Author's notes: This "Battlestar Galactica"/"Doctor Who" crossover saga,
"Galacticamania," was cowritten throughout the 1980s by R. S. Hadley and B.
J. Rosen, print-fanzine-published by J. R. Janoski's Colonial Enterprises
in 1988, and greatly rewritten by RSH several times over.

For this online version: Thanks to Lisa Zaza and Erin Gieg for
beta-reading; thanks to Rick Perriguey for tolerating all the major
revisions when he liked the original version.

Yes, this is so old that the fanzine version was done on that mythical
object called a typewriter!

Disclaimer: This story has nothing to do with the revived versions of
either Galactica (Galactica In Name Only=GINO) or DW (Who In Name
Only=WINO). It has many other objectionable influences, but not those.

This story is in no way trying to infringe on any existing copyrights of
Universal Studios or the British Broadcasting Corporation, or any other
entities with any claim on "Battlestar Galactica" or "Doctor Who" or, in
passing, any other series mentioned herein. This is a labor of fannish
love. (In short: mania.)

General warnings: deeply insane space opera with a sense of humor (BG with
DW attitude, plus some Douglas Adams), gratuitous usage of psychic powers,
purple-prose demonic darkness, incidents of torture (mostly telepathic),
original characters above and beyond the call of duty, gratuitous
MarySue-ism (including women who work like The Doctor in DW), feminism,
freestyle chaos, alien spirituality, character death, Time Lord-style
regeneration, decidedly non-canon future timeline...something to offend
everyone, but any sex is implied. Alternating humor/darkness may cause
whiplash.

Rating: PG, possibly approaching R (scary bits not for children).

There are no italics/bolding in this online version. Please imagine all
telepathy (with // marks) and dream scenes/non telepathic thoughts (with /
marks) to be in italics. Stressed words are marked _this_ way.

Series timeframe: for BG, an unspecified time after "The Hand of God"; for
DW, the Doctor in Part 1 is Jon Pertwee (1970-1974) and the Doctor in Part
3 is Tom Baker (1975-1981). (However, Shannon acts as The Doctor typically
would for most of the story, trying to put her training to good use.)

In the context of this story, Chai is not tea. Stop laughing. <g>]

***

GALACTICAMANIA


     The high-arched, elegant towers of the Ar'kinlan capital sparkled against
the amber sun. The smoothly curved walls with their frescoed swags and
flowers rose in a graceful sweep to shelter the people of the Crystal City.
The gleaming white walls were broken by crystal windows that scattered
sunlight into multicolored dancing sparks. So beautiful was the city that
its legend persisted on worlds that had had no contact with aliens in
millennia.
     Standing in one of those crystal windows staring out at the beauty
around her with resentment and frustration was a woman who believed in
spirit and passion over stagnant aesthetics.
     Zellie's fists clenched in anger as she tried desperately to
control her rising temper. Zardon's platitudes always set her teeth on
edge. Presently, he was lecturing her on the long-standing protocols of
non-interference in lesser races' development. She could have recited that
speech by heart now, she'd heard it so many times.
     The Lord President's back was rigid, his tall, elegant figure and
handsome face radiating his displeasure and distress. His hair was a long
sweep of blond, so pale as to be white; his eyes were a rich, deep sapphire
that had turned hard and sharp when Zellie had begun to speak.
     It was the same old argument that they'd had a thousand times
before, the same argument others had made, the same argument with the same
people for so damned long. She grimaced and twisted her silver pilot's sash
fiercely.
     She turned her head slightly and noticed Aristephone standing in
the doorway, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.
     Blondly beautiful, she reminded Zellie that her own bright red hair
marked her as different from the rest of her people. She blessed her rebel
parents for engineering her to be a rebel like them, instead of a milksop
idiot like Zardon.
     Ari's face broke into a grin when Zardon started in on the Laws and
Regulations that bound such an advanced society. There was somethIng
freeing in knowing that she wasn't the only person on the planet who didn't
think Lord President Zardon was the font of all wisdom.
     "Zellandra..." he was saying; he was the only one who constantly
used her full name and it annoyed her unreasonably. Not even her arrogant
sister Wendara insisted on this ramrod formality _all_ the bloody time. She
could feel the white-hot tides of rage building in her and knew that she
was losing the battle. /Oh well, enjoy it!/ she sighed. Turning suddenly,
she loosed a tide of invective at the stunned President.
     Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ari's face become thoughtful
and wondered briefly what that meant, but her focus was now on releasing a
century's worth of frustration.
     "You sit on your butts watching the misery and suffering of other
people and have the nerve to tell me that it's wrong to help them! You
ignorant Son of a Beezil Fish!" Of course, she also had a history of
fighting and pirating from some of these people, but she wouldn't bring
_that_ up now.
      "We Ar'kinlans have the power to help millions of beings every day
and all we do is sit around secure in the self-righteous dogma that we are
doing what's ultimately right by ignoring the rest of the universe! You're
a lot of pathetic losers scared to do anything for fear of making mistakes!
I thought you detested Time Lords, but you act just like them! You're
nearly immortal and you've never actually lived a day of your lives! I'm
sick and tired of listening to your mealy-mouthed gabbling about things you
know nothing about!" She stopped for a breath and Lord Zardon, his face a
mask of amazed disapproval, spoke.
     "Are you quite finished?" His voice was full of withering
condescension, but Zellie was immune.
     "With this planet, yes!" She turned on her heel and stomped across
the gleaming white floor of the Council Chamber, her black leather boots
ringing out her anger ever more eloquently than even her forceful
vocabulary ever could. She was so furious with both them and herself for
even trying to make them understand that she failed to notice Ari was no
longer by the door.
     Ari was rushing madly, trying to get everything done at once; even
so, she was almost too late to catch up with the rapidly retreating figure
of the enraged Zellie. Her arms laden, she darted after Zellie into the
spacecraft hangar. She quietly tossed the packages and bundles into one of
the gleaming silver spheres and was about to step in when Zellie suddenly
realized she wasn't alone.
     "What are you doing, Ari?" Zellie demanded.
     "You're leaving?" the slender blonde asked.
     "Right first time. This planet clashes with my nature - I _like_
interfering, damn it! I was _born_ to interfere! If I don't get back into
space, I'll rot away from boredom and frustration!"
     "I understand. I've been meaning to leave, myself."
     Ari's quiet words stunned Zellie, who hadn't realized Ari was so
unhappy here. She always seemed so self possessed. /At least compared to
me!/ Zellie thought wryly.
     "Besides, who'd take care of you, Zellie, if I weren't along? You
need someone sane in your life!"
     "Then I'll have to get someone else; only the truly insane would
travel with me!" Zellie's laughter was infectious and, feeling free in a
way she never had before, Ari slipped into the pilot's seat and chuckled
happily. She hadn't been sure Zellie would give in this easily.
     //Where are we going?// Ari telepathed at Zellie as she pulled the
safety webbing across her lap.
     //To my friends, the Hellraisers, whom I've served with before.//
Zellie returned.
     //Oh...// Ari felt a regret for her course of action creep over
her. The Hellraisers were, um...ah...notorious. /Oh well, too late now.../

     During the late Twentieth Century on a mundane blue-white planet in
an unremarkable galactic sector, a meeting took place at Britain's UNIT
Headquarters.
     A tall, white-haired man with rugged features and stylish garb sat at a
table in his laboratory, working hard at some scientific experimentation.
Tired and a little bored, he wished he could be off again to explore the
wonders of the Universe. His name was the Doctor, and he was an exiled Time
Lord.
     A knock on the door made him look up from his work.
     "Don't bother me, please, Brigadier!" he growled crankily. As he
feared, the door opened anyway, but it was a lightly Gaelic-accented female
voice that came forth.
     "It's not Alastair, Doctor. It's me."
     "Who's 'me'?" he asked, not looking up. Thus he missed her looking
him over with interest. Tall, silver haired, with a mighty nose, dressed in
amazing dandy style...she liked it.
     "You'll see if ye look. I'm right here and I'm not going away. All
right?"
     "Aye," the Doctor commented, absently picking up her accent. "I
mean, yes. All right." He turned to face this stranger.
     He saw a tall, slim, young redhead, with curly dark hair and eerie
green eyes lending her a gracefully catlike appearance. A very lovely lady,
he realized. Hers was a casual style of dress, but attractive: gray jacket,
dark blue sweater and slacks, and golden-brown leather boots.
     "I'm usually known as Shannon," she remarked. "Shannon O'Connor.
Renegade adventurer, professional bagpiper, general nuisance, and all-round
strange entity. I've been working here at UNIT for a time, but my
personality isn't _quite_ in keeping with military restrictions." She
grinned wickedly. "I drive authority mad - including the Brigadier, dear
ol' Alastair."
     The Doctor smiled, believing that. "So - you want to be my
assistant, I take it? Why didn't Lethbridge-Stewart mention this to me
himself?"
     "'Cause I'm not easily explicable to anyone but myself - and even I
have trouble sometimes! If ye don't mind terribly, o' course. I know ye've
got Miss Grant, but she's hardly the scientist I've heard ye were looking
for, now is she?"
     "Well, no, but...are you qualified?"
     "Aye!" /If you only knew how much.../ she added silently. "I may
act like an accident waiting for a place to happen, at times, but I'm more
than just a pretty face." She grinned again. "I was at NASA - and it wasn't
to serve the guys drinks! In other words, I don't stand around handing
things over and saying how brilliant others are."
     "I don't doubt it, m'dear." He watched her with amused fascination
as she straightened up from leaning against the table and wandered casually
about the lab.
     "Cute decor," she commented, observing the blue police callbox in
the corner. "Ye keep policemen in there, maybe?"
     "Ah...no. I keep something very strange in there. It's difficult to
explain."
     "Is it?" Shannon explored further, then stopped before the callbox,
appraising it. "Odd. I wonder..." She glanced at the Doctor, then back
again. "Could be..."
     "Hmm? Something wrong?"
     "Just a weird feeling." /Hmm...UNIT's set up to deal with aliens.
Could their Scientific Advisor _be_ an alien? What the Brigadier told
me...he's a little strange for human. And look at me! I pose as human, but
people always sense a fundamental weirdness. My NASA comrades always knew I
wasn't what I seemed. Attractive, whatever he is, though. Pity he has the
sex life of a dead sea slug.../ Shannon giggled. /Now how do I know that?/
     Shannon smirked, knowing that something about Earth was attracting
aliens, either visitors/exiles like herself, or hostiles out to win a
Cosmic Olympics Award for being the first race to stage a successful
invasion. /But what do they _want_ with it?/ At this stage, Earth was
primitive even now; there were definite limits to what could be done with
it. /Maybe the gods in assorted dimensions could use it as the ball in an
intergalactic cricket match. Except that it might be whacked into a black
hole, and that _would_ be a shame. For all their barbarism, these people
have created bagpipes, saxophones, pizza.../
     "Are you all right?" came the Doctor's voice to derail her train of
thought.
     "Aye, just thinking." She touched the strange blue box, closed her
eyes to "see" the interior. It _was_ alien...and a craft... Goddess, it was
a TARDIS! /Oh no, I don't need this!/ Quickly, she reached out and
'touched' her host's mind; lightly, but he turned to her swiftly, with a
startled "What?!"
     "A Time Lord!" she exclaimed, recalling an Ar'kinlan insult.
"Time-Slime, to coin a phrase." Nervously, she added, "I'm not thrilled..."
     The Doctor detected her tension and wondered. After the mind-touch,
he was aware of her power, but not of what use she might choose to put it.
"Evidently not," he replied. "What's wrong?"
     "You didn't say you were Gallifreyan."
     "You didn't ask! How could I know I know you'd understand half the
things I could tell you, Shannon?!"
     "An alien can't sense another alien from several feel away? What
happened to your recognition power?" /I should talk; I didn't know he was
Gallifreyan until I saw that TARDIS.../
     "I'm sorry, I never worked on that very hard. If I should know you
- if I knew you in another regeneration - I'm sorry. I'm a renegade. I've
never been keen on obeying authority - including the Academy's."
     "Aye? Well, we have that in common." She relaxed, grinning broadly,
seeing the Doctor appear relieved. "Actually, you shouldn't necessarily
know me, though I was something of a scandal. I was born on Gallifrey, to
be sure, but I'm half-Ar'kinlan."
     The Doctor shuddered. "_That's_ where 'Time-Slime' came from!"
     "Indeed! But the Ar'kinlan has its uses." She considered what to
tell him. "Usually Shannon O'Connor. I'm Jennika, or to be ritually
ridiculous, Lady Jennikatrakaleyna. Let's stick with Shannon, shall we? I
like it - I 'slipped into something more comfortable'!"
     The Doctor laughed. "I understand. I've gone by 'Doctor' for so
long, I can barely recall my real name, anyway, and it's no real loss."
     "You're a renegade, you say. I was sent to this planet long ago.
Used aliases along the way. Didn't wanta freak people out by staying in one
place too long, as my aging process isn't human, and they might think I'm a
witch." /Why did I mention that?/ she shuddered. /Leave it alone./
"That...did happen once. Another story."
     The Doctor saw her discomfort, and steered away from that. "Don't
worry about me. I'm in exile here. We're...partners in crime."
     "And how did you manage to be sentenced here?"
     "I like to interfere."
     Shannon gave him a look, pretending disgust. "How horrible! That
ol' thing?"
     "Yes. That old thing."
     "I've often thought that those pompous regenerated geriatrics of
the High Council need a good, vigorous invasion."
     "Oh, that's very good!" the Doctor laughed, echoing her description
of the Council.
     Shannon giggled delightedly. "Xenophobic old windbags. They sent me
here because I was far more than they could handle. They allegedly gave me
a choice. Hah. Frankly, they didn't want me there anymore. I didn't like
the Citadel; always preferred the desertlands. I was born out there."
     "Are you a Shobogan?" the Doctor wondered, refering to the
desert-dwelling warriors of Gallifrey.
     "By training. My father was a Prydonian renegade. He met up with an
Ar'kinlan on a mission and went back to Gallifrey with her! Their eventual
return to the Citadel made certain officials so bloody mad, they were
pursued. They ran out, leaving me to put up with the old stuffed shirts. I
trekked out into the desertlands until I infuriated them. When I became too
weird for them to handle, they sent me and some friends here, on Sol Three.
Terra, Earth, whatever. We had fun, ran into endless trouble, attempted to
blend in with the population. Here _I_ am, at least. If 'survival of the
fittest' is true, I should be very happy - I'm the only survivor of my
team. They all managed to be killed off over the years!"
     "Oh dear..." The Doctor sat back and regarded her for a moment.
"Not to annoy you, but why the change from NASA to UNIT? Isn't this boring
by comparison?"
     "No. It deals with aliens, doesn't it! The rest is...a long story.
I couldn't bear my superiors, or the red tape, any longer. I detest
bureaucracy. I may leave UNIT, too, but not yet. I like diverse experience.
With intelligent-minded help, perhaps I could build my own TARDIS."
     "You must not have thought very highly of your NASA colleagues!"
     "I had good friends there," she corrected him. "They were as
intelligent as Terran humans get, but, face it, they're not Gallifreyan or
Ar'kinlan! Those who knew, accepted that I was alien, but they wouldn't
have understood time travel. On my own, I created a dimensional cloak that
I can teleport and time travel with, but I've found it only lets me travel
over whichever planet I happen to be on - Earth, for now. When I came
here...I think I arrived _before_ I left Cape Canaveral."
     "Not a paradox..." the Doctor sighed. "Beware the Blinovich
Limitation Effect!"
     "Aye. Well, I don't intend to return."
     This piqued the Doctor's interest further. "Are you in trouble, by
any chance?"
     She laughed outright. "Trouble? I'm always in trouble!" The Doctor
rolled his eyes. "Of course I am. I left without officially
resigning...AWOL."
     "Marvelous."
     "Sure! But they can't do anything. They'd never be able to find me,
anyway. I'm sneaky."
     "Would you mind telling me what brought this on?"
     "Nothing criminal on my part, if that's what concerns you, Doctor."
/Well, not very. If you don't count my crashing that jet.../ "It doesn't
matter." /Oh, right.../ "This isn't my planet; I'm not bound to its
authority. But I'm stuck here, so I decided long ago to enjoy myself and
evade boredom."
     "Ah yes." A sigh. "Boredom. I'm an exiled 'cosmic crusader', with a
dysfunctional TARDIS - thanks to the Time Lords - and I may go mad here if
I have to stay for the rest of my lives."
     "Poor dear. I can't help; I'm as stuck as you. Maybe they'll
forgive you?"
     "I can't see that happening any time soon..."
     But it did.

     The Doctor gave a relaxing stretch and grinned at his reverie,
satisfied that the TARDIS was functioning relatively normally. He'd been
overflowing with pessimism half a year ago. So much had happened since then!
     The mad Time Lord engineer, Omega, had challenged Gallifrey, the
Doctor had been summoned to help (in all three of his available
regenerations). His defense was a success, and the grateful Time Lords had
granted him freedom and returned his TARDIS to use by sending a new
dematerialization circuit and returning to his mind the theories they had
telepathically blocked. Shannon, away on business as a UNIT agent, missed
this milestone battle, but upon her return, and her help in getting the
TARDIS space/timeworthy again, he'd resumed adventuring faster than he had
imagined possible. To be free...! The Doctor felt the glory of it, and knew
Shannon shared the joy.
     The two of them still retained their ties to UNIT, however. They
had a sort of debt to be on hand when an alien's knowledge was required,
but they didn't resent this. They had regained the capacity to travel, to
choose. And UNIT offered truly odd experiences on its own.
     Out for a ride in a UNIT jeep, Shannon was sidetracked by a TARDIS
materializing by the roadside! Thus she met a young woman who called
herself Jolene Whomana. The Doctor also knew her as
"Jaleneyalenalerindxinoleiahleh," a regrettable example of tongue-twisting
gone rampant. He revealed the reason she was known to him: she had been
created as his daughter some five hundred Gallifreyan years ago, by two
utterly inebriated genetic engineers. She had been travelling in her
father's style for years on end, after leaving Gallifrey, and, hearing of
his exile, had intended to drop by to help.
     Despite Jolene's initial distrust of Shannon's Ar'kinlan ancestry,
the two had become great friends. Jolene stayed on at UNIT with them.
Having built her own TARDIS, Jolene helped Shannon draft plans for another
custom-built Ship, and the Gallikinlan was very tempted to finish it soon.
But she wanted to travel with the Doctor for a while yet, and remained with
him when Jolene eventually left. She would leave, though...
     The Doctor jumped, briefly shocked out of his contemplation, then
relaxed. It was merely Shannon's bagpipe practice. It did little good for
his nerves. He groaned, blinked, and recalled that he had almost taught Jo
Grant to play them. The combInation of that girl and bagpipes was an idea
that made him cringe!
     He had travelled with them both on one occasion - a frightening
concept. Though one was a renegade alien familiar with astronautics, and
the other was a nervous young aspiring spy who'd never passed a science
course in her life, they did share the same wacky humor. That could
generate some fairly hair-raising antics aboardship...
     A great squeal by his ear caused the Doctor to jump back. "What?!"
     Back in real time, Shannon grinned inquisitively, bagpipes round
her neck. "Couldn't resist that. You were so out of it, I couldn't snap you
back any other way. What's on your mind?"
     "These last few months. I was fearing I'd miss you if you left,"
the Doctor remarked. "But if you keep that up, I could convince myself
otherwise!"
     "Hah," came the flip reply. "I doubt it. I'll be in my quarters -
kindly call me if we make an interesting planetfall?" She left the control
room.
     The Doctor stared after her, then laughed. She was right, of
course. Such wild company _would_ be missed.

     A ragged, bearded human lay unconscious on a hot, sandy surface,
dreaming uneasily.
     He saw himself as if outside his body, with two people approaching
him, a man in white robes and a woman in black whose hair matched the shade
of her outfit. The woman knelt by him.
     "Exile doesn't agree with you, hmm?" She looked up at the man. "He
doesn't seem like much."
     "He's not at his best. To be honest, I'm not certain he _has_ a
'best'. However, he suits my needs."
     The woman shrugged. "If you say so."
     /I think I'm dying,/ the human reflected crankily. /You could at
least not insult me now!/
     He heard an answering laugh. Apparently they disagreed - just his luck.
     "Do we take him with us or does his ship?"
     The man gazed into the sky. "His ship is on its way back to
retrieve him, as we arranged. Then we can prepare."
     /Prepare? Prepare for what?/
     The woman placed a hand on the human's head. He heard her voice.
//Here is some strength and rage to let you survive a little longer. You'll
be seeing us again. Dream on.//
     Dreams shifted into nightmares, his weakness into rage that drove
him back into wakefulness. He sat up and stared around himself, but no one
else was there.
     "What was that?" he muttered. "Dreams...frack that. Must get out of
sun..." He pulled himself back to his feet and hiked on.
     In the end, the only others he located were a squad of Cylons
searching especially for him, and they were looking pretty good to him by
that point.

     In the lurking darkness of dreams, voices came...
     /..."Old pirate I may be, but I have my limits, and I don't like
that place."
     ..."THUNDERBIRD - we have big problems down here! Toragon went into
the...temple...after Dr. Sebastian and that demon-child. They're locked in
there; we can't get in..."
     "Come back now!"
     "We can't leave the Captain..."
     ..."Oh, Goddess, we're dead!"
     ...A great surge of a telekinetic explosion ripped through the
temple, took out most of the area, even hit the ship in orbit...and, oh,
Toragon, Serana, Tella, Deran, all the lost ones.../
     The redhead gasped and sat up in the darkness, shaking stray hair
out of her eyes. "Oh, not my parents...why am I remembering this now?"
     "Is everything all right, Z?" a voice spoke quietly from the
communications system.
     "I'm not certain, Rory. That's not something I like having called up."
     "You mentioned your parents. Were you remembering THUNDERBIRD and...?"
     "Yes," she cut him off. "The demon."
     "My apologies, Captain."
     "Ohhh...no, it wasn't your fault. I know who to blame. I fear that
he and his child may be returning."
     "You should probably be aware that we have been contacted by allies
of ours aboard an old explorer ship/ battlecruiser named ANTARES. Among
their crew is a telepathic researcher who is convinced of the same thing. I
must alert the bridge that some of us are feeling it now."
     "If this isn't random - and since I'm not usually one for prophetic
dreams - then I'll back you up on that."

     With a valiant attempt at alertness, Captain Apollo and Lieutenant
Starbuck of the battlestar GALACTICA patrolled, surveying their
surroundings and monitoring their Vipers' instruments. There were no
Cylons, and had been no Cylons for a surprisingly long period; the period
of routine had fallen somewhat victim to ennui.
     "I could almost wish for, well...an entire baseship, to liven
things up."
     "Whew. Isn't that overdoing it slightly? Besides, Starbuck, if
you're not careful, you could get just what you wish for."
     "Right." Brief silence prevailed until Starbuck tried several bars
of a song about a girl, a bottle, and an antigrav unit. Apollo winced,
sighed. Starbuck, realizing the Captain's outlook on this - at least on
duty - shut up, sighing, "This is so...dreary."
     They didn't realize that this state would soon pass. All they knew
was that some fifteen centons later, they detected an anomaly. This
resolved itself into what appeared to be a warship. It made no violent
moves, simply continued its smooth flight through the void.
     "Do we investigate this, or head back?" enquired Starbuck.
     "Check it out - carefully."
     "As you command, fearless leader."
     "Stuff it, bucko. Let's investigate." Apollo allowed himself to be
curious about the ship's origin. /Alien, but not Cylon. It looks like a
hunting bird./
     As they approached, a totally alien, unidentifiable, crystalline
patrol craft appeared and advanced.
     "Space pirates, you think?"
     "There's only one, at least that my scanner is showing," Starbuck
pointed out, switching to rear scan to verify that. "All the same, I
respectfully suggest that we should probably get the Hades outta here."
     "Well, we could try..."
     They peeled off, unsurprised that the craft followed. What was
surprising was that it began to glow, then seconds later, a ball of light
flashed past the Vipers. After several such intimidating runs, it paused
right beside them and melted back into the fascinating form of the alien
spacecraft.
     "Are we in trouble?" Starbuck muttered.
     "That depends," replied a cool feminine voice. "Kick down out of
turbo speed, and stand down, unless you wish me to stop you myself."
     "I'd do as the lady says, Lieutenant. Whatever her ship is, it can
outrun us easily."
     "As you say. Apollo, we've seen these lights before. Except then,
it was a whole herd of 'em."
     "I remember."
     "You may discuss this later, humans...assuming you _are_ humans.
Right now, I invite you to obey my instructions. You'll learn what's going
on, but right now, slow down, turn, and head back to that ship. All right?"
     "And if we ignore the invitation...?" queried Starbuck.
     "Don't find out. Think about this ship I'm flying."
     "Got it..."
     "I knew you would."
     They maneuvered as requested and returned to the cruiser. As they
prepared for landing, they heard the woman again.
     "Normal landings, please. Behave yourselves. The commanders hate to
have their ship screwed up by errant fighter pilots."
     "Well," Starbuck agreed, "it _is_ a nice ship." Wondering what the
frack was in store, he followed Apollo in for landing.

     Meanwhile, the great battlestar GALACTICA floated awesomely through
space, zooming quietly through the cosmic void and searching for a single
planet - EARTH.
     Commander Adama stalked irritably through the bridge, growing more
stir-crazy by the micron. He was somehow unsurprised to see his daughter
and Rigel playing video games at Athena's station. At least they'd found
something to do... Ascending the stairs to the upper level, he eyed the
readings on the computers.
     "My God!" he exclaimed, waking up Flight Officer Omega. "We're
under attack!"
     "What? Where?!" the disoriented young officer spluttered. He stared
wildly at the scanners. "Oh, that?!" he remarked, intensely relieved.
"Those are just mushie crumbs." He blew them off, destroying the illusion,
then remembered to wipe crumbs off his face as well.
     Adama groaned. "Very funny. Omega - what is the patrol's status?"
     "Presently beyond scanning range."
     "Wonderful. Do they need to be rescued?"
     "No, their fuel should hold out a while longer."
     "Which is more than can be said for morale..." the ever-alert Colonel Tigh
sighed.

     Apollo and Starbuck disembarked from their Vipers and gazed around
the landing bay. A tall, dark man approached them. Dressed much like a
swashbuckler, he stood several inches above the two Warriors. Despite the
imposing height, there was an air of dignified calmness that suggested he
was completely at ease and not necessarily an adversary. A slight enigmatic
aura was provided by his blond hair and blue eyes, presenting an unusual
contrast with his dark skin. His reddish beard completed the picture.
Halting before them, the man surprised them somewhat by grinning and
clasping their hands in Colonial fashion.
     "Greetings, Warriors. You're welcome here."
     "Oh? Glad to hear it," muttered Starbuck warily.
     "Yes - your pilot didn't seem to think so," Apollo agreed. "As if
we were pirates."
     "Ah well, excuse Zellie's methods; she's a mercenary herself. Her
natural suspicion has helped us a great deal. At least she was reasonably
certain that you're what you appear to be and didn't shoot you down."
     "It's always good news to still be alive," noted Starbuck.
     "We _are_ Warriors, yes," Apollo confirmed. "Have pirates
masqueraded as Colonials?"
     "It's not unheard of, Captain. So we must be careful, though we're
good enough in battle to wreck most opposition. We have reason to be
paranoid right now. Tell me again who you are?"
     "Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck."
     "And your ship is...?"
     "The battlestar GALACTICA."
     "All right. I think we've made contact with people from the correct
ship, then." The stranger looked relieved.
     Starbuck spoke up. "Who are you, anyway?"
     "I, personally, am Colonel David Auriga. I started out Colonial."
     "But you aren't now?" Apollo asked in confusion.
     Auriga spread his hands in a shrug. "I've lived such an odd life
aboard this ship that I can't really describe myself any longer."
     "I think I remember the name Auriga," reflected Starbuck. "He
was...you were thought killed in action."
     "I got better." He grinned cheekily. "No, I was rescued, by the
Commander of this ship."
     "You changed your name."
     "I found myself working in societies whose naming systems differed
from Colonial. It fit better. In answer to further questions, this ship is
the battlecruiser AURORA, from a society whose name is best translated as
Falconian; the team is the Hellraisers. The name says it all."
     "You don't look...Warrior-military."
     "I'm not anymore, Captain, if I ever was. I always wanted to be an
explorer, not another fighter in the War. And I got my chance. We're a
relaxed team here, but efficient; individualistic, not undisciplined. It
_can_ happen," David grinned at Starbuck's look of interest. "The sentiment
aboardship is 'To hell with uniforms'," he laughed.
     "Are _you_ pirates, by any chance?"
     "Adventurers, intergalactic crusaders, freedom fighters, cosmic
swashbucklers - pure havoc," came a familiar female voice from behind them.
     The two turned at the casually amused, sultry tones, and stared at
the speaker as she removed her flight helmet and shook her hair loose. And
stared, and stared. They could have kept it up all day - she was likely the
most stunning woman a Warrior could hope to meet. Tall and lithe, with a
magnificent figure well-displayed by a black flightsuit. Thick, bright red
hair was restrained only slightly in a style that kept it out of her
electric blue eyes, but let most of its incredible length trail down in
back of her. It curled around her tanned, strong-boned features, and what
was tied back indicated that it could easily reach the floor. Her amused
smile suggested she knew full well, and enjoyed, the effect she had on men.
Full of supreme self-confidence, she stood in a relaxed fashion, appraising
the Warriors. They noted some type of sword at her belt; judging from her
gorgeously athletic build, and the comfortable way she wore the weapon,
they had no doubt she could probably use it to devastating effect.
     David cleared his throat, breaking them out of their trance. "This
is Zellandra - one of the hottest pilots and most skillful fighters around.
It's always a good thing to know she's on our side."
     "Call me Zellie if it appeals to you," she advised with a grin as
striking as the rest of her.
     /_Everything_ about you appeals to me/, Starbuck reflected. This
woman was such a wondrous creature, it nearly rendered him comatose. /What
a concept - I don't need to drink to feel completely drunk!/ He stared into
her eyes, unable to look away.
     Zellie met his look with her own steady blue gaze. Eyes widening,
she stared intently. Starbuck heard her voice in his mind, and realized
that, along with all her other virtues, she was a telepath.
     //Human - have you heard of Chai? We may have made contact...//
     "What?" He blinked and shook his head. To his astonishment, this
amazon wench stepped forward, pulled him to her, and kissed him
passionately. He almost threw a coronary on the spot, but his typical
nature happily took advantage of the situation to hold her as closely as
possible. When she released him, he swallowed hard and nearly collapsed on
the deck, suddenly feeling far more bereft than made sense. Zellie's
eyebrows lifted as she eyed him, then laughed.
     "Hmm. Excuse me, I think we can take this up again later. I'll be
on the bridge." Turning, with a nod to David and the guests, she swiftly
left the bay.
     "Gods, old buddy, what is it about you?" demanded Apollo. "How do
you do it?"
     "Heh..." Starbuck laughed weakly. "I don't know. I think this woman
may be altogether more than I can handle..." /Oh, but I hope not!/
     "She's Ar'kinlan," David explained. "Ar'kinlan women may be the
most...compelling females in any part of, oh, the whole Universe...or at
least this galaxy." He grinned broadly. "She seems to like you."
     "An understatement," mumbled Starbuck. He stared after the path of
her departure. "Awesome..."
     "If you're in any shape to walk, we should be getting to the
bridge, as well, so you can meet the Commander."
     Starbuck shook his head fiercely, winced, and rubbed his eyes.
"Lead on, Colonel..."

     The Commander walked about the bridge, assuring herself that things
were running normally. She leaned over a chair, but straightened as the two
Warriors were escorted in. They were impressed when they laid eyes upon
her. She was tall and wiry, dressed in the swashbuckling style habitual to
this crew, including a sash about her waist. But this was not what
fascinated them. She was alien: humanoid, but with avian characteristics.
Blue-green feathers covered her head, falling somewhat past
shoulder-length. Wings of the same color produced a dramatic effect humans
could duplicate only with a flowing cape. Glowing purple eyes were framed
by long blue eyelashes and feathery eyebrows. Long, lean fingers were given
an unnerving look by talons that would have convinced most potential
adversaries to avoid after glimpsing them.
     "Karlani Calvanis," David announced to the Warriors. She crossed
over, smiling, to gracefully bow lightly to them. "Captain Apollo,
Lieutenant Starbuck," David completed the introduction.
     "Pleased to meet you," the alien commander replied in a soft,
musical voice. "And always wonderful to see you, of course," she added,
with a special smile at David. "I imagine David told you about us?"
     "Enough to assure us that you're not dangerous...at least not to
_us_," Apollo confirmed. His gaze lingered on her unusual features. In
contrast to most non-human beings they had so far encountered, such as the
Ovions and Borays (which might have been considered attractive among
themselves), she was pleasing to the human eye.
     Karlani grinned. "Good. I'm from a planet you can call Falconia.
Our ship is the AURORA. No typical battlecruiser, Rory. A synthetic
personality and an ability to teleport...and dimension-hop. Some of the
abilities were refined by our resident technological genius." She glanced
at David as she said this. "And we had...other help."
     Apollo and Starbuck exchanged a worried look, not lost on David or
Karlani. "Excuse me?" Apollo asked. "Your ship is...sentient? Self-aware?
Colonel, how can you, as a Colonial Warrior, not find that...disturbing, in
light of Cylons?"
     "Because Rory helped save my life, along with Karlani...because I'm
his engineer...because he fights Cylons along with us. We literally
couldn't do that without him. In a sense, Karlani and I are his parents. In
another sense, we're partners."
     Starbuck considered, then shrugged. "Apollo, did you ever
personally meet CORA, the flight computer of my experimental Viper? The way
she talked to me was almost sentient." He chuckled. "She _flirted_. She was
no Cylon."
     Apollo gave him a look. "Leave it to you, Starbuck, to attract a
computer."
     "That's just, as you once put it, the aura of Starbuck," his friend
shot back with a grin.
     "Despite the Cylons, despite all the yahrens the Colonials have
been at war, we were always curious about other life, about exploring,"
David reminded them. "I don't want to see that curiosity lost because of
Cylons. Space exploration is compelling."
     Apollo nodded. "Yes, that's the challenge..." He reflected on what
he'd told his brother Zac so long ago, that he hoped they could get back to
deep star exploration.
     "Part of you understands, then."
     "Yes, but I'm still not comfortable about it."
     A bridge screen came to life. Apollo noticed and blinked as he saw
the face there. It appeared to be a man of Karlani's people, fairly
dark-skinned, his hair a headful of deep purple-black feathers, his eyes
purple. A smile crossed his lips as he regarded the Warriors.
"Captain...Lieutenant...if I may interrupt, it's an honor to meet you. The
Colonel advised me to keep a low profile when contacting GALACTICA, because
he knew about the fear I might inspire, but I think it's fair to introduce
myself to some of you." He tilted his head, blinked, then left the screen.
     "Okay..." Apollo started, then saw a shimmering of lights by
Starbuck and himself. "What?"
     David smirked. "That's the way he tends to announce his
presence...with an aurora."
     Starbuck rolled his eyes. "Ah. He has a sense of humor, too."
     "You'd be surprised," Karlani remarked.
     "I've always wanted to call this ship ZERO GRAVITAS," Zellie
commented from her station.
     The lights became a hologramatic image that wore the same face as
the online image. He was tall, like David and Karlani, and wiry, in a black
jumpsuit that left his arms bare and his remarkable black feathers free. He
grinned at them. "My Warriors..."
     "You're...Rory," observed Starbuck. He laughed slightly. "I knew a
woman named Aurora. I think I'll stick to Rory...that doesn't give me the
same memories."
     "Fair enough, Lieutenant. It's a name I like." He glanced over at
Zellie. "I resemble that remark, Captain. Here is one of the reasons she
says that." He snapped his fingers and suddenly...had switched genders.
Chuckling, s/he pointed out to Starbuck, "And now you know _another_ female
named Aurora!"
     Starbuck winced. "That's a dirty trick!"
     "Most ships are considered female, so I decided to be able to pass
for that onoccasion." S/He returned to male, grew more serious, and
continued. "Now, regarding Cylons... Yes, I'm an example of synthetic
intelligence, an artificial intelligence or AI. But humans and other
organics are my crew, and they understand me better than Cylons ever would.
I help _blow up_ Cylons, not collaborate with them. Organics keep me
running. Cylons would see this form I take and seek to destroy me along
with all organics who don't consent to serve them as slaves."
     They considered that in silence. Rory watched them patiently. "I
think I understand," Apollo confirmed. "I want to."
     Rory nodded. "That's good. Because I am the ship, all around you,
fighting for you, protecting you...trust is necessary, on both sides. I
need to know I can trust you, as much as you need to know if you can trust
me."
     Apollo blinked. "I wouldn't have thought of it that way. Thank you."
     "Even so, I still think that it would be better not to reveal
yourself to the rest of GALACTICA's crew unless necessary," David broke in.
     "Agreed. They'll understand if and when it suits them." The image
nodded to Apollo and Starbuck. "Be seeing you." He went away.
     "Does it take long to get used to that?" Starbuck wondered idly.
     "What?" asked Karlani.
     "That appearing and disappearing act. He's there, he's not there..."
     Karlani and David just grinned.
     "Now, as David may have told you," Karlani continued, "we think of
ourselves as, oh, intergalactic crusaders against dark forces. And yes,
that definitely includes Cylons. I've one thing to be grateful to those
metalheads for, though: David. I rescued him from a crash brought on by
damage his ship sustained in battle."
     "Why," mused Starbuck, "didn't you ever contact us? If you're as
good as claimed, GALACTICA could use you."
     "We're contacting you _now_..." Karlani replied.
     "Did you ever notice that you were rarely encountering the
redlights after a time?" David enquired. "We were helping contribute to
those dwindling appearances. To be honest, we can't destroy every one of
them, everywhere, all at once, but we do our best!"
     "Thank you!"
     "Also, we have reason to believe that something is
coming...something big...and we need to join forces to face it. The
Destruction wasn't prevented, so we can't go back to take part in stopping
it, because of time laws, but we _can_ help with this."
     "Time laws?" inquired Apollo.
     "We travel in time as well as space. You live nice, neat, linear
lives - you start at the beginning, move on to the middle, and stop at the
end. We don't."
     "How confusing is that?!" Starbuck asked.
     "Very. But we wouldn't trade it for anything, at this point."
     The watching Zellie realized that she couldn't take her eyes off
the handsome blond lieutenant. Indeed, she gazed so intently, her friend
Aristephone couldn't help but notice.
     //What's with you, my friend?// she telepathed. //More lust at
first sight?//
     Zellie shot a quick glare at her. //I hate to say this// she sent
back //but I'm suspecting...Chai.//
     Ari struggled to refrain from breaking into hysterical giggles that
would ill-befit her. Again, Zellie favored her with an irritable glance.
//Well, you're not shy. You've never had trouble relating to men. Why start
now? He's a fun loving guy. He'd fit in with the Hellraisers - and he just
might be a good match for you.//
     //Yes, I do sense that, 'Mommy'. Why do you think I'm interested in
him? However, I seriously worry about the whole concept of me being
_married_. How can that _possibly_ work?//
     //If it is Chai, you'll adjust; if it's not, just...have fun. Don't
resist it so hard, girl, unless you want to make yourself a suicidal
basketcase because you rejected your destined lifemate.//
     //Blazing Hades, Ari, I love your way of expressing a point!// She
sighed, thought, /Dear Goddess, whatever gave you the mistaken impression I
was ready to settle down?! He's a Colonial Warrior; he stands for the
law...and lawful is not exactly what I've been in my life. I'm so much
better at complete chaos!/
     Meanwhile, a pair of twinkly amber eyes regarded a scanner screen.
They belonged to a wolflike male humanoid from Rendelmar Four, known to his
allies as Fenris; few non-Rendelmarians could accomplish the sounds in that
tongue, or detect the scents that contributed to the language. He and his
mate, Cinnabar, were loyal comrades to the Hellraisers, hunters born and
bred - and, coming from a planet that was the home of the best Ambrosia
makers in the galaxy, exuberant partiers when given a welcome opportunity.
Fenris' tousled white hair was worn long like a mane and led to long
sideburns that refrained from full beardhood at his chin. His gray-furred
features were lean, angular, capped by alertly twitching ears. Tucked
neatly about him was a long black tail. Despite the fur, Rendelmarians had
the tact not to go around naked; Fenris presented a foresty-shaded ensemble
with a loose, belted, green tunic, brown pants, and green, felt-like boots.
     He spoke now, in a gruff, but pleasantly deep, voice. "Commander?"
Karlani glanced over at him. "It's time to protect the GALACTICA - they
seem to have encountered two Cylon outposts hidden out in the boondocks,
and will be under attack."
     Apollo found himself staring at this alien, too. He probably
wouldn't want to meet this being in the dark if it had a grudge against
him, but it...he...was also impressive.
     "How do you know? We're a rather long way off," observed Starbuck,
not expressing any outward surprise over the alien contact.
     "Good scanners," replied Karlani. "We're going there, so return to
your Vipers, Warriors, and make ready for combat. Zellie - Aristephone - I
believe there's some fun awaiting you."
     Zellie sprang to her feet. "I'm always ready for havoc!"
     Her dignified blonde friend smiled wryly. "I am not. But I am no
less willing to meet it where Cylons are concerned."
     "So let's go. By your leave," she addressed Karlani, and swiftly
departed. The others followed.

     "Commander, we're picking up enemy fighters," Omega called.
     /At last, some action!/ exulted an unsensible side of Adama's
nature. "Put the Fleet on Red Alert. How many are there?"
     "I count...some four or five dozen."
     "Sir, there's also a basestar," Rigel added.
     "Where did _that_ come from?!"
     Tigh turned swiftly to Adama. "Commander, this ship is not prepared
to go against a fully-operational basestar, at the moment. Not, at least,
if we would prefer to survive."
     "Presumably, we would," replied Adama drily. "What are our options,
Colonel?"
     "We...have none, sir."
     "Explain that, Tigh!"
     "We have that basestar lurking behind us, two Cylon outposts on
either side, and that unusual nebula we just picked up, in front of us. So
we have no good choices."
     "Full speed ahead. We're going through the nebula." Adama turned to
Omega at the command console. "Unicom, please?" Omega activated the
inter-Fleet communicator.
     "Attention, Fleet - this is Commander Adama. We will be going
through a nebula in ten centons. We must be on half-power for a temporary
period of time. All power - except Life Support - shall be diverted to the
engines to compensate. Good luck," he added.
     Omega allowed a wicked grin to fleet over his face as he switched
off the com and contemplated the possibilities of an unspecified period of
darkness. Most of these included Rigel's companionship. "Commander," he
reported, sobering, "the Cylons are following us in."
     "Launch all squadrons to protect the Fleet as we enter."
     "Launching."

     The resulting battle raged wildly, back and forth. Warriors
effectively demolished the enemy, only to have the foe rally and return the
punishment. The outcome looked unpleasant as the forces from both Cylon
outposts joined the basestar's complement. As a result, the odds zipped up
from three-to-one to ten-to-one.
     "Oh, this _is_ lovely," grumbled Lieutenant Boomer savagely. He
wondered where Apollo and Starbuck were...
     At that very moment, two fuzzy voices burst over the com.
     "Hey! Nice-lookin' odds here!" - unmistakably Starbuck.
     "Yeah! If we're lucky, we might even survive!" Apollo countered.
     "IF we're lucky!" Boomer interjected. "Where have you two been?!"
     "Oh, around and about," Starbuck replied infuriatingly. "You'll be getting
your answer very shortly."
     "By then, it may not matter."
     "Boomer," Apollo commented, "aren't _I_ the pessimist of this group?"
     "Oh no!" remarked Sheba. "Commander, the basestar's closing in now!
We need reinforcements!"
     "I'm sorry," Adama reminded her, "we've got every Viper out there now."
     Starbuck cursed descriptively in an obscure Caprican dialect, for
what promised to be some time, until Apollo cut in.
     "We can't hold out much longer. Where are they?"
     "Who?" Boomer and Adama chorused.
     At that moment came what could only be called salvation. A
bloodthirsty battlecry ripped eloquently over the comcircuit, echoing
through the bridge and the pilots' cockpits.
     Against the ebony of deep space, a bright streak of blue-white
light shot past, followed swiftly by a second such object.
     "What the frack?" came assorted mutters.
     A female voice drifted fuzzily over the com: "Excuse my rash friend
- the sight of Cylons drives her berserk."
     To back up the woman's statement, Cylon raiders exploded into
beautiful multicolored fireballs wherever the first light ship travelled,
all around the astonished pilots..
     "Frack!" remarked Boomer. "He's a good pilot!"
     "Chuck your attitude out an airlock, dear sir," came Zellandra's
sexy tones. "I'm no man."
     "I stand - um, _sit_ - corrected. Pardon me, gentlelady."
     "I suggest you don't antagonize her, Boomer," warned Starbuck. "You
could find yourself in slightly smaller chunks."
     "Wise advice. You may want to heed it, Starbuck." A laugh crackled
across the intercom. Then, with a dirty mutter of something that sounded
like "Try this, you _jent-coman fizzgar_," she blasted another Cylon into
its component atoms.
     "Sure glad she's on our side," Boomer mumbled. "_If_ she is..."
     Aristephone had slowed her starcraft to Viper speed; it was easier
and far less static-ridden to communicate with the slower Colonial fighters
that way. But it was also inconvenient. She could be shot down in this
mode. Such a possibility rocked her ship with a laser blast. "Oops!" she
replied, evading more swiftly than a Cylon could hope to match, then taking
it out fast and efficiently.
     The morale of the pilots was rising now, considerably. It was
glorious to see the Cylons being steadily decimated, left and right (even
if directions, as Boomer was fond of reminding his colleagues, didn't exist
in space).
     They froze, shocked, as another craft shimmered into being - a
sleek, avian battlecruiser - wondering what they were in for now. It seemed
to warp the very fabric of its entrance point. A male, human-sounding voice
spoke over the com: "Never mind who we are, no time...Warriors, back off
from the red-eyes and let us have at them!"
     "All right, Colonel," Apollo agreed, and ordered the pilots to fake
a retreat.
     "Apollo, are you certain...?" Boomer interrupted, wondering at the
wisdom of entrusting the safety of the Fleet to strangers.
     "Trust me, Boomer," Apollo reassured him. "We know them." /Or we
think we do. In any case, they seem to be our best - maybe our only -
chance./
     The new ship unleashed a great blast of energy. The burst cut a
large swath through the already somewhat depleted ranks of Raiders, which
had regrouped to strike again, trying to take advantage of the seeming
departure. Cheers broke the silence as the realization dawned: allies, at
last!
     Spirits raised by this, the Warriors exuberantly plastered many of
the Cylons all through the spaceways. There were not many survivors on the
Empire's side. Those that escaped, armor intact, had grudgingly learned a
healthy fear and deep respect for the fighters that day.
     A light, musical voice bantered from the com: "Greetings, Civilized
Ones, from the battlecruiser AURORA. I'm Karlani Calvanis, bane of the
Cylon Empire! We'd explain...but we hate long explanations! If you'll have
us, we'll join your Fleet until further notice."
     "You're welcome, Commander, after that battle, to come aboard
GALACTICA as my guest, so we can discuss it, Commander," Adama suggested,
finding himself cautiously optimistic about these newfound allies.
     "My two Ar'kinlan pilots have expressed an interest in coming
aboard GALACTICA - is this permissible? Your Flight Captain and Lieutenant
Starbuck can assure you that we will not pillage and destroy..."
     "Anyone who can fly like they did is most welcome to accompany your
party."
     "Good to hear. Well, Commander, we'll be around if you need us."
The cruiser roared off and deposited itself somewhere along the edge of the
Fleet.

     The squadrons returned to GALACTICA with their guests, in
celebratory mood. They had known the attitude 'What IS morale?!' too often
of late and were ready to have fun. As the two Ar'kinlan crafts came to
rest in the landing bay, they were greeted by massive cheers from the
Warriors.
     Zellie leaped from her ship, grinning happily. Her icy-blue stare
took in her surroundings, and a definitely malicious smile curved over her
lips.
     Aristephone stepped out of her vehicle with a far gentler smile. A
blonde eyebrow cocked wryly into her light hair as her pale blue eyes
surveyed the chamber.
     The tired, fairly bedraggled Warriors were disheartened as the
sardonic one snorted. "This is GALACTICA?" she wondered politely. They
straightened instantly under that unnervingly blue regard.
     Adama entered, crossing to them. "I am Commander Adama."
     "I'm Captain Zellandra...call me Zellie."
     "And I am Aristephone, or Ari."
     "You're welcome here, my friends," Adama replied.
     "Courteous of you," Zellie replied, bowing slightly.
     "Indeed..." added Aristephone, distracted. Momentarily, she had
locked eyes with the tall, white-haired leader and felt something
distinctly odd come over her. Adama, too, sensed something unusual and
gazed at her for a silent moment. The blond woman smiled again and this one
was all for Adama.
     Zellie regarded this byplay with mild impatience, then laughed.
//Rampant Chai, today!// she sent, smiling cheekily, then evaded a
semi-irritated whack from her friend, chuckling as she did so.
     Adama cleared his throat and spoke. "You may all attend to the
Officers' Club if you so wish. I think you've earned a break."
     Great cheers erupted forth and the bay began emptying with rather
awesome speed.
     The Commander addressed their guests. "I would request that you go
through Decontamination first."
     "Because you don't know where we've been," observed Zellie. "Fair
enough, but our people have immune systems that tend to work better than
your equipment does."
     "True," Ari continued, "but since we're guests, it would be polite
to follow their rules."
     "Oh, politeness." Zellie shrugged, smirking. "Maybe I'll try that
just for once."

     Despite the celebratory mood, Starbuck had disturbing news to
deliver. Much of his mind was taken up with reflecting on the wild redhead;
he couldn't think straight in her presence and the effect was like a
euphoric laser blast that allowed him to retain consciousness. /Whee...!/
passed unbidden through his mind.
     But he had to report to the Commander and he had to sound halfway
intelligent while doing so.
     "Commander, we have a problem. Apollo isn't here - I was able to
track his Viper going down over that small planet out there. He was alive,
but I don't know his condItion."
     "It was chaotic out there," reflected Zellie. "Frack, I'm sorry. I
should've been able to prevent that."
     Starbuck was surprised that she would take the guilt of it on
herself, but annoyed. Was she saying she could do his own job better than
he could himself? "Are you serious? That's _my_ job."
     "My job, too," she replied levelly.
     "_I'm_ Apollo's wingman. Protecting our own Strike Captain is _my_
job!"
     Adama sighed to himself.
     Ari found the words //Now, children...// escaping her subconscious.
     Zellie no doubt sensed that thought radiating from her, for she
shrugged much more calmly than Ari would have expected. "I fly, I fight, I
protect comrades: that's my job. We can do that together. We have other
things to fight than each other." She addressed Adama. "Perhaps the
Hellraisers were able to rescue Apollo."
     "Let's go to the bridge," Adama decided. "I need to talk to their Commander."
     Praying that they weren't merely deluding themselves, the two
Warriors, accompanied by their guests, quickly left.

     Apollo groaned. His ship damaged and now out of fuel, both at once?
This was simply not fair. He should not even have gotten out of bed this
day. He would not now be cruising towards a crash-landing on some stupid
planet. The controls were not functioning, so it would be interesting to
see if he'd even survive. /Why can't I have some of Starbuck's luck, just
once?/
     The most unpleasant sight of a planetary surface racing to greet
him with unnecessary haste was dazing and terrifying. Repressing a whimper,
he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He'd rather see as little of
this as possible... A great bone-jarring crunch was the ultimate result; he
blacked out.
     He didn't know how long he remained unconscious, but he was roused
by a fierce tugging. Groaning, he struggled to clear his head from the
fuzzy daze and focus on what was happening. It was difficult.
     A female voice spoke to him. "You're alive? Good, I wasn't sure!
Now wake up! Your craft is burning!"
     That revived him enough to respond to the urgent tugging on his
flight jacket. With his rescuer's assistance, he vacated the cockpit,
reached the ground, and staggered away from the Viper. He felt a second
person join to share some of his weight so the going would be faster. A
good thing that was, for shortly, an explosion some distance away shook the
ground. Again, he passed out, realizing as he did so that he was dismayed
at his vaguely feeble reaction to it all...
     A headache was the first thing to greet his second return to
consciousness. That, at least, convinced him that he still lived. Feeling a
light touch on his forehead, he carefully opened his eyes, wincing
momentarily at the light. As his eyes adjusted, he became aware of his
surroundings. He lay on a bed, in a room - it looked like someone's
personal quarters aboard a ship. But he wasn't back aboard GALACTICA.
     "Where am I?" he muttered, briefly wishing he could think of a more
original line.
     "Well, hello there, Warrior," came the voice he had heard before.
He focused on the speaker and was immediately drawn to the clearest,
greenest eyes he'd ever laid his own green orbs upon. The rest of her was
also lovely: lightly curly dark red hair, extremely attractive features.
Tall and slim, she wore a deep blue jumpsuit lined at the collar by what
looked like white fur.
     "Hello. You saved me, didn't you?" /Perhaps my luck _did_ hold out!/
     "I certainly did. And it's lucky I was there for you. The Doctor
and I had arrived on-planet and were exploring; then you crashed the scene,
literally. I got to you so quickly because your fighter's fuel line had
ignited and there was very little time to waste. My propensity for
unthinking heroics unavoidably got the better of me," she smiled.
     "I heard the explosion...and felt it. Thank you...?"
     "Shannon. And you?"
     "Captain Apollo of the battlestar GALACTICA."
     "Ah. Apollo...where have I heard that name before... Got it! Did
you ever know a girl named Jolene Whomana?" Apollo shook his head - gently,
so as not to aggravate the headache. "Well, she didn't go by that name, of
course... Does 'Gypsy' ring a bell?"
     "Gypsy! Oh yes! Back at the Academy..." Eyes brightening, he smiled
reminiscently. Shannon observed, amused.
     "Aye..." she drawled, with a chuckle. "Yes, I see that you must
remember. She tends to affect her friends that way, especially if they're
male. Like Sergeant Benton..." she added, apparently to herself.
     /She was such a mischievous lady...vivacious. I fell for her harder
than I wanted to admit./ He blinked. "How do you know her? Why are you
asking?"
     "Because we're friends, and she mentioned her 'Gypsy' exploits.
Since I seem to have just rescued the same Apollo she was so keen on, I
couldn't restrain the curiosity."
     "Hmm..." Apollo murmured, lost in thought.
     "We should see about returning you to your battlestar," she
reminded him. She stood, crossed to the door, and called. "Doctor? Our
guest has returnedto us." She turned back. "If you can walk, perhaps you'd
like to see the TARDIS."
     "TARDIS?
     "Refers to 'Time And Relative Dimensions In Space'. Come," she
added to his bewildered expression, "I don't expect you to understand
immediately. We're space/time travellers. You've never heard of the Time
Lords?"
     "I think Gypsy mentioned them. However," Apollo reminisced
ruefully, "that _was_ after a few too many drinks. She talked about a lot
of strange things when we went partying. I probably heard half of it all
and understood a lot less. The loud background music didn't help..."
     Shannon chuckled. "Ah, well. She's what's called a Time Lord. So's
the Doctor. So am I - or at least half of me is." As his confused look
continued unabated, she muttered, "Details aren't necessary. I hate long
explanations, don't you?"
     "I could use one right now!" Apollo almost wailed.
     "Easy, m'friend. All right, I won't tease you. You're probably not
in the condition for that. But, with your head spinning, you might find it
most difficult to understand all I could tell you."
     "I guess so." Apollo sat up carefully. "Ooh... Groggy, but conscious."
     "Can you stand?"
     "If you're willing to help me."
     "Why not, dear sir?" Assisting the Captain to his feet, she guided
him to the control room.
     Apollo entered the strange white chamber and stared, perplexed, at
the six-sided central console. He was an expert pilot, but he was certain
that none of these controls would make sense to him without some ten
yahrens training...
     A tall, rugged-featured man with a mane of white hair glanced up
from the console and smiled. "Hello, Captain. I'm the Doctor."
     "I'm Apollo. And I'm confused."
     Shannon came up to him. "Is it that bad?" Apollo nodded. "Sorry.
Remind me to explain sometime soon, will you? Confusion is all part of a
day's work with the Doctor and me!"
     "We're approaching the Fleet," the Doctor reported.
     Shannon glanced up at the scanner and grimaced. "We also happen to
be on a collision course with a rather large spacecraft!"
     "Oops! So we are..." Swiftly, coordinates were reprogrammed. After
several wheezing vworps, the view on the screen showed the interior of the
craft in which they'd materialized.
     "Whew. Doctor, I think you need a little lecture about your driving
habits..." Shannon observed.
     Apollo stared. "We're on a ship. How can our ship fit into another
without using a landing bay?"
     "Um...you'll see."
     The Doctor pulled a lever, opening the doors. Apollo nodded and
disembarked. He was back a moment later, staring around the chamber as if
he wasn't quite sure of his eyes.
     "It's bigger inside than out!" he proclaimed.
     Shannon chuckled merrily. "You noticed!" Apollo nodded. "Well,
let's see where we are."
     She and the Doctor exited...and found they had company: an alien
female in a purple jumpsuit, armed with a hunting knife at her belt and a
grin full of startling fangs. Her long mane of hair was gray, streaked with
auburn, and her light amber-brown eyes were alight with mischief as she
gazed at the weird box in the corridor.
     "Oh dear," the Doctor remarked. "Excuse the intrusion."
     "Yes - are you going to welcome us, or kill us?" added Shannon.
     "Goodness!" the Rendelmarian gasped at the latter suggestion. "Why
should I do that? I sense no danger about you. I suspect you shall prove to
be friends. Time Lords, aren't you?"
     The Doctor affirmed. Shannon paused, then nodded, deciding she
wouldn't go into the twisted aspects of her ancestry.
     "I am Cinnabar. I am with the Hellraisers."
     Apollo left the TARDIS. "The Hellraisers? I was with your Commander
before that battle. I'm..."
     "Captain Apollo! You know, you have caused great concern. The
GALACTICA called to ask if we had seen you."
     "I crashed and was rescued by the Doctor and Shannon here. How long
have I been missing?"
     "Oh, a centar or two. We shall remedy that. Come to the bridge, all
of you."
     "Only an hour or so?" muttered Shannon to the Doctor. "I wasn't
aware your TARDIS was capable of landing on target!"
     "There's always a first time, Shannon!" he sighed.

     Apollo, for the second time, found himself on AURORA's bridge. He
stood by as his rescuers introduced themselves to Karlani and David. For
the Doctor, it was more of a reunion than an introduction, for he had met
the Falconian before.
     "You might say that I was inspired by him," Karlani revealed.
"Except that I'm more of a guerilla fighter. After all, reason doesn't work
with such as Cylons."
     "Nor does it with Daleks..." Shannon grumbled.
     "Forgive me," Karlani grinned, "I've no wish to trash your ideals,
Doctor, but our style works for us."
     "So I've seen."
     David looked at Shannon, realized, /Lords, I've seen her before...
On Earth? Wasn't it at...NASA?/ His eidetic memory went into overdrive, and
he grinned with realization. /Stylish. I've _got_ to talk to her.../ He
managed to stay outwardly casual, so as not to unsettle her.
     Karlani wrapped up her talk with a sigh, and further added, "All I
could say is in the ship's computer. If anyone wishes to join us, they can
learn our history so much quicker that way."
     "You hate detailed explanations, too?" Apollo commented, with a
sidelong glance at Shannon.
     "Oh, yes..." Karlani sighed wistfully. "You see, there's always so
much to tell..."
     "The GALACTICA calls," Fenris announced, by way of maneuvering the
Commander out of her difficulty.
     "Thank you, Fenris. Commander Adama! We have your son. He crashed,
but was rescued by two travellers. If you truly want him back," she grinned
wickedly, "we can teleport him over, save all the time on shuttles and
docking."
     "Anything, Commander. Just bring him back to us in one piece!"
     "Oh, that takes all the fun out of it!" she chuckled. "Don't panic,
we haven't had anyone turn up in a wall yet." With another laugh, she
signed off.

     Meanwhile, Baltar fumed in constant rage.
     His exile was done. Adama would hear from him about that. Just
because a planet was considered survivable by humans didn't mean that one
would _want_ to survive there. Had Adama gone out of his way to find the
worst possible "survivable" planet on which to maroon him? It was what he
would have done himself, had their positions been reversed. He rubbed his
beard, which he had retained as a symbol of his experience in exile, a
reminder of what he wanted to do now that he was free.
     He was back aboard his command basestar, which had finally,
unexpectedly decided to rescue him. Why had Lucifer decided to do that,
when he'd had the chance to work on his own?
     Ah, Lucifer. He had come to realize how he had always hated
Lucifer. For too long on that planet, he'd have given an arm for a sight of
the obnoxious robot. But now, he longed for a blaster in his hand as
Lucifer reported on the latest battle.
     "We lost many of our Centurions, but the basestar is undamaged."
     "We shall pursue and destroy them once and for all."
     "That is not a thing we will be able to do."
     "WHAT??!" Baltar howled. For the next thirty centons, the Cylons
all throughout the basestar shuddered in their metallic boots as Baltar was
debriefed.
     Lucifer, between the human's shouts and curses, was able to stutter
out his report. Fortunately for Lucifer, most of the uproar was directed
towards Commander Adama, now centars away, instead of Lucifer himself. He
thanked Imperious Leader for that.

     For two surprisingly semi-peaceful sectons (as peaceful as life
_could_ be with Zellie as an ally), life settled down. Shannon had chosen
to join the Hellraisers and assist the Galacticans. This meant that she and
the Doctor would be going separate ways at last, but she knew they'd meet
again.
     David Auriga still hoped to talk to Shannon, but he respected the
Time Lord desire for privacy, and so he waited for a better time.
     Shannon and Apollo had become friends, and she stayed aboard
GALACTICA; she didn't wish to simply jaunt out of his life as precipitously
as she had entered it.
     But though they remained friends, the joys of Chai were affecting
others...

     Starbuck collapsed into a chair by the table Apollo and Shannon
were sharing in the Officers' Club. He was starry-eyed, not all there, and
Apollo wondered if he was drunk. Apparently not, for he had no mug with
him. Obviously, he was out to remedy this. "Barman?" he requested. A mug of
Ambrosia was delivered, which he actually paid for himself. Apollo knew he
_must_ be preoccupied.
     "Lieutenant?"
     "Hmm...? Oh, yes! Barman - drinks for these two." Again, he paid
for them.
     "Uh...thanks!" Apollo consented.
     Shannon gave her mug a glance that suggested it was a secton-old
dead fish. "No thanks, Lieutenant. You really want to see what drinking
does to my brain? Have another - you look like you could use it." She
pushed it across the table to him.
     "He always does," the Captain confirmed.
     "Oh, I feel strange," the blond Warrior observed.
     "And if I'm correct, old buddy, here's the source of your problem
right now."
     Zellandra had entered and now tossed herself into the chair beside
Starbuck. "Hiyah! In the mood for a drinking match?" She eyed him. "No? I
know what you _do_ need. Somewhere private with me, where I can...explain.
Hmm?"
     A sly grin passed over the Warrior's face. "I'd like that." He
dealt with the second Ambrosia, then rose. "You don't need me for, say, a
surprise mission, Captain?"
     "No, I wouldn't dream of it. You're in need of something, but it's
definitely not a mission."
     Shannon attempted, with partial success, to choke back a wild chuckle.
     "See you later," said Zellie. As they departed, "Have you ever
heard of Chai?" trailed behind them.
     "Chai? With that mad showoff?" teased Shannon. "I wish him all the
luck. He'll need it!"
     "What _is_ Chai? He's been going haywire ever since he met her."
     "Well...have you ever been in love?"
     "I should think so. I'm not _that_ young. Gypsy, of course. And
Serina. We married...I adopted her son, Boxey, from her first
marriage...then she died. Shot by a Cylon on Kobol."
     "Oh dear. I'm sorry, Captain."
     "So am I."
     "Chai...it's never happened to me, and I'm not certain it will
because of my ancestry, but all Ar'kinlans and Gallifreyans are taught
about it, soon as they can understand. And it works on humans. In certain
ways, after all, we're not entirely different from you." She gave the
Captain a quirky smirk, then continued. "It may have been genetically
engineered into us as a compulsion to mate with the best genes. Destined
Chai-partners, genetic equals, lay eyes on each other - sproing! It's
more...complete...than conventional marriage, for it's a total bonding, for
all time - lifemates, literal love at first sight. Interesting, eh?"
     "Fascinating," he agreed, trying not to break out laughing at the
concept of his friend mating for life, or ever wanting to do so. "Starbuck,
married. I've _got_ to see this. It'll break the hearts of every available
woman throughout the Fleet. Well...I've had my drink, and Starbuck's gone
to fool around with his bride-to-be, so we can leave now. I think this day
has offered all the excitement it possibly can!"
     They departed, chatting casually.

     Zellie walked down the corridor, grumbling. Starbuck followed her,
wondering why her mood had changed and why he was following her like an
eager, begging daggit. /Well, she _did_ invite me.../
     She spun back to face him. "This shouldn't happen," she reflected.
"I wasn't certain it could, considering my genetically-engineered origins.
I suppose I'm being told from on high to settle down, but...how can it
work?"
     "What's the problem?"
     "Do you know the things I've done out there?" She gestured,
suggesting the space beyond the battlestar's bulkheads.
     "No. What do you want me to know, Zellie? Or _do_ you want me to know?"
     "It may be a problem for you to learn." Zellie considered, and
sighed. They were staring into each other's eyes again, and both seemed to
be searching for answers that weren't readily forthcoming. "I was raised by
pirates. They were always more than that, but yes, they were pirates. I've
gone out there as a mercenary, doing things for money that...weren't
pretty. I'm my own sort of Warrior, and I don't know if I can fit here."
She shook her head. "Now, I have no problem with casual relationships; I've
had more fun than should ever be allowed by sane people. It's the thought
of more than that that scares the proverbial frack out of me."
     "Does it have to be more?" Starbuck grinned. "Live for today!
Tomorrow will come as it always does...if we're alive to see it."
     "Good point. If this _is_ Chai, then it will be more. Chai is
supposed to be unstoppable. I guess we'll find out. _Shall_ we find out?"
     "Could you explain what that word means?" he asked uncertainly.
     "Oh...destined eternal lifemates. Procreation. The concept of
commitment and settling down."
     Starbuck blinked, then raised a hand as if warding off the thought.
He even found himself reaching for his weapon, but didn't know what he
could shoot - certainly not the idea she'd just expressed, and not her for
saying it. He could think of better things they could do with each other,
but...oh, frack, that was overwhelming! "You're...serious? Eternity is a
_long time_, Zellie!"
     Zellie watched his reaction and grinned a bit sadistically. "The
day either of us will be ready for that may be the day the Universe
explodes."
     "Huh. I'm up for trying casual first..."
     "No problem," she replied brightly. "Let's go do that."

     Adama was off-duty for the 'night' and sleeping restlessly.
     / //You must beware!// A familiar telepathic voice whispered
through his dreams, someone he hadn't heard in yahrens. There was no reason
to believe she would still be alive now, yahrens after her disappearance,
but he found himself answering her automatically.
     "Hello?" he called back.
     //Beware!// was the only reply.
     "If you're trying to help, it's _not_ helping! What do you need to
tell me?"
     He caught a glimpse of a blonde woman sitting in meditation, eyes
closed, striving to project her thoughts with deep focus. An intense woman
with silver-streaked dark hair reached out to take the blonde's hands,
using physical contact with her as a sort of telepathic transmitter to
project more clearly, but still sounded as if coming through static. //This
is ANTARES. Can you hear us?// they asked.
     The darker one added with regret, //We're too far away in the back
of beyond right now to get through. With luck, AURORA found them...// The
impression of them faded.
     "Dr. Elspeth? _Alexis_?! What did you need to say?!"
     There was no response, and that was damnably frustrating. He tried
to track the path of where the dream communication had been coming from.
There was no sign of them.
     A feeling of unsettling wrongness grew, and it was worse than the
frustration. There was fire somewhere...laser fire, real fire. Darkness:
the black of space, of nightfall; a black ship and the matching uniforms of
its crew...what? He had not seen that before.
     "You see it now," spoke an amused voice. "You will be seeing us."
     Images of that ship appeared, and of a dangerous human-looking crew
in black, its commander a female who was unclear to him as yet, for she
seemed ever so fond of the shadows.
     He saw the battles they engaged in for recreation. Stalk and hunt,
maraud at will, destroy what they wished and conquer the rest, like the
Hellraisers gone badly wrong. One crew with all this power?
     Adama found himself amidst ruins that reminded him too much of
Caprica. "No," he protested. "What are you doing? Isn't it enough for
_Cylons_ to be this way? Why do humans do this to humans- why destroy your
own kind?!"
     The other Commander chuckled nastily amidst ever-present shadows.
"The humans you search for now attack their own. It is nothing new. But not
all of _us are_ humans."
     "Humanoid, then. Whatever the term, there is still kinship. I ask
again, Why?"
     "There is a certain pleasure in real power, my dear human. I was
born to do this, as your Colonial Warriors were born to fight."
     "With honor," Adama responded automatically.
     A wicked laugh escaped the stranger. "Honor? It matters very
little. We are coming for _you_. Then try to speak of honor."
     The cold of space, despite fire nearby, ran through Adama, for she
showed him a possible future: her men overrunning the Fleet, she on the
GALACTICA bridge in his place. "Let me see who I must fight, then!" he
challenged.
     "Granted." The woman in black who blended into the shadows emerged
from them. Hair of the same ebon shade, unusual eyes that looked none too
sane when she smiled. A red glint shone in those alien eyes. Worse, the
grin displayed...fangs?
     "You will know me. You will know my crew. You knew my Lord, and his
revenge will not be denied!"
     She approached him, reaching out in a 'welcome' Adama wanted
nothing of. He backed away, spun about at a presence behind him, and nearly
choked at the sight of a maniacal man in white robes, who was not a man,
after all. "Oh no..."/
     "...NO!" Adama jolted awake, nearly leaped out of bed. "Dear God!"
he gasped, and sat with head in hands, trying to calm his body and mind.
     He sighed. It was typical: when he had enough off-duty time in
which to sleep, after running himself ragged for the rest of the period,
the dreams would be there, lying in wait. An unsettling side-effect of a
Warrior's career, but they hadn't been quite this strong recently, waking
him with the intent of reaching a gun; this had been strange. It was fading
now, but he knew it hadn't involved Cylons. Fire, darkness, chilling evil...
     Enough. He couldn't sleep now. Perhaps several hours of paperwork
would bore his mind asleep again, enough to knock him out for the rest of
the night. It was worth a try...
     It didn't work. As he sat at his desk, he distracted himself by
reflecting on the recent chaos. Entropy might be more exciting than
boredom, but it was a lot more likely to kill people.
     The Hellraisers were worthy comrades, but they introduced even more
random chaos into the lives of people who needed, or _thought_ they needed,
stability for once. They thrived on being unpredictable. Meanwhile,
Zellandra was not merely unpredictable, she was unbelievable in a way he
didn't quite understand why he accepted. Her lovely blond friend,
Aristephone, seemed to be...indescribable? At least, _he_ couldn't think of
any words to speak of her. He hadn't felt that way about a woman, even Ila,
in a very long time, although he had a certain fondness for the Council's
Siress Tinia; it almost embarrassed him. /Grow up, Commander/, he advised
himself sarcastically.
     He glanced up as his hatch buzzer was signalled. "Enter," he advised.
     The very object of his fascination did just that, a quizzical gaze
on her attractive features. "I sensed you were having a rough night. I
wanted to see if you needed help."
     /Can't hide anything from telepaths.../ "Thank you...Ari. My dreams
weren't pleasant company tonight, but I'm used to that. You're...welcome to
stay, though."
     She gazed at him, obviously wanting to be certain. "I realize
Zellie's and my arrival was rather, um, melodramatic. We weren't sure we'd
be welcome; especially Zellie with her pirate background." She shrugged. "I
haven't been...getting in your way?"
     "I doubt you could," he admitted, staring into Ari's eyes.
Realizing he was doing this for about the thousandth time in a relatively
short period, he blinked and looked away. "Why am I doing that?" he
wondered.
     Ari smiled. "In a word - Chai."
     "Chai?" Adama echoed. "I seem to have heard mention of that lately.
But what is it?"
     "It's better demonstrated than discussed."
     "I was afraid of that..."
     "Truly? There's no reason to fear."
     He could not seem to meet her eyes again. "Maybe there is."
     Ari regarded him somberly. "I realize your pain. Please, don't be
haunted by your ghosts. Never forget those you loved, but don't be tortured
by the memories."
     "I wish...I wish I could stop fearing that I'll lose anyone I care
about," he admitted. "I have sometimes believed I'm a jinx."
     "There _is_ a lot of pain in life. But there is also much else. I
intend to show you that, if you'll let me. For one thing," she smiled,
laying her hands on his shoulders, "you need to relax."
     "I've never relaxed in my life, you know," Adama exaggerated.
     "Would you like me to teach you?"
     The suggestiveness of that comment almost made the Commander break
out laughing, but he restrained it. "Thank you," he replied calmly.
     "I have no intention of betraying you - and that includes, to the
best of my ability, not dying when you least expect it!"
     Adama raised an eyebrow at her. "How kind." He paused, regarding
her. "Why do I feel as if I know you so well? You've not been here long,
but I haven't felt nearly as lonely since I met you."
     "I shall demonstrate." She reached up, fingers by the side of his
face. "Telepathy doesn't spook you, does it?"
     "No, it never has. It's always seemed very natural, and not simply
because I studied psi-skills at the Caprican Institute."
     "Ah! As I suspected. Perhaps I can continue your studies. Now close
your eyes...I want you to truly feel the link."
     Adama did as she asked, managing to concentrate yet relax. His
awareness expanded in a way he'd never quite experienced before. What he
'saw' and sensed was rather bizarre, yet wonderful. He knew Ari, as she did
him, but it went beyond that. Not only did he experience the essence of her
soul - like a shining, golden star - but he sensed his own being from her
point of view.
     //This...is...// He found he couldn't express it adequately in
words. //Incredible?!// he concluded.
     He felt Ari's grin. Then, very carefully, she withdrew from the
communion, and they both returned to themselves. But the link remained,
stronger than before; while they both lived, nothing could break it.
     "Interesting, yes?" Ari enquired, with a weak attempt at casual.
     "You could say that!" an amazed Adama replied. "But somehow, the
only thing I want to say is...I accept it completely. If this is a second
chance, I'm very grateful."
     "_Shadru mesta lera_," Ari mused.
     "What?"
     "I didn't regret this after all," she translated, grinning. "When I
left Ar'kinla with Zellie, I briefly thought I might, but...overcame it.
Thank you."
     The two embraced, greatly pleased to have discovered one another.

     The Fleet managed to be untouched by wartime mayhem for several
more days, but there was definitely chaos of another sort. Zellie
discovered the game of Triad, and to the great horror of Warriors who
insisted it was far too dangerous for women, began to _play_ it. With
another sort of horror, they realized that she was an excellent player.
     Combat tension in the Officers' Quarters began to be broken up with
enormous pillow fights, great for stress release. Zellie tended to start
them, naturally. The fun was so helpful to the pilots that there was no
point in remonstrating with the Ar'kinlan; she had her own type of
discipline. Simply because it wasn't entirely ritual Colonial
military-style didn't mean it had no merit. Adama began to grow
surprisingly fond of her obnoxiousness.

     The peace-of-sorts was not to last. Confusing nightmares ensued,
fraying the nerves of Warriors often already upset by what they faced in
their subconscious minds.
     Apollo, despite this fear, collapsed into his bunk and dropped off
to sleep fairly quickly. He had heard from comrades that they, too, had
been experiencing frightful dream-scenes lately - not combat-inspired, for
once, but pervaded with the sense of total evil lying in wait. Gods, to
just have one normal, relaxing erotic dream instead, once in a while...
     For him, though, that usually involved Serina and was therefore a haunting
of another sort.
     /Oh, let me have some peace!/ his mind protested as it sank into
the depths of darkness.
     Something awaited him there, again. /"May I help you, Captain?"
     "Who...?!" A woman stood with him, regarding him with amusement and
a predatory intensity. "I've seen you..."
     "Yes, everyone has, or soon shall."
     "Does proximity to Ar'kinlans increase the frequency of dreams like
this?!"
     "Bright question. No, it's not that; it's my talent acting up.
Quite obnoxiously, as it happens, but that was the point." She watched him
with a stare that seemed too familiar; her eyes were an unusual
reddish-brown, not blue, but he remembered a similar look...
     "I know you."
     "Hmm. You are special, my lovely human. Will you come with me?"
     "Where? To do what? I don't trust you, playing in our dreams as you
do! You...oh yes, I know you for what you are."
     "I admit I am a vampire," she grinned with a lazy sensuality,
showing fangs in a sardonic smile as she brushed against him with her hands
on his chest. "Why do people feel they must _insult_ vampires so? We are
such marvelous company, after all..."
     An abrupt moment of terror swept over him. "Stay away!"
     "Ah, no, my lovely. I can give you one of those dreams you were
wishing for earlier; nightmares aren't my only talent. You're so vulnerably
lonely...it could be quite tasty."
     Her eyes hypnotized Apollo...his body wanted her, but his mind
insisted on control, finding the seduction repulsive. He knew her
undoubtedly as the enemy.
     "Try it, my Captain. Nothing else will satisfy you so much. I can
give you this...and anything else you desire. I can be Serina for you, if
you wish. What else? Power, perhaps?"
     "Nothing from you, demon!" he spat, pulling away. "I know what and
who you are, who you speak for! Not all of us believe the lies you'll try
to speak! I don't, my father doesn't..."
     "Then rot. The Count and I curse you. You shall see Hades. I shall
send you there myself and take from you what I please, perhaps your life.
Beware us!" She bared her fangs and swept away. Lightning split the
shadows./
     Apollo sat bolt upright in his bunk, choking back a scream. "Count
Iblis," he muttered. "And an heir. Why do they have to come now? Go the
frack AWAY!"
     Laughter echoed faintly from another place...

     "Commander..." said Omega in a wary tone, "we have a message coming
in...and I think it's Cylon."
     "Cylon? Why would they...? Hmm..." Adama briefly wondered whether
he should answer. "Let it through."
     Omega nodded. On the communication screen, a human face appeared.
It was bearded, with crazed-looking eyes, but remained all-too-familiar.
     "Ah, Adama."
     "Baltar. How...?"
     "My basestar tracked me down and rescued me. I'm back. You are _so
dead_, if I get my hands on you." Baltar's nasty grin turned into a
maniacal laugh. "Good day to you. Or night. Or whatever it is out here!" He
signed off.
     Adama stared at the screen and sighed.
     "Well, that was pleasant..." Tigh noted in disgust.
     /I suppose I should've expected that/, Adama brooded. /Except that
I never thought that Cylons would rescue a human. Well, Baltar...thus
begins the Game again, eh, you little beast?/

     When actual, physical chaos broke out, Zellie was naturally
involved, but not intentionally. As she and Starbuck paused in a corridor,
talking animatedly, they were rudely and violently interrupted by a truly
shocking sight.
     The rebel's necklace broke on its own in a telekinetic explosion
and fell to the floor, engulfed in flames that weren't quite like any
flames Starbuck had seen. From the midst of this unholy fire, a clawed,
scaly hand reached for its captor.
     "ZELLIE!" Starbuck shouted, as the alien creature lumbered forth,
hands reaching for the Ar'kinlan's neck. The Lieutenant's blaster cleared
its holster in record time and he began firing. The only effect his shots
had was to draw attention from Zellie to himself. He grabbed her hand and
the two ran for their lives, a startled stream of alien curses trailing
down the corridor in Zellie's wake, along with a lusty telepathic howl for
help.
     Ari, on the bridge with Adama, jumped and rushed to the passageway.
There was no need for explanations. Zellie had never been one for quiet and
subtlety unless stalking prey; her psi-transmissions, if excited, could
transmit headaches as well as messages. Adama had also 'heard' her; his
expression wasn't merely a response to Ari's panic, and he ran after her
without asking what the rush was.
     Apollo, followed by Shannon, dashed into the corridor after
Starbuck and Zellie, deep anxiety etched on his face.
     "What the frack is all this noise?!"
     "_That_!" yelled Shannon, pointing at the lizard-creature chasing
after the two.
     "By all that's holy..."
     "No, it's very unholy! Run, Captain!"
     They ran. Apollo turned back, however, to look behind him as the
noise ceased. All he could now see was a small, dark-haired child sitting
on the deck, holding an arm limply, an expression of angelic pain on her
face. She whimpered, reaching out in an irresistible appeal for help.
Apollo started towards her, hoping she hadn't been harmed by the ghastly
beast - which was no longer in sight.
     Shannon grasped his shoulder. "No, Apollo!" she warned. "There is
your beast. It's a shape-changer - and it's evil!"
     The face of what looked like a child screwed up in a mask of alien
animosity. Her form flowed, melted, into an Ariean devilope, which sprang
for them both. Shannon whipped out what looked like a cape and flipped it
over Apollo; an instant later, following a feeling of dislocation, he found
himself on what he identified as the deck on the next level down. He stared
at his alien friend. "What was that?"
     She grinned. "Portable TARDIS. A dimensional cloak. Not magickal,
just attuned to my psi-skills. Comes in handy. But c'mon, we've got to see
if we can help them."
     "That child - so real!"
     "It _was_ real - in a sense. But it wasn't a child... Look, we can
discuss the paradoxes after we've defeated our gruesome guest and returned
it to Zellandra's necklace, where it seems to belong."
     "Sure!" Apollo exclaimed. "She keeps a demon in her necklace?"
     "She's a hotshot - it's a sort of freaky trophy she won."
     "Just how do we defeat the little bugger?"
     "Oh, cripes, I don't know!" she nearly yelled. "Ask, 'pretty
please, could you go away'?!"
     "Sorry, that was stupid. Um - there's the elevator; shall we go the
more conventional way?"
     "Why not?" They boarded, and the doors closed with an ominous
whoosh. Apollo glanced at Shannon in trepidation, noting with some envy
that she was retaining her composure well - possibly better, in fact, than
was he. He took a deep breath as the doors opened and revealed a scene of
pure havoc and pandemonium.
     Zellie, wielding her energy sword, battled the creature as it
mutated from form to form, attempting first to slash her, then to envelop
her like an amoeba. However, she was too skilled to be trapped in such a
way. Catching sight of Shannon, she grinned fiercely and shouted, "Hey -
d'you think it's immune to bagpipes?!"
     "Lord knows!" replied Shannon. She reached into her cloak,
withdrawing a sword of her own. "A stupid question - do you need help?"
     "You're right...it's stupid! C'mon, lady - dive in!"
     She did just that, while Ari arrived with Adama and looked on.
     "Shouldn't we be helping them fight?" Apollo wondered. "We _are_
Warriors..."
     "Well, I left my broadsword in my other pants..." Starbuck pointed out.
     "Ah, is _that_ what you're calling it these days?" mused Apollo.
     "...and my telepathy in my...other...brain......uh, _what_ did you
say?"
     "Never mind," Apollo replied 'innocently'. Serious again, he
pointed out, "It doesn't feel right, though, to stand back and watch _them_
fight."
     "Let them do it," Adama advised. "They know how to fight this
creature better than we do."
     "Otherwise known as 'watch and learn'," Ari added. "You _really_
don't want to be fighting that if you can help it."
      "Commander, any chance it could be exorcised?" Starbuck asked with
sardonic humor.
      "Somehow, Starbuck, I don't think it would pay attention."
     The two women made a good team. Zellie was a born fighter and Shannon had
received excellent training from her planet's desert warriors. Ari had
expected to regard this half-Gallifreyan with suspicion, but she had
definitely proved to be a being one could rely on. The two seemed not to
require any immediate aid, so Ari waited with the humans for a chance to
offer emergency assistance.
     The demon was devious as all its kind, and now played a mind-trick.
It shifted to humanoid and searched for the form that would most unbalance
its foes. It appeared differently to each of them, including the witnesses,
but strongest to the fighters. Taken aback, they stopped combat and stared
in shock.
     "Father?" whispered Zellie. She saw Toragon gesturing for her to
join him. She couldn't help lowering her sword and stepping a pace forward.
"You died..."
     Shannon could not believe who she saw. It wasn't possible. The man
appearing now, her dear friend-in-exile, had been blown up and killed; she
would have sworn it. He could not be here now. She had _felt_ him die. The
logical side of her mind asserted this and she backed away from the vision.
"Nathaniel...please go," she insisted. "Stop it..." Shannon began to break
the spell. Shouting in outrage //You dare to play around in my memories??
Stop! And let Zellandra go!//, she charged back to battle with a
recklessness that echoed her partner's. The astonished beast recoiled,
releasing the others' minds, and returned to frenzied shifting. Zellie was
almost eaten when she didn't evade quite in time.
     Ari found an opening in the chaos. She, too, charged forward,
Zellie's necklace in hand. Swinging it over her head like a bolo to gain
momentum, she flung it through the air at the monster. Flames erupted. The
creature unleashed a savage, inhumanly-pitched scream. The bone-shattering
shriek caused the human spectators to collapse on the deck, writhing and
holding their heads in agony from the hypersonic howl. Even the three
aliens instinctively clapped their hands over their ears and clenched their
teeth.
     As eldest and most powerful, Ari began a psychic assault, forcing
the monster back into its pulsating prison, face paling from the strain.
Shannon, youngest but in command of great control and ability, and Zellie,
possessor of mutant psi-strength beyond her age-level, joined her in
earnest. Linking hands and minds, they became one truly awesome force
instead of three separate, fragmented ones. But the foe was formidable and
it was no easy fight.
     Ultimately, the three-acting-as-one triumphed over the sheer evil
of the savage creature. With a last spree of demonic caterwauling, the
beast disappeared into the flames, which themselves imploded into the
eternal prison of the cube. A great collective gasp was heaved, and the
trio looked as if they would like to collapse right where they stood.
     "Bloody hell," remarked Shannon with typical casualness.
     "Don't even mention hell," muttered Zellie. "I don't wanta hear
about it!"
     "You crazy pilot," Shannon observed. "If you must keep that demon,
guard it better! We don't need Iblis' satanic pets jaunting around the
ship!"
     "Iblis?" came a gurgled groan from the region of the floor: the
Commander attempting to speak.
     "Oh! We almost forgot about you," Shannon apologized.
     "Are you all right?" added Ari.
     "No. But I might get better," Adama replied, sitting slowly, "with
a little, shall we say, tender loving care." He gave Ari a wicked grin that
made her burst out laughing.
     Zellie knelt by Starbuck and Apollo. "Hey, guys?" she enquired.
      "Are you dead or simply stunned?" queried the irrepressible Shannon.
     "Dead," moaned Starbuck.
     "Ohhh..." grumbled Apollo. "I think only life hurts this much..."
He pulled himself up, staring at the women. "You seem to have neglected
telling us something rather important! It's Iblis, isn't it?"
     Ari sighed. "I fear so. But, as we'd been passing through without
incident, I hoped it wouldn't need to be told. This nebula we have been
traversing - it is Iblis' Cage."
     "Huh?" came the not-so-lucid reply.
     "Our people imprisoned Iblis here thousands of yahrens ago. They
gave him two things: half the key to his prison, and an ion-drive starship.
If he could locate the second half of the Key, he would regain his freedom.
Unfortunately for the Universe, even after crashing his ship and losing his
demonic attendants, he did find it."
     "Obviously," realized Adama, "because we had a visitation from him."
     Apollo and Starbuck glanced at each other, remembering the beastly
remains they had seen in the destroyed ship when Apollo had opened the
hatch. That had not been pretty...
     "What was the other half?" Adama asked.
     "Ah, that. Just the demon in Zellie's necklace."
     "Shannon," Apollo added, "how did you know about that detail?"
     Shannon shrugged with a casual attitude that only an alien could
pull off while discussing something so confusing. "It's known even on
Gallifrey."
     "And remember - it took three of us to get the thing back in, but
Iblis captured it on his own," Ari revealed. "Food for thought!"
     "Zellie," Adama wondered, "how did you come to be Keeper of the Key?"
     A strange grin was her only reaction. Ari closed her eyes,
grimaced, and did an uncharacteristic thing: she blushed. Shannon,
observing this byplay, nodded knowingly, appearing both vastly amused and
amazed.
     "Well, it was sure fun..." Zellie attested.
     Ari cleared her throat. "Let's not go into that. However, because
of her rashness, we have the entire Key and can get out of the nebula.
Unfortunately," she giggled, "the Cylons will be unable to follow."
     Adama laughed, giving her a sardonic look of 'distress'. "That _is_
a shame. We were getting so fond of them, too..."

     Baltar paced angrily. "Why, why does nothing _ever_ go right??!!"
he ranted to himself. He slammed a fist against a bulkhead, howled in pain,
and hopped about cursing and snarling.
     "Perhaps it's because you're a good deal less competent than you
should be in your position," a female voice noted.
     Baltar whirled. Too astonished to manage coherent speech, he stared
like a lunatic at a woman who seemed to blend into the shadows, what with
the black of her hair and her entire outfit. Her eyes, however, glowed
slightly.
     The intruder laughed. "You need help. Help is coming. This is
interesting, Baltar. You want Adama so much, don't you? However, you have
no concept of what it takes to command. You're unworthy. I can train
you...perhaps even change you...make you more than you ever dreamed you
could be, more than human, stronger and better than Adama. Isn't that a
thought?"
     "Who _are_ you, to promise this?!"
     "You'll learn. Tell me, Baltar, what you want most, and if you want
it enough to work for it."
     "I want revenge, you were correct about that. Right now, though, I
want to know...who the frack _are_ you?"
     She smirked at him. "You remember Count Iblis, I think."
     "The one who spoke with Imperious Leader's voice."
     "Vice versa, but true."
     "The one who brought me to prison in the Fleet, then offered me
freedom - but in the end, it was _Adama_ who released me! Because Iblis
disappeared!"
     "He was driven out and exiled. Don't get petulant with me, human!
And don't think that Adama was doing you a favor; he released you into
exile, and you know what that planet was like."
     "Oh, I do. How do _you_ know?"
     "Do you remember the voices you heard when you were unconscious?"
     Baltar thought back and remembered. "That was Iblis and you? You
said you were preparing something..."
     "So we did."
     "We also helped arrange for your basestar to return. Lucifer
required some persuading; he was enjoying having a ship to himself rather
too much."
     "I can believe that..." Baltar grumbled.
     "_Think_, Baltar. You're being offered something...unique. You will
have a place with us as we have our vengeance on our enemy: Commander Adama
and those of his blood, and his crew. We can be...each other's instruments
of revenge. Death and destruction...does the idea please you?"
     "I want Adama dead! Obviously, you know that. Allow me the pleasure
of executing him myself."
     "Well, actually...no."
     "_What?!_ I live to see him dead!"
     "We have our own plans. Iblis' desire for revenge is infinitely
greater than yours alone. And it _will_ please you to see him conquered and
his family and allies destroyed."
     "After longing to kill him myself? Come now..."
     "Obey," she advised.
     "Where _is_ Iblis?! Why must I obey you? How do I know anything you
say is true?"
     "Be silent and have faith."
     "Patronizing witch," the fed-up Baltar growled. "I will call
Centurions to deal with you..."
     She moved too quickly and was in his face before he could
consciously register her movement, then she slapped him. "Don't threaten
_me_, Baltar. Don't do anything to deserve worse than that. I could kill
you, but Iblis would be annoyed. Ah, you fool. When you passed out on that
planet, you were dying. You awakened and recovered with an increased desire
for revenge; I helped with that. Then your Cylons found you in time. So,
you owe me."
     "I don't want to owe you."
     She sighed in disgust. "I think this isn't working. It seems you
would have a problem taking orders from me. Generally, I find it easy to
seduce men to my will. Very well. There's no need that I work directly with
you; you shall deal directly with Iblis or a slave for the rest of this
mission. I shall not waste my time. Should you survive the plans of chaos,
and your manners improve, I may recruit you later. I warn you not to defy
Iblis - he is _not_ in a pleasant mood."
     Shannon considered the Situation and decided now was as good a time
as any to finish work on her TARDIS. She might not have the opportunity
later, if things were to be as frenetic as she expected, if Iblis was
coming for them. Impressed with David Auriga's skill, as demonstrated
aboard AURORA, she teamed up with him. Thus, David had the opportunity to
talk with her as he'd wanted, as they tested TARDIS circuits and
experimented.
     "I have a question...it's this memory of mine, you realize."
     "Oh yes, Colonel," Shannon remarked. "You sometimes seem more Time
Lord than human."
     "Ah? Could be a renegade lurking about in my ancestry!" Shannon
chuckled in reply, wondering. "Now...to go at this roundaboutly..." He gave
an eyebrow shrug at his word usage, then continued. "For a Colonial
Warrior, I've always been rather childlike. My people built battlestars,
but I've never lost my wonder for technology and the surprises space always
springs. Of course, how can any human be complacent when the Ar'kinlans and
Time Lords have accomplished what _they_ have?"
     "True. But I understand completely, though I'm of both those races."
     "I feel joy for the peoples who reach out to it and have a
dream...like Earth. Despite all its troubles, I like that place - it's so
linked to the Colonies, as Commander Adama knows."
     "Earth." Shannon nodded. "It has its uses."
     "I'm sure you tired of it after being stranded..."
     "Exiled, sir."
     "Oh, I know that, but the other term was diplomatic," David
grinned. "I wouldn't want to stay, even in its future. 'A nice place to
visit,' and all that. I'm too addicted to spaceflight to settle down.
Actually, you could call me a space-travel anthropologist. I always enjoyed
dropping in to watch their space launches. Still do, sometimes."
     Shannon gave him a look, realizing what her crafty human friend was
up to. "Aye...if you do that, and know NASA, then you saw me, right?"
     "Well, I wanted to mention it. I recognized you when you came
aboard, bringing Apollo. However, I decided to wait. Time Lords like
keeping themselves to themselves."
     "Oh, that!" Shannon giggled. "I may be a hybrid, but I can be
terribly Gallifreyan."
     "And stylish."
     "Thank you, Colonel," she smiled. A sigh escaped, then.
"Interestingly, the Doctor was on Earth all that time and never recognized
me. But he was busy, and I've never been sure if I didn't jump timetracks
to an alter-reality when I left for UNIT." She looked unfocused, then
snapped back. "Mental stroll - excuse that."
     David nodded. "It was an alternate," he affirmed.
     "Ah. No surprise." /After all, Time Lords would never let exiles
have access to the main reality, would they? Too dangerous./ Looking at
David seriously, she resumed. "Colonel...please remember that Dr. Keller
died long ago. She was me, a 'me' I needed to pass as at NASA. It was fun
for a time. I am no longer her. Her use ran out when I left. Thankfully, I
no longer need Terran alter egos."
     "I understand. But you do have style - including in the way you
left! That jet crash...staging your own death? Why, after you were
successful?"
     "Ah, you _do_ know a lot, don't you! You could be downright
dangerous, David, if you wanted to blackmail people!" She grimaced.
"Personal reasons, after what happened to an...old friend. And who would
question the finality of an exploding jet? I had to get out; I couldn't
bear the bureaucracy, so I gave 'em hell. I also chose to be true to my
Time Lord blood and withdraw before my participation in history totally
altered that timeline."
     "Logical..." David winced.
     "Naturally, the bloody High Council shouldn't have exiled me if
they didn't want such participation. How could I have resisted being an
astronaut, even knowing I'd end up paying for it?" She suddenly laughed and
shook her head. "But NASA knows I didn't die - after all, on one of my
trips out with Jolene Whomana, we pursued Voyager Two, and I beamed a
strange message back." She giggled wickedly. "It said, 'Hi, guys, remember
me?!' and included my image."
     David stared, and broke out laughing. "Lady, you are weird!"
     "I do my best," she replied with a gracious nod.
     "Please excuse my terminal case of curiosity, eh?"
     "No reason to. It makes you more interesting to deal with!" Shannon
chuckled.
     David smiled at that, and his brain contemplated clues even as he
worked. His photographic memory called up AURORA's personnel files;
something had sounded familiar...paying for involvement by losing a friend?
Then it snapped into his mind, and he nearly groaned aloud. /Oh Lords. I
think I know who she means... Should I tell her he didn't die, or would she
kill me? Looks like _I_ shouldn't have gotten involved./ He clamped down on
his mind, hoping he wasn't broadcasting guilt; not good to do in the
company of a psi. /Well, she'll learn someday if she stays with us! I'll
deal with that then!/

     The Black Ship lurked through space. Its true name was not known,
for its commander did not bother to reveal it, and her crew followed suit.
They ensured that it was merely known on sight...and that sight could
sometimes be the last anyone would have in their existence. Now, they
stalked big prey indeed, and enjoyed the hunt.
     The woman who led them stood on the bridge of her ship, looking out
upon the stars. She stood tall and arrogantly, frighteningly beautiful.
Raven hair curled over her shoulders and fell across one side of her face.
A smirk curled over her lips. That face was strong and eerily graced by
shadows that highlighted its sinister planes. Somewhat predictably, she was
dressed all in black. Her dark brown eyes seemed to glow with a shade that
did not befit a human. Not that she _was_ human...
     She now fingered a necklace at her throat in contemplation, and smiled.
     "The fools," she murmured. "You have forgotten...I am not tied by
the laws that bind the Count." Her dark lashes masked the
disturbingly-tinted gaze for a moment, as she reached out with her mind.
/There it is.../ Smiling in exultation, she lifted her hand...and lying
therein was the glowing necklace Key that had been discussed by the
Warriors and their friends.
     "Ah," she sighed happily. "Never underestimate Jakarla. I have a
gift for you, my father..."
     The necklace faded from her hand.

     A tall, white-robed figure stalked back and forth in an oddly
glowing chamber. His prey had eluded him - but not, he vowed, for long.
     "Adama has foiled me again. And with the help of my own people!
This must not become a habit. My plans shall no longer be frustrated!
Baltar, fool though he is, could be of use - the worm likes to believe that
he hates Adama even more than do I!"
     His ranting mood ceased as he cocked his head in a listening
position. A great grin crossed his face and he burst forth into laughter.
He held out a hand and the necklace Key materialized there. "It is here!
And not even Zellandra can capture it from me a second time. OOLINI!"
     Iblis' unwilling consort, a lovely blue-skinned humanoid, slinked
in and prostrated herself before him.
     "What is your bidding, Master?"
     "I am going to send you somewhere with a gift for an...old friend.
Tell him it is the key to his predicament." Smiling devilishly at his awful
pun, he continued. "It is activated by mind-control. Seeing that he _has_
no mind, it could be very difficult for him to use it," he added absently,
"but one must try. Tell him that I expect him to destroy Adama, and that
you shall be his servant."
     "Master, I do not wish to go to that mad human."
     "You _shall_! I command it."
     "Yes, my Master." She looked down, obscuring the tears in her
sparkling ruby eyes.
     Iblis waved a hand and the necklace appeared in the alien female's
own fingers. With a second gesture, the slave girl faded away to Baltar's
throne room.

     Starbuck noted a distinctly ill look cross Zellie's face.
Frenziedly, she assaulted her pockets, but seemed not to retrieve anything.
"Oh, Goddess..." she groaned, and began to speak in another tongue. It did
not sound complimentary.
     When she seemed concluded, Starbuck dared address her. "What was that?"
     "Nothing pleasant! Starbuck, it looks as if our favorite beast has
absconded with the Key and given it to Baltar!"
     "What! You mean...Baltar can escape the nebula?" Starbuck realized.
     "Right first time!"
     "Oh, frack. We'd better tell the Commander!"
     They whirled in the appropriate direction and, as if again
demon-chased, pounded down the corridors. Upon reaching the bridge, they
burst in and dashed up the stairs to the upper level.
     Ari glanced at them. "You both make more noise than a squadron of
Cylons clattering along a metal deck - you're definitely made for each
other!"
     "About the Cylons..." began Starbuck, smirking a bit at Ari's
observation.
     Zellie broke in: "That slimeburger - Iblis, excuse me - interfered
and gave the Key to Baltar! He'll be after us again!"
     Adama sighed. "Of course. I should have known we couldn't win so
easily."
     "What do we do now?"
     "A very good question, Starbuck. I haven't the slightest idea!"
Adama admitted. "At least we have a long head start away from the nebula.
Unless Iblis tells him, he won't know where we've gone."
     "Some hope, that," sighed Zellie. "Care to calculate the odds,
Starbuck?"
     "Not this time..."
     "Smart. You'd just get upset. Oh, could I ever use some
Rendelmarian brew right now..."

     The slim blue figure of Oolini knelt before Iblis. "My Master..."
she ventured.
     Iblis growled. "Why are you not with Baltar?"
     "Master, he has lost the GALACTICA."
     Iblis blinked calmly. "The bumbling idiot. Must I do everything
myself?" A pause, then he spoke again. "He has it now; I have just sent the
coordinates. Tell him I will accept no more failures, or he shall suffer
indeed. Now begone."
     With a wave of his hand, Oolini faded from sight. Turning, Iblis
pressed an urgently flashing button on the console before him. A screen
cleared, to show the demonic features of one of Iblis' myriad servants.
     "Master," it hissed. "All is prepared." It cackled.
     "Good." A slow smile spread across Iblis' face. "The Squad Leader
may begin her work. Adama isas good as dead. So I swear!"

     Oolini prostrated herself before Baltar. "Your servant awaits your
bidding," she stated levelly. The blue skinned wench dared look upon
Baltar's face. Her red eyes again filled with tears; she shuddered.
     "Get me my robe, Oolini," leered the man who grew more like his
Cylon masters every day.
     Oolini rose and thankfully dashed from the room.
     Iblis' image appeared in a technologically-heightened astral image.
"Baltar - how soon can you reach the Fleet?"
     "Three days' time," the traitor chuckled.
     "Maintain distance."
     "What?? I could destroy them..."
     "Maintain distance, you imbecile, unless you wish to be caught in
the crossfire. Adama shall not long evade us."
     "Exactly what are you planning for him?"
     Iblis grinned broadly. "You'll see. Oh, indeed, you shall see."
     And then, full of his power, Iblis threw back his head and laughed
demonically...a laugh echoed by his allies and many of his servants...a
laugh full of triumph, for - at last - Adama was right where he wanted him.

     *Hallucinatory Interlude*
     /The Black Ship had come. A voice and visage emerged from within: a
beautiful woman, darkly compelling, her voice quiet yet laced with a
certain controlled anger. Everyone in the Fleet received the transmission,
mentally if not over com.
     "I am Jakarla. I speak for the one you knew as Count Iblis. I need
to speak to the Council of Twelve. I can board anywhere without permission,
but shall ask it of you."
     Adama stared in disbelief. "I will not give it! Permission denied."
     A soft laugh. "You fear the truth I shall speak to the people. It
threatens your Warrior dictatorship. The Council desires peace - and you
always were a people who wished for peace amid the years of Cylon war.
Iblis would have led you to peace and freedom."
     "The Council will hear you, even if the military will not," stated
Sire Geller.
     "Then I have the only permission that matters. But I will visit the
people first and speak with them."
     Contact was broken. And a cycle began again, like that of Iblis'
visit; it would not be stopped. The woman stayed with the people, drawing
them to her. The evil that Adama knew was her birthright from Iblis was
masked by attractive words, "miraculous" deeds, and charismatic presence.
The people of the Fleet were quickly drawn to her.
     Dissenting voices, including some from the Council, protested that
Iblis had done this, made them promises, then vanished.
     "It was not his desire to do so! He wanted to help you, as I do.
But he was driven away, by your military rulers and by a people who wish to
lead you wrongly." Sensing confusion, she went on. "Those who cast Iblis
out. They are a great power, but jealous of his bloodline, including me.
You should be aware that the military is being swayed by them even now,
that you have other guests in this Fleet who are not of your worlds. They
are of great support to Commander Adama and your favorite pilot, Lt.
Starbuck. Be warned. They seek to keep power where it is. You are led by a
man who promises you a legendary world called Earth; this planet is indeed
real but I warn you that it is wracked by war and injustice. It is
primitive. His claims that he wishes to lead you to peace are false!"
     "You speak for Iblis," Siress Tinia mused. "As you are not human,
what do you know of our experiences? You set yourself above us..."
     "As someone who was trained to protect you as my father wished. I
know what you experience by being with the people. I see that civilians
live in poverty, while the military does as it pleases. True of any
dictatorship."
     "And you will be different?"
     "Siress, you are a skeptic. I know why; you've been close enough to
Commander Adama to be brainwashed. You think the mind control is all
one-sided. Amusing. But the people do not find it so, and they shall
revolt. They desire freedom! I shall lead them to it. You stand against me?"
     "Not against the people. I am not military."
     "But you're in good standing with the dictatorship. Poor, deluded
woman."
     Adama sighed. "You go on and on about the evil of the military.
What of you? Your ship is distinctly a warship; you are not armed, but your
bearing is distinctly military, and that seems to be a uniform."
     "Clever, Commander. Yes, I was trained in a military fashion; I
help run my father's ship. A most honorable Warrior's upbringing, in fact!
But I was trained in preparation for defense against those who attack us,
and for revolution."
     "What is to stop you from setting up a dictatorship once your great
'revolution' is a success?"
     "I tell you that I will lead these people to freedom, not crush
them under martial law once they have their world to live on in peace. I
will defend their planet with that ship. That is its significance."
     Smooth talker. Very smooth. Adama sighed in disgust and blinked at
the telepathic sneer he detected from Jakarla's direction.
     "I am a Warrior, but Iblis and I are not warlords. Freedom and
safety and everything you will ever need for survival, that is what we
desire for you. We can deliver your needs; Iblis proved that; so have I. I
will be your helper, not your...commander." She laughed. "How often does
your great leader dare to walk among you as Iblis and I have done? He
doesn't know what the people want. I do! I have proven that to them!"
     "Yes, you have!" came a unison shout from far too many people
through the Fleet.
     Jakarla broke into a delighted grin. "I am honored. What do the
people want? Tell your great leaders while they can hear!"
     "A place to truly live, not ships to run in. What kind of life is
this for our children, never to know a planet?"
     "Indeed. Go on."
     "We want our own lives! Free of military rule!"
     Voices continued to speak in favor. Iblis' daughter raised a hand
to still the outburst.
     "You will have what you desire! Truly, you will. I come prepared by
my father to assist you. Tell me your choice! If you wish to continue this
lifestyle, you are free to do so, but if not... Tell me - and the
dictatorship - what you prefer."
     "WE NEED YOU!" was the consensus.
     Oh, God, we have gone to Hades... was Adama's thought.
     "The delightful sound of righteous rage, of a captive people freed
of tyranny," Jakarla smiled. "I believe that the dictatorship must suffer
as you have suffered for so long. I think, in fact, that we should have a
trial. It shall be as the people wish..."
     Anger erupted through the Fleet. Not all agreed with this decision,
which tended to further separate the civilians and the military.
     "You see? Of course the Warriors do not want the people to be free!
You must be free of the Commander dictator, whom the Warriors continue to
follow! Perhaps I shall need to command the majority of them dishonorably
discharged from the Service. Warriors willing to support me, however, shall
be rewarded."
     "You talk a lot," Adama growled, "you promise and threaten a lot,
but you don't let the opposition speak. You are the dictator."
     Jakarla glared. "I think you also have what you suggest is a 'big
mouth.' I also think you're in danger. Ah well, let us not be in suspense.
I call the Council to order! You shall attend, Adama, or some of my crew
shall drag you there."
     "Do as you wish. You know where to find me. Carry out your challenge!"

     Tigh barely suppressed a shiver. "There's a frack of a lot of
trouble. It might have been better to do as she requested."
     "I will not follow the self-proclaimed Prince of Darkness or his
daughter, Tigh. She has no right to do this."
     "The people seem to have given her the right. The Council was
supporting her, too. Except for Tinia. Smart of her."
     An abrupt buzzing flash erupted on the bridge and a small (but
effective) squad of black-garbed men - not too distinguishable from Fleet
Security blackshirts, in fact - appeared. They began to fire what Adama
sincerely hoped were stun blasts, taking out opposition, and then two of
them reached him. Warrior training took over (it died very hard); he tried
to fight them. One hit him hard in return and joined several others in
burying him under an aggressive pile.
     Their target controlled, they teleported out again.

     "I do apologize for my methods," Jakarla mused, pacing. Her manner was
tense, full of barely-contained electricity, but her voice was almost
languid. "He would not come freely."
     "Damn right I wouldn't," Adama muttered under his breath, dazed and
bruised but conscious enough to protest.
     An angry Councilman's voice intruded. "It would be better if you
obeyed those who made this choice! You've been in control too long, you
enjoy it too much, and you think only you know what's best."
     "Pardon me," Adama remarked with controlled sarcasm. "I think I
have more experience - and ethics - than this woman who barges in like a
conquering hero."
     "She came to help, and frankly, we need it!"
     "She has earned nothing! Princess of Darkness, I will not give you
the satisfaction of begging for your mercy."
     Jakarla smirked. "I help your people to freedom and get such abuse
in return. Imagine. Is this the behavior of an honorable leader? Sexist
insults, of all things. I think we've all had about enough evidence of your
guilt by now, haven't we? You're unfit to lead, I would say," Jakarla
continued casually. "The people agree."
     "Unfortunately, the people of the Fleet are naive and innocent. I
swear that I love my people, but they follow anyone who promises them food
and fuel and guaranteed peace. There is no such thing in the universe as
guaranteed peace and safety. It exists nowhere - no, not even on Earth,
though I've prayed that it do so."
     "Earth is a silly dream. These desperate people cannot be led to a
world like that, after being used to societies that can get along together
without hatred. Earth cannot tolerate humans of different colors; imagine
what they'd do to survivors from different planets. You're leading them to
destruction. Shameful."
     "Yet Iblis knew how to reach Earth and promised to lead us there,"
Geller spoke up with confusion.
     "Because it was what Adama wished, and he still thought at that
time that perhaps what he and the people wanted were the same. But the
people wanted anywhere safe and Iblis promised that. Not Earth
specifically." Jakarla eyed Adama. "Time to give up on that dream and
accept what the people want."
     "What you want. A people in slavery is what it shall be."
     "They have that now, courtesy of you and your followers. I say
again, you are unfit to lead."
     "Unfit to be in the Countess' company!" snapped a Councilman.
     "Countess?" Jakarla smiled. "No, Councillor. My military rank is
Squad Leader. But it should be Commander, should it not?"
     "We should rule it so."
     "Do that. Adama, I shall take my rightful place."
     "Your rightful place is not in this life."
     "Oh, abuse."
     "Yes. I spit on you in disgust."
     "Same to you. Your beloved 'Warrior's honor' is fraying noticeably.
What does the Council say?"
     "Command is yours, Jakarla."
     "Gracious. Adama, I discharge you with the greatest dishonor and
disgrace possible, and relieve you of command. You will hand over your
insignia."
     "I will not. You don't have the right."
     "I have every right that 'your' people have given me!"
     "You have not earned this rank or this uniform," Adama insisted,
"you have no right to wear them, and no honor, either!"
     Jakarla's great show of patience snapped and she slapped him across
the face with strength that caused him to stagger. "I've had enough of you,
stubborn fool! Go to Hades and take your followers with you, if you wish."
She snapped her fingers and one of her guards caught Adama in a wrestling
hold. Baring her teeth in his face, she removed his medallion and pointedly
placed it on her own uniform. "To me, you have no rank and no rights. Your
people have cast you out. It would please me to teach you some respect
aboard my ship. My...other ship, that is. The Black Ship." Jakarla
chuckled. "Councilors, perhaps I shall even make this ingrate a crewman of
my own, along with his followers who will not listen to reason. You have no
death penalty, and I will not enforce what you do not have, so I shall take
him for myself, alive."
     "Commander, you may do as you reasonably wish."
     "You are ever so gracious and I thank you."
     Engaging her ship's teleport, she swept out, along with her crew and
GALACTICA's previous Commander./
     ****
     This dream was had by all in the Fleet, unnerving the Warriors
considerably. It served as an effective warning.
     It would have frightened them worse to realize that the civilians
took this telepathic visitation very seriously. They spoke of their
collective vision, backing this newly-seen potential leader wholeheartedly.
Rumors of mutiny and revolution spread through the Fleet with intense
enthusiasm.
     It could be difficult to believe that matters could ever grow
worse, but this time they did.

***

Part 2


          Jakarla grinned with delight at her experiment. She was
skilled in all manner of attacks, and had fashioned a wicked biological
weapon that quite pleased her. Iblis approved of its testing on a servant,
who had proceeded to prove its potency by dying, hallucinating with
nightmares as he did so. Very fitting result, she believed, for one who was
an artist at nightmares. She turned to a man dressed in appropriate
GALACTICA garb, and grinned.
     "Take this to the GALACTICA. Use it, but only on one Warrior. The
Count wants Captain Apollo. He..." She paused and felt for an impression,
the taste of a particular mind. "He will be at the Officers' Club. Take
this and use it."
     "Yes, Lady."
     Jakarla sent him to the battlestar.

     Apollo returned from patrol. He went to the Officers' Club and
collected a brew from one of the