbers taken by the IFB that
showed sentiment still running against his decision to release Baltar. 
Once publicly exposed as Baltar's wife, could she be able to return to
the life she'd made for herself as Claudia, the beloved and respected
humanitarian worker aboard the Senior Ship?
     Adama was enough of a realist to know the answer to that.  Perhaps
those she treated and attended to would be more forgiving, but he found
himself envisioning a scene of angry people harassing her, and making her
a target for the wrath and anger they still carried within them.  And for
many of those people, they would not be inclined to believe that Baltar's
wife could not have known anything about her husband's plan to betray
humanity.  Given what people who knew Ayesha in those days would say
about her, the people would almost be inclined to think Ayesha had
encouraged the idea.  At the very least, with Baltar no longer a
prisoner, his wife would become a convenient scapegoat to see imprisoned
now.
     It seemed obvious to Adama that no matter what happened to Ayesha as
far as Colonial jurisprudence was concerned, the one thing she did face
was an irrevocably shattered life.  And the more he read her file about
her humanitarian work, the more he felt a growing sense of injustice
about that.
     He wondered if he should call Tigh and ask for his advice, but at
this instant he wasn't comfortable letting anyone else know about this
situation.  Not until there was movement from the only other person in a
position to act.  Siress Lydia.


     "I really should be going now," Antipas said with sad reluctance as
he began to dress himself.
     Lydia sat up in the bed, the sheets covering her naked body, "Must
you?" there was a soulful edge.
     "All in the name of keeping things...discreet," he smiled at her. 
"Although we both benefit from not having spouses, there are probably
still some who frown on the idea of fellow Council members taking
advantage of each other.  It is, you will admit, without much recent
precedence."
     "I suppose.  Council history is something I know little of," she
sighed and leaned back against the headboard, "Truth be known, if it
weren't for the prestige that comes with being a member, I wouldn't even
bother continuing.  Those meetings bore me so much I can't even remember
when the last time I ever spoke out on an issue was."
     "Well, you're not the only member who tends to be reticent," Antipas
straightened his tunic.  "Perhaps it's time you changed that, and raised
your profile as a Council member.  This business regarding Baltar's wife
seems to be the best opportunity for that."
     "Must I?" Lydia asked, "I...was kind of hoping you'd bring the
matter up."
     Her lover shook his head.  "Not me.  I didn't meet her, and anything
that happens will have to stem entirely from your own knowledge of her. 
This is something I can only offer support on, but you have to take
action."  Left unspoken by him was the realization that if he raised the
subject to try and humiliate Adama, it had the potential for backfiring
with Adama branding him an opportunist.  That was the last kind of charge
he wanted his adversary to be able to make.  With Antipas, the key toward
one day attaining power was to stay subtle and to avoid all possible
missteps.
     "I suppose so," Lydia sighed, "But how?  Do I place a call to Zara
and tell her she should investigate?"
     "And let Zara receive all the credit?"  Antipas said, "Not a wise
step.  The key is to take initiative yourself.  That means raising the
matter with Adama personally, and putting it front and center on the
agenda for the next Council meeting.  If Adama goes along and is
cooperative, then you go to Zara and burnish your credentials as a
stateswoman.  If he's uncooperative, and your little theory about him
giving Ayesha some special privileges is true, then you still go to Zara
and your credentials are enhanced.  And no matter which of these two
outcomes, you will have my full support, and I am sure that of our
brother members who are also of a mind to assume the worst about Adama."
     Slowly, the siress nodded, "All right.  I'll do it.  I'll see him
tomorrow and then it goes from there." she looked over at him, "Will you
at least accompany me?  I'd...feel more secure if you were there too,
since you know how to take him on."
     "I'd be honored," he bowed, "I'll telecom you tomorrow morning, and
we can move forward.  Until then, my love."
     "Good night," her expression was that of a dewy-eyed adolescent who
was deeply smitten.
     Outside, Antipas casually made his way back to his own quarters. 
From his standpoint, it had been a productive evening in every sense. 
His feelings for Lydia would never reach the stage of true love, nor did
he ever have any intention of tying himself to her permanently.  But for
now, she was a most pleasurable diversion, and he didn't mind settling
into temporary monogamy for now given the extra benefits that came from
the relationship.
     What Antipas felt most satisfied about was that he now had a
situation he could use to get some leverage on a matter of greater
concern to him.  Deep down, he cared nothing about the fate of Baltar's
wife, even if it were true that she was guilty of some crime.  All he
wanted to see happen at this point was Adama not anxious to publicize the
story.  If that happened, then he'd have the leverage he wanted to meet
his greatest need at that moment.


     Jubal finished closing up his kiosk for the night, locking away all
of his merchandise in the compartment drawers, and making sure the vault
was secure.  Once that was done, he was ready to return to his quarters,
situated in the lower-class accommodations for Rising Star employees on
the third level.
     He walked toward the main turbo lift and saw a familiar face
standing by with arms folded.
     "Hi," he said, "Finished working tonight?"
     The slightly short red-haired man shook his head.  "Not quite," his
expression was strangely unfriendly, "There's a little bit of unfinished
business to take care of, first."
     "Really?" Jubal frowned, "What could that be?"
     The turbo-lift opened and the two stepped in.  The red-haired man
pressed a button that Jubal noticed was for the lowest deck level of the
luxury ship.  An area that few people ever frequented.
     "Just let me press my level," the Aerian merchant reached forward,
only to have the red-haired man slap his hand away.
     "Sorry, Jubal," he said coldly, "You're going where I'm going."
     Jubal frowned in disbelief at him.  "What are you talking about? 
What's wrong?"
     "What's wrong is what you do to important messages," the coldness
increased in the red-haired man's voice.  "There's supposed to be an
understanding of what happens whenever you get one, or had you
forgotten?"
     In a flash it suddenly hit Jubal, and his eyes widened in horror,
"My God," he whispered, "You.  You're the one behind the Association."
     "Congratulations," he smiled menacingly, "Little good that that
information will do you."
     The turbo lift opened and Jubal saw two imposing men standing in
front of him.  One, a tall thin man with a full beard, the other a
massively built man who towered over all of them.  In an instant, he
recognized the two men whose faces he had never seen before, and who had
used their powers of persuasion in the past to extort vast sums of money
from him.  The fact that they were now showing their faces to him only
meant one thing.
     "Okay," the leader snapped his fingers, "Take care of him.  The
usual way."
     And then, Jubal felt the powerfully built man grabbing him and
slamming him against the bulkhead wall with such force he could feel his
bones breaking already.  The pain he felt was just the beginning of a
series of tortures he would feel inflicted upon him for the next ten
centons until finally, one laser blast ended it all.
     The red-haired man calmly snapped a holo-picture of Jubal's
mutilated, bloody corpse with a tiny holo-camera and handed it to the
bearded henchman.
     "The next time someone reacts to a note like Jubal did, show them
this picture," he said coolly, "That will give them a reminder of what
they face if they try to double-cross the Association.  We shouldn't have
any other problems like this again."
     The bearded henchman nervously scratched at his whiskers, which he'd
never gotten used to after growing them recently.  "You...don't think
they'll investigate this, do you?"
     "What's to investigate?" the red-haired man smirked.  "There are no
faces for anyone to connect with the Association.  We've covered
ourselves perfectly in this arrangement."
     The bearded man nodded but then looked nervously about the empty
corridor, "We really need to get out of here."
     "Sure, sure.  The two of you get lost and enjoy a bottle from the
Proteus collection.  You two certainly can afford it by now."
     The henchmen stepped inside the turbo lift which closed behind the
ringleader of the operation.  He came up to Jubal's body, reached in the
pockets and pulled out the pass-key that would open the vault to the
merchant's kiosk.  The money that had cost Jubal his life by not turning
it over to him, was about to fall into his hands after all.

                         Chapter Four

     Despite the fact the VIP quarters gave her the most comfortable bed
she'd known in a yahren, Ayesha slept poorly.  The knowledge that her
husband had recently occupied the same room and slept in this same bed
had been enough to leave her completely ill at ease.  Filling her with a
sense of his presence that she hadn't known for so long, and only
reopening the feelings of guilt and anguish within her.
     When she did sleep, it was about her husband.  A dream that gave her
a reminder of the kind of combustible relationship they had shared for
ten yahrens of marriage.  Tender words of love never passed between them
since both had been of the mind that such expressions were cheap,
sentimental rubbish for the weak-minded.  When it came to marital
relations, theirs was combustible and violent, and often enhanced by the
kind of props and actions that the moral-minded would call pornographic. 
Indeed, the both of them at times found the viewing of pornographic
entertainment to be an effective marital aid from their standpoint.
     What Ayesha found ironic was that through all of that, they found
themselves able to stay completely faithful to each other.  While she'd
had many affairs and relationships prior to Baltar, after their marriage
she'd never even considered an affair.  And she knew that Baltar had
stayed faithful as well since she'd once hired private security
consultants to check him out when she feared that he'd taken a mistress. 
So even though theirs was a marriage with no expressions of tenderness,
Ayesha nonetheless had always felt a true sense of devotion to Baltar,
that she was sure was reciprocated.  Stemming completely from the mutual
faults they shared, and the fact that both could satisfy their lustful
appetites equally.
     I guess you could call that love, she thought as she now lay awake
in bed, staring off into space.  For all the wrong reasons, built on an
unstable foundation, but it was there.  I was happy with him.  I wanted
him to succeed in his goals and visions, and wanted them for myself. 
I...loved him.
     And what frightened her most was the thought that there was some
part inside her that conceivably still felt that way.  Certainly it
explained why even now, she couldn't bring herself to say she hated
Baltar.  She found it easier to think of Baltar as one who'd become
consumed by his excesses and who'd lacked someone to dissuade him from
taking that last evil step into the world of treason and betrayal.  And
from her standpoint, her own flaws had kept her from being the one who
could have made him think twice about taking that fateful last step.  It
certainly wouldn't have caused either of them to back away from the
lesser corruptions that had typified their lives, but at the very least
the last step would have been avoided, and so many billions of people
would still be alive today.
     What if they found out?  She wondered.  Found out that the traitor's
wife was still in their midst?  The only picture Ayesha could see was one
of scores of angry mobs aboard the ships in the Fleet calling for her
head.  Demanding that she pay the ultimate price that her husband had
managed to avoid paying thanks to the suspension of the death penalty
that had existed at the time, and which had worked to his long-term
advantage in getting him free.  Now that the death penalty had been
restored by Council vote under a measure now dubbed the "Baltar Statute",
she could see the masses who carried scars with them for the rest of
their lives thanks to her husband, considering it poetic justice that
Baltar's wife be the first criminal punished by that statute.
     And the more I think about it, the more I think I deserve it, she
sighed.  Maybe I should just stop fighting and accept my fate.  And get
off this miserable stage of life once and for all like I should have a
long time ago.
     She almost wished she had a way of ending things right then and now. 
She wasn't sure she could avoid the temptation if there was something
viable in the room that would help her end her life quickly.  But that
wouldn't do.  What she needed to do was make the same clean breast of
things she'd made before Adama in an official proceeding, and then accept
her fate.  Then, she could at least end things with peace of mind, and
perhaps hope for forgiveness from the Lords.
     So be it, she thought.  She would go to Adama and ask for a public
tribunal.
     Calmly, she got out of bed and reached for the telecom.


     The morning began for Adama with a routine inspection on the Bridge,
and not a word to anyone about his meeting with Baltar's wife.  He felt
relieved to find out his son would be away for most of the day getting
his viper overhauled aboard the maintenance ship Celestra, because
Apollo's absence from the Galactica meant that he could avoid the
temptation of opening up to him and asking for advice.  As far as Adama
was concerned, he needed to keep this under wraps until he knew whether
or not Siress Lydia would take action, and only then proceed with what he
hoped would be the best solution to the problem.
     "Commander," Omega called over.
     "Yes?" Adama came over to the Bridge Officer.
     "Inbound shuttle from the Rising Star requests permission to board. 
Pilot says it's Siress Lydia's personal shuttle and she wishes to meet
privately with you as soon as it's convenient."
     Now it begins, Adama thought.  "Tell her permission granted, and to
have her come to my quarters immediately."
     "Yes sir."
     Adama then went back to his quarters and was just in time to hear
his telecom ringing.
     "Commander," Ayesha's voice was trembling, "I...think you should
know that I want to make a formal statement to the Chief Opposer of the
Fleet."
     "I see," Adama tightened his grip on the telecom.  He hadn't wanted
to hear this from her just yet.  Adama's mind was racing to try and come
up with an alternative to what he felt was a most unpalatable solution. 
"Come to my quarters immediately.  I can assure you, this matter will be
resolved today."
     He then sat back and waited, wondering which of the two women would
arrive first.  To his relief it was Ayesha, who looked more red-eyed then
she had yesterday.
     "Thank you for coming," Adama rose and shook her hand, "Siress Lydia
has asked to see me.  I can only assume it concerns you."
     "Commander, that only increases my desire to speak to the Chief
Opposer and submit myself for Tribunal."
     "It may not come to that, Ayesha," Adama said gently.
     She frowned slightly, "Why not?"
     "I think there is a way of resolving this matter in a way that
should be amenable to all interested parties."
     "Commander, with all due respect, the only way this situation can be
fairly resolved is for me to either go to the Prison Barge or be put to
death."
     Before Adama could answer that, the chime sounded and the Commander
gave the command to enter.  But when the door opened, Adama was taken
aback to see Lydia not alone, but accompanied by Sire Antipas.
     I should have known better, he thought with disgust.  He would have
to become involved with this.  That only complicates things more than I
could have imagined.
     Lydia's first reaction upon entering the room and seeing Ayesha was
one of surprise, followed by an inkling that perhaps the scenario she'd
constructed in her mind about Adama was not so far-fetched after all.
     "Good morning, Commander," she managed to face Adama, "You are
evidently one step ahead of me as to why I wished to see you."
     "Ayesha came here voluntarily yesterday," Adama said, choosing to
ignore Antipas' presence for now.  "I have already heard her make a
statement as to her real identity."
     "Well," Lydia's surprise deepened and she sat down in front of him. 
Ayesha stayed off to one side while Antipas had quietly backed himself
against the wall next to the porthole, his arms folded.  "This...really
accelerates the process more than I imagined.  I can assume then that
this matter should now be taken up by the Council?"
     "Technically, you are correct, Siress Lydia," Adama nodded, "But...I
think it might be in the interests of us all to see if we can avoid
bringing this matter out into the open."
     "Avoid?" Lydia lifted an eyebrow, "Surely, you're not suggesting
keeping the matter of Ayesha's identity a secret from the people of the
Fleet?  Do they not have a right to know?"
     Ayesha, who was surprised to hear these remarks from Adama took a
step forward, "Commander, please.  I want this to be out in the open.  I
need to make a full accounting of what I've done."
     "Just a centon," Adama held up a hand, "I think what you don't
realize Ayesha, and you, Siress Lydia, is that the idea of a full
accounting for Colonial jurisprudence and being open with all the people,
are not mutually synonymous."
     "I don't understand," Lydia was befuddled.
     "I believe I do," Antipas spoke up, "A private hearing that is legal
and official for the record, but for which the proceedings remain
secret."
     Adama tried not to show any distaste as he looked over and nodded,
"Exactly right, Sire Antipas.  I believe that any proceedings dealing
with this matter should be conducted in secrecy, and whether they become
public knowledge or not, depends entirely on the outcome."
     "Which is your legal prerogative, Adama," Antipas came over, "What
do you think, Lydia?"
     The elegant siress shook her head in a daze.  Her lack of knowledge
of the legal codes was never more evident than it was now.  "I'm...not
sure."
     "Commander, please," Ayesha was pleading, "I've had to live with so
much torment keeping this all a secret for so long.  Let this become
public knowledge at last and don't let me feel this burden any longer."
     "That's just it, Ayesha," Adama said gently, "I don't think you need
to feel this burden."
     The two Council members both raised eyebrows.
     "Adama, are you suggesting there are no grounds for any
proceedings?"  Lydia asked.
     "I didn't say that, Siress.  If you will allow things to continue, I
believe we can have this matter conducted right here and now.  As active
members of the Council, the three of us have the right to assume the
duties of Overseers pertaining to a civilian tribunal.  If Ayesha is
willing to waive her right to a Protector, I believe we can dispense with
the matter of having Sire Solon or any other Opposer appear before us and
decide this matter ourselves.  To keep things official, we need only have
an official transcriber present during the proceedings, and swear him to
official secrecy."  He paused, "I had not planned on asking either of
you, but...in light of the circumstances would you both consent to
serving as fellow Overseers?"
     "Agreeable to me, Adama," Antipas said, "Lydia?"
     "I----," the siress shook her head, "I'm not sure, but...I suppose
so."
     "Good," Adama nodded and activated the unicom, "Attention.  Corporal
Komma please report to Commander Adama's quarters immediately."
     "Commander, I----," Ayesha protested and then found herself unable
to continue.  This turn of events was completely unexpected, and now left
her feeling dazed and confused.
     "Don't worry," the Commander said gently, "You will be treated with
the fairness you deserve.  I believe I can speak for all of us in
guaranteeing that."
     Antipas was trying not to smirk.  From his standpoint, things were
proceeding exactly as he'd hoped.


     "Attention all passengers.  Shuttle Canaris now docking with
Electronics Ship.  All passengers with ducats for Electronics Ship,
please turn them over as you exit through the docking ring."
     Sheba felt the nervous sensation return as she rose from her seat
aboard the passenger shuttle and made her way to the exit, handing her
ducat to the attendant and stepping into the lounge area of the
Electronics Ship.  She was surprised to see a waiting area not too
different from that aboard the Rising Star.  Clearly some renovation had
been done to this part of the ship to give it a more elegant atmosphere.
     A directory sign told her which level she needed to go to.  IFB
operations were located on level two of four.  She rode the turbo-lift
and saw it open on a wide room divided by several clear partitions.  She
could make out the IFB studio on one side and a number of work areas
closer to her.
     A thin, balding man sat a desk closest to her.  He looked up and got
to his feet, "Can I help you with something?"
     "Yes," Sheba said, "I was wondering how extensive the archives are
regarding vintage broadcasts?"
     The man shrugged, "Everything the IFB's ever broadcast is on-file
here."
     "Actually I meant older than that.  I'm interested in vintage
broadcasts from the Colonies, before the Destruction."
     He lifted an eyebrow, "Well...that would pose a bit of a problem. 
We didn't have much time to save those kinds of things.  However, some of
the ships that had their own recordings have been donating them to us,
including the Galactica.  Any particular Colony you're interested in?"
     "Caprica," Sheba said, "I'm looking for any vintage newscasts of the
BNC by Serina."
     "I see," his voice grew quiet, "Any particular reason you're
interested in her work?"
     "It's...kind of personal."  Sheba wasn't about to explain the real
reason.
     "You knew her?" he pressed.
     "Not exactly," she said and then realized that was a stupid thing to
say.  "No, actually I didn't."
     "I'm sorry if I'm sounding inquisitive," the man said, "But if you
want to find out more about her, I'd be glad to help you.  You see, for a
few yahrens, I practically considered myself a father-figure to her.  My
name's Heller.  I'm Operations Chief for the IFB now, but my last job
before the Destruction was news director for the BNC."
     "I see," Sheba found this news unexpected.  "So...you knew her
well?"
     "Very well.  As a matter of fact," he glanced at his chronometer,
"If you've got a centar, I'd be happy to discuss this with you at lunch
in our food station on Level One."
     "I'd be honored," Sheba felt as though this visit was going to give
her more insight then she'd hoped to get.  And hopefully bring her one
step closer to solving the problem of her relationship with Boxey.


     As soon as Corporal Komma arrived and set up his official
transcriber, Adama wasted little time getting down to business.
     "Corporal Komma, as official transcriber, you are now sworn to
absolute secrecy regarding the procedures of this meeting under penalty
of imprisonment.  Upon completion of these proceedings, you are to place
the transcript in Fleet Archives under highest level of classification,
to be accessed only by the Council President's voiceprint.  Do you
understand these orders?"
     "Yes sir, Commander," Komma said at attention, and then sat down to
begin his work.  From the Security Guard's perspective, he was now a
functioning automaton doing the job of recording and not letting any of
the words impact him in the slightest.
     "Very well," Adama motioned to his two fellow members of the
Council, "Please assume your positions over there.  Ayesha, you may
remain seated where you are, but if you prefer to stand at anytime, that
is perfectly all right.  I believe we are now ready to being this Special
Tribunal that shall be recorded officially as the Colonial Nation vs.
Ayesha, also known as Claudia.  As this is a Special Tribunal, conducted
solely by a panel of Overseers without presence of Opposer or Protector,
the defendant will make a complete statement for the record, and be
questioned accordingly by the Overseers, who will base their decision on
that statement, and any other ancillary evidence that is part of the
public record.  Do my fellow Overseers agree to these terms?"
     "No protest," Antipas said, using the formal language.  Lydia,
totally unversed in such matters, and still finding it bizarre that she
should find herself in this position, merely shook her head.
     "Very well.  The defendant will now be sworn.  Please rise and raise
your right hand."
     Ayesha was trembling as she got to her feet and did so.  Still not
understanding why the Commander was doing it this way.
     "Do you solemnly pledge on the Book of the Word and the Lords of
Kobol that what you are about to report to this Tribunal shall be true
and accurate to the fullest?"
     "I do swear," her voice was only a whisper.
     "You may be seated or remain standing.  It is your preference.  You
are now regarded as testifying under oath, where penalty of perjury
exists.  You do understand this?"
     She remained standing, "I do."
     "Very well.  Now let us begin the preliminaries.  Your legal name?"
     "Ayesha," she said, "Daughter of Rider and Ursula.  Born 7315 on
Piscera."
     "And at present, what name do you go by that is recorded in Fleet
records?"
     "Claudia."
     "And your designation?"
     "I...don't know the exact category.  I consider myself a social
worker aboard the Senior Ship."
     "And your current, legal marital status?"
     She took a breath, "I am married to Baltar of Piscera.  We were
sealed ten yahrens ago, and our bond has not been formally or legally
dissolved."
     "Thank you.  That concludes the preliminaries.  It is our
understanding that you wish to make a formal plea of guilt concerning
what you consider to be a crime against the Colonial Nation.  Is this
correct?"
     "It is correct," Ayesha now felt at last that things were moving
forward.
     "What crime do you plead guilty to?"
     She looked Adama in the eye, "I plead guilty to treason against the
state and complicity in the deaths of billions of Colonists.  A crime
punishable by death."
     "That is technically not true," Sire Antipas leaned forward, "The
death penalty applies only to crimes committed since the suspension was
lifted two sectars ago.  It can not be applied to matters that took place
while the suspension was in effect." he then cast Adama the faintest of
smirks, "Retroactive adjudication, I believe."
     "My fellow Overseer is correct," Adama conceded, refusing to rise to
Antipas's bait, "But for now, we will stick to the immediate issue at
hand.  Now is it true, that of your own free will, you came to see me
yesterday to bring this matter to my attention?"
     "Yes," she nodded and then glanced over at Lydia, "My visit though
was prompted by my belief that Siress Lydia had recognized me when we met
yesterday morning aboard the Senior Ship."
     "That's true," Lydia spoke up, "I did recognize her.  I am
acquainted with Ayesha from some five yahrens ago."
     "And how many people in this Fleet do you have reason to believe are
aware of your true identity?"
     She looked about, "Only those who are present in this room."
     "Now Ayesha," Adama said, "Please make the same statement you made
to me yesterday concerning your relationship with your husband, your
knowledge of his activities and all other things you took part in. 
Remembering of course that this time, you are under oath."
     Ayesha nodded and began to recount the same things she had told
Adama yesterday.  As had been the case yesterday, there was little or no
interruption, not even from Lydia or Antipas.  As Ayesha talked, the
elegant Siress found herself feeling a sense of distinct pity for
Baltar's wife.
     Her biggest problem was being devoted to that loathsome creature,
Lydia thought.  She should have cast him aside like I learned to cast my
husband aside.  Then, she would have been free of him completely and free
from this burden of hers.
     Indeed, the more she heard, the more she began to realize that
Ayesha seemed to have no direct knowledge of the nature of her husband's
plot.  And that the guilt she felt was more a matter of guilt by
association.
     Finally, Lydia decided she needed to interject, "This is all very
interesting, Ayesha, but is it your contention that you had no actual
knowledge of your husband's plot before the Destruction took place?"
     "None," she shook her head.
     "But if you had no direct knowledge of this plot, and if there is in
fact no evidence that would implicate you in this plot, how can you plead
guilty to treason?"
     Ayesha looked over at the siress, "Because I *should* have known! 
And if I'd made an effort to find out what my husband was really up to, I
could have taken action to prevent it."
     "How would you have done that?" Antipas softly inquired.  He wasn't
about to play the role of heavy for this.  All he wanted at this stage
was one particular outcome that would work favorably to him, and that
depended more on Adama than it did on Ayesha.  "Let's assume for
argument's sake that you became aware that your husband's negotiations
with the Cylons was done to bring up a betrayal of humanity.  What would
you have done first?"
     Ayesha stopped and a look of confusion came over her face,
"I...well, I would have contacted the appropriate authorities."
     "Is that really the first thing you would have done?" Antipas
pressed, "Surely your first instinct would have been to confront Baltar
directly, speaking to him as his wife, and asking if this were true.  Was
this what he planned on doing?  Would a wife as devoted to her husband as
you say you were have notified the authorities first without confronting
her husband about the nature of these accusations of treason?"
     She lowered her head, "I...suppose."
     "I want to assure the Chief Overseer, that I am not trying to badger
the defendant," Antipas looked over at Adama, who was tensing somewhat,
"But it seems to me that in order to judge her case accurately, we must
explore what the most plausible actions she might have taken would have
been."
     "I concur with my fellow Overseer," Adama said.  "You...felt you
knew and understood your husband completely, didn't you?"
     Ayesha's head remained lowered, "I did feel that way."
     "And you considered your marriage meaningful, as you had chosen to
define it?"
     "Yes.  Based on the...standards I lived by, I considered it so."
     "Had there ever been a time when your husband had not made one of
his...schemes for advancement known to you?"
     Baltar's wife finally looked at them again, "Not to my knowledge. 
We were...open with each other when it came to those things."
     "Can you therefore say with certainty that any advance knowledge of
your husband's plot regarding the betrayal of the Colonies, would have
led to you notifying the authorities before confronting him about it
first?"
     She lowered her head again, "No, I can't."
     "Let us assume then that you do confront him," Antipas resumed, "You
press him on it, and somehow you find that it's true.  Then you threaten
to reveal your knowledge of what he intends to do.  What do you suppose,
realistically, happens to you next?"
     She frowned, "I...don't understand."
     "I think what Sire Antipas means is, do you honestly believe you
would have received any opportunity to warn anyone about your husband's
plot, if events had unfolded this way?"  Lydia decided she could speak
with authority again.  "Count Baltar was a man of considerable power. 
Surely if he knew you might threaten to expose his plot, he would
have...taken action against you?"
     Ayesha stopped to think about that, "That's...possible."
     "Or probable," Adama put a hand to his mouth.  Already he was
finding his instincts on what needed to be done vindicated.  It was only
a matter of time before he would attempt to make his decision, but the
only remaining question was how Sire Antipas' presence as an Overseer
would impact that.  "At this time, I am summoning on my personal computer
screen, the complete investigative report conducted by the Council
regarding the Destruction, as well as the files on Baltar's trial and
that of his chief operative, Charybdis.  Corporal Komma, as an expert in
computer record keeping, is it possible for a name search to be conducted
in all of these reports at a given notice?"
     The corporal looked up from his transcribing station.  He had
expertly managed to shut out all the emotions he might have otherwise
felt over these revelations and even now still felt none.  "Yes, sir. 
That is correct."
     "I am now entering your name into the search engine, Ayesha, in
order to determine whether there is any evidence in the public record
that could contradict your assertion that you had no advance knowledge of
Baltar's plotting."  Adama entered her name on the keyboard.  He waited
for an instant and then saw the results come up.  "Your name is mentioned
only twice.  I am now accessing those sections of the report."
     A half centon went by and he then motioned to Antipas and Lydia. 
"If my fellow Overseers would come over, they can read the results for
themselves."
     Antipas and Lydia came over beside Adama and looked down at the
computer screen.
     "Sire Antipas, please read entry #1."
     The Libran nodded, "From the official investigation of the
Destruction.  Although Baltar's wife Ayesha is thought to have been as
ambitious as her husband in many respects, our investigation finds no
evidence to suggest that she was part of Baltar's inner circle of
operatives that had to have carried out his plot."
     "Siress Lydia, please read entry #2."
     "From the murder tribunal of Charybdis.  Question put to the accused
by Sire Solon.  Who were the people directly involved with Baltar's plot
to betray the Colonies?  Answer.  Only a select few of men he considered
his most trusted advisors.  He thought of bringing his wife Ayesha into
the plotting, because he was determined to make her Queen of Piscera, but
decided against it."
     The three of them looked at her with expressions that were all
empathetic.
     "Ayesha," Adama said gently, "On what grounds is there for us to
convict you of treason against the state?"
     "Don't you understand?" she got to her feet, her voice full of
anguish.  "People died and  are suffering today because of something I
helped encourage!  *I* had as much to do with making my husband a
power-hungry monster as the Cylons did when they bought him.  How can I
not be accountable for any of that?"
     "Haven't you paid enough of a price, Ayesha?" Adama said, "The loss
of all your ill-gotten gain.  A realization that you entered into a
marriage that proved dangerous and unhealthy for you.  Realizing at last
that the selfish impulses that guided your life before the Destruction
were wrong.  What more punishment do you think you need?"
     "I...I don't know, I----," she felt tears welling in her eyes, "Just
the thought that I can't receive absolution unless I finally pay for my
responsibility."
     "Absolution isn't measured by serving time in the Prison Barge,
Ayesha," Adama's tone was gentle, "Especially when you're not guilty of
any crime to merit imprisonment.  The only thing you're guilty of, is a
sense of collective guilt.  That because you are Baltar's wife, you
should have been in a position to prevent the greatest tragedy of human
history from taking place.  But if collective guilt were the basis for a
treason conviction, Ayesha, then that would apply to all of us."
     She wiped her eyes, "I...don't understand."
     "All of us are responsible in part for the Destruction," Adama said,
"Political and military leaders who didn't wage an effective fight
against the Cylons.  Our people, who looked inward and ignored the
deteriorating situation until they became desperate to reach out and grab
the first opportunity for peace presented to them.  People even like me,
who lacked the courage to speak out against entering the peace agreement. 
Commander Cain even, for failing to return from his one-man operation in
Gomorrah when the Colonies needed his military leadership.  We can apply
it to so many people, Ayesha, and ultimately to all of Colonial society
for not recognizing the dangerous times we lived in amidst all our
prosperity.  Collectively we lost sight of the need to keep ourselves
strong and vigilant in the war against the Cylons and made ourselves a
ripe target for your husband's treachery.  So in short, the guilt you
feel is merely part of a collective guilt that must be felt by all of us. 
If we lose sight of that, and think that only a handful of individuals
can be blamed for what happened to our nation, then we will only set
ourselves down a path to destruction again some day in the future."
     The Commander then drew himself up, "My vote is to formally acquit
you of all charges you have attempted to plead guilty to.  Do my fellow
Overseers concur with this judgment?"
     Lydia sighed and nodded her head.  The entire experience had left
her feeling emotionally spent.
     "I too vote to acquit," Antipas said simply.  What he found ironic
was that while his vote played neatly into his own plans, he also felt
that absent those considerations, it was still the ethically correct one.
     "This tribunal is thus concluded on that central point," Adama said,
"And now, Claudia," he deliberately used her other name, "You are free to
return to your duties aboard the Senior Ship.  You have been cleared by
Colonial jurisprudence, and these proceedings will remain sealed.  No one
beyond those in this room will ever know of your true identity.  Your
exemplary work this past yahren in caring for the sick and elderly is a
shining example of how you have tried to find ways of making amends for
the mistaken decisions of your past life.  You can now return to that
work secure in the knowledge that your past will never haunt you again."
     Ayesha felt thunderstruck by this turn of events.  "You mean...I can
go back to my work, and...my new life?"
     "Yes," Adama glanced over at Lydia and Antipas, "If there are no
objections."
     "None," Lydia shook her head.  Antipas said nothing beyond a shrug
at this point.
     "I..." Baltar's wife shook her head, "I...don't know what to say,
I----,"
     "There's nothing you need say, Claudia," the Commander said, "Take
this knowledge and use it wisely.  Put the past behind you, and use your
life to show the Almighty that there is a change of heart and spirit in
you.  It can't change the past, but it can make the future a lot
brighter." 
     Slowly, Ayesha nodded and began to move toward the door.  She
stopped and then looked back at Adama.
     "Commander," she whispered, "Thank you.  I know in my heart now that
the Almighty does answer prayer."
     "There is one other thing you should know," Adama said, "It is
within our power to grant a request of formal dissolution of your sealing
vow."
     She nodded dimly, "Yes.  Yes, I do want that."
     "Consider it done," the Commander smiled, "You're now a free woman
in every sense of the word.  The Lords be with you."
     For the first time in a long while, a smile came over Ayesha's face. 
And then, with her head held high once again, she departed.
     Adama turned to Komma, "You're dismissed, Corporal.  Carry out your
instructions on the matter of these proceedings to the letter."
     "Yes sir!" Komma saluted.  There was no question of his silence for
the long-term.  
     As soon as the security guard was gone, Adama turned back to his
fellow Council members.
     "We have all acted together on this," Adama said, "What has been
decided, has been with our total concurrence, and I expect the both of
you to honor your pledge to keep these proceedings secret."
     "Of course," Antipas said, "It is as you say.  Publicizing this
story opens us both to criticism if it came to that."
     "Not to mention the destruction of a woman who has paid enough of a
price," Adama said, "That is the greater issue."
     Lydia stretched herself, "I think I should be going now.  Antipas,
do you need me to transport you back to the Rising Star?"
     "Not right now," her lover said, "There's one final matter I need to
discuss with Adama.  Is that all right?"
     "I suppose so.  I'll be waiting," Lydia didn't even want to know
what it was Antipas wished to discuss with the Commander.  Her first
foray into a pro-active role as a Council member had left her so drained,
she knew she no longer had the desire to ever take that kind of bold step
again.  As far as she was concerned, she intended to go back to her
preferred role of passive spectator on the Council.
     As she stepped out into the corridor, Lydia found herself wondering
if she needed to reassess her relationship with Antipas.  Adama's
compassion for Ayesha, and his wisdom in conducting the Tribunal had left
her more impressed with the Commander than at any time in her yahren of
service on the Council.  Perhaps hitching herself to Antipas in the hopes
of receiving greater rewards down the line wasn't such a good idea after
all.
     And if she did that, she wondered with a distinct sense of horror,
how did that make her any different from the woman she had just seen
before her?  Was her affair with Antipas not part of the same base
instinct that had attracted Ayesha to Baltar to begin with?  Not that
Antipas was anything like Baltar in her mind, but...there was something
she now found unpalatable about the relationship she'd been sharing with
the dashing Libran all this time.
     She wasn't sure at this point whether it was in her best interest to
completely end the relationship, but there was one thing the elegant
siress was convinced of.  She didn't plan on waiting for him in the
launch bay.  Antipas would have to get his own transportation back to the
Rising Star.


     "What is it you wished to discuss, Sire Antipas?" Adama said calmly.
     "A proposition, Adama," the Libran said, glad that events had
reached the point where he could now put his cards on the table, "I acted
in good faith when I chose not to contest your decision regarding Ayesha. 
I think that should count for something with regard to what I must ask of
you now."
     "In short, you're demanding I pay you off in some way to assure your
silence on this," Adama said coldly.
     "Certainly not!" Antipas said haughtily, "I am merely asking you to
show some goodwill in return.  I could easily have voted no and then gone
public to Zara to protest the matter of letting Baltar's wife get off
with no punishment, and Kobol knows it would have worked to my advantage. 
But I chose to let the facts of the case dictate my actions, so I would
think at the very least I've earned the right to expect a little less
paranoia from you."
     Adama's expression remained coldly suspicious, but when he spoke his
voice was calmer.  "What are you asking?"
     "I am asking you to drop your obstinance regarding the items
recovered from the Libran Antiquities Museum theft," Antipas said
sharply, "Those belong to my people and should be returned to Libran
authority.  I have begun discussions with Professor Herodotus to see
about finding a way for museum display space to be set up that will allow
them to be enjoyed by the people once again.  As it is right now, they
are simply being wasted in a storage vault here aboard the Galactica."
     "Sire Antipas, I have told you time and again, that----,"
     "Yes, I know.  They're part of a criminal investigation.  But it's
been two sectars now and you still can't find this Dravius.  Now why
should they stay in storage while that search remains at a dead end?  If
Dravius is apprehended, then I'll gladly see to it they're temporarily
returned for use at his Tribunal, but in the meantime, let these
treasures serve the purpose they were intended for once again!"
     Adama was trying to think of what kind of hidden motive lurked
behind Antipas's determination to get control of the Libran treasures
back.  To see Antipas express this kind of concern for rare art treasures
and their meaning to the people struck him as totally out of character.
     But, he had to admit the sire had a good point that so long as the
search for Dravius remained cold, there was little good coming from
keeping the treasures in storage.  Still....
     "Suppose I didn't let you have them back," Adama said, "Then would
you extend your protest before the IFB cameras?"
     "It would be my prerogative to do so," Antipas said, and then added,
"But without mentioning these proceedings of today.  My word is solemn on
that."
     Adama found himself realizing that he'd been backed into a corner
and was being left with no other alternative at this point.
     "Very well," he finally said, "But transferring them back to Libran
authority will require a number of intermediate steps, along with
adequate security arrangements to be made for their continued
protection."
     "Agreed," Antipas nodded, "We have a deal then?"
     Trying to hide his distaste, Adama nodded and then extended his
hand.  The sire reached out to shake it, and then with nothing more said
he turned and left the room.


     When Komma returned the Security Operations Center, the first thing
he did was place the computer file containing the transcript of what he
had recorded into the database.  Thirty microns later, it had been saved
and placed under security lock.  Only a vocal request from the Commander
could open the file for access.
     The corporal then didn't give any of the proceedings he'd just
witnessed another micron's thought as he resumed his place and began to
go over a backlog of file maintenance that he'd been forced to put off. 
The next item on the agenda was making a final check of security
recordings from two sectans back before having them recycled for new use. 
All he needed to do was run them through the playback machine at high
speed and instruct the computer to isolate on anything out of the
ordinary.
     For over a half centar he watched the tapes unfold from one secure
section of the battlestar after another, trying not to let any sense of
boredom creep in.  Komma was the kind of security guard who had long
resigned himself to the fact that his skills excelled in bureaucratic
work.  He had as much chance of becoming part of the Elite Squadron, as
he had of seeing his home planet again.
     Suddenly, he leaned forward as his eyes detected something that
didn't seem quite right.  He stopped the tape and then programmed new
instructions into the computer to try and get it to isolate more on the
image he was interested in.  He was still staring at it when Sergeant
Castor wandered in to the Operations Center.
     "Hey Komma, up to a cold one after you get off duty?"
     The corporal looked up, "Castor, could you look at this?"
     "What's up?" the muscular sergeant frowned.
     "You were down on the planet with Elite Squad, right?  You saw all
those...people that lived down there?"
     "Yeah," Castor came alongside them.  "Not an attractive bunch. 
Personally, I'm glad the commander didn't decide to take any of them with
us."
     "Maybe the commander didn't," Komma pointed at the screen, "But
unless I miss my guess, someone else decided to take two of them aboard."
     Castor leaned down and squinted at the somewhat fuzzy image.  And
then, his eyes widened as he saw the unmistakable forms of Boomer and
Athena leading two primitives, one male, one female, surreptitiously out
of a shuttle in a darkened section of Alpha Landing Bay.  
     And the timestamp in the lower section of the screen already told
Castor that these events on tape had taken place after the Galactica had
broken orbit and left the planet behind.
     "No," he said, "You didn't miss your guess, Komma.  In fact, I
recognize those two."
     "Do we file a report on this?"
     Castor rubbed his chin.  This was a tough judgment call, especially
since it could mean trouble for Boomer, who was his triad partner and one
of his closest friends in the Fleet.  But if there were unauthorized
personnel aboard the Galactica, then at the very least, higher authority
needed to be notified.
     "I'll do it," he said calmly as he reached for the telecom that
would connect him to Colonel Tigh on the Bridge, "And I hope there's a
good explanation for this."


     "I first met Serina when she did an internship at the BNC during her
university days," Heller said as she and Sheba shared lunch in the
Electronics Ship's rather drab commissary.  "I knew right away she was
born to be a journalist.  She had more natural ability than anyone I ever
saw in all my yahrens in the business.  That was why I was quick to hire
her after she graduated."
     "She'd already had her son, hadn't she?"
     "Yes.  When she found out she'd gotten pregnant, she literally
doubled up on her classes to be finished with her studies and ready to
find work by the time she had Boxey.  I always admired her determination
on that.  She took a bad experience and literally turned it into the best
possible thing for her."
     "You knew Boxey?"
     "Oh yes.  Serina would sometimes bring him down to work and we all
enjoyed him.  Just an adorable kid."  he then smiled thinly, "And you
want to know more about the kind of mother Serina was, is that it?"
     Sheba blushed slightly, "Well I...that is----,"
     "Sorry if I embarrassed you, Lieutenant, but even out of uniform
your face is well-known.  And Zara's mentioned seeing you and Apollo in
each other's company a few times on the Rising Star, and I think it's
pretty easy for me to add two and two together on why it is you're
interested in finding out more about Serina."
     The brown-haired warrior lowered her head and smiled, "I guess I'm
getting an indicator of how a journalist's mind really works."
     "I suppose," Heller said, "Why don't I put it this way.  The secret
of Serina's success as a mother was finding the perfect balance between
her career ambitions and her parental responsibilities.  Most women in
her kind of situation usually end up putting the former before the
latter, unless they feel the need to give up their career and get sealed
to the first man they can find, which often doesn't lead to healthy
results.  But Serina knew the secret to handling both, and making Boxey
understand right from the beginning why she wasn't at home all centars of
the day."
     "Just being up-front with him?"
     "That's the impression I got.  Boxey had his weaknesses, and I'm
sure he still has them, but...he knows how to handle the blunt truth if
it's put to him that way."
     "I see," Sheba digested that information.  If what Heller said was
true, then it indicated that she and Apollo were taking the wrong
approach to the situation by deciding to put off the matter again.  But
whether she could feel comfortable being direct with Apollo about how
they should handle this was something she wasn't sure of right now.
     "Strictly off-the-record, Lieutenant," the IFB chief said, "How
close would you say you and Captain Apollo are to um....." he
purposefully trailed off.
     Sheba smiled coyly and shook her head, "No comment.  Not even for
someone as nice as you are, Heller."
     "I tried," he shrugged, "Anyway, when we're done we can go back up
to Operations and see if the archives has that material you were
interested in.  I think there are a few interviews Serina did that would
show her off best as opposed to a regular newscast."
     "Thank you," Sheba said, "I appreciate your help, Heller.  This has
been productive for me."
     A centar later, as Sheba rode back to the Galactica holding a
vid-disc in her hand, she felt she still had reason to be optimistic for
the long-term.  Any other kind of feeling would be too much for her to
handle.


     The instant Boomer heard Adama's voice on the unicom ordering both
him and Athena to report to his quarters, the dark-skinned warrior knew
it could only mean the commander had learned one of two things.  And from
his standpoint, he hoped it was the item that would likely merit an
official reprimand, rather than the matter of more personal significance.
     When he arrived, he saw that Athena was already there, standing at
attention in front of her father's desk.  Boomer saw Adama seated, with
just the faintest hint of a scowl.
     "Reporting as ordered, sir," he decided to formally salute,
something he didn't do often, and then stood at attention next to Athena.
     Finally, after letting a half centon of uneasy silence fill the
room, Adama rose, his hands behind his back, the faint scowl just enough
to strike an intimidating note in both of them.
     "Colonial Security forwarded me some holotapes of your final arrival
from the planet two sectans ago," he said calmly.  "Will you kindly
explain to me, why two primitives got off the shuttle with you?"
     "Sir, believe me it wasn't deliberate," Boomer said, feeling a wave
of relief that it was over this matter that he and Athena had been
summoned.  "They stowed away."
     "And just how did they do that without your noticing?" an edge of
coldness entered Adama's voice.
     "We'd just helped Carmichael load the last of his specimen cases,
and were giving the area a last look.  They probably slipped aboard
then."
     "And it didn't occur to you to check the weight readout?"
     "No," Athena spoke up, still at attention.  "Ki's gravity is greater
than ours by almost two percent, Commander. Since we never planned on
staying as long as we did, it was never recalibrated."
     "All right, I believe you on that," Adama said, implying that he was
making a generous concession but wasn't going to let that affect his
overall sense of displeasure.  "But once you found them aboard, why
didn't you report this?"
     "Well um," Boomer hesitated, "There really didn't seem to be any
pressing reason to..."
     "No pressing reason?" Adama allowed an angry edge to come into his
voice, "You of all people, Boomer, should know better.  Or did your
little experience with Jolly before the Battle of Kobol erase your memory
about the potential effects of alien viruses exposed aboard the
Galactica?" 
     Boomer began to feel more uneasy, and felt grateful that his
complexion prevented him from turning red with embarrassment.  "Well,
sir, all of us have reported no ill-effects after all the contact we've
had with them, and...well sir, I just didn't want to run the risk that
you'd have us return them to Ki by force."
     "You made that judgment by yourself?"
     "Yes sir, I did," Boomer said, not wanting to let Athena suffer any
punishment he might get from this.  "I...had them hidden in the Celestial
Dome temporarily for a cycle, and then I brought them some regular
civilian clothes, gave Kudur-Mabug a haircut and beard trim, and had them
moved over to the Agro-Ship."
     "To do what?" Adama demanded.
     "To assist Operations Chief Carmichael in cataloging the specimens
his teams brought back."  Boomer said.  "They're able to communicate
easily by Languatron.  Most of these specimens  were known in the
Colonies, and Pili appears to know a lot of her people's herbal lore.
She's helping Carmichael's people catalog them for their potential
pharmacological value. Carmichael says he's already found several new
sources for potential antibiotic use that I think Dr. Salik will find
very useful.  And of course, the benefits in increasing the food supply
from their help goes without saying."
     Adama slowly sat down and leaned back in his chair.  "Did you know
of them being aboard the Agroship, Athena?"
     For an instant, Athena hesitated, feeling she shouldn't let Boomer
take all the blame.  But she also knew that Boomer wouldn't like seeing
her lie needlessly, and doing that might conceivably leave a negative
impression on him for the future.
     "I only knew about them being in the Celestial Dome temporarily,"
Athena decided to be truthful.  "I didn't know about where they'd been
taken after that."
     "That's the truth, Commander," Boomer interjected.
     "I'm sure of that," Adama said, "But it's also irrelevant to the
matter of disciplinary action.  Not reporting stowaways, and ignoring
medical protocols requires at the very least an Article 6 hearing before
Colonel Tigh and myself within the next half sectan.  But in the
meantime, I think a temporary reassignment might be in order."
     "Reassignment, sir?" Boomer felt his uneasiness increase.
     "Yes," Adama rose, "For the next two sectans, you are both assigned
to the Agroship to assist Carmichael in assimilating these...guests you
brought aboard, because I have a feeling even with a Languatron, his
hands are quite full trying to deal with them.  Since the both of you
have a deeper personal acquaintance with them, I am sure they will be
more receptive to assistance from you."
     "But sir!" Boomer protested.
     "Naturally, in the event of a Red Alert situation, you are to return
to your regular duties, but until further notice, I'm putting Sheba in
charge of Red Squadron.  And as for you, Lieutenant," he turned to his
daughter, "Inform Omega, that he's in charge of your section on the
Bridge until your return." he then paused, "It is so ordered.  Should you
acquit yourselves well in this reassignment, it might necessitate
dropping the matter of an Article 6 hearing, so consider this probation
of sorts."
     "Yes, sir," Athena said with acceptance.  Having to spend time with
Pili and Utu Hegal was not something she wanted to do again, but she had
to admit, it could have been worse.
     "Yes sir," Boomer decided there was no point objecting any further. 
     "Dismissed."
     Once the two warriors left his chambers, Adama let out a slow
exhale, hoping that he wouldn't be forced into yet another legal
proceeding before day's end.  Having to deal with a situation like this
barely a centar after disposing of the matter of Ayesha and getting Sire
Antipas off his back, almost struck him as more difficult than dealing
with a potential military attack.
     Not that I'd ever wish for that kind of alternative, he finally
allowed himself a smile and decided that after this long day, he was
entitled to exercise his privilege of rank and get the best bottle of
ambrosia he could find in the Fleet.


     "So how do you feel?"  Boomer broke the silence, once they were out
in the corridor.
     "I'm not sure," Athena sighed, "I'm not going to like spending time
with them, but...all things considered, it's less than he could have
done."
     "Yeah," Boomer admitted, "Even if we do end up having an Article 6
hearing, that's still less than having us explain ourselves to the entire
Council."
     "True," Athena nodded and then stopped.  "So...what should we do?"
she asked her question with a thoughtful edge.
     The warrior looked her in the eye.  "Well, after you have your talk
with Omega, and I have my talk with Sheba about taking over our regular
duties, I guess we pack our gear and take the next shuttle over to the
Agroship."
     "Together?" a faint smile came over her face.
     "Yeah," he nodded and matched it, "Together."
     And then, without saying anything else, they went off in different
directions.  But inside, Athena found herself thinking that maybe this
would turn out to be the best possible thing that could have happened. 
Especially if it meant greater opportunities for her and Boomer to sort
out other things between them.


     "A maintenance worker found him just a centar ago," Sergeant Reese
of Council Security sounded shaken as he stepped out of the turbo lift.
     Zeibert, the Rising Star's  Chief Steward, followed Reese down the
darkened corridor with a grim expression.  Sooner or later he had a
feeling something like this would happen, and now it seemed the day of
reckoning had at last come.
     "Let me have a look."
     "I wouldn't recommend that, sir.  It's really a horrible sight."
     Zeibert glared at Reese, "I *need* to see."
     The Council guard nodded and led Zeibert over to the spot where a
blood-stained blanket lay.  Two med-tech workers based on the luxury ship
stood on either side.
     "Lift it back," the Chief Steward ordered.
     Warily, the two med-techs did so.  When Zeibert saw the horrible
sight that had once been Jubal lying before him, he almost staggered from
a wave of nausea.  Still, he didn't avoid looking.  He wanted the image
to be burned in his mind so he could get a sense of the serious situation
he was now dealing with.
     If they're this ruthless, he thought, then how in Hades can I ever
expect Council Security to handle this situation?
     "Cover it up and remove the body for disposal," Zeibert ordered and
then he began to head back to the turbo lift.
     "Sir?" Reese followed him, "What do you plan to do?"
     "What needs to be done," the Chief Steward said cryptically.
     Left unsaid was the fact that he intended to get some outside help
to take care of this dangerous situation that now existed aboard the
luxury ship.

                    Epilogue

     Throughout her journey back to the Senior Ship, Claudia wondered if
she'd been through a dream.  That at some point she was going to wake up
and find that the danger of her past being exposed would still be staring
her in the face.  The last thing she ever expected to come from being
exposed was the gift of acquittal from Colonial Justice.  And with it,
the even greater gift of absolution from no less than Commander Adama
himself, and the formal dissolution of her meaningless marriage.
     She could remember so many times hearing Baltar speak contemptuously
of Adama.  Describing him as "the one member of the Council who
understands the war better than anyone else, but who lets his devotion to
morality hold him back."  A man whose weakness lay in his sense of morals
and commitment to religious principles.
     How wrong her former husband had been.  Now she had seen firsthand
how Adama represented everything she should have looked for in a man.  A
leader who epitomized the best values of human society.
     What a lucky woman Ila was, she thought as the shuttle approached
the Senior Ship.
     As she felt it connect with the docking ring, she found herself
suddenly bowing her head in prayer to the Almighty and thanking Him for
answering her earlier prayer.  And with it, came a silent plea for
absolution and forgiveness of all her past sins and misdeeds so she could
at last move on with her life.
     When she rose from her seat and stepped inside the Senior Ship, she
finally felt that at last she could consider the past buried forever. 
Ayesha, the ruthless ambitious woman who had sought power and wealth was
dead and no longer existed.  From now on, there was only Claudia, the
woman who wanted to spend the rest of her life serving and helping
others.
     And with that new outlook on life, perhaps she could at last open
herself up and enjoy life again.  To no longer regard her work as a way
of trying to overcome a deep sense of guilt, but to let it be a natural
expression of the new woman she was now.  A woman with a soul at peace, 
a cleansed heart, and a new attitude about life.
     For now, her work would remain her first priority in life, but
perhaps in time she could make herself learn to branch out and enjoy
other things in life that still existed for the people of the Fleet. 
Perhaps, now that she was totally free from her marriage, she could even
in time learn to love again.
     No, she thought as she reached the level where the Operations Center
was located.  Not love again, but love for the first time in the true and
meaningful sense of the word.  What she'd shared with Baltar could be
called many things, but none of them love.  Only a perverted form of it. 
It was time she consider the prospect of finding out what it meant to
know true love.
     She found herself chuckling as she could already think of several
co-workers on the Senior Ship who had tried to make themselves available
to her in the past as a would-be suitor.  All of them kind and
considerate.  She had little doubt that in time, one of them could easily
become someone worth knowing more.
     "Claudia!" Townsend said with relief, "Thank goodness you're back! 
You wouldn't believe how much you've been missed in just one day."
     "Tell them to fret no more," she smiled.  "I have returned."
     "So how was your first trip to the Galactica?"
     "It was...worth it," Claudia said carefully, "But...I don't
anticipate doing that again."
     "Whatever you say," he patted her on the shoulder.  "Just so long as
you enjoyed being honored."
     "I *was* honored," Claudia smiled with total sincerity, "More than
you could ever have imagined."  
     And with that, she walked into the main patient room and went over
to the old woman's bed so she could read a new book she'd found on the
Galactica to her.


     Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny, the last battlestar Galactica leads
a ragtag fleet on a lonely quest.  A shining planet...called Earth.

June 19, 2004