BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: THE JOURNEY FORWARD     
                         by 
                   Eric J. Paddon
	    Email: ep993185@oak.cats.ohiou.edu

     Based on characters created by Glen A. Larson
       This is a work of fan fiction and is not 
      intended to infringe on any copyright laws

      Battlestar Galactica: The Journey Forward
                 From The Adama Journals
   The Fleet remains in a state of relaxed jubilation since our
successful engagement with the lone Cylon basestar.  And by the
good grace of the Lords of Kobol, Apollo and Starbuck have
returned safely from their infiltration mission that gave us the
advantage in the battle.  Tonight, the two are to be honored in a
special ceremony where they will both be awarded their second
Gold Cluster medal.  Unlike the first time, which had been
arranged by Sire Uri as a grandstanding ploy, I intend to be
there.
   Once the celebration ends though, I have one difficult task to
perform before we resume our journey, and that is the matter of
Baltar.  I gave him my word that if his information would help us
destroy the basestar then he would be set free on an isolated
planet and be given a short-range communications set.  I am now
forced to keep my word.  No doubt, at least four members of the
Council of Twelve will object to this and use it as an excuse to
once again seek ways of undercutting my authority.  Nonetheless,
I cannot be swayed by any appeals to emotion that a person's word
to Baltar should be worth the same as his word was to us when he
promised that he was helping to bring about peace between the
colonies and the Cylons.  My word must be kept.
   Besides, I'm of the opinion that ridding ourselves of Baltar's
presence only helps to accelerate the painful process of putting
the past behind us and moving forward.  I prefer not to be
reminded of the tragedy that took my beloved Ila and Zac, my
youngest.  The future lies ahead of us on Earth.  What will
happen to us when we find Earth one day is something I dare not
envision for one centon, because I should not play any games of
false expectations.  What am I convinced of, is that when we find
Earth we will finally see our true destiny achieved in some
manner.  The grace of God and the Lords will reveal that to us in
their own good time.
   
                       Chapter One

   The Galactica's main hall was filled with more than 500 people
waiting for the ceremony to begin.  Finally, when the haunting
sound of the Colonial National Anthem began playing through the
overhead speakers, the crowd came to attention and watched as
Adama got up from his chair next to Colonel Tigh and stepped
forward to the podium.
   "We are assembled here today," the commander's voice was at
its most resonant, "To celebrate our successful victory that saw
a Cylon basestar destroyed, and to pay special tribute to two
warriors who's courage and ingenuity provided the key to our
winning the battle.  Together, they used a captured Cylon fighter
to infiltrate the baseship and sabotage their scanners, thus
ensuring that our attacking force had the advantage of surprise.
   "And so, at this time I ask that Captain Apollo and Lieutenant
Starbuck both step forward."
   The crowd remained properly silent as Apollo and Starbuck both
rose from their seats in the front row, and to the rising strains
of the National Anthem made their way up to the stage, where they
both stood at rigid attention in front of Adama.  At that point,
Colonel Tigh got up from his chair and took his position
alongside the Commander.
   "Captain Apollo, Lieutenant Starbuck," the executive officer
spoke, "For outstanding bravery and self-sacrifice in the line of
duty, we present to you both, the Gold Cluster medal."
   Tigh took the small boxes that contained the decorations and
then pinned the medals on both of them.  When he was finished, he
stepped back alongside Adama.  The two warriors saluted their
superiors, and Adama and Tigh then returned it.
   And then, a loud burst of applause erupted from the multitude
gathered.  The loudest cheers came from the front row, where
Boomer, Sheba and Cassiopeia were seated.
   Apollo and Starbuck then turned to face the crowd and both
waved in acknowledgment.
   Above the roar, the lieutenant gave his friend a playful nudge
and whispered to him, "Ah, our adoring public.  What shall we do
for an encore?"   


   "Somehow, the sight of a Gold Cluster on you just doesn't seem
to fit," Boomer observed as they gathered later in the Officer's
Club.
   "Ah, you're just jealous because that's two for me and only
one for you," Starbuck waved his hand.
   Boomer suddenly broke into a grin, "How'd you guess?"
   "Tell you what, if I ever find myself in the hole of a heavy
pyramid game, I'll put both of mine up as collateral and that way
you'll get a chance to have them."
   "The way you play?" Boomer snorted, "I could have sworn that
was how you won yours in the first place." 
   "Okay Boomer.  Next time we come across a baseship, you can
get your chance to see what one really looks like from the
inside.  Two times is enough for me."
   "I'd just as soon not see one from the outside anymore."
   Starbuck nodded, "Won't get an argument from me on that," he
said as he downed his drunk and rose, "Gotta go now. 
Cassiopeia's waiting for me on the Rising Star for dinner."
   "But of course," mock solemnity entered Boomer's voice, "The
heroic conqueror returns to reap the further glories of his
triumph."
   Starbuck threw his friend another sly grin and departed.
   
   
   Apollo had not gone to the Officer's Club after the ceremony. 
Even as Starbuck prepared to leave for the Rising Star for a
quiet dinner with his girlfriend, Apollo was already on board the
luxury ship for a quiet dinner of his own.
   "So what do you think?" he asked.
   Sheba smiled and slowly shook her head in amazement as she
looked over the meal that had just been served to them,
"Absolutely heavenly," she said, "Fresh protein, Virgon berries,
ambrosia.  It's been yahrens since I had a meal like this."
   "Glad you approve," Apollo smiled back as he sipped his drink,
"I wanted everything to be just right."
   "Apollo," she avoided looking at him and he could see the
faint trace of blushing on her cheeks, "Is there a reason why you
went to all this trouble?"
   He sighed and set his glass down, "There is.  I made a promise
to myself that if I got off that basestar alive, then you and I
would resume that talk we were having before the battle."
   Sheba looked at him and seemed to tremble, "Yes?"
   "Well I got to thinking about what you were saying.  About
how, how...." he suddenly trailed off, as if he were unable to
say the words.
   "About how two people who snap at each other are only trying
to hide their real feelings about each other?" she gently
finished for him.
   "Yeah," he nodded, "That and what you were saying about how I
was letting Serina's memory drive me to go on every dangerous
mission I could volunteer for."
   "Apollo, I want to apologize for that," she suddenly
interrupted him, "That was wrong of me."
   "Well no, not really," he tried to sound reassuring and then
awkwardly drew himself up, "Just out of curiosity, what made you
come to that conclusion?  I mean, you weren't here when I lost
Serina."
   Sheba lowered her head in embarrassment, "I asked Athena. 
After she told me about what happened to Serina on Kobol and all
the things you've done since, I sort of....added things up."
   "I see," he said as he took another sip, "Well don't feel
embarrassed Sheba, because over these last couple of days I've
begun to realize that you're not far off the mark."
   She looked up at him.
   "I don't think I've consciously had a death wish since I lost
Serina," Apollo went on, "I mean I've got Boxey, and the last
thing he needs is to go through that kind of trauma again.  But
when I was crawling around inside that basestar, trying to avoid
those Cylon guards and sneaking my way back into the landing bay,
and then flying back without a recognition signal transmitter, it
sort of occurred to me that maybe there was something deep inside
pushing me to do those kinds of crazy things.  Something that was
just telling me that it was okay to go on those kinds of missions
because it wouldn't matter too much in the long run if I didn't
come back."
   He then looked her in the eye, "I think that when you realize
that there's someone you've come to really, really care about who
might be worrying about you... it sort of has a way of making you
realize things you've never given any thought to before."
   There was a long silence that hung in the air as they
continued to look at each other.  Both of them unable to say what
they were both thinking.
   Sheba finally broke the silence, "Is there extra room on your
side?"
   He smiled faintly, "There is."
   She slowly got up from her position opposite him and settled
next to him on the reclining cushion.  Instinctively, Apollo
wrapped his arm around her.  She smiled and relaxed as she rested
her head on his shoulder.
   "Tell me something Sheba," he said as he inhaled the sweet
fragrance of her perfume and tried to keep an even composure,
"Hasn't there ever been anyone else in your life?"
   She faintly shook her head, "No.  Oh I've had plenty of men
who were interested in me.  As a matter of fact there was this
one lieutenant on the Pegasus named Banker who had a wild crush
on me."
   "Just not interested in them?" he said gently.
   "Partly," she admitted, "And partly because a lot of would-be
suitors were too terrified to make a bold play for me.  I guess
they were afraid of incurring my father's wrath if something went
wrong."
   He chuckled and tightened his hold on her, "What do you think
he'll say if he could see us now?"
   She looked up and smiled at him, "I think he'd approve, and
thank you for speaking of him in the present tense."
   Apollo smiled back and their lips drew close until they met in
a gentle kiss.
   They had barely finished when the chime suddenly rang.  Apollo
got up to answer it, "Probably the waiter with the mushies for
desert."
   But when Apollo opened the door, he saw a grim-faced Starbuck
standing in the doorway.
   "Bad news buddy," he said, "Adama wants us back on the
Galactica right now."
   "What for?" he frowned.
   "The Council is in a very foul mood over Baltar's impending
release.  If we're not there to give the Commander some support,
it could mean serious trouble."
   "Great," Apollo grunted, "Leave it to the Council to foul
things up for tonight."
   "I know what you mean," Starbuck nodded, "I just had to leave
Cassie with a beautiful five-course dinner behind in my own
suite."
   "Let's get going," he started to go and then looked back at
Sheba, who was still lying back against the cushion with a
sympathetic expression.
   "I promise you we'll talk more about this later," he said,
"There's still a lot we need to say to each other."
   "Yes," she nodded, "A lot more."
   When the door closed and she was alone, Sheba sighed and
looked up at the ceiling, and then said the words she'd been
unable to say in his presence.
   "I love you Apollo."


   "This special session of the Council of Twelve will now come
to order," Adama's voice had the aura of faint disdain that was
always present when he had to preside over a Council meeting. 
Frequently, Council meetings only gave him the opportunity to
hear another round of complaints about how things were being run
by the military, and how things could be done better if only the
State of Emergency that had existed ever since the Galactica fled
the colonies were finally lifted.
   "Commander Adama," Sire Domra rose.
   "The chair recognizes Sire Domra."
   "At this time, I must insist on a full and open discussion
regarding the impending plans to release Baltar from the prison
barge."
   "Hear, hear!" Sire Montrose jumped in.  He had been the
Council member given the privilege of officially sentencing
Baltar and felt more anger than anyone else at the table.
   "Evidently there is no objection," again Adama only allowed
the faintest level of disdain to enter his voice, "Sire Domra do
you wish to proceed?"
   "I certainly do," he straightened himself, "This decision to
release the man responsible for the deaths of hundreds of
millions in all the colonies is a travesty against all human
decency.  As you know, I was opposed to letting him even be given
the privilege of living.  The suspension of the death penalty
surely could have been lifted in this particular instance."
   "You're digressing, Domra," the soft-spoken tones of Sire
Anton, Adama's closest Council ally interjected, "Pray stick to
the matter at hand."
   Domra threw him a cold look and again tugged at his robes,
"Very well.  I will summarize my feelings by saying that any so-
called 'agreement' made to release Baltar can easily be ignored
as the agreements he made on behalf of the Cylons were ignored as
well.  The blood of those we left dying in the wreckage of our
homes will never stop crying in outrage if the instrument of
their deaths is set free."
   "With all due respect Domra, you make it sound as though the
agreement calls for Baltar to have free access in the Fleet with
all the liberties enjoyed by the rest of us," Anton interjected
again, "From my standpoint, I think it better that Baltar be set
alone on an isolated rock.  That way no more of our food can be
wasted on his continued survival.  I see his 'freedom', as you
put it, more suitable punishment for his likes."
   "I would remind you, my dear Anton, that part of this
agreement calls for giving him a short-range communication set,"
Montrose jumped into the exchange.  "It would only be a matter of
time before his Cylon friends would rescue him, and he could go
back to his position of treachery as a baseship commander."
   "The emphasis is short-range," Anton said, "It could be
yahrens before any other Cylon reaches this vicinity of space and
is able to pick up any short-range signals."
   "May I say something at this time?" a silky, refined voice
spoke for the first time and all heads turned to the other end of
the table.  The voice belonged to Sire Antipas, the youngest
member of the Council and a man widely regarded as full of
ambition to one day replace Adama as President of the Council of
Twelve.
   "Your opinion is highly valued, Sire Antipas," Domra's voice
was full of deferential politeness, "I yield the floor to you."
   Antipas rose.  He was a strikingly handsome man of only
thirty-eight, and came from the most powerfully wealthy family on
the colony of Libra.  His father had been a sitting member of the
Council at the time of the Holocaust and had lost his life when
eleven of the twelve members, all save Adama, had been killed
when the presidential battlestar Atlantia was destroyed in the
battle.  Because of Adama's high regard for the elder Antipas, he
had voiced no objections when the young namesake had ran for the
open seat left vacant by Sire Uri's resignation.  It had only
become apparent later, that young Antipas was a far more
cunningly ambitious man than his father had been, and Adama had
long since come to the conclusion that exchanging Uri for young
Antipas could almost have been regarded as a change for the
worse.
   "I think perhaps that my colleagues, Sires Domra and Montrose
are in the end being too charitable in their remarks.  I note
that while they are both more than anxious to find fault with
this impending decision, there is nevertheless the reluctance to 
directly criticize the one person responsible for the odious
situation we find ourselves in.  With all due respect, Commander
Adama, I would like to know just how you intend to explain to the
people of the Fleet, all of whom greeted Baltar's capture with
the enthusiasm of a Nubian sunburst, that this agent of treachery
is to be set free."
   Antipas had begun speaking just as Apollo and Starbuck entered
the Council room.  When the young sire reached the thrust of his
remarks, Apollo immediately felt the urge to bolt over and punch
the Council member in the nose.  Starbuck though, quickly grabbed
his friend by the arm.
   "Later buddy," he whispered, "Later."
   Apollo angrily shook him off but reluctantly remained still.
   "Now of course, I believe the Commander has mentioned before
that a matter of keeping one's word is at stake here," Antipas
went on and began to pace in back of the other Council members,
"But I seriously doubt that if we were to let the people decide
this matter, then they would see any reason for us to honor a
commitment that can be easily broken with little repercussion."
   He stopped in back of Montrose who was nodding vigorously. 
And then the young sire looked Adama right in the eye.
   "Accordingly Mr. President," there was a large measure of
sarcasm on the title, "I move at this time that Baltar's future
disposition be left to the people of the Fleet.  Let them decide
if he is to remain in the prison barge or be set free."
   "Second!" Montrose spoke up.
   Adama remained coldly silent for a long period of time.  There
was only pure contempt on his face as he looked Antipas in the
eye.
   When the Commander finally spoke it was in a tone that
suggested he had not been intimidated.
   "When I took my oath as a warrior fifty yahrens ago, and
pledged myself to defend the Colonial nation against the Cylons
for the rest of my life, I made it because I believed that I was
fighting for a just cause," he began, "I believed then, and I
have believed ever since that the reasons why our cause has
always been just is because we as a people stood for important
principles that set us apart from the treachery of the Cylons. 
And that was made clear to me on my very first day at the Academy
when I was told that above all, the human race stands for honor
and integrity."
   Adama then paused for effect and looked at Domra and Montrose,
"And now I sit at this table and I hear some of you guided by
emotionalism," and he then shifted his gaze to Antipas, "And
others guided by crass opportunism, who would have us renounce
those values that have made our people great and instead lower
ourselves to the same level of treachery more worthy of Cylon
behavior." 
   Domra and Montrose both visibly flinched.  Antipas raised an
eyebrow in bemusement and slowly returned to his seat.
   "I too rejoiced in Baltar's capture," the Commander went on,
"I don't think that I of all people need to be lectured on the
terrible losses we all suffered because of him.  I saw my son
killed before my eyes, and I walked through the burned ruins of
my house.  My reasons for hating Baltar are no less than yours,
Sire Antipas."
   The opposing voices were now silent.
   "Sire Antipas has raised the question as to why I felt I had
to make such a deal with Baltar in the first place.  I shall
answer him by asking that Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck
step forward at this time to address the Council."
   "That's our cue," Starbuck whispered as he and Apollo then
moved in and took a position behind the Commander.
   The two warriors had not finished taking their positions in
front of the Council when Antipas rose from his seat, "I must
protest on the grounds that we can scarcely expect any objective
statement to come from the President's own son on this matter."
   Apollo's nostrils flared in anger, and again Starbuck had to
grab him by the arm in order to calm him down.
   "Then I'll be glad to ease the Councilman's objections by
doing all the talking for us," Starbuck said with obvious mock
respect, "Because I was there along with Captain Apollo and know
exactly what the stakes were."
   "Proceed, Lieutenant," Adama nodded.
   "Members of the Council," Starbuck began, "Earlier today,
Captain Apollo and I received the adulation of the people because
according to them, it was our infiltration mission on the
baseship that made our victory possible.  As a matter of fact,
while I was travelling aboard the shuttle back from the Rising
Star, I noticed that Sire Montrose was telling a representative
from the IFB that without our mission, the only thing that would
have come out of the battle was certain death for the Galactica
and the entire Fleet."
   "And I will gladly repeat those remarks to this body,"
Montrose said, "All of us are grateful to you and Captain Apollo
for what you've done.  But I fail to see how any of this could be
connected with the decision to release Baltar."
   "It has a lot to do with it Sire Montrose," Starbuck's words
grew pointed, "If it weren't for the intelligence Baltar gave us,
you and everyone else at this table would have been dead by now."
   "Come now," Sire Domra interjected, "All of us are aware of
Baltar's incompetent nature in addition to his mendacity.  Surely
you don't suggest that without this information then you, the two
most resourceful warriors there are in this Fleet would not have
been able to succeed with your mission anyway?"
   "As much as we appreciate your compliment Sire Domra, the
answer is no," Starbuck coolly replied, "Apart from Baltar, there
is no other living soul who understands the layout of a basestar. 
Without his information, Apollo and I would have been scurrying
along like trapped Taurean desert rats in a dark cave for
centars.  By the time the battle began, we would have been dead
or still lost in the dark.  That baseship would have had fully
operational scanners and been able to take out the Galactica
before we could fire our first shot."
   "The bottom line gentlemen, is that whether you like it or
not, you all owe your lives to Baltar," Apollo spoke for the
first time, "The deal had to be made at any possible cost.  I
think the cost of letting him out of the prison barge and
marooning him on an isolated rock where he can do no more harm 
in the end, amounts to very little."
   "Hear, hear," Anton said under his breath, but loud enough for
the rest of the Council to hear him.
   But Antipas refused to let up, "I still doubt that the people
as a whole would share your sentiments."
   "Our word must be kept," Adama repeated forcefully, "This is
not a matter that the people can have any say in."
   "Ah yes," Antipas' voice dripped with contempt, "We must all
continue to live at the whim of a military dictator."
   "I protest!" Anton's genial demeanor suddenly shattered, "That
is out of order, Sire Antipas.  I demand that that be stricken
from the record!" 
   "I will not withdraw the remark," Antipas settled back in his
chair, "As much as I admire Commander Adama's courage as warrior,
and as a military strategist..."
   "If you don't mind Sire Antipas, I think I can do without your
left-handed compliments," Adama's voice was at its coldest, "We
still live in a grave situation, my brothers.  While I am hopeful
that we have succeeded in eluding the Cylon pursuit for the long-
term, there can be little doubt that our journey forward to Earth
will be filled with dangers that are potentially just as great."
   "Then why continue this journey?" Antipas retorted, "Why not
just have us settle on the first planet suitable for ourselves? 
Perhaps it isn't Baltar who needs to be placed on a planet, but
rather ourselves."
   Apollo had now reached the breaking point.
   "If the Council will permit me," he said as placidly as he
could, "I would like them to take note of the fact that while
Sire Antipas has spent the last several centons asking every
possible question he can come up with, he has failed to provide
one concrete answer that deals with any practical reality."
   The young Councilman only smirked at him.
   "Consider the ramifications of letting Baltar's fate be
decided by popular referendum," Apollo continued, "If we
establish such a precedent, then what's to stop a demand for
letting the people decide on the disposition of other criminals
locked in the prison barge?"
   An uneasy expression suddenly came over Montrose's face.
   Apollo saw it and pressed on, "Maybe it becomes clear to all
of you.  Letting the people decide this matter is an invitation
to anarchy at its worst.  Open the door just a crack, and before
we know it this Fleet will degenerate into chaos and do what
Cylon baseships have been unable to do.  Bring about our total
and complete destruction."
   Montrose lowered his head as it all came home to him.  In a
low, defeated tone he said, "Mr. President, I move to reconsider
the question on Sire Antipas' motion."
   "Any objection?" Adama looked about the table.  A sullen Domra
had thrust his hands in the folds of his robes and was silent. 
Anton was smiling in satisfaction.  Antipas made no sound, but
his expression remained that of one who did not feel beaten.
   "So ordered," Adama said firmly, "The matter of Baltar's
release is now closed.  The Council stands adjourned."
   As the members slowly filed out, Apollo and Starbuck both came
up to the commander, who rose to shake both their hands.
   "Thank you," he said warmly, "Your being here was an enormous
help."
   "Glad to," Starbuck smiled back, "But please Commander,
promise me that I never have to put in a good word like that for
Baltar again."
   Adama returned the smile, "Tomorrow, you and Apollo have the
honor of escorting him to the planet I've chosen for him.  After
that, you'll never have to think about him again.  Unless of
course Sire Antipas chooses to make something more of it."
   "I can't believe that guy," Apollo said in disgust as he
watched Antipas linger at the back, talking with some other
members, "You listen to him and it's obvious that the only thing
he's interested in is personal power."
   "True," his father nodded, "But since he's the only member of
the Council who represents a younger generation, he carries a lot
of symbolic weight with the people.  Not to mention the fact that
his father was one of the most beloved figures in the history of
Libra," he shook his head sadly, "I'll never understand why none
of his wisdom rubbed off on his son."
   Just then, Anton came up to them, "Congratulations my friend. 
But I must warn you that Antipas will not let this faze him in
the least.  He knew he probably couldn't win in the end, but at
the very least it gives him credentials that might serve to his
advantage in the future."
   "Perhaps," Adama conceded as he watched Antipas exit the room,
"But if that should ever arise, I have no intention of letting
him undo everything that we've been able to accomplish after this
long difficult yahren."

                   Chapter Two  
 
   Apollo gently brought his viper to a stop in the open area
that marked the dividing line between rainforest and desert.  He
then popped open the canopy and turned around to face the man
seated behind him.
   "Okay Baltar," his tone was neutral, "This is where you get
off."
   The human traitor threw him a casual smirk as he unhitched his
belt and lifted himself out, dropping to the sandy surface below.
   Just then, Starbuck's viper came to a stop just twenty feet in
back of Apollo's.  When the lieutenant emerged, he was carrying a
large pack with him.
   "I'll get the rest of your supplies." he said as he dropped it
at Baltar's feet and sprinted back.
   Baltar took one step forward, his hands clasped behind his
back and began to survey the area.
   "Get used to it, Baltar," Apollo said, "You're probably going
to be here for the rest of your life."
   The traitor turned around and continued to smirk.
   "That, I doubt very much."
   "Assuming you do make contact with the Cylons again," Apollo
said as he set down some more of the supplies that had been
furnished, "How exactly do you plan to explain that you had to
help us destroy a baseship in order to win your freedom?"
   "I'll tell them no such thing," he said coolly, "When that day
comes, they will learn from me that I escaped from the prison
barge and commandeered a shuttle that brought me here."
   "And I suppose you're confident that they'll be dumb enough to
buy that."
   Baltar's lips pursed ever so slightly.  He had to admit to
himself that if rescue came too quickly then Lucifer's devious
mind might present a problem.
   "Who knows what the future holds, Captain?" he finally replied
with mock solemnity.
   Just then, Starbuck came up and deposited several more bags
and boxes.
   "I'll tell you what I hope the future holds Baltar," the
lieutenant said as he stuck a cigar in his mouth, "I hope that no
other living soul has to see you again."
   The traitor continued to smirk.
   "Okay that's everything," Apollo looked over the bundles,
"Short-range communications set, seed samplings in case you
decide you want to raise your own crops, medical supply kit and
lifesign computer, and general survey map of the planet with all
food and fresh water sources pinpointed.  From here on, you're on
your own."
   And then, the two Galactica warriors turned around and headed
back to their vipers.  Neither of them had the stomach to say any
words of goodbye to him.
   But as Baltar watched them head back, he decided to get in the
last word.
   "Our paths will cross again one day."
   There was no response as Apollo and Starbuck climbed into
their cockpits and started the engines.
   Baltar continued to watch as the ships started up and rocketed
into the sky.  Seconds later, they had receded to tiny points of
light and then they were gone.
   And with that, Baltar's wait began.
   The human traitor could never have guessed it, but the wait
would be far longer than he was now expecting it to be.  But his
prediction that he would one day cross paths with the Galactica
again would indeed come true.
   But when that day would come, it would lead to an outcome for
Baltar that was totally beyond any level of his comprehension at
that particular moment.


   The planet had disappeared completely from view before
Starbuck decided to break the silence.  When he did, he chose to
deliberately avoid talking about Baltar.
   "Now that we've handled another one of these bum assignments,
then maybe I can finally have a peaceful, uninterrupted dinner
with Cassie tonight."
   There was no response from Apollo.
   "Apollo?" Starbuck prodded.
   "Sorry Starbuck," his friend's tone seemed distant, "I was
just thinking about something."
   "What, about Baltar?"
   "No, something else," Apollo seemed to sigh, "Could you level
with me about something, Starbuck?"
   "Well that depends, buddy.  If it's the secret to my success
at pyramid, the answer's no."
   "That isn't it," Apollo didn't acknowledge the jocularity in
Starbuck's tone, "I want to know if you can tell me about what
you and Cassiopeia have planned for yourselves."
   There was a one second silence before Starbuck answered back,
"Planned?"
   "You know what I mean, Starbuck.  Do you and Cassiopeia have
any kind of understanding about whether or not you might get
sealed someday?"
   "Whoa buddy, what are you trying to do to me?"
   "Starbuck, I'm serious," a note of impatience entered Apollo's
voice, "I mean you've given it a lot of thought, haven't you?"
   Again, Starbuck was silent for a brief instant before
responding, "I'm getting the feeling that it isn't me and
Cassiopeia you want to talk about, but something a little closer
to yourself."
   Apollo sighed, "Okay, you smoked me out on that one.  The
truth is, I think I've fallen in love."
   "With Sheba, right?"
   "Yeah.  You noticed?"
   "Hey, a man doesn't have a quiet dinner on the Rising Star
with just anybody.  Besides, I noticed all the looks you and she
were giving each other when we were up in the celestial dome. 
And Cassie's told me how she's noticed it too."
   His friend was silent.
   "Hey, I think she's a terrific girl," Starbuck went on, "If
you're asking me for my blessing buddy, then you've got it."
   "That's not it Starbuck," Apollo said gently.
   "Well what?  Are you worried about what Boxey might think?"
   "Well...partly.  But actually, the thing I'm worried most
about is myself."
   Starbuck frowned beneath his helmet, "Run that by me again?"
   "I'm worried about myself," Apollo repeated, "As much as I
want to ask Sheba to marry me, I'm also finding myself haunted by
a promise I made a long time ago."
   When Starbuck finally spoke, there was almost an element of
gentle chiding in his voice.
   "Apollo," he said, "Did you really plan on keeping that
promise for the rest of your life?"
   "I did," Apollo was emphatic, "Serina was so special to me
that I didn't want to ever love anyone again."
   Starbuck let out a disbelieving grunt, "No offense intended,
but I think that's carrying things a little too far."
   "My father's done the same thing."
   "You're not your father, Apollo," Starbuck retorted, "It's one
thing when you've had a long healthy marriage.  But you, you've
still got nearly your whole life ahead of you."
   "Starbuck," Apollo replied, "Believe me, I know you're
probably right.  It's just that I can't shake her image from my
mind.  I've never been able to.  It's been that way ever since I
first laid eyes on her, and that was five yahrens before we were
married."
   "Whoa, now you've really got me confused.  You didn't even
know her until after the Holocaust."
   His friend let out a wistful sigh as the memories came back to
him, "Starbuck, you're forgetting that Serina was probably the
most famous face on all of Caprica."
   "Yeah, you're right.  I did forget.  That seems like another
lifetime ago."
   "I can still remember when I first saw her doing a BNC
broadcast," Apollo sighed, "I was sitting in the Academy rec
hall, taking a break from exam study.  The centon I saw her, I
knew right away that that was the woman I wished I could marry."
   "Yeah, now that I remember it, Athena used to tell me that you
were never the type to do too many dates at the Academy."
   "I just wasn't interested.  Whenever I did think about it, I
kept measuring all the girls to an impossible standard.  Serina.
Every article in the Caprican news journals about her, I kept."
    Apollo then almost chuckled, "I always thought it was an
incredible cosmic joke that what brought me together with the one
woman I'd ever dreamed about was the greatest human tragedy and
suffering of all time."
    Once again, Starbuck waited for that brief instant before he
ventured a reply.
   "Apollo," his tone was firm, "You've got to let go of her. 
You're not doing her any dishonor by starting something with
another woman.  You're only subjecting yourself to tortures that
you don't deserve." 
   "I know," Apollo's tone was quiet, "The thing that worries me
the most is if I'm going to be able to free myself from them.  I
can't commit myself to Sheba if I still feel haunted by Serina's
memory or else I could end up hurting her.  And that's the last
thing I want to do."
   "Well look at the bright side of things," Starbuck suddenly
grew upbeat, "This is the first time you're getting these
feelings out in the open.  That means you're already halfway
there."
   Apollo smiled thinly and then cocked his head toward
Starbuck's viper alongside him, "Speaking of getting things out
in the open, why don't you answer the question that started this
whole discussion?"
   "Which question was that?" his friend suddenly feigned
ignorance.
   "You and Cassiopeia."
   "Ask me about that another day, buddy."


   "Blue Squadron patrol returning," Athena looked up from her
console at the upper deck of the bridge where Adama and Tigh
stood.
   "Thank you Athena," the Commander nodded to his daughter, and
then he and the executive officer went over to the navigation
board.
   "Well, that closes that miserable chapter," Tigh said.
   "Yes," Adama stared at the board, "And with that, we can
resume our journey.  Maintaining this bearing," his arm motioned
across the length of the chart.
   Tigh turned and smiled at his long-time friend, "Had it not
been for the traces of settlements we found six sectans back, I
may very well have found myself arguing against the need to stay
on this heading."
   "I'm glad to see your agnostic proclivities no longer seem to
get the better of you at every turn," Adama smiled back.
   "I suppose this last yahren has made me see things a lot
differently from the way I viewed them back on Caprica," Tigh
sighed, "Kobol, the Ship of Lights, the settlement traces. 
They're too much for any man who called himself a skeptic to
ignore."
   The Commander turned his attention back to the board, "We'll
need to send a recon patrol out to chart the next star system on
our heading.  Have Red Squadron launched within the next centar."
   Tigh nodded and then descended the steps to give the order to
Athena.
   Adama's eyes remained fixed on the board.  They had come so
far over the last yahren into a totally unknown region of space. 
Ahead of them somewhere lay the elusive planet called Earth.
   The prospect of what lay between them and Earth was the only
thing to give the Commander the slightest cause for worry.


   The newly rebuilt Rejuvenation Center, done to replace the one
destroyed in a Cylon attack one yahren earlier, was filled with
its usual capacity of off-duty warriors and Galactica children
who delighted in the various games the room had to offer.  For
the most part, the room offered the only resource of
entertainment aboard the battlestar itself.
   The most popular game was the three dimensional computer that
enabled players to simulate a game of triad against each other. 
For those who couldn't play the game itself in the tournaments
that were held aboard the Rising Star, the computer simulator was
more fun than being a spectator at the real thing.
   At that particular moment, two people, one a young child of
seven, the other a seasoned warrior of thirty, were engaged in an
intense struggle on the simulator.
   "My point!" Boxey squealed in delight, "I win!"  Beside him,
his beloved robot daggit Muffit let out a happy yelp and nodded
its head up and down.
   Giles let out a dismal groan as he set his joystick down, "Now
I know why I never made any of the teams.  Even on a computer I
can't figure out how to win this game."
   "That requires an I.Q. Giles, something you don't posses," his
steady girlfriend and wingmate Brie needled from behind him.
   Giles looked up and smiled crookedly at her, "One more crack
like that and I may not save your life from the next Cylon we run
across."
   "Watch it flyboy, I'm the one who saved your life during that
last battle.  Your fate is in my hands."
   Across from them, and behind Boxey, Sheba smiled thinly and
dimly shook her head.
   "One more game?" Boxey pleaded eagerly.
   "'Fraid not Boxey," Giles rose, "My furlong just ended.  Brie
and I have the next recon patrol."
   "And not a centon too soon," Brie refused to let up, "Boxey's
as much of a terror with a triad simulator as Starbuck is at
pyramid."
   "Yeah, but at least Boxey only plays for mushies instead of
cubits," the warrior smiled and tossed a packet containing the
bluish sweet candy that Boxey craved on top of the game board,
"Enjoy it."
   As Giles and Brie left the room, Boxey eagerly snatched the
packet and ripped it open.  A centon later, the candy had already
been consumed.
   At that point, Sheba eased herself from off the sofa from
behind and settled next to the child.
   "You're quite a player, Boxey," she said in a light, friendly
tone, "Did you learn all that from watching your father?"
   "Sure did," Boxey wiped his hand over his mouth to get rid of
the sticky traces of mushies that remained, "He and Starbuck are
the best triad players ever."
   "They certainly are," she smiled back, "I haven't got any
mushies to play for Boxey, but do you think maybe we could play a
round?"
   He looked up at her with a slightly quizzical expression,
"Won't this be the fourth different game in the last centar?"
   "Maybe," she shrugged, "You don't think we've done too much
together, do you?"
   "No," the little boy admitted, "I guess it's okay."
   Sheba broke into a grin and settled herself into the chair on
the other side of the table that Giles vacated.
   "Okay," her voice took on a tone of mock challenge, "This time
you've met your match."
   But five centons later, both Boxey and Muffit were letting out
ecstatic squeals once again as he easily won another game.
   "I give up," Sheba shook her head, "Astro battle, table ball,
triad, you win them all."
   "Aw, you're a much better player than Giles," Boxey leaned
back in his seat as Muffit hopped on to his lap, "Don't you think
so Muffy?"
   The robot wagged its ears and barked in approval.
   "Thank you Muffy," Sheba smiled sweetly at the daggit.
   Just then, the doors slid open and Apollo entered.  Boxey
immediately leapt from his chair and ran over to his father who
held out his outstretched arms to greet him.
   "Hey, were you a good boy while I was gone?"
   "I beat everyone at triad," he beamed, "I'm ready to join the
team."
   "Well that won't be too long in coming," he glanced over at
Sheba, "Say where's Athena?"
   "Oh, well she needed to help Omega with some systems on the
bridge so I told her I'd look after Boxey," there was a slight
trace of awkwardness in Sheba's voice.
   "Thanks Sheba, I appreciate it," Apollo smiled back, knowing
very well that his sister hadn't asked her, but that it had been
the other way around.
   He then let go of his son and spoke with the gentle but firm
tone of a parent, "But now that you've won all these games,
you've got to be getting ready for some serious sleep now."
   "One game with you?" Boxey pleaded.
   "If you get your school work done early enough tomorrow, then
maybe there'll be time for a couple games then," his voice
remained equally gentle and firm, "And I'd rather take you on
when you'll be at your best.  Let's get going."
   With that, he took Boxey by the hand and with Muffit trailing
them they exited the room.  Behind them, Sheba watched them leave
and let out a relaxed sigh.  Inside, she hoped with all her heart
that she'd made the impression she'd dearly wanted to make.


   "Red Squadron recon patrol ready for launching," Giles spoke
into his mike as the canopy of his viper locked shut.
   "Red Squadron patrol, your core systems are transferred to you
and we read you go for launch," Rigel's voice intoned clearly
through his helmet.
   And with that, both Giles and Brie hit their launch buttons. 
Their vipers hurtled down the launch tubes and burst into the
open starlit blackness of space.


   "Boxey," Apollo said gently as soon as they were in the
privacy of their quarters, "Did you have a good time with Sheba?"
   "Yeah," his son said in a tone that expressed something
slightly less than full-blown enthusiasm.
   "What do you think of her?" he tried to choose his question
very carefully.
   Boxey shrugged, "She's nice.  But she kept letting me win at
all the games we played.  I thought she was making it too easy
for me."
   Apollo chuckled lightly and shook his head in amusement.
   Boxey suddenly looked up at him, "You really like her, don't
you Dad?"
   His father stiffened slightly.  He hadn't expected him to ask
the question so soon.
   He leaned down, and tried to relax, "Boxey," he said gently,
"You have to promise to keep this between the two of us.  Can you
do that?"
   "Sure," the little boy's voice was full of benign
indifference.
   Apollo sucked in his breath, "Yes, I like Sheba.  I like her a
lot."
   "As much as you liked Mommy?"
   Even though the question was asked in the simple, positive
tone of a child, it still managed to cut through Apollo's heart
as if it had been asked in anger.
   He lowered his head to avoid looking at his son, "Boxey, I
loved your mother more than I could ever love any other woman. 
If she were still alive, we'd still be happily married to each
other.  But she's not here anymore, and...."  he suddenly found
to his horror that he couldn't get anymore words out.
   "You said her spirit would be with us forever," a note of
sullenness crept into Boxey's indifferent tone, "You said that
was all we needed."
   "Boxey, I..." he suddenly took his son's hand, "Boxey I'm not
trying to show any disrespect for your mother.  It's just that I
think it's time to look at the possibility of other things."
   His son was silent, looking away from him and up at the
ceiling.
   "Boxey," Apollo tried to regain an edge of control in his
voice, "If Sheba and I were to become sealed and she became your
stepmother, would that bother you?"
   The little boy looked him in the eye, "Why do you have to get
sealed?" he seemed to be quietly pleading, "There's you, me and
Muffit.  We don't need anyone else."
   His father lowered his head, unable to say anything.
   And then, indicating that he didn't want to talk any more
about the subject, Boxey rolled over and buried his head in his
pillow.
   "Boxey we're going to have another talk about this later,"
Apollo said as he slowly backed away from the bed, "There are
some things you have to learn to understand."
   His son didn't answer.
   "Goodnight son," Apollo said as he reached the door, "I love
you."
   "Goodnight Dad," Boxey didn't look up.
   Once Apollo was out of the room, he collapsed against the wall
and let out a deep sigh of regret and sadness, punctuated by one
simple word, "Damn."

   
   The lone vipers of Giles and Brie stayed relatively close
together as they continued their probe mission of charting out
the next quadrant of space the Galactica would pass through.
   As the both of them had expected, the mission was turning out
to be deeply dull.
   "Epsilon Vector 22 heading shows no sign of any planetary
systems anywhere in the area," Giles looked at his scanner, "The
way it looks, it could be another sectan before we reach the next
one."
   "Probably a good sign for the short term," the willowy blonde
warrior responded, "If there aren't any planetary systems,
there's nowhere for a Cylon or anything else to be hiding."
   "Doesn't help us for the long-term though," Giles grunted.
   They continued to cruise ahead, engaging largely in
lighthearted semi-romantic chatter to occupy their time.
   Suddenly Brie glanced back at her scanner and frowned, "Wait a
micron, what..."
   "Something wrong?" Giles tone grew serious.
   "Check your scanner Giles, I'm getting something that doesn't
make any sense. "
   "I don't...no wait I've got it.  Lords of Kobol I don't
understand it, what happened to the stars?"
   "It doesn't make sense, it..."
   Brie suddenly looked ahead and froze.  Her jaw falling open in
mute horror at the sight that lay not far in front of her.
   "Brie?" Giles called with concern.  Then he looked ahead and
he too, was stunned.
   "What in Kobol is that?" he barely managed to get his words
out.
   Ahead, the random starlit pattern of space had disappeared and
been replaced by an area of blackness.  A blackness that looked 
foreboding and evil.
   "Another void?" Giles whispered, "Like the one at Kobol?"
   Brie shook her head, "It's nothing like that one.  That was
just a magnetic sea of darkness.  The readings I'm getting on
this are something else.  It's almost as if a whole section of
space itself has collapsed."
   "We've got to get out of here.  Got to tell the Fleet," the
hair started to rise on Giles back.
   "Agreed," Brie nodded, "Execute full turbo reverse in three
microns and mark."
   But when they hit their buttons nothing happened.
   "What's going on?" Giles was bewildered.
   "We're being dragged in," the horror increased in Brie's
voice, "Something's dragging us in."
   As the blackness grew larger in front of them, they could both
feel their vipers begin to shake.
   "Hang on!" Giles shouted above the deafening roar that
increased with each passing second as they drew nearer and
nearer.
   And then, the two vipers suddenly pierced the realm of
darkness.  As if a giant mouth had swallowed them, they were gone
completely from the face of the known universe.

                    Chapter Three

   As Cassiopeia went about her duties in the Life Station, she
felt a sense of relief that the last injured warrior from the
Cylon engagement had been released and that there were no
patients left.  It freed her to do the kind of thing she enjoyed
more than anything else as a med-tech, and that was to help Dr.
Salik's research on eradicating the diseases that still
periodically affected various segments of the population.
   Two yahrens ago, the idea of doing this kind of work would
have seemed unthinkable to her.  Back then, her occupation had
been an entirely different one.  Socialator.  Fulfilling the
ritual passed down by centuries of Gemonese that socialators make
themselves available to provide comfort to those in need.  But
the Holocaust and Exodus had rendered her profession that was
equally honored and despised by various sects in the colonies,
totally meaningless.  Cassiopeia had come to realize that if she
were to do anything productive to help the people of the Fleet,
it would have to be in a different profession.  And so, she had 
fallen back on medicine.  A profession she had once studied with
more than just casual interest but had rejected as a career
option.
   After more than a yahren's work that had seen her become
indispensable to Dr. Salik, the duties of a socialator seemed
remote and distant to her.  Now more than ever, she found herself
realizing that this work was far more rewarding to her.
   "Cassiopeia?"
   She looked up from her computer and saw a slightly
apprehensive Sheba standing in the doorway.
   "Hello Sheba," she smiled at her, "Is there something I can
do?"
   "Yes there is," Sheba made her way forward, "I need to talk to
you about something."
   Inside, Cassiopeia couldn't help but think of the additional
irony that she and Sheba were now such good friends.  Long ago,
during her life of socialator, Cassiopeia had been seriously
involved with Sheba's father, the legendary Commander Cain.  Back
then, Sheba had hated Cassiopeia for filling the role of
comforter to Cain after the death of his wife.  So deep was her
bitterness, that it produced a strain in relations with her
father that wasn't healed until the Pegasus had gone off into
battle and separated Cain from Cassiopeia.
   When the Pegasus had been briefly reunited with the Galactica,
Sheba had been shocked to discover Cassiopeia still alive and had
worried that the relationship between her and her father would
resume.  Only when Sheba and Cassiopeia had worked together in
the assault mission on the Cylon base at Gomorrah did she begin
to think differently about her father's one time lover.  In the
yahren since the disappearance of the Pegasus, Sheba's bitterness
toward Cassiopeia had faded completely.
   "Go right ahead," the blonde med-tech said, "What's on your
mind?"

   She let out a sigh, "Cassie, are you waiting for Starbuck to
propose to you someday?"
   Cassiopeia seemed taken aback and smiled faintly, "That's
being pretty direct isn't it?"
   "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be inquisitive.  But I need to
know."
   She paused briefly as light suddenly dawned on her, "I take it
this leads to a connection with your, ah, situation with Apollo?"
   "It does," Sheba admitted.
   She sighed and looked her in the eye, "Nothing's ever been
spoken between us, but I think it's safe to say that Starbuck and
I have an understanding of sorts.  We both know how much we feel
for each other.  I just have to wait until he thinks the time is
right to carry things to their logical conclusion."
   "That's what it comes down to?  You're waiting for him?"
   "Yes," Cassiopeia nodded.
   Sheba sucked in her breath, "Believe me, I'm not asking this
next question for the reason you might think.  But you
aren't...haunted by any memories of..." she suddenly trailed off.
   Cassiopeia smiled sympathetically and shook her head, "If Cain
were to reappear tomorrow, then I'd have to tell him that I
belong to someone else.  As much as I'll always love him, I have
to consider him a closed chapter in my life."
   "Was it easy to let go of him?" Sheba gently prodded, "Is it
ever easy to let go of the memory of someone you've loved?"
   "It never is," she admitted, "But once it becomes more clear
to you that you've got someone here and now to think about, that
has a way of eventually putting things in perspective.  I had to
learn a long time ago that Starbuck means something more to me
than a memory ever can."
   "I see," Sheba nodded and awkwardly rose, "That's all I needed
to know.  Thanks Cassie."
   "Sheba," the med-tech called to her as she was leaving.
   "Yes?" she turned around.
   "Give Apollo some time," she said gently, "He'll come round
eventually.  Just like I know Starbuck eventually will for me."
   Sheba smiled back at her in gratitude and then exited the
room.


   "Boxey may prove to be a bigger problem than I realized,"
Apollo's tone was glum as he and Starbuck walked down the
corridor leading back to the Officer's Club.
   "What were you expecting?" his friend retorted mildly, "Open
arms?  He's gotten used to it being just you and him for the last
yahren.  You'll have to be patient with him." 
   "The last thing I need is to have to be patient with both him
and myself," Apollo wasn't brightened, "Hearing him talk about
his mother only makes her memory loom even larger inside me."
   Just then, they noticed Athena coming down the corridor from
the other direction, a look of concern on her face.
   "Hi Athena.  Something wrong?" her brother asked.
   She nodded, "The commander sent me to find you too.  He needs
to see you both on the bridge."
   "Again, he needs us," Starbuck rolled his eyes, "I know it
feels good to seem indispensable but this is getting monotonous."
   "Starbuck," his one-time girlfriend suddenly grew cold, "Red
Squadron patrol is overdue.  Giles and Brie haven't reported for
more than two centaurs."
   The jocularity then disappeared from Starbuck's expression as
he and a concerned Apollo followed her to the turbo lift.


   "They were sent out on the general Epsilon 22 heading, the one
that we're committed to stay on," Adama motioned his hand in a
straight line across the board.
   "Any reports of planetary systems on the immediate heading?" 
Apollo inquired.
   "None," Tigh shook his head, "Their last report indicated that
there was probably nothing but empty space ahead of us for the
next sectan."
   "Then what could have happened?" Apollo mused aloud.
   "Couldn't be Cylons," Starbuck said as he tried to comprehend
the situation, "If there was another detachment this close to
where we engaged the basestar, they'd have been here already. 
That basestar had more than enough time to get any short-range
distress signals out before she was destroyed."
   "At this point, I don't think we can be prepared to rule out
anything, especially another Cylon detachment," Adama cautioned.
   Just then, a concerned Sheba entered the bridge and joined
them on the upper level.
   "There are a lot of worried pilots in the Officer's Club
waiting for word on Giles and Brie," she said, "Is there anything
new?"
   "Nothing," Tigh shook his head, "They've disappeared without a
trace."
   "Then I guess Starbuck and I should investigate," Apollo said.
   "Commander, I'd like to go out too," Sheba volunteered, "The
more experienced pilots you send out the better."
   "I can't afford to send all three of you," Adama grunted, "One
of you will have to stay."
   "Then it's settled," Apollo said matter-of-factly, "Starbuck,
let's get going."
   "Why is it settled that it's you and Starbuck?" Sheba suddenly
protested.
   "That's how it has to be," Apollo remained curt, "Don't you
agree, Commander?"
   Adama hesitated as he looked awkwardly at the three of them.
   "Commander," Sheba's tone was cool, "I think maintaining order
amongst squadron ranks would dictate that one member from Blue
and Red Squadron should go out.  Starbuck and Apollo are both
attached to Blue, and I'm deputy flight leader of Red.  If an
emergency should arise, each squadron will still have one senior
flight leader aboard if I go with Apollo or Starbuck.  I'm sure
you and Colonel Tigh both see the logic in what I'm saying."
   "Father--" Apollo angrily protested, but Adama had his hands
behind his back and dimly shook his head.
   "The three of you can settle the question of who stays behind.
I suggest though, that you not argue the matter too strenuously,
because there's a really not a centon to be lost."  
   And before his son could say anything else, both Adama and
Tigh left the upper deck and were gone.
   "See you in the launch bay," Sheba said casually as she also
turned and left.
   "Now wait a centon--" Apollo angrily started, but Starbuck
grabbed him by the arm.
   "I'll stay," he said gently, "The commander's right.  We can't
waste time over this."
   "No," Apollo shook himself loose from his friend, "I don't
want her on this."
   And then, he descended the upper deck to catch up with Sheba.

   
   "You're not going on this patrol, Sheba," Apollo called out as
he dashed down the corridor leading to the turbo-lift.
   She turned around and gave him a cool stare.
   "Starbuck seems to have already made the decision for you."
   "I don't want you on this patrol.  Not when we don't know what
we'll be up against."
   "Because it's a life-threatening risk?" she retorted, "Then
why is it all right for you to go?"
   "This is my responsibility," Apollo said determinedly.
   She shook her head in disgust, "And you said last night that
you were over your death wish."
   Sheba resumed walking toward the turbo-lift.
   "What's that supposed to mean?" Apollo demanded as he caught
up to her.
   "You know what it means!" she raised her voice, "You don't
want me on this patrol because you're afraid something might
happen to me, but it's perfectly all right to put yourself on the
line.  That means you obviously didn't learn felgercarb crawling
inside that baseship!"
   The logic of what she said suddenly hit Apollo like a blow to
the stomach.  It took him more than a minute before he could
collect himself.  When he looked up, he saw her entering the
lift.
   "Wait up," he said quietly.
   Sheba said nothing as she waited for him to enter.
   "Okay," he sighed, "You win.  We both share the risk because
we're both warriors."
   He then paused before adding, "And good warriors too." 
   She finally allowed herself a faint smile.
   "Okay," Sheba said, "From here on in, I'll obey orders."


   Still on the bridge, Starbuck finally made his way down from
the upper deck and came over to Athena's station.
   She looked up in surprise, "I thought you'd be with Apollo
now."
   "Sheba's doing the patrol with him."
   "Really?  That's interesting," Athena turned away from him and
went back to her work.
   Her aloof attitude did not escape his notice.
   "Hope they find them," he tried to continue, "Rumor had it
that Giles and Brie were about to--"
   "Starbuck," Athena's voice was slightly cold as she refused to
turn around and look at him, "I'm not in the mood for small talk. 
Especially not with you."
   "Come on," Starbuck protested gently, "There's nothing that
says you and I can't be friends."
   "Maybe later, Starbuck.  But not right now,"  Athena continued
to look away from him.
   He let out an exasperated sigh and threw up his arms in an
equally exasperated gesture as he turned and walked away.
   Only when she was sure that he was gone, did Athena finally
look back over her shoulder.  Starbuck was already on the other
side of the bridge headed for the door to the corridor.
   "I really loved you," she whispered to herself, "I really
loved you and you had to break my heart."
   And then Athena straightened herself and went back to her
work, determined to purge every last bit of emotion she felt for
Starbuck from her system.


   It was well over several centons after Apollo and Sheba had
launched their vipers and begun their journey before they finally
spoke to each other.
   "Apollo," she said, "You have to believe me.  I wasn't trying
to force a confrontation.  I really was thinking about
maintaining squadron order."
   "I believe you," he responded gently, "I'm sorry Sheba.  I
just---"
   "We can talk about it later," Sheba's tone was professional,
"We've got a job to do right now and that's find out what
happened to Brie and Giles."
   "Agreed," Apollo's tone became equally professional, "All
right, keep full scanner beam on the direct heading."
   "Concentrating full beam on Epsilon 22 heading," she flicked
the appropriate button on her computer.
   "Nothing so far," Apollo noted.
   The silence resumed for several more minutes before he once
again spoke.
   "The last thing we need to see is something hostile on this
heading because it's the one that Adama has us irrevocably
committed to staying on."
   "Yes," she nodded, "This is supposed to be the heading for
Earth.  Assuming that the Ship of Lights were correct."
   "There's never been anything to suggest they were wrong,"
Apollo said, "The settlement traces we found a few sectans back
already confirmed that."
   "But how far away is it?" she mused, "How much---"
   Abruptly, Sheba went silent.
   "Sheba?"
   "Apollo," there was a note of alarm in her voice, "Look at
your scanner."
   He did so and his jaw dropped open, "What in the name of
Kobol?"
   "Apollo, if this reading is correct, we're registering some
kind of hole in space.  A rupture in the very fabric of the
universe."
   "Picking it up on visual now," Apollo's voice rose, "Dead
ahead."
   Sheba looked up from her scanner and a chill went down her
spine.
   Ahead of them was a menacing cloud of blackness.  A blackness
that Apollo had never seen the likes of before.
   "I think we just found out what happened to Brie and Giles,"
he whispered, "Hit reverse thrusters now and don't let us get any
closer to it."
   "Reverse thrusters engaged," her voice rose in pitch.
   But nothing happened.  The two vipers continued to move
forward toward the evil looking cloud of blackness.
   "Apollo, I can't break loose.  I'm being dragged in!"
   "I'm in the same fix, Sheba.  My thrusters won't go either."
   "I'm engaging my automatic distress signal to the Fleet,"
Sheba tried to maintain warrior's professionalism despite the
increasing terror she felt.
   "I'll try to get them on the direct hook-up before that thing
swallows us up," he activated his switch, "Recon patrol to
Galactica, urgent.  We are being dragged in by an unknown black
cloud.  Keep fleet away from this heading.  I repeat, keep fleet
away from this heading!"
   A loud crackle of static erupted from Apollo's speaker.
   "Re---trol.----again----cop---."
   "I say again, keep Fleet away from heading!" Apollo shouted as
the black cloud now filled his entire field of vision.
   "Hang on!" Sheba cried out above the increasing roar, "We're
headed in!"
   Apollo felt his body tense as his viper pierced the layer and
the stars disappeared from his rear view.
   "Lords of Kobol help us," he whispered, "Please help us now."


   Aboard the bridge of the Galactica there was a mixture of both
confusion and alarm as Adama and Tigh both stood hunched over
Athena's console.
   "What happened?" the commander demanded.
   Athena was baffled, "The automatic distress signal was from
Sheba's viper and I had a garbled voice contact from Apollo. 
Something about keeping the Fleet away from this heading."
   "What does it mean?" Tigh looked at Adama.
   The commander could barely conceal his anguish.
   "It means trouble for all of us."
   Wearily, both Adama and Tigh made their way to the upper
level.  But before they could say anything to each other, they
were both distracted by a voice they weren't anxious to hear at
that particular moment.
   "Commander," Sire Antipas' voice was cool.
   "Sire Antipas," Adama struggled to remain cordial.
   "It's come to my attention that a patrol has disappeared with
no trace.  I'm interested to know how you've responded to the
situation."
   "We are dealing with the matter, Sire Antipas," the commander
said firmly.
   A concerned Athena came up to the upper level, "All links with
Apollo and Sheba are dead," she said to Adama.
  "Captain Apollo?" Antipas lifted an eyebrow, "It was my
understanding that it was a patrol from Red Squadron that had
disappeared."
   Adama stared at the young councilman with all the coldness he
could muster.
   "Keep monitoring the situation, Athena," he said to his
daughter as he continued to look Antipas in the eye.
   Antipas waited briefly until Athena had gone, before he spoke.
   "I take it you've lost another patrol, Commander?"
   "We don't know that yet, Sire Antipas," Tigh spoke up with
equal coldness.
   "But it is nevertheless, quite obvious that something hostile
lies ahead of us," the councilman raised his voice slightly,
"Surely you will at least put the Fleet on a new course."
   Adama glared at him with contempt and then slowly turned to
Tigh, "Bring the Fleet to dead stop for now, Colonel."
   "Yes sir," Tigh nodded and left the upper deck.
   "Dead stop?" Antipas was not pleased, "Surely the prudent step
is to alter course."
   "If the Council as a whole wishes to make such a
recommendation, then I shall consider it," Adama said with cold,
unshakable authority, "Good day, Sire Antipas."
   The young councilman visibly stiffened and then bowed
slightly, "Good day, Commander."
   As Antipas departed, Adama turned his attention back to the
lower level of the bridge where Athena continued to monitor her
readings.
   "Lord help us all," he whispered to himself.


   An hour later, a subdued Adama was back in his quarters when
he heard the chime sound.
   "Enter," he looked up.
   The door opened and Starbuck entered, followed by Boomer.
   "Commander, we heard about what happened and Boomer and I are
ready to go."
   "Out of the question," Adama said firmly, "All vipers are
grounded until further notice.  I'm not risking any more pilots."
   "Commander, we're talking about Apollo and Sheba.  You've got
yo let us do something," Boomer spoke up.
   "For now, there's nothing that can be done," Adama looked down
at his desk, "I have to consider a more urgent problem."
   "Sir, with all due respect what could possibly be more
urgent?" Starbuck angrily protested.
   "The future of our people, Lieutenant," the commander rose and
assumed a posture of absolute authority, "That is what matters
more than the live of four individuals, no matter who they are."
   The two warriors stared at him as Adama turned away and looked
out the window.
   "A yahren ago, the Ship of Lights told us that Earth lay on
one specific heading.  We've followed that heading and found
settlement traces that confirm the accuracy of this heading.  The
future of our people and the success of our journey is dependent
on one thing.  Maintaining this heading.  If we deviate from it,
then our mission and our future is jeopardized."
   He let out a long agonized sigh, "And now we run into a
potential danger on this heading.  A potential for danger that an
opportunist like Antipas could use as an excuse to have us
abandon the journey."
   "Sir, we can't just sit around and do nothing!" Starbuck
protested again.
   Adama turned back to him, "Right now, Starbuck, that's all we
can do.  I need to buy time before the Council forces my hand and
the only way to do that is to hope that somehow, Apollo and Sheba
will find their way back and let us continue the journey
forward."
   The frustration in both Starbuck and Boomer was still there,
but the force of Adama's words left them with nothing to say.
   Finally, they both turned and left the commander to his own
agonized thoughts.


   "Boxey?" Starbuck kept his voice low and gentle as he entered
the darkened bedroom.
   The little boy was wide awake, his expression seemingly stoic.
   "Boxey, I've got to talk to you," Starbuck came up to the
bedside and knelt by him.
   "He's not coming back, is he?" Boxey's voice sounded hoarse.
   "Hey, we don't know that," Starbuck tried to sound reassuring
as he ran a hand through his hair, "You know your father always
comes back.  He's the best warrior there is."
   Boxey turned his head and in the dim light, Starbuck could see
that his eyes were red.
   "He said he wanted to marry Sheba," his voice started to
break, "And I said I didn't want him to, that I didn't need
another mommy, but...." he broke into tears and threw his arms
around Starbuck.
   "Hey, it's okay kid," Starbuck patted his back, "It'll be
okay.  They're both gonna' come back and before you know it,
you're going to have two parents again."
   "That's how I want it," he whimpered, "That's how I want it. 
I just couldn't say that to him..."
   "It'll be okay," Starbuck kept comforting him. "They'll come
back."
   But inside, Starbuck felt a sense of dread that he'd have to
soon be telling Boxey something other than what he now regarded
as false and empty promises.

                     Chapter Four

   "Good morning Apollo."
   Apollo's body felt stiff and sore as consciousness returned to
him.  He didn't immediately open his eyes.
   "Apollo, aren't you going to get up?"
   "In a centon," he gently rolled about and realized that he was
lying on a soft bed, "I---"
   And then, the instant his eyes opened, his mouth fell open in
disbelief and shock when he saw the person who had spoken to him. 
   Standing in front of him, dressed smartly in a tan warrior's
uniform was Serina.
   "Apollo, what's wrong?" Serina frowned at him.
   Apollo couldn't believe it.  He was looking at his wife.  The
first woman he had ever loved, and the only woman he ever thought
he could love.  But he had seen her shot by a Cylon centurion on
the sands of the Planet Kobol, and she had died in his arms.
   "Serina?" he whispered, "Is that really you?"
   "Of course it is," her frown deepened, "Why did you ask that?"
   "But this is impossible, I..." Apollo threw back the sheets
and had gotten out of bed when he then froze and did another
doubletake.  He was standing in his familiar quarters on the
Galactica.
   "What's going on here?" he whispered, "Where am I?"
   "Apollo," Serina came up and took his arm, "You're in your
quarters aboard the Galactica.  There's nothing going on."
   He looked into her blue eyes, trying to see the familiar glint
that had always been there.  In every sense of the word she was
Serina.  Even the eyes didn't seem to suggest otherwise.
   And yet...
   "I don't know what's happening to me," he took a breath, "I
don't understand what's going on."
   The Serina image placed her hand on his cheek.  The way she
touched him was exactly as Apollo had remembered it.
   "You must have had a bad dream," her tone was soothing, "Try
to forget about it."
   "I can't," Apollo raised his voice, still unable to collect
himself, "I saw you dead!"
   With a familiar toss of her long dark brown hair, she threw
him a bemused look.
   "That must have really been a bad dream," she said, "You saw
me dead?"
   "On Kobol," his voice dropped to a whisper again, "The Cylon
centurion on Kobol."
   "Apollo," her voice was filled with amazement, "That was more
than a yahren ago when I was shot and recovered."
   "Recovered?" his mind was racing with disbelief, "You
survived?"
   "You and Starbuck brought me back to the Galactica and Dr.
Salik treated me," Serina went on, "That's what happened to me. 
You know that, Apollo."
   "I don't know," he whispered as he dropped back on to the bed,
"I honestly don't.  How in the name of Kobol could I have only
dreamed that?"
   "Because I'm standing here in front of your eyes," she knelt
in front of him and again touched him on the chin, "I'm here
Apollo.  I'm here."
   And then, she tenderly kissed him on the lips.
   "Does that convince you?"
   Apollo seemed to relax, "It has to," he murmured, "It has to."
   "Get some more rest," Serina sad soothingly as she rose, "I'm
flying a recon patrol with Dietra for the next three centars. 
When I get back we'll go the Rising Star for a quiet evening
together.  Athena said she'd look after Boxey."
   "You're flying a patrol?" Apollo's voice went up slightly.
   "Of course," Serina let out a disarming laugh, "I don't wear
this uniform because you think I look cute in it.  I fly my
patrol just like you do every day."
   "Yeah," he leaned back against the pillow and again tried to
relax, "Yeah you would."
   "I love you Apollo," Serina blew him another kiss as she
picked up her helmet and left the room.
   Apollo was in a complete daze as he got back to his feet. 
Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.  It seemed
impossible to think for a centon that none of this was real.
   By all the Lords of Kobol, he thought, had the whole nightmare
of seeing Serina die and everything since only been a long,
uninterrupted nightmare?  Was he finally connecting again with a
reality that he hadn't known or touched for so long?  
   He went to his closet to reach for his uniform and then he
froze.
   His dress uniform hung on the hangar next to his flight
uniform, with all of the battle ribbons he had won neatly
aligned.  There was the blue ribbon for the battle of Orion, two
yahrens prior to the Holocaust.  There was the black ribbon for
distinguished service during the agonizing time of the Holocaust. 
The green one for Carillon.
   And underneath it was a red ribbon.  If what the Serina image
had said was true, then that ribbon shouldn't have been there. 
In the back of Apollo's mind, he knew that that ribbon had
presented for distinguished service at Gomorrah.  When he had
received it, he'd been standing alongside Starbuck, Boomer
and.... Sheba.
   Sheba.  The woman he'd come to love.  What had happened to
her?  What had happened to him?
   Apollo snatched the dress uniform off the hangar and hurled it
onto the bed.
   "This isn't real!" he shouted at the top of his voice, "It's
all an illusion!"
   Now, the elation he'd felt a moment ago at seeing and touching
the woman who's memory had haunted him for so long vanished
completely.  Replaced only with concern for the woman who he knew
meant more than a hollow memory ever could.
   "Sheba!" he screamed.
   A wave of sickness suddenly hit Apollo.  He felt as though his
head was about to explode as he collapsed on to the bed.
   He kept his eyes open and saw that the familiar scene of his
living quarters on the Galactica was growing fuzzy and
indistinct.  Hazier and hazier.
   Apollo glanced at his arms.  He had been undressed but now he
noticed the sleeves of his flight uniform again.  He could feel
the sensation that he was lying on some kind of hard surface or
table.  He also could sense some kind of object around his head.
   The scene of his quarters was completely gone now.  The haze
started to lift and he could sense a darkened kind of room dimly
lit by the myriad blinking of electronic or computer equipment.
   "She...ba," he barely managed to croak her name out under the
wave of pain.
   Suddenly the sound of some kind of alarm or klaxon wailed
throughout the room.
   "Subject no longer responds!" a high voice filled with anger
boomed from somewhere across the room, "He has become one of the
Useless!"
   The metallic clasp was suddenly jerked from Apollo's head. 
Almost immediately, he felt the wave of sickness pass and it
seemed as if he had returned to normal surroundings.
   He barely had time to lift his head from the table when he
heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the floor coming toward
him.  Apollo felt himself tense.  He darted his head around
trying to locate the source.
   Apollo then froze in shock when he saw on a table lying
nearby, the inert form of Giles.  A metal clasp was around his
head.  He made no movement at all.  He might have seemed dead
were it not for the fact that there was a perpetual smile and
expression of bliss on his visage.
   "Sweet Lords of Kobol," he whispered.  And then, his eyes
focused on the next table and he could see Brie stretched out on
it.  Like Giles, she too was motionless, yet simultaneously
looking tranquil and bliss as light displays blinked constantly
on her own metallic headband. 
   The footsteps grew louder.  From the darkness of the room,
emerged an alien being that Apollo had never seen the likes of
before.  It was bipedal with two arms, and of normal height and
build but there the similarities with human form ended.  The
being had eyes that were no more than two giant black orbs of the
kind that Apollo had once seen on an underwater predator yahrens
ago in the city aquacade on Caprica.  The skin was pale white,
rough and scaly.  What amazed Apollo most was the puffed shape of
the head.  From the eyes up, the area where the creature's brain
was housed seemed massively out of proportion to the rest of the
body.
   Apollo then noticed that the creature's three-fingered hand
held some kind of gun.
   "You are a fool," the creature hissed, "But if it is your wish
to spend the rest of eternity as one of the Useless, then so
shall it be done!"
   Apollo saw the tiny flash of light from the pistol and then
collapsed into blackness again.


   When he awoke this time, he found himself backed up against a
cold metal wall in a room that was equally cold all around.  
   "Welcome friend," a gentle, but sad sounding voice spoke.
   Apollo looked around and saw a gaunt, elderly human with white
hair and a flowing white beard backed up against the wall on the
opposite side of the room.
   "Where am I?" Apollo rubbed at his temple as he tried to get
to his feet.
   "You're in one of the many cells of the Useless," the old man
said, "Don't bother trying to get up, my friend.  It is
impossible to move about."
   No sooner had the old man spoken when Apollo found that he
couldn't move from his sitting position.  He felt as if a giant
weight were holding him down.
   "I don't know whether to feel happy or sad for you, my
friend," he continued, "On the one hand there is satisfaction at
being free of the Medullas mind control, but at the same time it
condemns you to the ranks of the Useless for eternity."
   "You're not making any sense to me," Apollo gave up trying to
force himself to move, "Who are you, and what are the Medullas
and the Useless?"
   "The Medullas are the race who control this universe," he
said, "They are a most efficient race.  They optimize their
ability to seek pleasure through slave labor.  When a slave is no
longer able to function however, he becomes branded one of the
Useless and is cast into permanent imprisonment."
   "You were a slave?"
   "As were you," the old man remained gentle, "Else you would
not be here."
   "Let me get this straight," Apollo was having trouble
collecting his thoughts, "When I was lying in that chamber with
the clasp on my head, I was a slave?"
   "Yes," the old man nodded, "Were you not experiencing some
form of a joyous fantasy or illusion?"
   "I was," Apollo was amazed.
   "Something that you had always regarded as something of an
ultimate dream?"
   "Yes," the Galactica warrior absently shifted his gaze away.
   "But evidently, though you always had idle dreams about this
fantasy coming true, there was something more powerful in your
mind to override your desire for it.  Something that made you
realize it was not true."
   Apollo dimly nodded.  He found himself thinking back again how
the memory of Sheba in the back of his mind had been the key to
disrupting the fantasy.  A fantasy of Serina alive again that he
had always thought he'd desire more than anything else, and never
want to let go of.
   "The Medullas do not make their slaves perform primitive
manual labor or anything like that," the old man continued,
"Their society is controlled entirely by the power of the mind. 
That is why slaves are used so that their minds may be left free
from the task of performing the routine tasks of maintaining
their society.  They are placed in the chamber and are attached
to those metal headbands that tap into the brain and use the
power of the brain to keep this society functioning."
   "I felt no such sensation of that," Apollo said.
   "Ah, because the Medullas tap into the left side, the
functional side of the brain to perform the slave labor tasks.  
The right side, the side of emotion and fantasy is used for
another purpose that enables their slaves to be kept under
control.  The brain's memory is searched so that while the one
side of the brain is performing perpetual slave labor..."
   "The other side is letting the slave experience ultimate joy
and fantasy," Apollo suddenly finished as he pieced things
together, "He never knows what's going on because as far as his
conscious mind can determine he's been given unending pleasure."
   "It is an ingenious method," the old man nodded.
   "And despicable," Apollo's face twisted in disgust,
"Despicable beyond belief."
   "Ah yes, but consider the alternative which you and I now
experience.  This is the price for having a strong will to
think."
   "Who are you?" Apollo shifted gears, "Where do you come from
and how did you get here?"
   "Well, since you are human then you must certainly know where
I come from.  You might even know my name.  I am Lot, of the
Adamaic tribe of the House of Kobol."
   Apollo frowned as if he thought he didn't hear him correctly.
   "You're from where?" he asked dubiously.
   "Adamaic tribe of the House of Kobol," the man named Lot
frowned back at him, "You are certainly familiar with Kobol if
you are indeed human.  That is the mother world of all humans."
   "I am familiar with it," the Galactica warrior struggled to
keep his composure, "But only from ancient texts and ruins.  The
Great Exodus of humanity from Kobol took place more than 7000
yahrens ago."
   Lot threw him a quizzical glance and then leaned his head back
against the wall, "Has it been that long?  I've lost track of the
time more than I realized."
   "You were..." Apollo struggled to continue.  The thought that
he was talking to a man that old, and who had walked in the same
ruins that Apollo had walked through a yahren ago, when the ruins
were a great thriving civilization was too much for him to
comprehend.
   Finally, he managed to compose himself.  "You were part of the
original Exodus from Kobol to the twelve worlds?"
   "Thirteen," he corrected, "There were thirteen tribes.  Twelve
left together for the group of worlds that our scout probes said
were relatively nearby and reasonably suitable."
   "I know," Apollo nodded faintly, "I come from one of those
worlds."
   "Do you?" he lifted an eyebrow, "It's nice to know that they
at least met with success."
   Apollo knew that now was not the time for him to talk of the
destruction of those twelve worlds by the Cylon Empire.  There
were far more important questions to ask.
   "You were from the thirteenth tribe?" he asked the most
important question.
   "Yes," Lot left out a wistful sigh as he recalled the memory.
   "Were you part of the journey to Earth?" Apollo felt the fear
and tension rise inside him.  This man conceivably held the key
to the future of all humanity.
   "You know of that too?" he raised an eyebrow, "The other
tribes thought we were crazy to risk the journey to a planet so
far away."
   Apollo held himself back, "It's...mentioned in our ancient
texts that Earth was regarded as the best of the planets that had
originally been scouted."
   "Quite correct," the man called Lot was impressed, "Of all the
surveys, the distant planet called Earth was regarded as an
ultimate Paradise in comparison with the other group of twelve
worlds that had been selected."
   "You've been there?" Apollo felt the inner tension rise again.
   The old man let out a sad chuckle and slowly shook his head,
"No.  I have never seen it, and if I had then I would not be
here."
   A sickening thought suddenly entered Apollo's head, "Do you
mean the expedition never made it to Earth?" the thought that
Earth had never been settled was a possibility that no one aboard
the Galactica had ever considered.
   Lot's chuckle suddenly became a hearty laugh that instantly
put Apollo at ease, "No my friend, I do not mean that.  I have no
personal knowledge that they did make it.  I was no longer
there."
   Apollo nodded, "You got separated from the expedition?"
   "In a way.  You might say that I was compelled to leave, or
forced to leave."
   "By the Medullas?"
   "No," he shook his head, "That comes much later in my sad
story."
   The Galactica warrior settled back against the wall, which was
the only movement he could perform, "Tell me about it."
   Lot gazed at the ceiling, "The mass Exodus of humanity from
Kobol was precipitated by our planet's dying ecosystem.  To
remain would mean certain death.  But even with survival
dictating that we leave, it was still an emotionally wrenching
experience to leave our homes."
   The old man briefly paused, "It was especially hard on my
wife.  She didn't want to leave.  If it had been up to her, she
would have stayed behind altogether.  Better to die in one's home
than on some distant alien world was how she put it.
   "But finally, as the effects of our dying ecosystem began to
spread throughout the planet and the thirteenth tribe moved up
its departure time, I prevailed on my wife that we had to go.  If
not for her sake then surely for the sake of our little daughter,
who was only six.  That was the only thing that finally caused
her to reluctantly agree.  We were almost literally the last
people to board the space ark that would carry the thirteenth
tribe to Earth.
   "I....won't waste time explaining what went on during the
journey.  Suffice to say that after six sectans of travel, we
suffered a tragedy when our daughter died.  My wife took it the
worst and she decided right then and there that she no longer
wanted to live.  Our child was the only reason why she was
willing to go to Earth and now that reason was gone.  She told me
she no longer wanted to live and wanted to die in her own home. 
She wanted to go back to Kobol.
   "I largely realized that I had no choice but to follow her
wishes.  As much as I felt she was wrong to give up on life, I
knew that I couldn't bare to see her suffer so.  I gave in, and
we then had to plan our escape.
   "As it turned out, there was a small shuttle contained within
the space ark that was transporting us.   We commandeered it and
began making our way back with some crude star charts.  We knew
it wasn't going to be easy since neither of us knew the slightest
thing about space navigation but we were already prepared to die
in space if that was how the Lords intended it.
   "We'd travelled for almost a full sectan when my wife suddenly
let out a cry of exhilaration.  It seemed as if her wish was to
be fulfilled and that we were not far from home."
   "The darkness," Apollo spoke up as his mind connected things
together, "You saw the zone of darkness and thought it was the
void that led back to Kobol."
   "We did," Lot sighed, "We thought we were almost home.  But it
wasn't the void we had emerged from.  It was the portal to the
universe of the Medullas.  Because there are no other sentient
beings in this universe for them to make use of, they project the
darkness as a corridor to other universes so that those who
wander into it are captured."
   "The patrol," Apollo whispered under his breath, as he thought
back to the sight of Giles and Brie.
   "What's that?" Lot frowned.
   "Nothing.  Go on." 
   "Well when I woke up, I suddenly found myself back in my house
on Kobol.  Everything was exactly as it was during the happy
years when our planet knew prosperity and tranquility.  When my
wife and I were looking forward to happy times together raising
our daughter."
   "Your ultimate fantasy," Apollo noted.
   "Yes, but while that was a fantasy it was not something my
mind was conditioned to accept.  Even as this pleasurable
experience unfolded before me, I was still determined to fight my
way through it and get to the truth of what was going on.   My
incessant questioning finally caused the Medullas control over my
brain to overload and that was when I realized I was lying in
their central control providing power for their planetary
ecosystem.  But I was one of the Useless now, and that meant I
received the punishment I still suffer under to this day."
   "Why do they imprison the Useless?" Apollo was puzzled,
"Wouldn't it be easier and more efficient just to kill those they
can't use?"
   "Ah, that's where the Medulla treachery becomes evermore
magnified.  Their reasoning is that by allowing their slaves to
enjoy pleasant fantasies while they perform their tasks, they are
performing compassion on the slaves.  To question and reject the
fantasy is perceived as ingratitude.  As punishment therefore,
they reason that since we didn't want to experience joy for
eternity, then we shall suffer never-ending imprisonment for
eternity.  I was the first to receive such punishment.  And such
has been my fate for seven thousand yahrens now."
   "What happened to your wife?"
   Lot smiled mirthlessly, "Her desire for the fantasy was
stronger than mine.  She is still experiencing the joy of living
on Kobol raising our daughter, while simultaneously her brain
provides power for an entire city."   
   "Incredible," Apollo tried to comprehend the implications of
the experiment.  It certainly wasn't grotesque as what the Ovions
had been doing to humanity on Carillon and yet, was it really all
that different?  At least with the Ovions the suffering was over
a lot sooner than here.
   "Haven't you ever tried to get out of here?"
   "How could I?" Lot's tone was resigned, "They keep us
immobilized.  There is no way out.  And even if I did, where
could I go?"
   Apollo settled back against the wall.   
   "It is strange though that you have come to be here," Lot went
on, "The Medullas use the portal for capturing beings only when
they feel they are experiencing a slave labor shortage."
   Apollo looked at him, trying to contemplate fully what he had
just said.  Then, a wave of horror rushed over him.
   "Oh my God," he whispered, "The Fleet."
   "I don't understand you," Lot said, "I think maybe it's time
you tell me some things about yourself, even if it will be
difficult for my psyche to grasp seven thousand yahrens of human
change.  I don't even know your name."
   "My name is Apollo," the Galactica warrior's mind was still
racing, "And right now, if I understand everything you said
correctly, the last remnants of human civilization are in
terrible danger."
   "What?" Lot's face twisted.
   "Look...I don't know how to explain this properly.  But the
other twelve tribes who settled on the other twelve worlds, which
is where I come from, our civilization was destroyed more than a
yahren ago."
   "Destroyed?" he was stunned, "How?"
   "That's not easy to explain.  All I can tell you is that we've
been fighting a war against a race of machines called Cylons for
more than a thousand yahrens, and one yahren ago they ambushed us
and destroyed all of the twelve worlds.  Ever since then, we've
been fleeing the Cylons in search of where the thirteenth tribe
of Kobol went to, because they represent the last major outpost
of human civilization."
   "You were headed for Earth?" Lot was amazed, "You were
following the path I took so long ago."
   "Yes.  The entire remnants of the other twelve tribes.  We
constitute seven thousand people crammed into over 220 small
ships.  And unless they got my warning, they're headed directly
on this path for the Medullas portal of darkness."
   "Seven thousand," Lot looked off to one side and his face went
ashen, "Good Lord."
   Apollo nodded as he realized that the old man was now on the
same wavelength that he was on, "If a handful of slaves can
sustain the Medullas for so long, then seven thousand new ones
will probably be enough to sustain them for all eternity."
   "And that's why they opened up their portal again," the old
man was visibly shaken, "Their situation must be desperate."
   "And they're about to receive an enormous boon."
   "Well I stand corrected," Lot refused to conceal the grimness
in his tone, "You and I must find a way to act quickly, because
we're right now at the point when the Medullas are at their most
vulnerable.  Once they get ahold of your comrades, they'll never
be vulnerable again."
   "But how do we get out of here?"
   Lot shifted his gaze to the other side of the cold, metallic
cell.
   "If you figure that out," he said, "Then you'll have found an
answer that has eluded me for seven thousand yahrens."


   What had started as a promising day for the Medulla who was
chief labor administrator of the planet, had not turned out to be
as joyous as he had hoped it would be.  Now, he had to make his
report to the Leader, and he dreaded it with each step he took to
the Leader's chambers.
   He placed his three-fingered hand on the door outside the
chambers.  It opened with a hum and he entered.
   He saw the Leader seated in his chair of authority.  Already,
the Labor Administrator felt intimidated.  Whereas previous
Leaders always had a Chief Aide by their side to offer either
eternal platitudes or tougher advice, the current Leader was
filled with so much self-confidence in his greatness that he
didn't even find the need to have a Chief Aide by his side.
   "I've awaited you," the Leader spoke.  Not by moving his lips
or using any kind of vocal chord, but by his brain transmitting
his thoughts into sound.  It was the way of the Medullas, "Your
report on the new slaves?"
   The Labor Administrator decided to try and put the best
possible spin on things.
   "The first two subjects are performing magnificently," he
said, "It turns out they had contemplated marriage, and as a
result they are experiencing the same fantasy with no desire to
break it.  The male subject alleviates the agricultural power
shortage by a rate of 3.8%, while the female is channeled to the
main electrical system for City 4L.  Power shortages there are
now reduced by 1.7%"
   "It was my understanding there were two other subjects who
arrived later," the Leader refused to be impressed, "Another male
and female.  Where have they been channeled to?"
   Right away, the Labor Administrator felt nothing but
uneasiness come over him.
   "I...regret to report that on the new arrivals, the results
were not promising.  They....have become of the Useless."
   "What?" the Leader was not pleased, "Less than one
revolutions's time has elapsed and they are already of the
Useless?"
   "I am afraid that is the case."
   "It has been so long since we had this opportunity," there was
no mistaking the power emanating in his thought-controlled voice,
"A 50% failure in developing new slaves is of far more interest
to me than a 1.7% improvement in our agricultural situation or
3.8% power improvement for City 4L.  As you are well-aware, such
improvements are negligible, given the current overall
situation."
   The Labor Administrator had to keep his inner thoughts from
forming, lest he run the risk of having them transmitted for the
Leader's ears.
   "Did you at least find out from the two Useless whether or not
more will follow?"
   "Yes," he again tried to sound positive, "There are as many as
7000 other sentients trailing the wake of these four.  It will
surely be only a matter of time."
   "You know the drain on existing power it takes to maintain the
dimensional portal," the Leader retorted, "You ask us to take an
enormous risk to keep it open.  The longer we do so with no
further slaves will offset any gains made by the two you were
successful with."
   The Labor Administrator remained silent.
   "Is there anything more you have to tell me?"
   Throughout the walk to the chambers he had agonized long about
whether to tell the Leader the worst piece of news.  Now, he came
to the reluctant conclusion that he had no other choice.
   "I am afraid there is.  It has to do with the female Useless. 
In the process of subduing her for transport to her punishment
cell, she was able to break free and escape.  Security Center is
conducting a search for her."
   "Escape?" the Leader's displeasure increased, "This is
virtually unprecedented in all Medulla annals.  Not only have you
set a record for the fastest failure in a new slave, you have
also allowed a Useless to escape punishment.  This is very
grave."
   The Labor Administrator tensed.
   "Correct the situation immediately," the Leader was severe,
"Unless you desire to be part of the Useless yourself."
   "No, Great One," he bowed and backed away to the door, "It
shall be alleviated at once."

                    Chapter Five

   "Father?"
   Adama looked up from his desk and saw a concerned Athena
standing in front of him.
   "Hello Athena," his tone was glum, "Any word?"
   "No," she sighed, trying desperately to maintain her warrior's
professionalism, "All radio links are still silent."
   He shook his head in dejection.
   "Colonel Tigh told me to give you this message though," his
daughter, "The Council requests a meeting in the next two
centars."
   "So Sire Antipas has wasted little time," the commander's
voice was laced with sarcasm, "Another resolution, this time
demanding a major course alteration."
   "Father," Athena tried to keep herself calm, "If there is
danger ahead of us, then why couldn't we simply have the Fleet
skirt around the parameter of whatever it is and resume this
heading for Earth after we're passed it?"
   "It isn't that simple Athena," her father said, "Even
following the wide parameter of this could be just as dangerous
as heading straight into it.  And there's also the problem that a
minute deviation from the main Epsilon 22 heading could very well
prevent us from being led to Earth itself."
   "So it seems we're trapped in a giant dilemma," exasperation
entered Athena's voice, "We go forward and risk the same fate
that's happened to Apollo and Sheba, or we divert course and lose
the opportunity for Earth.  And you won't even send out another
patrol to look for them.  All you do is just sit in your quarters
and wait for a miracle to happen.  At this rate you're going to
have me wondering if Sire Antipas is right!"
   Adama was stunned, "Can you really mean that?"
   Athena dropped into a chair, "Father, after finally seeing us
stand-up and take action when we encountered the baseship, it's a
little hard for me to accept the idea that this time we have to
sit back passively and just wait for things to happen."
   "I understand," he kept his voice gentle, "But the mark of a
good warrior is being able to distinguish when bold action is
called for, and when it isn't called for.  Every instinct in my
body tells me that it isn't called for this time."
   "Why?" Athena almost pleaded, "Why must we do nothing?"
   "Because I have faith in the mercy and protection of the
Lords," he said, "And because I also have faith in both Apollo
and Sheba."
   His daughter slowly shook her head, "I lost all my faith in
God and the Lords the day I saw Zac killed in front of my eyes."
   He decided not to argue that point with her.  The death of her
younger brother on the day of the Holocaust, whom she'd been much
closer to than she ever could have been with Apollo, had left
more scars on Athena than any other event in her life.
   "And as much as I concede the genius of Apollo and Sheba," she
went on as she looked the other way, "I don't feel much like
relying only on the same kind of silly optimism I'd expect from
Starbuck."
   Again, Adama refrained from commenting on that point.  It
seemed as though her bitterness over Starbuck essentially
choosing Cassiopeia was never going to fade.
   He got up from his chair, came over to her and squeezed her
hand.
   "Have faith in them for my sake at least," he said, "If the
worst has happened, then you're the only child I have left."
   She looked up at him and for an instant Adama was struck by
how much she resembled her mother.  And how it almost seemed to
him as though he was reliving a kind of discussion he used to
have with Ila so many yahrens ago whenever he had to reassure her
about keeping faith whenever he went off into battle
   Finally, she bit her lip and nodded, "I'll try," she
whispered, "And no matter what happens Father, I'll always
support you."
   She kissed him on the cheek and left.  Leaving her father to
wonder how many others he could depend on for support if the
Council did make things difficult.


   "Your move, Starbuck," Boomer's tone was slightly glum.
   Starbuck looked at his cards and then said with little
enthusiasm, "I stay."
   "Call," Boomer put his down.  When he saw Starbuck's hand his
eyes widened in disbelief.
   "I don't believe it, Starbuck. That's the worst hand you could
have possibly stayed on.  I win."
   "Well there's a good reason why my pyramid game's off tonight,
okay?" Starbuck angrily snapped back.
   "You think it doesn't bother me too?" Boomer retorted as he
took the small pile of cubits, then abruptly put them back,
"Forget it, I don't feel like I earned them."
   "Look I'm sorry, Boomer," Starbuck sighed, "It's just that
I've got to do something.  Anything.  We've got four people who
mean a lot to us out there and if I don't do something I'm going
to lose my whole fracking mind."
   A video monitor was playing the Fleet's IFB news broadcast in
the corner of the Officer's Club.  Starbuck absently chewed on
the end of his cigar as he shifted his gaze to the monitor.
   "A source close to the Council indicates that the scheduled
meeting of the Council of Twelve, which is slated to begin two
centars from now, will be discussing important issues relating to
the very question of the Fleet's future course of action."
   "'Source close to the Council'," Boomer's voice dripped with
sarcasm, "How's about, 'sources close inside Sire Antipas'
robe?'"
   Starbuck didn't answer his friend.  He calmly crushed his
cigar out in the ashtray on the table and then got up.
   "Where are you going?" Boomer called after him.
   "I'm going to do something to keep that fracking Libran louse
Antipas from having a good day.  If nothing's happened yet, then
Adama isn't going to have felgercarb leverage at that meeting."
   "Oh no," Boomer rolled his eyes as he suddenly got the
picture.  He then got up and followed Starbuck out.
   "Wait up chum," he said, "If you're going to take action, then
you're going to need a chaperon."
   Starbuck through him a wry expression, "Well, you're not
Cassie, but I guess for this you'll do."


   When Starbuck arrived at the launch bay he was not surprised
to see the imposing form of Sergeant Castor standing in the
entryway.  Immediately, Starbuck wished it could have been Reese
or one of the other goons from Council Security.  Getting past
one of them would have made him feel less guilty.  The Colonial
Security guards were basically decent guys who just travelled in
a different circle from the pilots.
   "I'm sorry Lieutenant, but all viper pilots are grounded," the
security guard said politely.
   "Yeah I know that," Starbuck said nonchalantly, "I just need
to run a systems check on my viper.  It'll only take a few
centons."
   "Oh.  Well I suppose that'd be okay, but you wouldn't need
your helmet for that, would you?"
   Starbuck looked down sheepishly at his helmet, "Oh that's
right, I wouldn't.  Here, you can have it."
   He tossed it to him and then made his way across the tarmac to
his viper.  He activated the switch that opened the canopy and
then climbed inside.
   Starbuck looked down at the floor of his cockpit and grinned. 
His spare helmet was right where he had left it on the last
patrol.
   "Am I a genius blessed with keen foresight or what?" he
chuckled to himself as he put it on and sealed the canopy shut.
   The sound of the viper's engines starting up caused Castor to
look back in alarm as he saw the ship move into launching
position.
   "Hey!" the security guard shouted as he started to dash toward
the viper.  But then, he backed off when he realized the danger
he was putting himself in if he got too close.
   The viper then roared off down the launch tube.
   "Frack," Castor ran back to the intercom at the entryway. 
Before he could push it, a concerned Boomer entered.
   "Something wrong?"
   "Lieutenant Starbuck.  He just made an unauthorized launch. 
Damn!" Castor was angry that he h+ad let himself be duped.
   "I won't let him get far," Boomer said with a take-charge
aura, "Tell the bridge I'll get him back before he gets into more
trouble."
   "Right," the sergeant nodded as Boomer ran across the tarmac
to his own viper.  A minute later he was away too.


   It only took another minute for Boomer to catch up with
Starbuck's viper.
   "Nice to have you along, chaperon," Starbuck grinned as Boomer
pulled alongside him.
   "I'll never figure you out," Boomer was amazed, "The way this
whole thing is set up, you're the one who's going to get in all
the trouble.  Me, I've got an escape clause to keep me out of the
brig."
   "If spending a sectan in the brig let's me figure out what
happened to Apollo then so be it," Starbuck's tone grew serious,
"Okay, here's what we're looking for.  Some kind of zone of
darkness that evidently plays havoc with viper instrumentation
systems.  How else to account for the garbled messages?"
   "What happens when we see it?"
   "This is where we've got to be quick and precise.  The micron
we get some kind of reading, hit your full scan beam and then
execute a full reverse thrust.  If I'm right, any delay for even
a fraction could put us in the same fix our buddies got into."
   "Got it," Boomer nodded, "I suggest we keep quiet and keep one
eye ahead and the other on the scanner."
   "Agreed."
   The two warriors then went silent as they waited for something
to happen.  The silence went on for more than ten centons and
Starbuck began to feel edgy.
   "Starbuck, I've got it!" Boomer blurted, "Hitting my scanner
recorder now.  I'll need thirty microns to get a good read."
   "Okay I'm picking it up too," Starbuck's heart began to pound,
"Holy Frack this is unreal."
   "Starbuck hit your reverse thruster now and stay clear of me!"
Boomer barked, "One of us has to be in a safe position."
   "I'm not gonna let you get sucked into this," Starbuck said.
   "Starbuck, I've got this scan first.  Now stay clear!"
   The brash warrior reluctantly nodded, "Hitting reverse
thrusters."
   Starbuck's viper then pulled away from Boomer's.
   "I'll have the scan completed in five, four, three, two, one,
mark!" Boomer then hit his reverse thruster.
   Nothing happened.
   "Uh oh, Starbuck my thrusters won't respond!"
   "Full power!"
   "It's at full power!"
   Boomer then went ashen when he saw the darkness looming ahead.
   "Starbuck, I think I'm in trouble.  I'll transmit my scan data
to you, and you get it back to the Galactica."
   "Hades Hole to that," Starbuck retorted, "I'm getting you out
of there!"
   "Starbuck---" Boomer protested.  But there was no response as
Starbuck's viper went to full turbos and sped back to him.
   "Try your lasers!" Starbuck shouted as he drew closer.
   "They won't work."
   "Then it's up to me," the brash lieutenant sucked in his
breath as he prepared to move across the nose of Boomer's viper,
"Dear Lord don't go out on me yet."
   As Starbuck streaked in front of Boomer's viper he pressed the
fire button as hard as he could.
   The laser blasts erupted wildly toward the blackness.
   Just then, there was a small blast emanating from somewhere
inside the darkness.
   "Try your thrusters now!" Starbuck shouted as he roared off.
   Boomer hit his thrusters again and felt the tension rise as
nothing happened again.
   But then, after a micron's delay that seemed like an eternity
to Boomer, he felt his viper start to move away from the
blackness.
   "I think that did it, Starbuck!  My forward momentum's
stopped."
   He then applied more power of his viper to the thrusters,
hoping that it wasn't just a false hope that he was on his way
out.
   The viper sluggishly picked up more speed and finally, it
moved away, heading toward the expanse of bright stars that led
back to the Galactica.
   "That did it," Boomer sighed with relief, "Thanks a lot,
Starbuck."
   "What would you ever do without me?" his friend smirked back.

   
   It only took Boomer's breathless announcement that they had
all the data relating to what had caused the disappearance of the
four warriors to make Adama quietly dismiss the security guards
who were waiting in the landing bay to arrest Starbuck.
   "I wonder if I'm letting you both off too easy," he grunted as
they made their way to the bridge, "This had better be good."
   It wasn't long before they had the telemetry loaded into the
Galactica's main computer, and they were able to analyze it.
   "It's not a magnetic void like at Kobol, that's for sure,"
Colonel Tigh noted as he tried to comprehend the data.
   "Definitely," the commander agreed, "It's more like a hole in
space.  Almost like...a passageway or portal."
   "But to where?" Tigh was still amazed.
   "If I read this correctly, it almost seems as if it could lead
to another dimension, another universe altogether," Adama
summoned all the physics knowledge he possessed to the forefront.
   "And it's got one enormous tractor beam," Boomer said, "I was
nearly sucked into it."
   "Well now we know what happened to our pilots," the commander
grunted, "They didn't have enough time to get clear."
   "So that means they ended up on the other side of it.  That
means they should still be alive," Starbuck sounded hopeful.
   "We don't know that," Adama cautioned, "The data gives no
indication whatsoever of what lies on the other side.  But it
does indicate at least, that the portal is vulnerable to laser
fire."
   "And how," Boomer grunted, "If it weren't, then I wouldn't
have been able to break free."
   "Yes," Adama nodded as he continued to stare at the data.
   "Commander, if it's just a portal then you've got to let us
try to get Apollo and Sheba out," Starbuck said.
   Adama turned and stared at the warrior with a mixture of
paternalism and authority.
   "There will be no disciplinary action against you for
disobeying orders, Lieutenant," he said firmly, "But until the
present situation is ended, both you and Boomer are confined to
quarters under guard."
   Starbuck was crestfallen, "Sir---"
   "That's all," Adama's tone was final, "To make confinement
easy for you both, I'll have the Rising Star send over two
bottles of the best ambrosia there is.  Play some cards and get
drunk if you like, but you're both staying in quarters."
   He then motioned Sergeant Castor to come up to them.  The
security guard was anything but pleasant as he motioned his laser
pistol at the two and indicated that they start moving.
   "Adama?" Tigh inquired as Adama resumed looking at the data.
   "Tigh," Adama didn't look at his old friend, "I'm leaving for
the Council meeting.  Have the Fleet ready to resume course when
the meeting ends."
   "The same course?" the executive officer frowned.
   The commander looked at Tigh and nodded, "Yes, old friend. 
The same course."
   Tigh decided not to protest as he started to descend the upper
steps of the bridge.
   "Oh and Colonel," Adama called down to him when Tigh had
reached the bottom deck.
   "Yes?" the executive officer looked up at him.
   "Have all missile banks brought on-line," the commander's
words were meticulously calm and collected.
   Tigh at first wasn't sure he'd heard Adama right, but then he
realized what the commander was thinking and he nodded
vigorously.


   "That's gratitude for you," Starbuck muttered under his breath
as they entered the corridor.
   "He's got a plan this time," Boomer whispered back, "What we
did now gave him a plan.  If we did anything rash again we'd just
wreck it.  From here on in, it's out of our hands."
   "I just wish I knew what that did for Apollo and Sheba,"
Starbuck grimaced, "They're alive Boomer, I know it."
   "Show some faith in their abilities," Boomer chided him, "They
don't always need you and me to bail them out of trouble."
   He threw him a cockeyed glance, "Are you sure of that?"
   "I'm positive.  You're the one who usually gets into trouble
that we bail you out of."
   As Castor motioned them into their quarters, Starbuck threw
Boomer a smirk.
   "Just for that buddy, I'm going to clean your chronometer at
pyramid so bad, that by the time Apollo and Sheba come flying
back, you'll be asking them for cubits to bail you out."


   "The Council of Twelve will come to order," Adama's tone was
even as he tapped his presidential gavel, "Since this meeting has
been requested by Sire Antipas, the Chair will recognize him to
speak first."
   "Thank you Mr. President," the young councilman flashed one of
his malevolently tinged smiles, "I shall not waste too much time
with preliminaries.  I think we have all been made aware of the
recent calamity that befell four of our pilots, including the
Commander's son.  I think I speak for my other brothers in
extending our sympathies and condolences to you at this time."
   Adama kept his expression neutral, "Duly noted and
appreciated, Sire Antipas.  Please continue."
   "My brothers," Antipas looked about the table, "We are
reminded by this tragic disappearance of how perilous the
continued journey through open space poses to our people and the
continued survival of human civilization.  Yet I am puzzled that
Commander Adama, ever since this news was first received, has
failed to take the prudent step of altering course, and enabling
us to avoid this danger."
   "Yes Adama, it is most unusual," Sire Montrose spoke up,
"Could you enlighten us on this point?"
   "I believe Sire Antipas knows my reasons, and I would prefer
that he state them at this time," Adama replied gently.
   The young councilman raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Thank
you, Mr. President.  If you feel at any point that I'm misstating
your position, feel free to interrupt me."
   He turned back to face the rest of the Council, "We are all
aware I'm sure, that for more than a yahren it has been the
Commander's determination to keep the Fleet on only heading,
which, so he claims, is the exact course for Earth given by a
mysterious ship of lights.  It is the Commander's determination
to maintain that heading no matter what danger may lie ahead of
us, because we would supposedly be jeopardizing the dream of
finding Earth."
   Antipas looked back at Adama.  The commander's expression
hadn't changed, so the councilman continued.
   "But I think the recent events should raise a serious question
as to whether this sustained journey across the stars can really
be considered worth the effort.  How many more obstacles are to
we navigate as we continue to search for a human settlement that
may not have even survived to reach it's final destination?
   "I certainly do not propose ending our journey here and now. 
We of course must take into account the fact that it has only
been a sectan since the destruction of the Cylon baseship, and we
remain too close to a region of space that the Cylons will
inevitably be forced to investigate for themselves in order to
learn what happened to it.  Unless of course, they learn
everything they need to from Baltar and his short-range
transmitter."
   "As always Antipas, you try my patience with your eternal
digressions," Sire Anton as usual was aligning himself most
firmly with Adama, "You said you would dispense with
preliminaries."
   "Having things placed in a proper context is usually the
result of sound thinking, my dear Anton," Sire Domra shot back,
"The only digression I hear is in your interruption."
   Anton settled back in his chair and glared coldly at both
Domra and Antipas.
   "I shall indulge Sire Anton by coming to the point," Antipas
resumed, "It is my belief that if danger lies before us on this
heading, then our survival dictates abandoning this course and
taking a new direction where we will search for a planetary
system suitable for us to settle our people.  I think in the end
the people would prefer to take on the challenge of starting a
new society and infrastructure, rather than be forced to
assimilate themselves into an unknown culture.  Especially when
the suffering of this journey could most assuredly be ended
sooner."
   "I concur," Montrose jumped in again, "Only this morning, I
spent some time with my granddaughter who is only two yahrens
old.  The thought that she might have to spend her entire natural
lifespan crammed into one of these ships, losing out on the
opportunity to enjoy life in its most precious form, is simply
repugnant to me."
   "None of us enjoy these conditions we are all forced to
endure," Anton retorted acidly, "But I would remind you both, and
all of you who would contemplate abandoning our journey for
Earth, that you could just as easily be forfeiting the
opportunity to see us emerge triumphant in our conflict."
   "The prospect of Earth being a society developed enough to
defeat the Cylon Empire is something I consider to be very
remote," Antipas resumed control, "On the other hand, developing
our own society in relative safety is something more tangible
that the people can more easily relate to."
   "If I may ask a question," Adama leaned forward and spoke for
the first time. "Is the proposal you offer, Sire Antipas, a
request to alter course?"
   "At the very least, yes," Antipas flashed his malevolent smirk
back at him, "I so move at this time."
   Adama smiled with satisfaction as he once again leaned back in
his chair.
   "Sire Antipas," the commander said, "It may interest you to
know that the problem that lies ahead of us has been isolated,
and a plan of action is now in place.  The obstacle ahead is a
force field of some kind that will be easily cleared by the power
of two missiles.  Once we approach the region, we shall clear the
path ahead and the Fleet will be able to proceed."
   Antipas was visibly caught off-guard and Adama tried not to
smile in satisfaction at seeing the arrogant councilman thrown
for a loop.  The rest of the Council members were also
speechless.
   "If this is so," he recovered slightly, "Then why did you not
inform us beforehand?"
   "To prove a point, Sire Antipas," Adama's voice rose with
authority, "To prove how rash, impudent judgment that appeals
only to base emotions seldom offers a wise course of action."
   "But Adama," Anton was stunned, "If you are really serious,
then you're writing off any hope there is for your son and the
others to return."
   "I'm aware of that Sire Anton," Adama's tone remained calm, "I
am aware that destroying the portal or whatever this thing is
rules out any chance for our missing warriors.  And as much as
that pains me, not just because it means losing my son..." he
paused slightly, "as well as the woman who may have become my
daughter-in-law, it is a decision that has to be made if our
journey is to continue.  No single individual is worth more than
that."
   A flustered Antipas seemed unable to respond, and he awkwardly
settled back into his chair.
   "Maybe it becomes clear to all of you then," Adama looked
around the table, "Our strength lies in our patience, and in our
faith that the journey forward for us will bring rewards far
greater than settling on an isolated planet could ever bring us. 
You speak of how Earth represents only a remote hope in defending
ourselves against the Cylons.  But at the same time, is it any
less remote to believe that by settling on an isolated planet we
could have an infrastructure in place to defend ourselves from
Cylon attack?"
   There was silence as once again, Adama's opponents seemed too
intimidated to say anything further.
   "Do you wish to proceed with your resolution, Sire Antipas?"
Adama inquired.
   The young councilman waved his hand at him, "No.  I withdraw."
   "If there is nothing else for us to consider," Adama rose and
tapped his gavel, "The council stands adjourned."
   As Adama watched the other members depart, he noted how the
swagger seemed to have disappeared from Antipas' bearing.
   "Congratulations Commander," Tigh came up to him.
   "Thank you," he smiled at his old friend.
   "I'm curious about one thing though," the executive officer
said, "You talked about patience and the need to avoid rash
judgment.  You wouldn't have had a plan to shoot Antipas down if
Starbuck and Boomer hadn't been impatient."
   Adama smiled at him, "If I were concerned about being
consistent, I never would have enlisted Baltar's help to destroy
the baseship."
   "The ends justify the means?" Tigh smiled back.
   "Actually, there's a difference between Starbuck's impatience
and Antipas'.  Starbuck is simply impatient over the details, but
those like Antipas are impatient about the more important issue
of where we end up.  You can't say there's no difference between
the two."
   "No, I can't," the executive officer admitted, "But still...I
know that couldn't have been easy for you.  Apollo may still be
alive."
   Adama sighed and for the first time his confident expression
faded somewhat.
   "If that is true," the commander sighed, "He has exactly
twelve centars to get out of that thing."

                  Chapter Six 

   By the chronometer around Apollo's wrist, only a centar had
passed since he'd awaken in the stark metallic cell with Lot. 
Yet, as the helplessness of his condition became more apparent,
it seemed more like an eternity.  He was totally locked in a
sitting position against the wall, able to raise his arms but
unable to stand up.
   He stared at Lot again and wondered how it was possible for
him to have been here, kept alive for over 7000 yahrens, and how
he had not emotionally cracked.  It was literally impossible for
him to comprehend.
   I guess this is a taste of what it's like for those who suffer
in Hell, he thought.
   His mind continued to focus on all the other troubling
questions.  If the Galactica hadn't heard his message right, then
7000 people were on their way towards the torture of either slave
labor or permanent imprisonment.  No matter how many might resist
though, there were probably more than enough who wouldn't crack
and be able to meet all the needs of the Medullas.
   And then there was the other question that he'd been
sidetracked from briefly when he had talked to Lot.  He had seen
what had happened to Brie and Giles.  But what had happened to
Sheba?  What had happened to the woman he now had to admit that
he was in love with, in more ways than he had realized, and the
thought of whom had made it possible for him to break the
Medulla-designed illusion of Serina?
   One thing was certain in his mind.  All the doubts he'd been
feeling about whether or not he could let go of Serina's memory
were gone forever.  He had been given the illusion he'd often
daydreamed about, and found that he hadn't wanted it.  He wanted
only the reality that Sheba embodied.
   "Sheba," he whispered under his breath.
   "What's that?" Lot looked toward him, "You say something?"
   Apollo blushed slightly, "Oh.  Ah, no.  I was just thinking
about someone.  The other pilot who was with me when the Medullas
pulled us in.  I didn't get a chance to find out what happened to
her."
   "My sympathies," Lot said, "Was this person a close friend?"
   "More than that," Apollo sighed, "She's the woman I planned to
become sealed to."
   Lot looked at him with sadness, "For her sake, I hope she's
not as much in love with you as you are with her."
   "Why do you say that?"
   "If she's deeply in love with you, then I seriously doubt that
she'd be able to break free from whatever fantasy the Medullas
constructed for her."
   Apollo went crestfallen and he almost felt like banging the
back of his head against the wall. 
   "I'm sorry, my friend," the old man of Kobol was filled with
empathy, "My own wife remains a slave of the Medullas simply
because of her great love for me and the home we once shared."
   "Lot," Apollo said quietly, "Unless you come up with an idea
on how to get us out of here, I don't want to talk to you right
now."
   "Of course.  I understand."
   Inside, Apollo's mind was screaming every single profane
epithet he could think of.


   The Labor Administrator calmly made his way into the Main
Power Center for the Medulla capital city.  The Leader's orders
had left him with a lot of tasks to care of, and the first thing
he had to do was examine the power supply for the dimensional
portal.
   "This is an emergency situation," he said to the Lead Monitor,
"Transfer reserve power to maintain the portal for another five
revolutions."
   "But sir," the Monitor protested, "The more power we transfer,
the more strain we are putting on the main systems throughout the
entire planet."
   "Keeping the portal operating continuously is our only hope. 
You must do as I say."
   The Labor Administrator went to the window that overlooked the
wide, open area below that represented the entry to the portal. 
On the spot below were the four strange looking ships that had
carried the four sentients from the universe on the other side. 
For now, they lay parked and abandoned.  Getting them examined
and stored away was of little consequence to the Medullas at that
particular time.
   For well over several minutes, the Labor Administrator was
lost in thought as he wondered how long it would be before they
were fortunate enough to see any of the other 7000 sentients that
were supposedly not far behind from where the other four had
come.
   Suddenly, an exhilarated sound emitted from the Monitor's
brain.
   "There is indication of another sentient captured!"
   The Labor Administrator, "Just one?"
   "That is all for now."
   Not too promising, he thought.  Only one probably did not mean
the vast ships that were spoken of by the sentients.  This was
probably going to be another in one of those small crafts like
the four below.
   Abruptly, a shower of sparks erupted from the entryway.  It's
black menacing glow actually faded for a brief instant, becoming
slightly brighter.
   "What happened?" the Labor Administrator blurted.
   The Monitor was stunned, "This is beyond my comprehension. 
There has been some kind of disruption on the other end."
   "Do you still have the sentient?"
   "No," glumness was now in the Monitor's voice, "All
indications are that it has broken free."
   "That has never happened before."
   "Some sort of force beam must have been applied on the other
end to counteract the tractor beam.  That's the only possible
explanation," the Monitor looked at his computer panel,
"Indications are that power has been affected by the damage
caused.  At least a 3.2% drop.  It will take another rerouting of
reserve power to correct this and maintain the portal at full
strength."
   The Labor Administrator felt his exasperation increase.
   "Do it," he said, "Keep this thing going at maximum strength."
   The Monitor decided not to protest, "Yes sir."


   After leaving the Monitor, the Labor Administrator went off to
see how another problem was being dealt with.
   "The Leader requests an update on the escaped Useless," he
said to the Chief of Security Central.
   "I am afraid there is nothing to report.  She has eluded all
of our search teams."
   "That's not what I want to hear!" the Labor Administrator's
thoughts shouted, "I want her captured now!"
   "You'll forgive me sir, but this is not exactly a situation
we've been adequately trained for."
   "That's true, that's true," his anger subsided, "Keep me
informed when there is anything new to report."
   As he shut off the speaker, some troubling questions that went
far beyonf the matter of the missing Useless entered his mind.


   The silence continued as Apollo leaned back against the wall. 
With each passing moment, his anger was being replaced by a
growing sense of depression over his inability to do anything.
   "I know you're upset my friend," Lot spoke once again, "But
there are still some questions I wish you'd answer for me.  How
was it that after 7000 yahrens of development, the descendants of
my brothers in the other twelve tribes could have met with
destruction?"
   Apollo still didn't feel like talking to the old man.  If he
hadn't been so depressed at that point he would have wanted to
spend endless days talking with him, and learning all the things
he could about the beginning of human civilization on Kobol.  He
had always known that if there had never been a war with the
Cylons, he might have chosen a path other than military service
and been an historian or space explorer.  Only a sense of duty
and patriotism had compelled him to follow his father's
footsteps.
   But now, there were too many things troubling him to keep him
from tapping his own instincts.
   "I think I'm entitled to an answer," for the first time, Lot's
tone was less than pleasant, "How did you let your civilization
get destroyed."
   Apollo sighed and nodded, "I suppose I've got nothing else to
do.  We were destroyed because of our naivete, and our refusal to
look evil squarely in the eye."
   For the next several centars, Apollo told Lot the story of the
thousand yahren war with the Cylons.  Of the betrayal and the
Holocaust, and the Galactica's ongoing journey to Earth.
   "Remarkable," Lot said when Apollo had finished, "I had always
wondered what had become of human civilization.  I scarcely
believed that their capacity for foolishness that drove the Ninth
Lord of Kobol to ruin would still exist after all that time."
   "Humans never change," Apollo responded, "We're not
perfectible."
   Just then, they both heard a loud crashing sound coming from
somewhere outside their cell.  They both frowned as they could
hear footsteps running.
   "Something's happening," Lot was confused.
   Apollo looked at his legs.  All of a sudden, it felt to him as
though the weight had lifted from him.  Cautiously, he tried to
move them.
   "Lot," he said calmly, "I can move my legs.  Try moving
yours."
   "I've never been able to do that," he protested.
   "Try," Apollo prodded.
   It was a reflex that had almost become forgotten to him after
thousands of yahrens of immobilization.  But slowly, the old man
moved his legs an inch.
   "By all the Lords, I can!" he shouted in amazement.
   "Something's disrupted the power," Apollo said, "I'm going to
try to stand."
   His body felt cramped, but slowly the Galactica warrior got to
his feet.
   "You're right," Lot was amazed, "That's the only explanation. 
The power controlling this cell has been disrupted."
   "If only there was a door of some kind.  We've got to get out
of here before the power comes back."
   No sooner had Apollo spoken when the wall opposite him began
to slide open.
   When it was clear, Apollo saw Sheba standing in the hallway
outside.
   "Sheba," he was stunned.  He impulsively ran to her and threw
his arms around her.
   "Later Apollo," Sheba said as she quickly reciprocated and
then gently pushed him away, "Now that I've found you, you've got
to get out of this complex fast."
   Apollo nodded and looked back at Lot, "Lot, come with us. 
You're free now."
   The old man could scarcely believe it as he slowly got to his
feet.
   "Come on," Apollo took him by the arm and they stumbled out of
the cell.
   "Okay," Sheba said once they were all in the hallway, "We have
to make our way to the portal.  Our vipers are still there and we
can then get out of this place."
   "Sheba," Apollo was still stunned, "How did you escape?"
   She smiled wryly at him, "When I broke free of the Medullan
fantasy, they tried to subdue me for transport to the punishment
cell.  But they hadn't immobilized my legs so I managed a rather
expert kick to the mid-section that gave me all the time I needed
to get away from the labor complex.  I've been ducking them for
the last five centars.  And let me tell you something, they're so
mentally drained from all the time they spend pursuing pleasure
that there isn't a single detachment of guards capable of
tracking us down.  They're so used to having their slaves under
control in one form or another that they don't even understand
the meaning of how to search for someone who's escaped."
   "How did you know where to find me?"
   "There's only one complex where they keep the Useless
imprisoned.  And when I eavesdropped on some of the guards, I
heard them talk about how both of the new arrivals had become
Useless.  That told me you weren't suffering like Brie and Giles
are now."
   Apollo grimly nodded and then changed the subject, "Sheba, we
can't think of getting out of here unless we know a way to
destroy that portal.  Right now, the Galactica and the entire
Fleet is headed for it and if they get sucked in, then the
Medullas will have all the slave labor they'll need to last for
eternity."
   "That presents a problem," Sheba said, "Because unless I miss
my guess, the only we can get out of here is if that portal is
operating."
   Apollo turned to Lot, "Lot, do you know how many others have
been imprisoned here?"
   The old man shrugged, "Difficult to say.  I've never seen any
of the other cells."
   "Well maybe it's time we find out.  Sheba, where did you shut
off the power to our cell?"
   "At a relay station at the end of the hallway."
   "Let's have a look at it," they made their way down to the
end.
   When they reached it, Apollo began to inspect the control
panel.
   "I'm surprised they wouldn't have any guards around here," he
mused.
   "I told you, they keep only a token force for the main power
centers.  From their point of view, having guards at this complex
is a waste of time from pleasurable pursuits,"  Sheba said.
   Apollo eyed the panel some more, "It looks as if there are
units for each cell.  By my count, there should be more than a
hundred of these.  How many beings in all that would make, I have
no idea."
   "Maybe it's time we find out," Sheba pulled out her laser
pistol, "I recovered this from the detention center once I saw
they'd stopped looking there.  This is probably a good time to
use it."
   She then fired it at the relay station.  A few sparks erupted,
and the lights on the panel went dead.
   "That should kill the power to all the cells.  Lot, do you
think these others, whoever they might be, would be receptive to
a little revolt?"
   The old man smiled, "If they feel the same as I do, the answer
is yes."
   "Then let's open the cells up.  Fast."
   They moved back down the corridor and rapidly began activating
the controls to the cells.  The metallic walls all slid back as
Apollo and Sheba moved to each individual station.
   "Everybody out!" Apollo shouted, "Everybody out of your cells! 
You're all free now!  You're all free!"
   There was no immediate response.  It was well over a centon
before a figure finally emerged from one of the cells.
   Apollo at first did a doubletake when he saw that it was a
Cylon.  Not one of the robot centurions he'd seen so many times,
but a living Cylon.  A member of the reptilian race that had been
destroyed by their own machines more than a thousand yahrens ago.
   And then Apollo saw beings from several other familiar races
emerge including Delphians, Hasari, and still more living Cylons. 
There were also a handful of other humans as well.  All in all,
some two hundred emerging from their cells.
   It took Apollo only a micron to understand the diversity and
the presence of several extinct races altogether.  Scouts from
expeditions long ago who'd been trapped in the portal and taken
into this state of imprisonment.
   One of the humans stepped forward, "What has happened?"
   "Could you tell me who you are?" Apollo asked.
   "I'm Captain Priam, squadron commander of the Battlestar
Callisto.  What's going on?"
   Apollo's eyes widened with the same disbelief he'd felt when
Lot had told him who he was.
   "Apollo," Sheba said, equally stunned, "You remember the
Callisto.  She disappeared five hundred yahrens ago."
   "I remember," he whispered as he wondered how many other
unknown mysteries could be answered by this place, "The Galactica
was built to replace her in the Colonial Fleet."
   "You mean it's been five hundred yahrens?" Captain Priam spoke
up again, "The Medullas are more efficient at keeping us alive
than I realized."
   "Indeed," Lot smiled at him, "I myself have been here seven
thousand yahrens."
   "What is this?" the living Cylon stepped forward, "I'd like to
know what you plan for us now."
   It took Apollo a brief instant to compose himself.  Adjusting
to Lot had been difficult enough, but adjusting to this diverse
group of races who had been imprisoned for equally long periods
was almost too much to handle.
   "Look, all of you.  I don't know how you all came to be
imprisoned by the Medullas, or what kind of wars you were
fighting beforehand, but none of that is important now.  The
point is, you are all free.  And we need your help to take
control from the Medullas and free all of your comrades who are
still being used by the Medullas as slaves."
   "For this I am ready," the Hasari stepped forward, "The code
of my people demands it."
   "As am I," the Cylon added, "Even though it has come to my
attention that my descendants are at war with your race, I will
be glad to help."
   "I guess we're entrusted to your leadership," Captain Priam
smiled at Apollo, "Please lead the way."
   Apollo turned to Sheba, "Sheba, do you know how to get back to
the main labor center?"
   "No problem," she said, "We'll have to rush them though,
because that's the most heavily monitored complex they have.  I
have a feeling that they all carry one of those devices they use
to subdue a slave when they become a 'Useless' to them."
   "Have your blaster set for heavy stun only," Apollo cautioned,
"It's time to teach the Medullas a few lessons."


   Agitated by the lack of progress, the Labor Administrator
returned to his base of operations at the main labor complex.  It
was the only place where he felt he'd be more at ease for now.
   He looked down from his observation post.  Beneath him lay
more than eight hundred slave laborers, lying on tables in
headbands that ran to a master computer that channelled their
mental activities to provide power for all systems throughout the
planet.  The slaves represented a wide cross-section of different
races from the other side of the portal who had been trapped by
the portal, brought to the Medullas and had not become Useless. 
Some had been there as little as four solar revolutions, others
as long as seven thousand.  Ever since the Medullas had first
learned to master the power and energy of the brain and mind more
than ten thousand solar revolutions ago, it had been the
determination of the race to maximize their ability to enjoy the
pursuit of pleasure.  And so they had designed the portal to see
if the minds of other sentients could be used for the same
purpose that the Medulla mind had been conditioned for.
   The first sentients captured had been the couple from a race
called humans.  The female had been a success beyond their
greatest expectations.  It made the decision to assemble a slave
labor force a foregone conclusion.
   But the male called Lot had been a colossal failure.  The
first of the hated class called the Useless.  The Leader was so
enraged by the ingratitude of the one called Lot, that it was
decided that a far more suitable punishment would be eternal
imprisonment.  Where the cold reality of an empty cell would be
his for eternity.
   As thousands of solar revolutions passed, and the needs of the
Medullas grew, Medullan society retreated more and more within
its devotion to pursuing pleasure.  Of a population of more than
10,000, barely a handful were ever away from their pleasure
centers.  Only administrators and monitors were needed to make
sure that the slaves output continued to meet the society's
needs. 
   A crisis had been averted five hundred solar revolutions ago,
when a massive ship called the Callisto had been captured with
more than five hundred sentients.  Four hundred of them had been
successful, and gave the Medullas a long-team lease that had been
beyond their best expectations.
   But even after the benefits from that incident had been
stretched to the limit, it soon became apparent that still more
slaves were needed or else serious power shortages would erupt,
and thus endanger the planet's well-being.  And so, to find more
slaves, the portal had been activated again.  So far, it had
produced two successes and two Useless.  And the one unaccounted
Useless was proving to be an enormous problem.
   He settled back into his chair and continued to survey the
chamber.  As impressive as it seemed from his overhead view,
their inadequacy was all too evident.  More were needed.
   A warning klaxon than sounded.
   "Alert situation!" a panicked voice sounded, "Alert situation. 
The Useless have escaped!  The Useless have escaped!"
   The Labor Administrator bolted from his chair and placed hand
on the speaker, "This is the Labor Administrator.  What are you
talking about?"
   "This is Security Central!  The punishment cell has been
penetrated, and our monitors report that the power there has been
sabotaged.  All of the Useless have escape!"
   "Did you say all of them?" the Labor Administrator was
shocked.
   "All of them!  The cells are empty!"
   The Labor Administrator sagged into his chair in disbelief.
   "This is the price we pay for our ways," he verbalized to
himself, "If we weren't so devoted to pleasure, we could have had
more guards and taught them to be efficient.  We've forgotten how
to handle our own problems."
   He warily looked down at the chamber and all the slaves below.
He no longer seemed proud of his own accomplishment.
   He placed his hand on the speaker that would connect him with
the Leader's thoughts.
   "Great One," his tone was grave, "The situation has changed
dramatically.  You must come here immediately."
   The Labor Administrator didn't bother to conceal his thoughts,
and as a result the Leader was able to hear everything he was
thinking.
   When he finally heard the Leader, the tone was subdued and
glum.  A tone that was quite out of the ordinary for the one who
had long carried deep pride in his abilities and accomplishments.
   "I will come."


   Outside the main labor center, Apollo and Sheba both led the
prisoners on a steady march from the prison complex.  They
encountered no opposition.  They could see many Medullas around
them but none of them took notice of the mob.
   "They don't notice us," Lot pointed out, "Those are typical of
Medullas who are not part of the token administration and monitor
force.  They just lie around pursuing their own form of
pleasure."
   "They're wearing headbands like we were," Apollo noted.
   "Different from the slave labor type," Captain Priam said,
"The typical Medulla wears a headband that uses the entire brain
for maximizing pleasure, not compartmentalizing it as they do
with slaves."   
   Just then, a loud klaxon erupted.
   "I think our escape has been discovered," Sheba observed.
   "Then let's all move in.  Everyone, go!"
   And then, the two-hundred odd people who represented different
races began to charge toward the entrance to the labor complex.



   Far away in another dimension aboard the Galactica, Adama
paced about on the upper deck of the bridge, occasionally
stopping to glance at the navigation chart.  The massive zone of
blackness had crept onto the far side of the screen.
   "Commander," Omega called up to him, "We're proceeding on
course and we estimate that we'll be within missile firing range
of the zone in two centars."
   "Thank you Omega," Adama said, "Is there anything on the
communications band?"
   Omega shook his head, "I'm sorry Commander.  Nothing to report
there."
   The commander nodded and went back to the navigation chart. 
He stared at the symbol representing the dark zone and slowly
clenched his fist.
   "Forgive me my son," he whispered, "Forgive me."

                      Chapter Seven

   Only four Medullas stood in the entryway to the labor complex. 
Immediately, Sheba fired her laser pistol and they collapsed to
the floor before they had time to reach for their stun rays.
   Across the hallway, the mob dashed until they finally reached
the door that led to the main power center.
   Two more monitors stood in the way.  Once again, they were too
slow to react to the onrush.
   They burst into main center.  Immediately, there was a stunned
reaction from the entire crowd as they saw the full scope of how
many slaves there were.  Many of them recognized friends,
comrades and loved-ones that had not been seen for so long.
   "You must not do anything to them!" a voice thundered from
above, "We beg of you!  Do not do anything to them!"
   Apollo and Sheba both looked up at the partition overlooking
the complex.  Two Medullas stood there.  One of them was holding
what Apollo recognized as his confiscated laser pistol.
   "You'll have to stop us yourselves," Apollo said calmly, "Do
you have the capacity to do that?  That laser pistol is good for
taking out maybe a handful of us.  Could you stop all of us?"
   The one who seemed to be the one that had spoken, though
Apollo couldn't tell since the lips of the Medullas did not move,
appeared to slouch in despair, "No we can not.  We...are not
prepared to deal with this contingency."
   "Then we're freeing these people," Apollo said, "No matter how
important their labor is to your society, you have no right to
hold them against their will."
   "Ah, but that's your wrong," the Medulla countered, "They give
themselves freely to us by accepting the pleasure we create for
them."
   "And what of the rest of us?" Lot spoke up, "Starting with me,
seven thousand yahrens ago you put anyone who used their free
will differently into a cold cell and branded them 'Useless.' 
You dare to justify that?"
   The Medulla seemed unable to respond to that.
   "We're releasing them," Apollo said as he moved over to the
table where Giles lay, "Sheba, you start with Brie."
   "No!" the Medulla screamed as he impulsively raised his laser
pistol.
   "Apollo look out!" Sheba shouted.
   Apollo hit the floor as the laser blasts came down from above. 
He heard them explode above his head.
   "Stop this, Great One!" the other Medulla shouted.
   Apollo looked back up.  The second Medulla was now wrestling
with the first one, trying to get the laser pistol away.
   "Keep down everyone.  Keep down!" Apollo shouted to the
others.
   Apollo then heard several more laser blasts.  He finally
turned his head up and saw that the second Medulla had grabbed
the laser pistol away.  The first Medulla lay slumped, one arm
hanging over the ledge, totally motionless.
   "It's done," the second Medulla sounded relieved, "You can all
get up now."
   Slowly, they all got back on their feet.
   "Apollo," Sheba whispered with horror.
   The Galactica warrior turned around and saw smoke rising from
two of the tables.  And he saw singe marks where the wild laser
blasts had struck the prone figures of Brie and Giles.  Their
expressions that had been smiling and contented were now the
frozen expressions of death.
   "They're dead!"  Apollo shouted angrily, "They're both dead. 
That's a nice system you have here!  If they can't be your
slaves, just imprison them or kill them if you can't hang on to
them!" 
   "Captain Apollo," the other Medulla was trembling, "I am
sorry.  I am very sorry that it came to that.  But the one
responsible for this policy is now dead."
   "That's too late for them," Apollo felt the bitterness
increase, "Whether you like it or not, we're freeing the rest
before you decide to kill more of them."
   "I won't stop you.  In fact I'll help you.  I am the chief
Labor Administrator of the Medullas.  I know how this system
operates and what you need to do to bring your comrades back. 
Let me come down and help you."
   "Should we let him?" Captain Priam asked skeptically.
   "Might as well," Apollo calmed down slightly, "He'd know how
to bring them back without endangering them."
   He motioned his head yes, and the Medulla disappeared from
view.
   A moment later, the Labor Administrator emerged in the
chamber.  He instantly tossed Apollo's laser pistol to him.
   "That should convince you of my intentions," the Labor
Administrator said, "As one who's not let the pursuit of pleasure
hopelessly dull my senses as it has all the others of this
society, I've finally seen the sheer waste of this policy.  The
waste to all of you and to my own people as well.  We've rendered
ourselves incapable of functioning.  We've let ourselves become
slaves as much you have.  It's time to end that."
   At that point, the remaining handful of monitors from Security
Central entered the hallway.
   "Drop your subduers!" the Labor Administrator barked at them,
"The Leader is dead.  I have assumed control now and you will
help these people."
   "They are Useless!" one of the Monitors indignantly protested.
   "No," the Labor Administrator stepped forward to him, "We are
the Useless.  We, who have wasted the resources of our race on
sloth and meaningless pursuits.  Endangering the well-being of
our planet and then resorting to barbarism as we have done for
seven thousand solar revolutions to cover our uselessness.  That
is going to stop now."
   The Monitor was finally intimidated into dropping his stun
weapon.
   "All right," the Labor Administrator moved back to Apollo,
"Let's get started.  Captain Priam, I think you'll find a good
percentage of the Callisto's crew over here."
   Apollo and Sheba both lingered by the mute forms of Giles and
Brie, as the others started to follow the Labor Administrator in
their search for the ones they had not seen for so long.
   "I know why they weren't able to break the fantasy," Apollo
sighed with regret, "They both wanted to become sealed but kept
putting it off because they didn't think the conditions aboard
the Galactica were right for it just yet."
   "Knowing Brie it was probably a fantasy about living together
back on Caprica with Giles," Sheba's tone was equally filled with
regret, "She told me once that that was her greatest dream."
   "And she didn't have anything to make her let go of it.  The
same with Giles."
   He then turned back to Sheba, "What fantasy did they give
you?"
   Sheba sighed, "Do you really want to know?"
   "Yes I do," he said, "Because I want to tell you about mine."
   She lowered her head slightly, "They gave my father back to
me," she said, "I was back aboard the Pegasus, going through the
challenge of deep space together with him.  That....had been the
thing I always desired more than anything else."
   She then looked Apollo in the eye, "But....the Medullas didn't
take into account the fact that that particular dream of mine had
been less meaningful for some time.  They couldn't erase my
feelings for you.  After about a micron's exhilaration at seeing
my father again, I suddenly kept asking myself about what had
happened to you.  I knew right then that I wanted the reality of
you more than I'd ever want an illusion of my father."
   Apollo awkwardly sucked in his breath and drew an inch closer
to her, "The same thing happened to me.  They gave me what I
always thought was the one thing I'd want more than anything
else.  They gave me Serina.  They gave me back a real, tangible
image of the one person who's memory I always thought I could
never let go of."
   The emotion rose in his voice, "But they also didn't factor in
my feelings for you.  I remembered you and I realized right then
and there that I could never again have to worry about a memory
of someone who is dead keep haunting me.  Serina will always have
a place in my heart, but I am not going to let her memory control
my life anymore."
   Apollo took Sheba's hand, "Sheba, I love you.  I want you and
me to become sealed as soon as we return to the Galactica. 
Please, Sheba.  Marry me."
   A tear of joy streamed down Sheba's cheek as she smiled
awkwardly and nodded vigorously, "My answer is a resounding yes,"
she whispered, "I love you Apollo."
   He pulled her tight to him and they shared a long, passionate
kiss.


   A centar had passed, and the Labor Administrator's assistance,
as well as the vigorous action of the newly freed prisoners had
succeeded in reviving all of the slaves.  Humans, living Cylons,
Hasari and Delphian alike, they had all been awaken and started
on their slow agonizing return to reality.
   "It will take some time for them to adjust," Lot said to
Apollo, "But I would say the outlook should be hopeful in the
long-term."
   "Even your wife?" Apollo asked.
   Lot nodded, "Yes, I think that by the grace of the Lords, even
she too will be able to recover.  Once the horror of what they
have been forced to do becomes clear, I think any yearning for
the fantasy they were experiencing will dissipate for all of
them."
   The old man sighed, "This means a lot of unexpected changes
for all of us.  Not only have our comrades been restored to
reality, but by freeing us from the punishment cells, we will all
begin to age naturally again."
   "You are free to come with us," Apollo said, "All of you."
   "No, Apollo," Captain Priam stepped forward, "It's not the
same for us as it is for you and Sheba.  None of us belong to
your universe anymore.  There's nothing productive we could do
there."
   "But on the other hand, there are many productive things we
can do here," Lot said, "The Medullas need to be freed from their
dependency on pleasure and relearn the ability to run this planet
themselves, without ever having to resort to slave labor again. 
And we, in the time we have left, are the only ones who can help
them do that."
   "We're needed here," this from the living Cylon, "Without us,
this society will die."
   Apollo nodded in understanding, "Do you trust the Labor
Administrator?"
   "Strange is it may seem, I do," Lot shook his head yes, "I
think a bright new day has dawned in the annals of Medulla
history."
   The Galactica warrior smiled and shook Lot's hand, "May the
Lords of Kobol bless your endeavor."
   Lot smiled back as he took the handshake, "The Lords bless you
on your continued journey to Earth."
   "Goodbye Lot," Sheba smiled, "We'll never forget you."
   "Goodbye Sheba.  And thank you for restoring our lives to us."
   With that, the two Galactica warriors turned and left the
chamber.
   The man who had started the original journey to Earth,
wondered if his brothers who had finished it had produced
something for Apollo and Sheba that would be worth finding.


   "Negative shield," Adama ordered as he momentarily stopped
pacing on the upper deck of the bridge.
   The shield doors opened and he could see what lay ahead in the
Galactica's path.
   "We should be in visual contact about...now," Omega intoned.
   Just then, the background of stars began to fade, replaced
only by blackness.
   "There it is," Tigh said with slight trepidation.
   Adama nodded and kept looking ahead, "Contact range?"
   "1000 microns and counting," Athena tried to keep her tone
professional, despite her inner agony over Apollo.
   "Starboard missile one and port missile one are both armed and
have achieved on-line readiness," Omega reported.
   "Stand by to launch both missiles on my signal," the commander
sucked in his breath.
   Slowly, the Galactica drew closer to the zone of darkness.


   Apollo and Sheba both went through the doorway that led to the
outside area where the portal's entrance lay.  Both of their
vipers had been moved into a position that pointed straight in to
the black void that led back to another universe altogether.
   "Your ships are ready," the Labor Administrator said, "I have
reversed the flow of the portal so you should be able to return
to your own universe with no difficulty.  But this is a procedure
we have never tested.  There are risks involved."
   "Thanks for letting us know that.  We'll be ready if the
journey's a rough one."
   "And one other thing.  Just so you never have to have any
lingering doubts about the future of this society.  I will be
able to track your progress through the portal.  Once the
indicator shows that you have emerged on the other side and are
free, the portal will be destroyed.  Never again will anyone be
tempted to use it and capture any other wandering soul who might
cross its path."
   "Thank you," Apollo said, "Our ships need to pass through that
area where the portal lies." 
   "And thank you, Captain Apollo.  And you, Lieutenant Sheba,"
he bowed slightly to them both, "My first words to the two of you
may have been to brand you as Useless.  But without question,
your presence here has been the most useful thing that ever
happened to us."
   "Leader," Sheba said to him, "Our coming here was the best
thing that could have happened to Apollo and myself as well."
   "In more ways than you could ever believe," Apollo snuck a
quick smile at her as they resumed walking to their vipers.
   The Labor Administrator who was now the Leader, watched as
Apollo and Sheba both climbed into their vipers, sealed their
canopies shut, and started their engines.
   And then, the two ships roared to life and disappeared into
the blackness ahead.


   "Contact range is now 300 microns and closing," Athena
reported, "The readings from the zone indicate that a potential
danger to navigation systems exist."
   "We might be cutting things too close," Tigh said to Adama.
   The commander nodded, "Move contact range ahead by two hundred
microns."
   "Recalibrating estimate," Athena said, "Contact range is now
90 microns and closing."
   Adama began to nervously rub his fingers together.


   "It feels pretty sluggish," Sheba radioed as the two vipers
plunged forward in the darkness.
   "This thing's never flowed the other way.  Very unstable,"
Apollo responded.
   "The pressure's increasing on my ship.  Almost hitting warning
levels."
   Apollo gazed at his instrument panel, "I've got the same
indication."
   "I suggest we go to maximum turbos now.  It should get us out
of here a lot sooner."
   "Sheba, if we go the max with this pressure build-up it could
blow us apart before we get out of here."
   "Apollo," she raised her voice above the increasing roar, "My
instincts tell me that the sooner we get out of here, the better. 
I'm hitting my turbo to the max now!"
   And before Apollo could say anything in response, Sheba's
engines fired again and slowly moved away from him.
   "Frack," he whispered as he decided he had no choice but to do
the same.


   "Fifty microns and closing," Athena's voice picked up in
tempo.
   "All signals on starboard and port missile one are good," the
same was true with Omega's voice.
   Adama continued to stare ahead with a determined look.
   "Thirty microns and closing."
   "Sound battle stations," Adama said to Tigh.
   "Battle stations!" the executive officer shouted.  The red
glow filled the bridge and the klaxon wailed.


   Apollo could feel the pressure on his ship increasing and
spreading through the cockpit.  As his viper pulled back
alongside Sheba's, he felt as though his head was going to split
in two.
   "We've got to back off the throttle!" he shouted, "The ships
can't take this much longer!"
   "To Hades Hole with that!" she retorted at the top of her
voice, momentarily imitating the tone of her father, "They'll
make it!"
   Apollo felt like he was going to pass out.  He wondered if he
already had.  There was only blackness in front of him.  Stark
blackness.
   But just then, the blackness changed.  Now there were tiny
specks of light in the distance.  Getting brighter.  Taking on
shape.  Getting closer.
   "We're out!" Sheba let out an exhilarated yelp, "We're out!"
   Apollo slowly felt the pressure on his body ease as his field
of vision was once again filled by the brilliant expanse of
stars.
   He took only an instant to shake his head and then pressed the
button of his radio as hard as he could.



   "Ten microns and closing."
   "Stand by to fire on my signal," Adama raised his voice for
the first time.
   "Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three...." Athena
stopped and her expression froze, "Commander I have incoming
communications traffic.  I say again, incoming communications!"
   "What?" the commander was stunned, "Put it through!  Now!"
   "Galactica, this is Blue Leader.  I say again, this is Blue
Leader and Red Two requesting landing clearance," Apollo's voice
filled the bridge.
   "Good Lord," Adama was stunned, but recovered quickly, "Stand
by missiles!" he shouted, "Stand by missiles immediately.  
Recalibrate to original target range of additional two hundred
microns and give him landing clearance now!"
   "We show one additional viper trailing," a stunned Omega said,
"No indications of any others."
   "Recalibrating range..." Athena's tone suddenly grew jubilant.
   But before she could finish there was a blinding white flash
that caused everyone on the bridge to shield their eyes briefly.
   When Adama looked back out, he saw that the darkness ahead was
gone.  Only stars lay ahead of them.
   "Commander, all indications are that the zone has collapsed
and imploded.  It's not there anymore," Omega was even more
baffled.
   "Stand down missiles," Adama recovered, "Are those two vipers
still there?"
   "They are," Omega nodded vigorously, "We've got them tracked
for landing in Alpha Bay."
   "Colonel Tigh," the commander turned to the executive officer,
"The bridge is yours.  Make an announcement to the Fleet that the
journey forward is continuing."
   Tigh smiled and clasped Adama's hand in a show of friendship.
   "Yes sir," he could scarcely conceal his exhilaration, "I'll
also tell security to have Starbuck and Boomer released from
quarters and report to Alpha Bay."
   "By all means," Adama's jubilation increased, "And have
someone tell Boxey his father's home."
   And with that, the commander left the bridge at a running
pace.


   "The portal's gone," Apollo looked back as they drew closer to
the Galactica, "Looks as though the new Leader kept his word."
   "How about you, Apollo?" there was a mischievous edge in
Sheba's voice.
   "How about what?"
   "Are you going to keep your word?"
   Apollo suddenly broke into a relaxed laugh, "You shameless
hussy, you'd better believe it.  We're getting married tonight
and I don't care how many plans we disrupt by doing that."
   He pressed his radio button, "Blue Leader, heading in for
Alpha Bay.  Red Two will follow."
   "Great to hear your voice," Athena replied, "You don't realize
how close we came to killing you."
   "How's that?" Apollo frowned as he radioed back.
   "Apollo, we were going to use our missiles to get past that
thing," his sister's voice was still trembling, "The countdown
was at three microns when we picked up your signal."
   Apollo was stunned into silence for several seconds.
   "I'll be anxious for you and the commander to fill me in on
that," he finally responded, "See you in a few centons, Athena."
   "I'll be in the landing bay."
   "Damn," Apollo leaned back in his seat in amazement, "Damn."
   He heard Sheba suddenly start to laugh.
   "You really think that's funny?" he radioed to her.
   "I do," Sheba said between giggles, "Do you realize what would
have happened if I hadn't made us go to max on the turbos?"
   It slowly sunk in, and Apollo started to laugh too.
   "Sheba," he said as the reassuring sight of the Galactica
loomed closer, "When we exchange our vows tonight, I think I'm
going to make sure I change the wording so that it's me who
promises to obey you."

The End