Date: Sun, 19 Jun 94 20:04:12 -0500

			   _DECEPTIONS_

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AUTHOR: B.J. Henry

_Synopsis_

During the first Federation Membership Conference for the refugee 
Colonists, held on the planet Pacifica, two Chief Negotiators are 
mysteriously killed while on board the Enterprise. Later, others 
are found dead and a spate of unusual malfunctions plague the ship, 
while the Conference attendees and the crews of both the U.S.S. 
Enterprise and the Battlestar Galactica share similar, horrifying 
nightmares.

Now the Captains and crews of both flagships must work together to
solve the murders, discover the secrets behind an unusual Betazoid
Ambassador, and come face to face with what could be the greatest
threat that the galaxy has ever encountered... an evil presence that
could ultimately lead the Federation and the Colonial Fleet to war.

_Dedication_

Here is the long-awaited sequel to my first story "Dark Dawn".  I 
must say that I was incredibly surprised at the overwhelmingly  
positive feedback that I got from readers regarding that first
story!  So that put the pressure (grin grin) on me to bang out the
sequel AND (hopefully) make it worth the read!  It took me 6 months
to do it!

When I originally wrote "Dark Dawn", I expected that I could stretch
the story out into a trilogy of sorts, as I firmly believe that if such an 
interaction between these two universes WERE to really occur
in fiction-land, it couldn't be wrapped up in a single, simple story.
Thus, in the typical "A-B-A" format, I present the 2nd of 3 stories 
involving the cross-over between the characters of "Battlestar 
Galactica" and "Star Trek: The Next Generation."  

Being the "middle" story, I hope that there is enough transition from
the first story and enough to lead to the "finale" story, tentatively
titled "Prophets of Kobol".  "Deceptions" is somewhat "darker" in 
tone than "Dark Dawn", as is true of many "B"-pattern offerings.
Expect the final "A" story to be a "rip-roaring" conclusion to the
triology!

If you're curious, about why "Star Trek: The Next Generation" and 
"Battlestar Galactica?" I will reiterate what I wrote in my dedication
for "Dark Dawn": 

"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."

And so, since we have now come to the end of the run of "Star Trek:
The Next Generation", I wish to dedicate this story to all the TNG
fans out there around the world. 

In memory of ST:TNG  * 9/87 - 5/94 *
"All Good Things..." Stardate: 47988.1
And in anticipation of "Star Trek:Generations" 11/94. 

Keep on Trekkin'!

B.J. Henry, 6/14/94
A/K/A Dax.
Technobabble Lover.
GDAPN!/BSEB/MORN!


				    DECEPTIONS
				   by B.J. Henry
 
                             PROLOGUE

	 He carefully embraced the instrument of his salvation, intermittently
turning it over in his hands, as he rocked back and forth, back and forth.
	 "Soon, soon.   Patience...  After this... no... more...no... more...
no... more..." he chanted to himself, with eyes closed and beads of
moisture beginning to form on his forehead.
	 He suddenly shook his head, cleared all thoughts from his mind,
meticulously placed the gemonite blade into its velvet case, and slid it
back into its hiding place.  He then pulled the coverlet over his body and
immediately fell into a restless slumber.
	 A figure stepped out of the shadows in the man's cabin aboard the
Battlestar Galactica, with eyes glowing red, and an angry hot breath
escaping through his lips.  It directed it's thoughts to the man who lay
tossing and turning on the bed.
	 "You WILL make them ALL come to me."
	 "Come...? To... you...?  No!... no more... no... more..." the
sleeping man mumbled.
	 "You WILL do it!"
	 "Will... do... it..."
	 The figure then stepped back into the shadow and became one
with it.

				--o--

Captain's Log.  Stardate: 47344.2

"The Enterprise has arrived in the area near Proxima Centuri, where we
first encountered the Battlestar Galactica and the Colonial Fleet.  We are
here to transport a number of their delegates and military Officers to a
scheduled Federation membership conference to be held shortly on the
planet Pacifica.

It is hoped that by the conclusion of this conference, the Federation will
not only vote positively to grant full membership status to the Colonial
refugees, but will begin to secure certain trade and treaty agreements
with their people."

				--o--

Adama's Journal:

"We greatly anticipate the arrival of the Federation starship Enterprise, a
ship commanded by a man for whom we owe a great debt.  His arrival will
signal to us, the beginning of a new era for our people.  An era where we
will see the fulfillment of the prophesy that we should meet and join
together with the lost Thirteenth Tribe, Humans who now reside on the
planet Earth. 

Our people are preparing to vote to choose what they wish to do with
their lives, and I expect that most will elect to travel to Earth, thus
bringing us full circle with our brethren.  The sooner the better, as
many have grown restless at the delay in settling them.  I expect
this issue to be resolved during the membership conference that the
Council and I will attend, to be held on a planet in this area of space,
known as 'Pacifica'.  How prophetic that we begin our process of
healing on a planet whose name is identical to that of the Galactica's
sister ship, one of eleven to perish during our escape from the Cylons.
I await the start of this historic event with a happy heart."

				C H A P T E R
				     I

	 She was a ship of war, proudly bearing the scars of her valor.
She was built like a mighty tank, a Trojan horse with armor that could
withstand the most intense laser bolts that a Cylon Baseship could hurl
at her.  Her parts and personnel worked together like a well-oiled machine,
her surfaces were exposed and unadorned, for practicality and ease of
access.  But she could move swiftly and smoothly through the emptiness
of space, unencumbered by her bulk, like a great whale might move
through the depths of a mighty ocean.  Her twin landing bays beckoned
the weary Warrior to her cozy lair, a welcome site after a battle.  Her
Bridge was sparse and mechanical but functional, providing it's occupants
with a sweeping view of what lay ahead.  Capable of light speed, this
massive vessel, the Battlestar Galactica, was all that survives as the pride
and joy of the Colonial Fleet.
	 Nearby, providing a unique contrast, was another ship, a ship of
peace.  Her graceful curves belying the powerful thrust that her twin
engines could supply.  Equipped with the latest technology, she could
battle with the best, while deceptively disguised as just another, benign
research and exploratory vessel.  Like a swan on a gentle lake, she
could glide at impulse power, barely rippling the fabric of space.  Yet at
the first sign of danger, she could propel herself forward, head first, with
the aerodynamic elegance of a sleek cat in pursuit of prey.  Her Bridge
was a model of efficiency, carefully hidden beneath smooth black panels,
that resembled more a Cubist's aesthetic vision of decor rather than a 
starship's computer access terminals.  As the flagship of the Federation,
the U.S.S. Enterprise was also the pride and joy of Star Fleet, one of only
a few Galaxy class vessels in service.  The two ships sat side by side in
contrast and in complement, as their two Commanders sat separately,
pondering over their duties in their respective offices.  These men could
themselves provide an observer with some insight into their differences
and similarities.
	 The Commander of the Battlestar Galactica was a seasoned fighter,
a man who had seen many battles in his day.  He was a family man and
a religious man.  His cosmopolitan roots, coupled with a touch of formality,
endowed him with a commanding presence that made others stand up
and take notice.  A man who valued diplomacy, but who would not shy
away from suitable military might when needed.  His presence was like
that of a great grizzly bear, with burning eyes that could induce fear and
respect, but that could also transform at a moment's notice, into those
of a child's cuddly teddy bear of old.  
	 The Captain of the Enterprise, wed only to his ship, was a
seasoned explorer and a well respected humanist at heart.  Intensely
private, his provincial upbringing was meticulously guarded behind a rigid
formality and carefully polished sophistication.  He also knew the value of
diplomacy when needed, yet preferred to reason rather than fight.  He
possessed a charm and intensity that could make the strong quiver and
the infatuated, swoon.  And so these two men came together again, to
work out the details of their next assignments.

	 "Captain, I am very glad to see you again.  We're fortunate that your
superiors have permitted you to at least participate, if only for a short time,
in our negotiations," Adama noted.
	 "The feeling is mutual Commander.  We're here to offer our services.
Star Fleet realized that due to the number of delegates that you plan on
sending, my ship was the largest available to accommodate them.  Of
course, we also have the means to get you to the Conference site on
Pacifica in a timely fashion, seeing that your fastest ships are only
capable of light speed, equivalent to our warp one," Picard replied.
	 "Yes, our scientists are still fascinated by this technology that you
call 'warp speed'.  If only we had access to such technology."
	 "Perhaps the Federation will agree to work with you to develop such
a capability, particularly since you were well on your way to discovering it
on your own."
	 "I certainly hope so Captain.  It would surely reduce our almost
infinite universe down to a more manageable size," Adama chuckled.
	 "So, when will your people be ready to be underway?" Picard asked.
	 "Well, very soon I expect.  Presently, we are preparing to hold the
final vote on our people's wishes, specifically, whether we should choose
to formally apply for Federation membership or not."
	 "And how do you feel the vote will go?"
	 "That, I do not know.  Most of our people however, expressed much
excitement when they were shown the pictures of Earth, so I expect that
most will agree to settle there.  Unfortunately, many of our political types
have openly voiced their reservations, and I believe they seem to prefer
the status quo."
	 "I see.  Well, keep me informed on your status and then we can
prepare to be on our way."
	 "I will Captain and again, I thank you for your cooperation and
understanding."
	 "You are most welcome, and to end on a more positive note, I just
wanted to say that I believe that you and your people will enjoy the beauty
of Pacifica.  If anything, it should provide you with a much needed vacation
of sorts."
	 "I'm looking forward to arriving there."
	 "Very good.  Picard out."

				--o--

	 The Officer's Club aboard the Battlestar Galactica was nearly empty
but for a few Warriors.  The small viewscreen built into the wall was
droning incessantly with talk show interviews and audience participation
programs.  Lieutenants Boomer, Jolly and Greenbean sat around a table
near the viewscreen, trading war stories, insults, and exaggerated
explanations of their latest escapades.
	 The interview program that was currently being broadcast by the
Inter-Fleet Broadcasting, or more commonly known as the "IFB", abruptly
ended and segued to a commercial.  Boomer casually looked up at the
screen and watched in fascination.
	 "These are pictures of Earth, the jewel of the United Federation of
Planets.  Here, you can experience an almost infinite variety of individuals,
tastes and styles, with technology designed to free you from the stresses
of everyday life.  A cashless society, where your every desire can be
fulfilled."  The images of Earth suddenly switched to pictures of different
Star Fleet vessels and their crews.
	 The narrator continued, "Protected by Star Fleet and home to the
headquarters," shift to photo of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge,
"of the Federation, the planet Earth can provide you and your family with
security and comfort that will rival that of your former Colony."  Shift to a
textual image of a ballot.
	 "When the time comes, vote YES for your Colony to join the
Federation.  This message was sponsored by the 'Citizens for Federation
Membership'."  Fade to black.
	 "Boy," Boomer exclaimed, "what a sell job.  I'm telling you, they
make Earth look like the only planet in the universe."
	 "Yeah well have you seen the commercial that trashes Earth?" Jolly
remarked with a chuckle.
	 "No, I think I missed that one.  Considering how many of these
things they've run, I'm surprised I haven't seen it," Boomer replied.
	 "Well those ads are NOTHING compared to the one by that group
who wants to go back," Greenbean added.
	 "Huh?  What group?  Go back where?" Jolly exclaimed.
	 "Back to the Colonies," Greenbean responded.
	 "Who the hell wants to go back there?" Jolly continued.
	 "Believe it or not, alot of people," said Greenbean.
	 "And how do they propose to do that?" Boomer interjected.
	 "Oh, I heard that they want to join up with some mercenaries and
ex-Star Fleet types, assemble an armada, and head back through the
void."
	 "That's crazy.  They'd be slaughtered," Boomer replied.
	 "Not only slaughtered, but they'd end up drawing the whole damn
Cylon Empire back here," Jolly added.
	 "Speaking of Cylons, whatever happened to Baltar?  I know he
turned tail and ran as usual, but have they tracked him?" Greenbean
asked.
	 "Seems Baltar ran into a lucky break," Boomer began.  "I heard
that the scanner frequencies on his Baseship somehow triggered the
entrance to a previously unknown passageway or shortcut to the border
of Federation space.  In fact, the Star Fleet folks are busy trying to
reproduce those frequencies to open the passage up again.  They're
mighty worried that this wormhole is being used covertly by their
enemies."
	 "Passageway, huh?  You mean after all these yahrens, with all
the technology that these people have and they're just now finding
shortcuts??" Jolly quipped.
	 "Seems they spent most of their time perfecting faster means of
travel," Boomer said, after taking a swallow of his ale.
	 "Yeah, like somehow, miraculously, going faster than light speed,"
Greenbean added sarcastically.
	 "Actually, Commander Data, the Second Officer aboard the
Enterprise, attempted to explain that to me and he claims that in reality,
their ships are NOT going faster than light.  He said something about
their engines being able to generate a 'warp field' or 'warp bubble' or
something like that.  I don't know.  All I care about is whether we can
get there from here in one piece!" Boomer remarked.
	 "That's DEFINITELY the most important part, especially when you
look at the way YOU fly a Viper, Boom Boom," Lt. Greenbean teased.
	 "Hey hold on guys.  Look," Jolly interrupted, "there's the ad."
	 On the viewscreen was a young, brown-haired man, obviously from
the planet Taurus, standing in front of a row of the Twelve Colonial flags.
He looked straight at the camera while calmly but firmly saying, "Yes, we
welcome you to join us in our effort to take our worlds back, to take our
system back.  We have the courage.  We have the fire power.  We need
YOU.  Do you want to go around for the rest of your lives running from
system to system?  Living like animals packed aboard a freighter?
Dumped on strange worlds where Humans have no control?  Vote NO for
Federation membership.  Vote NO for scattering ourselves on alien
worlds.  Vote YES to maintain the Council of the Twelve and OUR
cultures.  Vote YES to take back your destiny."  The man disappeared
and a voiceover then said, "Paid for by members of 'Return Now!', a non-
profit organization."  Fade to black.
	 Stunned, Boomer said, "Looks like trouble."
	 "Yeah, you're telling me.  Does the Skipper know about this?" Jolly
asked.
	 "I don't know but I think that he, the Colonel, AND the Commander
ought to be told," Boomer replied. 

				-----

	 Casseopia impatiently paced back and forth in front of a row of
lockers in the Galactica's crew quarters, her arms folded close to her
body.
	 "Starbuck, we really need to take the time to talk," Casseopia
began.
	 "About what?" Starbuck replied with confusion.
	 "About US," Casseopia said.
	 Starbuck sighed as he realized that yet another argument was
about to begin.  "Come on Cass.  I mean, haven't we been through this
before?"
	 "Yes we have, but things have changed and I want to know how
that will affect our relationship."
	 "Whaddya mean?  I don't see where..."
	 "Well I do.  Tell me Starbuck, do you plan on going to Earth to
live?  What's going to happen to the Colonial Warriors?  What about the
Galactica?  What about MY job?  What about me?"
	 "Well... I don't know, I've thought about it.  We still haven't heard
the final word on what will happen to the Colonial Warriors.  I think they
did say that we might be able to join Star Fleet, but see, I don't think that
THAT'S my style.  I'm a Warrior and Star Fleet doesn't seem too
interested in Warriors."
	 "That's just it Starbuck and that's why we have to sit down and talk
about this seriously."
	 A little irritated, Starbuck responded, "Right now Cassie, I can't,
and not just because of what's happened.  It's just that... well, I really
haven't decided yet."
	 "Decided what?  Whether you're going to leave your job or me?"
	 "Hey come on, that's not fair."
	 "Isn't it?  Well when you're finished 'deciding', you know where to
find me, otherwise, don't bother."   Casseopia then stormed out of the
crew quarters.
	 "Hey Cass, wait!  Come on."

				-----

	 Boxey sat on the floor with his robot daggit and watched while his
father pulled his civilian clothes out of a drawer and neatly placed them
in a metal suitcase.
	 "Dad, can I come with you to the Enterprise?  Can I?" the young
boy begged.
	 "I don't know Boxey, it may be really boring," was the Colonial
Captain's reply.
	 "But I heard there were loads of kids on the Enterprise.  Ones who
are my age," he insisted.
	 Apollo stopped momentarily, placed his hands on his hips, and
sighed as he began to consider the idea.
	 "Actually, that is true. I don't think they'll mind one more child.
Besides, you really do need to be with children your own age."
	 "Then I can go?"
	 Apollo began to chuckle and shake his head at his son's uncanny
ability to charm.  "Sure, you can go, sport."
	 "And Muffit too?"
	 "Yes, Muffit can go too."
	 "YAY!" Boxey shouted, and he jumped up and ran over to hug his
father.  Muffit began to bark excitedly, and then he finally decided to
hobble over and join in.

				-----

	 Apollo walked into the Officer's Club, grabbed Lieutenant Boomer,
and motioned him off to the side, away from the others in the room.  He
then whispered, "Hey look Boomer, what I'm about to say is coming from
the heart.  Of all the Warriors who'll be staying behind here, you're the
ONLY one who I can trust to take charge, so... I'm officially putting you
in command of Blue Squadron."
	 "Gee thanks Apollo.  I mean, you go flying off to party on some
recreation planet, with beautiful beaches, beautiful oceans, and I assume,
beautiful women, and I'm stuck here to mend the fences and watch the
herds," Boomer teased.
	 "Seriously, Boomer.  I meant what I said."
	 "Yeah, I know, thanks.  I won't let you down Captain."
	 "I know you won't.  Look, take care, okay?" Apollo said, grabbing
Boomer's inner forearm.
	 "Yep and don't do anything I wouldn't do," Boomer replied,
completing the Warrior's handshake by grasping Apollo's inner forearm
in return.
	 "And the same to YOU buddy," the Captain said with a chuckle.
"Don't think I don't hear about what goes on around here when I'm away
on a mission."
	 "Huh?" Boomer said, feigning ignorance and looking up at the
ceiling.  "Don't know WHAT you're talking about..."
	 "See ya." Apollo replied as he turned and headed for the door.
	 Boomer reached out, caught the Captain's arm, and said, "Oh,
and one other thing I forgot to tell you.  Ever hear about that group that
calls themselves 'Return Now!'?"
	 Apollo thought for a moment and then answered, "I'm not sure,
the name sounds familiar..."
	 "Well to make this quick, they plan on going back to the
Colonies."
	 "What?"
	 "That's right.  A bunch of us just saw their commercial on the IFB.
They're recruiting.  Just wanted to let you know," Boomer noted.
	 Apollo sighed and responded, "You know, after all we've been
through to get here, and our people ACTUALLY want to go back?"
	 "Yeah.  I'm just afraid they may try to instigate something here
while the Commander and the Council are gone."
	 "I see what you mean.  Look Boomer, I think you're responsible
enough to handle it.  Do what you can.  The most important thing right
now is for us to get through these negotiations, get a 'yes' vote from the
Federation on our application for membership, and then go from there.
We gotta do this thing one step at a time.  I don't want to start jumping
ahead of the game by trying to predict what MIGHT happen later on
down the road.  Just hold down the fort for me buddy, okay?"
	 "I'll try to do the best I can Apollo.  Take care of yourself and
good luck," Boomer solemnly said.
	 "And good luck to you too, Boom Boom."

				--o--

	 Jean-Luc Picard stood in the Transporter Room, with arms held
closely to his sides, as he watched the twinkling beam begin to take
shape.  When the beam ceased, the man who now appeared, dressed
in a close-fitting navy blue and silver-trimmed uniform, stood shaking
slightly as he took a deep breath to force back the nausea and
dizziness he felt.
	 "Commander Adama, welcome again aboard the Enterprise,"
Picard said jovially.
	 Adama took another deep breath before he spoke.  "Thank you
Captain.  I AM in one piece, am I not?  I feel a slight dizziness."
	 Picard quickly stepped up to the transporter pad and assisted
the man down the steps.  "You should be fine Adama.  The effects of
the transport are only temporary.  Unfortunately, some feel it more than
others.  After a while, we all get used to it.  Actually, I'm glad that you
agreed to at least try it.  You'll find that it is much more efficient than a
shuttle."
	 "Efficient perhaps, but highly disorienting, Captain," Adama
managed.  "However, seeing that I made it here intact, I expect that I
will survive."
	 Picard chuckled and agreed, "Yes Commander, I believe you will.
Please, let me show you to your quarters.  I am certain that you will
find them most luxurious."
	 "Thank you Captain.  Oh, and I will need to have access to one
of your communications terminals so that I can contact my
Commanding Officer, Colonel Tigh."
	 "Of course, there is one in your quarters.  If you wish, we can
establish a secure channel between you and your ship as well."
	 "That would be much appreciated."

				-----

	 "Captain, the U.S.S. Victory has arrived with Admiral Baird and
a number of Federation Ambassadors and delegates.  They're ready to
transport at our earliest convenience," Riker reported, over the intercom
to the Captain's Ready Room.
	 "Very good, Number One.  Signal the Victory that we're ready to
bring the Admiral on board.  I will meet him shortly in Transporter Room 
3.  Also, coordinate the transport of the delegates with the Transporter
Chief.  Oh, and one final thing, inform the Captain of our best wishes on
his next assignment," Picard added.
	 "Aye sir."

				-----

	 The transporter beam activated and the resulting blue-white light
slowly coalesced into a moderately tall, somewhat paunchy, gray-haired
man dressed in an Admiral's uniform.
	 "Jonathan, good to see you again!  My God, how long has it
been?" Jean-Luc Picard beamed, as he firmly grasped Admiral Baird's
outstretched hand and motioned him towards the exit to the corridor.
The two men began to walk and talk excitedly.
	 "Jean-Luc, it's been way too long, you old devil, and what the hell
are you still doing here anyway?  Didn't they offer you a position as
Commandant of Star Fleet Academy?"
	 "How did you...?"
	 "Come on Jean-Luc.  You know nothing's a secret at HQ.  We all
want to know when you plan on passing the torch to the kids and stop all
this running around from system to system.  It's high time for you to get
on with the REAL happenings in Star Fleet."
	 "My, my, my, you haven't changed one bit, have you?" Picard
chuckled.  "You don't have to worry about me my friend, I'm very happy
where I am, thank you."
	 "You can't be serious."
	 "As serious as I can get.  So... moving on to a more pleasant
topic... how's Arlene and the kids?" Picard asked, quickly changing the
subject.
	 "Arlene's just fine.  In fact, she's just been promoted to 'Director
of Fleet Information Services'.  Would you believe it?  And this for a
woman who almost managed to flunk every composition course she
took at the Academy!" Baird remarked with a laugh.  "Oh and by the
way I'm a grandfather again, to a little boy, Jonathan J. Baird the third!"
he proudly added.
	 "Congratulations.  I'm really happy for you Jonathan."
	 "Well I'm not happy for you, Jean-Luc.  You still haven't told me
why you passed up that promotion."
	 "Jonathan, not again..."
	 "No really.  At least give me something that I can pass along to
you know who, so he can get off my back."
	 "Picard let out a long sigh and shook his head in resignation.
"Boothby...he's at it again," he mumbled under his breath.  "Really
Jonathan... it's just that, well... as I said before, I'm very happy where
I am right now and I'm really not a 'political type', if you know what I
mean."
	 "I see... just as I figured.  Well, I just hope you know what you're
doing, old friend.  I feel blessed for what I have... my career, my family."
	 "Believe me when I tell you that there is NO doubt in MY mind.
Besides, you've lived a charmed life ever since the day I met you.
Record-breaking promotions, youngest Admiral..."
	 "Well, they offered ME the position of Commandant of the
Academy, Jean-Luc.  It's official.  No more 'Acting'.  I can start when
I'm through here."
	 "And you plan on taking it?"
	 "Damned RIGHT I'm taking it!  I made a bargain with an old
acquaintance of mine a long, long time ago, back when we were at the
Academy.  I promised to enjoy my life to the fullest and I don't plan on
stopping now."
	 The two men finally arrived at the door to the guest quarters.
	 "Ah... here we are," Picard observed, as he punched a few
buttons on a panel next to the door.  "I hope you find that your quarters
are adequate."
	 "More than adequate Jean-Luc," came the response, as the
Admiral stepped inside the cabin and spun around to admire the
spaciousness of the room.  "You know, I actually envy your having
command of a Galaxy Class ship.  Sure beats those old tubs we
used to tool around in back in the old days, doesn't it?"
	 "You'll get no argument from me, although I do sometimes miss
those tubs now and then.  These larger vessels are well appointed,
true, but sometimes I find them a bit impersonal."
	 "You can reminisce all you want Picard, but give me a big, fast
ship and a star to guide me and I'll be in seventh heaven."
	 Picard shook his head and laughed.  "Still the same old  J. J.
Listen, if there's anything, and I mean ANYTHING you need, just call.
Good enough?"
	 "Aye, aye Captain."
	 "I'll see you later this evening at the banquet.  You will be able
to attend?"
	 "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Jean-Luc."

				-----

	 Jean-Luc Picard sat in his Ready Room reviewing the crew's leave
schedule when Lieutenant Worf's voice boomed over the intercom.
	 "Captain, the Galactica's Alpha Shuttle, with the Colonial Council
of the Twelve, is requesting permission to dock."
	 "Very good Mister Worf.  Bring them in the Main Shuttle Bay.
Number One, Mister Worf, Counselor Troi, would you accompany me
to the Shuttlebay?  Mister Data, you have the Con," Picard ordered.

				-----

	 Picard, Riker, Troi, and Commander Adama stood calmly on
the side of the bay as the Galactica shuttle glided in, reversed its
thrusters, and came to a halt near the center.  The hatch popped open
as the engine whine began to die down.  Lieutenants Sheba and
Starbuck stepped through the doorway and began to walk towards the
Enterprise's crew.  Then Casseopia, Boxey, and Captain Apollo came
out and joined the others at the side of the bay.
	 Captain Picard extended his hand to each and remarked,
"Welcome again aboard the Enterprise.  We are glad to have you here
once more.  I believe that your group is the last to come on board.  We
should be ready to be underway shortly."
	 "Captain... Father," Apollo acknowledged, nodding to each.
	 "Grandfather!" Boxey exclaimed, as he ran over to Adama, with
arms held high, indicating that he wanted to be picked up.
	 "Boxey!" Adama replied with a big smile, as he swept the boy up
in his arms.  "How was your trip here?"
	 "Neat!  But how did you get here before us?"
	 "Well Boxey," Adama began, "it's a long story.  Maybe I'll tell you
later on tonight," he replied as he put Boxey down.
	 "Come on Boxey," Apollo said, "we gotta put your things away."
	 Deanna walked over to the young boy and said, "He's adorable.
How old is he?"
	 "I'm almost seven yahrens old!" Boxey answered.
	 "Wow!  You're almost grown," Deanna teased.
	 Boxey began to blush and then he spotted Picard looking at him
with amusement.  He walked over and stood in front of the Enterprise's
Captain, rigid as if at attention.  He then asked, "Are you the
Commander of this ship?"
	 Riker tried to stifle a snicker as Picard briefly looked his way and
then turned back to Boxey.  "Yes, I am young man."
	 Muffit hobbled over, sat by Boxey's side, and began to bark.
	 "A robot dog?" Deanna inquired, with fascination.
	 "He's a daggit!" Boxey quickly corrected.  "His name is Muffit!"
	 "Well Boxey, I'll have my Second Officer show you and your father
the play area, where there are other children," Picard offered.
	 "Yes sir!" Boxey replied, with a salute of his hand.
	 Picard chuckled, tapped his Comm badge, and said, "Picard to
Data."
	 "Data here."
	 "Commander, could you report to the Main Shuttle Bay please."
	 "Aye sir," was the reply.
	 The members of the Council and their assistants continued to file
out of the shuttle.  Commander Riker walked towards them.
	 "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard the Enterprise.  My
name is Commander William Riker, the First Officer, and this is
Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troi, our ship's Counselor.  Please, you
may come this way."
	 As the Councillors moved towards Riker and Troi, the Galactica's
Officers gathered around Adama, and Worf stepped over to them saying,
"I will escort you to YOUR quarters.  Please follow me."
	 At that point, Data entered the bay, spoke briefly to Captain
Picard, and then walked over to Apollo and Boxey.
	 "Captain, I am pleased to see you again," Data remarked.
	 "Commander," Apollo replied.  "This is my son Boxey," he added.
	 "The Captain would like me to escort you to your quarters and then
to the play area."
	 "Sounds good to me.  Hey Starbuck," he then said, looking over at
his Junior Officer, "catch you later."
	 Starbuck responded, "Right, later."
	 The various groups then exited the Shuttle Bay.

				-----

	 As the Enterprise swiftly raced towards Pacifica, the guests
meandered through the ship, either to the Lounges, their quarters, or
the various Holodecks.  A tall, dark-haired and black-eyed man walked
into Ten Forward, spotted Sheba, and immediately walked towards her
table.
	 "Excuse me, anyone sitting here?" Ambassador Marks asked the
young woman seated alone at a table near the panoramic center window.
	 "Uh, well no," Lieutenant Sheba hesitantly replied.
	 "Good.  May I join you?"
	 Sheba looked around the Lounge at a number of empty tables and
then responded with resignation, "Uh, no, I don't mind.  Please, sit
down."
	 "How rude I am.  I haven't properly introduced myself..."
	 "Aren't you one of the Ambassadors?  I think I recall you speaking
with members of our Council."
	 "Marks.  My name is Darrion Marks.  And you are..."
	 "Sheba.  Lieutenant Sheba."
	 "Sheba.  What a beautiful name.  What is it that you do, Sheba?"
	 "I'm a member of the Colonial Fleet, a Warrior, a fighter pilot.  I'm
in command of Silver Spar Squadron," she proudly stated.
	 "Fighter pilot?" Marks said with surprise.  "You don't strike me as
the type."
	 "Really," Sheba began, somewhat insulted by his implication,
"and what DO I 'strike' you as?"
	 "Why, there is a planet in the Federation.  It is called Haven.  A
beautiful planet, full of peace-loving people.  And on this planet, there is
a group of women who are known as 'The Healers'.  Very, very beautiful
women who, legend has it, can cure a man's soul just by having him
gaze upon them."
	 "Oh now come on, you can't be serious.  If it wasn't for your
pleasantness, I'd come right out and say that you're handing me a
line..."
	 Chuckling, the Betazoid said, "Hmmm, you don't believe me, do
you?"
	 "Not for a centon."
	 "Centon, eh?  Well to be truthful, there IS a planet called Haven
and there is a sect of women on this planet from the planet Minara.
These women ARE believed to be healers.  Few have had the
opportunity to meet with them since their society is secret.  However,
I was fortunate to have been invited to their dwelling place."
	 Suspiciously, Sheba responded, "I see, and how did you
manage that?  How was it that YOU were invited and no one else?"
	 Smiling, Marks replied, "The women are empaths, TRUE
empaths.  As a telepath and empath myself, I was welcomed there, as
are most Betazoids."
	 "Uh huh, and what is it that they do?"
	 "Well, as full empaths, they have the ability to absorb the
emotions of others.  In fact, they can actually transfer those emotions
from any individual to themselves.  Once transferred, they apparently
have the ability to dissipate those emotions, particularly the bad ones,
so as not to cause harm to themselves."
	 "I see.  I guess I learn something new every centauri," Sheba
remarked.
	 "Have you been to the Holodecks?" Darrion Marks asked, quickly
changing the subject.
	 "NO!!  I keep hearing everyone talk about them but I've never been
in one."
	 "Would you like to see one?"
	 Hesitating, Sheba replied, "Well actually..."
	 "Oh come on, I won't bite you.  I'd like to show you my planet."
	 "Your planet?  You mean Betazed?"
	 "Yes.  There are beautiful gardens there with exotic flowers,
whose sweetness can almost make you dizzy, and plants that will sing
you to sleep at night."
	 "How poetic," Sheba said, with skepticism.  "But how can 
you..."
	 "Oh, a long time ago, I developed a program for the Holodeck to
bring with me since I'm away from home all the time.  Over the years,
I've refined the program.  I don't often get the chance to come on board
the larger ships that are equipped with Holodecks like the Enterprise,
so I try to make use of the program whenever I can."
	 "Well..."
	 "All jokes aside, I think you'll like it.  Do you like flower
gardens?"
	 "Sure.  Except for the little time I could find to spend on the Agro
ships, it's been so long since I had the chance to walk through a real
garden."
	 "Well then what're we waiting for??"
	 Sheba, now relaxed and giggling finally relented and said, "Yeah,
what ARE we waiting for?"

				-----

	 "Okay delegates, that's it.  That's the end of the tour for the day.
Anyone have any questions?" Riker asked.
	 The Councillor from Picon immediately spoke.  "Commander, we
are very grateful that you took the time from your most important duties
to accommodate us.  I think that all of us would agree that your
Federation's technology is truly wondrous."
	 Politely, Riker responded, "Thank you Councillor.  We consider
it our duty to make your stay with us as comfortable as possible and
we want to allow you to see and experience some of the benefits of
membership, should you choose to formally apply for it."
	 The Aquarian Council President then noted, "Commander, many
of our people have expressed grave concerns for their safety.  Granted,
we acknowledge your victory against the Cylons, however, we need
your assurances that our military will be fully equipped with your
technology to be able to handle any future attacks."
	 Somewhat perplexed by the magnitude of the question, the First
Officer replied, "Those military issues that you raise will be fully
addressed at the Federation talks.  I believe that Admiral Baird will be
handling that aspect."
	 "I see.  Then I shall await that session or endeavor to speak with
the Admiral myself, just prior.  Thank you Commander."
	 "If there isn't anything else, I will take my leave of you.  A
member of our Security staff can escort you to your quarters or to any
of our lounges.  Thank you." Riker then nodded his head, turned, and
walked away with a sigh.  He mumbled to himself, "The ever-smiling
host.  Such is the burden of the First Officer."
	 "Commander?"
	 Riker turned and looked at the Betazoid Ambassador.
"Ambassador?  What can I do for you?"
	 "Well, actually... this has nothing to do with the negotiations or
your tour for that matter but..."  The man paused briefly, smiled and then
said, "I hear you play a mean game of poker."
	 Taken back by the comment, a surprised Riker said, "Oh yeah?
Where'd you hear that?"
	 "Oh, I have my sources," the Betazoid remarked with a sly smile
and a wink.
	 "And those 'sources' don't happen to be Betazoid, do they?"
	 Marks began to laugh.  "No need.  I've heard your name
mentioned all the way from Risa to DS9."
	 "I see... so, you play?" Riker asked, intrigued by the prospect of
playing cards with a full telepath.
	 "Occasionally."
	 "You any good?" Riker challenged.
	 "I'd say I was fair, IF you consider that I beat Arjus on Toban III."
	 "Oh come on.  YOU actually...?  I don't believe it," Riker
countered.
	 "Actually Commander, I was losing for the first few hands, then I
managed to run into a lucky streak."
	 "I expect you would, being that you can read minds," Riker said
with skepticism.
	 "Ah but you forget, I can't read a Ferengi's mind and that's exactly
what Arjus is, right down to the Felosian earring he sports in his ear."
	 "Still..."
	 "Listen Commander, if I went through life making it my business to
know everything that everyone I'm exposed to was thinking, my life would
be chaotic, if not rather boring," Darrion Marks noted.
	 "Boring?  I'd think that you'd have an advantage..."
	 "Yes but then what would be the challenge?  I would only develop
a dependency that I really don't want to have.  Besides, if Betazoids keep
their minds open twenty-four hours a day, I'm sure you can imagine how
that could eventually drive us mad."
	 Riker thought for a minute and then said, "True.  Deanna tells me
that often enough.  Listen, if you're interested, you can join us tomorrow
night.  In my quarters.  Deck 8."
	 "I'll be there, and you won't regret it," the Ambassador promised.
	 "Anyone who can beat that no-good, lying, cheating Ferengi Arjus,
is welcome at MY poker table anytime."

				----- 

	 Deanna Troi walked briskly down the corridor, rounded a corner
and nearly collided with a flustered Lwaxana Troi.
	 "Mother!  What are you doing here?" Deanna exclaimed.
	 "Now Little One, is that any way to greet your mother?"
	 "But..."
	 "You should be overjoyed to see me and impressed with the fact
that I will be going to Pacifica to assist in the negotiations between the
Federation and the Colonists."
	 "But I thought..." Deanna tried to interject.
	 "Now, now Little... I mean Deanna.  I'll be honest.  I am only one
of several Betazoid delegates who were selected to help carry out these
negotiations.  Of course, I also have an indepth knowledge of the
Conference sites on Pacifica."
	 Lwaxana resumed her stroll towards her cabin as she continued
her explanation.  "The Federation has decided to hold simultaneous,
multilateral talks regarding trade issues, food production, defense
matters and the like, and so naturally, I was selected to assist in
handling the settlements.  I am personally in charge of seeing to it that
the Colonists make a smooth transition into the Federation.  Isn't that
wonderful?  Enough of the subject!!  So tell me, what has happened since
I talked to you last?  No... never mind that either!  Why don't you tell me
about that very handsome, very distinguished, AND very available
Commander Adama I keep hearing mention of..."
	 "Mother..." the Counselor repeated with a sigh as she followed her
into the guest quarters.  "Why is it that every time you come on board,
you go running after some man?"
	 "Deanna, I resent it when you characterize my greeting and
conversing with certain individuals as 'running after' someone."
	 "Well you don't seem to realize how it looks to other people."
	 "And since when have I cared what 'other people' think?" Lwaxana
retorted.  "Besides, you forget that I already KNOW what others think
anyway."
	 "But Mother, you keep insisting on making a big production out
of everything," Deanna noted.
	 "As I should... as YOU should, Little One.  As daughter of the
Fifth.."
	 "Yes, yes.  How many times do you have to keep repeating
that?"
	 "YOU may want to assimilate with these people, Deanna, but I
never have and never will.  I will NOT compromise MY culture and
privileged background."
	 "You seem to forget that you married one of them AND produced
children."
	 "Yes, and I will NEVER regret that in the least.  Your father was
such a wonderful man.  So very understanding.  So..."
	 "Willing to put up with your behavior," Deanna added, completing
the sentence.
	 "Little One!   What has happened to the respect that I taught you
to have for your family?  I've had enough.  You may leave now."
	 "But Mother..."
	 "NOW!   Just leave me alone."

				-----

	 Later that afternoon Deanna returned, perched herself on a table
in her mother's bedroom, and innocently asked, "Mother, tell me about
Ambassador Darrion Marks."
	 "Mr. Homm, please bring that chest with my jewelry.  I must look
my best for the Commander of the Colonial Fleet tonight."  Lwaxana
Troi was agitated once again and she flitted about the room, stopping
often to admire herself in the large mirror that hung on the wall.
	 "Mother, are you listening to me?"
	 "What was that dear...?"
	 "Darrion Marks..." Deanna repeated. "Your colleague."
	 "No, no, NO!  Not that chest, the other one!" Lwaxana chided her
servant.
	 Exasperated, Deanna snapped, "Mother!!"
	 "Deanna, you don't have to raise your voice.  I heard you the first
time.  I don't know what has happened to you lately.  You've really lost all
of your social graces since you came on board this ship."
	 Deanna began to turn bright red and she balled her fists to
suppress her impatience.
	 Finally Lwaxana responded, "Darrion Marks... Darr-i-on... Oh yes!
THAT Darrion Marks.  He's a member of the Third House, dear.  Never
really dealt with them very much.  From what I understand, he's spent
the last month on the Galactica, interacting with the Colonists."
	 "Ah ha... I see..." came the response from the now enlightened
Deanna.
	 "Not that THAT'S particularly important," Lwaxana replied
defensively.  "Granted, the Third House precedes us but what you must
always look at is what each House has accomplished over the
generations.  For example..."
	 "Never mind Mother..." Deanna broke in.
	 "Besides," Lwaxana continued.  "He volunteered to work with
those... those DREADFUL Cardassians.  Crude people, if you ask me."
	 "Cardassians?" Troi said with alarm.
	 "The Truce little one, the Truce.  Mr. Homm, where is the suitcase
with my shoes?!"

				--o--

	 Boxey wandered around the playroom, a little overwhelmed by all
the toys and games and children who milled about.  He spotted a
strange-looking boy, somewhat older than he but not much taller.  He
walked over to him and tentatively asked, "What's your name?"
	 "Alexander," the young Klingon replied.  "What's yours?"
	 "Boxey.  My name's Boxey.  You're not a Human, are you?"
	 "I'm a Klingon," Alexander proudly stated.  "But I'm part Human
too."
	 "What are Klingons?" Boxey asked.
	 "Klingons are warriors," Alexander replied.
	 "MY dad's a Warrior.  I'm gonna be a Warrior too, when I grow
up."
	 "I bet he's not as strong as my dad.  MY dad's Chief of Security."
	 "Well my dad's Captain of the whole Blue Squadron!"
	 "What's that?"
	 "They're all Warriors, like Starbuck and Boomer and Jolly."
	 "What do they do?" Alexander asked with intense curiosity.
	 "They fight the Cylons in their Vipers!" Boxey said excitedly.
	 "What's a Cylon?  What're Vipers?"
	 "The Cylons are the bad guys.  They hate Humans.  They killed
my Mom.  A Viper's a ship.  It can fly real fast!" Boxey explained.
	 "Oh..." Alexander replied, trying to envision what the fighter ship
must look like.  Then he had a great idea.  "You wanna see something
neat?"
	 "Yeah!" Boxey replied.
	 The two quickly ran out of the playroom, Alexander leading the
way, and headed down the corridor.  A few minutes later, they stopped in
front of a Holodeck door.
	 "Computer?" the Klingon boy ordered. "Run program 'Alexander,
Warrior One', difficulty level one."
	 "Program complete.  Enter when ready," the computerized voice
acknowledged.
	 "Wanna be a warrior right now?" Alexander asked.
	 "How?" Boxey answered with curiosity.
	 "Come on, I'll show you."
	 As the two approached the Holodeck entrance, the doors
immediately parted to reveal a dark and dismal scene.  The remains of a
small village, stark and abandoned, lay in front of their eyes.  Debris was
strewn everywhere.
	 "What happened here?" Boxey asked with a slightly hesitant voice,
as he looked around at the desolation.  "Where are we?  Where are all
the people?"
	 "There are no people," Alexander replied, eyes widening with
excitement and anticipation.  "But there are monsters here who'll try to
kill you so keep your eyes open."
	 "I don't wanna stay here.  I'm scared," was the now frightened
reply.
	 "I thought you were a warrior?"
	 "But I'm still little.  When I grow up, I'll be the best Warrior in
the universe.  You'll see," Boxey said defensively.  "You just wait..."
	 All of a sudden, a large figure leapt out in front of the two boys
and held a long, metal pole in front of them.  When the thing lifted it's
head, the skeletal face glowed in the dim light.
	 "Boxey screamed and turned to run towards the Holodeck exit.
He stopped short and stared in confusion at an old, wooden
wheelbarrow and a tree where the doors had previously been.  Quickly,
he reeled around again to look for his new friend and watched in horror
as Alexander had retrieved a large sword of some kind and had begun to
battle the creature.  Boxey scooted around to the rear of the
wheelbarrow and crouched down low.
	 "Hey Boxey," Alexander yelled, "I need your help!"
	 "No!  I'm scared!  I wanna go home."
	 Suddenly, a low-pitched voice boomed from behind.
	 "ALEXANDER!  What are you doing here?!  Computer!  Freeze
program!" Worf bellowed.
	 Boxey, terrified as it was, watched with disbelief as the horrifying
creature froze in place, metal pole held at an awkward angle, just as it
was about to come crashing down on Alexander's head.
	 "You did NOT request my permission to leave the play area.
Captain Apollo is looking for his son.  Where is he?  The other children
said that he was with you," Worf demanded.
	 Sheepishly, Alexander replied, "He's over there, behind that old
wheelbarrow."
	 "Worf walked over to the wheelbarrow and slowly knelt down near it.
He spotted the small boy shivering on the ground behind it.  With a calm
voice and reassuring words, he stated, "It is alright Boxey.  None of this
is real.  Nothing here will hurt you."
	 Softly whimpering, Boxey replied, "Promise?"
	 "Promise," Worf answered with a sympathetic smile threatening
to curl on his lips.
	 Slowly, tentatively, the small boy emerged from behind one large,
wooden wheel and stepped into the open.
	 "You see?" Worf confirmed.  "It IS alright.  Watch me carefully."
He stood up straight and ordered, "Computer.  End program."
	 All of a sudden, the village, the creature and everything else in
the area disappeared.  Left in their place were Alexander, Worf, Boxey
and an empty black room.  On the walls, parallel yellow lines traversed
and intersected each other, from floor to ceiling.
	 "WOW!" Boxey responded with amazement, his fear now gone.
"Neat!  What is this place?"
	 "It is called a Holodeck but it is time for us to go now.  Alexander,
I want you to return to our quarters.  I will deal with you later."
	 "Yes sir," Alexander mumbled.
	 "Come on Boxey, your father is looking for you," the Security
Chief stated, as he grabbed the Human boy's hand and left the Holodeck.

				-----

	 When Worf and Boxey entered the play area, Apollo, who was
talking to one of the teachers, spotted them, nodded a thank you to
the teacher, and walked over to the Klingon.
	 "Oh good, you found him.  Thanks, I really appreciate it," Apollo
said with relief.
	 "Boxey was with my son on one of the Holodecks.  I will
PERSONALLY see to it that Alexander apologizes publicly to you,"
Worf replied flatly.
	 "That's okay.  There's no need.  No harm done," Apollo
answered sincerely, while playfully tossling his son's hair.
	 "I feel that there IS a need," Worf insisted.  "They were
participating in a program that is TOO intense for a young Human child.
I assure you that this will NOT happen again."
	 A little concerned, Apollo asked, "Boxey, what happened?"
	 "I'm okay Dad.  They said that the whole thing was fake.  It was
a warrior program!  Alexander was fighting with some skeleton monster
and..."
	 "Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Slow down... slow down.  What do you
mean 'fighting'...?"
	 "Captain," Worf interrupted, "this technology may be a bit difficult
to explain but..."
	 "Try me."
	 "Very well.  The Holodeck is a device that is capable of taking
energy from the ship's stores and converting it into matter, in a process
similar to that used for our transporters and replicators.  It can be
programmed to reproduce almost any object or event."
	 "I don't quite follow you..."
	 "Generally, most crew members use the Holodeck for leisure, for
example, to re-create a beach or a mountain or a park.  Others, like
myself, program it for calisthenics or other exercises.  It is capable of
creating an opponent for competition."
	 "Wait a centon.  You mean you people can create a person??  A
real live person?" Apollo asked with confusion.
	 "Yeah Dad!" Boxey interjected.  "You should see..."
	 "Hold on Boxey..." Apollo interrupted.  "Let me get this straight,"
he continued.  "This thing... this 'Holodeck', can actually..."
	 "Captain Apollo," Worf finally responded, "Holodeck 'matter', can
ONLY exist inside the Holodeck chamber, and no... the 'person' is NOT
alive."
	 "This is really beginning to become a little overwhelming to me
Lieutenant.  First you tell me that you people can disassemble
someone, 'beam' them over to another location, and then re-assemble
them, and my father, of all people volunteered to try it!  Now you talk
about re-creating people and mountains and parks out of thin air.  I
mean, this can't be for real."
	 "Believe it Captain.  If you want, I can show you what I'm talking
about."
	 "I would very much like to see what you're talking about, but right
now, I don't have the time.  I have to get to that banquet and I'm running
late as it is.  Maybe later."
	 "As you wish," Worf replied.  He nodded and then left the room.
	 "Listen Boxey... just stay around here or in our quarters, okay?
I don't want you wandering around the ship," Apollo cautioned.  He
squatted down to reach Boxey's eye level, pointed his index finger in a
scolding but light-hearted manner and said, "Get it?"
	 "Got it!" was the expected reply.
	 "Good!" came the finale.  "Okay sport, let's go," Apollo said, after
a playful poke to Boxey's mid-section.  He stood up straight again and
held out his hand.
	 "Aye, aye sir!" Boxey proudly proclaimed, with a quick hand salute.
He reached for his father's pro-offered hand and the two left the playroom.

				-----

	 Apollo and Boxey returned to their quarters on the Enterprise.
Apollo, knowing that he would be late arriving at the banquet in Ten
Forward, moved quickly to ready Boxey for bed.
	 "Dad, is it true about what they said?  That we're not really going
to Earth?" Boxey innocently inquired.
	 "Boxey, who's been talking to you?" Apollo asked, as he pulled
Boxey's tunic over his head and pulled on his pajama top.
	 "Well, my friend Pip and my friend Teela and..."
	 "Listen to me Boxey, whatever happens, WE will be going to
Earth."
	 "But what about Starbuck?"
	 "What about him?  I'm sure he's..."
	 "THAT'S not what I heard.  I heard that he and Casseopia got mad
at each other and had a big fight.  I heard that..."
	 "That's enough, Boxey!" Apollo snapped.  Then, apologetically he
said, "Look, I'm sorry I got mad at you but... alot has happened
recently, you know, all the excitement about finding the Earth people,
and sometimes the excitement can make people say and do things that
they really don't mean."
	 "Like when I stayed up real late and I was tired and I got mad at
Boomer?" Boxey suggested, as he slid his pants off and stepped into
his pajama bottoms.
	 "That's exactly right, Boxey."
	 Shifting to his mischievous side, Boxey then remarked, "I STILL
think that  Starbuck wants to stay on the Galactica."
	 "Boxey... let's drop it.  No more talking about Starbuck, okay?
Time for bed."
	 "Okay," Boxey relented.
	 "Okay.  Up you go," Apollo said, while gently lifting his son up
on the bed.
	 "Dad?"
	 "Huh?"
	 "Promise me that we're going to Earth?"
	 "I promise, now go to sleep."
	 "Aye, aye Captain!"

				-----

	 Seated at a desk in his guest quarters aboard the Enterprise,
Commander Adama was conversing with the man on his small
viewscreen.  "Let me get this straight Tigh, the referendum question on
the ballot has changed?" he asked with dismay.
	 "I'm afraid so sir.  There was so much outcry among the people,
that whole ships threatened to boycott the vote entirely unless the
question was changed," the frustrated Colonel Tigh replied.
	 "Hmmm, so what is the question now, may I ask?" Adama
inquired with a hint of sarcasm.
	 "Well... unless they made a change since I last checked, the
'question' has become 'questions'."
	 "And?"
	 "Well, one question asks whether we should join the Federation
as a whole group OR have the right to choose by planet affiliation," was
the reply.
	 "Just as I feared.  And what else?" the Colonial Commander asked.
	 "The other questions appear to break down along planetary lines,
for example, 'should OUR colony reside on Earth or should WE seek
out another world, either habited or uninhabited', and so on," Tigh
explained.
	 "So how is the vote running now?"
	 "The Inter-Fleet Broadcasting is reporting that it's running about
two to one for allowing each Colony to decide it's own fate.  The results
of the local questions haven't been reported yet."
	 "I see..."  Adama paused to contemplate and then he said
forlornly, "Then it looks like the breakup of the Colonies."
	 "It looks that way Commander, however, I've heard some talk
about trying to maintain the Planetary Council of the Twelve, at least
de-facto."
	 "How will that be possible, if we scatter ourselves among the
stars?  The Council was maintained over thousands of yahrens due to
the fact that we all resided in a single system.  Now..."
	 "I know Adama..." the Colonel responded.  "I guess they were
considering keeping the Council in place for 'ceremonial' functions."
	 "And I know a few members who will NOT be too pleased by THAT
arrangement in the least," Adama added.
	 "Both sides have been lobbying very hard for their views and it
looks like the nationalistic interests have won out."
	 "So basically what you are saying is that some of us may join the
Federation while others do not.  Some of us will choose to reside on
Earth while others will not."
	 "From the reports I've heard, that appears to be the sentiment.  In
fact, another scenario that has drawn alot of support, believe it or not,
was put forth by a group who wants to return to our home worlds.  This
group has even gone as far as drawing up plans for rebuilding efforts,"
Tigh remarked.
	 "What??  What about the Cylons?" Adama exclaimed.
	 "Well sir, it appears that these people are under the impression
that Star Fleet can protect them from the Cylons."
	 "Star Fleet?  How?  Our Colonies are not within their space.  They
will NEVER agree to an arrangement like that.  We were fortunate that
they pulled some strings and bent some rules to even intercede on our
behalf when we were under attack!"
	 "I realize that Adama, but some are even talking about somehow
'obtaining' the Federation's technology, refitting their ships, and
returning to destroy the Cylons once and for all."
	 Adama began to rub his closed eyelids as he said, "My God, are
they mad?  I fear that I have truly underestimated our people.  What I'd
hoped would be our salvation may indeed turn out to be our undoing."
He sighed heavily and then said with resignation, "Very well Tigh,
keep me informed.  I will relay what you have told me to the appropriate
Federation officials.  Apparently, they are going to have to make some
sort of special arrangements to accommodate the different Colonies."
	 "Aye sir, and one other thing that I think MAY help.  It seems
that some of the Colonies who agree on the same issues have
expressed a willingness to work together as a unit.  If anything, at
least that will cut down on the number of similar topics that must be
simultaneously negotiated."
	 "That's good news.  At least SOME of our people have agreed to
work together.  We may have some hope yet."
	 "I'll let you know when the final results are in."
	 "Thank you Colonel.  Shortly, I will be attending the final gala
aboard the Enterprise prior to our arrival at Pacifica, if you need to get
to me in an emergency.  Adama out."

				C H A P T E R
				     II

	 Ten Forward was once again filled with many dignitaries who
wandered about, conversed enthusiastically, and helped themselves
to a dizzying assortment of food and drink.  Jean-Luc Picard and
Commander Adama stood facing each other, deeply engaged in shop
talk, when a tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed woman approached.
	 "Excuse me Jean-Luc..." the woman said, interrupting their
conversation.  She then turned her attention to the silver-haired man.
"Why... aren't you Commander Adama?" she inquired, with feigned
surprise.
	 "Ahem..." the slightly embarrassed Captain mumbled. 
"Commander, let me introduce you to..."
	 "Jean-Luc!  Really!!!  I am QUITE capable of introducing 
myself."  With practiced flourish, she continued, "Commander Adama,
I am Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House... Holder of the
Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, AND
Federation Ambassador from the planet Betazed."
	 "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Ambassador,"
Adama politely replied, a little thrown by the woman's formality.
	 "Just call me Lwaxana," she responded, with a mischievous
smile and a quick succession of eyebrow lifts.
	 "Whatever you prefer..."  A gulp.  "Lwaxana..." Adama
answered, again with politeness that now bordered on incredulity.
	 "I understand that you are descended from royalty,
Commander," Troi suddenly noted, moving to the true purpose of her
conversation.
	 "In a way, I am," Adama acknowledged.  "My family is
descended from the Ninth Lord of Kobol.  I wear his seal," he said,
while fingering the sparkling, silver-colored medallion that he
wore around his neck at all times.  "We made our residence on the
planet Caprica.  I am a full member of the Colonial Council of the
Twelve, as the Representative from Caprica."
	 "I see..." the Betazoid replied.  "Perfect..." she cooed.
	 "Would the two of you excuse for a moment?  I believe that
I am needed elsewhere," Picard shrewdly announced, as he cupped his
hands in front of him, mustered his most diplomatic smile, and
carefully backed away from Adama and Mrs. Troi.  He then smoothly
spun in place and headed towards Riker, a now obvious, exasperated
look on his face.
	 Riker began to slowly smile as Picard approached him.  He
then whispered with a smirk, "A prudent exit, sir.  Perfect timing."
	 Out of the corner of his mouth, Picard mumbled, "Number
One, I never thought in my whole life..."  A pause.  "That I would
EVER have to stoop so low to say..."  He then quickly looked around
from side to side and whispered, "'better him than me'."
	 Riker tried to stifle a laugh as he noted, "Yet you have
now stooped.  I NEVER say never."
	 Picard raised an eyebrow at his First Officer's comment
and then remarked with a slight smile, "Indeed."

				-----

	 "So you're a pilot?" Darrion Marks observed to Lieutenant
Starbuck, as the two stood side by side near the end of the bar in
Ten Forward.
	 "Sure am.  Only place to be.  In the cockpit and nothing
around you but stars," was Starbuck's cocky response.
	 "You realize that if your people join the Federation, you
might not be able to fly that ship of yours," Marks noted.
	 "Who says anyone's joining the Federation?  Besides, I
haven't made up MY mind yet," the Colonial Warrior retorted.
	 "So where do YOU plan on going?"
	 "I dunno.  I haven't had the chance to check out all the
star systems in this part of space.  All I know is that no one's
gonna take MY ship away from me."
	 "There's been talk about mothballing the Galactica, you
know," the Ambassador remarked.
	 ""Mothballing'?  What's that mean?"
	 "Using her for scrap," Marks replied matter-of-factly.
	 "Really..." Starbuck answered with skepticism.  "And just
where did you hear THAT one?"
	 "Oh, I have my sources, Lieutenant."
	 "Why are YOU so concerned?" Starbuck queried.
	 "It's my JOB to be concerned" came the retort.
	 Starbuck frowned, took a sip from his drink, and said in
a hushed voice, "I see... Sounds like you're suggesting that the
Colonists NOT join the Federation."
	 "I'm not suggesting anything.  I'm just being truthful with you."
	 "Truthful," Starbuck echoed flatly, while looking around
the room for any sign of Casseopia.
	 "Listen, I've met alot of your people and I've come to like many
of them.  I'm just trying to help," the Ambassador said, switching
tactics.
	 "Help?  How's that?" the Lieutenant remarked.
	 "I know for a fact that there are people in Star Fleet who are
just like you... 'Warriors'.  They've been fighting with the 'powers
to be' to build and fly a ship like yours," Darrion Marks offered.
	 "Really...? Starbuck said, now becoming slightly interested
in the conversation. 
	 "In fact, some of them are considering quitting Star Fleet and
joining you," Marks added.
	 "Joining us?" Starbuck replied with suspicion.  "Why?
We're obviously technologically backwards compared to..."
	 "They're willing to modify your fighters to accommodate
warp technology."
	 "Warp...?"
	 "Your ships can only go light speed, correct?"
	 "Yeah, and...?"
	 "Imagine going faster than that AND having access to our
phaser technology."
	 "Faster?  Than light?" Starbuck replied with amazement. 
"I keep hearing that.  How is that poss..."
	 "Shh... Listen, why don't you come by my quarters later
tonight and I'll tell you all about it," the Betazoid offered.
	 "Starbuck started shaking his head while commenting, "Uh,
I don't know.  If you're talking about something illegal... Not that I'm
Mr. Clean but..."
	 "Hardly.  Besides, you haven't signed anything yet with
the Federation, so anything goes.  The longer you hang around here,
the more you'll learn about the OTHERS in this area of space."
	 "Hmmm... Maybe I'll think about it."
	 "Think fast, Lieutenant.  We don't have much time..." the
Ambassador advised as he walked away and towards an exit.

				-----

	 When Athena glanced up and across the Lounge, she watched
with suspicion as her father moved slowly towards a small table. 
On his arm was a woman who she had never seen before.  Athena's
deep blue eyes narrowed with displeasure and her sudden brooding
clearly indicated unspoken disapproval.
	 "Hey Athena, we lost you there.  What are you looking at
so intensely?" Sheba asked.
	 Deanna Troi, who had been sitting and chatting with the
two young women, slowly tilted her head sideways as she began to
feel the confusion in Athena's mind.  She looked up and towards the
cause of the confusion and then suddenly bolted upright.  She watched
as her mother, arm-in-arm with Commander Adama, moved to sit at
a table.  "Mother!" she angrily exclaimed to herself.
	 Innocently, Sheba looked over in the same direction and
asked, "Hmm... who is that woman with your father, Athena?  I've
never seen her before.  Actually, she's very beautiful."
	 Athena quickly suppressed her true feelings and stated
flatly, "I don't know, she's probably one of the Siresses.  Ever
since Mother died, they all seem to be hovering around him all
the..."
	 Troi immediately interrupted her and angrily spat, "That's
my mother!" and she stood and stormed away from the table into the
crowd.
	 Looking somewhat embarrassed, Sheba managed an "Uh oh..."
	 Athena retorted with "Uh oh is right!" and she also stood
up and briskly walked away towards the doors of the Lounge.
	 Just as Athena left, Casseopia and Starbuck approached the
table, hands laden with all sorts of exotic foods.
	 "Hey Starbuck, Casseopia," Sheba remarked, "Glad to see
you two decided to make up!" she teased.
	 A concerned Casseopia looked around the room and then
asked, "Sheba, what  happened?  What's wrong with Athena?  Where's
Deanna??"
	 "You don't want to know," came Sheba's response.
	 "Uh Sheba..." Starbuck began, "we may not 'want to know',
but we STILL wanna know!" he blurted.
	 "Okay, you asked for it.  Look over there," Sheba relented,
while pointing over in the direction of the Colonial Commander.
	 "Hmm... and?"  A pause.  "So what?  The Commander is with
an escort.  She's probably one of the delegates.  Big deal?" Starbuck
remarked.
	 "It's a big deal alright if the escort just so HAPPENS to
be Deanna Troi's mother."
	 "Ohhh... I see..." the Lieutenant said.  He paused briefly
to consider this new information and then with confusion said,
"Hmmm... actually, I STILL don't get..."  A revelation then 
occurred.  "OH!  You think that they, uh..." he began to gesture
with his hands, "That they are, you know..."
	 "Starbuck..." Casseopia warned.

				-----

	 Deanna stood fuming in front of the large, picturesque window
at the center of Ten Forward, staring out at the kaleidoscopic display
of stars.  Data silently approached her from behind.
	 "Excuse me Counselor."
	 Troi was suddenly jolted back to awareness and she
immediately turned to face one of the few beings who she could not
sense when he was in her presence.
	 "What is it Data?" she snapped, a little too harshly than
planned.
	 "I am sorry if I disturbed you.  It was not really that
important."
	 Data began to turn away and Troi grabbed his arm to stop
him.
	 "No wait!  I'm sorry Data," she replied apologetically. 
"It's just that... well, I'm a little irritable tonight, that's
all.  It has to do with my mother.  I didn't mean to snap at you
like that."
	 "That is quite alright Counselor.  As I noted before, my
query was not that important."
	 "Go ahead Data.  Ask."
	 "As you wish.  Since you brought up the subject of your
mother, I am curious.  I have noticed that ever since she
introduced herself to the Galactica's Commander, the two
of them have yet to part company.  I find that intriguing.  Do you
think that..."
	 "Oh Data!" Troi nearly sobbed, as she fled past him and
towards the doors.
	 "Hmmm... Did I say something wrong?" Data asked aloud to
himself while furrowing his brows in a perfect imitation of a Human
in confusion.  "I do not recall making any remarks that I would
interpret would case such a reaction."
	 The android quickly sought out and then spotted Riker on
the other side of the room.  He smoothly navigated through the
crowd towards the First Officer, politely nodding and smiling to
anyone who looked his way.
	 "Excuse me Commander..." Data began.  "There seems to be
a... well, a problem."
	 "What is it Data?  What's wrong?" Riker asked, not too
happy about being interrupted.
	 "I was just talking to Counselor Troi and I happened to
bring up the fact that her mother and Commander Adama have been,
well, quite... inseparable this evening, and all of a sudden, she
looked as if she were ready to cry and she immediately left Ten
Forward.  I do not understand."
	 "Uh oh..." Riker sighed.  "I'll go find her.  Stay here."
	 "Sir?" Data quickly injected.  "May I suggest that perhaps
she wants to be left alone?"
	 Riker halted, thought for a bit, and then said, "Maybe
you're right.  I might do better if I let her cool off for a while."

				-----

	 Fitted in the finery of his tan and dark-brown dress
uniform, Apollo slowly made his way through the throngs of
delegates and representatives in Ten Forward, in search of his
friends.  He finally spotted them and hurried towards their table.
	 "Starbuck, Sheba, have you seen Athena?" he asked, as he
continued to visually search the room for his sister.
	 "Hey buddy, thought you weren't gonna make it," Starbuck
responded.
	 "Had to put Boxey to bed.  Where's Athena?"
	 "Well... I'm afraid she just left," Casseopia volunteered,
as she glanced over at Sheba.
	 "Left?  Why?  Wasn't she feeling well?" Apollo inquired
with concern.
	 "Not after she found out that Deanna Troi's mother has the
hots for your father," Sheba teased, as she looked back at
Casseopia.
	 "What?  Deanna Troi's mother?  What are you talking
about?"
	 "Look over there buddy," Starbuck added, nodding his head
in the direction of Commander Adama and clearing his throat.
	 After looking across the room, Apollo remarked, "Yeah...
so?  She's one of the Betazoid Ambassadors.  I'm sure they're
discussing business."
	 "Think so?" Casseopia giggled, while playfully raising her
eyebrows at the now embarrassed Starbuck.
	 "Oh now wait a centon...  I think you're all blowing this
thing WAY out of proportion," Apollo responded with a little
irritation.
	 "Tell THAT to Deanna Troi.  SHE went storming out of here
right before Athena did!" Sheba added.
	 "Geez.  What MORE can go wrong tonight?  Have you seen
Captain Picard?" Apollo sighed.
	 "He WAS here... actually, I haven't seen him in the past
ten or fifteen centons or so.  Maybe he had to go check on the
status of the ship?" Sheba reasoned.
	 "Yeah, I guess I would do the same."  Changing the
subject, he then remarked, "Boy I'm starved, what's good to eat
around here anyway?"

				-----

	 Deanna Troi hastily stepped into the empty turbolift and
leaned back against the wall.  When the lift doors closed shut, she
forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply to calm her frayed
nerves.  The lift sat motionless for a while and then a familiar
voice declared, "State destination."
	 "Huh?  Oh, Deck 8."
	 The lift began to move and then it suddenly stopped.  The
doors opened and in walked Darrion Marks. 
	 "Hello," he politely said.
	 "Good evening," Troi calmly replied.
	 "Deck 6," he then ordered.
	 Troi suddenly began to shiver and then she abruptly relaxed.
The lift stopped, the doors opened at her level, and she stepped out
into the empty corridor.
	 "Good night," the dark-haired man replied.
	 Troi gently nodded in his direction as the doors swished
shut.  She was slightly bewildered by the man's characteristically
black, but burning, Betazoid eyes.  She stood silently in the
corridor, briefly closing her eyes and then opening them again. 
She finally started walking slowly towards her cabin.  She was
beginning to feel a slight tug in her mind but she couldn't quite
fix it to a specific person or event.
	 When she reached the safe confines of her room, she stood
still, groaned slightly and then began to rub her temples, as the
'tugging' sensation intensified.  After a while, she walked into
her bathroom and pushed the small button on the counter.  The basin
cover slid back to reveal a small, oval-shaped pool of water.  She
carefully dipped her hands into the clear, cool liquid and slowly
brought a small amount towards her face.  Suddenly, she looked
up in the mirror, squinted her eyes and then screamed in pain, finally
crumbling to the floor in anguish.

				-----

	 Jean-Luc Picard returned to Ten Forward and immediately
made his way to the front of the room.  He sighed as he looked
around at the boisterous crowd.  "This is going to be a little
difficult," he remarked to himself.
	 He stepped over to the bar, found an empty glass and a
drink stirrer, and then resumed his place.  He began to sharply rap
the glass with the stirrer while entreating, "May I have your
attention please."
	 Slowly, the room became silent as all eyes focussed on him.
	 "Thank you.  I am pleased to announce that we have just
now reached the planet Pacifica and we have assumed an orbit around
it."
	 The people turned to look out of the Lounge windows and
they gasped in surprise and delight to see that the previous view
of streaking stars had indeed been replaced by the steady presence
of a beautiful blue-white planet.
	 "According to the schedule, your sessions will officially
begin at oh-nine hundred in the morning.  I wish to express my
crew's and MY best wishes for a productive day tomorrow," Picard
added, with a nod of the head to the delegates.
	 They promptly expressed their satisfaction with robust
applause.
	 Slightly embarrassed, Picard concluded, "Please help
yourself to the many delicacies we are offering this evening and I
am grateful to have had the opportunity to provide you transportation
and our hospitality."
	 The crowd again murmured it's approval and proceeded to
resume their conversations and merriment.
	 Picard stepped down from the platform, relieved that this
minor detail was taken care of, and he moved towards his First
Officer.
	 "Well Number One, I think I'll retire for the evening.
You have..."
	 A piercing scream cut through the air in the room and
everyone present struggled to locate it's origin. 
	 Upon finding the source, Picard quickly pushed through the
onlookers to find Adama carefully supporting a now weakened Lwaxana
Troi, while trying to guide her back to her chair.  "What happened?" he
inquired.
	 "I don't know," Adama responded, somewhat shaken by the
ordeal.  "We were discussing some of her experiences on other
worlds when she suddenly paled and began to scream... as if she
were in some kind of pain."
	 "Jean-Luc..." Lwaxana pleaded.  "Something terrible has
happened.  Horrible!  You must DO something," she begged.
	 "Mrs.Troi, please, what is wrong?  What has happened?"
Picard asked.
	 "Horrible..." she gasped.  "The pain... must block out the
pain... concentrate... concentrate... calm..." 
She took a slow, deep breath.  "Alright... It's... it's alright. 
I'll be fine now."
	 "Mrs. Troi, if you can possibly shed ANY light on what has
happened... I think that you may want to go to sickbay as well."
	 "No, no Jean-Luc.  I'm fine."
	 "Please Lwaxana.  I insist.  I will escort you there
my..." Picard began.
	 "Worf to Captain Picard."
	 Picard tapped his Comm badge and replied, "Picard here."
	 "Captain, it is imperative that you come to Deck 6,
Section J, right away."
	 Picard looked up and across the room towards Riker with
worry etched on his face.  "On my way.  Picard out."  A second tap
on the badge terminated the connection.
	 "Hmmm, I wonder what's up?" the First Officer mumbled to
himself.  His concern level immediately shifted up a notch and he
began to visually search the room for the Second Officer.
	 Picard suddenly looked around at the confused delegates
and with deliberate calm, he began to speak.  "Please, delegates. 
Everything will be fine.  Ambassador Troi is fine.  I urge you to
resume what you were doing and enjoy the rest of the evening."
	 Members of the crowd gazed at each other with some
suspicion but then gradually began to carry on with their
conversations.
	 Picard turned towards Adama and said, "Will you excuse me? 
I need to attend to my Security Officer."
	 "I understand Captain.  I will stay with the Ambassador."
	 Picard nodded and immediately headed for the double doors
of Ten Forward.

				-----

	 A worried Captain of the Enterprise stepped off the turbolift,
briskly walked down the long corridor, and slowed just in front of the
doors to an Observation Lounge, where two Security guards were
stationed.  He walked past them into the small room and suddenly
stopped in his tracks.  His face paled and he tried with difficulty to
suppress his sudden nausea.  Worf stood up and walked towards
him.
	 "Captain, one of the Colonial Council President's assistants
found the two of them here.  He contacted Security immediately,"
Worf stated.
	 Picard stood motionless as he struggled deep inside to make
sense of the carnage he saw before him.  He began to slowly
shake his head in revulsion and disbelief as he looked at what was
left of his good friend Jonathan Baird.  The partially dismembered
body of the Admiral was lying face down in a large pool of blood. 
Not far away lay the Colonial Council President, a grisly grin
plastered on his face, to be frozen there forever.
	 "Jean-Luc..." Beverly Crusher gently whispered, while
placing her hand on his arm and carefully guiding him out of the
room, "there's nothing more we can do here."
	 Worf joined the Captain and Chief Medical Officer in the
hallway.
	 "Mr. Worf, I want a thorough investigation of what has
occurred here.  Any clue, any MINUSCULE shred of information MUST
be factored in," Picard managed.
	 "Aye sir," came the reply.
	 After sighing heavily, Picard tapped his Comm badge and
calmly said, "Picard to Riker."
	 "Riker here."
	 "Number One, will you please DISCRETELY accompany
Commander Adama to the Observation Lounge on Deck 6 at once?  This
is extremely urgent."
	 "Understood sir," Riker replied.

				-----

	 Adama stood silently in the doorway of the Observation
Lounge, his lips squeezed tightly together, his brows furrowed. 
His mind shifted quickly from the bloodshed in the Lounge to the
threat of bloodshed among his people if he couldn't satisfactorily
explain to them what had happened.  He sighed heavily and then
finally closed his eyes.   Picard touched his arm briefly and motioned
him out into the corridor.
	 "It may be best if we discussed this in my Ready Room,"
the Captain recommended.  "Will?  Could you..."
	 "It'll all be taken care of Captain," Commander Riker
weakly replied.
	 Adama nodded at the officers and the two men headed for a
turbolift that would take them to the Enterprise's Main Bridge.

				-----

	 In the Captain's small office on the Bridge, Adama slowly
walked over to the round, glass aquarium that protruded from the
wall.  He gazed with fascination at one of the beautiful fish that
swam within, its long, fragile fins waving lazily in the water.
	 "What sort of water creature is this?" he managed.
	 Glad to be momentarily distracted, Picard gratefully
replied, "That larger one is a Butterfly fish and I believe there
is an angelfish in there as well, Commander."
	 "Angelfish.  How apt a name.  So peaceful and graceful
they appear to be."
	 "Actually, that common name for the species is more of a
misnomer than you might expect.  In reality, those creatures can
become rather vicious if disturbed," Picard noted.
	 "I see.  Once again, appearances can be deceiving.  I have
come to learn that hard lesson far too often," Adama confessed.
	 "As have I, Commander."
	 Adama suddenly looked up at Jean-Luc Picard and said,
"Captain, when word of this reaches the Fleet..."
	 "I understand Commander, but I beseech you not to call a
halt to the talks.  In fact, now more than ever, the two of us will
need to work together to help push these negotiations forward.  I
have called upon some of my best people to get to the bottom of
this unfortunate incident."
	 "Captain, you don't understand.  The decision may not be
mine to make.  When word of this reaches certain Council Members,
they are sure to demand that we immediately end any relationship we
now have with the Federation.  They will insist that we be returned
to our convoy.  Trying to persuade them otherwise will  be very difficult,
if not impossible."
	 "We should still plan to convene the Conference on the
planet surface, regardless.  I believe that the beauty and calm of
Pacifica will help provide an atmosphere for cooler heads."
	 "I give you my word Captain, as a Warrior, that I will try
my best to keep these negotiations on track.  I cannot promise you
success but I will make every effort."
	 "That effort will be greatly appreciated Commander."

				--o--

	 The senior staff of the Enterprise sat solemnly around the
Conference table in the Main Observation Lounge, just off the Main
Bridge.  Jean-Luc Picard briskly entered the room and took his
place at the head of the table.  He folded his hands in front of
him in an effort to appear calm and in control in front of his staff.
He wasted no time getting to the business at hand.
	 "Mr. Worf, what have you found so far?"
	 Worf suddenly sat up straight and began his briefing.  "We
have searched the entire Lounge on Deck 6 for any evidence of the
weapon that may have been used in the attack."  He carefully folded
back the cloth-wrapped object that lay on the table beside him.  He
then held the object up for all to see.
	 Picard immediately recognized it and stifled a gasp.
	 "We have confirmed this to be a Cardassian knife.  The
geologists have also confirmed the blade to be made of gemonite." 
Worf noted.
	 "Cardassians?  Why would the Cardassians be involved?"
Riker asked.
	 "Perhaps they are interested in making an allegiance with
the Colonists and they wished to disrupt the Federation
negotiations," Data suggested.
	 "But if that were the case, why would they so obviously
leave evidence behind to implicate themselves?" Picard asked.
	 "Something's not right.  None of this makes any sense,"
Riker said.
	 "Indeed Number One.  Worf, have you had the blade handle
analyzed for DNA  signatures?" Picard queried.
	 "Aye sir."
	 Crusher immediately piped in, "According to our analysis of
the weapon AND of the entire room, we came up empty Jean-Luc. 
Nothing.  The only DNA present in that Lounge was that of the two
victims and of the Council President's assistant."
	 "Hmmm... another twist."
	 "Which suggests that maybe one or the other of the victims
initiated the attack," Geordi speculated.
	 "Perhaps," Data injected.  "But if you look at the
condition of the Admiral's body, it would suggest that the Council
President would have had to have carried out the bulk of the
assault.  However, it seems rather unlikely that the Council
President could have had access to such a rare, Cardassian knife."
	 "True.  It seems that there may be more than meets the eye
here.  Doctor, what have your autopsies uncovered?" Picard asked.
	 "Well, unfortunately nothing beyond the cause of death
being due to severe trauma from the stab wounds and extreme loss of
blood.  Other than that, I've turned up nothing out of the ordinary,"
Crusher reported.
	 "This is getting worse and worse.  Why would someone kill
two Chief Negotiators and then leave a Cardassian weapon in the
room?  Doctor, did you attempt to take air samples to see if there
were any 'mind-altering' drugs introduced?" Riker asked with
frustration.
	 "Yes.  We found no sign of chemical contamination, either
in the room or in the victim's blood stream," the Doctor reported.
	 "Doctor, were you able to confirm that the wounds were
actually made with THAT knife?"
	 "As best I could.  I confirmed the DNA patterns of both
men from the blood we found on the blade," came the reply.  "The
entrance and exit wounds were typical of what you would expect from
that type of knife."
	 "Counselor, can you offer us any additional insight?  Perhaps,
bad feelings between our guests on board?
	 "Captain," Troi said softly, "I... I'm sorry.  I still feel their
pain in my mind.  It was really emotionally draining for me.  The only
thing that I can add right now is the fact that I DID sense something,
something that I can't quite put my finger on, a sort of 'tugging' in my
mind, just prior to the attack."
	 "Can you describe that 'something' in words Deanna?" Riker
asked, with concern.
	 "Oh, I don't know... anger?  Malice?  Something that was
evil and ugly perhaps?  It really didn't make any sense, especially
since the overall mood on the ship has been one of anticipation and
excitement over the Conference.  That's all I can recall."
	 "You weren't at the banquet when this happened," Picard
noted.
	 "No, I was in my quarters," came the reply.
	 "Do you recall seeing anyone during the time after you
left Ten Forward?" Data asked.
	 "Actually yes, as a matter of fact.  I briefly shared a
turbolift with Ambassador Marks.  If I remember correctly, he got
on at Deck 9 and... I think he requested 'Deck 6' as his
destination."
	 "Very well.  Thank you Counsellor," Picard responded.
	 "Captain, may I suggest that we brief Commander Adama and
the others on what we have found so far?" Data suggested.
	 "Yes Data, I was about to summon them here.  Number One,
could you escort Commander Adama and his staff here?  Also have
Ambassador Troi and Ambassador Marks meet me separately in my
Ready Room at around twenty-two hundred and twenty-two thirty hours."
	 Riker abruptly stood and replied, "Aye sir."

				-----

	 Captain Apollo began to feverishly pace around the Main
Observation Lounge in frustration after hearing a summary of the
incident.
	 "I don't get it.  With ALL the technology that you have on
board this ship... and you're telling me that you can't figure out
what happened?  Do you realize what will happen when the full
Council hears about this?  Let alone what the people will say.."
Apollo warned.
	 "Apollo, please..." Adama pleaded.
	 "No Father.  I don't think you people understand..."
	 "Captain," Picard began, "your Council President and one
of my best friends were murdered.  Now it is our job to find out
the how and the why."
	 "You mentioned something about some 'Cardassian' weapon. 
We've never heard of any 'Cardassians'.  I suggest that you begin
your investigation with them."
	 "I assure you Captain, that we have," Picard responded,
with slight irritation.
	 "Well, I think that the first thing that needs to be done
is to round up any Cardassian aboard this..."
	 "We DO NOT have ANY Cardassians aboard THIS ship," Worf
harumphed.
	 "Captain Apollo, the Federation has been at war with the
Cardassian Empire for a number of years.  We have only recently
signed a cease-fire with them," Data offered.
	 "Well then there's your answer Captain Picard.  Obviously
some Cardassian had something against your friend and
unfortunately, the Council President was in the wrong place at the
wrong time," Apollo concluded.
	 Picard sighed at the young man and briefly glanced over at
his father, who silently expressed similar disapproval of his son's
conclusions.  The Enterprise Captain then said, "I'm afraid it's
not as simple as that Captain.  We were unable to confirm ANY third
party being responsible for what happened."
	 What do you mean?  Surely...?" 
	 "Captain, what we are saying," Crusher added, "is that there 
were no fingerprints on the knife.  In fact there were no traces of
ANY presence in that room during the time of the incident, other
than the Admiral and the Council President."
	 "Which means...?"
	 "Which means, Captain, that either the two men somehow
killed each other, leaving no trace of their actions, or some
entity that our technology cannot detect, may be responsible for
what has occurred," Data concluded.

				--o--

	 Captain Apollo was raving mad when he finally reached his
father's quarters.
	 "Father, how can you believe them?  How can you trust
them?" he asked.
	 "Apollo, why are you so quick to blame them?  I'm
convinced that they are doing as much as humanly possible to find
out what happened," Adama replied.
	 Incredulously, Apollo continued, "Is it just me, or do I
get the feeling that everyone's ignoring the obvious. If you find
a weapon that belongs to some alien race, ESPECIALLY one who
was previously at war with you, how can you discount that? 
Please Father, help me to understand." 
	 "Yes they found the weapon, but how can you be so sure
that it wasn't placed there as a means to confuse us?  Note that
they were unable to find any evidence that the knife was handled by
any known species in this area of the universe."
	 "But they DID confirm that the men were killed with THAT
knife!"
	 "If you listened carefully, the Doctor merely said that
their wounds were only 'TYPICAL' of those that would be made from
a knife of 'THAT kind'."
	 "But she ALSO said that she confirmed their blood on
the..."
	 "Apollo, let me give you some advise.  I learned a long,
long time ago that in a situation such as this, mistakes are always
made.  The most perfectly executed plan will ALWAYS have some flaw,
some small detail that was missed.  Give them some time.  Have
patience.  Something will turn up."
	 Resigned, Apollo said, "I sure hope so, because somehow I
keep getting the feeling that you may be next."

				-----

	 Jean-Luc Picard sighed as he peered out the window in his
Ready Room, hands twitching nervously behind his back.  He began to
feel exhaustion pressing heavily down upon him and also found
himself getting nowhere fast. 
	 Turning towards the woman who was seated stiffly, with
legs crossed, on the other side of his small conference table, he
beseeched, "Mrs. Troi, please..."
	 "That's all I can remember Jean-Luc.  Really.  It was...
it was unbelievable fear and then the pain.  Oh, the pain," Lwaxana
Troi groaned.
	 "Alright Lwaxana.  If there's anything, and I mean
ANYTHING else that you can recall, please, it is IMPERATIVE that
you contact me right away," the Enterprise Captain stated.
	 "I will, Jean-Luc.  I wish I could... Wait... I think..."
	 "Yes???"
	 "I STILL can't put a finger on it Jean-Luc.  The only way
I can describe it to you is with an AWFUL term like... 'evil'."
	 "'Evil'?"
	 "Yes, like someone or something was... was 'evil'.  I know
what a 'good-hearted' person feels like, but this was the opposite. 
And it wasn't 'evil' directed at a specific person.  It was just,
just... 'evil'." 
	 "Thank you Lwaxana.  I will file that bit of information
away.  Again, if there's anything else..."
	 "Yes, I know where to find you."
	 "Again, my thanks."

				-----

	 "Ambassador Marks, my Counselor recalled that the two of
you had briefly shared a turbolift, and you had requested 'Deck 6'
as your destination."
	 "That is correct Captain Picard.  I'm afraid that I have
no alibi, as my quarters are on that deck and I was alone."
	 "I see, yet you boarded the lift from Deck 9," Picard
stated.
	 "Correct again, Captain.  I had just left a private
meeting I had conducted with the Borellian Nomen delegation who, as
you may be aware, refuse to intermingle with the other Colonists."
	 "Very well."
	 "Captain,  you don't seriously think that I..."
	 "Ambassador, truthfully, I don't know WHAT to think.  At
this time, I am only gathering together the facts as we find them. 
When our investigation is completed, you will be informed of our
conclusions."
	 "I understand Captain.  I hope that you are successful in
solving this."
	 "I hope that I am too... Oh, and Ambassador, both
Ambassador Troi and her daughter described some of the emotions
they sensed during the time of the attack."
	 "I see."
	 "Did you sense anything out of the ordinary during that
time?  I have often relied on my Counselor as a Betazoid, to
provide me with what could be considered, useful, alternate aspects
of a situation.  Any additional information from you could prove to
be quite helpful," Picard noted.
	 "I'm afraid that I can't help you too much there Captain. 
Naturally, I sensed when the actual act occurred, but at the time,
I was asleep and it startled me awake.  I really don't recall very
much of what I might have felt."
	 "Alright, thank you for your cooperation Ambassador."

				-----

	 Deanna Troi sat alone at a table in the corner of Ten
Forward.  In front of her was an untouched dish of chocolate ice
cream.  Silently, a man approached and she sensed who it was.
	 "Hello Deanna."
	 "Ambassador."
	 "'Ambassador'?  Come on, no need to be formal.  Let's drop
the ranks.  It's after five and I'm off duty," Darrion Marks said.
	 "Well, uh, I..."
	 "Why do I scare you?"
	 "Scare me?  What are you talking about?" Troi replied
defensively.
	 Marks began to chuckle and then he said, "You forget..."
	 Changing the subject, Deanna said, "Um, was there
something you wanted Ambass..., uh, Darrion?"
	 "Just wanted to chat.  In my line of work, I rarely get
the chance to just sit down and talk with another Betazoid,
especially one who's in my age group."
	 "That's a shame," the Counselor remarked.
	 "And what about you?  Don't you miss being around other
Betazoids your own age?"
	 "Well, as busy as I've been, I really never thought about
it.  I HAVE been around several Betazoids, whenever they've come on
board, and I do make it a point to visit Betazed whenever I get a
chance."
	 "But it's not the same, is it?"
	 "Darrion, what are you getting at?"
	 "Nothing.  Like I said, I just wanted to chat."  He then
stood up and began to walk away.
	 Deanna suddenly began to feel a flood of sadness coming
from him.
	 "Wait..."
	 "Listen, um, I'm sorry, okay?  I'm sorry I disturbed you. 
I guess I have this tendency..." Marks began.
	 "No, I'M sorry.  It's MY fault.  Maybe it's just that I'm
still upset over what happened on the ship.  I can still feel the
pain in my mind," Deanna admitted.
	 "As do I.  I'm still shaking.  I just wanted some company,
with one of my own.  As a full Betazoid, I really got hit.  You're
lucky you're only half..."
	 "How did you know?  I mean..."
	 Marks momentarily hesitated and then replied, "Uh, I heard
it from some of your crewmates.  I also sensed that you weren't,
well...  Anyway, you want a drink or something?"
he quickly said, while signalling a waiter.  "Looks like we're both
suffering from insomnia."

				-----

	 Lwaxana Troi was propped on her sofa, reviewing
information on a large thin padd.  As she carefully scrolled
through the data, her door chime sounded and she replied in a
sing-song voice, "Come in."
	 Commander Adama stepped inside and politely said, "Hello
Lwaxana."
	 With a big smile, the Betazoid exclaimed, "Why Commander
Adama, please come in."  She stood up and moved to guide him to a
chair.
	 "I just stopped by to see how you were, especially after
what has happened."
	 "Oh how sweet of you.  Come sit down, let me get you
something.  Would you like some tea?" Lwaxana offered.
	 "Tea would be fine," was the reply.
	 As Lwaxana was programming the replicator, she began to
speak.  "You know, that's not LIKE me." 
	 Confused, Adama asked, "What's not like you?"
	 "Oh... allowing myself to free-float with my empathy like
that.  I've had some bad experiences in the past so I usually
maintain SOME measure of thought-blocking at all times."
	 "Lwaxana, I'm not that familiar with full telepaths or empaths.
I admit that I do possess a small amount of telepathic and telekinetic
ability, which I developed through vigorous training, but how exactly
does your telepathy work?  Do all of your kind possess such an
ability?"  He paused momentarily and then said, "Forgive me my
hesitation at times.  To me, you appear so Human, yet I know that
you are not."
	 Mrs. Troi smiled at the comment as she handed the
Commander a cup filled with a hot, fragrant liquid.  "That's quite
alright, Commander.  Around here, Humans seem to have
the upper hand.  The tendency to confuse the two species is very
common.  Now... to answer your questions with regard to Betazoids
and telepathy... Yes, most if not all of us possess some degree of
telepathic and empathic ability however, to describe how it works
to a non-telepath may be difficult.  Suffice it to say, all I know
is that it just..."  She threw her hands in the air.  "Works!"
	 "Perhaps I should clarify my question.  Must you be in
close, physical proximity to 'feel' or 'know' what another thinks?"
	 "Oh heavens no, Adama!  If I concentrate hard enough, I
can sense someone's thoughts and feelings, even when they are many
kilometers away."
	 "I see..."
	 "For instance, I have sensed that your daughter is not too
pleased with our... well, our 'friendship'."
	 Suddenly Adama placed his cup down on the coffee table and
exclaimed, "Athena?  What do you mean?"
	 Lwaxana gave Adama a sly smile and then she stood up and
walked over to her desk.  She placed the padd that she had been
reviewing in an open slot in the holder and retrieved a new data
padd.  She walked back towards the table, sat back down on the sofa
and said, "Just what I said, Commander.  Now let me see..."  She
tilted her head slightly and looked up at the ceiling.  "It seems
she feels that too many women have been hanging around you lately
and are probably more interested in your inheritance than in your
mind.  I BELIEVE, that's what she thinks."  She then smiled again
while shifting her black eyes towards his brown ones.
	 "Lwaxana," Adama began, "what you are suggesting is..."
	 "The truth, and you know what?  What grieves me even more
is that MY daughter feels the same way about me..."
	 "YOUR daughter?  You mean... Deanna?"
	 "I'm afraid so Adama.  Ever since my husband died, she's
been somewhat protective over me, as if I couldn't choose my own
mates," the Betazoid remarked.
	 "I see.  Perhaps telepathy is not as advantageous as I
thought."
	 "Why do you say that?"
	 "Sometimes, I think that the thoughts and feelings of
others are best left private," Adama replied with sadness.
	 "I agree, and not that I purposely monitor very waking
thought of every individual I come in contact with.  It's just that,
when you meet someone new, not only can you see and hear
them, but you can feel them as well.  Without the telepathy and the
empathy, the person is only two-dimensional, but with it... they are
whole, complete... and DEFINITELY much more fun to be around!"
	 "Lwaxana, my time with you has been quite engaging and my
conversations with your daughter have been as well, however, I seem
to feel somewhat uneasy with your colleague."
	 "My colleague?" Mrs. Troi inquired, knowing who he meant. 
	 "Yes,  Ambassador Marks."
	 "Oh, I see.  Actually, I've known OF him only cursorily
from the past, but ever since I encountered him here, I have sensed
a... oh... what's a good word...?" she muttered, instinctively
waving her hands in the air.  "Duality!  Yes, I guess 'duality'
will suffice.  It appears that he also hides his thoughts very
thoroughly AND for extended periods of time.  That's not like a
Betazoid."
	 "Well, all I can say is that despite his friendliness, there is
something about him, some primordial gut reaction I get from him, 
that is familiar but that also makes me very wary.  I don't know."
He sighed heavily and then concluded, "I think I'm beginning to
ramble.  I had better turn in for the night.  Tomorrow will be a very
busy day."
	 Adama abruptly stood and held both hands out to Lwaxana. 
She stood as well, walked over to him, and took the proffered
hands.
	 "Lwaxana, I have enjoyed this evening with you and I hope
that we get the chance to have dinner some time."
	 "Why Commander, I would be delighted!" she replied,
blushing.
	 "Very well.  Good night then."
	 "Good night."
	 Adama nodded in her direction, turned and stepped through
the cabin doors.  In the corridor, he spotted Darrion Marks
standing quietly nearby, reviewing the data padd he held in his
hands.
				-----

	 Deanna Troi lay restlessly in her bed, clutching her pillow and
wishing for sleep to come.  She knew that she had a busy day ahead
of her and only four hours before it began.  She tried an often
prescribed method of relaxation by concentrating on relaxing each
part of her body and then moving on to the next part.  As she
slowly began to doze, she heard voices in her mind.  She quickly
blocked them out but several others remained.  Suddenly, the voices
switched to laughter, not joyous laughter, but maniacal laughter.
She grimaced in her half-conscious state, trying to stop the sinister
mirth that invaded her head.  The laughter continued to increase in
intensity until she abruptly awoke, shivering and drenched in sweat.
A small tear trickled down her cheek as she resigned herself to yet
another sleepless night.

				C H A P T E R
				     III

	 In the early morning hours of the opening day of the Federation
Membership Conference, the Grand Courtyard of the 'Trade Winds Resort
and Country Club' was buzzing with workers, who were busily preparing
the resort for the arrival of the representatives who had been transported
by the U.S.S. Enterprise.  Being one of the older sites on Pacifica's
western continent, 'Trade Winds' had recently completed extensive
renovations of it's facilities, and it now sparkled with the newness of all
the modern-day conveniences, while retaining the charm of it's original
'colonial era'-style Earth buildings.
	 Sprawled along kilometers of unspoiled beach, the resort boasted
one of the most scenic views on the continent.  The Main Building lay
nestled at the top of a hill, over-looking the ocean to the west and
magnificent, snow-topped mountains some distance to the east.
	 In it's glorious past, 'Trade Winds' hosted fabulous parties for the
wealthy from many Federation worlds and maintained an aristocratic
penchant for formal ritual.   The other so-called 'poorer cousin' resorts on
either side of 'Trade Winds', often played host to scores of weary travellers
and Star Fleet Officers, who sought the warmth and quiet of Pacifica for
vacations and shore leave.
	 The current proprietor, Lani Mikoa, hurriedly moved from place to
place around the Main Building.  Her assistant, Kelly Takahito,
struggled to keep pace with her.
	 "Those extra cabins MUST be ready for occupancy by this
afternoon!!", Lani Mikoa exclaimed.
	 "But Ma'am ..." Kelly managed.
	 "No 'but'... Ready!!  We must show that we can accommodate this
many people at one time.  It's been ages since we've had a major
conference and we need to justify the expense of the renovation."
	 "But we are short-staffed," Takahito complained.  "Plus they want
us to assign the dwellings in groups, based on their planet affiliations.
That could take days to coordinate," Takahito protested.
	 "Not days, hours!  I expect it to be done by this afternoon.  No
excuses," Mikoa ordered.
	 Kelly sighed and looked up at the ceiling.  "It will be done on time.
I promise."

				-----

	 The newly restored, open-air lobby was decorated with hanging
ferns, enormous torch gingers, fragrant plumeria, and brightly colored
orchids that hung from the lower branches of a live Banyan tree.  The tree
was the centerpiece of the resort and had been shipped there from Earth,
years and years ago.  Hidden within the elongated, dense roots that
sprung from tree branches suspended nearly five meters above the floor,
was a bar, fashioned from woven palm fronds and bamboo.  Lani Mikoa,
with checklist in hand, quickly inspected the bar and moved on.  The
Head Bartender, an older Andorian male, twitched his antennae slightly
in amusement, as he observed his boss's sudden burst of hyperactivity.
He slowly smiled and then resumed the inventory of his glassware.
	 Despite the employees' irritation at having to work extra hours to
prepare, all were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the delegates in the
hopes of supplementing their meager incomes with the generous tips
that usually came with a conference of this magnitude.
	 Kelly raced down an open-air corridor that overlooked the pool and
stopped just behind Lani.
	 "Miss Mikoa," she said, never addressing her superior by first
name.  "We have opened the Southern Cove Complex to house the
additional representatives."
	 "Good.  See to it that the rooms will be ready by this evening,
and Kelly," she added more warmly, "I know that the past few days
have been hectic for everyone, but I also know that of all my employees,
I can count on you to realize how important this is to me and to
yourself."
	 "I understand.  This conference has really been a godsend."
	 "Then you also understand that it must proceed without a hitch.
If we can prove to the Federation that we are capable of hosting a large-
scale event such as this, we can bring this site back from obscurity and
make it the way it used to be."  Lani Mikoa then began to reminisce, "I
remember when I first came here to work as a young and naive teenager
so long ago, and I remember how I so envied the guests, with their
personal servants and suitcases full of beautiful clothes and jewels.  I
wanted so much to be like them.  I remember a Deltan delegation who
stayed here once.  Needless to say, everyone at the resort was
swarming around them since they knew about how Deltans are with
respect to, well...", she remarked with embarrassment.
	 "Yes," Kelly giggled.  "I know."
	 "As I grew older, I learned everything I could about how things were
managed.  I saved all my earnings and I took classes.  When this facility
almost closed down from the neglect of the previous owners, I had the
money to buy the place.  Now I run it and I never want to see it go down
like it did, ever again."
	 "Well, I'll do everything I can to help."
	 "Thank you Kelly.  I'm counting on you," Lani replied.

				-----

	 The main auditorium at the 'Trade Winds' resort, designated the
'Hall of Nations', began to fill up with delegates, both from the Colonies
and the Federation.  A mood of pomp and pageantry filled the air as
members of the elite Colonial Color Guard and Drill Squad stood by to
await the signal to begin.
	 Designees from the Enterprise and Galactica crews were in dress
uniform, and they freely mingled among the many representatives who
were present, making small talk and commenting on the lavishness of
the newly restored room.  A large, panoramic viewscreen behind the stage
displayed the twelve seals of the Colonial Government and the seal of the
United Federation of Planets, which was prominently fixed in the center.
A magnificent oakwood podium sat front and center of the stage, with a
UFP banner draped around it.
	 The Governor of Pacifica approached the podium and began to
lightly tap the microphone to test the audio,  then began to speak.
	 "Please delegates, take your seats.  We are ready to begin."
	 As the participants began to move towards their seats, a drum
roll, soft and low, could be heard.  The audience quickly settled down.
After a brief period of silence, a trumpet salute brought forth the various
Color Guards, who stood silently at attention.  As the band began to play
a rendition of the anthem "Star of Kobol", the audience immediately
stood in deference.  The Colonial representatives held their right arms with
closed fist, across their chests in salute, as the Flag Bearers marched
onto the stage.  The Guard placed the twelve flags representing the
twelve Colonies, behind the rows of empty chairs set up on stage for the
chief dignitaries and speakers.  The band then played the Federation
anthem and a Federation Color Guard marched up and placed the
Federation flag in the center rear.  Finally, a line of dignitaries and others
filed onto the stage and took their seats.  With the pageantry now
completed, Governor Delaplane stepped forward and continued.
	 "Delegates, Representatives, Conference participants and other
invited guests, as Governor of Pacifica, I welcome you to our planet.
We are honored to have been selected by the Federation, as the host for
this most important AND historic occasion.  As I know that you have
a very busy schedule ahead of you, I will make my remarks brief.
	 Today, we have the coming together of a people, new to our region
of space.  These people, who have fled the tyranny of an enemy, have
come to find peace here, amongst us.  We would like to extend our
hand in greeting and we wish you success at this, the first round of
negotiations towards Federation membership.
	 I would like to now turn the podium over to Captain Jean-Luc
Picard, Commander of the United Federation Starship Enterprise, who
has been asked to speak on behalf of the Federation membership, due
to his and his crew's close ties to the Colonial Government.  Captain
Picard."
	 A round of applause accompanied Picard's short walk to the
podium.
	 "Thank you Governor.  I too, wish to keep my remarks brief, as I
know that the real business at hand will not be the glorious speeches we
give here today, but the dialogue that will soon occur behind closed doors
in negotiation.
	 My role leading up to this day, has been a unique one.  One in
which my crew and I had the opportunity to encounter and assist a
previously unknown group of Human space-farers, who were forced to
flee from their worlds, and who chose to seek out mine, the planet Earth.
Earth, known to most of us here as the seat of the Federation, was but
the stuff of myths and legends to them, yet fortunately, it has now been
confirmed to be genuine.
	 And so, as their representatives and our representatives sit down
together to decide how best to proceed, I believe I speak for everyone in
attendance today, when I say that we wish you all the best in whatever
course you decide to choose.  Finally, I wish to personally thank
Commander Adama of the Battlestar Galactica, for his assistance, his
wisdom, and his perseverance in leading his people here, and making
the transition pleasant and productive.  Thank you."
	 After another round of applause subsided, the Governor again
addressed the crowd.
	 "Thank you Captain.  And now I would like to present to you the
man who has been asked to speak on behalf of the Colonists, the
Commander of the Colonial Fleet and it's flagship, the Battlestar
Galactica... Commander Adama."
	 Adama stood and slowly walked up to the podium.  He looked
out at the hundreds seated in the audience and then took a deep breath
to choke back the tears that threatened to burst forth from his eyes.
	 "Thank you Governor.  Delegates, Representatives, and guests,
I stand before you today in wonder. Forgive me my emotion but it IS
an emotional time for me and for my people."  He then paused, took a
deep breath, and continued.
	 "We came here to you from a star system located a great
distance away.  A system comprised of twelve worlds, first colonized by
a parent race, who traveled there from a planet we call Kobol.   Our
civilizations grew and prospered, and were peaceful for many, many
generations.  Over the past thousand yahren, the 'yahren' being an
increment of time not too dissimilar to your 'year', we endured a war
with another race, a race of mechanical beings known as Cylons.  The
final blow to our people came at a time when we, seeking out peace for
so long, were tricked into believing that a truce was at hand.  During the
time of a supposed Peace Conference, we were betrayed by one of our
own, our worlds were rendered defenseless, and were subsequently
destroyed.
	 When Captain Picard and his crew encountered us, in a place
not far from Earth, what he found were less than two-hundred and
twenty ships, all that was left of our people.  Today, we begin a process
of renewal and of rebuilding.  I know that this process will be difficult and
it will take many more sessions like this one, before we come to a final
resolution, but I believe within my heart, that we will succeed, despite the
setbacks that have or may occur.
	 I wish to give my profound thanks to Captain Jean-Luc Picard and
his crew for their assistance while we were seeking our lost pilots and
later, when we came under attack by our enemy.  The Captain's
patience and understanding are qualities that I admire and appreciate
the most, and I hope to have the opportunity to work with him again and
often, in the future.
	 We from the Colonies, are bound to follow the ways and wisdom
of our ancestors, set down in the 'Book of the Word', and so I shall
conclude my remarks with a most prophetic passage from that great
book: 

	'And so it shall come to pass, that the people will suffer much
	turmoil and tribulation, and the ground will dry up and there will
	be no water for drink nor to bathe.  And a great famine will
	spread upon the land and the sun will burn like ten times one
	hundred suns, and the corpses shall line the streets from
	plague, and there will be much wailing.  But when these events
	occur, we shall take flight towards the heavens and we shall plant
	our seed in more fertile ground, so as to return again and multiply.
	Now a great war shall ensue and it will continue for ten times one
	hundred yahren, and the people will be sore afraid.  And the land
	will again be burned up and the people will be forced to flee.
	Their journey will be difficult, but salvation shall be had for all, 
	for the people will come together with the lost Thirteenth tribe,
	their brethren, and they will rejoice in the streets.  But the people
	must endure one last great battle, to test their resolve, as there
	will be much death and destruction, since the enemies are
	strong and they are many.  But they will emerge victorious, for
	they will join together with their brethren from the planet Earth
	and they will once more spread their seed in fertile soil amongst
	the stars, in peace, for all eternity.  May the Lords of Kobol smile
	upon you as you read these, their holy words, given to me, a
	Prophet of Kobol.'

	 On behalf of the Council of Twelve, I wish to again offer my sincere
appreciation for the assistance that we have received from the Federation,
and I want to again single out Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship
Enterprise, for his graciousness and hospitality during our time spent
with him and his crew.  Thank you."
	 With that, the audience rose to its feet to give Adama a rousing
standing ovation.  The Galactica crew were clapping the loudest, as
tears streamed down their cheeks.  Adama moved back towards his
seat, with moisture forming in his eyes.  Picard reached to shake his
hand and then instinctively reached around to fully embrace Adama
warmly.  The two men held each other tightly and were finally surrounded
by the dignitaries on the stage.

				--o--

	 Athena, Casseopia, and Sheba strolled through the Grand Lobby
of the 'Trade Winds' resort and were awed by the many different species
who gathered there.  They slowly walked towards the bar that was
nestled inside the roots of the Banyan Tree.
	 Two Ferengi, who appeared to be arguing back and forth with each
other, suddenly turned around, jumped off their stools, and began to leer
at the women.
	 "Females..." one proclaimed.
	 "HUMAN females," the other clarified, as he stepped towards them
and offered them his stool.
	 "I don't think that all three of us can fit on that single stool,"
Casseopia quipped.
	 "Why... then you can sit on my lap," the other Ferengi giggled,
while slowly circling Athena.
	 "What ARE you?!" Athena asked, with disgust.
	 "They are Ferengi," the Andorian bartender replied, "and they were
about to leave."
	 "But..." one of the Ferengi began.
	 "NOW!" the Andorian thundered, his antennae now pressing close to
his head.
	 "Yes... yes, uh, of COURSE we were going to leave.  In fact, uh,
we are leaving RIGHT now!!!", the companion noted, while grabbing the
other's ear and pulling him away.
	 "Gee thanks," Sheba responded.
	 "My name is Altan.  What would you ladies like to have?"
	 The three looked at each other with confusion.  Then, Casseopia
replied, "How about some Earth champagne... from France," she hastily
added, vaguely remembering what she had the last time she was in Ten
Forward aboard the Enterprise.
	 "Very good.  And the rest of you?"
	 "The same," Sheba answered.
	 Athena nodded her approval as well.
	 "Well, looks like our semi-furlon has started off on an interesting
note," Casseopia observed, as she looked around at the flowers draped
above her.
	 "Interesting?  You call this interesting?  STRANGE is more like it,"
Sheba replied.
	 "What HORRID creatures.  They remind me of a guy I knew back
in grade school," Athena recalled.
	 Sheba and Casseopia began to giggle.
	 "Really," Athena continued.  "It's the truth!" she insisted.
	 "If I saw something like THAT in grade school, I'd..." Sheba began.
	 "Here you go ladies.  One for you... and one for you... AND one for
YOU," Altan said.  "Would you care for anything else?"
	 The women simultaneously replied, "No, no thanks."
	 The Andorian slowly smiled and walked away.
	 "You know, that's the SECOND blue person I've seen today.  I
found out that the ship's barber is something they call a 'Bolian' and
he's blue too.  I wonder what THIS guy is?" Sheba remarked.
	 "An Andorian," answered a male voice from behind them.
	 Darrion Marks slipped up to the bar and smiled at the Galactica's
Officers.  "They are one of the earliest species that the Federation
encountered."
	 "Interesting," Sheba responded.  "You seem to know alot about
the different aliens around here."
	 Marks chuckled and said, "Of course.  Every Ambassador has to
have at least a cursory knowledge of most, if not all the members of the
Federation.  Hell, we end up having to sit in boring meetings with them
all the time, anyway!"
	 "Well, there's something about that 'Andorian' that's kinda sexy,
the way his white hair contrasts with his blue skin..." Casseopia
snickered.
	 "Yeah," Athena added, "and those, those 'things' that look like,
well, like antennas..."
	 "They ARE antennae," Marks replied.
	 "Oh," was the response.
	 "Listen, any of you ladies interested in going to the hula show
this afternoon?"
	 "Hula?" Sheba queried.
	 "Oh, it's an ancient Earth dance show, very exotic."
	 "Now THAT sounds exciting," Casseopia exclaimed.
	 "Casseopia, why don't you bring Starbuck along?" Sheba
recommended.
	 "Why?" was Casseopia's reply.
	 "Well... never mind."
	 "Ambassador, tell me what time and I'll be there," Casseopia
offered.

				--o--
 
	 Beverly Crusher and Deanna Troi leisurely walked along the
shopping arcade that circled the main pool of the 'Trade Winds' resort,
with bags of purchases held tightly in hand.  They stopped briefly in front
of a small booth that displayed tiny bottles of perfume and jars of exotic
herbs.  The old Bajoran woman behind the counter smiled slightly, as
the two Star Fleet Officers surveyed the display.
	 "Do you wish me to read your pagh today ladies?" the woman
asked.
	 "'Pagh'?" Crusher repeated.
	 "Your life-force, Commander," the woman answered.
	 "Well," Beverly responded, "I don't know.  I think my 'life-force' is
just fine, Miss...?"
	 "Jaina Marroc," the Bajoran replied, "and you, Betazoid, have you
ever had YOUR pagh read?"
	 "Um, no, I'm afraid I haven't," Deanna admitted.
	 "Your calm speech betrays your true state of being," the woman
then observed.
	 "I... I didn't get much sleep last night," the Counselor noted with
a sigh.
	 "Give me your ear," Jaina Marroc demanded.
	 "My what?  My ear?"
	 "It is the window to your pagh," she explained.
	 Troi looked over at Crusher and Crusher returned an 'I don't know
what she's talking about' look.  Troi then sighed again and stepped
forward, towards the Bajoran.
	 The woman reached up and pinched Troi's right ear, causing the
Betazoid to wince at the pressure.  The Bajoran snapped, "Be relaxed.
Do not block your thoughts, Betazoid."
	 A little irritated at the woman's rudeness, Troi took a deep breath,
closed her eyes, and attempted to clear her mind.  Jaina Marroc inhaled
deeply, with eyes closed, and gradually slipped into an almost trance-
like condition.  Suddenly she screamed as if in pain and quickly
withdrew her hand from Troi's ear, as if it were on fire.  The Bajoran
stood shaking, only slightly more than Deanna and Beverly were, after
the unexpected outburst.
	 "Evil!" the woman shrieked.  "Evil all around," she added.  She
looked over at Deanna with horror and said, "You must protect yourself.
Do not be deceived..."
	 Confused, Troi replied, "What are you talking about?"
	 "It is circling you.  It is everywhere.  Here, wear this..."  She
handed Troi a fine gold chain with a small amulet on it.
	 "What is this?" Deanna asked, taking the small chain and
holding the amulet close to try to read the inscription.
	 "It will protect you from..."
	 "Protect her from what?" Beverly injected.
	 The woman sat down again and closed her eyes.  She refused to
speak any more.
	 "Come on Deanna.  Let's just go..." Crusher said, as she grabbed
Troi's arm and tried to lead her away.
	 Troi stood silently looking back at the woman and then down at the
necklace, as she sensed the intense fear that now radiated from the
Bajoran's mind.  She barely heard Beverly Crusher's pleas.
	 "Deanna, come ON!" the Enterprise Doctor begged, finally able
to drag Deanna away from the table and towards another.

				-----
       
	 That evening, Commander William Riker leaned back in his lounge
chair, with feet up and eyes closed.  He struggled to purge from his mind,
any thoughts of the horror from the night before.  Like his colleagues, he
felt that he desperately needed a break from the intensity of the 
investigations of the murders.  As he began to doze, the door chime
sounded.  Startled, he instinctively responded, "Come."
	 Ambassador Marks tentatively entered the room and looked around
in fascination.
	 "Uh Ambassador, what can I do for you?" Riker groggily asked.
	 "Hmmm.  I figured you'd forget," Marks replied.
	 "Forget?  Forget what?"
	 "We had a poker date."
	 "Poker.  Oh yeah well... we canceled that after what happened
last night.  I think all of us are pretty wiped out."
	 "I see."
	 "Sorry, I should have let you know beforehand," Riker said
apologetically.
	 "Well, I never thought that I'd ever hear THE William T. Riker pass
up a golden opportunity," Marks baited.
	 "Huh?"
	 "How about you and me.  One on one."
	 The First Officer managed to sit up slightly and found that his
muscles had become stiff in the short time he had been in the chair.
"I may have to pass on that, Ambassador," he said with a groan, as he
tried to shift to a more comfortable position.
	 "Call me Darrion.  'Ambassador' is too stuffy."
	 "Good enough... Darrion.  Maybe some other..."
	 "WHAT other time Commander?  I think it'll provide us with a
welcome, therapeutic distraction.  As you might know, I was affected by
what happened as bad as anyone else.  At least a good game of poker
will take the sting out of the bite."
	 "Well..." Riker began.
	 "Oh come on Commander, just a few hands.  I have a couple of
techniques I want to try out.  They're some of the moves I saw Arjus
use."
	 "'Techniques'?  You mean cheating," Riker quipped, as he now
moved to sit completely upright.
	 "Well, now that's a little harsh..."
	 "Harsh?  No matter what you call it, it's STILL cheating."
	 "You game?"
	 With resignation, Riker said, "Okay, let's see what you got."
	 The two men set up the table and played several rounds.  After
awhile, the Betazoid remarked, "So what ever happened at the 'Battle of
the Century' or was it the 'Yahren' or something like that?"
	 "The what?"
	 "You know.  That marathon poker game I heard you guys had
against the Galactica crew."
	 "Oh yeah.  Boy, talk about a crazy night!  I NEVER thought that
Data had it in him.  He actually bluffed his way through to the very end
of that last hand.  I mean, Lieutenant Starbuck almost gave up the shirt
on his back believing that Data had something in his hand!  I guess
we're fortunate that we don't have an overwhelming need for money,
otherwise if I were Data, I'd be sweatin'!" Riker noted.
	 "Would you bet everything if the reward was high enough?"
Marks inquired.
	 "I think I HAVE bet 'everything', at some point in my previous
young and naive days," Riker admitted with a chuckle.
	 "I mean, would you REALLY bet EVERYTHING."
	 "Like what else?"
	 "Hmm.  Perhaps, your service instead of money."
	 "My service?  My service for what?" Riker asked with a little
apprehension.
	 "Oh, your assistance in helping me do some things."
	 "Marks, you're hedging.  What kinds of things are you talking
about?"
	 Feigning embarrassment, the Ambassador said, "Actually, I need
your advise on talking to... well actually, dealing WITH certain people.
You seem to know most of the crew on board this ship, at least to a
certain degree.  I'd like to talk to some of them.  There may be alot of
interests that they have in common with me.  I don't often get the time
to socialize that much."
	 "I see, and if I win?"
	 "If you win, then you get to keep this..." Darrion Marks quickly
replied, holding up a clear crystal with a tiny red object visibly lodged
within it.
	 "What's this?" Riker asked while taking the crystal and turning
it around in his hands.
	 "It's something I won from Arjus.  It's allegedly a Trellian healing
stone.  Supposedly, if you hold it tightly and concentrate, you can
actually heal injuries.  I believe your Captain is probably familiar with
the legend."
	 "Interesting.  I never really had much of an interest in esoteric
objects like this, but... since you are a guest, I'll give it a try.
Besides, what could I possibly lose?"

				--o--

	 Athena slowly walked down the corridor and stopped in front of
Deanna Troi's door.  She hesitated for a moment and then pushed the
button that sounded the door chime.
	 "Come in," came a voice from within.
	 Athena stepped forward to activate the door mechanism and then
peeped inside without entering.
	 Troi sighed and responded, "Come on in Athena."
	 "You're not busy, are you?  I didn't want to disturb..."
	 "No, please come in.  Sit down," Deanna offered.
	 Athena slowly walked over to a chair and eased into it.  The two
women then began to simultaneously talk.
	 "Look, I'm..."
	 "They both stopped short and began to laugh.
	 "You go first," Troi said.
	 "Okay.  I JUST wanted to say that I really acted like an
immature child the other night and I want to apologize," Athena
explained.
	 "You?  I think that MY performance deserves an award!" the
Counselor admitted, with a giggle.
	 "Deanna... I... well, I'm not sure you understand how I feel.  I
guess you can read my emotions right now, but I'm just trying to look
after my father, that's all.  I don't think that he's taking the time to take
care of himself like he should.  He and Apollo tend to go off on some
wild tangents sometimes, egging each other on, and... you know."
	 "Yes, I know.  I feel the same way about my mother. I think...
I think maybe it's loneliness, PLUS she IS still going through 'the 
change', which we on Betazed call 'the phase', and with Betazoids, it's
pretty rough," Deanna noted.
	 "Yeah, I DEFINITELY don't look forward to THAT day," was
Athena's reply.
	 "Well let me tell you something, with Betazoid women, it's worse
than you think."
	 Really?  You mean like, real bad sweats and..."
	 "I MEAN they get real..."  she bent over and whispered in Athena's
ear, "horny."
	 Athena sat up and began to shake her head in confusion.
"Horny?  I'm not familiar ..."
	 Deanna sighed and said, "Very sexually excited."
	 Athena opened her eyes wide and exclaimed,