Date: Mon, 20 Jun 94 12:10:00 -0500
                            _DARK_DAWN_

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BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN. THE NOTICE FOLLOWING THE
SYNOPSIS AND DEDICATION MUST ACCOMPANY THIS STORY, IF DISTRIBUTED. 

AUTHOR: B.J. Henry

_Synopsis_

While investigating the source of unknown signals emanating near an
isolated planetoid in Federation space, officers from the U.S.S.
Enterprise and the Battlestar Galactica meet for the first time on
the planetoid and are subsequently captured and held hostage aboard
a Cylon Baseship.

Now the Commanders of both flagships must work together to free the
hostages and return in time to save the unguarded Colonial Fleet
from a destructive attack by the Cylons, a mechanical race of
beings whose ultimate goal is to eradicate all Humans in the
universe, including those on the planet Earth.

_Dedication_

This is my first story.  It was kind of intense to do, but I still
enjoyed it every step of the way.  When one writes a "crossover"
story such as this, there is a tendency to soften or blend the
character's personalities and thus you lose the individualism of
each.  However when you force characters from two "different
universes" together, I feel that there must be "believable"
interaction between them or it just won't work.

Why "Star Trek: The Next Generation" and "Battlestar Galactica?" 
Well, I've been an avid fan of both shows!  After watching all the
episodes of each show, multiple times, I began to see some
similarities and contrasts between the characters.  I also saw
personality traits that I thought would be interesting to explore
and I envisioned dialog that could be exchanged, all to bring out
some unique but familiar perspectives to these fictional people.

Near the end of my writing of _Dark_Dawn_, I expected that a sequel
would be in order, and so one is being planned.  When will it come
out?  Who knows!  I think I burnt myself out with this first effort
so it may be a little while yet, but don't worry... it'll come!

Before I close, I want to dedicate this story to one of my good
friends, an avid Trekker, who during my composing of this story,
joined "The Great Bird in the Sky" in December of 1993.  And so I
dedicate this to Karles V. Jones, (1958 - 1993) keep on "trekkin'"
in the great beyond.

B.J. Henry, 1/9/94
A/K/A Dax.
Technobabble Lover.

                           DARK DAWN
                          by B.J. Henry
                            Prologue
Adama's Journal:

"A number of sectons have passed since our last encounter with the
Cylon Baseship and the cryptic broadcasts that brought us into this
unknown quadrant of space.  We continue our journey along a
modified heading that will lead the Fleet to the coordinates given
to us by those strange lights, advanced beings whom we have come to
refer to as 'The Mysterious Ones'.  It is a heading we hope will
ultimately bring us to the home of the last surviving tribe of
Humans, the missing Thirteenth Colony located on a mythical planet
known to us only as 'Earth'.

I fear we may lose our resolve during this latest voyage, as most
aboard the myriad of ships that make up this ragtag fleet have
grown weary and restless.  Many are even beginning to demand that
we stop at the next habitable planet and call it home.  As time
drags on, I find myself beginning to agree with the people.  Which
reminds me... I need to request the convening of the Council of the
Twelve to update them on our present status.  I know that scattered
among the refugees are many influential people who have direct
access to members of the Council, and I often find myself with the
unenviable task of justifying the decisions of the Military to the
civilians, in a timely fashion."

                              --o--

Captain's Log.  Stardate 47235.3

"We have received a peculiar message from the Federation Science
Council Station LL-5, in orbit around a terra-formed satellite,
located mid-way between the Proxima Centuri and the Sol systems. 
They have detected and have been monitoring some very unusual
subspace communications signals emanating from just outside their
general vicinity.

Due to an unexpected opportunity to perform long overdue
maintenance on their primary sensor arrays, the station is
currently functioning with only a single short range sensor.  Thus,
they have been unable to pinpoint the exact nature or source of
these signals.  Since the Enterprise is the closest ship to this
station, we have been asked by Star Fleet to investigate the
situation upon the completion of our present mission.  Picard out."

                              --o--

                             Sunset

                                I

     Starbuck's eyes darted nervously back and forth, alternating
between the fan of round cards in his hand and the two other
players sitting at the table with him.
     "Well...??" Boomer queried, with a slight edge to his normally
calm voice.
     "Just a centon, I'm calculating."  Starbuck's brow began to
twitch as he tried to concentrate on his cards, while computing the
unbelievable odds.
     "Come on, Starbuck!" boomed Jolly, who always seemed to be in
a hurry to go somewhere.
     "Hey guys, I got a whole secton's pay riding here... "
Starbuck exclaimed, trying to stay calm.  He brought a fragrant
Gemonese cigarillo to his lips and began to chew on the tip.
     "Starbuck... "  Boomer was clearly irritated.
     "Ok... Ok.  I'm in.  While you're at it, I'll take two."
     "Finally!" Jolly huffed while he tossed two cards, face down
in front of Starbuck.
     "You Ok Boomer?" Jolly asked congenially to his friend, who
was now unconsciously clenching his teeth.
     "I'm all set," the Lieutenant replied, finally relaxing a
little.
     "Ok... " Jolly continued.  "Shall we up the stakes some more?"
     "I'll bet fifty," Boomer announced, tossing a handful of
credits onto the growing pile.
     "Fifty??!!" screamed Jolly.  "Forget it!  I'm outta here." 
Jolly, now totally disgusted, threw his useless cards down in front
of him, out of turn.
     "Starbuck?"
     A pause.  Starbuck ran his fingers through his thick mane of
maize-colored hair and noticed that it was slightly damp.  'Gods! 
Gotta work on my demeanor,' he chided only to himself of course. 
"Ok.  I'll see your fifty and... raise you another secton's pay!"
     "Oh come on Starbuck.  The last time you bet two secton's pay,
you welshed on it claiming that 'you couldn't help it' when the
Commander and the Council decided to temporarily dock our wages,
while they investigated the source and amount of counterfeit
currency that had suddenly began circulating around the Fleet,"
Jolly recited.
     "Yeah... I'll never forget that one myself," added Boomer.
     "Hey fellows, you know I'm good for the money.  Besides, I
thought that that issue was settled a long time ago," Starbuck
smoothly but defensively remarked, with a twinkle in his clear blue
eyes and an exotic-smelling plume of smoke curling from his lips.
     "Sure... and I'm a daggit's best friend," Jolly mumbled, with
sarcasm punctuating each word.  "You forget, we can see through
your tall tales, even if you do know every trick in the book."
     "Boomer old pal... I believe it's your call," Starbuck said,
ignoring Jolly's remarks and turning his head slightly towards
Boomer, flashing his trademark - a brilliant but insidious smile.
     Boomer looked forlornly at his cards with his dark brown eyes,
and sighed heavily.  "Forget it.  I'm folding... I refuse to bet
any more of my hard earned pay on a lousy game of Pyramids!"  He
too, threw his cards on the table with disgust.
     "Lousy??  Getta load of this... "  Starbuck spread his hand
out, face up, on the table surface in front of him.
     All of a sudden, Boomer looked as if he was ready to propel
himself out of a launch tube.  "YOU... YOU!!! I had a CAPSTONE in
my hand!"  He then stood up and began stabbing a forefinger in the
air in the direction of the offender.  "And YOU!... you... you've
got NOTHING!  Nothing!  NOTHING but a HANDful of trash!" he
alternately shouted and stammered.
     "Easy, easy," Starbuck replied, seriously trying to sooth his
obviously furious friend.  "Temper, temper 'ole buddy, 'ole pal. 
No sense crying over spilled milk."  Then he reverted back to his
mischievous side.  The now gloating young Colonial Warrior motioned
to the large pile of currency in the center of the table, using the
Gemonese delight in his hand as a pointer before placing it in his
mouth.  He next made an exaggerated, melodramatic gesture of
encircling his arms around the pile saying, "I believe... this is
all mine... "  He then proceeded to sweep the profits of his
patience towards his end of the table. 
     "Gentlemen?" a handsome, young dark-haired man with thoughtful
green eyes said, after sauntering up to the table, grabbing a chair
and settling down next to Jolly.
     "Apollo!" Starbuck beamed.
     "Captain... " Jolly chimed in, but less enthusiastically.
     Boomer took a large swallow of his ale and loudly banged his
mug on the table.
     "Hmmm... So he took you again, huh Boomer?" said Apollo,
sympathetically.
     "I don't want to talk about it," Boomer said evenly.
     "Well gentlemen, actually... we won't have time to talk about
it since the Colonel wants us all to go on a little patrol duty," 
informed Apollo.
     "Whah...?" Jolly managed to say before being cut off by
Apollo.
     "That's right.  In fact, we gotta go right now.  Seems Doctor
Wilker has picked up some more of those weird messages.  The
Colonel wants us to check them out so we don't run into any more
Baseships.  This time we want to make sure that we don't make the
same mistake twice."
     "Figures... " Boomer mumbled, almost imperceptibly.
     "Hey look at the bright side Boomer," teased Starbuck, "I'd
rather be out there flying among the stars, than be stuck in here
with you complaining for the next ten centaurs."
     "That's just like you Starbuck.  Rub it right in my face,"
Boomer retorted.
     "Let's go," Apollo finally added, trying to minimize the
tension in the room and set a more serious tone for the long
mission ahead of them.  
     Starbuck stood up and slapped his down-on-the-luck buddy on
the back as the four Warriors quickly exited the Officer's Lounge
and headed towards the Launch Bay.

                              -----

     "Status Colonel?" inquired the well-seasoned, silver-haired,
Commander of the Galactica.
     Colonel Tigh, a slightly graying serious man, with smooth
coffee-colored skin, stiffened and sighed as he again checked the
myriad of readouts flashing before him.  "Unchanged, except for the
fact that the additional data that we have collected has allowed us
to calculate a better fix on the source of the unknown
transmissions."
     "Very good.  Inform the long range patrol of the new
coordinates and instruct them to report in every centaur.  We want
to make sure that we stay with them at all times so that we can
make course adjustments quickly, should anything go wrong."
     "Aye sir."  Tigh began to feel the stirrings of a headache. 
Soon, it would reach epic proportions.  He placed a forefinger and
thumb between his eyes and gently massaged his sinus cavity.  He
then briefly considered requesting a furlon for a few days, but
just as quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind.  He
straightened up and immediately contacted the flight crew in Launch
Bay Alpha.
     Launch Bay Control signaled that the ships were ready and the
four Vipers catapulted out of their sterile, metal launch tubes and
into the velvety blackness of space.

                              --o--

     "Ante up!"
     It began as a simple, harmless distraction from the stress and
boredom of space travel.  Through regularity, it developed into a
routine.  A routine that quickly grew to become a very popular,
well-known, and well-respected tradition.   Inevitably, during a
lull in ship-wide activity, such as was the case presently, the
surface of the round, green velvet table, normally bare and
uninteresting, would burst forth with the various geometric objects
of 'the challenge'.  White or red or blue disks would
intermittently be launched towards the table's center.  Colorful,
precisely cut pieces of waxed, rectangular cardboard would often be
found resting in small piles along the table's perimeter.
     An android, two Humans, and a Klingon sat around this night's
particular display, in anticipation of revealing the evening's
easiest 'mark'.  Another, a young raven-haired half-Human, half-
Betazoid woman, sat quietly in the same room, just outside the
circle of players.  She calmly contemplated the various emotions
that floated around her and through her.
     "Worf?" queried Riker.
     A soft, low rumble.  "Hmmmm... I will take three cards," Worf
finally replied.
     "I'll take three as well," Beverly Crusher chimed in.
     "Very well," Riker answered.  "Data?"
     "I will take one card," replied the golden-eyed and gold-
skinned android, who was wearing a vintage twentieth century
dealer's cap on his head.
     "Dealer takes two," Will Riker said, as he discarded two
useless cards into the pile and placed two fresh cards down in
front of himself.  As he began to arrange the new cards into his
hand, he quickly smiled and then just as quickly stifled it. 
"Worf?"
     "I'll bet ten," the Klingon Security Chief grumbled as he
tossed two chips into the pile.
     "I'm in," the Doctor replied, unconsciously running two
fingers through her bright red hair before tossing two chips into
the center of the table, causing the pile to suddenly rearrange
itself to accommodate the additional load.
     Then Data challenged, "I'll match your ten and add ten more." 
He reached for his neatly stacked chips, selected four, and
carefully dropped them on the now over-flowing pile.
     A large, left hand reached up and cupped it's owner's chin,
slowly and methodically caressing the soft, reddish-brown whiskers.
"Hmmmmm.  Ok...  I'll see your twenty and... will add fifty more,"
Riker said calmly, answering 'the challenge' with a handful of
chips thrown into the midst of the pile in the center.  He then
turned his head slightly to face the android, giving him his most
devious version of a smile.
     Data squinted, head thrust forward slightly, as he carefully
looked into Will Riker's twinkling blue eyes.  He moved his head a
little closer, trying to garner any additional visual image data
that could assist him in deciding whether his superior officer was
bluffing.  He finally observed very formally, "I believe you are
bluffing, sir." 
     Riker raised an eyebrow, a smile slowly creeping higher along
his cheekbones.  "Are you sure Mister Data?"
     "Sir, as you know, I have made it a point to study and record
as many Human facial expressions as I can, in order to attempt to
better predict the emotional state of the individual."
     "Data... I know you must be aware of the so-called 'poker
face," Beverly commented.
     "Of course, Doctor.  However, I have found from experience
that the infamous poker face, as it were, is not as neutral or non-
revealing as one may believe.  In fact, I have found in my research
that in nearly one in every... "
     "Worf!!  Your bet," Riker suddenly interrupted, saving the
room's inhabitants from a complex dissertation into the variations
of Human facial appearances as a result of exposure to multiple
internal or external stimuli.  Complete with the relevant
statistical data.
     "The bets are TOO high.  I fold."  And with that, Worf
gathered together his cards and neatly laid them down in a pile. 
He then folded his hands on the table in front of him, closing his
mouth tightly and grinding his teeth back and forth, in order to
stifle a groan.
     "Don't look at me!" Beverly Crusher added.  "I'll save my
chips for another hand."  She quickly tossed her cards on the
table.
     "Data?"  The eyebrow raised again as Riker's face took on a
new look, one of pure bemusement.
     Data frowned.  This expression had been learned and utilized
by him very early on, as he found that Humans often used a frown to
indicate a sense of frustration, confusion, or intense
concentration.  He tilted his head downwards slightly, to better
imitate the look of concentrating on the cards in his hand.  His
downcast eyes quickly shifted to his left, in an attempt to capture
any last minute change of expression in Will Riker's face. 
Suddenly he replied, "I will match your fifty and raise you twenty
more.  And... " he added, "I call."  Six chips landed
unceremoniously on the pile.
     "Hmph... Ok."  A pause.  Then with each word drawn out,
"Here... you... go!" Riker said, answering the 'call' and 'the
challenge', as he carefully lay seven red cards, face up, in front
of him on the table.  With a nasty smirk he said, "Looks like it's
my lucky day."
     Interrupting, Data replied, "I am afraid not, Commander," and
he placed his hand on Riker's, halting a motion towards the center
of the table that served as the temporary home to the promised
payoff.
     Again, Riker raised his eyebrow, a slightly perceptible
tenseness beginning to etch into his forehead.
     With a smirk, equal to that of Riker's just moments earlier,
Data carefully laid seven spades on the table and replied, "A Royal
Flush beats a Straight, if I am not mistaken."  His glowing yellow
eyes slowly shifted their position and focus to intercept the now
vacant eyes of the First Officer.
     Riker slowly retracted his hand away from the bets and weakly
responded, "So it does.  I guess it's not my lucky day after
all..."
     "So it seems," Data quickly retorted, with just a slight hint
of sarcasm creeping into his voice.  He reached out across the
table to his well-earned winnings and pulled them over to a small,
clear area in front of him.
     Beverly Crusher teased, "Well Will, looks like Data's research
on Human facial expressions has improved quite a bit lately, don't
you think?"
     Worf, previously sitting quietly, suddenly harumphed, with his
black eyes on fire.  "Enough!"  He grabbed the deck of cards and
began to furiously shuffle them.  "It is my turn to deal and we
shall see if the Commander can read MY face."
     Another 'challenge', but the seriousness of Lt. Worf's
comments were beyond Data's comprehension as he again began to
expound on his thoughts and observations regarding the situation,
to anyone and everyone around him.
     "It is true Lieutenant, that I have not had much time to study
Klingon emotional states as they relate to their ultimate
translation into facial expressions, however... "
     "Data... " Crusher said, interrupting him as usual, in mid-
sentence.
     "Sorry," Data quickly responded.  Of late, he had found
himself lapsing back into an old habit of expressing his new found
knowledge during the most inopportune moments and in an
irritatingly verbose manner.  He noted that this behavior pattern
had begun to re-emerge not long after his recent experiences with
some newly found, internal dream programs and his short but
devastating encounter with his first 'real' emotion.
     Riker glanced over to the still silent observer in the room
and queried, "Deanna, 'sure you don't want to play?"
     "Yes Deanna, come on over and join in," Beverly prodded.  "I
hate to see you sitting there looking so gloomy."
     Softly Deanna responded, "I'm fine.  I just want to watch,
that's all.  Besides, how best to really learn the ins and outs of
this game then from observing?"
     "Suit yourself.  Worf?" Riker interjected.
     "Cut!"  Worf always seemed to take 'the challenge' or any
other challenge, too seriously.  Tonight was no different.
     Riker deftly cut the cards and Worf swiftly dealt each player
their hands.  The four players then threw a few chips each, into
the center of the table.
     "I'll take three," Beverly said as she tossed three of her
cards onto the table and smiled as Worf placed three new cards onto
the table in front of her.
     "Give me two," Data replied, discarding two cards and
receiving two.
     "Hmmm... "  A calculated pause as Riker contemplated,
intensely studying his hand.  I'll take... "
     "Picard to Riker."
     Riker looked up suddenly and tapped his com badge.  "Riker
here."
     "I apologize for the interruption Number One, but could you
come to my Ready Room please?  There are some urgent matters that
we need to discuss," the Enterprise Captain stated, without a hint
of emotion.
     Riker sighed.  "Aye sir.  On my way.  Riker out."  He tapped
his com badge a second time, terminating the connection.  "Well
folks, looks like I'll have to do this another time."  Glancing
over to the Ship's Counselor again he offered, "Deanna, how 'bout
taking over in my place?"
     Troi teasingly retorted, "What for?  You appear to be losing!"
     "Gee thanks," Riker responded with a resigned look, placing
his cards face down on the table.  He then maneuvered around Worf's
chair, glided across the small room and disappeared down a hallway
outside the swiftly closing door.  He quickly headed for the
nearest turbolift that would take him to the main Bridge. "So much
for the 'R and R'," he commented to himself.

                              -----

     "Come."  Jean-Luc Picard sat slightly hunched over, one hand
cupping the side of his face, the other grasping a liquid filled
glass mug, as he intently studied the data padd in front of him. 
His First Officer entered the room.
     "Sir?" Riker queried, bracing himself for word of some
assignment that was guaranteed to destroy any chance he had for
taking a few days off for a vacation.
     "Ah Will, have a seat.  Take a look at this.  You may find it
very interesting."  Picard leaned forward, extending his arm
towards Riker to hand him the padd.
     Riker stepped over to the nearest chair, pulled it out from
under the table and carefully eased into it, taking the small unit.
He glanced at the display, intermittently pressing the small area
on the smooth, black control surface, that activated a scrolling
mechanism for the data.  "Hmmm," he murmured.
     As he read further, his face began to alternately take on a
look of part confusion and part amusement.  In an attempt to be
respectful to his senior officer he glanced up and carefully asked,
"Pardon me sir, but what is it that I am looking at that you find
so interesting?"  He handed the padd back to Picard.
     Picard smiled, took the pro-offered padd, and sat back in his
chair.  "This is the transcript that we just received from Station
LL-5.  Granted, on the surface it appears to be routine ship to
ship communications.  However, LL-5 also sent us a copy of the
audio recording, the actual voices behind the words."
     "I see...  Again I ask, what is it about that," Riker
repeated, gesturing towards the padd, "that's different from what
we've seen or heard before?"
     "It's a mystery, Number One," Picard replied, with a twinkle
in his eye.  Then, with a more serious tone he added, "Perhaps I'm
being unfair.  Let me give you some more information that may help
clear up your confusion.  Not only were no life-forms detected
aboard those ships, but the audio recording, although poor in
quality, was carefully analyzed and the conclusion was that the
voices were mechanical.  Or, for lack of a better word,
synthesized."
     "Mechanical?  Synthesized?"  A long pause and then a
revelation. "The Borg...?"  Riker suddenly bolted upright in his
chair.  The Borg.  That's all he needed right now.  A once deadly
and now totally confused group of beings who were part-Humanoid and
part-machine.  In spite of a wave of individualism that appeared to
be spreading like wild fire throughout the known Borg Collective,
the memories of their past atrocities did not sit well with the
Commander.
     "Not likely, Number One.  Judging from information obtained
from our encounters with and study of several members of the Borg,
the data that we have gathered suggests that they have shown a
distinct preference for the use of a more biological means of
vocalization, rather than the use of some artificial construct."
     "Maybe the ships themselves are some sort of artificially
intelligent life form, or were programmed by others to be such,
like that organism we encountered a number of years ago, we called
'Tin Man'?" Riker surmised.
     "Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  However, if you recall, 'Tin Man'
could only function properly with the help of an organic,
telepathic species, in a symbiotic-type relationship." 
     "Well, looks like we're running out of choices, Captain."
     "In a situation such as this, there are always other choices
and other possibilities, Number One.  We need more information,
more 'clues', if you will, before we can come to any conclusion. 
I want you to take charge of this investigation, Will, as a
personal favor.  As soon as Astrophysics completes it's survey of
this sector, I want you to set a course for Station LL-5 and have
Data and Geordi enhance our scanning capability to boost our
reception of the unusual frequencies that were carrying these
transmissions."
     "Aye sir," Riker responded, while standing and easing around
the chair.  "Oh, by the way sir, Geordi requested that we take some
key systems off-line so that he can perform a Level IV diagnostic. 
He figured that since things were relatively quiet, now would be a
good time."
     "Sounds like a prudent move, Number One.  You should still
proceed with the mission.  So far, it doesn't yet appear that those
unidentified ships have any hostile intentions."
     Riker nodded, turned, and left the room.  Picard pulled his 
chair closer to the table.  He again tilted his head forward and
balanced it on one hand.  He brought the steaming mug to his lips,
took a sip of the fragrant clear brown liquid, and resumed his
study of the padd.
                             -----
                              Dusk

                               II

     The hum of the great ship's powerful engines were muffled in
the darkened, cavernous room.  The soft glow of the recessed
lighting splashed on the room's walls, barely illuminating the
floor of the Command Center.  Baltar relished the darkness,
silence, and solitude of this room with it's giant throne.  He
often retreated to this place when he needed the time to quietly
reflect on his status among the race of mechanical men whom he
presently controlled.  He was exceedingly aware that these very
robot soldiers were programmed to ultimately destroy all of his own
kind.
     The latest Imperious Leader on the Cylon home world had grown
impatient with him as he futilely attempted to explain about the
ways of Humans like himself and how only he, alone, could lead the
Cylon Empire to that one group they disdained enough to eliminate
from the known universe.
     Baltar knew his days were numbered.  But he was torn between
his lust for the intoxicating power afforded him by being given the
command of a Cylon Baseship, with it's powerful lasers and
complement of 300 fighters; and his urge to flee while he still
could, to save his own life.  He had been forced to escape a second
time from Adama's prison cells.  Prison!  What thanks!  Even after
he had freely given his assistance in the Galactica's successful
infiltration and destruction of a Baseship similar to the one he
now controlled.  Never again would he put his trust in that man, no
matter what the cost. 
     As he sat there puzzling over his fate, the crystalline glass
doors to the room slid open and a lone figure quietly entered.  The
figure moved towards the bright circle that formed on the floor in
front of the grand throne, the result of a solitary spotlight
shining downwards from the high ceiling.  The figure, an IL Series,
now suddenly revealed in the illuminated circle, had a dark bronze,
oblong head, displaying dual red scanning eyes and numerous
microprocessor activity lights that continuously blinked in a
randomized fashion.  As was custom when addressing a superior, the
visitor bowed low while announcing his presence with an impossible
silky-smooth voice.  "By your command."
     Baltar, now jolted from his reverie, quickly pushed the small
lighted button under his hand that activated the throne's servo-
mechanism.  The great chair then began to revolve around it's base
to allow Baltar to face his uninvited guest.  "What is it Lucifer?"
he said with a not so slight hint of irritation in his voice.
     "I am sorry to disturb your meditations Baltar," Lucifer
replied, stifling the sarcasm in his voice, "but what I have to say
may be of great interest to you."
     "The only thing that would be of great interest to me, my dear
friend, is your telling me that we have finally located the
Galactica and are preparing to intercept them."
     Lucifer allowed for a brief but effective pause before
speaking again.  This was going to be more difficult than he
previously thought.  "I am afraid not Baltar, however I wish to
report that one of our long range patrols has begun to detect some
unusual transmissions.  These signals seem to indicate signs of
intelligent life.  In fact, it appears that we may have stumbled
upon a number of uncharted settlements near that quadrant."
     "Intel..li..gent life... " Baltar echoed, stretching out the
syllables in a way that matched his caustic mood.  He quickly
swallowed the inflammatory response he originally intended and
instead said, "Send out a patrol to the source of those signals. 
And Lucifer, the next time you come to me, you had better have more
information on your so-called 'intelligent life'."
     "As you wish, Baltar.  By your command," Lucifer said dryly. 
He bowed again and deftly swirled in place, his long red and gold
cape sparkling as he moved, catching the faint rays of the room's
lighting and causing an eery aura around him.  As he approached the
door, he commented aloud to himself in a barely audible voice, "I
will never understand these Humans."
     As if in possession of a superior auditory sense, Baltar
suddenly called out to his assistant, "What was that Lucifer?  I
didn't hear you clearly."
     Lucifer suddenly halted in place and without turning to face
his accuser he recited, "Nothing, Baltar.  Just some irrelevant
observations.  Nothing to get upset about." 
     "I should hope not, Lucifer," Baltar said with a very
threatening tone in his voice.
     Sweetly, Lucifer replied, "Of course."  The Cylon quickly
exited the room, chiding himself for expressing his displeasure
aloud.  He filed the details of this latest misstep into his long-
term memory and programmed a reminder to himself not to let this
happen again, especially when his Commander was within earshot.
     As soon as the doors shut completely, Baltar sighed heavily. 
"Finally," he said aloud to no one in particular.  He touched the
button for the servo and the great chair swung around, with the
back again facing the door.

                              -----

     "Hey Starbuck, stay with us, will ya?!" yelled Jolly as he
watched a single, asterisk-shaped blip on his monitor move further
and further ahead of the group.
     "Starbuck, look... " said Apollo, who also watched as the
single fighter broke out of formation.  "It's dangerous out here
and we're gonna have to stay together, so get your tail back here,
NOW!". 
     "Come on, guys.  How are we ever gonna find out what's really
out here unless we take some chances?" Starbuck finally replied.
     "Spoken like a true hero," mumbled Boomer.
     "Or a crazy fool," added Jolly.  Then he shouted, "Starbuck,
I'm losing my fix on you.  By all the Lords of Kobol, don't go any
further!  When are you going to grow up and learn to quit foolin'
around so much?!"
     "Starbuck!!  As Commander of this Squadron, I order you to
slow up!!" yelled Apollo, in his most authoritarian voice.
     "I'm moving up to get a fix on him.  Jolly, watch my back and
look for my signal," Boomer suddenly interrupted.
     "Boomer!  Stay put!" cried Apollo, no longer suppressing his
anger.  "This insubordination has got to stop!"
     "'S'all right Apollo, I got Jolly on my scanner and I'm
picking up Starbuck right now.  No wait... Jolly, 'you have him?" 
Boomer asked, with panic creeping into his voice.
     "No.  I lost him a few microns ago.  Wait... Stand by.  I
think I... Yeah, there he is... Got 'em!  No... No wait,
something's wrong. It's gone again.  Too much... there's too much
interference."
     "Starbuck, come in Starbuck.  Starbuck, do you read.  Come
IN!" demanded Apollo to his now scrambling monitor.  The crackling,
audio response coming from his helmet produced a deep pain in his
gut.  'Why?  Why?  I've been through this before with him.  Why
does he keep doing this to me?' he said to himself.  Suddenly the
image of Zack, his now-deceased baby brother, flashed in his mind. 
He frantically tried to push the painful images from his thoughts,
but they persisted.  He didn't have time to dredge up those old
memories.  Especially the one when he was forced to leave his
brother behind in a damaged Viper while both were returning to the
Galactica after a particularly harrowing patrol duty.  Ultimately,
they needed to get back to the Colonies in time to warn the
Colonial Fleet's twelve Battlestars of a pending attack by a large,
incoming Cylon task force.  Zack never made it back.  'Gods!  It
seemed like that happened a thousand yahrens ago.  I must get
control of the situation,' Apollo again remarked to himself.  Aloud
he asked, "Boomer, anything?"
     "Negative, sir.  He just vanished off my scanner."
     "Jolly?" queried Apollo.
     "Nothing Skipper.  The signal was there and then it suddenly
disappeared in screenful of snow," Jolly replied with frustration.
     "What do we do?  We can't just leave him out here," Boomer
remarked.
     "Boomer, if you check your fuel gauges, you'll see that we
barely have enough to get back to the Galactica as it is.  If we
return now, we could try boosting her long-range sensors to try and
locate him.  If necessary, we could have the Galactica temporarily
leave the Fleet to look for him.  Either way, we have to go back
now," Apollo said.
     "But Apollo!" Boomer frantically injected.
     "That's an order, Lieutenant!"
     "Aye sir," Boomer finally responded, with resignation.
     "Jolly?"
     "I'm with you, Skipper."
     "Ok, let's go," Apollo said firmly.
     The trio of Vipers simultaneously executed a perfect split and
roll, propelling the now defeated pilots back towards home.

                              -----

     Apollo slowly tiptoed through the small, darkened cabin that
he shared with his young son, and earlier shared with his now
deceased wife, Serina.  The images of Zack began to flood his
thoughts again, joined now by the memory of his last words to
Serina, as the spirit left her body and him, forever alone in the
universe.  He shivered slightly and thought, was he really all
alone?  Her son... their son was here, lying asleep a few metrons
away.  His father Adama, and sister Athena, stood guard on the
Bridge only a few decks above.  Small comfort.  First Zack, then
his mother, then Serina, now possibly Starbuck.  How much more of
this could he take?  
     He too, had heard the grumblings of the Colonial refuges, as
they began to demand that Adama stop chasing his fantasies and
settle on the next habitable planet that the Fleet encountered.  He
was beginning to agree.  This was no place to raise a small child,
especially one who was old enough to be aware of all the events
going on around him, but was still too young to know how to cope
with them.
     Apollo continued through the room towards his bed, pulling off
his jacket and barely conscious of his surroundings when he was
suddenly startled back to reality by a piercing "YIP!" beneath his
foot.  He had inadvertently stepped on Muffit's tail, sending the
little robot daggit scampering away.  "Frack!" Apollo almost
yelled, as he re-adjusted his footing after almost sprawling onto
the floor.
     A soft, sleepy voice drifted out of an adjoining bedroom. 
"Dad?  Is that you?"
     Moving quickly and more carefully to the tiny bedroom, Apollo
knelt beside the bed where the small boy lay and whispered, "Hey,
I thought you were supposed to be asleep."
     "I was until I heard Muffit," Boxey said innocently.
     "Muffit's Ok.  Go back to sleep," Apollo replied, while gently
stroking his son's soft hair and pulling the blanket around his
body.
     "I heard about Starbuck," Boxey said, out of thin air.
     "What?  Heard what, Boxey?"
     "Everyone was talking about it."
     "Talking about what?"
     "Talking about how Starbuck got lost out on patrol."
     "Who told you that?"  A panicky pause.  "Besides, I was with
him Boxey, and I know he's Ok," Apollo lied, as he tried to hide
the fear creeping into his voice.
     "Dad," Boxey began to lecture, "I'm not a baby anymore, I'm
almost 7 yahrens old.  You don't have to pretend to me."
     Apollo tried to swallow the large lump that suddenly formed in
his throat.  Boxey's innate awareness of what was happening around
him was a scary development.  How could he satisfactorily explain
something to a young boy that he couldn't readily explain to
himself?  "Boxey... "
     "Look Dad, it's not your fault.  You'll find Starbuck.  I know
you will."
     Apollo sighed heavily.  How could he sit here and lie to his
son?  "Don't worry Boxey.  We'll find him.  Alright?"  He could
just barely make out the small smile that crept on Boxey's face. 
He then bent down, kissed him on the forehead, tucked the covers
around him, and tiptoed out of the bedroom.  He sat down on his own
bed, bent over and covered his face with his hands.  When would his
nightmare finally come to an end?

                              --o--

First Officer's Log.  Stardate 47235.8

"Lieutenant Commander LaForge has completed his Level IV diagnostic
on ship's systems and the Enterprise's warp engines are now back on
line.

Also, Astrophysics has indicated that their charting of this sector
is completed and thus we are now ready to pursue our next
assignment... to investigate the reports from a Federation Science
station, regarding some ship to ship communications transmissions
from an unknown but apparently intelligent life form.  Riker out."

                              -----

     "Helm, plot a course for Station LL-5," Riker ordered, as he
paced back and forth, hands behind his back.  He stopped in the
center of the room, just behind the Helm and Ops stations.
     "Aye sir, course plotted... and laid in," replied Ensign
Davids at the Helm.
     "Captain?" Riker queried, as Picard suddenly emerged from the
Ready Room, strolled out onto the Bridge, and sat down in the
Command chair.
     "Sorry Number One.  I just received another communique from
LL-5 and it seems there may be some complications after all.  Their
transmission was cut-off somehow, from the source.  Warp 6 Ensign."
     "Aye sir, Warp 6."
     "Engage," Picard ordered, while punching a few buttons on his
control panel.
     The previously static display of shimmering stars was suddenly
transformed into long streaks, as the great ship surged ahead at
warp speed.  Everyone aboard could swear they felt the ship shudder
as the powerful engines engaged.  It was really only their
imagination.
     "I am curious, sir," Data suddenly remarked.  "Our last long-
range sensor reports from that sector indicated that the entire
region near the Station was experiencing the residual effects of a
collision between a comet and a large asteroid.  There is a large
concentration of Cosmic and other high-frequency EM energy
overspreading the entire area.  Would that not affect long-range
communications?"
     "Which perhaps also explains why they chose to shut down their
primary long-range sensors for routine maintenance when they did,"
Picard concluded.  "A good time to 'ride out the storm', I expect."
     "Correct, sir.  Traditional, unmodified long-range sensors
would probably be useless due to the large amount of interference,"
Data replied.
     "Estimated time of arrival, Mister Data?" Riker asked.
     "At current speed, 10 hours, 27 minutes, sir."
     "Very good.  You have the Bridge Number One, I'll be in my
quarters, should you need me," Picard announced, while standing and
simultaneously jerking his uniform top down into place. 
     "Aye sir," replied Riker, his eyes following his superior
officer as he briskly walked around the rail, up the ramp, and into
a waiting turbolift.  Riker then sighed, spun around in place and
settled into the Command chair, not looking forward to the long
night ahead. 

                              -----

Ten Forward was almost deserted when Deanna entered.  She selected
a table in the corner near the lounge's panoramic windows.  A lone
waiter arrived and after giving him her order, she carefully rubbed
her temples, balanced her chin on two upright fists, and sighed
heavily, staring out into nothingness.
     She occasionally glanced down at the reflective black surface
of the table, watching the sparkling streaks of starlight dance an
eery dance across the veneer.  Slowly, hypnotically, the streaks
began to fade away and when she looked up as if in a trance, a
gentle, familiar voice drifted across the expanse of her mind in a
tone that belied its source.  "Seems you're a bit out of sorts
today," the voice said.
     Deanna suddenly snapped back into full awareness, shaking her
head slightly to clear the cobwebs from her mind, and she then
turned towards the voice's owner, responding weakly, "Umm, I guess
you could say that."
     "I guess I could say that?" echoed Guinan in an inquisitive
but humorous tone.  She carefully placed a glass dish containing a
double chocolate sundae, with chocolate chips, down in front of the
befuddled Deanna.  "Guess nothing!" she finally added.  "The only
time I've seen you order this much chocolate was when you were
really feeling depressed."
     A sigh.  "I guess so... " Deanna replied.
     "Mind if I join you?"
     "Be my guest," she answered reluctantly.  Troi wasn't really
in the mood for company, however.
     "Mind if we talk about it?" Guinan asked after immediately
sitting down at the table, opposite to Troi.
     "Apparently you didn't come all the way over here to watch me
eat my ice cream," Deanna responded, trying hard to keep the
irritation out of her voice.
     "Apparently not," Guinan replied evenly.  "But considering the
fact that when I get customers in here, well into their sleep
periods... nine out of ten times there's something wrong.  So, I
ask you again.  Do you want to talk about it?"
     Deanna sighed again, a sadness creeping across her face as she
tried to explain.  "Well... it's... it's... "  Then she blurted, "I
keep thinking about Will Riker, no... not Will, Thomas.  He's
Thomas now." 
     "Ahh... that's caused a bit of a disconcerting situation now,
hasn't it?"
     "Guinan, there's something about him that... How should I put
it?  Something that appeals to me.  Yes, I guess that's a good way
to put it.  He's so like, but then again, so different from Will."
     "Well, he has lived an entirely different life than the
Commander.  However, I expect him to become one hell of an officer
some day," Guinan prophesied.
     "That's not what I was thinking about.  It's... it's his
personality.  I wish... I wish I could describe my feelings better.
I've found myself strongly attracted to him.  To his gentleness and
his concern."  Troi began to muse, "Our short time together
reminded me of old times, back when we first met on Betazed. 
Granted, back then I wasn't exactly head over heels about him.  And
I guess that I was a bit rude and impatient with him at times
but... "
     "This, as opposed to the how you now feel about Commander
Riker?  Where the events and circumstances and experiences he has
encountered over the past seven years have influenced him and
irrevocably changed him?" Guinan teased, playing the devil's
advocate as she was wont to do.
     "Will seems to have become more distant to me over the years. 
Nowadays, his ambitions keep getting in the way."
     "His ambitions?  What about yours?"
     "Mine?  What do you mean?" Deanna suddenly responded, with a
defensive quiver in her voice.
     "Come on Deanna.  You told me shortly after Lieutenant Riker,
uh, Thomas left, that he asked you to come with him."
     Deanna frowned and said, "Yes, I know, and I wanted to go so
badly."
     "Then why didn't you?"
     "Why?"  Troi's face began to alternate between confusion and
sadness.  "I don't know.  I just... well, I just didn't feel like
I was ready."
     "Ready for what?  To fall in love with him or to leave your
position?" said the devil's best friend.
     "What...?  What are you driving at?  Is this really
necessary?" Deanna retorted, this time with clear irritation in her
voice.
     "Sure it is," Guinan replied matter of factly.  "Unless you're
planning on scooping up some of the glass at the bottom of your
dish.... Seems that dish is very empty," she said, nodding towards
the sundae dish after smoothly changing the subject of
conversation.  Guinan was a master at effectively diffusing what
could have become a tense situation.  She mischievously raised the
area on her face, where her eyebrows should have been and looked
directly into Deanna's burning eyes.
     Troi suddenly looked away, shifting her gaze to the spoon in
her hand and then down to her dish and sure enough, she had eaten
the entire thing.  "I better be going.  It is well past my
bedtime."
     "Think about it," the voice said, returning from nowhere.
     "Huh?"
     "Think about what you really want in your life," the voice
replied.
     Deanna pushed the empty dish away from her, after she placed
the spoon inside.  When she stood up, she suddenly began feeling
very exhausted.  She looked around and found that the room was now
completely empty.  Guinan, in her peculiar, stealthy manner had
again abandoned her here with some prophetic words of wisdom
pounding steadily in her head.  'What is it that I do really want
in my life?' she thought to herself.  She crossed the silent room,
exited through the double wood and glass doors and turned a corner
into the hallway.
     As soon as the doors swished shut, Guinan carefully stood up
from behind her counter, a cloth and a tumbler in her hand, slowly
rubbing the glass until it shined.   Her mysterious black eyes
twinkled when she looked up from her work, and a small smile began
to form on her face.

                              --o--

     Casseopia seemed preoccupied as she walked into the Officer's
Club and carefully sat down at a small table, well away from a
particularly boisterous group of Colonial Warriors.  They were
laughing heartily, obviously drunk, and otherwise having a good
time.  Was it her imagination or did everyone seem like they had
not a care in the world?  She barely sensed the other presence that
quietly sat down across from her and when she looked up, she was
surprised to see that it was Athena.
     It was a shame that the two of them had first met, way back,
under such difficult circumstances.  Both had been and still were
rivals for Lt. Starbuck's attention.  Casseopia greatly admired
Athena's bold personality, unstoppable spunk and exotic beauty and
she was convinced that Athena was very much 'her father's
daughter'.  Unfortunately, she also felt that Athena's naivety and
overt expressions of jealousy, would ultimately keep her from being
taken seriously.
     "Soooo... " Athena began, addressing the blonde-haired woman
sitting across from her after finding what she thought was a safe
opening for starting a conversation.
     "Yes, I know about Starbuck," Casseopia responded with
irritation, for about the hundredth time today.
     "Listen, I just came here to, you know, get a drink or
something, and I thought that... well... you could use the
company," Athena explained, a bit defensively.
     "I see... " came the retort, a little too icy than planned.
     "Look, if you want to be left alone, I'll just go." Athena
spat out as she immediately stood up and started to move away.
     Casseopia suddenly grabbed the departing woman's arm, to stop
her.
     "No.  Please... I'm sorry.  I'm just, well you know... I guess
I'm just a little irritable, that's all.  For the past few
centaurs, it seems that everyone and their brother has come to me
to remind me of... "
     "Yeah, I know.  I guess that can really be a hassle.  I
mean... It must be a real pain for you at times."
     "'A pain' is a rather nice way of putting it."
     "Well, if there's anything I can do... " Athena offered.
     "No.  Really... I think I should just turn in, you know, be by
myself for a while.  Look, I really appreciate your concern.  I'll
be fine.  I'm just a little tired.  Especially after running around
with Boxey and all.  Good night, Athena," Casseopia said as she
abruptly stood up and gracefully maneuvered around the table.
     "`Night," Athena replied softly, watching as Casseopia glided
across the room like a fairy princess and sashayed through the
door.  "Why does everyone always crave after her?" she moaned to
herself.  "She's still just your run of the mill Socialator,
Medical Technician or not.  That's all.  And besides, I know more
about Starbuck than she ever will!" she tried to justify to
herself.  She sighed, took a sip from her mug, and started humming
softly, while faintly tapping some familiar childhood rhythm on the
table's surface with her fingers.

                              -----

     "Apollo!  Boomer!  Anybody!  Come in!  Do you read me?  Come
in dammit!"
     Starbuck was beginning to lose his cool, figuring that things
couldn't get any worse than they already were.  Until he looked
down at his fuel gauge.  "FRACK!" he yelled aloud.  "What in the
Gods is wrong with me??  I've gone and done it again!   So busy
trying to be macho."
     The interference increased on his scanners as he attempted to
adjust the frequencies.  His navigation indicator was going haywire
and he had no idea where the hell he was and how to get back to his
Squadron.  "Felgercarb!!"  
     Out of anger and frustration, he slammed his fist into the
monitor controls, causing no damage or change to the instrument
readings, but causing a rather nasty cut on his hand.  "Frack!" he
now painfully yelled again.  "Ok... easy, easy flyboy," he said
aloud.  "Just calm down and think straight.  I've been in worse
situations than this, that's for sure."
     He immediately switched on his homing beacon and tried to
adjust his sensors to cut through the electronic soup, in an effort
to locate some nearby planet with a breathable atmosphere.  The
scrambled signals continued.  "Well Starbuck, looks like your luck
has just run out... "  He again began to frantically push buttons,
turn dials, and flick switches, while cursing to himself.  
     "Where is C.O.R.A. when you need her?" he suddenly exclaimed. 
He then began to chuckle at the thought of that specially built
computer module for Colonial Vipers, nicknamed 'CORA'.  The name
was actually an acronym for something, which for the life of him,
he couldn't remember.  What he did remember was the sexy female
voice behind the machinery that was C.O.R.A.  The system was
designed so that the pilot could quickly interact with and control,
through the C.O.R.A. interface, most of the ship's functions using
verbal commands.  Or, should he more accurately admit, it was
C.O.R.A. who appeared to run the whole show.  Come to think of it,
'CORA' was downright insubordinate, always questioning his commands
and nearly getting him killed on several occasions.  In fact,
'CORA' seemed to operate with a mind of her own!
     "Frack!" he yelled again, as he drove from his mind those now
ludicrous memories of his thankfully brief experience with a wise-
cracking ship.  He furiously began to fumble with more switches and
buttons.
                              ----
                          Early Evening

                               III

     "Bridge to Captain Picard."
     Jean-Luc Picard was in the little front courtyard of his house
on Kataan.  He was seated on the stepped, stone wall connected to
the side of the house, his shoes scattered haphazardly on the
ground in front of him.  Once again, he began playing his beloved
flute.  The sweet melody echoed through the streets of the village
and drifted up into the hills.  A soft breeze lightly caressed his
sunburned face, quickly drying a trickle of sweat that threatened
to fall into his eye.  He stopped playing and sighed, wiping
another droplet from his forehead.  "Boy was it hot today," he
remarked to the darkening sky. "But then again, it's hot every day.
In fact, it seems that with each passing day, it grows hotter and
hotter."
     "Data to Captain Picard."
     "Eh?  Qu'est ce que ce?  What was that?"  A voice.  A man's
voice.  From where?  He peered down the tiny streets of the
village, which were now lit with the soft glow of lamps.
     Picard stirred in his bed, wrapping the covers around him as
he put the flute down beside him.  He strained to look upwards into
the penetrating darkness of the hills behind his house.
     "Come in Captain, this is the Bridge!"
     Suddenly Captain Picard bolted upright in the bed in his
darkened cabin.  He shook his head, tried to gather together his
senses, and fathom the meaning behind the strange but familiar
images that lingered in his conscious from his dream.  Out of a
long practiced habit he immediately replied, "Picard here."
     "Sorry to wake you sir, but the long-range sensors appear to
have detected three small ships, moving in formation towards the
Science Station.  Identity unknown, configuration unknown.  Unable
to confirm any known life-forms," Data recited neutrally.
     "I'm on my way.  Picard out," he responded, while bounding out
of his bed and grabbing the uniform he neatly folded across his
chair.
     A few minutes later, a confident and now fully awake Captain
strolled onto the Bridge and glided down the carpeted ramp.  His
Second Officer, Lieutenant Commander Data quickly vacated the
Captain's chair in deference to its owner and immediately moved to
his assigned station at Ops.
     Where is Commander Riker?" Picard asked, looking around the
Bridge in confusion.
     "He is in Engineering sir, with Geordi.  They are jointly
working on a special modification to the primary sensor arrays. 
Apparently, the Commander has had some experience with this type of
modification before."
     "I see.  Status Mister Data?"
     "The unidentified ships appear to still be moving towards the
Science Station.  They will soon enter into the path of debris and
electronic interference caused by the asteroid collision.  I have
been attempting to narrow the sensor sweep in order to penetrate
the subspace distortions."
     "Are we within communications range, Commander?" Picard
queried.
     "Barely, but I believe that our signal may be strong enough to
get through."
     "Open hailing frequencies, Mister Worf."
     "Hailing frequencies open, sir," Worf grumbled.
     "This is Jean-Luc Picard, in command of the United Federation
of Planets' Starship, Enterprise.  Unidentified vessels, please
respond."
     Silence.
     "This is Captain Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise.
Please identify yourselves."
     Worf now responded, "No reply, sir."
     "Data, are our hails reaching those vessels?" asked Picard.
     "Unknown sir.  The unidentified ships continue to move towards
the interference and I am afraid that at this distance, our
transmissions are most likely experiencing some sort of repulsion
effect.  Apparently, we are still too far away to fully penetrate
the cloud."
     "Very well Commander.  Increase speed to Warp 7 and notify me
of any change in our status.  I'll be in my Ready Room if you need
me.  You have the 'Comm'."
     "Aye sir," Data replied as his fingers swiftly danced across
his console, entering some final commands before he returned to the
Command chair.

                              --o--

     If it had been a daggit, it surely would have bit him.  With
all his concentration focussed on clearing the noise on his sensor
monitor, a small satellite had suddenly appeared before his very
eyes, directly in his Viper's path.  He manipulated a few controls
on his scanner in an attempt to determine the atmospheric content
of the object ahead of him.  "It can't be," he mumbled, as the
information began scrolling on his screen from his short-range
sensor.  As his ship moved closer to the planetoid, the
interference decreased, just enough to verify a breathable
atmosphere.
     He sat back in his seat, confused.  The sensors had to be
deceiving him.  He knew that he had the luck of the Galactica going
for him, but this was too good to be true.  "And you know what they
say about things that are too good to be true... " Starbuck
cautioned out loud to himself.  "Of course," he then said,
recalling an old Caprican proverb, "You don't look a gift-equine in
the mouth, either."
     He was finally able to get a clear readout of the planetoid's
surface and he quickly checked the unusual, and almost unnatural
terrain, for a suitable place to land.  "By all the Gods and
Goddesses in the universe, If I can just land this baby and keep
her in one piece... " he prayed aloud.
     His awe at his good fortune was suddenly shattered as a shrill
alarm began to sound in the cockpit.  "Oh felgercarb!"  The last of
his fuel was almost depleted.  He quickly cut power to his engines
and reduced the power to life-support, in an attempt to save the
last bit of solium for re-entry and deceleration.
     "Boy Starbuck, do you get yourself into one bind after
another!" he chided to himself.  "If I make it through this one, I
promise I'll never cheat at Pyramids again!!!"  He regretted that
last promise, knowing that if he did survive to make it back to the
Galactica, this current adventure would soon become past history,
and the promise would quickly be forgotten.  He figured he would
have a doozy of a story to tell that would keep his reputation as
exciting and vibrant as ever.
     All of a sudden, the Viper began to shake violently, as it
entered the atmosphere.  The hull and cockpit temperatures began to
increase exponentially, as the small fighter plummeted towards the
planetoid's surface at incredible speeds.  He flicked a switch on
his panel to slightly increase power to his life-support, thereby
allowing it to compensate for the higher cabin temperature and
pressure.  "Hang on!" he yelled to himself.  He moved his hand
towards the three switches that activated the engines.  "Just a
little bit longer... "  
     The ship shook even more violently and as the cabin began to
pressurize, Starbuck found himself getting very light headed and
his ears felt like they were about to burst.  "Just a micron
more... " he whispered, squinting his eyes and clenching his teeth
in pain.  
     "NOW!"  He immediately flicked the three switches up and
punched three buttons, re-activating the engines while in free
fall, and with one final blast of his thrusters set to full
reverse, he pulled up on the throttle, simultaneously slowing the
ship and keeping the nose up.  The next thing he heard and felt was
a loud crash as he hit the tops of some trees.  And then the world
went completely dark.

                              -----

Adama's Journal:

"It has been nearly a centaur since we stopped receiving the homing
beacon signal from Lieutenant Starbuck's Viper.  We have moved as 
far away from the Fleet as we dare go without having the means to 
return to it quickly in case of a surprise attack.  Captain Apollo
has
requested the use of a shuttle to reach the small planetoid we have
detected just ahead of us.  I strongly protest this solution as the
interference from an apparent explosion or collision of a nearby
asteroid, makes navigation in the area nearly impossible.

Doctor Wilker is in the process of modifying the sensor controls on
both the Galactica and on one of the Vipers, in an attempt to
enhance our short range sensor capabilities.  Apollo has suggested
that the Viper could be the 'eyes and ears', so to speak, for the
shuttle, safely guiding it to the planetoid.  I am in a quandary as
to what to do."

     "Father look, we can interface the Viper's navigational
sensors with the shuttle's controls, thus allowing the shuttle to
match the Viper's moves," Apollo explained.
     "It's too risky," Adama said firmly. "Apollo, what if the
sensors suddenly become inoperative?  That could mean the end of
both the Viper and the shuttle."
     "It's a risk we'll have to take.  We can't just leave Starbuck
out there."
     Adama shook his head firmly.  "No.  Listen to me Apollo.  I
know that Starbuck is very special to both of us, but we have no
proof that he's even on that planetoid, or whether the planetoid is
suitable to support Human life."
     In an attempt to reason with his father, Apollo noted,
"According to the fuel gauges, he had to land there.  It's the only
possible choice."
     "And assuming he survived a crash landing, what then?  Is
there a suitable atmosphere on the surface?  And if so, what if
there are toxins in the air, or on the ground?"
     Interrupting, Apollo began, "But he has... "
     "Yes, I know that he has an emergency medical kit with a life
mask and protective suit, but what if he were unconscious?" Adama
added, turning away and strolling across the room.
     "Father, I will never forgive myself if I don't try.  I had to
leave Zack behind and I refuse to make the same mistake again,"
Apollo said with determination.                    .
     Adama immediately stopped in place, his back to Apollo.  He
slowly turned his head to the side and raised an eyebrow slightly,
as the source of his son's consternation was finally revealed.  "So
that's it," he said flatly.  "It's Zack, isn't it?" he continued,
fully turning his body around to look at, and then slowly moving to
stand before his oldest child.  He extended his arms and firmly
planted his hands on Apollo's shoulders. "Apollo... " he began. 
"Son.  You can't continue to harbor those feelings of guilt you
have, forever.  It's been eating away at you for a long time now. 
You did what you had to do, back then.  You did what all your
training taught you to do in a situation such as that.  You did the
right thing."
     "Did I?  Tell that to Zack!" Apollo spat out in reply, shaking
free of Adama's grasp and turning his back to him.
     "Apollo," Adama patiently began again, "the lives and well
being of my children mean more to me than anything else in the
universe.  I feel the loss of Zack more than you can ever imagine. 
But his sacrifice was not in vain.  Don't you see Apollo?" he
pleaded, "Had he not discovered those hidden tankers and had you
not made the decision to return when you did, we," he said more
firmly while gesturing to the two of them, "none of us," he
continued, with a sweeping gesture of his arm towards the window,
"among the two hundred and twenty ships of survivors would be here
today."  
     Adama turned, walked away from Apollo, and said in reflection,
"I made a decision a long time ago when I chose to pursue a career
with the Colonial Fleet, that I would not encourage my children to
follow in my path.  Unfortunately, I was not successful."
     "Father... " Apollo interrupted, turning to face the Commander
but not particularly interested in hearing the forthcoming lecture.
     "Hear me out," Adama demanded, determined to make his son
understand.  "I knew that the possibility of becoming emotionally
involved in your careers would be too powerful to resist.  When you
and your brother entered the Academy, both of you knew the risks
that you might eventually have to face, the trials that you might
have to endure.  I eventually came to accept your life choices and
although it pains me to say this, I must now also accept the
consequences of your decisions, including your sister Athena's
presence here aboard this Battlestar.  You see, when we chose this
occupation, we agreed to take the bad with the good, the bitter
with the sweet."
     "Well right now, I need the chance to right a wrong," Apollo
replied in defiance.
     Adama had heard enough.  His body suddenly stiffened as he
clenched his teeth and his fists, trying to keep control.  With
fire in his eyes, he abruptly turned and stormed across the room,
stopping directly in front of Apollo.  He pulled himself up to his
full, imposing height and grabbed his son's shoulders, anger
flaring in his voice as he said, "This is not the time nor the
place, Apollo!"
     "Father, don't you see?" Apollo managed to choke out, somewhat
shaken by his father's unexpected movement.  Weakly he pleaded, "I
have to do this."  The intensity of his father's booming voice
still hung in the air, as Apollo suddenly wished he could have been
anywhere in the universe except where he was at that moment.
     "Finding Starbuck will not bring your brother back."
     "I know that, but at least I would have tried.  And if I
succeed... "
     "And what if you don't succeed?  What if Starbuck is not on
that planetoid?  What if he's dead?" Adama replied with an angry
retort that sharply cut Apollo off.
     "I still have to try, Father.  I still have hope."
     Adama frowned and let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the
universe now beginning to rest on his shoulders.  What stubborn
children he had.  No doubt due to his long periods away from home
while they were growing up.
     He turned away again, placing his hands behind his back and
slowly walking over to the small porthole in his office.  The
serene images of twinkling stars appeared, interspersed with the
now distant, faster-running freighters and pleasure craft that held
the fragile remains of his people.  
     After a short period of silent contemplation, he slowly turned
his head towards his oldest child, flesh of his flesh and pride of
his very being.  Sighing, he solemnly indicated his approval with
a short nod of the head.  Quickly, he looked away as Apollo bounded
through the door and down the hallway towards the lift that would
take him to the Launch Bay.
     Adama looked again out into the false calm of space, with
moisture gathering in his eyes and a dull pain in his chest.  To
himself he asked, 'What Lord, have I done?'

                              -----

     "Launch Bay Control to Shuttle Alpha, you are clear to
proceed," announced the Launch Bay's monitor Rigel, who was seated
on the Galactica's Bridge.
     "This is Alpha Shuttle.  Acknowledged," replied the Blue
Squadron Flight Captain.  Apollo hit the turbo thrusters and
smoothly steered the shuttle out into the open expanse of darkness.
     "Activating navigational link," Boomer stated from his Viper.
     "Link established.  The board shows all green.  Oh and by the
way Boomer, fly normally, will ya?" came the reply from the
shuttle.
     "Aw shucks, Apollo.  I had some really nifty moves I wanted to
try out, too."
     "Not today my friend.  Gotta find our Pyramid partner, and
fast!"
     "Switching on the modified short range sensors." Boomer
interrupted.  "Still not picking up any readings from that
planetoid on long range scans.  Frack!  At this distance, none of
these sensors can penetrate that damn interference."
     "What's our ETA?"
     "Hmm... Well, by my calculations... figure just under two
centaurs at current speed before we'll be within range," Boomer
answered.
     "Acknowledged.  Let's speed it up then."
     "Right with ya."

                              -----

     "By your command."
     Baltar had now come down from his magnificent chair, the
better to pace back and forth in the silent darkness of the Command
Center while awaiting the imminent status report of the three Cylon
scout ships.  "Report," he said evenly to the unlucky bearer of the
news. 
     "Our patrol has confirmed the presence of a relatively large
space station in orbit around an apparently uninhabited satellite."
replied Lucifer.
     "A space station?  Manned by who?" Baltar exclaimed
incredulously.
     "Our scouts were unable to identify or confirm all of the
species of life forms aboard the station but they were able to
detect a possible Human presence."
     "Humans?  Aboard a space station?  Adama what is it you're up
to?  No... wait."  A beat.  "Perhaps these Humans are from the
planet Terra.  The station may even belong to the Eastern Alliance
membership."
     "I am afraid not Baltar.  According to our data, the
construction of the station is far superior to that previously
observed around Terra or any of her Lunar colonies," replied the
Cylon.
     "What do you mean 'far superior'?"
     "Our scouts detected the use of an energy source, unknown not
only to us, but apparently to the Terrans as well."
     "What energy source?!" Baltar demanded, almost shouting. 
"What do you mean that it is unknown to the Terrans?"  All of a
sudden his tone of voice and his demeanor began to shift, and his
eyes began to open wide.  He ceased his pacing and turned to look
at his assistant.  "Unless... "  He paused, turning away from
Lucifer, a small smile beginning to creep on his lips.  "Unless..."
he repeated.  "Ooooooo... " he cooed with malevolence.  "Yes...
yes... Adama."
     Suddenly his discourse reverted back to seriousness, as he
looked directly at the silent, robed automaton and said, "Set
course for that satellite.  Maximum speed."
     The rows of processing lights on Lucifer's head immediately
increased their flash rate and then slowed to normal before he
proceeded to speak.  "Whatever for Baltar?"
     "Don't question my orders.  Just do it!" Baltar replied with
irritation.
     With resignation in his voice, Lucifer responded, "As you wish
Baltar.  By your command."  He bowed slightly before turning to
leave the room.  He again would be the one to give the orders that
would bring the great Cylon Baseship into the void and inevitably
into trouble, as his past experiences with Baltar's thinking had
taught him.
     Activity on the Baseship began to increase as a number of
silvery mechanical men marched in unison through the long dark
corridors.  In the Navigation Room, a larger, gold-colored Cylon
Centurion, the Garrison Commander, looked up as Lucifer entered the
room.  In a very low-pitched, monotonal synthesized voice, the
Centurion intoned,  "By your command."
     Lucifer briefly paused before speaking to him.  "Centurion,
set course two four nine point eight.  Maximum speed.  It seems
that our illustrious leader has decided that we should go on a
little excursion, off our main course."
     The Garrison Commander, not programmed to comprehend the
sarcastic dialogue uttered by his superior, simply replied, "By
your command."  He turned towards the navigators and ordered, "Set
course as directed.  Engage forward sensors, full power."
     A smaller silver Centurion replied in a higher-pitched
mechanical voice, "By your command.  Course set.  Maximum velocity.
Forward sensors engaged.  Full power."
     "Oh, I almost forgot.  Centurion?  Contact the Imperious
Leader on Cylon and have him dispatch backup Baseships right away,"
Lucifer added.
     The Garrison Commander queried without emotion, "Has this
request been approved?"
     "As Special Assistant to the Commander of this Baseship,
personally selected by the Imperious Leader himself, I am
programmed to guarantee the safety of this vessel and it's
occupants.  Therefore as a Cylon, I am required to function within
my programming," Lucifer smoothly lied.
     Lucifer's twisting of words and hedging was completely lost on
the Centurion.  He could only comprehend 'assistant', 'Imperious
Leader', 'safety', 'Cylon', and 'function within programming.'
     "By your command," came his reply.
     If he could, he would have smiled.  However, Lucifer simply
turned in place and exited the Navigation Room. 
     The Cylon Baseship began to turn on it's axis and started to
move forward towards the unknown.

                              -----

Captain's Log.  Supplemental.

"We have arrived at Science Station LL-5 and have successfully re-
established communications with them, despite the increasing
interference from the nearby asteroid collision.  We are currently
in orbit around the small planetoid being monitored by the station
and we have been unable to locate the three unidentified ships
detected previously."

                              -----

     "Captain, as you can see, our station has become somewhat
inoperative over the past few hours, ever since the debris and
subspace energy fluctuations began increasing in this area from the
asteroid collision.  We have had to shut down just about all of our
sensors, and communications to the outside are nearly impossible. 
As time passes, I fear the situation will only grow worse."
     "I understand your dilemma Doctor Serat.  We will try to do
everything we can to assist," Picard offered.
     "We have only fifty scientists and support personnel aboard,
Captain.  Any assistance would be greatly appreciated," responded
the Vulcan.
     "Of course Serat.  Tell me, exactly what is the nature of your
research?  I have visited a number of terra-formed worlds, yet this
one seems to be very unique, particularly since there is no nearby
sun to provide the traditional energy source."
     "Well Captain, as you may or may not know, this satellite had
been charted over one hundred-fifty years ago during the early
period of exploration of the Federation, being that it is relatively close
to Earth.  Approximately forty years ago, a noted botanist by the name
of Doctor Roger Obenga filed a petition for a large scale research
project that involved the use of certain phosphorescent vegetation
to encourage the formation of symbiotic relationships between them
and certain chlorophyll-containing plants.  He found for instance,
that certain species of phosphorescent moss could provide enough
luminescence at the proper wavelengths, to actually establish a
stable ecosystem.  The benefits of this work were enormous as this
concept could be applied to many of the worlds of the Federation
that lack the appropriate natural light from a sun, thus
eliminating the need for extensive artificial lighting.  The
Science Council approved of the research and eventually selected
this planetoid to test out the theories.  The major criteria for
the selection of such a world was that there was suitable gravity
and Class M atmosphere, no natural sunlight, available natural
water, a geothermal source of heat, and no life forms detected. 
This satellite perfectly matched those requirements."
     He continued, "A team of some of the finest botanists,
geologists, and biophysicists around the Federation were assembled
to design and carry out plans for the introduction of plant life to
the surface.  I was selected as the team leader."  
     "Intriguing," Data responded.  "The establishment and
cultivation of such vegetation should provide, over time, a very
viable and self-sustaining ecosystem.  However, would there not be
concern about the possibility of the accidental introduction or
natural evolution of some parasitic form of plant that could
quickly eradicate the symbiots?"
     "Yes, we have taken that into consideration, which is why we
have been monitoring the surface and atmosphere so closely.  
You see, it is hoped that one day, we will introduce life forms 
here that could assist in maintaining the ecological balance, 
should any parasitic types evolve."
     "Truly fascinating," Picard beamed.  "I would very much like
to read some of the... "
     "Captain, sensors are picking up an object on the planetoid's
surface," Worf suddenly announced, interrupting Picard's
enthusiastic response.
     Data provided more clarification by saying, "Object is
metallic, alloy mixture unknown.  Approximately ten meters in
length."  The android then paused to confirm some additional
readings, suddenly frowning.  Before he continued, he turned in his
chair to face Picard and finally stated, "Captain, it appears to be
a ship of some kind."
     Worf added, "I am reading faint life signs from the ship. 
Unable to fully confirm due to the interference."
     "Captain, we could take an away team down to the surface to
investigate.  This may have something to do with those 
unidentified ships that we picked up earlier," Riker offered.
     "Hmmm.... agreed.  Doctor Serat?"
     "Captain, if what you say is true, that some vessel has landed
on the surface that we missed due to our sensor mishap, then 
this would surely be devastating to our research.  We are just now 
moving into the final phases of terra-forming this world.  Nearly 
thirty years of work could be destroyed by the introduction of an 
outside microbe into the ecosystem."
     "Then how did you manage to terra-form here?  At some point
you would have had to come in contact with the surface," Riker
queried.
     "Yes, yes, but our excursions were few and we wore specially
made garments that would preclude the accidental introduction of
foreign microbes into the atmosphere or on the surface."
     "Doctor Serat, if in fact there is a life form in that ship,
then the experiment has been compromised, regardless," Data stated,
matter of factly.
     "I now realize that.  It is regrettable," Serat said with
resignation.  Being a Vulcan, he reasoned that the only logical
thing left to do was to confirm the situation down on the surface
and then report the results.  The possible loss of thirty years of
his life's work would be unfortunate but not detrimental.  He still
had quite a few years left to pursue other ventures.
     "Doctor, if you would allow us to send down a minimal
complement, we will agree to go through whatever decontamination
procedures that you deem necessary.  I would expect that life-form
or not, an investigation to verify either way is in order," Picard
concluded.
     Serat then replied after a brief pause, "That will be
acceptable."
     "Good.  Number One, assemble a minimal away team and report to
Station LL-5 for preparations," Picard ordered.
     "Aye, sir," Riker responded.  He nodded to Ops, "Data," and
announced to the ship's intercom, "Doctor Crusher, meet us in
Transporter Room Three."
     "Acknowledged, on my way," came Beverly Crusher's reply, piped
through to the Bridge.
                             ----
                           Late Night

                               IV


     The three officers stood side by side while the glowing red
beam shimmered around them in the decontamination chamber.  Riker
swallowed hard as he tried to suppress the slight wave of
claustrophobia he was experiencing.  He had been required to wear
self-contained suits many times before in the past, but none that
remotely resembled what he was wearing right now.  Data, due to his
lack of biological functioning, was exempted from wearing the suit.
     "You know Data, sometimes I envy your being an android," Riker
conceded.
     Data glanced in Riker's direction and stated with a confused
tone in his voice, "I do not fully understand the reasoning behind
your comment.  Although I may be physically superior to Humans,
there are many instances where I am as vulnerable as Humans.  For
instance... "
     "Forget it Data.  I was just lamenting our current state of
affairs," Riker interrupted, instinctively reaching for his
forehead to wipe away a trickle of sweat and finding a microthin
piece of transparent aluminum in the way.
     "Everyone ready?" Beverly Crusher asked hopefully when the red
glow died down.
     "Not really," Riker answered, "but let's get this over with. 
Energize."
     The sparkling blue-white light surrounded the three Enterprise
officers, briefly scattering their very essence into a million bits
and then finally directing that essence down to the unknown world
below.

                              -----

     Darkness.  Everywhere darkness.  Crusher began to feel panic
as she tried to clearly comprehend what had occurred.  She decided
to stay put and use her arms (did she have arms anymore?) to gauge
where she was.  Slowly, her eyes began to adjust to the low level
of light.  As she looked around, she gasped at the eery sight of
the blue and yellow glow surrounding her.  "My God!  It's like
we're surrounded by millions of fireflies!" she exclaimed.
     With tricorder out, sweeping around and before him, Data
commented, "Fascinating.  It appears that the different species of
phosphorescent plants are emitting energy solely at the various
wavelengths of the Visible portion of the EM spectrum.  As yet, I
have not detected any plant life emitting in the UV range."
     "Any life-signs Data?" Riker asked, still shaking the
disorientation out of his head.  After finally adjusting to the
uncomfortable suit he wore, he now had to confront what appeared to
be almost total darkness.
     "Over here sir," Data responded, pointing to an area just
ahead of them.
     Riker and Crusher strained to see in which direction he was
pointing.
     The three carefully made their way around the bizarre non-
fluorescing plants that hung precariously from a proliferation of
long, strangely shaped tree branches.  Beverly tried hard to steer
clear of the moss-covered trees that glowed like ancient funeral
pyres.  She found herself recalling an old child's story told to
her by her grandmother, about the haunted trees in an old, dark
forest and the evil flying monkeys who came into the forest to
capture a little lost girl and her dog for a wicked witch.  The
thought made her shiver, but then she blinked and became an adult
again, the Chief Medical Officer of the Federation Flagship.  She
angrily chided herself for indulging in such silly introspection. 
Still... this place did give her the creeps.
     "Sir, sensors indicate that the life-form is Human," Data
suddenly announced.
     "And... very much alive," Crusher added.  "Come on."
     The away team swiftly approached the small craft, which was
partially submerged in a glowing marsh.  Riker drew his phaser as
he slowly advanced towards the ship.  All of a sudden he felt as if
he stepped off the cliff of a large, very deep hole, and he
abruptly found himself waist deep in glowing liquid.
     "Will!" yelled Crusher.
     "DATA!" Riker shouted, as his feet became trapped in the
quicksand-like mud and his legs became intertwined in some
underwater vines.  He began waving his arms frantically, trying to
grab on to something... anything.  "Help me!  I'm sinking!"
     Calmly but firmly, Data replied, "Do not move sir.  It will
only serve to hasten your descent."  He grabbed hold of a branch of
a nearby tree and used his other hand to grasp at Riker's flailing
one.  With a single movement, Data easily pulled the First Officer
out of the swamp.
     "Boy!  I thought I was a goner.  I gotta be more careful,"
Riker exclaimed with relief, pulling vines off his legs and
scraping the mud off his suit.
     "Commander, it appears that this entire area is surrounded by
marsh.  I am however, able to track exactly the boundaries of this
phenomena," Data noted.
     "How is that ship still above the water then?" the Doctor
asked, as she squinted her eyes in an attempt to penetrate the
darkness around the ship.
     "It appears that the branches of a fallen tree are acting as
a brace, effectively keeping the ship afloat," Data concluded.  He
then added, "The stability of this situation is doubtful however. 
I have observed that the underground water table has increased
significantly since we first arrived.  At this rate, I expect that
the perimeter of the swamp will soon expand to where we now stand."
     "Regardless, we have to get that person out of there now or
the only thing left for me to do here is an autopsy," Crusher
exclaimed.
     "How Doctor?  How do we get over there?  I don't mean to be
facetious but I'm not about to lose any of us in that swamp by
being careless," Riker retorted, causing the doctor to bristle at
his tone.
     Calmly she replied, "Why not beam him out?"
     Riker tapped his comm badge, "Riker to Enterprise."
     Silence.
     "Riker to Enterprise.  Come in."
     More silence.
     "Riker to LL-5."
     "Data to Enterprise.  Do you read?"
     A double nothing.
     "What the hell is going on?  Data?" Riker exclaimed looking
over at the Second Officer and expecting an answer fast.
     A look of confusion began to form on his face as the android 
manipulated functions on his tricorder and replied, "I am not sure
sir, but it appears that our communicators are no longer
functioning."
     "What do you mean 'no longer functioning'?" Riker replied a
bit angrily.  This away mission was getting worse and worse.
     "My tricorder is picking up some unusual radiational
interference emanating not only from this ship, but from the
surrounding vegetation.  It appears that the area may have become
contaminated by a fuel leak from that vessel."
     "Then for now, let's move away from this area and check in
with the Enterprise to let them know our status," Riker said
decisively.
     "Will, we have to get that pilot out of there now!  He has
some serious internal injuries that must be worked on or he may
die!" Crusher pleaded.
     "If we can contact the Enterprise, we can beam him directly to
sickbay." Riker answered.
     "Commander, I have confirmed that the transporter will not
function in this area, due to the radiation," Data injected.
     More bad news.  Riker's patience was fading fast.  He was wet,
hot, and beginning to feel a throb in his shoulder, which means it
was probably strained.  It must have been the result of swinging it
around too much in awkward positions, while he had tried in vain to
save himself from sinking into a watery grave.  "Suggestions then? 
If we can't beam him out of there and we can't get across the
marsh, and Serat steadfastly refuses to accommodate any more beam
downs, what do you recommend we do?"
     "I believe sir, that we could utilize some of these trees."
     "But you said that that ship is barely being supported by that
tree trunk as it is," Riker noted.
     "That is true, however I believe that we may be able to brace
it enough so that one of us can reach the hatch and pull the pilot
out.  We can construct a makeshift bridge to reach the wing and
then walk along it to the cockpit."
     "Looks like we have no other choice.  Do it."
     "Aye sir."
                              --o--

     "By your command."
     "We have reached the small planetoid and our sensors have
detected the Humans," Baltar recited aloud as he often did, only
the answers he wanted to hear.
     "Well... not exactly," Lucifer replied, with hesitation.
     "Lucifer!  Must I hover over you every centaur of the day to
make sure that you carry out my orders?" yelled Baltar.
     "Really Baltar.  You mustn't take these matters so seriously. 
You may end up bursting a blood vessel," Lucifer sweetly suggested.
     "Don't get smart with me, you poor excuse for a machine.  I
want answers... and I want them NOW!"
     "Of course.  As you wish.  We are now within range of the
planetoid, however there is... " he carefully paused, "a problem."
     "What do you mean there is 'a problem'?"
     "We have now detected a very large vessel in orbit alongside
the previously detected space station.  The configuration of this
new ship is totally unknown to us."
     "It's probably the Galactica or perhaps, the Pegasus.  The
Pegasus... Yessss... "  Baltar's words began to drift off into the
air as he spun around sharply, with his hands behind his back.  He
nervously began to pace around the immediate area.  "Cain....  It
must be.  Our sensors must be deceiving us, due to the electronic
interference... "
     Interrupting, Lucifer responded, "I am afraid not Baltar.  We
are not detecting solium as the primary fuel source.  We have
discovered however, the presence of over one thousand life-forms
aboard that ship, the majority of whom are Human."
     "That many Humans?  Ah HA!  Just as I originally thought then.
Prepare our fighters."
     "But Baltar, we have not yet established the origin of that
ship.  In fact, we have even confirmed what appears to be a weapons
system that is far superior to our own."
     "Indeed.  We shall see," Baltar replied with confidence.
     "Baltar, do you mind if I ask you what you plan on doing?"
Lucifer asked tensely.
     "Must I always spell out everything to you Lucifer.  It should
be obvious what I plan on doing."
     Pleading, the Cylon added, "But Baltar, we have concluded that
this new ship is not part of the Colonial Fleet, and it has become
obvious that it does not come from Terra.  Don't you think that it
may be a little risky to attack something that we don't know enough
about?"
     "Risky?  Risky?" Baltar harumphed.  "Why should you worry?" he
then retorted, a devious smile creeping on his lips as he stepped
up in front of his assistant.  "You are only a machine."
     "True, but I am only looking out for your safety, Baltar.  I
have been specially designed and programmed to see to your every
need and guarantee your personal well being."
     "Really?  Judging from your actions to date, what makes me
think that I can trust you completely?"
     "True also, however I am the only one who is fully qualified
to operate this Baseship.  I believe... you need me," Lucifer
replied, a bit defensively.
     "Need you?  HA!  What arrogance you have.  Never mind.  Carry
out my orders.  Prepare our fighters for a full attack.  Signal me
when they are ready."
     "As you wish, Baltar.  By your command," Lucifer replied
evenly.  He quickly swiveled in place and shuffled out of the large
chamber.
     "You're finished Adama!  Not only will you not be able to rely
on those from Terra but... " he said to the empty room, "you will
not be able to rely on those from Earth as well."  And with that,
Baltar let out a long, hearty laugh that echoed around the enormous
Command Center.

                              --o--

     The Bridge of the Enterprise was beginning to bustle with
activity as the night watch ended and the day watch crew came in
relief.  Jean-Luc Picard sat in his Command chair, customarily
crossing one leg, fingers rhythmically tapping on his thigh, to
release nervous tension.
     "Anything from the surface yet?" he queried.
     "Nothing sir," Worf rumbled in response.  "There appears to be
some sort of radiation surrounding the crash site.  I would expect
that communications would be impossible to or from that immediate
location."
     "Very well.  Counselor.  Do you sense anything down there?"
     "Well, it doesn't appear that they are in any immediate danger
yet.  In fact... "
     "Captain," Worf suddenly interrupted.  "Sensors are picking up
a very large vessel of some sort approaching from behind us. 
Configuration unknown."
     "On screen."
     The main viewer shifted to display an image of dark space with
a small, spherically-shaped object in the center.
     "Magnify."
     The image again shifted to show a larger representation of
what looked like two large convex disks with a short, central core
that connected them.
     "My God.  It looks like a space station of some type,"
remarked Deanna Troi.
     Worf reported, "Sensors are unable to fully penetrate the
interference.  Switching to the modified sensor array...  I now
appear to be picking up a single life form aboard the unidentified
station."  He looked up at his now standing superior officer before
continuing, "The signal is very weak, sir."
     "Picard to Engineering.  Geordi.  Can you boost our sensor
output?"
     "Aye, sir.  I can maybe give you a little more power, but not
much more," the Chief Engineer replied.
     "We just need enough to confirm life signs," Picard added.
     "Sensor output boosted by three percent.  I am now able to
confirm a single life form on the vessel."  Worf paused and again
looked up, adding, "It is Human."
     "Human?"  Picard frowned, turned his back to the viewer and
began to walk towards his chair, halting just short of it.  "Worf,
open hailing frequencies," he finally ordered.
     "Hailing frequencies open sir," came the reply.
     "Unidentified vessel, this is Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the
United Federation Starship Enterprise.  Please respond."
     "No response," Worf offered.
     Picard began again, "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the
Starship Enterprise.  Please respond."
     "Still no response."
     "Go to Yellow Alert."  
     Although no sirens sounded throughout the ship, the alert
light flashed on all decks as critical personnel began to make
preparations for an imminently dangerous situation at any time. 
The ship's activity accordingly increased to meet the demands.
     "Captain, shouldn't we beam the away team aboard?" Troi
offered.
     The away team!  With all his concentration on the unknown
ship, he had completely forgotten about them.  "Lieutenant Chu,"
Picard quickly said to the officer manning Ops, "lock on to the
away team's signal and... "
     "Captain, unable to get a positive lock.  They are apparently
within the radiation area," Chu interrupted.
     "Captain," Worf suddenly called out, "sensors are picking up
a myriad of small ships.  They are being launched from the larger
ship and," he said looking up again at the Captain while continuing
his report with anticipation in his voice, "they are heading right
for us."
     "Raise shields.  Red Alert."
     The Bridge lights immediately switched to a red flashing glow
and the claxxon sounded throughout the ship.
     "Ready phasers Mister Worf, but hold your fire."
     "Aye sir.  Shields up.  Phasers are ready."
     "Mister Chu.  Anything?" Picard asked solemnly.
     "Negative sir.  Still  unable to get a transporter lock and we
cannot contact them either."
     "Worf.  Estimated time of arrival of those ships?"
     "Ships will be within firing range in eight minutes, twenty-
seven seconds sir."
     "Contact Star Fleet Command.  Brief them on our situation and
request that backup ships be made ready in case we need them."
     "Aye sir," came the reply, as Worf began to punch the
appropriate commands into his console.
     "Open a hailing frequency to the Science Station."
     "Open."
     "Doctor Serat," Picard began. "We have detected what could
possibly be a hostile force approaching the station.  I recommend
that you temporarily evacuate your personnel to the Enterprise as
a precautionary measure, until such time that the nature of these
intruders is known."
     "And what about your people on the surface Captain?"
     A sigh and then Picard replied, "Unfortunately, some intense
radiation around that unknown ship's landing site is blocking our
ability to both communicate with or transport our away team back. 
Unless they move clear of the interference, there is nothing we can
do short of beaming more people down to locate them."
     "Captain.  You must not send anyone else down to the surface. 
It may be dangerous.  There are numerous swamps down there,
especially in the area near that vessel.  The possibilities of..."
     "Captain, the small ships have suddenly increased their speed.
They will be within range in four minutes, thirty-four seconds,"
Worf stated.
     "Serat.  Prepare for immediate evacuation.  We will need to
temporarily lower our shields to beam you aboard, so you must move
quickly," Picard said.
     "Understood Captain.  Stand by."
     "Four minutes to intercept."
     "Prepare for evasive maneuvers.  I want to make sure that we
have everyone aboard before we break orbit."
     "The station is signalling their readiness for beam out. 
Three minutes before intercept," Worf replied.
     "Bridge to transporters.  Lock on and prepare to beam them out
of there," ordered Picard.  "Worf lower shields."
     "Shields down, all transporters are activating.  Two minutes,
twenty-six seconds until approaching ships are within firing range.
Transports are... now complete.  Shields are raised."
     "Ok," Picard finally said, letting out a sigh of relief while
clasping both his hands together in the air in front of him. 
"Let's see what they will do.  Worf, can you detect the type of
weapon systems that these ships possess?"
     "Sensors indicate some sort of laser-type... they're firing
sir!  Ships are breaking formation."
     "Evasive action.  Bring her around.  Fire all phasers.  Wide
dispersal."
     The great ship rotated gracefully to meet the on-coming
barrage, positioned to present a minimal aspect, the better to
protect her vital systems from damage.
     "We're hit sir," Worf stated.  He tapped a few commands into
the console.  With satisfaction he looked up and announced, "No
damage.  Direct hits on incoming targets."  He looked up again and
stated with restrained glee, "Twenty ships destroyed.  Sensors are
picking up no life-forms aboard the remaining vessels."
     "No life-forms?  That's odd.  Are we still picking up the
single Human aboard that station?"
     "Affirmative sir."  Worf then suddenly shifted the subject of
discussion, "More incoming ships, sir."
     "Fire all phasers, full dispersal."
     "Firing.  Direct hits, ten more targets destroyed."
     Picard began to frown as he shook his head.  "That was too
easy.  Lieutenant Chu, any signs of the away team?"
     "Still no sign sir."
     Picard exhaled heavily and squeezed his lips together tightly
as he finally said, "As much as I regret doing this, I must break
orbit and confront that ship or station or whatever it is."  A
pause.  "Helm, set course for that vessel, full impulse."
     "Aye, sir," came the response from the Helm Officer.  "Setting
course zero zero three mark two one."
     With the characteristic forward flick of his pointed finger,
Picard executed the order with the spoken, "Engage."
     The Enterprise turned to fully face it's unknown foe and then
began to rapidly move forward to meet the great Baseship.

                              -----
  
     Data carefully walked over to two thin trees and bent each
forward until they snapped.  He carefully positioned the bases of
the trunks on the solid ground at the edge of the marsh, and
balanced the other ends on one of the ship's distended wings. 
"Commander," he inquired.  "I will require the use of my phaser to
obtain a larger tree trunk."
     Riker nodded.
     Data set the phaser and pointed it at the wide base of one of
the nearby trees.  As the tree began to fall towards him, he caught
it and lifted it slightly off the ground while swinging it around
towards the marsh.  He then carefully slid the tree's base under
the rear of the ship, pushing it towards the dry shore on the
opposite bank.
     All of a sudden the ship began to shift it's position as it's
nose broke free from the branches that held it in place.  The
trapped vessel then began to sink into the glowing swamp.
     "Data!  Look out!" Beverly Crusher yelled.
     Data quickly thrust the tree base forward until it was firmly
wedged into the opposite bank.  He then swiftly maneuvered the tree
top in his hands to his left, swinging it under the ship's wing and
positioning it as close to the vessel's nose as he could.  The ship
finally settled onto it's new support and remained in place.
     "Whew!  That was close.  Too close," Riker remarked after
exhaling heavily.
     Data grabbed the smaller trees, repositioning them atop the
ship's wing and moving them close together.  With the steadiness of
a high wire acrobat, he carefully inched his way across the
temporary bridge and gingerly stepped onto the now supported wing. 
He then slowly crept towards the cockpit, squatted, and peered
inside.  "There appears to be a Human male inside and he is
unconscious," he reported.  "I will attempt to lift the hatch."
     The android quickly traced his fingers along the edge of the
cockpit hatch and upon finding a place to grip, he heaved the
heavy, windowed hatch forward.  The ship began to bob up and down
in the marsh but the tree brace thankfully held.
     "Data, hurry up!  I don't know how long that tree is going to
hold," warned Riker.
     "Data reached inside the ship's cabin and grabbed the pilot's
arms.  He effortlessly lifted the limp man out of the seat and
gently laid him out on the wing's narrow surface.
     "Careful Data, he has some broken bones," Crusher called out
as she tensely stood watching the Second Officer's every move.
     Data stooped, cradled the man in his arms, and stood again,
almost fully upright.  The ship began to sway again in the water
requiring Data to continually readjust his balance as he eased his
way down the length of the wing towards his makeshift bridge.  
     Suddenly the wing collapsed beneath him and began to sink
into the swamp.  Data started to slide down the slippery metal
towards the deep, plant-filled water.  With the deftness of his cat
'Spot', he crouched and jumped, using the bottom of the wing as a
diving board.  He landed at the very edge of the marsh, his feet
just beginning to sink into the muddy water along the bank.  He
then quickly stepped up to safety on dry land, carried the man over
to a clearing, and carefully laid him on the ground.
     "Data, I thought that that would be the end of you," Riker
blurted out, again recovering from what would be his second scare
in so many minutes.
     "Perhaps you were correct sir, when you earlier expressed your
appreciation for or I believe you said, your 'envy' of my
abilities," Data stated with just a slight hint of expressed
confidence in his voice.
     "Data, is that a little bit of arrogance I hear coming from
you?" Beverly Crusher asked with a smile, as she briefly looked up
at the tall android while she ran her medical scanner over the
unconscious man's body.
     "No Doctor.  It is not.  As I am fond of stating, I am not
capable of such emotions.  I am merely stating a fact."
     "You could've fooled... "
     Suddenly a loud crack shattered the still air and the three
startled Enterprise Officers turned in unison towards the sound. 
Upon locating the source, they helplessly watched as the ship began
to again sink into the glowing abyss.
     "Well... looks like there's not much more we can do about
that," Riker finally commented.  Looking away he said, "Data, move
away from here and contact the Enterprise to let them know what
we've found."
     "Aye sir."
     "Doctor?" he then asked, as he squatted near the prone man,
"What's his status?"
     "Well, he's suffered multiple internal injuries and a fracture
of his left arm.  I'm trying to stabilize him now.  Will, we've got
to get him back to sickbay as soon as possible."
     Riker stood up and turned towards the direction the Second
Officer had walked in and called out, "Data?"
     Data began walking back towards the others and answered,
"Commander, I am unable to contact the Enterprise."
     "More interference?" Riker suggested.
     "No sir.  It appears that the ship may have left orbit."

                              --o--

     "Whelp, looks like that planetoid may have a suitable
atmosphere after all Apollo," Boomer announced.
     "Good.  Let's just... "  Apollo stopped in mid-sentence and
gasped, "Boomer, do you see what I see?"
     "I think so, unless I'm still hung over from last night.  It
looks like... By all the Lords of Kobol... it's a ship and a space
station or something!!  A big one too!  I've never seen anything
like it before!"
     "Neither have I.  Maybe we can... Wait... Boomer, I'm picking
up targets coming in."
     "Confirmed.  They appear to be moving towards that big ship. 
Apollo, my sensors are starting to break up again, trying to
compensate."
     "Hang on Boomer, we're losing the navigational link."
     "I'm going to try to fly by the seat of my pants to maneuver
us over to the far side of that planetoid," Boomer stated.
     "Don't get too carried away Lieutenant.  I don't want to lose
you," Apollo replied.
     "Understood.  WOW!  Did you see that??"
     "See what?"
     "That big ship just... it just wiped out at least twenty of
those, those... Apollo!  Those are Cylon fighters!"
     "Cylons?  Oh Frack!!  I knew it.  Boomer, I'm sending a
scrambled transmission back to the Galactica warning her to stay
put and avoid this area.  She should be just outside the Cylons'
long range sensors.  If anything, I'm now kinda glad that there is
so much interference.  At least those Cylons will have a hard time
tracking the Fleet.  We better avoid them ourselves.  Prepare to
land on that planetoid."
     "Maybe they're from Terra," Boomer mumbled aloud.
     "Who?"
     "Whoever's in that unknown ship."
     "Not a chance.  From what I saw on Terra, that ship is nothing
like they could possibly have... careful Boomer, pay attention to
that nav link."
     "I'm trying.  Wait... Ok, link re-established, but I don't
know how long it'll last."
     "Let's just get to that planetoid's surface."
     "Almost there.  Sensors have cleared up a whole lot."  After
a pause he excitedly added, "Apollo, I'm picking up traces of
solium.  It's got to be Starbuck's ship!"
     "Confirmed.  Gods, I hope he's Ok.  Can you read any life
signs?"
     "Negative, there's too much radiation coming from that solium
leak.  I'll try to set us down near the crash site.  Hang on!" 

                              --o--

     "Commander, look!" Data suddenly exclaimed.
     The two squatting officers looked up towards the area of the
sky where Data was pointing and watched as two ships entered the
atmosphere and slowed to land nearby.
     "Careful people.  Set phasers on stun.  Follow my lead," Riker
ordered while standing.
     The Viper and shuttle came to rest about fifty meters from
where the away team was standing.  As the whine of the engines on
the two ships began to die down, the hatch on the Viper began to
pop open.
     "Data?" Riker whispered.
     "Humans sir," Data replied, answering the unasked question. 
"One in the shuttle and another in that other craft.  Commander,
that vehicle is identical to the one that crashed here," he added.
     "Independent traders?  Mercenaries maybe?" Riker suggested.
     "Unknown sir.  Neither ship matches any known configuration in
our databanks, both from within or outside of Federation space. 
The fuel source of both ships consists of some combination of... "
     The hatch to the shuttle suddenly popped open as Apollo
carefully stepped out, laser pistol drawn.  Boomer slowly climbed
down from his Viper and carefully made his way through the glowing
moss, his eyes not yet accustomed to the penetrating darkness.
     "Apollo?  Are you there?  It's too dark.  I can't even see the
switch on my search light," Boomer yelled.
     "I have mine out.  There.  Any sign of Starbuck?"
     "Not sure but I think he's over... "
     "What the... Who are you??" Apollo exclaimed to the three
unexpected figures standing together nearby.
     "I am Commander William Riker, First Officer of the United
Federation of Planets' Starship Enterprise.  We're here on a
peaceful rescue mission.  We came down here to investigate the
crash of a ship that was unknown to us."
     Apollo slowly walked towards the away team, with Boomer at his
back.  He responded hesitantly, "I am Captain Apollo from the
Battlestar Galactica.  This is Lieutenant Boomer.  Are you by any
chance from Terra or Lunar Seven?  Is that why you're wearing those
suits?"
     Riker quickly glanced at his muddy suit.  Believe it or not,
he had almost forgotten that he still had it on.  He then looked at
the faces of his team members on either side of him and saw their
obvious confusion.  He looked back at the questioner and replied,
"Terra?  Do you mean the Terra Colony?  We haven't had much contact
with them in at least a century or so.  Data?"
     "Actually Commander, it has been nearly two centuries," Data
corrected. "The Terran Colony withdrew from the Federation
approximately one hundred eighty four years ago.  They wished to
become independent and refused to incorporate any Federation
technology into their society.  They are located in this general
vicinity, not far from Proxima Centuri.  However, many of the space
lanes leading to their settlements have been abandoned by Star
Fleet or are seldom used.  Thus we rarely come in contact with
their vessels."
     "Federation?" Apollo stated with equal confusion.  "You mean
the 'Eastern Alliance'?"
     "'Eastern Alliance'?  I am unfamiliar with that entity," Data
stated.
     Apollo turned his head to look at his companion and said,
"Boomer... "  He put his laser pistol back into it's holder, placed
his hands on his hips and asked, "Who are you?  You're obviously
Human."
     "Listen Captain, we have an injured pilot here who appears to
belong to your... your Battlestar?  Is that what you called it?  By
the way, what planet are you people from?" Riker asked, starting to
weary of the conversation.  His arm was also beginning to throb
again.
     "We're currently stationed on a ship, a Battlestar called the
Galactica.  Our planet?  Well... Both of us are from the planet
Caprica.  Our people were living on twelve colony planets in a
solar system that is located quite a distance from here.  We were
run out by a race of mechanical beings called Cylons, who
effectively destroyed our worlds.  We're refugees Commander,"
Apollo stated sadly.  "In fact, those very same Cylons are
attacking what I believe is your mothership, right now.  We
observed the battle as we were landing," he added.  "By the way,
where's your shuttle situated?"
     "What?  Shuttle?"  Riker instinctively tapped his communicator
and frantically said, "Riker to Enterprise.  Come in.  Come in
Enterprise."
     "Commander," Data interrupted.  "I am afraid that the
Enterprise is no longer in communication range and LL-5 seems to
have been evacuated.  As I mentioned earlier, they have not
responded to my hails."
     "You mean we're really stranded here??" Crusher said
incredulously.  "This man needs some medical care, Will."
     "Can we see him?" Apollo asked, moving towards the man lying
on the ground.
     "Of course.  He's still unconscious but I'll need to wake him
soon," the doctor replied.  "Oh and by the way, my name is Doctor
Beverly Crusher," she said, extending her hand to shake Apollo's. 
"I'm the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise.  Your friend is
in good hands."
     "Oh, pardon my rudeness gentlemen.  This is Lieutenant
Commander Data, Second Officer on the Enterprise and of course
you've obviously met our ship's Doctor," Riker sheepishly added,
after looking at the stern face of Beverly Crusher, who had
unceremoniously crossed her arms in front of herself.
     "Glad to meet you.  We thought that Starbuck, Lieutenant
Starbuck, that's his name, was lost for good," Apollo responded.
     "Will he be Ok?" Boomer asked as he kneeled next to the
sleeping man.
     "Not if we don't get him off this planet," Crusher replied. 
"There appears to be some sort of radiation leak coming from his
ship and we're all in danger of radiation poisoning unless we get
out of here."
     "Commander, perhaps we can use the shuttle that Captain Apollo
came in to get back to the Enterprise," Data suggested.
     "Looks like that's our only bet," said Riker, looking over at
the Colonial shuttle.
     "What?  And risk being killed by those Cylon fighters?" Apollo
suddenly exclaimed.  "That shuttle has no where near the
maneuverability of a Viper and there's no laser cannons on board
for defense.  And where's your ship?  Was it damaged or something?"
     "Laser cannons?" Riker echoed.
     "Correct sir.  I scanned the smaller vessel and it appears
that their weapons technology would be the equivalent to that of
the late twenty-second century Earth," Data recited.
     "Earth???" Boomer cried out.
     "Earth?" repeated Apollo.  "Are you from Earth?  I mean, does
that planet really exist?"
     "Last I heard it did," remarked Riker with a smile.  "Being
that I was born and raised there.  Come on, if lasers are all your
people and these Cylons, or whatever you call them have, then
there's nothing to worry about.  If that ship can fly, then let's
go."
     "The sooner the better," Beverly said, while placing a hypo
unit on Starbuck's neck and pushing the spray release.
     "If you say so.  Boomer, we need you to cover for us, just in
case," Apollo said to his comrade.
     "By the way, you said that these Cylons were a 'mechanical
race of beings'.  Who built them?" Riker asked sincerely.
     "It's a long story, Commander," responded the Galactica's Blue
Squadron Captain.  "And by the way, you haven't answered my
question about how you got down here," he added.
     "That's an even longer story, Captain," replied the
Enterprise's First Officer.
                              ----
                            Midnight

                                V


     "Really Adama, we have more than accommodated you on matters
regarding military affairs, and you have proven your abilities as
a Fleet Commander."
     'Here we go... ' Adama said to himself.  The praises, the
honors, the appreciations, ad infinitum.  However, the other shoe
always drops.
     The Council President continued, "We applaud the keen acumen
that you have shown when executing various strategic maneuvers of
the Fleet.  However, the time has come when the civilian populace
must step forward and show leadership."
     "But Mister President... "
     "Adama.  Commander...  Please, hear me out.  We freely admit
to you that we on this Council have made many errors in the past,
egregious errors in some cases, but mistakes nevertheless.  As
such, we have exhaustively evaluated our previous misjudgments and
have concluded that we lacked the sufficient information necessary
to come to an intelligent consensus.  We have therefore decided
that we shall, in the future, incorporate any and all military
opinions into our final decision-making process.  Thus, what we
plan is to... "
     "This isn't looking very good, Greenbean," Jolly whispered to
the tall, blond Ensign standing at attention next to him in the
Council Chambers.
     "Shhhhh...!" Tigh suddenly responded giving the two Warriors
a warning look.
     "And," continued the elderly Council President, "we have
decided that for the good of our people, we now order the Fleet to
search for a habitable planet so that we can again put down roots
and live as Human beings again, rather than like animals, as is our
present condition."
     "Mister President.  May I speak?" asked Adama, with controlled
anger in his voice.
     "Please do, Commander.  However I must warn you that the
Council of the Twelve has already made its decision.  Naturally, as
is our custom, your words, a rebuttal as I expect they might be,
will be accordingly entered into the official record as such, for
the purposes of this historic decision.  Please, take as much time
as you wish."
     What deceitfulness.  The Judge and the Jury.  Guilty before
proven innocent.  Adama stood up slowly and walked towards the head
of the conference table.  The eleven pairs of eyes seated around
the table followed him as he halted, pulled up his shoulders,
clasped his hands behind his back and began to speak.
     "Thank you, Mister President and Council Members.  I must
beseech you to consider our missing pilots, one of whom is my
first-born son.  We have detected more unidentified communications
that we must still investigate and we also must take into
consideration that we are in uncharted space and that the chances
of finding such a suitable, habitable planet may be very remote."
     "Nonsense, Adama," remarked one of the Councilors.  "During
our journey here, we apparently stopped at several planets that
could have been suitable for habitation.  Yet you bypassed them in
favor of your search for some world that we heard stories about in
our childhood.  We are all grown adults, Adama, many of us even in
our senior yahren.  We are tired, we cannot continue to survive as
a people who have taken on the traits of nomads."
     "Mister President and Council Members.  You must realize that
should we stop now, before we reach our goal, we would become
virtual sitting water-fowl, doomed to destruction as we would lack
the proper defenses necessary to repel a Cylon attack.  All of us,
residing on a single planet would surely invite... "
     "Adama," Siress Tinya interrupted.  "We have heard enough. 
You have provided us with what you assured was a complete, military
evaluation of our present situation.  We have seen hide nor hair of
a Cylon in many, many sectons.  What we are saying Commander, is
that we have the deepest, most sincere appreciation for your
planning and your sacrifice, however... well to be blunt, we have
made our decision."
     "As a full member of this Council, it appears that I was not
included in your tally," Adama retorted.
     "Um, well Commander, I am afraid that in our informal
sessions, we found our vote to be unanimous, and thus your single
vote would, unfortunately, be of no consequence," replied the
Siress.
     "Then your decision is final."
     "I'm afraid so.  However, do not take this so hard," added the
Council President.  "We are planning for full participation of and
a key role for the Military in our new government.  We are even
planning for formal elections among the various ships in our Fleet,
to help create a representative-type chamber to complement the
Council of the Twelve.  You, as the Representative from Caprica,
would of course serve in your full capacity in the new civilian
government structure.  Commander, what we have been politely trying
to say is, that as of this moment, Martial law has now been
lifted."

                              -----

     "Dammit Tigh, every time we make it through a sectar without
some crisis, the Council seems to revert back to a mentality of
idiocy!" Adama snapped.
     "Seems that way, Commander.  But what really, can we do about
it?"  Tigh managed, with equal irritation.  He began to feel that
old headache threatening to return.
     Adama stood up from his chair and began to pace around his
small office.  "I don't know.  It's so frustrating sometimes.  Time
after time after time.  It's been proven that the Council cannot
run this Fleet."
     "Commander, you have to admit that we, as 'the military',
can't possibly be trusted to run a government," Tigh said with a
smirk.
     "Yes, yes.  Soon we'll form a military dictatorship that's
totally out of control," Adama added sarcastically.
     "Seriously Adama, perhaps what we should do is use whatever
scraps of power they throw to us in this new government.  Convince
the people that we're still not out of the woods yet."
     "That's easier said than done Colonel.  We'll have no role in
this new government.  Mark my words.  Oh yes, when they officially
announce this new arrangement, they will mention us prominently. 
But when it comes down to actually allowing us to make the critical
decisions, we will be powerless."  He sighed heavily and then
continued, "Anyway.  Enough of politics.  What is our status?"
     "Well sir," replied Tigh, who had himself grown tired of the
political talk, "aside from the fact that the interference has
increased, and we... "
     "Commander Adama and Colonel Tigh.  Please report to the
Bridge immediately, sirs," interrupted Bridge Officer Omega.
     "We're on our way."
     On the Bridge, Adama and Tigh re-read the message sent to them
from Apollo and both simultaneously gripped the edges of the
console.
     "Well Tigh, looks like we'll have to re-declare Martial Law,
don't you think?"
     Based on this information, that is our only alternative," Tigh
replied with a wink.
     "Omega, contact the other ship Captains.  Tell them that we
are stopping the Fleet."

                              -----

     "By your command."
     "I trust that you have come to tell me that our fighters have
returned and that the Earth ship has been destroyed," Baltar
droned.
     "Earth ship?" Lucifer responded.  He then said, "I am afraid
to be the bearer of bad news Baltar, but that is not he case."
     "What do you mean 'that is not the case'," Baltar barked while
gripping the edges of the armrests, and leaning forward.  "We sent
nearly one hundred of our best fighters against that puny ship. 
Don't tell me that that ship is still there!"
     "Not only has the ship survived the attack but it destroyed
nearly all of our fighters, captured one of them, and... it is
headed our way.  Fortunately two other Baseships are on their way
to assist us."
     "Headed this way?" Baltar whispered.  He then stood and
screamed, "HEADED THIS WAY?!"  Trying to keep control he ordered,
"Lucifer, reverse engines, full speed.  Move us away!"
     "Away?  Away to where, Baltar?" Lucifer asked sarcastically.
     "ANYWHERE!  I DON'T CARE!  Just get us OUT OF HERE!" Baltar
again screamed.  As an afterthought he said, "And send out a signal
to the Imperious Leader indicating that we have located the
Humans."
     "Which Humans should I say that we have located Baltar?" came
the almost cynical reply.
     "Don't get technical with me.  Just DO IT!" came the retort.
     Sweetly as always, "As you wish.  By your command.  Oh and by
the way, I forgot to mention that one of our fighters has radioed
to us that what appears to be a Colonial Shuttle has left the
planetoid."
     "A Colonial Shuttle?  A COLONIAL SHUTTLE?  LUCIFER!!" he
yelled.  "Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Baltar said
with a now threatening tone in his voice.
     "I thought that your safety was paramount in your... "
     "MY SAFETY?!  Lucifer, when I get my hands on you, I will..."
     Lucifer quickly interrupted, "I have already ordered that the
shuttle be captured and that the occupants be brought to you."
     "YOU ORDERED?!  YOU?"
     "Baltar, really.  You must learn to calm yourself."
     Baltar's face had turned bright red and his eyes were like
fire.  He took a few deep gulps of air before responding, "Very
well."  His eyes then narrowed as he calmly sat down again, and the
devious smile began to return as a wonderful idea began to emerge
in his mind.  "Very well," he repeated.  "Move our Baseship around
in such a way so as to intercept them AND avoid the ship from
Earth.  Contact the Captains of the other two Baseships and have
them dispatch fighters to force the shuttle in our direction.  When
we have brought that shuttle aboard, bring those Humans IMMEDIATELY
to me.  Understood?  I don't want to have to repeat myself,
Lucifer!" he warned.
     "Of course.  By your command," came the innocent reply.

                              -----

     Jean-Luc Picard swiftly strolled down the corridor and entered
one of the Medical Labs.  On a large table in the center of the
room lay a deactivated, silver-colored robot with it's multiple
access panels thrown open, revealing a myriad of wires and
circuits.
     Several Engineers hovered over the Cylon, scanning and probing
it's innards in an attempt to discover it's secrets.
     "So what have you found so far Geordi?" the Captain queried.
     "Well, to tell the truth, I expected some sophisticated
software programming in these things and so far that has not been
the case.  Basically these are 'dumb robots'.  At least based on
our technology, Captain," the Chief Engineer remarked.
     "Hmmm...'dumb robots'?"
     "What I mean by that, is that they are programmed to respond
to certain, very simple voice commands.  Any other sophisticated
dialogue is basically ignored.  They have some crude servo-
mechanisms to allow for movement and operation of controls, but
that's about it.  They have nowhere near the complexity or even the
strength that Data has."
     "And what have you found from their ship?"
     "Well, we're still looking over it.  It's definitely a fighter
of some kind.  Built for battle.  Lightweight.  Very good
manueuverability.  Armed with some sort of pulse-type lasers. 
Thing is though, we're still trying to locate a planet in
Federation space where they could have gotten their fuel. 
According to the computer downloads from their ship, they use some
mineral or mineral complex they call 'Tylium' to extract and refine
a fuel they call 'Solium'.  Chemical analysis of that stuff
indicates that it's pretty nasty.  Really volatile.  I guess you
saw an example of the resultant radiation that you get when it's
exposed to air, like from that small ship on the planetoid.  But...
it can propel them nearly to light speed.  Their containment of the
stuff is pretty interesting though," Geordi explained.
     "Bridge to Captain Picard."
     "Picard here."
     "We are coming within range of the unknown station.  It has
changed course and is moving back towards LL-5."
     "Very good.  I'm on my way," came the reply.

                              -----

     "Hey Apollo, looks like you might have smooth sailing over to
the Enterprise after all," remarked Boomer from his Viper.
     "Looks that way Boomer, but keep your eyes open," came
Apollo's reply.
     In the back of the shuttle, Starbuck painfully sat on one of
the seats while Beverly Crusher worked on his arm.  "Lieutenant
Starbuck," she said. "You must keep still or I won't be able to
heal you properly."
     "You know, you sound just like a lady Med Tech I happen to
know," Starbuck said while winking at Dr. Crusher.  He then added
with his usual charm, "And one who happens to be just as beautiful
as you are."
     "Careful Lieutenant, I have a son who's not much younger then
you," Crusher retorted with a sly smile.
     'Figures,' Starbuck thought to himself but aloud said, "Age
is... "
     "Just a number," Crusher said completing his sentence.  Yes
Lieutenant, I've heard that one many times before as well as every
other cliche in the book."
     "Doctor?" came a different voice, this time Will Riker's. 
"Have you been able to use any of the medical equipment on this
ship?"
     "Well, once I figured out how to convert some of the
functions, these tools were adequate.  At least his internal
bleeding has stopped and his broken arm is mending, if he would
only keep still."
     "Sounds like great news Doc," came Starbuck's response.  "Oh,
and by the way, when will you pronounce me fit enough to get back
in the seat of my Viper?"
     "Starbuck," came a voice from the front of the shuttle, the
pilot's.  "Don't rush it Ok?  That was a pretty nasty crash you
were in and believe me, we're going to need you desperately in the
future, so do as the Doctor orders."
     "What and ruin my reputation?  I made a promise to myself back
there that I'm just dying to break!" replied Starbuck.
     "Apollo!  On your scanner!!" Boomer suddenly shouted over the
comlink.
     "I see them.  More fighters coming in, but I can't see from
where."
     "Apollo.  We got two more Baseships on our tail!"
     "By all the Lords...FRACK!  Hold on folks, we're goin' for a
ride.  Strap yourselves in.  Evasive maneuvers."
     The shuttle suddenly swerved and dove in an effort to avoid
being marked for destruction by a Cylon fighter.
     "Looks like it's time for a little target practice folks,"
remarked Boomer.
     He spun his Viper around smoothly and then executed a perfect
roll, that positioned him behind three fighters.  He managed to
destroy two of them, the third broke formation and moved away.  The
shuttle continued forward towards the retreating Enterprise.
     "I'll try to draw them away from you Captain.  Funny though,
they don't seem to be firing at you."
     "Can you communicate with the Enterprise?" demanded Riker.