Battlestar Galactica-The Ties That Bind
Virtual Season 6-Episode #1
By Eric Paddon
(Additional scenes by Lisa Zaza with additional thanks to Senmut)

From The Adama Journals
     
     I can scarcely believe that an entire sectar has gone by since my
beloved Ila was restored to me. We are both still filled with that sense
of rejoicing that the Lords made this possible that perhaps in the back
of our minds, we still wonder if at some point we're going to be told it
all has to come to an end and that we'll be parted once more. That we're
only living in a beautiful dream from which we must both wake up
eventually.
     It's probably the fact that Ila has spent most of this past sectar
catching up with not just me but her entire family and hasn't yet settled
herself into a true work routine that accounts for why we're still
letting the glow of reunion linger with us, and perhaps a bit longer than
it should.  Another contributing factor has been our extended time back
at the planet where we first encountered the mysterious "Entity" that
made Ila's return possible.  While the Entity is long gone, its legacy in
the form of the many derelict ships it snatched from all known sections
of the galaxy remains, and for the last sectar, we have finally tackled
the critical issues of salvage and repair that were put off when I made
the decision to trail the Entity and use it to get Ila back.  We've also
discovered that when the Entity finally broke free from this planet, it
also meant its debilitating drain on the planet's living natural
resources finally ended.  And to our amazement, in only a sectar's time,
a good deal of plant life has returned to the planet, even to levels
where we've been able to supplement our existing food and water
resources, through force-growing vegetable and cereal species from the
Agro Ship. This latter development produced an important side benefit for
myself in that it helped blunt some of the lingering criticisms I've
received from Sire Pelias and some of the Earth natives regarding my
decision to trail the Entity.  Had we remained at the planet, then we
would not have been able to take advantage of this newly restored bounty
of natural resources it has to offer.  This development hasn't been
enough to eradicate all their objections because the Earth natives are
still concerned that our decision to pursue the Entity so close to where
an abandoned Risik minefield was located may have alerted the Risik
Empire to our presence in some way.  But for the moment, Pelias hasn't
been able to form any new political alliances with other members of the
Council to make this a more serious issue for me to deal with.  I suspect
that his colleagues on the Council who might share his belief that I
conceivably threatened the safety of the Fleet for the sake of getting my
wife back, feel that he committed a protocol breach by revealing too much
to his girlfriend Jena Byrne.  It's probably, on some levels, a sign of
his youthful impulsiveness as he lacks the many yahrens of experience in
political affairs that his colleagues possess. 
     Meanwhile, the news from the Pegasus is that they are remaining at
Arcta for the time being to explore how Dr. Ravashol and his population
of clone workers, along with the Enlightened Cylons stationed there, can
help install new weaponry into her systems based on the principles of
Ravashol's pulsar weapon.  Cain firmly believes that if there is to be
any chance of achieving victory in an attack on the Cylon Home System,
which he intends to undertake one day, such weaponry must be at his
disposal.  Since that could take some time to get such components
installed in his ship, he is looking at the possibility of taking one of
the fast shuttles to the Colonies so he can finally meet the leadership
of Enlightened Cylons and Human Resistance leaders that he pledged to
work with and make part of an integrated command structure relationship. 
The old Cain that I knew for so many yahrens, would never have permitted
himself to be part of such an arrangement, and would have likely devised
a means of attacking the Cylon Home System on his own.  But the yahren
Ila spent with Cain has taught him how to curb the impulsiveness he was
always known for.  In Ila's stellar diplomatic work, he saw firsthand how
cooperation, tact and teamwork can easily produce victories as great as
any achieved through individual initiative.  And I can also tell that
Cain has no desire to throw away any of Ila's hard work of the last
yahren that culminated with the peace agreement between the Resistance
and the Enlightened Cylons for the sake of his own pride.  It certainly
helps that even with Ila's departure, Cain has his new wife, Captain
Kylie, to fill the role of confidant and intimate who can help restrain
his base tendencies.  
     The stories involving the two passengers who accompanied Ila in her
journey from Caprica have proved both happy and perplexing, respectively. 
Sergeant Mattoon's reunion with his daughter Abby has been equally joyous
as Ila's reunion with me.  Mattoon, who was detached from the Colonial
Service as a consequence of his actions following the initial
establishment of the Detente, has taken on a new assignment aboard the
Orphans Ship.  Abby's experience has given him a deeper sense of empathy
for what the orphaned children in our ranks have gone through these last
four yahrens, and he wants to be able to reach out and help them.  As a
former Warrior, he can provide them with athletic and physical fitness
instruction too.  And more importantly, it's a designation that won't
detract from being a full-time father to his girl.  It is gratifying to
see that this poor soul who went through so much personal agony and inner
torture for so long, has found a happy ending that will hopefully last
all through the remainder of our journey to Earth and beyond.
     And then there is the matter of the man who calls himself Aurelius. 
A man who was seriously burned on Sagittaria when a rouge Cylon fighter
crashed near where he was standing and who was brought here in the hopes
that our medical facilities would be better than those in the Resistance
groups.  After receiving burn treatment therapy, he was then turned over
to a facial alteration specialist, Dr. Colin.  Colin had seen his license
suspended because of his roles in the past schemes of both Sire Antipas
and Siress Lydia, but given his experience with cases like this, he was
given permission to operate.  Aurelius will soon have his bandages
removed and have a new face free of burn disfigurement, though Colin
tells me it won't resemble Aurelius's old face much, due to bone
deterioration and scar tissue damage that lay the foundation for the
reconstruction, not to mention no record of a visual template to guide
him.  Once Aurelius recovers, I hope to get some more information from
him, since the other curious thing about him is that he was apparently
found initially by the Sagittarian Resistance in the ruins of an old
Cryogenics facility where he'd been in suspended animation for over
thirty-five yahrens and had not been scheduled to be revived for another
265 yahrens.  There is clearly an interesting story behind that, but if
it involves criminal activity on his part, there would be no prosecution
at this point, even if he committed murder.  It was the express policy of
the Resistance leaders not to prosecute anyone known to be guilty of a
past crime prior to the Destruction because it was deemed to serve no
useful purpose.  We of course did not follow such a policy when it came
to pre-Destruction crimes of termination as I found out all-too-well when
I faced charges for the long-ago termination of Major Dorian that I did
not commit.  But once we had the matter of Baltar's defection back to our
ranks and his subsequent pardon, the need to prosecute any kind of
pre-Destruction crime became increasingly irrelevant to us.  I'm now
convinced that at some point, the Council should formally enact a new
statute declaring total, unconditional amnesty to all persons in the
Fleet for any crimes they may have committed pre-Destruction that have
not been discovered or prosecuted in the time since.  The only thing
standing in the way of it at this point is Sire Solon, who feels that any
amnesty should be flexible in nature and that the option to prosecute in
special circumstances should be retained.  
     So for now, as we near the resumption of our journey to Earth, the
mood in the Fleet is relatively stable.  For myself, it could never be
more positive.  I am, for the first time in the four yahrens since our
journey began, truly content.  May the Lords keep it that way.

Chapter One

     Since her return to the Galactica a sectar ago, Ila had been able to
communicate with the Pegasus several times on the video monitor hook-up,
but those had been in formal group discussions that she and Adama had
conducted with Cain in order to get him fully up to speed on the peace
treaty she'd negotiated on behalf of the Resistance with Governor Malus. 
Also, to give him an extensive overview on the personalities of the
Resistance leadership, as well as that of Governor Malus, so that when
Cain made his first trip to Caprica, he'd have a better understanding of
how to effectively deal with them and build on Ila's legacy.
     In all that time, she hadn't been able to have one private
conversation with either Cain or Kylie.  Until now.
     "I have just ten centons, but I wanted to make sure we finally got a
chance to chat with each other," Cain's wife said over the hookup. 
"We're going to be leaving for Caprica in about three days, which means
we'll be there in ten days on the fast shuttle."
     "I'm glad you're going with him," Ila said, feeling the sisterly
like bond she'd had with Kylie reasserting itself.
     "Wherever he goes, I go," Kylie said, "He needs me both personally
and professionally because he knows I can keep him in line the same way
you could when it comes to being diplomatic.  He's gotten used to hearing
me speak freely on everything.  Like when I told him he had to let Major
Skyler take those prisoners from the BaseShip back to Starlos."
     "I meant to ask you about that before, but it kept slipping my mind. 
Did Skyler reconnect with Jocasta?"
     "He saw her again," Kylie admitted.  "But they both know this isn't
the right time to pursue any kind of relationship.  Jocasta wants to help
the human community on Starlos get back on its feet, and Skyler knows
he's needed to help in whatever assault we lead on the Cylon Home System
one day.  Still......I get the sense that if it's only a matter of a
couple yahrens, she's willing to wait for him and not look for someone
else like his old girlfriend did.  The irony is that our arrival at Arcta
just opened the door for some other men in the crew to start pursuing
relationships of their own.  At least three of them are now involved with
Theta women."
     Ila let out a guffaw, "But all of them look just like Tenna, don't
they?"
     "They do, but......they say that after awhile, it's possible to tell
one Tenna from another.  At any rate, these crewmen who've become
involved would be part of the group that's likely going to draw permanent
duty on Arcta helping Ravashol with the new construction work.  When the
Pegasus finally gets to the Colonies, we're probably going to take on
some new crew from the ranks of both the Resistance and the Enlightened
Cylons."
     "What about Commander Cobre?" Ila asked, "Is he going to stay
permanently on Arcta or is he going to go to the Colonies?"
     "Unofficially, Cobre is Vulpa's replacement for administering all
Cylon matters on Arcta.  But he is going to accompany Cain and me for the
fast shuttle trip to Caprica because Cain  thinks the first Enlightened
Cylon we encountered should meet Governor Malus in person."
     "I'd agree with that," Ila nodded, "Of course he can't handle any
communiques that might come in from the Imperious Leader because of his
voice."
     "No, he can't," Kylie admitted.  "But thankfully we have Ambassador
Orcus, the DG Class Cylon,  permanently stationed here now on the orders
of 'His Eminence' and from this point on he's the only Cylon who'll be
handling communications with the Home System.  That way, Cobre can run
things safely in the background and the High Command won't suspect a
thing and will think Orcus is now the one in charge running things on
behalf of the Empire."
     "That makes sense," Ila nodded, "What about getting a permanent
communications link in place between the Colonies and Arcta?  That way,
the Resistance wouldn't need to wait for roundabout relays from you to us
and then from Lieutenant Hunley to them any longer."
     "That's been our number one priority since you left," Kylie said,
"Cain's trip to Caprica is meant to coincide with having the first
prototype version ready to present to them.  Not to mention being able to
talk to the Pegasus directly.  Once they're linked to us and the Arcta
base, we can also network in Commander Volahd on Gomorrah.....and then
the Colonies will be able to talk directly to you as well."
     Ila nodded, "I'll look forward to that.  I don't want to hang over
their shoulder on everything they do from this point forward, but if
there's anything I can help with from time-to-time, that's something I'm
glad to do.  Just like I'm glad to help if you or Cain need my advice on
something."
     "We're glad we have that ability," her friend said, "We know you're
back where you should be, Ila, and we're all happy for that, but......we
do miss you."
     "I miss all of you too," she sighed, "A part of me will always
belong to the Colonies and to the Pegasus.  That will never change."
     Wanting to end the conversation on a brighter note, Kylie abruptly
broke into a smile, "Planning on something big with the family tonight?"
     She felt glad her friend had changed the subject, "Yes.  I'll be
getting a chance to put my old skills as a Professor of Drama and Music
to use.  Athena and Sheba are taking me to a concert on the ship
Adelaide.  The wife of Commander Allen, the ship's master, has a
reputation for being an outstanding singer and she's giving a special
performance."
     "She's from Earth?"
     "No, the Commander married a woman from an alien race called the
Harkaelians before the Galactica rescued him.  And that's what really has
me intrigued, since this will be my first chance in yahrens to hear how
an alien singing voice sounds."


     There was once a time when Sheba might have debated whether or not
to change into a civilian outfit for an off-duty activity, but in the
last yahren she'd found herself automatically jumping at any chance to
get out of uniform.  Her return to flight duty following the birth of her
daughter Bethany had failed to rekindle the excitement she once derived
from flying her viper and the pride she took in being Commander Cain's
daughter.  Now.....being a warrior seemed more like a chore to her. 
Something that she knew she had to do because she was good at it, and
because the Fleet needed her as the Deputy Leader of Blue Squadron.  But
something that if she had her druthers, she'd gladly give up forever. 
And she knew it wasn't because of the increased responsibilities she had
as Apollo's wife and mother to Boxey and Bethany Two.  It was because
Sheba was increasingly convinced that she'd missed a greater calling in
her life.  To act on a stage just like her mother.  For yahrens she'd
tried to convince herself that she was her father's daughter and born to
be a warrior just like him......but now, she had come to believe more and
more that when she'd projected that image, she was only acting a role. 
Just like her mother might have if she'd been cast as a warrior in some
theatrical for vid-com production.
     Who is the real me?  She thought as she selected the conservative
brown dress she'd worn the night Apollo had first shown her the Celestial
Dome.  Am I a repressed actress deep down who just knows how to play the
part of a warrior?  Or am I just going through a phase in life where I
don't feel like being honest about the fact that I was always born to be
a warrior?
     Whether it was a phase or not, Sheba had already convinced herself
that nothing could make her stay in the military after they reached
Earth.  Because she already knew in the back of her mind that safe
arrival on Earth would mean final victory over the one thing that she
knew was still the greatest threat to her and her entire family.  The
threat personified in the form of Count Iblis.  If it was true that
Iblis's sick designs on her would truly end once and for all when that
day came, then Sheba could think of nothing else that could justify
continuing as a warrior.  For her, the final battle would truly be over.
     But many battles still remain, she thought as she finished putting
her dress on and tied the sash about her waist.  And I'm going to show I
can be my father's daughter in order to be prepared for them.
     "Mom?"
     The sound of Boxey's voice made her turn around and immediately her
eyes widened with concern.  The little boy she'd formally adopted and
come to love like one of her own was shuffling slightly in his walk.  One
hand was holding a tissue pressed against his nose and the other hand was
on his forehead as if he was feverish.  But what stood out most was how
the tissue was clearly stained with blood.
     "Boxey!" she dropped to her knees and put her hands on his
shoulders, "Boxey, what's wrong?"
     "I.....feel weird, Mom, and......" his voice sounded awkward.
     "And what?" She wanted to hug him but feared that might be
dangerous, "Boxey, tell me."
     "Well......my nose keeps bleeding and.......I just
feel.......weird."
     She cautiously pulled his hand away from his nose and immediately
saw a stream of blood coming out.  Immediately, he grabbed the wad of
tissue and squeezed the bridge of his nose.  "Like this, Boxey.  Keep
pressure on it.  You're going to be okay.  I've got you." Her voice was
calming and he nodded, reassured, his blood-stained fingers taking over
for her.  Then, with a rising level of panic, she rushed over to the
telecom unit, punching in the code for the Life Station.  


     Fifteen centons later, Sheba, now joined by Apollo, Athena and Ila,
were in the Life Station where Cassiopeia was explaining things.
     "He said he's been having on and off for the last few centars, often
in conjunction with when he has a head virus," the med-tech turned doctor
said.  "Only this nosebleed wouldn't stop."
     "Funny, now that you mention it, he has been sick a lot lately.  No
sooner does he get over one cold, then he picks up another," Sheba
replied with a frown.  
     Cassie nodded.  "And when we made him change into a patient gown, we
suddenly noticed he had bruises all over his legs.  Has he had any falls
recently?"
     "He's been playing triad in the junior league, but with all the
padding they wear I don't see how he could possibly have fallen that
severely," Apollo said.
     "You know that for a fact?" Cassiopeia pressed gently. "You and
Sheba haven't actually seen every one of his triad practices and
matches?"
     "Of course not," Sheba could barely keep her irritation from
showing, "But Greenbean is his coach and if something serious happened,
he would have told us!"
     "All the same, he's a normal ten-yahren-old boy.  Has he been
roughhousing?  Is it possible he's been in any ....fights?"
     "No!" Sheba replied adamantly.  "I needed to be sure," Cassiopeia
said.  "If what he has isn't related to playing triad, then it might
indicate something more serious.  It'll take a couple centars of tests
for us to know for certain."
     "Then I'm staying here until you find out," Sheba said firmly.  But
her husband immediately shook his head.
     "Sheba, there's nothing more you can do.  Since I'm staying here on
the Galactica with Boomer to watch Bethany Two and the twins, that means
I'll be here if any news comes.  That might not be for awhile, so I think
you should just go to the concert with Athena and Mother as planned and
try to relax."
     "Apollo's right," Cassiopeia said.  "It's a lot worse to just pace
the floors waiting.  Take your mind off it for the next few centars and
we'll have something by the time you get back.  Nothing's going to happen
in the meantime.  You know we'll take good care of Boxey."
     Sheba glanced over at her sister-in-law and her mother-in-law.  They
were both nodding their heads in agreement.
     "I know it's only natural to want to stay by the bedside," Ila
spoke, thinking for just an instant that this was the first bit of family
counseling she'd engaged in since her return, "But Cassiopeia is right. 
It's a lot better to find something else to do when you've done all you
can and it's all in the hands of others now.  We'll go to the concert and
then come back here when its done and find out if the situation's
changed."
     Reluctantly, Sheba nodded.  "All right.  I just.....feel so damned
guilty leaving...."
     "Don't," Apollo said firmly.  "You were there for Boxey when he
needed you.  That's all that matters.  And you know he's in safe hands."
     She nodded again, and the three women left the Life Station, leaving
Apollo alone with Cassiopeia for the moment.
     "Just for my benefit, Cassiopeia," he said, "You weren't holding
anything back, were you?"
     "Not a thing," the blonde doctor shook her head, "I laid out the
full spectrum of what it could mean, and we simply won't know the answer
for at least two to three centars.  When something comes up, I'll telecom
you personally."
     "Thanks," he nodded, "I appreciate that."
     "Anytime, Apollo."  


     The three women boarded the shuttle Canaris which would be making
the rounds to eight different passenger ships in the Fleet.  As soon as
they settled into their seats, Ila decided she needed to make some
conversation that would help get Sheba's mind off Boxey's situation.  As
a mother herself, she could remember many times when she'd had to worry
about the health of her children, but she had always known that once the
children were in the hands of those who were qualified to treat them, she
needed to find something to distract herself.
     "Tell me more about Kalysha," she said aloud.  "Where did she come
from and what's she like?"
     Athena decided to pick up the slack for now and hoped that Sheba
would join in.  "Kalysha comes from a planet called Harkaelis.  It's
located deep behind the regions of Zykonian and Ziklagi space.  She had
to flee her home planet though because of a murder charge."
     "And she was innocent?" her mother asked.
     "No," Sheba broke her silence, "She was guilty.  But....there were
extenuating circumstances."
     "What happened?" Ila settled back in her seat, wanting to hear more.
     "Kalysha was having trouble with the government over legal matters
related to her late brother's estate.  Her family comes from a persecuted
ethnic and religious minority on her home planet, called the Ulurat. 
When a new ruler came to power, the persecutions picked up.  The Ulurat
were blamed for all of the planet's economic and social ills.  Her father
lost his job as a teacher, and that left her mother destitute until she
died just a few sectars later.  Then her brother was arrested on some
trumped-up charge, and she heard nothing about him for a long time.  When
she tried to find out what happened to him, she got referred to a
government bureautician who offered to help her.  Provided that she give
him certain.... .favors in return."
     "Oh," Ila caught on immediately.  "And he got.....rough?"
     "Actually no," Sheba shook her head, "He tried to throw her out
after he'd gotten what he wanted laughing in her face, calling her a
fool, and telling her that her brother was dead. Kalysha felt so ashamed
and dirty it sent her into a rage and she ended up stabbing him to death. 
It technically wasn't self-defense, but.....he'd badly used her and never
had any intention of helping her in the legal matter.  So she was forced
to flee her home world and that's how she ended up on Space Station RB-33
near the old Bosaq Frontier, working for a crime boss in one of his dives
as a torch singer.  It was the only way she could make any kind of a
living."
     "I've heard of RB-33," Ila said, "That funny looking plant alien
Ozko mentioned it when I met him at Brylon Station and found out he
accompanied you there after you left Brylon."
     "I didn't know you met Ozko!" Athena exclaimed.  "How did he end up
back at Brylon Station?  He hitched a ride on the Galactica because he
was so anxious to get back to his home planet after so many yahrens
away."
     "Well....apparently the peace treaty between the Zykonians and
Ziklagi finally allowed regular transport service between Brylon and his
home planet to resume, so he likes to go back and forth between them now. 
And luckily I came across him in the restaurant on Brylon when he just
happened to be playing your father's and my favorite song, and I realized
he was acquainted with you.  Without Ozko, the Pegasus wouldn't have
learned the full story of Baltar's defection or how you found Captain
Byrne and Commander Allen."
     "Amazing," Athena shook her head.,
     "The hand of the Lords, Sunshine," Ila smiled, and her daughter
briefly smiled back at hearing her mother call her by the nickname she'd
given her as a child.
     "Well anyway, to get back to Kalysha, when she ended up on RB-33
working for that slimy crime boss, her life had pretty much bottomed out. 
She tried to leave him, and he was then trying to teach her a lesson in
his own perverse way when Commander Allen wandered into the bar she was
performing at, and......saved her life.  He shot the crime boss dead and
from that point on, he and Kalysha were inseparable."
     "But she's not.....Human."
     "No," Sheba shook her head, "But she's not genetically incompatible. 
Dr. Salik discovered that the Harkaelian race, as well as the Zohrloch
race, have compatible Human DNA in their ancestry.  Clearly indicating
that at some point in the distant past, our Kobollian forefathers
genetically manipulated with other races throughout the galaxy and in the
process created these new offshoots that despite their obvious
superficial differences, are also capable of interbreeding with humans."
     "The Zohrlochs?" Ila asked, "Isn't that the race that Apollo chose
to.....take after as far as their appearance goes?"
     "He also got some encouragement from other quarters too," Athena
said mischievously, which caused Sheba to blush slightly but at the same
time she smiled as well.  It had proved to be a tension breaking comment
for her just as Athena hoped.
     The Academician let out a hearty laugh, "I had a feeling there was
more to it.  But I'll never mention it to his......face," the deliberate
way she paused before saying the last word made both her daughter and
daughter-in-law laugh as well.  And again, Ila felt glad they'd been able
to find things to talk about that could get their minds off Boxey's
situation for now.
     "Just for the record," Sheba added, feeling relaxed now.  "Apollo
did more than just embrace their appearance.  He likes to spend time with
one of their warriors, Lieutenant Sagramesh, studying the ancient links
between their people and the ancient Kobollians.  It really appeals to
the scholarly side of him.  He's even practiced some of their meditative
techniques their warriors use to prepare themselves.  The nobility of
their ancient traditions really appeals to him because he sees it as a
way of connecting with the legacy of our deepest ancestors."
     "I can see why that would appeal to him," Ila acknowledged.
     "And just like the links between the Kobollians and the Harkaelians
it tells us that there's still a lot about our ancestors we've yet to
learn.  The bottom line is that the human race may be responsible for
seeding a number of other races throughout the galaxy after genetically
producing these near-human offshoots."
     "Strange," Ila mused, "I can remember growing up how interbreeding
with alien races was considered taboo.  Even with races that were
humanoid for the most part, like the Orion, the Hasari and the
Borellians.  It seemed like a matter of common sense to treat those kind
of races as incompatible as say......well take your pick, since I think
any of the obvious ones would probably make your skin crawl."
     Like the Ziklagi, Sheba thought as the memory of what she knew about
the shapeshifter Nizaka, living in human form in the Fleet under the name
of Sarah, came back to her.  How 'Sarah' had experienced relations with a
Human named Herren during the peace talks Adama had been brokering
between the Ziklagi and the Zykonians.  And how Herren had lost his life
during those talks when he saved Adama's life during an assassination
attempt.  The true identity of Sarah was known only to a handful, and not
all of them knew about her relationship with Herren because it was too
sensitive a subject to let anyone know about.
     "But I would imagine the case of Commander Allen and Kalysha proves
that some of our feelings about interbreeding were probably rooted more
in prejudice than common sense," Ila went on.  "Do they have any
children?"
     "No," Athena said quietly.  "Kalysha was pregnant, but.....she
suffered a miscarriage during the chaos we went through involving
abductions by a race called the Ischt'k."
     "Your father told me about them," her mother nodded, "That must have
been awful."
     "A miscarriage is never easy for any woman," Sheba said, "My mother
had one when I was four.  After that, she couldn't have any more
children."
     "I remember," Ila's tone grew quietly somber, "Your father was away
at the time, and a lot of her friends helped get her through that."
     Sheba looked at her mother-in-law thoughtfully, "I think I remember
you coming by our house then, even though it was mostly a blur to me
because I wasn't that old.  But I know my mother never got over it
because my father later told me that I was to never mention  it in her
presence, ever.  And she never mentioned it to me once in all the yahrens
before she died."
     Ila suddenly realized that the conversation was drifting back into
areas they were trying to get Sheba's mind off of.  She quickly shifted
gears.
     "What kind of songs does Kalysha perform, generally?"
     "Mostly songs from Earth," Athena realized what her mother was doing
and followed her lead, "Her husband taught her a lot, and later Captain
Byrne and the freed prisoners from Ne'Chak shared more with her.  She
doesn't do Harkaelian ones much because she doesn't like to sing without
musical accompaniment and the problem there is we have no recordings of
Harkaelain musical accompaniment, and she doesn't know how to reconstruct
Harkalelain music so it could be played on a spinet or processed into a
synthesizer."
     "I might be able to help her with that if she can just hum the
melodies to me," Ila said, "I used to teach a special course on the music
of alien cultures.  Especially the Delphians, because they were the most
renown of any race when it came to that field."
     "We'll make sure you'll get a chance to tell her about your
expertise," Sheba said, feeling more relaxed for the moment, but still
hoping that when they got back they'd be greeted to reassuring news about
Boxey.


     Although Kalysha had performed in the past in larger venues such as
the Rising Star's Astral Lounge, and once in the Great Hall on the
Galactica, she preferred the intimacy of the makeshift Rec Hall aboard
the Adelaide, because it reminded her of the places she'd performed in
before, only without the seediness they'd been associated with.  Because
the Adelaide, like the Constellation, was a former Zykonian pirate ship,
it's Rec Hall was a converted space originally used for smuggling
operations.  It could seat about 30 people tops, but on this night the
invitation list for her concert was kept to a maximum of 20 with the
three visitors from the Galactica the only outsiders who'd been allowed
to come.  The rest were comprised entirely of people living aboard the
Adelaide.  Kalysha's husband, Commander Cedric Allen, originally of the
Royal Australian Navy and the only other survivor of Captain Kevin
Byrne's original Earth expedition from many decades ago.  Athena and
Sheba also recognized some of the other former prisoners from Ne'Chak who
lived on the Adelaide like the Anglican priest, Father Desmond Fisher,
and his fellow countryman, Captain Ian Ashby of the British Army.  But
there were also some of the regular Colonial personnel who'd been
assigned to Adelaide as Bridge crew and Engine detail.  Overall, it
represented a good cross-section of those who helped keep the converted
pirate ship functioning as a valuable part of the Colonial Fleet.
     Ila noticed a microphone located near the back wall and behind it a
small platform that had been put in place.  To one side of that was some
kind of ancient looking piece of electronic equipment that Ila suspected
was either some kind of music synthesizer that could provide
accompaniment as a result of programmed input, or it could have also been
an ancient device for playing back pre-recorded musical accompaniment
tracks.  But what intrigued her more was the sight of what clearly
resembled an old style spinet with the distinctive white and black keys.
Immediately, it filled Ila with a deep pang of nostalgia for the one that
used to be in her home on Caprica, and how she would often find herself
playing just to relax herself, or to have some special moments of family
singing with Adama and her children. 
     Finally, the door to the main companionway opened and Kalysha
entered.  Ila's eyes widened in amazement at the sight of her.  She was
humanoid in a general sense but what set her apart was her bronze/orange
skin that from a distance could easily have been mistaken for fur, and
eyes similar to a felix.  She was dressed in what had become her
trademark concert gown, which was a shimmering black off-the-shoulder
number with a jeweled belt.  It helped to highlight the exoticism of her
features, along with her impressive figure, and Ila couldn't help but
think how her friend Kylie would die from envy over the gown. 
     Oh well, at least she's got that off-shoulder stola of mine I got at
Brylon.
     "Good evening, my good friends," Kalysha said in that silky purr of
a voice she had.  The linguistic side of Ila noticed that her accent was
similar to a Libran dialect from the southern highlands of that planet. 
"Thank you for coming tonight to one of my smaller, more intimate
performances in which try to honor the requests I've had sent to me over
what songs from both Earth and the Colonies you've been anxious to hear
live performances of.  We're going to start with a request that came from
the man who has graciously consented to be my accompanist for this since
he knows it well enough to bang it out, as he says on the spinet," she
motioned her arm, "Father Fisher, if you please?"
     Every pair of eyebrows in the room went up in surprise as the
clergyman, with an impish smile rose and walked over to the spinet where
he sat down and began to play in a style that Ila immediately knew
signaled that this wasn't something he had great experience at, but
clearly just enough to get by for a favorite song of his.  And then after
the opening chords, Kalysha began to sing in her patented smoky style:

         "Gonna take a sentimental journey
         Gonna set my heart at ease
         Gonna make a sentimental journey
         To renew old memories

         "Got my bag, got my reservation
         Spent each dime I could afford
         Like a child in wild anticipation
         Long to hear that, "All aboard!"

     Ila, impressed with what she was hearing in Kalysha's voice and in
the song, leaned over and whispered in her daughter's ear, "What's a
dime?"
     "An Earth coin.  I think it's supposed to be the equivalent of a
tenth of a cubit." Athena whispered back.


     "Ah," she smiled knowingly as it made the song's lyric even stronger
to her.
     

         "Seven, that's the time we leave, at seven
         I'll be waitin' up at heaven
         Countin' every mile of railroad track
         That takes me back


     Ila leaned over again but before she could whisper her question,
Athena had already anticipated it. "An old-fashioned public ground
transport."
     Her mother nodded again and returned her attention to the
performance.
     
     
         "Never thought my heart could be so yearny
         Why did I decide to roam?
         Gonna take that sentimental journey
         Sentimental journey home


     The song ended and the crowd burst into applause.  Kalysha motioned
to Father Fisher who rose from the spinnet and gave an awkward wave as he
quickly got back to his seat.  And then, Ila abruptly stood up which in
turn triggered a standing ovation.  The one-time Drama and Music
Instructor knew it wasn't proper protocol to do this after the first
number, but the song and Kalysha's interpretation of it had touched her
completely.  The song spoke directly to the hopes and feelings of
everyone in the Fleet, especially the Earth natives who were traveling to
their home world after so many yahrens away......and it also spoke
directly to Ila's own recent journey from far across the galaxy that had
brought her home to her family at long last.
     If Earth songwriters can come up with something that good, it's
going to be a lot of fun discovering what else they've done, the blonde
Academician thought as she resumed her seat and settled in for Kalysha's
next number.  This time, the Harkaelian woman motioned to her husband,
Commander Allen to turn on the machine to her left, and as Ila had
suspected it was a synthesizer providing some recorded accompaniment for
the next song.


         "I miss the Saturday dance
         I heard they crowded the floor
         Couldn't bear it without you
         Don't get around much anymore

         "I thought I'd visit the club
         Got as far as the door
         They'd have asked me about you
         Don't get around much anymore


         "Mmm-whoa, darling, I guess
         My mind's more at ease
         But nevertheless
         Why stir up old memories?

         "Been invited on dates
         Might have gone, but what for?
         Awfully different without you
         And I don't get around much anymore, let's go

         "Oh, I miss that Saturday dance
         But I heard they fluttered the floor
         Mmm, couldn't dig it without you
         No, Mama, I don't get around much anymore

         "Thought I'd visit the club
         But I only got as far as the door
         No, they'd have asked me about you
         And I don't get around much anymore

         "No, darling, I guess
         I guess my mind's more at ease
         But now, forever and nevertheless, babe
         Why stir up memories?

         "I've been invited on dates
         I might've gone, but what for?
         It ain't no good without you, baby
         And I don't get around much anymore

         "And, no, I
         Baby, I
         And no, I
         I don't get around much anymore.

         "Missed the Saturday dance,
         Could have gone but what for,
         Heard they crowded the floor,
         Couldn't bear it without you,
         Don't get around much anymore."
     

     "Feeling a little better, Boxey?" Cassiopeia asked as she came
alongside the little boy's Life Station bed.  The last drops of a unit of
blood were transfusing.
     "Little," Boxey dimly nodded, but he sounded drained.  "I don't
feel.... hot and cold anymore.  And my nose stopped bleeding.  But my hip
is still a little sore."
     "I'll have Med Tech Tone give you something for pain.  And we're
done with the tests so you can just relax now and get some sleep."
     "I want to sleep in my own bed," he said with an edge of defiance,
lifting the arm that had an intravenous taped into place.
     "I don't blame you a bit, Boxey," she said. "When we're not feeling
well is exactly when we'd prefer to be in a familiar environment with all
our treasures around us.  Not in a boring Life Station with nothing to do
but people watch."
     He nodded, smiling slightly.  He still looked wan and tired, lacking
his usual spark.
     "Hey, I'm pretty sure Starbuck dropped off a copy of Quarry Quest
recently, exactly for these occasions.  I'll see if I can find it.  Would
you like that?"
     "Would I!"  The defiance had left him as quick as it had appeared.
He then turned his head to his left and looked over at the bed next to
him.
     "Cassiopeia, who's that with the mummy face?"
     The blonde doctor tried not to wince, pausing in her search for the
popular vid game. "That's not a mummy face, Boxey."
     "But didn't they wrap up all the old Lords of Kobol like that when
they died?"
     "Well.....yes, Boxey they did, but that's not what's happened here.
That man had a bad accident recently, and they needed to operate on his
face. That's why he has to have his face bandaged like that, so that it
will heal."
     "Oh," he kept staring at the man and then called over to him.
"Sorry, Mister."
     "Boxey, you don't have to----," but then the man in the next bed
rolled his head over to his right and spoke up through the slit in his
mouth.
     "It's okay.  In fact, I think it's kind of accurate.  I feel like a
Kobollian mummy so I'm not surprised someone thinks I look like one. But
hopefully for not too much longer."
     "What happened?" Boxey asked.  And again, before Cassiopeia could
reproach him, the man was shaking his head to indicate it was okay.
     "I....got too close to a rogue Cylon fighter on Sagittaria not too
long ago," he said.  "They had to take me all the way out here to the
Galactica to fix my face."
     Suddenly, Boxey's eyes widened, "You came back with my Grandma?"
     The eyes that were framed by the bandages also widened in surprise,
"Professor Ila is your grandma?"
     "Yeah!" the little boy nodded.  "She told me what a wild ride it
was."
     "Well.....she's probably right, but I was asleep the whole time," he
paused, "What's your name?"
     "Boxey."
     "Well, Boxey, since we're now bunkmates, you can call me Aurelius."
     "Hello, Aurelius."
     "How old are you?"
     "I just turned ten!"
     Cassiopeia slowly backed away, deciding to let the two of them chat. 
At the very least it was giving the little boy a needed distraction for
now while she tracked down Quarry Quest.  From the other side of the Life
Station, she could see Dr. Salik motioning toward her.  As she drew close
to the Chief Medical Officer she could see a grim look on his face. And
right away, Cassiopeia knew that some painful conversations over the next
few centars likely awaited her.


     "What a picture you two make," Starbuck needled as he looked over
the top of his pyramid cards.  The mood had been tense since Cassiopeia
had telecommed asking for Apollo's consent to do a more invasive test on
Boxey.  "The two senior squadron leaders of the Fleet, spending an
evening changing and feeding three rambunctious infants.  This has all
the makings of the next IFB sitcom."
     Boomer smirked back at him over the top of his cards, "Jealous,
aren't you, Bucko?"
     "Me?" the blond lieutenant shrugged in mock protest, "I'm just
getting a nice reminder of how uncles get the best of all possible worlds
with kids. We get to have all the fun without having to do any of the
dirty work.  Oh, and.....I'll hover with these." His fingers stroked his
cards lovingly.
     "Of course, you will."  Apollo, still on edge inside over Boxey,
felt glad that Starbuck was providing some much needed comic relief. He
managed to smirk back at him as well, the support of his friend and
brother-in-law buoying his spirits, and giving him strength.  "Yep,
you're jealous all right."
     "Well......just a little.  But I don't think the galaxy's ready to
have a mini-Starbuck running around just yet."
     "Lords, perish the thought," Boomer quipped. 
     Starbuck chewed on the end of his unlit fumarello, mindful of the
need to keep it unlit with the three babies in the next room now fast
asleep. "Besides, Cassie and I came to an agreement when we got sealed. 
No kids in our future until we reach Earth. She can't afford to give up
her responsibilities in the Life Station and that's fine with me."
     "Yeah, but it's not always easy to stick to that," Boomer said as he
put down one card and drew another. "Unplanned surprises often have a way
of coming up."
     The blond Lieutenant's voice grew serious as he shook his head, "Not
in our case.  Cassie's an.....expert when it comes to making all the
right preparations for avoiding that."
     Because she used to be a socialator, Apollo let his mind say what
Starbuck wouldn't say aloud.  Then he reminded himself that she was also
a doctor, a little ashamed that hadn't been his first thought. 
Regardless, he had once read how ordained socialators, as Cassiopeia had
once been, were expected to take every last step to avoid pregnancy
whenever they performed their services. Sheba knew that too, and she had
once admitted to him that in the days when her father and Cassiopeia had
been lovers, the only thing about the relationship that hadn't upset her
at the time was her confidence that she wouldn't have to worry about a
half-sibling entering the picture.
     "I can understand waiting," Apollo also grew serious as he dropped
two cubits into the pot, "Sheba and I decided we can't possibly have more
children until we reach Earth.  We have our hands full as it is with
Bethany and Boxey."
     "Likewise with Athena and me," Boomer also dropped two cubits in,
"Maybe if we hadn't had twins we'd have been open to having another one
by this point, but.......I'm honestly wondering if we should make it
permanent about not having anymore."
     "Oh?" Starbuck matched the two cubits and then waved his cards to
indicate he was hovering with this particular hand, "And how do you go
about making it permanent?"
     "There are certain.......procedures available," Boomer said
delicately.
     "Ah, ah," his friend shook his head, "Don't go any further. That's
one option I'd never  let myself pursue."
     "Don't tell me, let me guess," Boomer said dryly, "You live in fear
of the idea of having one of those procedures I'm talking about, and
suddenly in the middle of the operation, there's a Cylon attack and the
ship is struck rather violently and shakes about like a leaf blown off a
Caprican oak tree in the middle of a cyclone......." He then trailed off.
     "Ouch," Starbuck slowly shook his head and Apollo found himself
trying not to laugh out loud as his friend stroked his jaw, chewing his
lower lip. "I feel dizzy."
     Both Apollo and Boomer burst out laughing.
      "Boomer, you're going to make me have nightmares for the next
secton at least after that!" Starbuck carried on.
     "Easy, Bucko.  Tell you what.  I'll give you a more pleasant reason
to hate me," Red Squadron Leader grinned as he put down his cards, "Feast
your eyes on my full pyramid."
     The normally cocksure Starbuck shook his head and tossed his cards
down, "Last time I ever let you guys rope me into keeping you company on
your babysitting night."
     "No, it won't," Apollo needled, knowing that even when he was on the
receiving end, Starbuck enjoyed it just as much, if not even more.
     The telecom on the wall near the door sounded for the second time in
so many centars, and Apollo was quick to get up and answer it, knowing it
was likely an update from the Life Station.
     "Yeah?"
     "Apollo," Cassiopeia's voice was tense, "Get down here immediately. 
And come alone."
     His relaxed feeling vanished, "What is it?"
     "I'll explain but get down here fast. We have to go over this before
Sheba and the others get back."
     He nodded and hung up. Hiss two best friends looked at him with
concern.
     "What's the news?" Boomer broke the silence.
     "I don't know," Apollo said quietly, "Cassie wants to see me alone."
     Starbuck felt his blood freeze.  He knew his wife was all-business
and no-nonsense when it came to her work, and that would be doubly so
when it came to leveling about someone she loved and cared about like
Boxey.
     "Get down there, buddy," he said, "We'll hold the fort."
     "Thanks," Apollo nodded gratefully as he hurriedly left the room.


     When he arrived in the Life Station, he first said a quick hello to
Boxey, who was engaged in a long conversation with the mysterious man
named Aurelius who'd accompanied Ila back from the Colonies because of
his facial injuries.  It was the first time Apollo had ever heard the man
speak, and he could already tell that even behind the facial bandages,
Aurelius had a personable quality that knew how to relate well to a small
boy. It made Apollo feel glad that Boxey had found someone to talk to,
because it meant Apollo didn't have to linger by his bedside too long
before Cassiopeia motioned him to come back to Salik's private office.
     "Okay, give it to me straight, Cassiopeia," Apollo folded his arms.
     The doctor closed the door behind her, "Apollo.....it's very
serious, but treatable."
     He swallowed down the terror in his throat, focusing on the last
word.  It was 'treatable'.  "How serious?"
     She took a breath, "He's suffering from bone marrow failure."
     Apollo's eyes narrowed, "Bone marrow failure?  What's that?"
     "Basically, the soft center of his bones that makes blood cells
isn't working right," Cassiopeia replied.  "It affects his body's ability
to naturally clot his blood, fight infection, and even transport oxygen
around his body.  Thus, the nose bleeds, the bruising, his lack of
energy."
     "But how?  Why?" Apollo asked, feeling suddenly helpless.  It was
not a feeling he was familiar with as a Colonial Warrior.  His first duty
to his son was to protect him.  But how could he protect Boxey from
something like this?
     "In general terms, Bone Marrow Failure is either genetic or
acquired.  I don't see anything in either Boxey or Serina's medical
history to indicate it's genetic.  However, as far as acquired goes,
being exposed to chemicals is a likely cause."
     "Chemicals?" Apollo echoed, stunned.  "How?  When?"
     "Apollo, Boxey's friend, Jephtha, is also in the Life Station .....
using our only copy of Quarry Quest, much to Boxey's disappointment."
     Apollo's brow knit in confusion.
     "I'm sorry.  Never mind that.  The point is that Jephtha has similar
symptoms and the same diagnosis.  Think back two yahrens ago during the
Ziklagi boarding operation, when Reese saved  Boxey's life, and also
Jephtha's from a Ziklagi soldier who'd snatched them both."
     "What are you talking about?" Apollo's bewilderment deepened.  "You
gave Boxey a check after that happened and said he had no ill effects and
there wasn't anything to worry about."
     "That's because the latent effect of the chemical wasn't detectable
back then, Apollo. Something we had no reason to look for because......we
just assumed that the Ziklagi soldier who nearly killed Boxey and Jephtha
was a.....typical Ziklagi."
     "What do you mean typical?" he demanded.
     She went back to the door to make sure it was securely locked and
then dropped her voice to a confidential level.
     "This is going to get very complicated, so bear with me," she said,
"Do you remember before the boarding incident, when Starbuck nearly died
from cardiac arrest aboard the Nebula?"
     "Yeah," his eyes narrowed, "I wasn't there, but I learned the
details later. That Ziklagi shapeshifter Korax attacked him and
got.....some kind of neurotoxin into his system."
     Cassiopeia said nothing and Apollo realized it was the look of
someone waiting to see if he had added things up.  It took him another
five microns before everything fell into place.
     "Wait a micron," he said, "You mean the Ziklagi soldier who snatched
Boxey and Jephtha......was a shapeshifter just like Korax?"
     "Biologically, yes," Cassiopeia said, "We never realized it because
we assumed that if he'd been a shapeshifter, he would have simply changed
his appearance to get away from Reese before Reese killed him.  But
before I contacted you, I paid a discreet visit to a certain party who
knows more about these things than anyone else in the Fleet and she tells
me that not every Ziklagi born to be a potential shapeshifter learns how
to master the power, or knows they even have it. But they are still
capable of secreting the neurotoxin and using it on an enemy as if they
were a fully functioning shapeshifter like Korax and.......her."
     Apollo knew that Cassiopeia was referring to Nizaka, known only to
everyone else in the Fleet in her Human guise of Academician Sarah.  
     "So.....you're saying some of this neurotoxin got into Boxey and
Jephtha's systems two yahrens ago," he tried to calm his emotions, "If
it's taken this long to manifest itself, it couldn't have been a large
amount."  "It probably wasn't, but it was more than enough to become a
long-term timebomb that's now gone off," Cassiopeia was blunt. "This is
all theoretical for now, but it seems the toxin lurked in his body,
gradually damaging the bone marrow over time.  There's a lot about it
we're still not fully aware of." Apollo took a breath, but she held up a
hand. "I'll cut through the rest of the felgercarb to tell you that in
order to recover, Boxey needs an allogenic transplant."
     "A what?"
     "He needs healthy blood-forming cells that have to be donated. 
Otherwise.....his situation will become critical and life threatening."
     "All right then," Apollo said with determination, relieved that
finally he could help. "If you need a volunteer, I'm ready to do it in
half a micron!"
     The blonde doctor let out a long, sad sigh.
     "Apollo," she said quietly but pointedly, "You need to be a match,
hematology wise.  Not just anyone can be a donor."  
     "Then test me and let's find out."
     "Apollo, we already have that information registered for everyone
who's undergone a regular physical check.  You remember when we swabbed
the inside of your cheek, along with doing the standard blood work?"
     He nodded, vaguely recalling.
     "That was to record the basic proteins or markers found on most
cells in your body.  Half of those markers are inherited from your
mother, the other half from your father."
     He sighed, feeling a little defeated.  "So genetics matter."
     "Yes, they do.  Usually.  Unfortunately, you're not biologically
compatible with Boxey," Cassiopeia was blunt, "And no one else in your
family is either according to the registry.  None of you can ever be
donors for him."
     A look of horror came over him as he realized what she meant,
"But.....maybe Sheba....."
     "Again, not the right HLA type," she cut him off, gently touching
his arm.  "Human Leucocyte Antigen.  Those markers I was talking about. 
She can't be a donor either.  Boxey's best chance to live a normal life
lies with a genetic match.  Ideally, a sibling with the same genetic
markers."
     "My God," Apollo whispered, "But that's impossible.  Where are we
going to find someone who can----,"
     "Apollo," she interrupted him again, still pointed, still blunt. 
"There is an obvious donor candidate out there.  Someone
we've.....conveniently let ourselves forget about."
     The horror on Apollo gave way to a sudden dawning.  But at the same
time there wasn't any relief or elation in him.
     "Anglin," he said simply and then struggled to say the next words,
"Boxey's......biological father." 

Chapter Two

     "I had a wonderful time," Ila said as she rode the shuttle back to
the Galactica with her daughter and daughter-in-law.  "I'm going to enjoy
getting to know her more, because I promised I'd help transcribe some
Harkaelian music for her at some point.  That way she can perform some of
those songs she knows next time."
     "I'm glad you're finding more things to do than just spend time with
the family," Athena said, "It's really good to see you.....connect with
the people in the Fleet."
     "Well, I know a lot of people are anxious to hear firsthand accounts
of life in the Colonies now.  I like to think I can put their minds at
ease about what it will be like for the survivors now that a peace
agreement with the Enlightened Cylons is in place," she sighed, "Thank
the Lords I haven't run into a single person who's skeptical about the
idea of a peace agreement holding together."
     "I think it's because we're already accustomed to the idea of
cooperating and coexisting with Enlightened Cylons," Sheba spoke up. 
Inside she was starting to feel tense inside about Boxey again, now that
they were on the return journey, but she was determined to keep that
hidden.  "The Detente, as we call it, has really made a big difference in
our lives.  The BaseShip has been our equivalent of a second battlestar,
and that made our victory over the Risik Star Force even more decisive."
     "I've been reading more about the Risik, since the one brush the
Pegasus had with them was very minimal," Ila said.  "They clearly don't
have any weapons or ships capable of defeating a battlestar or baseship
in head-to-head combat."
     "No, they don't," her daughter-in-law nodded, "But we always knew
that if we ran into a mass concentration of their entire Star Force, we
might not prevail.  That's why it was imperative to escape their frontier
after we rescued the Earth prisoners from Ne'Chak."
     "I'm so glad for their sakes that you did," the blonde Academician
stretched her legs, "It's terrifying to think of what it was like for
those people to just be snatched without warning from thier homes on
Earth and taken far across the galaxy to another world and placed in a
prison.  Especially when Earth isn't accustomed to the idea of life
existing beyond its own planet."
     "Hopefully when we reach Earth in the next few yahrens, it'll be
different," Athena said, "If it isn't....well, then all the Earth people
from Captain Byrne on down will be needed to act as our liaisons to the
people of Earth."
     "It's a pretty interesting cross-section of people," her mother
mused, "Your father's spoken a lot about that priest, Father Fisher.  Now
tonight I discover he dabbles in playing decidedly non-sacred music on
the spinet!"
     "Quite a contrast from Caprican priests, isn't he?" Athena grinned. 
"He even comes by the Officer's Club on the Galactica once in a while, so
that means Earth religion doesn't have prohibitions on alcoholic libation
either for the ordained class.  At least not the religion he's ordained
in, which I'm told isn't too far removed from our own."
     "I know I should have a talk with him about that soon.  Not just to
compare notes on Colonial religion and Earth religion, but he might find
what I learned about religion on the planet Terra interesting as well,
since they appear to represent a perfect test case of synthesizing the
two strains.  All because the Terrans are an off-shoot of the original
13th Tribe expedition, who then shaped much of their early history by
studying what was happening on Earth during its early millennia of
settlement.  All thanks to a satellite that still orbits Earth called the
Black Knight which was originally sent out by the Kobollians."
     "It's amazing how it took our Exodus from the Colonies into deep
space to discover all these linkages our ancestors were responsible for,"
Sheba marveled.  "Would we have ever learned them if the Colonies hadn't
been destroyed?"
     "I don't think that's the right question to ask, Sheba," her
mother-in-law shook her head.  "It makes it sound like there was a
Divinely planned purpose behind the Destruction.  I think what we're
experiencing is a case of how even in the face of horror and destruction
that is the result of our own actions.......there are still possibilities
for good.  It's happened here, and it's happened in the Colonies and it's
happened on the Pegasus too."
     "I agree with what you say, completely," Sheba said.  "My whole life
here with Apollo and Boxey stems from that same idea that even in the
face of destruction and horror......the Almighty finds a way to look
after those who still have faith."
     "It took me a long time to remember that," Athena admitted.  "After
I literally saw and heard Zac die, and then thought you were dead,
Mother, I.......basically rebelled against my whole upbringing when it
came to matters of faith.  It took me a long time to.....find my way
back."
     She looked her daughter in the eye, "I'm glad you did, Sunshine,"
she said simply.  "Even if you'd never found out I was alive, you've
received new blessings in your life, especially with Boomer and the
twins."
     "Were you surprised it ended up being Boomer, and not Starbuck?"
     "A little," Ila admitted.  "I know I met Boomer a couple times, but
just to say hello to.  I really didn't know the other pilots Apollo and
Starbuck bonded together with in those days like Boomer and
that.....burly one...."
     "Jolly," her daughter said, noticing her mother's sense of tact to
avoid using the term 'fat'.  "Yeah, they were always a close-knit group
and when Zac and I ended up on the Galactica, they went out of their way
to make us both feel at home.  That's why Boomer and I were already good
friends before things.....got serious between us."
     "Boxey told me how the three of you were trapped in the Rejuvenation
Center after a Cylon suicide hit on the Galactica," Ila went on, "Was
that when things started between you two?"
     "Not really," Athena shook her head, "By that point, things were
dead between Starbuck and me, and I was taking more responsibility for
Boxey at that point because Apollo and Sheba hadn't connected yet,
but.....Boomer and I went through an experience even more harrowing than
the suicide attack that brought us together.  That was when we got
stranded on the planet Ki."
     "I didn't know anything harrowing happened to you on Ki," Ila lifted
an eyebrow in surprise, "I mean, I know what kind of a planet Ki is, and
how it fits into the story of the Thirteenth Tribe's journey, but I don't
remember anything about you and Boomer in the summary your father sent to
Cain and me."  
     "I guess he didn't want to burden you with needless details," she
chucked dryly, "If we had a centar, I could tell you all about it,
but......I think we're just a few centons away from the Galactica."
     "We are," Sheba spoke up.  "And now we find out what kind of news it
is about Boxey."
     "I think if it was really dire, they would have com-texted us," Ila
leaned over and gave her daughter-in-law's hand a reassuring squeeze.  "I
think everything's going to be fine."
     "I hope so," Sheba could feel the emotions coming to the surface
again.  "The day he called me Mom for the first time was one of the
happiest days of my life.  I've never thought of him as Serina's son, or
a stepson since then."
     But when they stepped off the shuttle five centons later, they saw
Apollo waiting for them.  And his expression already told them that the
news wasn't good.


     Ten centons later, the entire family was gathered in Adama and Ila's
quarters to discuss the situation, once Apollo finished revealing
everything Cassiopeia had already told him.
     "This is what it comes down to," the captain said, "Boxey needs to
have a blood cell transplant, and because his blood type is rare to begin
with, the only chance of finding a donor is to go to someone
who.....isn't aware of the relationship he has to Boxey."
     "Oh my God," Sheba mouthed, knowing right away who Apollo meant.
     "His biological father," Adama said simply.  He and Sheba were the
only ones in the room other than Apollo who knew the full story.
     "His father?" this was news to Athena.  "When did he resurface?"
     "Two yahrens ago, during the whole business regarding Sire Antipas
and the stash of rare jewels from the Libran Antiquities Museum theft,"
Adama sighed, "Boxey's biological father is a man named Anglin who works
on the Livestock Ship in the sanitation detail."
     "I think we need to hear the whole story," Ila said, not having
expected these twists and turns to complicate what was already a
difficult story surrounding Boxey's health.  "We can't offer any advice
otherwise."
     "True," her husband nodded and then looked over at Apollo, "Do you
want me to explain, Apollo?"
     "No," Apollo shook his head, "Let me do it, Father.  Anglin was an
old boyfriend of Serina's at University.  She told me that on the night
she celebrated her Coming of Age, she and Anglin got drunk and it led to
the two of them......not taking proper precautions and the end result was
Serina became pregnant with Boxey.  And Anglin, who came from a rich
family with strict parents, panicked and pleaded with Serina to get a
termination, and she refused to do that on moral grounds.  She told
Anglin she was going to have the baby and that she expected him to take
proper responsibility.  She didn't want to marry him, but she expected to
get his help and his family's help so she could finish her studies and
then get herself set up as a single mother."
     "But Anglin decided instead to run like a coward," Sheba joined in,
"The day after Serina told him she wasn't getting a termination, he
emptied out his bank account and literally fled Caprica, leaving her high
and dry.  His family refused to help Serina and it forced her to look
elsewhere to get help so she could finish her last yahren of University
and get herself established as a working journalist.  Her tech director
at the BNC, Heller, was the one who helped her the most during that
period."  
     "And Anglin meanwhile, went to Libra and after he used up his stolen
trust money, got involved in some less than honest activities," Apollo
picked up the narrative, "That's how he became one of four small-time
criminals hired by the young Sire Antipas to pull off the Libran
Antiquities Museum heist, with orders for each to then safeguard
one-fourth each of the collection for the long-haul.  Antipas remember,
engineered the heist not out of greed but out of the simple thrill of
proving it could be done.  Each of the four were looked after, and all
four, with their share of the heist carefully protected, all managed to
flee safely after the Destruction.  Anglin, Spaulding, Jabez and
Dravius."
     "And I think you know the rest of the story regarding the museum
theft," Sheba went on, "How Dravius, the unstable one, ended up on the
Spica and when that ship got evacuated, his share of the theft was
discovered and he became a fugitive in the Fleet, becoming an assassin
for that 'Association' ring on the Rising Star.  When that was broken up,
he tried to get Antipas to help him, and when Antipas wouldn't, Dravius
turned to his other cohorts from the theft.  He was never able to track
down Spaulding's location in the Fleet but he did find Jabez and Anglin. 
Jabez reluctantly agreed to follow him, and it cost them both their lives
at the hands of Antipas.  Anglin though, refused to go along with Dravius
and when that happened, Dravius stabbed him.  Apollo and I were
investigating the matter of the theft at the time and we'd traced Anglin
as one of the other criminals behind the Museum theft, and when we got to
his quarters on the Livestock ship, we found him with multiple stab
wounds.  If we'd arrived ten centons later, he would have been dead."
     "And it was when we brought him to the Life Station and he was still
in a coma from his wounds that I discovered the truth about his
connection to Boxey," Apollo said quietly, "We'd already found a picture
of Serina in his quarters, and when Boxey wandered into the Life Station
to talk to me while I was standing by Anglin's bed......that's when I
suddenly saw the resemblance.  Just to make sure I wasn't crazy, I asked
Cassiopeia to run a discreet genetic test on his DNA and compare it to
Boxey's, and......you can figure out the rest."
     "Does he know?" Ila spoke up.
     "No," her son shook his head, "We never told Anglin what we found
out.  Since he was ultimately cleared of any involvement in Dravius's
activities, and since he and Spaulding received a full pardon for their
role in the original theft, he was allowed to go back to his duties with
a clean slate provided he turn over the share of the collection he still
had back to Libran authority on the Akrabi.  And we never told Boxey
about him either.  Serina had been so bitter about Anglin abandoning her
that she never even told me his name when she revealed the story of what
happened to her."
     "And is that why you never told Anglin the truth?" his mother gently
pressed, "Because you were respecting Serina's wishes?"
     "That wasn't on our minds at the time, Mother," Apollo said, "You
have to understand how hectic that whole business involving Antipas and
the discovery of his role in the theft was back then.  Our Chief of
Colonial Security was murdered during the investigation and there was
also some uncertainty over whether Antipas committed an act of
premeditated murder himself as part of the cover-up.  It wasn't the right
time to add that to the mix."
     "But why not after the whole thing regarding Antipas and the theft
died down?" Ila kept her tone gentle, but she still sounded unconvinced. 

     "We didn't exactly have much of a let-up afterwards," Adama said,
"Just a secton after that whole incident was when the matter of Major
Dorian's long-ago death came up, and I've told you how much of a
distraction that was for me.  And then subsequent to that came our first
direct engagements with the Ziklagi, Brylon Station, Baltar's defection,
Captain Byrne's discovery.....it just became too easy for the whole
matter of Anglin to fall through the cracks."
     "And it wouldn't have been good for Boxey to find out then either,"
Sheba jumped in.  "Not after he went through multiple scares of his own. 
Dorian's real killer Tabor held him hostage, and then after that came the
Ziklagi boarding incident that nearly killed him."
     "I'm not saying Boxey should have been told," Ila said gently to her
daughter-in-law, "I'm just saying if Anglin had known you'd be in a much
better position now.  As it is, you're going to have to spring a double
shock on him of telling him Boxey is his son and that he's the best hope
for what amounts to saving Boxey's life at this point."
     "True," her husband nodded, "But.....we can't undo what's been done. 
The only question left is.....who approaches Anglin and lays everything
out to him?"
     "It's my responsibility as Boxey's true father to do it," Apollo
said without hesitation.  "And I need to do this alone.  I'm the only one
who can talk to him directly about what Serina's feelings and wishes
were."
     "Apollo----," Sheba began to protest, but Ila was quick to cut her
off.
     "I think you're right, Apollo," she said. "It's best for you to do
it man-to-man with him and find out how he reacts to it, and if he's
willing to finally perform an act of parental responsibility for the
first time in his life."
     "But what if he refuses to help?" Athena interjected.  "We can't
force him to be a donor, can we?"
     "Cassiopeia says there are very few risks in being a donor for this
kind of procedure," Apollo said. "It's not like asking him to donate a
kidney or something like that.  If anything, I'm less concerned about
whether he'd agree to the operation or not, than if he might suddenly
decide to ask for favors in return."
     "Like what?" Boomer spoke up for the first time.  "You mean he might
suddenly decide to assert his legal rights as Boxey's father?"
     "In a word, yes," Apollo acknowledged.  "Not that I think he'd ever
prevail in any legal proceeding.  The statutes are quite clear on such
matters when formal legal adoption has taken place, and Boxey was
formally and legally adopted by me when Serina and I became sealed.  But
even if he mounted a losing challenge......it would be bad publicity for
the family, and upsetting for Boxey too."
     Boomer slowly nodded, "And he might ask for
certain.......compensation in return to keep from doing that?"
     "He might.  After all, this is someone whose biggest claim to fame
is that he took part in the biggest museum heist in Colonial history."
     "You won't know until you go over to the Livestock Ship and find
out," Ila pointed out. "I think it's best you get started on that
immediately, Apollo.  The sooner we find out where he stands, the
better."
     "She's right," Adama nodded.  "Take a shuttle to the Livestock Ship
and sound Anglin out.  The only thing I insist on, Apollo, is that you
keep an even keel the whole time and not threaten him in the slightest."
     "Not a chance," his son promised, "Too much is at stake for Boxey to
let me do something crazy like that."
     "And one other thing," the Commander leaned forward, "If he isn't
willing to cooperate at first, don't drag him back to the Galactica to
face me.  If I'm going to be needed to make any direct appeals to him,
then I would have to go to him.  We must play things as delicately as we
can with this man."
     Apollo nodded and then leaned over to whisper a few words to Sheba,
whose expression was tight-lipped and on-edge.  Ila could tell it was the
maternal instinct kicking in.  Sheba wanted to do her part for Boxey, and
for now, she was going to have to stay on the sidelines.  When her
husband was done, she seemed to relax slightly, as though Apollo had been
able to find the right words to put her at ease for now.
     They really are a perfect match, Ila couldn't help but think.  Her
mind drifted back to when she and Cain had learned about the sealing from
the Zykonians at Brylon Station, and how unexpected the idea of their two
families being tied together through marriage had been.  Over time
though, Ila soon realized how much that tie had help strengthen her own
relationship with Cain as confidant.
     "I'll give you a report direct from the shuttle after I'm done with
him," Apollo said to Adama.  "Hopefully......he'll be coming back with
me."
     "We'll all be praying," Athena chimed in.  A remark that would have
seemed unthinkable from her a couple yahrens ago, but which now came
naturally to her as it had in the pre-Destruction days.
     "Thanks," her brother managed to smile as he left the room.


     Cassiopeia sat down heavily in the small room that while technically
was Dr's Salik's office, was also the refuge for any attending medical
officer.  She closed her eyes, raking her fingers through her hair,
gripping it tightly, the sharp pulling sensation helping to rein in
emotions that made her wonder if taking on Boxey's care had been a
mistake.  So much time spent around Adama's dining room table, not to
mention seeing them through tragedies and challenges, each endured with
the unyielding support of family, friends and faith.  His family were her
family now, their pain was her pain.  She drew in a deep breath, knowing
that she, along with the Galactica's medical team, could figure out a
solution to this latest problem.  
     Paye rested his backside on the desk, his feet crossed at the ankles
as he signed off on the telecom.  He stroked his chin thoughtfully,
scribbling down something on a data pad, nodding to himself in a mad
scientist sort of way, apparently oblivious to her presence.  She stood
up, crossing to glance down at the data, an abstract chemical equation
she didn't recognize, especially upside down.
     "Well?" she asked, as Salik slipped inside joining them.
     While she had confidently told Apollo that Anglin was their best
donor candidate, what she hadn't clarified was that only half of the
necessary basic proteins for a bone marrow match were in Anglin.  The
other half were Serina's.  Statistically, parents weren't ideal donor
candidates, matching only about two percent of the time, unless they had
naturally occurring HLA genes in common with each other.  And that was
only half of the problem.
     "Dr Szeto thinks there's a high likelihood of success," Paye
replied, looking up from the data pad.  "Not only is Serina's stem cell
sample still in the Genetics Bank, it's also cryogenically stable."
     How Serina had had the prescience to donate stem cells while back in
the Colonies just in case she or her son should need them for some
futuristic medical miracle was almost too much to comprehend.  How those
same samples had been among those that had been on a Genetics Research
Ship that had eventually been refitted into the Orphan Ship after the
Destruction, was completely mind boggling.  It didn't escape her that if
only the same Lords that had twisted fate in Boxey's favor today had been
watching out for Serina during that fateful attack on Kobol, none of this
would have been medically necessary.  The brilliant, fearless and
determined journalator turned warrior would have been there herself to
add her bone marrow to Anglin's to scientifically create the perfect
match.  
     "So after we determine that Anglin is a match, what then?" Cassie
asked.
     "Dr Szeto thaws out that sample, hyperstimulates the cellular
mitosis, and has a syringe full of miracle by the time we withdraw
Anglin's liquid marrow," Paye replied
     "How long will that take?"
     "Twelve centars, give or take."
     "Fast.  But...."
     "Yes, exactly, Cassiopeia," insert Salik.  "But before we can
proceed with the transplant, we need a plan to eradicate the neurotoxin
that is damaging Boxey's bone marrow.  We can replace and augment his
cells all we want and it won't mean a damn thing if that neurotoxin isn't
destroyed first."
     "Have you had any success isolating it, Salik?" Cassie asked.
     "I was able to extract a small sample from the bone marrow biopsy
you did on Boxey.  The chemical composition is unlike anything I've ever
seen before.  So far, I've tried irradiating it, and treating it with
common antitoxins."
     "Any success?" Paye asked.
     "Only with dormancy, not with eradication.  I admit, I'm frustrated. 
Any suggestions?"
     "Myeloablation?" Paye offered.
     "Honestly, Paye, it acts more like a viperid venom than a
malignancy.  Our usual treatments are completely ineffective."
     "What if I could get a pure sample of the original neurotoxin?"
Cassiopeia posed.  "We could create an antitoxin."
     "What if Boxey had an invisible twin brother that we hadn't noticed
until now," Paye replied sarcastically.  "That would be nice too."
     "Shut it, Paye," Salik snapped.  "Cassie, are you saying you know
where we could get such a sample?"
     She nodded curtly.  "This is confidential and stays in this room. 
But yes, I do."


     After leaving Adama's quarters, Sheba headed straight to the Life
Station to check on Boxey.  With each step she took, her inner sense of
maternal concern only increased.  That itself was proof of how far she'd
come in establishing a true mother-son bond with Boxey over the last two
yahrens.  When she and  Apollo had begun seeing each other, Boxey's mood
toward her had been one of sullen indifference.  As if Boxey resented the
idea of a new mother figure potentially entering his life to replace the
memory of Serina.  And then......when Apollo and Sheba decided the time
had come to tell Boxey that they were getting married and that she was
going to be his new mother, they had prepared themselves to deal with
anger and pushback.  But to their surprise, Boxey had greeted the news
with enthusiasm.  As if.....something had happened during the night while
he slept to change his attitude of being sullen and indifferent to Sheba.
     Whatever the case, from that moment on, Sheba felt she'd established
a true maternal bond with Boxey.  He always called her 'Mom' from that
day forward (never 'Mommy'.  That, Sheba knew, was what he'd called
Serina and at bare minimum she understood why Boxey felt the need to make
that distinction by regarding a 'Mommy' and a 'Mom' as two separate
people in his life)    Their interactions were as close as those that
Apollo had established with Boxey the previous two yahrens.  And because
Boxey understood the risks that warriors went through and why it was
important for his parents to stay focused on their work, he was far more
tolerant and understanding whenever they had to be away from him for an
extended period.  
     He's my son now and I love him, Sheba thought as she neared the Life
Station.  I'd do anything for him.  I can't ever let myself forget
that......even if, God help me, I let myself forget about him once.
     No matter how much Sheba wanted to blot out all memories of the
horrific experience Iblis had subjected her and Apollo to when he'd
placed them in a false Paradise that seemingly took up yahrens of their
lives when it had been only a matter of mere micons, there was one thing
about that experience that still haunted Sheba to this day.  Not the fact
that Iblis had made her experience multiple pregnancies that produced
three children who never existed (though Bethany the Second was the very
image of the first imaginary child).  Not the fact that it reminded her
of the unholy fascination Iblis had on her that she still could not
understand.  It was the fact that in the course of enjoying that
too-good-to-be-true Paradise with Apollo the memory of Boxey had
completely disappeared from her mind.  She knew that had been part of
Iblis's plan since remembering Boxey would have caused guilt to intrude
into her mind and Apollo's mind and kept them from ever crossing into the
point of no return that Iblis had intended for them to reach eventually. 
So the memories of the Galactica, the Pegasus, her father, their families
and friends had all faded as the fantasy progressed until it was finally
broken thanks to Apollo recovering his memory due to the silent
encouragement of one who had helped them escape from Iblis before. 
Colonel Delambre, the last survivor of the lost Battlestar Callisto from
five hundred yahrens ago, and the last inhabitant of Iblis's Derelict
ship whose soul had been freed when Apollo and Sheba were able to flee
safely.  
     Sheba knew that the Paradise game of Iblis's had been set in motion
by events on the Derelict.  On that occasion, Iblis had tried to use
sheer terror to get Sheba to submit by having his demonic minions chase
her down in the darkened corridors of the vast ship assembled from the
various sections of ships Iblish had enslaved over the centuries.  That
danger had included his demons secreting a lethal form of acid that when
absorbed by the body had the effect of weakening the will.  On what
seemed like a half dozen occasions, Sheba had faced this danger and
managed to avoid it.....except once.  When one drop of acid had
splattered on her exposed heel at one point.  It had produced no effect
at the time but its lingering presence in her system was why Iblis had
been able to trigger Sheba's rapid immersion into the fantasy world he
had created for her and Apollo.  Where the memory of Boxey had
disappeared quickly from her.
     A woman who feels a true maternal bond with her child would never
let herself forget, no matter what the circumstances or context, Sheba
thought as she entered the Life Station Doors.  I know Apollo told me to
never let that weigh on me because Iblis made him forget to,
but......it's because I had so much of myself invested in those children
that never existed it makes me feel so ashamed that I didn't have an
instinct for remembering Boxey first.
     She saw Cassiopeia seated in a chair across from Boxey's life
chamber.  The doctor's eyes were closed indicating she was either dozing
or deep in thought.  Sheba was well aware that her friend spent long
centars in the Life Station, her case load demanding extended shifts and
limited free time.  Ignoring her for the moment, Sheba went up to Boxey's
chamber and looked down.  He was fast asleep, a picture of perfect
innocence that made Sheba emit the most maternal of sighs.  The sound of
it caused Cassiopeia to open her eyes and get to her feet.
     "I'm sorry, Sheba," she rubbed her eyes as she came up alongside her
friend, "You....heard everything from Apollo?"
     "Yes," she couldn't take her eyes off Boxey.  "But I wouldn't mind
hearing it again from you.  Apollo was pretty upset...."
     "Of course he was," Cassie said, taking a few centons to go over
Boxey's diagnosis, tests and treatments thus far, and his proposed bone
marrow transplant along with risks and potential complications.
     "Will he be okay, Cassie?"
     "If we can get a certain party on the Livestock Ship to go
along.....I think he'll be fine.  Don't get me wrong, there are a few
hurdles to get over, but Boxey has a very good chance of a full
recovery."
     "Apollo's on his way to the Livestock Ship now."  She shook her head
to get her mind off that subject and resumed looking at her son, wishing
she could reach down and run her hand through his hair.  "He's not in any
pain now, is he?"
     "No, no.  After his treatments finished, he was almost back to his
usual self, especially after he got his turn with Quarry Quest."
     Sheba glanced across the Life Station where she realized another boy
was suffering from this same disease.  "How is Jephtha doing?"
     "Jephtha is also doing well," Cassie replied, her features softening
in response to Sheba's concern.
     "He has an older brother, I believe?" Sheba asked.
     "Yes.  And he's a match for a donor."
     "Thank the Lords," Sheba murmured.  "I'm surprised you've managed to
keep Boxey and Jephtha apart."
     "They need their rest and we both know that they're not going to get
it next to each other."  The women exchanged a knowing smile.  "Besides,
Boxey's found himself a new friend and the two of them must have spent
over a whole centar talking, which is why I zoned out.  After all, a
woman can only tolerate listening to so much endless talk about Triad
games from long long ago."  
     "I know you have more on your mind than listening to sports trivia,
Cassie.  Who's the new friend?" Sheba looked at her and frowned.
     "The next chamber," Cassie pointed.  "The extra passenger from the
Colonies."
     Sheba inched her way towards the adjoining bed chamber and saw the
bandaged face of Aurelius lying at an angle which indicated he was
asleep.
     "I'd forgotten about him," she said aloud.  "What's his name again?"
     "Aurelius.  Face half-melted because he was in the wrong spot on
Sagittaria when a rogue command Centurion decided to register his protest
against the peace treaty with the Resistance."
     "Strange that he'd let himself be brought all the way out here,"
Sheba was trying to remember something that happened the night Aurelius
had arrived.  Something she couldn't put her finger on yet.
     "No facial reconstruction specialists in any of the Resistance
factions," Cassiopeia said.  "It was either stay in the Colonies with
horrible scarring and chronic infections for the rest of his life or come
with Ila and take a chance that Dr. Colin, our less than honest expert in
the field, might be able to do something about it.  Not the best of
choices to begin with, but I think it's easy to see why he chose coming
here."
     "I guess so," she nodded and looked back at him.  "He and Boxey
bonded on Triad?"
     "And vid games.  He told Boxey about Triad matches he saw at Maximus
Arena when he was a kid, including as he said with such grandiose
excitement, 'the night the great Barilko scored the winning shot on a
lateral throw in mid-air.'" she rolled her eyes slightly as she finished. 
"Barilko?" Sheba frowned, "That was over ninety yahrens ago!  How could
he have seen that?"
     "Because in actual yahrens, he's close to a hundred but biologically
only sixty-five." Seeing Sheba's confusion deepen, she added, "He was
found in an old cryo-suspension facility on Sagittaria just a few sectars
ago.  Apparently he went into suspension thirty-five yahrens ago and
wasn't supposed to be awakened until he'd spent three hundred yahrens in
deep freeze.  The Destruction changed that naturally."
     Sheba looked back at the man, "Why did he go into cryo-freeze?"
     "Apparently that's a secret he's kept tucked away inside," the
blonde doctor said.  "He wasn't suffering from anything terminal.  His
bio-systems show no trace of disease.  Ila said  there was speculation
that maybe he'd committed some crime and this was his way of escaping the
authorities.  Of course if that's true, it's all irrelevant now.  They
don't prosecute pre-Destruction crimes in the Colonies, and we've pretty
much stopped doing that too."
     Sheba found herself unable to stop looking at the man's sleeping
form.  She was still trying to remember something from the night he was
brought aboard......and suddenly it hit her.  She could remember his
stretcher being wheeled past her in the landing bay while she was waiting
for Ila to step off.  His face had been only half-bandaged then.  And she
could remember him looking up at her.....and seemingly staring at her for
a brief instant as if......
     As if what?  She thought.  There was something in the back of her
head that seemed to tell her that there was a reason Aurelius's eyes
behind his bandaged face wrap had seemed to lock on to her.  But what
explanation could there possibly be for that?  Because she looked like
someone he once knew?  That would be the likeliest explanation.  But it
didn't strike her as the correct one.
     Maybe I'm just getting myself paranoid because of what's happened to
Boxey.  I should be glad Boxey found someone to talk to and bond with. 
Maybe this will be the beginning of a nice friendship.
     She walked back over to Boxey's bed chamber and looked down at him
again.  Trying to will her maternal feelings of love through to his body
to act as a healing agent.  If it were possible to avoid this step of
bringing a man back into his life who'd never played any role whatsoever
in it beyond siring him, she knew she would take it in a nano-micron. 
Boxey had been through so much in his life that to force him to confront
his so-called "real father" struck her as unfair.
     

     Apollo stood outside the door to Anglin's quarters on the Livestock
Ship wondering for the tenth time what he was going to say when he saw
him.  He'd rehearsed a dozen different speeches and introductions in his
head on the way over from the Galactica and each time he'd found himself
unsatisfied.  Now, with no prepared comments to draw from, he knew he'd
just have to wing it as best he could and pray to the Lords that he not
do or say anything that could endanger Boxey.  One way or the other, he
knew he had to get this forgotten figure from his son's life to
cooperate.  He only hoped and prayed he wouldn't find himself forced to
do at gunpoint.
     He pressed the door chime.  Anglin, like all other workers on the
Livestock Ship had one benefit that many other people in the Fleet who
worked in less degrading environments didn't have.  A private cubicle. 
Not a large living space by any stretch of the term, but for many people
in the Fleet who were forced to live in common bunk areas due to the
nature of the ships they ended up on in the Exodus, a private dwelling
the size of a closet area could often seem like a luxury.
     Hearing no response to the chime, he pressed it again.  And then,
through the thin metal walls he could hear feet hitting the floor and the
shuffling of steps, followed by the door sliding open.  Apollo then saw
in front of him, the bleary-eyed visage of a man in a tattered robe.  His
unshaved face fleshy and an indication of someone who had allowed himself
to gain considerable weight.  A total contrast to the man Serina had
described to Apollo that night on Carillon who had captivated her at
University.  That man, she had described as physically attractive with a
charming, sweet and shy disposition.  She had talked of enjoying his
company in long walks on the University campus and studying together for
their instructional exams.  Consequently, when she decided to celebrate
her twentieth Natal Day, which under Colonial law was her "Coming of Age"
day, she wanted it to be with Anglin.  A celebration that ended in
drunken passion, with the ramifications being Boxey's conception and
Anglin's panicked decision to flee Caprica entirely rather than accept
responsibility and face the consequences of his wealthy parents' wrath.
     "Yeah?" he looked at Apollo suspiciously.
     "Anglin, I'm Captain Apollo," he kept his voice calm.  "We met two
yahrens ago."
     Anglin squinted and shook his head, "You don't look like him."
     "I didn't have a beard then," Apollo kept his patience.  These were
the isolated moments of his life when he wished he'd never grown it.
     "Oh," he took a step back in a defensive maneuver, an air of
suspicion clouding him. "Well look, I don't have anything more to say
about what happened back then.  I returned all the items from the Museum
theft to the Librans, and I thought my record was clean now.  If you
think I'm still holding anything back after----,"
     "I didn't come here because of that," Apollo cut him off.  "May I
come in?"
     "Sure, if you like the cramped fit," Anglin motioned him in.  He
retreated to the edge of his small bed that was little more than a metal
cot.  A table sat next to the bed, upon which Apollo noticed, there was a
picture of Serina.  The picture Apollo and Sheba had seen two yahrens
ago, when they'd found Anglin lying in a pool of his own blood after
being stabbed and left to die by Dravius for not going along with a
revenge scheme against Sire Antipas.  It was that picture indicating a
past connection with Serina that made Apollo suddenly realize the deeper
connection when Boxey had wandered into the Life Station while he was
standing guard over Anglin's lifepod,   Making him see the resemblance
that led to discreet genetic tests that revealed to Apollo the final
truth of what had happened to Boxey's biological father after his
abandonment of Serina.
     "Okay Captain," he looked up at Apollo who was still standing in
front of the now closed door.  "What brings you here in the middle of the
night?"
     "Something......personal, Anglin," Apollo decided that he was going
to first find out if Anglin had any kind of humanitarian streak in him. 
"I've come to you regarding something that according to our records,
you're in the best position to help us with."
     "Help?" he looked dubious.  "I'm a lowly sanitation worker on the
worst-smelling ship in the Fleet who's lucky not to be serving ten
yahrens in the Prison Barge.  I don't have any skills beyond cleaning
corridors filled with animal mong and participating in elaborate criminal
heists.  How exactly can I be the best man for something?"
     Apollo took a breath, "The Commander has a grandson.  He's suffering
from a disorder that necessitates a procedure.  A blood cell transplant."
     His frown deepened, "What's that got to do with me?"
     "There's a complication," Apollo kept his tone as clinical as he
could.  "The Commander's grandson is not of his own bloodline.  He was
adopted.  That means no one in the immediate family can act as a donor
due to genetic incompatibility. Consequently, the Commander found it
necessary to have the medical records of all personnel in the Fleet
scanned to see if anyone has the blood type to be a more viable donor,"
Apollo felt ashamed of himself for telling this lie but he knew that it
had the ring of plausibility in that Adama would have ordered this if
he'd been unaware of Anglin's real identity.
     "And you're saying.....the computer picked me?"
     "It says you are the most compatible match to his grandson among
those whose medical histories are in the Fleet Database." Apollo decided
to keep hedging his bets for now.  "And given how time is of paramount
importance.....it was deemed best to approach you now."
     "Wait a micron," he held up a hand, "You're knocking on my door in
the middle of the night telling me that you want me to have some kind of
operation just to make the Commander happy because it's his grandson? 
Look, I'm sorry the kid's not well, but if you're telling me to take some
kind of risk----,"
     "There's no risk," he cut him off.  "It's a normal procedure.  This
isn't the equivalent of asking you to donate a kidney or something like
that."
     "I'm still not sure I like the idea of subjecting myself to
something when I don't have to!" Anglin felt his impatience rising.  "I
don't know the kid.  It's not my responsibility......"
     As he heard him go on, Apollo had heard enough.  He'd gotten a
firsthand illustration of why Anglin had run out on Serina to begin with. 
The man had an irresponsible streak rooted in self-preservation that made
no allowances for sacrificing himself for anyone.  It also helped explain
why Anglin hadn't gone along with Dravius's mad scheme of revenge against
Sire Antipas.  Anglin simply had no desire to take any kind of dangerous
risk that threatened whatever world of ordered stability he managed to
create for himself.
     The time for dancing around the subject was past.  It was time for
Apollo to confront Anglin with the truth.  As the chubby man droned on,
Apollo focused his attention on the picture of Serina on the end table. 
An old faded photo of her from University days that showed her smiling. 
It had likely been a formal pose for that yahren's class identification
book.  Making sure his eyes were locked on the picture, he calmly
interrupted Anglin's monologue.
     "Friend of yours?"
     Anglin, jolted by the interruption glared at him.  "What's that to
you?"
     "Plenty," Apollo looked him in the eye.  "I was married to her
before she died."
     The angry glare abruptly disappeared from Anglin's face.  Replaced
by a look of total stunned shock.
     "When I married her, she had a son she'd been forced to raise
singlehandedly from the time he was born because it seems the boy's
father wasn't willing to take responsibility for him."
     Anglin's mouth fell open slightly.
     "And now that boy.....legally my son now and the Commander's
grandson, is in need of help that only someone he's biologically related
to can give him."
     Anglin didn't say anything or move from his position.  Apollo, his
expression and tone one of total neutrality took a step forward.  Not
intended to be threatening, but in this context bound to be interpreted
as such.  
     Finally, the sanitation worker slowly rose from the edge of the cot,
threw off his robe and without saying a word grabbed his gray work tunic.

     
     Only silence passed between Apollo and Anglin during the long walk
through the Livestock Ship's corridors to the docking area, where
Sergeant Mackin had been left waiting in the shuttle co-pilot seat. 
After asking the female warrior to fly solo back to the Galactica, Apollo
calmly escorted Anglin toward the rear of the passenger area so they
could converse privately.  For the first part of the flight though,
Anglin remained a mask of disbelieving silence.  Refusing to look at
Apollo as he slouched forward with elbows on his knees looking straight
ahead.  Apollo knew the man's mind was probably racing with memories of
his own past, along with uncertainty of what questions to ask.  He was
prepared to endure the trip back in silence and force the issue with a
trip to his parents quarters.
     It was at the halfway point of the journey that Anglin straightened
his posture and broke his silence, though he didn't look at Apollo.
     "How did you find out?"
     "By total chance," Apollo said.  "My current wife, Lieutenant Sheba,
and I were trying to track down Dravius and that led us to your quarters
when we found he'd stabbed you.  While we were waiting for the med-techs,
I saw the picture of Serina and realized you had a connection to her. 
And then, when you were in a coma in the Life Station and Boxey happened
to wander in, I noticed a resemblance that made me have your blood run
for a DNA parental test.  So that's how I got my proof without your ever
knowing about it."
     "Boxey," he shook his head in disbelief, "She named him Boxey."
     For the first time since their confrontation it was Apollo's turn to
be puzzled.  "Is that name connected to your family?"
     Anglin said nothing.  Apollo decided not to press him.  It was
important to stick to the matter at hand.
     "I want to emphasize that you are under no compulsion to do anything
against your will or against your consent," Apollo said.  "You're not
being ordered to do this.  You have every right to ask Dr. Cassiopeia
what the risks involved are, and to have thorough checks done to make
sure that there are no overlooked complications regarding your own
bio-history that would keep you from being a donor.  If you choose to say
no.....that will be entirely your decision."
     "And if I did say no, Captain?" he kept looking ahead.  "Would I
then have to worry about my role in the Museum theft becoming public in
an IFB retrospective?"
     "Of course not," Apollo tried not to snap.  "No one's going to
blackmail you or try to leverage you with threats, Anglin.  The only
thing my family is interested in is seeing that boy come through this."
     "Does he know who I am?" he interjected.  "Or is that test you
performed unbeknownst to me while I was fighting for my life from a stab
wound still sealed under a Security Lock?"
     Apollo hesitated briefly and then said, "No, he doesn't know who you
are."
     "Is that going to change?" the words came out rapidly.
     Exasperation was starting to mount inside the captain's body, but he
knew he couldn't dare show any of it, "Anglin, these are matters we can
discuss later.  Right now, the matter of Boxey's health is all that's
important."
     "You mean my son's health." there was a sharp edge in the chubby
man's voice that felt like a knife cutting through Apollo's heart.  "My
son's health.  Why can't you say that, Captain?"
     Apollo realized he'd been put in an impossible bind.  Avoid using
the term Anglin wanted him to use and he'd then be asked why Anglin
should feel any obligation to Boxey now.
     For Boxey's sake, he swallowed his pride.
     "Your son's health," he said quietly.  "My son's health.  It comes
back to doing the right thing for the boy."
     "Something I'm not supposed to have any instinct for, right
Captain?"  After getting no response he went on, "Just how much did
Serina tell you about me?"
     "Not a lot," Apollo admitted.  "She never told me your name.  She
just gave me the simple story that when she told you she was pregnant,
you demanded she get a termination and when she refused that's when you
walked out and fled to Libra."
     "Really makes me sound like the worst piece of bilge scum, doesn't
it Captain?" he almost smirked.  "All neat and tidy and to the point
without a shred of complexity to mar the narrative."
     Apollo decided to say nothing that could remotely antagonizing.  He
was getting the sense that Anglin knew he couldn't avoid agreeing to the
operation......but in the meantime he was going to extract some pounds of
flesh for himself.
     "I'm not going to deny that I come off looking bad," he was looking
forward.  "But when I told Serina she needed to get a termination I was
thinking about her future just as much as I was mine.  I knew she had her
heart set on becoming a journalator.  And I knew she was going to be good
at it.  I didn't want her to jeopardize that because of a mistake she
made.  The last thing I ever expected to hear from her was that she was
such a staunch moralist on the whole subject of termination."
     Apollo felt his dislike for Anglin increasing and it made him dig
his fingernails into the arm of his seat.  But he held his tongue.
     "So that's what set everything off.  The fact that she wasn't
willing to see what this would mean for both our lives.  On top of that,
she told me she didn't want to marry me.  She just wanted to make sure I
did the 'responsible' thing.  That didn't sit well with me either.  She
basically wanted me to finance her life without letting me be a part of
it, and yeah that made me angry.  At the very least if she was willing to
go to bed with me to celebrate her Coming Of Age, she should have been
willing to take a chance on us trying to make it   She didn't even give
me that option."
     He then wheeled on Apollo and threw him a cold stare, "And before
you decide to take a slug at me, Captain, and tell me I'm sullying her
name, let me tell you this.  She knew what the risks were just as much as
I did and it wasn't just alcohol that made us go too far that night, it
was because the both of us wanted to do it.  If she spent all those
yahrens afterward blaming it on too many celebratory ambrosias......well
that's just not true.  We would have done it even if we hadn't touched a
drop.  Now I'm not putting blame on her.  We made that decision.  We bear
the blame equally.  There wasn't any excuse for it, but we did it with
our eyes open wide and clear because.....well damn it, because I thought
we had something special.  I loved her.  I just wasn't ready to start our
lives together at that point, especially when I knew what my parents
would do to me for 'behaving bad' as they'd put it."
     Apollo didn't know if Anglin was performing some kind of inner
catharsis or engaging in the most self-centered act of hubris he'd ever
witnessed.  The more he went on the more he wondered what it was about
Anglin that had ever made Serina attracted to him.  Even when Apollo
tried to make an allowance for the fact that Anglin probably cut a
handsome figure in those days, he couldn't see anything in the man that
Serina would have found worthwhile.  Unless that had been a truly
different man who had disappeared completely the day Serina told him of
her pregnancy.
     "Your parents had to be very strict," the captain finally broke his
silence.  "They wouldn't help Serina when she tried to reach out to
them."
     A faint smirk seemed to come over Anglin's face but it elicited no
comment from him.
     "And you knew Serina didn't have any family she could reach out to,"
Apollo decided to press just a bit.
     "Yeah," he waved his hand rather dismissively.  "I.....don't know
what I thought or felt about her situation.  All I know is that I wanted
to get away while I could and while I still had access to my trust.  You
know the rest of my story so I won't bother with that."
     "Good, because nothing about the past really matters, Anglin,"
Apollo decided to change the subject and regain control of the narrative. 
"Only the present.  Will you help?"
     Again, there was only stony silence.  Whether that was deliberate or
whether he was internally struggling with the question, Apollo couldn't
tell.  Finally, the man who was Boxey's sole blood relation looked at
Apollo and said.
     "I'm here, aren't I?  First, I want your doctor to explain the
procedure completely to me......and then I want to see the Commander."
     It wasn't the answer Apollo wanted to hear.  But because it wasn't
an outright rejection, the captain knew he had no choice but to agree.
     A cold silence settled in for the remainder of the flight to the
Galactica.

Chapter Three

     Since there were no sunrises or sunsets in the Fleet, the
determination of day and night cycles was dictated by "Fleet Standard
Time" which had technically been Caprican Standard Time when the
Galactica had originally left the Colonies.  By the time the shuttle from
the Livestock Ship returned to the battlestar, the overnight period was
in full force and when Apollo stepped off he saw a group of largely
unfamiliar faces to him among the maintenance crew and tech workers who
pulled duty during the so-called 'graveyard shift.'   He could see the
exhaustion in Sergeant Mackin, who after flying the shuttle solo gave
Apollo a bleary-eyed salute and seemed ready to doze off still in the
co-pilot's seat.
     Apollo though was too wound up inside to think of sleep and he could
tell Anglin was in no mood for it either.  He was clearly anxious to get
down to business, but whether it would end with him doing the right thing
and not making unreasonable demands was still the unknown variable.
     I should have told him two yahrens ago when he was still in a Life
Station bed and lucky to be alive, and lucky he was getting a pardon,
Apollo thought.  He would have probably been in a better frame of mind to
handle the news, and he probably would have had the sense to do the right
thing considering Sheba and I saved his life.  Now though, he's probably
had time to revert to his true nature.  Which is all bad.
     As he'd promised, he took Anglin to the Life Station.  Dr. Paye was
now the senior physician "on-call" for the night, but he motioned to
Salik's private office to let them know Cassiopeia was there, sleeping on
a cot.  So determined was Apollo to get Anglin to the office that he
forgot that it would require them to walk past the lifepod where Boxey
was fast asleep.
     "Is that him?"
     Anglin's voice caused him to stop in his tracks.  He looked back and
saw the maintenance worker looking down into the pod.  His expression
curious, but not showing any real emotion.
     "Yeah," he said with as much neutrality as he was capable of
summoning.  "That's Boxey."
     As soon as the name rolled off his tongue, he was sure he saw Anglin
blink.  As if he were trying to keep him from showing any external sign
of what he was feeling at that moment.  It came and went fast.  He
quickly looked away from the sleeping boy, turning his attention back to
Apollo and motioned him to lead the way.
     They reached Salik's office a few microns later.  As soon as the
door opened, Cassiopeia quickly stirred from the cot and got to her feet. 

     "Anglin, this is Dr. Cassiopeia," Apollo said, "Cassiopeia, this is
Anglin."
     "Thank you for coming, Anglin."
     "Doctor," he bowed his head just slightly.  "Please explain to me
the nature of this....procedure I'd need to go through."
     "It's called an allogenic transplant," Cassiopeia's concern for
Boxey had chased all desires for more sleep out of her head.  "Healthy
blood stem cells are taken from the donor and transplanted to replace the
bone marrow that's not producing enough healthy blood.  In the case of
Boxey, a residual neurotoxin in his system has over the course of the
last two yahrens damaged the bone marrow and created this complication."
     "And I am the only possible donor?"
     "I can't rule out the possibility that there are other people in the
Fleet with a similar genetic makeup who might be able to act as a donor,
but not within our registered data base." Already, Cassiopeia was annoyed
he'd asked the question but tried not to show it.  "But it's obvious that
you are the best candidate, Anglin.  Not unless Boxey has a blood
relative, a sibling perhaps, elsewhere in the Fleet we don't know about."

     He lowered his head slightly, "He doesn't.  That is.....I don't have
any relatives who survived in the Fleet, and I certainly don't have any
other children. Believe me, like everybody else, I did look for surviving
family members when I had access to the Fleet Central Registry."
     "Then the only question, Anglin, is do you have any history of
disease that you didn't report to us when you were treated here two
yahrens ago for your stab wounds?"
     "No," he was looking askance now, his tone quiet.  "I was quite
thorough and candid about my medical history."
     "Then there should be no complications.  It's a very simple
procedure that can be done in just a day. Under anesthetic, we'll
withdraw liquid marrow from both sides of your pelvic bone.  You won't
feel any pain during the procedure and will be given mild analgesic to
help with discomfort afterwards.  Most people complain of bruising and
achiness in their hips, which usually resolve within a few days.  Your
bone marrow completely replenishes itself within three sectons.  The
risks are minimal, less than one percent of donors end up with damage to
bone, nerves or muscles or reactions to the anesthetic."
     "Anesthetic?" His voice grew quiet and suddenly somber as he
continued to avoid looking her in the eye. It made Apollo frown slightly,
as if this was a subject that was more delicate for Anglin.
     "Yes, a general anesthetic is needed.  The procedure itself takes
about a centar."
     Anglin sat down in a chair across from Cassiopeia. He slowly exhaled
and was shaking his head slightly.
     "Any kind of anesthesia can produce side effects, can't it?  You can
even die?"
     "In rare cases.  About one in a hundred thousand." The blonde doctor
couldn't understand why this was an issue. The classification of drugs
that used to cause fatalities during anesthesia hadn't been used in
Colonial medical practice for deca-yahrens.  "The chances are very
minimal, especially for a healthy individual."
     "But known to happen." He was still not looking at her, his mind
seemingly in another place.
     Apollo felt his exasperation mounting, "Anglin, for Sagan's sake,
you've had anesthesia before!  You didn't have any side-effects when you
were operated on for your stab wounds!"
     "I know," he didn't look at him.  "But....I didn't exactly have any
choice in the matter."
     "And you think you have one now?" He took a step toward him but
didn't lean down or make it look threatening.
     Anglin finally forced himself to look at him, "It's still my life,
Captain."
     "And that boy's too," he retorted. "Or as you reminded me back on
the shuttle.....your son."
     A chilly silence came over the room.  Cassiopeia found herself torn. 
Professionally, she had to play the role of neutral spectator. Inside,
she wanted to team up with Apollo and knock some sense into this man who
had spent his whole life avoiding all forms of responsibility for the boy
he had fathered. 
     "All right," he suddenly broke his silence and got to his feet.
     "All right what?" Apollo demanded.
     "I understand the procedure," his voice had returned to
indifference. "Now I'm ready to talk to the Commander."
     "Anglin-,"
     "You gave me your word, Captain," the maintenance worker gently cut
him off.
     The budding fury inside Apollo quickly evaporated with the reminder
that he had indeed given him his word. And now, he had to keep it.
     "All right," he said calmly.  "But anything you have to say to the
Commander, you're also going to say with me present.....along with my
wife."
     Anglin nodded.
     "Before you go, Anglin, I just need to do a swab on the inside of
your cheek.  Then by the time you make your decision, at least we'll know
if you're a viable donor," Cassiopeia told him.
     He hesitated, even as she approached him, pulling a cylinder from a
sterile package and removing the cap.  She pulled the swab out, pausing
to silently await his consent, her eyebrows raised.
     Anglin sighed, opening his mouth and ducking his head slightly to
give her easier access.
     "Thank you," Cassie said, inserting the swab back into the medium.  
     A moment later, the two of them made their exit. By the time the
door had closed, Cassiopeia was heading for the lab.


     Twenty centons later, they were in Adama's quarters.  Anglin sat in
a chair directly in front of the Commander's desk.  Despite the lateness
of the centar, Adama was fully dressed in uniform with his hair carefully
combed.  Behind Anglin, seated on couch located under the porthole,
Apollo and Sheba were holding hands tightly.  The look of concern on his
wife's face revealed the stress she'd been going through regarding
Boxey's condition and it made Apollo despise Anglin even more for how he
was dragging this whole thing out.  At the far end of the room, Ila was
holding her granddaughter, the sleeping Bethany Two.  For now, she was
going to let her husband handle this without her interference.  But Adama
knew that if she felt like interjecting at some point, she wouldn't
hesitate to do so.
     "It's clear you understand the situation, Anglin," Adama said after
the stiff formalities of introduction had been made.  "I'm at a loss
though as to why you think a meeting with me is necessary."
     "I guess because there are some things I need to know, Commander,
about where I'd stand in the Fleet if I decided that it isn't in my best
interest to risk my health on a procedure for the sake of someone I
didn't know existed until tonight."
     The Commander frowned, "Explain yourself."
     "In theory I have the freedom to decide whether or not submitting
myself to this procedure is worth the risk to myself.  And even though
the risk is small, it's not a one hundred percent guarantee.  Especially
when general anesthetic is involved."
     "I think you came through that potential danger once before without
any ill-effects," Adama kept his tone level, without a hint of challenge
or disapproval.  He was trying to thread a careful needle in which losing
his temper with Anglin was out of the question.
     "It just means I dodged a laser bolt once before.  There's no
guarantee I'll do it again," Anglin leaned forward.  "Commander, I have
my reasons for being leery of any procedure that involves anesthesia. 
They're reasons I'm not comfortable sharing, but they are there.  And
they are weighing heavily on me as surely as the fact that I'm as of now,
the only potential donor."
     "Anglin," Adama allowed just the tinest hint of disapproval to enter
his voice.  "I have no intention of tying up the resources of this Fleet
to look for other donors unless you can give me some clear proof,
validated by qualified doctors, that you would be subjecting yourself to
a grave risk if you underwent this procedure.  If you have a reason for
fearing a general anesthetic, I think you owe it to all of us, as Boxey's
family, to know the reason why."
     He got to his feet.  "Commander, no.  I have been forced to revisit
matters of my past that I hoped to keep buried forever not because I did
anything, but because a genetic test was made on me without my knowledge
or consent while I was unconscious and recovering from an attempt on my
life.  That's the only reason why you knew I was a potential donor, and
to be quite honest sir, I consider that an invasion of my privacy. 
Somebody in the Life Station broke confidentiality rules, unless you're
trying to tell me that one of you ran the test.  The fact that I am the
biological father of that child has nothing to do with any of the
criminal activities I was involved in regarding the Museum theft, for
which I received a full pardon from you.  Now I find out over two yahrens
later, that this test was done on me and you and Captain Apollo have
known the result, yet you didn't think that was worth telling me about
until it became convenient?  If you think I should be taking this risk
for the sake of the boy because of some responsibility I have to him,
then why didn't you think I had any responsibility to know the truth
then?"
     Adama let out a slow sigh of resignation.  It was a powerful
question, and one that he knew had no good answer to it.
     "What is it you want, Anglin?" Apollo released Sheba's hand and got
to his feet.  "An apology for running that test on you without your
knowledge?  Okay, you've got it.  That was all my doing and I take full
responsibility for that.  It was wrong of me to do that without letting
you know an actual test had been done."
     "And what about not telling me the results then, Captain?" Anglin
turned and took a step toward hin, his voice rising.  "Answer me that."
     The fire quickly evaporated from the captain's eyes as he shook his
head, "I can't.  The timing just didn't seem right then with everything
else that was happening."
     "And when was it going to be the right time?" he whipped his head
from Apollo back to Adama, "Or was there ever going to be a right time? 
I mean, you all had such a low opinion of me from what Serina told you,
that you probably figured I wasn't worth telling the truth to, until all
of a sudden you found a reason.  Something that forces me to take the
kind of risk that I have my own reasons for not wanting to do if I don't
have to.  Especially when you haven't made a good faith effort to see if
there isn't someone else in the Fleet with a similar genetic profile who
could just as easily be a donor."
     The silence in the room was as chilly as the vacuum of space. 
Finally, Sheba rose from her seat and went to the back of the room where
Ila sat holding Bethany.  She quickly took her daughter from Ila's arms.
     "I can't spend another micron in here," she whispered to her
mother-in-law.  "I'm going back to my quarters."
     "Do you want me to-," Ila offered, but Sheba shook her head
vigorously in the negative.  She cradled Bethany Two close to her as she
hurriedly walked out of the room.
     As soon as the doors closed and his wife was gone, Apollo slowly
shook his head, his voice dripping with contempt, "You lousy,
gallmonging----,"
     "I'm sorry if I upset your wife, Captain, but what I said happens to
be the blunt truth," Anglin refused to be intimidated.  "You haul me out
of my bed in the middle of the night and tall me I'm a father and I've
got to go through a procedure for his sake just like that.  Well maybe I
don't like being manipulated that way, Captain.  I'm sorry if that causes
you and the rest of you pain, but it was your choice to keep me out of
the boy's life and decide my feelings didn't matter worth a damn until it
was convenient for your purposes.  If it upsets your wife and the rest of
you to hear me say what I think of that, so be it. I don't give a frack."
     "I think you do give a frack," Adama said quietly, but with
devastating coldness that clearly had a bigger impact than Apollo's
visible anger as it made Anglin spin round and face the Commander.
     "What do you mean by that.....sir?"
     "If you didn't give a frack, as you put it, then you could have
easily thrown my son out of your quarters and gone back to bed," Adama
pressed on with quiet, but devastating precision.  "The fact that you've
come this far, means you want something from this, Anglin.  I think it's
time you leveled with us about that."
     Anglin eyed him suspiciously.  Behind him, Ila had moved up
alongside her son and put an arm of support around him.  The first time
since Apollo was a child that she'd done such a thing.  Hoping it would
keep him calm. 
     "We're waiting, Anglin," Adama persisted.  "If you have terms,
present them."
     "Don't make me sound like I'm a blackmailer," Anglin clenched his
teeth.
     "No one said you were," the Commander's voice was still calm.
     "When you say 'terms' you make it sound like I am."
     "User your own......choice of words," Adama caught himself from
saying 'term' which might have sent him into a rage.
     "All right, my requests.  My compensation if you will, for my
services rendered that I'm expected to give," he took a breath,
"First.....I want a new assignment.  I've been stuck on the Livestock
Ship for four yahrens now, and now that I'm not trying to hide stolen
artifacts for Sire Antipas, I want to get off that stinking monghole and
do something more productive."
     "I'm sure we can arrange something," Adama kept his voice level and
emotionless.  "What additional.....compensation do you desire?"
     Anglin took a breath, "I.....want the right to see the boy whenever
I want to.  He is my son and I have a right to get to know him. I'm not
fool enough to ask for any legal right of custody.  I know the laws of
formal adoption are unshakable on that point and goodness knows I'd be a
fool to take him from the family he knows, especially when I know you can
provide for him in ways that I can't..  But he has a right to know who I
am when he's never had a chance to hear anything but a one-sided account
from his mother that doesn't tell the whole truth about me."
     Adama glanced over Anglin's shoulder at Apollo.  His mother's tender
hold had caused the trembling in his body to stop.  Reminding him of how
much he'd missed her presence in his life all these yahrens and was glad
to have it back once again.  Knowing that getting Anglin to be a donor
for Boxey was all that mattered, he nodded his head.
     "Done," Adama said simply.  "Anything else?"
     Anglin exhaled and dropped back into his chair.  "I.....think that
will be all.  Except that if this has to take place soon, then I think
the least you can do is provide me with some comfortable accommodations
on the Galactica so I can finish my interrupted sleep and be
better....prepared tomorrow."
     "You'll be given VIP quarters," Adama said.  "Because all of this
happened rather suddenly, and at a most ungodly centar for all of
us......I think you need not report to the Life Station until after 1400. 
Will that be satisfactory?"
     "I think so." 
     Adama hit the Bridge comline, "This is the Commander.  Notify
Colonial Security to have a guard come to my quarters and escort a guest
to VIP quarters."
     "Yes sir," Lieutenant Mercedes, the female officer who was in charge
of the night watch gave her perfunctory reply.
     Adama then rose from his chair, letting the full measure of his
height convey his authority to Anglin.
     "One thing, Anglin," he said firmly. "As far as informing Boxey of
who you are is concerned......let that wait until after the procedure,
and he is given a clean bill of health. This is not the time to put his
mind through any additional shocks when his life is still potentially at
risk."
     The man who fathered Boxey said nothing but nodded his assent. He
resumed his seat, and clearly not in the mood for any further
conversation, began to look down at the floor.  Several centons passed
before the sound of the chime indicated the arrival of the Security Guard
who would escort Anglin to the VIP quarters. Adama, Apollo and Ila waited
until the maintenance worker was gone. And only then did Apollo finally
let out what he'd been holding back.
     "Damn him!" he said aloud, "Damn him!"
     "It wasn't going to be easy, son," Ila pulled him close to her even
though as a fully grown man he towered over his mother by a couple of
centimetrons. "But it'll be okay."
     "And after the procedure.....we're looking at an absolute nightmare.
I don't want Boxey to be exposed to him. He's exactly the way Serina
described him. A coward who only wants to look out for himself, with the
morals of a sewer rodentron." He shook his head, anger clearly building
once more. "He..."
     "Apollo," Adama said with parental authority. "Go to your quarters
and tell Sheba everything. And be strong for her."
     His father's words and his mother's touch left him properly
chastised. He visibly calmed down. Nodding, he left the room, leaving
Adama and Ila alone.
     "Not an easy situation," the blonde Academician said as she came up
alongside her husband behind the desk.
     "No," Adama sighed as he leaned back and took her hand. "All we can
do now is....pray the Lords work this out in the best way
possible.....for Boxey."


     When Apollo returned to his quarters, he found Sheba lying in bed in
her preferred sleep attire of Academy t-shirt and feminine briefs.  Her
eyes were wide-open, heavy and red from crying.
     "He's going to do it, Sheba," Apollo said gently as he removed his
tunic and settled next to his wife.  "He's going to do it."
     "What demands did he make?" her voice was flat and angry.
     He sighed, "He wants a reassignment to a better position,
and.....the right to see Boxey whenever he wants to.  No demand for legal
rights, just......liberal visitation rights."
     "I can't imagine a worse thing for Boxey," the emotion kicked up in
her voice.  "After all he's been through.  All the traumas, all the
upheavals, all the times he nearly lost his life.....the last thing he
needs thrust in his face is a reminder of how his life started with a
father who wanted him killed before he was born.  Not when he still has
so much innocence in him.  It's a miracle he isn't a basket case as it
is."
     Apollo reached out and squeezed her hand.  Instinctively she leaned
over and rested her head on his shoulder.
     "He has to know at some point," he was calmer and more
philosophical.  That was because he knew he had to be for Sheba's sake. 
If he didn't learn to put his own emotions in check and show strength to
her in a time of need, he was letting her down as her husband.  "We
couldn't keep it a secret forever."
     "I wanted him to wait until he came of age and could learn it as a
man, not as a child," Sheba went on.  "That was the time I wanted us to
tell him what happened to the man who fathered him.  When he'd be ready
to face the rest of his life with a lot more perspective than he has
now."
     "Like Starbuck?"
     She looked at him hard, before a faint smile touched her lips. 
"Fair point.  Perhaps there is no ideal age for finding out these things. 
And yes, we don't always to get to follow the timetables we want to
follow.  Oh Lords, why....?"
     "Anglin's mad we did a genetic test without his consent or
knowledge," Apollo stroked her beautiful long brown hair.  "Technically,
we invaded his privacy when we did that, but.....it meant we knew he was
there as a likely donor when we got the news about what Boxey needed. 
Bad as this whole thing is, it's preferable to spending days waiting to
see if anyone out there could be a donor for him.  Then we'd really be
worried for Boxey's life."
     Slowly, she nodded.  "You're right.  You're right, Apollo.  And if
we lost him," Sheba visibly shuddered.  "I love him, Apollo.  I love him
as if he were my own.  Maybe I don't do enough to make that clear to
him----,"
     "Nonsense," he cut her off.  "He knows how you feel about him. 
That's why he learned to call you Mom."
     "Then why did I forget about him that time when we were in that
horrible place Iblis put us in?" the words tumbled out of her mouth
without her thinking clearly.  It made Apollo stop stroking her hair as
he backed away slightly from Sheba, looking at her with concern. 
     "Sheba," he whispered, "Don't tell me you're still thinking
about----,"
     "Only that part," she interrupted.  "Not about the rest, Apollo. 
Only that I let myself forget about him.  I've never fully forgiven
myself for that.  I'm not sure what I can do to ever make it all go
away."
     "I forgot about him too, Sheba," his voice was gentle, trying to
quell the distress going through himself because he knew she needed him
to project strength and comfort.  "But we weren't in charge of our
thoughts then.  I felt horrible about it afterwards.  Hades, I let myself
get crocked in the worst way and I spilled my guts out to Starbuck
afterwards about it.  It was a low point for both of us, but we.....we
learned to move on from it, and we've been stronger as a family ever
since."
     "I know," she nodded. "Apollo, it's not Iblis's twisted obsession
with wanting me that's on my mind.  It's only....wanting Boxey to know
that I consider him to be mine just like you consider him to be yours. 
And I never want anything to come between that.  Especially-," she shook
with obvious contempt, "Especially a mong-faced deadbeat like Anglin."
     "That's something we can deal with later, Sheba," he settled back
next to his wife and again wrapped his arm around her.  "For
now.....let's just pray for a safe operation and let the Lords handle
what comes afterwards."
     Feeling relaxed in her husband's tender embrace she nodded.  The two
of them shared a kiss before turning out the lights and letting long
overdue sleep finally take hold of them.


     The bed in the VIP guest quarters was larger than any bed Anglin had
slept in for over ten yahrens.  Not since his last night home in the old
family mansion on Caprica.  The home that had been more of a monument to
six generations of wealth his family line, the House of Alquist had
steadily built up.  A line he'd been expected to live up to the
reputation of.  A line that he had ultimately disgraced.
     Like it mattered, now.
     Damn them, he thought bitterly of both his parents as he dropped
onto the cushioned softness of the wide mattress.  A mattress that was
almost as big as his entire cubicle on the Livestock Ship.  A reminder of
the world that could have been his.....if only.
     If only.....just because I let myself get enthused with her that
night......
     The desire for sleep overtook his bitter memories of the past and he
surrendered to it.  Oblivious to anything else in the room.  
     Including the ethereally garbed figure with waist-length hair who
suddenly materialized by his bedside.  A look of cold disapproval lining
her beautiful face as she stood by his bed.
     "I guess some things never change," she said aloud.  "The idea of
really taking responsibility for your own actions in a truly meaningful
way is still alien to you.  Even after I stood by your side two yahrens
ago and warned you specifically what you were never to do
regarding.....our son."
     She leaned down and her mouth was now inches away from his left ear.
     "I said you were to never and I mean never use your knowledge of
being his father for your own personal advantage.  I'm willing to
overlook the matter of asking Adama for a new assignment, because anyone
should have the freedom to do that if they don't like their current job. 
But your demands for long-term access through visitation whenever you
feel like it are another matter.  Because I know you're not interested in
that for the sake of bonding with him.  You only want your chance to tell
'your side' of the story to him.  That you weren't as bad as I made you
out to be.  That it was just as much my fault for the fact we had our fun
together and I got pregnant."
     She paused, "I've never denied my responsibility for my own actions. 
I was excited about my coming of age and the fact I could legally drink
ambrosia for the first time in my life.  And I wanted to celebrate it
with you, because when I met you, you were the sweetest, gentlest man I'd
ever met.  I'd dated my share of men at University, but only because they
were so forward and direct with me, it was hard to say no to them.  But
you....there was a shyness about you that I know held you back.  And I
have to admit....it made me attracted to you even beyond the fact you
were quite handsome then.  So, I did get a little forward with you and
dropped all the hints I could in our classes that I wanted you to ask me
out and if you did, I'd say yes.  And finally, you asked and I said yes
and for the next six sectars, it's safe to say we were a couple on the
campus. I was your girl, and I liked that."
     She rose back to her full height and took a step back.
     "You never told me your parents disapproved of me.  That's why you
always put off the idea of taking me home to the big family mansion to
introduce me to them.  Because you already knew they thought I was
beneath you, the only son of the House of Alquist.  You were supposed to
find a more worthy match for your future.  Not a lowly orphan girl on a
scholarship with no money of her own, whose ambition in life was to
become a journalator.  That wasn't good enough for you, they said.  They
told you to stop seeing me."
     She paused a beat before going on, "You defied them.  You kept
seeing me.  But you didn't have the courage to tell me where I stood with
them.  I guess maybe you were afraid I'd want to stand up for myself
before them?  Or that I'd force you to really choose between me and them? 
Either way, it came down to a simple matter of avoiding responsibility. 
You owed it to me to know the truth, and you owed it to yourself to face
the truth as well.  But no.  You just wanted the happy status quo of our
dating relationship to continue because I was your first love and the
first girl who'd ever taken a genuine interest in you for who you were. 
And the fact you were the Alquist heir had nothing to do with it."
     Again she leaned down next to him, whispering in his ear, "That's
why when I told you I was pregnant, it made you panic.  You'd have to
tell your parents you'd defied them and kept seeing me.  And it meant
you'd have to face their wrath.  You'd be made an example of in the worst
way.  And you couldn't confront that.  You still can't.  That's why you
told that falsehood to Apollo about how you were hurt because I told you
I wasn't expecting you to marry me.  You had no intention of marrying me
even if I'd said I was willing to do it because you knew your parents
would cut you off.  So that's why you fell back on the demand that I get
a termination.  And I when I told you I would never let my child be
murdered for the mistake of the parents, and you found you had no easy
way out, you decided to flee.  Leaving me alone and pregnant with a
yahren to go in my studies, and with your parents blaming me for leading
you astray and saying I was the one who seduced you into bed.  And that
they had no intention of giving any financial support to their
grandchild."
     Every word she spoke was devoid of true emotional feeling.  It was
meant to serve one purpose only.  Fill his subconscious with the truth. 
And force him to react to it, even though he'd never have any idea how
all these facts were being filled inside his head.  Such were the rules
that Guardians had imposed on her.  Appear without actually being seen or
heard.  Exceptions were for very special circumstances, and even if they
were granted, the memory of a direct visit would never linger for the
other.
     "I survived your cowardice and your parents indifference," she went
on.  "I got my degree.  I became a journalator.  And I handled the demand
of raising our son all by myself.  It was easy since our son was never
more than precocious.  He was always a good boy with the purest heart a
child could have."
     She paused, "I'm not going to say he inherited all of that from me. 
I like to think that somehow, our son has something of you that existed
at one time.  Something you lost and have never been able to find since
that day you walked out.  Oh....yes, you did when you were suffering from
delirium and fever after your stabbing, cry out to me for forgiveness
once.  That was because your subconscious was aware of my last visit
then, and when you were slipping to the point of death it gave you a
brief centon of clarity.  But.....after you recovered and you received
your pardon, it faded like the morning mist.  You reverted to what you've
been ever since that day when I realized the man who was my first love,
wasn't there anymore."
     She rose once again, as if for a micron she felt she couldn't say
what she knew she had to say next into his ear.  But she then realized
she was letting negative emotions enter her, and that was something she
could not do.  Not without dishonoring her calling and what she had
become after her death from the wound she'd received on the sands of
Kobol.  That would make her guilty of a greater sin than anything the man
before her had committed.
     Collected now, she dropped down beside him again, her lips now just
a mere inch away from his left ear.
     "Ever since you found out, you've tried to avoid calling him by his
name.  Because....you know why I named him Boxey.  It was my one
concession to his paternal lineage.  I chose the name of the one person
in your family I knew had a pure, innocent heart.  I knew.....because you
told me all about him that night we first went out.  The little brother
you lost when he was only five yahrens old."
     For just a brief flicker, Anglin's sleeping face seemed to twitch
slightly as though something unpleasant had happened within a dream he
was experiencing.
     "You loved him," she went on.  "You were the protective older
sibling to him, and he was just old enough to understand that.  Your
whole family was devoted to him.  And then suddenly.....you lost him. 
All because he needed to get an operation and he had a negative reaction
to the.....anesthetic."
     Another long pause.  "That's why the idea of any kind of operation
with anesthesia makes you so uneasy even though you know there's hardly
any risk and you don't have the complications that he had.  He died
because of a pre-existing condition that if they'd known about, they
wouldn't have administered that anesthetic.  It was their mistake that
cost you someone dear and precious to you.  Someone you said was the most
innocent soul you ever knew when you told me about him that night, when
we opened up to each other for the first time."
     Her voice grew softer, "The night my son was born, and I held him in
my arms for the first time.....I knew that I could not deny the truth
that he carried a part of you and your family within him.  If I could
never bring myself to tell my son about his father and how his father's
family treated me......I could at least pay respect to his lineage by
naming him after the brother you loved so much.  And that would let me
hope that if any part of you would live on in him....it would be the part
of you that loved your brother Boxey so much."
     She drew back from him, her voice more commanding than before.
     "You're learning all of this in your subconscious so when you go to
the Life Station tomorrow, maybe you won't have the same attitude you had
when you came over to the Galactica.  Instead of thinking about yourself,
and thinking about your 'rights', and thinking you have some kind of
score to settle with me from beyond, you're going to take a look at that
boy you didn't want to live and maybe......you'll start to see this child
named Boxey with the kind of understanding you felt for another child
named Boxey once.  And if you're able to do that.....maybe you'll do
right by him in a way that goes beyond fulfilling what you're treating as
an obligation that you can use to your advantage."
     Another step back, her voice more distant.
     "The last time I appeared to you this way, I told you that I forgive
you for what you did to me and what you by extension did to Boxey.  I did
that with no emotional feeling.  I did it because I had to do it.  We are
all supposed to forgive those who have done us wrong no matter the
injury.  And that continues, Anglin.  It's up to you to decide if you can
find a way to truly reciprocate that while you still have a chance to do
so......without harming your son anymore than you already have."
     And then.....with a graceful motion of her arm, her presence was
gone from the room.
     Microns later, Anglin abruptly bolted upright in the bed and felt a
cold sweat covering his entire body.


     The spirit of restlessness that filled so many parts of the
Galactica because of the situation regarding Boxey was present in other
quarters of the battlestar too.  By others dealing with their own issues
of inner torment.
     Such was the case with Major Croft, commander of the Elite Squadron
forces and also head of the Fleet Intelligence Unit.  In the latter job,
it was Croft's duty to prepare detailed intelligence estimates for the
Council of Twelve on areas of military preparation and preparedness by
soliciting the widest range of input available.  Which meant going beyond
the ranks of the Warrior class, but getting ideas from those like Captain
Kevin Byrne for an Earth military perspective, from Lieutenant Sagramesh,
the Zohrloch warrior, and also......from the Cylons aboard Baltar's
baseship who had been part of the integrated military set-up ever since
the traitor's defection back to the Colonial side nearly two yahrens ago.
     Like most warriors in the Fleet, Croft had come to accept the
importance of the Detente over time and had managed to bury whatever
distaste had existed in the beginning over the idea of Human-Cylon
cooperation.  He had worked with Moray, the chief command centurion of
Baltar's baseship on multiple occasions and he enjoyed an even better
relationship with Septimus, the IL Cylon who had been destroyed initially
in the period leading up to the Baseship's defection, but who had
eventually been reassembled to a partial condition so his memory and
brain functions could be utilized.  Owing to the suspicions harbored by
the centurion crew that had deactivated him, Septimus had been kept in a
non-ambulatory condition and confined to Dr. Wilker's lab aboard the
Galactica for almost a yahren.  But in the wake of Professor Ila's return
to the Fleet and the announcement of a Peace Treaty between the Cylon
occupiers of the Colonies and the Resistance movement, and the ongoing
goodwill generated by his role in performing the surgery that had
restored a horribly injured Bojay to functionality, Septimus's status had
finally changed.  With the realization that IL Cylons like Governor Malus
in the Colonies, and Commander Volahd on Gomorrah were also experiencing
the phenomenon of Cylon Enligthenment, and not just centurions, the
argument for keeping Septimus non-ambulatory was no longer credible.  In
the days following Ila's arrival, once Moray had been fully briefed on
the matter of Cylon-Human relations in the Colonies and the coordinating
effort with the Pegasus, the command centurion informed Adama that there
were no longer any objections to having Septimus fully restored to an
ambulatory condition.  The only provision being that Septimus remain in a
state of permanent assignment to the Galactica and not be returned to any
duties aboard the Baseship.
     All of this, Croft had no problem with. Septimus, Moray and the
other members of Baltar's crew gave him no painful reminders of the past. 
That could not be said though of the newest Cylon arrival in the Fleet,
who had accompanied Ila in the journey from Caprica.  The former Command
Centurion in charge of operations on the ice planet Arcta, Commander
Vulpa. The one in charge when Croft had been part of the commando team
sent in to disable the Ravashol Pulsar that endangered the Fleet from
getting through safely.  The one in charge of the centurions who had shot
Leda dead.
     It was more than three and a half yahrens now since he'd lost his
estranged wife at Arcta. Whom he'd loved with a passion greater than
anything he'd felt in his life, only to see their marriage shattered when
both of them fell victim to the grander manipulations of their superior
in the Colonial Special Forces, Commander Maris.  Croft had known what
Maris and his willing toady of a nephew, Colonel Alesis, were up to with
their illegal treatments of Special Forces recruits to create "super
soldiers."  His refusal to "get with the program" had resulted in Croft's
banishment, along with Leda, to a dead-end assignment at a lonely ice
garrison on a distant outpost of a planet called Kalpa that was near the
front-lines of Cylon territory.  When Leda became pregnant, it fueled
Croft with a determination to find escape for him and his beloved by
staging an unauthorized raid on a Cylon platinum mine located on the
other side of Kalpa. 
     It was only recently, in his conversations with Commander Septimus,
that Croft had learned something about the platinum mine that neither he,
nor anyone else on the Colonial side was aware of at the time.  The
reason why the Cylons had targeted the mine on a planet largely
controlled by Colonial forces, wasn't because of the platinum.  It was
because their scans of the planet indicated that underneath the vein of
platinum was something more important to them.  Neutrino.  The substance
used in the manufacturing of centurions and their warmaking machine, and
which was inaccessible to the Colonial side.  The slightest possibility
of a neutrino deposit existing on a Colonial held outpost was something
the Cylons could not permit, so they had gone in and seized it.  Which in
turn had led to Croft deciding to stage a counter-attack on the mine. 
Not to liberate it for the glory of the Colonial nation, but to steal
from it, and abscond with as much platinum as possible so he and Leda
could start a new life somewhere else.  Free from the dead-end Maris had
exiled them to.
     It hadn't worked out that way.  Maris had been watching, spying on
him, just waiting for Croft to make a mistake from his lonely exile on
Kalpa.  Because Maris and Alesis both knew that so long as Croft lived,
he could one day be in position to reveal everything about Maris's
illegal drug experiments on Special Forces recruits. Croft's plan to raid
the platinum mine was the perfect opportunity for Maris. If Croft should
be  killed, the Cylons would get the blame, and he was rid of him. If he
survived, then the Special Forces Commander had the excuse to prosecute
him and get him out of the way forever with no possible risk of exposure
to himself.
     And so when Croft took his team consisting of himself, Leda and two
willing subordinates named Thane and Wolfe, things went awry.....after
they had succeeded in getting what they were convinced would be enough
platinum to set themselves up for life.  It was only during the return
trip to the garrison, where they intended to steal a shuttle and escape
to the open planet of Starlos, that Maris's operatives got the drop on
them.  And Croft, knowing that these were honest warriors following the
seemingly lawful orders of a superior, had chosen to surrender rather
than open fire on a fellow warrior. Resulting in their capture, their
imprisonment.....and Leda's sworn vow to hate him unto eternity,
especially when the trauma of their capture resulted in her suffering a
miscarriage.
     The period after that had been a blur for Croft.  The Destruction
took place just one day after they'd been loaded onto a prison barge ship
for the Penal Colony of Excoria.  The barge was then diverted to
rendezvous with the Galactica and the surviving ships from the Colonies. 
Life settled into a routine slightly better than what twenty yahrens on
Excoria would have been, but without Leda, still hating him because she
felt he'd let her down when he refused to fire at the arresting warriors,
it made life empty for him.
     Then came the mission at Arcta to take out the Ravashol pulsar. 
Freedom from the prison barge with the promise of a restoration in rank
to Major (one level below his old rank of Colonel, but Adama had told him
he couldn't allow anyone other than Tigh to hold that rank for the time
being) and the restoration of a clean service record.  He had grabbed it,
even though Leda, Wolfe and Thane all felt that the mission should be an
opportunity for escape to the better way of life they had originally
sought.  Leda felt no sense of loyalty to the Colonial nation, especially
when she blamed Croft's regard for loyalty as the root cause of all that
had gone wrong.  And why she had greeted the idea of working with him
with a disdainful smirk to Starbuck and Boomer.
     "I'm married to him.  And no, I don't like him!"
     He had grinned in response to her put-down, but inside, Croft
desperately hoped that somehow this would be the chance to win her back. 
Leda had been everything to him.  Her fiery spirit and exquisite beauty
had represented perfection in a woman.  Without her, he'd felt lost.  It
was only her nearby presence on the Prison Barge that had kept him from
contemplating suicide because so long as she lived and so long as she was
near.....he could still hope.
     In the course of the mission, Wolfe and Thane had shown their true
colors and it had cost them their lives.  With Leda though, he managed to
find his voice and defy her challenges to make a break for her sake.  The
"one last chance" as she'd put it.  Croft knew if he did that, and as a
consequence allowed the Cylon controlled pulsar to destroy the Galactica
and the 70,000 survivors of the Colonies, he would never be able to live
with himself.  Even with Leda by his side in some isolated enclave like
Starlos.
     So he'd defied her and forced her to agree to continue the mission
with Apollo up the side of Mt. Hekla, where they were able to set the
charges that would take out the pulsar and allow the Fleet to pass
through safely.  But not before they were forced into a firefight with
the centurions who answered to the authority of Command Centurion Vulpa. 
A firefight that saw one take perfect aim at Croft.....only for Leda to
suddenly push him aside, saving his life.....and taking the fatal hit
herself.
     The sight of Leda lying dead on the floor haunted Croft's dreams
from that point on.  Seeing himself looking down stunned and asking out
loud to Apollo why she had done that, when he'd heard no words of
reconciliation from her after he'd defied her on the mountain slope. He'd
only gotten a sense of grudging acceptance from Leda that they needed to
continue the mission.  That when it was over, she would still harbor the
same feelings of hate for him that she'd carried inside her ever since
their capture and arrest on Kalpa.  That was why when her last act in
life had been to save him, and take a shot meant for him.....it had left
him stunned and shattered inside.  To realize that maybe....maybe she was
at last beginning to rediscover feelings for him once again, but had
never gotten the chance to say them to him, was simply too much.  If she
had only lingered long enough just to look up at him and say, "I love
you, Croft," it might have been different.  He could have taken a dying
declaration like that as something to give him comfort.  But death had
been instantaneous for Leda.  He'd have no way of ever knowing for
certain if Leda had begun to love him once again.....or if she had just
acted on simple warrior's instinct by warning him and taking a shot meant
for him.
     He'd slowly let time heal that deep wound as his life soon took on a
more positive direction.  Restoration to Major, and command of the Elite
Squadron Unit in the Fleet.  Seeing closure come to the matter of the one
he held responsible for his plight when Commander Maris was discovered in
hiding in the Fleet, and eventually brought down by his nephew, Colonel
Alesis (now living in the Fleet as Captain Betz, commanding officer of
the Century) when Maris attempted to murder Starbuck.  Getting full back
pay and restored benefits for the time he lost since it was now felt that
Croft's entire imprisonment stemmed from his honorable refusal to be part
of Maris's schemes. His appointment as head of the Fleet Intelligence
Unit.  Life was now treating Croft more fairly than it had in the past. 
When Alesis, in his new identity of Captain Betz, was finally forced to
give up command of the Century and accept demotion to a warrior training
position, Croft felt the last detail from his troubled past had been
taken care of and that from this point on, everything would be a clean
slate in his life.
     Until the arrival of Vulpa aboard Professor Ila's shuttle changed
all that.  When Croft learned that not only had the command centurion
from that mission been reactivated, but was now going to be a permanent
part of the Fleet, it had been a double shock.  To think that the Cylon
who was ultimately most responsible for why he'd lost Leda forever, even
if he wasn't the one who pulled the trigger, had been restored to life,
seemed unfair enough to Croft.  The fact that he would have to tolerate
his presence in the Fleet from now on, even more so.  Even though he'd
read the report that explained why Vulpa had to come with Ila, the result
of a complex game of deception designed to help Governor Malus preserve
his standing with the Imperious Leader, it still left Croft unsatisfied. 
It still left him with the monumental sense of cosmic unfairness that
Leda could still be lying cold and dead, unable to let him know if her
last thoughts of him had been ones of love.....while Vulpa now lived
again.
     He wasn't fool enough to think he could do something rash or stupid
about it.  He knew that would accomplish nothing, and would only result
in throwing away everything he'd worked so hard to recover in his life. 
He knew that just as his sense of loyalty to the Colonial cause had kept
him from firing on a fellow warrior at Kalpa, and kept him from following
Leda's plea to forget about the mission and escape......so too would his
sense of loyalty keep any foolish thoughts of rage and revenge in check. 
He would not let himself go down the same path of self-destruction
Sergeant Mattoon had gone down just after the Detente was established. 
He would let himself persevere and he would treat Vulpa with the same
level of respect he gave the likes of Moray and Septimus.
     But so long as he could never have true closure in his heart
regarding Leda.....the emptiness would always remain. 
 
Chapter Four

     "Anglin is a match, or at least enough of one that we can proceed
with Szeto's plan of genetically combining both his and Serina's liquid
marrow for Boxey.  How's it going here?" Cassie asked Paye.
     "Better than a centar ago when you last checked in," Paye replied. 
"Do you ever sleep?"
     "Occasionally, but I don't make a habit of it."
     "I've noticed," he grunted.  "You're going to start looking like
Salik and I if you don't do something about that."
     She sniffed in amusement, then pressed him again.  "Are they getting
anywhere?" 
     After receiving a sample of the pure neurotoxin from Nizaka, the
biotechnologists had been working nonstop through the usual sleep cycle
to develop an antitoxin that they needed to treat Boxey with before
Anglin donated his bone marrow.  The lab was awash with technologists and
technicians alike, running endless tests as they fought against time to
find an effective antidote to the Ziklagi poison.  
     "Did you know that centi-yahrens ago they used to use ovines for
this?  Inject them with venom and then isolate the antibodies they
created to create antitoxin?" Paye mused.
     "Thank the Lords we've moved past those archaic methods," Cassie
replied.
     "Yes, otherwise we'd be out testing every unregistered person in the
Fleet, trying to find a match."
     "I just can't believe how such limited exposure to this neurotoxin
can potentially kill two young boys.  It's scary how virulent it is."
     "Have you considered testing Starbuck for remnants of the
neurotoxin?  After all, the stuff stopped his heart."
     "Of course, I have," she replied curtly.  It had been preying on her
mind since they realized the connection between the source of the
neurotoxin and Boxey's condition.  "But Starbuck had a recent physical
and his blood work was completely normal.  He's in prime condition."
     "Still, it would be worth further testing now that we know what
we're looking for.  A latent onset in a healthy adult male wouldn't
present as quickly as that in a small boy.  And a shot of antitoxin could
be all it would take to prevent health complications that haven't even
started to manifest yet."
     "You're right."
     "Of course."
     "We'd have to hold him down to give him the needle."
     "We'll get Lieutenant Jolly to sit on him."
     "Paye!" she admonished.
     "The end justifies the means .....literally."  They started
snickering.  
     "Sagan's Sake," cried one of the biotechnologists, "we've got it!"
     

     "Tell me again about the night you saw Barilko win the Triad match!"
     Aurelius's eyes seemed to twinkle behind the bandages on his face as
he looked across at Boxey, who was propped up now in his lifepod and able
to look directly at him.  A small bag of light yellow fluid slowly
dripped, but now it went through a larger line in his chest, instead of
the small one in his forearm.  The boy looked a little green around the
gills, an apparent side effect of the medication.  
     "You really want to hear it again, Boxey?"
     "Sure. I remember reading a book about that match back on Caprica.
It had this holopic of him throwing the winning shot." The little boy's
enthusiasm in the face of his condition made it hard to remember he was
suffering from a serious illness.
     "Oh yeah," Aurelius's head nodded. "I know the one you're talking
about. It was in every major news outlet on Caprica. I think the person
who took the picture won an award."
     "It seemed like he was just flying," Boxey said with fascination,
"The way he seemed to just float there when he got off the shot.  Right
over the head of the defender!"
     "Well, Barilko was a special player," the older man said, "I saw
quite a few triad games back then when I was your age and no one could
move around a defender better than him."
     "How loud was the crowd that night?" Boxey strained himself so he
could get just a fraction closer to his bedmate.  Since being introduced
to him the previous day, he'd found the old man's stories of triad games
from a long ago era to be spellbinding.  Games that were even older than
the ones Adama had told him about, and only lived on in the storybooks
aimed for children that he'd eagerly devoured as a little boy back on
Caprica.
     "Oh.....Boxey, I can still hear the sound of the crowd to this day!"
he motioned his hands in the air.  "No one expected it.  Barilko's
defender had him just about pinned in the corner and his teammate was
tied up on the far side.  His only chance was to try to get around his
defender and make a straight-on shot, but when he planted his foot on the
back wall and literally leapt right over his charging defender, there was
this gasp as he just seemed to soar like a viper in flight and as his
body came parallel to the hole, he just let it go and it went in
perfectly without even touching the rim just as the buzzer sounded to end
the match.  He was still in mid-air when the crowd went wild and somehow
he managed to have the presence of mind to ball himself up and cushion
his fall when he came back down to the ground or else he could have
really hurt himself.  That's what made it even more superhuman."
     "It's a real shame what happened to him later," Boxey shook his
head, awed by old man's description.  "Getting killed in a shuttle
crash."
     "Yeah.  During the off-season after he made that score.  The fact it
was his last ever play in any kind of triad competition is why he became
such a legend, especially when that picture you mention came out and ran
in all the journals.  There wasn't any vidcom broadcast of the game back
then so there's no way we can go back and see how it unfolded."
     "I kept looking to see if they had the old book with the picture,"
Boxey said sadly.  "No one had a copy in the Fleet.  I don't think
there's a copy of the picture anywhere."
     "You never know if something rare from the past might turn up,"
Aurelius said.  And then as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he
seemed to abruptly turn his bandaged face away, as though his eyes had
just seen something he wanted to avoid looking at.
     "Aurelius?" Boxey asked with slight concern.
     "It's okay, Boxey," he said as he looked up at the ceiling.  "These
darned bandages."
     "When do you get them off?"
     "Just another cycle or two," he slowly turned back to face Boxey and
his uncovered mouth formed a smile.  "We'll get to introduce ourselves
all over again when you can finally see my face at last!"
     "Sounds like you two are having fun."
     Boxey looked over and saw the smiling figure of his stepmother. 
Sheba was wearing a civilian dress instead of her uniform.
     "Hi Mom," he beamed.  "Aurelius was telling me all about-,"
          "The great Barilko, I know," she came up to his chamber and
looked down at him with an adoring, maternal expression.  "How do you
feel?"
          "I'm....okay. I was feeling a bit sick, but Medtech Tone gave
me something to take it away.  Mostly."  He frowned.  "I guess I have to
wait for them to do something?"
     "Later today," she said gently.  "They had to find someone who
could.....donate blood to you in order for the procedure to work.  They
found him, and later today you'll go to sleep for a little bit and when
you wake up.....you'll be feeling a lot better."
     "Who's the......donor?" he struggled slightly with the word.
     "You'll get a chance to meet him later," Sheba's face didn't change
from her smiling, maternal expression of reassurance.  "Right now, you
just do everything Dr. Cassiopeia tells you to do.  Because your Father
and I and Bethany and Muffit want you home as soon as possible.  Will you
do that?"
     "I will," he nodded obediently.
     "That's my boy," she smiled, reaching down and gently stroked his
hair.  "When you get home, I'm going to make sure you get an extra
serving of mushies."
     "The cacao-flavored ones?" He looked up with eagerness. "With
spreckles?"
     Sheba laughed lightly, "I think that just might be possible."
     Cassiopeia, looking fresh after a morning shower and change of tunic
following her night's vigil in the lab then came up, accompanied by two
med-techs, a look of pure authority on her face.
     "Sorry to break this up, but Boxey needs to go through preliminary
preparation for his procedure. We're moving this up to about a centar
from now."
     She then leaned over and whispered in Sheba's ear. "This way we can
put Boxey under before he has a chance to see Anglin."
     Her friend nodded without batting an eyelash and looked back down at
her stepson.  "I'll see you later, Boxey."
     "See you later, Mom!" he waved at her as the two med-techs started
to wheel his pod over to an adjoining preparation room. As he moved past
the pod holding Aurelius, Boxey waved at his new friend. "See you later,
Aurelius!"
     "You too, Boxey!  Good luck!" the old man waved back. Sheba eyed him
somewhat cautiously and then made her way over.
     "Thank you for keeping my son company," she said.  "You two really
hit it off."
     "Well.....it's not always you find someone interested in old stories
about Triad matches from long ago." His head was tilted slightly away
from her.
     "Very long time ago," Sheba said, choosing her words carefully.
"There's no one else left who can talk about those days.  Of course.....I
guess that's what happens when you lose as many yahrens as you did to
suspended animation."
     His bandaged face turned and now he looked directly at her. "You
know who I am?"
     "I do," Sheba nodded.  "And I promise not to pry about things you'd
rather not talk about. I can't imagine what it must have felt like to
wake up and find out the Colonies had been destroyed in a sneak attack."
     "Well.....yeah, that was a shock." Aurelius seemed to choose his
words carefully. "And I guess you know what happened to me after I woke
up. Why I have all these bandages on my face now."
     "Yes, my mother-in-law told me. You're.....lucky to be alive."
     "Your mother-in-law......oh.  You mean Professor Ila?"
     "Yes. I'm married to her son, Captain Apollo. My name is Sheba."
     "Well, I'm glad to meet you, Sheba. I can see why Boxey's a handsome
looking boy if he has a mother as beautiful as you."
     "Thank you, but......technically he's my stepson. But I've raised
him as my own since I married his father."
     "Oh, I see. Then.....that explains why you can't be a donor for
his....procedure?"
     "I'm afraid so," Sheba replied. She found it amazing she was telling
the man called Aurelius this much, and yet.....she was feeling a bond
with this visitor from the Colonies with the bandaged face. As though she
could feel relaxed talking to him.  "But....we've taken care of that
problem.  He should come through all right."  "I'll be praying to the
Lords for a smooth operation," Aurelius said.  "I'd like to get a chance
to talk to him again after it's all over.  By that point....I should
finally have these off."
     An idea began to form in Sheba's mind.  One that she realized would
solve the whole problem she'd been brooding about  regarding Anglin and
his demand to see more of Boxey.
     "Aurelius," she said, "Have you.....thought about what you're going
to do after you get the bandages off and you're released from the Life
Station?"
     He looked at her directly and his eyes seemed to squint.  Sheba
wondered if he was looking over her shoulder at something but then his
eyes focused back on her.
     "Well.....I haven't given it too much thought, but.....I'm certainly
open to suggestions."
     "I'll be happy to introduce you to the Commander," she said, "There
might be an assignment here on the Galactica you could take that would
let you bunk here.  And if that could be arranged......well, you'd get
more chances to connect with Boxey."
     "Thank you," he nodded, "I'd.....like that."
     And if Boxey has a new adult friend to bond with already, he won't
be interested in spending time with Anglin!  She thought with some
satisfaction.  If that happens, his arrival will have been a blessing.
     "I promise I'll be in touch," Sheba said.  "It's really been nice
meeting you, Aurelius."
     "And you too, Sheba," he nodded with deep sincerity.  "Good day."
     She moved off to go to talk to Cassiopeia at the other end of the
Life Station.  Which now meant Aurelius's eyes could only see the face
and form of someone no else in the room could see, and who'd been
tormenting him for the last five centons with one silent command after
another.  All of which he had no choice but to obey.
     "Well done, Marcus," Helena smiled malevolently at him as she moved
around his lifepod with a sultry, provocative air.  "You've passed the
critical first test.  Establishing a bond with our granddaughter. The
Master will be most pleased."
     And then......she was gone.  But the man whose real name was
Commander Marcus, father of Commander Cain and grandfather of Sheba, knew
that the demonic apparition of the woman who had been his wife once,
would soon return to torment him.



     "Anglin's already here," Cassiopeia said as she and Sheba talked in
private. 
"He showed up earlier than we expected for his pre-operative workup.
That's why we're moving the procedure up."
     "Thank you for not letting Boxey see him before it happens."
     "Well....I really can't take credit for that, Sheba.  When Anglin
reported here, he said he didn't want Boxey to see him before the
operation. He said he'd rather wait to talk to him until after it's over
and he knows he'll be okay."
     "Really?" This surprised Boxey's stepmother slightly. "I got the
impression from Apollo that he was anxious to start asserting his
long-lost parental rights."
     "Well, maybe what little sleep he got softened his disposition. All
I know he was a lot more personable than he was last night when I tried
explaining the procedure to him."
     "He's not raising a fit about anesthesia?"
     "No, not anymore," the blonde doctor shook her head. "I don't see
any problems as far as the operation goes.  And hopefully this better
attitude I saw will carryover beyond that."
     "And get him to reconsider a few other things," Sheba said firmly. 
"I'm glad he's doing the procedure, but.....I'd be a lot happier if he
stayed out of his life after this."
     "One thing at a time, Sheba," her friend touched her shoulder, "One
thing at a time."


     Beacuse he'd been up so late, Adama had left instructions with the
Bridge not to contact him earlier than 1000 if there weren't any
emergencies requiring his presence on the Bridge.  When he stirred away
and on impulse reached over to touch Ila, he realized her side was empty.
Coming to a seated position, he looked over and saw that his wife was
already fully dressed in her trademark green and white tunic, seated at
the little workstation that had been set up for her so she wouldn't tie
up his own work area.
     "Good morning," she looked over at him and smiled.  "It's 1200
actually.  I thought you could use the extra sleep."
     "Thanks," he said with a grateful smile and then added.  "Any news
about----"
     "I checked with the Life Station," Ila cut in.  "Everything's on
schedule.  For now, it's out of our hands, and all in the Lords.  I think
they have our grandson safely in their care."
     "Quite true," he nodded and rose from the bed, feeling good that he
didn't have to immediately reach for his robe in her presence.  Coming
over to her, he leaned down and kissed her on the back of the neck.
     "I can't believe I managed to last as long as I did without you,"
Adama sighed.  "And now that you're back, I don't ever want to know what
that's like again."
     "Likewise," his wife said simply, "And.....now that I am back, you
know I'm here to make every burden you've felt lighter from now on. 
That's why......"
     "Yes?" he kissed her neck again, reveling in her beauty.
     Ila took a breath, "Adama.....there's something I've been meaning to
ask you for the last couple sectons about.....what my role's going to be
in the Fleet.  I've.....been through too much the last few yahrens to
just think I should just spend all my time playing with the grandchildren
from now on.  So long as we still have challenges in front of us the rest
of the way to Earth.....I need to do my part."
     "I'm sure your friends in the Resistance will be checking in to ask
for some advice once we have direct communications with them.  And I know
Cain and Kylie will be keeping you up to date on everything."
     "Yes, but.....I can't be a constant hovering presence with them over
a com-line, Adama.  I need to find my own niche here in the Fleet. 
Something that lets me put the skills I learned in the Resistance and on
the Pegasus to good use."
     Adama let go of her and decided to put his robe on since he knew
this was likely to be a lengthy conversation.  When he finished doing so,
he pulled up a chair so he could sit next to her and continue the
exchange.
     "Did you have something in mind?"
     His wife looked him in the eye.  "Adama....I think we'd be doing
each other a favor if you gave up your seat on the Council and let me
take your place."
     This was something he hadn't expected to hear at all.  A faint frown
came over his face.  It was a look Ila recognized immediately.  A look
that didn't indicate disapproval.  Only curiosity mixed with surprise. 
She also knew it meant that he wanted to hear her elaborate.
     "Adama, I know you've done a good job wearing the hats of both a
warrior and a politician.  Few men could do both and stay sane. 
But.....you've never enjoyed the latter.  You've only seen that as an
obligation you had to take on in order for the military's voice to get
proper representation in Council matters.  I've always known over the
yahrens how much you hate having to deal with the backbiting and the deal
making that has to go on because it's not line of work you trained
yourself for."
     She reached out and touched her husband's shoulder, "Let me take
that burden off your shoulders, Adama.  If you let me take your place on
the Council then you won't have to deal with all that political
felgercarb any longer.  You can stay focused on the bigger picture of
getting us to Earth safely and handling the responsibilities that only a
Fleet Commander can perform."
     "Ila, I----," he shook his head in amazement, "I don't know what to
say.  I....appreciate your concern.  And you're right, whenever I have to
deal with the Council it can be trying." He managed to smile, "Oh, I
could tell you stories.  But.....if I gave up the Council, I'd have to
give up the Presidency too, and that would mean I'd have to deal with
someone who may not see everything on the same level as me."
     "Not if I sought the Presidency too after taking your place on the
Council," Ila said.
     This time, his eyebrows went up indicating total surprise with no
curiosity.
     "Ila, that's----,"
     "Adama, I wouldn't be asking to take your place if this wasn't part
of the package.  I've been reading up on all the members of the Council,
and......I'm not saying this to be egotistical, but my resume is a lot
deeper than any of theirs after all I've had to do the last four yahrens
with the Resistance and with Cain.  I've worked on a Council type body
before with the Caprican Ex-Com Leadership.  I've been an effective
liaison to a military commander.  And I've also handled tough diplomatic
assignments with the Zykonians and twice with the Enlightened Cylons of
Gomorrah and in the Colonies.  Has anyone else on the Council done
anything remotely comparable?"
     "No," Adama admitted, admiring the tenacity of how she was willing
to stand up for her own accomplishments.  "But you know of course that
while I have the right to nominate my own replacement to the Council, the
Presidency doesn't go with it.  You'd have to fight for that on your
own."
     "I'm prepared to do that," she said.  "Even if that means pushing
for the Council to have the people decide who the next President would
be."
     Adama smiled.  "You've thought of everything."
     The blonde Academician returned it.  "And that's why you need me. 
Because that way you won't have to think of everything when it comes to
those duties that I know deep down you hate."
     He let out a sigh that reflected both his admiration and his simple
sense of being so glad to have her back again in his life.
     "Ila," he leaned forward and took her hand.  "Thank you.  I'll give
it the highest consideration.  But you understand why I can't commit
myself just yet.  The best time will be after we finish this repair work
here at the planet, when we're underway for Earth again."
     "And after we know for sure that Boxey's recovered," she added.  "I
wouldn't think of bringing this up before that matter's resolved."
     "Of course," her husband nodded.  "We'll.....talk again about this,
Ila.  What you say makes a lot of sense, but......we're going to have to
proceed carefully if this is what we're going to do.  Even with your
qualifications, the very idea of you seeking the Presidency might not be
seen favorably on general principles of......" he trailed off.
     "Cronyism, nepotism," Ila finished for him. "Yes, I know. That's why
if I do replace you, and then seek the Presidency, the best way to
overcome the inevitable howling over that is to make my case to the
people, and not try to win the office just by getting a majority of
schmoozing Councilors to go along with me."
     "Still the organized academic as always," he said proudly as he
rose. "You make it sound like preparations for a Final Exam."
     "It's a gift," she shrugged, with her impish smile. He kissed her
and rose.
     "I need to get cleaned up."
     As he disappeared into the turbowash, Ila leaned back and sighed
with relief that she'd been able to broach the subject that had been on
her mind and that her husband had been receptive to the idea.
     Now, she could turn all her thoughts back to praying for the
well-being of her grandson.  And that after the operation, her grandson
wouldn't be traumatized by the needless presence of someone who had no
place in his life.


     Croft awoke with none of the restlessness that had kept him up for
most of the night gone.  Once again, the sight of Leda had occupied his
dreams and he knew that if he didn't find a way of confronting his
problem head-on, he was going to turn into an emotional basket case. 
Which would ruin all the hard word he'd put in to recover his life and
career, and also jeopardize the Fleet's well-being given the place, and
the respect he'd carved out as head of Elite Squadron and head of the
Fleet Intelligence Unit.
     He knew that if he confided in anyone about what was bothering him,
the first thing they would have told him to do was go see the Fleet's
resident psychologist, Dr. Tarnia.  But Croft, who'd had his dealings
with the attractive counselor in the past, wasn't anxious to go down that
route again.  He had too much pride in himself to let anyone but himself
deal with this problem.  He was sure he could think of a solution that
would help him develop perspective and put this whole troubling matter
out of his mind and let him get back to the present.
     It was in his office aboard the Galactica, where the FIU members
would gather for a brainstorming session whenever he needed them, that
Croft finally hit upon what he was sure would be the solution.  Something
that would let him confront the matter head-on but in a low-key way. 
     "This is Major Croft," he contacted the Bridge, "Please put me
through to Commander Vulpa, aboard the BaseShip."
     There was a slight hesitation from the Bridge, and Croft knew right
away that the next voice he'd be hearing would be that of the Executive
Officer.
     "Major, this is Colonel Tigh.  What's the nature of your inquiry?"
     "Sir, I haven't had a chance to introduce myself directly to
Commander Vulpa since his arrival in the Fleet," Croft kept his voice
professional.  "As head of the Fleet Intelligence Unit, I think it's
important he know who I am, since I'm sure I'll be needing to call upon
his input for any future intelligence summaries."
     "Very well.  Stand by and activate your vid-com line and we'll
provide tie-in."
     "Thank you, sir," Croft shut off the intercom to the Bridge and then
turned to activate the video com-line on the other side of his work
station.  He anxiously took a breath as he saw the monitor suddenly power
on.  And then.....he saw the face of the command centurion whose
subordinates on Arcta had been responsible for Leda's death.
     "This is Vulpa," he said in the familiar lower-toned centurion
voice.  "To whom am I speaking?"
     Croft leaned forward, "Commander Vulpa, I'm Major Croft, head of the
Fleet Intelligence Unit based on the Galactica.  You may or may not have
heard my name from Command Centurion Moray, whom I've worked with in the
past."
     Vulpa nodded his head, "Commander Moray has mentioned your name.  He
says you are a most fair-minded individual when it comes to soliciting
the Cylon perspective in preparing your intelligence assessments."
     "Extend my thanks to Moray," Croft respectfully bowed his head and
braced himself.  "I am looking forward to drawing from your perspective
too, Commander Vulpa.  Professor Ila's summary of your accomplishments
is......quite impressive to say the least.  For you to command an entire
garrison of enlightened Cylons without the Imperious Leader suspecting
took.....considerable courage."
     "I would not have been able to do so, but for Dr. Ravashol's
decision to reactivate me," Vulpa said.  "Otherwise, I would have
remained in a permanent state of deactivation, and never knowing the
meaning of what is now called......Enlightenment."
     Croft felt a wave of surprise go through him.  Ravashol reactivated
him?  He'd never gotten the full story of how the command centurion had
been brought back to life, but he'd assumed for some time that the
initial reactivation was done by other Cylons.  Trying not look or sound
rattled, he managed to go on.
     "Well, we must thank Dr. Ravashol for his own enlightenment," he
took a breath and decided this was the moment.  "Commander Vulpa, there
is one thing you should be aware of before you and I begin any kind of
working relationship in the future.  You see.....we are somewhat
acquainted already."
     "You were part of Captain Apollo's commando team," Vulpa said
simply.  And this was even more surprising to Croft, who had never
considered the idea that Vulpa had already been informed.
     "Well.....yes.  Yes, I was.  And.....there is something related to
that, that I do need to ask you about, given your subsequent
reactivation." he paused and realized that he didn't know what to say at
this point.  This was all about having a chance to look Vulpa directly in
the face and tell him who he was, and what had happened to him on Arcta,
and waiting for a reaction from the Command Centurion.  Now, he found he
wasn't going to get that chance because he'd been beaten to it.  And that
left all the self-confidence he'd tried to build in himself over how this
contact would help him bury the past in a state of total shambles.
     "Yes, Major?" Vulpa asked.  Despite the fact that his Cylon voice
could never change, the command centurion was trying to find a way of
communicating pleasantness to him.
     Croft could feel the sweat breaking out underneath him.  He had to
find a way to back out from this as quickly as possible or else he was
going to look like an idiot.  He then realized there was one question he
could ask him that would be legitimate.  A question that he didn't
particularly care about the answer to, but at least it would allow him to
make a dignified and proper exit from the conversation.
     "Commander, there was a member of my team who was still unaccounted
for at the end of our mission when the original pulsar was destroyed.  In
light of your subsequent reactivation and your cooperation with Dr.
Ravashol and his people......did you ever ascertain whether the missing
person was still alive?"
     "Captain Apollo asked me the same question when I spoke with him
just after my arrival," Vulpa said.  
     So that explains how he knew who I was, Croft thought.  Damn, why
didn't I talk to Apollo before I decided to do this?
     "The man's name was Wolfe, was it not?" The command Cylon finished.
     "Yes," Croft nodded, "Wolfe.  He.....got separated from us when we
were going up the mountain."
     "You are much too kind to him," Vulpa said, "Captain Apollo said he
ran off in defiance of orders."
     "That's true," Croft said quickly.  "It.....was not a pleasant
experience.  Nonetheless, I was acquainted with him for several yahrens,
so naturally I am curious to know if there was any chance he might have
survived and made it back to Dr. Ravashol's community after the Galactica
left."
     "I am afraid not," Vulpa said.  "When construction work began on the
replacement pulsar, one of my patrol units found the frozen body of a
human on the side of the mountain.  As the body was in a Colonial
warrior's parka, I can only assume that it was your friend, Wolfe."
     "I see," this news didn't surprise Croft.  He had always envisioned
Wolfe preferring the painful experience of freezing to death over
acknowledging the fact he'd been wrong from the start about putting
escape ahead of the mission.  And no doubt too proud to think of getting
back to the bottom of the mountain and safety in Ravashol's village. 
He'd chosen to die like an animal, and given the totality of what he
remembered of Wolfe, it only seemed appropriate.  "Well....thank you for
letting me know that, Commander.  It helps to have....closure on these
things."
     "Of course," the Cylon nodded and then added, "And on behalf of
those I commanded at the time, Major......I offer my full apology and
deepest regret for the loss of your wife in the mission."
     This news hit Croft with the force of a supernova.  It took all of
his professional instincts as a warrior to show no reaction.
     "Captain Apollo told you about that?" he managed to ask.
     "That is correct," Vulpa acknowledged.  "I suspected that was why
you delayed directly contacting me until now."
     "I assure you, Commander Vulpa, it has no bearing on my ability to
work with you as an integrated member of the Fleet," Croft's word came
out rapidly and respectfully.  "As I said before, I am looking forward to
a productive working relationship with you in the future."
     "As am I with you, Major," there was a respectful bow from the gold
Cylon.
     "Thank you for giving me your time, Commander......and thank you for
your kind remarks," Croft knew he had to end the conversation as soon as
possible.  "Good day to you."
     "And to you, Major." 
     Five microns after the connection ended, the dam broke as Croft
buried his face in his hands and wept.


     "Okay Anglin, it's all over."
     Anglin blinked and raised his head slightly, looking up into the
kindly face of Dr. Salik.
     "No....no complications?" he whispered groggily, his head feeling
light from the anesthetic he'd subjected himself to. He could remember
when he'd been told to inhale deeply he'd wondered if he was going to
have an anxiety attack as a painful memory from over twenty yahrens ago
filled his head. But somehow.....he'd managed to stay calm and inhaled,
and then there was nothing but blackness which only seemed to last a few
microns. And now....he was awake.
     "None, as far as you're concerned," the Chief Medical Officer shook
his head. "It's only a question of waiting for the right time to
transplant what you've donated into Boxey.  It may come today or we may
have to wait a cycle or two before conditions are more optimal."
     "I....thought it would happen right away."
     "That's not how it works.  After he finishes his antitoxin
treatment, then he has to get radon treatment to make sure his immune
system won't reject the new cells we'll be transplanting. When we're
convinced it's at optimum levels, then we proceed."
     "Oh....," Anglin nodded in understanding, his mind still a jumble as
it had been since he'd awaken that morning with haunting echoes of his
past filling his mind. "So....it'll be a while before you'll know if
he'll be okay?"
     "It won't necessarily be settled today. That's all I can tell you,"
the Canceran native folded his arms. "I'll give you about a centar to
recover, and then you'll be discharged. If you need anything, a med-tech
can help."
     The doctor moved off, leaving Anglin by himself.....to contemplate.
So lost did he become in his contemplations that he barely noticed the
constant monitoring by the med techs.  Before he knew it, Salik had
returned to tell him that the centar was up and that he was going to be
discharged.
     Slowly, Anglin rose from the post-procedure bed he'd been lying in.
A med-tech motioned him to a private area to let him change from the
sterile gown back into his regular clothes. When he emerged several
centons later, Salik was holding a computer steno pad.
     "Sign this to make it official, please."
     He did so, his mind and actions all on automatic. When he was done,
he finally broke his silence.
     "Doctor," his voice was quiet, "Can I.....see him?  I don't mean
talk to him, but.....can you just point me to where he is right now?"
     "He's inside getting his radon treatment, but you can look in
through the window," Salik motioned Med-tech Garcia to guide him over.
"Don't take too long though."
     "I won't," he promised as the med-tech steered him toward the
transparent window that looked into the adjoining treatment center. He
could see Cassiopeia standing above an examination table.  Lying on it,
dressed in the clean sterile hospital gown and with a number of devices
stuck in both arms and his chest, was Boxey. The boy was awake and
talking to Cassiopeia but through the soundproof glass, Anglin couldn't
hear anything. But it was obvious there was a deep bond of trust between
the two since Cassiopeia was leaning over and smiling, while Boxey was
smiling back at her.
     It was the first time Anglin had ever seen the boy he'd fathered, up
and awake. And now that he could see him smiling.....his heart almost
stopped. The way the little boy smiled was exactly identical to how
another little boy he'd once known had smiled.  A little boy with the
same name.  His brother who'd died at age five, leaving not only his life
shattered but the lives of his parents shattered as well. A family
tragedy that had marked the end of any close relations he'd had with his
parents, since he'd long suspected that they'd favored his younger
brother more than they did him.  When five yahren-old Boxey had been
taken from them, it had also meant the greatest hope for the House of
Alquist had died as well.  Which left him, the son that his parents
didn't see any great potential in, as the only one left to carry on the
legacy.....which he'd utterly failed to do on all levels.
     How innocent he looks, just like his uncle, he thought as he bit his
lip. Memories of carrying his little brother on his shoulders in the
backyard of the family mansion flooded back to him. Along with memories
of other play activities in which he'd always been glad to play the role
of the protective big brother. Memories he'd kept buried for so many
yahrens, and which he'd only allowed to surface when he felt he could
open up about them to the only person he'd ever let himself love since
then. Serina.
     It was obvious that after all he'd done to her, and all his family
had done to her, Serina was still willing to respect this one tiny part
of his family history, even though he was sure this Boxey didn't know why
he'd been given that name. It filled him with a deep sense of loss....and
shame.  Shame that he had ever contemplated the idea that this innocent
life be snuffed out before it had a chance to live, and for the basest of
reasons. As he watched his son continue to talk animatedly with
Cassiopeia, he lowered his head and tried not to let himself break down.
     "Okay Anglin, that's enough."
     Salik's voice shook him out of his painful contemplation. He turned
away from the window and without saying a word, walked out of the Life
Station. Determined to take the most roundabout of walks through the
Battlestar's corridors before he returned to his VIP guest quarters.


     It took some time for Croft to find the energy to let himself get
back to work.  The experience with Vulpa had been cathartic, but not
quite the way he had intended.  It had given him the chance to bury any
thoughts of harboring bitterness over the fact that Vulpa could be
brought back to life but Leda couldn't.  But the one thing that still
gnawed at him was the uncertainty over what was truly in Leda's mind when
she'd performed that act of self-sacrifice for him.  That was the
question that he now realized could never be answered.  If he was going
to move on, he had to accept the fact it couldn't be answered no matter
what he did.
     He spent the rest of his work period going back over the report on
Cylon-Human relations in the Colonies and how Professor Ila's work had
successfully resulted in a peace treaty that had seen total withdrawal
from the ten planets that could still sustain human life while the
"Enlightened" Cylons would be permanently ceded the two dead worlds of
Libra and Aquarius.  That this had been accomplished struck him as beyond
miraculous.  So much, that it was enough to make him wonder for just a
fleeting instant why the Fleet still bothered heading for Earth if ten of
the Colonies had been restored to the human survivors left behind.  But
he pushed that thought out of his mind because he knew the point of no
return had long ago passed, especially with dangers like the Risik and
Ziklagi still lying in their wake.  If he was going to accept the fact
that he could never know for sure what had been in Leda's mind at the
end, he also had to accept the fact it was worthless for an intelligence
analyst to speculate about paths that would never be taken by the Fleet.
     He glanced over at the chronometer and saw that, officially, his
work cycle was done.  As he prepared to shut down his workstation for the
night, he decided to randomly check whether or not he'd put in enough
centars to qualify for a pass to visit the Rising Star. Warrior access to
the luxury liner was based entirely on whether or not they'd put in a
specific amount of work during a designated period, and it also meant
going no earlier than a full sectar since a previous visit. Adama had in
recent sectars been trying to get access to the Rising Star expanded to
more of the civilian populace that simply couldn't afford to buy the
expensive all-area access ducats that allowed one to explore all the
shopping and recreational areas the ship had to offer.  That meant
imposing stricter standards on when Warriors, whatever their rank, could
obtain access, and to also discourage the practice of trying to obtain
all-area access ducats on the Black Market (which Adama knew Starbuck,
and his father, Chameleon, occasionally indulged in, though he had never
confronted him about it).
     In Croft's case, he was aided by the fact that it had been more than
three sectars since he'd last gone over to the Rising Star for pleasure.
The computer said he'd put in enough sectars and was free to go if he
wanted to. Deciding that a gourmet meal aboard the luxury ship would do
him good, he shut down the terminal, picked up his jacket and headed
toward the shuttle launch area in the landing bay. Yes, a plate of
Pisceran Starlings, in pippali sauce, roasted to a turn. Along with a
glass of Caprican irep. Been a long time since he'd had that. Oh yes...He
passed several Warriors he knew along the way but only acknowledged them
with a faint nod of the head. When he saw the familiar black moustache
belonging to Lieutenant Castor approaching though, he knew he wasn't
going to avoid conversation.
     "Major, I'm glad I caught you," the head of Colonial Security who
was also deputy to Croft in Elite Squadron said with an edge of concern,
"I haven't heard back from you on when Elite Squadron is going to have
its next full-team drill."
     He's asking me because he wants to know when he's going to get a
chance to see Lauren Wagner again, he thought. The romance between Castor
and the Earth native was one of the worst-kept secrets on the Galactica.
As Sargamesh, the Zohrloch Warrior had drolly put it, it was "as hidden
as the sky". It was only because everyone who knew Castor knew how
intense his feelings were for her that they steered clear of ribbing him
about it.
     "Sorry, Castor," he said.  "Too much FIU work for me lately. I'm
assuming you've cleared your schedule for your Deputy in Colonial
Security to cover for you?"
     "Yes, Major. That's why I sent you the memo three days ago asking
when you planned on having the next full-team drill.  As long as we're
still orbiting this planet, this is the optimum time to do some
ground-based field maneuvers."
     Damn, he's right.  I didn't let myself see that because I've spent
too much time brooding about my own problems, he tried not to wince.  Bad
show, Croft.  Bad show.
     "Well, I guarantee there will be a planetary drill before the Fleet
leaves. You'll get a fixed time from me by 1200 tomorrow as soon as I've
cleared the timing logistics with the Colonel. Pass the word via com-text
to all team members to get ready to go as early as the day after
tomorrow. Full field packs."
     "Yes sir," he briskly saluted, and moved on.
     As Croft resumed walking toward the shuttle launch area, he slowly
exhaled as he realized for the first time that he'd been letting his
efficiency slip in little areas. He had to consider himself lucky that
he'd caught himself before he'd had a chance to screw up in a more
serious way. If that had happened----
     "Major, please."
     Croft's idle thoughts were disrupted when he realized he'd almost
collided with someone emerging from an adjoining corridor that fed into
the main passageway to the shuttle launch area. He looked over and saw
the slightly irritated face of Dr. Tarnia, the Fleet's resident
counselor.
     "Sorry about that, Doctor," he said apologetically. "My mind was
elsewhere."
     "I wish my mind was elsewhere," the attractive thirtyish brunette
said with an almost irritated snap as she resumed walking alongside him. 
"Anywhere but here!"
     "Something bothering you?" he asked with concern.
     Tarnia slowly sighed. "Just....the grind of the job, I guess. The
grind of having to spend another eight centars listening to people here
on the Galactica tell me their problems, and tomorrow it's more of the
same from the civilians who come to me on the Hospital Ship. And minimal
staff! Lords of Kobol! Every day after fracking day with no let-up!" Her
voice rose again as it sounded like she was trying to let off steam.
     "Not easy, isn't it?" he was so used to seeing Tarnia as a picture
of calm professionalism that it took him aback to see her this way.
     "Never is," her voice dropped back down. "Never is."
     "Where are you headed?" Croft asked, purely on impulse.
     "Well.....after the day I've had, I feel this need to let myself
go." Tarnia thrust out her arms in a flamboyant gesture as they kept
walking. "I'm going to blow my ducat on the Rising Star tonight and treat
myself to the most expensive meal I can get in the Empyreal Lounge."
     "That's where I'm going," the Major blurted, which made Tarnia stop
in her tracks and look at him quizzically.
     "Really?" She wasn't sure she believed him.
     "Really," he nodded. "I've.....had one of those days too. Maybe we
can.....give each other some moral support."
     She seemed to relax and slowly nodded her head, "Maybe we can," she
then added firmly, "But.....don't try to turn this into a counseling
session for yourself, Major."

     "I wouldn't think of it," Croft said, as he realized for the first
time that but for her shorter hairstyle, there was a slight resemblance
between her and Leda. "As far as I'm concerned, I won't be talking to a
counselor this evening over dinner, I'll be talking to a very intelligent
and very.....attractive woman who clearly would make for more pleasant
company than a data pad filled with duty rosters."
     "Just barely."  Then a smile came over Tarnia's face. This was the
first time in yahrens that she'd had anything that could be classified as
a date with a man. And now that the opportunity had presented
itself......she was ready to grab it. 
     Impulsively, she extended her arm which Croft took as they resumed
the final part of their walk toward the shuttle bay.


     The long walk Anglin deliberately took to get back to his quarters
lasted more than twenty centons.  It gave him the time to calm his inner
emotions and keep him from breaking down because he was determined not to
do that.  As though he felt he needed to keep one small measure of pride
for himself amidst all this soul searching that had left him feeling
traumatized and ashamed of so many things.
     When he returned to the elegant guest quarters, he wondered if
privacy would cause him to let his guard down, but as he collapsed on the
bed he found that all of his inner barriers were still tightly locked. 
Refusing to let himself break down even though a part of him wanted to.
     I want to hold my son in my arms and apologize to him, he thought. 
But....would I do more harm than good if I forced him to revisit that
whole sorry matter of why he grew up without a father for the first six
yahrens of his life?  And if I did that......Lords of Kobol, how could I
ever live with myself?
     Tough questions with no easy answers.  Just like it had been that
night when Serina had told him she was pregnant.
     With a weary sigh he picked up the remote device on the table next
to the bed and decided to see if the IFB would give him some distraction
for now.  When the screen came on, he saw to his chagrin that it was the
regular newscast.  He had nothing against Zara, but right now he would
have preferred one of the vintage entertainment programs or a triad match
replay.
     "......Salvage work on the derelict ships left in orbit by the
mysterious Entity continues to proceed at full speed. Under the overall
leadership of Senior Chief Shadrach, the so-called 'Master Technician' of
the Fleet, over five separate ships are being stripped for spare parts
that many of our ships are in need of. In addition to that, the hull
plating of several others, deemed beyond use, will likely be recycled
aboard the Foundry Ship to aid in repairs throughout the Fleet, as well
as in the construction of new Vipers.
     "In addition to the salvage work on the orbiting derelicts,
Agro-Ship Operations Chief Carmichael reports that the planet, once
desolate and nearly lifeless because of the intrusive presence of the
Entity, is now showing remarkable resilience and signs of returning life.
In an interview I conducted with him via relay from the planet surface
yesterday, he expressed his amazement over how rapid this rebirth has
been."
     A cut to the video image of the elderly, balding Agro Ship
Operations Chief. He was standing on a planet surface where behind him,
signs of trees in full bloom were in evidence.
     "Zara, what's happening on this planet is nothing short of a
miracle. When our survey teams rescued the stranded people on this planet
from the ships Tereshkova and Rambler, this planet was just about devoid
of vegetation. All because the Entity kept drawing sustenance to feed
itself whenever anything would grow. But now that the Entity is gone, the
normal life cycles of plant life have returned at an accelerated scale
that defies comprehension!  What you see behind me is a forest that
normally would take several hundred yahrens to grow under the most
optimum of conditions, and yet.....just one sectar after the Entity left
this place, look at it now! Some of these species have begun to actually
blossom!"
     "Yes, it looks incredible."
     "None of these species have ever been seen before, of course. This
far from the Colonies, but...I have no explanation, as yet."
     "And this is true of all parts of the planet, Chief Carmichael?"
     "Yes, Zara, everywhere!  This whole planet is experiencing a
rebirth. Already, it's more than capable of sustaining life for the
long-term. Many of the species we have identified are phenomenal oxygen
producers."
     "Do you have any intention of asking Commander Adama about having
the Fleet stay longer to harvest some of the newly growing fruit and
plant life? Provided it turns out to be edible."
     "Well, I don't want to make it sound like this planet can suddenly
provide us with limitless food, Zara.  Even though there's been rapid
growth, it's still akin to a planet just emerging from infancy.  The food
is certainly plentiful to sustain a small community indefinitely, but I
think our goal is going to be focused more on recovering new seed samples
to help force-grow more crops aboard the Agro-Ship."
     Anglin shut the vid-com off and pushed the back of his head into the
pillow so far he was now looking up at the ceiling....as though he were
trying to look through it and see to the most distant of heavens and look
for the Almighty.
     Is that a sign?


     "The antitoxin treatment was successful and additionally, we think
Boxey's had enough radon treatment to sufficiently suppress his immune
system to prevent rejection of new cells," Cassiopeia said to Apollo and
Sheba in Salik's office.  "We're going ahead with the transplant in the
morning."
     "How long before we know for sure that he hasn't rejected the new
cells?" Sheba asked, her concern evident as her husband kept squeezing
her hand.
     "The first couple days will be critical. If nothing happens after
that, it'll mean the immune system isn't going after them. But we'll keep
him here under close monitoring for at least a few days past it so I
wouldn't bet on him being discharged earlier than a secton from now. 
We'll continue monitoring him closely with regular check-ups and he'll
have to continue to take immunosuppressant drugs for a couple sectars."
     "And no problems with Anglin?" Apollo asked.
     "None," she shook her head. "He stayed clear of Boxey when he came
in for his procedure, and after that, all he did was look in for a centon
through the glass when Boxey was being prepped for his radon treatment.
He didn't make any attempt to try and talk to him."
     "Thank God," Sheba whispered under her breath. "Maybe that will
carry over. I don't want him to have anything to do with Boxey after all
of this. Our boy's been through enough traumas and shocks as it is."
     "He's handling things just fine, Sheba," Cassiopeia said with as
much reassurance as she could. "Boxey's one brave little boy. He doesn't
scare easily."
     "True, but having an honorary aunt as his doctor has definitely
helped." Apollo smiled and looked at his wife. "I think we can go now."
     She nodded and they left the office. Their path took them past the
row of regular lifepods where a voice called out to them.
     "Sheba?"
     They stopped and Sheba looked at a completely unfamiliar face. A
relatively handsome, slightly craggy face of a man in his early 60s.
     "Yes?"
     The man chuckled and pointed to his face. "It's me. Aurelius. They
finally took the bandages off a centar ago."
     "Oh my goodness," she said as she came closer to him, her bearing
now relaxed.  "I should have realized it was you. It looks like they did
a real good job."
     "Yeah, that Dr.....Colin I think his name was really knows his
stuff. It's not the face I'm used to seeing in the mirror but at
least.....it's a face."
     Sheba motioned to Apollo, "Aurelius, this is my husband, Captain
Apollo. Boxey's father."
     "Good to meet you, Aurelius," Apollo leaned forward, "I've heard
about your bonding with Boxey on old triad matches.  Your stories made a
trying time a little bit easier."
     "Well.....it's a real pleasure to see someone that young, so
interested in the things that I thought had died out with the rest of my
generation," he said. "I can't imagine there are many people in this
Fleet left alive who are the same age I am in terms of actual yahrens."
     "I'm sure there are some," Apollo already found himself liking the
man's personable nature. "One of our retired members of the Council of
Twelve, Sire Anton is in his eighties. Sire Montrose, too, I think. 
There are probably others on the Senior Ship too."
     "That would still put me about ten to fifteen yahrens on them," he
shook his head, "And they'd probably have a hard time accepting me
because I look young enough to be one of their sons, still."
     "You wouldn't belong with that group of people, Aurelius," Sheba
said. "I meant what I said to you this morning.  I'm happy to help you
get some kind of assignment here on the Galactica. You look like a man
still capable of doing serious work."
     "Thank you, Sheba. I am."
     "What did you use to do for a living?" Apollo asked. "If you don't
mind my asking."
     He leaned his head back. "I....had a brief tour of duty in the
military when I was young.  Nothing distinguished, but I did fly for a
couple yahrens."
     "Which ship?" the Captain was intrigued.
     "The.....Bellerophon," he said after just the briefest hesitation. 
"I....understand she was lost in the Cylon attack on the Colonies."
     "I'm afraid so," Apollo nodded. "Quite a few good ships were lost
there. The Galactica and the Pegasus are the only two surviving
Battlestars in the galaxy."
     "Incredible," he shook his head sadly. "What a sad waste."
     "You said you used to fly," Sheba asked, still fascinated by him.
"Shuttles?  Or did you fly Vipers too?"

     "Oh....I did spend some time in a Viper cockpit. The old Mark I
line. I don't imagine any of those are left."
     "No," Apollo shook his head. "We're up to the Mark IV model line
now. And we're trying to come up with a design for a new Mark V line in
any future ships we construct aboard our Foundry Ship."
     "It's amazing you can find the means to build new ships even while
you're traveling in space. The whole level of organization and discipline
is just.....amazing."
     "That comes from having a leader as great as Commander Adama is,"
Sheba said.  "Without him, none of this would have been possible. None of
us would have survived."
     "He sure has come a long way from where he started."
     "Oh?" Apollo lifted an eyebrow, "You're familiar with his career?"
     "Oh ah.....that is, I heard some talk on Sagitarria about him before
I was evacuated.  Before my....accident. When I was getting brought up to
speed on what had changed since I'd gone into suspended animation."
     "I see," Apollo nodded, thinking that was a perfectly reasonable
explanation. He decided to switch thrusters. "You said you were in the
military when you were young. What did you do after that?"
     "Various things," he said with a disarming air. "I never really
found my true niche. I guess that's why I got....more disenchanted with
how my life was going."
     Before Apollo or Sheba could say anything else, the door to the Life
Station slid open and Athena entered with Boomer alongside her.
     "What's the good word?" Boxey's aunt asked.
     "He's doing fine," Sheba said. "He'll undergo the transplant
tomorrow."
     "Lords be praised," Athena sighed. "Is he allowed visitors?"
     "Not tonight I'm afraid," Apollo shook his head.  "He's too
immuno-compromised at this point.  Needs to be kept totally isolated."  
     "Well....in that case we'd better not keep Mother and Father waiting
for dinner."
     "Guess not," her brother nodded and looked back at Aurelius. "It's
been good talking to you, Aurelius."
     "Likewise, Captain. Enjoy your dinner."
     Only when the four of them were gone did Aurelius see her
materialize again.
     "You came very close to saying something you shouldn't have said
about Adama's background. Remember, Marcus, you're not supposed to know
about young Lieutenant Adama's early days flying with our son on the
Cerberus. Mistakes like that will be your undoing......in more ways than
one."
     Knowing he couldn't say anything aloud, he was forced to just nod
his head affirmatively.  Immediately, she smiled brightly but even with a
smile there was still an underlying air of cruelty in her.  A cruelty
that kept him from ever feeling any old stirrings inside him regarding
her physical beauty.  
     "By the way, my compliments on your new face, Marcus.  It's a
distinct improvement over the old one. I regret not getting a chance to
kiss it in the days of our young passion.  Days that I know you
remember.....quite well."
     He rolled his eyes slightly and looked up at the ceiling. One word
going through his head.  Bitch.
     "Careful Marcus. Remember, you have no private thoughts of your own.
What you think can easily be heard by me. And by....him. There's no point
expressing any insults of me at any time because all it will get you is
more visits from me.  Which I think you'd rather not prefer at this
point."
     A defeated look passed over him along with another nod of the head.
     "That's more like it, my husband," Helena smiled.  "Just stay
focused on becoming a new and valued friend of the family to the House of
Adama."
     She blinked out. And all the former Commander Marcus could do was
let out a long, sad sigh.

Chapter Five

     "Roasted Piscean Starling smothered in pippali sauce," Tarnia shook
her head in amazement as her eyes beheld the dinners that had just been
served to her and Croft.  "I didn't know there were any Piscean starlings
on the Aviary ship to let them make it."
     Croft smiled.  Learning that this was a favorite entree of hers only
added to the sense that he was experiencing a perfect evening.  The
quiet, luxurious setting of the Empyreal Lounge's second level.  The
breathtaking view of the stars through the giant floor to ceiling picture
window.  The relaxing sound of the spinet music from the lower level
drifting up.  And above all, the simple enjoyment of pleasant
conversation with a beautiful, intelligent woman.
     "I guess its easy to lose track of the things that are still
possible even in these conditions," he gently started to cut his portion
into small pieces.  "Especially when work is so.....consuming."
     "That is the understatement of the millennia," Tarnia sighed as she
sipped her glass of ambrosia.  "When you're the one and only licensed
expert in psychological counseling the Fleet has.....there's just no
letup.  There's always the sense that if you so much as take one day off
for yourself.....it's going to cause a negative chain reaction to the
Fleet's well-being.  That's why....I've never had any time for a social
life for myself.  Warriors at least know they're going to get a lot of
down time when the military threat level isn't great."
     "True, but they compensate for that by finding all kinds of paper
work and bureaucratic things to do," Croft said.  "That's how I ended up
getting the FIU assignment."
     "Do you enjoy it?" she picked up her own utensils to begin cutting
her portions into the same small-sized pieces Croft had done with his. 
Both knew that roasted starling's flavor came out best in small pieces,
not large ones.
     Croft waited to sample his first taste before answering her.  A
satisfied look came over his face as he tasted gourmet perfection.  Thank
the Lords the Rising Star's Head Chef survived the Destruction!
     "I enjoy it," he finally said.  "The assignment makes me realize
that.....I've come a long way back from where I was a few short yahrens
ago."
     "That's true," Tarnia admitted.  "You.....went through a lot,
Croft."
     "Yeah.  But.....it's pretty much behind me now.  You learn to move
on."
     "But never completely, right?" she took her first bite.
     The major took a sip of his Caprican irep, a drink he'd always
preferred to straight ambrosia.  "You're not asking me that in a
professional context, are you?"
     "No," Tarnia shook her head emphatically, "Woman to man, Croft. 
Which means you'll have the right to hear me open up about something
similar."
     He smiled at her candor, "There's always going to be a scar or two
that can never fully heal.  Like for instance......" he hesitated briefly
but decided he wanted to say it to her.  "You're familiar with what
happened to my wife on Arcta?"
     "I am," the attractive counselor folded her hands.
     "Well....I've accepted the fact that she's gone.  That my life has
to go on without her.  But.....the one thing I just can't let go of is
wondering what she was thinking when she took that shot aimed at me."
     Tarnia frowned, "Why would you be wondering?"
     "Because....we hadn't really patched things up during that mission. 
I mean.....she wanted us to make a run for it to Starlos and escape.  I
put my foot down and said we were going through with the mission.  She
never said anything after that.  Not a word.  Never said I was right and
she was wrong.  I....had more of a vibe that she was just going along
with the mission because she had no choice and that aftewards.....it was
going to be a return to the status quo of her hating me. We wouldn't be
in the Prison Barge any longer, but......I was convinced we were likely
going to go our separate ways.  That's why......when she pushed me out of
the way and took that shot that was meant for me, I just-," he lowered
his head and realized he needed to calm himself.  He reached over and
took another sip of irep for support and it immediately did the trick.
     "I've never understood why she did it.  It made no sense. That she'd
actually try and save my life after all the bitterness, all the hate
she'd spent the last three yahrens venting ever since we were arrested. 
Was she just being a good team player because she knew I still had a
charge that needed to be set and she was done?  Or....did it mean she
actually felt something for me again?"
     As he went on, Tarnia found herself blinking several times and she
realized it was because she could feel her eyes actually tearing up
listening to this.  A reaction she would never have allowed herself in a
professional setting.  But this wasn't professional. 
     He absently took another bite of his meal, "I guess what I've always
felt cheated of is that she didn't live long enough to say anything. 
Just one simple dying declaration to tell me how she felt, and I could
have lived with it.  It's just the whole never-ending ambiguity that bugs
me."
     "Croft," Tarnia said sadly. "Don't you believe actions speak louder
than words?"
     The major looked up at her, seeing the emotion in her face.  And the
tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes.
     "Croft, she was willing to lay down her life for you," the
counselor's voice cracked slilghtly.  "If that isn't an act of love, I
don't know what is. Even the Book of the Word says something about laying
down one's life for another being an act of love.  You shouldn't feel
like you needed to hear her say something to know why she did it.  I
think its clear she would have felt lost without you if you'd been
killed.  Because she loved you, Croft.  She loved you in a way few people
ever find the courage to show."
     It was the first time he'd ever heard anyone describe Leda's actions
that way.  So blunt, and to the point.  And so simple.  For the first
time, Croft realized that throughout all these yahrens of brooding for
his own loss, he'd been doing Leda the greatest disservice imaginable.
     The fact that Tarnia wasn't hiding any emotion behind a wall of
professionalism is what made her words have a bigger impact.  If he'd
heard her say this in the normal, clinical fashion that she would have
used during an office session, he would have likely dismissed her words. 
But Tarnia was clearly reacting to this as a woman.  That made all the
difference.
     He let out a sad sigh and reached out and took her hand, "Lords of
Kobol.  How could I have been so stupid not to have seen it that way? 
I----you're right Tarnia.  By the Lords, I shouldn't have thought so
little of her if I loved her as much as I said I did."
     "It's okay," Tarnia sniffed, fighting back the emotion.  "If....what
I said can make you realize how Leda really felt about you.....then I'm
glad."
     Croft looked at her with a deep sense of gratitude, "You're a real
special woman, Tarnia. I'm surprised you----," he then broke off.
     "No time," she smiled weakly as she sniffed again.  "Like I
said.....the pressure of the job is day-in, day-out.  You have no time to
meet people socially you can talk to as a woman.  And on the job, you
can't ever and I mean ever think a patient is someone you can develop
feelings for.  Otherwise, you're throwing all standards of professional
ethics right into the turboflush and disgracing yourself."
     She took another sip of ambrosia and then took another couple bites
of her meal.  The pleasing taste of the food allowed her to calm her
inner emotions.
     "Now it's my turn to share something I've never been able to tell
anyone before," her voice was more confident.  "I've had one patient I've
been devoted to for the last seven yahrens.  He's been the most special
person in my whole life as a counselor and because of that,  I have had
to fight back the temptation to fall in love with him and at the same
time, fight back the concern that he might fall in love with me."
     Croft knew right away who she was talking about. Copernicus.  The
emotionally and neurologically challenged, but fabulously gifted
electronics prodigy who had originally been her patient on Sagittaria in
a home for the partially disabled.  She had risked her life the night of
the Destruction to save Copernicus, and together they had ended up on the
freighter Sagittarius.  In those first two yahrens, Copernicus had been
under her care and she'd taught him to open up by channeling his love for
electronics into keeping the ship's old, battered systems functioning, as
well as helping other people who needed their electronic equipment
repaired.  Then came the first Il Fadim riot, led by their fanatical
leader Sherok, that had resulted in Copernicus assisting in Starbuck's
rescue from the terrorists, and with it, had come Tarnia's elevation to
the position of Psychological Counselor for the entire Fleet.  Copernicus
had since then gone on to establish himself first as a member of Dr.
Wilker's Electronics team, and then following the death of his real
father, Sire Uri, he had inherited a vast fortune that allowed him to
open his own electronics kiosk on the merchant ship Pathmain.  But even
though Tarnia was no longer Copernicus's guardian like she'd been in
those first two yahrens aboard the Sagittarius, her concern for and
devotion to him had remained.
     "Hasn't he seen you more as a mother-figure in his life?" Croft
asked, knowing how delicate a matter this was.  But he knew she wasn't
going to object at this point.
     "No," Tarnia shook her head.  "Never like that.  His adoptive
parents were still alive when I first knew him on Sagittaria and he'd had
a good relationship with them.  Plus, I'm less than ten yahrens older
than him, so I didn't exude a mother image to him.  To him, I was his
teacher. Someone older, but still more of his generation.  That's why I
felt I had to steel myself against the possibility he might develop the
kind of feelings students sometimes develop for their teachers.  And
those first yahrens when we were still on Sagittaria, it was easy to do
that.  It was only after the Destruction and I singlehandedly saved his
life and we ended up on the Sagittarius for those first two yahrens that
things were suddenly different.  He only had me now and.....the
responsibility I felt for him became even greater.  That was probably the
one period where I came this close-," she held her thumb and forefinger a
mere fraction apart, "To just tossing aside professional ethics and
letting myself fall in love with him and thinking I could help him best
if.....I became more than just a teacher and guardian to him.  But given
how awkward and socially withdrawn he was by nature, I knew if I did
that.....it would be taking advantage of him in the worst way.  So I
pushed all those thoughts back down where they belonged and I never let
myself think them again.  From that point on, my only concern was whether
Copernicus would fall in love with me."
     "And do you still worry about it?"
     "Not any longer," she confessed.  "Copernicus has proved he can make
it on his own now. I don't see him as often as I used to.  He still needs
me for support if he has to do something he wouldn't have done by choice,
like when Adama  reactivated him for Dr. Wilker's team to help install
the connections that let us talk to the Pegasus.  But otherwise, he's
doing fine with his business on the Pathmain and he has a circle of
friends who share his passion for electronics and gaming.  When he meets
people who are on the same wavelon with him as far as what he loves to
do, that's when he's able to drop his inner barriers and interact
normally for the most part.  I think if he met an unattached woman who
was as interested in electronics and gaming as he is......he'd fall in
love with her in an instant.  And I hope and pray to the Lords he does
find someone like that someday.  That's when I know I'll be able to
finally let go of him for good."
     "It's remarkable what you've done for him." Croft said with
admiration.  "You saved his life in more ways than one." 
     A faint blush came over Tarnia's face as she lowered her head, "If
anything had ever happened to him.....I think it would have destroyed me. 
I never would have been able to listen to anyone's problems again."
     "But nothing did," he reminded her, "So count your blessings and be
happy about it."
     She looked back at him, "I can.  Especially if you can be....at
peace about how Leda felt about you when she died."
     "I can," Croft admitted. "You've.....made me realize I was
cheapening the meaning of what she did just because I didn't hear her
say, 'I love you' to me one more time.  Now....I can do her memory proper
justice and.....close the book on that part of my life once and for all."
     "And I'm sure that's what she would have wanted you to do," Tarnia
continued to look him in the eye, "You've got a lot going for you,
Croft."
     He returned her gaze, "So do you, Tarnia."
     Somewhat haltingly they went back to their dinner, savoring each
remaining bite despite the fact the food had cooled somewhat as a result
of their conversation.  The re-heat function in the dishes soon took care
of that, and when they were finished, they pushed their plates aside and
looked at each other with thoughtful expressions again.
     "Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Croft," Tarnia said simply.  "And
thank you for listening."
     "Thank you for listening to me," again he noticed the slight
resemblance to Leda in her face.  Exquisite features framed by lustrous
brown hair.  For the first time, he felt a stirring within himself that
he hadn't felt for a long long time.  Across from him, the same stirring
was going through Tarnia.
     "When does your schedule begin tomorrow?" she asked with an edge in
her voice that he noticed right away.
     "I have to see the Colonel by 1000 tomorrow," he said simply, "And
you?"
     "My first appointment on the Hospital ship is at 0930."
     He smiled faintly, "If you'd rather catch the shuttle that leaves at
0730 tomorrow.....you'd still make your first appointment with plenty of
time to spare."
     "And you'd make your appointment with the Colonel easily," she
matched his smile.
     Croft's smile widened slightly, taking on a more mischievous
quality.  "Would you object if I tried to find out if I can
get.....someplace private for us for the night?"
     Tarnia matched his expression, "Not a bit.  I'd love to continue our
conversation in a more......appropriate setting."
     They rose from their chairs, and without saying another word, Croft
offered Tarnia his arm.  She looped her arm through his, and together
they headed out of the Lounge.

     
     The family dinner had gone well, with everyone expressing guarded
optimism for Boxey now that the transplant would take place the next day. 
And everyone, to a fault, felt relieved that Anglin had come through and
for now didn't seem ready to assert his 'right' to speak to Boxey and
tell him who he was.
     After things had broken up, Apollo and Sheba returned to their
quarters, relieving the med-tech nurse in their employ who looked after
Bethany Two when no one else was available.  After making sure her baby
was dry and fast asleep, Sheba retired to the bedroom, where her husband
noticed how more at ease she was compared to the previous night.
     "I'm glad you're looking better," Apollo said simply.
     "I feel more....optimistic," Sheba undid the sash of her brown
civilian dress.
     "Optimistic enough to do your patrol sweep tomorrow?"
     She stopped in mid-undress and looked at him, "Am I up tomorrow?"
     "According to the duty roster you are," he said gently. "You and
Ensign Miranda again."
     "Oh frack," she sighed. "Doing a patrol is the last thing I feel
like doing. Not when our boy isn't completely out of the woods yet."
     "But Sheba, you've got to just trust in the doctors and the Lords
since they're the only ones in control now." He hated to pull rank on her
at a time like this, but he was prepared to do it if necessary.
     "I guess so," Sheba said with clear reluctance, nodding as she
leaned back against the headboard, her half-undone dress still on.
"Lords, I don't understand why I can't summon the old energy in me for
flying. There used to be a time when I could not wait to get back in that
cockpit. When I'd see it as a way to take my mind off bad things, just by
looking at the stars and feeling the sense of freedom flying can give
you. But now....it's as if all those doubts about whether being a Warrior
is my true nature are getting to be kind of overwhelming, especially with
Boxey going through all this danger."
     "You've got to stop all this self-reflection, Sheba," Apollo took
her hand, "Like it or not, the Fleet still needs you to be a Warrior for
the rest of the journey, and you can't focus too much on whether this is
the path in life you would have gone in a perfect universe.  If it's
really true that you've only been playing the part of a great Warrior all
this time......well then try to keep playing the part like a good actress
would for a while longer. It's a Colony Award-worthy performance.*"
     She broke into a smile and seemed to relax. "Thanks. I needed that."
     "Well, as the daughter of the greatest actress in Colonial history,
how could one expect anything less?" he couldn't stop the grin, and it
was infectious.
     "Lords, you do know how to make an order feel like absolute
flattery, my dear Apollo."
     "A little kick in the rear from your superior now and then doesn't
necessarily hurt." He took her hand. "Sheba, don't start questioning your
ability now. I sure don't."
     "I won't," she quietly vowed. "I'm good at it. I know I am. I'll
make myself remember that for as long as I have to do it. Duty comes
first for all of us until we reach Earth."
     They finished undressing and turned off the light, but even in the
dark found the need to keep conversing.
     "What do you think of Aurelius?" she said.
     "I like him," Apollo admitted. "Remarkable what he went through. I
imagine he has some more fascinating stories to tell about what it was
like in those days, ninety yahrens ago." 
     "You ever wonder why he went into suspended animation?" Sheba asked.
"He really doesn't seem anxious to tell anyone the reason why."
     "That's true. But.....what's the worst thing you can think of at
this point? Committing a murder?  Collaborating with the Cylons? Even if
he did something like that, pre-Destruction crime isn't being prosecuted
any longer, and given what's been done with Baltar and all the former
collaborators in the Resistance, there's no point prosecuting for the
latter."
     "That's what I was thinking," his wife acknowledged. "I'm sure he
was running from something bad, but......whatever it was, I have to think
he's just trying to start with a clean slate like the rest of us. If it's
something he wants to talk about someday, I'm sure he will."
     "Agreed," he nodded and then yawned. "Good night, Sheba."
     "Good night, Apollo."
     They fell asleep, feeling less troubled than the night before.
Unaware of the presence that emerged in the room that looked down at them
both with a wicked smile.
     What naive fools, Helena thought.  
     "Helena!"
     She abruptly turned in response to the sound of the angry female
voice that had called her name. Before her, stood a white-garbed woman
with waist-length dark hair.  Her eyes ablaze with anger.
     "Your name is.....Serina?" she asked with cool casualness.
     "Yes," she took a step toward her. "And I'm here to serve notice on
you and your Master. Everything you do, and are planning to do, we know
about. There isn't one detail that we won't be aware of right up to when
you think it's time to close your little trap. And if so much as one
fraction of the Rules that govern us all are violated......be prepared to
face the consequences."
     "We fear neither you nor any of your comrades who follow....Him,"
Helena folded her arms and said the last word contemptuously. Almost
spitting it out. "We are well aware of how the Rules operate. And they
apply equally to your ilk. That means you are forbidden from directly
warning anyone about the Master's plans, and that includes your
subconscious methods."
     "We are aware of that," Serina acknowledged.  "But that does not
apply to anyone who independently of their own free will might one day be
able to deduce the true identity of Aurelius as Marcus. If he makes
mistakes that jog a recollection in Adama or leads someone to do some
investigating on their own without our direct or indirect help, you are
forbidden to harm them.  Or else, the ultimate punishment will be
implemented for the attack on an innocent soul not given freely to you.
Remember that."
     "Don't treat us so lightly." The cold contempt increased in Helena's
voice. "The Master has conceived this plan knowing full well how it must
be achieved. He will not fail.  The Contract will one day be fulfilled at
last, and Sheba will take her intended place at his side." 
     Serina returned the contempt but kept it from crossing into hate.
"Do not underestimate your granddaughter's resolve, Helena. Or the power
of her husband's love for her."
     "You mean.....your husband, don't you?" Her tone turned to a mocking
air. "I think you are wasting your time with me, Serina. Resume your own
pitiful assignment regarding the one named Anglin. That is of no
consequence to us."
     "Not until you leave this room......now!" The last word became a
firm command.
     She looked at her in amusement and then with a shrug she blinked
out.
     Serina let out a sad sigh as she came up to the bed and looked down
at the man who had been her husband for far too brief a time, and the
woman he had found to fill the void left by her death on the sands of
Kobol, so long ago.  She wanted to say something.  Anything.  But if she
did, she herself would be violating the Rules because anything she said
would enter their subconsciousness. And that would only play right into
the hands of their Enemy.
     Reluctantly, her presence faded out.


     Starbuck hesitated at the threshold of the Life Station, torn
between his inherent distaste for the place and his determination to find
Cassiopeia.  Finally, he spotted her coming out of an isolation room,
shedding her protective equipment before washing her hands thoroughly. 
While she looked immaculate, as always, he could detect a lack of bounce
in her step and a stiffness in her frame.  He frowned, taking the plunge
and crossing the room.
     "Hello, stranger."
     She turned, her eyes lighting up.  "Well, hello.  How was the
dinner?"
     "Tense, and definitely lacking your presence.  Although having Ila
back was a comfort to everybody," Starbuck replied.  He nodded towards
the isolation room, where he knew Boxey would be kept until his
transplant since his immune system had been essentially tanked so it
wouldn't reject his transplanted stem cells. "How's Boxey?"
     "He's doing fine.  He's finally getting a chance to play some Quarry
Quest."
     "I brought another copy.  I hear he and Jephtha are in competition
for it." He set it down on a countertop.  
     "That's sweet.  Thank you."
     "All systems go?"
     "Definitely."
     He stepped towards her, cupping her face gently and dropping a
gentle kiss on her soft lips.  "Your shift is over.  Actually, I'm pretty
sure it was over sometime last secton.  I'm here to take you home."
     "But....."
     "But nothing.  If I have to pick you up and throw you over my
shoulder, you will be leaving the Life Station in the next few centons. 
You haven't had a decent sleep in days, Cass, and you need to be rested
up for tomorrow."  
     She sighed in irritation, her jaw setting stubbornly.  Truthfully,
she had trouble letting go of her responsibilities and it had certainly
affected their time together. 
     "I managed to get my hands on your favorite nectar, as well as some
wild thorn berries,  creamed caprine cheese, and a loaf of bread so fresh
that it actually still smells like bread--"
     She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.  "Starbuck---"
     "Not only did I find that Effusion Lamp you were talking about, but
I also picked up some lavendula oil to set the mood.  I'm freshly
turbowashed, shaved, and doused in a manly scent from the Rising Star."
     "Oh?" She sniffed the air, detecting a faint, yet alluring aroma
that she couldn't identify.  "Nice.  What's it called?"
     "Rising Star-buck," he quipped.  "I'm taking you home, wife, whether
you like it or not. Now, is it going to be of your own free will, or do I
have to get physical?"  His sparkling eyes belied the severity of his
words.  
     "Okay, I give," she capitulated gracefully, leaning closer and
whispering, "only if you promise to get physical back in our quarters."
     "Oh, I promise." He wrapped an arm around her waist, hustling her
out of there as she announced to her colleagues she was off duty.  


     The next morning, Apollo awoke to find that Sheba was already gone
and the child care provider for Bethany already there. He found a note on
the table with a hasty scrawl that read, 'Getting an early headstart by
making Ensign Miranda see me first in Flight Ops before patrol.  I know
all will be well. Love-Sheba.'
     Well, that's the first good news of the day, Apollo thought as he
got up and quickly dressed himself. Let's hope the trend continues. By
the time his uniform was on, his telecom sounded, and he quickly
answered. "Yes?"
     "Apollo, just wanted you and Sheba to know we're starting the
transplant," Cassiopeia said with total professionalism. "It'll be over
in fifteen centons, so you might want to stop by and see Boxey after we
wheel him back out."
     "I'll be there," the Captain acknowledged and hung up.  Two for two,
he thought.
     After passing the word to first his parents, and then to Athena and
Boomer, Apollo moved out into the corridor and headed for the Life
Station, which would take ten centons to reach without using a turbolift. 
He decided the longer walk would give him more time to reflect and ponder
how the matter of Anglin could be resolved.
     At the very least, I'd like to make him wait as long as possible
before he can tell Boxey who he is.  The longer he has to put that off,
the more time there is to make him realize he shouldn't tell him. 
Preferably not ever.
     He turned the corner that would lead to the access ladder and allow
him to climb up an additional deck level. And then.....he stopped when he
saw approaching from the opposite direction the unmistakable sight of
Anglin. It only took another two microns before the pudgy-faced
maintenance worker spotted Apollo and he too stopped in his tracks. For
several microns they remained where they were, staring at each other with
expressions that represented a perfect Pyramid-faced neutrality that
would have done Starbuck proud. Showing no emotion nor anger.  Both
seemingly daring the other to make the first move.
     Frack, I feel like I'm facing Redeye on Equellas again, Apollo
thought as he realized the longer this went on, the more foolish it was.
He decided to break the ice and approach him.  Anglin didn't budge from
his position.
     "Good morning, Anglin." Apollo's tone was polite but neutral, as he
drew up to him in front of the access hole to the ladder.
     "Captain," Anglin acknowledged in the same tone as he motioned his
hand, "After you?"
     "Are we both going to the same place?"
     "I think so. I received a courtesy notification that he's undergoing
the transplant now."
     "And you intend to talk to him?" 
     Anglin looked him in the eye. "Yes."
     "And what do you intend to say?" Apollo tried to push back the angry
surge going through him.
     "I intend to tell him that I was glad I could be of help to him as a
cell donor, and that I hope he'll be up and recovering soon." Anglin
stressed every word carefully and then added pointedly, "You have a
problem with that, Captain?"
     "No," Apollo shook his head. "Is that all?"
     "For today it will be," he paused and then said, "I am not as
self-centered as you and the rest of your family appear to think that I
am, Captain. I know very well that today is not the day to drop an
unexpected shock on the boy."
     "Say his name," Apollo felt his patience slipping. "You've been
avoiding it ever since I told you what his name is."
     "I'll say it when I'm good and ready, Captain," Anglin held his
ground. "And that isn't right now." He motioned again to the open hatch.
"After you?"
     The Captain gave him a cold glance before stepping in and climbing
the rungs up to the next deck level. He stepped out and looked back,
waiting for Anglin to catch up. Because of his extra weight and the
discomfort of his recent bone marrow donation, Anglin took more time to
go up. It was enough to make Apollo wonder if the only reason Anglin had
chosen not to use the turbo lift was to make some kind of statement to
him.  But just as quickly, he realized he had to push his negative
feelings aside. If he showed the slightest sign of anger or displeasure
in front of Boxey, it could be just as disastrous as if Anglin had
decided to reveal all. He was going to have to put on nothing but smiles
in front of his son.
     My son, he said to himself over and over again.  He is my son, and
no one else's. Serina and I were married, and she entrusted him to me. 
Biology doesn't matter in this case.
     When Anglin finally reached the next level, the two of them walked
side-by-side until they reached the Life Station. That was when Apollo
made certain he entered first and that Anglin would be behind him.
     "Good morning!" Cassiopeia caught sight of him and smiled. Even when
she spotted Anglin behind Apollo, the blonde doctor refused to change her
expression. "You've got a brave young man who came through the transplant
without batting an eye!"
     "I'm not the least bit surprised." 
     "Med Tech Waheeb will help you both gown up and wash your hands. 
Boxey's immune system is compromised, so we need to make sure he stays
healthy.  I'll join you in a centon."
     "Of course," Apollo replied, following the med tech's instructions. 
They passed into the isolation room and Apollo grinned as he drew up
alongside Boxey's biobed. A catheter was attached to him.
     "Hi Dad," Boxey managed to smile, but Apollo could tell he was
putting some effort into it, feeling the aftereffects of the dual
treatment of antitoxin and radon. "I thought they were going to stab me
with a big needle, but it all went in through my central line."  He
patted a large bore line going into his upper chest.  "All in all, didn't
feel a thing."
          Oh yeah. Just like I didn't the first time I crashed my ship
during training!  He was sure his son was putting up some bravado for his
benefit. It was typical of Boxey to always say the one thing that would
make him sound like the perfect Warrior of the future since he knew
that's what Boxey wanted to be when he grew up.  There were times when
Apollo wondered if Boxey's desire to be a Warrior stemmed from a basic
hero worship of him, and the fact that he wanted to be just like his
father. At some point, when Boxey reached his teens, he'd have to have a
heart-to-heart talk with him about making sure that whatever choice he
made in his life, the important thing was to do what he wanted to do and
not feel an obligation to anyone else. Especially since arrival on Earth
would change things considerably regarding the need for active Warriors.
     For now though, he'd keep encouraging that attitude since it was
clear that's what Boxey wanted to hear from him.
     "Spoken like a true Warrior," Apollo kept grinning.
     "Where's Mom?"
     "Flying patrol today, breaking in a new pilot. But she'll be here
when she gets back. And so will Athena, Boomer, Starbuck and your
grandmother and grandfather. They're all anxious to see you get out of
here fast."
     "Mom promised me cacao mushies!" Boxey exclaimed, with an impish
gleam in his eye.
     "She won't forget," he promised, though inside he made a mental note
that getting that sweeter, more expensive brand was likely going to
require doing a favor for a Rising Star kitchen worker who had access to
them. This kind of back-door deal making for a luxury item wasn't
something Apollo ordinarily liked doing, but for Boxey's sake, he was
more than happy to borrow a page from Starbuck's playbook.
     He felt a tap on the back of his shoulder, and he knew that meant
Anglin wanted to step forward to say something. Apollo knew he had no
choice. But at the very least he was going to make sure he did the
introduction.
     "Say Boxey," he stepped to one side so the little boy could see
Anglin. "I'd like you to meet the man who came forward to be your donor.
This is Anglin. Anglin, this is Boxey."
     "Hi!" Boxey managed to smile and lifted his free left arm part way,
unable to go further.
     Anglin managed to smile and kept himself collected.
"Hello.....Boxey." His voice was calm and pleasant. "I'm....glad I was
able to help you."
     "Thanks.....Anglin," the little boy said with appreciation. "Where
do you come from?"
     "Oh....I have a job elsewhere in the Fleet," Anglin found himself
instinctively lifting and lowering his heels, unable to keep standing
still. "You see......when your parents found out you needed a transplant
and they had to find someone in the Fleet with the right tissue type to
be your donor.....they did a little check in the computer and my name was
at the top of the list. So your Dad came over to see me and when he told
me about you......I knew I had to come right away and help. I'm glad I
did."
     Apollo, who had stepped off to one side, was keeping one eye on
Anglin, the other on Boxey. At this angle, seeing both of them at once,
it was easy to spot the resemblance in the forehead and in the nose. He
found the sight unnerving, but for now he could keep calm since Anglin
was so far saying all the right things.
     "Are we related?" Boxey asked. "Cassiopeia says that to be a donor
it helps to get blood from relatives. Like Jephtha with his brother. 
Genetic stuff."
     Apollo felt his fist clenching, and several metrons away, Cassiopeia
could feel her body tense as she entered the room. She was unable to move
a muscle as she waited to hear what Anglin was going to say.
     "Well.....who knows Boxey, maybe a long way back we are somewhere.
We are both from Caprica, so..." He shrugged, dismissively. "But....a lot
of people who aren't related do have the same tissue type. But now that
you've got some of me flowing inside you, you could say that makes us
related now!"
     "Yeah," he grinned. "Blood brothers!"
     "I'd like that," Anglin's up and down movements on his heels was
getting more pronounced, "You see.....I had a little brother named
Boxey."
     Abruptly, Apollo's eyes widened as did Cassiopeia's. Fortunately,
Boxey didn't notice.
     "And.....when I found out that I'd be helping a little boy who had
the same name as him," Anglin went on, "that only made me more determined
to do what I could to help you. How could I say no?"
     "Where is your brother?" Boxey clearly was fascinated to find out
there was someone else who had his name. More than once, Apollo could
remember hearing Boxey say that he wasn't sure he wanted to keep it once
he came of age and had the option of choosing an "ascension name" which
every young adult male was given.
     "I'm afraid he's.....not in the Fleet," Anglin shook his head
faintly.  "The Destruction, you know. But.....he was a very special boy,
and if you've got the same name he had......I know you've got to be a
very special boy too, Boxey."
     Boxey seemed at a loss for words.  He smiled at him and then said
with perfect sincerity, "Thanks for being my......donor."
     "Hey, it was my pleasure. Look, I ah-," he glanced over at Apollo,
"I think your Dad would like to spend some more time with you, and I've
got to get back to my regular duties. If I'm late, Captain Dimitri will
be very mad, and I'll end up needing a transplant!" Boxey smiled at that.
"Anyway, your folks can't wait for you to get out of here, so I'll be
praying for you to get out of here real soon, and.....you take care of
yourself, will you?"
     "Sure," he lifted his arm part way again, not capable of a full
wave, but the gesture was the same. "See you later, Anglin."
     "Goodbye Boxey," he managed one more smile and then he turned and
left the Isolation Room. Apollo didn't watch him go but the sound of his
footsteps indicated he was leaving as quickly as he could.
     Collecting himself, he drew closer to his son's pod. "Well, Boxey,
looks like you've made a couple new friends here in the Life Station.
First Aurelius and now Anglin."
     "Yeah," he nodded faintly and then shrugged his shoulders. "Guess
I'm lucky."
     "More than that, son," Apollo said as he reached down and touched
his arm. "You're special to a lot of people who love you."
     He said nothing. His mind seemed to be drifting.
     "You okay, Boxey?"
     "Yeah," he said, looking slightly askance.  "He sure seemed kind
of....sad."
     "Oh well....I'm sure he's just overwhelmed by the whole thing.
Especially when he found out you had the same name as his brother. I'll
bet that surprises you, doesn't it?"
     "Yeah," the little boy admitted. "I never would have guessed in a
million yahrens there was someone else named Boxey out there."
     Neither would I. But Lords, that sure explains a lot!  Apollo
thought as he patted his son's arm again. "Well.....maybe that's a sign
you won't have to pick an ascension name after all when you're older. But
you've got plenty of time to think about that because you're going to get
all well and be out of here in a few cycles."
     "With the cacao mushies," he flashed a grin and reminded him.
     "Promise!" he held up his arm in a mock oath gesture.  
     They conversed for several more centons. And then, Apollo
reluctantly said goodbye to him, promising to bring Muffit by to see him
later, which Boxey reacted to with predictable excitement. He left the
Life Station without saying a word to Cassiopeia and stopped when he saw
Anglin, standing against the compartment wall. His head down. When Apollo
came up to him he could see the tears streaming down his face.
     "Your brother?" he asked him gently.
     Anglin forced himself to look at Apollo. "Died when he was five. A
negative reaction to a general anesthetic when he was having a simple
dental procedure. Totally destroyed my parents. They put all their hopes
in him, for the future of our family, after they saw how I was turning
out. I never had a decent relationship with them again after that."
     "My God," Apollo whispered as more pieces of the puzzle fell into
place about Anglin's history, as well as the reason why Serina had chosen
the name Boxey. "Anglin, I----,"
     "She never told you that, did she?" As soon as the words were out of
his mouth, he shook his head in regret. "I'm sorry.  Of course she
wouldn't have. If she didn't tell you my name, what was the point telling
you or anyone else about any other part of my family history?  I'm sure
it was meant to be a silent acknowledgment on her part. I can't blame her
for that. Just like I can't blame her for anything that happened."
     Apollo felt the hostility and hate he'd been carrying inside him
dissipating. It was clear he needed to show some willingness to forgive
Anglin, but he decided to wait and see if Boxey's father would say
anything else.
     "Captain," Anglin said quietly. "I'd like to talk to your father.
There's something I need to say to him."
     "All right," Apollo motioned, "Come with me."


     "Well, this is where I get off," Tarnia said as the shuttle Canaris
hooked up to the Docking Ring of Hospital Ship #1.  
     "And plenty of time to make that first appointment," Croft smiled.
     She leaned over and gratefully took his hand, "Thank you for a
wonderful dinner.....and an even more wonderful night, Croft.  For the
first time in my life......I actually feel like I've done something just
for myself."
     He squeezed her hand with equal gratitude, "And I feel like I've
buried all the ghosts of the past that have been haunting me for the last
few yahrens for good.  As if finally.....the whole slate is clean and I
can begin again."
     The major and the counselor leaned close and kissed each other. 
Letting it linger until the sound of the airlock at the forward end of
the shuttle opening up made Tarnia reluctantly let go of him.  They
allowed themselves one last lingering look.
     "I'll be in touch," Tarnia whispered, "I want to see you again,
Croft."
     "So do I," he promised, "This is only the beginning, Tarnia."
     He watched her walk away down the aisle toward the airlock. 
Remembering the joyous sense of release he'd felt last night when they'd
held each other in their arms and made love.  The release of all the
guilt, all the anguish and all the bitterness that had held him back for
much too long.  Because of Tarnia, he was finally free.
     And somewhere, he was convinced in his heart that Leda was happy for
him.


     When Apollo arrived in Adama's quarters with Anglin, he noticed his
mother was there as well, busily typing away at her workstation.  He was
glad both his parents were present, since he was sure that was going to
make Anglin open up further.
     Little time was spent on preliminaries.  Once Ila took her place
alongside Adama, the commander motioned Anglin to begin.
     "Commander.....I would like to apologize to you, and to your entire
family for the way I acted the other night.  I.....said some things that
were not true about Serina that I'm ashamed to have said.  And.....I made
demands on you that were wholly unreasonable when the only important
thing was doing what I could to help.....Boxey."
     "I know this hasn't been easy for you, Anglin," Adama said, trying
to show sympathy when it was warranted.  "We didn't act perfectly
either."
     "But the greater fault lies with me, sir," Anglin said.  "It all
comes back to a cowardly decision I made the night I ran out on Serina
and decided to evade responsibility for Boxey by forcing her to go it
alone.  I can only thank the Lords that they blessed her with the
strength of character and integrity to survive that ordeal I put her
through, and to give her the friends she needed during that difficult
time when she gave birth to him.  And to also lead her to a new family
that could look after Boxey and raise him after she died."
     He sat down in the chair in front of Adama's desk, lowering his head
and putting his hands on his upper thighs.
     "I.....have never told this aloud to anyone before today.  But....it
has everything to do with why I can't ever look Boxey in the eye and tell
him I'm his father.  I'll write him a letter that he can read when he
comes of age, but......I can't do it in person.  Not now.  Not ever."
     He looked up at Adama and Ila, "Serina named him Boxey after my
little brother.  The most beautiful child anyone ever saw.  The absolute
pride and joy of my parents because they knew I wasn't going to measure
up to the standards they expected for a son of theirs, so they were
placing all their hopes for the future in him.  And when he was just
five......he was gone."
     Apollo studied the reactions of his parents.  His father's eyes
widened in surprise while his mother had a more stunned expression.  He
wished Sheba hadn't gone on patrol today because he was certain this
revelation would have touched her deeply.
     "He died because of an allergic reaction to a general anesthetic
when he was just having a simple dental procedure," he went on, "That's
why I was sounding off all that felgercarb about my being afraid of
having a procedure involving general anesthetic.  I admit I did have a
phobia about it once, but I already knew after I'd gone through it when I
was recovering from the stab wounds that I wasn't susceptible to what
Boxey-my brother was.  I just used that as a crutch to.....make demands
and get them, and.......God help me, I am so sorry."
     The maintenance worker brought his hands together, his voice
cracking but some inner reserve in him was keeping him from breaking
down.
     "I loved him, even though I knew my parents favored him," he went
on, "Frankly, I thought it was a blessing that they had a second son to
invest their greatest hopes in.  You see....I don't think you've learned
who my wealthy parents were.  I'm the eldest son of.....Sire Alquist."
     Ila let out a low but audible exhale when she heard the name.  She
was very familiar with the legendary 'House of Alquist' from her many
yahrens of teaching at the Caprican Fine Arts Institute.  Sire Alquist
and his wife Siress Nerilla were familiar faces at concerts and theater
events and made their share of heavy contributions to the arts.  More
than once, Ila had met Siress Nerilla in the hopes that she could get
Nerilla to persuade her husband to set up an endowment fund for the
Institute.  It was one of the few times Ila had been unsuccessful in
utilizing her powers of persuasion.
     "I.....wasn't showing any potential in my early schooling as a
child, so my parents shifted their attention to little Boxey as the one
they'd groom to take charge of the Alquist estate and fortune.  Like I
said, it didn't bother me, because I felt like the pressure was off for
me to measure up to the strict standards of my parents, and so...I became
little Boxey's protector.  I loved doing things with him, playing games
with him and all kinds of things that frankly our father never would have
had the time of day for.  And.....we had a bond.  A real special bond
because Boxey was so sweet and innocent.  Never a bad boy at all, because
he looked up to me, and.....Lords, that made me feel so good because I
got respect from Boxey as his big brother that I never got from anyone
else in my life."
     He wiped at his eyes and continued, "After he died, everything
changed.  My parents were just shattered when they lost him, because they
couldn't have anymore children.  So that meant.....I was the last hope
for the House of Alquist, even though they had their doubts about me, and
that.....was why they put so much pressure on me and so many expectations
of what I was supposed to do......And that was why dating a girl like
Serina was supposed to be out of the question......"
     Anglin was finding it harder to go on.  But before Adama could ask
him if he needed anything, he managed to continue.
     "Serina knew about my brother and what he meant to me.  She heard me
describe how innocent and sweet he was, and how I was never really the
same after he died.  I don't think any of us have to guess why she
decided to name.....my son after Boxey.  It was her one way of
acknowledging my side of the family because my brother was the only one
in the whole House of Alquist she was familar with who didn't come off
like bilge scum to her."
     Ila calmly broke her silence, "Is it possible the memory of your
brother was another reason why your parents wouldn't help Serina?  That
maybe the idea of having to help care for a small child was something
they couldn't emotionally handle because of what they'd lost?"
     Anglin sighed, "Partly, I suppose.  More so with my mother, but I
don't think my father even remembered Boxey-my brother, by that point. 
The only way he could cope was to act like he'd never existed and just
pin all his hopes on me and bury himself in his work.  And once I let him
down and took off with my trust money......I think he wanted to act like
he'd never had any children from that point on.  I'll never know of
course.  I know they were both killed in the Holocaust because their
names aren't in the Fleet Registry and......" he stopped and looked at
Ila.
     "No," she shook her head, "They're not among the survivors on
Caprica."
     "Just as well," he took a breath and collected himself.  "The bottom
line is----after seeing Boxey yesterday and today......I can't look him
in the eye and tell him any of this.  He's still at an impressionable age
where this kind of stuff wouldn't be good for him.  The right time is
when he comes of age, and that's why I'm going to write a long letter
tonight for him to open when he reaches that age.  I'll tell him about
who he's named for and maybe.....when he learns about him then, he'll
realize he doesn't need to choose a new ascension name because he's
already named for someone special.  Whatever the case, that's the time
for him to learn about who I really am."
     "And in the meantime?" Adama asked gently.  "Do you still want to
get to know him?"
     Anglin's voice cracked as the tears began to stream down his cheeks.
     "I can't," he barely got the words out, "I wish I could, but I
can't.  My resolve would never hold, Commander. And now that I've seen
him....I'm just too ashamed.  I literally wanted him dead.  I wanted his
life snuffed out before he had a chance to enjoy it just because of my
own self-centeredness.  I couldn't overcome that no matter how much I
tried.  Because.....he'd ask me someday why I walked out and I'd have to
look him in the eye and tell him about all those horrible things I said
to his mother that night, and.....I can't face that or face him."
     "I see," Adama leaned back, "In that case.....what do you think you
should do from this point on?"
     There was no response for almost a half centon.  Apollo carefully
made his way to the other side of Adama's desk so that he was now
opposite his mother and in full view of Anglin.  When the maintenance
worker looked up, he could see all three of them looking at him with
sympathetic expressions.
     "Commander," Anglin drew his shoulders up, "I have to ask you this. 
Are you giving any consideration to letting people apply for permission
to stay on this planet, now that it's regenerating itself?"
     His eyes widened slightly when he heard this.  He chose his words
carefully when he spoke.  "What makes you think there might be people
asking for permission?"
     "I have no inside information, Commander," Anglin said, "I only know
what I saw last night on the IFB when Operations Chief Carmichael said
the planet is regenerating itself at an astounding rate and that it could
easily sustain life for a small community.  Has anyone petitioned you
about staying on the planet, and are you giving consideration to the
idea?"
     Adama looked at him pensively.  Apollo and Ila knew that this was
intruding on a subject outside the family matters being discussed.  For a
brief micron, Apollo wondered if he should leave the room, but Ila
motioned her hand indicating he stay.
     Finally, Adama answered him.
     "Off the record, Anglin?"
     "Commander, I give you my word."
     "Very well.  Yes, I have received some petitions to that effect. 
But no, I have not made any final decision since that would require
consultation with the members of the Council.  I don't expect anything to
happen on that for a minimum of one secton because I want Operations
Chief Carmichael to conduct more tests and make certain there isn't
anything harmful that could impede a small community of no more than
say.....two dozen people establishing themselves."
     "Commander," Anglin's voice rose with confidence and determination,
"If you do grant permission for a settlement, then I beg of you.  Let me
be part of it.  It would be in my best interests.....and Boxey's for that
matter."
     "Explain yourself."
     Now, he rose from his chair, "Sir, I am stuck in the most dead-end
job imaginable in the Fleet with no real chance of advancement.  I have
no technical skills that could let me transfer to a more meaningful
assignment and be productive.  The only thing I have any real experience
in is lying, cheating and taking part in criminal theft activities.  I
need a fresh start in a new environment to give my life some meaning, and
I don't think I can wait several more yahrens for us to find Earth
without losing my mind.  Especially now that I know......about Boxey."
     He began to pace back and forth in front of the table, "So long as
I'm in the Fleet, the fact that I know he's there as a reminder of what I
was and what I did, is going to just weigh too heavily on my conscience. 
At some point, I'll be liable to crack from the pressure to want to tell
him the truth about who I am, without thinking about his well-being
first.  But if I remove myself from the Fleet and stay on this planet as
part of a new community......then the temptation to intrude into his life
is gone.  I can let myself be at peace if I just leave him with a letter
explaining everything and asking for his forgiveness that he can read
when he's old enough to handle it.  My life can be clean slate at last
for my sake.....and his.....and for all of you as well."
     Adama came forward in his chair and sighed.  Putting his elbows on
the table, he folded his hands together, his thumbs rubbing against each
other to indicate the difficult situation Anglin had just placed him in. 
Since this was going to require a command level answer, both Apollo and
Ila knew they couldn't say anything.
     "Anglin," he broke his silence.  "I'm not in a position to make any
promises or guarantees.  Not yet.  I have too much information that still
has to be digested, and whatever decision I make regarding the subject of
petitions for settlement cannot be made on the basis of what a single
individual wants."
     "I understand that, Commander," Anglin said.  "I only wanted to make
it clear how I felt, and how much this means to me."
     "And I appreciate your candor, Anglin," Adama said.  "But I must ask
you this.  What are you prepared to do if settlement on the planet is out
of the question?"
     Anglin resumed his seat and then let out a long, sad sigh.
     "Then I keep my word, Commander," he said simply.  "I go back to
what I was doing.....and I stay out of Boxey's life forever.  Hopefully
by the time he reads the letter, we'll already be on Earth and I'll have
found some distant part of that planet to remove myself to where he can
never find me."
     Adama glanced over at his son and then at his wife.  Apollo's
expression betrayed nothing since he felt this wasn't his place to make
suggestions.  Ila though, gave him a faint nod of her head.  One so faint
that only her husband could have seen it.
     "Anglin," the Commander said, "I will let you know when a decision
is reached.  You may remain aboard the Galactica and consider yourself
detached from duty until that decision is reached.  I'll personally clear
that with Captain Dimitri aboard the Livestock Ship."
     "Thank you, sir," he rose.  "I will.....deliver the letter I
promised to you tomorrow for you to place under secure lock until.....the
time is right."
     "Of course," Adama rose from his chair and made his way past Apollo
so that he now stood in front of the desk, just a few feet from Anglin. 
"I know this hasn't been easy for you, Anglin, just as it hasn't been
easy for any of us, and for Boxey as well.  It's been a time of
unpleasant shocks all around.  I know I speak for everyone in my family
that we appreciate your good faith effort to contribute to the healing
process."
     Anglin shot a glance over at Apollo as if he needed confirmation. 
The captain finally broke his silence.
     "My father speaks the truth, Anglin," he said, "I wish you no ill. 
And I know when I explain to my wife what you've said and done, she won't
either."
     "The Lords bless you and keep you, Anglin," Ila added.  "Regardless
of what happens....you can consider us your friends."
     He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.  And then he turned
and left the room.  When he was gone, Apollo shook his head in amazement.
     "It's amazing how he changed his whole attitude overnight."
     "Or miraculous," his mother said.
     "Perhaps it was," Adama said thoughtfully.  "Perhaps it was."


     Striding down the corridor on his way to the duty office, Starbuck
chewed on his fumarello, smugly reminiscing about the sleep cycle with
his wife.  His plan had been masterful, obtaining some of her favorite
victuals through some of his contacts on the Rising Star, luring her back
for some overdue quality time, not to mention, an uninterrupted cycle's
sleep.  She had awakened refreshed, a gleam in her eyes and her boundless
energy back in place where it belonged.  
      It had all been perfect, until she had announced that he needed to
have some tests in the Life Station to rule out any lingering effects of
his run in with Korax in the turbo flush on the Nebula, ending in him
briefly dying all that time ago.  He could tell she was worried, and
truthfully, it probably explained the queasy feeling in the pit of his
stomach.  Lords, if only he'd know Ama back then....
     He turned a corner, abruptly finding himself in the insistent
embrace of the Empyrean Necromancer.  Her hands gripped his face, and he
froze, knowing that if he recoiled that she would grip him by the ears
until he squealed like a porcine.  
     "Ama," he said briefly.
     "Hello, Dear Heart."
     "What's up, Ama?"
     "I've sensed some energy fluctuations that concern me, Starbuck,"
she replied, her wise eyes boring into his.  "One benevolent, the
other.....not so much."
     For a moment, he processed the esoteric information, delivered in
her standard no-nonsense, yet bewildering way.  "Ama, you're just a
celestial busy body.  Always needing to know when there's a new essence
in town."
     "Hmm," she replied, smirking at his turn of phrase. 
     "There's more," he encouraged her.
     "Then you want to know?"
     "Not really, but it's the only way I'll get my ears back," he
replied, as Jolly passed by, giving them a wide berth, shielding his eyes
with his hand so they couldn't make eye contact.  
     "There are greater forces at work, Starbuck, protecting them both,
making it difficult for me to find the source.  For now, they elude me. 
Although I recognize the signatures."  Her eyes averted, she seemed to
withdraw in thought for a moment.
     "You'll find a way, Ama.  You always do."
     "You have great confidence in me."
     "Mostly, you just scare me."
     "Come here, son of my heart," she replied, pulling him down to her
and touching her forehead to his.
     A tingling sensation seemed to ooze from his forehead downward,
until his entire body was enveloped.  It felt warm, nurturing, even
purifying.  He closed his eyes, letting the feeling wash over him until
the tingling began to recede.  Lords, it was far better than ambrosa and
he really needed to figure out how to bottle and sell it.
     "Brat," she said in reply, releasing him. 
     "C'mon, Ama, it would be a great sideline to Empyrean Ale and
Tobacconists."
     "I could open another stall on the Rising Star, selling my wares to
the masses."
     "Now you're talking!"
     "Fare thee well, Starbuck," she replied, turning to go.
     "Ama," he said, gently gripping her shoulder and turning her to face
him.  "Could you . . . could you find it in your heart to watch over
Boxey?"
     With a warm smile, she lightly touched his cheek.  "What makes you
think I haven't been all along?  And I sense that I'm not the only one."
     "Then he's going to be okay?"
     "Have faith, Starbuck."
     "Right," he replied, taking her hand and lightly squeezing it. 
"Hey, what was all that about just now?"
     "Just correcting an oversight, Starbuck.  Remember, sometimes Ama is
the best medicine."  
     "Ama is the Best Medicine.  It's perfect!  We could put that on your
shingle.  On the Rising Star!"
     She laughed aloud, again turning, this time striding away purposely,
her unkempt, white hair streaming behind her.


     It took Anglin fifteen centons to find his way back his VIP guest
quarters.  When he got there, it took him several more centons just to
find a stylus and some paper.  And then, he sat down at the small desk
underneath the porthole and gathered his thoughts, trying to write the
most important letter of his life.  One that he knew had to resonate and
hit all the right notes since this would be his one and only chance.
     To my son, Boxey, he managed to write.  And then, he froze as he
realized just how difficult it was to start and to put things in ways
that could be understood without coming across as pitiful.
     He sat there for five centons not knowing how to proceed, wondering
if the right words would ever come.  He had thought the distance of the
written word would give him the strength he knew would never come in a
face-to-face conversation with his son.  But now.....strength eluded him. 
Just as it had too many times over the yahrens.
     I feel so alone.
     "You're not alone."
     Anglin abruptly whipped his head to his right and saw, standing
before him, ethereally garbed in white, the woman he had betrayed ten
yahrens ago.
     "Serina...." he whispered in shock.
     She walked up to him, coming to a stop just several feet away.  Her
expression one of sad-eyed compassion.
     "You will not remember seeing me when I leave," she whispered, "I'm
here to give your heart some....closure, Anglin.  Because now I know
you've followed my unseen advice and you're ready to do what's right
for......our son."
     "Serina....." he felt the tears forming, "I'm sorry.  So sorry. 
I-,"
     She came alongside him and reached out and did something that was
ordinarily forbidden by the Rules.  She touched him.  Letting him feel
her hand on his shoulder.  Letting him draw strength from her.  
     "I forgive you, Anglin for everything," she said simply.  "And now,
I give you the strength to write what's in your heart about what you want
Boxey to know in ways that he'll be able to understand when he's old
enough.....so that when he reads it, he won't come away with any feelings
of hate for you.  Since you won't be here when he reads it......I want
there to be no doubt in your mind and your heart that you succeeded in
your effort."
     He could feel some kind of energy going through him.  Something
indescribable in terms of how it felt other than it seemed
so.....rejuvenating.
     "You won't find out from Adama for more than a secton about his
decision," she went on, "But he will make the decision you want to hear. 
You will know this in your subconscious and that way.....you will not
live with any anxiety for the next secton until he makes the announcement
and approves your petition."
     She then lifted her hand from his shoulder and took a step back. 
Her expression still one of sad-eyed compassion for someone she could now
let herself have true feeling for once again, and not simply show
forgiveness out of a sense of emotionless obligation.  
     "You meant something to me once, Anglin," She said softly.
"Especially that part of you that told me all about how much you loved
your brother.  When I named our son after him.....it wasn't simply a
tribute to him......but a tribute to the part of you that I once loved. 
And now....may that part of you live again in a new life on this
planet......with a total clean slate."
     "Serina-," he started, but she held up a hand to indicate silence
which stopped him from going any further..
     "Goodbye Anglin.  We'll meet again......someday."
     She faded out from view.  Anglin blinked several times and shook his
head.  His memory now purged of what he had just seen, he slowly turned
his attention back to the paper lying on the table.
     And then.....feeling a sudden burst of inspiration that hadn't been
there just a few centons ago......he began to write.
     To my son, Boxey.  This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my
life.  I hope that in doing this, you will finally be able to know the
truth about me, and why I felt it was necessary to shield it from you
until this day, your coming of age...........
     He wrote with a strength that surprised even himself, barely pausing
for any kind of respite.  Until finally, a half centar and ten pages of
handwritten text later, he was finished.  He slowly set down the stylus,
leaned back in his chair, and for the first time in his life.....he felt
completely at peace.

Epilogue

     Boxey slowly unwrapped the small gift package his stepmother had
just handed to him.  As soon he saw what was in it, his face immediately
lit up.
     "Cacco-flavored mushies with spreckles," Sheba smiled adoringly as
she leaned over the edge of his lifepod chamber, "Nothing but the best
for my brave boy."
     "Thanks, Mom!" Boxey wasted no time taking a bite, his first taste
of the sweet dessert item in a long while, and also his first real
indulgence since the transplant procedure more than a secton ago.
     "And I made certain it was in this sealed container so Muffit
wouldn't sniff it out and give the surprise away," Sheba took a step
back, taking her place alongside her beaming husband who was holding
Boxey's little sister Bethany.  To their right, perched on a stool so his
robot eyes could see him clearly was Muffit.  The daggit let out a series
of beeping sounds that he knew automatically signaled his undying
devotion to his master.
     After he'd consumed half of the confection, he handed it back to
her, "Save me the rest for tomorrow."
     "I will," she then stepped aside so Apollo could hold up Bethany in
front of her brother.
     "Come on, Bethany," Apollo prompted, "Wave to your big brother!"
     The yahren-old child, her face a picture of smiling innocence and
with a full head of brown hair just like her mother's managed to lift her
tiny hand part way.  And then her father raised it the rest of the way
and waved it for her.  She was still not yet at the age where she could
form intelligible words, but Boxey, who adored his little sister, always
could tell when she was showing recognition of him.  She had spent many
centars looking up into his face from her crib and there was no question
she knew exactly who he was.  The happy gurgle that came out of her mouth
as her father waved her hand for her was all Boxey needed to hear.
     "Thanks, Bethany," he managed to wave back.
     "And here's someone else with a present for you," Sheba motioned her
arm which was the cue for Aurelius, now wearing an orange launch crew
coverall to step forward.  It was the first time Boxey had seen him with
his unbandaged face.
     "Hello, Boxey," he grinned, "The mummy face is gone!"
     "Looks great!" Boxey said.
     "Feels great too," he touched his cheek, "I'm sorry I haven't
checked in on you since I got released, but a lot's been happening."
     "That's okay.  I wasn't allowed any visitors for a few days anyway
except Mom and Dad," he eyed the old man's clothes, "You're wearing a
launch crew uniform."
     "That's right Boxey.  Aurelius has been assigned to help with the
launch crews since he has some experience with how vipers operate,"
Apollo smiled, "That means he'll be on the Galactica permanently, and the
two of you will get more chances to talk about triad!"
     "Wow!" Boxey clearly enjoyed hearing this.  He'd been so captivated
by his conversations with Aurelius and had wondered if he'd get a chance
to see him after his release.  
     "And speaking of triad," Aurelius handed Boxey a personal listening
device, "you should find some of the files on this interesting."
     The little boy took it and activated the screen showing the files
that were present on the device.  His eyes widened as he realized what
they were.
     "Some of the greatest triad matches in the history of the Colonies
from their original audio-com broadcasts," Aurelius said.  "I had a chat
with Zed at the IFB.  He started out as a sportscaster and it turned out
their archive has all these old broadcasts on file because they didn't
take up much space on their computers compared to the vid-com broadcasts. 
But take a look at the one at the bottom of the list."
     Boxey scrolled down and he let out an excited burst, "The Barilko
match!"
     "Yep!" Aurelius was still grinning, "I couldn't believe it myself. 
There was no video-com but there was an audio-com that was heard only on
Caprica, and the call of Barilko's winning shot is there.  When you hear
the crowd go wild.....my voice is somewhere in the background shouting
with everyone else."
     "Thanks, Aurelius!" Boxey inserted the right earplug in and then
fumbled slightly with the other one.  
     "Tell us how it comes out, Boxey," Apollo quipped, glad to see his
son excited over these rare treasures of sports history.  "We have to go
now.  But tomorrow, we'll be back to finally sign you out and let you
rest in your own bed."
     "I can hardly wait!"
     "And no complaining about getting caught up on your missed
schoolwork when you do come home, young man," Sheba added, with firm
parental authority.  
     He threw his stepmother an innocent 'who me?' look as he put the
other earplug in.  Sheba smiled and gently touched him on the shoulder. 
After final goodbyes were said, they left him to listen to the historic
triad match commentary from over 90 yahrens ago.


     "Completely negative," Cassie repeated to Starbuck in the medical
office in the Life Station, both surprised and relieved by the results. 
"All your tests are clear from the latent neurotoxin, as if it were never
there in the first place."
     "That's great," he replied, chuckling as she launched herself into
his arms.  
     When she had first told him that the neurotoxin Korax had attacked
him with could be potentially lying dormant, insidiously affecting him,
she could almost palpate his initial fear.  It mirrored her own.  But
later that same day, he had seemingly come to terms with it, almost eager
to get the tests done to rule out any health risks.  It was a "who are
you and what have you done with Starbuck" moment.  
     "You don't seem surprised," Cassie said hesitantly as she studied
his features.
     "We've been through a lot, you and I."  He shrugged.  "This time I
just had a feeling everything was going to be alright, Cass.  I
mean.....sometimes, well .... sometimes you just have to have faith."
     "Oh Lords, here it comes again." She gripped the edges of his flight
jacket tightly.  "Who are you and what have you done with my Starbuck?"
     His eyes twinkled as he leaned down and tenderly kissed her.  "And I
have faith that we have a celebration ahead of us tonight.  Hmm?"
     "Mmm.  What treats do you have for me this time?" she purred.
     "Oh, you just wait, my lovely wife.  You'll see."
     "I have to say, I love this 'lure me home from work Starbuck'."
     "A guy has to do what a guy has to do."  He pulled her close for a
lingering kiss, before turning reluctantly to go.  "Fare thee well, sweet
Cassiopeia."
     She smiled wistfully as she watch him go, glancing at her chrono,
and counting down the centons left in her shift.


     "We can't thank you enough for being a good friend to Boxey,
Aurelius," Sheba said as soon as they were in the corridor.  Apollo
continued to hold Bethany in his arms while Muffit was trailing behind
them.
     "It's been a pleasure," he said with humility, "After I got
discharged, all that talk we had about the old triad matches got me to
make some inquiries about whether your IFB had any historic matches on
file, and that's how I got steered to Zed and his collection in the
archives.  When I found out he had the actual audio recording of the
Barilko match, I was just as excited as Boxey was."
     "It's great you've found something to make you feel more at home,"
Apollo said as he kept holding Bethany, "I know there had to be some
regrets about leaving the Colonies.  Especially now that peace has broken
out and people are able to live freely there again."
     "Captain, I have no regrets whatsoever," he said, "And not just
because staying there would have meant having a scarred face for the rest
of my life.  There's been too much devastation there.  Here, I feel like
there's a greater challenge for the future in a new world on Earth. 
Being part of a ship like the Galactica makes me feel young again."
     "We're glad you've  been permanently assigned here," Sheba said.
     "I have you two to thank for that.  I never expected to get
something this....important."
     "Well, this way you can get some exposure to how the newer line of
vipers function," Apollo said.  "The principal of loading them and
refueling them hasn't changed much."
     "I'm on my way there now.  I imagine I'll be seeing you two the next
time you go on a patrol," they came to a stop in front of the turbolift. 
He stepped in and gave them a final smile and a wave before the doors
closed.  Apollo and Sheba waved back to him and even Muffit managed to
let out a friendly beep too.
     "Just incredible," Sheba said as they resumed walking, with Muffit
still at their heels. "Apollo, I've made my peace with Anglin after what
you told me, but still......I'm grateful for the fact that Aurelius has
pretty much taken Boxey's mind off asking about why Anglin hasn't come
back for any follow-up."
     "He asked yesterday when I saw him and you were still tied up with
your schedule," her husband said as he kept gently rocking Bethany in his
arms, "I told him that Anglin had to get back to his own ship in the
Fleet because his supervisor needed him for an assignment.  Which
technically is the truth, since Anglin's going to have to start making
preparations for......meeting with his fellow pioneers pretty soon."
     "Once Adama makes the announcement," Sheba nodded, "I hope he'll
find peace down there on the planet."
     "I get the feeling he's already on the way to it," Apollo said.
     She looked at him, "The letter he wrote for Boxey?"
     "It's safely secure in my father's safe for the day Boxey comes of
age.  If we reach Earth before that, he'll hand it over to us, and we'll
hold it until then.  I'm sure by then, Boxey will be.....forgiving of
him."
     "Like we have to be," Sheba sighed, "Like we have to be."
     
     
     The historic triad match held Boxey's attention as he listened to
the game he'd read so mcuh about unfold.  But occasionally, there were
lulls in the action that made his mind briefly wander away to other
subjects.  Such as the man named Anglin who had been his donor and had
come by just the one time and who from all indications wasn't going to
come by again.
     He had outwardly accepted his father's explanation for why Anglin
wouldn't be stopping by again.  But there was another reason why Boxey
hadn't pressed about it.  It was because of something he knew that he'd
never told anyone about before.  About a conversation he'd overheard when
he was five that had stayed in his memory all this time, and which he'd
never mentioned because he knew he wasn't supposed to have heard it.  It
had been a yahren before the Destruction when he'd been living in a nice
house on Caprica with his mother.  Serina's fame as the greatest
anchorwoman in the Colonies with her regular newscasts on the BNC had
enabled her to move out of her downtown Caprica City apartment into a
place where she knew Boxey would enjoy the open space of the suburbs. 
Often, Serina was able to have many guests over to the house, but the one
person Boxey remembered most was the kindly middle-aged lady who lived
next door to them named Thalia who often looked after Boxey when his
mother was out on a news assignment, and who had sadly been killed in the
Destruction.  "Auntie Thalia", as Boxey had known her, was the perfect
neighbor and the perfect friend to Serina.  Someone she could confide in
on personal matters.  Like the time Serina was having java with her one
night, and Boxey, unable to sleep, wanted to go down and ask his mother
for some water.  He had just opened his bedroom door when he could hear
the conversation between Serina and Thalia......and he'd heard things
that he realized he wasn't supposed to hear.  Things about a man
named......Anglin.
     For the most part, Boxey had managed to bury the memory of that
conversation, and he'd never said a word to his mother or to any member
of his adopted family about it.  But when he saw the man calling himself
Anglin and learning he was the Donor because of the match......and that
he had a brother named Boxey......the memory had come back.......and
Boxey knew right away what it meant.  And who Anglin was.
     But that would be his own little secret. As far as he was concerned,
he didn't want to upset either of his parents with what he knew,
especially when....it didn't particularly matter to him. He didn't feel
he had to know anything more from Anglin. The fact that he'd cared enough
to be the donor was enough to satisfy Boxey.  If Anglin wanted to come
back, he'd listen to him......but if he didn't, he was sure it was
probably for a good reason.....and for his own good as well.  And that
would be fine with him, because Boxey knew he didn't have room in his
heart for another parent in his life. Only for Apollo, who had been the
only father he'd ever known.  And for Sheba, who he now regarded as his
mother as much as he had Serina.
     His mind shifted back to the historic match as the commentary
resumed and the game entered its dramatic final centon.  
     ".......and Barilko is backed in the corner as the chronometer is
winding down with less than twelve microns to go.  It looks we are going
to have to go to sudden death because his teammate Lewicki is
covered......no wait, he takes a jump from the wall, and he
shoots.......HE SCORES!  HE SCORES!  HE SCORES!  HE SCORES!  Barilko goes
flying through the air and gets off a lateral shot that got in somehow
just as the buzzer sounded!  And the match is over, and the Caprica City
Falcons have won the Championship match! This crowd has gone absolutely
crazy because they can't believe what they just saw......and Good Lords
of Kobol, neither can I!  That's the greatest move in the history of
organized triad, bar none!"
     As Boxey lost himself in the excitement of the past, he had no way
of knowing that the ethereal form of his mother had emerged just in front
of his lifepod.  But unseen though, since she knew there was no need to
intrude on him with a direct visit, like she had done once before when
she needed to set Boxey at ease about Apollo marrying Sheba and letting
Sheba come into his life as his new mother.  This time, she knew her son
was completely content with himself.
     "The Lords walk with you always, my precious baby," Serina whispered
tenderly. "When you read that letter from your birth father
someday......learn to forgive him.  As I have."
     She blew him a kiss and then she faded away. Her assignment
complete.
     The other thing she knew about.....about Marcus and Helena.......she
could only leave in the hands of those she served.

Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny, the last Battlestar Galactica leads a
rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest.  A shining  planet.....known as
Earth.