Battlestar Galactica: Living Legend
                         by 
                   Eric J. Paddon

Based on Battlestar Galactica created by Glen A. Larson

This is a work of fan-fiction and is not
intended to infringe on any copyright laws

From The Adama Journals

     A half yahren has passed since the day of destruction that
precipitated our flight across the stars in search of the Thirteenth
Tribe of humanity on the planet Earth.   And for the first time in our
journey, the magnitude of how long this journey may be for ourselves
and perhaps our descendants, has begun to weigh heavily on me.  
Throughout the early portion of this journey, we have passed planets
and star systems that have long been familiar to us as names in
Colonial star charts, if not as places we had actually frequented at
one time in our lives.   But each of them, whether the ice planet
Arcta, the prison planet Proteus, or the agro-community of Serenity, at
least was a place that knew of the Colonies and was still nominally
part of Colonial culture.   Descendants of travelers who'd set out from
the Twelve worlds sometime before the dark period of the thousand
yahren war with the Cylons began, and had gradually become forgotten
over time.
     I sense now though, that the likelihood of encountering any other
isolated human outpost descended from the Colonies in the future is apt
to be quite remote.     Within a matter of sectans, we will reach a
point in space where there will be nothing in front of us that had
previously been charted by Colonial astronomers.   The stars will have
no known names to us.   And any lifeforms we encounter, are apt to be
of an alien breed unknown to us.    But tempered with that knowledge is
that if we are to find any new signs of humanity by then, then surely
those humans will represent the first definite link to Earth and the
ultimate location of the Thirteenth Tribe.
     But enough of my optimistic speculations.    For now, we are
facing the danger of two crises that threaten to bring our journey to a
sad, premature end.   Not only do we still find ourselves continuing to
dodge the Cylon task force that nearly did us in at Arcta, we now face
the equally grave crisis of a looming fuel shortage for the 220 ships
of our Fleet.   This motley assortment of tankers, freighters,
skybuses, and random luxury ships like the Rising Star have in the last
six sectars traveled distances that none of them were ever designed
for.    And because of that, those ships that house the weary 70,000
survivors of our population face the problem every sectar of running
completely out of fuel.    A problem that does not affect the Galactica
given the self-generating nature of our reactor engines, but one that
is common to all of the other ships which badly need tylium supplies to
keep going.    Until now, we had always successfully managed to avoid
this potential crisis by finding fuel supplies from isolated outposts
and other planets known to us with natural tylium deposits, not to
mention the extra reserves we managed to get from Carillon at the
beginning of the journey.    But now, with no known outposts in front
of us, the question of where we find tylium or another fuel source
next, has become our most pressing problem.   Should a solution not be
found soon, I will be forced to bring this entire Fleet to a dead stop. 
 And doing that only enables the pursuing task force to have a greater
chance of finding us, and finishing us off once and for all.
     We are fast reaching the point where perhaps our greatest need is
something miraculous.


     Chapter One

     "Finishing scan of delta sector.   Absolutely nothing."
     Apollo let out a faint sigh of disgust as he eased his viper out
of automatic heading.   "All right Starbuck, maybe gamma sector has
something other than just an empty void of nothing.   Let's proceed
there before calling it quits."
     "I thought the word quit wasn't in your vocabulary," Starbuck
joshed as he pulled his viper up alongside his friend's.
     Apollo didn't answer.   He wasn't in the mood for any kind of
kidding retort when the magnitude of what they needed to find on their
patrol was staring him in the face ever since his father had told him
about the deteriorating fuel situation in the Fleet.    If they didn't
find a planetary system soon where tylium was located, then the Fleet
would be brought to an absolute standstill, with just the motion of
space to guide the powerless crafts along at the pace of an insect.  
Leaving them wide open for attack the instant the Cylon pursuit force
managed to locate them.
     Starbuck took immediate note of his friend's silence and turned
his attention back to his scanner.   The brash lieutenant wasn't about
to let himself feel the same sense of pessimism Apollo felt.   After
what he'd been through on Atilla not too long ago, he was determined to
keep an optimistic frame of mind for any situation.    Then again, that
was always his first instinct, because if he ever developed any kind of
fatalistic or pessimistic view about anything, Starbuck always felt his
mind would crack before his life ended.    And that was something he
had no intention of ever letting happen to him.
     "Hey Apollo," Starbuck's voice brightened as he looked at his
scanner.   "There's definite sign of a star system in gamma sector.   
Can only pick up about one planet and.....you know this is really
interesting.   Preliminary scan indicates definite signs of
technology."
     "That's encouraging."  Apollo noted.  "Maybe-"
     Abruptly, the captain fell silent.
     "Apollo?" Starbuck cocked his head towards Apollo's viper.  
"Apollo what is it?"
     "Unknown contacts approaching, and fast!" his voice suddenly rose.
     "Where?" the lieutenant frowned.  "There's nothing in front of us
at all."
     "I'm on rear scan.   They're behind us."
     The blonde lieutenant looked at his scanner and saw them.   Two
blips rapidly closing on them at what could only be maximum turbo
speed.
     "Can you get an ID on them?"
     "Not yet."  Apollo shook his head.  "Maybe in another few
microns."
     "How close are they?"
     Before he could answer, two massive red streaks abruptly shot
through the area right between the two vipers.
     "What the frack?"
     "They're firing on us, whoever they are!" Apollo shouted.   "It
doesn't look good.  Go to max turbos and take evasive action, fast!  
I'm going right."
     "I'll take left!" and then for no good reason other than it just
seemed like something he needed to say, he added, "Good luck old
buddy."
     Both vipers went into a roll pattern and activated their turbo
thrusters.   But Apollo already knew that they had been left at a
disadvantage because of their slower speed beforehand, because the
pursuing contacts, whoever they were, surely were able to track them
and pinpoint exactly where they were going.
     Apollo felt the sweat break out on his forehead as he activated
his distress beacon, and hoped that the signal wasn't being jammed.
     "Can you see them?" he heard Starbuck's voice through his helmet. 
 An edge of panic had crept into the brash warrior's voice.
     "No," he shook his head.  "And I don't dare take a micron to scan
them for ID or else they'll have time for a clean shot."
     "Likewise," Starbuck grunted, feeling his optimistic veneer fading
slightly.   "Barely staying ahead of their firing range as it is."
     Another barrage of red streaks passed over each of their
respective vipers.   The force strong enough to cause both of their
crafts to shake violently and cause some instrument panels to throw
faint sparks..
     "Well, whoever they are, they're damn good flyers, I can tell you
that."  Apollo grunted as he struggled to keep his hand steady on the
turbo control.   There was almost a sense of admiration in his tone.  
Never before in his entire career as a viper pilot had any Cylon
fighter been able to drop on him from out of nowhere and put him into
such a precarious position.    Now, from out of nowhere someone else
had emerged to make a mockery out of all his yahrens of careful
training.
     "Apollo, I can't shake him!" Starbuck's voice rose.   "He's
practically up on my exhaust port!"
     "I'm in the same fix!" Apollo could scarcely believe what was
happening.   He was being outflown in every sense of the word, and that
was a scenario he was simply not used to.   "There's no way I can lose
him!"
     It just seemed too incredible for Apollo to believe that the end
was going to come so fast.  In his mind, if he were ever fated to die
in a combat flight situation it would only come at the climax of a long
hard-fought battle.   Not in something like this, where he'd barely had
any time to realize what was happening to him.
     He wondered why another barrage of fire didn't come.   By this
point he had to be offering a clear target to his pursuer.   So clear
that in an instant he'd feel the jolt, and then experience the red
flash of explosion for a millimicron before death would come.   And
then....perhaps have to tell the loved ones who'd already gone before
like Serina, Zac and his mother that he'd simply screwed up and been
outclassed by a superior pilot.
     But nothing happened.   No more red streaks emerged.   He glanced
back at his scanner and frowned when he saw that the pursuing craft had
slowed down from their maximum turbo speed and were now hanging back.
     "Starbuck?" he radioed in disbelief.  "Do you see it?"
     "Yeah," Starbuck was exhaling in relief, but also at a loss for
words.  "I don't know why, but whatever the reason, I'm sure as heck
grateful."
     "I'll try to scan them."  Apollo pressed the buttons of his
slightly damaged console and felt himself exhale again in relief.
     When the readout emerged, his mouth fell open in stunned
disbelief.
     "Apollo....." he could hear the same sense of disbelief in
Starbuck's voice.   "My warbook says those are vipers!"
     "No wonder they came up on us so fast."  Apollo managed to speak.
     "Is that one of the scout patrols from Red Group that went out
after we left?   I'll tell you if it is, I'm going to kill the
miserable snitrod, whoever it is!" Starbuck suddenly grew angry.
     "It can't be Red Group."  Apollo shook his head.  "Their patrol
area is light yahrens from here."
     "Well then who in Hades is flying vipers if they're not from the
Galactica?"
     Before Apollo could respond they both heard a voice go through
their helmets on the unicom frequency.   A stern sounding, determined
feminine voice.
     "Attention.   Attention, this is Silver Spar Group Leader,
commanding viper pilots dead ahead to slow to surrender.   You're
locked on kill."
     Apollo's face was a sea of confusion.
     "Apollo?" he heard Starbuck.   "There's no Silver Spar Group on
the Galactica.   What in Hades is----"
     "I don't know," he shook his head in bewilderment.   "It has to be
a trick." he activated his unicom and took on the firmest sounding
voice he was capable of mustering.   "This is Captain Apollo.   Strike
Commander of the Battlestar Galactica.   Who are you?"
     There was a brief silence, punctuated a few microns later by the
feminine voice saying in a perplexed tone, "Bojay?"
     "I heard him."  Another voice spoke.   This one a youthful male
voice, that had a strange familiarity to Apollo that he couldn't
understand why.   "It's a trick.   They're all dead."
     "Bojay?" Starbuck's voice suddenly cut in on the unicom frequency. 
 "Did you say Bojay?  Bojay is that you?"
     A long micron passed and then the male voice suddenly spoke in
bewilderment.   "Starbuck?    Lords of Kobol, is that you, Starbuck?"
     "Yeah!" the lieutenant's voice rose as he felt a sense of
exhilaration he hadn't experienced since before the Holocaust.  "Yeah,
it's me!    And Apollo too!   Bojay, it's us!    Apollo, you remember
Bojay, he was in our squadron aboard the Galactica!"
     "Yeah, I remember."  Apollo was in a daze.  "And then he
transferred to the Fifth Fleet before the battle of....." he suddenly
trailed off.
     "Molocay."  Starbuck finished.   "Two yahrens ago.   But Bojay, if
you're not dead-----"
     "Then we are." Apollo couldn't begin to comprehend what was
happening.    Memories of a tall, light-haired warrior with a slight
case of an ego complex were coming back to him.    Bojay had been part
of Blue Squadron for the better part of several yahrens, serving with
Apollo, Starbuck and Boomer in the period before Apollo had been
promoted to Strike Commander.    Although Apollo didn't think there was
anything inherently dislikable about Bojay, he always found him to be
less outgoing and more distant that Starbuck, Boomer and the other
pilots aboard the Galactica.   It had come as no surprise to him when
Bojay had put in a transfer request to the Fifth Fleet, because Bojay
seemingly had an aura of not feeling completely comfortable with the
rest of Blue Squadron.    And he knew the feeling was mutual.   While
he could remember the rest of Blue Squadron giving him a send-off party
in the Galactica's Officers Club, there had been a slightly strained
quality to the proceedings.   Deep down, none of the pilots felt they
were going to miss Bojay too much.
     And now, that enigmatic warrior had re-emerged from out of nowhere
without any rational explanation.
     "Bojay." Starbuck went on anxiously.   "Tell us what happened.   
How did you survive?"
     The feminine voice abruptly cut in.
     "You will maintain silence until we land aboard the Battlestar
Pegasus." her tone was cold and full of natural authority.
     "The Pegasus."   Apollo whispered, his sense of deep shock
increasing.  "That's just not possible."
     Starbuck's exhilaration now gave way to shock as well.   
"Apollo," he could scarcely talk.  "Do you know whose ship that was?"
     "Cain." the captain's mind was a blur.   "The greatest military
commander that ever lived.    He was my idol!"   More memories now
raced in front of him.    Watching news broadcasts on the BNC as a
child, profiling the exploits of the man who had first achieved fame as
a brash young fighter pilot.   Even meeting him several times as a
child, because his father was friends with the man, and being awed by
the massive numbers of decorations and campaign ribbons on the man's
uniform.      Reading the accounts of the man's battle campaigns in the
military history texts at the Academy and marveling at the strategic
genius that had never been equaled by anyone else throughout the long
thousand yahren history of the war.
     The sharp-tongued feminine voice cut through his memories again.  
"Your idol will order you blasted out of the sky if you don't shut off
your transmitters.    In case you clowns haven't noticed, you're right
in the middle of a quadrant controlled by Cylons."
     Her words barely registered with Apollo.   He could now look ahead
and see coming into his field of vision a sight that sent a chill
through his entire body.    The familiar contours of a battlestar.  
But unlike the Galactica, this vessel was at least two hundred yahrens
older and carried the scars of many battles more visibly than did her
younger sister ship.   The hull was dotted with the tell-tale signs of
hasty repair jobs done to seal external hull breeches.   There was no
mistaking which ship it was.
     "My God." Apollo whispered.   "It isn't a dream.   And we're not
dead.    It is the Pegasus."
     "You just won't shut up, will you, Captain?" the female voice grew
more testy.   "Quit acting like you've seen an apparition and shut your
transmitter off, now!"
     "Hey Sheba, take it easy."  Bojay spoke up.   "I'm not so sure
that I haven't heard an apparition myself.   Hey Bucko', do you still
con unsuspecting pilots out of cubits at Pyramid like you used to?"
     Starbuck grinned.   That was Bojay all right.   His slight
distance from the rest of the Blue Squadron pilots had made him the
easiest victim of anyone Starbuck had ever conned into a Pyramid game,
and that was something Bojay could never let himself forget.
     "I'll give you a chance to find out later, Bojay."   Starbuck took
his viper into an approach heading.   "Maybe you'll finally get a
chance to get even after all these yahrens."
     "I warn you, I've learned a few tricks myself since."  Bojay
grinned in reply.   "Sheba, I'll lead them into Alpha Bay and take them
to see Cain personally.    You land in Beta Bay and file your report
with Tolen."
     "Affirmative."  The testy edge faded from the voice of the woman
who'd been addressed as Sheba.   "Switching back to Pegasus Core
Command frequency now and assuming Beta Bay heading."
     At that instant, Apollo noticed that the viper that had been lined
up behind him was now accelerating ahead for landing in the port bay.  
That meant that Sheba had been the one who'd come within a micron of
blasting him right out of the stars.   Whoever she was, she was without
question the sharpest pilot he had ever seen in his life.    Never
before had anyone been able to completely outclass him in a combat
situation until now.
     "Bojay," Starbuck's voice suddenly grew serious.   "You....well
you guys all know about what happened----
     "Yeah Starbuck, we know all about what happened to the Colonies." 
His voice grew serious too.   "But we didn't know until now that there
were any survivors.    You've got to fill us in on what's happened."
     "You first."
     "Let's save it until we're aboard."


     As soon as the three vipers had landed in the starboard landing
bay, Bojay was the first to pop open his viper canopy and instantly
waved his arms to catch the attention of five other pilots who were
working on their vipers with the maintenance crews.
     "Hey guys!"  He shouted.   "Over here!    Look what I brought
back!"
     By the time Apollo and Starbuck had opened their canopies and
warily lowered themselves to the tarmac, the other five pilots were
standing in front of them with expressions of joy and amazement.
     "Captain Apollo!" a tall, dark-haired, olive skinned warrior came
up and grabbed his hand.  "It's Paris!   We were in class together at
the Academy!"
     "Yeah, Paris.   I remember you."   Apollo was still in a daze as
he shook his hand.   "It's good to see you again."  And then the memory
came back to him, that he couldn't stand Paris and had always disliked
him.   But he wasn't about to bring that fact up at a time such as
this.
     "Starbuck, Apollo," Bojay motioned to the other four.   "The rest
of Silver Spar's elite group.   Lieutenant Banker.   Lieutenant Skyler. 
 Lieutenant Angus and Sergeant Doyle."
     Each of them exchanged handshakes with each other.    For the next
several centons, only the small talk of happy exclamations mixed with
some stories and quips from Starbuck and Bojay about past gambling
experiences,  passed between the six Pegasus warriors and the two
Galactica warriors.   For both groups of men, the shock of unexpected
happy reunion had yet to wear off where they could summon the strength
to ask the tough questions that would provide the important answers.
     The eight men were still engaged in their idle happy talk, when
the door at the other end of the landing bay slid open and a tall
brown-haired man dressed in the blue uniform of bridge personnel
entered.   Immediately, the Pegasus pilots snapped to attention.
     "Captain Apollo, Lieutenant Starbuck, this is Colonel Tolen.  
Executive Officer."  Bojay motioned.
     "Colonel," Apollo bowed slightly.
     "Captain."  Tolen smiled pleasantly.   "I've received a full
report from Lieutenant Sheba about what happened.   Commander Cain's
been alerted to your arrival and will see you both right away."
     "We're anxious to meet him."  Apollo acknowledged.
     Tolen glanced over at the six pilots.   "You can accompany us as
far as the main corridor.   I can imagine you haven't exhausted all the
questions you want to ask our guests yet."
     "No sir!" Lieutenant Skyler spoke up.   "We're all so shocked we
haven't even started with the obvious ones.   You're both from the
Galactica, right?"
     "Correct." Apollo nodded as the group of nine began to walk across
the tarmac to the door that would lead out of the landing bay and shook
his head.   "I'm still at a loss for words."
     "How do you think we feel?" Lieutenant Angus said with dry humor. 
 "Two yahrens ago, we left Caprica to save Molocay and her satellites
from Cylon attack.   We haven't seen another human soul since."
     "What happened in the battle?" Starbuck spoke up.
     "A living hell." Bojay's voice grew serious as they all stepped
through the door and out into the main corridor.   "We unfortunately
arrived after the Cylon attack began and a full taskforce of about five
basestars was already on the scene turning Molocay and her satellites
into rubble.   Colonial Intelligence was unfortunately too slow getting
word to us about what was happening at Molocay or we might have gotten
there sooner and been in position to ambush them with a bigger
taskforce."
     "And the rest of the Fifth Fleet?" Apollo asked.   "The Battlestar
Celestia under Commander Sandlin and all the support ships?"
     "All destroyed." Bojay said quietly.    "We were simply outmatched
by superior numbers none of us had anticipated."
     "But how did you survive?"
     A proud smile came over Bojay's face again as they resumed walking
down the corridor.  "Because all of a sudden just when our morale was
at an all time low and it seemed like we'd come to the end of it, Cain
made the most brilliant decoy move I have ever seen.   We managed to
get clear of Molocay and confused the taskforce completely about which
direction we'd gone in."
     "I see."  Starbuck was still amazed.   "But you had to have gone
away from the Colonies to be this far out."
     Bojay grinned.   "That was another of Cain's touches." he gestured
with his hands.  "He knew the Cylons would be lined up all the way from
Molocay to the Colonies waiting for us.   So he just turned us out to
deep space and we kept on going.   We've been fighting ever since."
     "Fighting?"  Apollo raised an eyebrow.   "You mean running."
     The group of Pegasus pilots all let out dry chuckles.
     "You're forgetting who our skipper is," Skyler spoke with the same
edge of pride.   "He doesn't know the meaning of the word run."
     "We're on strikes round the clock against the Cylons in this
quadrant."  Paris chimed in.
     "With what?" Starbuck's brow knotted too.   "How do you replenish
your ammunition?   And you need fuel for the vipers and.....come to
think of it, you need fuel for the Pegasus too because you don't have
the self-generating engines like the Galactica does."
     "We get it from the Cylons."  Colonel Tolen said matter-of-factly
as the group came to the turbo lift at the end of the corridor.    The
executive officer then turned back to the pilots.   "If you officers
will excuse our guests, Commander Cain will now see them in his
quarters."
     "Sure."   Bojay grinned.   "We'll meet you later in the Officers
Club and buy you both all the drinks you want."
     Tolen motioned Starbuck and Apollo on to the turbo lift and joined
them an instant later.  They went up one deck level and stepped out
into the main corridor and walked a short distance down in silence
until they reached the large door that was marked COMMANDER'S QUARTERS. 
 Tolen pressed the chime and a micron later, the door slid open.  
Without saying anything, the executive officer motioned his arm for the
two to enter.
     When Apollo and Starbuck stepped in, they saw a room kept in dark,
subdued lighting.   From what Apollo could see the general layout was
similar to his father's own quarters and office aboard the Galactica,
but with the furniture kept more in the center of the room than at the
side like his father arranged it. 
     At the back of the darkened room in front of the starlit porthole,
Apollo and Starbuck could see the shadowy figure of a man.   The stars
only illuminated his outline and kept his face hidden from view.   He
was wearing what looked like the elaborate combat dress of a battlestar
commander, with the gold braids on the shoulders of the tan warrior's
uniform.   It was the kind of flamboyant uniform that Apollo knew his
father had always disdained and had never once worn in the twenty
yahrens that he had been commander of the Galactica.    The man's right
hand held another sign of military flamboyance, the swagger stick.  
Again, something that Apollo knew that his father never would have been
caught dead holding at any time.
     Finally, the man spoke.    The voice of firmness, authority and
swagger.
     "Get them something to drink, Tolen.    They look pale."
     The executive officer nodded and left the room.     Apollo could
literally feel himself quaking in his boots as he kept his eyes on the
man, who remained obscured by the dark shadows.
     "It's a great honor, sir."  The black-haired captain finally
managed to speak.
     "Very great honor, sir."  Starbuck, who was shaking as well, was
unable to do anything but repeat Apollo's words.
     "I can imagine it is."
     The man finally stepped forward, emerging from the shadows.    And
now Apollo and Starbuck could see the face they both knew so well.  
The wavy light brown hair that remained free of any sign of thinning or
grayness despite the fact that he was in his sixth decade.   The firm,
iron jaw that made everyone understand why people called him the
Juggernaut.
     "That's just a little attempt at humor," Commander Cain spoke in a
faintly disarming tone.   He looked at Apollo and Starbuck and then
slowly shook his head with the same sense of awed fascination that had
been present in the eyes of all the warriors Apollo and Starbuck had
just spoken to.    "Well, I had quite resigned myself that I would
never see another human soul.   Other than my own people on the Pegasus
of course."
     Apollo suppressed the desire to swallow nervously.   "From the
Galactica sir." he kept his voice firm and dignified.   "Under the flag
of Commander Adama."  He then skipped a fraction of a beat.   "My
father."
     Commander Cain's eyes widened slightly and a faint smile of joy
creased his mouth.   "Adama?"
     "Yes sir."  Apollo said weakly and nodded.
     Cain drew up to within three inches of Apollo and looked him in
the eye.   "Yes, yes." he nodded and smiled.   "I see it.    Well how
is he?   How is that old madacca?    You know he and I went to the
Academy and flew in the same group on the Cerberus for a couple
yahrens.  Our exploits used to drive poor old Odysseus mad."
     "Yes sir, I know."   Apollo nodded again, recalling all the
stories about the young Cain and the young Adama's missions that his
mother told him about.   "He's doing well.   Considering the heavy load
he's carried since the destruction of our nation."
     "Yes, yes I can imagine." Cain's face grew slightly grave and he
took several steps back.  "I'm......afraid that our knowledge of what
happened to the Colonies is quite sketchy beyond the general fact that
all the planets were destroyed and subsequently occupied.    The rest
of the Fleet?"
     Apollo took a breath.   "Only the Galactica survived, sir."  He
said.   "Along with some 220 odd ships carrying what's left of our
people.    Approximately 70,000 survivors all told."
     "My God," Cain slowly shook his head.   "And I thought we had it
bad.    Only 220 ships from all of the Colonies?    70,000 out of a
population of....fifteen billion?"
     "Yes sir."   Apollo found it painful to have to explain the
details of the Destruction again at time when after six sectars, he had
finally begun to consign the terrible event to the realm of the past in
his own mind.   "All possible survivors were gathered on short notice."
     Cain shook his head again and absently waved his swagger stick as
he turned away and paced back to the area behind his desk, in front of
the porthole.
     "Captain," he turned around.   "Could you explain again, just how
this sneak attack took place?    I've.....been able to piece together
from some Cylon communiques I intercepted that they made their attack
under the cover of a phony peace settlement.   Is that true?"
     "I'm afraid so, sir.    They used Count Baltar of Piscera as their
prime instrument to carry out their deception."
     "Baltar." Cain stiffened as soon as he heard the name.   "You
mean, they were able to do it because of treason in our own ranks?"
     "Yes sir."   Apollo felt his stomach turning.
     The Juggernaut absently looked down at the floor and began to
mutter half to himself, "I always knew there was something about
Baltar." he then looked up at Apollo again.   "What about your mother,
Ila?"
     Starbuck uneasily glanced at Apollo and wondered if his friend was
going to collapse into an emotional wreck.    He could see that it was
a struggle for Apollo to have to share these painful accounts to others
after six sectars of trying to put it all behind.
     "My mother was not among the survivors."  Apollo managed to keep
his composure.
     A faint trace of sadness passed over Cain's face.   "My
condolences, Captain."  He said.  "Your mother was a fine woman.    I
owe a lot to her.   A great deal in fact."  His tone grew slightly
wistful and then it abruptly passed as he straightened his bearing.  
"Captain, before we go any further....there's a matter of personal
concern I might as well inform you of.    There is a certain young lady
I knew on Caprica that I'm anxious to find, and if it's at all possible
I'd appreciate it if you could at some point find some way of informing
me whether or not she's one of the survivors."
     "I'm sure that can be arranged."  Apollo felt relieved that Cain
had changed the subject.  "Our Fleet Personnel Computer has the names
of all survivors who were logged in."
     "Thank you.   Well, I suppose it's a bit of a forlorn hope of mine
that she could be among the survivors but then again," he chuckled
slightly, "She always did know how to take care of herself."
     Starbuck found himself intrigued by Cain's sudden interest in
wanting to track down the whereabouts of a 'certain young lady.'   From
what he remembered, Cain had been known to have quite a reputation as a
ladies man in the early yahrens of his great career.   That was before
he had married Bethany, who later became Caprica's greatest stage
actress.
     "What was her name?" the brash lieutenant asked with burning
curiosity.
     Cain reached down and switched on the hologram image machine on
his desk.   "Her name," he said wistfully as he kept his eyes on the
machine and watched an image take shape.   "was Cassiopeia."
     Starbuck abruptly felt ever muscle in his body lock in frozen
disbelief.    For a fraction of a micron he tried to convince himself
that the name was just a coincidence.    But as soon as the holographic
image took the shape of a distinct face that hope evaporated.    There
was no mistaking it.
     And then, the holographic image spoke in the voice that both
Apollo and Starbuck knew well, as if to underscore the reality further.
     "I'll never forget you, you old war daggit."  Cassiopeia's image
spoke in that same sly, romantic tone that Starbuck had grown so
accustomed to hearing over the last six sectars.   "Hurry back."
     All Starbuck could ask himself was wondering how it could be
possible, since Cassiopeia had been on Gemon, not Caprica at the time
of the Holocaust.    And even more, why hadn't she ever said a word to
him about it after all this time?	
     Cain wryly glanced over at the two warriors and took note of their
stupefied expressions.   "I can see she has the same effect on you that
she had on me."
     "That's.....definitely a face you can never forget."   Starbuck
finally managed to speak.   And as soon as the words were out, Apollo
had to summon all the self-control he'd ever known to keep from
doubling over in laughter.   Even now, at a moment that had to be the
most rude shock imaginable to Starbuck, coming on top of the previous
shock of finding the Pegasus alive and well after two yahrens, Starbuck
had managed to find room for some characteristic humor.   He literally
had no idea how his friend was able to do that with such ease.
     The door chime sounded, and both Apollo and Starbuck felt relieved
to see that Tolen had returned with a bottle of ambrosia.
     "Thank you Tolen."   Cain said.   "Anything new to report?"
     "Major Ham says that some new communiques from Gomorrah have been
intercepted.   He's planning on having the code team try to see if they
can make some more sense of them."
     "Keep them working on that.   We have to know everything that's
happening there more than ever."
     As soon as the executive officer had gone, Cain calmly unwrapped
the bottle of ambrosia and opened it.   "There isn't much left after
all this time, but this marks one of those occasions where ambrosia is
called for, no matter how scarce the supply."   He pulled out three
glasses and poured into each of them.
     "Commander," Apollo said as he picked up his glass and gingerly
sipped.   "Colonel Tolen mentioned Gomorrah.   Is that the system we're
in now?"
     "Yes."  Cain took a larger sip from his own glass.   "The very
outer edge of known space as far as Colonial star charts are
concerned."
     "Do you have some kind of arrangement with the Delphians?"  
Starbuck asked as he drank.
     "There aren't any Delphians left for me to have an arrangement
with, Lieutenant."  Cain said gravely.   "The Cylons exterminated all
of them."
     Apollo and Starbuck both put down their glasses.
     "Yes."  Cain smiled grimly.   "It's all gone.   A civilization of
fifty million that represented the finest achievements in art,
literature, and intellectualism is gone forever."
     "Commander," Apollo said tactfully.   "I think at this point it
might be advisable to set course for the Galactica so she might be made
aware of the situation.    Our Fleet is....facing a grave crisis at
this time with regard to fuel shortages."
     "Yes, I can imagine."  Cain finished his drink and put the empty
glass down.   "And I'm certain that at this point the Galactica thinks
you're both quite overdue.    Well, you just give me her coordinates
and I'll have us there in under a centar.   In the meantime, I invite
you both to enjoy the hospitality of the Pegasus until our rendezvous."
     "Thank you, sir."   Apollo said as he realized for the first time
that at this point, his father might very well think he was dead.
     "And I appreciate again your willingness to check out Cassiopeia
for me, once you return."
     "It's no problem at all, sir." Starbuck said, still only
half-recovered inside from the revelation.
     "Speaking of lovely ladies," Cain reached down for the hologram
again.   "You have met my daughter."
     Apollo dimly shook his head.   "No sir, I don't believe I have."
     Cain switched the machine on, and in an instant the face of a very
attractive young woman in her early twenties, with brown hair that
flowed past her shoulders and rich brown eyes, appeared.     She wore
what seemed to be a tan warrior's uniform and was smiling brightly.
     "Happy Birthday, Father."   Her voice had an almost angelic aura
that matched her face.  "I love you."
     Starbuck noticed right away that she was indeed quite an
attractive woman.    And then, he glanced sideways at Apollo and almost
frowned.    He could see an expression on Apollo's face that he could
only recall seeing on one other occasion in all the yahrens that he'd
known Apollo.   That was the time he and Apollo had sat down and
watched the BNC on a video com five yahrens ago and he'd noticed how
captivated Apollo was by the stunningly attractive news anchor named
Serina.
     As soon as Cain switched off the hologram, Apollo spoke in what
almost sounded like a tone of captivated awe to Starbuck.
     "Sorry sir, but if I'd met that young lady, I'd know it."
     Cain chuckled and moved back toward the porthole.   "You've met
her all right." an edge of pride entered his voice.   "She was the
pilot who almost flew you right out of your britches."
     Apollo's eyes suddenly widened.    He couldn't believe for one
micron that the stern, female voice of the one called Lieutenant Sheba
who had outflown him so expertly and been on the verge of blasting him
to infinity, belonged to the beautiful woman that he had just seen
speak so tenderly to her father.    It seemed like an inconceivable
juxtaposition of personality traits.
     "Like father, like daughter." Cain was still beaming with pride.  
"She inherited all of my skills as a warrior.     Thankfully, she also
inherited her mother's great beauty."
     Apollo nodded and faintly muttered, "Yes."   Which prompted
Starbuck to glance quizzically at his friend again.    Right away,
Starbuck knew that the funny look on Apollo's face could only mean at
the very least that Apollo intended to meet Lieutenant Sheba very soon
for a personal talk.    Beyond that, he wasn't about to read anything
else into it at this point.
     "Captain, there's just now the matter of the Galactica's
co-ordinates."
     Apollo didn't respond at first.   He was still glancing at the
inactive hologram machine.
     "Captain?" Cain gently repeated. 
     "Oh yes," Apollo shook himself back to reality.   "Coordinates are
Beta Sector eight, mark six-six-four-two."
     "Thank you."  Cain reached down and activated the intercom.  
"Bridge, this is Cain."
     "Yes sir." a deep voice replied.
     "Major Ham, set immediate course for rendezvous with the
Battlestar Galactica at coordinates Beta Sector eight, mark
six-six-four-two.    Do not make radio contact until I'm on the bridge
and can do so personally."
     "Yes sir.   Setting course immediately."
     Cain switched off the intercom and was beaming in exhilaration.
     "Well my friends," he said as he placed his hands on his desk.  
"Our troubles are over."
     "What do you mean, sir?" Apollo asked.
     "Tomorrow, we go on the offensive."  The Juggernaut grinned.  
"After all the setbacks we've had to endure, we're going to finally
show those gallmonging Cylons how to fight!" his voice rose with
passionate intensity.
     Apollo and Starbuck both felt numb.   So much had been happening
that it was impossible for their minds to keep up with things any
longer.
     "Yes, by the Lords of Kobol!"   Cain suddenly slammed his swagger
stick down on the table as his grin widened.   "The Cylon Empire is
about to fall!"

     Chapter Two

     As soon as Adama stepped out into the bridge from the corridor, he
could sense right away that he'd be faced with more bad news.    After
twenty yahrens of commanding the Galactica he'd developed an
instinctive knack for knowing what the morale of his crew was like
without speaking to them or seeing their faces.     Morale was
something a commander could sense like a presence in the air.    And
from there it was only a matter of knowing whether the presence in the
air left him at ease or filled with sick tension.   On this day, there
was no question it was the latter.
     "Commander," Colonel Tigh came up to him.   "Lieutenant Jolly's
been taking inventory of every tanker's reserve supply.   He's ready
with his report on Beta Channel."
     Adama merely nodded and went over to the console to activate the
video-com.   An instant later, the face of the corpulent warrior who
had recently been promoted from Flight Sergeant, filled the screen.
     "I understand you've finished your survey, Jolly."
     "Yes Commander," Jolly's tone was matter of fact, but had the
faint edge of gloom.  "It's reached a critical phase now.    All tanker
supplies of tylium and solium are down to less than 10 percent capacity
in their reserve tanks.    There isn't enough left to make an even
distribution to all the ships in the Fleet for one more fueling
period."
     Adama winced.   "What about the general fuel status of all ships
in the Fleet right now?"
     "At least 30 percent of the ships in the Fleet report that they've
dropped to bare minimal levels necessary to maintain basic life support
functions, Commander.    They've started to reach the point where they
can't use any of their tylium or solium left to power their engines any
longer.  I'd say that unless the Fleet comes to dead stop soon, we're
going to start seeing the first ships fall behind within a few centars
because they'll have no choice but to stop anyway."
     "Thank you for your report, Jolly."   The commander felt as if a
large weight had just been dropped on his shoulders.    He absently
turned off the video-com and slowly made his way back across the bridge
to rejoin Tigh, who was perched over Bridge Officer Omega's console and
frowning.
     "Well that's just fine," Adama muttered with an uncharacteristic
testy edge.   "We come all this way across the stars and just run out
of fuel."
     "It looks as though that might not be the worst of it, Commander." 
Tigh looked up from Omega's station.    "A centon ago we began picking
up Cylon transmissions."
     "Good Lord," Adama exclaimed.   "Their taskforce has found us
already?"
     "That isn't it."   The executive officer shook his head.   "What
we're picking up isn't military.   It's civilian.    The transmissions
are all of a civilian nature."
     "Civilian?" the commander frowned and looked down at Omega's
console, where he could see the readouts on the screen.   "How can that
be?    We've gone halfway across the galaxy from their home planet.   
How could they set up an outpost this far out that isn't military?"
     "I can't explain it."  Tigh shrugged.   "But you can see for
yourself.    Those transmissions mean that somewhere out there ahead of
us in the next star system is a planet with a thriving Cylon city."
     Omega finally decided to speak up, even though he hated having to
do so.   "That could be why our recon patrol is overdue, Commander."
     Adama glanced at the bridge officer.   "Captain Apollo and
Lieutenant Starbuck?"
     "Yes sir."  Omega nodded.   "Red patrol returned from their sweep
ten centons ago.   There hasn't been anything from Blue Squadron since
just after they took off."
     "I see."  the commander refused to show any emotion.   "How long
before they would have exhausted their fuel?"
     Omega took an uneasy breath.   "They reached the point where they
would have been powered down after using main thrusters about five
centons ago."
     Adama's eyes glanced toward the floor for a brief instant.   
Apart from that, his expression remained unchanging.
     "We could launch a shuttle probe."   Tigh ventured.   "Less
conspicuous then a viper search."
     "No," Adama shook his head.  "We've now reached a point where
every drop of fuel in a shuttle could be needed to keep another ship's
life support systems functioning."
     An uneasy silence passed between the three men for a centon.
     "Notify every ship in the Fleet to come to a dead stop for now,
Omega."
     "Yes sir," the bridge officer said methodically as he prepared to
carry out the order.
     As Tigh and Adama moved away from Omega's station, the executive
officer decided to be blunt.   "Adama," he said.   "Bringing us to dead
stop isn't going to solve anything.    Since we're in close enough
proximity to a Cylon city, then sooner or later we risk detection from
one of their scout vessels or patrol ships.    And then it's only a
matter of time before the baseships in turn will know of our
whereabouts."
     "What would you have me do, Colonel?" Adama didn't look at him.  
"The only other option is to evacuate the ships that are going to run
out of fuel first.    But as soon as they're overcrowded into the other
ships, then their supplies will run out just as quickly.     The only
thing we've been left with right now is a choice of stalling tactics."
he then turned away and looked at the floor again.   "And the most
terrible option that confronts us short of destruction by the Cylons is
that the Galactica and the few ships that have self-generating engines
will have to continue the journey alone." he almost shuddered.  "God
help me if it comes to something like that."
     He stopped by Athena's station on the opposite end of the bridge. 
 His daughter was staring at her console with a perplexed expression.
     "Anything interesting, Athena?"
     "We're picking up something in gamma sector quadrant.    Something
very odd."
     "What is it?"  Adama leaned over her shoulder.
     "Some sort of visual echo.    The Galactica's image has to be
reflecting off some ion field ahead.   And yet.....there's no
indication of any ion field reading."
     Adama's eyes widened as he saw on the screen a perfect, detailed
image of a battlestar.   It took him ten microns to finally speak.  
"If that's a visual echo then it's the cleanest transmission I've ever
seen.   Something has to have gone wrong with the scanner that's
analyzing this quadrant."
     "You're right," Tigh nodded and turned back to Omega.   "Have this
scanner turret shut down for immediate maintenance.   Notify Shadrach
to get a team working on it as soon as possible."
     "Yes sir," the bridge officer reached down to begin carrying out
the order, when he suddenly froze, put his hand to the earpiece on his
headset and began to tremble.
     "Commander," his voice had dropped to a whisper.   "There's a
signal coming through on Fleet Com-line Alpha."
     Adama's eyebrows narrowed and his expression darkened.   "Is every
piece of equipment on this ship falling apart now?    Omega, you know
perfectly well it's impossible for us to receive any transmission on a
scrambler frequency for communication between warships."
     "I know sir, but----"
     Suddenly, the darkened video-com screen in front of Adama and Tigh
came to life.   A burst of snowy static and then a clear picture.
     "Greetings Adama, you old war daggit." a genial voice suddenly
filled the entire bridge of the Galactica.   "Might have known I'd find
you and your fleet sitting dead on your astrums."
     Adama and Tigh went numb as soon as they heard the voice.   The
commander slowly turned to face the video-com and saw the smiling face
of a man he'd thought dead for two yahrens.
     "Cain!" he whispered, totally thunderstruck.   "Of all that's
holy----"
     "Ah, there's nothing holy about me, Adama," Cain continued to show
that disarming smile.  "Except maybe what I'm doing to those
gallmonging Cylons."
     "It's a miracle, Cain." Adama was shaking, unable to think of
anything else to say.   "A blessed miracle."
     "I make my own miracles.    But have it your way.   I'll take my
shuttle and be over in a few centons."
     "I'll have some vintage ambrosia waiting in my quarters."  Adama
finally broke into a grin as he realized it wasn't a dream.
     "I should think so." Cain smirked.   "Looking forward to it."
     The screen went blank.    Abruptly, all the bridge personnel who'd
seen Cain and heard his words on their monitors too bolted up and let
out excited whoops and cheers.   It was a sound Adama or Tigh hadn't
heard at anytime since the Holocaust.
     "How can it be, Adama?" the skeptical instinct in Tigh made it
hard for him to comprehend what had happened.   "Cain perished along
with the Fifth Fleet two yahrens ago.   It....I mean I know that's him,
but....."
     Adama managed to catch his breath and dimly shook his head.   "I
know it's impossible Tigh.   But that's the fabric of miracles.  
Seeing the impossible unfold in front of you."  He found himself
grasping his hand just to convince himself again that he wasn't asleep. 
 "Let's not waste any time meeting him."


     Ten centons later, more than fifty people had crowded into Alpha
Landing Bay to watch the shuttle from the Pegasus arrive.    Within
thirty microns after it had come to a stop, the door opened and the
Juggernaut emerged to a thunderous ovation from all those present.
     There was a sense of awe on Adama's face as he saw his old friend
come up to him.   The memories of many yahrens past, when he'd first
met Cain at the Academy were racing through his mind.   Of the missions
they'd shared aboard the Battlestar Cerberus for two yahrens before
Cain transferred to the Pegasus.   Of the many times both he and Ila
had socialized with Cain and his wife Bethany during furlons on
Caprica.
     "The Lords of Kobol bless you," Adama whispered as soon as Cain
had come to within an inch of him.    And then, the two shared a
fraternal embrace.
     "You have no idea how I feel at this moment," Adama said as soon
as he let go.
     "Me too, Adama.   Me too." Cain smiled and gestured toward the
shuttle.   "By the way, I have another present for you.   I'd have told
you when I first made contact, but.....well, you know how I can't
resist a good theatrical touch."  He turned around.   "Where are those
space loiterers we picked up?"  He raised his voice to a commanding
bark.   "Front and center, now!"
     On cue, both Apollo and Starbuck emerged from the shuttle.   
Adama felt a wave of relief surge through him.    The disappearance of
his son's patrol had begun gnawing at him ever since he'd made his way
to the landing bay, but now he felt another reason inside for knowing
why he was secure in his religious faith.    Once again, the Lords had
watched over his son at a critical time and led him safely home.
     He came up to Apollo, embracing his son warmly, and then reached
over to shake Starbuck's hand.   "I thought I'd seen the last of both
of you."
     "You would have too," Cain noted.   "Until my daughter intercepted
them both.   They were headed straight for Gomorrah."
     Adama raised an eyebrow.   "We're that close to the Delphian
Empire?"
     "The former Delphian Empire, sir."  Starbuck spoke up.  
"Commander Cain was just explaining to us that about two yahrens ago,
the Cylons came in and destroyed them completely.  Gomorrah is now
their outer capital."
     The news came as a rude shock to Adama after the two moments of
joy he'd just experienced.    The Galactica commander had long been
aware of the rich history and tradition of the Delphian race.   They
were a non-humanoid species totally disinterested in space colonization
or military power that had instead channeled all their resources into
becoming an empire of culture and reason.    Their home planet Gomorrah
had become renown throughout the galaxy, as a center for the greatest
achievements known in art, literature, music and philosophy even though
it was so distant from the Twelve Colonies.
     Adama could even remember the times when Ila, whose life had been
devoted to culture in her work as a drama and music instructor at the
Caprican Fine Arts Institute, had told him how the one place in the
universe that she wished she could see above all others was Gomorrah.  
 So she could see firsthand total perfection in the things she admired
most.
     Adama had always thought that Gomorrah's immense distance from the
Cylon Empire as well as the Colonies would leave the Delphians immune
from the dangers of the war.    But now, he had learned that even
across this vast distance of space, even they had not been ultimately
safe from the evil might of the Cylons.
     "That was a society of fifty million beings."  He finally managed
to speak.
     "Not anymore," Cain was brutally blunt.   "It's now a model of
machine efficiency.   A proving ground for what they want every planet
in the universe to be like."
     The euphoria had now worn off for Adama.   "Cain, I think we
should continue this discussion in my quarters."
     "Of course," the Juggernaut nodded.   "I plan on having about a
couple dozen of my own warriors come over on the next shuttle so they
can enjoy some hospitality here.   If that's all right with you."
     "By all means.    The Officers Club is open to all of your
warriors regardless of rank."


     Five centons later, the two battlestar commanders were in Adama's
office.   Cain was recounting again the details of the Battle of
Molocay.
     "I think that was the first battle of my life where even I was
scared, Adama."   Cain said as he relaxed in a chair and slowly sipped
at the ambrosia Adama had provided.   "When we lost the Celestia, I
think all of us were ready to just give in.    When you lose a sister
battlestar you've fought alongside with for fifteen yahrens, ....well
it's not what anyone would call good for morale.  The decoy plan to
just escape the region was all we had left.    And it wasn't made easy
by the fact that I had to gather all the survivors from the Celestia,
and the ten support ships and overcrowd the Pegasus to a dangerous
level before we got started."
     "And once you got away from them, you headed for Gomorrah and
hoped to get some supplies from the Delphians."
     "It was the only place I thought the Cylons wouldn't have
penetrated to," Cain finished his drink and set the glass down.   "When
we discovered the Cylons had already moved in and wiped the Delphians
out, that was another rude shock for us.   But we did have one thing
going for us.  Even though they'd subjugated the planet, they were only
in the early stages of getting their base set up.    I found that by
making hit and run raids, I could keep the base from assuming a fully
operational status.    And whenever the Cylons would send in new cargo
ships and tankers to replenish what was lost, it was a simple matter of
intercepting them and finding instant replenishment for my ammunition
and fuel supply."
     "Did you ever have any inkling of what was happening back in the
Colonies, Cain?"  Adama found himself recalling how Cain's
disappearance had been a crippling blow to Colonial morale and had
placed Colonial civilization into such a precarious state that it made
the decision to accept an offer of peace all the more easy.
     "No," the Juggernaut shook his head.   "I didn't know a thing
until I intercepted some communiques a few sectars back and finally got
a partial breakthrough in their code.   When I realized what those
messages meant, that they'd destroyed the Colonies in a sneak attack
and occupied them now, it was.....well it was ghastly for all of us."
     "I'm certain of that."
     "The irony is that I did realize something strange was going on
just after we settled ourselves in the Gomorrah quadrant, because no
task force ever came in to finish me off.    My original plan was to
get all we could out of our hit and run raids from Gomorrah until a
superior task force arrived and then high-tail it out of the region
fast.    From Gomorrah, I'd planned on staging some other quick raids
on other Cylon outposts and as soon as I'd racked up all the carnage I
could realistically inflict from a one-ship operation, then we'd
finally try to get home."
     "But when no taskforce arrived, you decided to stay in the
Gomorrah area and continue living off them."
     "It seemed like the most practical decision.   If all of their
baseships were still lined up back toward the Colonies, as I assumed
they were, there wasn't a chance I could get back safely." he then
glanced at the floor, "I may have made a terrible error in judgment
about that."
     "I certainly can't attest for where the baseships were for the
first yahren or so, but I can definitely say that all of them were back
in the vicinity of Cylon when the whole Peace Conference business
started about a yahren after your disappearance."
     Cain let out a deep sad sigh of regret, "If only I'd known," he
kept looking at the floor.   "I should have been there."
     Adama wanted to say something reassuring to Cain about how it
probably wouldn't have made any difference.   But deep inside, Adama
knew that would be a lie.   For a long time, he'd always asked himself
if things would have been different if Commander Cain had been present. 
  And now, he had to face the fact that idea was now something that had
passed from the realm of a forlorn fantasy to something that could have
been possible.
     "Adama," Cain kept looking at the floor.   "What made us fall into
that trap?"
     The Galactica commander shook his head.   "A thousand yahrens of
weariness just seemed to catch up with us all at once.    We'd.....over
time lost our will to keep fighting a cause just because it was noble
and just.    And so there were too many people anxious to grab a peace
offering as an opportunity to get out of it at long last.     And Adar
embodied all of those hopes for a human civilization at peace and able
to enter a new Golden Age."
     "Damn jackal." Cain muttered with contempt.   "Sending us into
disaster like he did."
     "Save your anger for Baltar."   Adama said pointedly.   "He was
the one who caused our ruin."
     "How anyone could trust Baltar is beyond me."   Cain shook his
head.  "A man who got thrown out of the Academy in a cheating scandal. 
   A crooked politician.    By God, I would have raised a riot with
Adar about letting him arrange everything."
     Again, Adama didn't know if he could discourage Cain's thinking on
that point.    He had always known in his mind that Cain would have
been far more vocal about his skepticism in a peace overture than Adama
had been during that time.    And perhaps if the two of them together
had been able to combine their voices, it would have made a difference.
     "And the rest of the Fleet."  Cain finally looked back at his
friend.   "Six of the finest ships and the finest commanders I ever
knew wiped out in an instant.    That just......makes the whole thing
even more unfair."
     "For what it's worth, Commander Fairfax put up a good fight."  
Adama decided he needed to keep the record completely accurate.   "The
Columbia actually survived the battle, but her damage was too
extensive.    We had to scuttle her."
     "Damn," Cain shook his head again and muttered.   "Is Fairfax
still alive?"
     "I'm afraid not.    We lost him a sectan later at Carillon.    He
actually died ramming his own viper against a baseship and that helped
destroy it."
     For the first time since the conversation began, Cain smiled.  
"Now that's the mark of a true warrior.    I hope you gave him a
posthumous Star of Kobol."
     "I did."
     "He was a good man.   Probably the only other voice of sanity on
the Council in addition to you." he paused for a brief micron.   "So
there's no one else left among the survivors who has battlestar command
experience?"
     "Only one," Adama knew right away what reaction this next
revelation was going to bring from Cain.   "Commander Kronus."
     The Juggernaut didn't disappoint Adama.    His expression was
completely dubious.   
     "That's the ultimate cosmic joke."  Cain finally spoke.   "The
good commanders like Fairfax die and the only one left is Kronus.    He
probably thinks he's alive because he followed regulations to the
letter."
     "Cain," Adama injected an edge of authority into his voice for the
first time.   "I know all about why you feel that way about Kronus, but
let's dispense with revisiting that subject.    I'll do what I can to
see to it that neither of you ever end up in the same room."
     "I'd appreciate that a lot."  Cain leaned back in his chair and
his expression then softened.   "By the way, your son told me about
Ila.    My deepest condolences."
     "Thank you," Adama smiled thinly.    He knew how much Cain was
indebted to Ila.   Cain's late wife Bethany had been a childhood friend
of Ila's, and she'd been the one who'd introduced Cain to Bethany.  
"Tragic as that was, it was just one of those things I had to move on
from."   He didn't know if Apollo had also mentioned the death of his
younger son Zac to Cain, but decided that he didn't feel like
volunteering that information at this point.
     "Yes, I suppose that's how we all have to treat the past.    Even
me."   Cain sighed.   "What happened at the Colonies is done with, and
we have to look at things as they are now.   So, I suppose we can now
dispense with the past and concern ourselves with where do we go from
here."
     "Of course."  Adama rose from his chair.   "What's really
disturbing about the Cylons controlling Gomorrah is that it means they
wield power over the entire known universe at this point.  This is the
very edge of charted space."
     "But at the very least, this outer capital of theirs is not fully
functional."   Cain rose from his chair and began to pace in front of
the porthole, his voice regaining it's edge of enthusiasm and swagger. 
 "And now that you've arrived Adama, we can pool our resources quite
effectively."
     "Indeed," Adama smiled and clasped his hands on the gold braids
that lines both of Cain's shoulders.   "You've given a tremendous lift
to all our people."
     "And a deathblow to the Cylons."  Cain boasted.   "We're going to
take them on, Adama.   At long last, this is the turning point."
     Adama was slightly taken aback but figured it was just the
Juggernaut being his usual boisterous self.    He decided he could let
him down easy in a friendly tone.   "No, my old friend.   The most we
can hope to gain from the Cylons is some fuel.    A military victory is
totally out of the question."
     "What are you talking about, Adama?" Cain suddenly grew dubious
again.   "I've had them on their knees in this quadrant.    With just
one battlestar.    With two.   Ha!"  He suddenly gestured with a wave
of his hand.   "I'll finish them!    At least on Gomorrah."
     The friendliness disappeared from Adama's voice as he realized
that this was going to be more difficult than he anticipated.   "And
then what?"
     "Then we'll have an unlimited supply of solium and tylium," Cain
smiled.   "And a base from which to strike back against the entire
Empire itself!"
     "Cain," Adama was now alarmed to hear Cain thinking in these
terms.   "We can't secure that planet.    Those baseships that haven't
been bothering you since before and after the Holocaust have been after
me en masse since we fled the Colonies.    With Baltar himself
personally commanding the task force.   Even if by some miracle we
could eliminate all of the Cylons on Gomorrah, not even the two of us
together could hold it against an assault of at least three and
probably more baseships."
     Cain had the look of a man who'd just taken an unexpected blow to
the stomach.
     "Adama," he finally spoke.   "What in Hades would you have us do
then?"
     "All I'm interested in is getting enough fuel to escape this
quadrant and keep this Fleet functioning."
     There was another uneasy silence before Cain spoke again.   "What
you're talking about is running."
     "Not running, Cain," Adama gently admonished.   "Escaping.  
Escaping this pursuit so we can lead the Fleet to our ultimate
destination."
     "And what ultimate destination is that?"
     "The planet Earth."  The Galactica commander said firmly.   "Where
the Thirteenth Tribe of humanity journeyed to, seven thousand yahrens
ago."
     Cain let out a mild guffaw, "Lords of Kobol, Adama is that what
you've pinned the hopes of human civilization on?   An ancient myth in
the Book of the Word?"
     "It isn't a myth, Cain."   Adama said.   "I saw evidence of the
Thirteenth Tribe on Kobol itself.   We journeyed back to the mother
planet and the evidence in the Tomb of the Ninth Lord confirmed its
existence."
     "Do you know the coordinates?"
     "No," Adama admitted.   "The Cylons unfortunately destroyed the
Tomb in a sneak attack before I could find that information."
     "Then you could have this Fleet wandering uncharted space to the
other end of the galaxy for eons!"  Cain protested.   "Adama, that's
not survival, that's condemning generations of people to a life of
endless wandering in captivity!"
     "It offers a better hope then taking on the Cylons in military
engagements that we can't win."   Adama gently retorted.   "If we find
Earth though, we can end up finding a civilization that had to have
developed at the same rate that the Colonies did.   The kind of
civilization that could help us effectively defend ourselves, and
perhaps some day go on the offensive.    But until we find Earth, all
we can do is escape the Cylons."
     "You're really serious," Cain still couldn't believe it.   "What
makes you think we couldn't take them on now?   We can outfly them, we
can outfight them----"
     Adama abruptly cut him off.
     "In case you haven't noticed, I'm protecting 220 civilian ships in
this Fleet.  Ships that were never intended for deep space flight, and
which crawl along at a pace that is perfect for target practice."
     The frustration was clearly mounting inside Cain as he moved away
from Adama, "There must be some way."
     "I wish there was," Adama said sincerely.   "Because if you think
I don't wish I could extract some revenge on the Cylons after what they
did to the Colonies, you'd be mistaken."
     "I wouldn't doubt that for a micron."   Cain conceded.
     "Then understand my position that for now, we need to concentrate
on intercepting some Cylon tankers.    And your knowledge of the Cylon
supply line will be most invaluable in letting us do that."
     "Why bother with tankers?" Cain turned around and looked him in
the eye.   "Go straight for the fuel base on Gomorrah."
     At least he's come down from taking the planet to just raiding the
depot, Adama thought.  "That won't work either, Cain.  For now, I'm
dead in space because I can't leave any of those ships unprotected
while we go off to secure the fuel base."
     "Hades hole, Adama!" Cain flailed his arms and began pacing again. 
 "In that case, just give me a couple of your best squadrons while you
provide defensive cover for the Fleet with your turrets, and then I can
take the base myself!    Then you'll have enough solium and tylium for
those ships to last all the way to Earth even if it is at the other end
of the galaxy!"
     "Right now Cain, I'll be satisfied with just enough fuel to get
out of this quadrant and throw the pursuit force off guard."
     "Adama," Cain said pointedly.   "You might not get another chance
to get fuel from a source as rich as Gomorrah is.    It's the biggest
depot in this part of galaxy, and they keep adding to it every sectan
with more shipments from outside!   If you're interested in making this
journey of yours a success, you've got to grab this opportunity!    If
not for the sake of Colonial pride, then for your people's sake then."
     Adama felt a heavy burden on his heart as he realized that the
time had now come for him to effectively pull rank on his old friend.  
 The seniority system of the Colonial Command structure meant that
while Adama and Cain were of equal rank, Adama was senior by virtue of
receiving his commission one semester ahead of Cain.    And it wasn't a
task he relished because Adama knew that the only reason why Fate had
made him senior to Cain was because the Juggernaut had once been
suspended from the Academy for two semesters, in effect delaying his
commission and putting him junior to a number of men he should have
rightfully been senior to.   Including Adama.   And what had to stick
in Cain's craw even more was the fact that the man who was responsible
for his suspension was none other than Commander Kronus.
     "Cain," he assumed a gentle friendly tone, since he had no
intention of embarrassing his friend by browbeating him.   "I've made
my decision.    Now you draw up the plans for capturing those tankers,
and I know that whatever tactics you devise, I'll approve them.   I
know you're the best when it comes to that."
     The Juggernaut seemed deflated.   "Well, if that's the way you
want it, I suppose I have no choice."
     "My facilities aboard the Galactica are completely at your
disposal.   In fact, you can use the VIP quarters right next to mine to
draw up your plans."
     "Thank you, I think I'll get started on that now."  He then
glanced down at the half empty bottle of ambrosia he and Adama had
started.   "Mind if I take this with me?" he picked it up.
     "Consider it a gift with my compliments," Adama smiled.   "And the
compliments of all the people in the Fleet."
     Cain finally smiled again.   "I'll do what I can to repay their
kindness."
     As soon as Cain was gone, Adama sat down in his chair and tried to
contemplate what the future was going to be like with Cain's constant
presence.    Already, it was clear that putting himself back into a
subordinate role after so many yahrens of having free rein as Commander
of the Colonial Fifth Fleet wasn't going to be easy for the Juggernaut.
     Hopefully, that wasn't going to mean trouble for the long haul.

     Chapter Three

     As soon as Apollo and Starbuck had left the landing bay following
their dramatic return, the black-haired captain decided it was finally
time to broach the subject that had been on both of their minds since
the end of their first conversation with Cain.
     "So what are you going to do?" he decided to try to keep his tone
light.  "Find a way to keep Cassiopeia in total isolation so she never
finds out?"
     "Very funny," Starbuck managed an awkward grin but it was clear
the whole matter had been gnawing at him all this time.   "I'll find a
way to let him down easy.    I mean......you don't just dump on a
hero."
     Apollo shook his head in bemusement as they stepped on to the
turbo lift that would take them up to the deck where the non-pilots
quarters were.   "Yeah, you're assuming that Cassiopeia is going to
right away just dismiss Cain as some distant memory from the past and
not even bother to go see him once she finds out he's back."
     The turbo lift stopped and Apollo stepped out first.    Starbuck
hesitated slightly before he got out and followed him down the
corridor.
     "Apollo----" he started.   But at that instant, he found himself
feeling more on the defensive for the first time.
     "Oh sorry, I forgot."  Apollo held out his arms and grinned as he
remained several steps ahead of Starbuck.   "Once they experience the
aura of Starbuck-----"
     "I never said that."   Starbuck said as he came up alongside him
and pointed his finger.   "I mean, that's true of course, but I never
said it."
     "Sure."  Apollo kept grinning.
     "Look let's face it, Apollo," they came to the door outside
Cassiopeia's quarters.   "He is an older man."
     "What's this?"  Apollo decided to stick the needle even further,
knowing that Starbuck didn't resent it.   "Practicing your excuses on
me?    Look, the big centon has arrived.    If you like, I'll be glad
to let you handle this yourself."
     "I think I'd appreciate that."
     "Okay," he said.   "Just let me take Boxey off her hands and then
I'll leave you two be."
     Starbuck opened the door and the two entered.    Cassiopeia and
Boxey were both on the floor with a game board between them.    A
non-computer game called Tactician that offered a basic version of two
sides engaged in a simple game of ground combat, with each side trying
to get to the other end of the board and capture the flag of the
opponent.   Behind Boxey, perched on the couch was his beloved daggit
Muffit.
     "Hi!" Apollo said as he entered.   "How goes the game?"
     "Thank the Lords, you're back."   Cassiopeia looked up at the two
warriors and smiled.   "Do you know how many sweet chips and mushies I
have to pay this little monster after all the games he's beaten me at?"
     Boxey looked up at his father and let out a mischievous grin that
Apollo always found endearing.
     "That's the way to become a warrior, Boxey."  Apollo smiled back. 
 "Show no mercy in battle."
     "I'm about to win my sixth game now."  The little boy said with
pride.
     "Consider it won."   Apollo said.   "It's time you get back to
brushing up on your studies for tomorrow."
     "Aw, can't I just finish this one?"
     "I surrender, Boxey, I surrender."  Cassiopeia jokingly held up
her arms and moved one of his game pieces to her end of the board,
knocking over the one that represented her flag.   "I'll gladly pay you
one extra container of your favorite fruit juice."
     "Orange-berry!" Boxey exclaimed.
     "Done!" she got to her feet.   "Look, we've had a great time
together.   If Athena's ever tied up with bridge duty again and you
need me to look after him while you're away, don't hesitate to ask."
     "I won't." Apollo nodded and motioned to Starbuck.   "I'll let you
two get caught up on things for now."
     "Thanks." Starbuck nodded, trying not to let his queasiness show.
     Apollo took Boxey by the hand and left the room, with Muffit
trailing the two.    As soon as the door closed, Starbuck calmly
exhaled and began pacing about the room.
     "Starbuck?" Cassiopeia frowned.   "Is something wrong?"
     "Oh no.   No."  He absently waved.
     "You sure look tense."  The med-tech came up and gently put her
arms around him.   "Does this make you feel better?" she kissed him
lightly on the lips.
     "Um...."
     "Something is bothering you," she let go of him and seemed amazed.

     Again, Starbuck exhaled and began to pace again.   "I've
ah.....got some news for you.   About an old friend of yours.   Someone
you may have been involved with or just ah...... liked.   I don't know
which.    Anyway," he turned around and saw that she was frowning at
him in total befuddlement.   "He's been found.   Alive."
     Cassiopeia came up to him, still perplexed.   "Who?"
     "Look, I know it's over between the two of you," Starbuck began to
speak at a more rapid pace, as though he thought that by talking fast,
he could get it over with more quickly.   "But after all, he is such a
legend and we'll have to let him down easy.   Now if you want to do it,
fine, but I'll be glad to handle it for you if it's too awkward----"
     "Starbuck," Cassiopeia interrupted.   "Will you quit talking like
an Aquarian philosopher and start speaking common Colonial standard?   
Who are we talking about?"
     Starbuck almost felt sick but finally forced himself to say it.  
"Commander Cain."
     Her eyes widened in deep shock.   And then, without saying a word,
she abruptly turned and walked out, leaving Starbuck alone and wishing
he could bang his head against the compartment walls.
     He finally collected his wits and left the room, walking down the
short distance to Apollo's quarters, and not even bothering to sound
the chime.
     "That was fast," Apollo said as he got up from the small bench
where he'd been watching Boxey take out his assignment books for
primary classes.   "So how'd she take it?"
     "She ah....well, she wanted to be alone, so I ah......" he
absently waved his hand.
     "Starbuck," Apollo's tone grew serious.   "Are you in a little
pain or something?   You look like the cadet who just found out he's
been given deep patrol duty for two straight sectans."
     "Do I?"  Starbuck looked surprised.   "What makes you think that?"
     "Hey, come on Starbuck, it's me.   Apollo.   Your conscience, as
you like to call me whenever you're in trouble.  We're supposed to talk
about these kinds of things."
     "Yeah, but ah...." he avoided looking him in the eye, "Well, I
guess I never did like to admit that I'd form attachments."
     "You never even like to admit it to yourself."  Apollo's tone grew
deathly serious.   "That's something I've never understood about you in
all the yahrens we've known each other."
     "Look," Starbuck took a breath, finding it a struggle to open up
this much.    He couldn't remember feeling this awkward since that
disastrous conversation with Athena in the locker room just after the
Holocaust.   "You came from a large family.   I didn't have that,
growing up in a Caprica City orphanage.    That's why I just......grew
up keeping the number of people around me as large as I could."
     "I see," Apollo nodded.   "So you couldn't be hurt by any
particular one?    Going out with several women at the same time in
your life, like you did when it was Aurora and Athena?"
     "Look."  Starbuck gritted his teeth.   "I don't care if Cassiopeia
feels something for Cain.  I just ah...." he started to walk away from
Apollo.  "Well, I just don't understand the combination.  I mean
ah....well he's......"
     "Too old?" Apollo finished for him.   "Starbuck, I think you'd
better read the Book of the Word carefully again.    Some of the elders
of Kobol were married to some very young wives."
     Starbuck's eyes widened.   "Wives?    Come on Apollo, aren't we
getting a little ahead of ourselves?   I mean," he frowned, "She
wouldn't marry him."   He started to walk away, then turned back and
was smiling awkwardly.   "Anyway, who cares?   What's it matter to me? 
 She's in charge of her own life.   Why should I care?    I can
always......" he started to walk away, "Well, there's always going to
be something for me, right?    So why should I care?"
     And then, the door closed, cutting off his rambling monologue.
     Apollo found himself almost laughing in spite of himself.
     "Poor Starbuck," he heard Boxey's voice from behind.   "Oh well,
he's still got Athena.   And Mackin, and...."
     "Hey will you stop?"  His father turned around and looked at his
son incredulously.   "And who said you could listen in?   You're
supposed to be reading your study books."
     Boxey flashed another mischievous grin at him which instantly
caused any displeasure Apollo might have felt to evaporate.
     "Yeah, you're right."  He knelt down and put his hands on his
son's shoulders.   "It does seem kind of funny.   But Boxey, trust me. 
 When you get older, you'll realize that this sort of thing really
isn't so funny after all.   It can end up making you feel pretty lousy
when it doesn't go right."	
     Boxey looked at him thoughtfully and then nodded.   "Sorry."
     "It's okay," he hugged him.   "Now I've got to go take care of
something else right now.   And when I get back in about a centar, I
want you to be all washed up and ready for bed.   Can you handle that
yourself?"
     "Sure."  He nodded.   "Where are you going?"
     "I'm going to be talking to some of our new friends from the
Pegasus," Apollo said.
     Left unspoken was the fact that there was only one person from
among that group that he wanted to talk to.


     Cain had just emptied the last of the ambrosia he'd taken from
Adama into a glass and was about to sit down to go over the preliminary
sketch of his battle plan that he had been working on.    The abrupt
sound of the chime stopped him.
     "Enter." he looked over to the door.    When it slid open, he was
stunned to see standing there with a beaming smile, the woman whose
hologram had sustained him for two yahrens now.   The beautiful
Gemonese socialator who had literally saved him from the black abyss of
depression during the worst time of his life.
     "Cassie," he whispered.    And then, he made his way over to her. 
 For a long micron they looked into each other's eyes, as though
neither of them knew what they should do next.   Finally Cain put his
hands on her bare shoulders and pulled him tightly to her.
     "I asked if they could check to see if you were among the
survivors." he said, still in a state of disbelief that his prayer had
been answered.   "I never thought I'd know this quickly.   Thank the
Lords."
     Finally, he gave into his deeper instincts and kissed her twice.
     "I've missed you, so."   Cassiopeia said when they had finished.  
 And then, a brief flash of guilt went through her head as she
remembered leaving Starbuck so abruptly.   It caused her to loosen
herself slightly from Cain.   "But....I had to stop thinking about you
too much."
     The Juggernaut nodded faintly in understanding.   "I wouldn't have
expected you to do otherwise.    Especially with all those young
warriors around here."
     "It hasn't been like that at all, Cain."  she said.  "I'm not a
socialator anymore.   I got out of that after the Holocaust because it
really didn't seem like a......productive designation any longer."
     "What do you do?" 
     Cassiopeia smiled weakly.  "I went back to my first love.  
Medicine.   I'm now senior med-tech."
     "Congratulations."  Cain was impressed.   "I always knew you had
the aptitude for that kind of thing.     I'm glad you think you're
really doing something that productive." he paused.  "But even if
you're not a socialator any longer, I can't believe you don't have
every pilot in the Fleet fighting over you."
     "There's only one man in my life right now.  And he doesn't love
easily."
     "Then you shouldn't be wasting time on him."
     Cassiopeia shook her head.   "He's not a waste of time.   He's
just afraid of caring too much.    He.....had a rough childhood,
growing up in an orphanage."
     "No worse than yours, " Cain said, as he recalled the stories
Cassiopeia had shared with him about growing up with her widowed
father, an Aerian merchant, who made his trade in some of the seediest,
crime-filled areas of Colonial society.
     "We all handle loneliness in our own ways," Cassiopeia said as she
felt Cain gently nuzzle her hair.   "My way was becoming a socialator
and reaching out to others.    Starbuck's was to shut everyone out."
     Cain let go of her and looked surprised.   "You're talking about
Starbuck?    He's the one you're serious with?"
     "Yes.    You met him already?"
     "I did." the Juggernaut then shook his head as he recalled showing
Starbuck and Apollo the hologram of Cassiopeia, and how the blonde
lieutenant had managed to conceal the fact that the woman Cain was
searching for was someone he knew very well.    "I asked him and Apollo
to find out if you were alive, and he never said a word."
     "Would you have expected him to tell you, given the
circumstances?"  she pointed out.  "I never told him about us, Cain.   
I didn't think it would be fair to him if I did."
     "I won't blame you for that."
     "He is a good warrior."
     "Is he?" a sardonic edge crept into Cain's voice.
     Cassiopeia sighed and kissed him quickly on the lips.   "I wasn't
comparing the two of you.   I never have these last six sectars since I
first met him.    But Cain.....you're going to have to give me time to
think about all this.     I just can't.....have us pick up from where
we left off."
     Cain skipped a beat.   "We may not have that much time, Cassie."
     "I know," she glanced at the floor.   "But Cain....I can't have it
any other way."
     "I won't press you.....yet."
     She walked over to the porthole, not wanting to look at him when
she asked her next question.   "What about Sheba?"
     The edge of pride entered the Juggernaut's voice.   "She's become
one of the best warriors on the Pegasus.   No, I might as well not
qualify that.   She's the best, as far as I'm concerned."
     "She's going to be very unhappy to find out that I've come back
from the dead."  Cassiopeia folded her arms.
     Cain sighed and came up to her,   "Children don't understand the
needs that a man can have at different times in his life.   I mean, you
came into mine right after Bethany died.    I know it was....well, I
know it was difficult for Sheba to understand, but......."
     Cassiopeia turned around and saw how awkward Cain's sentences had
become now that he'd mentioned his wife's name.   It had always been
difficult for Cain to say Bethany's name in her presence, because deep
down Cassiopeia knew that Cain still felt guilty and always would about
not having been there when Bethany had died of a horrible illness that
had left her in a state of delirium at the end.   That had happened
just two sectars before Cassiopeia had met a weeping, distraught Cain
one night in a Caprica City bar, and taking comfort on him, had offered
her services as a socialator to him.    Only to see the relationship go
beyond what a socialator was ordinarily supposed to provide and become
a passionate love affair.
     ".....But for me, Cassie, well......you saved me.    I.....would
have taken a laser pistol and pulled the trigger at my forehead if you
hadn't been there to......give me comfort and strength and.....love."
     The blonde med-tech and former socialator sighed.   "Did you ever
stop to think that maybe Sheba wanted to fill that role?"
     "How?" he raised an eyebrow.   "She's my daughter."
     "That wasn't what I meant."   she kept her tone patient.   "I was
talking about filling the role of giving comfort and strength.    The
things that a socialator does that are more important than.....well the
physical part of it ultimately."
     Cain nodded.   "I'm sorry, I see what you mean.    But Cassie,
I......I couldn't ask her to fill that role.   I mean," he turned away
from her, "Every time I looked at her, all I could see is Bethany's
face.    She's.....the very image of her.   It just.....reminded me too
much of what I'd lost, and what I'd wasted, all those yahrens of not
being there for Bethany when she needed me."
     "I think Sheba got the impression that her mother's memory didn't
mean anything to you anymore once I entered your life."
     The Juggernaut sighed.   "That isn't true.   And it never will be. 
 I even made that clear to you from the beginning that was the  reason
why I'd never ask you to become sealed to me no matter how long we were
together.    And that's one thing I'm always going to feel strongly
about.   Bethany is the only woman I ever want to have been married to
and she is always going to be the first love of my life until I die.   
But.....for some people a memory, no matter how meaningful and precious
it is, just can't be enough.    That's why I needed you Cassie."   He
put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her again.   "And why after two
lonely yahrens since Molocay I need you still."
     "You said you wouldn't press me yet."
     "So I did."  Cain stepped back and took her hand.   "But I didn't
say I wouldn't spend that time making my case."
     She smiled in amazed wonder.   "You're still the same."
     "Come with me," he wrapped his arm around her waist.   "I want you
to meet some of my warriors in the Officers Club that have come over
from the Pegasus."
     As they left the room, Cassiopeia wondered if Cain had decided
Sheba was going to find out about her resurrection in a public forum.  
 If that was the case, then she had a feeling that things weren't going
to look any better in the near future.


     When Apollo arrived in the Officers Club, he saw that more than
twelve warriors from the Pegasus had arrived and at that moment, were
happily exchanging stories with the Galactica warriors who had
gathered.
     "So are you guys always in a state of round the clock action
against the Cylons on Gomorrah?" he recognized the voice of Sergeant
Barton of Red Squadron.
     "No, that would be overplaying our hand too much."   Bojay said as
he sipped from a tankard.   
     "The way we do it, is we lay low for about a sectan or so, giving
them just enough time to rebuild what they lost in the previous attack. 
   And then, when it comes time for them to have the base rededicated,
that's when we go in and turn it all into scrap metal again."
     Apollo's eyes locked on to the person who had just spoken.     He
recognized her instantly from the hologram and for an instant marveled
at how even more beautiful she was in person.    And how incredible it
was for him to connect her with the sharp-tongued pilot who had nearly
blown him to infinity.
     "What about you guys?"  Bojay turned to Barton and Jolly, the two
Galactica warriors nearest to him.   "You've probably been raising all
kinds of felgercarb with those tinheads yourself."
     "I wish," Jolly sighed.   "There haven't been too many
opportunities for that lately."
     Apollo decided that now was the time.   "Mind if I join you?"  He
moved forward.
     "Sure," Bojay grinned.   "Go right ahead."
     "It hasn't been too bad a track record," Apollo said as he sat
down.    "We did shoot down two Cylon patrol ships last sectan.    And
on what few occasions we have been thrust into combat situations over
the last six sectars, we've more than held our own."
     Finally, his eyes locked on to Sheba's.    "Apollo.   Strike
Captain Apollo."  he said with a friendly air.   "You must be Sheba.   
I understand you spent some time recently flying on my tail."
     Sheba smiled brightly at him, and Apollo was startled to find that
it made his heart skip a beat.   "Yes.   To both questions."
     "My congratulations on your showing me that I need to brush up on
my flying skills to keep from ever being ambushed like that again."
     "Hey, you and Starbuck both owe your lives to her," Bojay motioned
to Sheba with his tankard.   "Me, I was ready to open fire, but she
managed to scan both your ships first and realized we'd been chasing a
couple of lost humans all this time."
     "Still the impulsive one as always, right Bojay?"   Jolly needled. 
  But when the Pegasus warrior turned around and glared slightly at the
Galactica warrior, it was clear that he didn't care for the remark.   
And in the process, gave both Apollo and Jolly a reminder of why Bojay
hadn't fit in with the rest of them during his time aboard the
Galactica.
     "So tell me."  Sheba kept her eyes on Apollo.   "How is it that
you haven't taken advantage of more opportunities to raise trouble with
the Cylons?    Two patrol ships in a sectan doesn't amount to too
much."
     "It all depends on circumstances."  Apollo said, not taking his
own eyes off hers.   "When you're responsible for the lives of 70,000
people traveling on slow moving barges, the first priority always has
to be keeping a low profile."
     Her smile faded slightly.   "Sounds like we're going to be
incompatible.   For us, keeping a low profile means laying low during
the interlude between attack periods."
     "All of us have to learn how to adjust," a pointed edge entered
Apollo's voice.  "Even Commander Cain may have to learn to alter his
combat techniques."
     "Really."  the smile hadn't completely faded from Sheba's face but
it was clear that the warmth was all gone from it.   "And who's going
to tell him that?"
     "Well, being a student of your father's career, I think he'll come
to that conclusion on his own."  Apollo said, choosing his words
carefully.  "He's by far the most astute strategic analyst the Colonies
ever produced, and I think when it comes to factoring in the situation
as it exists now, the conclusion will be obvious to him."
     Her brown eyes narrowed, as though she were studying Apollo
critically, trying to fully assess whether his remarks had been made in
the spirit of admiration or criticism.
     Before she could say anything else, the door to the Club slid open
and all the warriors standing at the entrance bolted to their feet.
     "At ease, at ease."   Cain said nonchalantly as he waved his
swagger stick.   "No time for any formalities today.    This is a time
for all of us to get to acquainted.    Glad to see so many of you are
here."
     From his position in the center of the Club, Apollo could see
Cassiopeia standing alongside Cain.    And right away, he saw a dark
cloud pass over Sheba's face as the woman she had consigned to the
realm of a bad memory in her mind, had now re-entered her life.
     As Cain continued to mingle with the warriors at the front of the
Club, Cassiopeia also fixed her gaze on Sheba, keeping her expression
stoic and neutral.    She knew any hint of a smile would have been
taken the wrong way by Sheba and only make what she knew was already a
bad situation even worse.    Already, her mind was recalling the
numerous occasions when Sheba had confronted her with words of anger
and venom, demanding that she stay away from her father.   And how she
had always been determined not to match her venomous words, except for
one occasion when the words and epithets from Sheba became so ugly,
that she finally cracked from the strain and unleashed a tirade of her
own in return that almost resulted in the two of them coming to
physical blows.    To this day, Cassiopeia considered it miraculous
that hadn't happened.    There was a part of her that understood why
Sheba resented her presence.    What she couldn't understand was why
Sheba had to let her resentment turn to bitterness and hatred.
     For a half centon, Cassiopeia's neutral expression met the dark,
bitter one of Sheba's.   And then, as Cain began making his way forward
to talk to some of the other warriors from the Galactica, she finally
turned away and followed the Juggernaut.
     "In the spirit of insuring further harmony amongst our two ships,"
Cain went on. "It's my pleasure to announce that the next round of
drinks is on me!    And then, we'll all share a toast to our future
victory over the Cylons!"
     Cheers went up from all the warriors in the room, Galactica and
Pegasus alike.   All except Sheba, who was now staring at the floor,
her facial muscles visibly throbbing as though she was trying to keep
herself from exploding in fury.    And also Apollo, whose attention was
on her completely.
     "Come my sweet Cassiopeia," Cain was beaming as he motioned toward
the bar.   "Let's share our first drink to celebrate the happy
reunion."
     As soon as the Juggernaut had spoken his endearment to Cassiopeia,
Sheba finally let out a long slow exhale and then without looking up
said, "If you'll excuse me, I think I've had enough combat for now.  
Bojay, I'll meet you back on the Pegasus later."
     "Yeah."  Bojay was taken aback by her change in attitude, since he
had no idea what it was that was troubling her.
     As Sheba left the Officers Club, Apollo found himself impulsively
rising from his seat and following her out.   Even without any prior
knowledge, he now understood completely what Cain's past relationship
with Cassiopeia had to have meant for the Juggernaut's daughter.   And
given Cassiopeia's former occupation, he also knew what Sheba's
impression of Cassiopeia as a person had to be.    As far as he was
concerned, someone who knew differently about Cassiopeia needed to talk
to her right away.    Sheba was probably the best natural pilot he'd
ever met, and if she was going to brood about this situation, he
already knew it could mean trouble one day in a combat situation.
     Cassiopeia shook her head with a slight air of disgust as Sheba
walked past them without looking in their direction.   "Nothing
changes."
     "Everything changes."   Cain said as he poured her drink,
oblivious to his daughter's hasty departure.
     She looked him in the eye and shook her head.   "Not people."


     "Sheba?"  Apollo called out with concern as soon as he was in the
corridor.
     The Pegasus warrior came to a stop and turned around.    The
bitter expression on her face was still there.
     "Can we talk?"   He asked gently.
     "No," she exhaled in the manner of one who had just mentally
counted to ten to avoid exploding with fury.   "No, I really don't feel
up to it.   I'm.....sorry."  She then turned her head away from him.
     "Sheba," Apollo felt his inner sense of concern for her deepening. 
 "We all have to learn how to work together if we're going to survive."
     "Working with you won't be the problem." Sheba abruptly turned
back to him and said coldly.  
     "That has to go for everyone, Sheba."   Apollo said.   "Including
the people you may not like.   Believe me, there are people aboard the
Galactica I can't stand personally, but I'm still willing to lay down
my life for them just the same."
     "Good for you," she sounded unimpressed as she began to walk away. 
  "But I'm sure you can't know everyone as well as you should in order
to feel that way."
     "I do know the lady you're upset about."
     Sheba stopped and turned back to him again.   "Do you."   She said
it more like a statement than a question.
     "I know who she is now."   Apollo said.   "What she may have been
before doesn't matter any longer.    Every one of us has been through a
cleansing fire thanks to the Holocaust."
     "She's the kind of person who can never be cleansed, Captain." 
the coldness increased in Sheba's voice.
     Apollo felt a sense of exasperation creep in.   "Sheba, just for
your information, Cassiopeia is one of the strongest people I know of. 
  She's now our best med-tech, and it's people like her that help piece
the wounded who aren't lucky enough to get out of the way whenever we
have to go through the agony of another Cylon attack.    And I've seen
firsthand how people like her have to work around the clock sometimes
in order to do that.     Those are the kinds of people who've helped
make what's left of our civilization survive after the worst kind of
horrors imaginable."
     "She's a med-tech now?" the coldness in Sheba's voice was briefly
replaced with mild surprise.
     "Yes."  Apollo said.   "She's like everyone that's learned how to
contribute in the face of hardship."
     "Okay Captain," the coldness came back halfway.   "Consider me
briefed as to Cassiopeia's newfound nobility in life as a med-tech."
     "What about convinced?"
     She shook her head and smiled coldly, "I don't convince easy.   
Human weakness is a given.    It may lower its profile in the form of
taking a more nobler profession than socialator, but it's still there. 
  Especially in someone like her."
     "What about you?   Do you have any weaknesses?"  Apollo found
himself amazed at how there seemed to be so many different facets to
Sheba.     A magnificent flyer.    Totally professional in carrying out
her duties, because only a professional would have had the sense to
scan his viper and Starbuck's and cease firing on them once it
indicated human lifeforms.    A woman who obviously could be warm and
tender as the hologram message to her father indicated.  Yet at the
same time, she could also be cold, bitter and unapproachable.    A
woman of many contradictions.    Something he could never recall seeing
in any other person he'd ever met.
     She looked him in the eye in silence for a half centon and then
the cold smile returned to her face.   "None that will ever come
between us, Captain."
     Sheba began walking away from him, then stopped and turned around. 
 "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
     "No." he shook his head.
     "You lost your mother in the Holocaust, didn't you?"
     "Yeah." he already had an inkling of what was on her mind.
     "How would you feel if your father suddenly decided to start
having a relationship with a woman young enough to be your sister less
than two sectars after her death, and then removed every holopic, and
every trace that she'd ever been alive from your presence?"  Sheba made
certain she'd phrased her question in the bluntest terms possible.
     It was a question Apollo knew he should have anticipated, but even
so, it made him flinch that it had been put to him.
     His reaction did not go unnoticed.   "I think you've already
answered my question."  she smiled in grim satisfaction.   "And that
says something about your own weaknesses, doesn't it?"
     Without saying anything else, she resumed her walk down the
corridor, finally turning the corridor and disappearing from view.
     Apollo shook his head in amazement.     Sheba had just hit the
nail on the head as to why even now, as he found himself repelled by
her coldness and her bitterness, he could also feel deep empathy with
her.    And still be in awe of the rest of what he'd already seen of
her.
     He found the walk back to his quarters to be longer than it
normally would have seemed to him.

     Chapter Four

     For several centons, Adama felt himself drawn to the porthole
which now offered him a clear view of the Pegasus off in the distance. 
  The very sight of the battlestar was enough to fill the Galactica
commander with a sense of renewed strength that he hadn't felt since
the Holocaust. Yet strangely enough, the sight of the sister battlestar
was also enough to make Adama ponder other less joyous matters.
     He had already sensed from their initial meeting that Cain's
instinct for seizing the offensive might lead to complications further
down the road.   Not to mention the fact that Cain would probably need
considerable convincing on the merit of having the Fleet search for
Earth when undoubtedly his first desire was to see the Cylons brought
to their knees at long last.
     In the nearly forty yahrens that Adama had known Cain, he had
always seen the Juggernaut as the kind of man he might have been had he
been the type to give in to his base instincts.    For Adama knew that
like Cain, he dreamed of seeing the Cylon Empire destroyed.   Like
Cain, he wished to see the Cylons receive payback in full for the
Destruction and the Holocaust.    Doubly so in Adama's case, since the
added dimension of avenging both a son and a wife lost in that
Holocaust was part of the equation too.
     But the one thing that ultimately made Adama different from Cain
was his sense of diplomacy and tact.    The ability to step back and
think for an extra centon and realize what impulsiveness could lead to
if it wasn't tempered by a general sense of restraint and reason.   
Qualities that were essential whether the environment was a viper
cockpit, the bridge of a battlestar, or the chambers of the Council.   
To Adama, the only reason why Cain had been able to get by without
diplomacy and restraint all these yahrens was because the Juggernaut
possessed more natural talent as a strategic and tactical thinker than
any other warrior in the history of the Colonies.     He was thus, the
only man alive who could get by on base instincts because of that
strategic and tactical wizardry.
     Adama could remember how their different approaches to battle had
led to clashes when the two of them served together in Blue Squadron
aboard the Battlestar Cerberus.     After their third battle engagement
together, both had gone to the venerable Commander Odysseus asking to
be assigned to different squadrons, since neither felt they could ever
harmonize their respective approaches to battle.     But Odysseus had
refused, sensing that the two of them could in the end make an
effective team if they realized how their competing styles could
ultimately complement each other.    And so, Adama and Cain had
continued to fly together in the Cerberus's Blue Squadron group with
slight suspicion of each other for the next yahren and a half,
ultimately vindicating Odysseus's instincts in a number of successful
missions against the Cylons.
     Cain's subsequent transfer to a more senior flight position aboard
the Battlestar Pegasus brought an end to the missions he and Adama had
shared together, and ever since, Adama's relationship with Cain had
been that of old friends who only saw each other socially at ceremonial
functions or for short visits during the rare times when both were on
furlon and their wives were able to arrange a reunion.    It was enough
to make Adama wonder if after more than thirty five yahrens of not
working together in combat, could the two of them learn how to
complement their styles as they had before, or would it be like the
beginning, when they had nearly been at each other's throats?
     And would the fact that Adama was now, by virtue of the Seniority
System, Cain's superior and the final arbiter prove to be an even
greater complication than he might have originally envisioned?
     He would soon know the answer when Cain presented his battle plan
for capturing the Cylon tankers, which by his chronometer would take
place within a centar.


     When Cain arrived in the Great Hall that normally served as the
meeting place for the Council of Twelve, Adama was mildly surprised to
see only Colonel Tolen accompanying him.   Normal procedure would have
meant having the viper squadron commander present too, which accounted
for Apollo's presence along with Colonel Tigh.    
     "Adama, Colonel, Captain."   Cain politely nodded to the three
Galactica officers as he went up to the navigation map.   "This
shouldn't take more than a centon."
     "Shouldn't your squadron leader be here too, Commander?" Apollo
asked
     "No need," Cain waved his swagger stick.   "This sort of thing is
routine for my daughter.   She knows what to expect."
     For only an instant, Apollo wondered if that was really the reason
why Sheba hadn't decided to return from the Pegasus, especially in
light of his earlier conversation with her.    He then put that thought
aside and leaned forward in his chair to listen intently while the
Juggernaut outlined his plan.    Seeing Commander Cain in action,
showing off his genius and plotting a battle was something he'd always
wanted to see.    
     "This is the path of the Cylon supply convoy line to Gomorrah,"
Cain pointed to the upper right corner of the board.    "They follow a
strict timetable for delivery of materials to the outer capital.    
Even previous strikes and intercepts by our forces haven't caused them
to deviate from them.     I suspect the reason for that is because the
command infrastructure at Gommorah hasn't been anxious to inform their
superiors of the trouble we've been causing them, and thus are
determined to maintain a semblance of normality when it comes to their
supply schedule."
     Adama found himself nodding.     It was already clear to him that
the pursuit force commanded by Baltar couldn't possibly be aware that
Cain and the Pegasus still lived, or else they would not have forced
the Galactica into a quadrant of space where they could conceivably
regroup with stronger numbers in the next engagement.     And if the
pursuit force didn't know, then it wasn't likely the Cylon Imperious
Leader knew either.
     "According to their timetable, the latest convoy to arrive at
Gomorrah would take place at 1200 tomorrow.    That means that by 2000
tonight, they would be right here."  Cain tapped his stick against the
corner of the board.   "And I feel our best opportunity is to take them
on in this spot."
     "Commander," Colonel Tigh frowned.   "That seems a little too far
to our rear for our vipers to handle."
     "Not if we use turbos all the way."
     Adama drew up to the board and stared at it intently.   "Turbos
all the way," he mused.   "Why not wait for them to be in closer
proximity to Gomorrah, when we could handle them without using full
turbos?"
     "Because it's a move that they wouldn't expect.    The further out
they are, the safer they think they'll be, and that will give us an
element of total surprise that their machine minds couldn't begin to
deal with."
     "But surely they provide fighter escort for their convoy," Adama
turned to face the Juggernaut, still skeptical.   "Suppose our vipers
ended up in protracted combat and had to use their reserves?   They
wouldn't have enough fuel to make it back."
     "I don't fight prolonged battles with Cylons," Cain was still
boastfully half-smiling.   "They're not that good and we are."
     Tigh felt his eyes rolling inside.   If we're that good, then why
were we the ones who had our civilization wiped out six sectars ago?  
To anyone who had witnessed the Holocaust firsthand, the familiar
boasts about the superior skills of Colonial warriors possessed the
most hollow ring imaginable.    Especially from someone who hadn't
witnessed the horror of the Holocaust firsthand.
     "Very well, Cain," Adama said, more from resignation than
enthusiasm.   "The attack will launch at 1930 to intercept them at
2000.    A single squadron from each battlestar will take part."
     "Adama," Cain gently interrupted, still keeping a genial
expression.   "No offense intended to your men, but I'd prefer to use
just my own squadron on this maneuver."
     Apollo felt himself bristle slightly as soon as the words came out
of the Juggernaut's mouth.   He quickly glanced at his father, who
seemed to be mildly exasperated.
     "Commander," Adama managed to keep the exasperation out of his
voice.   "I think for the purpose of morale, it might be best if we
started to integrate our squadrons.    To build a sense of teamwork." 
He put a slight stress on the last word, wondering if it still had any
meaning to the Juggernaut after all these yahrens of having total free
rein, and hoping it could at least rekindle the memory of how Ensign
Cain and Ensign Adama had worked so well together aboard the Cerberus.
     To Adama's surprise though, Cain didn't argue the point.
     "Very well, Adama," he said nonchalantly.   "I'm sure my warriors
will be glad to pass on their experience.    Silver Spar group is
standing by aboard the Pegasus and will rendezvous with Captain
Apollo's group within a centon after we're away."
     He and Adama then shook hands and the Juggernaut turned to depart,
with Colonel Tolen trailing.    As soon as the Pegasus commander and
executive officer were gone, Apollo shook his head in a mixture of
amazement and slight irritation.     There had been something about
Cain's easy braggadocio that like Tigh, had left him with a slight
distaste in his mouth.
     "Is there anything he doesn't do better than everyone else?"  he
rose from his chair and came up to his father.
     "Oh, that's just his way of talking, Apollo," Adama shook his head
and smiled.   "I've known him for forty yahrens, and he's never changed
a bit when it comes to that.    But that doesn't take away the fact
that he's the best man who ever came out of the Academy.    He's always
known how to back up his words with what he actually does."
     Tigh was shaking his head too, "All these yahrens I've heard
people talk about him as though he were some kind of.....well some kind
of god.     And his crew still seems to think the same way.    Did you
notice how Tolen didn't say a word the whole time?   Just kept nodding
his head and smiling every time Cain made one of his boasts, as though
there wasn't a good reason at all to question anything he might say."
     "Tigh," Adama looked at his old friend with gentle reproach.  
"You must remember that he's kept his people alive in the heart of this
Cylon sector for more than two yahrens.    Don't be surprised that his
men would do anything for him."
     The executive officer let out an exasperated sigh as he rose from
his seat.   "Rightfully so, sir."   But there was a ring of insincerity
in Tigh's words.    To Tigh, it was amazing that no one on the Pegasus
seemed to wonder if perhaps their commander had made a terrible
miscalculation in not trying to get home before the Destruction, where
he might have been able to do something that could have helped prevent
that tragedy from taking place.    Tigh certainly knew that was how he
would have reacted if he'd learned about the Holocaust secondhand as
all the members of the Pegasus's crew had.
     As soon as Tigh was gone, Apollo took a breath and said, "I hope
you do know that all this adulation and.....well awe that everyone
feels for him in no way detracts from how the men feel about you."
     "Oh Apollo," his father said disarmingly, "We're not in a
popularity contest, we're in a life and death struggle for survival.   
We need heroes like Cain.   Men and women that our people can look up
to and draw strength from.    We haven't had anyone like that in our
midst since we lost Commander Fairfax."
     "They've always had you, and they feel the same way about you,"
there was an air of defensiveness in Apollo's tone.   But inside, he
had always felt that his father had never received enough in terms of
adulation and respect from the people for insuring their own basic
survival.    Instead, he had seen firsthand in the six sectars since
the Holocaust, the complaints from people on passenger freighters about
food shortages.    The attempts by opponents on the Council of Twelve
to undercut Adama, especially by Sire Uri at Carillon.    And that had
always made Apollo feel angry inside, since he knew that for his father
to do what he had in the face of such personal tragedy himself, after
losing both Ila and Zac, had required the greatest show of strength in
human history.
     "I hope I haven't disappointed them."  Adama smiled reassuringly
and patted his son on the shoulder.   "Now you get Blue Squadron
assembled and ready to launch.   I don't want you to arrive at those
Cylon tankers after the Pegasus's group has already planted the
Colonial flag on them." he smiled warmly, "There is a matter of pride
after all.    The kind of competition among capital ships that I've
missed a great deal."
     Apollo finally relaxed, and he smiled back.   "Yes sir."
     "Son," Adama clapped his shoulders again and looked at him with
parental pride.   "Good luck.    And the Lords be with you."
     As soon as his son was gone, Adama felt himself wandering back to
the navigation board, his eyes focusing again on the quadrant in the
upper corner where the battle would take place.   Hoping it would go
off with perfect efficiency and that all of the inner concerns he'd
felt and kept hidden in the conversation with his son would be proved
wrong.


     As soon as she had returned to the Pegasus, Sheba had promptly
retreated to her own quarters, which she shared with the only other
three female pilots aboard the battlestar, and spent several centars
lying in her bunk staring at the ceiling with a tight-lipped
expression.    Cursing inwardly at whatever Deity there was for
reopening the most miserable chapter in her life in the form of
Cassiopeia.     The one individual that she could honestly admit
aroused hatred inside her as surely as the Cylons did.     To her,
Cassiopeia had been the equivalent of a Plague in her life and had only
recently finally receded in her mind to the safety of a distant
nightmare.    
     Now, a whole host of unpleasant memories passed through Sheba's
mind like a video-com entertainment broadcast unfolding.    Beginning
four yahrens ago, when she'd come home from the Academy on a semester
break to spend some time with her mother, who as always was trying to
cope with the extended absences of her husband, which sometimes could
be as long as a yahren and a half.    And Sheba knew that ever since
she'd entered the Academy, life had been growing more difficult for
Bethany.
     In the past, Bethany always had two outlets to take her mind off
the long separations from Cain, in her acting career and in raising her
daughter.    Sheba's coming of age and entry into the Academy had taken
one of those safety valves away, and it was also becoming clear that
after twenty yahrens as the queen of the Caprican National Theater,
Bethany's career had gone into decline.    No more was she being
offered challenging roles that could keep her mind occupied.     She
never explained why, but the rumor was that she had suddenly developed
an inability to remember lines and thus was considered too much of a
bad risk for the kind of demanding parts in Caprican drama that she'd
always excelled in and won five major awards for.   That meant that she
was now reduced to spending most of her time at home, alone and feeling
the weight of loneliness in her life like never before.
     Because of that, Sheba had wanted to spend all of her semester
break with her mother, and not go off with any Academy classmates to
the resort areas of Caprica.    And when she'd arrived at the
Aerodrome, she received her first inkling that something wasn't right
when her mother forgot to come down to meet her skybus.     When she'd
then telecommed her, Sheba was greeted with surprise as though her
mother had totally forgotten that her daughter was coming home for a
full sectar.
     It only took one day at home for Sheba to realize that her
mother's sudden forgetfulness was a serious problem.     At a
restaurant that evening, Sheba felt herself growing alarmed when an
actor that Bethany had worked with in many plays over the yahrens came
up to their table to say hello.    And Bethany had stared at him with
blank confusion, finally saying, "Do I know you?"
     There were other signs of trouble that night.    Whenever Sheba
tried talking to her, she found her mother more or less oblivious to
her presence and often going into rambling, disjointed discourses about
Cain.    Always filled with the sense of lonely longing for her
husband, who she hadn't seen for a yahren now, and had not seen for a
cumulative total of twenty out of thirty yahrens of marriage.   
Expressing the forlorn hope that the Juggernaut would one day retire
from his career and return home for good.    When she could finally
have him "all to myself" as she'd rambled on over and over again.
     Finally, after two days of seeing more forgetfulness and more idle
rambling, Sheba managed to get her mother to see a doctor at the
Caprican Medical Center.    And Sheba could still see the look of
horror on the doctor's face when he re-emerged from examining Bethany
and told Sheba that he needed to talk to her in private.
     "It's Gamma Syndrome."  He'd said to her.   "And there's nothing
we can do about it."
     Gamma Syndrome.    A degenerative brain disease of the worst kind. 
  It always began with memory lapses and forgetfulness and after a
lengthy dormant phase mushroomed into something more hideous in the
final stage, when forgetfulness and rambling conversation was replaced
by constant fever, delirium and incoherency.    And Sheba had found
herself a witness to the very point in time when the disease entered
its final and more aggressive phase.
     For the rest of her semester break, Sheba had sat beside Bethany's
hospital bed and watched the disease consume her mother.    Watching
her slip into seemingly endless periods of fever and delirium, no
longer recognizing her daughter or anyone else, and crying out one word
only.
     "Cain!"
     Over and over again, Sheba had to watch the terrible sight of her
mother, strapped to her bed, crying out longingly for her husband, all
the time knowing that only the sight of him standing by her bedside
holding her hand and speaking tenderly to his wife, might restore her
to a brief period of lucidity again, and perhaps give her some inner
peace in her last days.
     Sheba had prayed desperately that her father would return before
the end came.    But trying to get word to Commander Cain of what was
happening to his wife was not an easy task, especially since the
Juggernaut was off with the Fifth Fleet conducting a dangerous
strategic survey of all Cylon outposts within a 50 light yahren radius
of the Colonial frontier.    Only when the Fifth Fleet finally arrived
at a spaceport for liberty would Cain be able to receive the news
through Colonial channels, and even if by a miracle he soon got word,
would he able to get back in time?
     In the end, he had not.   After twenty days of wild fever and
delirium, and with no memory of anything other than her husband,
Bethany finally died.    Her last word, the same as it had been since
she'd slipped into incoherency.   "Cain!"
     Twelve centars after she died, an anguished Cain finally arrived
in the hospital.    And upon discovering that he'd been too late, had
collapsed into uncontrollable sobs of grief.
     For Sheba, the next phase of the bad memories had begun.    Trying
to provide some comfort to her father during his period of mourning for
his wife, and finding herself rebuffed during that time.     Wanting
desperately to use the occasion as a time for bringing herself and her
father closer together and feeling frustrated that he wouldn't permit
it.     Instead, he'd quietly told her to just go back to the Academy
and continue her studies and training.     That what she needed to do
was get on with her life and put her own interests first.
     Reluctantly, Sheba had gone back to the Academy and thrown herself
into her training and classes with an intensity that reminded many
instructors of the intensity her father had shown as a cadet so many
yahrens earlier.    In the effort to take her mind off the pain of her
mother's death and her father's grief, Sheba had finally enabled
herself to tap into the inherent skills she possessed as a warrior and
saw her shoot overnight from the middle to the top of her class.
     When she returned home from the Academy on her next semester
break, her father was still on a yahren's leave from active duty that
the Colonial Service had granted him.     She had hoped that after two
sectars, Cain might be ready to allow some bonding to take place
between them and they could at last move on from the ugly chapter of
Bethany's death.
     Instead, she returned and was greeted by the rudest shock
imaginable to her psyche.     She saw her father completely recovered
from his grief.    His old confidence and swagger back in his bearing
and his walk.    And his arm wrapped about the waist of a stunningly
attractive blonde socialator named Cassiopeia.
     "Cain's told me so much about you," Cassiopeia had said in a
friendly tone as she stepped forward to shake hands with Sheba.   "It's
good to meet you."
     Sheba could only remember muttering a word or two as she'd dimly
shook hands with Cassiopeia.    She couldn't understand at all why her
father would at this point have turned to a socialator for comfort.    
She had tried to offer comfort and support to him and been rebuffed two
sectars before.    If he had felt the need for a socialator, then it
could only have been for one reason.    Not the emotional comfort they
supposedly could provide a person, but for the physical need above all.
     It only took one day for Sheba's shock and disbelief to turn into
hatred of Cassiopeia.    What ultimately did it for her was her
discovery that every holopicture and reminder of her mother's life was
now gone completely from the house.    Even Bethany's acting awards had
been taken down from the living room mantlepiece and carted off into
storage.    She also found her father unable to even mention Bethany's
name at any time, or to respond to any of Sheba's attempts to talk
about her.    And the way in which Cain was so wrapped up with
Cassiopeia only made Sheba wonder if her father was trying to blot out
Bethany's memory for all time, and if part of Cassiopeia's socialator
training had meant making Cain forget all about his late wife.
     At the dinner table that night, as a cheerful Cain tried to make
light conversation, Cassiopeia found herself feeling uncomfortable with
each passing centon as Sheba said nothing.   Staring at her with the
coldest expression possible the whole time.
     There had then been confrontations, ugly words exchanged.    About
the only thing Cassiopeia and Sheba had found themselves agreeing on
was the need to have their confrontations out of Cain's view, so he
wouldn't be subjected to the sight of seeing the two people he now
loved most going at each other's throats.    On an on it went for a
whole sectan before a bitter, angry Sheba finally went back to the
Academy where she could at least use her classes and training as an
escape from what she regarded as absolute madness at home.    She
simply could not understand why her father had needed to seek refuge in
the arms of a socialator.    Sheba had never been among those who felt
there were redeeming qualities to the profession, and that already
meant that in her eyes Cassiopeia could never have a shred of good
character in her at all.  And that Cain's infatuation with her could
only have been because Cassiopeia had taken advantage of his grief so
she could become the lover of the most renowned warrior in the
Colonies.   
     Cain's return to active duty as commander of the Fifth Fleet
coincided with Sheba's graduation from the Academy.    Sensing that
he'd grown apart from his daughter over the last yahren, Cain had asked
Sheba if she was interested in being assigned to serve under him aboard
the Pegasus.     She had instantly accepted, thinking that she might at
last be able to find a way of reestablishing a relationship with her
father since Cassiopeia would be out of the picture for as long as the
Pegasus was on duty.
     It turned out to be the best possible thing that could have
happened to Sheba after the yahren of hell she felt she'd been through
since her mother's death and the arrival of Cassiopeia.    Her first
two sectars of integrating herself into Silver Spar group went with
ease, as she developed close friendships with the other pilots in the
squadron and soon had all of them in awe of her natural talent as a
flyer.     And more important from her standpoint was that she was able
to reestablish the close relationship with her father that had been
lost during the past yahren.    He still wasn't comfortable talking
openly about her mother, but at the very least the return to active
duty had seemingly chased all thoughts of Cassiopeia from his mind,
leaving Sheba with the hope that when the Pegasus eventually returned
to the Colonies, her father would finally break the relationship with
Cassiopeia for good.
     The Battle of Molocay proved to be the occasion when Sheba first
showed her true strength as a warrior.    At a time when the rest of
the Fifth Fleet suffered near total devastation against the superior
numbers of five Cylon baseships, Sheba never showed any of the panic
that a green warrior might have been expected to show in her first
heavy combat mission.    Instead, when Sheba suddenly saw Silver Spar's
squadron commander killed in the battle, she had promptly taken command
of the leaderless group of vipers and organized them together in a
counterstrike against the lead baseship, inflicting heavy damage from
three strafing runs before she managed to organize a safe retreat back
to the Pegasus.      As soon as the Pegasus had succeeded in escaping
from the carnage as the sole survivor of the Fifth Fleet, her father
wasted little time in giving Sheba a quick promotion to Lieutenant and
the title of strike commander for Silver Spar Squadron.    And none of
her fellow flyers viewed the quick promotion as a sign of nepotism at
all, since they had seen firsthand how much she'd earned it.
     Her father's decision to not try to get back to the Colonies after
escaping Molocay almost made Sheba feel relieved, in contrast to so
many other warriors who felt uneasy about the thought of not being able
to let their loved ones back home know that they were still alive.    
It almost seemed to tell Sheba that her father's feelings for
Cassiopeia had cooled to the point where he wasn't about to do all he
could to return to her.     And so, the two yahrens since the Pegasus
had arrived in the Gomorrah quadrant and gone into their constant mode
of hit and run operations against the Cylon outer capital in many ways
had turned out to be an experience that Sheba continued to enjoy
immensely.     Not only did it continue to provide her with the combat
experience she felt was essential to honing her skills as a pilot and a
leader of other pilots, but it also enabled her to deepen the close
ties she'd developed with her father since they'd left Caprica three
yahrens before.
     When the news of the Colonies destruction was intercepted six
sectars earlier, it had left everyone aboard the Pegasus badly shaken
by the thought that none of them would ever see their homes again and
that their families were now all dead.    But at no time did any of
them use that news as an occasion for questioning why they had not been
home during that time.    Instead they chose to agree with what both
Sheba and Bojay had repeatedly emphasized in numerous conversations.   
Everyone on the Pegasus owed his or her survival to Commander Cain.   
It was asking too much to think that he alone could somehow have made
the difference in preventing the total destruction of Colonial
Civilization even if the Pegasus had been able to make it back, which
was never a realistic possibility.    Instead, they should view
themselves as fortunate that thanks to the Juggernaut, they had been
spared the horror of being there and probably losing their lives in the
process.     As it turned out, just about everyone ended up agreeing
with those sentiments.    If anyone wanted to expr