Battlestar Galactica: Secrets and Surprises
Virtual Season 3, Episode 15
By Matt Wiser
December 26, 2012

From the Adama Journals: 
     It has been a full secton, since our encounter with the
frighteningly powerful Otailigim vessel. While our damage throughout the
Fleet was minimal, and our losses amounted to only one man, I am left
with a growing feeling of uneasiness now that our journey takes us
further and further into this unknown sector of space. This, I admit is
not a new sensation, since, after all, charted space ended for us long
ago when we left Gamoray in our wake. Sometimes, I try to let myself
think of the challenge and the exhilaration of what new planets along
this pathway to Earth will take us, but at other times, the opposite
feeling of unease can prevail as it does now. Such mixed emotions,
though, are in keeping with the fact that since our journey took us into
what we once called "The Great Unknown", the results have been decidedly
mixed. On the positive side, we have encountered new friends who have
joined our journey and we have encountered new races and civilizations
like the Ziklagi and the Zykonians, who, while superficially strange, are
still somewhat congruous. And we have seen a Human race in the Terrans,
who, since our departure, have hopefully learned how to live in peace
with each other. 
     Yet the journey has also given us our share of situations that can
only be classified as bizarre, dangerous, and evil, with the persona of
Count Iblis at the center of the greatest evil we have encountered at any
time in this journey. But Iblis, of course, represents the kind of menace
that could only manifest itself here in this Great Unknown where we have
no sense of feeling safe and secure until Earth is found. He used that to
prey on us once before with nearly disastrous results, and since then, he
has set his sights twice on people so close to me in Apollo and Sheba.
They have seemingly come through the last ordeal at his hands, but with
many scars that are not yet completely healed, and I find myself in the
frustrating position of realizing that I must not make any overt
proactive gestures to help those remaining scars disappear since it's
clear that they deal with matters of the highest personal intimacy, which
apparently had the desired effect, at least partially. It's clear to me
that Apollo and Sheba need to work that out for themselves to find true
closure to that horrific experience. I only pray that will come sooner
than later. For now though, it's not affecting their ability to perform
their duties with their usual peak efficiency, and Boxey seems largely
unaffected, so that's about the most I can be grateful for, at present. 
     Perhaps it also lightens my dark mooed now to at least remember that
our most recent experience in this Great Unknown ended with the rescue of
a Human civilization from total oblivion. A race whose world was lain low
by the insectoid Otaligim, in their seemingly never-ending search for
materials and sustenance to maintain and expand their hive ships. Feeling
deep in my soul that it was the right thing to do, I permitted assistance
to the surviving Humans, the Gellians, to not only begin again, but the
gift of technology that will advance them by centi-yahrens, from their
original Fifth Millennium level. And it was there, on their world, that
Lieutenant Jacobi, our only casualty, was laid to rest by the kind
permission of the survivors, after giving his life in the defense of his
fellow Humans. May the Lords of Kobol bless his soul unto eternity. 
     But the aftermath has left me with another difficult decision.
During the final struggle with the Otaligim Queen, Nizaka, our resident
Ziklagi, was seen in her natural form by Captain Byrne. Of this she is
certain, just as she was aboard the RB-33 Station. I find myself torn
between the need to keep Nizaka's true nature secret, for her own
protection, and Byrne's understandable desire to solve what to him is a
considerable mystery. From what I have learned of him, he is more
perspicacious than the usual "Viper jock" stereotype, and will not give
up, until he solves the mystery. Already, word of discrete questions on
his part, into Nizaka's background, have come to my attention, and I feel
that, in order to defuse what might become a serious problem, he needs to
be read into the truth. I shall be discussing it with Nizaka herself
shortly, and shall defer to her decision. I think, however, being a
logical being, that she will see the need. I pray to the Lords that Byrne
does not prove to be...difficult, over this matter. 
     On a less somber note, Starbuck's assignment as liaison, aboard
Baltar's baseship, continues with no reports of any difficulty or
friction between himself and Baltar's crew. Or with our unlooked for
ally, himself. Nor is there any report of difficulty with Baltar's wife,
Ayesha, who if the Fates had been kinder, might have been his stepmother.
Hopefully, this state of affairs will continue. The time for holding any
kind of bitterness over past matters is long over for all of us. These
Cylons must be accepted as our allies until they prove otherwise to us by
their own actions, and their must not remain one trace of prejudice
within our ranks. 

Chapter 1

     Captain Kevin Byrne took the message from Galactica just after lunch
in his cabin aboard his ship, Constellation. Commander Adama, it seemed,
wanted to see him as soon as possible. Adama's message hinted that Bryne
was going to be read into a classified matter, one that even Commander
Cedric Allen, his fellow Earth officer, wasn't privy to, at least for the
moment. It so happened that he was planning to go over to Galactica
anyway: a few weeks-or sectons-earlier, he had brought several of the
weapons that had been in the arms locker on the Saint Brendan to
Galactica's machinists for examination, at Dr. Wilker's request, and
several of them had been reverse-engineered aboard the battlestar. Though
primitive by Colonial Standards, having a pistol like a SiG-Sauer 226 to
back up one's laser if necessary, or having a long gun like an FN SCAR-H
Mark-17 as a hunting rifle or as a designated marksman weapon had
impressed Galactica's Special Forces Commander, Major Croft. So, he'd
head on over to Galactica, and bring Staff Sergeant Lauren Wagner, his
Master-at-arms and a fellow refugee from Earth. Having been both a Deputy
Sheriff and a Combat Security Police specialist in the Montana Air
National Guard, prior to her abduction by a group of now dead aliens, and
since rescued by the Colonials, her opinion on which firearms might be
useful in certain situations would be invaluable. And in a way, she was
proving it already: instead of a  Colonial laser pistol, she carried one
of the pistols Byrne had with him: a Heckler-and-Koch Mark 23 that the
SEALs had adopted, and that big .45 slug would stop anything short of a
Cylon. So, Byrne made up his mind, and he reached for the com unit on his
desk. "Bridge,"
     "Bridge here," the voice came back. He recognized it at once: it was
the duty communications officer.   
     "Miss Alyssa, this is Captain Byrne." he said. 
     "Yes, Captain?" 
     "Have Sergeant Wagner report to my cabin. And have the Shuttle
Armstrong prepped for launch." 
     "Right away, Sir." 


     A few centons later, there was a chime at the cabin door. "Come in,"

     Staff Sergeant Wagner came into the cabin, as usual in her Air Force
undress blues. "You wanted to see me, Sir?" 
     "Yes, Sergeant. We're both headed over to Galactica. I've got a
meeting with Commander Adama, and I need you to take care of something
for me while I'm with the Commander." Byrne said. 
     "Yes, Sir." Wagner noted. "And that thing is?" 
     "They've reverse-engineered some of the weapons I had with me on the
Saint Brendan. Their machinists have copied the MP-5N, the SiG-Sauer 226,
the H&K Mark 23, FN SCAR Mark 17, and the HK-416. I'd like you to try
them out and demonstrate them to Croft's people. Seems he's thinking
about having some of them to back up their lasers-in case they run out of
charge and can't recharge them-like in  a survival situation, for
example. And the SCAR could double as a hunting rifle: it did for us on
that planet Jena and I were on," Byrne said. 
     "I understand, Captain. But I'm not qualified on any of those other
than the Mark 23," Wagner admitted. 
     "True. But the SCAR and the -416 handle just like the M-16 or M-4.
You'll be fine, and you've gone over the manuals. There's one other
thing." Byrne told her. 
     "And that is?" 
     "They're also making some sound suppressors. That raid on those
religious zealots a while back might have convinced Croft to consider
adopting some of our weapons-and that's for a very good reason: you can't
silence a laser shot." Byrne said. "From what Wilker told me, they've
been trying to figure that out for centuries, and every time somebody
thinks they've figured it out, it fails. The main obstacle is that when
they try to silence a laser, it loses so much power, instead of a kill
shot, all you get is a nice sunburn-if that.
     Wagner nodded. "There is that, Sir. A suppressed weapon would've
made things there easier." 
     "True that. Before we go, I'd like to know: how are you and Jena
getting along as cabin mates?" Byrne asked. Due to the shortage of space,
everyone but the Captain had to share quarters, and Byrne's daughter was
no exception. Having Wagner move in with his daughter helped the both of
them, the Captain felt. Jena now had a strong female role model with her,
and for Wagner, Jena, as a native English speaker, could-and did-help her
adjust to her new surroundings. 
     "We're fine, Sir. Though Jena, at times, does act like the typical
teenager. You know, a pile for everything and everything in its pile." 
     Byrne laughed. "I think we were all like that, once. I was, but the
first week at Annapolis cured me of that. You?"
     "You should've seen my room, back in Great Falls. Boot down at
Lackland AFB set that straight." 
     Bryne nodded. "There's something else, if it's not too much. You can
teach her some self-defense moves. Not that I think she'll need those
right away, but....." 
     "Sir, do you think she has a secret admirer?" Wagner asked. "Other
than Sire Pelias?" She added with a smile. 
     "No. But I'd rather she know some unarmed combat, just in case."
Byrne said, thinking less as a captain and more as a father.
     "Yes, sir. We'll begin tomorrow." Wagner said, fully understanding
her CO's concern. 
     "Good. Now, let's get to the docking bay, and to Armstrong. We've
got business on Galactica." He said as he keyed the telecom. "Bridge,
this is Captain Byrne." 
     "Alyssa here, Captain." 
     "Is Armstrong ready?" Byrne asked. 
     "Yes, sir, and ready to leave whenever you are." 
     "Good. Where's Mr. Dante?" 
     "In CIC, Captain." Alyssa responded. 
     "Have him meet me in the docking bay." Bryne ordered. 
     "Yes, sir." 
     Byrne stood up and nodded to his Master-at-Arms. "Let's get going." 
     A few centons later, the two were in Constellation's docking bay,
next to the shuttle Armstrong, so named after the Apollo 11 commander.
Dante, the Exec, came in, a bit disheveled, his uniform having spots of
grease, oil, dirt, and just plain messy. "Captain, sorry for my
appearance, but things are still...touchy in CIC." 
     "To be expected, Mr. Dante." Byrne said. "It can take a while until
everything's shipshape-on Earth, it can be up to a yahren before all the
defects are worked out on a warship, whether a surface ship or a
submarine. 
     "Just like us, Sir. Only this time, we have to do it on the go,
since we can't put into a spacedock." 
     "Exactly, Mr. Dante. Anyway, I've been asked to meet with Commander
Adama, so you have the con until I return. And Sergeant Wagner also has
business aboard Galactica. Keep everything going until we get back." 
     "Of course, Captain," Dante said. 
     The shuttle pilot came out of the Flight Operations office and
walked over to Armstrong, giving a crisp salute. "Captain, Ensign Adele
reporting." 
     Byrne nodded and returned her salute. Though he still had.....issues
with women aboard combat ships, dating back to his second carrier cruise,
and personally felt it wasn't a good idea, he had to work with female
aviators and crew on several carriers, until he left for NASA. The
Colonials had been doing it for far longer, out of brutal necessity, and
he had accepted that.  Still, he had misgivings, but kept those to
himself. It was their society, not his, after all. He did smile at her
name, though: she had the same name as the singer back in the 2010s.
"Ensign. So you're our shuttle driver?" 
     "Yes, sir," the cropped-hair blonde said, eager to please the
Captain. 
     "All right, let's get going." And the two followed the pilot into
the shuttle. Ensign Adele fired up the engines, received clearance for
departure, and expertly piloted the shuttle out of Constellation's
docking bay. 

Chapter 2

     Commander Adama sat behind the desk in his office, going over the
after-action report on the incident with the Otalagim, and the reason for
bringing Byrne in on what he felt was the most classified subject in the
Fleet: the true identity of "Sarah." Their Ziklagi exile had revealed her
true identity on the alien ship, and Byrne, she felt, knew her secret, in
her private report to Adama. One thing that he knew firsthand throughout
his career, both in the military and on the Council, was that if more
than two people knew something, it was not a secret any longer. Though
the Colonial Military Intelligence Directorate and the Colonial Security
Command had been very good at keeping classified information out of reach
of prying eyes, having Baltar and his aides (all of whom had the
necessary security clearances) have access to much of the Colonies' most
sensitive information ultimately rendered such precautions irrelevant. 
     As he finished the report, there was a chime at his door. "Enter." 
     The door opened and Sarah, aka Nizaka, their Ziklagi exile, came in
to Adama's office, in her human form. "Commander," 
     "Sarah. Please have a seat." As she did so, Adama asked, "Are you
ready to let Captain Byrne in on this secret?" 
     "If you are, Commander. I do believe he does know my true form, and,
as they say, he was able to put two and two together." Sarah replied.
Though personally, she thought it wasn't a good idea, but if the
Commander felt it was necessary, so be it. 
     Adama thought for a moment. "And how do you think he'll respond?" 
     "Commander, to be honest, I have no idea. His people have had
no....official off-world contact-at least, as far as he knows. However, I
do believe I can 'bring him over'." She replied. 
     "How?" 
     "I did help save his daughter's life on RB-33, and his as well."
Sarah said. "And Jena does mean everything to him." 
     "Yes. Eliminating several of Krylon's henchmen did even the odds in
the final confrontation," Adama noted, recalling the classified version
of events that Sire Pelias had reported to him. "And you did get Jena out
of the line of fire, so to speak." 
     "Yes, Commander. Though I am concerned about his reaction when he
sees me in my natural state." Sarah replied. "Most races, when they see
my people in our natural state, are repulsed, to put it politely."
     Adama paused again. "That may not be a problem. It is possible that
Captain Byrne, when his crew was with the Zykonians, may have encountered
your kind. The Ziklagi Intelligence Service did know about the two Earth
ships, after all," Adama said, passing over the Ziklagi document that
he'd unofficially received. "And wasn't there one of  your kind in
Krylon's employ?" 
     Sarah perused the document, shaking her head. When she was finished,
she returned it to the Commander, then she nodded. "That is true,
Commander. We shall know soon enough.  
     Adama looked at her. "Agreed." Then the telecom chimed. "Yes?" 
     It was Omega from the Bridge. The shuttle from Constellation was
approaching Galactica. 
     "Very well, Omega. Ask Captain Byrne to come to my quarters. And
have Colonel Tigh come as well." 
     "Right away, Commander." 
     Adama looked at Sarah. "So it begins." 

Chapter 3

     Ensign Adele expertly flew the Armstrong into the landing pattern
for Galactica. As she did so, both Byrne and Wagner looked out at the
battlestar. Byrne looked at the huge warship, whose landing bays alone
dwarfed even the largest carriers, or a supertanker, let alone the ISS,
and looked at Sergeant Wagner, who was still getting used to her
surroundings. "No matter how many times you see her, she's still an
impressive ship." 
     "You got that right, uh, Yes, sir," replied the Sergeant. "It's
still like something out of a movie, and that's going to take some
getting used to." 
     Byrne nodded. "I know the feeling. It's taken me a while to get used
to it, myself. Not to mention Jena." 
     Adele spoke into her headset, and then turned to Captain Byrne.
"Captain, Sergeant, we've been cleared to land. Time to get strapped in."

     Both found their seats and fastened their safety belts. Just like an
airliner, they felt, minus the free drinks. And then the shuttle came
into the bay and Adele expertly flew her in for a landing. After taxiing
to her assigned berth, and shutting down, Byrne got up and said, "Nice
flying, Ensign." 
     "Thank you, Sir." Adele replied. She was hoping to graduate from
shuttles to Vipers, having failed the written exam for Viper training by
just two points, but was glad at the moment to just be flying, period. It
put her that close to the action. And she planned on retaking the exam at
the earliest opportunity.  "How long do you expect to be aboard?" 
     "No idea, Ensign. Find the Officer's Club, I imagine. Tell Freeman
anything you order is on my tab, and I'll have you paged when we're
done." Byrne said. 
     "Yes, sir." 
     The hatch opened, and both Byrne and Wagner got out of the shuttle.
Lieutenant Castor was waiting. "Captain, Sergeant," 
     "Castor. Good to see you again," Byrne said. "I see you do remember
Sergeant Wagner." 
     The burly Lieutenant smiled. "Yes, Sir. Not every day you catch a
naked woman falling out of a stasis tube," Castor said, remembering how
he'd caught her as she was released from the alien stasis tube she'd been
stashed away in aboard the now-scrapped derelict.
     "And I thank you for that," Wagner replied. "You ready for the
weapons demonstration?" 
     "That's why I'm here. Major Croft sent me to escort you to the
training area. We've got the range set up, and the weapons are all
prepared and ready for you." Castor said. 
     "Good," Byrne said. "Castor, you might want to remember that today,
she's the teacher, and you guys are the students." 
     "Of course, Captain," Castor said. "I also have a message from
Commander Adama. You're to report to his quarters." 
     Byrne nodded. "All right, I'm on my way." 
     As Byrne headed off, Castor and Wagner went to the
special-operations training area. It didn't take long for the two to
start talking shop. And Castor was surprised that Wagner was packing one
of Byrne's pistols, instead of a Colonial laser pistol, which he'd taught
Wagner to use, and she had qualified on in near-record time. 
     "It's simple, Lieutenant.." Wagner began. 
     "Please, call me Castor. We're not as rank-conscious as you guys
are." he replied. Just another difference between the Colonial military
and the U.S. military that she was adapting to. 
     "All right, Castor," Wagner continued. "This Mark-23 pistol can stop
anything short of a Cylon, and even then, if I aim it right, would still
do some damage to a Centurion. I'm more comfortable with it, and there's
one other thing. Promise me you won't spread it until I say so." 
     Castor looked at her. "What is it?" 
     She turned to him. "Simple. One of my weapons instructors, many
years-or yahrens-ago, told me this: 'If a weapon can still kill you, it's
not obsolete.' That's why." 
     Castor thought for a moment, seeing her raise her eyebrow. Then he
laughed. "You know what? One of my old instructors said the exact same
thing, back in my training days." 
     Wagner grinned. "You know what? I think we're going to get along
just fine. And you do remind me of someone back home. He's probably
collecting his old-age pension right now, but we were close. Then the
aliens grabbed me and put me on ice." She paused, remembering her
boyfriend back in Great Falls. Hopefully, when they got to Earth-whenever
that was-she could find out what happened to him, and if he was still
alive,  maybe get in touch and remember the time they had-before the ETs
came and changed her life forever. 
     The two then came into the training area, and she found the weapons
neatly laid out on a table. She went over and selected the SiG-Sauer copy
first of all. "How long until the demonstration?" Wagner asked as she
inspected the weapon. 
     "A couple of centars," Castor said. "Captain Byrne said that you'd
probably need some practice time before we got started. So the range is
all yours." 
     Sergeant Wagner nodded. She took a loaded magazine and put it in the
weapon, and it slid home smoothly. Clearly, the machinists' work had been
top-notch. "That's good. Get some ear protection, and some for me, too.
This'll be loud." 
     Castor went and got some earplugs. After they both put them on, she
cocked the weapon, and she began shooting the SiG-Sauer and sending 9-mm
rounds downrange. 

Chapter 4

     Captain Byrne had been aboard Galactica enough times that he could
easily find his way around the warship without an escort, and he was soon
at Commander Adama's quarters. This time, though, he wondered what the
fuss was about. Having been read into classified programs before, both in
the Navy and at NASA, the same feeling came over him each time: What is
it that's so secret? He pushed the button for the chime, and heard
Adama's voice. "Enter, Captain." 
     Byrne came into Adama's office and to his surprise, found Colonel
Tigh there as well. And Sarah. What was she doing here? That thought
entered his mind as he came into Adama's presence. "Commander." 
     "Captain Byrne, please be seated. Something to drink, perhaps,
before we get down to the business at hand?" Adama asked. 
     "No thank you, Commander. It's still a little early for me," Byrne
said. "I take it this classified subject concerns Sarah?"
     "It does. Your perception does you credit, Captain. Are you sure you
weren't some kind of intelligence officer, back on Earth?" Adama asked.
     Byrne looked at Adama. "No, Commander. I was urged to become one by
a friend of mine, who roomed with me at our Naval Academy. He wound up
becoming the Atlantic Fleet Intelligence Officer, though. He did feel
that I had the talent for being an intelligence officer, and tried to get
me to at least go through the Navy/Marine Corps Intelligence School. I
declined, though. The cockpit is where I belonged, I told him. And apart
from my brief time at JAG, I've stayed right there." 
     "I see," Adama noted. "Well, then. This concerns Sarah. You saw her
on the Otaglim ship-" 
     "Well, of cour....Let me guess: she's some kind of deep-cover
intelligence operative?" Byrne asked. 
     "In a manner of speaking, Captain," Sarah said, speaking for the
first time. "Commander?" 
     "By all means, Sarah." Adama said. 
     Sarah stood up and went to the center of Commander Adama's office.
First, she took a deep breath. Then, as Adama, Byrne, and Tigh watched,
she slowly began to transform from an attractive woman into a creature
that, to Byrne's eyes, resembled a hairless bear, with a cyclops eye, and
three arms, with three long, slender fingers. As she did so, Byrne's jaw
dropped. 
     "Son of a Bitch! Mother of....." Byrne said, recoiling at the sight
of the being before him. This couldn't be real, his mind was telling him,
but there it was. After a few centons, she transformed back into her
human form. When she was back as the person she knew, she politely nodded
to Byrne. 
     "Captain." 
     "What the..." Byrne said, trying to put words to his thoughts. "That
can't be possible."
     "It is. Now, Captain," Adama asked. "Do you want that drink?" 
     "I think so, Commander, and more than one." Byrne said, sitting back
down. "What's her story?" He asked the Commander.
     "Perhaps Sarah-or Nizaka, which is her real name, can best explain
things. Far, far better than either I could-or Colonel Tigh." Adama said,
pouring Byrne a drink, and watching as Byrne downed the shot in one gulp.

     And so she did, telling her story of enslavement from birth, at the
hands of her own people, the Ziklagi, and her treatment at the hands of
her owner, General Xekash. And the Ziklagi underground, of which she had
become a part of. Then the story of the battle between the Colonials and
the Ziklagi,  Galactica's bare survival after that battle-which she had
played no small part in, and their temporary haven with the Zykonians at
Brylon V, then Adama's trip to Ziklag, in her present form. 
     "And that's it, Captain." Sarah said. 
     "So you can't go back?" Byrne asked.
     "That is correct. Though deep down, I do wish to return to my home
as a free being one day. However, with each passing day, that is becoming
less and less likely. At any rate, I have a debt that has not yet been
repaid. And I do believe you have a favor or two owed me, Captain. RB-33,
if you will recall." She reminded Byrne. 
     "RB-33? What do you mean..." Then it dawned on him. "Jena." It was
not a question. 
     "Correct." she said. "And taking care of several of Krylon's
henchmen. You will recall that one or two of them were crushed by falling
crates? Not to mention several others who also met with unpleasant, but
richly deserved,  ends." Sarah told Byrne. 
     "That was you, then?" Byrne asked, recalling the fight in Krylon's
hideout and what he'd seen on the Otaglim ship. 
     "Yes." 
     Byrne took a deep breath. "Well, then." He turned to Adama. "Not to
worry, Commander. Her secret's safe with me. I promise you, this
information will not leave this room." 
     Adama nodded. "You took the words out of my mouth, Captain. I'm
afraid that you cannot tell either Commander Allen, or Jena, about this.
Not without prior approval from me." 
     "Commander, I've been read into a number of classified programs,
both in the Navy, and at NASA. Except for what I've told you about my
mission, and what we've learned about those visiting Earth-which is
everything they told me, I haven't told a soul about those. I know the
drill." Byrne said. 
     "That's good, Captain. Perhaps, when the time is right, they can be
told, one day." Adama said. 
     "What kind of cover story do I tell either one of them?" Byrne
asked. "Jena does owe Sarah, or Nizaka-her life, you know. And she does
have a right to know, you do realize?"  
     Tigh spoke up for the first time. "Perhaps this, Commander? Sarah is
a trained intelligence officer, and posing as an Academician is her cover
identity. Not quite the truth, but enough for now." 
     Sarah nodded. "You could say that's been my cover all along. That
would do for now, Commander." 
     "That is how we'll have it." Adama decided. He looked at Byrne.
"That's what you can tell both your daughter as well as Commander Allen."

     Byrne nodded, then stood and put out his hand to Sarah. "We have a
saying on Earth: it's called 'burying the hatchet.' It means that old
disagreements, bad feelings, and whatnot, are buried in the past. And
it's time to look forward and start fresh, never looking back." 
     "An apt phrase, Captain," Sarah said, putting out her hand and
shaking Byrne's. 
     "There's one other thing, Commander. I mentioned it in my
after-action report." Bryne said. 
     "And that is?" Adama wondered. 
     Byrne looked at Sarah, or Nizaka. "It's about Jacobi. She told me to
leave him behind, as he was done for. And she was right: he was nearly
dead at that point. But, in my country's military, we have a saying:
'Leave no man or woman behind.' It's a long story, but we've had some sad
experiences involving prisoners of war and those missing in action, and
it's sort of an unofficial motto. I recall an incident in a more recent
war, before I left the Navy for NASA. It involved a young female soldier
who was captured in an ambush, and spent a number of days as a prisoner
of war. An operation was mounted to rescue her, which was successful, but
not only was she rescued, but the bodies of several of her fellow
soldiers were also recovered. And she returned home a national hero, to
widespread publicity. My people feel that those who go into harm's way
are not expendable, and we will do whatever it takes to bring our
servicemen and women home-alive or dead."
     "Understandable, Captain," Adama said. 
     Sarah nodded. Now she understood why Byrne had done what he did.
"That is another way of looking at it. Not only were you living up to
that saying, but Jacobi was on your ship, correct?" 
     "He was. I sent him out, and I felt that I had a moral obligation to
bring him back if I could." Byrne said. 
     "A very commendable, and honorable, act," she replied. "My apologies
for misunderstanding your actions. All I can say, is that where I came
from, life is very cheap. I am learning a whole new way of looking at
these things."
     Byrne nodded, putting his hand out again, and she shook it.
     "Now, I believe we can seal this." Adama said. He picked up four
glasses, and poured into each. "A toast, if I may." 
     The four took their glasses. "Commander?" Byrne said. 
     "To a fresh beginning," Adama said.
     Clink. 
     After they drank, Byrne spoke. "Thank you, Commander. Now, if you'd
like, I've got something for you to see at Croft's training area." 
     "What do you mean?" Tigh asked. 
     "Simple. Major Croft has been looking at some of the weapons that I
had on the Saint Brendan," Byrne said. "He's thinking very seriously
about adopting some for his troopers' use." 
     "Primitive slugthrowers?" Sarah asked. "Isn't that a bit unusual?" 
     "Not necessarily," Byrne said. "What if you lose your laser, or it's
damaged in some way? Unless your enemy is a Cylon or some other
mechanical enemy, a bullet is still a bullet, and a properly placed one
can still kill you. Just ask Krylon."
     "Jena," Sarah said, nodding. "She killed him with one of your
weapons, correct?" 
     "That's right. And he died knowing that a 'primitive' weapon
actually did the deed." Byrne replied, glad to recall not only who had
killed Krylon, but how the SOB had died. His only regret was that he
hadn't had a chance to put a bullet into the piece of scum himself.  
     Adama nodded. He looked at Tigh. "This is something I should see.
What do you think, Colonel?" 
     Tigh looked at his CO. "It sounds like a history lesson from the
Academy, Commander. But if Major Croft is serious....I'd like to see this
for myself." 
     Byrne grinned. "I thought you would. Just remember, that today,
Sergeant Wagner is the teacher, and your people are the students." 
     "We'll keep that in mind, Captain," Adama promised. 

Chapter 5

     Sergeant Wagner went over the weapons again. After test-firing each,
she decided that on Constellation, she'd want all of them available.
Though her preference was for the H&K Mark 23, she would maintain
proficiency with the SiG-Sauer as well. After all, one never knew when
using it might be necessary, and it was more concealable, should that
need arise. The long guns would do as survival weapons, or as backups to
lasers, as would the MP-5. And she felt that if the need arose for
suppressed weapons, any one of the pistols, or the MP-5, would do. She
looked at Castor. "Well, you've had a chance to fire them all. What would
you recommend to Croft? It's not just my opinion, you know." 
     Castor looked around. It felt like the time when several of the
Academy's Historical Firearms Collection had been test-fired at an
Armament Day demonstration. "I'd take the submachine gun with the sound
suppressor. That would've been good to have, raiding that ship with the
Otori renegades." 
     "I'll go along with that," Wagner said. "And one thing to keep in
mind: your scanners can't detect them." 
     "What?" Castor said, his attention drawn from the pistol. 
     Sergeant Wagner smiled. "Your scanners can pick up any laser or
other directed energy weapon," she replied as she snapped back the bolt
for effect. "But something this...antiquated, well, the sensors don't see
them as a weapon." 
     "How'd you find out?" 
     "Captain Byrne gave me a demonstration. They just pass right
through. In that dust-up on the Gemini a while back, the bad guys would
have never seen them." 
     Castor looked at her, then nodded. "I guess we never thought of
that." 
     "The benefits of being...primitive," she said. Then Wagner smiled,
then she gripped the clip of one pistol."Either one of the pistols would
also do for that kind of operation. If you're in a really close-quarters
fight, they'll do the job." 
     Castor looked at her. "You were in a security, or 'law enforcement'
capacity, right?" 
     "That's right." 
     "So how do you know about commando-style tactics?" Castor wanted to
know. Clearly, she knew a lot more than she was letting on. 
     "It's kind of hard to explain, Castor." Wagner replied. "Back when I
was in the Air Force-and later on, in the Air National Guard, my
country's main enemy had a special forces unit called Spetsnatz. Very
elite, and not to mention, very deadly. Some of the meanest, toughest,
and most ruthless fighters you can imagine. One of their key missions was
to attack targets behind the lines: things like airfields, communications
centers, command posts, nuclear-weapons storage sites, missile units,
things like that. We had to 'know our enemy', so to speak." 
     Castor thought for a moment. "So you were briefed on how these guys
would come after you, if your two countries had gone to war, so that your
people would know how to fight them off?" 
     "Correct. And not just Spetsnatz: when I was in the Gulf War, we
were prepared for the Iraqis' commando units, as well as terrorists. Same
thing applied there. Fortunately, nothing happened like that, but there
were missile attacks on the base I was at, and that was exciting, though
putting on the chemical-warfare gear each time the siren sounded was no
fun." Wagner said, recalling the Scud missile attacks she'd gone through
during the Gulf War, and the fear that some of the Scuds might have
chemical warheads.
     "Well," Castor said, coming back to the subject at hand. "Which long
gun would you suggest?" 
     "Either one. The HK-416 is a pretty decent assault rifle, and
Captain Byrne told me that several SF units on Earth have adopted it. You
can cover it in mud, bury it in sand, bring it through water, and it'll
still fire and not blow up in your hands. The SCAR Mark-17....I'd suggest
using it as either a designated marksman weapon, or as a hunting rifle in
a survival situation. Remember that Captain Byrne and his daughter used
it as a hunting weapon while they were marooned." Wagner pointed out. "As
a marksman's weapon, fitted with a scope, it'll reach out and touch
you-and you'll die never hearing the shot that killed you." 
     "Happy thought," Castor replied. "I'll recommend that we have
several of each-rifles as well as the pistols and the MP-5, so that we
can have them all available to us, if necessary." 
     Wagner smiled. "You know what? 
     "Hm?" 
     "You'd fit right in with several SF units on Earth, like the U.S.
Navy SEALs, or the Air Force's 24th Special Tactics Squadron, not to
mention Delta Force or the British SAS. They have a wide variety of
weapons and equipment available, and they don't restrict themselves to
anything in particular. What they take is dependent on the mission," she
said. 
     "Just like the Arcta mission," Castor said. "Only we didn't have the
team organized at the time, and Galactica had fled the Colonies without
the previous one." 
     "I heard about that," Wagner said. "Just bits and pieces though. A
Cylon super-laser was in the Fleet's path, and the only way you could
knock it out was a ground operation." 
     "Well, we've got some time left," Castor said. 
     "All right, I'd like to hear how it went down," she replied, pulling
up a chair. 
     "Okay. It all started when Starbuck was taking some Cadets out on
their first patrol...." 

Chapter 6

     Commander Adama, Bryne, Tigh, and Sarah began making their way to
the SF training area. On their way, they met Sire Pelias. He'd had some
business with his council aides, and had heard that Byrne and Wagner were
aboard. "Commander,"
     "Sire," Adama replied politely. "I do believe you know both Captain
Byrne and Sarah." 
     "Of course," the young councilman replied. "What brings you aboard
the Galactica, Captain?" 
     "Going after the after-action report, Sire," Byrne said. "The
business with the Otaglim." 
     "Ah," Pelias replied. "Sarah...were the Otaglim what you expected?" 
     She looked at Adama. "Worse, Sire. Far worse than one might have
expected." 
     The young sire nodded. "Yes....Forgive me, that must have been a
trying experience. To other things:  I've heard that Sergeant Wagner is
also aboard." 
     Byrne looked at him. "Let me guess: word travels fast." Navy
scuttlebutt was still scuttlebutt, no matter when or where.
     "That it did, Captain. Something about a weapons demonstration?" The
young Sire, though his military career had been cut short, still had a
strong interest in military matters. 
     Byrne nodded. "Care to see for yourself?" 
     "Commander?" Pelias asked, and seeing Adama nod in the affirmative,
he said, "I'd be glad to." 


     When they arrived at the SF area, Apollo, Starbuck, Boomer, and
Sargamesh were waiting. Evidently, they'd heard about the demonstration,
and were curious. "Father," Apollo said. 
     "Apollo," Adama said. "You're here to see what the good Sergeant has
to show us?" 
     "If someone crashes, and loses their laser, or can't use it for
whatever reason, having something as a backup can be the difference
between life and death," Apollo pointed out. 
     Adama looked at Tigh, who nodded. "All right. Just keep in mind that
today, Sergeant Wagner is the teacher, and we're the students." 
     Apollo nodded, as did the others, just as Croft and some of his
troopers came in. "Commander," 
     "Major. I take it it's just about time?" Adama asked. "I'm actually
curious as to what we'll learn." 
     "Commander, one thing Sergeant Wagner impressed on me was that no
matter how advanced a weapon is, if it fails, having something in reserve
is a very good idea," the commando major replied. 
     The door opened to the range, and Castor came out. He noticed the
larger-than-expected crowd. "Commander, Major," he said, then he noticed
Sire Pelias. "Sire," 
     "Lieutenant," Adama said. "Is everything ready?" He was very curious
in what the Sergeant had to offer. Slugthrowers, a thing of the past, and
as it turned out, still had their uses, so it would appear. 
     "Yes, Sir." Castor replied. "One thing Sergeant Wagner insists on,
though: everyone has to wear some kind of ear protection. Now, one
wouldn't wear these in combat," referring to the box of earplugs he had,
"but on the range, they're mandatory, she said." 
     Adama looked at Byrne, who nodded. "Very well, Lieutenant. Looks
like we're the ones learning things today." 
     "Yes, Sir," Castor replied. "It's like something  out of one of the
Academy's Armament Day displays, when the Historical Weapons Collection
was demonstrated." 
     An old memory came back to Adama: he'd seen those demonstrations
when his own father brought him to the Academy as a teenager, and the old
rifles, assault rifles, and machine guns were primitive, of no use
against a Cylon, and they were loud! Now, it seemed, their Earth
counterparts might find a use in the Fleet, to his surprise. "Indeed?" 
     "Yes, Commander," Castor said, passing out the earplugs. 
     Byrne took Castor aside after he was finished. "Everything set?" 
     "I think so, Captain." 
     Byrne went on in, and he came right back out. He nodded to Castor,
who said, "Looks like Captain Byrne says she's ready." 
     "Shall we go in?" Adama asked. 
     Adama and the party came into the training area, and found Sergeant
Wagner waiting for them. She had her left hand on her hip, and was
carrying an assault rifle in her right. And to Adama's surprise, not to
mention Apollo's and a number of others, she also had a holster which
held one of Captain Byrne's pistols, instead of the Colonial laser that
she had been issued and qualified on. She turned and came to attention.
"Commander," 
     "As you were, Sergeant," Adama said. "I see you've been busy today."

     "Yes, sir," she replied. "Looks like there's more of a crowd than I
thought there would be, but the more, the better." 
     "Well, as Captain Byrne said, you are the teacher today, and the
rest of us are your students." Adama said, looking around at the others. 
     "That's good, Commander, because I've already taught Castor how to
shoot these, and I consider him qualified on them all." Wagner replied,
nodding in Castor's direction. 
     "Interesting," Adama mused. "So, what do you have for us?" 
     She nodded, "Then, Sir, if everyone will find themselves a spot with
a view, we'll get started. If you've never seen or heard anything like
this, it'll be loud, that I promise you." She looked around. "Any
questions before we get started?" 
     Tigh raised his hand. "Sergeant, forgive me for asking, but what can
a...weapon like those you've got in your hands or in that holster do for
us?" 
     "It's pretty simple, Colonel." Wagner said. She looked around. "The
most advanced technology can break, or you can't recharge a laser for
whatever reason, or you lose it somehow. Not having something as a backup
can be fatal." And she noticed that the Viper pilots, as well as
Commander Adama, were nodding. 
     "Isn't there something else?" Castor asked. "You and I talked about
it earlier." 
     "Thanks for reminding me, Castor," Wagner said. "It's very simple:
one of my weapons instructors back home told me something during my
Combat Security Police training. 'If a weapon can still kill you, it's
not obsolete.'" She looked around and still saw some faces of disbelief.
"There's some recent examples-I do believe Lieutenant Boomer used a rifle
similar to this when he was stranded on Ki, correct?" 
     Boomer nodded in the affirmative, and she went on, gesturing to
Captain Byrne. "And Captain Byrne and his daughter used one particular
type of rifle as a hunting weapon while they were marooned. Then, at
RB-33, it was a pistol similar to this one that his daughter used to kill
the pirate Krylon."  She patted the Mark-23 on her holster.
     Major Croft looked at Adama, who nodded. Then he spoke up. "Point
taken, Sergeant. Let's see what you've got." 
     "All right," she replied. Then she went over to the table and put
the rifle down, and picked up the SiG-Sauer. "This is a SiG-Sauer P226.
Fifteen-round magazine, and it shoots what we call on Earth a nine
millimeter round. It's got a lot of muzzle velocity, which means it can
overpenetrate a target under some circumstances, as well as half the
stopping power of the .45 round that my Mark-23 shoots." She picked up a
round and handed it to Castor. "Pass that around, please." 
     "Overpenetration?" Starbuck asked as the little round was passed
from warrior to warrior. 
     "That's correct. It can pass through a target and keep on going-into
someone else, a wall, or whatever." Wagner said. "However, it's a common
weapon used by various security forces, is standard issue in a number of
militaries, and the weapon is also used by a number of Special-Operations
forces. It's more easily concealable, should that need arise, and has a
larger magazine capacity than the Mark-23: fifteen rounds instead of
twelve. Like the Mark-23, it can take a sound suppressor." 
     Croft nodded. He knew that the lack of suppressed weapons had been a
vexing problem for a long time in the Colonial Military, and despite the
best efforts of some of the Colonies' best weapons designers and
engineers, they'd failed so far. "That's one thing I'm interested in,
Sergeant. How does it shoot?" 
     She smiled, took a magazine, loaded it into the weapon, and said,
"See for yourself." She then turned to face a target, and emptied the
magazine in a very short time. Then, she pushed the button on the panel
that brought the paper target to the shooter's position, and the target
had been well and truly ventilated. 
     "I'm impressed," Adama said. He turned to Apollo. "What do you
think?" 
     "Something like that would be good to have," Apollo replied. "What
else is there?" 
     They noticed a grin on Wagner's face. Like a kid in a candy store.
"I'll show you," she said, putting the SiG-Sauer down and picking up a
Mark-23 that was already fitted with a suppressor. "This one, you'll see
it shoot suppressed." 
     And she did so, shooting twelve suppressed .45 rounds. "This is the
Heckler-and Koch Mark 23. It was designed to meet a requirement from the
U.S. Navy's SEAL teams," she said, nodding to Byrne, "They're the Navy's
special warfare teams, who can go anywhere by sea, air, or land, and get
things done. It shoots a .45 caliber round, with half the muzzle velocity
of the 9-mm, and you can be assured that for the most part, someone hit
with a .45 slug will only need one hit to put them down-and they won't be
getting back up. It's got a lot of stopping power, and that larger round
is more lethal. You also don't have to worry about overpenetration:
several hostage rescue teams prefer the .45 because the round will stay
in the target." 
     Castor looked at his CO. "Major, we could've used this when we
raided those Otori renegades." 
     "He's right, Commander," Croft said, looking at Adama, who was
looking at him with a curious expression. "Right now, we don't have any
silenced weapons at all, and having some available can make our job a lot
easier." 
     "Noted, Major," Adama said. He, too, knew full well the problems of
getting an effective laser weapon that could be silenced. It had come up
several times amongst Fleet Command, and even had been a topic of Council
discussion a couple of yahrens before the Holocaust. "Any disadvantages,
Sergeant?" 
     "Well, Commander," Wagner replied, "It's heavier than the SiG-Sauer,
and it's also not as concealable."
     "Which one would you recommend?" Pelias asked, speaking for the
first time.
     "Both, Sire." Wagner replied without hesitation. "Each weapon has
advantages and disadvantages, both of which cancel each other out. A
trained shooter will be able to get the most out of whatever weapon he or
she is using and circumstances may dictate using one and not the other,
and you may wind up with both in the inventory." 
     Pelias nodded. "I see." He turned to Adama. "Commander?" 
     "She's right, Sire." Adama said. "And the others?" 

Chapter 7

     Sergeant Wagner turned to the table and picked up the MP-5. "This is
the MP-5N submachine gun. It shoots the same 9-mm round that the
SiG-Sauer does." She picked up a magazine and put it in the weapon. "It
shoots a 32-round magazine, and has three modes of fire: semiautomatic,
three-round burst, and full automatic." She extended the folding stock.
"As you can see, it has a folding stock, and the barrel is threaded,
which means it can take a sound suppressor." 
     "For clandestine operations?" Tigh asked. He, too, remembered the
old weapons being demonstrated at the Academy. 
     "That's correct, Colonel." Wagner replied. "On Earth, there is a
smaller version of this weapon designed for such use, but here..." She
slid back the cocking handle above the foregrip, chambering a round.
"I'll show you what three-round burst does, then full automatic." And
Wagner proceeded to empty the first magazine with the burst selected. She
then switched magazines, reloaded, then emptied the second magazine on
full automatic. "Did anyone catch how long it took to empty thirty-two
rounds?" Wagner asked. 
     "I take it at four microns, Sergeant," Apollo said. "Faster rate of
fire than a laser pistol." He looked at his father, who was clearly very
impressed. 
     "Thank you, Captain," Wagner replied, pleased with the result. "If
you're going from room to room, or on a ship, compartment to compartment,
this weapon does the job. It's used by numerous security forces at the
national, regional, and local level, intelligence agencies, and military
forces all over Earth." She looked at Croft. "You don't want this as an
infantry weapon, but going into close quarters combat, where firepower is
called for, you'll be glad that this one's available." 
     "Based on what's happened previously," Adama recalled, "you're quite
correct, Sergeant." 
     "Thank you, Sir." Wagner replied as she put down the submachine gun.
"Now, the long guns." 
     "Which one would you recommend, Sergeant?" Croft asked. 
     "Both." She replied. "And I'll show you why." She then picked up the
same rifle that she'd been carrying when the party entered the range.
"This rifle is the Heckler-and-Koch HK-416. It's used by a number of
special-operations forces, and is standard issue in several countries on
Earth." She nodded to Byrne. "This is also a U.S. Navy SEAL weapon, and
they have used it on a number of high-profile operations. It fires the
.223, or 5.56-millimeter rifle cartridge, not a pistol round." 
     "And the difference between the two?" Pelias asked. 
     "I'm glad you asked that, Sire." She smiled as she picked up a .223
round and handed it to him. "Pass that around, please." 
     As he did so, she continued. "As a backup to one's laser rifles-or
as a survival weapon if you need to save your laser power, this rifle can
be useful. But as a combat weapon, it's first-rate.  It's got a heavier
round, with more stopping power, and longer range." 
     "How does it fire?" Boomer asked. "It looks similar to the weapon I
used on Ki." 
     She grinned again. "Watch," she said as she put a loaded clip into
the weapon, pulled back on the charging handle, then put thirty rounds
downrange on full automatic. Then she turned back to face him.
"Satisfied?" 
     "Very," replied Boomer. It reminded him very much of his Ki
experiences. 
     "Glad to hear that," Wagner replied. "It has three modes of fire,
the same as the MP-5. However, it can't take a sound suppressor. Not with
this barrel. But it's got more stopping power than that pistol round, and
the bullet itself does a lot of damage: it tumbles as it enters a body,
and that means some very nasty wounds-and if there's an exit wound...."
her voice trailed off. 
     "Let me guess: the exit wound is much worse than the wound on
entry?" Sargamesh asked. He was recalling similar weapons from his own
people's past. 
     "That's correct," Wagner replied. "It's a nasty round, but it does
the job. To a biological enemy, this round is bad news." 
     Heads nodded, then Croft said, "Obviously, Sergeant. What about the
final weapon?" 
     She put down the -416 and picked up the SCAR 17. "This one's the
Fabrique Nationale SCAR Mark-17. It's used by various U.S. special
operations forces, as well as those in several other countries. This
version fires a .308, or 7.62-mm round, and is designed more as a battle
rifle than as an assault rifle. The weapon can be used as a designated
marksman's weapon: not a true sniper rifle, but close enough. Or, as
Captain Byrne and his daughter did, it can be a hunting rifle." 
     Several heads turned to Byrne, who said, "This weapon kept me and my
daughter alive. It took down one of those Buffalo-type beasts with a
single shot. Enough said there." 
     "Quite so, Captain," Adama said. "How else is this one different,
Sergeant?" 
     "Commander, it shoots a heavier round," and she picked up a loose
.308 round and passed it around. "It has more stopping power than the
.223 round, and it has a longer range. Longer, in fact, than the range
here." She paused to let that little fact sink in. "The weapon takes a
20-round magazine, and can fire either single shots or full automatic.
However, on full automatic, there's a problem. If you shoot more than
five rounds, the weapon will 'climb', as they say, and you'll be shooting
empty air-or the ceiling," Wagner then loaded a clip and fired off a
magazine, alternating between single shot and full automatic. 
     "Impressive, Sergeant." Pelias said. 
     "Agreed, Sire," Adama said. "Now, which weapons would you
recommend?" He had already decided that he'd agree to using whatever
weapons she suggested. 
     "All, Commander." Wagner replied without hesitation. "You never know
what you'll need in a given situation, and just having them in your
armory gives you more options." 
     "Commander," Castor said, speaking up again, "There's one other
thing she showed to me." He glanced at Wagner, who nodded and gave him a
smile. 
     "And that is?" Adama asked. 
     "None of these weapons can be picked up by our sensors." 
     That attracted Sarah's attention. "How is that?" 
     "The sensors can detect any laser-or other directed energy weapon,
but not these. They won't even register on a scan." 
     "That's something we'll have to get Doctor Wilker to take a look
at," Adama said, "in case these fall into the wrong hands." 
     "But for clandestine operations, Commander, if we're going somewhere
that has weapon detectors for energy weapons...." Castor said. 
     Adama nodded, then looked at Croft, who had a thin smile. "Well,
Major? It's your decision." 
     "Castor?" Croft asked. He clearly wanted a second opinion, and
Castor was the only one available. 
     "All of them, Major. The raid on the Otori would've been a lot
easier if we had suppressed weapons available, and who knows if something
like that will come up?" Castor told his CO. 
     Croft went over to the table and picked up the MP-5 and inspected
it. He turned to Wagner, then to Adama. "If that's what Castor is willing
to recommend, Commander." 
     Adama stood up. "Approved, Major." 
     Sergeant Wagner smiled. "Care to shoot one or two, Commander?" 
     Adama hadn't shot one of the weapons in the Academy collection, but
did so this time. He shot both pistols and the MP-5, leaving the long
guns to Croft, who took to the long guns very easily. Everyone who wanted
to, took a turn with each. Even Tigh, who'd been skeptical at first,
tried them out. As did the Viper pilots. When all had a chance, Adama
asked Wagner, "What do you have in mind, Sergeant?" 
     Wagner looked at Croft. "What I'd like to do is come back in a few
days, and with Castor's help, teach three or four more of his troopers.
They'll be the instructors, who'll handle all of the weapons instruction
as needed." And she saw the commando major nod his approval. 
     "Very well," Adama decided. "I'll leave the two of you to make those
arrangements." 
     Then the door opened and Doctor Wilker came in. "Commander, they
told me you were here." 
     "What is it, Doctor?" 
     "Commander, we've made some progress in translating the alien
material," Wilker said. He gestured at Wagner. "Sergeant Wagner's
abductors." 
     Byrne took notice. "What did you find, Doc?" He was anxious to find
out more on those who'd planned to attack Earth-as well as those who had
prevented it-whether or not they knew it. 
     "You'll want to see what we found, but not here." Wilker said. 
     "How soon can you have a briefing ready?" Adama asked the scientist.
He was clearly interested in anything new on the aliens who'd abducted
Wagner. 
     "Twenty centons, Commander." 
     "All right, we'll meet in the Ward Room in twenty centons," Adama
decided. 

Chapter 8

     Just as in the briefing when the decision had been made to scrap the
alien derelict, those who'd been involved in examining the derelict were
in the Ward Room, with the exception of Commander Allen, who was present
via telecom. Baltar was also present, via the same means. Everyone else
was seated around a table, and Adama spoke first. "All right, Doctor," he
said, gesturing to Wilker, "Let's have it." 
     The scientist stood to give his presentation. "Commander, everyone,"
he started. "We've managed to translate first of all, more of the alien
navigation charts. We now know where their enemy, the "Ke'zar" call home,
thanks to Captain Byrne's own star catalog and maps." 
     Whoa, Byrne thought. "My charts? Where do they come from, Doc?"
Byrne said, looking at Wagner, who was seated next to him. And she, too,
was paying close attention.  
     "They come from a star that your astronomers  call 61 Cygni, which
is about eleven light-yahren from Earth," Wilker said, calling up a
holographic display. "Their homeworld has a largely sulfur dioxide
atmosphere, with a temperature and pressure greater than Earth's, and as
a consequence, they're forced to wear an armored spacesuit or battle
suit, which provides them with the necessary environment when off-world."
He nodded to Hummer, who called up an image of a "Ke'zar." 
     The image showed an apparent humanoid being, but completely enclosed
in a suit, with some kind of horn-type projection coming out of the
chest, a helmet with some kind of grill on the sides, presumably for
vocalization, and carrying some type of energy rifle. "So, that's who
these guys are," Allen said, via the com channel.
     "Yes, Commander Allen, that's the Ke'zar." Wilker said, with some
irritation. 
     "Doctor," Pelias asked, "Does the material translated so far say why
these....'Ke'zar' went to war with these other aliens?" 
     When he heard that, Adama paused. That had been his own intended
question. He looked at Byrne, who nodded. 
     "No, Sire, I'm afraid we haven't found that as of yet. But the
material does indicate that these two races have had tensions in the
past, a number of border skirmishes, things of that nature." Wilker
responded. 
     "Doctor," Baltar said from the BaseShip, "Does it mention what
these, these, 'Ke'zar' have in mind for Earth?" Clearly, that was a
question that everyone wanted answered. 
     "I'm afraid not," Wilker replied. "The material only hints that the
'Ke'zar' were also visiting Earth, but were more...benign in their
intent." 
     Byrne let out a sigh of relief. At least Earth didn't have to worry
about this bunch-at least, as far as was known. That could change,
though. "Doc, anything else on the abductions?" he asked, looking at
Wagner. 
     "Yes, as a matter of fact." Wilker said. "Pliny has translated the
book that you found in the aliens' lab."
     "The abduction log?" Apollo asked. "Is that what you're referring
to?" 
     "Yes. And that's exactly what it was," Wilker responded, switching
the holo image to one of the appropriate images from the book. The alien
Captain's writing was highlighted, with the translation scrolling up the
image, along with photographs taken during Lauren's examination.. He
turned to Wagner. "It turns out you were the last one that particular
ship took, Sergeant." 
     Wagner was turning red with anger. "The Captain's log said I was
'Subject number seventy-two.'" She said with a very bitter tone in her
voice. "So, how many did they keep and take to their home world, and then
to that prison planet? From this ship, anyway?" 
     "From this ship? Seventeen, in total." the scientist replied. "The
pilots of the two aircraft, and the pilots of two other aircraft that
were not kept in the hold, along with several others who, like you, were
taken in remote or rural areas." 
     Adama thought for a moment. Then it dawned on him. "Doctor, were
they targeting people in such areas specifically? People whose
disappearance might not be noticed for a number of days? If ever?" 
     "In some cases, yes." Wilker replied. He then turned to Wagner.
"Sergeant Wagner, though, was simply picked at random because she was
close to the missile base near her home."  
     Allen spoke up. He remembered something from the abduction stories
he'd heard about-and dismissed-until Wagner's discovery and revival.
"Doc, did they have anything else in mind for her? I'm asking this
because some of those stories we'd heard about had aliens taking women
and removing eggs, taking ova samples, running pregnancy tests, things
like that. Before we found the Sergeant, I thought it was all a bunch of
nonsense, but now..." 
     "Good question, Ced," Byrne said. He'd heard the same crazy stories.
Or thought they were crazy-until now. 
     "They did run a pregnancy test," Wilker said, nodding to Hummer, who
called up the translation. It read just like any medical report. And he'd
shown this to Salik, who had agreed with that assessment. 
     "Why?" Wagner asked. "I remember them sticking some kind of needle
in my navel, and the wire on it plugged into some console, but I was so
scared I had no idea what it was." And she stopped, because memories were
starting to come back. 
     "The vapors used in the stasis tubes could've harmed a fetus,"
Wilker replied. "They were concerned for that, and apparently, nothing
else." 
     Byrne looked at Wagner. He knew full well what she thought of her
abductors, and that she had regretted that none had been found in stasis.
Because he also knew that she would have killed them-without hesitation
and without any remorse at all. "So, let me get this straight," Byrne
said. "The fact that she wasn't pregnant, and wasn't cooperative in
answering the questions about the missile base, meant that they were
going to give her a one-way ride to their home planet?" And then a trip
to a prison world, he silently added. If we find these people, whoever
they are, they have some explaining to do. And they'd better have a good
reason for us keeping their planet in one piece, regardless of what these
'Ke'zar' do. 
     Heads turned to Wilker. "Yes, Captain. I'm afraid that's what we
found in the log." 
     "And if she had been pregnant?" Bryne asked with a hint of dread in
his voice. 
     " She would've been taken to the home world, then to a facility on
that labor/prison planet. For some kind of experimental purposes.
According to the data, they have done it before." Wilker reported. 
     Byrne and Wagner looked at each other. Then she exploded, "THEY DID
WHAT?" She then calmed down. "Sorry, Commander," 
     Adama nodded his understanding. Her reaction was quite natural, he
realized. Adama then looked around and saw that everyone had a look of
disgust on their faces. 
     Hearing that outburst, Siress Tinia, who had been present at the
earlier briefings, turned to Adama, face disgusted. "Commander, these are
some of the vilest things we've found since leaving our home quadrant.
The Boron-Din incident, the Ziklagi, the Otaglim. Only the Ischt'k have
done similar things, and they were worse." Even Baltar nodded in the
affirmative, his jaw clenching angrily, as he heard that. 
     "Quite so, Siress," Adama said. He turned to Sarah. "Comments?" 
     "Commander," Sarah said, keeping care to maintain her cover as an
Academician, "Other than the Ziklagi, or the Otaglim, this is a race with
such a low regard for life that is virtually unprecedented. No matter how
similar they are to humans, their plans for Earth show just how callous
they can be." Silently, she added, the Ziklagi could be worse, and they
would have regarded Earth as a target ripe for the taking. 
     "There is one bright spot, though." Wilker said. 
     "And that is?" asked Adama. 
     "There is one weapons system on Earth that they truly feared. One
that even with their technology, they couldn't find a counter." Wilker
said. He looked at Byrne, who was still visibly angry. "The
missile-firing submarine." 
     Byrne looked at him. Then he nodded. Of course. If we have trouble
tracking subs-Russian boats excepted, because they were so easy to
track-they might as well. Once a sub dives, it virtually disappears.
"Ballistic-Missile submarines, Doc?" 
     "That's correct. Their own sensors can find submarines in very
shallow water, such as near the continental shelves. But in the deep
ocean?" Wilker said. "Not in the slightest. The aliens' military was
seriously concerned about these submarines being able to fire their
missiles, then disappear before they could take any effective
countermeasures." 
     Tigh spoke up. "What about anti-missile defenses? Surely, ballistic
missiles would not be a problem to them?" 
     "Colonel, they felt otherwise. Some of Earth's oceans are very
deep." Wilker punched up a graphic, showing Earth and its oceans. The
deepest parts were way too deep for military submarines, but even in
areas such as the mid-Pacific, the Central Atlantic, and the Indian
Oceans, the alien data indicated that their likelihood of detection was
very low. "The alien fear was that a coordinated attack by several of
these submarines could spell the end of their expedition. If Earth's
forces, after the initial attack, allowed the aliens to land, then
struck, there would be so many warheads flying that any anti-missile
defense would not get them all." Wilker replied. And a good portion of
Earth gets turned to desert, he silently added. 
     Adama turned to Byrne. "Captain, how many nations on Earth have
these submarines?" 
     "When this plan was being considered?" Byrne asked. Seeing Adama
nod, he replied, "Four, Commander. That number has stayed the same. A
fifth has the subs, but no workable missile, and a sixth was starting
work on their own missile submarines when our mission launched. I should
point out that no military submarine can go down into the deepest waters,
such as the deep trenches and the abyssal plains: the pressure on the
hull would be too great." 
     "All have missiles with multiple warheads?" Apollo asked. 
     "That's right, Captain. In the early 1990s, the usual load was six
to ten, depending on the country. Now, it's usually four to six. And they
usually have decoys loaded as well." Byrne said. 
     "To confuse any anti-missile defense?" Adama asked. He remembered
the nuclear missiles launched from Terra, and what had been on Ki. Not to
mention from the Colonies' own pre-Unification past, when several planets
had had their own wars-cold and hot-and nuclear weapons had been used.
Even now, they could launch sensor "ghosts" to fool Cylon anti-missile
defenses in a ship-to-ship fight. 
     "That's right, Commander." Byrne said. "Doc, there's something else.
Only one country had them at the time, but I'm curious: did the aliens
worry about mobile land-based intercontinental missiles?" He was thinking
about the Soviet SS-24 rail-mobile and SS-25 road-mobile ICBMs. 
     "Captain, they were. The operating bases for the missiles were
targeted, as you know, but the document also shows a concern that not all
of the mobile weapons could be neutralized." Wilker reported. 
     "And a five-hundred kiloton warhead from one of those could make
their lives miserable," Byrne said.  "Or several one-hundred to
five-hundred kiloton ones from a sub-launched missile."  
     "Essentially, yes." Wilker said. "But who among Earth's leaders
would be willing to do such a thing?" 
     "I can think of several right now," Byrne said. "Any leader of the
country of Russia-or the Soviet Union prior to that country's breakup,
wouldn't hesitate. I can see several U.S. Presidents doing the same
thing. The same goes for leaders in Britain, France, or China. Either we
demonstrate to the aliens that we can-and will-use whatever means are at
Earth's disposal to defend ourselves, or, if it's obvious that Earth is
going to lose, a final threat." 
     "A final threat?" Siress Tinia asked. "What do you mean by that?" 
     "It's simple, Siress," Allen said over the com line. "Earth's
leaders tell the aliens, 'If we can't have our world, then you can't
either.' That would be accompanied by an ultimatum to leave Earth, or the
missiles fly." 
     "Commander Allen is right," Sarah said. "Given Earth's technological
inferiority, those submarines might very well be the guarantor of Earth's
survival in this case." 
     Byrne looked at Sarah. Disguise or not, she was right. He turned to
her. "That's essentially correct. Though I can imagine some leaders
breaking out stocks of Chemical Weapons, especially those with no nuclear
weapons of their own." And, when we do get to Earth, I'll have to tell
those guys in the missile boats that they may have deterred an alien
invasion, he silently added.
     Adama paused, digesting the discussion so far. "Doctor," he asked
Wilker. "Do any of the documents translated so far hint at when this
invasion was to take place?"
     "No, sir. Preparations were still ongoing when the Ke'zar struck."
Wilker said. "Though a document we found initially did indicate that the
operation was relegated to a contingency due to the outbreak of war.
Planning was to continue, but as an action item, it was deferred
indefinitely." 
     Heads nodded around the table. That document had been one of the
first found and translated. Then Byrne spoke up. "Doc, there's something
else." 
     "Yes, Captain?" 
     "Do the aliens mention anything about subs in the Arctic ice cap?
I'm asking this because both sides in the 'Cold War' began to hide their
ballistic missile subs-some of them, anyway, underneath the Arctic ice. I
knew people involved in antisubmarine warfare, and they said that finding
a sub in the Arctic-even if it's another sub on the hunt, can be
difficult, at best. And the Soviet, or Russian, Typhoon and Delta class
missile subs were designed to hide in the Arctic." 
     Wilker nodded. "Yes, they do, Captain. And their notes indicate that
if a submarine is hiding there, they won't know about it until that
submarine actually breaks through the ice and fires its missiles. The
polar ice fields are a poor sensor environment, their notes say." He
punched up another graphic, this one showing a U.S. Navy  Ohio-class
submarine leaving port, and a Soviet Typhoon-class sub surfaced in the
Arctic ice. 
     Byrne nodded. The sub guys who deterred nuclear war had probably
deterred an alien invasion. And they didn't know it. "Thanks, Doc." He
turned to Adama. "Commander, anything more on what their motive was?
Besides that document about Earth 'straying from the true path?'" 
     "Doctor?" Adama asked. He, too, was interested in the aliens'
motive. Though he suspected it was some kind of religious crusade, based
on that very document. 
     "Nothing yet, Commander." Wilker responded. "We're still searching,
though. Their government, though, appears to have been a
military/religious dictatorship. If they were on a religious
crusade....." Wilker's voice trailed off. 
     "Spreading the 'word' at gunpoint, to put it politely?" Wagner said,
having calmed down. Though she was still visibly upset at what she'd
heard. 
     "That is one way of putting it," Wilker replied. "So far, there's
still a great deal of material on Earth alone, and what we have is only
the beginning." 
     "I see." Adama said, preparing to close the meeting. "Let us know
when you have more to report." 
     "Certainly, Commander." Wilker replied. He, too, was ready to wrap
things up. 
     "Any other thoughts or comments?" Adama asked. He saw Baltar shake
his head no. But he noticed Allen nod. "Commander Allen?" 
     "Commander, if we encounter these....'people' and I do use that term
loosely,  they've got some explaining to do." Allen replied, clearly
disgusted at what he'd heard and seen. 
     "I'll go along with that, Commander," Byrne said. And if he could,
he'd blow them out of the sky after that. 
     "Agreed." Adama said, and he saw nods around the table. But he saw
Wagner was still edgy. "You have something to add, Sergeant?" 
     "Yes, Sir," she replied. "If we do find another one of these ships,
with a live crew, I, for one, would love to sit down with their Captain,
or anyone else involved in abducting people, and ask one simple question:
'WHY? What gives you the right?' And they'd better not have anyone in a
tube." 
     Adama nodded. He knew full well that she did have a right to know.
"If we do, Sergeant, that will  certainly be one of the first questions
asked." 
     She nodded and sat back in the chair. The aliens who she would've
gladly killed had done themselves in, like some Nazi die-hards who
couldn't live without Hitler, but she would still want to kill anyone
else involved in the abductions. And she looked at her CO and Byrne
nodded. He, too, had a similar feeling. 
     "Any other comments?" Adama asked. There weren't any. "Very well,
we're adjourned." 

Chapter 9

     As the meeting broke up, Byrne and Wagner were talking. "Well, how
do you feel now?" He asked. 
     She took a deep breath. "Right now, I don't know what to feel. We
know where these 'Ke'zar' are from, and at least we don't have to worry
about them going to Earth. But these, these, others....." She slammed her
fist on the table. 
     Byrne nodded. "I know. And now I'd like to blast them to slag." 
     "Not just that, Captain." Wagner said. "There's what, five thousand
people-the abductees and their descendants-living on that prison planet,
in a 'reservation', the aliens call it. Sure, their document says they're
living in their own communities, grow their own food, and have some
self-government, but they're still prisoners. Not to mention being
thirty-seven plus light-years from home." 
     "I know," Byrne said. "And remember what Adama said. If they're on
the course for Earth, something might be done to help." 
     She nodded. "Yes, sir. There is that chance. And even if it's not,
when we get home, there's going to be pressure to do something for them.
You know that, sir." 
     "You're right," admitted Byrne. He took a deep breath. "That's in
the long term. But I can use a couple stiff drinks, and you can, too.
Come on, and I'm buying." 
     "Sir?" Wagner asked. 
     "They don't have the same regs about fraternization that we do back
home. It's technically an Officer's Club, but it's really open to
everybody, regardless of rank. Think of the Officer's Club on M*A*S*H." 
     Wagner nodded. "In that case, Sir, if you're buying..." And I do
need a drink, after what I just heard. 
     "I am." 
     "Then, sir, lead the way." And the two of them left the Ward Room. 


     The two made their way to the Officers' Club, and when they got
there, they found several familiar faces. Apollo, Starbuck, Boomer, and
Sargamesh were there, along with Castor. The two waved, then went to the
Bar, where Freeman was the barkeep. "What'll it be, Captain?" Freeman
asked. 
     "Have any of that Sagitarian beer, even if it's the home-brewed
copy?" Bryne asked. 
     "Of course, Captain. One for you, and one for the lady?" 
     "Yeah. Oh, introductions are in order: Freeman, meet Staff Sergeant
Lauren Wagner, the.." 
     "Ah, the lady found in that derelict. And I see you're just like the
Captain, in an Earth uniform." He put out his hand. 
     Wagner took it. "Nice to meet you. And yeah, a good beer is what I
need now." 
     Freeman nodded. "Coming up. And Captain, Ensign Adele's over there.
She hasn't run up too much." He pointed to where Adele was sitting with a
couple of her fellow shuttle pilots and classmates. 
     "Good, because we'll be heading back soon." Byrne said. After the
beers were drawn, they went over to where their friends were seated. "Got
room for two more?" Byrne asked. 
     "Have a seat, Captain, Sergeant," Apollo said. He could see that
Wagner was still visibly angry-and with good reason, he felt. 
     "Thanks, Apollo," Byrne said as the two sat down. "Just when you
thought you'd heard everything..." 
     "That's putting it politely," Starbuck said. "Mother of
Kobol....what those aliens had in mind...Not as bad as the Cylons, mind,
but the Ziklagi come close to those...people." He, too, was shaken by
what he'd heard in the briefing. 
     "Totally dishonorable," Sargamesh said. "A true warrior would not
sneak about as such, and what they have done to those they abducted, it
boggles the mind." 
     "Tell me about it," Wagner said as she took a drink. "That's the one
question I'd like to know. Why? And I'll bet those people on that prison
planet are asking the same thing." 
     "Having gone through a similar experience, Sergeant," Sargamesh
said, "I can sympathize with you, and them." 
     "I might have an idea," Boomer said. "Didn't Wilker say the aliens
have a combined military and religious dictatorship?" 
     "That's right," Byrne said. "It does remind me of a country on
Earth-in fact, one that my country considers one of its enemies." He went
on to explain about Iran and the problems it was causing before he left
Earth. 
     "Interesting analogy," Apollo said. "With these guys, their military
is probably in tight with the religious leaders, and they run the whole
government. That line from the alien Captain in his log, remember?" 
     "Oh yeah," Byrne said, "I think I know which one you're talking
about: the line about their supply being 'enemies of the state?'" 
     "That's the one." 
     "I get it," Wagner said. "These guys think they're on a mission from
God-or 'the Gods'-to 'civilize' Earth, and they don't care about the
consequences." And all the death and destruction that would result,
because "the Gods" told them to, she thought.  
     "Exactly," Apollo said. "To them, anything is justifiable. What they
did to you, those they took and released, and those they kept. And what
they were planning to do to Earth, until the Ke'zar stepped in." 
     "Speaking of which, there was some good news. At least we know where
they come from, and they're no threat to Earth," Starbuck pointed out. 
     "So far," Byrne reminded him. "That attitude can change any time,
but at least so far, they're not something to worry about." 
     "For now," Wagner said as she finished off her first beer. 
     Just at that moment, Sheba came into the Club. She waved to her
husband, and Freeman asked, "Your usual, Lady Sheba?" After she said yes,
he drew her mug, and then she came over to where everyone was sitting.
"Too bad I missed the weapons demonstration. How'd it go?" 
     Castor nodded at Wagner. "Fine, Lieutenant. Major Croft's decided to
adopt the weapons she demonstrated, and some might find their way into
Viper survival kits." 
     Sheba looked at Wagner. "So I may have to learn how to fire a
slugthrower?" Seeing Lauren nod, she said, "At least I'll have a good
teacher." 
     Apollo asked, "Boxey?" 
     Sheba turned to her husband. "He's still got a couple of centars
before Instructional Period lets out. And before you ask, the patrol went
fine. Lots and lots of nothing." 
     "Too bad you missed Lauren's shooting," Apollo said. "She's a pretty
good shot with those, and have a look at her holster. That's not one of
our laser pistols." 
     Sheba took a look and only then noticed the big Mark-23. "So that's
a modern Earth pistol. What would it do? Or do I want to know?" 
     Lauren grinned. And those at the table noticed it was the same grin
she'd had at the demonstration. "Sheba, if I took this out and shot
someone, right now, in the chest?" 
     "Yes?" 
     "They'd be dead not long after hitting the deck plates. Salik's
medical facilities notwithstanding." 
Sheba looked at her husband, then at Byrne. Both nodded in the
affirmative. "That powerful?" 
     "That's right. And if it was a head shot, they'd be dead before
hitting the deck." Lauren said. 
     "So that's why Croft wants these?" Sheba asked. 
     "Not just that," Castor said. "But they can be fitted with sound
suppressors; the submachine gun, too. Not like a laser." 
     Sheba thought for a moment. "My father remembered that: the lack of
a suppressed laser." 
     Heads turned to face Sheba. "Your father?" Boomer asked. 
     "Yes, when he was taking some advanced courses at the Academy's
Postgraduate School." She turned to Byrne. "We didn't have a War College
like your Navy does, but the Postgraduate School was that, pretty much.
He mentioned it in a paper, just before he was promoted to Colonel." 
     "Well, we've got suppressed weapons now," Starbuck said. "And we've
got her to thank," he said, nodding at Lauren. 
     "Thanks, guys." Wagner replied. 
     "What else? You all looked pretty glum when I came in here.
Something else I missed?" Sheba asked. 
     "Yeah," Byrne said. "Wilker had a briefing. They found out more on
the aliens-and the Ke'zar." 
     "What'd you find out? Nothing good, because the looks on your faces
said it all," Sheba noted. 
     "The good news?" Apollo said. "We found out where the Ke'zar are
from," and he explained what Wilker had said in the briefing.
     "No threat to Earth, so that's good. What's the bad?" 
     "The bad...we found out what they could have done to Lauren." Boomer
said. 
     "What? I thought we knew: they were taking her to their homeworld,
then to that prison planet and the 'reservation.'" Sheba said. 
     Byrne explained what Wiker and Pliny had found in the aliens'
abduction log. And Sheba's jaw dropped. 
     "Lords of Kobol...What kind of people are they?" 
     "Lower than pond scum, I'd say," Byrne said. 
     "No argument there," Wagner said. "Though that would be insulting." 
     "To whom?" Apollo asked. 
     "To the pond scum," Lauren replied dryly.  
     And for the first time, everyone laughed. 


     A few centons later, Croft came in, and after getting his mug, went
over to the group. "Just who I was looking for," he said. 
     "Have a seat, Major," Castor said. "Misery loves company." 
     "You were at Wilker's briefing, Major," Byrne said as Croft pulled
up a chair. "What'd you think?" 
     "Personally, those who decided on what to do with her, and the
others?" He asked. Seeing Wagner nod, he went on, "By any civilized
culture's measure, they gave up their right to live. I don't blame her
one bit if she wants them dead." 
     "Well, since this all took place forty yahrens ago," Boomer pointed
out, "maybe the Ke'zar did that for her." 
     Lauren raised her beer glass. "I'll drink to that," she said. 
     "Hear, hear," Byrne said. Then he waved at Freeman. "One more, for
the Sergeant and I." 
     "Coming up, Captain." the barkeep replied. 
     "Lauren," Sheba asked, "What are you going to do when you get home?
Has anybody asked you that?" 
     "No, but I've thought about it," Wagner replied. "I'd look up any
family I have left, and get back in touch. Get my military back pay, buy
a house someplace, and just sit back and relax." 
     "Don't forget the book and movie deals," Bryne reminded her. "They'd
be lining up on your doorstep to get you to sign on the dotted line." 
     She nodded as she finished off her glass. "Oh, that.... And the same
would go for you and Jena, sir." 
     "And Ced," Byrne admitted. "The media would be all over him like
glue, going back to Australia with an alien wife." 
     "So your media's as bad as the IFB?" Boomer asked. 
     "It can be worse," Byrne said. "If you can imagine that. You guys
have only one media outlet. In the U.S. alone, there's multiple broadcast
media, print media, and electronic media, and while most of 'em are
pretty decent, some just care about getting the story out, and don't care
if it's inaccurate or not. And the more dirt on somebody famous, the more
those outfits sell."
     Sheba laughed. "Just like The Caprica Daily Star. The more
embarrassing stuff on somebody famous, the better." 
     "Any of 'em in the Fleet?" Byrne asked as Freeman brought the two
beers to him and Wagner, and he nodded his thanks.
     "One or two are on IFB." Boomer said. "I recognize their style." 
     Byrne sighed. "They'd fit right in with some of what we call the
'tabloid' press. Celebrity gossip, general sleaze, embarrassing pictures
of said celebrities, you name it. Whatever sells. " 
     "That's them." Croft said. "That rag on Caprica wasn't worth the
paper it was printed on, or the bandwith in the ethernet their electronic
edition took up. A Cylon wouldn't be caught dead writing the kind of
felgercarb that rag put out." 
     "All I can say," Wagner said, "is that those guys would fit right in
with some of the sleaze outfits in any number of countries back on
Earth." 
     "And they'd be hired by those guys pretty fast," Byrne added. "The
tabloids in England, especially: those outfits are downright predatory." 
     "Sounds like the Daily Star," Apollo said. Though he didn't think
the rag had been worth the paper it had been printed on, he'd had friends
whose sisters had eaten up every word. 

Chapter 10

     The group was still chatting when Freeman came by. "Folks, guess
who's coming in?" 
     Bryne and Croft looked at him and shrugged. "Who?" Byrne asked. 
     Freeman nodded at the main entrance, and both Commander Adama and
Siress Tinia came in. He went back to the bar, and as both came up.
"Commander, Siress, how can a humble man like meself be servin' ya
today?" 
     "I'll say this for him," Sheba muttered. "He knows how to kiss
someone's astrum." 
     "A glass of wine for both of us, Freeman, whatever you have
available." Adama said. Freeman poured two glasses of white wine, and
they both took their glasses. Then to everyone's surprise, the two came
to the group. "Do you have room for two more?" Adama politely asked. 
     "Of course, Commander," Croft said. 
     Pulling up chairs, Adama and Tinia joined in the conversation. "I
hope you don't mind the two of us," Tinia said. 
     "Not at all, Ma'am, I mean, Siress." Wagner said. "There's been
enough commanders on Earth who've taken the time to join their juniors
like this." 
     Tinia nodded at that, and Adama was pleased that Wagner was fitting
in nicely, just like Byrne. "So, Sergeant, how do you feel, knowing what
you know now?" Adama asked. 
     "Still angry, Commander. In the ideal world, I'd have everyone
involved in these abductions lined up against a wall and shot. I'll
settle, though, for the ones who took me being dead already, and hoping
these Ke'zar made sure that these aliens don't threaten anyone else ever
again." Wagner replied. 
     "That can mean several things," Tinia pointed out. "Up to total
annihilation." 
     "Yes, Ma'am. I know that. After finding out what happened to you
people, I wouldn't wish that on anybody, ever." Wagner said. "The best
would be that their military is destroyed, they've had a change in
government, and there's some kind of quarantine." Or a good old-fashioned
Carthaginian Peace, she said to herself. 
     "A quarantine?" Apollo asked. 
     "I think I know what she's got in mind," Byrne said. "These aliens
can stay in their home system, but can't leave it under any
circumstances." And they can stay there forever, as far as I'm concerned,
he thought. "And if they try to leave....Pow!" he said, slamming his
right fist into his open left palm. 
     "Exactly, Captain," Adama said. He'd been wondering about this
himself, ever since they found out this race's intentions towards Earth.
" A harsh solution, but a necessary one, given their behavior." 
     "Yes, sir," Wagner replied. "And they'd have to prove that they're
no longer a threat before it's lifted. How many keys did you guys say
were found on their computer? You know, other alien languages?" 
     "Wilker said several," Apollo recalled. "He and Pliny haven't said
how many, though." And that was another interesting item. How many
neighbors did Earth have? Maybe soon, once the alien material on Earth
had been translated and evaluated,  they could find out who they were and
where. 
     "That means they could've been a threat not just to Earth, but to
who knows how many others?" Wagner asked. "Reason enough to put them in a
box and keep them there." Or send them to Hell if they refuse, she
thought.  "Just as long as these Ke'zar leave the abductee colony alone,"
she added. 
     "I don't blame you for feeling that way," Tinia said. 
     "Neither do I, Siress," Croft said. "If she had the chance to see
those involved in the abductions dead, I wouldn't stand in her way." 
     "Same here," Starbuck added. "Just like the Ischt'k. They got what
they deserved, and these 'people' ought to get the same treatment." 
     "In the ideal world, I would agree with the both of you," Adama
replied. "The real world, suffice to say, works very differently, as we
all know too well.." Though if they found out that the Ke'zar did blast
the abductors to Hades, he doubted that he'd complain very much. 
     "So, Sergeant," Tinia said to change the subject, "How are you
fitting in?" 
     "Pretty good, so far, Siress," Wagner said. "I'm going home on a
spacecraft more advanced than  anyone on Earth has thought of, traveling
at speeds beyond Earthly comprehension, and there's technology I've never
even thought of. There's a saying Captain Byrne and Commander Allen use:
'living a movie', and I feel the same way: I share a cabin with Jena, and
though it can be, well....interesting at times, almost like having a kid
sister.  We get along fine, and the crew-and to my surprise, the
civilians aboard, they're used to me pretty much by now." 
     "'Interesting?'" Adama asked. 
     "Yes, sir." Wagner replied. "Jena acts like a typical teenager when
it comes to keeping her part of the cabin tidy. We have a saying on
Earth: 'A pile for everything and everything in its pile.'" 
     Apollo laughed. "Just like Athena, Father." 
     Adama looked at his son. "Not that I was home that much during her
teenage years, but yes...." he fondly remembered. 
     "You, Sheba?" Wagner asked. 
     "With my Father?" Sheba replied. "Hardly. He made sure I kept
everything like a Cadet's room. The white-glove test, snap inspections,
the works. I didn't have any problems with room inspections when I got to
the Academy: my father got me ready early on for that." And that drew
laughter from everyone. 
     "And you, Lauren?" Boomer asked. 
     "You should've seen my room. But basic training"-Lauren wasn't sure
if the term 'boot camp' was one the Colonials might understand- "cured me
of that within a couple of days." 
     "I think we were all like that, once," Byrne said. "The Naval
Academy's cure for that was pretty quick." 
     "No doubt, Sir." She looked at her now empty beer glass. "Two's my
limit. Excuse me, please." She got up and went to the bar. "Freeman...you
have anything nonalcoholic?" 
     "I sure do, Sergeant. Captain Byrne gave me some recipes for
something called a 'smoothie'." 
     "That'll do," she said. 
     Freeman nodded and began fixing her order. As he did so, two of
Croft's troopers came in. "Mind if we join you?" 
     "Not at all, though I'm over at that table." Lauren said, motioning
in the group's direction.
     "Too bad," the Corporal said, disappointed. "Anyway, thanks for that
demonstration. That was some nice shooting, Sergeant." 
     "Thanks." 
     "You going to teach all of us?" his partner asked. He'd gotten the
message, just like the Corporal. 
     "No, but I'll teach three more of you guys, and they'll be your
instructors. And you can learn from your buddies." She replied, sizing
them up. It had been a long time since someone tried to pick her up, and
the last time, she had to deck the jerk in question. 
     "You'll be back, though?" the Corporal asked. 
     She nodded. "Once in a while, to check on how you're doing. And to
give some advice." 
     "Here you go, Sergeant," Freeman said, putting a nice fruit smoothie
in front of her. 
     "Thanks, Freeman," she replied, seeing him nod.
     "I'll pay," the Corporal's partner said. "Think of it as a thank-you
for today." And he put a coin on the bar. 
     She nodded her thanks, and went back. "Well, that went okay," she
said. 
     "When's the last time that happened to you?" Byrne asked. 
     "A few days before my abduction. Some jerk, who ignored the fact
that I was with my boyfriend, tried to pick me up almost like that. He
got so persistent that I had to punch him out." Lauren replied. 
     Heads turned to face her. "You laid a guy out, just like that?"
Sheba asked. 
     "Yep," Lauren replied, taking a sip of the smoothie. "Not only did
he ignore my boyfriend, but I was in my Sheriff's Department uniform at
the time. Talk about having a case of the stupids." 
     "Well, seeing those two does prove one thing," Apollo noted. 
     "What's that?" she replied. 
     "Your novelty's wearing off. And those two troopers were treating
you as an equal," Croft pointed out.. 
     Well, well, then. Lauren nodded, then she raised her glass. "Here's
to that." 
     Clink. 
     Then Apollo looked at his chrono. "Uh-oh. How time flies." 
     "What?" Starbuck asked. 
     "Time to go pick up Boxey," Apollo replied, looking at Sheba, who
checked her own, and nodded. 
     "Well, then." Adama said as he got up. "This has been an interesting
conversation. And Captain, Sergeant, thanks again for the weapons
demonstration." 
     Both Byrne and Wagner nodded. "You're welcome, Commander." 
     Just at that moment, Byrne got a text message on his communicator.
Lauren's second batch of uniforms were ready aboard the Rising Star. He
showed it to her, and she nodded. About time, both of them thought. 


     After the group broke up, Ensign Adele came over to Byrne and
Wagner. "Back to the ship, sir?" 
     "Got a side trip to the Rising Star first. How many have you had?"
Byrne asked. 
     "Three of those 'smoothies'. I knew I'd be flying you back, so I
stuck to something nonalcoholic." 
     "Good girl." Wagner said. "What's the reg in our military? The
bottle to throttle one?" 
     "Twelve Centars, your time, Ensign. Keep that in mind." Byrne
reminded his shuttle pilot.
     "Yes, sir." 
     The trio went back to the landing bay, boarded Armstrong, and after
being cleared, launched for the Rising Star. When they arrived, Ensign
Adele stayed with the shuttle,while Byrne and Wagner went to the main
shopping gallery. Even though it was her third time aboard the liner,
Lauren was still impressed. "My god, it's just like a shopping mall back
home." 
     "That it is," Byrne agreed. "There's three other liners in the
Fleet, and all of 'em have something just like this. But the Rising
Star's is the best. If you need it, and it's in this Fleet, they'll find
it. And if they can't, if at all possible, they'll make it." 
     Lauren nodded, and the two soon found the tailor's shop. "Hey,
Jasen!" Bryne called. 
     "Ah, Captain Bryrne!" Jasen, the proprietor, came out to greet them.
"And Sergeant Wagner, I see." 
     She nodded. "Nice to see you again, Jasen. You said the last of the
order's ready?" 
     He nodded. "Of course! This was an...unusual order, but the reward
was too tempting to pass up a challenge such as this." Jasen was
referring to the Zykonian Langulin that had been part of the original
deal. 
     Byrne nodded back. "I'm just glad we paid you in advance, because
when I got your message, we were on the Galactica." 
     Jasen laughed. "Yes, that might have been a problem. Anyway,
Sergeant, here you go." He pulled out of a box a camouflage uniform made
to what Byrne remembered as what the Army and AF had been wearing just
prior to his departure from Earth. "Just what kind of uniform is this,
anyhow? I'm familiar somewhat with military dress, and this
is....unusual." 
     "It's a kind of camouflage. Meant to be used in most environments."
Wagner said, taking the reproduction universal-camouflage BDU. "Looks all
right. Your fitting room empty? Because I'd like to try it on first." 
     "I have no other customers at present, Sergeant," Jasen said, waving
a hand toward the fitting room. "It's all yours." 
     "Thanks." She took the BDU and went into the fitting room. 
     "You made the number she wanted?" Byrne asked. 
     "Of course, Captain. Four sets," Jasen replied. 
     While they were waiting for Lauren to come out, both heard a
familiar voice. "Captain Byrne," 
     The two turned to see Sire Pelias. "What brings you here, Sire?"
Jasen asked. 
     "Just keeping in touch with my constituents," the young Councilman
said. He turned to Byrne. "Is your daughter with you, or is Sergeant
Wagner?" 
     "Lauren's here. Jasen made some more uniforms for her. And she's in
the fitting room right now." Byrne said. 
     Just as he said that, Lauren came out. The uniform fit her like a
glove. "Well, Jasen, they pass." 
     "How does it feel?" Byrne asked. 
     "Pretty good. And with that belt and holster on me, I feel like
kicking some and taking some," she replied. She took the box, went back
in to get her undress blues, and came back out. "And he even made the BDU
cap. Thanks, Jasen." 
     "Anytime, Sergeant. Glad to be of service, especially to someone
who's going home." 
     "Too bad you weren't in the Club on Galactica, Sire," Byrne said on
the way out. 
     "A pity. Though some things here were more important, such as
settling a dispute between some constituents,  but how did the
after-briefing conversation go?" Pelias asked. He gestured to a java
kiosk, Rogelio's, on the promenade, and they all had one on him. 
     "Let's put it this way," Lauren said, enjoying what to her was good
coffee. "I'll be happy seeing anyone involved in the abductions dead. And
the aliens kept quarantined to their home system. Or else." She put the
box down on a table outside the shop, tightened her holster belt, patted
her Mark-23, and that got Pelias' attention again.  
     Pelias nodded. "You have very good reason to feel that way,
Sergeant."
     "And you know what, Sire?" Byrne asked. Seeing the questioning look
on Pelias' face, he went on, "I don't blame her one bit. If she killed
every last one of those responsible for the abductions, I'd say she did
the galaxy a favor." 
     Pelias nodded understanding. "I don't think anyone would disagree
with that viewpoint, Captain." 
     "Neither did the Commander," Byrne said. "One other thing, let's
hope the Ke'zar won that war, and did the job for her." 
     "No argument there, Captain."  
     As they were talking, several people came up and mentioned that
they'd seen Byrne and/or Lauren on IFB. Most were curious about Earth,
how they were fitting in, and so on. A couple of teenage boys, who said
they wanted to join the service when they turned eighteen, were curious
about Lauren's BDU and its camouflage pattern. Some were interested in
the American flag patch on her right shoulder, while some others, who'd
seen her in her one (and only) interview on IFB, were wondering about how
she could have a civilian job and yet be in the military as well.
Explaining the difference between active and reserve branches took a few
centons. And the whole thing was very pleasant to all.
     In a small cafe across from the tailor's, two pairs of eyes viewed
the whole thing with disgust. Sire Elegabalus and Sire Galerius watched
it all, and they were appalled. They couldn't believe their eyes: that
the two Earthers were being....accepted by the people. Coming from a
backward planet, and now... two ships were captained by men from Earth,
and another from Earth had a key position on Byrne's ship. Not to mention
that none of them-even Byrne's daughter-really considered themselves
Colonials. All four simply felt they were going home, period. Even
Bryne's daughter, who said that she considered Earth to be her real home,
and wanted to go to the country of her parents' birth, and was
technically a citizen thereof.. The two councilmen still fumed about
that, even when they lost the vote. And the gall of that other woman,
showing up for a Council session in her own military uniform! She, and
the others, should've joined the Colonial military instead of maintaining
their loyalties to their own military services. And yet, not just Adama,
but Lydia, Pelias, Tinia, and even Xaviar had not just ignored the
disgrace, they had put a motion forward to recognize the Earthers as
simply being on "temporary attached duty" to the Colonial Forces, and
receiving pay equal to their rank.. Despite the pair's impassioned
arguments against, it had passed, with Elegabalus and Galerius the only
two votes in opposition, and they still fumed about the result. 
     As the crowd broke up, Byrne noticed the two. "There's our two least
favorite Council members." 
     "Ah, yes," Pelias said. "They don't like either one of you, for some
reason." 
     "Their problem," Lauren said. "When I told them I consider myself an
American, who's on her way home, they couldn't understand it."
     "They also didn't like the fact you were in your own service's
uniform," Pelias said. He remembered that meeting, where the subject of
the derelict and everything found as a result had been discussed. And
Sergeant Wagner's experience had been also mentioned, and she had given a
first-hand account of what  had happened. 
     "Too bad. If they can't accept that the Captain, Commander Allen,
Jena, and me, are going home, and don't want to do anything that could
jeopardize things when we do get back, that's their problem." Lauren
replied. 
     "Not only that," Byrne said. "They're sore losers. When the Council
decided to recognize Jena as an American and offer her dual citizenship
if she wanted it, the vote was ten to two." 
     "Let me guess: they were the two 'No' votes?" Lauren asked. 
     "Sad, but true," Pelias said. "And they did something which was
nearly unprecedented: they walked out after the vote was taken." 
     "That explains their hostility to me, then. Everyone else was very
polite, curious, and understanding, but those two, both of them looked at
me as if I was some kind of demon." Wagner recalled. 
     "Their tough luck," Byrne said. "I had the same thing. Not only
were they sore losers, but they're just plain arrogant, and come across
as first-class snobs. There's a saying on Earth: 'My way or the highway.'
And they've got that attitude." 
     "Unfortunately, that's true," Pelias agreed. "We have a similar
saying-and I do know what you mean by that. But they ran unopposed, and
so.." 
     "Their problem, not ours," Bryne said. He checked his watch. "Sire,
it's been nice talking with you, but we need to be getting back." 
     "Ah, yes," Pelias said. "Duty calls." He dumped his cup, and called
to the proprietress, "Thanks, Mariwen. Say hi to Cassy for me." 
     "Sure will, Sire," replied the lady behind the counter. 
     "Anyway, I quite understand, Captain. Please say hello to Jena for
me."
     Byrne nodded, "Of course, Sire," and the two headed back to the
docking bay and Armstrong. Adele was sitting there, patiently waiting,
and she was surprised to see Wagner in the new BDU. 
     "So that's what you were getting?" A camouflage uniform like that
was not unknown, but then again, there hadn't been that many expeditions
to other planets since Gamoray. 
     "Yep. It's supposed to work in everything but the Arctic, or that's
what the Captain says," Wagner replied. 
     "It ought to," Byrne said. "Ready to go?" 
     "Yes, sir." Adele replied. Byrne and Wagner got strapped in, and
Adele received clearance to launch. 
She expertly flew the shuttle out of the liner's docking bay, and headed
to Constellation. When they arrived, they found Dante, Malik, and Jena
waiting for them in Constellation's docking bay. Something must be up. 
     As Byrne and Wagner left the shuttle, he asked, "What's up, Mr.
Dante?" 
     "I'd best let Jena explain, Captain." 
     Byrne looked at his daughter. "Somebody broke into our cabin, Pop." 
     "How do you know?" Byrne asked. 
     "The whole cabin looks like a disaster area," Jena told her father
as they headed that way. "Lauren's side, too." Once they got there, it
was clear; the place looked like a tornado had passed through. 
     Lauren's instinct as a cop took over. "This is more than a secret
admirer, Captain," she said, all business. 
     "I would agree, sir," Malik said. "Someone has been in my quarters
as well." 
     "Anything missing?" Byrne asked, looking around, and fighting a
rising sense of anger.
     "No, sir, but whoever it was, they were looking for something."
Malik said. 
     "Same here," Jena said. "Nothing's gone, but....." 
     "Whoever they were, they wanted something. But I don't know what."
Dante said. He was the go-between between the crew and the Captain, and
so far, the Constellation was a happy ship at the moment. 
     "Neither do I." Byrne said, very concerned. "My cabin, in five
centons." 


     The five of them met again in Byrne's cabin. 
     "Okay, what do we have?" he asked Dante. 
     "Not much so far, but preliminary scans show no fingerprints other
than Sergeant Wagner's, or your daughter's anywhere in the cabin,
including the head. Whoever did this, wore gloves. The same in Malik's
quarters."
     "Someone's being careful," Byrne snorted. 
     "Yes, but at the same time, also desperate." Malik said. 
     "Go on," said Byrne. 
     "Whoever it is, risked much, being so open in their search, and yet
took the time to wear gloves. They are desperate to find whatever it is."
     "What do you think?" Byrne asked his Master-at-Arms. 
     "I think we ought to prepare a little trap for whoever this is. No
way is this a secret admirer of Jena's." Wagner replied. 
     "Agreed." Dante said. "But why break into your cabin, and Malik's?" 
     "Right now," Wagner said, "it's not the 'why', but 'who?'" Her
instinct as a cop was in high gear. "When we get the 'who,' we'll find
out the 'why' later." 
     "What are you thinking, Sergeant?" Byrne asked. 
     "We tidy up the cabin. Once that's done, we put some clothes in the
bunks, to make it look like Jen and I are asleep. Only we're not there." 
     "Where are you, then?" Byrne asked. "In a closet?"
     "No, sir. That smuggling compartment is what I had in mind," she
replied. "But I'll need some backup." 
     Malik nodded. "Whoever this, this, scum is, I want to get him as
well." 
     "You're volunteering?" Dante asked. 
     "I am," the Zhorloch warrior replied. 
     "I'll take him," Wagner said. "He's got some nasty hand-to-hand
moves, and that will be handy." 
     Hearing that, Malik was pleased. He'd sparred with Wagner a few
times, and both had learned from the other, despite her "just" being a
woman. "How badly damaged do you want him, Sir?" He asked the Captain. 
     Byrne thought for a moment, never quite sure about the Zhorloch
sense of humor. "Alive enough to answer some questions. And there will be
plenty, believe me." 
     Both Wagner and Malik nodded. 
     "Jen, you sleep in my bunk tonight. No buts," Byrne said, and he saw
his daughter nod. "Dante, I don't want word of this getting around. I
don't want to scare this guy off, whoever he is." 
     "Yes, sir," the Exec replied. "And while that is in motion, there is
another avenue I can investigate." 
     "And that is?" 
     "I do not know if you're aware of it, sir, but fingerprints are not
universal among Colonials. In several Tribes, they are nearly absent.
Obviously the perpetrator wanted to hide theirs, and so.."
     "They must have them. Good thinking, Mr. Dante, for I wasn't aware
of that." Byrne thought for a few more centons. "We've got what, three
other security men in the crew?" 
     "Yes, sir," Wagner replied. "Castor trained them, and they'd be
pretty good lawmen back home. One of them, Paulson, used to be a cop
before the Cylon destruction." And that, Dante realized, was praise
indeed. 
     "All right. Have them poke around, find out if anyone's been saying
anything like having a crush on Jena, or you-for that matter, or just
plain acting weird, have them report to me, directly." Bryne ordered.
"And the prints." 
     "Yes, sir. Even if we have to pull an all-nighter," Wagner said. 
     "If that's what it takes. Now, how'd he get in?" Byrne asked. 
     "I can answer that," Dante said. "Whoever did this bypassed the
outside lock. That means the perpetrator's got some knowledge of
electronics and ship's systems." 
     "Enough to know what to do and not get electrocuted in the process,"
Byrne said, and it wasn't a question. "Not to mention knowing his way
around the ship. Air vents, service crawlspaces, the works. Whoever it
was, they got out just as easily as they got in." 
     "Yes, sir," Dante replied. "That narrows it down to what, about a
third of the crew?" 
     "A quarter, actually." Byrne said. "Including the pilots, but it
should exclude them. There's no reason they should know those minute
details. All right, let's do this." He turned to Jena. "What time do you
two usually turn in?" 
     "About 2200," she said. 
     "Okay, the two of you, clean up the cabin, and follow your usual
routine. Jen, use that smuggling compartment after you turn out the
lights." 
     "For what?" Dante asked. 
     "It connects their cabin and mine," Byrne said. "They can pass back
and forth and no one would know." Hearing that, Dante nodded. There were
still some things about the ship he hadn't yet learned fully. 
     "Oh, yes, sir." Wagner said. "I'll be waiting in the compartment." 
     Byrne nodded. "And you, Mr. Malik?" 
     "He will not search one part of the cabin, I am certain, feeling it
beneath him: the head." Malik replied. 
     "Good. Mr. Dante, you'll be with me," Byrne decided, seeing his Exec
nod. "And I want one of the security men with you, Sergeant, for backup."

     "I'll have Paulson: he's doing pretty well so far, and I'd have him
in my patrol car back home anytime," Wagner said. 
     "Good. Somebody's in for a rude surprise tonight." And seeing his
people nod, Byrne went on, "Like I said, I want this guy alive and
talking." 
     "Yes, sir," Wagner replied. "But if he draws a weapon, or tries
to...." 
     "Understood." Byrne knew full well what she meant. But corpses
couldn't be interrogated. "If you have to draw on him, don't hesitate."
And everyone knew what that meant. "He doesn't really need his knees,
though. Anything else?" 
     Heads shook no. 
     "That's it. Let's get this guy-whoever he is."


     Later, in Byrne's cabin, Dante came back with some additional
information. "Sir, I've narrowed down our suspect list to just a
handful." 
     "That fast? I'm impressed, Mr. Dante." Byrne said. "What have you
got?"
     Dante smiled. He appreciated the vote of confidence from his
captain. And he'd become friends with both Jena and Sergeant Wagner, and
didn't want anything to happen to either one. After what they'd
experienced, they deserve to go home, he felt. "Given the knowledge that
our suspect has to have, added with his need to conceal fingerprints,
I've narrowed down our list of suspects to five." 
     "Very good, Mr. Dante. And they are?" 
     "First, sir, two of them can be ruled out immediately. They were on
duty at the time, and their whereabouts can be verified by other crew, or
by security cameras." Dante reported. 
     "Which makes it three. Go on." Byrne said. 
     "A third, who was a Viper maintenance petty officer on Galactica,
can be ruled out: he is now a Viper pilot, and his squadron commander has
him in a training simulator at the time of the break-in." Dante said.
"And the next possible was off-watch, but in a lengthy Pyramid game with
several of the maintenance division. Seven witnesses in total, plus his
duty log." 
     "Which leaves one. Who?" Byrne asked. 
     Dante called up a holo image on his PDA. "Petty Officer Second Class
Laban. One of the Damage-Control specialists. He's very good at his job,
but, according to his bunkmates, has been....acting strange." 
     "How strange?" Asked the Captain. 
     "According to his cabin mates, he's been....moody. A lot. Reading
and seemingly chanting or praying. But when his friends try to find out
what he's reading, he closes the book and puts it away. He eats alone in
the crew's mess, has few, if any, friends-other than his cabin mates, and
spends his off-watch time mostly praying or reading. But one of his cabin
mates heard him mutter something about 'the Captain's brat and the bitch
who lives with her' or words to that effect," Dante reported. 
     "Anything specific, like a threat to hurt either one?" Byrne asked. 
     "No, sir," Dante replied. "But he's also said some very
uncomplimentary remarks about Malik and his fellow Zorloch refugees.
'Anti-alien' is the term we used in the Colonies, and he's echoing those
words." 
     "I see," Byrne said. "Unfortunately, on Earth, people who start
thinking that someone's out to get them, or aren't happy that their new
neighbors belong to a different religion or ethnic group, sometimes snap
and go on a rampage-with weapons-and that gets some people killed. Or a
hostage situation develops." He remembered some of the shooting rampages
that had made headlines back home, or some nut took over a building and
held some people hostage because the guy was upset about something that
made him snap. 
     "I see, Captain," Dante said. "We don't have enough to detain him,
but.." 
     "Not that, but find him," Byrne ordered. "Tell him the Captain wants
to have a talk with him. Call it an evaluation, or whatever you can think
of." 
     "Right away, sir." Dante said. 
     "And try and narrow down his movements over the last twenty-four
Centars." 
     "Sir." 


     In their cabin, Jena and Lauren had cleaned the place up, and for
once, Lauren realized, Jena had put her part of the cabin in shape that a
DI would be pleased to see. They had put some of their spare clothes in
the bunks, and arranged them so it appeared that the bunks were occupied,
using some wigs that had been found when the Colonials took possession of
the ship,  and then Jena went through the smuggling compartment to her
dad's cabin, just as Malik came in. 
     "Ready?" Malik asked. 
     "If you are," Wagner said, adjusting the settings on her portable
bioscanner. "You have your communicator and scanner with you?" 
     "Of course." 
     Lauren nodded, "Good. We'll check in every fifteen minu....centons."
Her eyes shifted to his belt, where his warrior's dagger was prominently
displayed. "Hoping to use that?" 
     "I would ask you the same regarding that pistol," he replied, with
that not-smile his people had
     "Guess that's a 'yes' in both," she said, and he laughed. 


     "Yes! All practice and no combat gets to be boring after a while,"
Malik said, and he was relishing the prospect of some hand-to-hand
combat. 
     "I know the feeling," Wagner replied. "All right: let's get ready." 
     Just as she said that, Byrne came in via the smuggling compartment.
"Jena's gone to bed. Everything set here?" 
     "Just about, sir," Wagner replied. "Anything on a possible suspect?"

     "We may have our man," the Captain said, and he outlined what Dante
had told him.
     "Either he's snapped," Lauren said, "or he's been reading something
to set him off." 
     "A religious fanatic?" Malik asked. 
     "Possibly. We'll know for sure when we talk to him," Byrne said. "Be
careful, both of you." 
     Both of them replied, "Yes, sir." 
     Byrne then went back to his cabin by way of the smuggling
compartment, and Lauren followed, closing the concealed door behind her.
Paulson, her partner on this night, was already there, and he was making
himself cozy. He'd been on stakeouts before, back in the Colonies, and
knew how long and boring they could be. "Ready?" 
     "I am, if you are," he replied. 
     "All right," she said, looking around. A check of the compartment
revealed no air ducts or other passages large enough for someone to use
to enter the compartment, though such passages were there. She wondered
if Krylon had also been trafficking in people, given the wigs they
found-and given his trade of piracy, that was very likely-and not every
port would welcome such cargo. She'd also checked the cabin, and though
there were air ducts, none could enable an adult human to pass through.
So that means of alternate entry was out. The only way in was the cabin
door. "All we can do is sit and wait." 


     In his cabin, Byrne watched as his daughter climbed into his bunk
and went to sleep. The thought that someone might want to hurt his
daughter, who he still felt as his little girl, filled him with rage. Not
just as the Captain, but as a father. After all, she was all that he had
left of her mother, and he was raging at the thought of something
happening to her. Dante was with him, and then Metxan, Lauren's deputy,
came in. He was built like a football linebacker, and could probably be
one, back home. He had approved her recommendation for Metxan taking the
job as deputy Master-at-Arms for a good reason: not only was he smart,
but he was very burly-and having someone who could prevent a brawl just
by walking around a compartment was worth his weight in gold. "Yes?" 
     "Sir, we haven't been able to find Petty Officer Laban. He's not in
his cabin, the mess hall, or the crew lounge." Metxan reported. 
     "Which means he's coming this way. And sooner rather than later."
Byrne knew. 
     "Yes, sir." Dante said. 
     Byrne looked at the chrono. 2220. "If we're right, he'll be here
soon enough." 


     The first few check-ins went without anything to report. Lauren
looked around the compartment, and saw Paulson doing the same thing. She
was sitting on a case of Langulin, and knew why this compartment had been
made: it was scanner resistant, and unless one knew where to look, even a
visual search of either cabin might not find it. Perfect for a
pirate/smuggler, and equally perfect for its use for a stakeout. Then,
things changed a few centons before the 0015 check-in. "Hear that?" 
     "Footsteps. Outside the cabin." Paulson said, whispering. "I felt
them, too." 
     "Same here." Wagner said. She picked up her communicator. "Malik. We
may have company. Outside the cabin." 
     "I heard, and felt, Sergeant. If this scum comes in..." Malik
replied. 
     "We've got company," she realized. Then the cabin door opened. 


     Inside the cabin, the intruder looked around. So, the brat and the
bitch had cleaned up his handiwork, and now, they were asleep. If things
went right, he'd have the two of them stashed away in a hidden
compartment that he'd discovered. Though empty, and obviously used for
smuggling in the past, it was perfect for his purposes. And maybe,
depending on the price the leaders wanted, the two would be given back.
He went over to a bunk, slowly drawing his knife from his left sleeve,
and started to shake the occupant awake to feel his knife. Nothing. What
in the....he turned on the cabin light as he realized the bunks'
occupants had deceived him. No!. 
     Wagner had cracked open the hidden door and watched the intruder go
about his business. Uh-oh...she realized as he went for the cabin light.
"NOW!" she yelled, and flung open the door, while Malik charged out of
the head. She and Paulson came in right behind him. 
     The intruder tried to wave his knife, but Malik knocked it out of
his hand with a fast kick, and flipped him over, landing on his back. He
got up to find Wagner tackling him, and he grunted, pushing her off, and
kicking her in the thigh. Paulson then charged in, getting a kick in the
belly for his trouble, just as Malik grabbed the intruder from behind,
pulling his head back, and kneeing  him in the back. 
     Malik got an elbow in the ribs for his trouble, a minor
inconvenience for him, but stayed on his feet, trying to kick the
intruder's legs out from under him. Paulson then moved in, only to get
kicked back with another blow to the belly. Wagner charged in, and kneed
him in his own belly,and he doubled over. But he still flipped Malik
over, and knocking her away,  he tried to go for his knife. 
     Seeing that, she got up and prepared to kick it away, when a huge
fist came down on the intruder's wrist. There was a loud snap, and he
cried out, dropping the weapon. Wagner drew her Mark-23, and leveled it
at his face just as he began to pull out another concealed knife with his
other hand from the black jerkin he wore."Want to see if this 'primitive'
weapon can still kill? Make one move with that knife, and your brains are
splattered all over that bulkhead."  
     Paulson quipped as he tried to get up, "Not that they're very good
brains, but you're not likely to get any better." 
     The intruder didn't move for a centon. He was staring down the
barrel of a firearm that, no matter how primitive it looked, could still
send him to the Lords of Kobol if she pulled the trigger. His last sight
would be her face staring into his, and he knew it. If he needed any more
incentive, he felt Malik's grip on his neck tighten. He dropped the knife
into Malik's waiting hand. 
     "Good boy." She then shouted, "CLEAR!" 
     The cabin door opened and Metxan came in, followed by Byrne and
Dante. "Well done, Sergeant,"
Byrne said. 
     "Thank you, sir." she replied, still keeping the intruder covered.
"Metxan, cuff him." 
     "With pleasure, Ma'am." he replied as he handcuffed the intruder,
and the man's cry of pain seemed only to please the huge Colonial.
     Byrne came in and pulled Malik to his feet. "Get what you wanted?" 
     "Yes, sir!" the Zorloch responded, handing the knife to the Captain.
"Too many practice contests, and not enough real combat. But it was
invigorating, nonetheless." 
     Byrne smiled, but still couldn't understand some of the Zhorloch
mentality. He turned to Paulson. "You all right?" 
     Paulson got up. "Just winded, Captain. I'm fine. And I've been
worse.." 
     "So I've heard," Byrne said. He turned, as Jena came into the cabin
and looked at the scene. Her father then turned to face the intruder.
"Okay, son. I want some answers." 
     "Bastard!" Laban spat, snarling. He turned to Wagner. "Infidel
defiler! By what right do you taint our people with your outish ways?" He
turned back to Byrne. "You, and that spawn..." 
     Crunch! 
     Byrne had stepped on his toes. "Say one more thing about my
daughter," he said, standing nose to nose, "and you're going to be sorry
you were ever born! Now, why, and is anyone else with you?" Laban said
nothing. "Answer me, you little prick!" 
     "The Captain asked you a question!" Malik said, smacking Laban on
the head. "Did you hear the Captain?"
     Laban shouted, "Get your hands off me, you alien contamination!" He
struggled against Malik's grip, to no use. "The Demon and his minions
continue to affront us with the presence of vermin like you! Sub-Human
slime, I..." 
     SMACK! 
     Laban slid bonelessly out of Malik's grip, to land in a heap. Malik
looked up at Metxan, who was flexing his fingers. "Well done." 
     "My pleasure," Metxan replied. 
     "All right, let's get this slime to the brig," Byrne said. He turned
to Jena, "And you, young lady, back to bed!" 
     "But Pop!" she began. 
     "But nothing! Back to bed!" 
     Jena rolled her eyes and went back to Byrne's cabin. 
     After she left, Metxan and Paulson pulled Laban to his feet, and he
glared at Wagner, who had just holstered her Mark-23. "Bitch!" 
     "You've got a smart mouth." Wagner said, turning to Metxan. "Get
this garbage out of my sight!" 
     "Gladly. Come on, you!" He said as he dragged Laban out of the cabin
and headed to the Brig.
     "Well fought, Sergeant," Malik said. "A most invigorating contest." 
     "Thanks. Tomorrow, in the crew lounge, I'm buying," she replied.
Lauren turned to Paulson. "Get to the security office and get my kit.
This cabin's a crime scene, and we need to document it. Once that's done,
we'll check Laban's cabin and talk to his cabin mates."
     "Just like Port Canceria," Paulson said. "So, an all-nighter?" 
     "If we have to," Wagner said. 
     "Once you've done that, Sergeant, my office couch is yours," Byrne
said. "I want you refreshed and ready in the morning. And before you say
it, no buts," he ordered. 
     "Yes, sir." 

Chapter 11

     Paulson returned to the cabin, bringing Wagner's crime-scene kit. It
was similar to what a CSI would use back home, only much more advanced.
This time, all she needed was her gloves and a camera. "Here you go,
Ma'am." 
     "Thanks. Now, remember to glove up," she reminded her colleague. "I
know, you used to be a homicide cop yourself, but I'm reminding you." 
     "Yes, Ma'am," Paulson replied. It had been a while, he mused, but
Lords, it felt good to be doing his old job again. 
     Wagner got out the camera and got ready. The two knives were
photographed, as were the bunks with their home-made dummies, along with
a full multispectral scan from several points, then they closed up. "All
right, Let's go see Laban's cabin, and talk to his cabin mates." 
     The two went down into the Petty Officer's quarters. Laban shared a
cabin with three others, and a call to the bridge found that two of them
were on watch elsewhere in the ship. She pressed the call button next to
the hatch and it opened. Kherson, one of his cabin mates, opened the
door. "Now what's going on a this time of ....Oh, Sergeant," he said,
suddenly recognizing Lauren. 
     "Petty Officer Kherson, we're here about Laban." she said. "And
before you ask, yes, he's in a lot of trouble." 
     "I was wondering when he'd go stupid. Come on in." 
     Lauren and Paulson went into the cabin. "Where's Laban's bunk and
locker?" 
     Kherson showed them. "Second one, on the right."
     "I'll take the locker, you check under the bunk," Wagner said, and
Paulson nodded. She turned to Kherson."Any of these have storage
underneath, like in Officer Country?" 
     "No, Sergeant. And believe me, we looked. Not knowing what the
previous occupants had," Kherson replied. 
     She nodded as she opened the locker. Uniforms hung on their hangers,
and everything seemed properly squared away. It was neat, almost too neat
for her liking. Then she checked a shelf, and found something. "Looks
like a book." 
     "He'd be reading that-and that was the only thing any of us ever saw
him read," Kherson said. "And he'd either be chanting, praying, or
repeating passages aloud."
    "Did you hear him make any threats against anyone? Crew, or
civilians?" Paulson asked. 
     "Threats, no. Nasty remarks, yes," Khreson replied. "He wasn't
thrilled about having an, uh, Z, well, you know, a Zhorloch in the crew,
and an officer at that." 
     "Malik's the gunnery officer," Wagner noted. "The two ever cross
paths?" 
     "No, Sergeant, not that I know. Laban wasn't too thrilled about you,
either. Or the Captain, or his daughter." Kherson said. 
     "Anything specific?" 
     "No, other than he wanted to 'teach that Earth bitch and the
Captain's brat a lesson," replied Kherson. He saw Wagner's brow rise.
"Uh, begging your pardon, Ma'am. And he did try and talk to other crew,
get them to listen to what he had to say." 
     "Anybody listen to him?" Lauren asked. 
     "To my knowledge, no. Everybody wrote him off as a crank," Khreson
told her. "And to be honest, he is, as far as I'm concerned." And if this
sends him to the Prison Barge? Good riddance, he thought. 
     Lauren nodded as she opened the book. Her knowledge of ancient
Colonial script was spotty, at best, so Paulson translated for her. "What
the... 'Preachings and Tenets of the Il Fadim.' What the hell is this?" 
     "Uh-oh..." Paulson said. "That's not good." 
     "What do you mean?" Lauren asked. 
     "Well...back in the Colonies, the Il Fadim were some kind of
religious movement. Pretty, what's the term you might know? Over the
edge." 
     Lauren nodded. "What's the polite term for these folks?" 
     "Religious sect was the most complimentary I ever heard thing said
about them." Paulson replied. 
     "And on the other side?" She wanted to know. 
     "The words, 'cult' and 'terrorist group' got thrown around some,"
Kherson said. "But they had factions, and factions within factions, and
so on. No one single leader." 
     "Lovely." Lauren said. "Just like what Captain Byrne said about
those Al-Qaida types back home before he left." And that SOB Bin Laden
ate some 5.56 from a SEAL....good riddance. Only good thing about being
in a tube was, I didn't get to see 9/11, she said to herself. 
     "You could say that, Ma'am." Paulson said. 
     "Any of 'em in this Fleet?" Lauren asked. 
     "We had some trouble with one of 'em, and his followers, about a
yahren ago. Sherock, yeah, he was a charismatic type, sure, but he was a
few Centurions short of a base ship, if you get the idea.  He was some
kind of philosopher and motivational speaker: always about religion or
politics. Turned out he was off his meds, and became this raving
religious zealot. Now that he's being treated, he's pretty docile. And
he's had nothing to do with this bunch since. That I know of, anyway." 
     She nodded again as she flipped through the book. Then Lauren turned
to Kherson. "He try and get anyone to read this?"  
     "No, and he didn't want anyone touching it. If he was reading it,
and saw us looking at him, he'd put it away." 
     "Any friends besides the three of you?" Lauren asked. 
     "No, and 'friends' wouldn't be the description. More like 'less-than
casual acquaintances.' And before you ask, he ate alone in the Mess Hall,
and if anyone-especially a female crew member-tried to sit with him, he'd
just get up and go somewhere else. No Pyramid partners, nothing like
that." Kherson told her. 
     She nodded as she flipped through the book. Then a carefully folded
piece of paper came out. It looked like a map of part of the ship.
"What's this?" 
     "Not sure where that is, Ma'am," Paulson said. "Looks like a part of
the ship, though." 
     "All right. Paulson, get all of his things, and get them over to the
Security Office. I'm headed to the Bridge." 
     "Ma'am?" 
     "I want to know where on the ship this is." Lauren said. 


     Lauren went to the Bridge, and found Lieutenant Dante, the Exec,
standing Watch as the Officer of the Deck. She smiled at the Navy term,
and who knows, maybe some Navy terminology gets adopted Fleet-wide? 
     "Sergeant," Dante said. "Captain Byrne left orders that anything you
need in the investigation, you get." 
     "Thank you, sir." She replied. "What I need right now, is this piece
of paper scanned, and compared to the ship's plans. Laban had it in a
book and I think he may have found another hidden compartment." 
     "Another smuggling compartment?" Dante asked. How many other
surprises would he find out about this ship? Given its previous owner,
there would likely be more.
     "I think so, sir, but to be sure..." Her voice trailed off. 
     Dante nodded and went over to Ruis, the duty communications/scanner
officer. "How fast can you get this scanned?" 
     "Not a problem, sir," Ruis, said. One thing about Krylon, they'd
found, was that in his smuggling and piracy trade, needing documents
scanned for forgery purposes was a necessity. And the bridge had the
necessary equipment to do so. She put the paper in the scanner, and it
was just simple as pressing a button. "It's in the system." Ruis said.  
     "Good, Ensign," Dante said. "Now, compare that with the ship's
plans." 
     Ruis nodded, and worked the keyboard. "Right here: just off the
flight deck. Storage Compartment D-10. Right next to a DC station." 
     "Thanks, Ruis," Wagner said. She turned to Dante. "Sir, you'd best
notify Captain Byrne." 
     "Understood, Sergeant. I'll wake him, and have him meet you there." 
     Lauren went down to the security office, and grabbed Metxan this
time. Paulson was busy processing evidence, and Garris, the only other
security officer, was talking to Laban's other cabin mates, one of whom
was on-watch, with the other in the crew lounge. The two then went to the
compartment in question, and found Lieutenant Diley, the Damage-Control
Officer, waiting. "Sir." 
     "Sergeant," Diley said. "Hades of a thing to wake somebody up this
time of night." 
     "Well, sir, it couldn't wait until morning." Lauren replied. 
     Then the Captain came in. Byrne hadn't gotten out of his uniform,
and had been catnapping in his office chair. He acknowledged their
salutes, then asked, "What have we got?" 
     "Laban had to have found another hidden compartment, sir," Lauren
said. She motioned to the storage compartment in question. "Right here." 
     Byrne nodded. "Let's have a look, Mr. Diley," 
     "Yes, sir," Diley said, and opened the compartment. On first glance,
it looked ordinary: damage-control tools, such as firefighting gear,
cutting torches and saws, life masks, boraton cannisters, as well as
general ship's stores, were there. Then both Captain Byrne and Lauren,
who knew what to look for, saw it: a thin crack along the forward
bulkhead. 
     "That's got to be it," Byrne said. 
     "Yes, sir," Lauren said. She felt along the bulkhead, and sure
enough, it swung out. "Stand back, Sirs," she said. 
     Both officers stepped back, as both Lauren and Metxan drew their
weapons. 
     Wagner nodded to Metxan. "On three.. One, two, THREE!" 
     Metxan threw open the door, and Wagner scanned the compartment.
"Clear," she said as she holstered her pistol. 
     "Mother of Kobol...." Diley said. "What was going on here?" 
     "Nothing good, I'd say." Bryne observed. He was looking at what
seemed to be a home-made dungeon. Ropes and chains hung from the walls,
and several chests sat along one of the bulkheads. "Looks like we know
what he had in mind." 
     "Yeah," Wagner said. "Metxan, ever see anything like this?" 
     "Yes, Ma'am. About a yahren before the Holocaust, there was a guy in
Port Valerium. He kidnapped, assaulted, and killed about a dozen young
girls. He had almost the same kind of setup." 
     "Serial killer," Wagner said. "They ever catch him?" A lot of what
she'd heard about Ted Bundy before her abduction came back all of a
sudden. 
     "No, Ma'am. They found his lair, knew who he was, but he escaped the
Colonies before the Holocaust," Metxan said, old memories coming back.
"Last I heard, he fled outside Colonial Space, and this guy was one of
the most-wanted in the Colonies."
     Lauren nodded as she photographed the compartment. "Wouldn't be the
first time a serial killer was some kind of religious nut. Like the
original assassins." she observed. 
     Metxan nodded as he took out his scanner. He took a look at one of
the two chests. "Captain, Ma'am, I suggest we all step out of the
compartment. Now." 
     "What is it?" Lauren asked. 
     "This chest has explosives rigged inside. It reads as similar to
what was found in Galactica just prior to the RB-33 stop." 
     "And the other?" Byrne asked as he stepped back. And they never did
find who had put those explosives-and poison gas-aboard the battlestar.
At least, that he knew of. 
     "Same type of explosives, sir."  
     The quartet stepped outside the compartment. "Seal this area off. No
one in, and clear it of anyone on watch," Byrne told Diley. 
     "Right away, Sir." Diley said. 
     Byrne went to a telecom. "Bridge, this is the Captain." 
     "Dante here, sir," the Exec replied. 
     "Get on the com to Galactica. We need an explosive ordnance disposal
team here ASAP. I'll fill you in shortly, but get that team here, NOW!"
Byrne ordered. 
     "Yes, Sir!" Dante said. 
     Byrne turned to Lauren. "Find out where Laban got this stuff, and if
anyone was helping him." 
     "He's not cooperative, sir," Wagner said. "The guys say he's just
chanting or praying."
     Byrne looked at Metxan. "That's right,sir. Hasn't said a word since
we brought him in." 
     The Captain nodded. "Do your best, both of you. And I'll make the
arrangements for him to be transferred to Galactica's brig. If he won't
talk to us, maybe he'll talk there." 
     "Yes, sir." Lauren said. She looked at her CO. Though she hadn't
known him for long, she had been in law enforcement long enough to
recognize a parent's concern, as she had read his face. Someone had nasty
intentions towards his daughter, and like any parent, that filled him
with rage. 
     "All right, dismissed, and keep me informed." 


     When Wagner and Metxan returned to the Security Office, they noticed
two crewmen leaving. Lauren asked Garris, "Those two Laban's cabin
mates?"
     "Yes, Ma'am, they were. Nothing new to add to what Kherson said."
Garris replied. 
     "Anyone check his PDA?" 
     "Not yet," Paulson said, coming into the office from the brig
proper. "And before you ask, Ma'am, he hasn't said anything since we
processed him. Chanting and praying not included." 
     Lauren nodded. "Let's have a look. Maybe this guy kept his messages
archived." 
     "Ma'am?" Garris asked. He was the only one who hadn't had any
previous law-enforcement, or 'Security' experience. Metxan had
transferred over from Galactica to help get things started, and Paulson
had his pre-Holocaust experience to draw upon. 
     "One thing that your criminals and ours have in common: they never
think they'll be caught. I'll bet he's kept all of his messages." Lauren
said. "That, and the fact that Laban is almost compulsively neat. A very
tidy mind." 
     The three men nodded as Paulson checked the PDA. "So far, not
much...wait. Here's one. Someone's asking for an update on how things are
going aboard this ship." 
     "He's spying for someone?" Metxan asked. "Who?" 
     "Good question," Lauren said. "What did Laban say?" 
     "It's about you, mostly, Ma'am." Paulson replied. "How you're loyal
to the Captain and Commander Adama, who Laban calls 'the Demon' for some
reason, and that everyone's pretty much accepted you. Not to mention the
Captain's daughter." 
     "Still no complete motive," Metxan said. "Who's the sender?" 
     "That, I don't know. Some kind of code number. They should be able
to decrypt it on Galactica." Paulson replied. "Here's another: someone
was asking Laban to see if he could kidnap either you, Ma'am, or Jena.
They want to exchange one of you for Sherrock." 
     "Kherson was right," Lauren said. And she knew that Byrne would
likely blow his stack when he found that out. "They've crossed the line
from some religious sect to a terrorist group. Only Laban got greedy: he
wanted both of us." 
     "No argument there, Ma'am." 
     "Anything about the explosives?" Lauren asked. 
     "Nothing yet, but there's quite a few messages here. It'll take a
while." Paulson said. 
     Wagner nodded. She checked the office chrono: 0250. "Anything else
you guys think we haven't covered yet?" 
     Heads shook no. "Ma'am," Paulson said, "We can handle things for
now. You need some sleep." 
     Lauren nodded. It had been a long time since she'd pulled anything
like this, namely, cleaning up after a Scud attack in Dhahran two days
before the Gulf War ended. "Keep working on that PDA. See if you can find
who he was sending those messages to, and who was in touch with him." 
     "Yes, Ma'am." Paulson replied. He hadn't been this busy since before
the Holocaust. And he was glad to be back doing his old job. 
     "Garris, watch Laban. He says anything, let me know. And put a
recording device into the cell. Maybe it'll give us something." 
     He nodded. 
     "Metxan, I'll be in Captain Byrne's quarters. He practically ordered
me to sleep on his office couch, since my cabin's still a crime scene. If
you need me, I'll be there." Lauren said. 
     "Don't worry, Ma'am. Let us pull the all-nighter, and you can get
some rest." Metxan said. 
     She nodded, and headed off to Byrne's cabin. When she got there, the
guard passed her in, and she found the Captain asleep once again in his
office chair, while Jena was sound asleep in his bunk. Lauren kicked off
her boots, and laid down on Byrne's couch, still fully clothed. She
closed her eyes and fell asleep. 


     "Wake up, sleepyhead," the voice said. 
     Lauren slowly opened her eyes, and found Jena standing over her.
"Jen..what time is it?" 
     "Nearly 0930. Pop said to let you sleep. Here's some of their
near-coffee," Jen said, handing her cabin mate a cup. 
     "Thanks, Jen. Any problems sleeping? Because that guy had some nasty
plans for both of us." Lauren said.
     "Nope," Jena said. "Slept like a baby. Didn't wake up again until
Pop left for the Bridge. I don't have any classes today, so I slept in." 
     "Today's their equivalent of Saturday. Always good to have a
no-school day," Lauren said as she got up as memories of her childhood
came back. 
     "Oh, he left this for you. A couple of those breakfast pastries, and
some juice." 
     Lauren nodded, then tore into the food. "Some night." 
     "Yeah. When can we go back to the cabin?" Jena asked. 
     "Tomorrow night, earliest," Lauren said. "It's a crime scene until
the authorities on Galactica  say different. You have any questions,
though?" 
     Despite her youth, growing up rough on that planet made sure that
Jena had some maturity beyond her years. "Just one: would you have killed
him?" 
     "If I had to," Lauren replied. "If he'd finished drawing that second
knife...." 
     "Smart for a psycho," Jena said. "He knew when to quit." 
     "There's always a first time," Lauren said. "How do you know about
crazy killers?" 
     "Just what I read in the books Pop brought from Earth: Jack the
Ripper, John Wayne Gacy, Ted Bundy, the Hillside Stranglers, Jeffery
Dahmer," said Jen, and Wagner turned at the last one. She'd been in a
tube when that one had gone down. 
     "Most of 'em are stupid enough to get caught, just like our friend
Laban." Lauren said. She looked at her cup, then put it in the heater.


     After breakfast, Lauren went to the Security Office. Garris was
handling things there, as both Metxan and Paulson had finally gone off to
get some sleep. "Anything?" 
     "No, Ma'am, nothing new. Our friend there keeps chanting and
praying. Metxan had a sit-down with him, told him how deep he was in, but
he wouldn't say a word." Garris replied. 
     One of her old counterterrorist lessons came back to her. "That
means he's committed to the cause, no matter what. Now that he's locked
up, he probably considers it some kind of test." 
     "What kind of people do that, Ma'am?" Garris asked. 
     Lauren looked at him. She knew he was still new to the game.
"Someone who's totally dedicated to the cause, whatever it is, no matter
how sick or degenerate, or he's really a psycho. Or both." 
     Garris gulped. A psycho and a zealot? "Either way, Ma'am, he's
really fraked up." 
     Lauren smiled at the Colonial expletive. "Be careful, though:
somebody can be really psycho, totally devoted to their cause, and
really, really, smart." Just like some dictators back home: Hitler,
Stalin, Saddam Hussein, Pol Pot. "Our friend here may be all three. Only
he got overzealous." 
     "Thank the Lords for that, Ma'am," he replied. 
     She nodded and went to the cell. Behind the force field, Laban was
sitting on the bunk, almost in a yoga-like lotus position. His eyes were
closed, and only seeing his lips move meant that he wasn't asleep, and he
appeared to be praying. "Has he been like this the whole night?" 
     "Yes, Ma'am, he has." Garris said. Mextan had a sit-down with him,
and told him how much trouble he was in, but he wouldn't say a word.
We've recorded what there was." 
     Lauren nodded. Then the telecom buzzed. "Security Office, Garris.
Yes, sir, she's right here." He called her over. "Ma'am, for you. Captain
Byrne." 
     She came in and took the telecom. "Yes, sir?" 
     "Anything new from our friend?" Byrne asked. 
     "No, sir. The guys say he hasn't said a word to them. All he's done
is keep up the chanting and praying routine. Like some crazy guru." 
     "All right. The EOD team from Galactica's here, and they're getting
rid of the explosives. Commander Adama's been informed, and he's ordered
every ship in the Fleet searched," Byrne said. 
     "They find anything yet?" Lauren asked. 
     "Not yet, they just got started. I've got DC teams checking every
accessible part of the ship. So far, nothing, other than another
smuggling compartment. It was empty, though." And I wish there was some
more Langulin somewhere on this ship, he thought. That stuff's worth its
weight in gold.
     "When do we move Laban over to Galactica?" she asked. 
     In a couple of Centars," Byrne said. "They'll take over from there.
And bring all the evidence you've gathered. I told them about the cabin,
and once they see the imagery, they'll release it from the hold. You and
Jena should plan for one more night in my quarters." 
     "We already have, sir," Wagner said. "I'll try my luck with Laban,
then we'll be ready to move him." 
     "Understood, Sergeant," Byrne replied. "Keep me informed." 
     "Yes, sir." 
     Byrne then cut the connection. She hung up the unit, then turned to
Garris. "Wake Paulson. He'll be coming with me to Galactica." 
     "Yes, Ma'am," Garris said, grabbing the telecom unit to call Garris'
cabin, for the two of them were cabin mates. 
     She went back to the cell, and decided to talk to Laban. "Garris,
take my sidearm, and open the cell door. I'm going to try my luck." 
     He nodded,  took the Mark-23 and put it on her desk. Then he opened
the cell door. 
     "Wait here. It's a learning event for you," she said as she went in.

     "Yes, Ma'am," he said, keeping a close eye on the prisoner as she
pulled up the cell's only chair. He grabbed his laser rifle and held it
ready, just in case. 
     "Ready to drop the act and start talking?" Lauren asked Laban. 
     He opened his eyes and saw her staring in his face. "I have nothing
to say to you, infidel bitch!" 
     Lauren rolled her eyes and stared straight at him. "Look, you're
looking at some serious time here. The explosives possession alone brings
a life sentence, Sire Solon tells me. Add to that attempted
kidnapping-two counts, by the way, which is fifteen-to-twenty, each; and
three counts of felony assault on security officers, that's five-to-ten
each right there. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in a
cell like this, you'd better start talking." 
     "Earth whore. You pollute our way of life with your lifestyle, and
maintain loyalties to a nation that is not Colonial!  And you babysit
that brat of the Captain's!" Laban shouted. 
     He was baiting her, she felt, but she didn't bite. Lauren just sat
there and stared at him. "I'm only going to ask you this once: who was in
communication with you, and who provided you with the explosives?" 
     "Demon-Whore! I will tell you nothing!" Laban screamed. "I am being
tested, and the Lords of Kobol will grant me their favor for passing this
tribulation!" 
     "Well, you're not obviously smart to have gotten the explosives
yourself. She saw his lip curl, and Lauren knew she'd touched a nerve.
"And the Lords of Kobol must be scraping the bottom of the barrel, if
they're finding talent like you." Her glared at her, and she could see
the anger building inside. Lauren sighed. "You want to spend the rest of
your life in a cell no bigger than this one? I could care less, but, if
you want a chance of getting out, talk to me and I'll put in a good word
for you-" 
     "A good word? To the Demon? I think not." 
     "Who's the 'Demon'?" she asked. 
     "That false idol Adama and his acolytes. One day, you will regret
following him, and will go to the true path!" Laban shouted. 
     Oh, boy. "True path" sounded way, way, too familiar. "Don't you
ever, ever, say those two words around me again. You say it again, and I
may be tempted to break your kneecaps. The scum who took me used that
phrase to describe my world,  my country, and its people." Lauren said,
her words as smooth as poison. "That's not a threat. That's a promise." 
     "I have nothing else to say to you." Laban said dismissively, as if
she were mud under his boots.
     "All right, but keep this in mind: in my country, those who commit
crimes against children-like the Captain's daughter-are viewed as the
worst form of scum in the prison system. They have to be kept isolated
from the other inmates for their own protection." Lauren smiled grimly.
"When you hit the Prison Barge, word's going to get around that one of
your intended victims was a teenage girl. And you'll likely be watching
your back every day for the rest of your life, however long that is,
wondering if somebody's going to stick a homemade knife into it." 
     Laban stared back at her. "They wouldn't dare." For the first time,
he was contemplating his own mortality. "No one would dare touch us!
They..." 
     "Famous last words, Laban. Keep that in mind." She stood up, cutting
him off. "Garris! I'm through here." 
     The cell door opened and she went back out, with Garris closing it
behind her. 
     The two went into her small office, and she replaced the Mark-23. He
then asked her, "Ma'am, would you have done that?" 
     "What?" 
     "Break his kneecaps?" 
     "I'd be tempted. The people who took me said Earth was "not
following the true path," and anyone who says that phrase to me is
tempting fate," Lauren said. "You know my story. And if I ever find just
one of those who was involved in taking people from Earth..." She drew
her forefinger across her throat.
     Garris had heard her story-not just on IFB, but talking with other
crew. He liked his superior, but didn't know she had a ruthless side to
her. "You'd kill them?" 
     "In a heartbeat," Lauren replied.
     The telecom buzzed again. It was Byrne, who said it was time to get
Laban to Galactica. The shuttle Armstrong was being prepped for launch. 
     Lauren nodded. "Paulson, get the evidence ready to go." 
     "It's all 'bagged and tagged', Ma'am," he replied. 
     "Get it to the flight deck, and the Armstrong. Then come back here,"
Lauren said. "Garris, put our friend in restraints, and ready to move."
     Paulson nodded, got the evidence box, and headed to the flight deck.
Garris placed Laban in handcuffs and leg shackles, and brought him out.
Paulson came back to the office. "Anything else, Ma'am?" 
     She looked at him. "You'll be with me." Lauren said as she went to
her office wall and took her HK-416, one of the two originals, slapped in
a magazine, and picked up a pouch with two extra magazines, putting it on
her web belt. 
     Garris came out of the cell with Laban, and handed the keycard to
Paulson. 
     Lauren nodded, then turned to Laban. "Just so we understand each
other. You try anything funny, like trying to rush the flight controls,
or get to the hatch to open it, and I will shoot you in half. This weapon
may be 'primitive' to you, but I can empty a 30-round magazine in four
microns, and it will cut you in two. And you'll die painfully.  Do I make
myself clear?" 
     Laban said nothing, but he did give a slight nod. Then the two
escorted him to the flight deck, where Byrne was waiting, along with
Ensign Adele. On the way there, Lauren noticed the hostile glances sent
Laban's way, and the looks of contempt on the crew's faces towards him.
Word had gotten around, not just about the attempted kidnapping, but the
explosives. One of their own could have killed them all, and they were
making their feelings known. But Laban's face was expressionless. 
     When they got to the shuttle, Paulson strapped Laban in, then
everyone strapped themselves in for the flight. It was only a short trip
over to the battlestar, and when they arrived, Byrne noticed not only
Commander Adama waiting, but someone he'd only met socially once: Sire
Solon, with a couple of aides. And there was a Security detail waiting,
with Castor leading it. 
     Byrne got out of the shuttle, "Commander," he said, saluting. 
     "Captain," Adama said. "I see you've had some trouble." 
     "That, sir, is an understatement." Byrne said. He motioned to those
in the shuttle. Sergeant Wagner came out first, holding the assault rifle
firmly in her hands, then Laban followed, with Paulson bringing up the
rear, carrying the evidence box. 
     "Sire," Adama said, "I believe this belongs to you?"
     "Yes, Commander," Solon said, waving Castor and his men forward.
They took Laban, and escorted him to the brig, while one of Solon's aides
took the evidence box. 
     "Sire," Byrne said, "Everything's all there: imagery, witness
statements, his PDA, of all of it. Including all of our preliminary
reports, and the interrogations of the suspect." 
     "Thank you, Captain," Solon replied. He rarely had a case this
clear-cut. "Sergeant," he said, turning to Wagner. "Was the rifle
necessary?" 
     "Yes, sir, it was. Telling him that if he tried anything stupid, I'd
shoot him in half, and he was quite docile after that. Never said a word,
and he didn't try anything.  And I made sure he saw me with that rifle
every moment of the way." Lauren said. 
     "Given what he attempted to do, Sire," Byrne said, "In her place, I
wouldn't take any chances moving someone like Laban. He's a fanatic, and
best not to take any chances." 
     "Indeed. And I quite understand, Captain. Is there anything else I
should know?" Solon asked. 
     "You'd better have Hummer check his PDA. Laban was in touch with
somebody, sending back reports about Constellation, and asking if he
could kidnap either me or Captain Byrne's daughter, to exchange for
Sherrock, the former Il Fadim leader." Lauren said. 
     "Sherrock? I'll see to it," Solon said. "If you'll excuse me?" 
     Heads nodded as Solon and his aides went off to begin their part of
the investigation. 
     "Well, Captain. You've set off a little storm," Adama said. "We've
found some more explosives on at least two other ships, the Delta, and
the Tip Barge, but this is the first time we've connected them to an
actual person." 
     "Anything on Galactica?" Byrne asked. 
     "Nothing so far, but we've just gotten started," Adama said. "Like
last time, we'll find it." He turned to Lauren. "Sergeant, good work. And
Jena?" 
     "Thank you, sir. Jena's fine. She wasn't in the cabin when the fight
happened." 
     "Thank the Lords. Again, good work, Captain, Sergeant, and pass that
on to your crew." 
     Both Byrne and Wagner nodded. "Yes, sir!" 

Chapter 12

     Both Byrne and Wagner headed to Adama's quarters to give their
report. When they got there, not only was Adama present, but Colonel
Tigh, along with Castor, the Battlestar's Security Officer. Byrne half
expected to see Sire Solon there as well, but since he was busy.....
     Adama sat back and listened to their report. Wagner's description of
what Laban had planned, and his connection to the Il Fadim, didn't
surprise him in the least. "Some of us suspected there were other
followers, who were laying low, trying to blend in. This proves it." 
     Tigh asked, "Why Sherrock? He's being medicated, has responded well
to therapy, and has no desire to resume his former identity, and the
activities connected with that." 
     "Colonel," Byrne said, "They don't care. As far as this bunch is
concerned, he's being medicated against his will, and ought to be back,
leading his flock. At the very least, they can use him as a figurehead,
to rally their followers. Trouble is, how many of these creeps are still
around?" 
     "A very good question, Captain," Adama said. He turned to Wagner.
"And you're sure Laban was planning on kidnapping you and Jena?" 
     "That compartment he had rigged as an improvised dungeon, and his
PDA, all point to that, Commander," Lauren said. She projected the image
the forensics people had made, and she noted Adama's disgust at what he
was seeing. "He's in the same mold as some notorious killers on Earth,
sir, and he's not only a fanatic, but also smart. Which makes him doubly
dangerous." 
     "So who was encouraging him?" Byrne asked. "That's what I'd like to
know. And if that person wanted my daughter for some sick reason....."
His voice trailed off, but Lauren, as well as both Adama and Tigh knew
what he meant. Byrne now wanted that person dead. As a parent, Adama knew
the feeling. 
     "Hummer and the other techs will find out, and we'll proceed from
there, Captain," Adama said. "As for Laban, Sergeant, Earth is hardly
unique. He's also similar to some very unsavory types in the Colonies." 
     "My people mentioned that to me, Sir," she replied. "Just as long as
he's locked away for life, I won't have any complaints." And if someone
on the Prison Barge sticks a knife in his neck for what he wanted to do
to Jena? Good. Dump him out with the trash, she thought. 
     Adama nodded. "Nor would I. Right now, the investigation is in Sire
Solon's hands at the moment." He turned back to Byrne. "And the
Constellation has been searched?" 
     "Yes,sir," Byrne said. "I've got teams going over the entire ship
from stem to stern, scanning every bulkhead and crevice. So far, nothing.
But I've told them to scour the entire ship. They should be done by the
end of the day." 
     "Good. We're searching the Galactica at the moment. And every ship
in the Fleet will also be searched," Adama said. 
     "That's going to take some time, Commander," Tigh pointed out.
Though it was obvious, it had to be mentioned for the record. 
     "Whatever it takes, Tigh. Keep at it, no matter how long it's
necessary." Adama said. "We cannot afford to miss even one explosive
device." 
     "Yes, Commander." 
     With that, both Byrne and Wagner were dismissed, and they headed to
the Club. After what they'd had happen overnight, they felt they needed a
drink. On the way, they passed a storage compartment. That wasn't
unusual, but hearing voices coming from a nearby air duct certainly was.
Byrne went to a nearby telecom and called Security. Castor and his
partner for the day, Tellus, arrived a few centons later. They, too,
heard the voices. 
     "There's void spaces, maintenance crawlways, things like that, but
with what's happened on your ship, best not to take any chances." Castor
said. "Tellus, open that door." 
     His partner did so, and the two entered. It looked just like any
other storeroom on the battlestar, but one of the bulkhead panels was
open, and they could hear voices. Nothing definite, but just...indistinct
chatter. 
     "Let's go in," Castor said. "Lauren, want to join us?" 
     "My pleasure," she said, drawing her Mark-23 and taking it off
safety. 
     "Hoping to use that for real?" Castor asked as they went into the
space. 
     "I almost did last night, and if I had, we'd be saving Solon and his
boys a ton of work," Lauren said. 
     "If you had," Castor replied, "I wouldn't complain." 
     She nodded as the party went into what was obviously a maintenance
crawlspace, filled with electrical conduits, power relays, and access
points. The deeper they went in, the louder the voices were. Then they
came to an open area, where maintenance workers could rest, leave their
gear at the end of a work shift, and so on. They found two men in
maintenance coveralls, backs to the rest,  getting ready to move some
chests. That wasn't unusual, but seeing both with lasers in holsters
certainly was. Castor  directed the others in with hand signals, then he
moved in, shouting, "HOLD IT! SECURITY!" 
     One of the two dropped the chest he was holding, turned, and went
for his laser. Lauren shouted "DON'T DO IT! DON'T DO IT! JUST DROP THE
WEAPON!" as she pointed the Mark-23 at the suspect. He raised his weapon
to fire, and she put three shots into his chest, dropping him to the
floor, dead.
     His partner, seeing his friend shot dead, meekly put up his hands.
Castor came in to cuff him, and Lauren went over to the corpse, and
kicked the laser out of the way. "They never listen," she said,
holstering the weapon. 
     Castor looked at her as he cuffed the other suspect and took his
laser. "Where'd you come up with that?" 
     "One of my watch commanders, back home. It was a favorite phrase of
his." she replied. She looked at the body and shook her head. 
     Hearing the shots, both Byrne and Tellus came in. Tellus took out
his scanner, and checked out the chests. "We'll need an explosives team
here, Lieutenant," he told Castor. 
     Byrne looked at him. "More explosives?" Jesus, what's going on here?
     "Yes, sir," Tellus replied. 
     "Call it in," Castor ordered. "And get one of the guys with a
crime-scene kit. We'll be here a while." 


     The investigation into the shooting was relatively straightforward,
not to mention quick. The dead man was found to be a Third-class Petty
Officer by the name of Gallinos, and his partner was also a Third-class
Petty Officer, Pelonis. Given that Castor had ordered the two to halt,
and that Wagner had called Gallinos to drop the weapon before opening
fire, Sire Solon ruled the use of lethal force to be justifiable and
necessary. By the afternoon, both Wagner and Byrne were in at the bar in
the Club, and she had her Mark-23 back at her side. It was obvious she
was having a case of the shakes. 
     "First time?" Byrne asked. He'd killed before, not just on that
planet, but in his F-14, dropping bombs over Iraq in 1998's Desert Fox
operation, and back in Iraq for the Second Gulf War. 
     "Yeah," Lauren said. "Never pulled the trigger before, except in
training. Took it out for real twice: not much call for that out in the
boonies," she said, pulling on a beer. 
     "This sounds like a clich‚, but you get used to it," Byrne said.
"I've been there, done that." 
     "Better him than me," Lauren replied. "That's how I look at it." 
     Castor then came in. "Captain, Sergeant, I've got some news." 
     "What?" Byrne asked. 
     "Pelonis started talking. Nonstop. The man's singing like an opratic
singer. He showed us where several more explosive caches were, and he's
also named a few others. Sire Solon's a pretty busy man right now."
Castor said. 
     "So what are these guys up to, and what do they want?" Lauren wanted
to know. "I don't get it. Were they planning to blow up the Galactica?" 
     "That is a very good question," Castor said. "He's still talking,
they say. Want to bet that he's not of the same mold as your guy Laban?" 
     "One Laban's enough for one day, thanks," Byrne said, taking a sip
of beer.  "The more of 'em who decide to rat out the others, the better."

     "I'll second that," Lauren said. 
     "By the way, Lauren," Castor said. "Where'd you get that uniform? He
had noticed her in her new BDUs, but hadn't paid it much thought. 
     "Jasen, over on the Rising Star. He runs a tailor shop on the
promenade. He made me four sets," she replied. 
     "It's....unusual. What's it meant for?" Castor asked.
     "Universal," she said. "Tropical, woodland, desert, even urban
terrain. Only place it's not that good is in the Arctic." 
     "Next time you pay us a visit in the SF area, bring a spare. I bet
Major Croft's going to be interested."
     Lauren nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. You guys might find this
design handy." 
     Castor looked at her. "Don't worry. If he thinks it's useful, the
Major will find a way to get some made." His communicator buzzed. "Got to
go. I'll see you guys later. And Lauren: I didn't get a chance to tell
you earlier." 
     "What?" she asked. 
     "Good shooting." Then Castor headed on out. 
     Byrne and Lauren looked at each other. "That's coming from the best
on this ship, apart from Croft," he said. 
     "Yep," Lauren replied. 


     Later, after returning to Constellation, Lauren went to the Security
Office. This might have been "outer space", but paperwork was still
paperwork. As she sat down, she found a message on her computer, from
Sire Solon's office. The cabin would be cleared for its occupants after
1200 the following day, and would no longer be considered a crime scene.
Good. One or two nights on the Captain's couch would be enough, thank you
very much. And her security men were getting back into the normal rhythm
of  shipboard routine. Though Paulson said he was actually disappointed.
He'd been glad to be working similar to his previous job as a homicide
detective, and he was having a post-case letdown. 
     That night, as both she and Jena were getting ready for bed, one
thing occurred to her: This sounds a lot like that cult in Japan the
Captain talked about once. Some doomsday cult in Japan had released Sarin
nerve gas in the Tokyo subway, killing a dozen people and injuring
thousands. Captain Byrne had been stationed near Tokyo at the time, at
Atsugi NAS, and it had caused quite a stir, to say the least. What if
these "Il Fadim" were going down that route? Well, either way, the sooner
they got stopped, the better. Lauren put those thoughts aside, and laid
down on the couch, where she slept like a baby. 

Epilogue

     He watched, oblivious to the smoke and noise around him, as the
uniformed Warrior entered, and caught sight of him. He said not a word,
as the other sat down, and ordered something. Obviously, the fellow was
nervous, to put it politely. 
     "Yes, I heard," he said, before the other could launch into a litany
of woe. "It would seem that things have taken a life of their own." 
     "That fool Laban! He let his.." 
     "Never mind Laban! He shall be dealt with, all in good time. Now,
what about you?" 
     I have dumped all my correspondence....., even the multi-encrypted
files. I....have also eliminated one of our loose ends." 
     "You....who?" 
     "Piven. His death will look like natural causes. His role in
Jacobi's death will never be known." 
     "You fool!" The other snarled. "No one was to be killed without
orders." 
     "He was falling apart, Sire. And he had already acted, in that one's
death. Besides, there was no time to contact you, or Sire.." 
     "Idiot!" The other hissed. "You may have.....still, well, it is
done." He leaned back. "We can only hope that the fool Adama is slow to
pick up the threads, and buy us some time." 
     "Some in barracks have already voiced the rumor that it may be some
renegade Otori, after what happened before." 
     "A rumor you started?" 
     "Yes, Sire," smiled the other man. "As was the plan." 
     "A fragment of good news, at least," sighed the Councilman. "Any
deflection is welcome, at this point." 
     "What are your orders, Sire?" 
     He sighed, then looked at the other. "Back to the barracks. Try to
look as normal as possible. Our source in Wilker's lab?" 
     "Still active. No one has discovered...." 
     "Good. Now go." The younger man rose. "And Beck?" 
     "Sire?" 
     "You may proceed as well, with the other matter, so dear to your
heart. It would be time soon, anyway."
     He looked up at the Warrior. "Kill the Zhorloch pilots. Begin with
Sargamesh, if you wish. You know the drill." 
     "Yes, Sire Galerius. With pleasure." 
     "Now, go!" 
     "Yes, Sire Galerius." He bowed and left. Galerius watched him go,
then stroked his beard. 
     "Now, Adama. It is my hour! Now!" 

To Be Continued... in Episode 16