Legacy of Betrayal
by Patti Aliventi
November, 1999

Introduction: This story takes place no later than a sectar (month)
after "War of the Gods". And runs concurrent to the events that
followed that story.

Dedication: Dedicated to Steve Gigantiello, who always encouraged me to
keep writing in high school, and to Paul Anthony Stewart ("Casey" -
Loving, "Danny" - Guiding Light) whose tremendous acting inspired the
main character in the story.

Disclaimer: These works are fiction stories based on the series
Battlestar Galactica and its characters created and owned by Glen A.
Larson. These stories are not being sold for profit and no infringement
of any copyright rights are intended. All unrecognized characters and
plot lines are mine and copyright protection is claimed. Any
resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

                       Part 1 - Memories

     The man walked through the halls of the ship, quietly going about
his business.  His maintenance jumpsuit and security clearance allowed
him access to all areas.  He was a model citizen, volunteering for
maintenance duty when he came up with the other refugees from the
planet Pisceria.  Often he was one of the first called when a crisis
occurred.  Captain Dugan considered him one of the most reliable people
on this ship and was recommending him for a promotion.
     He was more boy than man, really; about nineteen yahrens.  Only he
knew for sure and he was not forthcoming with information.  He was
known on this ship, the Orion, merely as Trev.  He had no close
friends, only acquaintances with whom he sometimes shared a meal or a
drink after his duty-shift was over.  He had not been brave enough to
seek out the attentions of a girl his own age, not yet, anyway.
     He pushed the small cart along the corridor until he reached the
junction that was giving them so much trouble.  Frowning, he took a
small tool from the cart and used it to open the wall panel.  He then
began the meticulous task of checking each of the thousands of wires
that were running through this particular area.
     "This is Odan to Trev," came a squawk on his comm-link.  He
touched a button on it quickly and continued his work.  It was one of
the newer, hands-free models so he could work while he talked.
     "Trev here."
     "The power fluctuations are continuing and we're now seeing some
disruptions in the computers as well.  We seem to have trouble getting
accurate sensor readings from your area."
     "Understood.  I'm working on it right now."
     "Check in when you know something.  And thanks, Trev.  I owe you
one for this."
     "You owe me about fifty by now."
     The link was severed at Odan's end and Trev continued his work. 
No, he had no real friends on the Orion, nor anywhere in the fleet for
that matter.  In his own mind, this was a good thing.  He knew his life
could never be like this if anyone knew the truth about him...
     Patiently he tested each wire running through this junction. 
There was a good possibility that the problem was not here, and that he
would have to keep backtracking until he reached the control center in
the ship.  These ships were simply not designed for the kind of strain
they were being put under; supporting so many people due to the
overcrowding, running at top speeds for days on end, and being punished
in Cylon attacks.
     Cylons... he hated them as much as the next person.  They had
ruined his life... destroyed his family...
     'No, no...' he thought to himself.  He tried to keep his mind on
his work; off what his life had been before.
     He had already tested close to a hundred wires and still had only
made a small dent in the number that needed to be tested.  If he found
no problems, he would move back to the previous junction and begin this
task over again.  It was mundane, boring work.  Often his mind tended
to wander.  In the last few sectons, he didn't like where it had
wandered to.
     The Destruction had destroyed his life as he knew it, but he made
the most of it.  He came on board this ship and gave his name as
"Trev", knowing his true name would probably lead to his incarceration. 
It was not fair!  He had done nothing.
     'Stop it!  Stop it!' he urged himself.  'You're dwelling on
something you have no control over.'  He tried to put his mind back to
his work, but it didn't stay there long.
     So he was aboard the Orion; Trev of Pisceria.  For the first few
days he had stayed with the other refugees, but then he had volunteered
his services.  He had a good education on Pisceria, the best money
could buy.  Better to put it to good use.
     But now he was lonely.  His mother and sister had been at the
house with her intended when the Destruction had occurred.  Where was
he?  He had gone against his father's orders and been on a hill
overlooking the city with friends, drinking sweet ambrosa and saluting
the newly-found peace.  They had probably been the first to see the
Cylon attack coming.

     The night had been clear and crisp, though cool.  Still, on the
eve of a peace so historic, the five young men were sharing a moment
they had thought would not come.  The ambrosa was good, and they had a
slight buzz on.  Dawn would come in another two centars, and a day of
celebration that their world had never seen would follow.
     "A salute!  To peace!  To prosperity!" shouted one of the young
men.
     "To not having to serve in the military!" shouted another as he
ripped up his conscription card and tossed it into the small fire that
was burning.  The young man, now know as Trev, was sitting on the other
side of the fire, laughing heartily.
     "And to your father, Loraio."
     Loraio (Trev) smiled with embarrassment, then finished the rest of
his ambrosa.  "I seem to be ambrosa-deficient here," and walked to
where the cask sat on the ground to refill.  As he did this, he saw
shooting stars in the distance.  "That's odd... I didn't hear anything
about a meteor shower tonight."
     The other young men turned there heads so they could see what he
was looking at.  They had a clear view of what seemed like hundreds of
shooting stars across the sky opposite them.
     "It's probably not meteors.  The armistice has probably been
signed and those are vipers doing a fly-over," Zoyal declared.  He was
Loraio's best friend.  The two had been together since they were six
yahrens old in school.  "Put out the fire.  If it is a military
fly-over, we could get in trouble for it."
     One of the other young men quickly doused the flames.  Eagerly,
they watched and waited for the vipers to arrive.
     Broder, another of the young men who was in the Piscean Military
Academy, was the first to notice something wrong. "That's not a viper
formation... those are Cylons!"
     Confusion hit the young men.  "The Cylons are doing a fly-over?"
Zoyal asked, confused.
     "No," Broder declared as he broke out in a run down the side of
the hill.  "They're attacking!"
     The other two boys began to run after him, but Loraio grabbed
Zoyal's arm and held him back.  "Stay here!  It's safer.  The warriors
will come soon."
     But the warriors didn't come.  Loraio and Zoyal had a clear view
as they watched the Cylons bombard the city.  Wave after wave of Cylons
hit, with no defense.  Finally, someone began firing from an ion cannon
somewhere in the city.  Neither of the young men could see where the
pulses were coming from through the thick smoke that now blanketed the
city.
     Apparently, though, the Cylons could tell.  The next wave
concentrated their firing on one area, and the ion cannon fired no
more.
     As the Cylons finished each wave, they pulled off of the attack
run over the hill where Loraio and Zoyal were hiding.  The ground would
shake as they fired into the hillside, then they would pull up.  The
two men were so close, it seemed as if they could reach up and touch
the bottom of the raiders.  They felt the wind from the raiders, and
the heat from their exhaust.
     "Come on, Loraio.  Don't you want to help your family?"
     Loraio let Zoyal lead him slowly down the hillside.  They could
still hear a scant few raiders still firing on the city, though they
could not see them through the thick smoke and haze.  'Father, how
could you let this happen?' Loraio thought in shock.  The few houses
that had once sat on the hillside had been easy targets for the Cylon
raiders and were completely destroyed as their occupants slept.  The
two young men saw no survivors there.
     Near the base of the hill, they found the remains of their three
friends.  They had been burned beyond recognition.  The only reason
Loraio and Zoyal knew it was them was that Broder's head had been blown
off and was laying nearby.
     Tears began to stream down the young men's faces.  Loraio
hesitated a moment.
     "Come on, let's go to your house first," Zoyal urged.  "It's
closer."
     "But... but... shouldn't we bury them or something?" Loraio said
as he fell to his knees.
     Zoyal pulled him back to his feet.  He could tell his friend was
going into shock.  "There'll be time for that later.  Let's go."
     At the edge of the city, they first began to see signs that some
people had survived.  They also knew there was a daunting task ahead of
them.  Fires burned out of control and they could not see more than a
few metrons in front of their faces due to the smoke.  The city they
had known their way around so well became a maze to them.
     "Help me!  Help me!" people screamed as the two able-bodied men
walked through.  Whether or not they actually saw the two of them
walking was debatable.  More than likely, they were just screaming for
help in general.  Still, it was a sound that would haunt Loraio
forever.
     They became lost in the maze that was their own city and had to
double back, causing them to come across Zoyal's home first instead. 
It was not completely destroyed, but had only collapsed on one side.
     "Come on!"  he shouted at Loraio as he made his way through the
debris and began to climb into the un-collapsed side of the house.
     Loraio followed him obediently, then he heard a baby crying.  The
two men looked at each other.  "Your sister?" Loraio asked.
     "By the Lords, I hope so!"
     Explosions of other houses were heard around them.  Loario
couldn't imagine what was causing it, until he smelled the distinct
smell of the fuel that warmed their homes.  And it was coming from
Zoyal's house!
     "Come on, man.  We may not have that much time!"
     "I know, I know!"  Apparently Zoyal had already smelled it.  They
pulled themselves up through a hole to the second floor where the
nursery was.  Zoyal's sister, Lira, lay in her cradle, unharmed.
     "Oh thank the Lords!" Zoyal praised as he picked up his eight
sectar-old sister. Immediately her crying ceased.
     "Zoyal!  Is that you?"  Came a cry from another part of the house.
     "Mother!"  Zoyal cried, and started going in that direction.
     "Zoyal, there's no time!  This house could blow at any micron!" 
Loraio said as he grabbed Zoyal by the back of his shirt.
     "Here," Zoyal said as he handed his sister over to Loraio.  "Take
her and get out of here."
     "But-"
     "I'll be along in a few centons.  Just let me help my mother."
     Loraio did not want to leave his friend, but he tucked the little
girl against him and made his way down the hole he had come up.
     Satisfied that his sister was safe, Zoyal began to make his way
through the debris.  As he pulled aside a some that he had not noticed
was bracing the ceiling, it came crashing down.  He jumped aside and
was unhurt, but whatever he had done caused the odor from the fuel to
grow stronger.
     "Zoyal!  Get out of here!" came his mother's weak cry.
     Zoyal ignored her.  "I'm coming mother.  Don't worry, Lira is
safe.  Loraio took her outside.  Where's father?  Where's Dina?" he
asked, referring to his other sister.
     "I don't know. We were asleep.  Your father and I got up... I went
to get Lira and he went for Dina..."  His mother was wracked with a fit
of coughs.
     Finally he came to where she was.  Battered and bruised, she was
actually standing up a floor down, in what had been the dining area
with the remains of that entire section of the house surrounding her. 
Only her head stuck out of the debris.  Zoyal climbed down and began to
help, trying to dig her out.  The sky was smoky above them, though it
seemed to be brightening as dawn arrived.
     "Zoyal, get out of here," his mother ordered as the smell of the
fuel grew stronger. Nearby, there was another series of explosions.
     "No!  I'm not going to-"
     Loraio had watched from the street outside of the hose, waiting
for Zoyal to come out with his mother.  Suddenly there was a brilliant
flash.  Instinctively, he shielded his eyes and held the baby tighter
against him.  At almost the same time, it felt like a warm hand picked
him up and pushed him through the air.  As he hit the ground, he
blacked out.

     Trev was kneeling on the floor, his hands on his knees, breathing
heavily.  He hated these times; when the memories would come back so
strong.  Slowly he regained his composure. Luckily, he had not lost his
place, otherwise he would have been starting all over again.  He was
more than two-thirds of the way through this particular junction.  The
anxiety of the memories made his dark brown hair become damp with
sweat.  He took a rag from the cart to wipe himself off, and noticed
his hands shaking.
     The tremors were bad this time.  Sometimes, during the night, he'd
wake up from the nightmare and stumble into the turbowash.  There were
no private quarters; he bunked military-style with the rest of the
maintenance crew from the ship.  Nightmares were not uncommon in their
group nor the general population, so it surprised no one when someone
woke up screaming.  After a particularly bad nightmare less than a
sectar after the Destruction, Trev had first noticed the tremors.  He
was in the turbowash, washing down his face, trying to get himself to
calm down.  Finally he opened his eyes and looked in the looking glass,
his hands shaking terribly.  For a long time, he simply stared at them,
frightened of this latest manifestation of the horror of the
Destruction.
     Now he was in the hallway, in the early centars of this cycle, by
himself.  He closed his dark brown eyes and willed himself to regain
his composure.  'At least finish your job,' he said to himself.  'You
can have a breakdown later.'
     When had he become such a conscientious worker?  When he found
that it passed the time and kept the memories away.  Now the horrors
were catching up to him, even here.  And it was all his father's
fault...

     When Loraio opened his eyes, he was lying on the ground, staring
at the sky.  At least, he was staring where the sky should be.  In its
place was still the grey smoke, not letting a drop of light from the
sun shine through.
     "Zoyal!" he shouted as the memories came back to him.  As he sat
up, he got his first sight of the smouldering ruins of what had been
his best friend's house.  The rubble that had been there when they
first arrived was now no more than blackened ash.  So were Zoyal and
his mother, somewhere in there.
     Lira was still against his chest. Thankfully, she was not of an
age where she had learned to walk yet.  The baby had stayed against him
as he sailed through the air from the force of the blast.  Somehow he
had managed to hold on to her.  She was alive, and all that was left of
his best friend's family.  He looked at the face with the big blue eyes
staring out at him.
     "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I couldn't save them..." Tears fell
down his face.  Lira looked up at him with big blue eyes.  He was a
familiar face to her, having spent so much time with her brother.  No
one had come to put out the fire; no one had come to see if there were
any survivors.  If he had any doubts before, he now knew that life as
he knew it had ceased to exist.
     He gathered the little girl up in his arms.  All he has was the
blanket that had been in the cradle with her and the onesie she was
wearing.  The smoke was still thick everywhere as Loraio set off with
Lira towards his own home.
     As he walked, he tried to block out the moans and cries for help
of the other survivors, fearing that if he tried to save anyone, he
would end up with the same fate at Zoyal.  It was not cowardice that
had taken over, it was his instinct to survive and to protect the young
child who was all that was left of his best friend's family.
     'Mother will know what to do... Mother will know how to take care
of her...' he kept reasoning to himself as he walked.  The smoke still
was not dissipating in the least as he walked.  Every now and then he
would stop for a few centons to catch his breath, shift the baby's
weight around, or just try to get a grip on himself.  A few times he
was racked with a series of almost uncontrollable coughs and had to put
Lira on the ground for a few microns.
     Finally, he turned down his own street.  The haze seemed to have
cleared here a little bit, but he stopped immediately when he came to a
place where he could view his own house.
     Rather, view where his house should have been.  He lived in a very
well-to-do section of the city, and the houses were on enormous pieces
of land surrounded by trees.  Normally, one could not view his house
from anywhere on the street, never mind from down the block.
     "By the Lords," he said aloud, letting the shock wash over him. 
It was only by some deeply imbedded instinct that he did not drop Lira.
     Where his house, and his neighbor's houses on either side, had
been, there was only a huge blackened crater.  There was no debris, no
remains, no signs that life had ever existed in those spots.  The
Cylons' pulses of energy had completely wiped away everyone he knew.
     Still in shock, and confused, he sat down across the street from
where his house should have been.  He let Lira slide to the ground and
lay on her blanket.  She smiled and laughed, as if nothing had changed. 
Now his grief surfaced in body-wracking sobs.  Gone was his mother, his
sister, and the man she would have married.  They had all been at home,
where his father had told them to be, when the Cylons had attacked.
     His father!  "By the Lords, if I ever see you again, I'll kill
you!  How could you let this happen to us?"  he swore aloud.  "Where
was the fleet?  Where were the warriors?" he wailed.
     "Who's there?"
     Loraio nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice coming from
behind him.  He had seen few people alive up until this point.  The
house behind him had been completely destroyed, probably from the
effects of the impact that had incinerated his own house.
     "Lor- Loraio."
     "Loriao?  By Gods!  It's Mazer.  Come here!  You've got to help me
kid."
     Mazer had lived across the street from them.  Very old, he had
lived with his daughter and her family.  Once upon a time, he had been
a warrior himself.  Loraio picked through the debris towards the
direction he had heard the weak voice.
     "Where are you?"
     "I'm right here."
     It sounded like he was almost standing on top of him, but that
couldn't be because... Then, he saw him.  Or what was left of him.
     "I- I ran outside when the attack began.  By the Lords, I wasn't
going to let those Cylons lick us!"  He stopped for a centon as his
head rolled around a little.  "I'm sorry, son.  I was standing outside
when your house was hit."
     He was not exactly burned.  All of his body from his waist down
was gone.  It was not even mangled, just gone.  Apparently, he had been
seared at the point where his body was gone, for Loraio saw no blood
emanating from him.  How was he alive even?  The man's head and arms
seemed to work fine.  In fact, they hardly seemed damaged.  It was
almost as if you had drawn a picture of the man, then erased the bottom
half of his body and this was what was left.
     "I'm- I'm not a med-tech sir.  I'm not even trained in aid!  I
don't-"
     "Stop it, son.  There's nothing you could do for me to make me
better.  Even if there was, I don't want to live.  My family's gone and
I would be trapped in this body."
     "So what..." Loraio trailed off, as he got an idea of what the man
was about to ask.
     "I had my old service blaster with me when I was outside.  It must
have fallen somewhere around here.  I'll not ask you to do it, but if
you could just find it and give it to me.  I'll overload it myself and
then I can be at peace with my family."
     Loraio said nothing, but he began to scavenge the ground, looking
for the blaster.  Mazer did not moan, or show any other signs that he
was in pain.  He was a crusty veteran, who had seen more battles in his
lifetime than Loraio had the capability (or interest) in learning
about.  Finally, almost back out into the street, Loraio came upon the
blaster.  The old man must have dropped it when the houses had been
hit.
     "Thank you boy," Mazer said, with neither gratitude nor scorn in
his voice.  He set the blaster to overload, then stopped.  "Do yourself
a favor, son."
     Loraio knew this was Mazer's way of wanting him to come closer,
and he leaned down to the man.
     "When you find other survivors, and there will be other survivors,
change your name.  And for the Lords' sake, do not tell them who your
father was."
     Loraio was surprised by this information.  He was also surprised
by the man's assumption that his father was dead.
     "But what... Why...  How can you be so sure he's not alive?"  He
could not bring himself to say the word "dead".  That would be
admitting that he had no family left.
     Mazer chuffed slightly.  "If there was any of the fleet remaining,
son, this would not have happened.  Those warriors would sooner perish
themselves than let this happen."  The old man shook his head.  "It's
all over.  I don't know what's to become of you, or the other
survivors, but I don't want to be among them.  Now stand back, son.  I
don't want this to hurt you."
     Loraio walked away from the old man and picked up Lira.  He did
not look back, not even after he heard the blaster overload.  For a few
centons he stood there, staring at the blackened crater where his house
had been.  Finally, with Lira snuggled against him, he began to walk.
     Lira would not be this good for long.  Soon she would be hungry,
or thirsty, or need to be changed.  Loraio decided to head to the
Spacedrome.  If there were any survivors from the fleet, he was sure
that this would be the first place they would come.  However, he
planned to stay out of sight until he was sure, just to make sure it
was not Cylons he encountered first.

     Trev had finished that particular junction.  He decided to take a
break, before proceeding.  Odan would not mind if he said he wanted to
get refreshment before continuing.  He touched a button on the
comm-link and waited for Odan to respond.
     "Odan here."
     "Odan, it's Trev."
     "How's it coming?"         
     "Not so good.  I'll have to go back one box and try again.  Is it
all right if I get some refreshment before I do it?  I could really use
a break."
     Odan liked Trev, a lot.  He was his most reliable man on the job,
and never tried to talk his way out of work.  Odan knew Trev was
plagued by nightmares.  There was hardly a survivor that didn't have
them at some time, but Trev's seemed particularly bad.  Odan knew how a
person's mind could wander while they did such mundane work.
     "Sure, Trev.  Anything the matter?"
     "No," he lied.  Odan knew he was lying, but would not call him on
it.  If Trev felt the need, Odan would arrange for him to be seen by a
psych-tech, but unless it interfered with his work, Odan would not
press it.
     "All right.  Let me know when you are back at work.  Maybe I can
get someone to start on the other end and meet you in the middle."
     "Good luck," he said sarcastically.  Odan knew as well as he did
that no one else would do this tedious work.  Slowly he made his way to
the Crew's Mess, dragging the tool-cart to a nearby maintenance closet
and locking it up first.
     He got himself a cup of kaffe and sat down to take a brief break. 
Thankfully, his hands had stopped trembling.  It was way too early in
the cycle for anyone but a skeleton crew to be awake, so he had the
room all to himself.

     Loraio made his way through the remains of his city, taking breaks
when he needed to.  The smoke was beginning to blow away, and the sun
shined through in spots.  It still created an eerie shadow; the
sunshine coming through the smoke.
     Lira finished the rest of her night's sleep on his shoulder.  At
eight sectars old, she was still fairly light, but carrying around that
dead weight clear across the city still tired him.  He did not want to
shift her for fear of waking her up.  When she woke up, she would be
hungry and thirsty, and he had no supplies for her.
     As he grew closer to the Spacedrome, he saw more survivors headed
that way, apparently with the same thoughts as him.  Most of the ones
he could see were in worse shape than him; they were injured and
bleeding.  He also noticed that most of them seemed to be by
themselves.  It appeared that families were not surviving this intact.
     As he rounded the corner to go out onto the tarmac of the
Spacedrome, he saw two huge cargo ships land, followed by several
smaller shuttles.  They were not from the fleet, but neither were they
Cylon.  It was all civilian craft.
     He gathered on the tarmac with the other survivors who had come
here.  Lira was still pressed tightly against his chest, though she was
beginning to move around more.  Soon she would awaken.  'Please let
them have some food,' he thought to himself.  'Supplies... water...
anything!'
     A man stepped out of the first ship.  He was a colonial warrior. 
People began to scream questions at him, and he stepped back inside the
craft to bring out a portable sound system.
     "My fellow colonials," he began.  A shiver went up Loraio's spine. 
Up until now, he had thought that only Pisceria had been attacked and
that the survivors would refugee to another colony.  "The destruction
you see around you has been repeated on all of the eleven other
colonies.  Our fleet was ambushed and has been completely destroyed..."
     Gasps went up from the crowd, and a few wails of sorrow, too.  How
many of these people had just been informed that their loved ones in
the military were now dead, in addition to their loved ones here on
Pisceria?
     "If I can please have your attention!" he shouted, barely audible
over the crowd.  "One battlestar, the Galactica has survived.  There is
nothing left for us on these planets.  The Cylon raids have poisoned
the air, the water, and the ground.  We have no way of defending
ourselves against future Cylon attacks, or the inevitable invasion
force we believe is about to come."
     "Then we're doomed," went up a cry from the crowd.  People began
to murmur again.  It appeared that the warrior was about to lose
control of the crowd.
     Loraio knew there had to be more to it than what he was saying. 
Why were there two cargo ships here and about five civilian shuttles? 
Instinctively, he began to back out of thecrowd and move towards one of
the shuttle-craft.
     "People!  People!  Please!" he bellowed.  Some quiet settled back
over the crowd.  "Commander Adama, the last remaining Councillor and
the Commander of the Galactica has decided that we should leave these
worlds and seek out our brothers and sisters who settled elsewhere in
the galaxy.  He wants to seek out the mythical thirteenth tribe..."
     More murmurs and discussion from the crowd.  Loraio had arrived at
the entrance to one of the shuttles.  Slowly it opened and the
gangplank came down.
     "Oh, so there's someone here with some smarts," said the warrior
who was stationed at its entrance.  "C'mon, kid.  Get on quick before
there's a rush.  We'll probably be pushing people off of this as we
take off!"
     Loraio went up the short staircase.
     "A baby?"
     "She's... she's not mine.  She was my best friend's baby sister. 
Come on, I can't leave her behind!  She's all that's left of his
family, and-"
     "Hold on, kid.  I was just surprised, that's all.  No problem."
     Behind them, the other warrior had continued talking.  "We are
gathering every ship that is capable of flying.  If you, or anyone you
may know, has a ship that is capable of flying, please go to it now and
bring it here.  We will begin boarding the cargo ships first.  When
they are full, we will begin boarding the shuttles.  The shuttles will
take people to other ships already with the Galactica.  Please stay
calm and orderly!"
     "Yeah, right," the warrior who had let Loraio board said
sarcastically.
     Loraio looked at his name plate.  "Thank you, Ortega."
     "Don't mention it.  Now, get back there before this shuttle is
rushed."
     Loraio stayed in the shuttle with Lira on his lap.  In a short
time, both of the cargo ships had been filled and people were crowding
the shuttle.  Ortega eventually did have to beat people off the
gangplank so the shuttle would not be overweight and would be able to
take off.  In less than twelve centars, his life on the planet Pisceria
was at an end.

     Trev had gone back to work shortly after finishing his cup of
kaffe.  It was now mid-cycle, and he had finally found the circuit that
was causing the problems.  It took him virtually no time to repair it. 
He tapped his comm-link.
     "Odan here."
     "It's Trev.  Run a diagnostic now and see what pops up."
     "Stand by there."
     Trev waited by the junction, waiting to see if the circuit burned
out, but nothing happened. "Looks good, Trev.  Thanks."
     "No problem."  He began to put the cover back on the junction.
     "Why don't you go get some rest?  This was above-and-beyond."
     "Thanks Odan.  I think I'll go see Lira, though."
     "So you'll be in Childcare if I need you?"
     "Right-O.  From there I'll probably bunk in.  Buzz me on the
comm-link if you need me. I'll answer."
     "Thanks Trev.  There'll be a nice bonus in your account at the end
of this secton."
     Trev did none of the extra work for the extra cubits, though Odan
seemed more than generous when it came to taking care of his workers. 
It gave Trev something to do, and it was a safe way to help out the
fleet, without someone questioning his identity.

     The shuttle Loraio was on landed on the Orion, a ship that was
part of the military fleet, but had functioned as more of a troop
transport than anything else.  It was not designed to be in battle, but
was designed to hold quite a few personnel.  There had been quite a few
ships like this, which kept the fleet very agile in terms of troop
movement.
     At first, everyone was simply herded into areas and given a place
to sleep.  Loraio kept Lira with him.  By now the child had awoken, and
was looking for food and drink, as well as needing to be changed. 
However, whenever he asked for provisions from any of the warriors who
appeared to be running the show, he was told that they were "aware of
the situation", whatever that meant.
     The place he was sleeping was a small cubicle with room to lay
down and a few shelves upon which the troops being transported would
stow their gear.  Loraio had no gear, and he was frightened that if he
put Lira on one of these shelves she would roll off.  He tucked her in
next to him, but the child did not want to sleep.  She was hungry and
thirsty, and she began to cry.
     Loraio tried everything to comfort her, but she would not be
silenced. Most of the people around him did not seem to care.  Many
were injured, so there was already quite a bit of noise from their
moans and groans.  He could also hear other babies crying, though none
seemed to be near to his location.  He held her close and tried to
settle her down.
     "Having a bit of trouble with her, young man?"
     He looked up to see a blond woman, maybe around thirty yahrens
old, approaching him.  She reached out her hands to take Lira from him.
     "I can help you, if you want."
     "What do you mean?" Loraio asked.
     She sighed, a melancholy sound.  "My baby died today.  Your baby
is hungry, isn't she?"
     "Yes..."
     "I can nurse her for you."
     Loraio was speechless.  He didn't know what to say, but he let the
woman take Lira from his arms.  She climbed up in the bunk next to him
and closed over the curtain.
     "Lira had been eating regular food."
     "Lira... what a pretty name.  Yes, I'd imagine she would be. 
She's a big girl.  Did her momma still nurse her at all?"
     "I... I... I don't really know."  He could see the confusion on
the woman's face.  "I mean, she's not mine.  She was my best friend's
younger sister.  She's used to me and all, but I don't know some stuff,
I guess."
     The woman smiled as she let the baby latch on to her. 
Immediately, Lira quieted down. "So this is going to be all new to
you?"
     "I... I guess so."
     "My name is Daria," she said.
     "My name..." he trailed of, remembering Mazer's words of warning
to him. 'Why?' he wondered.  "My name is Trev," he said, choosing a
name that was fairly common back on Pisceria.
     "Okay, Trev.  Why don't you see if you can find some scraps of
material somewhere so we can change her?  You'll have to figure out how
to wash these out and wrap her up again.  It doesn't look like we're
going to have the provisions we need."
     Trev asked a few people he saw, and finally he got some scraps of
clothing that he could use to wrap her in, at least until he was able
to figure out some kind of more permanent solution.  Daria had finished
nursing Lira by the time he returned, and was playing with the
delighted baby.  It was good that she seemed to adjust so easily, and
had yet to miss her mother.
     Loraio, now Trev, smarted at that thought.  Zoyal was dead, his
mother was dead, and Trev would lay odds that his father and other
sister had also been in the house. He was all that was left to care for
Lira.
     "What's wrong?" Daria asked him.
     Trev shook his head.  "I guess some of it just is hitting me...
how her whole family is gone; how she'll never know them, never
remember them..."
     Daria laid the baby down and began to change her, showing Trev how
to do it while she talked.  "Trev, you knew her family.  You will have
to keep them alive for her.  You will have to give her the memories
that she can't have any other way."
     "Me?  I'm only nineteen yahrens.  I'm too young to be a father. 
I'm supposed to be out being irresponsible."
     Daria handed the baby to him.  "I have a feeling that you are
going to grow up fast.  I'll be back in a few centars, if you need me. 
Right now, I'd like to get some rest." 
     Rest sounded like a good idea to Trev, also.  Lira, however, was
wide awake and wanted to be entertained.  He took her up in the bunk
and laid down, sitting her against the wall so she wouldn't roll out. 
He sang softly to her and did some finger-play games that he could
remember.  Her onesie was still the same one she had been wearing in
the cradle, and was dirty in spots with a smoky smell emanating from
it.
     For the first time, he felt the ship's engines kick in.  'We must
be full,' he thought to himself.  Tears fell down his face.  He was
leaving his planet, his home, forever.

     The women at the Childcare Center knew Trev very well, or at least
thought they did. Since Lira could not stay with him in the maintenance
crew's bunks, she stayed in the childcare center, under watchful eyes. 
For a centon or two, he stood there watching her play with the other
children, some of whom were orphans.  As soon as she saw him, though,
she stopped her playing and toddled over to him.
     In the sectars following the Destruction, she had grown and
changed as any other ordinary baby would.  She now walked, and said a
few words.  Her arms reached up to him. He picked her up and held her
close.
     "My Trev..." she said.  This was what she called him, and what he
loved hearing.
     "Yeah, it's your Trev," he replied, taking her over to the play
area and sitting on the floor with her.
     This was where he spent most of his "down time". He didn't spend
it with friends, for he had not really made any yet.  He didn't spend
it drinking in the Lounge, for he was afraid that after too many drinks
his tongue would grow loose and his secret would be out.  He didn't
want to spend it alone, for that was when the memories and the
nightmares and the guilt were at their worst.  No, he found his solace
in this little girl.
     Though she was truly an orphan, he was considered her caretaker. 
It was a role he had needed time to adjust to, but he had done it for
the loyalty of his friend.  In fact, that had been the reason he had
volunteered to join the maintenance crew.  It would enable Lira to be
taken care of better, both by him and in the childcare center.
     That was where he had found his niche in this new life; as a quiet
but dedicated maintenance worker on the Orion.  No one seemed to
question him or his identity.  He always had his eyes out for anyone
who might recognize him from his previous life, and he thanked the
Lords every day that his father had not let his family be used in
publicity shots.
     His father... He tried not to think of him often anymore, but it
was hard.  Mazer had been right, and this realization had come about in
the first few days after the Destruction when he had heard his father's
name being spoken with scorn and disgust.
     His father was Baltar.

                         Part 2 - Guilt

     Trev lay in his bunk after several centars of playing with Lira in
the Childcare Center.  He should have been tired, but he wasn't.  Since
the arrival of Count Iblis to the Galactica, which had in turn brought
the arrival of Baltar, he had not slept well.  The chances of him
encountering this man who was now safely ensconced on the prison barge
was small, especially in lis little life here on the Orion.  Still, the
whole situation had him upset.
     In the first few days after the Destruction, as he began to hear
the rumors of his father's betrayal, he was sure there had been a
mistake.  Surely, the Cylons had betrayed his father's trust just as
they had all of them.  This was the belief he held out, no matter how
many rumors and stories he heard to the contrary.  It was only after
the encounter at the planet Kobol that he now knew the truth: his
father was the greatest traitor that humankind had ever known.
     Somehow, Mazer had known that his father, whether a traitor or
just the Cylons' dupe, would bear the brunt of the survivors' anger. 
Trev was grateful to the man for his warning.  But now he lived with
the fear of being found out.
     He wanted friends, but was afraid.  What if they found out the
truth?  Every time he felt like forming a friendship, he hesitated,
even with Odan.  He hated the thought of having people turn on him once
they found out who his father was, so he kept to himself.
     Alone in the bunk area, he shifted uncomfortably.  He remembered
seeing his father's face on the trans-vid for the first time since the
Destruction when he had come aboard.  It had shook him up a great deal,
and he feared that someone would comment on the slight resemblance
between him and that man.  That was when the nightmares had started,
big time.  The tremors had become more fierce at that point also.  It
frightened Trev to no end that eventually his fears might incapacitate
him.
     'You're losing it,' he said to himself.  'Get a grip.'
     He closed his eyes, desperately wanting to sleep, but also afraid
of the nightmares that would come.  There were the nightmares about the
Destruction, which had become common for so many of the survivors, but
he also had the nightmares about what it would be like to be known as
Baltar's son.
     One nightmare was of an execution.  That one, he would usually
wake up from sweating profusely, but no real terror.  The ones that
terrorized him the most usually involved persecution, ostracization, or
even imprisonment.  One of the worst was one in which he was brought to
the prison barge in shackles, his father greeting him with an evil grin
on his face.  "My son, you have come home to me," he would say.
     Trev rolled over again.  'I should just go to the infirmary and
ask for some sleep-inducing medicine,' he thought to himself.  Lots of
people were using it to keep the nightmares away and to keep themselves
functional.  Trev was just afraid that once he started taking it, he
would be unable to stop.  This was another reason he had decided to
stay away from ambrosa, at least for the time being.
     'A hot turbo-wash,' he finally decided to himself.  'That's just
what I need.'
     He took one of his clean maintenance uniforms from his footlocker
and grabbed a towel before going in.  For a while, he stood under the
spray and just let the hot water cascade over his body.  Sometimes he
could sleep good after this, almost as if the water cleansed him,
removed the guilt from his soul.
     Why hadn't he seen this side of his father?  In all of the yahrens
he had spent with him, why had he never suspected his father could
commit such a heinous crime?  He thought back to the "business
dealings" he had just before he became the Cylons' emissary to the
Colonials.  There was nothing, no one out of the ordinary.  He had even
worked with him, gone on several business trips, and never had he
noticed anything.
     For the last few sectars, he had gone over his life, trying to
recall anything that he could interpret as something he should have
picked up on; something that should have sent off the signal to him
that something was wrong.  How had his father managed to keep all of
this such a secret from everyone?  From his business partners?  From
his fellow politicians?  From his family?  From his wife?
     That was the worst part.  Trev wondered in his mind often just why
his father had insisted that they all be home together on the day that
the peace agreement was due to be signed.  Did he not want his family
anymore and plan to have them done away with?  That probably would have
been accomplished regardless by simply leaving them on the planet while
it was bombarded.
     Once Baltar was on the prison barge, he began to hear rumors that
Baltar had made a deal that his colony, Pisceria, would be left.  Had
he been planning on just coming by and scooping up his family, intact,
after having destroyed all of the other colonies?  Or did he plan on
returning and living a lush life under the Cylons' protection?
     Trev desperately wanted answers, but to go to him would be
acknowledging his ancestry, and he was sure that would be a death
sentence.  Instead, he lived with the nightmares, the guilt, and the
anxiety.
     When he was done with the turbo-wash, he felt much better.  The
clean jumpsuit felt good on his body.  This time when he laid back
down, he finally got some much needed sleep.

     The dreams came again, only this time when he was back on
Pisceria, he was not alone.  Zoyal was with him, carrying Lira in his
arms.  Not the Lira of the day of the Destruction, but the Lira he knew
now.  They came upon the blackened crater that was where his home had
been.
     "It's gone... all gone," Trev wept as he fell to his knees.
     "Traitor!"  Came a cry from behind him.  Zoyal walked with him to
Mazer, in the same injured state that Trev had found him that day. 
"You are a traitor!  You've sold out your own people!"  Mazer pointed
at him, a ferocity in his eyes Trev had never seen in the old man.
     "It wasn't me, I swear!"
     "Doesn't matter.  The same blood runs through your veins... the
blood of a traitor!"
     Zoyal began backing away from him.
     "Zoy, you've got to believe me!  I never knew!"
     "If you had, what would you have done?"  Zoyal asked of him.
     This was the part that seemed to disturb the most. "I don't know,"
Trev replied finally, hanging his head in shame.
     "Then you are a traitor, the same as the father.  The legacy is
carried through in the son!"
     "No..." Trev wailed.
     "You are Loraio, son of Baltar.  That you shall be forever... the
son of a traitor."
     "No.  I'm not Loraio.  I'm Trev now.  Loraio doesn't exist."
     "It is Trev who doesn't exist.  Your life is an illusion. The
truth is over there."
     Mazer's hand pointed to where Trev's house had been, then Mazer
disappeared.  As he turned slowly towards where his home had been, he
saw that Zoyal had backed away even further, Lira still in his arms. 
He kept turning, until it seemed that he had spun in a circle, but
still he didn't see the blackened crater.
     Suddenly there was a brilliant flash.  Fire burned around him. 
Through the flames, from the direction of where his home had been,
walked his father.  The flames seemed not to touch him or the long,
flowing cape he had worn as a part of his formal attire.
     "Come with me, my son," he beckoned.
     "No.  I want no part of you."  Trev's words were strong and
defiant.  There was no wavering in his voice.
     "Loraio..."
     "I'm not Loraio anymore.  I'm Trev!"
     "You will always be Loraio.  Loraio, son of Baltar.  Son of a
traitor."
     "No..." Trev tried to turn away, but found that his feet would not
move.
     "Your destiny is with me."
     "No.  My destiny lies with..." He stopped as he could no longer
see Zoyal and Lira through the flames.  "Zoyal!  Lira!  Lira!"
     "They are gone.  Zoyal is dead, and Lira will not remain with you
once the truth is known; once you are exposed."
     "No... I will not turn against these people as you did."
     "We share the same blood, the same yearnings, the same instincts. 
Did you not ignore the cries for help on Pisceria in favor of your own
survival?"
     "That was different... that was..."  Trev was frightened now, and
his words were losing the sureness he had just so recently possessed.
     "We will see each other soon, my son.  And you will realize that
you will always be Loraio, son of Baltar.  You will not turn against
me."
     Baltar turned and walked back into the flames, still untouched. 
Trev stood amidst the flames, seeing the faces of his loved ones; of
his mother, his sister, Zoyal, Lira...

     "NO!" he screamed and sat up in his bunk.  His body was coated
with sweat and his hair was damp.  He was no longer alone in the bunk
room.
     "You all right, man?"  One of the other maintenance workers known
as Flynn asked.
     "Yeah, I'm all right," Trev replied, thankful that it was a dream. 
A very intense dream, but a dream nonetheless.  A quick glance at the
chrono on the wall showed he had been asleep for about six centars.
     "Can I get you something?  Some water?  Some ambrosa?"
     Trev smiled slightly at Flynn.  "Water, thanks."
     Flynn walked away to get the water while Trev tried to pull
himself together.  His hands were trembling something awful, and he
began kneading them together to try to get them to stop.
     "Here you go," Flynn said, holding out the cup.  Then he noticed
Trev's hands.
     "I don't... I don't think I can hold that cup right now."
     Flynn sat down on the bunk next to him.  He put the cup to Trev's
lips and let him drink all that he wanted.  "Don't worry about it.  All
of us are having a bad time of it.  Some of us are just having a harder
time than others."
     Trev smiled wryly.  "Thanks, Flynn."
     "You want to talk about it?"
     "No," he said quickly.  "I just can't."
     "Keeping it all bottled up isn't going to help."
     "For me, talking won't help either.  But thanks, I appreciate the
offer."
     "If you ever change your mind, I'm right here."  He pointed to the
bunk where he slept that was two over from Trev's.
     "I'll keep that in mind."

     Baltar woke with a start on his berth in the Prison Barge.  He had
been doing what he normally did - nothing - and had dozed off.  There
had been a dream, though he was hard-pressed to recall anymore just
what it had been about.
     There was someone near... In the fleet... Someone close to him,
but he could not put his finger on it.  Someone who thought about
him... and was thinking about him.  That person had drawn him into his
own dream.  Who was it?
     It was someone who he could use; an ally, he was sure.  Someone
who would help him get off of this Prison Barge.  Would he regain his
place in society?  Would he go back to leading the Cylons?  No, he
shook his head.  That he did not know.
     He resolved to keep his eyes and ears opened from now on at all
times.

     Trev did not sleep again.  Instead, he called Odan and asked for a
work shift.  Odan had already heard about the nightmare and had no
problems letting him work to keep his mind off of whatever was plaguing
him.
     After checking in, he took a tool cart and began to go around the
ship, inspecting various areas and cleaning up any messes that had
occurred.
     As he turned a corner near the residential section of the ship, he
was sure he was being followed, which began making him nervous.  He
turned another corner and hid in an alcove. As the person who was
following him approached, he jumped out.
     "Oh!"  cried a woman.  She was a leggy blond, about the same age
as Trev, dressed in civilian clothes.
     "I'm sorry," he said as he let go of her arm which he had grabbed
when he jumped out at her.  "I thought you were following me... Were
you following me?"
     The woman smiled flirtatiously.  "Sort of... yeah."
     "Oh.  Why were you following me?"
     "Well, um... I've seen you around and... My name is Kharis, by the
way.  At first, I thought maybe you were with someone cause I saw you
with a baby.  I thought 'he's awful young to have a baby' so I asked
around and I found out that the baby wasn't yours, and that you were
okay and I kind of thought you were cute, so I, um... Would you like to
go see a Triad game some time?  I can get passes."
     Trev smiled, relieved.  She was a very pretty girl, and he hadn't
had a date in a long time.  "My name is Trev, in case you didn't
already know that.  I'm flattered Kharis, really.  And, though Lira
isn't mine, per se, I am responsible for her."
     "But I thought..."
     "She was my best friend's younger sister.  He gave her to me just
before he was killed." This was more than he had told anyone except for
the workers at the Childcare Center and Odan, his boss.
     "Oh.  I'm sorry."
     "That's all right, but I want you to understand why I feel a sense
of responsibility to her. As much as I'd like to say 'Yes' - and I
really would like to - I can't.  I just can't right now.  Butif I were
to go to a Triad game with someone, I'd really like to go with you."
     "Bad timing?" she asked.
     "Something like that," he responded.
     "All right.  Well, if you change your mind, I live on D Deck,
section 31."
     "I'll remember that Kharis, and thank you."
     Trev sighed, relieved, and watched the woman walk away.  'By the
Lords, she's pretty,' he thought to himself.  'Why not begin seeing
girls again,' his mind taunted.  'Because it would mean letting my
guard down,' he responded, again to himself.  Still, the thought was
very tempting.
     With a sigh of resignation, he went back to his work, trying to
forget about that last dream.  It had been the most powerful one yet,
and had frightened him.  Everything he had been questioning about his
father was in that dream, and then some?
     Was he really as guilty as his father?  He could not answer the
dream-Zoyal about whether or not he would have turned in his own father
if he knew what was going on.  What would he have done?  Troubled, he
stopped the cart and leaned against the wall for a few moments, staring
at the ceiling.
     'You're doing this to yourself... It's just coming from the way
you've been trying to figure out what actually happened in these last
couple of yahren,' he again said to himself.  'Let it go.'
     Those were the magic words, let it go.  How many times had he said
this to himself, but it was something he was unable to do.  It
frightened him to think of his father in such and evil way.  It
frightened him even more to think that the same evil might be present
inside of him.
     He had now begun cleaning the view-ports on this particular deck. 
As he stared at the stars and the other ships in the fleet, his mind
again drifted to his father.  Baltar was the cause of all of this! 
There were close to a million people crammed aboard 220-odd ships
floating through space and it was all his father's fault!
     Would he have turned him in?  Trev had been agonizing over that
question all morning. Knowing what he did now, of course he would have;
but when they were back on Pisceria before the Destruction?  He
couldn't be sure.  If he knew for certain that his father would betray
the entire human race to the Cylons, then he was positive he would have
done something, told someone.  Just how much evidence he would have
needed to make him positive was what was troubling him.
     And what about his mother?  How much had she know of her husband's
dealings?  If she had known, how could she stand by and just let this
happen?  His sister's intended had worked closely with his father the
last few yahrens... did he also know what was going on?  Was Trev the
only one left in the dark?
     Blood money... the term came to his mind when he thought of his
wealthy upbringing. They were one of, if not the wealthiest families on
the planet.  How long had his father been corrupt?  How many of the
clothes, toys and luxuries he had growing up had been bought with the
payoff money from the Cylons?  Was his whole education paid for with
the blood of the human race?
     Again, he stared out at the stars.  The whole human race had been
given a sentence by his father: to spend what could amount to lifetimes
in these ships running from the Cylons.  Why? What had motivated him?
     Trev was sure he would never know these answers, but the questions
would haunt him for the rest of his life.  He supposed the guilt and
anguish he felt was his own sentence of sorts, and one he would have to
learn to deal with.

     When he arrived back at the Maintenance Lounge later that day, all
of the off-duty workers were gathered around the trans-vid watching the
IFB broadcast.
     "What's going on?" he asked as he walked in and went to the
Refreshment Center to get himself a cup of kaffe.
     "Starbuck murdered someone!"
     "What?"  Trev asked, incredulous.  Everyone in the fleet knew of
the heroic tales of the warriors from Blue Squadron.
     "Allegedly murdered someone," Flynn corrected.  "Someone named
Ortega, Sergeant Ortega."
     'Sergeant Ortega?' Trev thought to himself.  'I wonder if that was
the same warrior who let me on board the shuttle on Pisceria?'  As he
watched the IFB, he found that this was, indeed, the same man.
     A chill ran down his spine.  Why?  This was just a man he had met
for a few microns  following the Destruction, but he felt as if there
was something more here; something connected to him.
     "It appears as if the career of Lieutenant Starbuck has come to a
tragic end..." the reporter on the IFB concluded.
     "Could you imagine that?  What a fool!  Murdering someone over a
Triad game?"  One of the maintenance workers commented.
     "Maybe there's more to it than that," Trev said quietly.  The
other people in the room were surprised to hear his voice.  He very
rarely talked to any of them; just kept to himself.
     "Wanna lay a wager he'll get away with it?" someone else chimed
in.  "They always protect those warriors.  How come they can go to any
ships in the Fleet without needing a travel pass and all the rest of us
have to get approval first?"
     If anyone on the Orion wanted to go to the Rising Star, they had
to be approved for a "Travel Pass".  Trev was aware of the growing
anti-military sentiment in the Fleet.  It was largely a result of the
"have-nots" wanting what the "haves" had.  The warriors were an easy
target because they were given privileges that others were not,
including travel between ships when they were on furlough.  The
explanation given was that they earned the privilege by putting their
lives on the line for the fleet, plus the fact that having them on any
ship at any time was considered an increase in security.  Meanwhile,
though, there was resentment building among the civilian population.
     "Trev!"
     "Oh frak!"
     "That's what happens when you're too good at what you do," Flynn
said.  "You get called on all the time."
     Trev grimaced and walked in the direction of the voice.  It was
Drager, another maintenance worker.  "What is it?"
     "Odan wants to see you in his office, on the double."
     Trev made no complaints about the order.  He left the room and
walked down the corridor to Odan's office.
     "Have a seat," Odan invited him in.
     Trev sat down in the small, cramped office.  It was crowded with
paperwork on his desk and on shelves on the walls, along with three
different computer terminals sending him readouts of the various
systems necessary to run the ship at all times.
     "A little behind on your paperwork, sir?"
     "Don't be a smart-astrum," Odan said with a grin.  Because of his
excellent record, Trev was the only subordinate who could get away with
this attitude with him.  It was as close to a friendship as Trev had
come aboard this vessel.
     "A request was put out from the Galactica for maintenance workers. 
Though it deeply pains me to do this, I've put your name in to be
transferred there."
     Trev was stunned.  "But... but... Lira..."
     Odan waved a hand in the air.  "Lira will go with you, of course. 
In fact, the Galactica's childcare and educational facilities are much
better than our own."
     Trev did not know what to say; he was stunned silent.
     "Look, Trev," Odan tried to explain.  "I need you here more than
anyone else.  You are my best worker.  But I'm thinking of you here,
and Lira.  Once you're in the Galactica's maintenance staff for two
yahrens, you'll be considered a non-comm.  That's going to mean a whole
lot more in the way of benefits and privileges.  You can go farther
there; there's more levels of authority and you can rise to a
supervisor.  Here, the only thing you could aspire to is my job... And
I wouldn't wish this on anyone."  He indicated the mess that surrounded
him.
     "I just... I just don't know what to say, sir."  Trev's mind was
reeling. He had felt safe here; no one had yet recognized him.  Now he
was going to a whole new environment.  What if someone on the Galactica
knew who he was?
     He quickly tried to recall if he had, at any point in his life,
met any of the current Councillors or Commander Adama.  Since his
father had not been in the military when he became a Councillor, he had
not met any of the current military leaders.  Also, he had the benefit
of having been in his mid to late teen yahrens, an age at which his
"attitude" had prevented him from attending many functions of state.
     "Trev, this is a good thing," Odan tried to reassure him,
surprised by the kid's reaction. "I'm rewarding you for all of your
hard work around here.  Sagan knows what I'll do without you, but it's
really a step up for you."
     'And I'm hoping they'll be able to help you more with counseling
on the Galactica,' he thought to himself.  He was deeply concerned
about the boy.  There were people still in shock over the Destruction,
who suffered from despair, and there were others who were simply
grateful to be alive.  Trev seemed to fit in neither category, hovering
somewhere in between.
     "I... I know, sir."
     Odan leaned back in his chair.  "And think of Lira.  That girl
will get the finest education available in the fleet.  She'll be in
childcare with the warriors' families."
     "I know... it's just that... after the Destruction, after
everything had settled, I really wanted to be in one place."
     "Trev, if you turn this down you're a fool.  I'm speaking honestly
to you now, as your friend."  Odan leaned across the paper-strewn desk.
"You won't get another chance... They won't let me submit you a second
time if you turn it down."
     Trev was stunned.  "The Galactica approved the list already?"
     Odan smiled knowingly.  "No, not yet.  But I gave you a glowing
recommendation.  Back when I was in charge of maintenance on the
military base on Virgo, I developed a reputation.  If I recommend
someone, they will get the appointment."
     Trev knew he should feel grateful, but instead all he felt was
misery.  "What... What if something happened to me?  Would Lira remain
on the Galactica?"
     Odan frowned, not understanding what he was thinking.  "Why no. 
It's the same rules as here.  If anything happened to you here, she'd
be considered an orphan and relegated to the Orphan's ship."
     Trev was stunned.  He had always assumed that she would just
remain in the Childcare Center.  "All right, I'll take it," he found
himself saying.  "When will my orders come through?"
     Odan shook his head.  "I'm not sure.  Soon, pretty soon.  Within
the next secton, I'm sure.  Better pack up your belongings and be
ready."
     'Belongings?' he thought.  'What belongings?  I left Pisceria with
the clothes on my back.  I haven't been off the Orion to purchase
anything.'
     "Thank you sir," he said, glumly.
     "Trev, this isn't a sentence to the prison barge..."
     'It might as well be...' he thought to himself.  

                        Part 3 - Anxiety

     Trev sat in the Shuttle Bay of the Orion, waiting for the shuttle
that would bring him to the Galactica, and his new life.  He was
nervous, extremely nervous.  Any time he heard the least little noise
he felt like jumping out of his skin.
     All the belongings he and Lira had were packed in one small bag. 
There were only a few small toys and his some of their clothes.  He
would receive new maintenance uniforms once on the Galactica.  The
little girl was toddling around the waiting area, exploring every
corner possible.  Every now and then, she would glance over his way,
just to make sure he was still there.
     Once he had found out that she would be considered an orphan and
sent to the Orphan's Ship if anything should happen to him, his
decision to go to the Galactica was easy.  Here, on the Orion, he had
felt safe, protected.  If he turned down this transfer, it would draw
attention to him, perhaps even instigate an investigation into his
background...
     No, it was much easier just to go along with the flow.  He was
almost positive that any people who may know him on the Galactica had
last seen him about six yahrens ago. He could deny his identity easily. 
He had let his hair grow out since leaving his home planet.  Now it
hung in dark waves to his shoulders.  When he worked, it was necessary
to keep it tied back, but it made him look less like the person he had
been once upon a time.  He was taller than his father, and much leaner. 
Most of the time now when he looked in the mirror for any signs of a
resemblance, he couldn't find it so easily.  Hopefully, the people on
the Galactica who might know him would only remember the young boy and
not recognize the man he had grown into.  Lira... she was all that
mattered now.  Her life on the Galactica would be much better.
     The thought of being on the Galactica still made him nervous. 
Throughout the last two days, he had thought often of going back into
Odan's office and telling him that he had changed his mind.  Then, he
would think about the repercussions of that decision.  No matter what
he did, he was not convinced of either of his choices.
     'Why not chance it?' he had thought when Odan had spoken to him. 
'Staying here may not prove to be safe, either.  At least this way, she
stands a chance at having a good start in life...'
     The IFB was broadcasting Lieutenant Starbuck's trial on a monitor
in the shuttle boarding area.  It appeared, at the micron, that he was
going to be convicted of Ortega's murder.  This was virtually the only
topic of conversation anywhere in the fleet, though Trev himself hadn't
been paying much attention to it.  He had spent most of the last two
days making sure he had a straight story should he be questioned.
     "Galactica shuttle arriving.  Please let any passengers disembark
before beginning to board the shuttle.  Thank you."
     At the announcement, Trev picked up the small bag of belongings,
then walked over to where Lira had taken a keen interest in a potted
Pfuster plant.  The girl protested somewhat at being taken away from
her newest "toy", but smiled at Trev when he looked her in the eyes.
     "My Trev," she said.
     "Yeah," he said, suddenly feeling very emotional, "your Trev."
     She put her tiny hands on his cheeks and rubbed her nose against
his, as he had taught her, then giggled.
     There were only two passengers from the Galactica to the Orion. 
Trev and Lira were the only two leaving, and he had to show his
transfer order before they would let him board.
     "Is it always this quiet?"  he asked the security officer who was
reviewing his paperwork.
     "Not usually. Everyone's watching the trial."
     "Oh.  I guess in all of the excitement the last few days, I didn't
realize what a big deal it had become."
     "Lieutenant Starbuck was... is... was... a legend on the
Galactica.  He was... is... a real hero to a lot of people.  You'll see
when you're there just how revered the warriors are, especially
Starbuck, Apollo and Boomer, though Starbuck may be on the Prison Barge
soon."
     Inadvertently, Trev winced at the mention of the Prison Barge.  He
looked at the security officer quickly, but he was concentrating on
Trev's paperwork and hadn't been looking at him.
     "Everything seems to be in order.  Come aboard."
     Trev boarded the shuttle and strapped Lira in.  The shuttle
launched on schedule for the Galactica.  He thought of the last time he
had been in a shuttle, on his way to the Orion from Pisceria when
Ortega had let him aboard so easily. Lira had been against him in his
lap, not in her own seat like now.
     Ortega was dead, now.  Trev wondered why the coincidence was
bothering him so much.  He hadn't known the man personally, just seen
him on the shuttle when he entered and left.  Even through that whole
trip, he had been out of sight due to the number of people standing;
normally considered to be a very dangerous thing.
     And Starbuck... Well, he had heard of him - everyone in the fleet
had heard of him - but he never knew him personally.  Neither one of
these men were in any way associated with his father that he could
remember.
     Once the orders had come through, he had gotten Odan's permission
to use his computer terminal on the pretense of looking for anyone else
from his family or of his friends that may have survived.  Trusting him
implicitly, Odan left him alone to comb through the census files.
     His real aim was to check out all of the names he could remember
of his family's friends and relatives, and his father's business and
political associates.  He also checked on any workers, either for his
family or his father's business, whose names he could recall.
     "The devastation on Pisceria must have been enormous," he had
mumbled to himself as he plodded through the list he had come up with. 
There were only five names of people that matched.  All five of the
matches were people who were questionable.  Most hadn't seen him for
any length of time.  Three had been co-workers in his father's
business.  All were on civilian ships in other parts of the fleet.  One
of the other matches was of someone who had been an advisor to Baltar,
and was now an advisor to one of the Councillors.
     "How did he manage to pull that off?" Trev murmured to himself. 
He would have thought that previously working for Baltar would be a
mark against you for the rest of your life.
     The last name was a woman who had been a friend of his mother.  He
could remember going to her house when he was little and eating the
sweet mini-cakes she always had for him.  How his mother would laugh
when she was with her!
     His eyes smarted with tears.  She, too, was on a civilian ship. 
It would have been nice to go see her and tell her about the good
memories he had.  Right now, though, she posed no threat.  He hadn't
been to her house in ages.
     Trev was brought back to the current time when he realized Lira
had grown restless.  It was supposed to be only a ten centon trip, but
it seemed to take longer.
     "We have to wait for clearance," one of the co-pilots yelled back
to him.
     Trev unbuckled his restraint and went to talk to them.  "What's
the problem?"
     "They're not giving us clearance.  All traffic is being held up...
Something to do with the trial and a high security matter."
     "Did the verdict come in?"
     The woman shook her head.  "I don't think so.  And I think they'd
hold Starbuck in the brig on the Galactica for as long as they could
before he'd go to the Prison Barge.  No, it's something else... but I
have no idea what's going on.  As soon as we have clearance, I'll let
you know."
     Trev sat back down and waited, a feeling of trepidation washing
over him.

     Baltar stood in the landing bay besides Karibdis while Captain
Apollo conferred with the Fleet Security Officers that were on duty. 
Both of them had restraints on, not that there was anywhere for them to
go.
     "So what ever possessed you to draw me into all of this?"  Baltar
asked innocently.
     "Right," Karibdis said, disbelievingly.
     "Well you're the one that has been thinking about me lately,
haven't you?  If you had just left well enough alone, you could have
had a nice life, you know."
     "Look who's talking, traitor.  And no, I haven't been thinking
about you, at all except when necessary, like now."
     "Well someone around this fleet is, that's for certain.  Have you
seen anyone else we used to deal with?"
     "No.  It's not me, Baltar.  I could care less if you floated off
in the prison barge with the rest of the scow."
     The contempt in Karibdis' voice led Baltar to believe he was
telling the truth.  Who else that possibly knew him was in the Fleet?
     Captain Apollo walked over to the two men.  "You're both being
taken over to the Prison Barge as soon as possible.  A lot of traffic
was delayed while I was bringing the shuttle in, so they have to wait
for it to clear up before you'll return there."
     "What about medical attention?" Karibdis complained.
     "You don't need medical attention," Apollo reassured him.
     "He shot me!"
     "It's only a flesh wound.  Get it treated back on the Prison
Barge," Apollo responded, not tolerating any excuses to remain out of
prison any longer from this man.
     "Awww.  You're not taking us back, Captain Apollo?  I'm hurt,"
Baltar pouted.
     "Don't try anything, either one of you, but especially you Baltar. 
I don't know what's prevented the Council from ordering your execution
up until now, but I guarantee that it wouldn't take too much for them
to change their minds."
     Baltar opened his moth to say something, then thought the better
of it and stayed silent.
     "Good.  I trust that Fleet Security will be able to handle the two
of you.  I am going to see Starbuck."
     "Give him my warmest regards... any time I can help..." Baltar
called after him.  Apollo just kept on walking, shaking his head.
     Shuttles that had been delayed were landing all around them.  The
people that were walking by gazed curiously at the two men surrounded
by Fleet Security Officers.  Most of the stares were reserved for
Baltar, which he answered with a wide smile and a friendly wave of his
hand.
     "Knock it off," one of the security officers scolded him.
     "What?  I'm not doing anything wrong."
     "Just stand there, shut up, and don't move!"
     Looking innocent, Baltar stood in his shackles, watching the
people go by him.  He watched them getting on the lift, and another man
got off; one of the Galactica's crew, he thought.  The man walked over
to one of the shuttles and met someone who was walking out of it. 
Whoever the other person was, he or she was carrying a child and Baltar
couldn't get a good look at the face.
     He glanced away for a micron to the fleet security that was
standing nearby, joking. When he looked back, the person holding the
child was looking directly at him.  A sly smile crept onto Baltar's
face before he could help himself, though his son looked away very
quickly.

     Trev walked to the shuttle hatch and was met by one of the
Galactica crew.
     "Hi.  I'm Langley.  Are you Trev?"
     "Yes," Trev said.  He handed the transfer papers to the man, then
picked Lira up in his arms.  "What's all of the commotion about?"
     "Oh, this?  It seems that Lieutenant Starbuck was innocent. 
Captain Apollo had to bring Baltar here, though, to prove it."
     "Baltar?  Baltar's here?"  Alarmed, Trev looked around.  At the
same micron he sighted his father, Baltar turned his head from whatever
else he had been looking at and their eyes met.
     It was only for a few microns that they were actually looking at
each other, but Trev knew it was enough.  He saw the look of
recognition in his father's face.  He turned away from him, and
followed Langley to the service lift, resisting the urge to see if his
father was still staring at him; which he was certain he was.
     "You'll be bunking with the rest of the maintenance crew.  There
aren't enough private quarters to go around and the warriors usually
get first crack at them anyway.  From your paperwork, though, it says
that you had the same situation on the Orion."
     "Yes.  I bunked with the maintenance crew there while Lira stayed
in the Childcare Center."  Trev didn't know how he managed to answer
the man.  His mind was reeling.  He noticed that his hands had begun to
shake.  If he put Lira down, it would only be more noticeable, so he
held onto her.
     "I'll take you by the Maintenance Quarters first.  You can drop
your things there, then we'll go over to Childcare and you can spend
time there.  You're not scheduled for any training for a cycle, so
you've got some time to adjust and learn your way around.  Just don't
venture out of the habitation area.  You don't have clearance for the
bridge and a couple of other areas, so if you accidentally ended up
there, it could be a problem."
     Trev was barely hearing what Langley was telling him as they
walked through the corridors.  They entered the vast room of bunks
where the Galactica's maintenance crew slept.  Several people who were
off-shift were sleeping, so Langley quietly led Trev to his bunk and
showed him his locker.  Trev put the little bit of clothes he had for
himself in there.
     He showed him the Maintenance Crew Lounge, the Rejuvenation Center
and the Mess Hall.   The Lounge was strictly for the maintenance
workers, but the other two were shared by everyone on the Galactica. 
Trev had never been on a battlestar before, and had he been in his
right mind, he would have been impressed.
     The Childcare Center was a short walk from the Mess Hall.  Inside,
he saw about a dozen children from about four yahrens and younger
playing.  "The rest of the children have instructional period now,"
Langley explained.  "You should see this place when they get here!"
     "I can imagine."  Trev did not want to make small talk now.  He
wanted to get Lira settled, so he could find somewhere to go and think.
     "Hello, I'm Marily."
     "Hi.  I'm Trev, and this is Lira."
     "Lira!  We've been expecting you!"
     Langley patted him on the back. "Think you can find your way back
all right?"
     "I think so."
     "If you can't, just ask.  Someone will help you.  I'll see you
later."
     "Thanks."
     Trev put Lira down, but she wouldn't leave his side.  Instead, she
held tightly onto his legs and buried her face.
     "Don't you want to play with the other children?" Marily tried to
coax her.  Lira clung to Trev all the harder.  "Maybe if you stayed a
little while."
     "Sure," he said as he took Lira's hand and led her over near the
other kids.  He sat down on the floor, picked up a toy and started
playing with her.  She was intrigued by all of the new things to play
with around her.  After a while, another little girl came over.  Trev
rolled a ball back and forth between the three of them.
     Marily motioned for him to get up.  Lira watched him, but did not
go running to him when he walked over to the young woman.
     "She'll probably be fine now.  Would you like to leave her for a
few centars, then come back for meal period?"
     "Meal period?"
     "Well, we permit the parents - or guardians - to take the children
with them for meal period.  The only condition is that the children
leave before the remaining children are served.  Once we serve the meal
here, they're not permitted to leave."
     "Oh.  On the Orion, the children had to stay in the Childcare
Center for their meals."
     "We try to be a little flexible.  Some parents really enjoy
sitting down with their children for a meal together.  It would be a
good time for you to check on her.  Come back in about three centars,
if you want to."
     Trev looked back at Lira once before he left the Childcare Center. 
She was playing happily with another little girl.  "You don't know how
lucky you are... Not a care in the universe..."

     When he had returned to the Lounge after leaving Lira at the
childcare center, he had sat down to watch the IFB for the news about
the trial and how his father had been involved.   He folded his arms
across his chest, trying to hide the tremors that had come on with a
vengeance.
     Karibdis! That was a name Trev knew, and was someone who would
surely recognize him.  He had most likely been in the Landing Bay with
his father when Trev had walked through, since the IFB was now
reporting that he was being transported back to the Prison Barge with
Baltar.  What if he had seen him?  At this point, Karibdis would
probably do anything to lessen his sentence for murder, and turning in
the son of the greatest traitor mankind had ever known would surely
result in that.  The fact that Trev had concealed his identity only
enhanced his own guilt.
     After the broadcast, he went into the turbowash and stood for a
long time under the warmth, trying to think clearly, and hoping that
his hands would cease their tremors.  Not for the first time, he was
seriously considering making a trip to the Life Center for something to
calm himself down.
     'Won't that just draw attention to yourself?' he thought.  'It
could lead to questions... Questions I don't have good answers for.  So
many other people are living with the horrors of the Destruction and
getting on with their lives.  What makes my horror so terrible still,
after all of these sectars?'
     One word: Baltar.
     For several centons, he actually entertained the idea of simply
going to Commander Adama and coming clean.  It would be over, and the
cubits could fall as they pleased.  He remembered the dream, and how
Lira would be taken from him once the truth was know.  That little girl
was the only thing that was sustaining him; motivating him.  Losing her
would be worse than learning of his father's treachery.
     He needed to get his mind off of everything, that he was sure of. 
According to Langley, he still had an entire cycle until he was
scheduled for any training on the Galactica.  His work had usually
given him the most distraction from his own terrible thoughts.
     New maintenance uniforms hung in his locker.  Trev donned one, and
began wandering the Galactica, in search of a place of solitude where
he could gather his thoughts by himself.  As he wandered though the
various areas, he tried to recall the plans that he had been studying
on the Orion before his transfer here.
     There would be quite a bit of work here on the Galactica, he
thought to himself.  He had wandered into one of the thruster
compartments.  The place was huge and cavernous compared to the Orion. 
The din was incredible, too.  The constant roar of the thrusters made
earguards necessary on every maintenance worker he saw.
     Trev got on a nearby turbolift and rode up a level to where he
could look down on all of the activity.  He found earguards hanging on
the wall and put it on, now lost in his ownquiet world.  He hadn't
noticed, but once comfortable in his solitude, and his own
thoughtsdistracted by observing the activity in the room, his tremors
had ceased.
     After standing there for nearly a centar, he turned to put the
earguards back where he had found it.  As he turned, he saw a figure go
by in the hallway behind him.  Trev looked out quickly and saw a
dark-haired warrior walking down the hall to a door.  The warrior
donned his own earguards before opening the door and stepping through.
     Curious, Trev took the earguards with him and followed the warrior
to the door.  He did the same as the warrior had done, donning the
earguards before opening the door and stepping through.  Even with the
earguards on, the cacophony that greeted him when he opened the door
and stepped through was incredible.  The roar seemed deafening even
with the protection.
     There was no one in sight, and no apparent exit from the room,
except for a ladder.  For a few microns, Trev debated what he should
do.  He could not remember this on the plans for the Galactica that he
had studied, trying to get himself oriented.  Finally, his curiosity
was getting the better of him.  He walked over to the ladder.
     Looking up, he saw the ladder end at a hatch.  Slowly, Trev
climbed the ladder.  The hatch was heavy, but when he pushed on it, it
gave easily.  He pushed it up a little bit and looked in.  Around him
was some sort of a room.  Not sure what it was, he pushed the hatch a
little bit more and was surprised when he felt it pulled out of his
hand.
     The dark-haired warrior he had followed stood there holding the
hatch.  His earguards were now around his neck, and he motioned for
Trev to come up.  Trev climbed the rest of the way in, and the warrior
closed the hatch.
     "The silence is deafening, isn't it?" the warrior commented.
     Trev slipped his earguards around his neck.  Though not quite
silent, the roar was greatly subdued.  "Where is this place?"
     "Above the main thrusters.  You followed me here?"
     "I... uh... sort of.  I was watching all the activity in the Main
Thruster Compartment and I saw you go by.  I didn't know there was
anything like this around here."
     "You haven't seen anything yet.  Just hold on a micron."  The
warrior scrambled up into a chair that was on a platform above the two
of them.  Trev followed him and watched as he flipped several switches,
lighting up a console in front of the chair.  Trev heard a whirring and
then the sides of the room seemed to peel away from them.
     "What the frack..."
     "Pretty incredible, isn't it?  This was what they used to use to
navigate by the stars.  It's the highest spot on the Galactica."
     Trev looked around him and couldn't believe the sight in front of
him.  In all of his luxurious travels with his father, there had never
been anything quite like this.
     "This place is incredible!"
     "And now that you know my secret, I'd appreciate it if you would
keep it to yourself."
     Trev intently looked at the warrior.  There was something familiar
about him... yet, he couldn't place it.
     "Believe me, I'm really good at keeping secrets," Trev murmured. 
"But why?"
     The warrior shrugged his shoulders.  "I like to come up here to
think... to get away from everyone sometimes.  I don't think that more
than two or three people on the Galactica know that this place exists. 
No one's probably been up here for five hundred yahrens or more.  I'd
like to keep it private, if you know what I mean."
     Trev smiled over the warrior's shoulder as the seat spun around
with him holding on the back of it.  "Don't worry.  I won't tell a
soul.  You just may find me here more often, if it's all right with
you."
     The warrior shrugged.  "I don't own it.  You're as welcome as
anyone to come here."
     "Just don't invite more company."
     The warrior smiled.  "If you want solitude, that's what you have
to do.  My name's Apollo, by the way."
     Trev was stunned.  "Apollo?  As in Captain Apollo?"
     "The one and only.  I see you've heard of me."
     "Well, sure... That is, I... Why aren't you at the celebration
that's going on for Lieutenant Starbuck?  You just saved his astrum."
     Apollo smiled sheepishly.  "I was there, for a while.  Like I said
before, I like the solitude I get here.  It's a great place to just get
away from everyone.  You are...?"
     "Trev.  I just transferred to the Galactica maintenance crew from
the Orion."
     "Pleased to meet you Trev." Apollo lifted his hand over his
shoulder to shake the young maintenance worker's.
     'Great,' Trev thought to himself.  'The first real friend I make
in this whole fleet and it has to be Commander Adama's son.'
     The two of them stayed there for a long time in silence.  Trev sat
on the edge of the platform, looking out at the stars.  He imagined
what the old explorers must have felt like as they traveled the galaxy
without the modern equipment.  He looked at the other ships of the
Fleet; their battle scars and scorch marks highlighting the Cylon raids
that had come all too often in the beginning of their quest.
     Apollo had his usual thoughts of his lost wife, mother and brother
as he stared at the stars.  His thoughts then turned to the young
worker, who seemed too much like himself.  What guilt, what sorrow
haunted the soul of someone so young?  Just as Apollo did not want to
talk of Serina, Zac or his mother, he supposed this young man did not
want to talk of his troubles either.  The two of them simply sat in
silence, watching the stars go by.  Occasionally, a shuttle would fly
between ships.
     "Can they see us up here?" Trev asked.
     "Well they could, but I doubt if they do.  They're just not
looking for anyone to be here."
     Silently, Trev wondered if there were viewports in the Prison
Barge.
     Apollo let out a sigh.  "Well, I'm going to go back for meal
period.  If you want..."
     "Meal period?  Oh frack!"
     "What's wrong."
     "I was supposed to pick Lira up from the Childcare Center for meal
period!" Trev exclaimed.
     "Lira?  You have a daughter?"  Apollo was surprised.  He seemed
too young.
     "No... well... See, she was my best friend's sister and after the
Destruction, I..." Trev trailed off.
     Apollo could see the man was visibly upset.  'I suppose we all
have our own demons,' he thought to himself.  "Hey, I didn't mean to
pry.  You should still have half a centar before it's too late to pick
her up."
     "Thanks.  And thanks for showing me this place Captain Apollo."
     "Just Apollo."
     Trev smiled timidly.  He put on the earguards, opened the hatch
and began descending the ladder as Apollo closed up the dome.

     Trev had waited and waited over the next few days.  Every time
Fleet Security or a warrior had approached, he was sure they were
coming for him.  His training had begun the following cycle.  Most of
it was just a review of what he already had learned aboard the Orion,
just on a much larger scale.
     "The really good techs go on to work on the bridge or the weapons
systems," Langley explained as they toured the various sections Trev
would be making repairs in.  "That used to require a high security
clearance."
     "Used to?"
     Langley shrugged his shoulders.  "They can't be as particular now,
for one thing.  Also, the records have been pretty well destroyed. 
Besides, who is anyone going to give classified information to?"
     Trev could see Langley's point.
     "Now, the diagnostic located a problem in the power relays to the
Alpha Landing Bay.  It's a pressing problem because if it got bad
enough, we could lose power in the whole Landing Bay..."
     Trev and Langley worked together at the problem for the next eight
centars.  Langley had been impressed by the skill and knowledge the
young man had demonstrated over the last few cycles, and this day was
no exception. Trev did not whine or complain about the amount of time
necessary to correct the problem, nor did he ask for a break.  Langley
had finally said they needed time away from the power relays.
     "Aren't you hungry Trev?"
     They young man shrugged his shoulders.  "A little.  I'm used to
staying with a problem until it's solved.  Odan always called on me
when he had something tedious on the Orion.  He knew I'd stay with it
until it was done."
     "Well, you definitely have tenacity, that's for sure.  Come on,
we'll get a bite and come back here afterwards."
     'I guess if Karibdis was going to say anything, I would have known
it by now,' Trev thought to himself.  The tremors had grown less
intense and had come on with less frequency with the more time that
went on.  Now, he was finally feeling like he could possibly relax a
little.  The only problem was that he knew for certain that his father
knew he was here.  Still, if nothing had happened yet...
     The two of them were seated at a table together in the Mess Hall.
Langley was just finishing a story about some warrior who had been
burned by the steam purge in a launch tube when he was in there with a
woman, when Trev saw two fleet security officers enter the Mess Hall. 
They scanned the room quickly, and began walking in the direction of
him.
     Langley saw the expression on Trev's face darken as if someone had
turned off a light.  Wondering what was bothering the young man, he
turned and saw the security officers making their way over to them.
     "What the frack...?"
     "Are you Trev?"  one of the Officers asked.
     Trev nodded, still picking at the biscuit he had been eating.
     "You have to come with us."
     "Say, I need him."
     "Orders of The Council, Sir.  I'm sorry, but we must insist that
you come with us now."

                   Part 4 - The Hardest Part

     In the cycles following his short jaunt to the Galactica, Baltar
pondered the latest twist the fates had bestowed upon him.  Whether he
was alone in his cell, or working mess duty on the Prison Barge, his
thoughts constantly would drift back to that moment in the Landing Bay
when he made the connection.  He knew the answer to who he had
connected to in his dream that night now. His son was aboard the
Galactica.  His son!
     "Why couldn't it have been Aurelia?" he murmured to himself,
thinking of his oldest child.  For the first time he felt a sense of
loss due to the Destruction.  At first he had believed his colony
spared, as had been the bargain with the Cylon Imperious Leader.  When
he had realized that the Cylons had never had any intention of living
up to their end of the bargain, he had grown concerned with saving his
own hide.
     It was a reflex action, he supposed, trying not to think of what
he had lost in the Cylon attack.  How many other colonists thought of
the same thing every day?  No, he would not let the least bit of guilt
enter his mind.  Somehow, he had managed to convince himself that he
had the best interests of the Colonies in mind when he had led them to
the Destruction.  Under his rule, they would have been able to live
peacefully, never again having to worry about a war.  The Cylons would
have protected them.  The military must be taken out, for they were the
ones most likely to commit insurrection against the Cylon peacekeepers.
     But the Cylons had not lived up to their end of the bargain.  Was
that his fault?  He supposed that was no great surprise to military
leaders like Adama.  That was how the Galactica had survived, after
all.  Now Baltar felt that he was the same as the other Colonists with
no family left because of the Cylons.
     But there was one family member left.  Loraio.  Again, Baltar
longed for it to be his oldest child, his daughter who was so much like
himself!
     Beautiful Aurelia, with a sharp, ruthless mind.  Baltar had seen
that when she was younger.  With other children, she thought nothing of
turning them all against whatever child would not do her bidding. 
Baltar had begun taking her on business trips with him, and she learned
fast.  After finishing her required schooling, she elected not to
continue her education and went to work with her father.  Her beauty
served her well.  She managed to trick many a fellow businessman into
taking poor deals.  Many of his contemporaries actually preferred doing
business with him to having to deal with his daughter.
      She was his pride and joy, destined to follow in his footsteps...
His daughter was a tremendous loss.  Baltar would miss her icy brown
eyes narrowing at him as she doubted the veracity of his assertions
about one thing or another.  Oh yes, they had conflicts, but Baltar
actually enjoyed them.  She was the one in the family who had the
potential so lacking in Loraio.  He had even matched her with another
merchant of his own caliber.  Together they would have created a great
empire with himself as supreme ruler under the Cylons.
     But that was all gone, apparently.  Any hope that she and Damon,
the man she would have married, had survived those Cylons raids had
vanished when he saw Loraio.
     'Why couldn't she have survived instead of him?' he again found
himself wondering.  Well, what was done was done.  Now, he had to think
of how he could use the boy to his own advantage.  'Surely there is
some loyalty in the boy to his own father.'
     He thought of his wife only in passing.  Their relationship had
been perfunctory for many yahrens... no great loss there.  They had an
understanding.  She played every bit the loyal wife and he provided her
with the best that money could buy.  Their house was beautiful, and she
entertained as necessary.
     All gone, he supposed.  When the time arrived, he would ask Loraio
all about what had happened on Pisceria; how he had survived, and if he
was certain the rest of the family had perished.  Baltar was left with
the son he had never known; a son who fought terribly against him and
his authority in his own home; a son he had casually dismissed several
yahrens ago when he had seen that there was no hope for him to join the
family business.  Who was the child, though?  Baltar did not know.
     The boy had never been close to him.  For that, he himself may
have been partially to blame.  He had sent him to the finest schools on
Pisceria, but never paid much attention to him once he had seen the
potential in Aurelia.  Somehow, he had simply expected him to turn into
the kind of ruthless merchant that his father was, like Aurelia did,
but that hadn't happened.  Loraio had developed a conscience; a moral
conscience.
     'I should have had him home-schooled; taken him with me more.  The
boy would have turned out right then,' Baltar would think to himself. 
The few times he had brought the boy with him on business trips had
been a disaster.  Loraio simply did not understand what it meant to be
a merchant.  Sometimes it was necessary to do things that were not
necessarily right to survive in the daggit-eat-daggit world.  Finally,
he had all but given up on the boy and let him go his own way. 
Instead, he focused on his daughter.
     "Time for mess duty."
     A guard approached the clear doors to Baltar's cell.  Baltar
grimaced, but got up from the bunk.  'Soon this will all be behind me,"
he thought to himself.  'The boy must serve some purpose... Surely he
is not a complete waste of genetic material.'
     There had to be a way to turn him, change his way of thinking. 
After all, they were the only family they each had left.

     Trev followed the fleet security officers down the silent
corridor, not saying a word.  Each step seemed to bring him closer and
closer to what he was certain was the end of his life on the Galactica
and in the Fleet.  The echoes sounded like the tolling of a bell
signaling an impending doom from the old motion pictures he had watched
on the trans-vid as a child.  He could feel the shaking of his hands
where they were stuffed into the pockets of his jumpsuit.      The
security officers stopped at a door unfamiliar to Trev.  It was a
section of the battlestar he had not yet been in.  One of the guards
signaled their arrival and the door slid open.
     Half expecting to see Baltar, or even Karibdis waiting for him
there, Trev was honestly surprised to be greeted only by a Colonel of
the fleet, sitting at a desk.
     "This is Trev, sir," one of the guards said to the Colonel.
     "Thank you.  Carry on please," he dismissed the two officers as he
rose from his chair.  "Have a seat, Trev.  I'm Colonel Tigh."
     "Thank you Colonel."
     The Colonel looked back down at his desk, apparently reading
something from his viewscreen.  The microns of silence unnerved Trev,
who found himself growing more nervous.  He pulled his trembling hands
out of his pockets and folded them across his chest, burying his hands
against his body.  The trembling was not noticeable this way.
     "Do you know why you're here, Trev?" the Colonel finally asked.
     "No sir, I'm afraid I don't."  His voice was smooth and even,
without a hint of nervousness.  He had decided to attempt to bluff his
way around his situation.  Still, a simple genetic test would prove...
     "Unfortunately, the revelations about one of our warriors, Sgt.
Ortega, that were revealed during Lt. Starbuck's trial have caused
quite a stir.  The Council has asked that anyone in the Fleet even
remotely connected to Sgt. Ortega be investigated, and I am handling
this matter with the personnel on the Galactica.  According to our
records, you came aboard the Orion from a shuttle that he was in charge
of."
     "Yes sir."  Trev's mind was reeling at the line of questioning. 
Not one mention of his father, nor anything having to do with him.  He
did not know what to expect.  In his head, he had been prepared for one
situation, and now he was facing an entirely different one.
     "Did you bribe your way onto that ship?"
     "No sir!  I had no cubits on me, it was just myself an the girl...
child.  She's my best friend's baby sister."
     Colonel Tigh nodded.  "There's no problem, son," he said
soothingly.  The maintenance worker was obviously afraid of having done
something wrong.  "We just have to be sure that anyone who came aboard
illicitly is dealt with."
     "You should be able to see from your records... I have no money. 
I didn't have it then, either.  I just happened to walk up to the
shuttle before anyone else did."
     "Your work record defines you as an exemplary worker.  Both Odan
and Captain Dugan write glowing recommendations of you.  I would think
someone who would bribe their way onto a ship would not have the
industriousness you seem to possess.  More than likely, we'd find their
kind on the Rising Star, not working a maintenance shift on the
Galactica."
     "Yes sir," Trev agreed, not wanting to become too confident that
he would walk from the Colonel's office a free man.  He could not
believe his own luck.
     "Thank you, young man.  That is all.  You're dismissed."
     "Thank you sir."
     Colonel Tigh did not extend his hand, and Trev did not offer his,
If it was perceived as being rude, he did not care at this point.  He
simply wanted to get out of the office while he was still in the clear. 
He walked two corridors away from the Colonel's office before he
stopped and sagged against the wall.
     Relief flowed out of him in such a rush that he let loose some
laughter before composing himself once again.  "By the Lords, Trev, you
managed to keep you cool this time," he whispered to himself, as he
leaned his head into his hands.  After only a micron or two, he began
composing himself, fearful that his solitude would not last long.
     Taking a deep breath, he found his way back to the Mess Hall. 
Langley was no longer there.  Trev assumed he had gone back to working
on the power relays and walked towards where they had been working.
     "You're back awfully quick," Langley commented after Trev called
to him.  Only half of his body was visible.  The top half was buried
deep within the walls of the Galactica.
     "It was no big deal," Trev replied.  "The shuttle that took me
aboard the Orion was the one that Sgt. Ortega was on.  They had to make
sure I didn't bribe my way off the planet."
     Langley pushed his way out of the power conduit and sat up.  "You?
Bribe your way?"  Langley was genuinely astonished.  "For Sagan's sake,
Trev, you have hardly any cubits to your name."
     'If you only knew,' he thought to himself.  Outwardly, he simply
shrugged.  "That's pretty much the way Colonel Tigh saw it, too."
     "Colonel Tigh?"
     Trev nodded.  "He's heading up the investigation of any personnel
on the Galactica who may have had any dealings with Sgt. Ortega.  I
think he thought the same way you did."
     "Well you're a good man, Trev; an honest man.  I'd hate to see
someone like you get in trouble for something you had nothing to do
with."  He clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder.  "Come on, let's
get back to work."
     Instead of reassuring him, Langley's words made him feel
miserable.

     Trev walked down a series of corridors within the Galactica.  He
was carrying Lira.  For some reason it was urgent for him to get to the
Celestial Dome.  He thought he was headed in the right direction, but
every turn only ended in another long corridor.
     It seemed he had walked for metrons, though the Galactica wasn't
that big.
     They were in a different part of the Galactica now.  It was a
seedy part.  Cobwebs appeared in the corners, as if there had been no
attention paid to the area for yahrens.  Still, he saw no people.
     The roar from the thrusters was growing louder.  'I must be headed
in the right direction,' he though to himself.  Lira had begun to cry.
     "I'll take her from you," called out a voice.
     "Daria!" Trev recognized the woman he had met when he boarded the
Orion.  She came out of a doorway, seemingly in a cloud of fog, took
the girl from him, then disappeared back into the haze.  "No wait!"
     Trev put his hands out and encountered only a steel door. 
Fervently, he banged on it.
     "Lira!  Daria!"  He called out.  He began to kick it.
     Laughter sounded around him.  Frightened, he spun around.  The
corridor was still empty.  The laughter grew louder, and he recognized
it.  "Father."
     Suddenly, the corridor he was in turned into the brig.  He
recognized the cells from the one time he had to get Broder from the
jail cells on Pisceria after he was apprehended for getting into a
fight.  "Father?"  He queried as he looked into the first cell.  The
man who was in it turned to him.
     It was Colonel Tigh, only he was not the Colonel any longer.  He
was gaunt and dressed in rags.  It seemed as if he had been in here a
long time.  "You did this!" he hissed at Trev, and charged the doors. 
Trev stepped back, but the doors held and the man fell down on the
floor of his cell, moaning.
     "No," Trev moaned as he backed away.  Suddenly, he felt hands grab
him from behind.  He jumped away, realizing he had backed against
another cell.  Captain Apollo was in this one, in the same disheveled
state.
     "Liar!"
     "I didn't mean..."
     The laughter started in again.  Trev looked up, searching for the
source of the laughter which seemed to come from everywhere.  When he
looked back down the corridor, he saw people standing at all of the
cell doors.  Langley, Daria, Odan, Flynn; everyone he had any contact
with since leaving Pisceria was there.
     "Loraio, you will join me."
     "No," he moaned again.
     "I am your father and you will listen to me."
     "No, no!"
     "You must help me Loraio.  You must help me leave this place, or
we will be in here together..."
     "No.  Never!"
     Trev backed up until he hit a wall.  When he turned, he saw that
he was encased in the same clear material that made up the doors of the
prison cells.  The cell was round, and clear both above him and below
him.
     "What the..."
     Above him, below him, next to him was a gallery, overflowing with
people of the fleet.  They were jeering at him, and though he could not
make out what they were saying, there was no mistaking the ominous
tone.
     "This is what will happen to you," came his father's voice, clear
over the din.  "When they find out, you will be no more than an beast
put up for exhibition in a zoo."
     "Stop it!" Trev bent down against the wall, covering his ears, not
wanting to hear anymore.
     "This is your fate, Loraio... Unless you come to me and we can
leave together..."
     "NO!"
     Trev awoke with a rush.  He was covered in sweat.  From the looks
of the men in the bunks around him, he had obviously woken a few of
them up.
     "I... I'm sorry," he said as he buried his face in his hands. 
'It's a dream,' he thought to himself.  'Just a dream.  Get a hold of
yourself.'
     "We all have dreams, Trev," commented Norall, who occupied the
bunk next to his.  "You just seem to have them real bad.  It must have
been really bad on Pisceria,"
     "You have no idea," he murmured.  His whole body was shaking
visibly to anyone who was watching him.
     "Here," Norall offered a flask to Trev.  "It'll help you sleep."
     "No thanks, man.  All I want is a turbowash; a nice, hot
turbowash."
     Norall shrugged.  "Suit yourself."
     As he sagged against the wall of the turbowash, letting the warm
spray cascade over his body, Trev thought about the dream.  This was,
by far, the worst one yet.  Though the nightmares had returned with a
vengeance, he was not the only one who had them.  Many of the other
workers had them, as well as some of the warriors from what he had
heard.  No one viewed the screams when he woke up in the middle of his
sleep period as anything that unusual anymore.
     Trev had once again built his reputation as a reliable worker who
could be called on at any time.  The Galactica had sustained heavy
damage almost two sectars before in a series of suicide runs on the
battlestar by the Cylons.  All of the workers were pulling double
shifts to get everything running as it had been before.  Langley worked
with him from time to time, but more and more often Trev found himself
on his own, and he preferred it that way.  The more time he was around
other people, the guiltier he felt, both for his lies and for what had
happened.  If there were any questions about why he kept to himself so
much and did not socialize, it would simply be attributed to the
workload he carried.
     More and more he had been wondering about his father.  He was sure
that was what had brought on this latest nightmare.  Why hadn't Baltar
asked for him yet?  He had seen the smile of recognition on his
father's face.  There had been many centars while he was working and
when he was alone in the solitude of the Celestial Dome agonizing over
his life.  What had happened?  Did he really not know his father at
all?  Or had he managed to fool everyone, including his family?  Trev
wanted answers to his questions, but there way no way to get them
without raising even more questions.
     He hated who he was; who he had been.  Sometimes he thought he
should just come clean, and let it all end.  It seemed as if he was
just waiting for the inevitable to happen.  Other times, he was
frightened beyond belief of being found out.
     Captain Apollo hadn't been around for more than a secton.  Though
Trev liked the solitude of being alone in the Celestial Dome, the times
he ran into Captain Apollo reassured him that there were other people
suffering with their own demons, like himself.  For a while he had
wondered what could trouble the Commander's son so much.  He was looked
upon as a hero of the fleet, and held in the highest regard.  Still, he
sought out the solitude of this place.  He supposed everyone was
suffering to a degree...
     But did anyone else have a secret hanging over them of the
magnitude he did?

     The news of the arrival had spread through the Fleet like a fire. 
Likewise, the news of the disappearance of Captain Apollo, Lieutenant
Starbuck, and a med-tech had also spread.  Now rumors circulated, fed
by Councillors and the IFB; rumors of desertion, duplicity and treason.
     The ship had contained six humans, including four children.  It
was small, by Colonial standards.  The one human who had come out of
the ship had been unable to breath in the atmosphere on the Galactica. 
A short time later, the ship, along with her people all aboard, and the
afore mentioned Colonials, all escaped.
     Commander Adama was doing his best to deal with the fallout from
the warriors' disappearance, but it grew harder and harder every day. 
More and more questions arose, along with more and more outrageous
accusations.
     Trev was aware of what was going on around him, but chose to keep
quiet and wait.  The Captain Apollo he knew would never desert.  As the
days wore on, though, it grew harder and harder to deny that something
had happened, probably to all three of them.      Then, just as
suddenly as they had disappeared, the three of them reappeared again. 
This time, they were aboard a second, even stranger ship.  The people
who were aboard this ship were immediately remanded to the prison
barge, and their ship kept in the newly repaired Landing Bay of the
Galactica.
     Since the need for workers was so great, Trev had been granted
clearance to work in the landing bays.  He stared at the unusual ship,
somewhat in awe of seeing up close what a civilization totally alien to
their own had created.
     "Primitive fuel system," Langley commented as he put a hand on
Trev's shoulder.
     "Does it do light speed?"
     Langley shrugged.  "Don't know about that.  The techs have been
over it, but they're keeping a lot classified."
     "Afraid of upsetting the masses?" Trev asked with a grin.
     "Something like that." Langley smiled back.
     "What about the people who were on this ship?"
     Langley shrugged.  "They're on the Prison Barge... for now.  Rumor
has it, the Council wants to let them go."
     "Let them go?" Trev's eyes widened.
     "Depending on who you believe, they are either monsters who were
intent on murdering a group of civilians, including children, or
emissaries from a new potential ally."
     "I always hated politics," Trev murmured.
     Langley shook his head.  "The Cylons destroyed us, but the
daggit-shit keeps flowing.  I guess people will never change."
     "You're not an optimistic person, are you Langley?"
     "Optimistic?  How can anyone be optimistic when you've got Baltar
on the Prison Barge?  Sells out the whole human race, and he's still
alive!  The traitor should have been hauled out for public execution!"
He spat on the floor of the landing bay after saying his name.
     Trev watched the man walk off, then looked up at the ship.  It was
obvious that the people of the Fleet still harbored bitter feeling for
Baltar.  He supposed it would be the same towards him, were he ever to
be found out.  Maybe what his dreams were telling him was what he
should do.  Maybe he should just go somewhere else, where nobody knew
him or who he was, and there was no chance of them finding out, and
start over.  Maybe this planet these people came from, this Terra would
be a sanctuary.

                      Part 5 - The Escape

     Baltar sat in his cell, contemplating the latest turn of events. 
There were new prisoners aboard the Prison Barge, from a planet called
Terra.  Their ship was supposedly being kept in the Galactica's landing
bay.  He needed a plan, a good plan.  He had already convinced these
men from Terra to escape.  Together, they would flee to the planet
Lunar Seven, well ahead of the Galactica.  Perhaps he could even enter
into treaty negotiations between this Eastern Alliance and the Cylon
Empire.  Such a combined force would surely force Adama to surrender...
     "Exercise period," one of the guards barked at him as the doors to
his cell slid open.  Exercise was the last thing Baltar wanted.  He
wanted time to think.
     With a resigned sigh, he walked through the door and followed the
guard to a large, open room.  The room contained various pieces of
exercise and sports equipment for the prisoners to use under careful
watch.  Baltar touched none of it, instead deciding to use the running
circle painted around the edge of the room.  He took a slow walk, all
the while watching to see if there was a pattern to the guards'
movements.
     How could Loraio help him escape?  And how could he get word to
the boy?  He needed to get on the Galactica, and that was also where
the Terran ship was.
     Borellian Nomen walked into the exercise room.  Baltar stopped
walking momentarily and stared at them.  Borellian Nomen.  Baltar had
been hearing rumors of the Nomen escaping since they had come aboard. 
The Nomen, if anyone, would have a way of helping them escape from
their cells.  The problem would be convincing them to join the plan.
     Shortly thereafter, another guard indicated his exercise centar
was over.  Baltar walked back to his cell.  While he was waiting for
the guard to open the doors, he was surprised by Commander Adama,
Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck walking through the corridor. 
They said nothing to him, not even acknowledging his presence.  'That
will soon change, my old friend,' he thought to himself.  'Soon you
will be forced to deal with me as a negotiator once again.'
     He heard their footsteps trail off as they disappeared down the
corridor in the direction of the Terran prisoners.
     Baltar waited patiently, knowing they would have to return this
way to their shuttle.
     Suddenly there was shouting from the way the Commander had walked. 
Baltar couldn't make out the words, but there was definitely some sort
of commotion.
     Footsteps came closer and closer until Baltar saw the three men
walking past him.
     "Problems, Commander?" he taunted with a laugh.  Adama was a
military man, not cut out for dealing with bureauticians, like he was.
     One of the guards walked towards his cell.
     "Well, I'm glad to see you're in such a good mood today Baltar,"
Reese said sarcastically.  From the rumors Baltar had heard, Reese had
been a Fleet Security Guard once, until he allowed a ship he was
responsible for to be flown out of a secured landing bay under his
watch.  Following that incident, he had been busted back to working on
the Prison Barge.  "You have mess duty again."
     Baltar grimaced, but he knew this was his chance to make contact
with the Nomen.  He would not tell them of his plans aboard the
Galactica just yet.  No, all he needed was to get there and make
contact with his son.  The rest would simply fall into place.

     Commander Adama had a headache.  He had two, actually, if you
counted the Council as a continuing headache.  He believed in the
strength of his government, he honestly and truly did or he would not
have spent most of his life defending it.  That was why when Apollo and
Starbuck voiced such vehement opposition to the Council's edicts, he
was forced to defend them.
     He did not like, nor agree with, the edicts.  However, he was
bound by law the laws he had fought to preserve for so long to abide by
them.  Maybe he had been too harsh on Apollo and Starbuck.  They meant
well; they simply wanted to support their Commander.  A good Commander
inspired loyalty, but Adama was beginning to wonder if it was more
blind faith than loyalty that his warriors felt for him.
     With a sigh, he pulled up the latest maintenance reports on his
ship.  They were recovering well from the suicide runs on the Galactica
by the Cylons.  In another two or three sectons, they would be as good
as before.  He looked at the recommendations for furloughs for the
maintenance crew and the time readouts.
     'Who is this Trev?' he wondered as he looked at the man's work
report.  He seemed to work at least twelve to sixteen centars of each
day since he had come aboard the Galactica.  Adama looked at the
printouts of the areas he had worked on.  Each was running efficiently,
some better than before.  All of his superiors' reports on him were
excellent.
     Adama decided to recommend him for a commendation, even though it
was so unusual to do that for someone in service on the Galactica for
such a short time.  He also decided to furlough the man for at least a
secton, and give him an open travel pass to the Rising Star.  The man
needed to find something else to do besides maintenance work.  Adama's
eyes turned to the personal profile of the man, and he was shocked to
see just how young he actually was.  'He's younger than Zac,' he
thought, feeling a slight pang at the thought of his youngest child. 
And he was caring for a child too!
     Adama signed the order putting the man on furlough.  He was due
back on the bridge, with Siress Tinia monitoring him, in less than
thirty centons.

     Trev was lying in his bunk, trying to sleep, but not being too
successful at it.  He had worked a sixteen centar shift.  Normal people
would sleep ten or twelve centars after a shift like that.  Not Trev,
though.  He was lying awake, afraid to go to sleep; afraid of the
dreams that accompanied sleep more and more often.  Logic told him not
to be afraid of his dreams; they could not hurt him.  It did not help,
however, when he woke up shouting and bathed in sweat.      "Trev!"
     His head jerked quickly towards the sound of his name being
called.  What was wrong now?  Surely they would not call him for an
emergency after he had just been on for sixteen centars.
     "Right here," he said slowly, getting up from the bunk.
     One of the maintenance supervisors was waiting for him, looking at
a clipboard.  He held out a sheet of paper to Trev.  "New orders. 
You're on furlough for a secton.  And you have an open-ended travel
pass for the entire fleet.  Enjoy."
     Trev looked at the orders, unable to believe what he saw. 
"Langley, what's going on?"  he asked as he walked over to where the
other worker was watching the IFB.
     Langley took the orders from him.  "Lucky man.  A secton's
furlough?  I'd be heading for the Rising Star with enough cubits to
really enjoy myself.  What's wrong?  Do you need a loan?"
     "I have plenty of cubits on credit to me, Langley.  I don't want a
furlough, that's what's wrong."
     Irritability had crept into Trev's voice.  Langley knew the young
man was overworked and needed a break.  He had been snapping at people
lately.  Other maintenance workers had been taken aback by the ferocity
of his dreams.  Sure, the survivors of the Destruction all had
nightmares from time to time.  Trev's were an exception, though no one
had confronted him yet.  Langley himself had suggested the furlough to
his supervisor.  Hopefully, a secton of R&R would help calm the
situation.
     "Trev, you've been working like a daggit.  Both here and on the
Orion.  You need a vacation.  Take it.  Spend some time on the Rising
Star and enjoy yourself.  Sleep a few days.  Spend time with that
little girl you're so fond of.  We'll get by without you, you know."
     Langley was not being any help.  Trev sat at his bunk and stared
at the orders.  The only solace, the only respite he found from his
waking nightmare was in his work.  He could focus his mind on one
thing, and his pain and guilt would disappear.  The last thing he
wanted was time off, with nothing else to think about except what was
nagging at him in his nightmares.  A whole secton with nothing to do...
     He sighed, resigned to the fact that there wasn't anything he
could do about the situation, and decided that he would see what the
Rising Star was like tonight, since he was unable to sleep anyway. 
Maybe he could find some nice civilian clothing for himself and Lira.

     Baltar was about to be returned to his cell, along with the Nomen,
when he had the luck to hear that the Eastern Alliance prisoners were
to be moved to the holding grid for transfer.
     "Oh fine.  Why didn't they tell us that when we had them on Beta
Deck?" the guard named Reese questioned with disgust. "All right. 
Leiter, you and your men hold it.  Everyone else, into your cells."
     At that moment, one of the Nomen collapsed on the ground.
     "What's wrong with him?" another guard fervently asked as he drew
his weapon.
     Another of the Nomen collapsed as Reese drew his own weapon.
     "All of you, into your cells!  Now!"
     Baltar had expected less of a response from Reese, but he seemed
to be coolly handling the situation... so far.  Hopefully, the Nomen
would be able to take on the two armed guards by themselves. 
Obediently, he and the other prisoners returned to their cells as the
third Nomen collapsed.
     "What's going on?" A third guard was running to their location.
     "Lock it up!" Reese ordered the other two guards.  "Keep your
lasers on them, it might be a trick."  Slowly he bent down to one of
the Nomen, to check if he was still alive.  "He's dead.  No pulse."
     He went to check on a second Nomen while one of the other guards
checked on the third.  Reese looked at him and he shook his head. 
"None of them has a pulse... Get a med-tech down hear on the double!"
he ordered.  "Breathing gear, heart stimulator, the works."
     As one of the guards turned to hear the ship's comm-system, Baltar
heard one word: Strike!
     Instantly, there was chaos in the corridor as the three Nomen
sprang back to live, quickly subduing their three captors.
     "Good Lord!" Baltar was amazed by the scene he had just witnessed. 
Somewhere, deep inside of him, he had just gained respect for these
Nomen.  They were true warriors, not in any need of lasers or other
weaponry.  They fought with their hands and minds... and won.     
"Captivity has slowed our reflexes.  They will improve now that we are
free," one of the Nomen informed him as he opened Baltar's cell.
     As he left the cell, Baltar just stared at the men in awe of what
he had just seen.  They needed to secure the ship, and to find the
Eastern Alliance prisoners.  He was walking through the corridor when
he felt a hand on his shoulder.
     "Next step?" the Borellian Nomen who seemed to be their leader
asked.  His name was Maga, if Baltar remembered correctly.
     "First we destroy the communications center, then take the landing
bay.  The shuttle will be arriving at any moment."
     "And then?"  Commandant Leiter joined them.
     "And then a little trip to the Galactica."
     "Galactica?"  Leiter questioned.  "You said we were heading for
Lunar Seven."
     "We are... after we settle some debts."
     "My men and I are not going to get involved in any personal
vendetta.  We must return to our homeland."
     "We won't get to the edge of the fleet without being challenged
and the shuttle is no match for vipers.  We must disable the Galactica,
or, at the very least, take many hostages.  Trust me, my friend, I know
what I'm doing."
     The other Nomen had returned with the sashes and laser boles which
had been seized upon their imprisonment.  Leiter's Enforcers had also
rearmed themselves.  Leiter took two of his crew to the communications
center, while Baltar and the Nomen went to meet the shuttle in the
landing bay.
     It was all falling into place...

     Trev walked into Landing Bay Alpha of the Galactica to wait for a
shuttle to arrive which would take him to the Rising Star.  The Landing
Bay was quiet, even for this early centar.  Usually, there would be
some shuttles arriving or leaving, and maintenance crews working on the
vipers.  No one was present except for a few Council Security Officers.
     "Travel pass?" one of them asked.  Trev showed his orders. 
"Everything seems to be in order.  You have to wait in that Waiting
Room over there.  The Council is coming down to meet a high-security
shuttle and we need this bay secured."
     "Sure." Trev nodded.  He walked into a room that was closed off
from the rest of the bay with a clear window overlooking the bay. 
Normally, he imagined, this was where people  sat and waited for the
various shuttles that came and went. Right now, it was empty.
     Trev turned on the IFB monitor that was in the room.  They were
showing an old motion-picture detailing a battle fought against the
Cylons more than 500 yahren ago.  Trev had seen it.  Since there was
nothing else to do, he sat in one of the chairs and watched.  His
tiredness from all of his hours of work began to overtake him, and soon
he began to doze off.

     The shuttle approached the Galactica Landing Bay.  Everything was
going according to plan.  Baltar was pleased with his impending
freedom.  Soon he would have his son and be in a position to demand
compliance from Adama.  With the power of the Cylons and this Eastern
Alliance behind him, there would be no way for the Colonials to fight
him off.
     What could he do with Loraio?  The boy had always been of very
little use to him.  Once again he found himself wishing Aurelia had
survived.  With a sigh, he resigned himself to using what tools had
been left at his disposal; namely his son.  The boy would go with him. 
After all, he was the only family Loraio had left, and once his
identity was know, his presence in the Fleet would no longer be
tolerated.  The boy would have no choice.
     Baltar walked back to where the Commandant and his crew were
seated on the shuttle.  "The micron the hatch opens, you and your men
will eliminate all guards, and take as many hostages as possible."
     "Don't worry," Commandant Leiter assured him.  "We are very good
at such operations."
     "I'm sure you are."  Baltar walked over to the leader of the
Nomen.  "Maga, you and your Nomen follow me to the lift.  We can be on
the Bridge in a matter of microns."
     "And once we control the Bridge?"  Maga was still skeptical of
this human's ability to carry out the plan.  His need for vengeance was
a detriment, though he understood perfectly.  A blood hunt was what it
was called in the Nomen's own code.
     "We control the Galactica."
     The shuttle landed without incident.  Commandant Leiter's men ran
from the shuttle, lasers firing.  They encircled the few people waiting
on the arrival of the shuttle in the Landing Bay.  Quickly Baltar and
the Nomen pushed through the crowd, which consisted largely of members
of the Council.  Valuable hostages, for sure.
     The four of them stepped onto the lift as chaos reigned throughout
the Bay.  The last glimpse Baltar had before the bay was out of sight
was of the Councillors being herded into the shuttle under protest.
     The doors to the lift opened up on the level with the Bridge. 
Baltar and the Nomen started to get off, but were startled by laser
fire as they scanned the corridor.  They fired back, Baltar with a
laser he had lifted from Lieutenant Boomer, one of the shuttle pilots,
and the Nomen with their laser boles.
     Unsure of just how many were firing at them, Baltar ordered the
Nomen to shut the doors.  The hostages would have to do to get them
safely beyond the range of the fleet.

     Adama had received word from Apollo that there was something wrong
in Landing Bay Alpha.  Specifically, there were unknown forces firing
weapons around the lifts that led to the bay.
     "Launce Red Squadron," Adama ordered as he looked at readouts of
the battlestar being brought up on the monitor by Omega.  "Tell them to
prevent any ship from launching without my permission.  Have warrior
security cover all hatches above, below, and around Landing Bay Alpha. 
Get me Colonel Tigh up here at once."
     "What's happened?" Siress Tinia questioned.
     Adama walked over to where she stood, shadowing Adama and the
bridge officer.  "Those Alliance Representatives, as you call them,
have just captured Alpha Landing Bay and the Council."
     For a micron Siress Tinia was speechless, processing what had just
been told her.
     "Baltar and the Nomen are with them," Apollo announced as he
joined the Commander on the bridge.
     "If it hadn't been for Colonel Tigh's warning, they would have
been here now instead of us," Starbuck added.
     Adama turned back to Omega.  "Where is Colonel Tigh?"
     "Reporting for duty sir," he said as he walked onto the bridge,
glaring at Siress Tinia.
     "Commander," Omega drew attention away from the tense moment. 
"Red Squadron launched.  Scan now coming in from the shuttle."
     "Transfer to console."
     "Yes sir."
     Both Colonel Tigh and Siress Tinia joined him at the console. 
Baltar's smiling face appeared, with Sheba in the foreground and Nomen
standing behind him.
     "Adama... You look haggard."
     "Baltar, put down your arms and surrender," he said patiently, as
if dealing with a small child misbehaving on the playground.  "There's
no way you can escape."
     Baltar laughed at him.  "You're wonderful.  I have a blade to your
throat...  And you give orders."
     Sire Domra was brought before the screen.  "They're attaching
solonite charges to the outer hull.  They'll kill us all if you don't
do what he says.  I-"
     Visibly shaken, the Sire was cut off by the Nomen taking him to
the back of the shuttle Siress Tinia looked at Adama.  Her calm
demeanor was beginning to break.
     "Now, here are your orders, Commander.  Release the two Cylon
pilots who flew me here, my Fighter, and the Alliance Destroyer.  When
my comrades and I are safely aboard our ships, the shuttle will launch,
then the destroyer, and finally my fighter.  If the shuttle makes any
attempt to return before we are in orbit at Lunar Seven, or if we pick
up a single pursuing viper on our scanners, I press this little
button..."  He held up a thermal detonator. "Blow the shuttle and
everyone on board into a million pieces."
     "And when you reach Lunar Seven?"
     "The shuttle will be free to return."
     "Do you think for one centon I believe you?"
     "You don't have a choice, Adama.  If my demands are not followed
to the letter within one centar, I'll kill these hostages one by one in
front of you.  Beginning with Lieutenant Boomer."
     He brought Boomer in front of the monitor for effect.
     "He'll do it anyway Commander.  Do it now while we still-" Boomer
was cut-off mid-sentence.
     "One centar Adama."  Baltar paused, letting his words sink in. 
"And I want my son returned to me also."
     "Your son?"
     "Loraio.  He is aboard the Galactica somewhere, I've seen him.  I
want him brought to me, now!"

     "The Destroyer is being moved into the bay," Tigh informed the
Commander a short time later.
     "The Cylon Fighter?"
     "Already in the Bay."
     "There's no way of reaching those charges once the shuttle's
launched."  It was more a statement than a question.
     "I'm afraid not Sir."
     "Then we have to assault the Bay and diffuse those charges before
the shuttle is launched."  Siress Tinia broker her silence.
     "Siress Tinia, you don't seem -" Adama stopped as her the meaning
of her words sunk into him. "What did you say?"
     "That we must assault the Bay before the shuttle is launched. 
Commander, I'm not stupid.  Baltar has no intentions of releasing those
hostages.  He will either force them to land on Lunar Seven or blow
them apart, once he is free.  The only question is when to attack and
how to maximize our chance for success."
     Tigh was suspicious of her sudden change in attitude, though he
was grateful for it.  He had never liked bureaticians, and never would. 
Adama was much better at dealing with matters political than him.
     "Agreed.  We must hit them while they're transferring from the
shuttle to their ships.  They'll be out in the open.  Our people will
be inside the shuttle.  Is everyone in position?"      "The assault
teams are ready to hit the Bay on three sides simultaneously."  Tigh
brought up a picture from one of the corridors near the Landing Bay
which showed Warriors gathering near one of the entrances.
     "And the demolition experts?"
     "They feel they can disarm the charges in thirty microns, once
they reach them."
     "And what are the odds of them accomplishing that before Baltar
can set them off?" Siress Tinia queried.
     "That depends on how stunned he is by the attack.  He will have to
take cover or be caught in the explosion himself," Tigh explained.
     "The odds, Colonel," Adama prodded.  Tinia was actually on their
side, and Adama preferred to keep it that way.
     Tigh had the computer do a series of calculations.  "Computer
estimates seventy to thirty, in Baltar's favor."
     Adama glanced at Tinia.  Neither of them liked those odds, but
felt there was no other choice at this point.
     "What of this son he spoke of?"  Tinia asked.
     Adama shook his head.  "There is no Loraio registered anywhere in
the Fleet, based on the census data, never mind on the Galactica."
     "Baltar was an important figure in Colonial politics prior to the
Destruction of our world.  Surely you - or someone else we can contact
- would know who his son is."
     "I'm sorry Tinia.  I do not know Baltar's son.  I do know of a
daughter that he had, but I can't even recall myself ever hearing that
he had a son prior to a few microns ago.  As for anyone else who might
know who this son is or where we could locate him, chances are the
majority of them are on that shuttle."
     "He said he saw him."
     Adama frowned.  "Yes, that does bother me somewhat.  The only
times he has been on the Galactica was when we arrested him and briefly
during Lieutenant Starbuck's trial.  Perhaps he saw someone who looked
like his son and thinks it's him."
     "With Baltar, anything is possible," Tigh agreed.
     "In any case, I will not broadcast this incident to the entire
Fleet, asking for someone  who may or may not exist to turn himself in
to us.  This matter will be investigated once we resolve the current
crisis."

     Trev was startled awake by laser fire in the Landing Bay behind
him.  Instinctively, he dove for cover behind another row of chairs.
     A shuttle had landed in the Bay.  Armed men, whom Trev had never
seen before, were herding people aboard.  There were some Council
Security Officers in the group, but as a whole there wasn't anyone that
he recognized.
     He saw him.  Baltar.  His father, running across the Bay towards
the lift Trev had used a short time ago to get here.  Three Borellian
Nomen followed him.  Leave it to Baltar to get that scourge to follow
him...
     No one had looked to the Waiting Area, though there were still
some of the unknown forces standing guard outside of the shuttle.  The
clear window overlooking he Landing Bay gave the guards an easy view of
the room.  Was the glass one-way?  Trev doubted it.  If Trev made any
sudden movements, he was sure he would be seen.  Backing up slowly,
Trev shut off the IFB broadcast.  Slowly he made his way to the room
controllers.  If he turned off the lights, it might draw the guards'
attention to him.  He kept his eyes trained on the guards.  The
sheilded visors on their helmets his their eyes from him.  For all he
knew, they could be looking right at him.  He would have to wait for
their heads to be turned in another direction.
     A centon later, his opportunity arrived. Apparently, someone was
entering the Landing Bay on the lift.  While the guards' attention was
drawn that way, Trev turned off the lights.
     Hidden in the darkness, he watched his father return with the
Nomen.  They were talking, but the words didn't penetrate the walls of
the room.  The group disappeared back into the shuttle.
     Trev breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't been discovered, but
knew he was not safe yet.  Neither were the people his father was
holding prisoner aboard the shuttle.
     Sitting in the darkness, he contemplated his next move.  Guards
were still in the Landing Bay, preventing him from accessing the lift. 
He could stay here, and let the situation play itself out. Either his
father would be stopped, or the shuttle would launch.  In each
scenario, he needn't get involved.
     He wondered if his conscience would let him take that option.

     Baltar and Commandant Leiter exited the shuttle as his men
returned from placing the solonite charges on the shuttle.
     "The charges are in place," Leiter confirmed.
     "And so is your Destroyer."  Baltar pointed, indicating where the
Eastern Alliance ship was situated across the bay from them.
     "This Commander Adama amazes me.  To think he'd let us go to save
a few lives."
     "He won't."  Behind the two men, Maga was finally speaking up.
     "What do you mean 'He won't'?  He has no choice," Baltar retorted
skeptically.  Though the Nomen had proven their value in helping escape
from the Prison Barge, he doubted they knew anything of military
strategy or the value of holding hostages.  They would sooner slaughter
their way through an army and die than take hostages and leave intact.
     "If you believe that, you're a bigger fool than I thought," Maga
replied, no inflection at all in his voice.  Baltar's cockiness
momentarily left him and his face darkened slightly.  "He will attack
us as we move to our ships; when the shuttle is unguarded."
     "Precisely what I would do," Leiter mused, giving credence to the
Nomen's theory.
     "He won't risk slaughtering the hostages," Baltar tried to
reassure them, refusing to believe that there was a point of this
escape that he might have overlooked.
     "Baltar, don't you think he knows you have no intention of letting
them go?"  Maga again made his point in an even tone, further unnerving
Baltar.
     "Well, of course I'll let them go.  Once we're safe."  He could
not believe that he had been that transparent.
     "Whether you intend to or not isn't the problem.  Our escape
depends on whether Adama believes you will," Leiter was beginning to
believe the Nomen were better strategists than this man he had chosen
to bring to the Eastern Alliance as a possible ally.
     "What do we do if he doesn't?" Baltar was now growing concerned -
for his own life.
     "Prepare.  To Die." The Nomen walked away from the two men.
     Leiter also turned away from Baltar.
     "He has to believe me," Baltar swore under his breath.  "He has
to."

     Trev was watching the whole scene from his so-far safe haven in
the Waiting Area.  His gut was gnawing at him more and more, telling
him he had to do something.  It was his father out there!
     "What can I do?  There's no way I can stop him," he muttered to
himself.
     He thought of all of the time he had spent wondering if he had
missed the signs of what his father had been up to all of these years;
when he was plotting the betrayal of the humans to the Cylons.  He had
learned more about his father in the last sectars than he had learned
about him in all of the yahrens of his life.
     Could he stop this all by himself?  He doubted it, if he wanted to
survive at the same time.  His father would try to change his mind to
his way of thinking, he was sure of that.  Would he accomplish it?
     The memories of the early morning of the Destruction flooded his
mind, making him feel the pain of his shattered life and his friends'
shattered lives all over again.  Of Broder and the others at the bottom
of the hill they had been celebrating on... Of Mazer not wanting to
keep on living... Of Zoyal and his mother losing their lives in the
house while he cradled Lira outside...
     Lira.
     Most of all he did not want to leave Lira.  He did not want to go
anywhere with Baltar.  He did not want to end up on the Prison Barge. 
He did not want to die.

               Part 6 - The Beginning of the End

     Apollo entered the Bridge and walked up to his father.  "We'll
never get those centurions functioning before the deadline."
     Adama was alarmed.  They needed the centurions as part of their
plan. "Well unless Baltar gets his Cylons he won't move to his ship."
     "We need more time."  Apollo was emphatic.
     "I'll try to help you.  Omega, get Baltar on the shuttle."
     "Yes sir."
     "Apollo, get back to the lab.  Tell Wilker to speed things up as
much as possible."
     Apollo hesitated before leaving the Bridge.  His gaze was drawn to
Siress Tinia.  Everything he was thinking was reflected in his face;
the accusation that this was the Council's fault was evident to her. 
Her eyes followed him as he finally left the Bridge.
     Adama knew they needed to work together right now to protect the
people on that shuttle.  The last thing he wanted was to have to deal
with placing any blame at this point.
     "I'm afraid he doesn't hide his emotions very well," Adama said as
he walked towards Tinia.
     "Nor should he," she said almost apologetically.  "After the
mistakes we've made on the Council, it wouldn't surprise me if the
warriors helped Baltar blow up the shuttle."

     Baltar paced in the shuttle, his nervousness beginning to get the
better of him.  The expression on the Councillor's faces was
frightened. Even Leiter was beginning to regard him with skepticism. 
What if the plan did not work?  Everything hinged on Adama believing
that he would release the hostages once they landed on Lunar Seven.
     Anxiously, he looked at the faces of the hostages surrounding him. 
"I won't hurt you."  His tone was urgent.  The Councillors were
regarding him with resigned fear.  "You have my word.  The moment I am
free on Lunar Seven you'll all be free to return."  He leaned over to
the Councillor directly in front of him and grabbed his arm.  With each
passing micron, he was growing more and more agitated.  "You believe
me, don't you?"
     "Yes, yes, I believe you," the Councillor replied emphatically.
     "Well I don't," Boomer shouted from the cockpit.
     "Nor I," Sheba agreed.
     Baltar almost ran to the cockpit.  "You have to believe me!"  He
roughly pushed Sheba aside.  "It's the truth.  I wouldn't lie to you."
     Boomer chuckled, further unnerving Baltar.  "We're the hostages...
and you're afraid?"
     "Baltar," Maga called out to him.  Baltar turned ad the Nomen
nodded towards the front of the shuttle.  "The scanner."
     All heads turned to see what had caught Maga's eyes.  Adama had
appeared on the scanner.
     "We need more time."  He was not mincing any words.
     "For what?  To attack me?"
     "No.  We had deactivated your centurions.  We are having problems
reactivating them."
     Baltar laughed knowingly. "You're plotting to attack me."
     "No.  We just need more time to meet your demands."
     "No.  Not a micron."
     "Baltar, take me as a hostage in exchange for one more centar."
     "Adama," Tigh leaned over and whispered to him.  "You can't!"
     On the shuttle, there was a flurry of activity.  Everyone aboard
was surprised by the latest turn of events.  Maga pulled Baltar back
from the scanner's view.
     "Do it," he said stoically.
     "If we have Adama they might have second thoughts about attacking
us," Leiter agreed.
     "Yes, yes, they might."  Baltar's confidence was returning.  He
rushed back over to the scanner.  "Very well, Adama.  One more centar. 
In exchange for you."
     "Thank you."
     "You're welcome."  Baltar watched the scanner fade.  "Not so funny
now, is it?" he asked the two warriors in the cockpit.

     Adama walked through the corridor of the Galactica, Tigh and Tinia
trailing after him.
     "Adama!"
     "The very micron the Cylons are in the Landing Bay, Baltar and the
others will move to their ships.  Then I'll be able to contact you on
the beta channel."
     "This is suicide!" Tigh protested.
     "You must attack the micron the shuttle is cleared for launching. 
I'll alert the others so we can evacuate our shuttle as soon as
possible."
     "What if he doesn't put you in the shuttle?" Tigh asked.
     "That's why I'm going," Tinia said firmly.
     "Absolutely not."
     "Adama, the Colonel is right.  Baltar may not put you aboard until
the last micron.  He may take you with him in one of the other ships...
as an offering to the Alliance.  In any case, I am just another member
of the Council and he'll toss me in with the others.  I can fill them
in on your plan.  It's quite logical."
     "It's suicide."
     "That's what I've been saying."  Tigh knew he was being ignored.
     "Colonel!"
     "There's no time to argue."  With that, Tinia disappeared through
the hatch and boarded the lift to the Landing Bay.
     Exasperated, Adama did not protest further.  He shook Tigh's hand.
"I'll see you soon."
     Tigh watched the doors to the lift close behind them and wondered,
not for the first time he had known Adama, if he would ever see his
friend alive again.
     Trev sat in the darkness of the Waiting Area. 'Appropriately
named,' he thought as he waited for a sign... or for something -
anything - to happen. It had been almost a centar he had been in here.
     He saw his father exit the shuttle and stand in the Landing Bay.
'Something must be happening.'  Baltar's eyes were staring off towards
the lift.  Trev turned his own gaze in that direction and was shocked
to see Commander Adama enter the Landing Bay along with a woman he did
not recognize.
     All attention was drawn to them.  This was his chance.
     'Chance for what?'  He asked himself.  Something inside him was
compelling him to take action; some action; any action.  He opened the
door and slipped out.
     He peeked out at the Landing Bay.  Baltar and the Commander were
talking.  Everyone's attention was focused on them.  The Cylon Raider
was nearest to his location.  Would Baltar be leaving in the Raider? 
No, it would take three people to fly it.  He slipped up the hatch and
inside.
     A sigh of relief escaped his mouth.  No one had seen him.
     'What the hell are you doing?' The voice inside him shook off the
feelings of relief.  He had no plan... He wasn't trained for any of
this in any way.  No, he was simply relying on some instinct that was
telling him that this was what he needed to do.
     The Raider was empty.  Trev slid on the floor over to the
communications panel, being careful not to be seen in the window which
overlooked the Landing Bay.  The markings on the communications panel
were unfamiliar to him.  He turned pressed a few buttons and finally
the unit turned on.
     Static.
     "Frack!" he swore.  He had no clue how to operate a communications
panel.  For a few centons he continued to press buttons, but nothing
happened.
     Exasperated, he sat back on the floor of the Raider.  Somehow, he
had to get word to someone that he was here... he had to.
     "This is the Battlestar Galactica.  Who is on Gamma channel?"
     Trev rushed back to the panel.
     "My name is Trev.  I'm a Maintenance Tech.  I was waiting in the
Landing Bay of the Galactica when these people..."
     There was silence for a few microns, then "This is Colonel Tigh. 
Where are you?"
     "I'm in the Cylon Raider in the Landing Bay."
     "Can you see what's going on?"
     "Yes sir."
     "Good.  Keep this channel open and tell us what's going on.  But
please, make sure no one sees you."
     "Yes sir."
     "Baltar will be moving to the Raider as soon as the Cylons arrive
in the Landing Bay.  We will warn you before this happens."
     'Oh frack!'
     "Yes sir."
     "Did you see Commander Adama enter the bay?"
     "Yes sir."
     "Did you see where they took him?  Did they take him to the
shuttle?"
     "Yes."
     "Good... good.  Trev, you'll be on with Rigel.  Keep talking to
her and telling her what you see."
     "Yes sir."
     With a sigh of relief, he sat down against the panel.  At least
they knew he was here.  At least if they-
     "Come out here, now!  Hands where I can see them!"  Trev did not
recognize the voice that was bellowing to him, but he obeyed.  It was
one of those strange soldiers he had never seen before.  "Move!" He had
his gun pointed at Trev.
     He knew his anonymity was about to be gone.

     Commander Adama and Siress Tinia had been whisked aboard the
shuttle with the Councillors once they had entered the landing bay. 
They now sat in the passenger area of the shuttle as Eastern Alliance
Enforcers hovered over them.  A centar would pass until anything
happened.
     There was a commotion outside the shuttle.  Baltar's head turned.
     "Put your gun down.  He's on our side, fool!"
     Leiter looked at Baltar questioningly.  "Our side?"
     "This is my son, Loraio.  I see you managed to produce him, Adama.
Good to have you aboard, son."
     The Commander did not recognize the young man now standing next to
Baltar.  He was in civilian clothes, so his designation - if he had one
- was not known.
     Loraio wanted to defiantly scream at his father that Commander
Adama had not produced him, but held back as he found himself reverting
to the son Baltar had ignored for so long.
     "We found him aboard the Raider, sir," one of Leiter's men
informed him.
     "What were you doing there?"
     Loraio stood silent.
     "Loraio.  These people are our friends; our potential allies..."
     "Your friends... Your potential allies."
     Baltar smiled.  "I see you have been corrupted by the lies which
have been spread about me.  That will soon change.  When we get to
Lunar Seven, we shall be welcomed with open arms.  Together we can -"
     "What?  Betray more people to the Cylons?"  There were tears in
the young man's eyes, as he fought to control his emotions without
success.  "I don't want to go anywhere with you."
     "No, you never did.  Some things don't change, do they?"
     "As much as I'm loving this family reunion," Commandant Leiter
began sarcastically.  "I think I shall get some air."
     He left the shuttle, leaving behind only two of his men.  Two of
the Nomen were also still aboard.  Baltar paced, angry that his son was
not happy that his father was about to take him away from the madness
that was Adama's religious quest.
     "How did you survive....?"
     "I didn't listen to you, of course.  If I had, I would be dead now
too."
     "Then your mother...?  Aurelia...?"
     Loraio smiled.  "I knew it was only a matter of time before you
got around to what you really wanted.  No, your tin-head friends left a
burned-out crater where our house was.  Nothing was left of it. 
Nothing. They were all home, obeying you as usual when I snuck out. 
Not listening to you saved my life."
     Baltar smirked.  "You better change your attitude.  After all, I
am the only kin you have left."
     "Oh, and that's something I'm real proud of."
     "Don't get insolent with me, boy!" Baltar's face had grown red
with anger.  For a moment, it appeared that he was going to slap his
son.  Loraio dropped his head, not being able to stare down the anger
in his father's eyes.  Once again he was being reduced to nothing more
than a child terribly frightened of his father.  Baltar paced in front
of him.  "What do you think is going to happen now?  Hmm?  Do you think
you're going to be allowed to live freely among these people any
longer?  They'll shackle you and imprison you, just as they did me."
     "You should've died," Loraio said softly, with little conviction.
"They should've executed you while they had the chance."
     Baltar smirked again.  He was wearing the boy down, he was sure of
it. "Maybe.  You're not the first young man to wish his father dead,
you know." He leaned into his son, who still had not lifted his head. 
"I am your last chance, your only chance at a life of any substance. 
Do you know what they'll do to you here, Loraio?  They'll imprison you. 
They'll mock you; jeer at you.  You will be the scapedaggit for all of
my perceived misdeeds. The son of Baltar..."
     The silence in the shuttle was deafening.  No one came to Loraio's
defense.  Adama was at a loss for what to do.  It was obvious Baltar
had mistreated his son.  It was something the young man was used to. 
Inside it infuriated Adama, but the situation did not allow him to do
anything to stop it.  Even Boomer and Sheba were looking towards the
young man with a great deal of compassion.  Lords knew, Sheba's life
had not been easy, being the daughter of the legendary Commander Cain,
but her father had never berated her in this way.
     "Who was that girl I saw you with?  The child?"
     "No one you know."
     "Been keeping secrets from me Loraio?"
     "She's not mine, if that's what you're asking.  She's no relation
to you, so leave her alone."  Loraio still had not raised his head, but
stared at where his hands were nervously pressing at the fabric of his
pants above his knee.
     "You will come with me, Loraio.  You have no other choice." 
Baltar's tone was even, but firm, implying that coming with him was the
lesser of two evils and a choice he would freely make if he thought
about it.
     Loraio gritted his teeth and gathered up his courage.  "You
slaughtered hundreds of millions of people, as sure as if you shot a
laser at each and every one.  You killed my mother, my sister, all of
my friends... I'll never go with you.  I'd rather have died along with
them.  I'd rather die now."
     "Lies, my son.  I was betrayed by the Cylons as much as anyone."
     Boomer chuckled disbelievingly, and it could be heard throughout
the shuttle.  It annoyed Baltar to no end, but he could not show it;
not now when he thought he was so close to getting his son's loyalty. 
He would take care of the insolent Warrior once they arrived on Lunar
Seven.
     "None of this was supposed to happen.  I was as shocked as anyone.
When I realized it was all going wrong... I panicked, Loraio.  I ran. 
It was wrong.  I tried to make up for it by confronting the Cylon
Imperious Leader, but he ordered my execution instead!"
     "And yet you're still alive.  As always, you've emerged from every
questionable deal you made unscathed.  You avoided official inquiries
when those you did business with, your partners, your adversaries all
went to prison for their misdeeds, yet you manage to walk through it
all."  Loraio's voice was weak.  "I should've seen it long ago. I
should've known what you were up to."
     "Only because a new Imperious Leader came to power.  An Imperious
Leader who saw that humans and Cylons are capable of living in this
universe together."
     "Then how come you continually attack this fleet?  You are lying,
as always."  Loriao still had not looked up at his father.  "I will
never follow you.  I will kill myself if you force me to go with you,"
he said stoically, resigned to his fate.
     "Suicide is an unpardonable sin, according to the Lords of Kobol."
     "So is the taking of another human's life.  I guess I'll see you
in hell."
     Baltar had had enough.  His hand flew across his son's face. 
Loraio did not react at all, but simply continued to stare at the
floor. Baltar's anger grew.  In the past, he had simply given up on the
boy and dealt with Aurelia instead.  Now he was left with no choice but
to deal with the last of his line.
     Loraio finally looked up, to see his father seething with anger. 
A smile spread on his face.  He had gotten to him.
     "I'll wipe the smile from your face, boy!"  Baltar's hand
connected a second time, nearly knocking his son from the seat.  He was
about to connect a third time, when Maga came up behind him and held
his arm.
     "Enough," the Nomen said.
     "Mind your own business."
     "This is our business.  There will be plenty of time later, for
you to deal with your son."      Baltar looked around at all of the
faces staring at him.  No, this wasn't good form in front of the
Alliance, if he expected to make them allies of the Cylons.
     Maga let go of Baltar's arm.  Baltar smoothed his clothing and
hair, regaining his composure.  "Mark my words, Loraio, you will be
going with me. I, too, need some air."  He turned and left the shuttle.

                Part 7 - Life Is For The Living

     Tigh paced the bridge, checking his chrono often. It had been
nearly a centar already.  "We're running out of time," he said to no
one in particular.
     Omega pointed to the monitor at his station.  "Dr. Wilker coming
on the scanner."
     Tigh walked over as Dr. Wilker appeared.  Starbuck, Apollo, and
the two Centurions were in the background.
     "Colonel, we're ready, I think." Dr. Wilker said.
     "Think?" Tigh asked.
     Apollo walked to the forefront.  "Colonel, you have to call off
the attack."
     "Apollo -"
     "It's the only chance the have of saving them.  Call off the
attack and order the shuttle to launch."
     "Adama has personally ordered the assault."
     "And left you in command.  Look, I don't have time to explain,
sir. Just call off the attack."
     The expression on Apollo's face told Tigh that there was something
he knew that Tigh didn't.  He looked to Omega, to see if there was more
information forthcoming from the bridge officer.  Omega just shook his
head.
     Tigh punched the back of the seat in frustration.  If this didn't
work, he would have to answer for violating a direct order of the
Commander's.

     The silence in the shuttle was deafening after Baltar's
confrontation with his son.  Eastern Alliance Enforcers paced the
passenger compartment, but no one spoke.  Baltar returned, and leaned
against the bulkhead.  Loraio said nothing, and had failed to lift his
head, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone.  He knew what they
thought of him; it was what he had been hoping to avoid in the sectars
since leaving the Colonies.
     Finally, Sire Domra broke the silence.  "Adama, the Council has
taken a vote.  It has decided to rescind our edict, extending emergency
powers, and giving you full command.  I thought you should know."
     Boomer caught the Commander's eye from the cockpit.  Once again
the Commander's judgement had been validated.  Only now it may be too
late.
     Bora strode back into the shuttle.  "The Cylon pilots are here."
     "So it begins." Maga stared at Baltar.  "Are you ready?"
     Baltar showed him the thermal detonator for the solonite charges.
     "Go."  Maga waved at Bora who exited the shuttle, followed by the
Easter Alliance Enforcers.
     "Wait," Baltar said.  "I want him with me."  He pointed to Loraio.
     "No way," Loraio mumbled.  The prior exchange had all but drained
him.
     "There's only room for three in the Raider, Baltar," Adama spoke
up. Loraio's head shot around, surprised to hear the Commander coming
to his aid.      "Put him on the Alliance ship then."
     "No fracking way.  If you're going to kill these people, you're
going to have to kill me too."
     "Think I won't do it, boy?"  Baltar smiled maliciously, his hands
caressing the detonator.
     "Maybe I just don't care anymore."
     Adama's heart went out to the boy when he heard the despair in his
words.
     "Leave two Alliance Enforcers on the shuttle," Maga offered.
     "Yes.  I'll take you off when we reach Lunar Seven... before I
release the hostages.  My son has forced us to change plans, Adama."
Baltar stood over his son, who had his head down once again. "You're
coming with me, be it willingly or forcefully."
     Baltar walked off of the shuttle.
     "Launch this shuttle the moment we leave," Maga said, with the
closest thing the Nomen had to a smile appearing on his face.
     All the Alliance Enforcers, save two, exited the ship.  One was
closing the hatch, while the other had his back to the cockpit.  The
Commander looked at Boomer and nodded his head slightly.  The Enforcers
had to be neutralized before the attack began.
     Loraio saw the exchange between the two men as he finally lifted
his head.  'I'll be fracked if I'm spending the rest of my life in the
Prison Barge because of my father,' he decided and launched himself at
the Enforcer near the hatch.
     For a micron the Alliance Enforcers hesitated, knowing that the
boy was Baltar's son.  It was all the opening Boomer needed as he
grabbed the Enforcer near the cockpit from behind.  Sheba whipped off
her headset and used the cord around the Enforcer's neck, choking him
while Boomer disarmed the man.  Gasping for air he fell to the floor,
and Boomer knocked him out with the butt of the rifle.
     Loraio's surprise attack had given him the initial advantage, but
he was losing it fast.  He was slight, and not trained in any combat or
self-defense techniques.  The Enforcer managed to raise his rifle
slightly, and fired, catching Loraio in the leg.
     As he howled in pain and rolled on the floor of the shuttle, he
saw the Enforcer drawing the weapon up fully, and pointing it at him. 
'I'm going to die.'
     There was a heavy thud, and the Enforcer slumped to the ground. 
Boomer had run over and used the butt of the confiscated rifle to knock
out the other Enforcer.
     "Here's a piece of advice," Boomer said to Loraio as he picked up
the remaining rifle and handed it back to Sheba.  "Never trust Council
Security to protect you."
     Loraio would've said something, but the pain searing through his
leg was almost unbearable.  Blood spurted out of the wound, and onto
the floor of the shuttle.  He was in desperate need of medical
attention, but that would have to wait until they were safe.  One of
the nearby flight deck maintenance workers who had also been put aboard
the shuttle finally got out of his seat and helped Loraio back into his
own seat and buckled him in.
     The Council Security Officer on board ignored the obvious jibe and
looked out of the portal above his seat.  "Launch!" he urged as Boomer
and Sheba made their way back to the cockpit.  "Launch!  Launch,
Boomer, Launch!"
     Even the Councillors were getting uneasy.  Adama rose up out of
his own seat and made his way to the cockpit.
     "Get me Colonel Tigh on beta channel," he said.
     "Yes sir," Boomer said.  From behind them came more urging to
launch.
     Adama turned "Silence! Our warriors will be attacking the landing
bay in a matter of microns.  Prepare to evacuate as rapidly as
possible.  As soon as we open the hatch."
     Sire Domra turned to Tinia.  "They'll blow us up."
     "It's the only chance we have," she responded.
     "I have Colonel Tigh, sir."
     Adama turned his attention back to the scanner.  "Tigh.  Attack
now!"
     Tigh's face was strained and stern.  "Adama, no time to explain.
Launch at once!  Repeat, launch at once!"
     "It won't work."  Adama was growing distressed.  They were
ignoring his direct orders!
     "Adama, I'm in command!  Launch!"
     It was the first time Adama had ever seen Tigh become this
authoritarian, especially with a superior officer.  Adama indicated to
Boomer to obey Tigh's order, then sat back down to await whatever
scenario was about to be played out.
     The shuttle launched, followed by the Eastern Alliance Destroyer.
Boomer and Sheba watched on their scanner for the Cylon raider to
appear, but there was nothing.
     "This is Galactica bridge to shuttlecraft.  Return to Landing Bay
immediately.  We have secured the detonator."
     Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and several cheers went up. 
Adama looked over at Loraio, who seemed to have passed out.  As the
shuttle banked to alter its course and return to the Galactica, a
trickle of blood could be seen running across the floor.  How much
blood had he already lost?  "Is he still alive?"  He shouted his
question to the maintenance worker who had strapped him back in the
seat.
     "Yes sir," the worker replied.  "Barely."
     "Have a med-tech team waiting for us when we return to the Landing
Bay. One injury."
     "And a security team," Sire Domra intoned.  "I want that man
arrested!"
     "For what?  Saving your astrum?" Adama bellowed angrily.
     "He is a security risk.  How do we know that he wasn't in
collusion with Baltar all along?"
     "I think the fact that he is dying, coupled with the family
reunion we saw, is evidence enough that he had nothing to do with
Baltar's escape," Tinia said firmly.
     "We don't know that for sure.  It could all be an elaborate
performance to throw us off.  I want a security team -"
     "He will be in the Life Bay, Sire Domra.  I will not arrest him. 
He will be in no state to go anywhere, if he lives."
     "For Sagan's sake, Adama, how did he manage to get past your
security and get on the Galactica in the first place?"
     Adama sighed.  A centar hadn't passed since Sire Domra had said
they were restoring full authority to him, and already the questions
had begun again.
     "He's a maintenance worker," the member of the Landing Bay crew
said.
     All heads turned in his direction.
     "Approaching Landing Bay, prepare for landing," Boomer's voice
came over the intra-shuttle comm-line.
     "What's your name?"
     "Stark, sir.  I recognize him, he's one of the Galactica's
maintenance workers.  Goes by the name Trev."
     "See?" Sire Domra said triumphantly.  "I knew he was deceiving us.
There was a purpose to his being in the Landing Bay at this time."
     "Pardon me, Sire Domra, but if Baltar was your father, wouldn't
you try to hide it as much as possible?" Stark asked.
     "You are showing disrespect to a superior!" Sire Domra yelled.  "I
demand he be put on report at once!"
     Stark shook his head.  "I mean no disrespect, but I know him. 
He's no more a threat than any of the other survivors."
     Adama sighed.  He remembered granting the young man a furlough
just prior to reporting to the bridge.  "The only reason he was in the
Landing Bay at all was that I had just granted him a furlough," Adama
said evenly.  "Now as soon as we land, I want him taken to the Life
Bay, and I do not want him arrested or a security team anywhere within
range of him."  His voice had risen near the end, and the tone was one
that implicitly stated there would be no further discussion of the
matter.  "Arrest these two Enforcers, but that is all.  They can return
to the Prison Barge with Baltar, if he is still alive."
     Deep down, he was hoping to hear upon landing that Baltar had
perished in whatever actions had been taken.  It would solve a lot of
problems.  Silence descended upon the shuttle as they felt contact with
the Landing Bay below them.  Adama sighed deeply.  Hatred and anger
were not emotions he liked.  'Lords, forgive me for my thoughts,' he
prayed silently.  All human life was supposed to be sacred, even that
of Baltar.  It was not for one human to decide when another should die. 
More than once, this man in particular had brought out those thoughts
in Adama.
     The problem remained of what to do with Loraio/Trev, should he
live. Baltar was right about one thing, that his acceptance in the
Fleet was uncertain, at best.

     Apollo, Starbuck and Colonel Tigh were waiting to greet them once
the shuttle had returned.  As the hatch was opened, blood trickled down
the platform.  Alarmed, the three men raced inside.
     The floor of the shuttle was fairly coated in a thin sheen of
blood, especially near the hatch.  They were relieved to see Adama
unharmed as he stood up.      A med-tech team entered the shuttle and
headed for the injured Colonial.  Apollo turned his head and was
surprised to see that he recognized the young man.
     "I take great joy in turning Command of the Galactica back over to
you!" Tigh said.  "Welcome back, Commander!"
     "Thank you Tigh."  Adama shook his hand and then was about to ask
what had happened, when the med-techs loaded Loraio onto a med-trans
and whisked him off the shuttle.  They carefully stepped through the
blood on the floor, which had made it slippery and coated the bottoms
of their boots.
     "I don't think I've ever seen so much blood," Starbuck murmured as
they walked off.
     "What have you done to him?" a familiar voice hissed at them.
Baltar stood not too far away from the shuttle, and had apparently seen
his son was whisked out of the Landing Bay.
     "We have done nothing, Baltar," Adama's tone was even, though he
wanted to shout at this man the same way he had seen him shout at his
son. "It was your friends, the Alliance Enforcers.  Loraio is a hero. 
He jumped one of them and allowed us to overpower both of them by his
actions.  In the process, he was shot by one of them in the leg."
     "Will he live?"
     "I don't know, Baltar.  Maybe you should've let your paternal
concern show earlier.  This unfortunate incident wouldn't have
occurred.  Remove him to the Prison Barge, along with the two
Enforcers."  Adama paused a moment.  "And make sure this area is
cleaned up."
     Apollo followed his father as they walked across the Landing Bay.
"What are you talking about Father?  Do I understand you that Trev is
responsible for saving the lives aboard the shuttle?"
     Adama turned to his son.  "You know him?"
     "I've met him several times.  He seems to carry a great burden on
his shoulders for someone so young."
     "His real name is Loraio."  Adama took a deep breath.  "And that
great burden is that he is Baltar's son."
     "Baltar's son?" Apollo could not believe what he was hearing.
     "Yes.  I want to check on him in the Life Bay."
     "I'll come with you."
     They rode the lift and walked to the Life Bay in silence.  All the
while, Apollo's mind was reeling.  He could not ever recall having
heard about Baltar's son.  There had been a daughter, but never word
about a son.  Indeed, when he had taken Baltar aboard a shuttle to lure
Karibdis into giving himself away, Baltar had referred to Karibdis
having feelings for him "akin to that of a son for a father".
     And he knew Trev... well, somewhat.  His assurance that he knew
how to keep a secret when they were in the Celestial Dome took on a
whole new meaning.  "I never knew Baltar had a son," Apollo finally
stated as the entered the lift for the trip to Life Bay.
     "It's a surprise to me as well," Adama said.  "I used to see his
daughter accompanying him, but never a son.  From what I saw take place
on the shuttle, I don't think they got along very well."
     "He never mentioned anything about his family in the little I've
spoken to him," Apollo admitted.  "I took it for granted that he had
lost everyone in the Destruction."
     "Imagine how he felt, knowing his father was responsible for all
of that."
     "I can't imagine it."
     They exited the lift and continued silently down the corridor
until they reached the Life Bay.  Dr. Salik and Cassiopeia were
fervently working on the young man in the same Sterile Room Adama had
been operated on.  They walked over to the clear window that separated
the Sterile Room from the rest of the Life Bay.  The Doctor was running
instruments over the area of his leg where the Enforcer had shot him. 
Loraio was hooked up to several machines that were, in all likelihood,
keeping him alive at the moment.
     Apollo and Adama watched the action for quite some time until Dr.
Salik finally exited the room.  "It doesn't look good, Adama."
     "How bad is he?"
     "Currently we are keeping him alive, but I honestly don't know for
how long.  I've never seen anyone lose that much blood and survive...
yet he's still alive."
     "Isn't there anything you can do?"
     "We've got him on support, and we'll be infusing him with new
blood plus meds to help his own body resupply itself.  Cassie is
finishing up cauterizing the original wound.  There's some nerve damage
in the leg.  If he survives the initial loss of blood - and that's a
big if - I'll administer a nerve regenerator to see if we can save the
leg."
     "Thank you doctor," Adama said, clapping him on the shoulder. 
"Keep me advised of his condition, and if anyone tries to have security
placed anywhere near the Life Bay, I want to hear of it."
     "Security?"
     "He's Baltar's son," Apollo chimed in, looking at the young man in
the Sterile Room.  It reminded him so much of when Serina had died. 
Only then, it had not been a loss of blood, but the fact that she had
taken the energy discharge so close to so many vital organs.
     Dr. Salik was surprised.  "I would love to hear the details of
this Adama, but I want to make sure he's stable."
     "I understand, Doctor.  When you have the time, I'll gladly fill
you in."
     Dr. Salik walked back into the Sterile Room.  For several centons,
Adama and Apollo stood silently watching Loraio as the machines helped
him breath.  Without another word, Adama departed the Life Bay.
     Alone with his thoughts, Apollo wondered how Loraio had managed to
silently carry such a burden for so long.  His mind could not
comprehend what it would be like to be in his place.

     Loraio had the sensation of swimming... swimming for long
distances under the water and not being able to reach the surface.  Was
he in the brownish-green oceans of his native Pisceria?  Or one of the
more tropical, lush planets he had visited in his youth.  No, he was
certain it was the oceans of Pisceria.  The water was murky, as
Pisceria's oceans had been.  He swam and swam and swam.  He didn't seem
to get tired, and it didn't seem to get any harder.  Something was in
his mouth, helping him to breathe.  Every stroke, every breath came to
him quite easily.
     It seemed as if he were swimming for days on end, but that
couldn't be. No one could stay under the water for such a long time. 
Still, he was certain he had been under the water longer than humanly
possible.
     And not once did thoughts of his father enter his mind.

     Cassiopeia watched the readouts from the instruments that were
hooked up to the young man, keeping him alive.  Dr. Salik had been sure
the first day that he would lose his patient, but Loraio was young and
strong.  His body had surprisingly survived the loss of blood.  He had
stabilized after about twenty centars.  Since then, his condition had
neither improved nor gotten worse.
     No one was permitted to see him for long periods, but there had
been quite a few visitors over the last few days.  The IFB was, of
course, looking for a full report.  Cassiopeia and Dr. Salik had both
refused to comment on his condition.  Instead, they had put together a
sensationalized report with no basis in fact.  The people who knew
Loraio had refused to comment.
     His former superior on the Orion, Odan, had been over to see him,
along with several of the workers in its Childcare Center, and some of
his fellow maintenance workers from the Orion.  All were permitted only
to look at him briefly.  A woman who only gave her name as Daria had
come in.  She had told Cassie she had met him right after the
Destruction.  They had talked for some time, and like all of his other
visitors, the people who had met him, who knew him seemed to harbor no
anger or hatred at Baltar's son.
     Langley and Stark had visited from The Galactica's maintenance
crew. Adama had made it a point to visit the young man once a day.  On
his orders, reports of Loraio's condition were sent back to the Prison
Barge.  Whether or not Baltar chose to read them was his own choice. 
Apollo had been by several times as well.
     Today seemed to be a quiet day as far as visitors went.  As she
monitored the equipment, she took the time to catch up on some
paperwork.  Dr. Salik was visiting one of the other ships in the fleet,
taking care of some of the people who needed to be monitored due to
various health conditions.  If she needed to, she could page him back
to the Galactica and he would be here in less than thirty centons.
     Suddenly, when she looked up to check on the patient, she saw his
eyes were open.  Thinking it was the angle she was viewing him at,
Cassie got up and walked towards him.  His eyes met hers as she walked
nearer to the bed.
     "You can't talk," she said gently and soothingly.  "So don't even
try. I'm going to take some blood and see what the gas levels are
before I can take the breathing tube out."
     Loraio felt nothing as his blood was withdrawn.  Cassie took it to
a medical scanner and was pleased to see that the oxygen levels were
within normal range.  It was enough that he should be able to breathe
on his own.
     "I'm going to take this out.  Try to relax.  I know it's
difficult."
     Loraio gagged and then coughed as the tube was removed.  "Water?"
he croaked.  His entire body felt weak, as if just trying to sit up
would completely exhaust him.
     Cassie gave him a small sip of water.  "I'm going to call Dr.
Salik back to the Galactica.  I'll be right back," she reassured him.
     Loraio laid there for a while.  He was alive, but he was not
certain yet if that was a good or bad thing.  There were no shackles on
him, and no guards standing nearby.  It could be just that he was in
such a weakened state that no one believed he could go anywhere.
     And where could he go?  Thoughts of finding sanctuary on Terra had
been dashed, thanks once again to his father.
     "How do you feel, Loraio?" Cassiopeia asked as she walked back
over to him.
     "Like a drowned daggit."
     Cassie smiled warmly.  "You've been unconscious for three days."
     "How come I can't feel anything in my leg?"
     Cassie's face grew serious.  "The leg you were shot in?"
     Loraio nodded.
     "There's some nerve damage. We had to wait for you to become
conscious again before we administered a nerve regenerator."
     "But the longer you wait the less likely it will work."
     Cassie was surprised that he knew so much about laser injuries,
and it showed on her face.
     Loraio shrugged slightly.  "In my previous life, as Baltar's
fracked-up son, I spent time at our local sanatorium.  Actually thought
about becoming a doctor, but he wouldn't have that, you know." There
was a biting edge to his voice, still raspy from having the tube in his
throat.
     "Loraio..."
     He turned his head.  "I'm going to lose my leg, aren't I?"
     "We have to see.  Dr. Salik is on his way back, and he's treated
quite a few laser injuries."
     Bitterness had crept into his expression, and he turned his head
from Cassie, as if she wouldn't see the tears that were forming in his
eyes.

                        Part 8 - Choices

     Dr. Salik was tired.  He was tired physically and emotionally from
having failed too many of his patients.  He walked out of the Sterile
Room and leaned against the door, looking around the ill-equipped Life
Bay.  At one time, he had access to the most advanced medical
instruments and treatments available in the Colonies.  Now he was
relegated to reusing instruments that had never been intended to be
used more than once and improvising other instruments when the need
arose; he was learning to use herbs and other medicinal plants instead
of merely sending patients to the dispensary for medicine; anaesthesia
and pain-killers were in short supply and used only when absolutely
necessary.  Loraio was only the most recent in a long line of patients
he had been not been able to do anything for now.  If he had the
resources available to him that he had before the Destruction...
     Cassiopeia had just spent four centars helping him remove the
useless limb.
     The nerve regenerator hadn't worked.  He had given the leg time;
more time than he normally would, but eventually he had to face the
fact that there was no possibility of its usefulness returning.  The
expression on Loraio's face when he told him was one of resignation and
bitterness.  The young man had said nothing else.
     "How did it go, Doctor?"
     Adama had stopped down in the Life Bay to check on Loraio.  Apollo
had informed him before he left on his patrol that the leg would be
coming off today.
     "Right below the knee.  He'll be able to walk.  We'll fit him with
a mechanical limb once he's well enough again, but it will take time
for him to get used to it."
     "That's not what you're concerned about, is it?"
     Salik shook his head.  "No, not at all.  Physically, he'll be
fine.  Mentally... We kept him away from scanners as much as possible,
but he's seen the IFB reports raking him over the firefields.  Langley
came down to see him, and Loraio hammered him until he admitted that he
was suspended indefinitely from work detail and denied security
clearance.  He's heard the Councillors demanding he be tried for
warcrimes.  Warcrimes!"
     "I know Doctor.  Tinia and I are both fighting them, but Sire
Domra is determined to make him a scapedaggit not only for Baltar, but
also for their ineptitude that led to the whole incident."
     "Divert the focus from questioning their judgement and place the
blame squarely on an innocent," Salik began removing the operating
gowns.  "It's the last thing he needs right now."
     "I know Doctor.  I'll try to force the Council to resolve this -
favorably - as soon as possible.  In the meantime, is there anything
else we can do?"
     "Pray."

     Apollo had returned from his patrol, tired and ready for a cycle
of sleep.  There was a message that his father wanted to see him at
once, so after decontamination, he headed to the Commander's quarters.
     "You wanted to see me?"
     "Come in, Apollo," Adama greeted him.  "Everything went well?"
     "Routine," he nodded.  "Were still tracking the signal from the
Eastern Alliance Destroyer.  It should lead us right to Lunar Seven
with no problems."
     "Good.  Good."  Adama was pleased.
     "That's not what you wanted to talk to me about, is it?"
     "No."  Adama hesitated, trying to think of the best way to phrase
the concerns he had.  Though it had been in his thoughts for some time,
he was still unsure how to approach the subject with Apollo without
sounding accusing or biased.  "I'm wondering, lately, just how much of
our personalities are under our own control."
     Apollo frowned.  "I don't understand..."
     "My father commanded this battlestar, I command this battlestar. 
I'm hoping one day you will command this battlestar -"
     "Father -"
     "Is it our destiny?"  Adama continued, ignoring Apollo's
interruption.  "Do we have control or is it inevitable what we will
become?"
     Apollo waited a micron, seeing if his father was asking a
rhetorical question.  "I take it you're not talking about us,
specifically."
     Adama smiled.  "No.  I am thinking of Loraio."
     "If you mean that simply because his father is Baltar that he'll
do something as heinous as what that... that... traitor did, there's no
way."
     "Perhaps, yes.  If he had simply been allowed to live his life the
way he had been, I don't think he presented a threat.  Things have
changed, Apollo."
     "No, I can't believe that."
     "Chances are, Apollo, in one way or another he will be persecuted
his entire life.  Even when - if - we clear him of the Council's
charges, do you honestly believe he will be accepted into the Fleet? 
Do you think all of the people will freely accept Baltar's son as a
part of our citizenry?"
     Apollo pursed his lips, understanding what his father meant.
     "And how will that make him feel?"  Adama continued.  "Will he be
able to stand up to all of that acrimony?  I knew Baltar for a very
long time before the Destruction, and as much as I found him
insufferable and pompous, I never would have thought him capable of
such actions."
     Apollo rose from the seat and looked out of the viewport in
Adama's quarters.  Apollo could sympathize with the young man.  He had
felt great pressure, being the son of a man so revered through the
Colonies, and now the Fleet. It was hard to fathom what it was like to
be the son of someone so universally hated.
     "How did the operation go?" Apollo asked without turning around to
look at his father.
     "About as well as can be expected.  Dr. Salik took the leg off
below his knee."
     "He's a good man, father.  I honestly believe that."
     "As do I.  But we cannot protect him from the feelings that are
out there in the Fleet for the remainder of his life."
     Apollo turned from the viewport.  "So what are you suggesting? 
Are you suggesting that we just dump him off somewhere because we're
afraid of what he might do one day?"
     "No, no.  Not at all.  It's just a concern," Adama replied
soothingly.  "I honestly do not know what to do with him Apollo.  On
one hand, I do recognize that he is not the same as Baltar and don't
think he should be treated as such.  On the other..."
     "On the other, you're wondering - between losing his leg and the
ferocity of the protests about him living amongst our people - if that
will change him somehow."
     "I do not have the answers Apollo.  I am merely wondering if
certain personality traits or can be inherited."
     "I don't know, Father," Apollo admitted.  "But I think Trev...
Loraio is a good person."  He hesitated, unsure of whether or not he
wanted to hear the answer to his next question.  "Have you had any
reaction from Baltar?"
     "I send the reports over there, Apollo.  Whether or not he chooses
to read them, or what his reactions might be are none of my concern.  I
am only doing that because I know that if it were me, my first and only
concern would be for my son.  I don't believe Baltar shares that
concern, but I do think he has the right to know."
     "And you don't think..." Apollo trailed off.  "You don't think
there's any hope that Baltar could change with his son?"
     "Not after what I witnessed in the shuttle.  If he hasn't changed
up until now, I doubt that he ever will."
     "I guess I'm just looking for something to motivate him; something
to give him the desire to tough all of this out in the Fleet."  Apollo
was pacing the room.  Suddenly, an idea dawned on him.

     Loraio awoke slowly and felt his thoughts slowly clear.  Nothing
felt any different, though Dr. Salik had warned him about the "phantom"
feelings that his leg was still there.  Liquid was still being pumped
into his arms.  Slowly, he boosted himself up onto his elbows and saw
that his right leg was indeed gone below his knee.  With a groan, he
flung himself back down on the bed.
     Why couldn't he be dead right now?  He had been resigned to it
when the Alliance Enforcer had pointed the weapon at him; he would have
welcomed it.  Instead he was still alive, crippled and persecuted. 
Soon he would probably be sent to live the rest of his life with his
father on the Prison Barge.
     The thought made his blood run cold.  'No, that will not happen,'
he decided.  He began pulling out the tubes from his arm.
     "Loraio!" Cassie shouted as she came running across the room. 
"What are you doing?  Stop it!"
     "Getting out of here!  Getting out of this fracking place.  Just
let me die!  Why didn't you just let me die!"
     Cassie put a hand on him trying to stop him from pulling out the
last of the tubes, but he flung her hand away, nearly causing her to
lose her balance.
     "Loraio, stop," she said simply.  She knew what was about to
happen - it had happened before, with other patients - and it was a
scene she never grew used to.
     "Frack off!" he shouted at her, and tried to stand up.  For a
micron, he wobbled on his good leg, then crashed to the floor.
     For a few microns, he started to crawl, then finally gave up and
loud, wrenching sobs overtook him.
     "It's all right." Cassie knelt down and took his head in her arms,
holding him and comforting him.  "It's all right."
     "What did I do wrong?  It's not my fault!  I never wanted to be
his son!  I hate him!  I hate him!"  Cassie held him and they didn't
move.  "Why did this happen to me?  What did I do wrong?"  Dr. Salik
walked over, panicked at seeing some traces of blood near where the leg
had been taken off, but Cassie motioned him away.  Loraio needed this
right now.
     Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his anguish began to
slow down.
     "Think you can help me get you back into the bed, Loraio?" Cassie
asked.
     He looked up at her, wiping the tears from his eyes.  He nodded
his head and held onto her as she slipped herself under his arm on his
right side.  Together they stood up.  She helped him back into the bed.
     "I'm sorry," he whispered.  "I'm so sorry."
     "It's all right," Cassie said soothingly.  "You needed to get that
off your chest.  After what you've been through, I think you have the
right to a little explosion.  Can you let us check you over and put
this stuff back in you?"
     Loraio nodded.  Everything that had been building up for sectars
had been loosed just now, and in a way he did feel a little better.
     "Well, you didn't do any more damage, thank the Lords.  I put a
lot of work into closing that off nice and neat, you know," Dr. Salik
scolded as he examined Loraio.
     "I'm sure you did," Loraio said with a trace of a smile.  "I'm
sorry."
     "That's all right.  You aren't the first patient we've had in here
that's insisted on trying to walk out before he's ready, and you
certainly won't be the last."
     "How's our patient this morning, Doctor?"
     All heads turned to see Apollo walking into the Life Bay.  Inside,
Loraio was thankful that the Captain hadn't been a witness to the last
scene here.
     "Doing as well as can be expected."  Dr. Salik smiled at Loraio. 
His secret was safe.  "I have real patients to attend to, if you'll
excuse me."
     "What brings you to this bastion of happiness?" Loraio's tone was
joking, but there was an edge of bitterness still present.  Apollo
could understand what had caused Adama to have doubts about the young
man.
     "Wanted to see how you were doing."
     "I'll be hopping around in no time... literally.  I can hop all
the way to the inquisition they have planned for me."
     "Trev -" Apollo stopped suddenly.  It was such a reflex, to use
the name he had first known the young man by.  "Loraio, you've got to
understand that the people who are screaming for your head right now
are the people who have the most to lose.  The Council made some very
bad decisions, which led to the whole incident.  They're trying to
cover it up, that's all."
     "And thanks to Baltar... thanks to my father," he corrected
himself, "they have a perfect scapegoat."
     "There are lots of us who know - and appreciate - what you did. 
If it wasn't for you leaving open the communications channel in the
Raider, we might have tried to board at the wrong time.  Baltar could
have blown up the shuttle."
     "Sorry to disappoint you, Apollo, but right now that looks like a
pretty good option... For me, anyway."
     "So that's it then?  You just give up and die?" Apollo's voice was
rising, and getting attention from other people in the Life Bay.
     "What choice do I have Apollo?  I can't fight who my father is.  I
tried to hide it, tried to live a somewhat normal life, and it didn't
work."
     "He haunted you..."
     "Yes, he haunted me.  Everywhere I went in this Fleet, he haunted
me."
     "Langley said you had some pretty terrible dreams," Apollo was
trying to get him to open up completely.
     "Yeah," Loriao agreed.  "I had some pretty terrible dreams. 
Unfortunately, everything I was frightened of is coming true.  Once I
was found out, everything changed. It didn't matter that I was a good
worker who did more than his fair share.  It didn't matter that I was a
model citizen of this Fleet.  All that seems to matter to anyone is who
my father is.  And now what do I do?  I've been denied my job -"
     "You'll get it back!"
     "Really?  When?" Loraio waited a beat before continuing, not
really expecting an answer from Apollo anyway.  "And how am I going to
do it anyhow?  Have you ever tried crawling in the walls of this ship? 
I can assure you, you need two good legs to do it.  A mechanical one
just won't cut it."
     "We can find something -"
     "And I don't want anyone's pity!" he fairly screamed.  "Just leave
me alone."  Loraio turned away from the Captain.
     For a few centons, Apollo was silent.
     "My father asked me today just how much of our lives I thought we
had control over.  Did he become a Commander of this battlestar simply
because his father did?  And will I follow that same path simply
because of who my father is?"
     Apollo waited a few microns, but there was no response.
     "Loraio," he took a deep breath, "I can't tell you what to feel. 
I've never walked in your shoes, no one has.  But you have a choice to
make, and you have to make it soon.  You can choose to get on with your
life and stand up to everyone who wants to persecute you for things you
had nothing to do with and forge your own destiny, or you can let all
of this hate and anger and bitterness consume you until you become no
different than the man you profess to hate more than anything else in
the universe."
     The words hung in the air.  Still, there was no reaction from the
young man in the bed.
     "And I think there's someone who is really counting on you to make
the right choice."
     Apollo walked away without another word.  Loraio turned, wanting
to say something as he left.
     Standing right next to the bed was Lira.
     Her head was not even level with where he was sitting, but she was
staring up at him with the beautiful blue eyes he had always seen on
his best friend's face.
     "My Trev."
     He swallowed hard.  "I'm not your Trev anymore."
     Lira seemed to regard him suspiciously.  "My Trev," she said
again, more insistent.
     Through the tangle of tubes running into his arm, he managed to
lean over and pick her up.  She sat on the edge of his bed, regarding
him.
     "Loraio."  He pointed to himself.  "Loraio."
     "Ray-o?" she asked with a light lilt that made him smile.
     "For you, Ray-o it is."
     "Ray-o!  My Ray-o."  She looked down at his leg where all of the
bandages were.  "Broke?"
     For a micron, Loraio was tempted to laugh.  "Yeah, I'm broken.  In
more ways than one, I'm broken."
          
                      Part 9 - Redemption

     As the cycles and sectons wore on, Baltar had read each and every
report of his son's condition when they had arrived in his cell in the
Prison Barge, some of them over and over again.
     Loraio lived.
     Loraio had lost part of his leg.
     'It's your fault.' Baltar's conscience played on him when he was
alone.
     "No, I refuse to believe that.  If they had just let us go... done
what I asked... no one would have gotten hurt," he said aloud, though
no one else was in his cell or within hearing distance.  Sometimes he
thought he was losing his sanity.  His voice was no longer strong or
belligerent, but more along the lines of being defeated.
     'You put the Alliance Enforcers on the shuttle.'
     "I never wanted him involved in this."
     'You demanded Adama bring him to you.'
     The last report Baltar had received stated that his leg had come
off below the knee and he was expected to recover.  That was all. 
After that, he supposed, Loraio had been well enough to tell them to
stop sending the reports to him.
     The boy was the last of his line, and he hated - no, despised his
father.  Baltar paced the cell, alone with his conscience and thoughts. 
All the destruction, and all of the pain that his actions had caused
did not affect him.  The fact that his son - his only heir; the only
thing he would leave behind in this universe - would sooner die with a
group of Colonial bureauticians rather than rule on high with his
father weighed on his mind.
     If Aurelia had survived...
     Was that it?  Did all of this go back to the favoritism he had
shown his daughter over his son?  If he had been a more attentive
father to his son would it all be different?  Or was his culpability
even deeper than that?
     The thoughts floated in and out of his head for cycles, sectons on
end.  Most of the time, he blamed everyone and anyone, including his
late wife and Commander Adama for his son's fate.  At other time, he
was almost prepared to accept that most of his son's problems rested
squarely on his own shoulders.
     "Commander Adama wants to see you, Baltar," one of the guards was
standing outside of his cell.
     A sigh of relief escaped him.  Anything was better than being
alone with his thoughts.

     As the guard escorted him into Adama's quarters, Baltar saw that
Adama had located a Cylon Base Star.  Well, not a real one.  It was a
model that Baltar had seen before.  The intelligence community had
built them with the information their agents had gathered about the
Base Stars.  From Baltar's own knowledge, it had been fairly
inaccurate.  It was actually quite easy to destroy a Base Star... if
you knew where to hit one and if its armaments didn't destroy you
first.  Other than himself and the occasional prisoner - who never
usually survived anyway - no human had ever set foot on a Base Star.
     "Remove his shackles and wait outside," Adama ordered.  There were
no chances being taken by the shuttle pilots or Fleet Security of
another escape incident involving Baltar occurring.
     Baltar rubbed his wrists and watched the guard leave the room,
then turned his attention to the Commander.  When he had first been
summoned, he had momentarily feared that his son had died, either at
his own hand or as a result of the injuries.  As he thought about it
more and more on the shuttle to the Galactica, he realized that Adama
would not have summoned him for that, but would likely just send word
over to him.
     Now he stood in the same room, alone with Adama, and having a
taste of some freedom for the first time in a long time.  He watched
Adama spin the Base Star model. 
     "Toys, Adama?" he asked sarcastically.
     Adama turned and looked at Baltar, his stomach knotting for a
micron.  How had they ever become this desperate?  Slowly he arose and
walked over to where Baltar was standing.
     "Would you like a drink?" he offered as he poured out a drink.
     "What do you want Adama?" Baltar asked evenly.  He was no fool. 
This was leading to something.
     "Information."  Adama turned away from Baltar and walked back over
to the model of the Base Star.
     "They found you!" Baltar's voice had a slight note of glee in it,
and he quickly downed the drink in his glass.
     "We found them."
     Baltar walked over to where Adama was studying the model.  "It's
the same thing."
     "We're going to destroy them."  Adama could not look Baltar in the
face.  This man was beyond his contempt, and yet he needed him, and
what he knew, at this time.
     "Destroy them?  A Bast Star?  Not likely," Baltar scoffed.
     "With your help," Adama's tone continued to be even, as if the
deal was already done.
     "Why would I possibly help you?"
     "To regain your freedom."  Adama stood up and walked over to his
desk.
     Baltar stood there, barely able to comprehend what had just been
said to him.  "You're taunting me."  He turned and walked to the desk
himself.
     "I'm offering you freedom... in exchange for information."
     "And how do you define freedom?" Baltar asked, his skills as a
businessman surfacing.  It was time to bargain, and this was one area
where he knew Adama was lacking in skills.
     Adama sat back in his chair, and finally looked the man in the
eyes.  "We've been passing a number of habitable planets within
shuttling range of the Fleet.  I intend to set you on one.  With
adequate provisions and shelter."
     "Marooned," Baltar said with disgust.
     A slight grin appeared on Adama's face.  "It's better than the
Prison Barge."
     "Communications?" Baltar asked, upping the ante.
     "No," Adama's denial was succinct.
     "Even a marooned man must have some hope of eventual rescue."
     Adama could tell this was one part Baltar would not let go of. 
"Very well.  But only sufficient for short-range communication."
     "And when am I to be set free?"
     "After the Baste Star has been destroyed."
     Baltar smirked.  "What if they destroy you? And me along with
you?"
     "That is the risk you'll have to take."
     "And my son?"
     This was a subject Adama had been afraid would come up.  He had
been delighted in Baltar's complete self-centeredness until this point. 
"And what of him?  I will not force anyone to do anything he does not
want to do."
     "Does that include staying with the Fleet?  I've heard all about
what's going on, Adama.  Gossip has a way of reaching even the Prison
Barge.  Your supposedly noble Council is lying through their teeth
about him to save their own hides.  Just who are the real criminals? 
The lines seem not so clear all the time, do they?"
     "Your... concern for your son should have occurred at a younger
age and perhaps we would not be having this conversation."
     Baltar smiled smugly.  "Very well then.  Ask him what he wants to
do.  If he wants to leave the Fleet, I want him to come with me."
     Adama sat back.  It was very easy to agree to what Baltar was
asking, but he had an idea of just how this whole situation could be
used to help Loraio as well.
     "I will agree to ask your son if he wants to leave the Fleet and
go with you."
     Baltar smiled, triumphantly.
     "In return," Adama continued.  "I will have a statement drawn up
which you will sign, stating that Loraio had no prior knowledge or
involvement in either your betrayal of the Colonies to the Cylons, or
you escape attempt."
     Baltar's eyes narrowed.  "Why do you care so much for my son
Adama?  Trying to steal mine to get back the one you lost?"
     If this conversation had occurred at any other time, Adama would
have had no problems putting his hands around this man's throat and
strangling him.
     "I will say that you asked to sign the statement, so that Loraio
thinks it was your idea."
     "And just why would you do that?"
     "I get no joy out of seeing your son's anguish Baltar.  Perhaps
this is an opportunity to alleviate some of it and give him a chance at
a better life."
     "But if he chooses to leave the Fleet...?"
     "He will be allowed to leave.  Do we have an agreement?"
     Baltar paused for several microns, then stuck out his hand.
     Shaking the hand of this traitor was something beyond contempt for
Adama.  For several microns he stared straight at the man, then finally
he stood up and clasped his arm with his own, sealing the bargain.

     "You wanted to see me, Commander?"
     Adama looked up as the young man entered his quarters.  It was
hard to believe that almost two sectars had gone by since Loraio had
been injured.  Adama's mind had been somewhat preoccupied with the
confrontation on Terra first, and now the Cylons were a potential
problem once again.  The Council's using Loraio to deflect their own
poor decisions had not let up, although Adama and Tinia had managed to
prevent formal charges from being filed.
     Loraio was fairly oblivious to what had been happening within the
Fleet itself.  The Council had been screaming for his head, and he was
doing his best to ignore it.  Most of his time was spent in the Life
Bay.  He was still using crutches, as the leg had not healed well
enough yet for him to be fitted with a prosthesis.
     "Yes, please have a seat."
     "Thanks," Loraio said with a grimace.  "Sometimes I forget, but
right now I can't stay standing for too long."
     "You're making progress."
     "Yes, thank you."  Loraio waited a beat.  "But that's not what you
called me here about, is it?"
     "No," Adama said to the very astute young man.  "Baltar is
currently in the brig of the Galactica. I have struck a deal with him
whereby he is giving us certain information we need about the inner
workings of a Cylon Base Star." Adama waited a few microns, allowing
the information to sink in.  "In exchange for that information, I have
agreed to release him... maroon him on a planet somewhere."
     Loraio was silent.
     "Do you want to go with him?"
     'It would be so easy to go with him; the easy way out.  Hell, I
don't think my father could do much more to me than he's already
managed to do.  And it would probably be a big planet.  How much would
I really have to see him?  Hey Father, you take the eastern hemisphere
and I'll take the western one.  We'll keep the supplies in the middle
and maybe once a yahren we can meet.
     'Yeah, that would be the easy way,'  Loraio thought.  But
Commander Adama had said nothing about Lira.  And he doubted that she
would be allowed to leave as well, not that Loraio would ever want to
subject another human to his father's punishment anyway.
     "No," he finally said, after what seemed like an eternity of
silence to Adama.
     Adama nodded.  "Part of the deal I made with your father was that
I would ask you that question."
     Loraio looked at the Commander, believing there to be more.
     "And the other thing he has asked is that all charges against you
be dropped.  He will sign a statement saying that you had no prior
knowledge of either his actions or the Cylons' in the Twelve Worlds, or
his actions aboard the Prison Barge."
     Loraio was stunned.  It was, perhaps, the first time his father
had done anything for his son without there being a direct benefit for
himself.
     "I... I would like to see him... before you release him."
     "Yes, yes of course," Adama agreed.  It had taken the young man
longer than he had expected to turn down his offer.  Perhaps all was
not as well with him as Apollo had reported.  "I'll send word to the
Security Officers down there that you're to be allowed in.  And given
privacy."
     "Thank you Commander.  Thank you for trusting me."
     Adama was stunned.  "Loraio, you helped save the lives of everyone
on that shuttle.  I know what's been happening to you isn't fair, but I
was hoping you would decide to stay here amongst us.  The charges may
be dropped, as they should be, but that will not change some people's
sentiments."
     "Well the easy thing to do would be just to leave with him.  He's
only one person.  I have a whole Fleet of angry people focusing their
anger at me right now."  Loraio smiled.  "But even back on Pisceria, I
never liked to take the easy way out... except where my father was
concerned."
     "Growing up with him wasn't easy, was it?"
     Loraio shook his head.  "No, it wasn't.  But for whatever reason,
I don't hate him anymore.  I used to...  a lot.  Even when he was being
hailed as this great emissary of peace, I hated him so much I could
taste it."
     "Believe me, there were others who doubted your father's abilities
as much as you."
     "Oh, I never doubted him, Commander.  That's what's been making me
crazy for so long.  With all of the animosity that was flying around
between the two of us, I never for once suspected him of plotting with
the Cylons.  If anyone should have seen it, if anyone should have
suspected it, I should.  And I didn't."
     Adama finally was beginning to understand what had been troubling
the young man for so long.

     Baltar could hear someone coming down the corridor to his cell. 
The Galactica's brig was hopefully the last prison he would ever spend
time in.  The steps did not seem to be that of a normal human being,
and soon he saw why.
     Loraio stood in front of the clear doors to his cell.  The boy was
on crutches.  Baltar looked down the length of his body to where his
right leg ended in a stump just below his knee.  A twinge of guilt
rippled through him as his son spoke for a micron to the guard.  The
two of them laughed at something he said.  The guard keyed open the
doors, and Loraio hobbled in, the doors closing behind him.
     "Loraio," Baltar greeted him, uneasy about what to say.
     "Father," Loraio greeted him back.
     "I didn't think I would see you again. When that shuttle landed
and I saw all of this blood... there was blood everywhere, spilling out
of the hatch onto the deck of the bay.  The Councillors walked off of
the shuttle and they left behind footprints of blood.  So much
blood..."
     Loraio was so tempted to ask if it had sunk into Baltar, just how
much blood was really on his hands, but he knew his father had never
been appreciative of the literature of the twelve words and doubted he
would get the symbolism.
     "Yes, well, I survived.  And I will continue to survive.  Here on
the Galactica."
     "Here?  Why would you want to stay here?"  Baltar was changing
modes fast, from concerned parent to someone with another agenda. 
"I've seen what they are saying about you on the IFB.  How long do you
think it will be until you are in a cell like this?"
     Loraio got a wry smile on his face, not the reaction Baltar had
expected.  "Don't bother trying to convince me to go with you, Father. 
I'm staying here.  There are enough people who believe in me here that
I think I can wait for all of the furor to die down."
     "What will you do?  How shall you live?"
     "You never concerned yourself with my well being before.  Why
should it be any different now?"  He sat down on the bunk in the cell,
tired from supporting himself on the crutches for so long.
     "I've had time to think Loraio.  I've sat here..."  Baltar stopped
talking and shook his head, either unable or unwilling to express what
was currently going through his mind to his son.
     "Commander Adama followed through on what you asked of him.  He
asked me if I would go with you, and I answered him 'no'."
     Baltar nodded.  It was the answer he had expected, even though he
was hoping for Loraio's response to be different.
     "I do have one question for you, though.  Why?"
     "Why what?"
     "Why did you ask to have the charges against me dropped as part of
your deal?  And signing  the statement getting me off the hook for your
warcrimes?"
     "Because it's the truth."
     "The truth has never concerned you before, father.  In fact, I'm
rather surprised you didn't try to force me to go with you as a part of
your bargain."
     Adama had kept his promise, and it was putting Baltar on the spot
with his son.  "I thought that if you did decide to stay here rather
than accompany me, it was something I couldleave you with; something
positive for you to remember of me after all the yahrens that were...
less than pleasant," he lied.  But for a change, he wished it had been
his idea to do this for Loraio.
     "Well, I do appreciate it.  You surprised me, though."
     "A good businessman always knows how to catch someone off guard." 
Baltar smirked.  "When you asked 'why', I was afraid you wanted an
explanation for something else."
     "Oh, I thought a lot about asking you why you would sell out your
own people to the Cylons," Loraio admitted.  "But I don't want to know
your reasoning."
     "You don't?"  Baltar was surprised.  It was by far the
most-often-asked question of him by his fellow prisoners and the
guards.  It was also a question he declined to answer to anyone, though
he might have answered Loraio at this point.
     "No," Loraio was almost laughing.  It was something Baltar had not
seen in his son since he was young.  "I'm afraid that after you explain
it all to me I might actually see your point.  I think it's one subject
I prefer to have no knowledge of."
     "That is... your choice."
     They sat there for several centons in silence, both of them
realizing this would be the last time they would see each other. 
Finally, Loraio stood up and positioned his crutches to  help him walk.
     "Take care of yourself Father," Loraio said sincerely.
     Baltar regarded his son and or the first time he could ever
remember, he had different feelings towards him.  "You too... son."
     Loraio said nothing else as the guard opened the door and he
hobbled out.

       Part 10 - The Gods Have Put A Finger On Your Heart

     Apollo climbed up the ladder into the Celestial Dome.  He was
surprised to find it already open.  Slowly he looked up to see Loraio
sitting at the controls.
     "How the frack did you get up here?" he asked once the hatch was
closed, sealing off most of the noise from the main thrusters.
     Loraio grinned.  "It wasn't easy, believe me."  He looked out at
the stars.  "I saw a shuttle launch about ten centons ago.  He's gone,
isn't he?"
     Apollo nodded.  "Yeah."
     A deep sigh escaped Loraio.  "I'm still not rid of him, though,
you know."
     "I know," Apollo said as he got up on the platform behind him. 
"He'll be the weight you carry with you for the rest of your life."
     Apollo reached underneath Loraio's arms and turned on the controls
to receive the transmissions on the Gamma frequency they had picked up
the transmissions on previously.
     "What are you doing?" Loraio asked.
     "Well, we received an unknown transmission on a gamma frequency
that led us right to the Cylon Base Star."
     "A lure?"
     Apollo nodded.  "That seems to be the general consensus. 
Unfortunately, all of our recordings were destroyed when the
Electronics Lab on the Galactica was hit during the battle."
     "And you're not so sure..."
     "You're very observant," Apollo said with a wide smile.
     "Well, up until now I've never really thought so."
     They both looked at the scanner which showed nothing except snow
and static.
     "Patience," Apollo said.
     "How did you know..." Loraio began.  "How did you know when I was
in the Life Bay and feeling sorry for myself to bring Lira to me?"
     Apollo's face darkened slightly, then he smiled.  "After I lost my
wife, the only thing that kept me going was seeing that little boy
every day.  I needed someone else to live for, cause I really didn't
feel like living anymore."  It seemed like he was rehashing a lot of
old ground today.  First with Sheba... now here. 
     "I don't know what I would have done after Pisceria without her. 
After I found out what my father had done..."
     "Did you ever ask him why?" It was a question that had been on the
minds on most Colonials, Apollo included, since the realization of how
they had been sold out to the Cylons by Baltar had surfaced.
     "I don't want to know Apollo.  One of my biggest fears is that I
might actually understand where he's coming from."
     Despite the seriousness of the matter, Apollo couldn't suppress a
light chuckle.  "I can remember my younger brother saying almost the
same thing about my father."
     "Really?" Loario was incredulous.
     "You might find this hard to believe, but most of the people I
know spent their whole adolescence swearing they weren't going to end
up like their parents."
     "Including the Commander's son?"
     "I'd have to admit that out of all the friends I had, I wasn't as
unreceptive to my father's ideals.  But Zac, on the other hand..." he
smiled, remembering the frequent clashes when his father was home
between the Commander and his younger brother.  "Whatever position my
father took, you could lay odds that Zac would take the polar opposite. 
About a year before he went to the Caprican Military Academy, he went
through a disarmament phase.  He was even filmed at a rally."
     "Commander Adama's son at a disarmament rally?"
     "Yeah.  It was pretty bad.  I had just been assigned to the
Galactica, fresh out of the Academy, when it happened.  I never saw my
father so angry.  Even Starbuck thought that Zac was out of line.  I
don't know what my father said to him when he went home, but Zac never
spoke about disarmament again, pulled up his grades, and went to the
Academy the next fall."
     "You might want to consult with your father on what he said.  You
may need to use it eventually."
     Apollo smiled.  "Boxey is a very precocious boy.  I am sure I will
have my hands full.  I never really thought about it from that
perspective before, though."  He grew serious again.  "Have you given
any thought to what you're going to do, Loraio?"
     "Dr. Salik wants me to enter the med-tech program."
     "A med-tech?"
     Loraio shrugged.  "It was something I was interested in on
Pisceria.  Of course my father wouldn't hear of it at the time.  But
now..."
     "It's going to be hard when patients are skeptical of allowing
Baltar's son to treat them,"  Apollo did not want to upset Loraio, but
he wanted to make sure he had a realistic grasp on the situation.
     Loraio nodded.  "I know what I'm up against.  Cassiopeia and Dr.
Salik seem to really believe in me, though."
     "I think you better make sure you're doing this for yourself,
Loraio, and not for what anyone else in this Fleet wants you to do."
     "Can just a little bit of the reason be just because my father
didn't want me to do it?" he asked with a wide grin.
     Apollo smiled in return.  "I think that would be all right."  He
checked the scanner again.  Still nothing but static and snow.  "Have
you ever heard the story in the ancient writings of the man who had to
endure countless trials to prove himself to the Gods?"
     "I'm not very familiar with the ancient writings," Loraio
admitted.
     "The story goes, if I remember correctly, that one of the Gods
decided that he was a righteous man when he was born and put his finger
on his heart.  The other Gods put him through all sorts of anguish to
test his faith and his righteousness.  And after all was said and done,
he still chose to do the right thing.
     "So when they describe someone who is very righteous despite
facing adversity, they say the Gods have put their finger on your
heart."
     "And you think that describes me?" Loraio was incredulous.
     "I think it's accurate.  You may not believe so, but I wouldn't
expect that you would."
     "You mean because I'm so righteous," Loraio teased.
     "Now don't go getting all cocky on me or you'll blow my whole
theory out of the sky," Apollo said with a smile.  "I think you're
going to make a very big impression on this Fleet. And I think you will
do that because you are Baltar's son, not in spite of it."
     "I think you have a whole lot more faith in me than I do."  Loraio
boosted himself out of the control chair.  "And I think I better get
moving if I want to have meal period with Lira."
     "Can you get down?" Apollo asked.
     Loraio smiled.  "I got up, I'll get down. One way or another.  At
least you won't hear the loud crash over the noise of the thrusters."
     As Loraio was about to open the hatch, Apollo leaned over and held
it down.  "Listen, there's a big victory party going on in the
Officer's Club.  Why don't you come on over and join us?"
     Loraio straightened up as best he could and smiled, "Thanks.  I
think I'd really like that."

The End