The Cylons' Curse: Three Adventures In The Colonial Frontier
A Battlestar Galactica Fanfic by Paul H. Robison
June 26, 2005

Crossovers with Lost in Space, Bonanaza, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century
,TekWar
     Battlestar Galactica is the property of Glen A. Larson and Universal
Productions (c) 1978
     Lost in Space is the property of Irwin Allen, Space Productions and
20th Century Fox (c) 1965
     Bonanza is the property of NBC and Universal Television (c)1959
     Tek War is the property of the estate of William Shatner (c) 1990
     Buck Rogers in the 25th Century is the property of Robert C. Dille
and Universal Studios (c) 1979

All are used without permission, for my amusement and that of anyone else
reading the following, and without intent to make any money whatsoever.

Spoilers:
1. Battlestar Galactica # 10:  The Long Patrol by Glen A. Larson and Ron
Goulart.  Ballentine Books, N.Y., N.Y., 1985 

2. Battlestar Galactica Episode Stories by Eric Paddon
   The Long Patrol (Adaptation)
   Fire in Space (Adaptation)
   The Magnificent Warriors (Adaptation)

Prequel to:
"A Visitor From Hades"
"Rogue in Space"
"Greetings From Space Family Robinson"

Special Guest Stars:
1. Princess Alpha (Lost in Space Season 3:  "Princess of Space.")
2. Captain Kraspo (Lost in Space Season 3:  "Princess of Space.")
3. Fedor (Lost in Space Season 3: "Princess of Space")
4. Hoss Cartwright/Hoss (Bonanza T.V. Series)
5. Winger (William Shatner's Tek War Novel)
6. Warbride (William Shatner's Tek War Novel)
7. The Planet Arcadis/New Corinth (Buck Rogers in the 25th Century Season
2:  "The Satyr")
8: The Dorays (Author's note:  Borays (The Magnificent Warriors)+Dorians
(Buck Rogers in the 25th Century Season 2:  "The Dorian Secret") )

From The Adama Journals

     After three sectars of roaming through space since our departure
from the Colonies, we have reached an important crossroads in our quest
for Earth.  In only a matter of centars we will officially leave the home
quadrant of our galaxy that contain the full parameter of what was once
known as the Colonial Frontier.  The tight-circle where we developed our
civilization, and traded with so many other races, and of course, found
ourselves ultimately drawn into war with the Cylon Empire for survival.
     And now our continued existence demands that we leave this familiar
part of the galaxy forever and entering the largely unknown domain of the
Alpha Quadrant. 
     The innermost ring of what lies in this sector adjacent to the Home
Quadrant is known to us largely through old Colonial star navigational
charts, many of which are hundreds of yahrens out of date.  This is
followed by the vast unknown that we must be expected to search if our
quest for the Thirteenth Colony called Earth is to succeed.
     To search that vast unknown, and find the one pathway that will lead
us to Earth remains our most formidable obstacle, and one that will
require more faith in the mercy of the Lords than anything else we
conceivably face in this journey, along with of course the danger that
the trailing Cylon pursuit force poses to us.  But in most respects, our
ability to persevere in this search for the right path may in fact hold
the greater key to our survival than our ability to beat back any
challenge the pursuit force gives to us.
     Upon completion of this entry, I will leave for the Bridge so I
might be there when the centon of our entry into the Alpha Quadrant takes
place.  It is the kind of occasion that in my younger days would have
left me excited over the prospects of exploring the challenges of deep
space.  Today, as I consider the weight of my many yahrens, the losses I
have experienced these last few sectars, and the obstacles that still
face us if we are to survive, I can only see it as a reminder of how
difficult the struggle remains.  The only thing I can do is to not let
that sense of weariness I feel within me become apparent to anyone.  I
must be strong and project nothing but strength, or else the people will
lose their ability to have faith in what I have told them, that there is
a distant dream of a Thirteenth Colony awaiting us.

Chapter One: The New Star System

     Majestically, the Battlestar Galactica moved through the deep
blackness of starless space.  The gigantic, multi-level vehicle was the
greatest fighting ship in the Colonial Fleet, a world unto itself that
housed thousands.
     The person, who oversaw the destiny of those thousands, and of the
hundreds in the rest of the rag-tag fleet, was Commander Adama, a
broad-shouldered, gray-haired man.  When he entered the bridge and
mounted the steps to the upper level, he could feel a web of disagreeing
emotions inside him.  On the one hand, there was the sense of wonder over
crossing an important threshold by entering the Alpha Quadrant was
testament enough to how they'd been able to endure despite great odds in
the last three sectars.  On the other, the sadness at being reminded of
how with each passing day the regions of space that had been so
reassuringly familiar were more and more being left behind, probably
forever.
     He could see Apollo at the base of the railing, looking down at the
main viewing window, with Boxey alongside him, and the robot daggit
Muffit off to one side.  The little boy was already dressed for his sleep
period, but Adama knew that Apollo wanted his son to be here for this
special occasion.  Apollo was young enough to still feel the awe and
wonder over entering this new, more unknown region of space, and it also
tapped into that part of him that would have preferred to be just an
ordinary interplanetary starship sailor rather than a warrior if there
had never been a war with the Cylons.  To Apollo, it was the kind of
occasion that he wanted to share with his son.  And Adama knew it was the
kind of thing that he had not been able to share with Apollo or any of
his other children during their youth, and that Apollo was determined to
set a different example; something that Adama approved of wholeheartedly.
     He stood on the bridge of the battlestar and fixed his gaze on the
large observation window looking straight into the powerful darkness.
     Colonel Tigh became aware of  Adama's arrival and approached him. 
"Sensors indicate that we're nearly to the end of the asteroid dust
cloud, Commander," the executive officer said. "That will officially put
is in the Alpha Quadrant."
     Adama nodded.  "Any problems with the rest of the Fleet navigating
through it?"
     "None worth bringing to your attention, sir."
     "It's strange," said Adama as he turned away from the dark window,
moving over to the railing where Apollo and Boxey were.  "I feel nervous,
as uneasy as a cadet on his first orbit."
     His son peeked up, surprised, to some extent, to see him.  "Oh,
Father!  Yes, in a way, I guess you are."
     "Hi, Grandpa," Boxey said, looking somewhat non-pulsed.  "I don't
think I'm nervous.  But maybe that's because I sort of don't know what to
be nervous about."
     Apollo stepped away from the data panel he'd been studying.  He
laughed as he put his hands on his son's shoulders so he could crouch
beside him.  "This is what's happening, Boxey.  We're leaving the home
quadrant of the galaxy, where the Colonies and all the other planets and
star systems we're most familiar with are located.  There are five other
quadrants of the galaxy that have been barely explored before, and this
one, the Alpha Quadrant, is where Earth is located."
     "How do we know that?" the little boy's interest picked up slightly.
     "Grandpa found that out on Kobol, where it said Earth was located in
the Alpha Quadrant.  That's why we're headed this way through the
asteroid dust cloud that's marked as the gateway from our home quadrant
to this one.  When we get through it, this'll be practically a whole new
galaxy for Colonial space travelers."
     "A brand new place?"
     "For us, yes.  A galaxy nobody in our Fleet has ever seen before."
     "That's it, Commander," said Tigh, nodding at the wide view window,
"we're through."
     Stars were appearing in the silent blackness outside, a sparkle of
light here, another there, soon dozens, and then hundreds.  And then
there were thousands of stars glowing in space, surrounding the Galactica
and the fleet.
     Even Muffit's robot mind seemed impressed as the daggit let out a
bark.
     "Hush, Muffit," Boxey glanced at his pet.  "It's just a bunch of
stars."
     Adama let out a chuckle, "Apollo, maybe Boxey should take the helm
since he seems to be the only one on the Bridge with a sense of
perspective."
     "Can I?" the little boy suddenly showed more enthusiasm than he had
since his arrival on the bridge. "I mean, we're in a new sector and all."
     Apollo smiled thinly, and injected just the right smattering of
parental authority.  "No you cannot, young man.  You're centons into your
sleep period already, remember?"
     The boy glanced toward his grandfather.  "Shouldn't I maybe stay
up?"
     Assuming a relatively stern look, yet loving every micron of what he
was seeing, the commander told him, "Now you leave me out of this, hear? 
I command the Fleet, young fellow, but Apollo's your father."
     Shoulders slumping, Boxey said, "Okay, I'll go to bed and miss
everything."  He began a slow, forlorn exit from the bridge with his
daggit trailing him.  Apollo knew he didn't have to accompany him since
Boxey knew the way from his quarters to the bridge so well he could walk
it with his eyes closed.
     "Seems to me," said Apollo, watching him go, "that Zac and I used to
have similar debates with you when we were about that age, Dad."
     "You were usually the most dramatic," his father smiled as he patted
him on the shoulder.  "As I recall, you had quite a talent for stomping
your foot."
     "Boy, did I ever."  Apollo's posture then became more formal.  "So
now that we're in the Alpha Quadrant, what's next on the list of chores
for us?"
     "Taking sensor sweeps of what lies ahead of us as quickly as
possible," his father also resumed a formal tone.  "The inner ring has
planets that were once part of the furthest reaches of the Colonial
Frontier, but that was hundreds of yahrens ago.  Still, it leaves open
the possibility that the Cylons may have been interested enough to move
into these regions without our knowledge, and that's our chief concern at
this time.
     Colonel Tigh rejoined them.  "Initial sensor readings are negative,"
he reported.  "No indications of life forms within the first quadrant of
this new sector."
     "Hum," Adama mused.  "As soon as the rest of the fleet clears the
asteroid dust," Adama said, "focus all the sensors forward to increase
our scanning range.  And tell Dr. Wilker to make sure preparations are
finished on Recon Viper One for whenever we need it."
     "Yes sir," the executive officer nodded and moved off.
     "Do you really think it's a good idea to use Wilker's new
plaything?" Apollo asked.  "I'm still a bit uneasy about the risk factor. 
Especially if our first concern is Cylon penetration into this quadrant."
     "Understood, but from a practical standpoint, Apollo, the ability to
escape a Cylon ambush is theoretically greater in this Recon Viper."
     "You couldn't get me to volunteer for that flight," Apollo shook his
head.  "Wilker's a genius, I will admit.  He proved that by creating
Muffit for Boxey.  But---well---I'm just not ready to entrust my life to
one of his creations."
     The commander, followed by Apollo, walked over to a console manned
by the dark-haired Athena.  "I thought you might feel that way,
especially since you never were the type to be impressed easily by
technological advancements in Viper craft.  "So who did volunteer for the
mission?"
     "Lieutenant Starbuck," answered the captain, smiling faintly.
     Abruptly, Athena turned around in surprise, "Starbuck volunteered
for the Recon mission?"
     Apollo smiled at his sister.  "I don't think it was his sense of
duty.  There was a certain incentive attached to it."
     "What kind of incentive.
     "Ever since the Council gave permissions to the Scorpians to reopen
the Astro Lounge over on the Liare, Starbuck's been trying to raise
enough money to get into the place.  Father's offered a hundred cubit
flight bonus to the first pilot who flies our new Recon Viper."
     "Really," Athena settled back in her chair.
     "Don't criticize his volunteering," said the commander.  "Bonus or
not, the mission may be a long and, I might add, very dangerous one."
     "Far be it from me to suggest my old buddy's a mercenary," Apollo's
smile widened.
     Adama nodded at Athena.  "What's Starbuck's status right now?"
     Athena punched the display status for all pilots on the computer. 
Names of warriors scrolled up the console's display screen.  When
Starbuck's came up, the crawl ceased.
     Athena tapped the screen with her forefinger.  "He's Status Green,"
she said.  "Right now, he's on the Rising Star.  
     Nodding, Commander Adama said, "Let's hope we don't have to jump him
to Status Red until after he's had his dinner."  He moved on.
     Athena was shaking her head as though she were disgusted about
something.
     "Something bothering you, Athena?" Adama asked.
     "Yesterday, he asked if I was free for dinner tonight," she said. 
"I thought he meant a get-together in the Officer's Club, and I told him
I was already working this shift, and he then said that was okay, maybe
another time.  He didn't tell me he had something like the Rising Star in
mind."
     "I see," Adama said.  "As your commanding officer and father, I
hereby grant you the freedom to change your plans.  Colonel Tigh and I
can cover for you in the meantime."
     Athena haltingly broke into a smile.  "Thanks, Father."  She then
rose from her seat and left the bridge.
     Uneasily, Apollo came over to his father.  "Ummm...Father, I didn't
want to say anything of a sensitive nature, but...that may not have been
a good idea."
     "Why not?" the Commander frowned.
     "Well...In all probability, if Starbuck knew that Athena couldn't
make it, he wouldn't be inclined to go over to the Rising Star alone."
     "That's certainly news to me," said Adama.  "I had the feeling that
things had gotten bumpy between them, but who would Starbuck ask out on
such short notice."
     "I'm not sure, although I think I've got a pretty good guess who if
he did invite someone else," Apollo didn't think it was his place to
bring up the interest Starbuck had been taking in the former socilator
turned med-tech named Cassiopeia.
     Adama breathed in deeply.  "Well, if that's the case, I'm sure
Athena's capable of behaving like a mature adult.  And if Starbuck
doesn't want to create difficulties with her, he won't end up trying to
hurt her."
     "You're right," Apollo nodded.  "Whatever happens, I'm sure he'll
try to do what's socially proper."

********************

     The luxury ship Rising Star was, on this particular evening,
situated relatively close to the Galactica, meaning that it would be
among the first ships in the Fleet to clear the asteroid dust cloud and
take note of the sudden brilliance presented by a myriad of unknown stars
around them.
     Inside the Main Dining Hall, a crowd of people had congregated by
the large full-length porthole at the Hall's entry point to take in the
sight.  On everyone's face, the reaction of total awe seemed highly
contagious.
     A grayish-black haired man with wide comical eyes and a slim
moustache stood among the crowd and smiled.  His name was Zumdish, and
there was no one else aboard the luxury ship with a deeper sense of
history and appreciation for what the Rising Star meant and symbolized
than him.  As a young man of eighteen yahrens, he had enlisted in the
Colonial Merchant Service and had been assigned to the Rising Star as a
bar steward.  Now, more than forty yahrens later, with service aboard no
other ship, he was the Rising Star's Chief Steward and supervisor of the
entire staff of bartenders, waiters and stewards who worked in the three
entertainment sections aboard the ship. In this case, the Main Dining
Hall, the adjacent Astral Lounge, and the Empyreal Lounge, which was
located on the other side of the ship.  As Chief Steward, Zumdish
directly oversaw and managed all activities in the Main Dining Hall and
Astral Lounge, while the Assistant Chief Steward, Zerio, took care of
matters in the Empyreal Lounge.  He could always be expected to be
persistently on the move attending to arriving guests and seeing to it
that he was familiar with each of their names, and what it was they were
looking forward to most aboard the Rising Star.  His ability to combine
courteousness with an air of formal authority ultimately made him the
enduring symbol of the Rising Star's sense of grandeur and style.  And
those who got to know him, could always expect him to spend many centars
telling stories about his forty yahrens of service aboard the luxury
liner and the people he'd met and known from all walks of life, as well
as the stories about the Rising Star's heritage, stretching back more
than three hundred yahrens, that he had carefully learned as well.
     Tonight, as he watched and saw the onetime interstellar liner move
free of the asteroid dust cloud, would not be an exception.
     "Ach. Theesh remindsh me of the old daysh," he said in his famously
peculiar accent.
     "What do you know about the old days, Zum?"
     "Much, much, much, Lieutenant," Zumdish said.  "I've sherved aboard
the Rishing Shtar shince I wash jusht a lad.  Back then, we traveled to
the very end of the Colonial Frontier.  Thosh were wonderful, wonderful
timesh.  Before the war, that eesh."
     "Before the war?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow.  "Are you a thousand
yahrens old, Zumdish?"
     "Ach, forg-geev an ageeng man for heesh bad habeetsh.  For thosh of
ush who sherved on the Rishing Shtar back then, the war wash
more...deesh-tant to ush.  Not partee-cularly acteeve at that point,
wheech wash why the Rishing Shtar could travel much further out eento
shpace and put eento all kinds of deeshtant planetsh and shpacedromesh,
like my favorite, Quotara.  When the war shuddenly heated up again, that
put an end to the daysh of traveling such great deesh-tan-ches.  Thatsh
why to thosh of ush who sherve aboard the Rishing Shtar, 'pre-war' meansh
the happier daysh of exshitement, and deep spacsh travel."
     "I see," Starbuck realized that he couldn't dare show too much
interest in Zumdish's renowned gift for storytelling, or else he'd be
distracted from what he wanted to do this evening.  "Y'know, Zum, this
could be my last chance to have dinner on the Rising Star for awhile, the
big mission coming up and all that.  So, ah," he pulled Cassiopeia, who
was beaming, more tightly to him, "You wouldn't happen to have a private
dining room available would you?"
     Zumdish made a loud popping sound by puckering his lips into an "O"
and then slapping the flat of his hand against his lips.  "Very shorry,
very shorry, Lieutenant," he said.  "Private roomsh musht be resherved
shix or sheven meely-shen-tonsh een advansh.  Eet eesh not posh-ee-ble
ash we have a very high attendanch aboard sheep theesh eve-en-neeng."
     Starbuck deftly transferred a gold ingot that represented one
hundred cubits from his hand to that of Zumdish.  "You'd be doing a good
deed."
     Immediately, Zumdish made another popping noise as he discreetly
pocketed the cubit.  "Yesh!  Perhapsh een your casesh, one can alwaysh
shee to eet that arrangementsh are made for a warrior on heesh lasht
night before the big meesh-un.  Follow me, pleesh."
     Starbuck hesitated an instant before following the Chief Steward
down the corridor that led to the private rooms.  "Last night?" his left
eye narrowed.  "I don't think I like the way he said that."

********************

Chapter Two: Starbuck's Last Night

     "Starbuck," Cassiopeia said as they began to walk.  "What's this I
hear about a big mission?  What exactly is it?"
     He lowered his voice to a whisper.  "Nothing special, just a routine
recon jaunt, but don't tell him that."
     They reached the end of the corridor, where Zumdish had opened the
door that led to one of more than a dozen private rooms situated in the
passageway.
     "Thish weel do nishly, yesh?"
     Starbuck and Cassiopeia stepped in and took a look.  "Perfect," the
blonde warrior grinned.  "And if you could furnish a bottle of Virgon
ambrosa, that would make it even more perfect."
     "Virgon ambrosha, Lieutenant?" Zumdish lifted an eyebrow.  "We're
already een leemeeted shuppliesh ash eet eesh, and you're ashking for the
raresht veen-tage---"
     He stopped as Starbuck slipped him another hundred-cubit ingot.
     "I'll she what I can do," the Chief Steward said as he turned and
departed.
     No wonder he's served on the Rising Star all these yahrens, he
thought.  I'll bet he got his own quarters in Elite Class just by getting
all those extra bribes and tips.
     "Okay, Starbuck," Cassiopeia put her arms around him and kissed him.
'Whether we get Virgon ambrosa or not, I expect to have a good time just
the same."
     He grinned.  "Hey, you know me. I always know how to make the best
out of any situation."
     "It means a lot that you asked me out on this," she let go of him
and took a moment to look about the room.  "We med-techs don't get asked
out very often."
     Starbuck smiled thinly.  He didn't have the heart or the nerve to
mention that it was her previous profession that had intrigued her more
than her current one.  Although in the three sectars since she had given
up being a socilator to become a med-tech, he had gotten to see a lot
more substance to Cassiopeia as a woman than he'd ever expected to see.
     Even so, he was still at a point where he was not completely ready
to break all the pre-Holocaust ties he'd felt with Athena, and that was
why he'd taken a chance asking her out first, only to get told that she
was on duty for the night.  It had disappointed him that she wouldn't
have thought of a reason for getting out of bridge duty to take advantage
of their first date in a long time, and it made him wonder if he should
take that as a hint that his relationship with Athena was beyond
salvaging.
     But even now, as he came up to Cassiopeia again and put his hands on
her shoulders, he was not about to let his uncertainty over that stand in
the way of a good evening.
     "I don't think of you as a med-tech," his smile spread out into a
grin, "I just think of you as a very, very beautiful woman," he kissed
the back of her neck.
     "I'll do my best to live up to that image," she turned around and
kissed him again.  "And in order to do that, I'll have to take a centon
to freshen up a bit." 
     "Hey, do whatever you think is best," Starbuck kept grinning as he
pulled out a fumarello and poked it into his mouth.  "I'm sure the
results will be worth waiting for."
     As soon as the door whispered shut, he settled back in the couch and
lit the fumarello with a contented air.  I do believe this is going to be
a night to remember, he thought.

********************

     On the Galactica' s Bridge, Omega was attentively studying the
results of the forward sensor scans with such intensity on his face that
from the other side of the Bridge, Rigel stared at him with a bemused
expression.
     He's so damn wrapped up in his work, she thought with resignation. 
Even though she and Omega had dated several times in the past and she
knew that he was interested in her, she also knew that the Bridge Officer
often got trapped in his duties to the point where any prospects for a
social life tended to be crowded out.  It had been more than a couple of
sectans since he'd last asked her out and she wondered if a subtle hint
to him at some point was in order.
     Suddenly, Omega came forward in his chair and called out to Adama
and Tigh, which, at the same time, caused Rigel to whip her head back
toward her own computer terminal and get back to work.
     "Commander, Colonel, we've got long range scanner suggestions of
possible life forms!"
     Adama, who was still conversing with Apollo, came over from their
side of the Bridge, situated in front of the Bridge Officer, while Tigh,
who had previously been engaged in duties on the upper level, approached
from behind.
     "Position?" Adama asked.
     "Delta vector eight, heading eight, six, two." He looked up. 
"Request permission to concentrate all scans in this direction."
     "Permission granted," the Commander said and looked over at Rigel. 
"Rigel, correlate this area being scanned to the listing of planets in
all known Colonial star maps on file."
     "Yes sir.  I should have that in a centon," Rigel said as she went
to work.
     "What do you think?" Apollo asked. "Could the Cylons have penetrated
this area?"
     "It's impossible to know from this far out," his father shook his
head.  "It could be the Narn, Centauri or some other race we've never
heard of, and...well, there's even the possibility of human settlements
that were written off by the Colonies long ago.  We're not yet at the
stage where any humans we come across have no possible connections to
earlier Colonial settlements."  He looked up at the Executive Officer. 
"Colonel, what does Dr. Wilker have to say about the status of Recon
Viper One?"
     "He says it's ready for whenever it's needed."
     "Good," Adama nodded and turned back to his son.  "Get Starbuck back
here immediately.  His mission just moved up to tonight."

********************

     Starbuck had just taken another satisfied puff on his fumarello when
the door panel whispered open again.
     "Whoops!" he stammered as he got to his feet.
     Athena stepped across the threshold.  "Hi."  She came over to him. 
"I...managed to get off duty after all and I thought I'd surprise you."
     "Well...you sure did, Athena.  You sure did!  Starbuck's chuckled
sounded very boyish to his ears. He could feel his mind flashing back to
Carillon and the hole he'd dug for himself the last time Cassiopeia and
Athena had confronted each other, and the last thing he wanted was a
replay of that.
     "I thought I'd better tell you that you may be bumped up to Red
Status," the dark-haired young woman said while taking a few tentative
steps toward the table.
     "Red Status?" He put down his cigar.
     "You see, Starbuck, I just learned that you'd volunteered for the
recon probe," she said, eyes misting slightly.  "I mean, you'd asked me
to spend your last night with you and all."
     "Why does everybody keep saying that?"
     "Saying what?"
     "Never mind."
     "I guess I'm not putting this just right, Starbuck," continued
Athena.  "The thing is, I really don't want you to be alone.  You are
alone, aren't you?"
     "Oh, well ah..." he found himself desperately fishing for words and
then decided on a quick answer that he knew was a cop-out. 
"Alone...Why...of course I'm alone!" he managed to smile.
     The door sizzled open.  For an instant, Starbuck was afraid it was
Cassiopeia, but when he managed to look he could see it was Zumdish,
holding a tray containing two glasses and a bottle of ambrosa.
     "Lieutenant, I managed to---" the Chief Steward abruptly stopped as
he saw Athena, settled next to Starbuck, and then with the faintest trace
of amusement set the tray down.
     "Oh! Hi, Zum!" Starbuck bolted over to him. "Glad you're back
because ah...this dinky little private room was sufficient when I was
alone and sulking.  Now, though, I feel the need of something a mite
better.  Posher."
     "That may be mosht deefeecult, shir."
     "Difficult, but...ah...not impossible."  Starbuck passed him another
cubit.
     "Eet occursh to me, Lieutenant, that there eesh eendeed another room
available, one that more ideally shuits your preshent needsh."  He tapped
his temple with the hand that clutched Starbuck's latest contribution.
"Yet, my poor old brain ish haf-eeng trouble recalling where."
     "This may jog your memory," Starbuck provided yet another glittering
cubit.
     "Eet all comesh back to me now, yesh," said Zumdish with a positive
nod of his head.  "Right theesh way, shir and meesh."  He bowed and led
them from the room.
     "My, aren't you jittery tonight?" observed Athena as she took his
arm.  "Worried about the mission, Starbuck?"
     "No, no," he said quickly.  "No, it's actually the sight of you. 
Yes, you, the fairest creature on all the ships in the Fleet.  You set my
blood to racing."
     "Well, that's very flattering," she said smiling.  "Even though I
don't believe it at...careful!"
     He'd been glancing from left to right, alert, on the lookout for
Cassiopeia, and had tripped on a wrinkle in the plush carpeting. "Sorry,"
he said.  "Being with you, love, makes me a mite giddy, I guess."
     To his relief, Zumdish reached a room on the other side of the
corridor and motioned them in without anyone else appearing.
     "Here you are, shir," the Chief Steward continued to smile. 
"Remember, eef you need any-sheeng elsh, be sure to ashk for me
pershonally.  You can alwaysh count on me to handle all of your
problemsh."
     "I'm sure of that," Starbuck said with the faintest air of sarcasm
as he and Athena entered the room.
     "Oh.  Und letch not forget your ambrosha, shir.  Choish Virgon
vintage, ash you requeshted," Zumdish set the tray down.
     "Thank you," Starbuck wished he would go.  "That'll be all...for
now."
     "Shertainly, shir."  Zumdish had a twinkle in his goofy eyes as he
departed.
     Athena still had a quizzical look on her face.  "Were you expecting
company?"
     "Huh?  Who me?" Starbuck wondered if he was going to break out in a
nervous sweat.
     "I noticed you had two glasses ordered with that," she motioned at
the tray.
     "Talk about extrasensory perception," he chuckled, gesturing at the
little room.  "I was sitting in there brooding, contemplating the vast
panorama of this new galaxy, and reflecting on the meaning of life when I
got this very strong hunch that someone, someone lovely, was going to
join me.  That's when I ordered a second glass."
     "I see," she could still feel an air of suspicion inside her, but
wasn't willing to express it openly.  Not yet at least.
     "So, ah..." Starbuck said as he hastily poured a libation and handed
it to her, "how are things on the Bridge?"
     She took the glass and sipped the contents.  By far, the best she
had ever tasted and it managed to sooth her suspicious mind, at least for
now.
     "The same as they always are. Although tonight, everyone was kind of
edgy about getting through the asteroid dust cloud.  Good thing the
Rising Star's flying so close to the Galactica or else I would've had to
wait several centars for a shuttle to get through the cloud."
     Just my frakkin' luck, Starbuck thought.
     "Is shop talk the only thing you had in mind for tonight, Starbuck?"
her voice took on that suggestive edge that she knew in the past had
always been able to make an impression on him.
     "Oh, ah no.  No, not at all. It's just...you know, I was suddenly
thinking that now that I'm sharing this bottle with someone and not
drinking it myself, I've just got to have some fresh protein available to
go with it, or else you can't fully appreciate it.  Right?"
     "I guess," the suspicious feeling returned to her, and she was
beginning to think she'd made a mistake coming over.  "Since when are you
such a connoisseur?"
     "Hey, for an evening with you, I've got to be knowledgeable about
these things.  Now, give me a centon and I'll see about getting some
right away."
     "Why bother?  Just ask Mr. Zumdish."
     "Nope, can't waste time waiting for him and telling him and even
more time waiting for him to go back and get it.  This'll be much
quicker, believe me.  So sit tight and enjoy the ambrosa.  I'll be back
in a flash."
     He jaunted out into the passageway, leaving her confused and feeling
her suspicions mounting.
     I probably made a mistake coming here.  I'll bet anything if I were
out in the hallway, he's either meeting someone or making a telecom to
someone else he invited instead.
     Still, she lacked the nerve to go out there to see her suspicions
confirmed.  If only because she desperately wanted to cling to a ray of
hope that her suspicions were groundless.

********************

     "Dr. Wilker's arrived in Launch Bay Alpha to make the final recheck
on Recon Viper One and brief the pilot," Tigh said.
     "Good.  Tell him he'll probably have to wait just a bit to give
Lieutenant Starbuck time to return to the Galactica."  Adama returned his
attention to Omega's station.  "Anything more on those earlier life form
scans?"
     "We've just about got the position narrowed down to this system here
along the Delta vector heading," Omega said.  "Indications are of a
binary star system with multiple asteroid bodies, several of which may be
capable of sustaining human life.  Still not close enough to verify."
     Adama turned to Rigel, "Is the position correlated in the Star Map
database?"
     "Yes it is, sir," Rigel replied.  "Destructon star system.  Consists
of five asteroids, only one of which was marked and deemed suitable for
human life forms."
     "Any indications of past Colonial survey or settlement?"
     Rigel shook her head.  "I'm sorry, Commander.  No available
information in the database.  This may have been something only Central
Fleet Archives had details on."
     "All of which is no longer accessible to us," Adama sighed.  "Very
well, that's where Recon Viper One will begin its investigation.  I hope
Starbuck had time to finish his dinner."

********************
 
     Feeling slightly panicked, Starbuck made his way back to the private
room he had vacated centons before, and when he entered he saw Cassiopeia
settled on the couch with a concerned look.
     "Where've you been?  I was worried for a moment that you'd been put
on alert all of a sudden."
     "Sorry about that. Zumdish came back while you were still out and
said there was no way he could come up with any Virgon ambrosa, so I just
had to go out and raise a ruckus about that, but," he shrugged, "even my
powers of persuasion have their limits."  
     "Too bad," she said.  "I went to the trouble of having some fresh
protein delivered.  Without ambrosa though..."
     "Who says you gotta have ambrosa to take pleasure in the sweet taste
of protein?" Starbuck said as he settled next to her on the couch,
helping himself.  "I mean, what do those guys who write all that
felgercarb about what food goes with what drink really know, when you
think about it?  If it tastes good, it tastes good no matter what."  He
picked up a piece and sampled it.  "Mmmmm. Delicious.  See what I mean? 
Those culinary expertsare full of felgercarb."
     "One thing's for certain," she playfully ran her hand through his
hair.  "We don't need ambrosa to get the necessary effect for a pleasant
evening."
     He smiled.  "How nice of you to point that out."
     She was on the very of kissing him again, when suddenly a voxbox
announcement filled the room: "Lieutenant Starbuck.  Attention,
Lieutenant Starbuck.  Return to Battlestar Galactica at once.  Lieutenant
Starbuck, report to Launch Bay Alpha, immediately.  Priority Red!"
     "Oh frack!" said Cassiopeia sadly.  "Just when things were starting
to get interesting."
     Inside, Starbuck was feeling a wave of relief, as though he'd just
been spared from the hangman's noose.  "Yeah well...duty calls, love.  At
least this time it wasn't a malfunctioning steam blast that interrupted
us."
     "I guess not," she laughed. 
     Returning to the table, he bent and kissed her.  "Here," Starbuck
unfastened the insignia pin from the left side of his cape.  "Take this
and keep it close to you, as I head off into the great unknown on this
dangerous mission."
     She took it and smiled obliquely.  "I thought you said it was just a
routine patrol."
     "Routine patrols have been known to hold unexpected dangers." He got
to his feet.  "Now, you just finish the protein and help yourself to all
the things this ship's got to offer.  Until next time, dear Cassiopeia." 
He then blew her a kiss and left the room, leaving her alone to finger
the insignia pin with a contented air.
     Once he was out in the corridor,  Starbuck sprinted back to the
second private room.
     "Would you believe it?" he threw up his arms in disgust.  "I gotta
check on fresh protein so things can be perfect and then I have to get
that voxbox message."
     "I heard," Athena said. "I guess tonight just wasn't meant for us."
     "No, it sure wasn't," he smiled and came over to her.  "Still, there
can always be another time."
     "Can there?" her tone became serious.  "You and I...we've...not
exactly taken advantage of each other's company of late, Starbuck."
     For the first time, Starbuck's concerns over the hilarious situation
he'd been thrust into faded, as he realized she'd brought up a point he'd
been avoiding for some time.
     "No, I guess we haven't," he said.  "Things have...really been more
chaotic these last few sectars than either of us ever expected the might
be.  Of course, if you spent more time keeping up with the reserve flight
group, we'd be able to see each other more often, I'm sure."
     "I'm not cut out to keep up with viper flying, believe me.  Stepping
in when I was needed at Kobol was one thing, but...," she broke off. 
"Sorry, I'm keeping you from duty.  The Commander filled me in on what it
was about before I left."
     "Ahaaa!" Starbuck nodded.  "In that case, Athena, you know all the
risks it entails, so I'll tell you what."  He removed the remaining
insignia pin from his cape.  "Hang on to this for me while I'm gone, will
you?  A little thing to remember me by."
     She took it, and found herself touched by the gallant gesture. 
"Thanks, Starbuck."
     He gave her a hug and kissed her on the mouth, the first time he'd
done so in a long while.  A wave of memories of what they'd shared before
the Holocaust filled Starbuck's mind as he realized why it was still
difficult to think of admitting that the relationship with Athena wasn't
what it had once been and couldn't be recaptured.
     "Gotta go now," he released her.  "Duty calls, love."
     "I can go with you back to the Galactica."
     "Ah, ah!" he held up a hand and backed up toward the door.  "No,
don't move a muscle, you just got here so why don't you just finish the
ambrosa and help yourself to everything this ship's got to offer.
Besides," he took a breath and knew he'd regret this but he didn't want
to take any chances, "I want to remember you just as you are.  Framed
here in our little bower, a myriad of stars behind you."
     The way in which he uttered his endearing comments only made the
suspicious aura return to Athena's mind.  Still, she didn't want to say
anything she might regret later.  Not after the disastrous conversation
in the locker room just after the Destruction, which she knew had sent
their relationship on a downward spiral.
     He blew her a kiss and disappeared.  Once the door hissed shut,
Athena shook her head, not knowing whether to think the evening had been
a positive step in the right direction or a complete and utter disaster.
     One thing's for sure, she thought wryly, he could use a remedial
class in literature to come up with better romantic comments than that
exit line.

********************

     As soon as he was in the corridor, Starbuck headed in the direction
of the Main Dining Hall, which would ultimately lead him to the docking
area and the safety of the Galactica.  Before he reached the end of the
corridor, he noticed Zumdish holding a computer clipboard.  
     "Lieutenant," he said, "eef you now plan on deen-ner for both
roomsh, that weel necessh-ee-tate a shlight adjushtment."
     Starbuck let out a defeated sigh and pulled out his moneybag.
     "Tell you what, Zum," he emptied the remaining contents into his
hand, which amounted to four hundred more cubits.  "Where I'm going,
cubits aren't needed anyway.  I might as well just start with a clean
slate on my next pay cycle."
     He dropped them on the computer clipboard and the Chief Steward
smiled.
     "Thank you, shir.  Und might I add that I admire the lieutenant-sh
dare-ingk?"
     "Don't go overboard. It's not that kind of mission."
     "Not the meesh-un, shir," Zumdish said.  "I was referring to the two
young ladiesh.  Very pre-war of you.  Eet putsh me een mind of why thosh
daysh were sho schpeshal to all of ush who sherved aboard the Rishing
Shtar back then."
     Starbuck smiled crookedly.  "Someday, Zumdish, I'm going to want to
hear all the details of those pre-war stories you've got tucked away."
     He then walked away at a brisk pace, leaving Zumdish alone to pick
up the cubits from his clipboard and pocket them.  Just as he finished he
could hear the door to both private rooms open and he could see both
Athena and Cassiopeia emerge, with each of them staring at the insignia
pin they had been given, and not aware of the other's presence.
     Zumdish immediately made a hasty retreat in the other direction, not
wanting to see an example of the unpleasant side of what "pre-war"
behavior sometimes led to.  He could vividly recall many occasions in his
early days when a Rising Star passenger on a date with a young woman
suddenly had to contend with another girlfriend, or even a wife, showing
up unexpectedly.  And sometimes, the results had led to physical blows.
     As if on cue, both Cassiopeia and Athena looked up at the same
instant and found themselves looking right into each others eyes and then
seeing that both had each part of Starbuck's cape insignia pins.
     Cassiopeia was the one more taken aback at first, since she had not
developed the slightest suspicion that Starbuck had something like this
in mind.  But then, it almost struck her as funny and she found herself
trying not to laugh.
     Athena on the other hand was feeling a mixture of anger at both
Starbuck and herself.
     "I knew it!" she said aloud. "I knew he couldn't have been alone."
     "Hello, Athena," Cassiopeia smiled.  "Nice to see you again."
     "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," she glared at her.
     "Athena," the med-tech said gently.  "Come off it.  If we're just
now forced to admit to each other that we've become challengers for his
affection, there's no reason why we should hate each other or come to
blows about it."
     Athena felt herself calming down inside.  "You're right.  Nothing
personal, Cassiopeia, but it's...just...him.  I should know by now that
it's over between us, so why do I keep---" she trailed off and shook her
head, wondering why she'd been so na‹ve.
     "Aw, don't be too hard on yourself," Cassiopeia suddenly found
herself concerned about her, which struck her as ironic.  "The fact that
you're here tells me that he asked you out first, didn't he?  Because he
only asked me out a couple of centars ago, and that means that I
certainly haven't become the clear number one in his eyes...yet."
     Her words caused some of Athena's inner rage and awkwardness to
vanish.  "I guess so."  She then frowned.  "Why would you even bother
saying that to me, anyway?"
     "Because I like you, Athena.  And whatever happens I want us to come
out of this on decent terms, if not friends."
     She nodded and for the first time relaxed.  "You know, it's not as
if this is the first time I've seen him do this kind of juggling act. 
When...we first started going out with each other, he had another
girlfriend from awhile back that he wasn't ready to cut all ties with."
     "Oh?" Cassiopeia lifted an eyebrow in surprise.  "He never mentioned
anyone else he's gone out with before.  Who was she?"
     "Someone he knew on Caprica named Aurora.  She was killed the night
of the attack."  Athena paused, and a thoughtful air entered her voice. 
"Just out of curiosity, is there any protein in your room?"
     "Yes," she nodded.  "And I assume the ambrosa's in yours."
     Athena smiled.  "Then how about we finish them off while sharing all
the nasty things we can possibly say about him to each other."
     Cassiopeia returned it.  "You're on."

*******************

Chapter Three: Recon Viper One

     Starbuck's shuttle jaunt to the Galactica felt more relaxing to him
than a ride escaping from a Cylon prison might have felt to him.  The
whole evening had left a bitter taste in his mouth and made him want to
completely forget all about women and romance...for now at least.  The
reality was that he was reaching a point where he knew that sooner or
later he had to choose between one of the two women, hurting the other
one in the process.  The pre-Holocaust Starbuck wouldn't have let himself
feel too guilty about that, but not anymore.
     As soon as he arrived on the battlestar, he saw Apollo waiting for
him.
     "Glad you could make it," Apollo     said.  'You've got exactly five
centons to change clothes and get back down to the launch bay for
briefing.  You're to wear the stealth uniform for this mission."
     "Got it," Starbuck said obediently, determined to hurl himself into
every facet of the mission.
     Five centons later, Apollo was surprised to see that Starbuck had
followed orders and wasted no time.  He was wearing a gray and black
bodysuit with no markings or insignia, and a nondescript helmet that more
resembled a triad helmet than a pilot's.  Alongside his viper were
Apollo, Boomer and Dr. Wilker.
     "Wow!" Boomer said as he eyed Starbuck.  "You sure do look just
fetching," 
     Starbuck held out his arms at his sides and executed a slow turn. 
"I do wonders for any kind of uniform," he grinned.  "Maybe because of
this, the Colonial Warrior's uniform will get its first revamp in a
hundred yahrens.  We could strike more fear and terror with a darker
color scheme. Remember that comic book superhero that fought crime in
Caprica City dressed up in a bat costume?"
     "The only problem, Starbuck, is that you hardly ever look like a
warrior, so how could your wearing this have an impact on what the rest
of us wear?"  Boomer refused to let up.  It had been a while since he'd
had the chance to do some needling of his friend, and before a serious
mission was always the best time to engage in needling, if only to let
the warrior who was about to take the risky mission feel more relaxed.
     "Hmm, you got me on that one, Boomer.  Maybe it's my lack of a good
haircut in recent sectars that makes you think that.  Of course, the
reason why it's safter to just let it grow is because there isn't a
single haircutter in the Fleet I'd trust for a micron.  They'd probably
all want to give me an Academy cadet's buzz on a micron's notice."
     "Even though that helmet you've got there is more apt to damage such
an unkempt style like yours already is," Apollo grinned. "Did you enjoy
your meal?"
     Starbuck grimaced.  "Let's just say that I'm looking forward to a
few centons in space.  Alone.  Just me, a fast ship and, hopefully, a
fair and empty quadrant."
     "Well, you've certainly got the fast ship, ole buddy."  Apollo
motioned to the Electronics Scientist who'd been standing by with an
impatient aura, since he was anxious to go into one of his famous
lectures that were always guaranteed to be topheavy with the latest
scientific jargon.  "Dr. Wilker, kindly explain to the Lieutenant what
he's going to be handling."
     "Thank you very much, Captain."  Wilker stepped forward.  "This
experimental Recon Viper is the finest advancement my staff and I have
ever devised.  Thanks to the addition of extra engine space, the speed
capacity is twice that of the standard Starhound Class Viper that you've
flown your entire career."
     "Twice the speed, eh?" Starbuck took a step toward the craft, and
hoped that Wilker's lecture wasn't going to last too long.
     "Not only that, but this marks the formal unveiling of something
I've had in development for a long time:  the C.O.R.A. system."
     "C.O.R.A.?" Starbuck frowned.
     "My voice-activated computer system.  It is specially designed to
handle all aspects of flight, enabling you to go into extended sleep mode
for a long-range mission.  It can also respond to all your direct
commands and ensure that you're capable of outrunning anything the Cylons
or any other known hostile craft could conceivably throw at you."
     "Sounds fascinating, Doc, but we hotshot space jockeys don't need
all that electronic felgercarb."
     Wilker bristled considerably.  "I resent that, Lieutenant.  I think
you'll find that even for a hotshot space jockey, these advancements can
come in handy and, if push comes to shove, they can even save your life!"
     "Easy there, Doc.  I know you have the best interest of Mankind at
heart."  Starbuck mounted the steps and settled into the cockpit of his
viper.
     Apollo decided he needed to re-enter the conversation and keep
Wilker from having a blowout.  "Okay, Starbuck, once you're launched,
switch on your short-range marker beacon so we can track you.  Other than
that, no transmissions unless it's absolutely necessary, and even then
only in full-scrambled code, as we don't want the Cylons to track your
signal back."  He then lowered his voice to a dead serious tone.  "And
Starbuck, if you should make Cylon contact---"
     "I know," the brash warrior held up a hand. "Then this becomes a
one-way voyage, since we don't want them tracking me back to the Fleet."
     "Actually, Lieutenant, you don't know!" Wilker haughtily protested. 
"That's what the C.O.R.A. system does---it gives this Viper additional
speed and maneuvers so you can totally confuse any Cylon from figuring
out which direction you've gone off in once you elude them."
     "You don't say." Starbuck looked down at him.  "Well, maybe there is
something to be said for electronic felgercarb after all.  Did you say
twice as fast?"
     "I did," Wilker beamed as Apollo stepped from the Viper.  "It has a
second pulse generator in all three engines which gives you the
additional engine space and the additional speed.  You'll fall in love
with it."
     "Don't be too sure."  Starbuck frowned and took a micron to look at
the rear of the Viper craft.  "I don't see any modifications for that
kind of engine expansion.  Externally, I can't tell this bird from any
other Starhound Viper."
     "We didn't make any external modifications because we felt none were
necessary."
     "If I remember my physics correctly, that means you sacrificed
something in order to accommodate the additional weight," Starbuck said
as he strapped himself in place and prepared to close the cockpit canopy.
"What did you sacrifice?"
     "The laser generators," Wilker said casually.
     "Oh," Starbuck said as he hit the button and the canopy began to
lower.  It was halfway down when the implications of what the Electronics
Scientist had just said hit him like a Cylon bomb on a battlestar's hull.
     "Sure, that makes sense," he said to himself.  "Remove the laser
generators to cut down on the weight and---you're unarmed!"
     The canopy sealed shut before Starbuck could finish his protest.  He
could see Apollo and Boomer standing over there grinning at him, in what
he knew was their way of wishing him luck and a safe return.  The sight
of Wilker preening in delight over the fact that his new inventions were
being put to use, made Starbuck wish he could make a rude gesture at the
Electronics Scientist.
     Resigned to his fate, he powered up the switches and ten microns
later, the Viper craft roared down the launch tube and into the openness
of space.

********************

     Apollo and Boomer wasted no time walking away from Dr. Wilker, since
the Electronic Scientist's lecture had come off as jarring to the both of
them.
     "This mission makes no sense, if you ask my opinion," Boomer said. 
"I'm as awestruck by hi-tech progress as Wilker is, but this doesn't seem
like the best way to show it off, especially when it leaves him totally
unarmed."
     "I totally agree with you, Boomer," Apollo nodded as they reached
the turbo lift.  "Just sending two or three of us on a regular patrol
sweep ought to be enough.  I guess it's the whole sudden unknown
challenge of the Alpha Quadrant that makes the Commander a bit restless
and willing to try something different.
     "I suppose you're right," Boomer said as he tapped the button and
the lift ascended.  "I got to be honest, leaving the home quadrant for
the last time kind of drove it home that we're never going to see
anything familiar again, not in our lifetimes anyway."
     "I came to terms with that a long time ago," Apollo said.  "I'm glad
we finally got it over with, though.  I'll feel better once home becomes
a distant and fading memory."
     "Well, just because you're willing to forget the past doesn't mean I
am," Boomer said as the turbo-lift came to a halt.  "I still dream about
having a furlon back on Caprica, only each time I dream the images become
hazy and when I wake up I keep trying to force myself to remember what it
was like because I refuse to forget what it was like.  If our generation
isn't fated to find Earth, then we can't let our children and our
descendants forget about what the worlds we came from were like."
     "You've got a point there, buddy," Apollo said as they stepped into
the corridor, although he had no intention of following that advice when
it came to Boxey.  The last thing he wanted to do was remind Boxey too
much of the "good old days" that he'd experienced when he was young, and
risk opening up all kinds of inner trauma.  Especially if there were
still demons in his mind about the death of his mother that he had yet to
conquer.
     "How 'bout a round in the Club?" Boomer asked.
     "Think I'll take a rain check on that," Apollo said.  "I'd better
call it a day.  See you tomorrow."
     "Damn right," the dark-skinned warrior nodded as they went their
separate ways.

********************

Chapter Four: C.O.R.A. And Starbuck

     Starbuck was impressed.
     As soon as he'd set the viper on course he could immediately tell
the difference between it and the run-of-the-mill viper.  The handling
was far smoother, and it almost gave him the sensation of sliding across
a surface of ice with no bumps whatsoever as he continued to pick up
speed.
     "So far, so good," Starbuck said. "Okay, baby, let's see what you
can really do."
     The impetuous warrior hit his turbo thrusters to the maximum setting
and felt a sensation of speed he'd never experienced in his life before. 
And what made it all the more exhilarating was how smooth and easy it
felt.  For more than a centon, he allowed himself to enjoy the feel of
the Viper, taking it through a series of rolls, loops and banks in the
process.   
     "Whoooo-hahhhhhh!" he let out an excited whoop.  "Wilker, you are a
genius for making them fast.  But let's see if your little computer can
top that!"
     He then activated the computer control switch on the front of the
dash, clearly marked by the acronym C.O.R.A.
     Starbuck was then startled to hear a feminine voice fill the
cockpit."
     "Your wish is my command, sugar."
     Abruptly, he saw the control stick move itself to the left and
Starbuck felt himself thrown back as the viper went off at the same fast
speed he had managed a centon before.  Only this time, the viper was
going in a series of far more rapid maneuvers and rolls than he'd been
able to execute.
     "Holy---Frack, come on, stop!  You're gonna make me sick!  Back to
normal speed and heading now!"
     There was an almost sarcastic edge in the voice.  "Whatever you
wish, honey."
     Starbuck glared at the computer in annoyance. "Suppose you try
addressing me as Lieutenant Starbuck?  Or sir.  There's a certain
protocol to this sort of---"
     "Nertz!" replied the computer.  "Who are you trying to impress
Starbuck?  I've read through your record and, it seems to me, protocol
and dignity are things that you steer clear of.  "Two people traveling in
a small intimate vehicle shouldn't be so damn formal, anyway."
     '"You've got access to my personal records?  That's not standard
operating procedure."
     "And I'm not standard equipment," the feminine voice retorted.  "Now
stop being a bore and let me introduce myself.  My name's C.O.R.A.---"
     "I know that," he cut in with disgust.
     "Short for Computer/Oral Response Activated," it went on.  "I'm
programmed to respond instantly to all your needs.  I'm also to keep you
amused over the lengthy duration of our prolonged voyage."
     "Great!" Already Starbuck was wondering if Wilker had lost his
sanity to come up with something like this.  "Already you've been more
fun than a barrel of siminoids, trust me."
     A forlorn sigh emitted from the terminal.  "I would advise you to
cease your hostility, as it will not help our working relationship, which
is vital to our mission's success."
     "All right, all right, I apologize.  Go ahead."  Starbuck couldn't
believe he was having this kind of conversation with a computer.  The
only time he'd gone through something similar was when he'd been a
prisoner aboard Baltar's baseship and had an interesting talk with the
second-in-command, a more sophisticated Cylon designated Lucifer, who
possessed normal speech, unlike the common centurion.  But to hear a
normal voice coming from a computer terminal was more surreal to him than
hearing one from a moving robot.
     Starbuck's forward scanners switched on by themselves and he could
now see a detailed readout showing his viper proceeding in the direction
of a nearby star system.
     "We are on Delta vector eight, heading, eight, six, two for the
sector quadrant containing the binary star system in which five asteroids
are located, one of which is listed in Colonial Star Maps as Destructon
asteroid.  I've activated my sensors and am probing the area where the
Galactica's rather limited scanners detected lifeforms."
     "Ah!  Vanity, thy name is C.O.R.A."
     "Quiet please, I'm scanning."
     "Oh do forgive me," Starbuck said with amusement but inside, he was
feeling very uneasy.  The more he heard this female voice with its
sarcastic personality, the more he found himself wondering if the
original Cylon race of reptiles had started out with computers like this
when they began the process that led to the creation of the Cylon
robot... and the eventual downfall of their race.
     Some new scanning data appeared on the dashboard readout and
Starbuck could see two contacts.  "I'm picking up two unidentified
sublight vehicles. Bearing is Omega One, Delta eight heading away from
Destructon.  Shall we poke our nose into it further, Starbuck?"
     Starbuck hesitated for an instant and then nodded, "That's what
we're here for, C.O.R.A. But if these unidentified objects turn out to be
Cylons, I'm gonna feel downright silly about not having any weapons."
     "Why do we need weapons?  We've got enough speed to outrun anything
in the universe."
     "I'll believe that when it happens."
     C.O.R.A snorted.  "Nothing to worry about, love.  Just hang on and
I'll bring us close enough to a more definite identification."
     Abruptly, the viper accelerated to maximum speed, and again Starbuck
felt his unease increase, since he was no longer in actual control of the
craft.
     "Will slow to sublight speed in five microns to avoid detection by
either craft, and we can determine what they are."
     "Who they are," he impatiently corrected.
     "Sorry," there was little sense of being apologetic in C.O.R.A.'s
voice.  "Going sublight now.  Will have visual scan identification on
screen in five...four...three...two...one...now!"
     Abruptly, the viper slowed down and an instant later, Starbuck could
see both ships appear on his viewscreen.  One of them looked vaguely
familiar, as though it were an ancient version of a viper craft that he
had once seen in a museum or at an Armament Day parade on Caprica.  The
other had bulkier contours and was less familiar
     "They're ancient," he said aloud.
     "I'd estimate," said the computer, "that both the shuttle and the
pursuit ship date back to the Sixth Millennium at least.  Don't ask me
where in Hades they came from."
     "It isn't likely, though, that they're Cylons."
     "Unless the Cylons have had some budget cuts we don't know about,
no."
     "That shuttle's unarmed, and I don't much like the idea of an
unarmed craft being chased by a fighter."  Starbuck took a quick drag on
his fumarello.  "And it's going to futz up my report on the life forms
hereabouts if somebody kills some of 'em."
     "I have a plan, Bucky.  Suppose we--"
     "Don't," Starbuck warned, "Ever call me Bucky.  If it happens again,
I'm shutting you off! "
     "What then? Starsy?"
     "Lieutenant Starbuck, sir.  Try that."
     "All right, Lieutenant Starbuck, sir."  Again there was nothing
apologetic in the tone.  Had this programmed personality been designed
for 100% attitude and 0% humility? "I'm open to suggestions, if you've
got any."
     Starbuck kept his eyes glued to the screen and saw the ancient
version of a viper open fire on the shuttle.  Whoever the pilot was, his
aim was terrible, as the shots missed.  Clearly, the craft was not
equipped with an accurate attack computer.
     "You got a life form scan for either of them?"
     "Affirmative.  One human in each craft."
     "Human," Starbuck's eyes widened.  "Makes sense, I suppose.  This
was part of the Colonial Frontier a long time ago, so maybe it's had some
remnants that have survived all these hundreds of yahrens."  He paused. 
"How can we give some cover for that shuttle?"
     I was about to suggest a high-speed flyby, Lieutenant Starbuck,
sir," said the computer.  "We'll kick in our second booster within fifty
metrons and force the fighter off course.  Should also scare the poggies
out of him."
     Starbuck stared dubiously at the computer again.  C.O.R.A had just
uttered every clich‚ a hotshot pilot in a bad video-com entertainment
production might have said, and to hear it come from this soft-spoken but
sardonic female voice made it sound even more absurd.
     Wilker, you are a candidate for the loony bin, he thought.
     "Tell you what," said Starbuck, gripping the controls.  "Give me
complete control when I make the pass so I can be sure I avoid a
collision. Release controls."
     "But it's considerably more efficient if my control is maintained!"
     "Release 'em!" Starbuck raised his voice angrily. 
     C.O.R.A. sighed.  "Released, Lieutenant Starbuck, sir."
     Feeling grateful that he had control again, Starbuck grabbed the
control stick and took his viper in on a heading that would take him
straight over the top of the ancient fighter craft that dated back more
than one thousand yahrens in Colonial history.

********************

     The pilot of the rattletrap fighter sat hunched in his seat.  He was
a thickset man of sixty, dressed in trousers and a tunic, both of a
filthy off-white color. His sandy-dark hair was tied back with a twist of
crimson cord.  On one breast of his tunic was a starburst emblem.
     There was an oily, smoky smell in the battered cockpit.  The image
of the pursued shuttle showed fuzzy on the grime-smeared screen of the
dash scanner.
     "Aha!  I gotcha now, Burglar!  You're not gonna get away this time!"
the fighter pilot promised the blurred image of his prey.
     He reached again toward the triggering mechanism of his guns.
     "This'll fix...what in hellfire?"
     Something, a fighter ship maybe, had come whizzing across his stern. 
The ship, like nothing he'd ever seen before, had sent a dazzling
explosion of white searing from its engines.
     Dazzled, confused, the pilot tried a wobbling maneuver that was
intended to get him away from there.
     By the time he regained control of his fighter, there was no sign of
the shuttle he'd been chasing, and no trace of the new craft that had
come flashing out of nowhere at him.
     With a hand that was shaking slightly, he activated his talkmike. 
"This is Captain Kraspo," he said, anger and perplexity mixing in his
voice.  "I've lost contact with the suspect ship and am now returning to
Destructon."  
     "What in hellfire happened out there?" asked the voice on the other
end of the subspace radio.
     "I got buzzed by some joker in a souped-up rocket, just when I had
Burglar in my sights," Kraspo replied. "Probably working with her, I
figure."
     "Sounds like trouble to me," said the man on Destructon.
     "Sounds like?  It is trouble, trooper boy!  I want an all points
bulletin on these ships issued for all squad craft on the double!"

********************

     As soon as Starbuck's viper passed over, he could see the
disorienting effect he'd created on the pilot.  The fighter abruptly
swerved out of control and lost its sense of direction, while ahead, the
shuttle peeled off in the direction of the second asteroid.
     Starbuck pulled up on the stick and retreated to what he knew would
be a safe distance that would keep him out of scanning range of the
fighter, which he could now see had recovered its bearings and was headed
back in the direction of the larger Destructon asteroid.  Clearly, it had
lost track of the shuttle and had decided to abandon its pursuit.
     "Well," Starbuck smiled in satisfaction.  "Not bad, if I do say so."
     "You were fifty-two metrones away when you hit your booster."
     Immediately, the exasperation returned to Starbuck.  "It worked!"
     "It worked---but rather sloppily."
     The brash warrior rolled his eyes in disgust.  "Listen, C.O.R.A,
let's get something straight---"
     "Fighter is disengaging and returning to Proteus.  Shuttlecraft
sustained damage from one hit and is landing on second asteroid, dead
ahead."
     "I can see that!" Starbuck felt his anger increase.  "Do you have to
repeat everything for me?  I've got a brain, you know, so just let me
figure out how to handle this."
     Frak!  Patrolling with a piece of space scum like Quanto would be
preferable to this, he thought as he checked the scanner and saw the
shuttle set down on the unnamed second asteroid.
     "Follow that shuttle," he said finally.
     "May I please land us so I don't have to go through a bouncer?"
     Starbuck came within a fraction of exploding.  "No, you may not!
Just give me the damn vectors for a landing!"
     "Vectors displayed.  And please try not to jolt my chips when you
set us down."
     Lords of Kobol, if I don't get out of this ship for a few microns
and get away from this insufferable nag, I'm going to return to the
Galactica without my sanity!  Starbuck thought as he took the viper in on
a heading that would set him down near the enigma that was the damaged
shuttle.
 
********************

     On the Galactica's bridge, Adama decided it was time to check on the
early status of Recon Viper One before he turned in.  He made his way
over to Omega's station and looked down.
     "Preliminary indication, please."
     "Beacon indicates Lieutenant Starbuck has approached Destructon
system but---" the bridge officer's eyes narrowed, "he appears to be
landing."
     "On Destructon?" Adama frowned.
     "No," Omega shook his head.  "The second asteroid in the system."
     "Is it capable of sustaining human life?"
     Omega punched in several buttons to push the scanning features of
the Galactica to their maximum forward capacity.
     "Yes sir, it is."
     "Good.  He must have something worth investigating so he can't be in
any danger."  The Commander stretched his arms and went back to the upper
level where Tigh maintained his vigil.
     "I'm going to try and squeeze in my sleep period now, Colonel. 
Don't hesitate to disturb me if the situation justifies it."
     "Yes sir," Tigh nodded.  "We'll continue to monitor the situation."
     "Are all of the ships in the Fleet out of the asteroid dust cloud?"
     "Yes sir.  The last one got through centons ago."
     "Then start reactivating our rear scanning beams.  We can't let our
rear flank stay unmonitored."
     The Commander then turned and stretched his arms again as he left
the Bridge.

********************

Chapter Five: Starbuck and Princess Alpha

     Starbuck unhooked his safety gear and looked out through the cockpit
window.  "How'd you like the landing, C.O.R.A.?"
     "It was---passable," answered the computer.
     The asteroid was bleak, a blend of dark, pocked rock and gray
scruffy brush.  There was a gaping cave-mouth nearby, and a few
indications that, yahrens ago this asteroid had been mined. The downed
shuttle was just beyond the next rise.
     "Atmosphere outside acceptable," said C.O.R.A. "No respirator
required."
     He nodded.  "How many people aboard the shuttle?"
     "One.  Human female, twenty-two yahrens of age.  Unarmed."
     Patting his holster, the lieutenant said, "Guess I'll mosey on over
and introduce myself to the lady.  Seems the neighborly thing to do."
     "Watch yourself."
     "I'm touched by your concern."
     "I don't need you to fly off this hunk of rock, hon," said the
computer.  "But if I show up back at the Galactica with your lifeless
corpse, it'll be a black mark against me."
     "Fear not, sweet C.O.R.A, I fully intend to return in the same
pristine condition I'm in now." He opened the canopy.
     "Switching all systems, except marker beacon, to standby mode."
Starbuck stepped free of the Viper.  As his booted feet touched the rocky
ground, the canopy whispered shut behind him.
     He hunched his shoulders once.  It was chilly.  The sky was pitch
black; the stars so spectacular he stopped to take one look in awed
wonder at how such a sight seemed from outside a viper cockpit.  The
abandoned rock/pack-mining droid by the cave opening lay on its side,
brush tangled around its battered exterior.
     Starbuck was still several yards from the downed shuttle, laser gun
in hand, when he heard a metallic bonnnng! He approached cautiously.
     The ship really was a relic, its hull pitted and dented. Two booted
feet stuck out from beneath the shuttle.  The bonging came from there. 
An open tool chest sat near the protruding feet.
     "You here to gawk, guv'nuh? Or are you here to pitch in and help
me?" asked the owner of the feet in a voice that spoke Colonial Standard
but in an Aquarian accent.  What was this 'guv'nuh' business, anyway?  
     Starbuck took a step back.  "Help you," he managed to answer.
     "Jolly good.  Hand me that damn drill functional wrench, will you?" 
From beneath the ship slid a slender young woman of average height.  Her
trousers were splotched with white paint.  A patch of medium-tanned skin
showed through a hole in her tunic, and her jacked looked as though it
had barely escaped a fire.  She was pretty, though; with wide,
green-pupiled almond eyes and long beach-sand blonde hair. "Are you
through ogling me?"
     Starbuck considered her question.  "For now," he answered and passed
her the tool she'd requested.
  
********************

     The young woman wiped the heel of her hand across her perspiring
forehead, leaving behind a fresh gritty streak.  "That ought to do it. 
The damage done by my quick landing's all fixed up," she said, giving the
shuttle a kick and then tossing the electrowrench she'd been using to
Starbuck.  "Be a love and pack that up for me, will you?"
     "Who was that on your tail?" He set down the wrench in the tool
locker.
     She shrugged.  "Pirate.  He's from the Destructon system and let me
tell you there's some nasty mercenary buggers out there, some of them in
cahoots with slavers.  I don't know what the deuce made me cross this
asteroid system anyway."
     She held out a grease-stained right hand.  "Princess Alpha, at your
service."
     "Princess Alpha?  I don't---"
     "Princess is just my nickname, self-appointed title and whatnot. 
Just call me Alpha, if it makes you comfy.  What's your name?"
     "Starbuck."
     Alpha gave a left-shouldered shrug, then brushed her beach-sand
blonde hair back.  "Strange name you have there, guv'nuh," she observed. 
"Anyway, thanks for making that pirate bugger off."  She yanked the door
of her shuttle open and reached inside.
     Automatically, Starbuck whipped out his pistol.
     "Hold it!" he barked.
     "Relax, Starbuck," the young woman said, laughing.  "I assure you my
intentions toward you are quite honorable."
     Starbuck tightened his grip on his pistol, "I said hold it!"
     "Being vigilant are we? I don't blame you.  Care for a drink?"
     He lowered his pistol.  "Well, I suppose after our shared
ordeal...what in hellfire's that?"
     She'd produced a flask of amber liquor from her cabin.  Pulling the
cork out with her teeth, she took a swig.  "Ambrosa," she answered as she
wiped the flaskmouth with the tattered sleeve of her jacket.  "Don't they
have it where you hail from?"
     "Yep.  But it's sort of expensive and..." He accepted the bottle and
drank.  The taste was the most delicious he'd ever known in his life. 
He'd always read how the older ambrosa was, the more its flavor improved
and this surpassed anything he'd ever experienced.
     "By all that's holy!" he said as he took another swig. 
     "I've got a lot more where that came from, guv'nuh," Alpha said.
"And if you're willing to keep your mouth shut, I'd ah...be glad to share
my find with you."
     Starbuck took another sip.  "This stuff is amazing," he said.  "And
from the taste of it, more than a hundred yahrens old."
     "Five hundred, to be exact."
     Starbuck's eyes widened.  "Five hundred?  That's impossible.  There
hasn't been stuff like this around for ages."
     "You never did tell me where you hail from," the woman eyed him with
growing amusement.
     Starbuck ignored her statement.  "Where did you get this?  It can't
be real."
     "It's real."
     The warrior grinned.  "Oh, I get it!  Alpha, Princess of the
Bootleggers, right?"
     "Not exactly.  What you're drinking there is a bonus; part of my
payment for delivering my load of spare agro parts to the farmers on
Bris."
     "Bris?" Already he knew that Alpha couldn't be telling the truth,
since the Star Maps indicated no other settlement other than Destructon
in this region, certainly no other one capable of being shuttled to in
the woman's ancient ship.  "Can't say I've ever heard of it."
     "It's a very small and primitive settlement that's never seen the
likes of the beauty you're flying. I caught a glimpse of it up there, by
the way."
     "I'm sure they haven't." Starbuck finished the bottle.
     "You know, Starbuck, I think I have time to take a quick look at
your ship," the young woman said.
     "Well, it's...different, but..."
     Alpha laughed.  "Don't you trust me?"
     Starbuck thought for a micron.  Her tall-tale about the human
settlement didn't sit well with him, but, on the other hand, if she were
going to make a disagreeable move, she would surely have done so by now. 

     "Okay," he said.  "C'mon.  I'll give you a short tour."
     He noticed, as she walked beside him toward the viper, that he was
only slightly taller than she was, and the hair was the same color.
     When they passed the abandoned mine, Starbuck asked.  "Does this
particular asteroid have a name?"
     "If it does I wouldn't know it, Starbuck.  I'm merely passing
through."
     "How did you know where to land?"
     "Intuition.  You bloody well need it when you fly an old clunker
like mine," she explained.  "I've got emergency landing spots charted all
over my run," Alpha said.  "But I can't fill you in on the local history
of a damned one."
     They reached the Viper and Starbuck opened the door. "Welcome to my 
home away from home," he gestured at the interior with his hand.
     She moved up beside him, glancing inside.  "Damn, that's really
something," she said admiringly.  
     "Before you rush back to your shuttle," he said.  "I'd like to know
how much ambrosa you're hauling. It's got to be worth a fortune!" 
     Already Starbuck wondered if he'd stumbled on something that would
help him net a lifetime's worth of dinners and private rooms on the
Rising Star.  
     "Well," Alpha said, "more than you or I could haul out of here, but
this ship doesn't look like it was made for cargo, it looks more like if
was made for---" She looked back at Starbuck.  "Wait a centon.  You're
not a bloody pirate yourself, are you?  You're not going to kill me, are
you?"
     "Heyyy! Don't be frightened.  I'm a little leery of pirates myself. 
How many of those guys are there, that were chasing you?"
     She turned away and looked up at the stars. "It's a pretty rough
sector you know.  Plenty of asteroids around where they can hide and come
out and rob and maim you."  She topped and turned back to Starbuck.  "You
wouldn't be some advance scout for some kind of convoy, would you?"
     Starbuck chuckled.  "No, no, this would be a very bad place to bring
an unarmed ship, wouldn't it?"
     Starbuck threw the empty bottle down into the brush, wishing he
could look inside that shuttle.  In his mind's eye, he could see an
awesome number of piled cases containing dozens of bottles that an Elite
Class member would pay at least five thousand cubits for just one.
     "What kind of range do you think these pirates have?"
     With Starbuck's back turned to her, the woman abruptly picked up the
discarded bottle and brought it crashing down on the back of his head. 
In an instant, the warrior crashed to the ground, unconscious.
     The young blonde woman stepped back from Starbuck's sprawled,
unconscious body.  Hands on hips, she said, "Sorry about that, love,
since you don't seem like a bad sort.  But Kraspo is most likely still
hunting for me out there and I need something a hell of a lot faster than
my old shuttle."
     Bending, she grabbed him under the arms and dragged him across the
rocky ground until he was a safe distance from the ship.  She turned and
walked over to the ship.

********************

     Athena had spent nearly two centons conversing with Cassiopeia over
several glasses of ambrosa and three helpings of protein before they
finally agreed to return to the Galactica and part company.  The both of
them felt they'd exhausted the number of unflattering things they could
possibly say about Starbuck.  And ultimately, the both of them found
themselves parting with a mutual admiration and respect for each other,
despite the circumstances of the evening.
     Despite three glasses of ambrosa, Athena didn't feel the least bit
impaired, and she still felt too much pent-up vim and vigor inside her to
think of turning in.  She decided to go back to the Bridge and resume her
ship.  
     "Colonel Tigh," she said as she arrived, I'd like to monitor the
status of Recon Viper One."
     The executive officer nodded.  "I have no objections. Omega could
sure use the relief, though."
     Athena found the Bridge Officer grateful to finally give up his
vigil watching the silent screen.  Omega gave her a full briefing on
everything that had happened up to now, and then left the bridge to begin
his own sleep period.
     Ten centons passed as Athena kept her eye on the asteroid where the
viper's beacon continued to flash.  Then she noticed it move, indicating
that it had taken off.

********************

     Alpha climbed into the cockpit, placing the discarded helmet on her
head then settled in at the controls.
     Before sealing the canopy shut and saying a prayer to the Lords that
she had failed to honor for so much of her life, she took a farewell look
out at Starbuck.  "You'll be okay till we come back here for my cargo,"
she said.  "Right now, I have to concentrate on ditching that bloke
Kraspo."
     Hunching in the seat, she studied the controls.  Brow furrowed, she
drummed her grease-stained fingers on the dash.  "Sure, I can handle this
thing," Alpha decided after a moment or two.  
     She hit the launch control button.  In an instant, she could feel a
surge of power unlike any other she'd known in her life as the Recon
Viper took off from the asteroid and assumed an uneven heading.
     "Blimey!" she whispered.  "I say! I had absolutely no idea the
Colonies had become so advanced after all this time.  They must have a
bloomin' paradise back there by now."
     But she knew that if she didn't figure out how the rest of these
systems worked, her flight would be a short one, and with it, her life
would probably come to an end.
     She began to hit the various switches and knobs she could see,
hoping that one of them would give her clear instruction on how to
maneuver this craft.  Finally, her dainty hand swept over the switch
labeled C.O.R.A.
     "Finally decided to turn me back on, eh?"
     Alpha looked about the cockpit in stunned disbelief, and it took her
a half-centon to finally realize where the voice had come from.
     "Shall I scan for that fighter?"
     Immediately, Alpha began to relax as she realized she'd found the
key to what she was looking for.
     "Negative," she said.
     "Who the dickens are you?" a cold air abruptly entered C.O.R.A's
voice.
     "Can you fly this ship?"
     "Affirmative," the cold air persisted. "Who are you?"
     "All right then, control is yours," she said.  "Assume course to
asteroid mass one zero, seven, seven five on the far edge of this binary
system, bearing delta seven."
     "Computed," C.O.R.A. said.  "Where's Starbuck?"
     Alpha ignored her question.  "Prepare to transmit intergalactic
signal on narrow beam."
     "Affirmative," C.O.R.A persisted.  "What've you done with him, you
floozie?"
     "Just do as you're told," Alpha settle back and smiled.  "And thank
you very much."

********************

     Commander Adama moved through the bridge of the Galactica until he
stood beside Athena.  "What's the latest word on Lieutenant Starbuck?"
     "The short-range marker indicates Recon Viper One is climbing back
into---wait a centon!" She watched the beacon assume a new heading,
taking it in the direction of something that the Galactica's sensors had
not previously noticed.  "It's heading for a larger, denser group of
asteroids located on the back side of this binary star system."
     "Maintain tracking," the commander said to his daughter.  He may be
on to something."
     "Probably a redhead."
     "What was that?"
     "Thinking aloud, sorry.  Rigel," she called over, "does Stellar
Cartography have readings on that other group of asteroids?"
     "Negative," the young flight corporal answered.  "They're not on the
charts at all.  Destructon is the only one named."
     "I see. Thanks."  She shook her head slightly.  "I wonder what he
sees there?"
     Resting a hand on her shoulder, the commander leaned closer to the
screen.  Frowning at the information being displayed there, he said, "I
don't quite understand this."
     "Recon Viper One is transmitting, but..."
     "Yes."  Adama's eyes narrowed.  "It's a long range signal."
     "And it's not scrambled either," Athena added.  "It's...some kind of
code being sent on a narrow beam."
     Colonel Tigh came over, a look of horror coming over his face. 
"What's that fool doing?  He might as well be broadcasting a signal
direct to the Cylons!"
     "Perhaps," suggested a baffled Adama, "his short-pulse transmitter
has somehow been rendered inoperative."
     "It's possible," said Athena, stroking her cheek as she watched the
console screen.  "But then...why would he use an unknown code to send an
unscrambled message?"
     "I suggest," said Tigh, "that we check the Cylon codes."
     Nodding, Adama said, "We've got to check every possibility."
     "I think it's obvious what's happened, Commander," said the black
colonel. We have to assume that either a Cylon or Cylon sympathizer is
now in control of Recon Viper One."
     "It could be Starbuck," said Athena, "who's sending this message,
Colonel.  True, we don't know why he's using this particular code, but
maybe---"
     "If that isn't a message to the Cylons," said Tigh, "it's at least a
beacon that can lead them to this sector."
     Athena punched instructions into her machine.  A moment passed and
then her answer appeared.  "Whatever the code is, it doesn't match any
known Cylon patterns," she said. "With all due respect, Colonel, we
cannot assume any such thing!"
     "Just a centon," Adama held up a hand to signal for order.  "Whether
this matches something the Cylons use or not is irrelevant at this
point."
     "Exactly!" Tigh emphasized.  "That message is being beamed back into
the home quadrant, toward the Colonies.  Even if it's not a message to
them, it ultimately acts as a beacon for the Cylons to guide them here,
right to scanning range of the entire Fleet!  We have to stop that
transmission!"
     Athena said nothing, glancing up at her father.
     Commander Adama said, "Alert my son, immediately.  Him
and...Lieutenant Boomer.  They both know what they'll have to do."
     "Yessir!" Tigh said alertly as he moved off.

********************

     Apollo had returned to his quarters a centar earlier and found Boxey
sound asleep.  A book lay open on his chest, indicating that the little
tyke had been reading it before he'd fallen asleep.
     Gingerly, Apollo picked it up so as not to disturb his son, and he
frowned.  The book was an illustrated edition of The Facts of the All
Seeing Primal, an addendum to the Book of the Word that had never been
accepted as part of the Holy Writings by established theologians because
the earliest known copies were not considered old enough to be considered
authentic.  But the recent experience on Kobol had laid that controversy
to rest, as the ancient ruins had validated everything The Facts of the
All Seeing Primal had said about Kobol's last days and the journey of the
twelve tribes to the Colonies.
     Instead of going to bed himself, Apollo sat down in the chair across
from Boxey's bed and began to thumb through the volume, finding it
fascinating that his son would be reading a book about such a deep
subject.  Then he remembered that his father likely would have encouraged
Boxey to read it, in order to learn more about the origins of mankind,
and also have the principles of his people's faith reinforced in him.
     After flipping through the pages, he realized that this was an
adapted version of the Facts, written specifically for young children. 
Many colorful illustrations filled the volume, depicting scenes of life
on Kobol, the decay that led to the death of the mother planet, and the
plans to leave Kobol.
     Maps and space scenes also dotted the pages too.  It was definitely
an effective way of introducing a young mind to what might have otherwise
seemed like a dry piece of text.
     So fascinated was Apollo by the presentation that he found himself
reading it for a full half-centar before he fell asleep in his chair. 
And then, just a half-centar later, he heard the chime sounding, jolting
both him and Boxey awake, and causing Muffit to emit an electronic bark.
     When he opened the door, he saw a grim-faced Boomer standing in the
threshold.
     "Get yourself ready, buddy," his friend said grimly.  Something
serious just happened."


********************

     The two warriors went promptly down to the launch bay, where Apollo
and Boomer received a full briefing from Adama over the vid-com unit.  As
soon as it was over, they went to their vipers and prepared for
departure.
     "It's as bad as it can get," Apollo said.  "Because of that
long-range transmission, we have to seek out and destroy Recon Viper
One."
     "Shoot first and ask questions later?" Boomer could scarcely believe
he was being thrust into this situation.  "Aren't we going to at least
try to establish communications first?"
     "Negative," Apollo said firmly.  "If that recon viper kicks in those
pulse generators, it'll leave us chewing ion vapors in an instant and be
out of range.  If we get him lined up in our sights, we're only going to
have one chance to take him out."
     "Well, if those are the orders---" Boomer grunted.  "What if
Starbuck's still in the damn thing?"
     "He's not, Boomer.  It can't be him flying that viper; he wouldn't
pull such a foolish stunt."
     "All the more reason for taking that pilot alive," the dark skinned
warrior protested.  "He can lead us to Starbuck."
     "Boomer, that isn't our first concern!" Apollo raised his voice as
he sealed the canopy of his viper shut.  "Our first concern is cutting
off that transmission and making sure the Cylons don't have a beacon to
this sector of space where they'd be able to scan the Fleet.  Determining
Starbuck's fate is purely secondary right now."
     "Okay," Boomer closed his own canopy too. "But when we do achieve
that objective, do we at least try to find out whether he's alive or---"
     "Not now, Boomer!  We've got to get going and fast!  So let's end
this pointless conversation and get started."
     "Give me a break, Apollo!"
     "It is so ordered!"
     The fight was gone from Boomer's voice.  "Yessir!" he muttered.
     And then, both vipers launched.

********************

Chapter Six: The Long Arm Of The Law

     Far away, in a sector of space that was behind the asteroid dust
cloud already crossed by the Colonial Fleet, Lucifer passed through the
sliding glass doors that led to Baltar's throne room.  He decided that
prudence dictated putting no spin on the information he was about to
present, and to let the commander make his own judgment.
     At this point, the IL Cylon knew that such deference was the only
thing that Baltar expected of him.  Even though it had been nearly two
sectars since the Battle of Kobol, and Baltar had long since recovered
from his injuries sustained in the wreckage of the collapsed tomb of the
Ninth Lord, Lucifer had the sense that Baltar's anger had still not
completely faded over the incident.  If Lucifer wanted to avoid some
direct reprogramming to his circuits that would all be to ensure a
permanent fate for him as Baltar's obedient servant, with all hopes of
future ambition permanently removed, then the more deference he showed
the traitor the better.
     So be it, the IL had long ago decreed to himself with resignation. 
He at least had the luxury of knowing that as a Cylon, he could
theoretically outast Baltar come what may.
     "By your command," he said as he reached the base of the throne.
     It turned around slowly, all its servomechanisms softly purring, and
Baltar gazed down at him with the same demonic glare Lucifer had known
for the last two sectars.
     "Speak."
     "A curious development.  We have picked up a message aimed in our
direction that is being transmitted in some strange and totally unknown
code."
     "Totally unknown?" the traitor seemed unimpressed.  "You have
cross-checked this code through all the manuals, have you not?"
     "Indeed we have, Baltar, but the results continue to leave us
baffled.  It is not one of our codes, nor does it match any known code
used by the Colonial Fleet in the last several yahrens, for which we do
have full and complete records."
     "It is unlikely to offer us any clue to the Galactica's whereabouts,
then," Baltar said.  "Nevertheless, launch a probe group of fighters to
investigate.  No more than three, so we don't arouse suspicion."
     "By your command."  As was his custom of the last two sectars,
Lucifer didn't bother to challenge any of Baltar's orders.  The IL Cylon
turned and departed.


********************

     Starbuck made a racket.
     It was a rude racket, suggesting disappointment with his current
position in life.  He had just awakened to find himself sprawled, face
down, on the uncomfortable surface of a small-time asteroid in the middle
of nowhere.  And there was a sensation of excruciating pain throbbing in
his head.
     "Damn that female crasody!" he muttered as he pushed himself to a
sitting position.  His stomach started doing loops inside him.
     Lying beside him was a broken ambrosa bottle.
     After making another unhappy noise, Starbuck got to his feet.
     Slowly, he turned toward his viper.
     "Frack, felgercarb and shit!" he remarked.
     The ship was gone, C.O.R.A. with it.
     Starbuck looked up into the dark sky.  "Out of the kindness of my
heart I stop to aid a damsel in distress," he said in a moderately
self-pitying tone.  "I try to do a good deed and what does it get me?  A
lump on the ole noggin."  Very gingerly, he touched the spot where
Princess Alpha had slugged him.
     "You are dumb, Starbuck, completely dumb," he muttered, starting to
pace.  "You trusted a woman who says she's going to a human settlement
that doesn't exist. But you open up your ship, show her its luxurious
interior and then turn your stupid back on her."
     He kicked at the dirt, raising a cloud of dust.
     "Behaved like first orbit cadet.  A stranger offers me a drink and
before I know it I'm knocked out.  Guess I'm lucky she didn't swipe my
pants, too."
     The best thing to do, he decided, was to stop feeling sorry for
himself, and quit being mad at Alpha. None of that would get him
anywhere.
     "Hey, at least she was a knockout."
     It was thoughts like that that'd got him in trouble to begin with. 
If only Alpha had been a begrimed male spacemariner, he'd never have
turned his back.
     "Right now, hotshot," Starbuck reminded himself, "what we have to do
is get off this particular chunk of real estate."
     Still feeling woozy, he staggered over the rise to Alpha's shuttle. 
At least it was still there.
     "Maybe I can track that lady down and retrieve my Viper," he said as
he opened the door to the shuttle's smelly cabin.  "Yep, that's what I
gotta do, all right.  Because I sure as Hades don't want to go limping
back to the Galactica in this thing and tell 'em a girl barely out of her
teens stole a sophisticated warplane."
     The cabin wasn't much. It reeked of urnitroleum, tylium and old age. 
A clay flowerpot perched on the control panel, holding what might be an
adderanium.  A length of scarlet ribbon was tangled around the talkmike.
     The control panel itself seemed like a lost cause.  It was so out of
date and in need of maintenance that he found it amazing this ship had
been able to fly at all.
     "Flying this clunker is going to be like taking part in a historical
pageant on the early days of space flight," he said with exasperation. 
"Of all the times for me to wish I still had that blasted C.O.R.A."
     Starbuck lit a fumarello and settled into the pilot's seat.
     He activated the ignition thrusters, hoping they would catch, but
nothing happened.  It occurred to him that Alpha, who'd probably been
planning to steal his ship all along, had only pretended the shuttle was
fixed.
     "Frak!  She got me again!" he yelped, sighing out smoke.

********************

     Starbuck just about had the damage to the engines of the ancient
shuttle repaired.  He came sliding from underneath the crate to get a new
wrench.
     "I can still catch up with that...that...oh- oh!"
     A thick, weatherbeaten man in dirty white clothes was standing
beside the shuttle.  There was a silvery starburst emblazoned on the left
breast pocket of his jacket and a laser pistol in his right hand. 
"You're a new one," he said.
     "I am, yes.  A privateer actually, simply passing through your
galaxy."
     "Where's Burglar?"
     "Burglar?"
     "Where is she?"
     "Oh!  You must mean Princess Alpha, Mr..."
     "Captain," the weatherbeaten man corrected.  "Trooper Captain
Kraspo."
     "I'm Starbuck," he said pleasantly, with a friendly and cordial
smile.  "See, I set down here in my own ship to see what was wrong with
this shuttle and...well, what with one thing and another I ended up
stranded.  So I've been putting this crate back into---"
     Kraspo ignored Starbuck's story. "All right, so she's calling
herself by another name. She's still Burglar to me. So tell me where she
is---and I mean now!"
     Starbuck said.  "Didn't you hear me?  I said I didn't know."
     "Maybe when I haul your astrum back to Destructon you'll be in a
more loquacious mood."
     "Somehow I don't think so," said Starbuck.  "The lady in question's
got my ship.  I haven't, really, much of an idea where she's rocketed off
to.  You're the local law, huh?"
     "Are you pretending you don't know that?" Kraspo's laugh was cold
and thin.
     "For Sagan's sake, Kraspo, I'm only passing through."
     "Captain Kraspo."
     "Captain Kraspo.  The point is, I'm a stranger here myself," said
the lieutenant.
     "And I suppose you don't know what Burglar's tub is hauling?"
     "She told me it was farm implements," said Starbuck.
     "All right then, let's have a look at those 'farm implements.'"
Kraspo gestured at the shuttle's open cabin doorway with his gun hand.
     "Won't you take my word for it?"
     "No, I will not!  Now get on in there, Mr. Starbuck.  Fast."
     Shrugging he complied.  "Not all that cozy in here, is it?"
     "Open, very slowly and carefully, that door to the cargo chamber."
     "Okay."  Starbuck crossed to the metal door and tugged it open.
     Inside the hold were dozens of wooden crates; each of them marked
Agritools in airbrushed stenciled letters.
     "See?  Just like a said."
     "Bring one of those crates outside."
     Picking up a crate, Starbuck hefted it out into the open.  "Funny
how farm tools gurgle when you heft 'em," he observed, depositing the
crate on the ground.
     "Use that crowbar from the tool chest there," ordered Kraspo,
continuing to point with the gun barrel.  "Open the thing."
     "You know, I've seen farm tools before," said Starbuck, hesitating,
"and they're not that exciting."
     "Open it and quit stalling."
     "Okay, sure."  He used the metal bar to lift the lid off the wooden
box.  "Damn!"
     There were no tools inside.  Instead he saw eight full bottles of
ambrosa resting on straw.
     "Farm implements, eh?" Kraspo snarled.  "You've got a shuttle load
full of ambrosa that came from Destructon.  I saw that broken bottle back
over the ridge so don't try to tell me you didn't know that.  Bootlegging
and lying to a Trooper carry stiff penalties Know what they are?"
     "No, but I'll bet I'm gonna find out," answered Starbuck.  He
stooped and picked up the crate that didn't contain farm tools.  "I
suppose you'll want to take this along as evidence," he said, carrying it
closer to the lawman.
     "Leave it lay!" ordered Kraspo.  "I'm sending a crew back here to
pick up the whole damn cargo."
     "Can't collar me in without evidence.  Better take at least this one
along in your---"
     "Drop it!"
     "Very well, if you insist."  He appeared to stumble and when he
dropped the heavy crate, it landed on Kraspo's foot.
     "You stupid---"
     Dodging to one side, Starbuck then dived at him.  
     Kraspo's gun had swung wide at the moment the crate hit him.  Before
he could swing it back toward Starbuck, the warrior jabbed him hard in
the stomach with an elbow.  Then he grabbed Kraspo's gun wrist.
     "Hate to resist arrest," said Starbuck apologetically, "but you
leave me no other choice."
     Using Kraspo's arm as a lever, he flipped the man to the ground.
     Kraspo's breath came whooshing out on impact.
     Starbuck wrenched the laser gun from his grip and flung it to the
side.  Then he delivered two impressive jabs to Kraspo's chin.
     The thick lawman went slack, settled out on his back.
     After gathering up the gun, Starbuck dragged the unconscious man
over to the shuttle.  "Think I saw some rope in the cabin that'll do for
trussing you up for a spell," he said.  "Then, since borrowing seems so
popular in these parts, I'm going to take your fighter and go find the
dear young lady who started this whole frakkin' mess."

********************

Chapter Seven: C.O.R.A Is Recovered

     "Man, what a clunker," remarked Starbuck as he set a landing pattern
for the borrowed fighter.
     He'd been able to use the old-fashioned tracking gear in the
lawman's ship to get a fix on his missing Viper.  The craft had landed on
a lush green planetoid.
     "Boy, I can't wait to meet that thieving she-lupus again," he said,
lighting a fresh fumarello.  "Conks me on the dome, leaves me on a dinky
asteroid with her disabled shuttle, and leaves me holding a cargo of hot
ambrosa."
     He wondered where the stuff came from.  Aged ambrosa of that quality
wasn't easy to come by and here was this double-dealing lass rattling
around with a shipload of the stuff.
     He was coming in above fields of grain and high, nearly orange grass
that fluttered like pennants in a mild breeze.  And there, in a clearing
between the fields and a sprawling forest, sat his Viper.
     Stabuck took a satisfied drag on his fumarello.  "Gotcha now,
Princess Alpha!"
     Starbuck set the borrowed fighter down a hundred yards from his
recon ship.  He stayed in the cabin for a moment, narrowing his eyes and
scanning the area.
     A faint breeze rustled the high grass on his left.  To his right a
forest of tangle-branched trees rose high and silent.  Overhead three
pale green birds circled and drifted.
     "Let's have our showdown and get it over with."  He climbed free of
the fighter, gun drawn and stood facing the Viper.
     The cockpit door hung open.  There was no sign of anyone inside.
     Cautiously, Starbuck approached the ship.  The green birds high
above cawed and shrieked.  The whole area felt empty, deserted.
     "Where in Hades is she?"
     He stalked up to the cockpit, breath held, and looked inside.
     It was empty.
     "C.O.R.A.," he said to the computer, "what's up?"
     The computer responded.  "Starbuck?  Is it really you?"
     "The one and only."
     "It's sure a load off my mind.  I really thought that blonde hussy
had---"
     "Where is she?"
     "Are you okay, hon?  I've been worried silly, because I didn't know
if she'd done you in or simply abandoned you.  I've been sitting here
trying to figure out how to repair the Viper so I could go back and---"
     "Repair it?"
     "Now, don't lose your temper, hon.  There was a little, very minor,
damage when I forced the ship to come down here instead---"
     "Forced it?" He climbed into the cockpit.
     "I have to tell you," the computer said.  "It was a real uphill
battle.  Even though I'm only a computer I have to abide by the basic
rules of robotics.  Therefore I had to make a choice between serving her
and---"
     "You mean you sabotaged things after she hijacked this crate?"
     "I feel awful about it, since I'm not supposed to do things like
that."
     "Where was she trying to get to?"
     "To this planetoid, but about a hundred hectares to the south.  I
threw a spanner into that little plan.  My idea was to make the wench
think the ship was on the fritz to get her outside of it."
     "Where is she now?  Did you do something to her?"
     "Is that concern I sense?"
     "Just tell me where she is."
     "Heading for home on foot," answered C.O.R.A.  "It's her intention,
or so I gathered when she was ranting at me and the ship, to get some of
her cronies to come back and repair the Viper.  But don't bank on that. 
I doubt she'll make it home."
     Starbuck blew out smoke.  "Why not?"
     "This is apparently hostile country for her.  So it's nearly certain
she'll be killed by some rival faction or other...Sorry, I don't have all
the details, but it's really not that important.  One little group preys
on another; that's the way of the world," said C.O.R.A."
     "You let that kid walk off into the wilds alone?"
     "Starbuck, she's your enemy."
     He scowled.  "Yeah, that's half right," he admitted.  "But I can't
just let Princess Alpha get killed, even if she is an outlaw."
     "Princess Alpha?  You mean you've gone gaga over royalty?"
     "That's only an honorary title.  And underneath that hard,
grease-stained exterior, she's just a young woman who---"
     "---left you for dead and stole me, hon."
     "Aw, she didn't bop me that hard."
     "I can scarcely believe my ears."
     "You don't have ears."
     "Metaphorically speaking, I do.  As a warrior you should have
arrived here with nothing but revenge and retribution on your mind."
     "As a matter of fact, C.O.R.A, that's essentially what I was
thinking about," he said.  "But then...I just can't stand the idea of her
being out there in the wilds alone."
     "You can't be foolish enough to think you can go in after her."
     "If not me then who?  In a way, it's our fault she's in danger."
     "All right, suppose you do follow her?  Whatever it is that's
lurking in that wild wood to kill her will just end up killing you as
well."
     "I can take care of myself."
     "How'd you get here, by the way?"
     "Borrowed a Trooper's fighter.  That other ship we saw."
     "A Trooper?  You've already clashed with an official of the area?"
     "How long ago did she take off?"
     "Not long, moments.  She headed south."
     "Okay, wait here, C.O.R.A.  I won't be long."
     "Starbuck," she said as he headed for the doorway.  "There's
something else you ought to know."
     "More good news?"
     "She made a long-range call."
     "To where?  To who?"
     "To whom is the correct---"
     "Spare me the grammar lesson and tell me."
     "She was trying to contact the planet Aquaria."
     "But that's controlled by the Cylons.  She can't be one of their
agents."
     "I personally don' t think she, whatever else awful she is, is a
Cylon spy, no.  I have the impression she hasn't even heard about the
destruction of the Colonies," said Cora.  "The code she used, although I
haven't been able to break it, isn't one of the Cylons'."
     Scratching his blonde hair, Starbuck observed, "This is getting
goofier and goofier."
     "Let's forget it and get ourselves off this planetoid right now,"
suggested the computer.  "The Cylons may have used that signal to lead
some of their fighters right to us."
     "That's possible, but I have to find that girl."  He dropped from
the ship.  "See you soon."
     "You're being very foolish," called C.O.R.A.
     He moved away from the Viper.

********************

Chapter Eight: The Forest And The Trees

     The woodlands closed in on Starbuck.  The thick, twisted branches of
the tall trees interlaced high above his head, shutting off most of the
light.  The brush, in dozens of shades of green and orange, grew thick
and tangled on each side of the narrow trail he was following.  Far off,
almost lost in the dark, straight lines of trees, were faint animal
rustlings and the thin cries of strange birds.
     "Not an ideal spot for a furlon," the lieutenant said to himself.
     Maybe, as the efficient C.O.R.A had pointed out, this whole thing
was stupid.  Alpha, after all, seemed to be a pretty spacewise young
woman.  She could probably take care of herself, even in what was
supposed to be hostile country.
     "I wonder what makes it hostile," Starbuck reflected as he trekked
along the forest trail.  "Wild animals, wild men...what?"
     Starbuck continued through the shadowy silence for a while, and then
he saw a bulky shape looming up ahead.  Easing out his laser gun, he
slowed his pace.
     "Take it easy, Starbuck.  It's only jitters," he said a moment
later.
     It was a derelict zaptractor, slumped at the edge of the trail,
oxidized and taken over by knobby, large-leaved creepers.
     Just beyond the ancient tractor the woods ended and lexon after
lexon of fields stretched away.  Once this was farm land, a cultivated
area.  But that was a long time ago and the forest had been reclaiming
the land for quite a while.  The fields were overrun with tall grass and
wild flowers.  Saplings had begun to grow here and there.
     About a quarter-hectare to his right stood three low sprawling
buildings.  Starbuck decided to take a look at them.
     Weathered and peeling lettering on the front of the three deserted
buildings spelled out Merchant Acumen Agroservices Pty. Ltd./Plantation
4A
     "Business is definitely not booming," observed Starbuck as he
wandered from the office to the warehouse.
     Suddenly, he threw himself flat out on the grass, bringing up his
gun hand.
     There was someone sitting on a wooden chair near the open doorway of
the domed warehouse.
     After watching the figure for a micron, Strabuck realized it wasn't
moving at all and didn't seem to be aware of him.
     Cautiously he got to his feet and moved in closer.
     It was an old droid, in roughly humanoid shape, clad in the ragged
remains of a pair of coveralls.  Its gunmetal-gray skin was pitted and
stained.  One of the plastic eyes was cracked and hung limply from its
socket by a coil of multicolored wire. The arms hung like wet noodles at
its sides and the droid gave the impression it hadn't moved in yahrens.
     When Starbuck halted in front of the mechanism, its head gave a
creaky nod.  "G'day...g'day...g'day..." it croaked in a rusty voice and
then ceased to speak or move.
     "Same to you, guy," said Starbuck.  He walked on by and into the
warehouse.
     The high-celinged room was big and empty.  A scatter of small,
yellow birds was roosting on one of the rafters.
     Starbuck noticed something on the dusty floor a few yards away. 
"Hold it," he said, trotting over to it.
     He knelt and confirmed his initial impression.  It was the faded
jacked Alpha had been wearing.
     There were signs in the dust that some kind of struggle had taken
place on this spot.  Worse, he saw several small splotches of what
appeared to be human blood.

********************

     Apollo spoke into his helmet mike.  "Looks like this is the place,
Boomer," he said as his Viper circled low over the area on the planetoid
where Starbuck's recon ship had sat down.
     "That's Recon Viper One, as I live and breathe," said Boomer from
his ship.  "Who do you think that rundown fighter belongs to?"
     "An antique collector, probably," They'd followed the Viper beacon's
signal to the planetoid and now Apollo tried again to try to contact the
craft.  "Calling Recon Viper One.  Starbuck, are you aboard?"
     "I sure do wish he were, fella," answered a distraught feminine
voice.
     "This is Captain Apollo, from the Battlestar Galactica," he said. 
"Am I talking to C.O.R.A?"
     "You certainly are, Captain."
     "Where's Starbuck?"
     "It's a long story."
     "Is he alive?"
     "He was, and I sincerely hope he still is."
     "Is it safe to land?"
     "Oh, yes."
     "Who does that fighter belong to?"
     "Well, right now, to Starbuck more or less.  He stole it, you see,
in order to chase that dreadful outlaw girl who---"
     "We'll land," Apollo informed her.
     "Figures there'd be a woman involved in it somehow," commented
Boomer.  "That's Starbuck for you."
     "Sure sounds like him," said Apollo. "If I didn't know any better,
I'd swear the damn computer's got a crush on Starbuck."

********************

     Apollo sat in the cockpit of the recon ship.  Boomer leaned in
through the open canopy.  "Calm down, C.O.R.A," the captain was telling
the hysterical computer.
     "It's simply that I'm quite concerned about him."
     "Just fill us in," requested Apollo, "on what happened."
     "He's gone in search of her."
     "In search of who?"
     "In search of whom," corrected C.O.R.A  "That awful young woman who
calls herself Princess Alpha."
     "She's the one who borrowed this Viper?"
     "That's what I've been trying to tell you.  The hussy stole it,
after poor dear Bucky had tried to help her get off that asteroid."
     "Did you hear that, Apollo?  She called him Bucky!" Boomer laughed.
     "Where is Starbuck now?" Apollo asked.
     "Searching for her.  I made the mistake...when you're programmed for
honesty, it's impossible to tell a lie...I mentioned that she'd have to
travel across hazardous country on her way home."
     "What kind of hazards?"
     "Insufficient data, I'm afraid," answered C.O.R.A.  "Unless, of
course you want me to run some scans of the area."
     "No time for that," he said.  "Which way did Starbuck head when he
took off after this lady?"
     "South, you'll see the trail yonder," the computer replied.  "I told
him it wasn't worth the risk."
     "As if that could ever stop Starbuck," said Boomer.

********************

Chapter Nine:  The Pit

     Starbuck shook the decrepit droid again by its shoulders.  "What
happened to the girl?  What did you see?"
     The weathered mechanism that sat beside the warehouse door replied,
"G'day...g'day..."
     "C'mon," urged the impatient lieutenant.  "You're not completely
defunct.  You must've seen something."
     "G'day...mate...everything fair dinkum with you?...Yep...good crop
this season...G'day...mate...g'day..."
     Snorting, Starbuck let the robot fall back into its chair.  "Thanks,
you sodkicking rivet-head."
     "...g'day...g'day..."
     Starbuck stepped clear and began examining the weedy ground around
the entrance of the Merchant Acumen warehouse.  He saw bootprints from at
least two pairs of feet and, unfortunately, a few more sprinkles of fresh
blood.
     "Well that's certainly a trail I can follow," Starbuck said,
narrowing his eyes.  "I just hope I don't find her surprised corpse at
the end of it."
     Slowly and carefully, he began moving away from the vacant
warehouse.
     "...drop in anytime, you hear?...don't forget some meat for the
barbi..." rasped the droid.

********************

     The forest started closing in on Starbuck, again.  The smell of
stagnant water was growing in the air.  A thin mist came filtering down
to him from the treetops.
     Starbuck whistled for a moment, with his tongue placed against the
back of his teeth.
     The woodlands grew darker and colder.  The mist came twisting around
his ankles in frayed streamers.
     The signs were still easy to follow.  Two men had passed this way
recently, one of them carrying something.  Starbuck was pretty sure that
something was Princess Alpha.
     But was she alive...or dead? And how badly was she injured?
     Shaking his head, he said to himself, "I'm really getting silly as I
grow older.  What am I doing getting upset and anxious over a girl I
don't even know?"
     And it wasn't as though their brief encounter had been especially
friendly or cordial.  About the only redeeming feature about the girl who
called herself Princess Alpha was that she hadn't whacked him hard enough
to crack his skull.
     "I suppose it's because she's cute," he muttered.
     The mist swirled even thicker all about him.  Up ahead, a mournful
bird cried once.
     Starbuck was going to have a hard time of it when he returned to the
Galactica.  He'd have to draw upon all his skills in the arts of evasion
and propaganda to justify what he was doing now.
     He grinned.  "I wouldn't be living up to my reputation if I didn't
go off on---"
     "Somebody!  Anybody!"
     A woman's voice had called out from somewhere in the misty forest on
his right.
     "Don't let them hurt me!"
     "Alpha?" he yelled.
     No reply.
     Starbuck tugged his laser pistol free of its holster as he left the
trail.  The bluish mist tattered and broke apart as he pushed his way
through it.  He had a fair notion of where the cries had come from.
     "Please help me!"
     Starbuck couldn't see a damn thing in this thick mist.
     The voice that was crying for help sounded like Alpha and yet it
didn't.
     "But there can't be two girls in trouble in this same patch of
woods."
     He had to slow down, since he could no longer see more than a a few
miles ahead of him.
     Everything---from his footfalls to the sounds of the forest---was
muffled.
     "Help!"
     Aiming at the latest call, Starbuck quickened his pace.
     After just five paces, the ground opened up and swallowed him.

********************

     She was tall with piercing aquamarine eyes and collar-length downy
light-brown hair. She wore dark trousers, a black sleeveless tunic and a
thick gunbelt that sported two holsters.  The holsters were empty,
because the twin laser pistols were in her hands and pointing down at
Starbuck.
     He stood in the deep pit he'd fallen into.  He'd discovered, before
the appearance of the two-gun maiden, that he could not reach the rim
simply by jumping for it.
     "Forgive me for blunding into your animal snare, miss," he said up
at the girl.  "If you'll give me a hand getting out, I'll be happy to
help you replace all the branches, leaves and tigs back over the top. 
That way, a real beast that comes strolling by will never know what hit
him."
     "Do you enjoy hearing your own daggit drivel?"
     "Sure."
     "That's unfortunate, because I sure as Hades don't!"
     Starbuck scrutinized her.  "Why do I get the feeling you're not very
sympathetic to my plight?"
     "This frakkin' hole was meant for you, whorespawn!"
     "You did all this just for me? I'm touched."
     "We got some old droids who do it."
     "How'd you know I was coming?"
     "She said you might be."
     "Alpha?  You've got her?"
     The girl laughed.  It wasn't an especially heartwarming laugh. 
"Same like we got you," she told him and spit into the pit.
     He dodged, brushing against a black dirt wall and causing a fat
wriggling orange worm to come falling free.  "Are you going to keep me
down here?"
     "Nah.  Smarthate'll be coming to get you in a micron once I signal
him."
     "Smarthate?  He doesn't sound like a nice person."
     "Don't worry, you'll like him.  You're going to have lots of fun
with him," she promised.  "Just like Alpha is."
     Starbuck clenched his fists and kept himself from saying something
strong and angry to her.  "I can't wait until..."
     "Wait until what, whorespawn."
     "Until I meet Smarthate."
     Starbuck had been distracted by a silent figure that was sneaking up
behind the unsuspecting gun maiden.  A figure that was extending an odd
metal arm toward her from behind.

********************

Chapter Ten: Deep Into Hostile Territory

     The tall woman, despite Starbuck's best efforts to distract her,
finally sensed she was being stalked.  She started to turn around, guns
swinging up.
     But the metal arm gave off a sudden harsh humming and a thin beam of
purplish light shot out of the pointing forefinger.  
     "Damn you, Thor!' She said only that before she stiffened, tottered
backwards and dropped down into Starbuck's pit.
     He caught her, sort of.
     When he got up from the broken branches and dirt, the tough gal was
stretched out on the ground and both her guns were his.
     "Don't be frettin' none," said the snady-haired young man standing
at the rim of the pit.  "Gamma's nothin' but stunned."
     "I noticed," said Starbuck, eying the fellow and his coppery right
arm.  "By the way, are you friend or foe?"
     "Friend, natch."
     "That's good, because I'd hate to have to use these guns of hers."
     "Hades Hole, I realize you got no way of knowin if I'm trustworthy
or not.  But I am."  From inside his loose fitting crimson jacket he
produced a coil of rope.  "Name's Thor.  You?"
     "Starbuck."  He caught the end of the rope that Thor lowered to him. 
"Are you sure you can tug me outta here?"
     "I'm a lot stronger than I look, Starbuck.  And that's no load of
felgercarb."
     It was true.  Starbuck was soon up on the forest floor.  "Much
obliged," he said.
     "Listen now," said Thor as he reeled in his rope.  "I ain't exactly
bein' just altruistic in this here business.  Not that me and Smarthate's
bunch ain't natural born enemies and all.  Thing is, see, I couldn't help
overhearin' your conversation with Gamma."
     "Thank the Lords you did."
     Scratching at his long nose with a metal forefinger, Thor said,
"They got Alpha and you're aimin' to save her.  Ain't that about the
situation?"
     Starbuck glanced up at the fog-shrouded treetops.  "That just about
sums it up," he replied.
     "Wellsir now, Princess Alpha's sort of a special friend of mine," he
explained.  "I like her, she likes me.  Even though everybody else in her
enclave don't much cotton to me. I'm a loner, don't like livin' too close
to anybody.  And there's my arm, too."
     "Looks like an impressive piece of hi-tech to me."
     Grinning, Thor rubbed at the metal arm with the fingers of his
natural hand.  "Built the whole dang thing myself, designed it too.  It
can do all sorts of interestin' stuff," he said proudly.  "Made it outta
scraps of this metal and that metal.  I scrounged parts from all over the
planetoid.  You'd be surprised at all that was left behind when them
Merchant Acumen folks pulled up the stakes long time back."
     "Yeah, I've seen some of what they left," said Starbuck.  "How'd you
come to lose your real arm?"
     Thor shook his head.  "Never had but one," he answered.  "Born this
way.  You could call me a mutant, or like most do, a freak."
     Starbuck asked him, "Any idea where they're holding Alpha?"
     "A pretty darn good one, yep.  Would you care to join forces with me
and rescue her?"
     "Sounds like a good idea."
     "Partners, then."  Thor held out his metal hand.
     Starbuck shook it.  "Partners."

********************

     The fat one had a sharp pointed longshiv.  He sat in the sagging
sling chair, watching Alpha.  He was an immense young man in a suit of
ill-fitting work clothes.  The buttons and other fastenings strained
against his enormous girth.  "I like you," he repeated, rubbing at the
shiv's point with a fat thumb.  "Truly I do, Alpha."
     The young woman sat on the floor of this single-room shack, hands
tied behind her.  She said nothing.
     "I had to poke you some when we caught you," continued the fat young
man, his body jiggling.  "But I'm sure I didn't hurt you all that badly."
     She looked away from him, at the small cracked window in the wall. 
The mist pressed against it, seeping through the zigzag crack.  The odor
of the stagnant pond came in, too.
     "You have to understand," continued the fat young man, "that you and
I ain't on the same side.  This is our territory, so when you try to
cross it, we naturally have to stop you.  We have to hurt you, too, make
an example of you.  Otherwise, your people would think they can just---"
     "Muzzle it, Coingibber," said the other occupant of the shack.  He
was not tall, only about five metrons by four.  He had kinky auburn hair,
dark eyes and a very obvious diamond-shaped birthmark. He was watching at
the rooms other window.
     "Pleasant conversation relieves the bordom, Smarthate.  Makes the
centons pass much---"
     "I though I'd told you to muzzle it!"
     Coingibber nodded, chins wobbling.  "If you want my opinion, you're
worrying needlessly.  Gamma will certainly---"
     "Not another word!" Smarthate gestured impatiently with his laser
pistol.
     When Coingibber gave a resigned shrug, his oversized body quivered
in unison with his shoulders.
     Smarthate glanced at Alpha. "Tell me some more about this guy who's
following you."
     She said, "I know nothing useful to add, sir.  I'm not even sure he
is following me."
     Smarthate checked the window again.  "Gamma's taking too frakkin'
long.  She's got to have spotted the guy by now."
     "We don't know how far behind he is," reminded Coingibber.
     "My orders were to watch a while and then come back and report if
nobody showed."
     "Orders and Gamma don't mix."
     "Stop jawin'!" suggested Smarthate.
     The fat young man returned his attention to Alpha.  "As I was
saying, you and I could be friends," he said.  "All you have to do is
abandon that bunch you reside with and---"
     "Settle down!" said Smarthate.
     "I was only---"
     "I think I hear something." The kinky-haired Smarthate was close to
the window, listening and watching.  "Something, or somebody, is coming
this way."
     "It's probably just Gamma."
     "No. It's somebody heavier, noisier."
     "She's no lightfoot."
     Smarthate said, "I can...Frack!"
     "What?"  Curious, the immense Coingibber started to grunt up out of
his chair.
     "I saw somebody," said Smarthate, eyes narrowed, watching the misty
woodlands outside the shack.  "Coming through the swamp.  Looked
like...Hades...some sort of droid."
     "Couldn't be.  None of those old mechs work that well anymore."
     "It was big, one of those farmhand droids, you know, the ones with
the scythes for right hands."
     "Why would a thing like that, granted there's even one in working
order on the whole damn planetoid, be coming to call on us?"
     Smarthate nodded at the fat young man.  "Go find out.  It's out
there in the swamp, in the trees about there, four hundred maxims off."
     "You gotta be seeing things.  It's been known to happen in mist like
this."
     "Go find out what it's doing there," ordered Smarthate.  "Take the
laser rifle."
     Sighing loudly, Coingibber put his longshiv away in its scabbard. 
"Let's just wait until it does something."
     "I don't want to wait.  Get moving!"
     The shack's wooden floor creaked as Coingibber lumbered over to take
up the rifle that was leaning against the wall.  "Hope it ain't your
imagination."
     "Go see if it is."  He reached out, opened the door.  Mist started
flowing in.
     Sighing again, the fat young man ventured out into the fog.

********************

     Smarthate hunched his shoulders, shook his head from side to side. 
"What in Hades is going on?"
     Moving away from the window, he crossed over to Alpha.
     "I asked you a question," he said.  "What's happening out there? 
Why hasn't Coingibber come back?"
     "How should I bloody well know?"
     He squatted, scowling at her.  "First Gamma, now Coingibber," he
said.  "Are some of your people out there?"
     "No," said Alpha.  "You know damn well I'm hectares from my home
territory."
     "If you're here, then they could be too."
     "I'm here because the ship I was flying malfunctioned," she said. 
"You already made me tell you about that."
     Smarthate took hold of her jaw in his hand.  "Who is it, then?  This
guy that's trailing you?"
     "I don't know!"
     Holding her head immobile, he slapped her with the other hand. 
Three times, hard.  "What's going on out there?  Tell me!"
     "I don't know!"
     "I don't want to puncture you any more," Smarthate told her in a
low, calm voice.  "But I will if you don't---"
     He was interrupted by a rapping at the door.
     Jerking to his feet, Smarthate spun to face the door.
     The rapping was repeated, louder and firmer this time.
     Smarthate drew his laser gun.  "Who's there?"
     Whoever it was didn't respond.  The rapping sounded again.
     "That you, Coingibber?"
     More rapping.
     "Gamma?"
     Rap! Rap! Rap!
     "All right, you stinkin' daggit!"
     Smarthate fired straight at the door, his gun crackling and humming. 
The top half of the wooden door vanished.  Nothing showed in the gap
except for the misty swampland outside.
     Smarthate took three cautious steps closer to the doorway.
     A big metal-bodied droid rolled into view from beside the door. 
"G'day," he said, waving his scythe hand in greeting.
     "What do you want?  There's no crops around here you can harvest."
     "G'day."
     "Get your astrum away from here or---"
     A door-sized hunk of the rear wall suddenly disintegrated.  "Nothing
like a droid to create a diversion," said Thor, stepping through the
hole.
     "So you're the freak who---""
     Thor stunned him at that point, using the beam built into his
forefinger.
     Smarthate dropped to the floor like a bag of stones.
     Starbuck entered by way of the front door.  "I knew we'd meet
again," he said to Alpha as he hurried over to her.  Kneeling, he cut her
bonds.
     As best she