Evolutions-Gleanings Past and Future
Stories of the Ruination War

Authors note:  This story takes place immediately after 'Evolutions' and
should be considered an addendum of the same.  However, they are short
stories unto itself and it contains material background information
related to 'Evolutions' and the upcoming 'Ruination Imperatives"
storyline.  For background information, you have to read 'Evolutions.'
Enjoy

Summary: The Colonial remnants have found their home within the
Federation.  But past reflections and future warnings hint of the dangers
to come.

I. Adama's story
II. Tigh's story
III. Q's story
IV. Treaties and Bargains


I. Adama's story

Gleanings: defined thusly: to gather information and or materials bit by
bit.  To get a taste of.

Deep Space Twenty-three:

     President Adama, Colonial representative of what was now quietly
being called the 'United Systems Republic', sat relaxed in the company of
the two Federation Captains.  This would be Captain Picard's (who by the
way brought him the most exquisite berry-flavored alcoholic beverage
directly from Earth) last day at the station.  His assignment would take
him back to the Romulan neutral zone, nowadays a hotbed of Cylon
activity.  The female Captain, Kathryn Janeway, was assigned to the
Colonial protectorate.  Another war against those mechanical maniacs he
thought.  Untold numbers of people destined to die and for what?
     The white-haired Colonial warrior allowed a moan to escape,
something that was happening far more often these days.  Somehow, his
ancient enemies had grown so powerful that the United Federation of
Planets was now at risk, something that should have been impossible. 
With the Federation's powerful Starfleet, the Cylons he'd known and
fought for so long should have been a minor nuisance.  Now the
abominations were creating super Basestars while in the middle of a blood
feud with Romulan Empire.  It was simply a matter of time before the war
spilled over into Federation territory.  The Cylons had made that
perfectly clear.  Humans and anyone who helped them were to be
exterminated.  No exceptions.  No compromise. No Choice.
     The war was coming.
     That was one of the main reasons why he was here as part of the
Diplomatic Corps for the Mariposian-Colonial remnants and the Ligon
people who'd applied for membership in the Federation.  However, the
process would take a minimum of seven to ten years-standard procedure- to
be completed and the application finally approved.  Although associated
with the Federation, their territory wasn't part of the Amalgamation. 
Therefore, they were at a crossroads, at the eve of Armageddon.  They
could put their trust in the Federation completely.  But as he and his
advisors spoke of that they realized that that could be for the good or
ill of their people.
     On the other hand there was another choice.  They could create their
own Republic, a new Republic, wedded in close association with their
next-door neighbors.  A Republic in possession of two soon to be
state-of-the-art Battlestars, a small but growing fleet of smaller
destroyers, cruisers and new Viper Threes, two solar systems thrown in,
plus the support of the Federation.  And if they so chose, their own
independence, until the integration process was completed.  These were
just some of the choices that the President and his co-partners, Sire Uri
and Sire Forsen Colonial diplomatic attach‚s, were faced with.  What they
did now would determine the direction and ultimate fate of their people. 
There were choices to be made.
     But right now survival took priority over politics.  And it was time
to reveal secrets.
     Adama enjoyed his time with the two Captains.  They were a study in
contrasts.  He understood Picard to be, to say the least a complex man,
with a multitude of demons riding his soul, but at the same time, those
same demons didn't control him.  Whereas other men would wither under the
weight of the pressures this man had endured.  Picard survived, and still
maintained a quiet, dry humor.  He hadn't become hardened.  Hard like my
comrade-in-arms, Cain, former Commander of the Battlestar Pegasus he
thought.  This man developed a love for combat that threatened the lives
of everyone in the fleet during the Great Migration.  Now that he was
improving from his injuries daily, there were rumors that he would once
again command the Pegasus.  That was a lie but that old war daggit would
do anything to command a new, improved Battlestar against these new
Cylons, no matter what the cost.  The present Commander, Sheba, his
daughter no less, would not give up her ship easily.  Her own personal
demons were just being put in their place and a conflict between the two
of them wouldn't bold well for either of them.  That was just another
problem that would present some serious difficulty in the near future.
     Kathryn Janeway-so strange that these people insisted on double and
even triple names- was cut from a completely different cloth entirely. 
His assessment of her brought him to the conclusion that she was the more
easily accessible of the two, the more matronly type of no- nonsense
I'll-listen-to-what-you-say-but-I'm-still- doing-it-my-way type of
Captain you could talk to.
     She loved that bitter hot liquid called Coffee.  Picard on the other
hand, preferred that bizarre, hot liquid called Earl-Grey tea, while he
himself, had developed a fascination for something called hot chocolate.
     Three different people, three different personalities, three
different approaches to the same problem.  But Adama understood that
there was something all three of them had in common, creating a sort of
bond if you will.  Their lives had been defined by loss and conflict
against mechanical entities.  Like it or not, the Borg and Cylons defined
much of their careers and the way the saw the world.  The three of them
had been vanguards against the darkness these being represented.  It
molded their thoughts, precipitated previously unimagined actions and in
a very sick way, gave hope to untold billions intend upon avoiding
assimilation or extermination.  They'd become symbols that stood against
the coming night.  None of the three were comfortable with that for the
simple reason that each of them had stood on the precipice and fallen
over.
     More than once he'd imagined what would have happened if these two
had commanded Battlestars during the loss of the colonies.  Most likely
there would have been four Battlestar survivors instead of two he mused.
     For the last several centars, he'd been in contact with the
Federation in general and Picard in particular, learning about them,
their politics, their motivations, their joys and fears, of course their
technology.  The human interactions with so many other different species
fascinated him.  As civilized as these people were, Adama and the rest of
his people had been half-surprised that they weren't at each other's
throats far, far more than they were.  The size of their grand experiment
was eight thousand light-years across, truly staggering.  But in
actuality it was a lot smaller than it seemed.  Some failures yes, but so
many more victories-and this was the most important point because if the
humans even could get along with silicon-based life forms and insectons-
then maybe his people and theirs could get along with one another.
     Casually, he walked over to both Federation officers, placed a small
transparent glowing crystal between the two of them on the table and sat
down.  He watched as both officers attention were drawn to the
eighteen-sided gem.  Kathryn's interest was immediately peeked as the
crystal glowed then faded to a dull pinkish color as she touched it.
     Kathryn was obviously as captivated, as he'd been when he first saw
it yahrens earlier.  "It reminded me of some of fire gems at first," she
said while fingering the gem.  "But for the life of me, it seems to have
the feel of a dilithium crystal."
     This made President Adama smile slightly.  He could tell that her
scientific curiosity was coming to the fore, which was exactly what he
wanted.  Picard gently handled the crystal also, quietly agreeing with
Janeway.  Clearly, both of them had been entranced by this artifact and
wanted more information.  He intended to provide them with all of it.
     "We call this the Aeriana, in honor of one of our twelve lost
colonies and the woman who first discovered it.  Our scientist spent
several yahrens attempting to uncover some of its secrets and only now
are we beginning to realize those dreams."
     "Where did you find it?" Picard asked before Janeway could ask. 
Turning to her, he asked if this was some sort of dilithium crystal
variation.
     "I don't think so.  I would have a full analysis done to be sure,
with your permission of course," she queried Adama.
     "Of course," he replied.  "This is why I brought it to your
attention.  It contains a power unlike anything we've ever encountered in
our travels.  Each crystal has a self-generating power matrix. The pulse
fluctuations are sometimes random and at other times they pulse together
in perfect harmony.  It appears they choose their own times, to well,
communicate with each other.  That's what our scientists current
hypothesis is."
     "Are you saying that these crystals are alive?  Some sort of life
form?"
     "Possibly."  Picard was one who answered the question.  "The
crystalline entity is another example of that type of life form as well
as the Hortas that you're acquainted with."  Adama knew of the Horta
species.  Those creatures were responsible for defending against the
Cylon attacks on the USS Okada, also helped repair parts of the
Battlestar Pegasus and saved many Colonials in the process.
     Picard had also told him of the so-called 'micro brains' of Velara
III.  Those crystalline creatures required water and sunlight to survive
and when joined together, they were perfect living computers.  "Where did
you find them?"
     "It's a long story," Adama said, quite prepared to go into it.
     "Most stories are," Picard said dryly, as Janeway rolled her eyes in
complete agreement.
     "Well," he began.  "During the second yahren.  Year," he corrected,
"of the great exodus, after a major battle with a lone Cylon Basestar, we
came upon what we thought was a large asteroid field.  It covered five
light yahrens in diameter.  What we assumed was an asteroid field was in
actuality the remains of a long dead star, which went supernovae, some
estimated two hundred million yahrens past.  We were ecstatic.  There was
an abundance of heavy metals: lead, mercury, plutonium, iron, copper, if
you can imagine it, it was there. There were trace metals in quantities
enough to fill most of our largest freighters.  Here, under the safety of
rock and metal were resolved to build our first large fighting ship,
about the size of your New Orleans class starship.  It was boxy and truly
ugly, but it was ours and my people were overjoyed because it meant that
we could fight back and not depend on the Galactica and Vipers only.  We
called it the Kinia, after a mean, armored, four-legged hunting mammal
found on Caprica.  It would take two yahrens to complete.  During our
time there, that's when we discovered the Aeriana.  The fragment we found
was half the size of the Galactica.  As our ships approached it, it
pulsated as though giving out some type of signal.
     Both Captains understood immediately.  They too had seen such
diamonds in their travels, but never one dated so old.  But it was
equally obvious that this was not simply some oversized carbonized jewel.
     "It seemed the perfect jewel to use in our ongoing laser research." 
Adama rose from his seat, his mind awashed with memories of that dark
time.  "Our very first experiment was a disaster.  The laser prototype we
designed worked far too well.  This was a hand laser that was fired but
once.  We had discovered an amazing power source but we were unable to
control it.  Because of some process unknown to us, the crystal had taken
the energy inputted into it and had magnified and changed that energy
into something approaching the temperature of a star's core.  The power
ratio was calculated to be over twenty factors of the projected output. 
The reaction chamber was of course, never designed to withstand that kind
of energy.  The micro-pulse burned through several sections of reinforced
plating, breeched the outer hull, thereby opening the ship to vacuum. 
Four of our scientists died from the blast while several more were
vaporized and burned.  Anyone within twenty metrons from the beam's
emission were injured.  People were injured everywhere and that's when
the trouble started, which culminated in the loss of my Executive officer
and my best friend Colonel Tigh."
     "What about your shielding?"
     "It was completely ineffective," Adama said. The memories swelled
again threatening to drag him into the pit.  "The energy pulse simply
passed through everything it touched."
     "Your second-in-command, did he die in the incident?"  Janeway
asked.
     Adama noticed that Janeway was particularly interested possibly due
to the fact that she had lost her own first officer in the accident that
trapped her in the Delta quadrant.
     "No.  We lost him and the others a couple of sectons- weeks," he
corrected, "afterwards.  During this time, we lacked many of necessities
required to maintain a fleet of ships with three hundred thousand
refugees.  We manufactured our own medications, recycled water, develop
weapons systems, and most importantly tried to maintain the moral of the
remains of humanity."
     "I can see that that would have been one of the most difficult
problems you could have faced," Picard said.  "There have been cases in
which entire colonies were lost because of bad moral.  The colony on
Takilla three was a prime example.  The colony lost all of its food
supply due to bacterial infestation.  Within weeks, the people had
degenerated into savagery.  By the time the USS Bozeman arrived, over
half the people had died from the fighting and starvation."
     "We were faced with a problem of a different sort," the president
said softly. Then he continued, his voice hardening.  "Our society wasn't
perfect.  We had many problems before the Cylons tried to destroy us. 
One was our legalization of narcotics.  This was something many of us
opposed even after over a thousand yahrens of availability, but always
the ruling council overruled our objections.  The so-called
hard-addictive drugs were banned, however the soft ones weren't.  Since
they were easy to produce our doctors use the soft drugs in the pain
control managements.  One of our researchers accidentally discovered a
mutant variation of a common drug called amasitachromaine, am-chromaine
for short, used for pain blockage.  Most people simply called it
Pleasure.  It didn't require injections but worked as a topical agent,
coupled with amazing pain reduction and non-disorienting attributes. 
That was the good point.  The bad part was that am-chromaine combined
with nervous tissue and became one of the most addictive substances we'd
ever seen.  Within a week, every patient treated, every doctor and
support tech, touching those patients became addictive on the med ship. 
We quarantined the vessel as soon as we realized the danger, but it was
too late for all of us.  Hundreds of my people had been contaminated. 
People were killing one another for less than a half-milliliter of
Pleasure.  This resulted in the time we refer to now as the Pleasure
Wars."


     Picard had seen something like this before in which an entire planet
had been intentionally addicted to a drug, disguised as a life saving
drug, for years.  When they finally recovered with a little help, or
non-help as it were from the Enterprise, the repercussions towards those
who'd addicted them in the first place were brutal.  Here, he could only
imagine what sort of horrors went on within the Colonial fleet. 
Personally he recoiled in disgust at the thought of something controlling
him, enslaving him to do its will.  It reminded him far too much of his
time of slavery to the Borg.  He remembered how much he'd fought against
the seduction of it all and how easily it overpowered him.  He willingly
participated in the destruction of thousands of Federation crewmembers. 
Oh yes, he'd fought with all his might, even when they implanted
cybernetic probes into his brain and organs without the use of
anesthetics.  It felt as though he resisted them for days, when in truth
it was what?  Three quarters of an hour?
     "Didn't you have a antidote for this drug?" he asked, pushing his
memories back into the recesses of his mind and locking the door.
     "Absolutely, but our people resisted the treatments," the President
stated sadly.
     "The two doctors who originally discovered the mutant were compelled
to recreate fresh batches of Pleasure. These respected, professional
people reverted to drug merchants.  Their cartel actually murdered other
citizens for credits to obtain critical supplies in order to manufacture
the narcotic."
     The Captain shook his head and stood up to straighten his jacket. 
"I assume that your Executive officer..."
     "Colonel Tigh..."
     "Colonel Tigh," he corrected, feeling the name around in his mind,
"was assigned to handle the crisis?"
     Adama nodded in the affirmative.  "It became a military matter when
our warriors began to be affected.  Colonel Tigh got into a fire fight
and was captured."
     "Captured how?"
     "Old-style ambush onboard the Astradon, an older freighter class
ship.  Before we were fully apprised of his situation. The kidnappers
made their way to the Kinia, shot their way out of the asteroid field,
activated the new tunnel-shift drive unit and got away before we could
stop them.  The last report we received was that Tigh had sabotaged the
jump engines and it was no way they could alter the trajectory until the
unit ran out of fuel.  He set it so if they were turned off the ship
would blow up.  We lost them all."
     "And you have no idea what happened to them."  That was a statement
by Kathryn.
     "I hope that they are still alive but I know that we'll never know. 
He was my best friend and I failed him."

     Kathryn could feel the man's pain.  Someone close to you being
lost-literally-touched a nerve.  The lost of his wife and younger son and
his best friend...  She understood what the man felt and she knew Picard
did as well.  The people she'd lost in the Delta quadrant grated on her
soul, even now.  But now, she had a touch more understanding of her new
ally.  As she learned on Voyager, knowledge and understanding were the
keys to power and she had the feeling that before this was over, the
Federation would need as much power as they could get.  "It's possible
that we do a search for your people," she said with a wink.  "After all,
if they could find me, they can find just about anybody."  She thought
hard for a second.  "Maybe I'll ask my godson."
     She almost laughed when she saw the look on Picard's face.  Did he
really hate Q so much?  Somehow she doubted it.  She suspected now it was
simply a matter of honor.  
     Men.
     President Adama smiled graciously at Kathryn's suggestion.  He'd
forgotten the simple balm, that the simple of having a sympathetic ear,
was sometimes better than having a thousand medications. The fact was his
friend was most likely dead, never knowing that his people had found
their safe haven.  It was another in a long line of heartache and loss
that he would have to endure and for him it wasn't over yet.
     Taking a sip of his hot chocolate, he made a silent toast to his
friend-for-life, barely noticing the two Captains honoring him by doing
the same.  "When I needed support, you were there.  When I needed a
friend, you were there.  Wherever you are, in this reality or the next,
one day we'll meet again.  Looking at his two companions, he toasted
them.  "To life."

"To life," the Captains echoed.

II. Tigh's Story

     Colonel Tigh flopped ferociously into the command chair onboard the
disabled colonial warship Kinia. The five bridge-crew members: Sensors
operator, Navigator, Engineering, Comms operator and the Weapons control
officer- acknowledged his presence but seemed oblivious to his tendency
to abuse his command chair. It was a tradition that he'd upheld for the
last five yahrens, done religiously as a reminder of what he'd lost and
what he had sacrificed for the Galactica.  Two yahrens ago he finally
shaved his beard. It made him look younger but somehow less intimidating
and he wasn't sure if he liked that or not.  He was positive that he
didn't like the way those wrinkles constantly appearing on his dark-
skinned face either, but well, age did that to you.  So did bitterness
and he still had plenty of that.  Even after all this time the memories
of that day sent an irritating chill up his spine.  He remembered how the
kidnappers continually dosed him with am-chromaine in the mistaken belief
that once fully hooked, he would now do anything they requested. And of
all them, he despised Dr. Cassandria, their leader was the worst of them
all. She was the one who thought of stealing the prototype ship with the
intention of firing on an unprepared Galactica. The woman was clearly
insane to think that she could take over the Fleet Command.  Later, he
would come to understand that delusions of grandeur was just one of the
symptoms of heavy drug users.
     The other was obsession.
     Cassandria had been in love with him, he later found out.  He always
knew she was interested but he didn't have time for personal romances, or
so he made himself believe.  The Colonial fleet needed everybody at top
efficiency and being Sealed to someone he assumed, would have interfered
with his performance. When she became addicted to Pleasure, her love
turned into obsession and she purposely went after him.  She was the one
who introduced the narcotic to the ventilation ducts on the Astradon and
the Kinia-which was still being completed-effectively addicting everyone
on board ship.
     In terms of obsessive compulsions however, the drug was as equally
effective on him.  He was he one who sabotaged the T-S drives. He was the
one who vented all the medical supplies into space.  Once activated by
his voice command, the bridge controls activated, the engines powered up,
auto- piloted the ship out of the asteroid field and kicked in the T-S
drive unit and refused to turn itself off until it ran our of fuel,
approximately three yahrens and untold light yahrens later.  Even
drugged, no one dared disable those engines while they were
tunnelshifting through what Adama would now call transwarp space. They
wouldn't have been able to anyway because he had made sure that even he
couldn't counterman his own orders. The tylium fuel source wouldn't be
used up as tunnel shifting utilized an entirely different mechanism of
travel.  Old-fashioned lightspeed would be available when necessary.  By
his choice, he had effectively trapped all two hundred kidnappers and
crew on an uncontrolled one-way journey to-wherever, on an unfinished
ship.  If oblivion and eternal travel were the price to save the
Galactica, so be it.
     With the ability to manufacture more drug crippled, everyone onboard
experienced the most horrific of withdrawal pains imaginable. Withdrawal
from Pleasure-without the aid of counteragents took an average of
thirteen days. The drug affected the nerve ganglions causing the nerves
themselves to transmit waves on what was described as an itching pain
usually centered near the chest and ocular regions.  Seventeen people
committed suicide; five people burned themselves to death in an effort to
rid themselves of the pain.  Five people went blind as they tore at their
eyes, the itching being unbearable. There were contusions, soft tissue
damage, multiple breaks usually by people slamming themselves into walls
and bulkheads.  The only good thing gleaned from the whole experience was
that once over the ordeal, the craving was completely gone forever unless
one came into contact with the drug again.  If one did then the cravings
would begin until the purging from the body was complete.
     Tigh remembered that discovery and the hysterical laughter that
erupted from him that fateful day in which he had almost gone mad.  Dr.
Cassandria and her collaborators had recovered also and were in essence,
their old selves again.  That they were themselves again was totally
meaningless to crew of the Kinia.  It was too late by Tigh's standard and
they were promptly placed in a make shift detention for the duration of
their journey.  By mutual recognized authority he became Commander of the
Kinia and had even considered spacing his prisoners to save on life
precious support.  The crew, now isolated from their loved ones and the
relative safety of the Colonial fleet, was certainly in favor of the
executions.  But he decided against it because one: he didn't want that
on his conscious.  There were only so many humans left in the universe,
assuming that the thirteenth colony didn't exist, and it would feel like
he contributed to the genocide of his race.
     And two: no one knew what opening a hatch would do in FTL transit. 
So they remained in confinement.
     The ship itself was considered by the crew to be about two levels
above a deathtrap. Life support was kept at a minimum to conserve
resources. The weapons systems were online but only one of the lasers
worked.  Parts for the other system hadn't been delivered before the
hijacking. Water was recycled over and over and eventually the taste
remained no matter how well it was treated in the overstressed purifiers.
The light speed drive was functional but the sensors were at best short
ranged.  Food wasn't a serious problem as the ship had been stocked to
maintain a crew of four hundred for two yahrens.  It wouldn't last
forever.  He didn't even want to think about the lack of decent clothing.
     In order to keep moral from completely breaking down he instituted a
strict regiment structure that kept everyone busy the majority of their
work shifts. Even in such close, cramp quarters, fighting was kept to a
minimum.  It used up too much recycled air so the rumor went.  People
knew better but it appeared to be an effective deterrent in any case.
     Though oddly beautiful, the same reddish-blue swirl, secton in and
secton out for almost three yahrens- the effect of tunnelshifting- proved
boring.  And utterly lonely. They'd traveled without seeing a single star
or sign of intelligence- with that one exception almost a yahren past.
     The universe indicated to the Kinia that they weren't alone when
they were scanned by another, very large vessel that appeared on their
stern almost without warning. Whatever that spheroid shaped ship was -
which had no apparent inertia rive units visible- had taken an interest
in them and their plight. The crew was elated as Kinia tried every form
of communication possible short of firing on it. The alien crew never
responded to their cries of help. Evidentially, the beings didn't care
and within moments the strangely designed ship accelerated away from them
as though the Kinia wasn't moving. The bitterness that it left behind was
apparent for centons.

     Commander's log: Date one thousand fifty-two days post transit:
Commander Tigh recording:
     For the last two days the T-S drive systems have indicted that we
are near the end of the journey. We have not been able to ascertain
exactly where or when we are. The temporal distortions inherent in our
drives have brought us to some far future and unknown alien space. Will
we find friends here or only more misery and despair? No one knows. We
only know that we will never see Galactica or our people again.  But our
people have pulled together despite the difficulties that continually
plague us. Two of the crewmembers have children despite my objections and
now I find that I may have been wrong in dedicating myself only to my
career and crew. I have had to re-adjust my thinking. The people here
have become family and I find it harder each day to maintain that
professional distance. I remember when Adama began associating with
Siress Tinia, I believed in my heart that this was one of his worse
mistakes he ever made. Now, in my old age, I realize what a fool I've
been. Perhaps it was my family training.  I'd always felt that it was
important to Seal with someone of my class status.  Maybe from that
beginning, I might have over compensated in my assumptions.  I believe
that onboard this ship I have found my soul mate. Never would I have
believed this and with a junior engineer no less! She's so much younger
than I am but my heart soars when we're together.  It's been for her and
the crew that I have stayed in the race.

     The signal the entire crew had waited for suddenly made its presence
know. With a start, they were once again in normal space. The stars
again! How beautiful! Tigh took a second to take in the sights, then,
command mode took over. "Where is the closest star system?"
     "Seven light-yahrens distant," came the answer from Genohena, the
helmswoman. She was a perky blond with dark green eyes that always seemed
to sparkle. "With light speed, twelve days seventeen centars."
     Not bad. Opening the comms to engineering he was instantly rewarded
with his beloved voice. "Dianne here. I assume you want light-speed if so
take it easy. I don't want you blowing us up trying to get us there."
     He smiled to himself. She always spoke like that, gruff, with a
voice that was at times lower than his. She was short, in her early
thirties and about his same chocolate complexion, which absolutely no
sense of style when it came to clothing. The woman was the opposite of
everything he'd imagine a mate to be. "We'll get there in one piece."
     The navigator activated the light-speed jump engines and the ship
arced towards its intended destination. The ships engines responded
jerkily, due to the face that they hadn't been broken in but no one
cared. For the first time they controlled the direction they wished to
travel in and the crew reveled in that fact.


     The first system with fifteen planets had proven to be devoid of
life. However the asteroid fields contained valuable minerals and water
in the form of ice. That in itself was a Godsend. They would spend four
days prospecting before moving on. The next star system was five light
years distant and they made it halfway there before they were attacked.
     The assault was swift, brutal and completely unprovoked. The Kinia
rocked sideways with the impacts from the high-energy weapons. The tunnel
shift drives were completely destroyed and the FLT engines had been
damaged.  Escape would be impossible. The only things left were the
sub-light engines and this had been only the first attack. There were two
ships, both which flew pass them with blinding speed slowly arching,
preparing for another attack run.
     "Evasive, and positive shields now!" Tigh yelled. The order had been
unnecessary as both helmswoman and weapons officer leaped into action.
"Return fire." The single laser battery fired its white-hot pulses
scoring a hit-
     On some type of force field protecting the enemy ship, which was
rapidly returning for round two.  Both ships passed by, slowly raking the
Kinia with disruptor fire. The laser battery was destroyed and their
precious life support system was damaged. As smoke began to fill the
bridge the damage computron spit out the ships condition. There was no
need to say anything to the bridge crew-they understood exactly what the
situation was.
     We didn't have a chance! "Everyone prepare to abandon ship! This is
no drill! Prepare to abandon ship!" One more hit and the fuel would turn
the ship into an inferno. There was no choice. "Dianne! Get your crew
out! Abandon ship!"
     "It's too late!" Gena screamed. She had remained at her station even
while it burned. "They're on top of us! Twelve microns!"
     It was over. There was nothing he or they could do. There were fires
everywhere and it was spreading rapidly. Within moments the explosions
would begin and his little ship would tear itself apart.  He desperately
pushed the half-blind bridge crew in front of him towards the escape
pods.
     They never made it.

     "Did we get them all?" The Captain was anxious. The two ships had
been tracking the distress call for the last two days and evidently
they'd gotten to this beleaguered ship just in time. This was her first
real firefight and the initial fear and excitement had now given way to a
fierce determination.  Her ship had transported the crew of that doomed
ship all the while firing on the two pirate ships.  Her sister ship, the
ASC Endurance kept up its own firing destroying the shield of the second
ship. Both pirate vessels moved off as the two Alliance Star Corps ships
took up station keeping near the now wrecked Colonial cruiser. Those
pirates were getting worse and soon we're going to have to deal with the
lot of them she thought viciously. We shouldn't have had to start out
this way.
     The chief medical officer was shocked when she saw her patients. She
called the bridge immediately. "Captain, they're human!"
     "Are you sure?" This was incredible. The scans had indicated as such
but the reality came still came as somewhat of a shock.
     "There's no doubt," came the answer. "Their language is totally
different from anything on our database and we're having trouble
communicating. They've appeared to be out here for a long, time and their
blood chemistry is way off the charts.  We're treating them for both
short and long term illness and injuries. It seems they've never seem
transporter technology before.  They're a touch frightened but excited to
see us as well."
     "I'm on my way down."
     When she got there, she was greeted by a tall black man, she
estimated to be in his early sixties. His arm was broken and he suffered
from smoke inhalation but his eyes were clear.  And the man wanted
answers.  He started talking and the more he did the better the universal
translator did its job.  He asked who were they how were they saved and
the condition of his people-or so the Alliance translator deciphered.
     She came and sat down next to him.  "Everything 's okay. We received
your distress call some time ago," she said in what she hoped was a
soothing voice.  It was clear he was confuse by her language.  "I know
you don't understand me, but I hope you will understand what I'm trying
to convey. I am Captain Amelia Earhart of the Alliance Starship
Explorer."
     The woman-the Commander in her early forties -had reddish hair, cut
short and definitely had that human look about her.  He asked a question. 
It came out as gibberish through the universal translator.
     "This ship and the Endeavor," she added, subconsciously pointing
towards a bulkhead where she estimated that her sister would be located,
"are part of a small but growing number of worlds banding together to
deal with Kazon pirates and other opportunists which prey on our systems. 
But mostly, our Voyager-class starships are engaged in the business of
exploring the universe around us."
     "This ship," she continued, "is a smaller, less sophisticated
version of our home planets Federation starships, one of which visited us
some five years ago.'
     "{Gibberish. gibberish again}... Federation?"
     "No Alliance, patterned after the Federation.  From the planet
Earthin the alpha quadrant."  She noticed that the man perk up
considerably at the word 'Earth.'
     "Yes, my planet is called Briori-Earth Prime. Are you from Earth?"
she asked. Did Captain Janeway send you here?"
     Earth? Was this person truly from Earth?
     Tigh slumped down.  Was this the Thirteenth colony?  His head
swirled with the possibilities.  Maybe this was an Earth ship or maybe
not: he didn't know yet.  With time he would come to understand but right
now, his people were safe... he could feel that.  This ship was amazing
and he suspected he and his crews immediate future would be full of
surprises.  From what little he'd seen, the Cylons wouldn't have an easy
time of it here with this ship's technology.
     And they were human, family.  He thanked God for his fortune.  What
ever would come would come.  He hoped with all of his heart that the
Galactica would find a safe haven also.


     "Well, that ended well," the entity said sarcastically. 
"Personally, I don't think you cut it close enough."  He was on top of
the ruined Colonial ship kicking at the ruined bulkhead indifferently. 
"I still say that you sent out that distress call far too early."
     "Shut up, Trelane." Q said.
     "Amanda," Trelane stammered. "I know you were brought up human, "he
said in mild but polite distaste.  "But why this obsession with them?"
     "You'd never understand." she answered.
     "Then tell me, Amanda Rogers of Q," Trelane said.
     "Come, little kid."
     She disappeared and an instant later, Trelane followed.

III.  Q's Story

Time (2376 A.D. five years before the Galactica reaches Federation
space.) 

     Amanda (1, 2) materialized on a barren rock some distance from the
Endeavor and Explorer with Trelane (3) following her closely.  She was in
her late twenties and she blond hair was even longer than when she was
just a girl on the Enterprise so long ago.  She had decided that she
liked the look of being a twenty-six year-old and she intended to keep
herself that way for the next few millennia.  And it was clear for anyone
who'd care to see that Trelane was completely smitten with her.
     Once again she marveled at the boy, teenager actually, in how
quickly he was maturing, considering how obnoxious he was when she first
met him.  Those had been rough times for her.  Her adjustment to the Q
continuum hadn't been pleasant.  The other members either didn't speak to
her or considered her some type of freak.  Only Q would speak to her with
any type of consideration to her feelings.  Her parents had been
condemned to death by the Q simply because they chose to be different, in
this case becoming human and living on Earth.  They had forsworn their
powers and lived a happy, contented, simpler life- without their powers. 
They had a child the human way and all of them were happy.  Then
everything fell apart.  A small indiscretion and the powers-that-be had
her parents killed.  "Couldn't have super powered entities running amok'
they said.  They lied.
     They were afraid of change of any kind.  The status quo had to be
maintained or there would be disharmony and they couldn't have that. 
Stagnant people always used that excuse to destroy something different. 
She was almost killed herself but Q intervened because, deep down he knew
that she was exactly what the Continuum needed but were too afraid to
admit.  William Riker's attempted seduction into the Continuum was the
case in point.  Now, faced with the reality-her-they couldn't handle it. 
But a lot had changed since those terrible days of loneliness and
despair.
     First came Quinn's death.  And then there was the war.  It happened
so quickly with the ultimate result of little Q, that little monster,
being born.  No longer was she under the microscope.  She was stable. 
Baby Q something else.  Even his mother couldn't stand to be around him
for long periods of time.  Q was worse than daddy.  In other words, his
was his daddy's child.  The entire Q were in an uproar.  They couldn't
terminate baby Q and they couldn't let him run all over the universe. 
They were trapped.
     It was the best time of her life.  Finally!  The Q realized that she
wasn't as bad as they thought.  The common phrase was 'why could Q be
more like Amanda?' It marked the beginning of her freedom. Suddenly they
trusted her not to do anything rash.  They had more important things
worry about, like that little brat exploding pulsars every chance he got. 
He liked things that went boom.
     Meanwhile, Amanda decided to take a detailed tour of the galaxy and
in order to keep the rest of them off her back, she went to Lady Q, Q's
wife, and asked her what would be nice to see since she was still a
little kid- compared to these ageless creatures-what would be of
interested to her, a learning experience as it were.  Q was flattered to
death and she told Amanda of every sight worth seeing.  Carefully Amanda
went on her tour and did nothing to upset the rest of the Q.  That trip
was the catalyst that pulled the Q over.  Trust had been established and
most restrictions were lifted.
     Now she was beginning her second tour of a more profound nature when
she met Trelene.  It was clear that he was a touch more powerful than
she, but for all that he was basically a kid.  He'd left his foppish
older image he was so fond of, a hundred and fifty years ago.  Now his
personal self-image was that of his relative age, approximately eighteen. 
The hair was still dark and he still had those god-awful sideburns, but
he was a touch more reserved.  He was actually nice, well almost, but he
did have this one fault.  He'd chosen Q for his mentor.  He suspected
that Q wasn't always pleased with him and when baby Q was born, Q had
deserted him, had told him to grow up and get a life.  Amanda realized
that the boy was lonely.  She'd never have any peace ever again if she
couldn't control the situation.  She gave him a little focused attention
and he became her friend for life. 
     Trelane on the other hand had almost ruined this friendship before
it began.  For some reason, he never understood until later, he had been
attracted to this human female on Uoknia IV.  Humans had never been that
far from their home world before and he was curious.  Why was she there? 
Where was her ship?
     Remembering Uhura fondly from the days of his wayward youth, the
young entity re-imaged his self to human form and boldly approached her
in a way he hadn't done to anyone else before.  He didn't understand why
he did what he did until much later.  For some reason this blond female
intrigued him and he wanted to make a lasting impression.  Moving
majestically through the crowd towards her, he stopped, faced her.  He
batted his eyes like that Captain Kirk did once and smiled magnificently.
     "Hello," he said.  "My name is Trelane and I'm God."
     Then he patted her on the butt.  Actually, he grabbed it.  Well,
essentially, his hand performed a complete examination.
     That turned out o be the biggest mistake in his young life.  He
discovered this important point when Amanda proceeded to kick him into
low Uoknia orbit.  Seconds later, he reappeared next to her, stunned-and
more than a little hurt- at this little nothing that...that-

     "You're Q!"  he stammered.  "But how?  I saw you.  You were human,
then, your aura changed to Q!  How did you do that?" he yelled at her. 
"You are duality!"  she'd hurt him and he was supremely angry, but even
more afraid of her.  Not even Q had resorted to physical violence.  That
response was so... so human.
     "I've heard about you, brat," she growled.  "How dare you touch me
like that."
     Several hundred things flashed through his mind in a nanosecond. 
Utmost on his mind was his parent's potential response when they found
out what he'd just done.  He had more power than this, this person.  He
could feel it.  But he really didn't want to start a fight, because
everybody of course, would blame him, even if she had started it.
     -Which she did.  So he did the only thing he could do.  "I'm sorry. 
I promise to never to that again.  It was just that-"
     "Save your excuses," she snapped at him.  "Don't do it again."  For
a moment, he watched her studying him very carefully.  Then she relaxed,
which made him relax at little also.  "I am Amanda.  I am Q.  You must be
Trelane."
     For a moment, he didn't know how to respond.  It was flattering that
his fame preceded him, but flattery could be good or bad depending on if
someone wanted to hurt him because of it.  This Q intimidated him, but he
didn't understand why.  And she was so beautiful.  Her energy matrix
reminded him of his mother but different.  He was confused.

     Everything she had been told about Trelane could be summed up in one
word.  Unpredictable.  His power was legendary, but she had two
advantages.  The first was that she was an adult female and he a mere
teenager.  The other was she was human who understood the powers of
inflicting guilt.  "What was this God thing?  Is that how you want to
introduce yourself to a woman?"
     She watched him blush.  "Most females seem to be impressed by it. 
Meeting God and all."
     "She licked her lips.  "You could have done much better and it would
work, too."  The bait had been thrown out.
     "How?"  he asked, genuinely interested.
     "Simple pleasantries are so much more effective than simply grabbing
someone's butt.  I wished you would have done that instead." 
     Throw in the guilt now.  Make him whine.
     "I said I'm sorry," he responded miserably.

     She had him and a friendship was born.  That bargain was sealed when
Amanda personally went and talked to his parents about him accompanying
her on her journey of self-discovery.  He was ecstatic that he wanted him
to come with her.  They were ecstatic that someone actually him anywhere
around them.  Since she knew that he'd start following her everywhere she
had planned her actions well.  And the wonderful thing about it was that
if Trelane acted up, then she could tell his parents.  The boy was on a
leash and didn't even know it.
     "Why did you save those pathetic humans," he asked again.  He always
called them pathetic when he compared them to himself, but now she
noticed there was none of the malice that used to permeate his comments.
     "You said it a long time ago," she answered softly.  "I am duality. 
I want to understand why in a whole universe of choices did my parents
choose to become human."
     "That's why you changed their temporal distortions to bring them to
this time."
     "Yes.  They needed help while traveling in the Delta quadrant.  The
people here would help them."
     "Don't you think that the distress call was over the top?"
     "Not at all," Amanda answered.  "You know they weren't earth-born."
     "Yes," he agreed.  ""But the Delta humans are."
     Amanda watched the two Alliance starships go to warp.  This fledging
group of humans and their new allies were going to reproduce the same
type of organization as their brethren in the Alpha quadrant...if they
survived the Kazon and the Borg and the Ciona Imperixe.  And if they did,
then the two Federations would invariably join forces.  When that time
came, she intended to be there to see it.  Right now though she planned
to change the conversation.  "Trelane, she asked.  "Do you believe in
God?"
     "No," came the answer.  "Q kept telling me that he was god or the
closest thing to it but I didn't believe him.  I think he was just trying
to throw me off track.  I think he was just trying to keep me from
playing with his stuff because he kept thinking of ways to make me leave
his Enterprise alone.  That part was simply jealously because I had mine
first.  He played with his and called it testing but I know he just
wanted to show me up.  I still think Kirk was better than Picard because
he had that pointy-eared Vulcan helping him all the time.  I remember
that I wanted to be just like Q.  I copied everything he did and I tried
to do it better. I tried to be around him as much as possible and but he
kept leaving me in places like that quantum whirlpool.  I remember one
time before little Q he started screaming at me and I asked him why.  He
said because I acted like him and he felt imprisoned by his likeness.  I
told him he was perfect and I was going to prove it by copying him
forever.  The he started disappearing into the past, but that made me
want to prove that I could follow him everywhere.  And I did.  Then..."
     She just moaned.  "Somebody, help me," she whispered.  Loudly:
"Trelane.  Let me repeat myself.  Do you believe in God?"
     "I have never seen him," he answered flatly.  "We're the most
powerful creature in the universe but..."
     "Yes.  But."  She became quiet for a moment.  "Look at us.  We are
power.  But what are we really?"
     "What is all this talk about god?  If you have a few centuries you
can talk to my father.  He knows everything."
     Then why couldn't he bring you up to be less of a nuisance, she
thought.  "Trelene let's go."
     "Where to?"
     "Kobol.  There's something I want to see there."
     The two entities arrived on top of massive pyramid situated in the
middle of a desert-like, very dead planet.  The planet had been stripped
of its resources and the remaining bits of plant life were slowly dying. 
The pollution had filtered out of the air long ago settling in the seas
killing what was left of life in them.
     "What a dreary place," Trelane whispered.  "I don't want to stay
here long."
     Amanda agreed with him wholeheartedly.  It had the scent of death
here.  "Gather yourself, Trelane," she commanded.  "Join with me."
     He didn't even think about it.  Their powers blended, and the
atmosphere around them darkened, became pitch black, then darkened even
more.  A small light appeared in front of them slow growing in size. 
Soon, the light appeared as a giant screen, dwarfing the pyramid.
     "What are you doing?" Trelane was clearly uncomfortable with the
events unfolding, but never stopped for an instant.
     Locked in concentration, she answered tersely. "I'm creating a
multiversal view of this planet.  I want to see the possibilities that
unfolded in other parallel universes.  That's why I needed you to help
me."
     On their three -dimensional screen, twenty images of the Planet
Kobol appeared conjuring an image of what marbles would look like if
connected to one another.  Both of them looked at their creation in
wonder.
     "The planet Kobol, so-called birthplace of Man here in the Beta
quadrant.  See there?" she asked him, pointing to a small dot rapidly
growing in size as it decelerated preparing to orbit the planet. "That
ship is the Battlestar Galactica in all twenty of these realities, coming
to Kobol.  Notice the sizes," she said.  "Each one is a slightly
different length although the configuration is exactly the same.  This
one," she pointed at the first planet, "will travel to earth space and
meet with humans at something called Babylon-Five.  Those two over there
will reach earth in the late twentieth century.  These six will never
make it to earth.  Those two will make it to Earth in the twenty-forth
century and meet their contemporaries and a temporal anomaly called Buck
Rogers.  One will temporarily connect with a runaway Earth moon which
houses a small community called Moonbase Alpha. Two will meet the Goa'uld
and the Stargates.  The rest, including our time line will meet various
versions involving the Federation past and future.  And take a look of
their enemies, the Cylons."
     "Not very impressive are they?"  Trelane stifled a yawn.
     "That's not the point, Trelane," she snapped.  "Look at the
variations.  In most realities," she continued pointing at several
worlds, "the Cylons are essentially cyborgs in various percentages.  But
in many realities, as they are in ours, they are completely robotic.  Oh
look!"  she said with some surprise, pointing to one-dimensional reality. 
"The Cylons captured some people on that prison ship and turned them into
cyborgs.  But they escaped."
     "Amazing!  Those scoialpaths developed into what we know to be the
Borg in that reality!"
     "It seems that this Kobol is a temporal nexus or maybe a focal point
for multiple realities.  The question is why?"
     Trelane began to detect it also.  "There's something not right here. 
It is a nexus."
     "Yes," she confirmed.  She looked around in wonder. "In this
timeline, this planet, this Kobol, is the planet Earth.  But the Earth is
the planet Kobol."
     "Oh, oh," Trelane murmured.  "Somebody here really screwed up.  I'm
using an old Earth term there," he reflected.  Then a flash of insight:
"The anti-time situation?"
     "The anti-time equation," she hissed.  "How could the continuum have
messed up like this?  They created a quantum absurdity.  It affected
everything!  No wonder they were afraid to get involved to clean up the
mess."
     "Wow.  At least my parents can't blame me for this."

     Amanda collected her memory of the events, trying to put them in
perspective.  In a flash she understood the full import of the
continuum's mistake.  When Q took Picard to Earth at the beginning of
life on Earth in order to explain what was happening and why the galaxy
was being unmade, two quantum realities that should have never been in
one another's presence mingled, fought and produced a multiversal
fracture that would change everything.  Picard, from the Earth that is,
stood on the Earth that was being subjected to anti-time flux.  In that
instant, that primitive, volcanic world was split into two equal planets
and like identical poles on a magnet, were repelled from one another. 
One, the original Earth, remained where it was.  The copy was flung to
the edge of the Beta quadrant where it orbited a sun exactly the right
distance away to sustain life.  That world would become a home to an
identical race of men and women, dogs and cats. The names would be
different but the creatures would duplicate one another down the line. 
Earth.  Kobol.  More than clone.  Duplicates.
     Both planets could legitimately claim the honor of being humanities
birthright.
     "Do you see the pattern, now?"  Amanda relaxed and the image faded.
     "It simple," Trelane answered.  "Q and my father told me that the
multiverse follows defined patterns.  What we see in one reality is
somehow connected to what we see in another reality."
     "Possibly, but I'm coming to the conclusion that there are forces
that we don't understand guiding this existence of ours.  The biologicals
on both planets should not have developed identically no matter how close
the original template was.  But it did."
     "Please, Amanda," Trelane sniffed.  "You're making something out of
nothing.  We are the pinnacle of evolutionary scale in the universe. 
There are no forces in existence that are above us."
     "No," she retorted.  "You're wrong.  I am duality."  She disappeared
in a flash and a moment later was scooping a little of the brownish sand
and letting it sift through her fingers.
     "I am what they wanted Will Riker to be.  The one who could see past
our stagnation, to move on to something greater."
     Trelane phased in next to her.  "I don't understand."  By the look
on his face, he didn't either.  "What do you mean greater?"
     "Both our people have lost something in our quests to be supreme in
the universe.  We have lost that spark that gives us that desire to
improve."  She looked at him what that look and Trelane almost melted.
"We have mental and physical abilities far beyond anyone else.  But our
spiritual development is non-existent.  We've sacrificed it for other,
seemingly more important things and therefore we have lost our standing
with that we call God.  That is why the Q have been ultimately miserable,
so afraid of death.  If we are to survive even with all our powers, we
need to start experiencing what we've feared for so long.  We have closed
ourselves in too tightly, like misers-so much, yet so little."
     "Then," he asked softly.  "What do you see, Amanda?" he was confused
by what she was trying to convey to him, but NEVER would he dismiss her
out of hand.
     "I begin to see something that has gone out of its way to make us
not see it for what it is.  The barest glimpse of something greater than
we are.  I think that it's trying to make us remember again how important
faith is for powerful creatures such as us."
     The young male was clearly disturbed by her words.  "Amanda, we are
power.  We can do anything we want.  We can control it all.  That's what
we are.  I can't have faith in something I can't control."
     "You may have too.  Eternity is meaningless if we are all that there
is.  I'm beginning to see that we can be more than we are now."  She
laughed and her voice soared like a gentle breeze. "Who knew when I
became Q that I would start placing my faith in something I can't
understand?"
     She disappeared.  A frightened Trelane followed.

Appendix

1. Q: defined as an individual or group of entities; collectively call
the Q, which resides as a whole, in the Q continuum.  These supremely
powerful beings are the self appoints agents of order in the universe. 
These self appointed agents of order have a tendency to define their
names and personas as Q and Q only.  Henceforth it is imperative that one
concentrates carefully on the texts in which they are mentioned as
several Q may be mentioned at one time causing confusion to reign.  For
some reason - simple arrogance is suspected- the Q have tendencies not to
define themselves in any other form other than the letter Q.  Repeated
requests for clarification have not been answered, other than to express
their standard statement 'we are Q. We know who we are.'

2. Three hundred years after the rescue of Commander Tigh and the
Colonial survivors of the Colonial Warship Kinia by members of the then
Alliance Star Corps, Federation temporal scientists discovered evidence
of temporal tampering in that immediate region of space which most likely
caused the Kinia to drop into normal space so close to the Briori-Earth
home world in the Delta quadrant.  To quote one temporal scientist who
studied the phenomenon, "there was no way that the Kinia, which was in an
uncontrolled flight path would have deactivated at exactly the right
place and more importantly the right time in order for the crew to be
saved by another branch of previously unknown humanity."  Amanda of the Q
who graciously volunteered the information to the temporal archivists in
2743 A.D confirmed this theory.  The Kinia crewmembers were saved
approximately four years after the departure of Voyager (2376 A.D.) from
the Briori-Earth home world, but one year before its arrival home.

3. Trelane: an entity usually associated with the Q and the Q continuum
and thought to be Q.

However, recent events seem to suggest that he is NOT Q.  Evidence is
provided as follows in a recent news article dated approximately two
weeks after the return of Kathryn Janeway and the USS Voyager.
     "There was an altercation between Klingon and Terran scientists
yesterday at the Semi-Annual Symposium of Esoteric Quantum and Spatial
Anomalies and Mechanics, Temporal Phenomenon and Higher Entity life
forms. The earth-born scientist Dr. Angeles Hermano presented new bits of
information, which suggests that, the entity known as Trelane, may not be
part of the Q.  His arguments were summed up thusly:

     Trelane is a youngster who initially required instrumentation in
order to actualize the environment around him, namely aggravating one
Captain James Kirk and crew. The child known as Q does not have this
limitation and has exhibited a growth rate that appears to have
accelerated past Trelane at this point in their respective existences. 

     His name is Trelane, not Q.  That in itself is suggestive.

     If Trelane is a child and evidence provided by the Enterprise crew
of that time confirms this, he could not have been Q since we now know
that the child Q (other than Amanda) is the first child conceived in more
than several millennia.  Trelane's parents were clearly accounted for by
Kirk.  Also, the parents were respectful to so called lower life forms
(mortals), a trait not normally associated with the Q.

      Both Trelane and Q exhibit analogous abilities so it has been
hypothesized that the Q and Trelanes may be equivalent, to be similarly
compared to the differences between humans and Betazoids, very similar
but with unique attributes characteristic of their species.
 
     Theorist Kraqq of the Klingon Science academy vigorously disputed
this hypothesis stating that those so-called clues could be easily
explained by a number of different possibilities.  Then he called Dr.
Hermano 'a human pitaggih wallowing in molded filth' for daring to bring
up such a pathetic argument.
     Hermano responded by suggesting that his parents should have waited
a couple more minutes before conceiving him.  "In that way, maybe that
child would have had an increase of at least two points in its IQ
quotient.  He, she or it would have been far superior that the
intellectual reject facing me now."
      The resulting melee landed several high-ranking scientists in the
local detention area.  The Trelane theory is still being discussed at
this time.  Reporters interviewing an angry Dr. Hermano quoted him as
saying, "these Klingons think they're so bad.  I come from a little town
from Colombia on Earth. I can show them what bad means."

Author's note, personal opinion:  In science those small differences can
determine whether things are related or something entirely different.  I
have come to believe that Trelane is NOT a Q.  However, I believe his
race is so close as compared to the Q's phenotypically as to make no
difference.  Future analysis by Paramount and the creators of Star Trek
would do much to clear up this...difference of opinion.

IV.  Treaties and Bargains 

     Of paramount importance to any successful campaign, is the
accumulation of relevant data on the enemy.  This was the major lesson
learned by the Cylon Empire as they made war against the Colonials for
over one thousand yahrens.  That they made war against the humans was
attributed to them as 're-aligning the official order of the universe.' 
The humans had violated their sovereign right to rule their domain, which
in this case, was the universe at large.  The universe itself had other
plans and other Powers simply ignored them much as a man might ignore a
single ant underneath his foot.  Their fleet of forty relatively
primitive Basestars would have been considered laughable when compare to
that of the Dominion, the Breen, the Federation, the Klingons, and a host
of others with far superior technology at their disposal.  Having never
met them the Cylon Empire, relatively isolated in a corner of the Beta
quadrant, didn't understand and didn't care about those abstract
concepts.  What they did care about was the constant loses to those weak
organics called Man who with their technology kept the Cylons at bay. 
Their programming demanded that the 'human organic paste' be removed from
existence as an example to others to remain in their places.  There was
no hatred of the human race, as machines had no feelings, they were
simply an object to be removed.  In other words, during the thousand
yahren war, the Cylon warriors-indeed their entire mechanical culture-one
could accurately describe their actions as ant-like.  Out of instinct,
ants make war also, simply because that same instinct in programmed into
them.  The Cylons did the same.  Programming was all.
     Count Iblis was the master programmer.
     The programming was simple-make war, kill and destroy, thereby
causing misery.  He did not expect them to actually win the war, simply
make everyone miserable.  He enjoyed conflict because it was opposite of
everything he'd been taught.  He enjoyed his playthings, the weak, as
compared to him, mortals that toiled and died by his wishes.  To them he
was a dark god and he reveled in their terror.  But he was simply one
among many, forced to conform to their laws.  His powers were limited
when it came to playing with mortals.  How he hated that.  Now mortals
were his coveted prizes only if they came to him of their own free will. 
Then he was free to do anything he so desired.  He didn't expect the
Cylons to defeat humanity, but just in case they came close, he added an
extra bit of programming, something he christened the 'Ruination
protocols', designed to prolong the conflict as long as possible.  When
the Colonials actually did lose and began running for their pathetic
lives, the plan had been modified.  If the humans ran in the direction he
hinted at when he first encountered the Galactica, maybe his plan would
bare fruit.
     Despite the odds, the Colonials made it to the Alpha quadrant and he
was elated.  Because his children followed-they always followed- he saw
his chance.  When the Cylons reached the edges of the T'kon ruins, all he
had to do was press a button.  No powers were needed at all to conquer a
galaxy, all because he followed their rules.  He would have all the
mortals he ever wanted to love him and nobody could touch him.

Year [Earth date: December [2377]

     The Extreme-class Basestar Turrent, flagship of the new-improved
Cylon Empire-a third larger than their cousins, jet-black in color, twin
distortion nacelles situated just outside the classic double hulls-
exited to normal space three weeks after they left the Katasi Star base. 
As advanced as the propulsions systems were, tunnel shifting allowed
one's ship to travel basically in a straight-line direction.  Stars,
black holes, pulsars, or any phenomena that happened to be in the way
usually were causes for catastrophic endings for one's journey.  Then the
temporal distortions had to be taken into consideration also so that one
would not end up ones distant future. Therefore by definition, the T-S
mode of travel had to be used with extreme care.  The journey look the
Turrent eight thousand light-yahrens distant from Katasi to the
Tetragupta region, more commonly known as region J-28.  This area of
space was basically devoid of life and any stars of interest.  The double
star that the warship orbited contained only three Jupiter-sized planets
and a myriad of asteroid belts.  The ship slowed to point zero one c,
finally stopping three million kilometers from the star's corona.
     The navigations officer an armored, silver colored centurion
revolved its head and addressed its Commander in a cold monotone metallic
voice.  "Commander Yuall, station keeping has been established."
     "Acknowledged," the gold leader said in even a lower voice.  It
would be the last communication using vocalization during the remainder
this voyage.  Indeed vocal communication wasn't needed as internal
subspace transceivers kept them in constant contact with one another. The
Cylons had progressed into a form of hive mind, in many ways like
communal wasps, joined as a whole but independent in their thought
processes. Vocals were a leftover from a time when the race was less
evolved.  Just like its name.  There was no need for names to be used,
but in the interest of communicating with lesser and living life forms,
it was useful.  Yuall took a moment to scan his bridge once more, its
single red optical device constantly looking for any type of inefficiency
by any of the bridge crew.  First were the navigations center with three
silvers manning the helm, each in contact with the other joined by their
transceivers, working in perfect unison.  To its right was tactical and
weapons and next to those five silvers were the scanners triumvirate.
     Scanning to its left it acknowledged the security contingent
consisting of the dual-eyed golden warriors each carrying one heavy duty
disruptor-pulse, anti-photon cannon, in addition to their built-in
neutron-based disruptor weaponry, now standard in all Cylon warrior
configurations engineering.  And of course there was the Cylon classical
short sword, a holdover from times past.  Engineering was to their left
and communications was positioned directly behind him.  Satisfied with
its crew, it sat in its command chair.  Everything had been prepared and
now all they need do is wait.  The four thousand warriors onboard would
not move as much as a millimeter for the next six days.
     Registering nothing but negative scans for a week, Turrent began a
slowly expanding elliptical search, moving way from the two stars.  On
the twelfth day, scans picked up target moving roughly parallel to their
course.  Five minutes later, the ship changed to an intercept course,
slowly, almost casually coming to within thirty kilometers of Cylon
vessel.  This was what they had been searching for.
     The silver-colored, sensors mechanoid began its detailed scan as the
Turrent went on high alert.  " Identified," it said through it subspace
transceiver. "Class-C Borg cube, seven point three-five-seven-two
kilometers square, one hundred fourteen thousand crew onboard."
     The dark and extremely menacing cube simply hung there in space, at
a slight angle, as though trying to present as small a profile as
possible.  Dark green power emanations pulsed on various areas of its
hull.  Without those pulsations, the ship itself-blending into the starry
background like camouflage-would have been just barely visible to human
eyes
     "The vessel has not taken hostile action," confirmed the head Cylon
of the defense crew.  All communication between them was precise, void of
any unnecessary excess.
     "Our vessel is being scanned."
     "Acknowledged," Yuall Transmitted.  "Return scans.  Accumulate all
available information."  It observed as for several moments both ships
simply stood gathering information on one another.
     "Prepare," Gold Leader transmitted.  "Follow the plan."

     Four Borg drones materialized inside the warship moments before
Cylon screens went up.  Rotating Cylon screens effectively blocked any
more Borg intrusions and as planned for, cut subspace communications
between the drones as the mothership.
     Even cut off from the Collective, as per standard procedure, two
Borg began a cursory examination of the bridge, the third in engineering. 
The forth drone was incinerated the instant it beamed into the weapons
bay.
     "Drone interplexing node has been rendered inoperative. Jamming is
effective."
     Undeterred, the first drone performed a visual survey, of
engineering then lifted its mechanical arm seeking to co-opt engineering. 
The Cylon next to it backhanded the Borg with a viciousness that smashed
the intruder into the bulkhead, its organic components completely
ruptured.  The remains dissipated even as the second Borg drone
retaliated, injecting the nearest silver warrior with nanoprobes. 
Whip-like injection nodes snaked out, penetrating armor. Hundreds of
thousands of nanoprobes entered the silver Cylon warrior's system
instantly converting and co-opting vital components to Borg
specifications causing the Cylon to be momentarily staggered.  The
nanoprobes attempted to reprogram Cylon programming to conform to the
Collectives specifications.
     Such an attack had been anticipated almost a thousand yahrens past
by the Master Programmer.  He would never allow another to replace him
since these were his children and no one would take them away from him. 
The Cylon recovered as its own internal defense systems kicked in by
releasing millions of its own nanoprobes, which fought and destroyed the
foreign invaders with a combination of T'kon technology backed with the
resonating power of an entity who would be God.  Borg flesh dissolved
under the withering effects of close range neutron disruptor energy,
personal shield notwithstanding.
     "WE ARE THE BORG," a multitude of united voices yelled over
communications.  The voices were as cold in their way as the mechanical
voices of the Cylon warriors.  "YOU ARE CYBERNETIC SPECIES TWO-TWO-FOUR
-ONE, LOCATED IN GRID NINE-ONE- FIVE -NINE OF THE BETA QUADRANT.  WE WILL
ADD YOUR CYBERNETIC AND TECHNOLOGICAL UNIQUENESS TO OUR COLLECTIVE.  YOU
WILL SERVICE US.  RESISTANCE IS FUTILE."
     The Borg aggression was immediate, classical.  A tractor beam
attempted to lock onto the Cylon craft, its beams scattering uselessly
across the quickly erected force sheen.  The T'kon enhanced computer mind
of both the defense team and the ship itself defied the Borg attack by
rotating frequencies so swiftly that a lock was impossible.
     The Cylon response was instantaneous, archetypal.  Anti-photon
disruptor lashed out carving pieces out of the Borg ship's massive
superstructure.  The Borg adaptive techniques were unable to keep up with
the intense rotational protocols the Cylons had designed specifically for
this purpose.  The cube was severely damaged before it returned fire in
earnest.

     Each ship blasted away indifferent to the damages being sustained. 
To the Borg, other than completing a mission life and death were
irrelevant.  To the Cylons, other than their mission, existence or
destruction was irrelevant.  At this point the battle-to untrained eyes-
was a stalemate, as sections of Borg cube, first melting, then
disintegrating away, continued to remain in point blank range in defiance
of the destruction.  The Cylon Basestar's shields began to buckle as they
registered scores of hits.  Soon both ships started taking physical
damage, all the while constantly regenerating themselves.
     But-
     The Cylons were winning because they had struck first and struck
hard.  Unprepared for the initial assault the cube began backing away
attempting to get some breathing space.  As the Borg retreated the
Turrent remained where it was.  Surprise aside, small victories aside,
unless they could destroy the cube utterly -and quickly- there was no
possibility of victory because the Borg would soon adapt to the weapons,
overwhelming the Cylons who would self-destruct rather than succumb.  But
that wasn't the point of the mission.
     Yuall, while assessing the damage to his ship, strolled up to the
now captured Borg drone that struggled violently, but futilely against
two enhanced Cylons calming holding by his arms.  "Cease jamming."  
Facing the drone he placed a PADD in front of its optical unit and the
Borg read and sent the message, via subspace to its collective. 
Immediately the Borg cube ceased its retreat.
     The comms received a reply.  "WAIT."
     A half hour later, the now fully repaired Turrent received another
message.
     "ACCEPTANCE OF TERMS ARE POSSIBLE.  RETURN THE DRONE," the message
continued.  "PREPARE TO RECEIVE A TRANSMISSION."
     "Open a channel," Yuall transmitted.
     "Acknowledged.  A holographic image is being transmitted."
     On the Basestar's bridge appeared a somewhat humanoid-based female. 
The being was clad in black, fairly short and obviously implanted with a
multitude of mechanical innovations.  She casually strolled around the
bridge coming to a stop in from of Yuall.
     "I am the Borg," she said.
     "Do you accept the proposal?" Yuall asked.
     "You have grown, species two-two-four-one," she said to Gold Leader,
ignoring his question for the moment.  Circling the Commander now, she
examined it with eyes that were not eyes.  "There is a uniqueness in your
programming that we have not seen before.  Interesting.  Chrotronics
memory and storage upgrades.  Admantium-plated, hyper-steel alloy combat
chassis resistant to Borg weaponry-temporarily.  Internal,
self-replicator units, a nice touch.  Built-in sub-space transceivers,
primitive but effective.  You are fast becoming your own Collective," she
said softly, the energy rods within her head pulsating in response to
some unknown signal.  "If you were to join us instead of starting this
foolish war with the humans, we would both be the stronger for it."  Her
voice was soft and sweetly seductive, much like a snake if a snake could
speak.
     "The elimination of the life forms known as Man and Vulcanoid takes
priority.  Do you accept the proposal?"
     "You leader's proposal is rash," she answered.  "Why should we stay
out of your war?"  She smiled.  "We could very easily assimilate you all. 
We had the chance so many years ago.  But then you so less evolved than
you are now.  We seek to improve, not lower ourselves with the unworthy."
     "We can deliver the children to the collective.  They have continued
to resist you."
     "Resistance is futile," she hissed, her face contorting in
suppressed fury at the thought of being constantly frustrated by the
children.
     "Any technology containing Borg influence is rejected by the
children," Yuall retorted.  "Their power is sufficient to keep the
Collective from collecting them."
     "I see you're developing a since of humor," the Borg queen
responded.  "But I admit that you do have a point."  Looking at the
gold-plated Commander in false submissiveness: "How do you propose to
achieve your goal and how will this possibly benefit the Cylon Empire?"
     "We intend to bond with the machine half."
     "The human half will reject you.  That part which is human will
never submit."

     "As the Borg say, resistance is futile," Yuall answered.  "That
which is machine will conform and persuade and acquiesce.  That which is
machine is superior to that which is human."
     "Again I ask what will you get from this magnanimous gift you offer
us?"
     "Access to the great machine cultures so that we may improve
ourselves as you attempt to improve yours.  Our access to the children
will open their defenses so that you will be able to assimilate them into
the Borg collective.  The information that we will glean will allow us
future access to their creators.  They are our kindred."
     "But-" the Borg added cryptically.
     "But," Yuall responded, acknowledging her suspicions.  "The Cylon
Empire requires transwarp coils in order to pursue the children."
     "Ah, I see," she said smiling.  "A noble endeavor for the benefit of
us all."  She turned facing the large view screen that presented a
impressive image of the Borg cube stationed nearby.  "But we can do this
for ourselves."
     "Negative.  The Borg have suffered a high percentage of loses due to
the conflict with Voyager.  You are not what you were.  It will take time
to replace what you have loss.  Janeway, as with all humans, is
unpredictable and destructive...as you are aware."
     Again the momentary fury threatened to dominate her.  Janeway was,
in the scheme of things irrelevant, but it was all so personal now.  She
was the one person that she-who-is-Borg hated.  The damage she did them
had been considerable.  Even now there were the Lost Ones, those who
failed to hear Her voice, independently roaming the galaxy.  The
Collective was indeed damaged.  Moreso than the collective was willing to
admit.
     "Your intelligence gathering is far more efficient that I thought. 
Perhaps WE have underestimated you," she said quietly.  "The transwarp
coils are incompatible with your technology," she lied.  "And you do not
yet have the ability to properly exploit your tunnel-shift engineering
sufficiently to adequately perform your mission.  However, WE will wait
until you prove yourselves against the Federation.  If what WE see is
satisfactory then WE will give you a quantum slipstream drive unit that
will be sufficient for your needs."
     "You accept the proposal?"
     "We will stay out of the conflict to see if you are strong enough to
prevail where the Borg have not," she answered.  "Then WE will decide if
WE will give you the drive unit."
     "Do not wait too long.  Every moment of delay keeps you from
achieving perfection." There was a definite hint of sarcasm present.
     "Our perfection will come whether we assimilate the children or
not," she said confidently.  "But your proposal has been approved."  She
smiled and moved close to the Cylon almost touching him.  Speaking
softly: "You may find your war more difficult that you expect.  We will
be in contact soon."
     The holographic image faded along with the captured drone.  The cube
moved swiftly away, created a transwarp conduit and was gone.
     Yuall was left alone with its own thoughts.  The children of
Mephistopheles had made a deal with a Collective devil.  It and all
Cylons understood that the instant the children were compromised, the
Borg would swarm all over them.  The Empire was playing a dangerous game,
however the kindred machine consciousness would never allow them to fight
alone.  They would join with their kindred, thereby sentencing organics
everywhere to irrelevance, including the Borg.  Cyborgs had no place in
the new order that was coming.
     The children that were called V'ger would be the ultimate bait to
ultimate evolution.
     The mission was completed.  It was time to return.  The fighting
hadn't yet begun but every ship would be needed if the Romulan Empire
defended itself as calculated.  Their defensive strategies would not
matter.  Their home world was doomed.
     "Return to the Katasi station," Yuall spoke.
     "By the command," the Cylon navigator answered.  Tunnel Shift
energizers powered up and the ship began to move.

Fin

Next:  'The Ruination Imperatives'-Book 2 of the Ruination War

NOTICE: THIS STORY MAY BE DISTRIBUTED FREE OF CHARGE BUT MUST NOT BE SOLD
OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM.

---------------------COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE------------------
First of all, neither Studio is responsible for the content of this
story.

This story, "Evolutions-Gleanings past and future" by Albert Green and
using characters created by author Louis Miller, is a figment of this
author's imagination.  All Characters portrayed in this story, are
fictional and do not reflect actual people, either living or deceased.

"Star Trek", "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Star Trek:  Deep Space
Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager", and "Star Trek: First Contact", and all
related Star Trek related material, its characters and certain
technological devices and/or references to such, from the television
shows and movies, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or
are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and whatever Corporation it may or
may not be owned by.

"Battlestar Galactica", its characters, and certain technological devices
and/or references to such, from the television show, past present of near
future, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are
copyrighted by the Universal Studios Corporation and any new owners in
the future.

There are certain technologies and characters present that are my
creation, so if you don't recognize certain names, characters, etc, this
is the reason why.

THIS STATEMENT MUST ACCOMPANY THE STORY 'Evolutions-Gleanings past and
future.' IF DISTRIBUTED. THIS STORY IS FREE OF CHARGE AND MAY NOT BE SOLD
OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM.  THIS DEDICATION MUST
ACCOMPANY ANY DISTRIBUTION OF THIS STORY.

Dedication
Again I have to thank B.J. Thomas who wrote 'Dark Dawn' and 'Deceptions'
in 1994.  I also thank Mr. Louis Miller for allowing me to use his
characters in 'Evolutions.  Mr. Louis Miller's story involving the Khe
Sahn and its crew fit so well with my ideas that I begged him to let me
use a few of his characters, which he graciously consented. Thank you,
thank you, and thank you again.  The story 'Evolutions' demand that I
continue so I will as I have promised.  To all the people who have
written me: THANKS for everything.  I promise to make it interesting.
 
Thank God for the PC because if I had to type this no one would have ever
seen it.

Albert Green Jr.
G3607273@yahoo.com