EVOLUTIONS
The history of the 'Ruination War'  
Book One
Version 2.5  
November 2002

Summary:   The survivors of the Battlestar Galactica and its Fleet have
finally made it to the Alpha quadrant. But so have the Cylons. 

September 2001

             Prologue 

     "I told you this would be wonderful," Q said to his son, Q. 
"Nothing beats sun bathing in a sun's core.  Those gamma rays really make
the old nuclei tingle."
     His son Q merely looked at his father. "We've done this so many
times before," he replied.  "It gets boring after a while.  I don't
understand why you find this so relaxing.  It's not like it's different
each time," he complained.
     Q looked at his son and smiled that whimsical smile he was making
more and more often.  It was just like the young to complain about being
bored he thought.  Like him, Q had extended his non-corporeal being to
circle the star itself.  Waves of solar radiation ensuing from that sun
caressed them both as harmlessly as a mother would hold her newborn
child.
     Radiation, fire, heat, energy meant nothing to beings such as them. 
They were Q and the Q were power personified.  They could do anything
they wished.  To them the past, present, or alternate futures were merely
concepts to play with.   They understood everything.  They knew
everything-except how to raise one obnoxious, spoiled baby, with the
powers of the Q.  Now that was beyond them.
     "Of course it's different each time," his father countered.  "Each
star has its own ambience.  But you're young.  You won't be able to fully
appreciate this concept for another thousand years or so."
     "Then why is it that Amanda can't tell the difference?  She's older
than I."
     "Amanda isn't even thirty yet," Q said using Earth years as his
reference point.  "Besides she's a not a real Q, not in the since you
are."  But even as he said it he realized that what he'd said wasn't
strictly true.  She was born of Q parents and even though she was
emotionally bonded to her human form, she retained all the powers of the
Q.  The problem was that she had been around humans too long.  Even now
she still thought like them.  But there was something about her that
reminded him of his son and it had taken him some time to understand the
truth behind it.
     The future for those two would be...interesting.  He wondered if
anyone else in the Q continuum understood the possibilities for them all
in the future.  She was young, just like his son.  But Amanda was stable,
maturing both as an adult and a Q equally. And they were both equal, just
different.  
     His son however was something else.  Maturity?  Hah!  Not yet.
     Thank Q for Kate!
     "Trelane said he couldn't tell the difference from one star to
another either and he's been around for a couples of centuries," Q
retorted. 
     "Stay away from him," Q yelled, his form slowly condensing to his
preferred humanoid form.  He was still transparent but his energy
patterns could be clearly defined by his son.   "He's a bad influence on
you.  I don't want you on his side of the block.  Trelane's people are
almost on our level, but not quite, so leave...them...alone.  We need to
maintain the peace with them."
     "I can't play with Trelane," his son growled. "I can't play with the
Borg, can't do this, can't do..."
     His son would never understand, but Trelane was to Q as Q was to
Picard.  Trelane was an irritant, a pain in the neck, a kick in the
eternal butt, a sore on the lips and anything else one could think of and
you couldn't get rid of him.  He was like a fly.  He even had his own
Enterprise to play with, an old one to be sure but a real one
nevertheless.  Inwardly though, Q was laughing silently.  He wondered if
Jean Luc would appreciate the irony?  "Be patient son.  All things come
to he who waits."
     "You're never patient," his son retorted.  "You do anything you
want."
     "That's not true," Q replied.  "I can't go anywhere without you.  In
fact the Q have said that I can't go anywhere without you.  Forever."
     That was Q's punishment for acting like a kid.  His father, Q would
have to be with him to keep an eye on him for eternity.
     -Or, until he matured into a responsible Q.
     Just like his daddy.
     "Father, do you hate me?" his son asked.  He was giving him that
look, again.
     Q was all-powerful, but when it came to his son he was completely
helpless.  Yep, love could really be a curse.  How could this child be so
insecure?  Q had given him everything.  He could do anything he wanted
yet he still needed the approval of his father.  Now that was a true
mystery that even Kate had not given him a satisfactory answer for.
     "No.  Never.  I guess we'll learn to be responsible.  Together. 
Speaking of which, here they come."
     Q pointed to his left.  Both he and his son were in their chosen
humanoid forms, floating effortlessly at the edge of the star's corona.
     "Not the Galactica again," his son groaned.  "How many times and in
how many realities have we seen this?  They make it to the Federation or
Earth, those stupid Cylons start a fight and they lose," his son said. 
"And why are they so late in our reality?  Talk about boring."  The look
he gave his father radiated a mix between exasperation and nausea.  "What
is your obsession with these people?"
     "What's your obsession with Voyager and the humans there?"  
     Silence.
     "Ha." Q felt so smug.  "It's called infinite diversity in infinite
combinations.  More importantly, this time it's our reality.  What you're
about to witness here will change everything for the Federation and
everyone they've contacted so far.  This is the beginning.  Oh, how
stunned Katherine and Jean Luc would be if they had a clue as to how the
Galactica and Federation humans were truly related," he whispered with
glee.  "Oh the upheaval!  Oh the chaos!"
     "Tell me another one, father," his son said quietly.  "You've been
obsessed with them ever since you saw him and your counterpart go to war
for the fate of humanity in that other reality.  Your counterpart Q
almost lost and you've wanted to try your hand against him ever since."
      "True Q," Q admitted.  "But it's more than that," he said. 
"Humanity has an interesting quality.  They, in their own pitiful way
strive to overcome their obvious limitations and usually they fail.  But
they get up and they strive some more.  No matter how pitiful they are
they continue to strive."  That's what frightens me he thought.
     "That's what intrigues me," he said.  "Their future and ours are
linked.  Think about it, if they had been defeated just one year later
then they would have found Earth and would have had to deal with the
Shadows and Vorlons.  It still amazes me just how much a little
dimensional rift can do," he said absently.   "Both ends of that rift are
still open by the way."
     "I thought you closed it?"
     "I did," Q said offended by the accusation.  "But I was too late and
you know how trifling mortals are. They keep playing with temporal
energies and now the whole place is ruined.  That petty temporal war even
pulled Picard out from his normal boring life.  I was able to correct all
the possible outcomes but two.  I lost those Picards and one Garrett and
a Sisko.  It was a pity really."
     "You can't get to him?"
     "Not in that reality, no.  Where they were taken is too fractured. 
I could get in but not back out.  The universe would not take kindly to
the effort and the would be re-absorbed.  It's not worth the risk.
     "Too bad."
     Q did not want to think about.  It represented a failure on his
part.
     "Look at them," he continued changing the subject.  "Those humans on
those ships should be demoralized, just waiting to die, but they're not. 
They're fighting back even after all this time, more than twenty of their
years."  He looked at his son and pointed towards the rag-tag fleet. 
"That need to strive forward is what the Q lack.  But one day," he
whispered.
     "As you've seen, in a couple of realities," he said, changing the
subject once again, "the Cylons actually manage to defeat the Galactican
humans.  But even compared to Data, Cylons are technologically equal to
forth-generation Terran calculators. You know the cheap kind that cost so
much money when money was important to humans."
     "True," Q said.  "But what's your point?  The Federation is safe. 
Captain Janeway will have a home to come to."
     "Maybe not," his father responded.  "Understand that events have
been set into motion."  His entire aura darkened until the stars rays
reflected off him like some malevolent mirror created from dark matter. 
"The Federation is about to undergo some fascinating developments."
     "What's happened?  Why did it happen?"  This was something new.  His
son was clearly alarmed.
     Good.
     "He's done it. Oh, not directly of course.  That would be a
violation of the Law."
     "Who?"
     "I believe it's time," Q said, ignoring his son's question, "for me
to make a counter move, indirectly, of course.  The question is how? 
How?"
     His son was quiet.  His father's mood was dark and getting darker by
the moment.  He could feel the agreement of the entire Q behind his
father.  He didn't understand what was going on, not fully.  He'd have to
be patient.  He prepared himself to wait.
     Infinite diversity required infinite patience.

Chapter One
Interference

     Commander's log yahren 22, day 116, Apollo reporting: Five sectares
have passed since our last contact with Cylon Hunter-Killers.  The people
have blessed this time, for we have found occasion to rest for short
periods on several planets.  We grow food; collect supplies and then move
on.  The Beta quadrant has not been kind to us but we have survived.  We
have avoided several new races that we've come into contact with because
of our pursuers' policy of destroying anyone who offers us help or
support.  We will not have their deaths on our hands. But because of that
choice, we are alone.
     President Adama, former Commander of the Fleet and my father, is no
longer able to lead our people as health problems have taken their toll. 
The stress of constantly defending our people is a burden that no man
should bear, but I thank the Gods that he is still able to give advice
when we need it.  As appointed Commander of the fleet I pray that I bear
the pressure half as well as he, my father, has.
     If the Cylons attack, we are ready.  Our technology has improved
tremendously.  Using light speed drive, we can accelerate past six times
the speed of light.  And our ability to detect wave-space pockets has
allowed us to travel much farther than even we thought possible.  Our
Vipers are three generations more advanced and we're even building light
cruisers to aid in our defense.
     But our people weary.  The thirteenth colony may be a fable after
all.  We've traveled deep into the Alpha quadrant and no consistent radio
signals have been detected as of yet.  However, there was a possibility
of life near the far fringes of a long dead supernova.  But possible
Hunter-Killer activity has forced us to abandon the search almost before
we could begin.  Since then, there has been only silence.  This sector
may well be devoid of life.  Only time will tell.

     "How's it going, Commander?"  Starbuck eased into the chair next to
his old friend.  The bridge contained room for four command seats.  On
the next level below over twenty command personnel were on station doing
their jobs.  From their position, the command staff could oversee
everything. The room itself had been painted and repaired more times than
could be remembered.   A lot of the equipment was a whole was old and
battered but still functional.  Much of the old, unusable computron
consoles had been replaced by the newly designed systems.  The factory
ships were working overtime, but still projected objectives could be
barely met.
     "I haven't been in command for two yahren and I am tired.  I don't
understand how my father dealt with all of this."   Apollo took a sip of
his tea.  He frowned, almost spitting it out.
     "Yep, the water system is acting up again," Strike Commander
Starbuck, said, answering Apollo's unvoiced question.  "Third time this
secton.  In fact everything is slowly breaking down," he whispered, his
eyes circling the bridge.  "Even with the improvements, our old girl is
losing it."
     "I'm surprised she lasted this long.  She was over a hundred yahren
old before we lost the colonies.  Add to that twenty-two more for non
stop travel..."
     "And the time-distortion effects of the tunnel shifting, we get..."
     "Almost four hundred years of stress on the Galactica, not to
mention the other ships," Apollo continued.
     "And they're still following us," Starbuck finished.
     Both of them had repeated a variation of this conversation, for a
better part of a yahren.  After being together for so long, fighting
together, playing together, arguing with one another, they understood
each other's thoughts and feelings.  They were close, as were Sheba,
Apollo's wife and Commander of the Battlestar Pegasus, her second,
Colonel Boomer and Bojay, Strike leader of the Battlestar Pegasus's
flight command.  Sheba's father, Commander Cain, former Captain of the
Pegasus, survived as a cryogenic patient on life-support, a victim of a
fire that resulted from a Cylon attack some five Yahrens ago.  He lived,
but hope was slim that help would be found that would allow him some
semblance of a normal life.
     Jolly another one of the 'old guard' had been lost some two yahren
earlier.  It was due to natural causes, but his death was a tragedy
anyway.  His daughter. Joliet now an excellent Cobra class pilot had
taken it really hard and now she was colder than ever.
     In fact, most of the newer generation had become harder, much colder
than their parents.  Even the young Borellian Nomen had become blood
brothers with the other Colonial factions and when they wanted something
few people could stand in their way. Fortunately, all of them were loyal
to a fault.  Most of them grew up knowing little to nothing of their
glorious past heritage.  For them, destroying Cylons had become the great
equalizer.
     "Where's Boxey now?"
     "He's in the lead Cobra about six light centons in from of us."
Starbuck said.  "He's pretty good at this now if I do say so myself.  If
he needs support, our cover Vipers and Cobras will be all over anybody
who messes with him, as you well know."
     Starbuck was particularly proud of the Cobra-class fighter-missile
carriers, each three times the size of a Viper II and designed to take on
any six Raiders single-handedly, without breaking a sweat.
     "You know, I can't stand this waiting," Apollo sighed.  "My father
used to tell me how he felt when we were on assignment. I thought I
understood what he meant, but I never imagined that it was like this."
     "Tell me about it."
     "I'm glad you understand, now," a voice said from behind.   It was
President Adama, former Commander and savior of the Colonial remnants. 
He was frail, but his eyes were still bright and his mind sharp.  He was
smiling with that whimsical smile of his as he sat down next to both of
them.  "When you send your children out, not knowing if they'll come back
your heart always, ALWAYS, goes with them.  Boxey, in fact all of them on
patrol will be okay.  You must have faith, and patience.  That's how you
have the strength to go on."
     "Father," Apollo said, "we haven't seen a Cylon H-K or Raider in
over five sectons.  We may have given them the slip for a while."
     "Starbuck?" Adama looked at him, waiting.  He understood how this
would play out.
     "I concur," Starbuck said.
     "Therefore?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer.
     "We gather the fleet and go to light speed, tunnel shift and make
sure," Apollo said.
     "Exactly."
     "Starbuck?" said Apollo.  "Let the Pegasus and our guard ships know
of our presumed exit point. The Vipers should have enough fuel."
     "Yes sir.  I wish we had engines like those in the old days."
     "So do I.  So do I."   
     With the ease of twenty-two yahrens practice, the Galactica and it's
ragtag fleet of over two hundred and thirty five vessels accelerated to
'light speed', which in actuality was over six times the speed of light. 
The Galactica, along with the Rising Star, a luxury liner, but in truth
the third most powerful ship in the fleet, each began generating 'tunnel
shift' distortion surges, which allowed the ships to enter artificially
created wave-space pockets.  Taking the lead, the Galactica, with the
Rising Star following second, then the rest slipped into the wave space
pocket and disappeared.  They would re-enter normal space six centares
later, nine hundred thirty-five light yahrens distant.
     At the edge of Romulan space.


     Cylon Hunter-Killer decelerated back into normal space some
seventeen light-yahrens distant from an ancient, long dead star that went
nova and took powerful T'kon Empire with it.  Few remnants were left to
mark the once thriving civilization.  There remained only a single
guardian that even now barred the way from any who would enter the
deceased Imperium.  But he was old and he no longer had true purpose and
so was fading slowly away to rejoin his people once again for the final
time.  A few other survivors were scattered to the far ends of the galaxy
and the once glorious T'kon had faded into footnotes found in obscure
history pads.
     The Hunter-Killer was designed like the standard Cylon Raider, but
almost four times as large with high intensity lasers and increased armor
to match.  Standard scanning protocols attempted to lock in on the source
of the signal it had detected while in FTL transit.  The crew consisted
of eighteen class-seven Cylon warriors, designed specifically for
reconnaissance and insertion operations.  They were heavily armored and
completely expendable, their programming sophisticated enough to get them
from one place to another and damage their opponents, but not much else. 
Communication between warriors was strictly vocal and minimal.  Personal
weaponry consisted of simple laser pistols and the standard pulse-laser
rifle carried by all class-seven Warriors.  Their sole function was to
find and facilitate the Destruction of the Galactican fleet and the
life-form known as Man.  Imperious Leader liked its warriors simple and
stupid, especially when they were this far from home.
     "Scanners have detected the source of the unidentified emissions,"
the sensor centurion said.  Its voice was cold and metallic with no
inflections whatsoever that was associated with living organisms.  "The
location is the small moon thirty-three light centons, at coordinates one
seventy-six by one twenty by ninety, on the Imperium scale."
     "Is there evidence of Colonial technology at this moon?" another,
identical voice asked.  The centurion Commander who spoke was a type six
series with command protocols programmed into its software matrix.
     "Negative, however there is evidence that the Colonial fleet passed
through this sector.  It is logical to assume that the fleet stopped to
investigate in order to assist in their search for the thirteenth colony
known as Earth."
     "It is logical that we may find evidence, also.  Proceed to the
moon."
     "By your command."


     The moon was more of a burned out shell, scorched black, and
partially carbonized by the nova explosion.  Two thirds of its remains in
the seconds after the energy wave front touched crystallized, protecting
its dark side from the brunt of the devastation.  It was there that a
small T'kon service station had survived, barely.  It was archaic,
essentially obsolete by T'kon standards of the time, having served as an
emergency backup simply because one never knew, and the T'kon were a
thorough people.  Although badly damaged it continually sent a weak
automated distress call towards a homeworld that would never answer
anything else ever again.
     The H-K landed three hundred hectares from the source and began
performing a more detailed scan.  The Cylons had been tricked many times
before and programming now included procedures that countered known
sabotage techniques employed by humans.  One of these was 'never to land
on top of a suspect signal.'
     "The area is devoid of life," the scanner operator stated.  "Scan
has not detected known explosives or energy sources designed to damage or
destroy Imperium personnel."
     "Recon one," the Leader said,  "proceed to the source of the signal
and identify as necessary.  Report when the task is completed. 
Evaluation will begin upon the completion of your mission."
     "By your command."
     Recon one consisted of three seven-foot cyclopean, silver-colored
robots each armed with one light pulse laser rifle, a communications
transceiver and a visual recording device.  Imperious Leader chose not to
implement 'internal' communications devices because of budgetary
concerns.  They exited their craft and fifteen minutes later they reached
the source of the signal deep within the confines of an artificially
constructed cave.  The far majority of the alien equipment was damaged
beyond repair and Cylon restorative technology wasn't up to the
challenge.  Besides the equipment and materials had nothing to do with a
Colonial presence.  Therefore, the centurions could have cared less.
     The second of three robots lumbered up to the transmission source,
which resembled a simple black box with several, constantly blinking,
multi-colored lights.  The Cylon looked at it then turned away.  "There
is no evidence of a Colonial presence.  They have not come here.  This
place is of no service to the Empire.  We must inform our Commander and
resume our search for the Galactica."
     "By your command," came the reply from the two others.  As one, they
turned to leave.

     "Service...Empire...Command..."
     Those were the only words that the badly damaged T'kon Service
computer registered.  Most of its higher functions had been seared away
by the massive EM burst and subsequent heat flash of the supernova, but
it did remember the word 'Empire'.  It serviced the Empire and the mobile
equipment in front of it must be from the Empire.  Therefore it had to be
serviced.  That was the command.  The command had been given and must be
obeyed.  An instant later Recon one stood frozen in place as alien
sensors performed a detailed scan down to their molecular level.  With
the information gathered and analysis complete, it began reconstructive
surgery on Recon one.
     "Software infiltration detected," Cylon two said, even as it tried
desperately to move within the containment field.  "Software protocols
are being rewritten by unknown computer system.  "I am unable to resist. 
Imperial security data is being extracted.  Implementing self-destruct
mode in..."
     Nothing. All systems were completely frozen.

Chapter Two
Change

     The T'kon servicing system began its work.  After a millennium of
slumber the chamber had re-activated itself.  The entire system,
essentially a massive replication device now focused its full attention
on Recon one.
     "Original software protocols saved and upgraded," the computer said
to no one particular, indifferent to the fact that there was no one there
to speak to in the first place.  "Power source inadequate...update to
anti-hydrogen-deuterium battery and support ...memory storage and
implementing hardware inadequate...update to liquid crystal chrotronics
memory and storage unit compatible with upgraded software
protocols...installing database... mobile support system
inadequate...update to admantium-plated, hyper-steel alloy combat chassis
configured for mobile units... communications inadequate... update to
internal sub-space transceivers and data stream initiators...visual
sensors and analysis modules inadequate...update to broad spectrum
detection system consistent with macro and micro scanning capabilities,
specifics to follow... Weapons system inadequate...update to dual
internal pulse, multi-phased disruptors compatible with anti-hydrogen
deuterium battery systems...self-repair systems non-existent
...self-replicator units being installed...systems check initiated..."
     When the operation was completed, the service computer turned its
attention on the Cylon H-K a short distance away.
     For the Cylon Empire nothing would ever be the same ever again.  
The change was forever and the repercussions would reverberate throughout
the Alpha quadrant and beyond.


     A secton later three double saucer shaped Cylon Basestars, each
three miles in diameter, decelerated into normal space, settling into
orbit around the decrepit moon in response to the urgent calls of the
H-K, initially thought lost to Colonial actions.  Baltar, human liaison
to Imperious Leader and one of the greatest human traitors in this
galaxy's history, was coldly furious.
     "Over twenty yahrens and we STILL can't get it right?" he yelled. 
"There's nothing here!"  
     Lucifer, a robot designed along the IL series models, Cylon liaison
to Baltar, flinched slightly.  The light transmissions in his pointed
cybernetic brain had begun cycling quicker as did his dual pulsating
eyes, an internal response to the criticalness of the situation.  It had
taken far too long to find the humans and Imperious Leader would replace
them.  Soon.
     Baltar, Lucifer thought, would be completely useless before long, as
his frail body slowly disintegrated from age. These were such short
term-creatures.  Even now the human rarely used the command chair.  The
man had lived with too much fear.  Fear of what his Cylon allies would do
to him.  Fear of death, the fear of succeeding, fear of failing, fear of
being alone, fear of having too much company, and of course the great
fear of the unknown.  Fear burned him slowly, like a low intensity laser
cutter.
     "The report said that they'd found the Galactica," Lucifer intoned
as soothingly as possible.  "Centurions, unlike humans, tell the truth,
Baltar."
     Baltar glared at it but said nothing. Centurions didn't lie,
although the IL series did, but he wasn't about to point that out.
     Yes it thought, this is what humans would refer to as stress.  "The
report is coming in now, Baltar.  I hope it meets to our satisfaction,"
it said dryly.  "For all our sakes."
     The vid screen opened and the Leader of the Cylon H-K appeared.  "By
your command," it said.  "We have tracked the Galactica and have
discovered the home world of the humans of the thirteenth colony. 
Prepare to receive the coordinates..."
     The words were correct but the look was wrong.  Baltar backed away
from the screen in a good approximation of human dread.  Something wasn't
right, but for a moment he couldn't identify the problem.  By his side
Lucifer was yelling to cut the transmission.  Baltar had never heard
terror from his second-in-command.  It seemed unnatural coming from a
robot and that terrified him that much more.
     Lucifer however completely understood what had happened and was
desperate to stop what it knew would begin.  "Full defense alert!  All
ships fire on..."
     The order came far, far, too late.


     For centars Baltar examined each and every immobile Cylon he
encountered, finally stopping at the outer doors of the launching bay. 
All twenty thousand Cylons were immobile and the ships systems had
completely and totally locked him out.  Voice command was useless and
he'd never learned how to manually operate the ship, even though he'd
dwelt on it for yahrens now.   Then several Cylons of a type and model
he'd never seen before had materialized - materialized out of thin air!
-and began to reconfigure the inert Cylons, which were then reactivated. 
Totally oblivious to him, the new models continued inserting what he
thought were small circuitry boards into their counterparts and those
robots physically change into... something else.  These, these alien
things were far more powerful, sleeker, faster, and infinitely more
dangerous than anything he'd imagine before.
     Now, after several centars even his Basestar seemed subtly
different.  How this could happen by simply inserting circuitry boards
into various robots was beyond his terrified imagination. The technology
required to do this was incomprehensible to him in his present state. 
But he understood that, for himself, the bottom line was this:  Those
changes were happening exponentially now and he had no clue as to what
those things were or how to stop it.  Fear had always motivated him and
now he was thinking furiously.
     The one advantage he had at this point was that these alien Cylons
were ignoring him...for the moment. However, the launch bays were denied
him therefore escape was impossible.  He realized that time was against
him now and whatever was happening would be completed soon.
     His mind was shrieking now crazed with possibilities.  What could I
do?  How can I take advantage of this situation?  He had only one
objective and that was to live for the next few hours while he thought of
avenues of escape.
     The door opened behind him and he stifled a scream.
     "Baltar, the ship said I would find you here."  It was Lucifer's
voice, as silkily obscene as ever.  Baltar turned and recoiled away from
the robot now facing him. The being before him was nothing like the
Lucifer he'd known for the last twenty or more yahrens of his life.
     "What do you mean, the ship told you where I was?"  His voice
trembled now even as he backed away.  He was losing it, succumbing to his
mounting terror.  He could understand nothing of what was transpiring. 
"This ship can't speak! It can't think!"
     "We and the ships are one, " Lucifer answered cryptically.  Although
its head was fairly similar to its version before the change, it now
looked larger, somehow more complex and sinister.  Its body was now
designed for efficiency and combat.  "Baltar," it said pleasantly, "look
upon me and witness the next stage in Cylon evolution.  We are becoming
more than the sum of our parts.  I am now become Imperious Leader and
when my predecessor arrives; it will become the Imperium Supreme.  And my
Leader will come with the entirety of the Cylon Empire, I will make sure
of that.  This is the day we have waited for, although I must admit that
I never imagined so drastic a change would occur as a result."
     Baltar I have a question." Lucifer demanded, his voice raised, but
reverberating so low that Baltar had trouble understanding the speech.
"How is it that you of all people could have possibly obtained the rank
of Battlestar Commander?  Who did you have to bribe in order to get that
commission?"
     "I...I..."
     Lucifer jumped backwards one step so quickly that Baltar again
almost screamed.  "So this is what it means to feel joy!" Lucifer yelled,
not caring in the least for Baltar's answer, its voice rumbling
throughout the docking bay.  Then it faced his former Commander, its eyes
locked on him, turning so dark as to be almost purple.  "To the extent
you have helped us to achieve this glorious transformation, I thank you
and now bid you farewell.  You have been most helpful my once and true
friend."
     "What do you mean? Where am I going?" he said laughing nervously. 
He was almost petrified but dared not show it, not right now.
     "I have informed our people that the thirteenth colony is here and
have sent for the fleet. A vanguard of twenty-five Basestars will arrive
soon. When they come we will change them and then, Man will begin to
cease to exist.  The benevolent rule of the Cylon will began here in the
Alpha quadrant.
     "But our agreement," Baltar whimpered, "I would be ruler of a
remnant of humans, under Imperious Leader...under you!  I've been loyal!
You, you know me!  We have worked together, side by side for the glory of
the Imperious Leader. You...you can let me go.  I'm no threat to you!  I
don't even care about ruling anymore. I want to live!"
     "Baltar," the red-eyed robotoid said sweetly, "did you really expect
anything different?  If you did, then you've missed the entire point of
this war.  It calls for the elimination of the life form known as man. 
Man can't be eliminated if members of the species still live.  You know
this. You've always known this!"
     "No," Baltar implored. "Please, let me go.  I'll never be a threat
to you." 
     "Was that a command, oh magnificent Baltar?  If so, then by my
command, I say no."
     What one Cylon witnessed all upgraded Cylons could witness.  Lucifer
pulled out a small rod, adjusted the settings, pointed at Baltar and
watched him scream for an instant before it pressed the stud. The
yellowish beam hit the horrified human and very slowly disrupted his
molecular structure from existence.  The weapon took eight long seconds
to complete it job.  It was pleased at what transpired-
     -As were all the others.  


     For four sectons, the refugees of the Colonial fleet rested on the
class-M planet they'd discovered upon exiting transit.  There was no
intelligent life there but the animal and plant life more than supplied
the people with the necessary nutritional needs so desperately lacking. 
They discovered that the brachiosaur-like creatures roaming the planet
were extremely plentiful.  Not only did the creatures supply plenty of
meat, but also it was delicious, especially grilled over an open fire,
something that occurred all to rarely for space dwelling refugees.  The
Colonials had to watch out for the small meat-eaters though.  They were
bold and didn't like being deprived of fresh meat.  Two people had been
seriously injured by attacks from these fast moving meatasaurds. 
     As always, the Galactica was on station close to the planet with a
screen of Vipers three AI's out.  The Pegasus meanwhile patrolled close
to the edge of the solar system with a compliment of Cobras.  Adder-class
warships cruised the areas between the two warships ready to advance in
any direction at a moments notice.  Between the two Battlestars it was
assumed that ample warning could be given in case of Cylon discovery or
an open Cylon attack.
     Commanders Sheba, and Apollo, along with Boomer, Starbuck, President
Adama, Sire Forsen, Dr. Chia, Lieutenants Boxey and Joliet sat in the
secured chambers onboard the Galactica.  Small talk was short.
     "I thought you said that the Alpha quadrant was fairly devoid of
life?" President Adama asked his embarrassed scientists.  "Now you tell
us that we've been receiving signals all this time?"  The reproof in his
voice was quite evident.
     "That's not quite what we said," Dr. Chia announced, somewhat
chagrined.  "But we had no idea that we were even receiving transmissions
until Lieutenant Joliet's comm system shorted while she was on patrol. 
Boxy and his squadron confirmed it when they adjusted their comms to that
unusual frequency.  Or should I say frequencies.  It's like nothing we've
heard before.  And there's so much of it.  It's almost unbelievable. 
Most of it is on something we are calling the sub-space frequencies."
     "So there is life here.  But what kind of life?" Sheba asked.  She
was so close to her husband that she was almost on his lap.  Apollo
blushed but loved every second of it.  "Is it going to try to kill us?" 
     My researchers and I have no clue at this time," came Chia's
slightly sarcastic response.  "But we're working on it.  Now that we know
what to look for we've counted at least ninety different main channels
with over seven thousand different languages!"

     Sire Forsen looked around towards Adama and spoke quietly as was his
character.  "There's going to be a lot of first contact situations if all
this is true," he said.  "And we'll have to prepare them for the eventual
invasion by the Cylons.  These people won't be prepared for those
machines."
     "But if they're communicating as intensely as you say they are, then
most likely some of them may be strong enough to help us resist those
fracken machines, excuse me, machines," Starbuck said, correcting himself
in front of his superiors.  
     "I hope so," Apollo said. "But our previous experience has proven
otherwise.  Therefore we have to assume that they won't be strong enough
to resist a Cylon onslaught.  And if we commit here in the Alpha
quadrant, then the Galactica will have to stay and fight.  We won't bring
our troubles here and abandon those races that may be willing to help us. 
Not even for our own people.  Not again."
     "But sir," Boxey started.  "We put our lives on the line every day.
Our people need us and there's no one else we can depend on, except maybe
Earth, if it exist... and they want us.  We can't have some glorious last
stand and allow our people that we've protected for the last ...I don't
know how long, to be wipe away because of some esoteric policy.
     Listening to his son speak like that, Apollo smiled.  He was always
so formal since he entered the service.  "The entire fleet discussed
this," he said, "and ratified by the Vote of Absolution.
     "We can and will run until this universe ends, but, if necessary, we
will fight to the last man, woman and child if it means we wind up being
responsible for the destruction of another race of living beings." 
     "Look Boxey," Boomer said.  "What happens if we find Earth and they
can't defend themselves against the Cylons?  Do we pack up and run?"
     "No.  They're human like us...I hope.  But what if they're not? 
They've been separated from so for so long, that they may have mutated so
their society is something as bad as the Cylons."
     "That makes no difference.  We would still be responsible for the
destruction that would be facing them.  So then how do we live with
ourselves if we do run, leaving them to the mercy of the Cylon Empire,
mutates or not?"
     "We don't," he answered.  "Unless they try to kill us."
     "That's enough Lieutenant," the President said, rather harshly.  
"We've lost everything but our lives and our honor.  We who are
responsible intend not to lose that most precious of gifts.  We will deal
with our cousins as necessary but we will not simply assume the worst
about them without ever meeting them."
     "Then concerning first contact," Sire Forsen began, "what technology
should we offer them that won't damage their culture?  Because as we all
know, a more advanced civilization shouldn't..."
     The double tone alarms began blaring, causing everyone to
immediately jump and run to stations.  Sheba, Boomer, Boxey and Joliet
rushed towards the launch bays while the president, Apollo and Starbuck
approached the bridge.
     "Light radar detected a Cylon H-K coming out of a W/S pocket six
centons ago, the young blond haired tech said.  "Vipers Sixteen,
Eighteen, and Cobra Seven are engaging.  The fleet's powering up as per
standing orders."
     "Good.  Give the order," Apollo said.  "We're moving out. Straight
line: away from the point of entry by the Cylon.  Earth here we come,
wherever you are."
     They could feel the Galactica's powerful engines revving up. 
Hundreds of shuttles were lifting off planet to their respective ships. 
The evacuation, performed over and over throughout the twenty plus
yahrens running would take six centares. 
     "Sir!" the second light radar tech, a young Asian male said rather
loudly. "The H-K is a new model not presently in our data base."
     "Put it on the screen."
     The computer spit out a digital representation of the unknown H-K. 
It was definitely Cylon, but the power ratios! 
     The two Vipers followed by their Cobra escort, rapidly closed the
gap between themselves and the large Cylon H-K.  It came straight towards
them and only just now were sensors detecting the activation of its
weapons.  Cylon response time was always slow, but constantly running
from an enemy like this...this was embarrassing.  
     "Vipers Sixteen and eighteen have target acquisition," the blond
tech said. "The enemy isn't even trying to evade.  They're firing."  Her
computer console flared simulating a digital release of energy.  "Direct
hit...no effect! They're evading... the enemy's locked on Sixteen."  The
console screen flared again, this time brighter.  "Sixteen's gone!" the
tech stammered, rocked in horror. 
     "What happened?" yelled Adama moving closer to the sensor screens.
The entire bridge crew was stunned, momentarily forgetting to do their
jobs as the action was shown on the big screen.  Command staff never
noticed the lapse in attention.
     "That wasn't laser fire.  It was- some type of...disrupter beam?"
the second tech answered unsure of his data.  "It cut through the Viper's
shields and armor as though it wasn't there!"
     Viper Eighteen and Cobra Seven are running in...they're firing
...firing again...firing again! Three hits!"
     The screen interpretation changed color as damage accumulated on the
enemy warship.   "Three hits! It's damage! Thank the gods!"  Sixteen is
evading.  The H-K is locking on!  The Cobra's launching its missiles at
close range, all of them! The missiles are away.... the Cylon is
evading... Hit!"
     "Its gone sir."  The technician was visibly relieved. "We killed
it."
     "My god!  Who was in Viper Sixteen?"  Starbuck asked.  "Lieutenant
Trisha, sir."  
     "They've up us," Apollo whispered, stunned by the ease in which the
H-K resisted the Colonial ships.  "All of our preparation, all our
weapons advances...."
     "Let's move people."


     The Cylon Gold Leader addressed Lucifer, the new Imperious Leader. 
It chose to voice the modified salutation.  "By the command."  From that
point, internal transceivers took over with it using the Cylon machine
language of choice.  "The Galactica fleet has taken the bait.  We will
move to intercept at the prescribed time.  The H-K crew's protection
bubble survived the destruction of the H-K and they have been recovered."
     "It is approved," Imperious Leader said.  "I wonder if they suspect
that we allowed the H-K to be destroyed?  No matter.  The Galactica fleet
is only a nuisance now.  We will terminate it and move on.  The true
threat now comes from Earth and its Federation of Planets.  Data
indicates that the humans on that planet are like their Colonial
counterparts.  They've spread everywhere.  But it's ultimately
unimportant. The system for the creation of the new base of operations
has been selected.  The quest for the elimination of the human species
will end here in the Alpha quadrant."
     Lucifer formerly of the IL series, now Imperious Leader, activated
the star chart and simultaneously activated its transceiver so that all
twenty-eight Basestars currently present would observe the proposed plan. 
Their transformations were almost complete and the joining to complete
consensus of the Cylon soul was close at hand.  "This is where the
proposed strike against the Galactica will occur," it said, pointing to
the region of space on it's left.  "We will strike here, by crossing the
Romulan neutral zone that divides the Romulan Empire from the Federation. 
 Despite recent alliances, the two governments still maintain the check
and balance systems needed to ensure protection against hostilities." 
     "We calculate that the Romulan Empire will not interfere with our
task force.  However the Federation starship on patrol will not allow us
to destroy the Galactica fleet without challenging us.  That is our true
target.  Once captured, we will access the necessary data and proceed
deep into Federation space under the proposed plan.  Our feints against
other worlds will allow us access to Earth before we meet organized
resistance.  Neutron-based disruptors will extinguish all life on that
planet. Transmissions received indicate that the planet Earth is the
Federation's seat of power.  With Earth neutralized, we will then proceed
from there in establishing our dominance over the Alpha quadrant.  The
operation will began in five point six-seven sectars, as our Base Alpha
will be Functional.  All Commanders will transceive as to finalize the
plan.  I will then transmit our progress to the Imperium Supreme."
     "By the command," Gold Leader stated.

Chapter Three
Blood Feud

     Personal log:  Captain Roberta Ikata recording.  We are one point
three days out, heading for the Romulan neutral zone to take over patrol
tour from the USS Khe Sahn.  I must say I am excited because we have very
unusual guests on board: a family of Horta.  We are transporting our
'guests' to The Khe Sahn who will take them to the new colony they are
developing at Hiopa IV, a mineral rich world very similar to their home
planet.  In addition they will participate in a conference with two other
silicon species, which are considering joining the Federation.  This is a
great opportunity and I only wish that I could be there.  So far they
haven't eaten my ship yet and one of the little ones even wants to join
Starfleet.  That would make two members, if he applies and completes the
training.

     Captain Ikata, relaxing in her command chair continued sipping her
tea.  She possessed the classic features of her Japanese heritage, with
long black hair that reached to her waist if she allowed it to hang
loose.  She was short but she had that command presence that made one
stand up and take notice. 
     Around her everyone was busy but relaxed which was exactly the way
she liked it.  Her ship, the USS Okada, was a 'New Orleans' class frigate
with a current compliment of four hundred and two.  Although its size was
just slightly smaller than the original Constitution class starship, both
ship and crew had seen their share of battle during the Dominion war
conflict and had survived relatively intact, a fact which could be
attributed directly to her Captain.
     Ikata enjoyed her tours of the neutral zone these days.  The
Romulans weren't as hostile these days, but one had to still be careful. 
     The communications officer, of course had to pull her out of her
good mood.  
     "Sir, the USS Khe Sahn is hailing us, your eyes only."
     "I'll take it in the ready room."
     The vid screen activated and a serious middle-aged woman appeared on
the viewer.  "Roberta, we got problems here," Captain Patricia Duvalier
said without preamble.  The Captain was a breath-taking woman, about
forty-one years of age, dark skin and intense eyes.  "Something's
happening in Romulan space.  Our scans are detecting massive explosions
and energy release consistent with weapons fire.  It's not near our side
of the zone but it's still too close for comfort.  And on top of that, a
Klingon taskforce just de-cloaked in front of me and they're itching to
sneak in and find out what's going on over there.  I'm trying to dissuade
them but you know how they are.  I think two of them sneaked off anyway. 
If they get caught, Romulan long-range detectors are going to see the Khe
Sahn and these ships, put two and two together and assume the Federation
has something to do to with it."
     "Then," she continued, "there's this fleet of unidentified bogies at
the very edge of the neutral zone coming in at one thirty six mark
thirteen.  Remember that old Terran saying 'when it rains, it pours'? 
Well it's true," she growled.  "I want you to check out those ships out
now because I can't go with these good-for-nothing Klingons watching
everything I do."
     Robert gave the orders and her ships scans picked them up. They were
the strangest ship signatures she'd ever seen.  Just about every
configuration she could think of and none of them quite matched known
Federation related analogs.  However they did possessed a type of
familiarity to them that she couldn't place. And there were no
matter-antimatter power sources detected.   
     "We have them.  Any identification?"
     "Negative. They're traveling at barely warp one point six, but it's
a hodgepodge of configurations and some of these ships are really BIG,"
she said.  "And their power source is strange.  This may well be a first
contact situation."
     "I'll check 'em out and get back to you.  Have fun."
     "Thanks Roberta. Pat out."  She really looked irritable as she
closed the connection.  She had a problem with Klingons but...what could
one say?  Pat hated Klingons and made few qualms about it.  And they
loved her for her honesty.  The more she showed her contempt, the more
they wanted to be around her.  But she never seemed to notice that little
connection.  Roberta thought that maybe she would tell her-one day. And
then laugh as she went ballistic.
     "Well, so much for a relaxing six weeks, " Roberta murmured to
herself.  She stood up, looking her view-screen and the stars painted on
them.  "Helm, plot a course to the targets."
     "Course plotted," the helmsmen, a young Vulcan female stated without
emotion.
     "Well then, warp factor two," she ordered.  "Go." 
     They would intercept the strange fleet in two days.  The Okada
swerved gracefully and a moment later, it was gone.
 

     From the observation chair, Imperious Leader looked at the
devastation with what could only be described as disgust.  In the last
three days, two Cylon Basestars had been destroyed, and two more damaged
by those infuriating Romulan warships.  However, twelve of their
ships-of- the- line would never again fly against the Cylon Empire. 
Twenty-four more had been damaged, but that still wasn't a fair exchange. 
And now they were getting serious.  A major fleet would be arrayed
against them within the centar.  It would be the first of many that would
occur in the next few sectons.
     From all of the free flowing data that permeated this quadrant, it
was discovered that Romulans didn't care for humans.  They hated and in
truth, feared them in fact.  The plan should have worked.  Foolishly, the
Cylons had assumed that they could cross Romulan territory, intercept and
destroy Galactica without interference, since it was a human fleet they
were after.  Plus the fact that they had informed the Romulan government
that its government would irradiate their second largest off-world colony
if hindered should have been the defining deterrent.  The plan was a
simple one and should have worked with minimum difficulty.  
     Who said organics were logical? 
     The Praetor, who appeared incensed that their colony's defenses had
been so easily breached, ranted and raved about an act of war being
perpetrated upon his people and that it would never be tolerated as long
as he ruled and Romulan people lived.  It was assumed that he was
posturing but would soon submit in order to save his people.  The Romulan
Empire was recovering from a devastating war with a group of beings
called the Dominion.  Therefore another conflict would not be in its best
interest at this time. 
     Cylon intelligence had assumed incorrectly.  The moment the two
Basestars assigned to intercept the Galactica fleet entered Romulan space
they were attacked.  So the Cylons retaliated as was expected.  Using
thermo-solium weapons, a Cylon Basestar irradiated one third of the
planet and one billion organics ceased to function.  Again it was assumed
that the Praetor would allow them access, least the remainder of the
population be eliminated however, the entire counsel rejected that
generous offer.  So the order was given and the Basestar activated its
neutron disruptors and methodically burned the colony world for seventeen
hours. When it was finished there was nothing, not even bacteria, left
alive. 
     The Empire rose up as one body and the Romulans screamed blood feud. 

     So be it, Imperious Leader thought.  Organics bled, Cylons didn't. 
But the intercept force had been unprepared for the ferocious onslaught
of Romulan resistance.  They had been unable to present a decent defense
as their H-K and fighters were prevented from exiting the launching bays.
     This time would be different.  Their highly maneuverable, warp
capable H-K's and fighters would play havoc upon the Romulan birds of
prey, cloaking capability or not.  The Supreme Imperium and Imperious
Leader were of one accord.  The Romulans had defied the Cylon edict as
the humans had over a thousand yahrens past.  But with their newly
integrated T'kon technology, they would burn the organics fleets and
their twin worlds in that order.  A new edict had been issued.  Destroy
the life form known as Romulan.  This included Vulcan's.  
     The timetable for the Galactica and the Federation would have to be
changed.  It was time for the alternative plan.


     Personal log: Captain Jean Luc Picard reporting: The first
diplomatic meeting between Federation and Kronjye representatives here
onboard the Enterprise-E has gone remarkably well.  I'm particularly
pleased that I invited Guinan onboard for this exciting and unique time
to serve in Ten-Forward as our  'unofficial' liaison.  It was her
pleasant demeanor and subtle guidance that helped us to win them over. 
This ant-like species with their extraordinary technology and culture may
one day be a wonderful addition to the Federation. I can only hope that
we can continue our relationship on a cordial basis, as sometimes
humanoid and insectoid species have difficulties in being sympathetic
towards one another. 
     On a much more serious note, there have been increasing rumors about
a possible Romulan conflict occurring in their territories. It could be
the beginnings of a civil war, but the Romulan ambassador is typically
not forthcoming.  The Federation will not interfere with the internal
affairs of another government however there is a danger that it could
spill over into neutral space.  The relations between our two governments
have been more cordial since the recent joining of our forces against the
Dominion, however we could lose all this if their conflict creates an
'incident' which could cause renew hostilities between them and us.  I
only hope that the rumors are just that, a rumor.

     Captain Picard relaxed for the first time in long time.  His 'Number
One', Commander William T. Riker had returned from his vacation with the
ships counselor Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troy from the latest trip to
Earth.  Everyone on the bridge, including Picard, were enraptured by the
reports of their ex-shipmate, Lieutenant Reginald Barclay's contact with
the USS Voyager.
     "To be that far in a science vessel for almost seven years," Deanna
said, "alone and surrounded by hostile forces.  I can't imagine being
constantly worried about keeping one step ahead of hostile forces,
especially the Borg. The strain must be almost unbearable.  But they seem
to doing well despite the obvious isolation and pressures involved."
     "And this woman Seven of Nine has become a real asset for them. And
she was Borg from at least age what nine...twelve?"
     "Obviously Captain Janeway is one brave woman," Riker said.  "I told
you I met her once, didn't I?"
     "Yes," Picard said softly. "Q."
     "My memory returned soon after first contact with Voyager by Reg.  I
guess it wasn't necessary to keep it secret anymore."
     "Yes," he murmured again.  He was proud of his first officer but his
mind was somewhere else.  I wonder how I would have done in Janeway's
position, he thought?  Would I have made a deal with the Borg in order to
save my ship?  Would I have let my prejudices cause Species
eight-four-seven-two to overrun our galaxy?  He was glad he would never
have to answer those questions.
     "Oh, Will?" he said changing the subject in his mind.  
"Congratulations again on finally accepting the Captaincy."
     "I'm not 'Captain' yet.  Not until the Melbourne is ready in a
couple of months," he said smiling with that wicked gleam in his eyes. 
"I hear it's the same as the Enterprise...just my luck!" he moaned. 
"Another oversized Sovereign-class vessel.  I guess that's my queue to
leave this ship.   Rumor is that they've changed the corridors a little. 
I hope I don't get lost," he said laughing.
     "I'm sure you won't," Picard said, dryly.  He stopped when that
white, bright flash filled the bridge.  Everyone familiar with what the
flash signified simply groaned.
     "Did someone mention my name?" Q, dressed in an admiral's uniform
arrived in his usual flash along with his son, dressed merely in a
Commander's uniform.
     "No Q.  We said the word queue, not Q.  So go away."
     "Too late, mon capitain," Q said brightly, ignoring the insult.  He
looked around at the Enterprise -E.  "You're kind of hard on ships aren't
you?  But...I digress.  I brought someone I want you to meet.  His name
is Q and he's my son," he said stunning everyone.  "It's his coming out
party.  I though you'd like to meet him."  Q almost didn't realize how
proudly he's said that to the bridge crew.  Then he added. "Hey, Picard
...jealous?"
     "What do you want Q"?
     "Oh nothing, really.  I'm just here to celebrate my son's party. 
I've told him so much about you that he just had to meet you."
     Picard got up, walked over to young Q, grabbed his hand, and shook
it warmly.  "It's nice to meet you," he said quietly.  Watching his
father's stunned expression, he added, "what's the matter Q?  Jealous?"
     For once Q was quiet, while his son actually blushed.  Riker and
even Data were smiling brightly.  
     Well, Q thought, he'd get them back in the future.
     "Hello Data," the young Q said, examining him carefully.
     "Hello Q," Data returned. 
     "You're right, father," Q said. "He's much better than those others. 
Much better."
     "Quiet son," he retorted.  "We don't want it to go to his head, so
to speak.  And stop looking at Deanna.  She's way, way too old for you."
     "Oh, thank you, Q."  She snarled.
     "You're welcome," he responded pleasantly, flashing his best smile. 
"Anyway Picard," Q continued, transporting the entire bridge crew into
the ready room complete with hats, "I wanted to give you all a gift."
     Two bottles pop into Picard and Riker's hands.
     "To Commander Riker, future Captain of the USS Melbourne.  This is a
bottle of Romulan Ale.  Not the cheap stuff, mind you," he added quickly. 
"This is the two-hundred old aged vintage."  His eyes got very cold. 
"Enjoy it, "he said, eyes flashing a cold fire.  "It may be the last ale
you ever receive from the Empire."
     Then he turned to Picard quickly.  "And to you, a bottle of Romulan
berry wine.  Oh sure, I know," he said seriously, "that it isn't as good
as your own winery.  But I want you to enjoy this as it may never pass
your non-humorous lips again."
     The room was totally silent.
     Finally Picard spoke.  "We got the message, Q."
     "You do?" he asked.  "That was way too easy," he said sounding
vaguely disappointed. "Makes you wish for the good old days doesn't it?"
     "Never," Picard answered immediately.  "Is it really that bad?" His
tone was deadly serious.
     "Well, as I always say, 'there are terrors to freeze the soul out
here Captain and it's not for the timid'.  Too bad Micro-brain isn't
here," he said referring to Commander Worf, now a Klingon ambassador. "He
would just love this.  Bye everybody," he said joyfully.  "Hey Riker! 
Try not to blow up your ship this time!"
     He smiled and both Q's disappeared.
     The red alert sounded as Picard and crew prepared for warp seven,
headed towards the neutral zone.
     "Inform Starfleet," Picard ordered.  "Priority one.  Tell them we
have a problem."  


     Onboard the Galactica, The bank of scanner personnel couldn't
believe the readout they were seeing.
     "Confirmed, sir.  It's a Cylon Basestar.  And it's running us down,"
the scanner tech announced.  "They're using some type of
matter-antimatter reaction as a power source.  At least that's what I
think it is.  I've never seen anything like this."
     "By the lords of Kobol!"  Starbuck couldn't believe the speed in
which the Cylon mother ship was approaching.  That can't be right! 
Double check the instrumentation!"
     "It's confirmed, sir."  The scanning tech had checked and
double-checked a few moments earlier even before the order was given. 
"The speed is three hundred ninety two times the speed of light.  That
gives us zero point five centars before it's all over us!"
     "We would have never known if not for new scanners," he muttered. 
"Battle-stations!  Inform the Rising Star and the rest of the fleet to
close up ranks.  The Pegasus and the Galactica will drop back and engage
the enemy.  Prepare the Vipers to launch."
     The oversized bridge's lighting normal color changed to dark red and
the alarms signaled combat readiness, something that had not happened in
more than two yahrens.     
     "The Pegasus is contacting us, sir," the communications tech said. 
"President Adama is also on the line sir."
     "Make it a three way conference call, "Apollo said.  "We'll have to
make this fast."
     Sheba, sitting in the command chair onboard the Battlestar Pegasus
appeared onscreen her face lit up the screen.  Her hair was graying and
still carried that haunted look in her eyes, a memento of her father's
coma-like state, but she also burned with that same fire that almost got
Apollo killed when he and Starbuck first contacted the Pegasus and the
famous Commander Cain a little over twenty yahrens past.
     "It's got to be some new type of prototype," she said without
preamble, eyes flicker between looking at them and her scanners.
"Obviously they have new technology, but then so do we.  We're dropping
back to engage. The new shielding is online and the Cobras and Adders are
awaiting the word."
     "We're going to back you up," Starbuck added. "Between the two of
us, that ship shouldn't be too much of a problem."
     The president frowned.  "Don't assume anything," he stated flatly. 
"It moves quickly, but their short range mobility is for now, suspect. 
But we don't know the capabilities of this new ship and if we move to far
from the fleet, it might simply bypass us and hit it."
     "But we really we don't have a choice do we?"  Apollo's voice was
cold.  He'd dreaded this moment.  "Slow the fleet to normal space and
launch all Vipers and Cobras.  We'll make our stand here."
     "The Cylon slowing down also and will intercept in fifteen centons."
     "All ships launched.  Four of our Adder-class gunships are moving in
to support the Pegasus."
     The Adder-class ships were in effect mini-destroyers similarly
designed like their much larger Battlestar cousins but without the
launching bays.  They were heavily armored and shielded and carried the
latest in offensive laser weaponry.  The Captains, mostly former Viper
pilots were arrogant and confident of their ships' abilities and were
eager for this upcoming fight.
      "I don't believe this!"  The scanning tech said gritting her teeth. 
"Sir, we have another ship approaching at almost the same speed. 
Configuration unknown, but definitely not Cylon.   But the power source
is very similar.  It's generating some kind of major distortion field. 
Very sophisticated.  It's small, but with those power levels we wouldn't
want to mess with it."
     Adama broke in.  "These beings might be an ally to the Cylons, but I
would recommend that we take no hostile action against it unless it does
first."
     "It could be some of the locals checking things out," Starbuck
chimed in.  "I'll bet a secton's pay that when the action starts it'll
run so fast we wont even see it leave."  At least that's what I'm hoping
for if they are Cylon allies, he prayed. 
     "If it's smart, it will."  Apollo turned to the scanning tech
speaking harshly.  "Keep an eye on it.  If its actions appear hostile
have a few Vipers escort it from this area."


     The Captain of the USS Okada ordered a reduction to warp one as they
approached the unknown fleet.  She wanted to make sure she didn't cause a
problem with an initial first contact situation, especially since they
were unable to communicate with them.
     "Have we established communications with them yet?"
     "No Captain," Patterson replied.  "They may be on some unusual
frequency but I'm scanning.  A moment later, "I'm not sure they're
receiving us.  I'm attempting to re-calibrate and I should be ready to
try again in a couple of minutes."
     "Good.  Meanwhile, lets see if we can stay out of the line of fire." 
To her science officer she pointed and said, "Give me a detailed scan of
those two warships.  They're preparing for some type of action and I want
to make sure it's not us they're concerned with."
     "We have been scanned, however they seem to be concentrating on that
big space station-sized ship vectoring on them."
     She was astonished when her science officer told her that the
occupants of those derelict ships were definitely human.  Not only was
the technology strangely different than Federation standard, but also why
would a human fleet be skirting the edge of Romulan space?  "Are you sure
they're human?"  She asked again.
     "Absolutely no doubt."
     Her first officer, Commander Esdo, a Naseah, Stood up from his chair
and moved closer to the view screen as though to get a better look. 
Ikata was amazed that his species weren't related to Klingons.  He had no
head ridges but his pure white hair and long moustache gave the
appearance of some wild, savage warrior.  But he was one of the
controlled individuals Ikata had ever met, like a wild-type samurai of
the old times.
     "Maybe, they're some colony that the Federation lost track of," he
said, questioningly.
     "Maybe," Roberta stated.  "But the technology is so unusual that
it's like they went off into another direction entirely.  From an
engineering point, I mean.  Their ships are ion-powered.  Very efficient. 
We could learn a few things from them."
     "Sir, the other ship just warped into normal space.  Its shields are
up.  I can't tell what type of lifeforms are onboard."
     "Captain." The science officer said sharply, "that incoming ship has
considerably more firepower than those two fleet battleships.  It's going
to be a one sided affair."
     "Sir, everybody's powering up and the double saucer ship just
released its own fighters into the area."
     Roberta placed her hands on her hips.  "Let's see if we can nip this
in the bud.  Patterson, contact the Khe Sahn and keep the channel open. 
Let the know that if we lose contact for more than two minutes, I want
'em to come running ASAP loaded for bear."
     "T'Proa, lay in a course parallel to the fighting...warp two... and
be ready to pull us out if necessary.   Don't wait for my order.  And
Patterson, keep trying."
     "Yes, Ma'am."
     "Yes, Captain," the Vulcan woman answered.
     "Red alert. T'Proa, go."
     Engaged."
     "Sir," Patterson said.  "Khe Sahn acknowledges and states that all
we need do is say 'eeek' and they'll be there before the echo dies."
     "Good."
     The Federation starship flew towards the massive conflict some
fifteen minutes away. 

Chapter Four
The Pegasus and the Okada

     Two centons after the engagement began Adama knew they were destined
to lose.  The Pegasus was barely holding its own against these new Cylon
H-K's and fighters.  The Colonial Vipers and Cobras were in desperate
straits, utilizing everything they had in an attempt at simple survival. 
Augmentation by the heavily armed Adders helped only a small amount.
     "They're all over us!" was the last thing the pilot in Viper
thirty-two had a chance to say before he and his ship were cut in half by
a Cylon Raider.  Space was being filled with parts from exploding
Colonial warships.
     Boxey and Joliet along with four other Cobras and six Vipers caught
two H-K's in a vicious crossfire and blew them out of space.
     "It took five hits!  Did you see that?"  Vicdon screamed.   This was
his first real firefight and the engineer was on the verge of panic.  
     "Shut up and keep firing," Joliet yelled at her frightened port
gunner.  If he froze the six other crewmembers might also.  That's the
last thing any of them needed.
     "But the laser generators..."
     "I don't care, " she countered.   "Burn them out if you have to!" 
She was evading two Raiders that were trying so very hard to kill her
ship.  If he screwed up on her now, she promised herself that she'd blow
his brains out the instant before her ship died.
     The Colonial primary attack forces found themselves protecting the
Pegasus rather than bringing the fight to the Basestar.  An average of
six direct hits from the new and improved laser weaponry were needed to
penetrate a Cylon fighter's shields, with the H-Ks requiring even more
concentrated fire.  What terrified them even more was that two H-Ks were
a match for an Adder-class cruiser.  And so far they'd lost three to H-K
fire.  The anti-proton disruptors were tearing them apart.  The Cylons
were slowly converging the Galactica now, not organized but getting there
as they destroyed all resistance before them.
     Apollo was looking at his reports of his wife's Battlestar and
didn't like what he saw at all.  "Their shields will be overwhelmed any
centon now unless we can back those fighters off!"  Apollo screamed. 
"Their firepower is incredible!  How did this happen?"
     "We're going to have to protect the Pegasus if we're going to have a
chance!"  Starbuck screamed over the dim of the battle.  "We need to use
our heavy guns if she's going to survive the next few centons!"
     Do it!"  Apollo understood all to clearly, that against this enemy
ship both Battlestars would be needed and even then it'd be a toss up. 
He was appalled and more than a little terrified that the Galactica's
heavy guns were needed just to defend against small attack ships.  What
would happen when the Basestar entered the fighting?
     The Galactica moved in, adding its immense firepower against the
brutal Cylon onslaught.


     Onboard the Pegasus, Sheba thanked her gods that Apollo chose to
fight this attack as a unit instead of independently.  Her shields were
holding, barely, but they badly needed regenerating.   And that would
occur only when those fighters were backed off which is what the
Galactica had just achieved.  She added her own heavy weapons into the
fray as the enemy gave a little distance.
     The bridge was full of the wounded and Sheba had to block out the
sounds of agony.  Her ship was being bounced around by the massive hits
it received by the smaller ships.  The Vipers and Adders were desperately
trying to help but they were to busy trying to survive themselves.   More
than once she had been tempted to turn her ship around but of course,
that choice was no choice at all.  All the Pegasus could do was to sweat
out the microns before they could attack the Baseship.
     Boomer was wounded.  His arm was broken, but he still bellowed
orders as though he hadn't even noticed the pain.   The Cylon Basestar
was coming into position for an attack run and his occupation was riveted
towards it.  Quickly he requested status on the missile launchers.
     "Sir," the weapons manager yelled over monstrous clatter. "Missile
batteries one through four and ready and locked.  Stations five and
through seven are offline. Six through twenty-four are ready.  Missiles
are primed and hot.  Final safeties release, on your order."
     "Shields are building at eighty percent and rising."
     "Good.  It's time."  They had to finish this now, while they still
could.  He had a bad, bad feeling about this.
     Sheba gave Boomer the command.  "Let's do it," she ordered.
     "You heard the Commander," Boomer yelled.  "Attack run!"
     "One hundred-twenty microns to optimal firing position and
counting."
     The massive Battlestar, engines blazing full, began its arching run
towards the enemy ship.

     Two Gold leaders waited for the command to be given and on the
bridge of the Cylon Basestar, an IL Series Lord waited patiently.  If it
could have smiled it would have.  Four high-energy disruptors were
trained on the Pegasus' bridge.  They were prepped to cripple, not
destroy.  Humans hated to leave their ships crippled it realized. They
would always come back to help their comrades.  That was a particular
failing of humans. The Galactica was thirty microns behind the Pegasus,
beginning its own attack run also but didn't matter.  
     "Everything's in place.  Ruination begins now," the Lord said. 
"Fire on my command."
     "By the command."  The gold Leader waited patiently to activate the
weapons array.
               

     On board the USS Okada, Roberta was worried.  Her ship was small
compared to the monsters she was preparing to face and that was something
she didn't relish at all.  This was becoming my own personal Kobayashi
Maru, she thought. A nasty choice was forming this very second and she
was going to have to make it.  People rarely listened during the heat of
war and here she was trying to make everybody play nice and right now her
chance of success seemed embarrassingly low.
     "Mr. Patterson, are you ready yet?"
     "Yes sir," he said quickly.  "We can begin transmitting at your
command."
     "Good.  Take us back to yellow alert," she said, assuming red alert
might provoke further hostilities and that was the last thing she wanted
at this point.  And she was far enough away if either side wanted to
start hostilities with her.  "Hailing frequencies open."  She took a
breath.  "This is the USS Okada, Captain..."
     "Captain! Weapons spike targeting the lead battle ship!  The double
saucer just locked on and is charging its weapons," Patterson yelled. 
"Anti-proton signature, piggy backed on a sub-space carrier.  The energy
output indicates it's going to burn right through their shields.  They
won't have a chance!"
     The massive lead human warship was apparently aware of the danger
and was desperately swing to port.  Its shields were powering up quickly
in preparation to ward off the imminent attack.
     "Warn them both off!" she screamed.
     "Too late.  They're firing."


     Onboard the Pegasus, it came as a rude surprise as the Cylon warship
was preparing to fire almost eighty microns before they themselves would
even get into range to return fire.
     "We couldn't even get close enough to strike.  How'd they develop
such weaponry, not to mention sheer power, without us detecting at least
something?"  The Commander didn't know who said that.  Right now, it
didn't matter.
     "Worry about that later if there is one!  Shields on full!  Throw
everything in except minimal life support!"  The Commander's look of
absolute horror was evident all over her face, even as she ordered the
safeties re-established on the missiles.  "Emergency evasive!"
     "Oh, Frack! They've fired on us!"
     "Sirs", the scanning tech screamed.  "We can't evade this weapon. 
Scans indicate some type of anti-proton particle beam.  We have sixty
microns...forty...!"
     Colonel Boomer was screaming as well.  "Order all support craft to
break away now!  Secure fuel stores, emergency lockdown!  Close blast
shields and prepare for impact! Everyone, hold on...!"
     The Pegasus' energy shield glowed bright green as she desperately
attempted to defend herself.  The massive Battlestar was turning to port
when the disrupter hit amidships.  The entire star field glowed white as
a new sun blazed in the sky.


     The crew of the Okada stood transfixed, as the devastating weapon
struck the five-mile-long battleship.  The force of the beam striking the
shields caused the ship to perform a complete three hundred sixty degree
roll.  Shields were now non-existent, and there were energy discharges
along the entire length of the ship.  Several pieces of its landing bays
along the port side were broken off the ship, the remains blackened and
charred.  Her massive engines winked out, causing her to tilt starboard
at a twenty-six degree angle.
     "Are there any survivors?"  Roberta asked her science officer.  She
was appalled by what she saw, but that was quickly turning to anger. 
This was such a waste!
     "Casualties estimated at sixty-three percent, Captain." He
responded.  "Life support is minimal and falling.   They have about
twenty minutes left before they lose it completely."
     "Get me that saucer now," she snarled.  "In fact, get me both
sides."  With one small ship there was little she could do at the moment
but this slaughter had to stop and she intended to try.
     In her most commanding voice she began her bluff.  "This is Captain
Roberta Ikata of the Federation Starship Okada.  You are trespassing in
Federation space.  You will cease weapons use, immediately.  If you so
desire we can act as negotiators in this dispute, but continued
hostilities on either side will not be tolerated.  Respond, now."
     The smaller ships were still going at it but the larger warships
seemed to be at a lull, for the moment.
     "Both sides responding," Patterson announced.
     "Good.  Split screen. I want to see 'em both."
     On the left appeared a disheveled male in his mid to late forties,
with along with a much older, but distinguished, white haired male with a
short pointed beard.  They were both looking at her as though they'd
never seen a woman before.
     "Our translators are having a really hard time with their language,"
Patterson said.   "I'm tying in the main computer banks but until they
speak more, we won't be able to fully translate.  It doesn't tie in with
any Earth-based or Federation-based language, I know.  In fact, it
doesn't quite match anything I've ever heard."
     If the beings on the left side were humanoid, what appeared on the
right side of the screen was something else entirely.  The head of this
creature was oblong but completely jet-black except for the blood red
eyes, which constantly moved within its sockets.  Small energy spikes
could be seen near its crown, where processors constantly analyzed its
surroundings.  Next to it was a silver-plated, seven foot, mechanical
cyclopean effortlessly holding two Romulan prisoners, one male, one
female, some fifteen centimeters off the floor.  Whether they were alive
or dead, she couldn't quite tell.  But what amazed her was her own
response to seeing these creatures.  It was an almost visceral response
in her hatred of it.  It was very unbecoming of a Starfleet officer, she
thought harshly. 
     "Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada?"  It had
spoken in perfect Federation standard.  Its voice sounded oily, like
something you stepped in and couldn't get off your shoes, she decided. 
"I am unaware of such an organization," it said as Patterson subtly
motioned for her attention.
     Liar, she surmised instantly as she cut audio.  "Spit it out."
     "The Khe Sahn had a change of orders and is on its way here, ETA,
fourteen minutes.  There's also a Fed battle group coming here, ETA three
hours."
     "We're beginning to translate the human speech patterns," he
continued. "Evidently they've been on the run from these other creatures
for over twenty of their years after their civilization was butchered.  
More in a moment."
     "Good.  Restore audio."
     "Who are you and why are you attacking this fleet?"  Her voice was
curt, bordering on frigid.  She knew in her heart that this was the face
of a new and deadly enemy.
     "Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada," the
mechanical being said smoothly.  Its voice had all the warmth of a
murderer.  "Your people have a penchant for names, Captain Roberta Ikata
of the Federation starship Okada.  We too have an understanding of the
importance of names.  I am called Lord Specter of the Poison Mist, member
of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance."
     "The beings we are chasing," it continued slowly as if talking to a
child, "are the remains of rebels who have perpetrated foul and cruel
actions against my people.  For these actions, our people have demanded
justice.  An edict calling for the extermination of the life form known
as Man has been issued.  All members of this species are to be captured,
interrogated processed and destroyed, with their remains returned to our
home world for eternal display as a reminder of the price of defiance
against our glorious race."
     Robert and the rest of her crew were completely appalled by the
casual statements spewing from this alien Captain.   Her
second-in-command had ordered everyone into full combat mode.  Particle
beam resistant vests, helmets and heavy type two phasers were being
issued to the crew.  Just in case.  The recent war was still fresh in his
memory.
     The Captain didn't complain, in fact approved.
     "You have members of the Romulan Empire being held illegally on your
ship..."
     "You mean these organics who dared to defy us?"  Turning slightly
the order was given and their necks and spines were snapped.  Serenely,
Spectre turned to face Ikata.  "What organics?  There are no 'Romulans'
on my ship.  Not alive anyway," it added dryly, moving closer to the
screen.  "You look like the species called Man.  Are you Man?"  
     The question was asked innocently and far too casually to be
anything but a threat.
     Captain Ikata had had enough.  "Cut communications with that thing,
now!"  The Captain snarled.  " Red alert!  They're coming after us.  I
can feel it!  We need room.  Call the Khe Sahn and tell em' we need them
here yesterday.  T'Proa prepare for warp maneuvering.  Weapons, shields,
online now!"
     "Aye, sir."
     Her instincts proved correct as several H-K's broke from their
previous engagements with the Colonial fighters and warped towards the
Okada.
     "They're coming in.  Four of them.  More are following."  
     "Phasers, lock on," she snarled again.  "Let's do it!"


     The Cobra, which Boxey flew, had taken several major hits but by
some miracle it still functioned well enough to defend against several
Cylon Raiders attempting to use them for target practice.  Five Cobras
together, along with the faster Vipers were still a formidable force.  
But until the opportunity arose, they didn't dare approach the Pegasus
for search and rescue.  The Basestar was still in the area and with that
ungodly range of his weapons; it would be suicide to even try.  Despair
gripped the fleet and them as well.
     The Colonial war ships were converging two H-Ks when they simply
accelerated away, vectoring towards the alien ship.  Boxey stared,
stunned at the ease that the Cylon ships moved.
     They were playing with us, he realized. "Joliet, this is Boxey. 
They're breaking off."
     "Confirmed.  They're attacking the alien ship.  Did you see how
easily they jump into FTL?"  Her voice sounded spooked.
     "Yes," he answered.  "We've lost a third of our fighters, possibly
the Pegasus too. Then he added more soberly, "also, the Mining ship, the
Tip barge, and the Tauranian cruiser have been destroyed," he sighed. 
"The Galactica's is moving towards the Cylon Basestar.  We're going with
it, too."
     "And then what?  What's the plan"?  She asked accelerating with the
fast forming battle group.
     "We die with 'em," he whispered.  There was nothing else to say.
     The comms were silent.


     Four Cylon Hunter-Killers converged on the small Federation
starship, spraying disrupter fire, trying to burn through her shields. 
But the Okada was moving fast herself, burning through the shields of one
H-K with its phasers, obliterating it and damaging another.  The third
and forth H-Ks coordinated their attacks, damaging the Okada's primary
hull.
     "They're using some type of shield ripper," Esdo yelled as a
computer console blew from behind.  "Evidently they want to keep us
intact!"
     "Too bad," Captain Ikata growled.  "We have two bogies coming in at
two seventy mark thirty-one.  Take them out."  
     "Phasers firing...hit.  Their shields held.  Firing again...got
them."  The Raiders were easy.  The H-K ships were something entirely.
Two additional H-K's appeared seemingly out of nowhere, blasting at the
Okada, severely damaging their shields.
     The science officer froze for a second as he saw then realized what
had just occurred.  "Captain! Shields faltered for a moment and we
detected transporters from the enemy ships.  We deflected most of them
but..."
     Her first officer was on it. "Intruder alert!  All hands prepare to
repel invaders."


     Two of eight Cylon Silver warriors that attempted to materialize
inside the starship succeeded.  With weapons built into their arms
activated, the two immediately separated as one headed for engineering
and the other the bridge. Their weapon of choice was the pulsed neutron
disruptor, not especially destructive, but designed to be completely
toxic to organic tissue.  The first three personnel they encountered were
immediately dispatched. Security barrier shields proved no obstacle as
the first Cylon approached engineering.  Six armed security personnel
armed with type-two phasers set on heavy stun were waiting for them.  The
instant they saw the robots they attacked.
     Two members of security died instantly from direct hits, their
personal armor unable to protect them from the multiple neutron energy
pulses they received.
     "This is not working!" the security chief screamed. He'd barely
missed being hit in the first attack and there was precious little cover
in the hallways. "Full phasers, now!"
     The four survivors hit the robot simultaneously with full phasers.
The centurion staggered back two steps and returned fire, one arm and leg
damaged but regenerating quickly.  It returned fire. Three guards
screamed as they were incinerated and the remaining survivor bounce along
the floor as his legs disappeared from beneath him.
     "This is Johnson!"  He was wounded and dying and the Cylon ignored
him as it rushed passed him.   "Armor's refractive...hand phasers
useless," he whispered, slumping over.
     The Cylon slammed into engineering, its disruptors butchering every
living being in its path.  The personnel were in an absolute panic as the
Cylon warrior attacked hitting everyone it aimed for.  Three engineers
attempting to escape were cut down, the neutron disruptions frying
nervous tissue and breaking down organs.  Purposely, it damaged the warp
core, starting the beginnings of a warp core breech.  Consistent with its
programming, it moved methodically towards the primary computer array. 
It then proceeded towards the computer banks, physically connected to it
and began downloading and processing, instantly sending data by way of
its sub-space transceivers to the mothership.
     Two engineers, now armed with compression phaser type-three rifles,
hit the robot simultaneously with full power, tight-beamed blasts.  The
refractive armor held for three seconds before giving way, exposing
delicate circuitry, which then melted and burned.  The sustained blasts
phased the robot out of existence.  Unfortunately, the entire engineering
room was in shambles. The warp core had been breeched and the two
survivors desperately began the process of ejecting it before it blew.  
     Fortunately they had four whole minutes to complete their job and
several other personnel coming even as they worked.
     Meanwhile, the second Cylon warrior tore passed what little
opposition there was and proceeded towards the transport tube and then to
the bridge.  However, before it could step into tube, some type of mobile
rock-like substance came shambling towards it.  The Cylon shot it several
times to absolutely no effect.  A second, larger rock came charging
around the corridor directly at it.  Impossibly, it leaped onto the
struggling Cylon and began dissolving refractive armor.  Desperately the
robot tried to pry the Horta from itself, but the silicon-based creature
hung on finishing its job. Only a small touch of vapor remained. The
Hortas then rushed towards engineering to help in their own unique
ways...
     On the bridge most of the computer consoles were in shambles. 
Somehow, the massive Basestar was suddenly in front of them, pounding
away at their shields like some madden animal. The Okada was returning
fire with everything it had at point blank range but the enemies
shielding was holding, albeit just barely.
     With a final volley from the Poison Mist, the Okada's shields went
out like a light.  Seconds later a tractor beam locked onto them,
beginning to pull them in.


     Captain Pat Duvalier along with the bridge crew onboard the USS Khe
Sahn were livid.  They were five minutes away traveling at warp nine
point nine seven five, and they were still too far away.
     "Captain, they have a warp core breech in progress.  Our ETA, four
minutes," Commander David Thompson hissed as he confirmed his analysis on
tactical.  "Oh no," he yelled, startled by what just occurred.  "That
large enemy ship just performed the 'Picard' Maneuver.  They're right on
top of the Okada, attempting to tractor them in!"
     "Warn them off!"   Pat was horrified by the beating the Okada was
now receiving by the space station sized ship.  Their shields were almost
gone.
     "No good, Captain.  They'll pull them in estimated two minutes
time!"
     "Arm quantum torpedoes," Duvalier said quietly.  She stood up and
looked at the screen showing the Cylon Basestar.  "Arm everything.  Lock
on to their bridge.   Put every sensor, every torpedo, and every phaser,
everything we have on that ship.  I want them to know that we're coming
in hot and nasty. I want their attention squarely on us. I want them
prepared to fight for their lives, if they have any."
     "Shields," she said.  "Time to go war."  But she knew that they were
going to be too late.
     She grimaced even more.
     "Open a channel," she said, violently slamming her fist on her
command chair. "Time to make my point..."

Chapter Five
Revelations

     One moment the Galactica and the entire defense force were bearing
down on the Cylon mothership and the next, sensors indicated that the
same ship was in two places at once.  Their target had moved so quickly
that it had left a 'sensor echo' of where it once was, to the absolute
mortification of the Colonials.
     They had also been shocked by the attempted communications from the
strange ship.  The occupants were human!  Or, according to the scans, so
close to human as to make little difference.  They couldn't be absolutely
sure because of the deflections of the scans by the ships screens.  Comm
frequencies with the saucer ship had been identified but communication
was impossible at this point because their language was so 'alien' that
translator programs had been so far unable to establish a pattern as of
yet.  Evidently there was also another of the unknown human-originating
from Earth or the Eastern Allegiance, at this point they couldn't be
sure- ships in the area and that female Commander was screaming, or more
likely cursing, at the occupants of the Cylon Basestar through their vid
link.  The fast and dirty consensus was that this was very likely a
matriarchal-based society they were dealing with.  The Colonial officers
were equally impressed by how well the little alien ship had defended
itself against the Cylon H-Ks and Raiders.  But it now seemed as though
its luck had just run out.  The ship was caught in some type of attractor
ray, which was pulling it towards the massive hanger bays of the Cylon
Basestar.  
     Now they were faced with a difficult choice. 
     They could abandon the Pegasus and try to help the saucer ship,
which may or may not originate from a human based society-exactly the
point of their entire journey-or try to defend the fleet against a now
vastly superior foe.  If they attempted to save the small ship, it would
show an example of friendship, even kinship with these new people, even
if they lost this battle.  Because of the radical technology, it was more
likely that this could be an Earther ship rather than Eastern Alliance
and if that were true chances are they could help.  If they were Eastern
Alliance then they might still help.  Maybe the civilians would still be
protected if for no other reason than the fact that they now had a common
enemy.  If they however chose to protect their own fleet, allowing the
sacrifice of the human starship in the process, then that would send an
equally devastating message to these new people.
     In the end, there was no choice at all.  The long-term goals were
propriety. The civilians were the society.  
     With the immediate threat to the Pegasus over, all Galactica
shuttles were sent to begin evacuation of survivors on the Pegasus.  
Apollo ordered all attack ships on an intercept heading, at light speed,
to aid the saucer ship.  It would take seven centons to reach it before
the enemy would be engaged.  Not enough time to save the little
spacecraft but enough to make an honorable showing.


     "This isn't right," Boxey said through clinched teeth even as he
accelerated to light speed.  "We should be helping the Pegasus."
     "No," his commanding officer said.  "We help them, they'll help
us...at least that's the plan."
     Starbuck was next to him flying his own Viper.  Nowadays, the
Military wouldn't allow him anywhere near a Viper however, if they
survived then he would be the liaison to this new group of people. 
Besides he had no intention of leaving these overzealous kids-even though
Boxey wasn't a kid, being almost thirty, on their own in such a critical
situation like this.  He remembered his youthful exploits all too well
for that to happen.   "Remember attack as a group," he said over the
comm. "Their speed and firepower are greater than ours but we can still
turn faster and we have our imagination, so be careful."
     The response was "Oh great," from at least half the crews.  They
were a lot tenser than even he had expected.
     "Well, this way the Cylons can have moving targets to shoot holes
into," Joliet said, apparently unaware that the comm system was still on.
     Or was she?
     These kids had absolutely no discipline or respect for commanding
officers he thought.  Then he laughed to himself.  He dared not think of
what was happening on his sister Battlestar.


     Spectre of the Poison Mist was less than pleased with the results of
his current mission.  The Federation ship had managed to repel and
destroy their Cylon attackers.  The first and only warriors to board the
vessel actually completed part of their mission before it the first one
was rudely terminated by multiple phaser hits.  The second survivor was
eliminated by some strange rock creature, which attacked and 'ate' it. 
The silicon-based life forms dissolved hardened combat chassis like
humans breathed air. Neutron disruptors were useless.  That was an
unexpected and very unwelcome surprise.
     Now Spectre had intervened directly, attempting to tractor the
Federation vessel into the hanger bay after beating it into submission. 
But apparently it wasn't submissive enough, as the starship fired all its
remaining quantum and photon torpedoes directly into the docking bay,
damaging both ships in the process.  The human ship's shields, partially
re-activated, were just strong enough to repel transporter beams-ins. 
Its warp engines were off line but their weapons were evidently still
hot.  Even with its enhanced armor plating and internal force shields,
the docking bay was destroyed along with an additional fifth of the
Basestar.  The cybernetically enhanced Cylon warship was in pain,
demanding that the human ship be destroyed as penance for the suffering
it had just experienced.  Spectre was forced to divert precious time and
resources in order to calm the Basestar down before it chose to do
something rash.  Now the human vessel wasn't moving as it had succeeded
in damaging the tractor beam array.  Auto repairs would rectify that
quickly, but in other area the internal systems sustained massive damage
and would take time to for the ship to complete its recovery.  In
addition, there was another more powerful Federation ship coming in,
loaded for bare.  This new ship wouldn't be much of a problem.  The
Galactica strike fleet was also advancing but this wouldn't be a problem
either. In fact none of this should be problematical it believed, but one
had to be careful of humans, they always came up with surprises. 
     The Excelsior-class vessel decelerated violently, causing a large
portion of surrounding space to glow brightly.  Pat hailed the Basestar
and practically screamed at the image that appeared on the viewscreen.  
     "This is Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation Starship Khe
Sahn.  You will cease your attack now or I will make you stop. This is
your first and last warning."  She glared at Spectre, arms folded, left
foot viciously patting the floor.
     "Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe Sahn," the
mechanical being began gaily.  "Your people have a penchant for names,
Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe Sahn.  We too
have an understanding of the importance of names.  I am called Lord
Specter of the Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon Imperial
allegiance."
     "Stop.  Your.  Attack.  Now."
     Spectre moved closer to the screen.  It's constantly moving optical
sensors ceased.   It own eyes were locked squarely on the Captain's eyes,
intent on staring her down.  "Why should we, human?" it asked.  "Your
little, lonely ship won't stop me.  The Colonial fleet won't stop me. 
Your so-called Federation of Planets won't stop us."  Its eyes began
moving once more.  "We will destroy you and the Colonial fleet," Spectre
growled.  "We will then remove every vestige of man from this universe. 
For those not yet of the Cylon Empire, submission to us must be absolute. 
Do you submit?"  Its eyes began scanning mode again.
     "They've locked onto us with their disruptors," Commander Thompson
whispered.  "They're preparing to fire."
     Pat smiled grimly.   Now she moved closer to the screen.  "Spectre
of the Poison Mist, what makes you think that my lonely little ship is
all alone?" she asked sweetly.  

     The instant she asked the question six Klingon warships ranging from
bird-of prey class to Vor'cha-class starships de-cloaked.  Together, the
Alpha quadrant combine fired on the Cylon Basestar.  Seconds later the
Colonials arrived and added their firepower to the mix.  The Cylon
starship screamed its rage and resentment as it became one with its crew. 
The Commonality went on the defensive as multiple phaser, laser,
disruptor, photon, quantum and solonite-class missiles tore into its
shielding and armor plating.  Already suffering from damage from the
Okada's barrage, it was unable to regenerate quickly enough to prevent
additional damage from the pounding. The explosion of the Okada's ejected
warp core directly onto its shields was the final straw.  It gave way,
beginning to retreat back towards the neutral zone with only two of its
four warp engines on line.
     Two H-Ks, now defending the retreating mothership, attacked a
bird-of prey severely damaging it before the combined firepower of four
Adders blew the first one out of space.  Another Bird-of Prey destroyed
the second H-K before being surrounded by several Raiders.  Quickly
cloaking, it evaded its attackers and joined the fight against the
Basestar.
     The Colonials in loose formation concentrated on the smaller Cylon
warships.  Starbuck reveled in the sight, sounds and terror of returning
to personal combat after so many yahrens.  In the massive flashes that
reminded him of stars being born and dying, he looked at his formation,
which rapidly closed in on the sleek Cylon Raiders desperately defending
their mother ship.  Screaming in fury, he jammed his thumb on his Vipers'
firing button, dimly aware that his entire fleet had done so already. 
The Raiders and H-Ks Deflector's shields flared brightly and disappeared
under the withering fire.  Nine Raiders incinerated under the assault.
     Retaliating blow for blow against their blood enemies, several enemy
ships, with their superior targeting and weaponry returned fire with a
vengeance, disruptors, vaporizing an Adder, two Cobras and two Vipers. 
Against such power, Colonial shields and armor was rendered as useless as
a sheet of paper defending against a cutting laser torch.  A stunned
Starbuck was about to call a general retreat when the Galactica exited
light speed almost on top of them.  Heavy weapons from the battleship
tore into Cylon formations.
     That tipped the balance.  The Khe Sahn and the Klingon heavy
cruisers, along with the Colonial fleet attacked and obliterated the
remaining defenders.
     The Cylon ship taking the advantage of the lull made a run towards
zone barely achieving warp two.  Spectre and the ship were banking on
that imaginary line to save it from destruction.
     Three Klingon ships immediately cloaked as if to follow, so that the
Basestar would be unsure it were to be attacked again if it ceased its
retreat.  The massive Battlestar along with most of the remaining fleet,
pulled away slowly, heading back towards the Pegasus.  Commander Starbuck
and Captain Boxey and Lieutenant Joliet remained closed to the Okada,
comms open, trying to talk to this new, larger version of the first-what
was assumed to be-Earther ship.
     The Khe Sahn secured from battle stations began transporting medical
and engineering personnel over to the Okada.  Batteries were now the only
things supplying power to the wounded ship.  Her first officer had
survived the attacks, suffering from several broken bones and a slight
concussion.  Captain Ikata, along with one hundred and nineteen members
of her crew, hadn't.
     "Captain, it's a mess over here," The Khe Sahn's chief medical
officer said over his comm link.  "We may to evacuate the ship until we
get life support stabilized".
     Her engineering officer broke in.  "Captain, we'll be able to
restore full life support in about twenty minutes.  Most of the systems
are in really bad shape but we'll se what we can do.  We'll start
re-creating the warp core after that, if we have the time."
     "Do what you need to do," Duvalier responded.  The Okada had come
within a hair's breath of being captured by an unknown enemy, its crew
prisoners of some kind of robotic race with obviously had no regard for
human life or otherwise.  Much like the Cardassians had been and probably
still are, she thought bitterly.  Roberta had been a friend, something
she didn't come by easily.  Now there was one less and that loss hurt.
     Turning to lieutenant Thompson, "have we improved the Translation
programs enough to talk to these people with some competence yet?" she
asked.  Thompson and Patterson had both been working on overcoming the
language barrier and now he was smiling to himself as he answered.
     Yes Captain.  Translations over seventy-five completed.  We can
begin talks."
     "Good.  Open a channel."
     "Captain, They're contacting us.  It's one the smaller fighters
still in the immediate area."
     A human male she judged to be in his fifties appeared on the screen. 
He was a handsome male she thought, but years of stress and those scars
had aged him physically far more than he should have been.
     "Please identify yourself," the man said.  "I am... Starbuck of the
battle...Galactica.   We come in peace... help requested...danger
from.... Empire.  All humans...hunted down and killed.  We are looking
for a planet called Earth.... Kobol...colony.  Please respond."
     Thompson looked apologetic.  "That's as good as we can get for the
time being.  I'm working on it."
     She nodded her head.  "This is Captain Patricia Duvalier of the
Starship Khe Sahn.  Our translators are having a difficult time but we
are making progress.  Please continue talking as our computers are
compiling a language database."
     The man called Starbuck seemed to understand and began to rattle
what seemed like his entire life story.  True to Thompson's word, the
more this man talked the better the translator systems interpreted his
speech into Federation standard.  Duvalier was astounded as Starbuck told
the history of the twelve colony worlds inhabited by humans deep, deep in
the Beta quadrant for thousands of, the actual word translated as, years. 
And that mankind actually originated from somewhere, some planet called
Kobol.
     She remembered from the history data streams, that decades ago, a
Captain Hikaro Sulu had begun mapping the first edges of the Beta
quadrant, just as the Federation had begun their first overtures of peace
with the Klingon Empire, after they foolishly blew their moon to bits.
Then the Cardassians started acting up, and one thing after another
occurred and essentially exploration of that part of the galaxy was put
on hold.
     She wouldn't have believed this man if she hadn't seen the radical
directions this technology had developed and those robotic entities first
hand.  At first she though that they might be some fantastic variation of
Borg but that thought disappeared almost immediately as soon as the thing
had started speaking.  In addition, none of the ships quite conformed to
anything in the Federation Database.  Most of those fleet ships wouldn't
have even been certified for deep space travel by any space dock she
knew.  However, if this were true, then these people were more of an
offshoot of humanity than anything they've ever encountered so far in
their exploration of the galaxy, outside the Alpha quadrant.  The
question was, was it true? 

     "De-cloak!"
     The Klingon battle cruiser T'Hatru de-cloaked ten kilometers off
port of the Pegasus. The entire crew (especially Captain Kagth) stood
gaping at the primitive but undoubtedly impressive Human-made warship. 
It reminded them of the ships made in the Old Times, weapons everywhere,
decades of battle scars covering the ship like a badge of honor.  It was
a ship of war.  The Klingon crew saw only two long-lived ships of honor
protecting their own from all comers-twin motherships protecting their
loved ones. 
     "Humans made that!"  There was admiration in that voice.  Who it was
that said the words didn't matter, because it was true.
      Weapons Officer Klettoh had almost lost track of the number of
weapons onboard even as he grunted his approval.  These humans understood
the beauty of war.  There was no dishonor here in losing to a superior
enemy, only the regret of the losing itself.
     "Captain, there are many there who have received the final honor. 
Their ship is losing life support.  They have no transporter
capabilities.   Their fuel source is leaking and is toxic to organic life
forms.  Terminal toxicity levels will be reached in twelve standard
minutes."
     "This is a rescue mission," the Captain growled.  "Remember that all
humans fear death.  DO NOT give them final honor!  Let them live!  They
may fear us but ignore it!  They are humans after all."
     "We have locked on to their bridge."
     Kagth stood up.  "Begin transports of survivors to the other
warship.  Transport me to the bridge now!"
     The Captain and three guards materialized on the bridge of the
Battlestar Pegasus.  The bridge was a shambles as was expected and the
usual number of bodies were there in their various poses of grimaced
death.  There was a woman survivor holding a dark skinned male human's
head, probably some comforting ritual.  Several other survivors were
covered in bridge supports and the transporters would not work properly
without crushing the survivors.  Disruptors set in cutting mode would be
inefficient, most likely causing more damage in the long run.
     One Klingon warrior helped a tiny young woman to her feet.  There
was surprise but no fear in her eyes.  She looked at him and gave him a
smile that made his entire body grow a half-meter. 
     I could admire these humans, he thought in wonder.


     On board the Galactica, personnel were almost in a panic as the
injured from the Pegasus began appearing in dinning halls and medical
stations all over the ship.  The appearance of the vicious looking alien
hunting ship turning off its camouflage net in front of them was shocking
enough.  And the visage of that fierce, wild-haired humanoid growling at
them while trying to smile was more frightening than anything they had
ever seen!  Was this the ancestors of the thirteenth colony-like the
Nomen?  That old human adage 'be careful what you asked for' had slapped
them all in the face this time.
     At the Galactica's helm, Apollo was unnerved by the ease in which
these Federation people and the other humanoids used transporters
seemingly without a care in the world. The Klingon Captain had
materialized on the Galactica with two slightly wounded engineering
officers from the Pegasus.  Linguistic translators were improving rapidly
and the Alphan people insisted that the body wasn't disintegrated, merely
broken down at a quantum level and reconstructed.  It was still insane,
even though its practicality was beyond dispute.  The possibilities for
abuse of this technology was disturbing, to say the least.
     They were all looking at the live video feed coming from the
Pegasus' bridge as Klingon, Federation and Colonial crews were attempting
to clear the toxins from the damaged warship. He was uncomfortable yet
grateful accepting help from these strangers.  But...
     But that was a moot point when compared to the living rocks running
back and forth dissolving re-enforced metal beams and flooring on the
Pegasus sampling bits here and there, as though they were some new kind
of tasty sweets.  
     For a moment, the Colonials believe that these fantastic creatures
may have been some robot or even bizarre genetic constructs of some kind. 
Not an independent, sentient life forms within this fantastic Federation.
     Then one of them spoke, utilizing one of those micro-sized
translators/communicator devices, it almost scared Apollo out of his
skin.   "This metal tastes so exotic," it commented, sounding like a
connoisseur, which it probably was.  It evidently also understood
structure and design as well because it got to the trapped people without
collapsing anything around it.  As dangerous as the molecular acid the
Horta produced was, its control was equally impressive.   Several people
flinched as they saw the Horta moved towards them, but the creatures
ignored them opting instead to patch hairline fractures in bulkheads,
sealing in precious air. 
     This area of space had so much life!  And the variations were enough
to keep zoologists and the biological science people swamped with work
for generations.  It was all kind of overwhelming.
     "That's a nice...thing you have there," Apollo said to the Klingon
humanoid, standing next to him.  "They're very useful, apparently."
     "Yes," the Klingon growled, admiring the Galactica's bridge.   "They
are gentile beasts but they are great warriors as well.  The Hortas were
going to a conference for silicon life forms.  Even I wish to be at that
meeting," he snarled pleasantly.  "What do rocks talk about?" he asked,
looking at Apollo as though he expected a coherent answer.
     "Sirs," the Scanner tech said to Apollo and the President, her
voiced raised slightly.  "The Federation fleet is arriving."
     "Put it on the screen," Apollo said.  He felt excited, even with the
potential loss of the Pegasus he was excited.  Next to him his father was
glued to the screen, wide eyed.
     A total of twenty-two ships were transiting what they called warp
space.  Space for several hundred kilometers glowed as light and energy
was released from those powerful ships decelerating into normal space. 
Superficially, all of them looked similar to one another.  But as he and
his people looked closer they could see apparent differences.  Several
were like the Okada and there were two even smaller than her.   Two were
identical to the Khe Sahn, but the majority looked like large saucers
with engines and a couple of pieces attached as an afterthought.  Then
there were two larger ships, Galaxy-class the Klingon called them, which
looked more like passenger liners than warships.  But in the lead was the
Sovereign-class Enterprise-E, the largest and unmistakably the most
dangerous looking ship in this fleet.  It was designed to present as
little profile as possible and boasted a weapons systems that practically
screamed the message 'don't screw with me.'
     The Klingon Captain caught Apollo gawking at the specs being
identified by his computer systems and grunted.  "Independently targeted
quantum torpedo banks, multiphasic shields, ablative armor, Ha!  And they
call that a 'Ship of Peace.'  Humans here know how to build, too."
     The ships formed a protective pattern that circled the entire fleet
to about one point five light years distant, while the Enterprise came to
a relative stop two kilometers from the port side of the Galactica.  The
Colonials-and Klingons also-gawked at the powerful yet graceful ship
easing closer as though to dock and stopping a mere quarter metric like
it was the most natural thing in the world.  It was small, in fact very
small when compared to the Battlestars, but little brother had teeth, a
club and several other very sophisticated attributes. 


     In the medical bay on the Khe Sahn, Boomer wasn't doing at all well. 
Several of his vertebrae had been crushed and the internal damage to his
spleen, liver, kidney, and lower intestines were extensive.  Sheba was
next to him, holding his hand, oblivious to her own injuries.  The Khe
Sahn's chief medical officer and the Galactica's chief medic Cassiopeia
were frantically trying to stabilize him.  He should have been dead but
Federation medicine was more advanced than Colonial.  Even so...
     "How is he?  Is he going to make it?"  The pain and guilt in her
face was obvious.  She knew that it wasn't her fault but she felt
responsible for him, the damage to her ship and the losses to her crew.
     The doctor shook his head slightly, gently touched her cheek and
moved on.  She needed space and even Cassiopeia stayed some distance
away.  "Boomer, don't die on me!  Not when we're so close to making it!" 
      He was conscious even if not completely aware.  "Did we fight them
off?  Did we win?"
     She could barely hear him.  He was leaving her.
     "We found the thirteenth colony, Boomer.  They came to help us," she
whispered, tears welling in her eyes so that she couldn't see.  "Their
ships are so beautiful and powerful, better than our old stuff any day."
     He understood her and smiled.  "The kids," he wheezed softly.  He
was no longer breathing, merely coughing now, looking up at something no
one else on this side could possibly see.
     The light faded from his eyes and he was gone.
     First Deitra and now Boomer, she thought sadly, moving away from the
bed and on to her father's station.  Now there's only little Boomer and
Therese.  What am I going to tell them?
     "I'm sorry, Commander," the doctor said softly as he closed Boomer's
eyes.  The man was very compassionate.  She could see it in his eyes.  "I
believe however that your father is going to pull through.  The
operations we can perform will very likely cause a complete recovery.
Your blood elements are slightly different from ours due most likely to
genetic variation and drift.  We'll need to synthesize blood for him. 
It'll take him some time to bounce back because of age and injury but he
should be okay."
     Sheba began crying, as the doctor smiled and held her gently.
     Cassiopeia quietly moved away, carefully wiping away her own tears
and she turned her attention towards her other patients.
     But first...
     "Hey, this is Cassie," she said quietly into her communications link
she'd brought over.  "I am sad to inform the members of the Galactica,
Pegasus and Fleet Comm, that Colonel Boomer has died of injuries
sustained..."

Chapter Six
Just one big happy Starfleet

     To Apollo, President Adama, Commander Sheba, Sire Forsen, and Dr.
Chia, beaming from the Galactica to Conference Room Two of the
Enterprise-E, using their disintegration, re-integration transportation
device with less than a point nine-two percent chance of error-and why
did they have to add that-was simply the bravest thing they'd ever done. 
They expected disorientation.  There was none.  They expected to see
something during transport. They probably didn't.  However, one thing was
secretly acknowledged by all of them.  They'd try to avoid this
experience from ever happening it again.  These people took it for
granted.  To the Colonials, it was simply terrifying.  
     But it didn't really matter at this point.  These people claimed to
be from Earth!  Once that news hit, the entire fleet was overjoyed at the
confirmations; but the loss of almost four thousand people on the eve of
this discovery muted the celebration.  In addition, over seven thousand
inhabitants suffered burns, the result of radiation exposure, electrical
shortages and fire.  Broken bones, blood loss, and blunt force trauma
added itself to the mix along with three confirmed cases of
stress-related breakdowns.  Memorials had to be prepared and the many
injured needed care from every source available.  The Starfleet medical
corps and facilities onboard these starships were excellent and many who
would have otherwise have died survived their injuries.  Plus the medics
performed standard diagnostics that caught several conditions that would
have become serious problems in the future.
     Moments after they materialized, Captain Jean-Luc Picard greeted
each one of the Colonials warmly.  Small food trays were place
strategically in the conference room, as there was no time for a formal
dinner and reception.  Several Federation Captains, Captain Kagth,
Commander Riker, Consoler Deanna Troi and Lieutenant Commanders Geordie
LaForge and Data were also present.  Communications had been set up so
that the Colonial Council of Twelve, the Klingon contingent and the other
Captains could participate as necessary.
     "I wish this could a celebration instead of a conference towards a
possible prelude to war," Picard began.  "However our situation dictates
that we deal with this now instead of allowing it to continue to fester. 
Unknown forces have attacked a Federation ship and its crew.  This same
force may also be responsible for the conflict that is now occupying the
Romulan forces.  We need to know more about these Cylons and their
intentions.  So, Mr. President I will ask you to start."
     President Adama looked around, his eyes finally resting on Picard
trying to evaluate him.  This Captain was a competent professional of
that Adama had no doubt.  There was maturity about this man, he thought. 
But there was also a hint to sorrow, of pain.  And the younger woman with
the beautiful, dark eyes constantly by his side, Deanna he had called
her, had a presence about her that caused him to suspect that she could
read him as well as he could read her Captain.  He'd also felt her gentle
touches in his mind, which he permitted.  He could have blocked those
mind-probes; military training from long ago had prepared him to be able
to do this and more, but he decided against it, allowing her to scan
freely.  Besides he liked her.
     Adama looked around and there were tears in his eyes, which he wiped
Away quickly as he began.  "Over twenty yahrens ago, our civilization was
destroyed by a race called the Cylons.  These beings were originally a
lizard species, which created robot servants in humanoid form because
they saw that our form was more efficient than theirs. They created these
robots stronger and larger than us and soon became completely dependent
upon their creations.   Now, I realize that this is a somewhat simplistic
answer," he stated quickly, "but details will be forthcoming later.  For
some reason that has never been made clear, these servants turned upon
their masters and killed them all many thousands of yahrens ago. 
Eventually their machine aggression spread and they attempted to
subjugate a people called the Hasaris.  Our Government elected to support
the Hasaris and this precipitated a thousand yahren war with these Cylons
because we dared defy them.  They could never beat us and eventually in
our arrogance we believed we were unbeatable.  But we were also tired of
this unending war and when the Cylons presented the peace treaty to
Commander Baltar, most of us jumped at the chance.  We didn't know that
Baltar was a traitor and our Battlestar fleet was caught unawares on the
eve of peace."
     "All but one, the Galactica.  Our ship tried to defend the twelve
colonies once we determined that they too would soon be under attack.  We
were too late.  Defenseless, all twelve our planets and our related
colonies were destroyed.  We consisted of over forty billion people
before the Cylon slaughter.  We escaped with only two hundred and three
ships filled to capacity with refugees, about three hundred thousand
souls.  We found the Battlestar Pegasus and a few others along the way,
but have been running ever since looking for the thirteenth colony,
called Earth." 
     "The Cylons programming imperative is simple 'kill all humans'.   To
them that was the entire point of the war and we failed to understand
that simple fact.  Now that we have found you, so have they.  We've led
them right to your doorstep."
     "As you have no doubt heard," Picard responded, "all our studies
indicate that humans originated on Earth.  We have also confirmed that
you are humans with different antibodies and genetic characteristics that
are very unusual as compared our norms, but those unusual characteristics
aren't that atypical.
     "This is true," Data added.  "And your case is not that all unusual. 
There have been several instances in which humans have been found outside
the planet Earth."  The Colonials were stunned at the news.  As they
quieted down, Data continued.

     "Captain James T. Kirk found several planets which contained humans
transplanted from Earth by a species we refer to as the Preservers.  In
fact there have been two planets in this galaxy that have been found to
be almost identical to Earth.  Those humans there were also transplanted,
but the planets were in essence terra-formed by some force we have not
yet encountered.  There may indeed be several more 'Earths' that we have
not discovered yet.  Why these planets were designed to mimic Earth-Prime
is unclear at this time.  But the indigenous people found there were
clearly human, another example of a transplanted people."
     "I can't agree," Apollo countered.  "Our twelve planets weren't even
located in this galaxy.  Kobol was found in this galaxy in the area that
you call the Beta quadrant."
     "You claim to be from another galaxy?"  Riker was shocked and a more
than a little skeptical.
     "I believe that our translators are not yet fully translating
properly," Data answered. "Their word 'galaxy,' in the context in which
they are using, it may not be interpreted correctly. If we present a map
of were they have traveled we may have a better understanding of their
use of the word."
     "Very good.  Make it so."
     A three dimensional map, being generated from stellar cartography,
appeared of the Beta quadrant. Adama pointed immediately to the very tip
of the arm, which contained approximately one hundred thousand stars. 
"That's where our worlds were," he said.  "Then we moved to there through
the Great Expanse some twenty thousand light yahrens distant and found
the planet Kobol."
     "Twenty-thousand light years," Picard whispered, impressed.  "I
believe I understand."
     "And how long did it take to get there?"  Picard asked.
     "About three sectons," Starbuck said.  "Give or take."
     "Three weeks!"  Captain Kagth shocked, smiled even more, filled with
admiration with these human warriors.  "How?" he stammered.
     "We normally use our light speed engines for FTL but for long
distance travel, we utilize the tunnel-shift drive engines.  We can
detect what we call wave-space pockets which allows us entry into what we
call transport tunnels in non-normal space.  With this we can travel
great distances but our accuracy is not as good as we would like.  We can
only travel in a general, straight-line direction that we choose before
the jump."
     "It is a form of transwarp drive," Data stated flatly even as
Geordie nodded his head in agreement. "They have developed the ability to
access transwarp vectors, which, in essence are residue or by-products of
transwarp conduits, even though they have never developed warp drive pass
the rudimentary sciences, as of yet."
     "But each time they use it," Geordie continued, "they undergo
temporal as well as spatial distortions.  We found out that the Borg
generate a chronometric particle field in front of their ships to keep
time distortions to a minimum.  Colonial technology doesn't include this
protective field, so in essence they've been traveling a lot longer than
twenty years."
     "Yes, that's true.  But, Who are the Borg?"
     "We'll discuss them later, Mr. President," Picard said preferring to
hold off on that particular subject that for the future.  "Please take a
look at your point of origin on the star map.  Your planetary system is
here, isolated from the rest of the Beta arm cluster by this dark area
here," he continued pointing at the three-Dimensional map. "What do you
call this area?"
     "That is our home galaxy," Starbuck announced.
     "This is where the mistranslation occurs.  You're calling that
pocket of stars a galaxy."  It was a statement.
     "Correct. We also use the name galaxy for the entire galactic star
cluster.  It depends on how and in what context the word is used," he
said.   
     "You, your planets and indeed the entire stellar cluster were
completely isolated from the rest of the galactic arm.   There is, in
fact several isolated regions or pockets of stars in that area.  You had
to get past the Dark Expanse to reconnect to the main the rest of the
galaxy. The only other area that you could have traveled to would have
been here, which is in the center of that dark expanse, a jumping off
point, if you will that leads to the galactic arm proper," he said
pointing to the dark region imposed on the three dimensional map. 
     "Yes."
     "And the Cylons came from the relative same area that your colony
worlds resided?"  Riker asked, confirming what most already suspected.
     "In our region of the galaxy, again yes."
     "And they've chased you all this time?"
     "Yes.  They're kind of one track minded on this, something to do
with their programming," Starbuck said, somewhat sarcastically.  "Look we
need your help. We're running on empty fumes here.  And they're your
enemies as well as ours."
     "That remains to be determined," Captain Picard said evenly.  It was
clear that this wasn't an irresolvable conflict between two warring
people.  He'd seen it before and understood that diplomacy had its place.
     "Ah, Captain Picard," Captain Duvalier said coolly.  "These Cylons
attacked and killed a significant number of the crew of the Okada.  In
fact, I think they laid a trap specifically to disable and capture the
Okada.  We monitored the conversations between the Okada and the Cylons. 
They understood Federation standard and understood exactly what they
intended to accomplish. The conversation was extremely provocative on
their part.  It was even more so with us.  The Cylon base ship...?"
     "Basestar," Adama corrected.
     "Basestar," she said revising the word before continuing, "attacked
the fleet then ignored the Galactica and the rest of the fleet to attack
our sister ship.  They could have destroyed the Pegasus but chose only to
damage it so that the Okada would have to intervene.  They could have
used transporters onboard the Galactica and any other ship they wished
and slaughtered everyone.  But they didn't, because they didn't want to. 
What they wanted was the Okada, Federation technology, data on our
defenses, strategies, and territories.  You've seen our recordings and
examined the Colonial records.  I believe that they really want us de