Battlestar Galactica: Greetings From Earth
By Eric Paddon
Epaddon@aol.com

                         Prologue

     "How much longer?"
     The black-suited man shot an annoyed glance at the brown-haired man
whose silver suit stood out against the night.  Why did he insist on
wearing that stupid outfit?  He thought.  It makes him stand out like a
beacon.
     Still, he held his tongue, "Just hang tight.  I can't make a move
until the lead guard goes, and it's just the one remaining guard
patrolling the hangar."
     "We could take them both out-----"
     "Not when you're wearing that color outfit," he decided to let it
out, "Just what were you thinking anyway?"
     The brown-haired man's nostrils flared, "This is standard for all of
us!  You know tech-workers and farmers can't afford to----"
     "Yeah, yeah, I know." he waved a hand, and then coughed once, "Damn,
it's so hard to breathe here."
     "Occupational hazard, eh, Colonel?" the brown-haired man noted, "How
much longer do you think you can stay here?"
     "Long enough to get my job done," the Colonel shot a glance back at
the hangar entrance.  Two black-suited guards continued to pace back and
forth.  "Though believe me, after what I've seen here on Luna Seven, I
shouldn't even bother checking the inner satellites.  What's happened
here is proof enough of what the Alliance is up to."
     "But I take it, you still plan on going to Luna One before returning
to Terra,"
     "I have no choice," he grunted, "General Maxwell is expecting me. 
We need to get the best possible evidence to present to the Presidium and
prove that our President is preparing to sell us down the river
completely.  And Luna One offers the best hope of that."
     "Good luck," the brown-haired man said, his impatience rising, "The
more I learn about what life is like on Terra, the more I consider it a
blessing that I can never visit it, let alone live there."
     "I sometimes wish it could be the same with me," the Colonel grunted
as he trained his binoculars on the entrance, "Okay....he's finally
going.  He's on his way to get his relief for the next three hours who
patrols with the remaining guard for two hours when his relief comes. 
That give us a window of.....ten minutes as soon as he
disappears.....now!"
     The black-suited Colonel got to his feet and assumed an erect
bearing as he began to approach the hangar.  As he watched, the
brown-haired man gingerly stepped back toward the land vehicle ten feet
away, where a large canvas tarp covered the back end.
     "Sarah," he whispered urgently as he pulled back the tarp, "It's
time!"
     A striking blonde woman in her late twenties, wearing a silver suit
identical to his stuck her head out and quickly got out of the vehicle. 
Behind her were three children, a boy and girl no older then six, and an
older girl of twelve.
     "Hurry, children," she whispered, "We're going to move soon."
     "Assuming our would-be-benefactor Colonel Watts is as good as he
says he is," the man sighed as he focused his attention back toward the
hangar.
     "Michael, do you really think we could have gotten this far without
him?"
     Michael shook his head, "No.  Even with all the programming I've
done for the ship, figuring a way past the guards and getting off this
planet safely would have taken a lot longer if he hadn't shown up."
     Sarah sighed, "I know I should feel grateful to him, and
yet....there's something so unlikable about him."
     "I know what you mean," Michael admitted, "But I guess that's why
he's such an enigma."


     As Colonel Watts approached the black-suited guard, he gave him a
rigid salute.
     "Halt!" the guard drew his weapon.
     "Take it easy son, I'm Colonel Terzov from Alliance Security. 
Didn't the Commandant notify you I'd be here?"
     The guard frowned, "Well....no.  I...." he snapped back to
attention, "I need to see your identification."
     "Of course," Watts smiled and then in one quick motion whipped out a
pistol armed with a silencer.  His superior training enabled him to shoot
the guard between the eyes before he could have a chance to react.
     As soon as the guard fell to the ground, Colonel Watts turned around
and gestured frantically.  Immediately, Michael, Sarah and the three
children sprinted across the open runway space as fast as they could go. 
By the time they reached the hangar building, Colonel Watts was hastily
inserting the dead guard's pass card into the automatic lock.
     "Got it!" he said in triumph, "Now get inside!"
     The five silver-suited people sprinted inside, followed by the
Colonel.  In front of them were two ships.  One, a small, one man
shuttlecraft.  The second, a much bigger craft, orange-colored and sleek
in its contours.
     "Well, there they are," Colonel Watts said proudly, "Our one-way
tickets off this planet forever." he turned to Michael, "Got your magic
programming disc ready?"
     Michael tapped the pocket of his suit and nodded.
     "All right," Watts said as he checked his watch, "We've got seven
minutes before the other guard comes back.  I'll take off first and make
use of the gun mounts to distract Field Security long enough while you
high-tail it out of here, fast.  And I hope you can get clear of the
tracking before they can get any Destroyers into the area."
     "I know what to do," Michael said as he motioned Sarah to lead the
children inside the larger craft, "I've studied the components of this
ship so much and flown the simulators so many times I feel like I'm
already proficient when it comes to flying it for as long as I have to."
     "Well, you'll only get one chance to see how good you are," he
paused as his expression grew thoughtful, "You really think Paradeen will
be safe for you?"
     "It should be," Michael nodded, "After all, we both know what the
Alliance did there.  There's no reason they should be bothering with it
again."
     "True," Colonel Watts then extended his hand, "Good luck to you,
Michael."
     The brown-haired man took the offered hand and shook it, "And to you
too, Colonel Watts.  I hope your mission is successful."
     "Well if it isn't, you'll find out someday," he said nonchalantly as
he then headed up the steps and into the shuttle.  Michael lingered only
for another second before he hurried over to the orange ship and entered
it.
     When he got inside, he saw Sarah was helping the three children step
into several pod like chambers.
     "That should wait until we're away!"  He protested.
     Sarah turned around, "What difference does it make?"
     "None," he admitted and moved over to the control panel where he
stuck a computer disc into the main terminal.  Immediately, a number of
systems began to power themselves up.  As Sarah continued to help load
the children in and secure their chambers, Michael went forward to the
cockpit section, where he nervously settled himself into his chair. 
Through the windows, he could see the shuttle light up and hear the roar
of its engines come to life.  As he watched the shuttle move out through
the hangar doors, he fired up the engines of the craft and with
trepidation began to maneuver the control stick so it followed the
shuttle out.
     When the craft broke out into the clear night, he could see the
shuttle begin to pick up speed.  Just as Michael pushed the stick forward
so his craft could gain speed, he suddenly saw a number of red lights
start to flash all around the air strip.  Clearly, their escape had now
been spotted.
     Michael watched the shuttle rise from the ground and saw it abruptly
turn at an angle.  White flashes erupted, indicating that it was now
opening fire somewhere on the base below.  As soon as the shuttle was out
of his field of vision, Michael then hit the switches that made the
spacecraft become airborne.  And then....a nervous waiting period as the
night sky turned into the darker vision of space.  And then, checking the
scanner to see if anyone was following him.  But so far, all signs
indicated nothing.
     "I think we've made it!" he finally allowed himself a happy burst. 
He activated the automatic pilot that would take the spacecraft out of
Luna Seven's gravitational pull, and then dashed back to the control
console in the mid-section of the ship where he had loaded the computer
disc.  He activated the switches and then a new burst of activity took
place on the terminals.
     "Automatic heading now engaged.  Computer control now initiating
course heading according to programmed sequence."  A computer voice
filled the spacecraft.  And then, a pause and the voice said, "Course is
now set for the planet Paradeen.  Estimated time of arrival in two months
flight time."
     Behind him, Sarah let out a sigh of relief.
     "Thank God," she whispered.  "We've made it."
     "And no sign of Alliance pursuit," Michael rose from the terminal. 
"Colonel Watts' decoy appeared to work."
     "Do you think he made it?"
     Michael shrugged, "Who's to say?  But we can't concern ourselves
with that, Sarah.  His mission, his cause, the whole damned war, can't
concern us any longer.  We have to think only of ourselves from now on."
     "I agree," she glanced back at the chambers where the three children
lay motionless under the glass pods.  "And of them too."
     For only an instant, Michael thought of hugging her to show his
relief and gratitude.  But then he remembered that it probably wouldn't
be a good idea even under these circumstances.
     "Come on," he said, "Let's get ready.  We've got a long night's
sleep ahead of us."

                    From The Adama Journals

     In the time that has passed since the internal crises surrounding
both the Borellian Nomen's plot to stage a revolt aboard their ship, and
the murder tribunal of Lieutenant Starbuck, for which by the Lords' good
graces he was acquitted,  we have at last been able to resume the bulk of
our energies towards the goal of searching for clues that might lead us
to the Thirteenth Tribe and the planet Earth.  We continue to follow
those coordinates given to us by that strange and mysterious race of
beings from a ship of lights, which we know must one day lead us to
Earth, but without any sense of whether it will come in a day, or in a
thousand yahrens.
     With my time not preoccupied by internal crises, it gives me an
opportunity to ponder more the true nature of those beings who I feel
rescued us from the evil intentions of the mysterious figure who called
himself Count Iblis.  Are my own suppositions that they represent that
higher being man is destined to become upon his death, when he can become
one step closer to the Almighty?  Or do they in fact represent something
less supernatural?  Perhaps a race of beings who reflect a common origin
with man that goes even further back then the emergence of life on Kobol
itself, and who have learned to evolve and develop at rates far beyond
our comprehension?  Such would be the skeptic's interpretation of those
beings.  My faith makes me prefer to think of the former as the more
likely possibility.  Any sign that proves to us that we live in a
universe where the absolute forces of Good, as well as Evil, are real,
proves as well the existence of a just and merciful God who is ultimately
in control of all forces of history.  And if there is a sign of that,
then we can live with the hope that somehow, somewhere, our journey that
has taken us so far across the stars from our homes, and into this vast
unknown dimension of uncharted space, will not have been in vain.

                         Chapter One

     Six centars had elapsed since Starbuck and Apollo had begun their
long-range patrol sweep ahead of the Fleet on the Epsilon 22 course.  To
Apollo, it had seemed even longer then that because the whole time,
Starbuck had not been able to stop pumping him for all the insider
details surrounding the blonde lieutenant's recent experience that had
seen him stand trial for a murder he had not committed.
     ".....I still don't get what Charybdis' original plan was," Starbuck
said, not for the first time during the patrol.
     Apollo rolled his eyes as he realized he'd have to go over this
again, "I'll try to explain it slowly this time, Starbuck.  Chella, the
guy you nearly ran over leaving the locker room, was the original fall
guy in Charybdis' plan.  He knew that Ortega had been blackmailing Chella
as well as him, so he set things up to lure Chella down to those levels,
kill him, and then set it up to make it look like Chella and Charybdis
had killed each other."
     "Well if that was the case, why'd he pick on me instead?"
     "Because your getting yourself ejected from the game, fouled up his
plans," Apollo said.  "He now had to deal with you roaming those levels
as well, and that meant he didn't have time to eliminate both Chella and
Ortega.  So in the space of three centons, he figured out that if he
could catch you in the turbo wash with your laser pistol lying unguarded
in the locker room, he'd solve all his problems."  The captain paused,
"So the moral of the story, Starbuck, is never let yourself get ejected
from a triad game again."
     "Yeah," the blonde warrior chuckled, "I learned my lesson about that
the hard way.  But I got to tell you, that was really a big gamble you
took that Baltar would come through.  What made you think he'd turn on
Charybdis?"
     "I had to consider their past history," Apollo said as he took a
quick glance at his scanner to reconfirm that nothing was there for them
to investigate.  In another forty centons they'd reach the end of their
limit and would begin the return to the Galactica.  "Charybdis was
Baltar's pilot.  The one who was sitting in a shuttle in the Atlantia's
launch bay waiting to get him off safely before the attack began.  Now
that means that either Baltar trusted him to wait there until he was
ready, or he forced him to wait until the last micron.  Which do you
think more likely to have happened?"
     "The latter," Starbuck admitted.  "Which means that no matter how
loyal an operative Charybdis was, Baltar never trusted him to begin
with."
     "And so logically, he never would have trusted him in that situation
of me lying dead, and him being the only remaining person in the Fleet
who could identify Charybdis and provide a tie-in to our defense to get
you off the hook."  Apollo paused, "The one thing you can't deny about
Baltar is that he's never willing to be consistent when it comes to
matters of his own survival.  That's the only bottom line with him."
     "Guess so.  I suppose I should be grateful just a bit to that piece
of bilge scum, but.....even I have my limits."
     The captain laughed, "I know what you mean.  And believe me, just
from the look on his face, I know he wasn't glad he had to be in the
position of saving me and you."
     "You were telling me the Commander made some kind of adjustment in
his sentence?"
     "Not a significant one.  He's still in the Prison Barge for life,
but no longer in Solitary Confinement.  He's free to move about the
Prison Barge with the regular prison population now."
     The blonde lieutenant snorted, "Given the kind of people there are
on the Prison Barge to begin with, I'm not sure he'd consider that an
improvement."
     "Maybe not, but there isn't anything Baltar could do that would make
my father think of commuting his sentence."
     The sound of a piercing beep then filled both of their cockpits. 
Immediately, both warriors shifted their attention back to their
scanners.
     "Apollo, my scanner just went crazy with a contact.  Reads as a
ship, but nothing that even closely resembles anything in our database."
     "That takes care of our first concern.  It isn't anything Cylon,"
Apollo checked his computer.  "Scan for life forms.  Could well be we're
looking at some race unknown to us that controls this quadrant of space."
     "Could be," Starbuck admitted as he checked his scanner, "Apollo, we
need to get closer to get a life form scan.  Readings are too imprecise
at this point."
     "All right, activate turbos, and let's close the range.  But try not
to alarm them into thinking we're going to attack."
     "Will do," Starbuck said as he hit his turbo, with Apollo following
microns later.  Ahead, the contours of an orange-colored spacecraft were
becoming visible.  Apollo shook his head in fascination, as it didn't
resemble any kind of craft he was familiar with.  The only craft that
came to mind was a bigger, longer version of a shuttlecraft of some type.
     "Definitely not an attack craft, would be my guess," Apollo said,
"Okay, how about the life form scan?"
     "Should have it now," Starbuck said as he hit the switch.  And then,
his jaw dropped open in disbelief.
     "Good Lord....." he whispered.
     "What?"  Apollo jerked his helmet up.
     "Apollo...." Starbuck hesitated, "The life form readings are human!"
     Apollo's head darted back down to his own scanner.  When he saw the
reading, it was his turn for his eyes to nearly bug out.
     "Lords of Kobol," the black-haired captain said under his breath,
"If there are humans aboard, then.....Starbuck do you know what that
conceivably means?"
     "Yeah," the blonde warrior nodded, "It can't be anything connected
to an old Colonial settlement.  It has to be something connected
with-----" he hesitated to say the next word.
     Apollo decided to finish for him, "Earth."  He took a breath, "I'm
going to break radio silence and send an emergency signal to the
Galactica.  We need to talk to them now."


     As soon as the long-range signal from Apollo reached the Galactica's
bridge, Colonel Tigh wasted no time contacting Adama to tell the
Commander what had happened.  By the time Adama arrived on the bridge, he
could sense a buzz of excitement.
     "Captain Apollo is sending back long-range telemetry signals to us
of this craft," the executive officer said, "I don't think any of us can
keep our eyes off it."
     Adama stared at the monitor, where he could see the clear image of
the orange colored spacecraft.  The design was totally unfamiliar to him,
which he knew had to be a hopeful sign to begin with.
     "Has our patrol tried contacting the people aboard?"
     "They got no response," Tigh said, "Indication is that perhaps those
on-board might be in some kind of suspended animation or hibernation
mode."
     "Hibernation?" Adama raised an eyebrow, "That's interesting.  The
Colonies stopped using that technique for long-range space travel eons
ago."  He glanced at the screen again, "Which from the standpoint of
those of us who hope to find a human civilization equal to our own would
not be a hopeful sign.  Still, it's way too early to form any judgments. 
Not until we can make some kind of actual contact with them."
     "But if they're in a hibernation mode, how can we make contact with
them?"  Tigh pointed out.
     The commander nodded, "That's a good point.  We'd have no choice but
to just have our patrol follow them to wherever the craft's
pre-programmed to go, but....since we have no idea where that might be,
and how far away it is, our patrol could reach the point where they'd
lose their ability to return safely to the Galactica and would have to
abandon them."
     "Then I think we have no choice," the executive officer said, "We
should tell Blue Squadron to take the vessel in tow and bring her back to
the Fleet."
     "Attach tow lines?" there was an edge of skepticism in Adama's tone,
"That might run the risk of waking them up and interpreting that a
hostile act has been made on them.  If this does represent contact with
the Thirteenth Tribe, that's the last thing I'd want to do."
     "Then the only other option would be to get a new patrol out to
relieve Apollo and Starbuck and keep tracking them.  Are you willing to
chance that?"
     Adama sighed and glanced back at the telemetry data on the monitor,
taking in the view of the unfamiliar craft.  "No," he shook his head, "I
can't chance that.  Tell Apollo to go ahead and tow her in.  Hopefully
we'll be able to convince those passengers, whoever they are, that we
mean them no harm."


     "Start securing the tow lines, Starbuck," Apollo radioed, "The
Galactica just gave us the green light to haul her in."
     "Activating tow line," Starbuck said, "We'll have to slow down our
speed to keep her secure.  It'll take, what, seven or eight centars to
bring her back?"
     "Give or take a centar," Apollo said as he trained his eyes on the
craft for perhaps the thousandth time, trying to find one sign in her
contours that indicated a tie-in to Colonial civilization.  Finally, he
shook his head in frustration as he realized that only a more detailed
examination would probably yield a tie-in.  If there was one.
     As the captain activated his tow line and saw it secure itself to
the starboard side of the craft, he suddenly felt a new sensation go
through his body.  Something that he couldn't put his finger on, but it
almost seemed like a warning bell to him.  That maybe there was a good
reason for not going ahead with this.
     He then shook the sensation off as he and Starbuck maneuvered their
vipers into position and began the process of towing the mysterious
spacecraft back toward the distant goal of the Galactica's landing bay.


     As the centars went by, Adama decided to temporarily retreat to his
quarters and go over all of the ancient texts in his collection that
pertained to the Thirteenth Tribe.  The Book of the Word and the
Testament of Arkada represented the only definitive accounts he could
trust, while anything else fell completely in the realm of speculation. 
At a time such as this, when the possibility of first contact no longer
seemed so distant and remote as it always had since the journey's
beginning, the last thing he could let his mind do was engage in
speculation.  He needed to wait for more definitive information to
emerge, and then let things fall as they were.
     He was still immersed in his texts when the video-com chime sounded. 
He turned it on and saw that Tigh was looking very concerned.
     "Something the matter, Colonel?"
     "A small problem," the executive officer said, "It seems that news
of this discovery by Captain Apollo's patrol has spread too fast
throughout the Fleet."
     "What do you mean?" Adama came up in his chair.
     "The IFB's found out," Tigh said, "Zara's spent the last half-centar
talking about nothing else."
     The commander shook his head in disgust, "Apollo's patrol isn't even
back yet and they've found out already?"
     "I imagine someone on the Bridge who's gone off-duty in the last few
centars talked, or at least talked to someone who then passed on the
news.  Adama, I think you'd better defuse this quickly before it gets out
of hand."
     "Yes, tie me in to the Fleet unicom signal and I'll do that right
away.  How long before the patrol returns?"
     "One centar,"
     "Get quarantine facilities ready in Alpha Landing bay."
     "Already done.  You're on unicom now."
     Adama then took a breath and brought his voice to its most
disciplined and diplomatic tone.
     "People of the Fleet, this is Commander Adama.  Rumors are spreading
faster than fact about a manned vehicle soon to be brought aboard the
Galactica.  I must ask you all to be patient and cautious in your
optimism.  The incoming vessel will have to be placed in strict
quarantine, carefully, before we can allow anyone near it.  We can not
run any risk that might jeopardize our lives, or the lives of whoever is
aboard this spaceship." he then paused, "As to where this craft
originates from, I ask that you refrain from any speculation or false
optimism at this time.  Too much remains that is unknown to us at
present, and only the most thorough of examinations, which may take some
time to fully implement, can begin to answer those questions.  I can only
assure you that all information will be made available in as timely a
fashion as can be done.  For now, I ask that you return to your normal
duties, and to act with prudence and caution as far as whatever future
events may hold in store for us.  Thank you."
     He shut off the switch and let out a sigh of relief, hoping that
he'd neutralized one potential problem for now.


     By the time Adama returned to the bridge, Apollo and Starbuck were
within visual range of the Fleet, and so was the mysterious spacecraft. 
Now, each person on the bridge was staring at the main viewing screen,
unable to take their eyes off the vessel.
     "We're able to make our own telemetry scans," Omega said, "Minimal
lifesign readings.  No response to communications."
     "Doctor?" Adama turned to Dr. Salik, who had arrived on the bridge a
few centons earlier.
     "This is only a snap judgment, but I would concur that indicates
hibernation or suspended animation."  The Chief Medical Officer said, "If
they were ill or incapacitated to some degree, they surely would have
found some way of indicating that, or their lifesigns might have
terminated by now.  Those low metabolic rates clearly indicate bodily
functions slowed down to almost the same levels one is subjected to in
cryo-freeze treatments."
     "Then how swiftly should we proceed in awaking them, if indeed they
are in hibernation?"
     Salik looked up, "I would certainly not recommend proceeding
'swiftly', Commander.  We can't guarantee that these people, however
human they might be according to these scans, are fully compatible with
our own life-support systems.  Until I can have my med-tech team go over
every component in that spacecraft down to the last detail, I recommend
going at a pace slower than a Canceran mollusk."
     "Noted," Adama then turned to the Chief Electronics Scientist, who
had arrived at the same time as Salik, and who was staring at the
readings in slack-jawed fascination.  "Dr. Wilker, your analysis?"
     "Amazing," the Chief Scientist murmured, seemingly oblivious to the
Commander.  He said nothing else, and Adama felt the need to impatiently
tape him on the shoulder.
     "Dr. Wilker, your analysis, please?"
     "Oh!" he straightened himself out, "Our scans of the craft's
interior are more thorough then what the vipers have been able to do. 
Clearly safe for our teams to enter.  No bombs or booby traps as far as
we can determine.  The craft itself contains two main reactors that power
her engines, but the cells indicate she's totally incapable of
faster-than-light travel, and in all likelihood not even lightspeed."
     "Which means if they put themselves in hibernation, they expected a
long journey to wherever they wanted to go, and couldn't store necessary
provisions for such a sustained voyage," Adama said.  "How long could
they conceivably keep themselves alive in that condition?"
     "Who's to say?" Salik shrugged, "Sectars, yahrens, maybe hundreds of
yahrens for all we know."
     "Commander," Omega reported, "Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck
have detached tow lines and are landing in Beta bay.  Our tractor beam
has hold of the craft and is guiding her into Alpha bay."
     "Thank you.  Have them report to Alpha bay immediately," Adama
turned to the two scientists, "Well, gentlemen, let's take our first
close-up look at this thing."


     When the three of them arrived in the landing bay, Apollo and
Starbuck were already waiting for them.  Cassiopeia and a team of several
med-techs, as well as two additional scientists from Wilker's staff also
stood nearby.
     "There it is," Wilker pointed.
     Adama stopped to take in the view of the orange spacecraft.  Nothing
about it struck any chord of recognition with him in terms of design,
which automatically told him that whatever society these people came from
had clearly not followed a completely parallel state of development to
Colonial civilization.  From a comparative technological level, the
craft's size and slow speed suggested something in the vicinity of one
thousand to fifteen hundred yahrens behind the level of Colonial
technology since it seemed evident that this kind of vessel served the
same function as one of the Galactica's shuttles might.
     "We've been standing by, waiting for your orders, Commander,"
Cassiopeia said, "How do you want us to proceed?"
     "No sign of movement since she landed?"
     "None," Dr. Fairfax, Wilker's chief assistant shook his head. 
"Commander, if we're going to find out anything, we need to get inside
their now."
     "Wait a centon," Apollo protested, "That thing couldn't possibly
accommodate a team this large.  If we send too many people in their at
once..."
     "Then we send in fewer people, Captain!" Fairfax retorted, "The
sooner we stop standing around here, the better I'll feel."
     Adama glanced at the scientist with slight distaste, wondering how
it could be that Fairfax was the nephew and namesake of a great
battlestar commander.
     "Very well," Adama said, "We'll proceed.  But I only want Captain
Apollo, Lieutenant Starbuck, Med-tech Cassiopeia and Drs. Salik and
Wilker to accompany me for this first look."
     "Commander, I-" Fairfax started to protest, but a cold glance from
the Commander cut him off and he slunk back to where the others were
standing.
     "I think we're forgetting something," Salik said, "Do we need to
force open their hatch to get inside?  Because if we have to blow it
completely, I'm absolutely opposed to that."
     "We'll find out," Adama said as he led the group of five toward the
craft and placed his hand on what was clearly a rear compartment door. 
He found a hatch cover and with great trepidation turned what looked like
a handle to the right.
     A groaning sound emitted as the door suddenly slid open to the
right.  Feeling the tension rise, Adama then led the group inside.
     They immediately noticed a sterile smell inside the rear
compartment, and also that it was stuffy and hot.
     "The ventilation systems were powered done to almost nothing,"
Wilker noted, "To save energy for a long-range trip."
     Adama then entered the next compartment and stopped in his tracks
when he saw before him, five pod-like chambers, each containing the
almost waxen forms of human beings.  Each of them wore the same kind of
odd, silver-metal looking coverall.  What surprised him though was that
only one was an adult male.  The other was an adult female, and on the
other side he could recognize three children, one in her young teens, the
other two no older than five or six yahrens old.
     "A whole family of them," Cassiopeia said in amazement.
     "This, I didn't expect," Adama said as he moved toward the head of
the compartment, glancing down at the brown-haired man in the lead pod
chamber.  "This couldn't have been some kind of formal expedition or
voyage if it had passengers like this."
     Starbuck was perhaps the most awed of the group, "They don't even
look alive."
     Salik smiled, "Well, they are, Lieutenant.  Just like being put in
cryo-freeze makes one look dead even as the body continues to function."
the Chief Medical Officer stopped to look at some of the instrument
panels lining the terminals.  "I can't quite make out the details on
these computers though.  It could well be that these people have a
language that isn't quite on the same wavelength as ours."
     "He's right," Wilker said as he looked up from his study of one of
the computer terminals, "There's nothing I'd dare touch myself.  It could
be that these people are the ones who'd have to teach us how to operate
these things properly.  The sooner we can get one of them out of
hibernation, the better.  Preferably the lead one there." he motioned his
thumb toward the lead pod that Adama stood next to.
     Adama frowned, "You're suggesting we start that procedure, now?"
     "Well it makes sense, doesn't it?" Starbuck spoke up, "We aren't
going to get anywhere figuring out where they come from, if we can't read
their computers, so why not wake them up?"
     Salik sighed, "Starbuck, Wilker, I think you should stop thinking so
impulsively.  If we bring these people out of hibernation improperly,
that could terminate their lives."
     "Why?" the lieutenant asked.
     "Because as you said, we don't know how to read their computers, so
it's quite obvious that we also don't know what the proper procedure is
for bringing them out of hibernation, especially since we don't know if
their life systems are completely compatible with our atmosphere."
     "So what does this mean, then?" Starbuck began to feel the
exuberance he'd felt all through the journey back to the Galactica being
replaced with exasperation, "We finally come into contact with people who
might be from Earth, and we have to leave them in these tubes?"
     "No," Wilker shook his head, "No, it doesn't have to mean that at
all.  Between myself and Dr. Salik, and with the help of our support
teams, we should be able to figure these systems out.  I can pick one
chamber and run tests on it."
     "Run tests on it?" Apollo spoke up for the first time, feeling that
uneasy sensation return to him again, "Are you talking about using one of
these people as a testing drone to figure out how their technology
functions?"
     Wilker bristled slightly, "That's a crude way of putting it,
Captain, but----"
     "And what if one of them should short out during your so-called
'tests'?" Apollo didn't let up, "You'd just move on to the next child? 
I'm assuming of course the children are the ones you'd want to do the
tests on, since you said it was important to get answers from their
leader up front!"
     The Chief Scientist found himself on the verge of losing his temper,
but then swallowed and turned his back to Apollo, directing himself to
Adama, "Commander," he said, "I believe you've served your purpose for
now.  The rest is in our hands.  It's not a military matter anymore."
     "That's true," Adama said, taken aback somewhat by Wilker's cavalier
attitude toward the situation.  But from a technical standpoint, he knew
the Chief Scientist was right about the need to proceed, "But I want both
of you to understand this.  Who these people are, where they come from,
and where they were going, could well provide the key to the survival of
the entire Fleet.  I want no unnecessary chances taken with their lives. 
Have I made myself clear?"
     "Certainly," Wilker said, "But at the same time, we also have to
consider that bringing them here at all, may have been fatal in the
long-term for them."
     "Which would justify taking rash action to get at some answers too
quickly, is that what you're saying, Doctor?" Apollo didn't bother
concealing the disgust in his voice.
     Again, the Chief Scientist ignored him, "Commander, if you would
permit Fairfax and the rest of my team to come aboard, along with the
rest of the med-techs, I think we can get started."
     "Very well," Adama said calmly and motioned to Apollo and Starbuck,
"Captain.  Lieutenant."
     As Apollo followed his father out, he could feel the sense of
discontent rising inside him.  Now he could pinpoint exactly what the
source of it was.  He was convinced more then ever that bringing the
strange vehicle aboard the battlestar had been the wrong decision to
begin with.

                         Chapter Two

     For more than a sectan, Athena had been dreading the day when her
new temporary assignment would begin.  All the people she'd spoken to had
told her nothing but horror stories of how impossible it was to handle a
group of young primary children not used to a new instructor.  And how
each of them were always grateful when the assignment ended and they
could get back to their regular duties as soon as possible.
     The previous night, she had lain awake in her bunk, wondering how it
was that a warrior with her record, trained to fly shuttles, and who had
distinguished herself as a viper pilot at the Battle of Kobol, now found
herself about to take charge of thirty children for the rest of the
educational cycle, which still had several sectars remaining.  It almost
seemed like the ultimate comedown in terms of what she was capable of
doing.
     And then, she realized painfully the reason why she'd talked herself
into volunteering for the assignment.  The more she removed herself from
the bridge and all kinds of warrior-related activities, the more she
could get her mind off Starbuck.  For too long, she had been letting
herself brood over the fact that he was irrevocably lost to her.  Hearing
Cassiopeia say on the witness stand during his murder tribunal that they
had a "very close" relationship, only helped drive the reality of that
home to her once and for all.  As a consequence it had begun to make her
feel more restless in her usual bridge duties, and that what she needed
most was a new challenge in life to devote herself too.  Going back to
viper duty wasn't an option since it would only put her in more close
proximity to Starbuck.  And then, one night while she had been looking
after Boxey, her nephew had offhandedly remarked how he wished his
instructor was more like her.  She had asked him questions for a centar
about what his classes were like, and learned that Boxey didn't think his
current instructor, or any of the previous ones, had done a good job
connecting with the class.  After that conversation, Athena found herself
thinking she could easily do a better job then that, and had impulsively
volunteered the next day to be a rotating instructor for Boxey's second
yahren primary group, the instant a vacancy came up.  Without bothering
to check with others who'd had the job before to find out if it really
was a good idea to volunteer for such a position.
     But now, as she'd collected herself that morning to begin her job,
her dread had given way to resignation, and she decided that the least
she could do was throw herself into it.  Perhaps when all was said and
done, she might come to enjoy the job and even sign up for another
semester term.
     To strike a note of authority with the children, she decided to wear
her bridge uniform rather than the civilian clothes most instructors
wore.  Once class began, she found it seemed to have the right effect on
the children.  All of them were in a completely deferential mood and not
offering the slightest signs of rambunctiousness.
     Is it the uniform, or the fact that I'm Adama's daughter? she
wondered idly.  She made a mental note to try at least one session
without the uniform at some point in order to put that theory to the
test.
     After guiding them through a review of their scientific exercises
for the day, she decided to break whatever feelings of boredom some of
them might have by focusing on the one story that any of them with access
to a video-com and the IFB these last two days, knew all about.
     "Let's see how well some of you are when it comes to keeping up with
current events knowledge."  She said as she made her way forward, into
the throng of children seated at their desks.  "You're all aware that
something special has happened, right?"
     "Yes!" her nephew suddenly spoke up, "We've found people from
Earth!"
     Athena gently pointed at Boxey, feeling glad that the little boy had
provided her with an opportunity to demonstrate to the rest of the class
that not even familial ties could affect her ability to show authority to
them.
     "Boxey, remember to use your questioning indicator when you desire
to address the class."
     "Sorry, Athena," Boxey said, feeling properly chastised as he
settled back in his seat.
     "You're excused," she allowed herself only the faintest smile, as
she returned to her position at the head of the classroom.  "But Boxey is
right to this degree.  If you're all familiar with your assigned readings
form the Book of the Word and the Testament of Arkada, then you realize
that what might happen today is liable to affect each of us, for the rest
of our lives.  That's why we're all nervous about it, I'm sure."
     A chime then sounded from the desk in front of Boxey's, rung by a
blonde girl with braids.  Athena recognized her as the daughter of
Colonial Security Guard, Corporal Lomas.
     "Yes, Loma?"
     "If there are people aboard, why aren't they coming out?"
     "We can't allow it now, because their craft has to be
decontaminated," Athena said and decided to come up with an impromptu
quiz for them.  Using current events as a launching point for educational
discussion was one teaching tool they'd never seen before, and Athena
could remember how effective it had always been during her days of
schooling.  "Does anyone know what that means?"
     Boxey immediately rang his question chime.  For an instant, Athena
hoped that wasn't going to be the norm because if Boxey was always first
to chime in, then the other students might think she was giving her
nephew opportunities to look better than them.  "Yes, Boxey?"
     "It means they have to make sure there are no sick bugs aboard the
ship that can harm the rest of us."  
            "Exactly," Athena nodded, grateful that Boxey didn't mention
that he knew that because Apollo had gone through a full decon procedure
himself the other day after his one visit aboard the craft.  "We're
talking about things that are too small for us to see, but can have bad
effects on us, especially when we have people thrown together in an
unfamiliar environment for the first time.  I'm sure some of us can
remember that when we started our journey nearly a yahren ago, there was
trouble making adjustments."
     Another chime, this from a brown haired girl at the back of the
room.  "Yes.  Lana?"
     "When me and my parents came aboard the Galactica, we got sick from
the water."
     "Your family's from Aquarius, right?"  Athena asked, feeling glad
that Boxey had told her about most of the backgrounds of the students.
     "Yes."
     "You come from one of the outer colonies.  Because the Galactica is
mostly comprised of Capricans, Gemons and Cancerans, that meant there was
some incompatibility at first, but in time that passed.  Everyone learned
how to do what, class?"
     "Adjust!" they all said in unison.
     "Excellent," she said with pride, "And with that in mind, you can
look at the central monitor and read the lesson for today." she activated
a switch and stepped aside so they could see it.
     "The human life form can adapt to many varied environments and
foods!" they again read in unison.
     "Remember, it just takes time for adjustment to happen.  That's all
that's happening now, before we can let these visitors out."
     Boxey, feeling restless to say what was on his mind, rang his chime
again.
     "Yes, Boxey?"
     "I heard my father say that it could be possible for those people to
kill us before we knew what hit us, if they were carrying the wrong kind
of bugs."
     Athena was taken aback slightly by her nephew's remarks.
            "Your father said that to you?"
         "Not exactly," Boxey said, "He was having some argument with
Starbuck about it."
     "I see," Athena sucked in her breath, trying not to let herself look
any more rattled then she already felt.  "Class, we're going to take a
recess for the next fifteen centons.  You're free to go to a refreshment
station but make sure what you get is fully consumed before class
resumes."
     An approving noise went up from the students as they began to
disperse.  Athena came up to Boxey and immediately took him by the hand.
     "Come on," she said, "Let's find your father."


     Several centons later, they caught up with Apollo, who was heading
toward the Officers Club.
     "Apollo!" his sister called out.
     Apollo turned around and smiled when he saw them, especially Boxey. 
He hadn't been able to spend as much time as he felt he should have with
his son in the last few sectans, and it was beginning to weigh heavily on
his conscience.
     "Boxey, how are you doing?" he patted his son's shoulder and then
grinned at his sister, "So is he making your first day of teaching
difficult?"
     "Only because of something you said," Athena folded her arms, "Are
you trying to scare every child aboard the Galactica out of their wits?"
     "What?" Apollo frowned.
     "I'm trying to tell them that what's happened with this ship being
found could be the most wonderful thing that ever happened to us, and
according to Boxey, you were telling Starbuck that this could actually
kill us all."
     Apollo stiffened slightly and then glanced at his son, wondering if
he should rebuke him for eavesdropping again.  He decided not to and
directed himself to Athena, "What I said was that we and the people in
that ship share the same risk.  Either of us could be dangerous to each
other."
     "But we've decontaminated that ship!  You've been inside it, and so
has Father, and you went through decon with no ill after-effects.  If you
were afraid of a replay of what happened to Boomer and Jolly when they
contracted that virus, you'd both still be quarantined!"
     "We're safe, yes," Apollo said, "But as far as coming into contact
with these people, there's still a danger.  Our air could be filled with
things fatal to them, and once they're released from hibernation, they
could transmit bugs to us that could be fatal to us.  All we've proved is
that the sealed environment of their ship isn't harmful to us."
     "I see," Athena said, "So in other words, if they're from Earth,
they could be from a totally harmful environment to us.  What do you
expect me to do with a group of students who've been taught to have hope
about adjusting normally to a new life on a new planet, if we're this
close to Earth?"
     He put a hand on his sister's shoulder, "You tell them the truth,
Athena," he said, "That hopefully we've taken a giant step forward."
     "Which in your opinion could just as easily be a step off a cliff." 

     Apollo finally realized why Athena was so rattled by what had
happened.  Athena had once been the sunny optimist of the family in the
days before the Holocaust, matching the disposition their mother was
known for.  That had been shattered beyond repair on the day she'd lost
Zac and then her mother, and it had made Athena far more cynical and
skeptical about life.  Now, at a time when she'd been trying to recapture
some of that optimism for the sake of the children she was teaching,
along came another jolt to reopen her cynical nature.
     "Athena," he said gently, "How about I come by to your class and
talk to them after we get some more information?  I don't want to rattle
them, or you for that matter."
     "Sure," she sighed, "You just telecom me when you're ready."
     "I will," he then glanced down at Boxey, "As for you, young man,
you're going to get it good for eavesdropping again."
     But Boxey had heard this kind of reproach before, and like the other
times it always left him grinning innocently at his father, and with it,
all thoughts of stern discipline were gone from Apollo's mind by the time
he turned away.


     Inside the spacecraft, Salik and Wilker had spent the better part of
a centar working alone on their analysis of the components.  The support
teams had spent most of the last two days in total frustration over their
inability to come up with viable answers on how the ship functioned. 
Now, the two senior scientists had decided to tackle things alone for
now.
     "We've been at this for two days, and we're still no further along
then when we started," Salik said, "Not a single thing in this vessel
correlates to anything we're used to."
     "We have to find a connection somewhere," Wilker found himself
growing more annoyed with Salik's comments.  "They're human.  The ship is
powered by energy sources similar to our own sub-light craft from a
millennia or so ago.  We just have to keep at it."  He paused, "And if
that means taking some chances, Doctor, I for one am more than prepared
to do that."
     "Even if it means risking their lives?"
     "For sagan's sake, how are we going to make things better if we stay
too cautious?" the Chief Scientists raised his voice slightly.  "We could
end up harming ourselves even more taking that approach then if we were
slightly too rash by your reasoning."
     "Granted," the Chief Medical Officer conceded, "But before you even
think about using one of those pods for tests, I suggest you try a crack
at the navigational system again, and see if you can get some clues as to
where this vessel came from.  That should be more up your line of work
anyway, shouldn't it?"
     Wilker threw him a cold stare and then went over to the front of the
ship.


     When Apollo arrived in the Officers Club, he found the effects of
his conversation with Athena still leaving a bad taste in his mouth.  And
with it, he found all of the nagging doubts he'd been having for the last
two days bubbling to the surface.
     "Apollo?" Sheba inquired as he sat down at the table where Boomer
and Starbuck were also seated, "You look like you just lost your first
love."
     She'd said it brightly, as a way of breaking tension, but both
Boomer and Starbuck found themselves wincing at her choice of words.
     Apollo glanced at her oddly for an instant, as though he was also
surprised by her using a phrase none of his other friends would have used
in a micron.  Then, he reminded himself that Sheba was a newcomer not too
familiar with just who Apollo's first love had been, and how he'd lost
her.  He wasn't about to hold her remark against her.  If anything, he
felt determined to cut Sheba more slack then he might ordinarily do for
anyone else.
     "It's nothing," he waved a hand, "I checked back on their progress,
and they're not getting anywhere."
     "You're just going to have to give them time," Boomer said as he
took a sip from his tankard, "Until then, we just sit back and wait for
results."
     "Yeah," Apollo said, "Only they may not have much time.  That's the
problem!"
     "What are you talking about?" Boomer set his tankard down, "You're
making it sound like there's some choice to be made here."
     "There is," the captain's voice suddenly grew more determined, "And
I think we've been making the wrong choice all along."
     "Huh?" Sheba frowned, "Apollo, you found a ship drifting in space
with living beings inside, and we're doing all we can for them.  What
other choice is there?"
     "Maybe leaving them alone," he settled back in his chair.
     "What?" Boomer's face twisted in disbelief, "Is that what we're
supposed to do to the first humans we've come across from another
civilization, clearly with no connections to our own?"
     "Are you sure of that?" Sheba asked.  "You have come across other
humans before since leaving the Colonies, haven't you?"
     "Yes, but not since long before we crossed paths with you and the
Pegasus, Sheba," Boomer said, "And all of them we could tie to planetary
systems that were still on old Colonial star charts.  Those humans were
pioneers or drifters from our own planets.  Their language, their culture
and customs were all familiar to us on one level or another.  Then after
Gomorrah, we run into the first regions of uncharted space and we find
nothing for well over four sectars as far as humans go, and then bang! 
We find this spacecraft that has a totally unfamiliar technological
design.  The one thing we can be sure of is that these people are the
first non-Colonial humans we've come across.  The only remaining question
is, are they part of the Thirteenth Tribe?  And when I say the Thirteenth
Tribe, I don't mean stragglers who dropped off the journey at some point,
I mean those who are part of where the Tribe ultimately ended up.  That's
one question we have to find the answer to."
     "Boomer's right," Starbuck chimed in, "The whole point of this
journey from the beginning isn't finding some place nice to settle where
there are other humans, it's finding the place where the Thirteenth Tribe
ended up.  If we wanted to stop on a planet that was habitable, I could
have settled for staying Constable back on Serenity, or having us all
settle down on Attilla," he then took a puff on his fumarello, "Which I
have to admit did have some interesting distractions to offer, as you no
doubt recall, Boomer."
     "Yeah, I remember," Boomer said as his mind recalled the image of a
skimpily attired voluptuous woman named Miri.  "I'll try not to remind
Cassiopeia of that."
     Starbuck grinned and took another puff.
     "It isn't the need to find just the Thirteenth Tribe that explains
why we never stopped," Apollo looked as though he wasn't going to allow
himself to loosen up.  "We never stopped because we're not strong enough
to do that.  We've been a hunted people, for sagan's sake!" he abruptly
slammed his fist on the table to emphasize his point.
     Starbuck uneasily took his fumarello out and glanced uneasily at his
friend, "Well yeah, but that hasn't been true for a few sectars now,
Apollo.  I mean, it's been awhile since we last saw any Cylons to worry
about.  So if we're not worrying about Cylons anymore, then my point
about waiting only for the Thirteenth Tribe stays valid."  He then
paused, "At least try to lighten up, will you?"
     "Oh come on!" Apollo refused to let up, "Why is it you have to look
at things all the time in absolutes?  Either we win or lose!  Either we
find Earth or we don't!  A girl says yes or no!  The value of a
civilization is based on what lies between these extremes."
     Sheba decided the time for being lighthearted had past, "I think
that's pure felgercarb, Apollo," she cut in, "We fought our war against
the Cylons because we believed in the absolute goodness of the cause. 
And it seems to me that our destruction came about only when our leaders
stopped looking at things that way."
     "That's not the point!" Apollo said, "I'm talking about something
else completely!"
     "Are you?" Sheba remained unconvinced, "If you are, I haven't
noticed.  And I don't see why you're getting in such a fit about what
happens to these people.  The experts are working on this, and they're
trying to make sure no harm comes to them.  And you then come up with
some felgercarb about how we should have left them alone?"
     "There's an ethical component to this, that we haven't considered."
     "Where?" 
     "We've interfered with whatever it is they were setting out to do
when they put themselves in hibernation.  Did we have the right to
disrupt their voyage and put their lives at risk simply to fulfill our
own selfish goals?"
     "Selfish?" Starbuck crushed his fumarello in the ashtray.  "Apollo,
what choice did we have?  I was out there with you.  We either had to
take that ship in tow or else we would have lost our ability to track her
because we were damn near out of fuel!  And are you going to tell me with
a straight face that would have been the sound decision to make?"
     "Maybe it would have."
     "I think you're dead wrong," Sheba said coldly, "And I think it's
wrong for you to act as though what's been done constitutes some kind of
heinous crime."
     "You tell him!" a slurry voice from behind them suddenly spoke up.
     The four warriors turned around and saw a short man with a
moustache, wearing the black uniform of Council Security, sitting on a
barstool holding a near-empty glass in his hand.
     "Oh great," Starbuck said under his breath, "Now we have to put up
with a blackshirt who's totally crocked."
     "You ask me, you and Shtarbuck are right," Council Security Guard
Reese slid off the barstool and stumbled toward their table, still
holding his empty glass.  "You know what we oughta do?  Smash open those
boxes and interro-" he suddenly hiccuped, "Interrogate the whole-" he
slurred out the word as if it had three syllables, "lot of them."
     "Hey Reese," Starbuck said gently, "Why don't you go quietly and
take a nice long turbowash, because believe me, I don't need a crocked
blackshirt for an ally."
     "Oh you don't, do ya?" Reese suddenly bristled with anger, "Ish not
goooood enough for you when one of us decides to agree with ya?  Only
want help from your hotshot," he hiccuped again, "pilots?" he formed the
word contemptuously, "Or if I was one of those from Colon-" another
hiccup, "Colonial Security, you'd listen to me?"
     "You say one more word, Reese, and I'm going to stick that glass of
yours down your throat," Starbuck said coldly.  "Now get out of here."
     Slowly, Reese skulked away, and then turned back, "Think I will. 
There's never any fresh air when I'm around you arrogant clods."
     Apollo suddenly bolted from his chair as if he was going to follow
the Council guard out and fight him.  Boomer immediately grabbed his arm.
     "Hey," the dark-skinned warrior said, "We came here to let off
steam, not fight."
     "He's right," Starbuck smiled, "Besides, when it comes to fighting,
that's my job.  You're supposed to be my conscience, remember?"
     "Right now, your conscience wishes he were making a bigger impact on
you," Apollo refused to sit down, "Because I think its hard to offer one
life in sacrifice even for thousands."
     "Is it?" Sheba said with disgust, "If that's true Apollo, then the
oath we've all taken as warriors to put down our lives as individuals for
the people of our nation suddenly becomes meaningless."
     "I'm not talking about us as Colonial Warriors sacrificing our lives
to save our own people!" Apollo said, not wanting to argue with Sheba,
but feeling he had no choice.  "We took that oath out of our own free
will.  We had a choice in the matter.  What choice did we give these
people?  That's the difference I'm talking about.  We didn't give them a
choice as to whether or not their lives should be put at risk for our own
sake."
     The silence from the three warriors indicated that he'd finally been
able to connect with them.
     "Look," Apollo said quietly as he sat down, "I'm not a fool.  I'm
not saying we should have ignored that ship completely when we
encountered it.  I'm just saying we didn't take enough time to consider
every possible alternative.  If we had we could have found one that
served both our interests.  Theirs and ours."
     "Well even if that's true, Apollo, it's too late to look back on
that, isn't it?" Boomer pointed out.  "We just have to deal with things
as they are now."
     "I wonder," Apollo then abruptly headed for the door, leaving his
friends feeling completely uneasy.


     Sergeant Castor of Colonial Security, the unit responsible for all
matters of military security had begun his assignment of guarding the
entryway to Alpha bay.  For the last two days, it had been ordinary and
routine.  This day though, he didn't have long to see that it would not
be routine on this occasion when three people, two men and one woman in
white Councillor's robes descended from the turbo lift and approached the
guard.
     "Excuse me, but this area is off-limits."
     The lead man, who had carefully groomed silver hair, seemed
indignant.  "Young man, do you realize who you're talking to?  I'm Sire
Geller, and this is Sire Domra," he indicated the other man, whose hair
was also silvery-white, "and Siress Tinia," he then motioned to the woman
who was in the early stages of middle-age, and whose severe expression
marred what might have otherwise been an attractive face.
     Castor seemed unimpressed, "I recognize your names," he said, "But
the fact that you're members of the Council of Twelve carries no weight
in a matter of military security."
     "I don't think you understand, Sergeant," Domra stepped forward and
said coldly.  "We insist on the right to inspect this vessel for
ourselves and see what progress there's been on the status of these
humans, and how soon it will be before they can talk!"
     "Well, I'm not the one who can help you on that, my job is to just
guard this area and keep it quarantined for the support teams to do their
work," Castor held his ground.  "You'd need to get written authorization
from Commander Adama for me to let you by, so I suggest you take up the
matter with him."
     "We shall see about this!" Geller's nostrils flared, while Tinia's
severe expression grew more visibly annoyed.  "The next time we meet,
Sergeant, you won't find yourself acting so disrespectful of civilian
authority!"
     The three Council members then turned and went back to the turbo
lift that would take them one deck up.  Just as they boarded, the
adjacent compartment door opened and Apollo emerged.
     "What was that all about?" the captain asked.
     Castor shook his head in disgust, "We've got some restless Council
members who are anxious to see those Earthians for themselves."
     Apollo looked at him with alarm, "Did you tell them this area's
quarantined?"
     "Yeah, but judging by the looks on their faces, I don't think they
plan on taking no for an answer much longer."
     "Great, that's all we need.  Castor, get some more guards stationed
here to beef up security.  I'll even get some off-duty pilots detached to
help out too."
     "Thanks," the security guard grunted, "We'll probably need it."


     "I've exhausted everything I can out of the navigational system,"
Wilker's patience with Salik had now run out, "Now unless you think I
should be wasting my time sitting on my astrum, I am going to check that
support pod, now."
     Salik let out a dismal groan but then shook his head in the
affirmative.  "All right, but I'm going to watch every move you make,
Wilker."
     "Naturally," the Chief Scientist didn't hide the sarcasm as he knelt
down in front of the pod where the brown-haired man lay.  He opened what
seemed like a panel on a small box at the base of the chamber and saw
what looked like a maze of wires and circuits.
     "Okay," he pulled out a micro scanner, "I can try to hook up this
scanner to one of these units and get a direct reading on what makes it
run."  Slowly, with delicate precision, he attached the wires running out
of the scanner to the box, and then activated the power to the scanner.
     "Finally!" he smiled for the first time, "I'm getting some concrete
readings that are really helpful!  Atmosphere indications of what's
inside these chambers.  Now I can recalibrate these findings."
     After a centon, a sudden shower of sparks emitted from the control
box.  Wilker hastily pulled the scanner out and got to his feet, while
Salik watched the monitors above the pod in alarm.
     "What happened?" the Chief Medical Officer blurted.
     "I must have shorted out a line," Wilker shook his head in
amazement.  "How are the instruments doing?"
     Salik felt his heart pounding, "There's been a large drop in the
readings.  I think you must have hit the central nerve of the life
support system."
     "Well, at least we're getting closer."
     Salik glared at him, "Closer?  You could have shorted out the entire
ship.  Wilker, we can't go on like this.  We have no idea how these
systems operate and it seems like the slightest move we make will likely
end up terminating them."
     "What are you suggesting then?" the Chief Scientist angrily shot
back.
     "What happened?"
     They turned around and saw a concerned Apollo entering the
compartment.
     "Captain," Wilker said with exasperation, "We have little enough
room as it is in here.  Please do not interfere!"
     "What's going on?" Apollo didn't budge.
     "Well, about a centar ago we finally figured out that the gas used
in the system is stored in liquid form and regenerated and recycled in
some way throughout these circuits."
     "Dr. Salik?" Apollo looked at the Chief Medical Officer.  "Are you
that optimistic?"
     Salik hesitated slightly before answering, "Theoretically I would
agree with Dr. Wilker on that.  But, there is the fact that we're dealing
with a potential power drop to the systems."
     "How?" the warrior demanded.
     "When we probe the systems, short-circuits occasionally happen that
result in power drops." he glared at Wilker, "We just attempted it on
this lead support chamber."
     "You what?" Apollo's face twisted in horror.
     "With all due respect, Salik, I can solve this technological problem
if you'd just give me the time to do it!" Wilker jumped in angrily.
     "And how much time do we have?"
     "Who knows?" Salik shrugged, "How far is it to Earth?  How far have
they come from?  How far did they intend to go before they were
intercepted?  Those are answers we couldn't begin to figure out at this
rate."
     "That settles it then," Apollo said forcefully, "I want you to
discontinue your work at once."
     "Captain, you don't have the authority to-" Wilker started.
     "I'm not asking you to do it, I'm ordering you to do it!" Apollo
angrily pointed at Wilker.  "I want you to leave this ship now, Wilker!"
     Wilker abruptly slammed his instrument bag on the ground, "And what
if I refuse, Captain?  I don't recognize your authority on this matter,
and unless I get it direct from the Commander, I am not going to leave!"
     "I'll take you direct to the Commander right now, and that will
settle this matter," Apollo held his ground, "But like it or not, you're
not staying aboard."
     "Oh great, I wouldn't miss this for anything, Captain.  But when we
see the Commander, I can guarantee that you're the one who's going to be
in a lot of trouble, not me."
     "We'll see about that," Apollo motioned him to come, " Dr. Salik,
you stay here and monitor the instruments.  Notify me if there's any
change."


     When they arrived in Adama's quarters, both Apollo and Wilker
allowed their mutual anger toward each other to explode in full force as
they explained their positions to the Commander.  Through it all, Adama
maintained a diplomatic posture, letting each of them have their say. 
When they were both finished, he rose from his chair and took a position
between them.
     "Apollo," he said to his son, "I can't say I approve of your
impulsive actions.  Even if I concede your argument, you went outside the
chain of command and had no authority to order Dr. Wilker out without
consulting me first."
     "I didn't think I had any choice!" Apollo argued, "The way things
were going, there wasn't time for a vote."
     "Ridiculous!" Wilker shot back, "All I needed was some more time. 
Even that quick scan I got on the pod chamber yielded some concrete
results.  If I can get a sustained reading without any more
short-circuits, I think I can find all the answers I need."
     "What did you find out?" Adama asked.
     "The atmosphere they breathe is about one-fifth that of Caprica and
most of the Colonies.  Probably one-sixth for that of the outer
colonies."
     "One-fifth," Adama digested that information, "That doesn't sound
promising.  That would indicate they come from a planet that would be
generally incompatible with our own physiological structure.  At the very
least one we couldn't sustain ourselves on without proper equipment to
compensate."  He paused, "What else did you learn?"
     "I went over the navigational system a hundred times to try and get
some clues as to where they came from, what direction they were going. 
It's still an unreadable database for the most part, but I did keep
seeing a number of instrument readings that indicate a planet named
Terra."
     "What?" Adama's head jerked up, "Did you say Terra?"
     "Yes," Wilker said, "Is that significant?"
     "It might be," Adama felt his heart race, "Terra is the Gemonese
term for Earth.  That may be the link we've been looking for!"
     "Whether it is or isn't, is no longer the issue!" Apollo jumped back
in.
     "What?" Adama didn't know if he'd heard right, "What is the issue
then?"
     "The fact that we've illegally seized an alien ship on a course
between two unknown points?"
     "'Illegally' seized?" the Commander was incredulous, "Explain
yourself."
     "Well what else do you call it when you take a ship out of its
flight and tamper with its systems until its resources begin to dwindle?"
     Despite his frustration with Apollo's tone, Adama knew he had to
address that last matter with Wilker first.  "Well, Doctor?  Are they
dwindling?"
     "There has been a slight power loss," Wilker conceded, "That's to be
expected.  We just don't know----,"
     "What we're doing!" Apollo angrily finished the sentence.
     It was too much for Adama, "Captain, I'm going to order you to show
some civility, or risk being placed on report.  Dr. Wilker is only trying
to help us."
     His father's words had an impact, and he relaxed slightly, his voice
calmer.  "Dr. Wilker, if I have made any insinuations as to your motives,
I apologize.  But we're at a stage where good intentions don't count for
anything any longer.  We can't put those five people at risk any longer."
     "What are you suggesting then?" Adama demanded.
     Apollo looked him in the eye, "We let them go."
     The Commander's eyes narrowed and he looked as if he'd been hit in
the head, "What?"
     "Yes," his son nodded, "We should let them go and put them back on
their original course."
     "Apollo, I'm beginning to wonder if you need a session of cathartic
treatment!" for the first time, Adama wondered if his son had all of his
faculties together,   "How can you possibly suggest we let them go
without having made any attempt to communicate with them, or any attempt
to answer the one question that keeps this Fleet moving through space?"
     "Because if we keep them here, they're liable to die before we can
communicate with them!" Apollo said forcefully, "Father, you're drawing
the wrong conclusion.  I think we can increase our chances of
communication and finding the answers we want if were to let them go, and
monitor them to where they were heading."
     Adama slowly nodded, but he remained unconvinced, "All right.  At
least there's a method to what seems like sheer madness, but I don't
think you've considered why that option is out of the question.  How far
away is their destination?  What if they're a colonization mission
heading away from Earth, and not programmed to awake for a hundred or a
thousand yahrens?  We could end up chasing them all the way across the
stars and away from the main heading that we know Earth has to lie on. 
What you're asking Apollo, would put more then just their five lives at
risk, it would put the lives of everyone in this Fleet at risk!"
     Before his son could respond, the chime sounded again.  "Enter!"
Adama at this point felt as if he'd welcome the distraction of another
visitor.  As soon as he saw who it was, he wished he'd denied entry.
     "Adama," Sire Geller said angrily, "On behalf of the Council, I must
insist that some action be taken that will expedite matters.  We have
been denied access to the ship, and there is no indication that you're
even close to getting these people revived."
     "Sire Geller," Adama said calmly, "The last thing I need are more
opinions about what to do.  I am trying to find a solution that will
serve our interests without costing the lives of five people."
     "If their lives are at risk inside those chambers, then perhaps it's
time you just had the seals broken and found some way to revive them
immediately through the facilities aboard the Galactica," the Council
member shot back, "At the very least, it would put an end to this
intolerable inaction you've been demonstrating."
     "Inaction?" now for the first time, Adama began to understand better
his son's thinking, "What right have I to pass judgment on those five
people, reducing their lives to this game of expediency and
self-interest?"
     Geller relaxed somewhat, and then when he spoke his tone was more
sympathetic, "You're right, Adama," he said, "This is a troubling burden
for you.  Perhaps things could be alleviated if the Council took a vote
on the matter.  Sire Domra and Siress Tinia are both in agreement with me
that perhaps this matter might be decided best by civil authority.  There
is after all, no military danger that arises from this craft and its
passengers.  It's become a matter of diplomacy."
     "So that makes three of you who are agreed on having the matter
discussed," the commander's tone grew sour as he now realized a deeper
motive behind Geller's visit.  One that went far beyond the matter of the
spacecraft and its passengers.  "In that case, I suppose we should
dispense with all other niceties and have the Council summoned
immediately."
     "Whatever you wish, Adama," Geller bowed slightly and smiled one of
the most insincere smiles the commander could ever recall seeing.  "We
shall meet within the centar."
     As soon as Geller was gone, Adama suddenly did a mocking imitation
of Geller's words to indicate his disdain, "'Whatever you wish, Adama',"
he said with disgust, "As if things weren't already out of hand with the
two of you arguing, I now have to worry about the Council causing trouble
for me."
     "Commander," Wilker said gently, "Is there any reason for me to
remain here?"
     "No," he shook his head, "No, report back to Alpha Bay, Doctor.  You
have my permission to resume monitoring the instruments, but for now, no
further tests until I consider the matter further.  Is that acceptable to
you?"
     "I suppose under the circumstances, yes," Wilker glanced haughtily
at Apollo, "Captain," he said curtly and then departed.
     Now that he was alone with his son, Adama put his hands behind his
back and shook his head, "I want you to know Apollo, that you haven't
done me any favors this day with the way you've been acting."
     "I've been trying to do what I think is right, Father," his son
said, "If I didn't feel strongly about this, I wouldn't have thought it
my place to act."
     "But for what purpose?" Adama interjected sharply, "I've heard
nothing practical in any of your solutions that indicate a positive
outcome for our people.  What's more, I'm astonished to hear you treat
the matter of this craft having a connection with Earth as though it's an
insignificant detail."
     "If it seems that way, I'm sorry, Father," Apollo said sincerely, "I
don't belittle the significance of what Wilker says about this term
Terra.  I'm considering the prospects of what might happen if this
civilization they come from turns out to be Earth, and then something
goes awry and the first thing we have to tell our lost brothers of the
Thirteenth Tribe is that we're responsible for the deaths of five of
their people.  How could we effectively make contact with them, if we
have their blood on our hands?"
     His father nodded, "All right, I understand that.  But Apollo, what
I need are practical decisions to deal with, and if Geller's tone is any
indication, the Council won't leave me with any practical choices to
pursue.  Too many of them are still resentful over their loss of face
from the Count Iblis affair, and would just love the chance to get back
at me by finding a new way of undercutting my authority.  Now that Cylon
pursuit isn't something we have to worry about as much as we used to,
they feel a lot more secure trying to do that."  He sighed with
resignation, "In the meantime, double the guard down there with extra men
from Colonial Security and off-duty pilots.  And keep me informed if
anything new happens."
     As Apollo left, he began to feel a sense of guilt over the burden
his father had now been subjected to.  But even with that, his determined
belief that the spacecraft needed to be freed to resume its journey,
remained solid.  
     
                         Chapter Three

     When Wilker returned to the landing bay, he was surprised to find a
gathering crowd almost blocking his path back to the spacecraft.  Pushing
his way through the throng, all of whom were dressed in civilian
clothing, he managed to reach the group of warriors who had formed a line
in front of the hatchway that led inside the craft.
     "What's going on?" the Chief Scientist asked.
     Boomer, who along with Starbuck and Jolly had joined Castor and the
rest of the Security team, let out a grim chuckle,   "We've got ourselves
some increasingly unruly people from all kinds of ships throughout the
Fleet waiting to see these people for themselves."
     "Who let them aboard?  Shouldn't the Galactica have denied them
landing clearance to get here in the first place?"
     "I have no idea," Jolly shrugged, "But from the looks of these
people, I think a lot of them are close chums of the Council members. 
They must have come aboard with them when they landed a few centars ago."
     "That figures," Wilker looked back at the mob with slight disgust. 
He had no desire to see a gathering mob of civilians anymore then the
warriors did.  From his standpoint, it could only mean trouble. 
"According to Adama, there's a Council meeting about to convene."
     "And it looks like they've got inside information as to what the
outcome of that meeting is going to be," Starbuck noted. "Doc, have you
been cleared to go back aboard?"
     "To monitor, yes."  The Chief Scientist said, "If you'll let me
pass."
     But as soon as Wilker got by the group, a grim looking Salik emerged
from the hatchway, and stopped in horror when he saw the mob.
     "What is going on here?" he uncharacteristically raised his voice,
loud enough for the nearby crowd of twenty to hear. 
     "The makings of a mob, it would seem," Wilker's disgust increased. 
"We're not going to get a micron's peace if we have to worry about this
group hanging over our shoulders."
     The Chief Medical Officer nodded, "For once, I concur with you,
Wilker.  Starbuck, Boomer, will you get these people out of here, now?"
     "We're kind of outnumbered at the moment, Doc," Starbuck said, "And
right now, I don't think any of us feel comfortable making any
unnecessary displays of force unless they were to start rushing the ship. 
Right guys?" he motioned to his fellow warriors.
     "Right," Castor nodded, "SOP calls for us to do nothing unless they
don't stay put."
     "The situation in there is deteriorating more rapidly then ever!"
Salik hissed, "I need these people out of here!"  He then angrily turned
toward the chattering crowd, "Did you hear me?  Get out, now!  You're not
helping the situation!"
     "Don't worry about that, Doctor," a voice from the other side of the
landing bay suddenly pierced the throng.  The warriors looked over and
Boomer and Starbuck both felt their skin crawl when they saw Reese
leading several other blackshirted members of Council Security.  Except
for the reddened eyes and slightly disheveled hair, Reese appeared to
have shaken off most of the effects of his drunkenness from earlier in
the day.
     "Reese, what are you doing here?" Starbuck demanded, not bothering
to conceal the disdain he felt for the Council Security guard.
     "We'll be taking charge of things now, Starbuck," there was a smug
edge in Reese's tone. "Just as soon as the orders arrive."
     "What orders?" Jolly demanded sharply.
     "Orders from the Council," Reese folded his arms and threw the
warriors a smug smirk that only increased their inner fury.  "The Council
will be voting any micron now to terminate the life support systems and
let those poor people out of their cages."
     "Are you out of your mind?" Salik shouted in horror, "We have no
idea what levels of resuscitation their bodies will require!"
     "Take it easy, Doc," Starbuck patted him on the shoulder, "No one is
going to get in there if we have anything to say about this.  How about
you and Wilker go to the Commander and let him know what the situation is
right now?"
     "I think we'd better," the Chief Scientist said, "I might have been
for making probes, but pulling the plug on those pods isn't what I had in
mind."
     "Then let's go," Salik motioned his fellow scientist and the two of
them hurried across the tarmac toward the nearest turbo lift.
     "And as for you clowns," Starbuck turned his attention back to Reese
and the group from Council Security, "I suggest you get it through your
heads that until we hear from the Commander, we're in charge here."
     The smug expression didn't fade from Reese's face as he folded his
arms contemptuously, "Until we receive orders from the contrary, we are
in charge here."
     Boomer took a step toward him.  When he spoke, his voice was low,
but filled with disdain.
     "Now you listen to me, you gallmonging snitrad," he decided to use
the worst epithet he could think of, "I suggest you reread the manual, if
you're capable of reading at all, because this is a military ship, and
that means that your authority on this ship is nil.  That's why there's
an institution called Colonial Security to begin with."
     "Damned right," Castor spoke up, trying not to explode, "So why
don't you and your gang of blackshirts haul your astrums out of here,
right now!"
     "When the lives of civilians are at stake, then that means we do
have authority!" one of the other Council Security guards, a man with a
neatly trimmed beard jumped in angrily, "Because that manual also says
that the lives of civilians are our responsibility no matter where they
happen to be."
     "Oh?" Boomer decided to stay disdainful, rather then show fury,
"What makes you think those people on board are civilians?"
     "What are you talking about?" Reese couldn't believe what he was
hearing, "Of course they're civilians."
     Starbuck smiled and decided to go along with Boomer's approach,
"Well now, we really don't know that, do we?  Maybe they're mercenaries,
come to mow us all down."
     Castor looked at them, grinned slightly and decided to join in as
well, "That's right.  Or maybe they're Cylon spies who've come to rescue
Baltar."
     "Exactly!" Starbuck pointed a finger in the air, "Cylon spies. 
Castor, you're a genius.  Of course that's true of all you guys in
Colonial Security.  Kobol knows we can't say the same for your civilian
counterparts."
     "Quit the felgercarb!" the smug tone was gone from Reese's face,
replaced by exasperation, which was exactly the reaction the warriors
wanted to see.  "Two adults and three mercenary children?"
     "Hey, you never know what Cylon brainwashing techniques can do,"
Starbuck shrugged nonchalantly.  "Speaking of which, what did they use on
you?"
     "That does it!" Reese fumed as he motioned to the other members of
his team, "Take your positions, now!"
     Suddenly, in unison, Starbuck, Boomer, Jolly and Castor all pulled
out their laser pistols and trained them squarely at the group.
     "One more step, Reese, and you'll be flatter on your back then those
people inside are," Starbuck's voice now dripped with contempt.
     "And that goes for all of you!" Castor barked at the rest of the
crowd, which had stopped their chattering amongst themselves and were
trained on what was happening.  "Because until we get orders to the
contrary, military discipline is going to remain in force!"
     So focused was the crowd on the angry warriors and their pointed
pistols, that none of them noticed a light from inside the spacecraft
suddenly shining off the porthole.


     Above the main pod, a number of lights were now blinking madly,
indicating that new systems were being activated after a long period of
being dormant.
     Slowly, Michael opened his eyes and felt the stiff sensation
throughout his body he'd known would be there the instant he awoke.  He
managed to touch his cheeks and felt no trace of facial stubble, which
indicated that either he hadn't been out long, or else the systems had
functioned perfectly.
     He reached over and activated the switch inside that allowed the
glass pod to slide open, and then he came to a sitting position,
stretching his muscles to get the stiffness out.  And then, he frowned as
he realized he wasn't hearing something he should have heard.  The
throbbing sound of the engines pulsing through the compartment.  The
programming had been set for him to be revived when they should have been
in standard orbit, but instead he had the sensation that the ship was at
a complete dead stop.
     He stepped out of the chamber and when he took a breath, he felt a
heavy weight filling his lungs, as if the air was thicker then it should
have been.  Making his way across the compartment, he looked out the
porthole and was surprised to see a crowd of people standing near the
spacecraft, wearing clothes totally unfamiliar to him.
     "What in the name of...." he muttered as he felt an alarm bell go
off inside his head.  The thought that all of the careful planning he'd
done for so long had been for nothing was the only answer that could
explain things at this point.
     And then, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the instrument panels
above each support chamber and saw readings that only made his alarm
deepen.
     He pulled out a card from the pocket of his silver suit and inserted
it in Sarah's chamber.  Slowly, the blonde woman stirred but didn't open
her eyes.
     "Sarah," he whispered and shook her arm, "Sarah, wake up."
     Finally she tilted her head and managed to open her eyes, "Michael?"
she whispered.  "Are we there?"
     Michael didn't respond, instead letting out a perplexed grunt as if
to indicate that he wasn't sure.
     "Michael," Sarah came to a sitting position, her face filled with
concern, "What's wrong?"
     Michael struggled to take a breath, feeling the thickness of the air
intolerable, "I don't know," he said, "But....we're not where we should
be.  And....for some reason, our support systems are deteriorating."
     "How?" she was bewildered, "What happened to us?  Did the Alliance
capture us?"
     He glanced back toward the porthole, "I'm not sure.  There are
people outside who don't look like they're from the Alliance.  But if
they're not.....then why are we here instead of...." he stopped as he
struggled to take another breath.
     "What are we going to do?" she touched his arm with concern.
     "I have to find out what's happened," he said, "Sarah, keep watching
the children's life readings.  If they deteriorate further, then open the
chambers and start giving them oxygen."
     "Are you sure it's safe?" her tone indicated that she didn't want
him to go.
     "I don't know, but we can't just stay inside here and wait," he said
matter-of-factly, "I'll be back in a few minutes."
     And then, as he labored with each step, he made his way toward the
hatchway that led outside.


     From the micron the Council session had convened, Adama knew it was
going to lead to nothing but trouble.  Geller wouldn't have bothered to
have them meet if he hadn't been sure ahead of time of having enough
votes to secure passage for whatever proposal he had in mind.
     "In spite of what Dr. Salik has reported to us," Adama leaned
forward, "Am I to assume that all of you believe we must just take them
out of their chambers right now?"
     "What choice do we have?" Domra sourly interjected.  "It's been more
than two full days since we brought this craft aboard, and listening to
the good doctor's report, it sounds like he needs to have us wait until
the next millennia before he can come up with an answer as to how these
systems work."
     "And since the doctor says that the life readings are dwindling with
each passing centon, any kind of delay is a luxury we simply can not
afford," Siress Tinia added.
     "Luxury?" Salik spoke up from his standing position on the far side
of the room, where he had given his report.  "We're talking about peoples
lives at stake, and you talk about that as a luxury?"
     "Dr. Salik, your humanitarian impulse is quite noble, but when this
impacts the lives of everyone else in the Fleet, I think some greater
practicality is called for," Tinia glared at him.
     "My brothers," Sire Anton spoke up in his soft-spoken tone, "I must
confess, I'm at a loss to understand this peculiar impatience that some
of us seem to feel.  We are not facing a crisis situation that dictates
the need to find answers this micron, or even this day.  If Dr. Salik and
those who are qualified in these areas feel that more time is needed to
insure their survival before we find the answers we want, what is the
problem with respecting his judgment on that?"
     "My dear Anton, if those readings were stable, I'd agree with you
completely," Sire Montrose spoke up, "But we are dealing with the reality
of life support readings that are steadily deteriorating, and from my
standpoint that leaves us with no choice but to follow Sire Geller's
recommendation that we proceed in a more timely fashion."
     "Exactly," Geller said, "And with that in mind, I ask for an
immediate vote on my resolution to have those support chambers opened as
quickly as possible."
     "Second!" Domra said emphatically.
     Adama let out a dismal groan.  There was a part of him that wanted
to challenge the Council's right to even take jurisdiction over such a
matter, but if he did that, he only knew he'd be asking for even more
trouble.
     "Moved and seconded," he said, "The vote will proceed."
     When it was over, the results were nine votes in favor, with only
Adama and Anton opposed.  The youngest member of the Council, Sire
Antipas, who had remained quiet throughout the proceedings, had chosen to
abstain.
     "It's done then," Geller said with a note of triumph, "The removal
of the five humans will take place immediately.  Prudence naturally, will
be applied in the manner of their removal.  I would suggest, Dr. Salik,
that you begin with the leader of the group, who would perhaps be most
likely to make a quicker psychological adjustment."
     Salik, who had been trembling with visible rage throughout the
proceedings, shook his head, "In spite of your vote, Councillors, I will
not be responsible for this."
     "You're not responsible at all!" Domra snapped, finding his patience
with the Chief Medical Officer growing thin.  "We are.  The duly
recognized authority of this government has made a decision, and you are
now expected to honor that."
     "You ask me to carry out an order that runs contrary to every
medical and moral ethic I have based my entire career on," Salik
purposefully let his voice drip with contempt.  "I can not do so."
     Geller glared at him, "Do you realize what you're saying?"
     "Yes," Salik drew himself up, "That you now have a problem with
finding another doctor to carry out this order of yours."
     And then, with pride and satisfaction, he left the chamber.  Adama
looked about the table and saw that most of the Council members'
expressions ranged from neutral to angry.
     "Commander Adama!" Tinia said harshly, "I hope that you will be
talking with him soon about this."
     Adama allowed himself a faint smile, "I intend to, Siress Tinia. 
But when I do, it will be to tell him that he's given me one of the
proudest centons of my life."
     Domra seemed on the verge of gagging, "What?  Your subordinate shows
contempt for duly appointed authority, and you consider that worthy of
praise?"
     The Commander rose and allowed only the faintest disdain to enter
his voice, "What Dr. Salik has done, Sire Domra, is demonstrate that we
are still a race worth saving."
     "That is uncalled for, Commander!" Tinia suddenly exploded with
white-hot fury, "How dare you question our motives in such a backhanded
manner?  We understand there are risks involved, but I have seen nothing
from you or Dr. Salik to indicate that a practical alternative exists to
this situation."
     Adama was slightly taken aback, as he had never seen Tinia this
angry before.
     "My esteemed colleague is correct," Montrose was glaring at Adama as
well, "If you wish to accuse us of being so evil, then at least give us
the courtesy of saying that directly to us, and not hiding behind
backhanded phrases."
     Inside, Adama realized that he had made a tactical blunder.  He had
allowed his frustration over the situation, and the sudden demands of the
Council to intrude at a time when he should have kept his tongue guarded. 
Now, the long-term repercussions could be even more damaging than if he
had openly questioned the Council's right to intervene in this affair.
     God help me, he thought as he finally decided there was nothing he
could say at this point to make the situation any better.  Instead, he
turned his back to them and left the chamber.
     For almost a centon, there was silence in the chamber, punctuated
only by the seething from those members who were most angry.  Sire Anton,
the only member who had sided with Adama, was sadly shaking his head, as
if to indicate that even he felt the Commander had not handled the
situation properly.
     "This raises more serious matters that we as a body will have to
discuss at some future session," Geller had to bite his tongue to keep
his voice close to normal.  "But for now, I suggest we proceed with the
matter at hand.  Dr. Wilker?"
     The Electronics Scientist, who had remained largely silent
throughout the proceedings, abruptly stiffened.
     "Are you capable of carrying out the removal operations without Dr.
Salik?"
     Wilker hesitated slightly.  He wasn't that happy with how things had
developed, but he didn't see how he could follow Salik's example at this
point.
     "If you wish me to," he finally spoke.
     "You are so ordered," Geller said coldly, "Unless you wish to follow
your colleague's example?"
     Wilker swallowed several times and then nodded weakly.  Without
saying another word, he left the room.
     "There is nothing more to discuss," Geller said, feeling a sense of
vindication replace his anger, "Since our President is not here, I will
take the liberty of declaring this session of the Council adjourned."


     After stopping by his lab to get Fairfax and other members of his
staff to assist him, Wilker made his way back to the landing bay, feeling
nothing but rising dread as he drew closer.  As soon as he arrived, he'd
have to explain the situation to the angry warriors and security people,
and he knew it would mean another mess on his hands before he could
proceed without feeling a burdensome weight on his shoulders.
     There was one part of Wilker that wished he could have found the
courage to follow Salik's example, but that had never been part of the
scientist's nature.  Political arguments had always revolted him, and
he'd been determined throughout his career to avoid them.  Taking a stand
that could mean the end of his career wasn't something he had any desire
to do.
     When his team reached the landing bay, he saw the warriors, now
joined by Apollo as well, still standing in front of the spacecraft,
while the blackshirts of Council Security stood some ten meters back with
the rest of the assembled crowd.
     "What's happened?" Apollo demanded, already knowing this wasn't
bound to be good news.
     "I'm sorry, Captain," Wilker felt he could at least let the warriors
know he didn't like the decision, "The Council took a vote.  They're
letting them out."
     "What?" Starbuck's face twisted, "I don't believe it!"
     "Why am I not surprised?" Apollo was more resigned.
     "Salik wouldn't do this!"
     "Dr. Salik isn't doing it," Wilker said, "My team's been left with
no choice but to obey the order, gentlemen."
     "Ever consider showing some backbone for a change, Wilker?" Starbuck
said angrily.
     "Maybe I would, if you'd be willing to serve my time in the brig
with me," Wilker retorted gently.
     "At the risk of interrupting this friendly chat," the smug
expression immediately returned to Reese as if a switch had been thrown
on, "I think there can't be anymore questions as to who's in charge,
right gentlemen?" he sneered at the five warriors.  "Step aside."
     "Apollo-" Starbuck started to move toward them, but the captain
grabbed his shoulder and shook his head.
     "Let's not make things worse," he said gently, "The Commander
wouldn't want us to do that."
     "Right," Boomer said reluctantly as he, Jolly and Castor parted to
the left so Reese could lead his team toward the hatch opening.
     But as Reese drew close, he and the rest of his team stopped in
their tracks when they saw a figure emerge.  Immediately, Apollo and
Starbuck recognized the silver-suited brown haired man they had seen
inside the pod chamber earlier.
     "Good Lord," Jolly whispered.
     The man glared suspiciously and pointed at them with his left hand,
as though he were aiming a weapon but no one could see anything in his
hand.  "Don't come any closer!" he warned.  When he saw movement on the
other side from the warriors who'd stayed back, he abruptly pointed at
them, "I said don't come any closer!"
     Reese, who was closest to him, abruptly cleared his throat and
straightened himself.  "We ah....we mean you no harm.  Welcome aboard the
Battlestar Galactica."
     "Of all the times for him to wake up, it has to be just when he's
taken charge," Starbuck muttered under his breath, as he kept his eyes on
the stranger.
     "Quiet!" Apollo whispered sharply, as he felt his stomach knot.
     "Look, do you understand me?" Reese said, taking a step toward him. 
"Believe me, we only want to come aboard and help."
     Suddenly, the man whipped out a weapon with his right hand, which
the guard hadn't anticipated since his eyes had been trained on the left
hand.  A blue streak emitted and struck Reese in the chest, and he
collapsed to the ground.  Instantly, the other guards backed away, while
the crowd of spectators suddenly let out horrified gasps and began to
dash towards the other end of the compartment toward the turbo lifts.
     "Jolly, Castor, get them under control before they jam the lifts!"
Apollo shouted.  The two men ran off to control the panicking crowd.
     Wilker's support team immediately tended to the fallen Reese.  The
other Council Security guards were staring angrily at the stranger, as
though they wanted to take some revenge on him right away.
     "Is he okay?" Starbuck asked with genuine concern.  However much he
disliked Reese, seeing the guard killed was the last thing he would have
wanted to happen.
     "He's alive."  Fairfax said as he checked his scanner.  "But he
needs med-techs to treat him."
     "Get him out, fast!" Apollo barked.  "Boomer, you help them and make
sure there's a clear path to the turbo lifts."
     "Got it!" Boomer dashed over and helped the technicians and the
other Council Security men get Reese to his feet and drag him off to the
other end of the room, where Jolly and Castor were finally making some
headway at getting the crowd under control.  Only Wilker, frozen in
amazement, remained behind with Apollo and Starbuck.
     "Look," Apollo said calmly, "Please, in the name of humanity, we
mean what we say.  We only wish to welcome you in friendship."
     "Friendship?" the man suddenly roared.  "If you were our friends,
you wouldn't have brought us here!  You know that!"
     "No!" Apollo said hurriedly as he dropped his laser pistol to the
floor in what he hoped would be a gesture the man would understand. 
"Please, listen to us.  We're brothers."
     "You're lying!" he didn't lessen his tone, "Your markings are not
ours!"
     Starbuck dropped his own laser and came up alongside Apollo, "Are
our markings those of your enemy?"
     The man stared at him for what seemed an eternity to the two
warriors, but was only a few microns.  Slowly, he put his weapon back in
his pocket.
     "All right," he took a breath and then suddenly coughed, "All right. 
Are you from one of our abandoned lunar outposts?"
     Apollo and Starbuck traded glances.
     "You're aboard a ship," Apollo said gently, "The Battlestar
Galactica."
     "Ship?" he coughed again and his breathing now became more labored. 
"That's....impossible.  No ship can....." he coughed again, "This
atmosphere is like that of Terra.  It's killing me!  Don't you
understand?  It's killing me and it'll kill everyone else on board!" he
began to slowly collapse to the ground.
     "Wilker, don't just stand there, get Salik and a med-tech down here,
fast!"  Apollo shouted, "Use the emergency unicom for the ship.  Password
number 390149!"
     Wilker nodded and sprinted over to where the nearest telecom unit
was mounted.  Apollo and Starbuck made their way over to the man, who was
now sitting on the tarmac in front of the hatch opening.
     "Don't touch me," he whispered, "It'll contaminate me more."
     "I'm sorry," Apollo said with all the regret he could put in his
voice, "We didn't understand your mission."
     "How could you not have?" he coughed and blinked in disbelief,
"You're from Terra.  You have----" he coughed again, "Watts!  Did
Watts....?" 
     Unconsciousness then overtook the man and he collapsed.  Several
agonizing centons passed before they heard a turbo lift from the other
side descend and the clatter of feet as Salik and Cassiopeia approached.
     "Don't touch him!" Salik warned.
     "We didn't lay a finger on him!" Apollo got to his feet.  "He said
he can't breathe!"
     Cassiopeia quickly leaned over and switched on her med-scanner,
"He's right.  There's no sign of bacteria, it's respiratory failure
caused by the atmosphere density."
     "All right, then get him into a decompression chamber in the Life
Station and have the atmosphere lowered to one-fifth our reading!" Salik
said, "Now!  And as soon as you're done, the three of you go through full
decontamination, just in case he's carrying germs hostile to us.  Wilker,
you come with me!"
     As Apollo, Starbuck and Cassiopeia lifted the man to his feet and
carried him off, the two scientists dashed inside the hatchway.  When
they reached the main compartment, they saw the woman sitting up in her
open chamber, but with a dazed expression as though she were finding it
hard to breathe as well.
     "Who...." she whispered, "Who are you?"
     "Friends," Salik said gently, "We're friends.  You just wait here,
we'll have some help real soon." he turned back to Wilker, "Get a
stretcher and more med-techs down here fast to transport her up to a
chamber in the Life Station.  We'll leave the children in their pods for
now and then have more techs get ready to move them into our own chambers
which will keep their life readings stable."
     Wilker, feeling glad that the decision to open the chambers up had
been taken out of hands nodded and dashed out again.  Once he was gone,
Salik gently patted the young woman on the shoulder with soothing,
paternal reassurance.
     "It's okay," he said, "Just lie down in there until we can get you
moved to safety."
     "The children," her voice grew more broken as her breathing became
more labored.  "They're so young.  Make sure....they're safe."
     "We will, we will." Salik then glanced over at the three chambers
that still held the three youths, wondering if they would be able to keep
that promise for the long term.

                         Chapter Four

     A full day had passed, and with all five of the spacecraft's
passengers now safely in chambers inside the Galactica's Life Station,
and back in a state of suspended animation, events aboard the battlestar
had stabilized somewhat.  But as Adama listened to Salik make his report,
he knew that it was only temporary and that soon, the crisis would erupt
again.
     "Commander, there is no getting around the fact that our atmospheric
pressure, which is configured to that of all the middle and inner
Colonies, was literally crushing them alive.  Even if the atmosphere had
been adjusted for the outer Colonies, that still would have been fatal."
     "I don't understand," Apollo said, "They appear to be human in every
aspect.  How can there be such a disparity?"
     "Human beings are adaptable, Apollo," Salik said, "Wherever they
came from must have had an atmosphere that steadily grew thinner over a
period of perhaps....millennia."
     "Or put another way, our own Colonies could have developed a thicker
atmosphere in the seven millennia after they were first settled," Sheba
noted.
     "Exactly," Salik nodded.  "But whichever explanation is correct, the
simple fact is that taking them out of those chambers will kill them
within centons."
     Adama shook his head sadly as he felt the heavy sense of burden
returning to him.  "Very well, Doctor.  Thank you for your report and let
me know if anything else develops."
     "Commander," Salik bowed and then shot a sly glance at Apollo before
leaving the room.  The captain nodded faintly to indicate acknowledgment. 
As he looked about the room, he saw that Adama, Starbuck, Tigh and Sheba
hadn't noticed their silent exchange.
     "Well that's just great," Adama put his finger to his lips in sad
contemplation, "To come so close, perhaps to the very humans whose tribe
we've been seeking, and to see it reach what seems like a total dead
end."
     "Maybe not," Tigh offered, "It might be possible after some time to
communicate with them even with them inside those chambers."
     "Possible," Adama admitted, "But even so....."
     "No!" Apollo abruptly spoke up, his tone as angry as it had been the
previous day in the conversation with Wilker.
     "What do you mean, no?" Tigh looked at him in bewilderment, "With
the lives of every man, woman and child in this Fleet dependent on
whatever answers they can give us to some simple questions?  Are they
from Earth?  And if they are, can Earth support us?  Is it sufficiently
advanced technologically to help us in our struggle with the Cylons?  Or
do they even have the technology to protect themselves from a Cylon
invasion?"
     "You've made your point, Colonel," Adama said, "And Apollo, before
you give me another moralizing discourse about the ethics of keeping them
aboard the Galactica, I suggest you remember that as well."
     "I'm sorry, but the lives of those five people don't belong to us!"
Apollo wasn't backing down.  "They must be allowed to continue on their
journey."
     "Maybe eventually they can!" Sheba cut in, "But what in heaven's
name is the reason for doing it now before we get some simple answers to
questions that would take only a few centars for us to find out once they
can communicate?  Apollo, are you so dense that you can't grasp the
significance of that?"
     "No, Sheba, I know what you're saying, but I don't think you're
seeing why I think it's important that we let them go as soon as
possible."
     "Then if there's a point tell me what it is in common Colonial
Standard, for sagan's sake!" Sheba felt herself growing more frustrated. 
However much she wanted to see Apollo's point and avoid quarreling with
him, it was proving difficult for Sheba to avoid it.  "You keep wanting
to show how concerned you are with their well-being and how ethically
wrong it is to keep them here.  Okay, fine, but make the case for letting
them go without making it look like we're throwing away our chance to
find the key to Earth, because if you're not taking that into
consideration then I think you ought to be sized for a restrainer and
placed in the Nuthouse!"
     "All right," Apollo waved his arms and lowered his voice to a calm
tone, "All right.  This is my point.  Suppose their destination is close
by to where we intercepted them?  If we could let them go and track them
to where they land, we'd be in a better position to find out the
information we need.  We'd have a specific location to correlate what
they'd have to tell us.  I mean, there's one thing we're not considering
when you say we should interrogate them here on the Galactica inside
those chambers.  What incentive would they have to tell us the truth,
when they haven't the vaguest idea of who we are and where we come from? 
But if we show a gesture of friendship to them by letting them finish
their voyage, then that means they'll trust us and tell us all we need to
know once our tracking team arrives at their destination with them."
     "It would have helped if you'd explained that sooner," Tigh said
sourly.  "When you put it that way, it makes sense.  But how can you be
sure that we're close to their destination?  How do we know it wasn't so
far across the galaxy it would take hundreds of yahrens for their ship to
reach it?"
     "Because I think the closeness of their destination explains why
their life support power readings were dwindling.  They were in a timed
program mode to wake them up when they reached their destination.  It
wasn't Wilker's probing that caused the readings to drop, it was the
simple passage of time reaching closer and closer to the planned arrival
time."
     "That's all theoretical Captain," Tigh remained unconvinced, "You
don't have star charts or anything concrete to back that up, and that
means you want to risk the well-being of this Fleet on a whim."
     "It's a chance we have to take, Colonel," Apollo said, "Because the
longer we keep them here, the longer we take them on a heading going away
from their intended destination, and that means we'll face in all
likelihood some uncooperative people locked in pressure chambers who can
never get out, and hostile Council members who'll demand even more
drastic steps."
     "If we let them go, then who tracks them?" Adama inquired.
     Apollo shot a glance at Starbuck, who was slowly shaking his head in
resignation to the fact that he'd just been made a 'volunteer' again.
     "The two of you," Sheba looked at him dubiously, "Putting yourselves
at risk to escort a ship to an unknown destination, and by the time you
find out how far away it is, you won't have a prayer of having any fuel
to make a return trip to the Galactica."
     "She's right," Adama said, "I'd have to bring the Fleet to almost
total dead stop to give you a safety margin for getting back if you're
talking about using vipers to escort them to where they're going."
     "If this is close enough as I think it is, that shouldn't be a
problem."
     "How are you defining 'close by', Apollo?" his father had never seen
this kind of brazen determination in his son before.  "As long as it
takes to fly a long-range deep patrol?"
     "And not only that, how do you maintain your heading alongside a
craft that moves that slow?" Tigh added.
     "We power ourselves down to sublight and match their speed and
heading."
     "You've sure thought of everything, haven't you?" Sheba injected a
note of sarcasm into her voice.  Apollo was showing the same kind of
total certainty that he'd demonstrated when he'd volunteered to head-up
Starbuck's defense in the murder tribunal.  And she'd seen firsthand how
Apollo had at one point made a costly blunder that nearly destroyed
Starbuck's chances of getting acquitted.
     "I wouldn't be proposing this if I hadn't," Apollo didn't look at
her, or take note of the pointed edge in her question.  "Father, don't
you see the logic of it?"
     "Not quite," his father leaned back in his chair, "Suppose you make
it to this planet.  Then what?  You've already seen how they can't
breathe in our atmosphere.  How could you and Starbuck survive in their
atmosphere?"
     "It's different," Apollo said, "We can more easily adapt to a
thinner atmosphere for a short period of time."
     "There you go again!" Tigh threw up his arms, "What are you defining
as 'short-term'?"
     Apollo looked at the executive officer, "I'm defining it as long
enough to do the job, Colonel."
     An uneasy silence now filled the room, as though the others were
trying to think of any other reason to make Apollo see how foolhardy his
plan was.  And Starbuck, who had stayed quiet the whole time, amusingly
found himself wishing he could think of one too.
     Sheba finally realized the one remaining thing that hadn't been
considered.
     "What about the Council?" she asked, "They acted quickly to take
jurisdiction over removing them from their chambers.  Would they allow
you to let them go to carry out this scheme of Apollo's?"
     "Oh Lord," Adama rubbed his temple, "That's so true.  After what
happened yesterday, my relations with them are at a low point."
     "Then Commander, maybe what you should do is invoke your authority
under the Martial Law statute and declare a military emergency that
necessitated letting them go," Starbuck spoke up and wondered how it was
that when he finally spoke, it was to come up with a solution for letting
the mission go forward.  "After all, they did shoot one of our guards. 
You could make the argument that these people are the worst things we've
come across since the Cylons."
     "What are you talking about?" Sheba now wondered if Starbuck was
going crazy.  "No reasonable person would buy that explanation in a
micron."
     "This is the Council we're dealing with, not reasonable people,"
Starbuck smirked.
     "Hold it!" Adama threw up his hands in exasperation, which got their
attention.  He then slowly brought them together in quiet contemplation
and looked up at Starbuck with a cold expression that indicated he didn't
care for the lieutenant's flippancy.
     "If I declare that it was a military emergency that precipitated
releasing them, I'd be insulting their intelligence, Starbuck.  And while
you might think it would be amusing to try and pull that kind of stunt on
them, I would remind you that the men and women who serve on the Council,
no matter how stubborn and arrogant some of them might be, are not
Academy cadets to play pranks and tricks on.  They are the duly appointed
representatives of a governing body with a long, ancient tradition that I
have the deepest respect for.  If I decide to use my authority to let
them go without letting them vote on it, I will tell them the blunt truth
that I did it because I felt it was in the best interests of our people,
and I will then let the consequences fall as they may."
     He then stopped to rub his temple again, "And given the mood they're
in now, initiating this plan could result in some very serious
consequences for the long haul."
     His words had an intimidating effect on both Apollo and Starbuck. 
And for the first time, Apollo found himself becoming more cognizant of
the burden he'd be placing his father under as a result of this, and he
cursed himself for not having realized that consequence much sooner.  
     Apollo came over and gently touched his father's wrist, "Father," he
said, "If you feel those considerations are more important to consider,
then I won't pressure you into accepting this proposal of mine."
     "No," Adama shook his head, "The bottom line is, we've been left
with no choice since keeping them sealed up in those pressure chambers
forever isn't a viable long-term solution."  He paused, "You have one
lucky break in your favor.  Since there are no more civilians aboard that
craft, that put jurisdiction of the landing bay back under Colonial
Security's control.  Act quickly, and you can get those chambers in the
Life Station aboard the craft before the Council has time to figure out
what's happening."
     "Dr. Salik has been preparing for this contingency," Apollo said,
"We won't waste a micron."
     "The Lords of Kobol be with you," Adama clasped his son's arm for a
brief instant.  "I'll.....explain everything to Boxey."
     Apollo stopped in his tracks as he realized to his horror that he
hadn't thought out explaining this mission that would probably take him
away for a long time, to his son.  "Oh, frack.  Thanks."  He shook his
head and wondered why it was that he never seemed to consider the
feelings of those close to him when his mind came up with these plans. 
"I promise you, Father, we'll get back with the information we need."
     Once Apollo and Starbuck left the room, Sheba found herself sighing
with a mixture of frustration and admiration.  And wondering which of
those two emotions was the more dominant.


     When Apollo and Starbuck reached the Life Station, they saw that
only Salik and Cassiopeia were present in the room that contained the
five decompression chambers.  As far as Apollo was concerned, the fewer
people there were that knew about this, the better.  But he also knew
that he was going to be needing the med-tech for this mission.
     "We're set, Doc," Apollo said, "Cassiopeia, you'll have to give us a
hand so we can get these chambers back aboard their ship."
     "What are you talking about?" she raised her eyebrows.  "Who ordered
this?"
     "The Commander," Apollo said bluntly.
     "Without Council approval?  Don't you know what they could do to you
both after this?"
     "Hey, after facing a murder rap last sectar, how could I possibly be
afraid of what can happen over something like this?" Starbuck smirked.
     "Dr. Salik, you've got to stop them!" she looked almost pleadingly
at the Chief Medical Officer.  
     "Don't look at me, Cassiopeia," Salik said dryly, "I'm with them. 
In fact, I'm going along with them to help monitor the equipment."
     "No," Apollo shook his head, "You're too important to the Fleet as
Chief Medical Officer, Doctor.  We can't let you accompany us."
     "Accompany you to where?"
     "To their destination, Cassiopeia," Apollo said, "Starbuck and I
will fly escort for their ship."
     "Apollo, even if you force me to stay behind, someone still has to
monitor that equipment," Salik said and then stared at Cassiopeia, whom
he'd come to regard as his favorite and best med-tech over the last ten
sectars since she'd begun working on the staff.
     "Wait a micron," the blonde med-tech began to shake her head
vigorously.
     "We could use your help, Cassiopeia," Apollo said gently.  "Those
systems do need to be monitored."
     "You're asking me to take part in.....in," she struggled to find the
right word, "Mutiny."
     "It's not mutiny, Cass," Starbuck said, "The Commander's given his
full authorization for this mission.  He's going to be taking all of the
consequences, if there are any."
     "Think of this more as an act of mercy, Cassie," Salik said with the
kind of paternal edge he only used on rare occasions with her, "What
they're planning is the only chance these people have of surviving, and
for us to get the information we need from them."
     "So what do you say, volunteer?" her boyfriend grinned.
     "I guess I have no choice," she sighed, "But wait a micron.  There
are five chambers.  We need one more person to help us."
     "Get Nestor," Salik said, referring to one of her fellow med-techs,
"He's a good man who'll do what we ask.  Apollo and Starbuck and I will
start with these three."


     It took them several centons to get the chambers detached and loaded
out into the corridor for its journey down to the landing bay.  With each
of them moving one chamber, the pace was slower then they would have
liked.
     "Careful, Cassiopeia," Salik cautioned as he pushed his containing
one of the two small children around a corner and motioned for her and
her fellow med-tech, Nestor, to follow with theirs.  The med-techs each
pushed the other children while Apollo and Starbuck were handling the two
adults.
     "Don't worry," she said.
     "What did you say this was for, anyway?" Nestor asked.
     "We're temporarily putting them back in their support chambers
aboard the ship to recalibrate our settings with these chambers," Salik
said.  "There are some things we might have overlooked in the haste of
getting them hooked up into our own equipment."
     At the head of the procession, Starbuck turned to Apollo and
whispered to him, "Sounds plausible, right?"
     "Right," Apollo grinned.
     They reached the maintenance turbo lift and with the lift
accommodating room for only three chambers, took two trips to get them
down to the compartment outside the entrance to the landing bay.  Apollo
reached the door and was on the verge of opening it when his face
suddenly went crestfallen.
     "Oh frack," he uncharacteristically swore.
     "What's wrong?" Starbuck asked.
     "Take a look," Apollo motioned, "Look who came out of the Life
Station way too soon."
     Starbuck peered through the window and a sour look came over his
face, "Frack and felgercarb," he decided to avoid using the third profane
word in the expression out of deference to Cassiopeia.  "Reese and about
four of his other blackshirts.  I thought the Commander said Colonial
Security had taken things over in this area."
     "Something must have happened in the meantime.
     "What's going on?" a befuddled Nestor asked from the back of the
procession.
     "Slight complication, Nestor," Starbuck said.  "In the meantime,
could you do us a favor?  Just say nothing, and follow our lead."
     The male med-tech gave Salik a puzzled stare.
     "Do as he says, Nestor," Salik smiled, "They know what they're
doing."
     Cassiopeia stopped herself from rolling her eyes as she prepared to
move the chamber she'd been pushing through the door.


     "What'd it feel like?" one of Reese's fellow Council guards was
asking.
     "Weird feeling.  A little worse then one of our own stun setting
pistols, but not too bad or else I might have been on my back another
cycle."
     Twenty meters away, Boomer, Jolly and Castor were trying not to show
their disdain over the blackshirts recent arrival.
     "Just when it was starting to get peaceful down here again, they had
to show up." the muscular Colonial Security Guard sighed.
     "'Council requests they stand by to prepare ship for inspection by
Council members'" Boomer disgustedly repeated the words Reese had spoken
when he and his team had arrived several centons ago.  "The way they just
run around at their beck and call so obediently is what drives me nuts
most about them.  The average Council Security guy doesn't sign up
because he's committed to civilian law enforcement, it's because he knows
how to take orders from those who'll give them nice perks eventually."
     "That's always been their biggest problem," Jolly said, "It starts
with the rotten training and recruiting programs they have.  It's always
attracted the wrong group of people."
     "People who would have made better bureauticians then security men,"
Castor nodded, "I think if Adama appointed a new Chief of Operations who
had a different attitude, that would do wonders for the program."
     Their conversation stopped when they saw the door to the adjacent
compartment open, and then saw Apollo enter pushing one of the
decompression chambers, with Starbuck and the others close behind.
     "What's going on?" Reese frowned as he stepped toward them.
     "Medical emergency," Salik said, "We're putting these people back in
their support chambers temporarily to take some new readings."
     "I wasn't notified about this," Reese looked at the group
skeptically.
     "Come on Reese, word doesn't always travel so fast in this day and
age," Starbuck said in a way that would keep him guessing as to whether
it was good natured teasing or condescension.  "It's only temporary."
     "All right," Reese said cautiously.  "But if that means those people
are going back on board that ship, then Council orders go back into
effect." he turned back to face the three warriors, "And that means my
group is now back in charge of this area until then."
     "Oh but of course," Boomer said sarcastically, "We wouldn't think of
stepping on your centon of glory, Reese."
     The dark-skinned warrior made his way over to Apollo and Starbuck,
who were moving their chambers inside.  "You guys need help?"
     "Not a bit, Boomer," Apollo smiled nonchalantly, "The three of you
just stand by outside and give Reese and his group a hand if he needs
it."
     "The only way I'd give him a hand is if it's my fist making contact
with his nose," Boomer said, "And if this is a medical situation, why are
you two involved?"
     "You shouldn't be so inquisitive, Boomer," Starbuck managed to pat
him on the shoulder as he entered the hatchway.
     Boomer shook his head in disbelief and made his way back over to
Jolly and Castor.
     "Well?" the corpulent warrior asked, his arms folded.
     "I have no idea," Boomer shook his head, "But in a way," he glanced
over at the ship again where he could see Salik, Cassiopeia and Nestor
bringing up the rear with the other chambers.  "In a way I'm kind of
glad.  I have a feeling I'm not going to be a volunteer today."
     "Huh?" Castor glanced quizzically at his triad partner, "What does
that mean?"
     "Inside joke, Castor."

     
     As soon as they were inside, Starbuck finally let some of the
irritation he'd been feeling inside bubble over, "Okay, now we got them
inside.  But if we send those Life Station chambers back out without
these people in them, then even those Council Security dimwits will
realize we just sold them a bunch of felgercarb."
     "What are you talking about?" Nestor's eyes widened.
     "Change of plans, Nestor," Salik said, as he opened up the seal on
the chamber containing the adult woman.  "Get them hooked up inside their
own chambers."
     "I don't understand this!" the male med-tech said in exasperation.
     "That's good," Apollo patted him on the shoulder, "Because that way,
you leave yourself in a lot better shape."
     "Apollo?" Cassiopeia was trembling as she backed away from the now
open chamber that contained the brown-haired man, "I think he's coming
to!"
     Before any of the others could react, the silver-suited man had come
upright in his chamber, staring at the five people inside with suspicion
and hostility.
     "Who are you?" he demanded, "What do you want with us?"
     "Take it easy, buddy," Starbuck held up a reassuring hand, "We're
just trying to help."
     "Help?" the man angrily barked, "My God, don't you know what you've
done to us?"
     "We know, we know!" Apollo said hastily, "That's why we're trying to
do what we can to put you and your people back on course."
     The hostility faded slightly from his face as he took a breath,
"You....you really mean that?"
     "Yes!  Look what other proof can we give you?"
     His eyes then darted toward one of the ship's chambers on the other
side.  "Sarah!  The children!  Where are they?"
     "They're in these chambers of ours," Salik said, "If you can help us
put them back in your own chambers and get them reactivated, your journey
can resume quickly."
     The man stepped out of the Life Station chamber, and quickly went
over to a console that automatically activated the ship's chambers. 
Their glass doors slid open and now awaited the return of their
passengers.
     "All right, let's get started," Apollo said, "Starbuck, Nestor,
Cassie, you take care of the children and get them inside.  I'll place
the woman in her chamber."  He then turned back to the man.  "What is
your name?"
     "My name is Michael," he said, still filled with suspicion.  "And
that's all I'll reveal."
     "Okay, Michael," Apollo held up a hand and then pointed to the
others,  "I'm Apollo.  That's Starbuck.  Cassiopeia.  Nestor, and Dr.
Salik.  Will you help me with this woman?"
     "Her name is Sarah," he said.  "Yes, I will help put her back in."
     It took two centons to place her inside the chamber, while the other
Colonials took care of the children.  Finally, when they were in place,
Michael activated a switch on the console and the chambers slid shut.
     "Their systems are now coming back on-line," he then stared at the
five Colonials, "But before I step back into my own chamber, I want some
answers.  Are you from the Eastern Alliance?"
     Some frowns came over their faces.
     "No," Apollo said diplomatically, "What is this....Alliance?"
     "You're lying," the hostility returned to Michael's voice again.
"How could you not know of the Alliance?"
     "Because we don't come from your system!" Apollo said, "We're a
brother tribe of humanity that's traveled a great distance across the
galaxy.  You and this craft are the first contact we've had with anything
from your civilization."
     A tense silence filled the air as the Colonials waited for the man
called Michael to respond to this.  The microns ticked away with no
response, and Cassiopeia could feel her heart pounding nervously as she
wondered what answer would finally come.
     "You expect me to believe that?"
     "How else can you account for the fact that we don't wear any
markings familiar to you, or that you're inside a ship that by your own
admission is bigger then an