The Sum of All Parts II, Guardians of Time, by Carla
July 1, 2019

/There are those who believe, that life here, began out there, far across
the universe, with tribes of humans who may have been the forefathers of
the Egyptians or the Toltecs or the Mayans. Some believe that there may
yet be brothers of man who, even now, fight to survive somewhere beyond
the heavens.../

Scene One
     "Komma! Dad told me you were coming over from the Pegasus to help
out," Lieutenant Boxey stepped through the hatchway and walked to the
brightly lit centre of a large chamber that served as the base of
operations for the Science Officers aboard the Colonial Battlestar
Galactica under Doctor Wilker's scrupulous and admittedly quirky
administration. The chamber was a nexus of the generous cluster of
compartments that had been allocated to the Science Section by Commander
Adama, those many yahrens ago, when the original laboratory on the upper
levels had been destroyed by fire in the aftermath of a Cylon attack. The
Section had been placed under the domain of the Galactica's Chief Science
Officer, thus accommodating the diminutive scientist's specifications for
a work space on the lower levels of Lambda Deck. Boxey had spent more
centars of his young life in Doctor Wilker's laboratory than he had ever
bothered to calculate. The young Warrior moved to join Sergeant Komma,
where the older man stood, thoughtfully tapping the palm of one hand with
the blunt end of a small tylinium plated wrench that he held in the
other, "Komma? Is Muffit going to make it this time?"
     "Don't worry, Lieutenant," Komma's bright eyes seemed to lose focus
for a moment as the image of a small boy and his mechanical companion
moved through his memory, superimposing itself over his current view of
the young man of more than thirty yahrens in the Colonial Warrior's
flight jacket that now moved to reach downward, gently touching his
fingertips to the singed fur of the daggit drone that lay powered-down
and immobile upon the deck before them, "Doctor Wilker's got the last of
the connecting filaments coming out of the fabrication matrix any time
now," the Technician's tone became an echo of those moments, when he, and
many others among the Warriors that had served these many yahrens aboard
the flagship of the Colonial Fleet had adopted young Boxey as a child of
their ranks, the step-son of their grieving Flight Commander, Captain
Apollo. Komma and his colleagues had wordlessly, and as one, taken on a
duty for themselves to watch over the young boy after the murder of his
beloved mother, Serina, the beautiful and brilliant young bride who had
been felled, mortally wounded, her blood spilled into the long sterile
sands of the mythical Planet Kobol, her young life brought to an early
end by the burst of the laser pistol of a Cylon Centurion, nearly
twenty-five yahrens ago. She had been the first true love of Apollo,
Boxey's adopted Father, who was now more than a Squadron Leader or a
Captain, but a Colonel, one of the four highest ranking Warriors that now
commanded the Galactica's Bridge, "Once we make the last connections and
tidy up his fur a bit, he'll be good as new, Sir."
     "Sorry, Komma," Boxey straightened, his brown eyes misting
involuntarily as the young Warrior coughed away the rush of emotion that
threatened to emerge from a lump of tension that he only now realized had
been contracting the muscles of his chest since he had been informed of
the discovery of the badly damaged Muffit and his two fellow Guardian
Daggit Drones only centars before the chaos that had ensued, two daily
cycles previously, during the forty-sixth birthday celebrations of his
second mother, Major Sheba, daughter of the late Commander Cain, "Sorry,"
the young man repeated as he coughed once more, adopting a serious tone
and pushing his emotions down hard, back into his chest, telling himself
that he would contend with them later. He turned to look squarely into
Komma's clearly sympathetic features, his lips unconsciously pursed with
an unsuccessful effort to conceal his obviously strong emotions, "I know
it probably seems foolish, but I guess I'm still just a little kid where
Muffy is concerned."
     "Not to worry, young man!" Doctor Wilker's ever-mournful voice
called out from the depths of the laboratory's perimeter, heralding the
approach of the aged, gaunt figure that stepped forward into the brighter
light of the centre of the chamber, moving past Boxey and Komma, a long,
curving strand of wire dangling from his skeletal hands, "we'll have this
Drone, and his two friends, up and running in no time, "Doctor Wilker
knelt carefully down onto one impossibly boney knee, inserting the
filament meticulously into the open panel on Muffit Two's back, a frown
of concentration adding to the habitually dour appearance of his sharp
featured face, "There! That's done it!" Wilker stepped back, Komma and
Boxey discreetly helping the Doctor to his feet with a gentle nudge of an
elbow on either side of the older man's slight frame.
     "Muffit!" Boxey's youthful exuberance was clear as the lump in his
chest finally released its hold on his lungs, and he exhaled with relief
and emotion, spreading his arms as he knelt in Wilker's place, welcoming
the now functioning little drone into a tight embrace, not bothering to
attempt to hide the tears that escaped from his eyes, as his childhood
companion barked and /whirred/, leaning firmly into the young Warrior's
embrace with a familiar spin of the universal joints below the now
up-turned ears, "It's good to have you back, Muffy," Boxey looked up at
the two scientists who stood behind him, his face a picture of relief and
gratitude as the young Warrior once more coughed himself back into a
semblance of composure, not quite able to conceal the small sob that had
escaped his throat at the sight of the now partially repaired Muffit Two,
"I'm sure that the kids will be pleased to see him come home to Alpha
Deck in one piece."
     "Yes," Komma stepped forward, offering Boxey a stabilizing hand as
the young Lieutenant rose to stand once more, "Of course, Lieutenant
Boxey," Komma smiled warmly, moving the hand to rest momentarily upon the
young man's shoulder with a firm squeeze of the material of the flight
jacket beneath his fingers, "I'm sure you're right. The /kids/ will be
very relieved to see him back home, and back on patrol."
     "If you'll excuse us for a few centars, Lieutenant," Wilker's
mournful tones once more echoed through the cavernous space of the
laboratory chamber, an undercurrent of gentle comfort softening his usual
brusque manner "we'll get to work on completing the repairs to Muffit
Two, and then we'll move on to Drone One and Drone Two. I shall inform
Core Command that we should have all three of our mechanical Guardians
ready for duty within one daily cycle. After we've run the last checks,
Komma will return to the Pegasus with Drone One, and I'm told that we
have another Guardian coming in from the Temple Ship to be conditioned
under Muffit's supervision. They haven't sent me any specifications on
that yet."
     "Thank you, Doctor," Boxey smiled with abject gratitude into the
scientist's greyish eyes, images of so many daily cycles from his
childhood aboard the Galactica briefly passing through his mind, daily
cycles when he, as a small boy, like Apollo before him, had sat
fascinated on a tall stool beside Doctor Wilker's work top, watching as
the diminutive Science Officer and his team of Technicians had solved the
mysteries of so many mechanical dilemmas, the small daggit drone always
by the boy's side, "I'm to check in with the Commander myself after I
meet up with..."
     "Lieutenant?" the three men started slightly, turning together to
see a tall, dark figure enter the chamber, moving to join them with a
fluidly graceful gait, blonde hair falling forward over sharp features
and contrasting starkly with his flowing, black attire, "My apologies for
the interruption, Gentlemen," Brother Kedron stepped forward, nodding
politely toward the two older men of the group, then turning to address
Boxey directly, "I was told that you'd come down here to assess the Drone
repairs."
     "Yes, Kedron, everything here seems fine for now," Boxey smiled once
more, nodding his gratitude toward the two scientists before turning
again to address the new arrival, "I'm sorry that you've had to come
looking for me. I know they only just released you from the Life Station
this morning. I...I...just wanted to check on the /repair schedules/,"
Boxey's attempt at a posture of casual concern had little effect on the
telepathic Priest who now stood before him, looking downward into Boxey's
eyes with a glimmer of that same piercing, and slightly un-nerving,
blue-grey gaze that had reached into Boxey's mind and responded to the
message that had been implanted there by Commander Kellen over the Alpha
Channel relay. It had been an improvised attempt to jolt Kedron's
telepathic focus from behind the barrier of a malignant delta frequency
damping wave during the height of the chaos of Major Sheba's ill-fated
birthday celebration. In spite of the resulting ease of awareness between
the two of them, Boxey continued with a self-conscious effort to conceal
his emotional reaction of relief at the resurrection of his dearest
childhood friend and companion, "these Drones are very important to my
little sisters, and also to the younger kids that live and attend
Learning Cycle aboard the Galactica, not to mention how important the
Drones are for security's sake, of course."
     "There is no need for an apology, Lieutenant. I am quite well,
thanks to Doctor Salik, and you've not kept me waiting. As for
the.../repair schedules/," Kedron's gaze did not falter, but Boxey sensed
a small ripple of compassion, an almost imperceptible softening of the
pleasant monotone, the slightest lift of one side of the otherwise
expressionless lips, slip past the virtual sieve of Lieutenant-Brother
Kedron's infamously impressive self-control, "Artemis has shared with me
a similar /concern/ over the recent sabotage of the Guardian Drones. The
Galactica's /children/ shall be pleased to see the return of their
companions."
     "Shall we get on up to Alpha Deck, Kedron? The Commander and the
others will be waiting for us up there," Boxey spoke with what he hoped
was a generally carefree manner, but both men knew that Boxey was the one
that loved the little daggit drone the most, the dearest companion that
he had known from the time that Doctor Wilker had constructed it for him,
so very long ago, before that near forgotten mineral scan on Carillon,
after the first, flesh and blood Muffit, and the world of Boxey's infancy
had been destroyed, to be slowly re-assembled in a new and very different
form, with a new daggit, and a new family, and all before he'd reached
the end of his first sixth yahrens, "Thank you, Doctor, Komma, I'll check
back in with you later on. You help Doctor Wilker with his work, Muffit,
and I'll come to fetch you home when you're finished," Boxey waved as the
two younger men took their leave of Wilker and Komma, pausing only to
touch the head of the little drone, who barked and /whirred/ once more,
then moved to stand near Doctor Wilker, dutifully waiting for the
completion of its circuitry repair and cosmetic refurbishment.
     "Kedron..." Boxey spoke cautiously as the two walked together
through the hatchway, stepping out into the corridor that accommodated
most of the traffic to and from Wilker's laboratory complex here in the
lower levels of Lambda Deck, "Kedron..." Boxey stopped walking and turned
as his companion paused beside him.
     "Lieutenant?" the taller man spoke without inflection, calm and
nearly un-readable as was his usual demeanor, lifting an eyebrow as he
waited politely, black-gloved hands clasped behind his slightly curving
spine, leaning down and forward attentively as his lover's brother
continued to speak.
     "Kedron," Boxey began again, blinking away a vague sense of
awkwardness, focussing on the reflective surface of the Kobollian
insignia at Kedron's collar, and hooking his fingers over his gun belt in
a reflexive gesture that he had unconsciously adopted over the yahrens
from his Father, Apollo, "I know from my time aboard the Horace that you
telepaths tend to be quite /correct/ in your speech and manner, even
amongst yourselves, especially during duty cycles, and...I understand,
but...well, it would be alright with me if you would just call me
/Boxey/, particularly when it's just the two of us together," The
Lieutenant looked up once more into the younger man's eyes, "and I happen
to have it on good authority that it would make my sister very happy if
we were a little...less /formal/ with one another."
     "As you wish.../Boxey/,"in spite of his usual monotone, the young
Priest's expression revealed a hint of that elusive, crooked smile that
Boxey had seen directed at his younger sister, the eldest of the three
daughters of Sheba and Apollo, on more than a few occasions over the last
few sectars since the Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus had encountered
their ancient and long forgotten sister ship, the Battlestar Horace, and
had merged with the Horacians' variation of the Colonials' rag tag convoy
to form a combined Fleet of more than three hundred ships.
     "I'll take that as an effusive 'yes', then, "Boxey flashed a smile
and gestured toward the lift at the end of the corridor, "although you
might want to revert back to a little more formality up on Alpha Deck if
Colonel Apollo happens to be nearby. He's maintained a pretty good truce
with Artemis since they wheeled you into Life Station day before
yesterday, but it's going to take him a while to get used to the idea of
..." Boxey silently ushered the taller man onto the lift, following close
behind and depressing a key on the control console. The door closed with
a slight metallic /thud/ and the lift began to move upward as Boxey
continued to speak, standing now at Kedron's shoulder, both young men
directing their gaze in the general direction of the riveted seams that
intersected one another across the interior face of the lift door.
Boxey's words emerged as if being chosen with care, "...well, let's just
say that the idea that you and my sister have been, uh, /involved/ all
this time without his knowledge or consent, well, that's going to take
our Father a little time to digest."

Scene Two

     "I just don't understand how /we/, the two of us, of all people, how
we didn't immediately recognize the markings on that amulet. If only we'd
noticed, then maybe we could have done something sooner," Doctor
Cassiopeia looked up to see a look of understanding and comfort cross
Captain Starbuck's face, her lips pursed into a regretful grimace as she
sat back against the upholstery of the swivel chair beside her usual work
console in the centre of the Galactica's Life Station, "We see the
amulets on the Drones every single day. I was there with Boxey and
Artemis when we found the first one in Sheba's quarters all those yahrens
ago. I was the one who was wearing it when it was first activated in the
life Station. We have replicated versions of them installed throughout
the Fleet, yet neither of us gave it a second thought when we found
another auricon plated amulet, just like the first one, right there on
the decking in front of us. How could we have been so unaware?"
     "Cassie," Captain Starbuck knelt down beside the slender blonde
woman in the Medical Officer's tunic, balancing himself with one bended
knee and lifting his wife's hand to squeeze it gently with his own, "You
can't blame yourself for any of this. According to Commander Kellen's
people, we were all under the same fog of semi-consciousness, the whole
population of the Fleet were impacted to varying degrees. Think of how
much we all had to drink over dinner, and then in the banquet chamber..."
Starbuck's voice drifted off as he recalled the moment when the young
Priest, Kedron had virtually flown through the smoke-congested air to
land in front of Starbuck and then reach telepathically into the
Captain's mind, projecting an urgent and overwhelming image of the amulet
that Starbuck and Cassiopeia had stumbled upon in the corridor on their
way from a family dinner with the Commander to attend Sheba's forty-sixth
birthday celebration below decks, at a time that seemed now to be very
long ago, but was in reality not more than two daily cycles past.
     "Starbuck, if only I had looked directly at it when you picked it
up. I was so busy checking my boot-heel that I didn't even..."
     "Cass, you need to stop," Starbuck placed a firm hand on each of her
lean shoulders and looked deeply into her sorrowful blue eyes with his
own gaze of a nearly identical shade, "we were all in a state of
delusion, all of us! Even Artemis' young man was affected until Boxey
came down with Kellen's mental kill switch. Kedron didn't see the image
of the amulet in my mind until that device was deactivated and he
realized what had happened. Remember how fast he moved after Boxey and
the others stormed the hatchway? It wasn't until then that Kedron was
suddenly able to do more than a superficial scan of our minds and
realized that we'd all been tricked, himself included. Cass, if the
telepaths can be fooled, and even injured as Kedron was..." Captain
Starbuck shook Doctor Cassiopeia's shoulders, once, ever so gently, then
leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips and crouch back beside her
chair with his most convincing tone, "You expect too much from yourself,
my Love, and you're no more to blame than I am, for that matter. If I'd
been in my right mind, I'd have recognized that amulet a soon as I picked
it up and looked at the symbol, but all I could feel was the pulse in my
head and the need to get through to the banquet area, the thought that I
had to get through the crowd, get to the party no matter what. After that
it's all just a blur. Laurette was there, then I was having a drink with
Boomer, I looked up to see the darkness and the movement of the crowd,
and then Boxey appeared next to Kedron, and there was a voice telling me,
'give me the amulet'...Cass, I didn't even think to check on our own son
until you..."
     "Hey! You two look a little worse for wear," Captain Boomer's voice
broke through the breathless pause that had been trapped in the tension
of the couple's shared memories of the aftermath of Major Sheba's below
decks birthday party barely two daily cycles past, when they had realized
that the Colonial Fleet's greatest enemy had threatened them all once
more, nearly subduing them with a disarming bath of delusional fog that
had dulled their senses and prevented them from seeing the initial oddity
of their surroundings at the time. "No offense, Cassiopeia" Boomer
intoned dryly, moving to lean against the work station console and speak
quietly downward into the sober faces of two of his closest friends,
"Starbuck looks much worse for wear than you ever could."
     "Give a guy a break, will ya?" Starbuck chimed in, affecting a
familiar rhythm of banter that he and Boomer had used together to push
away their fears and insecurities on countless occasions over these many
yahrens of virtual brotherhood, "Boomer, how come you look so freshly
shaved and turbo-washed, while we're still here picking up the remains of
the last stragglers trying to recover from the birthday of all birthdays.
Where did you find the free time for that?"
     "Your lovely wife cleared me from Life Station yesterday, and my
trainee had her current flight duty rotation postponed, so I ended up
with a furlon shift instead," Boomer glided easily away from the topic of
himself, "Never mind all that. We might have some more important answers
on the way, Starbuck," Boomer offered a hand to pull his fellow Warrior
to his feet, "my apologies Doctor Cassiopeia, but the Flight Commander is
required to report to Commander Adama on Alpha Deck."
     "That's alright, Boomer. You two go ahead," Cassiopeia rose from her
chair and planted a quick kiss on Starbuck's cheek, "I have a few more of
those birthday party stragglers to clear from quarantine, /then/ I'm
checking in on my children, and /then/ I'm taking my 'worse for wear'
self into a nice warm turbo wash! See you later, fellas!" the slender
blonde gave as casual wave of her hand as she took her leave of her
husband and Captain Boomer, joining her beloved mentor, the seemingly
ageless and tireless Doctor Salik, in front of an examination platform on
the other side of the Life Station.
     "Let's go, Boomer," Starbuck sighed as the image of that turbo wash
and his lovely wife beneath it crossed briefly through his work-weary
mind, "I hope that whatever the Commander has in store for us will allow
enough time for me to have one of those warm turbo washes as well."
     "I don't know exactly what's happened yet, Starbuck," Boomer spoke
softly as the two men walked together toward the hatchway that opened
onto the main corridor outside the Galactica's Life Station, "I just came
in through Landing Bay Beta, right ahead of what looked like a whole lot
of Priests and High Kobol Guards arriving on the ship in a transport from
the Horace."
     "You just came in from where?" Starbuck's weary mind was not so
dulled as to miss the significance of Boomer's words, "You grabbed a
turbo wash and a fresh uniform, and still found time for some errand
off-ship during an unexpected furlon shift, and all in the middle of a
Fleet-wide security investigation? What's your secret, Boomer? Who do you
/know/?"
     "Just lucky, I guess," Boomer responded vaguely to the probing
questions of his fellow Captain as the two waited together for the first
available opening of a nearby turbo-lift door, "I understand that
Commander Kellen has suggested a plan of action to prevent a repeat of
the birthday surprise."
     "I'm all for that," Starbuck shuddered at the memory of the creature
known as Iblis, whose dreadful features had manifested themselves before
the Warrior and his friends for the first time in over twenty yahrens. He
had shown his ugly inner face and his evil intentions through the chaos
of Sheba's wildly surreal birthday celebration, only two short daily
cycles ago, "Let's see what this plan is all about, and how far away it
might take me from that turbo wash chamber that I've got my mind's eye
on," Starbuck's voice faded as the turbo lift door closed behind the two
men, and a silent figure moved swiftly down the length of the corridor,
unseen and unheard by the Galactican Captains as they had entered the
turbo lift together, too deep in conversation with one another to notice
the slender form in the dark cloak that had rushed away hurriedly behind
them, avoiding any contact with them and disappearing down a side route
through a small access hatch near the bulkhead that formed one end of the
larger main corridor.

Scene Three

     "A capstone, Baltar!" Chameleon smiled as he reached to gather and
shuffle the cards laid out on the table before him, "you've won the game
this time!"
     "Can I be certain that you haven't stacked the deck, Chameleon? Tell
me, why do you still play with me, after all these yahrens?" Baltar held
the capstone card in his hand, studying it absently as his companion
paused to listen, head slightly cocked to one side as Baltar continued in
a slow, deliberate voice, "What is it that keeps you coming down here to
break up the monotony of my confinement? Does Adama still hope to gain
some sort of intelligence from me?"
     "I would imagine that any information you might give could be
slightly out of date, Baltar," Chameleon held out his hand, nodding
pleasantly as Balter proffered his winning Pyramid gaming card with a
chronically shaky hand, "it /has/ been more than twenty yahrens now, and
my reasons for visiting with you are quite simple, in fact, "Baltar
lifted an eyebrow, listening in silence to Chameleon's gently musical
tone, watching the elegant dance of the cards as they tumbled and
repositioned themselves with the mesmerizing movements Chameleon's
graceful fingers.
...."Simple?" Baltar sighed with a renewed ease of manner that he had
slowly begun to develop over recent sectars, since the day that Doctor
Roman had enlisted the aid of the Medical Officers of the Battlestar
Horace in reassessing Baltar's rehabilitative treatments, "is there
/anything/ simple left to us in this chaotic universe anymore?"
     "I am not a philosopher, Baltar," Chameleon placed the Pyramid deck
on the table beside one of two tumblers of water which he lifted to his
lips, He nodded a casual toast in Baltar's direction and downed a
generous sip, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful attitude, "I
only know what I have seen in my many yahrens of living so far, and I
would say that, often-times, many things are much simpler than they may
first appear to be."
     "That seems a rather odd remark coming from a professional gambler,"
Baltar roused himself from his attentive reverie to raise his own glass
with an ever shaky hand, "I would have thought you would be more likely
to embrace complexity."
     "Oh, I'm just an amateur games enthusiast, Baltar," Chameleon's eyes
twinkled with a cautiously mundane good nature, "my professional status
lies more in the realm of helping people. At least, that is what I try to
do."
     "And am /I/ one of your social service assignments?" Baltar's voice
carried a distant echo of the corrupt diplomat, the social climber, the
facilitator of the enemy of his fellow humans who had once walked the
surface of his home-world, Caprica, dreaming of a day when he would have
revenge over his political rivals, and all the power that he could ever
want.
     "You are a human alone, entering your elder yahrens with no-one to
care for you except for those who you once sought to betray," Chameleon
sensed, after yahrens of familiarity with Baltar's moods, that this was
one of those times when the incarcerated traitor would best respond to a
directness of speech, "I am not comfortable with the thought of you never
having anyone to call a friend, or at least an acquaintance with a
friendly ear."
     "I have very little left to say that has not been previously
recorded by Adama's spies, including yourself," Baltar's manner subtly
shifted, shadows of more cunning version of himself surfacing from deep
within his long-tortured mind, "unless, of course, you wanted to find out
what I know about the birthday party."
     "What /do/ you know, Baltar?" Chameleon's face did not shift from
its pleasantly attentive posture, "What would you like to say?"
     "I have only one message for you to take with you today, my
/friend/," Baltar's eyes began to take on a small spark of a feverishness
that had not appeared to Chameleon's sight for a long while since he and
a small, select group of others had been making regular visits with
Baltar and his fellow inmates here in the Galactica's Secure Term Care
Section, a place for those, like Baltar, who were too mentally unstable
to live freely amongst even those most hardened of convicts who were
currently interned aboard the Colonial Fleet's Prison Barge, "You may
tell Major Sheba that I wish her a happy belated birthday, and that I
hope that she enjoyed her surprise."
     "Very well, Baltar," Chameleon's practiced gambler's face revealed
none of the knotted lump of dread that Baltar's words had drawn up from
his stomach, "I can see that you're tired. I'll come back to have another
game in a couple of days, if that's alright with you."
     "Of course," Baltar leaned slyly forward, his tremoring hands
pressed flat upon the tabletop between the two men, "I'll be waiting for
you, Chameleon, and do give my regards to Starbuck."
     "Indeed I shall," Chameleon rose from his chair and gestured for the
guards to open the transparent bifurcated doors of Baltar's quarters,
"Indeed I shall."
     Baltar sat silently at the table, studying his own hands as
Chameleon quietly took his leave and entered the lift at the end of the
corridor outside. Baltar turned one shaking hand over to peer into its
palm. There was something that he was supposed to remember, something
about an appointment. There was someone coming to see him. He'd had a
message just a few daily cycles ago, it seemed, and he knew that he had
to be ready, so as not to miss his escort to the party. Baltar rose
slowly and trudged to his bed, plucking a well-worn blanket from a nearby
cubicle and pulling it over his head as he lowered himself, his back to
the bulkhead, tucking his skeletal knees against his chest, and rocking
back and forth upon the mattress. And then, much to the dismay of the
security detail outside, a slow, cackling, humourless laugh escaped from
his lips and echoed through the air of the Secure Term Care Section.
     The sound of Baltar's manic laughter reverberated into the space of
the other occupied chamber at the far end of the corridor, competing with
the voice that now reached inside the tortured mind of the chamber's
occupant, a small man who now began to absently teeter on the edge of his
own sleeping platform much as Baltar had done, /soon/, the voice seemed
to call from a distant place, /be ready/, the small man reached furtively
beneath his mattress, his confidence growing as his fingers grazed the
large serrated blade that lay secreted there, hidden from view, and a
manic laugh emerged from his own lips, joining in an eerily raucous
chorus with Baltar for what seemed to the Security Officers like a very
long while.
 
Scene Four

     "Ensign Artemis, just run through it with me one more time. You were
due to run some maintenance flights with the Scarab Squadron on
assimilation shift rotation aboard the Horace three days ago, is that
right?", Doctor Salik studied the vital functions graphics on the medical
console beside him as he addressed the young woman who perched lightly on
the edge of the examination platform, her sleeve rolled up to accommodate
a medical sensor that currently tethered her upper arm to the diagnostic
array of the console, "Your recorded account states that your duty
rotation was suddenly altered, that you were put on furlon until after
the Major's party was scheduled to end."
     "Yes, Doctor," Artemis sighed, knowing that this may not be the last
time that she would be required to repeat her story as the various Fleet
wide investigations of the chaotic events of said birthday party were
still decidedly active, "It's as I've told you, and everyone else who's
asked me. I assumed that my Father had altered the schedule to stop me
from flying and put me back on Bridge rotation aboard the Galactica
instead, so I went up to Alpha Deck to confront him. We were both so
angry by the end of the evening that he told me to talk to him the next
daily cycle, before we joined the family for dinner, but..." Artemis
sighed once more, recalling how she had accused Apollo of unfairly
interfering with her personal affairs, "but things didn't get any better
in the morning, and I stormed off to my private chamber to get away from
him for a while. My Mother came in later and told me to bring Kedron with
me to the party, after dinner, and to make peace with Daddy, for her
birthday," the young woman shrugged with an air of resigned confusion,
"it all seemed so.../normal/...at the time. I didn't notice when the
Drones went missing. I didn't even check with Valkyrie Leader to see
about the duty change..."
     "You appear to have been under the influence of the /Mephiston
Matrix/, along with almost every other man, woman and child in the Fleet,
including your telepathic boyfriend," Doctor Salik's face was thoughtful,
his eyes grazing over the output from the diagnostic equipment, "you were
successfully immunized in childhood against the variation of the signal
that specifically targetted your maternal genome, but here it is, the
signal affected you, and almost everyone else in virtually the same way,
but how?" the gruff Medical Officer crossed his arms and turned as Doctor
Cassiopeia moved to join him, "Cassiopeia, what does Paye have to say
about the immunity variations?"
     "It's as we feared, Doctor Salik," the blonde Doctor's voice was
uncharacteristically grim in tone, "Doctors Paye and Wilker believe that
the signal may have either evolved organically, or been altered
deliberately. It's the only explanation that fits the facts so far,"
Cassiopeia struggled to give Artemis an encouraging smile, "there's a lot
we don't know yet."
     "Artemis," Doctor Salik peered into the young woman's eyes, so like
the eyes of another that it sometimes took him off guard, bringing a
flood of memories into his mind, of all those yahrens and those rare
furlons orbiting Caprica, of the children of Adama, the three of them
scrambling through the corridors of the Galactica and rushing in and out
of Wilker's lab and into the Life Station office chamber where a much
younger Salik had quietly distributed sweets and small toys into their
eager hands as they had watched in fascination while the Doctor did his
work, "Artemis, I see no reason to keep you here much longer. We already
released your young man from observation this morning. He'd have been
here recovering for a lot longer if you hadn't rushed him in here as soon
as you did. I hope he realizes how lucky he is..." Salik lifted a playful
eyebrow at the slight flush of colour that moved over his patient's face,
"Cassiopeia, finish up here, will you?" Salik shared a nod of
acknowledgement with Doctor Cassiopeia and placed a brief hand on
Artemis' shoulder. He nodded once more with a gentle and distant
expression that she found difficult to read and took his leave of the two
women, silently moving on to the next occupied treatment platform from
where his duties called him.
     "It's alright, Cassiopiea," she had returned the blonde Doctor's
humourless smile with an approximation of her own, "I can handle the
truth, I'm a big girl now," Artemis' smile now broadened with an
injection of true humour as she regarded the woman before her, more than
a child-minder, more than a mentor, more than a second mother, Cassiopeia
had always been there to care for her when she was needed, "It's like I
said, everything seemed so normal. Uncle Boomer had Boxey put me on an
assimilation drill, a maintenance run with Scarab Squadron. I remember
telling you about it, just before everything got so confused. You know
how Uncle Boomer expects me to make Lieutenant First Level before the end
of next yahren. It's like a personal mission to him," Artemis gazed into
Cassiopeia's wide, blue eyes, remembering the conversation of three days
ago, and her rushed stop to change into her pressure suit and flight
uniform, confirming her plans with Cassiopeia as she had hurried through
the family's common chamber, her mind going back to that moment when she
and Cassiopeia had laughingly collided and the older woman had inquired
as to the reason for the young Ensign's haste...
     ..."I'm not on duty in Core Command this time around, Cassiopeia.
Uncle Boomer keeps nagging me to get out on these supervised maintenance
runs to confirm my viper pilot certification standard before the next
roster rotations, "Artemis had shrugged with a smile as an image of the
dark Captain's features had crossed through her mind. Boomer. Aside from
her beloved parents, varied other family members, types of legal
guardians, teachers and mentors, it was Boomer who had always been the
one to encourage her to do so much more, to challenge herself. It was he
who had urged her to avoid falling into a pleasantly mundane rotation
cycle of Core Command Bridge Officer duties and Secondary Learning Cycle
studies. Boomer had encouraged her to enjoy her naturally inherited love
of flying, and her aptitude for martial arts and weaponry configuration.
Because of him, she had ventured into ground force training under the
ever watchful eye of Sergeant Croft. The gruff Security Specialist had
always taken the time to see to it that Artemis did not falter in her
goal to become a Weaponry Specialist with a level one certification in
several hand to hand combat techniques. Between Captain Boomer and
Sergeant Croft, the young woman had suffered no lack of capable and
committed mentors to encourage her in her pursuits. When it came to
Croft, Artemis knew that the rugged man felt a deep and unwavering spirit
of loyalty toward her Father, Apollo, from a shared past, a time before
she had been born. But with Boomer, his commitment to the course of her
military career had always seemed a deeply important and personal
priority to him. Over the yahrens of her youth she had never questioned
it, but she had sensed something beyond her ability to fully reckon that
had forged her singular bond with Boomer.
     "...Artemis?" Cassiopeia's voice drew the dark-haired Warrior's
thoughts from her unfocussed reverie and back to the stark and present
reality of the Life Station as the older woman reached to remove the
medical sensors from the young Ensign's arm. "Artemis, Doctor Salik is
finished with you now and you seem to be clear of any after-effects as
far as we can tell," Cassiopeia placed a firm hand on the younger woman's
shoulder, "if you notice anything out of the ordinary, anything at all,
or if you hear an alert or a..."
     "Don't worry, Cassiopeia," Artemis rose, moving out from under the
protective hand that had cared for her from her infancy, "I know the
drills after all these yahrens, we /all/ do."
     Cassiopeia smiled grimly this time as she watched the young Warrior
disappear from her sight through the Life Station's main hatchway, /yes,
after all these yahrens/, Cassiopiea sighed, swallowed the unwelcome
dread that had risen up in her stomach, and turned to tidy the work
station beside her, /after all this time, when we had finally started to
relax a little, the signal is back, and still targeting the Children of
Cain/. 

Scene Five

     "Major Sheba?" Omega's ever-steady voice broke through Sheba's
reverie, provoking a turn of her head, and a brief smile of
acknowledgement toward the familiar face of the Bridge Officer who now
stood beside her at the perimeter rail atop the Command Platform of the
Battlestar Galactica, "are you alright?"
     "Hmmm? "Sheba blinkingly roused herself from her distracted posture,
turning with an effort at a cheerful smile in response to Omega's look of
frank concern, "oh, I'm just fine, Omega. I guess I'm still a little low
on energy after all the, um.../activity/ over the last couple of daily
cycles. I'll admit that it's been a bit of a shock, after all this
time...well, it's been more than a little disorienting," The Major's
smile reformed itself into a slight pursing of her lips as she placed a
gentle hand against the tall Bridge Officer's upper arm, "Don't worry
about me, Omega. It should surely take more than a wild birthday party
and a few mysterious security breaches to best a Colonial Warrior, don't
you think?"
     "Yes, Major," Omega quietly touched the small hand on his arm,
returning Sheba's smile with one of his own, then released her slender
fingers with an affectionate squeeze, "I won't disagree with you there,"
the tall Bridge Officer made his way to the work station that he had
occupied as a Senior Administrative Bridge Officer and Battle Tactician
for more yahrens of duty rotations than he had ever cared to count. The
two Warriors shared a silent nod of comraderie as Omega settled into his
seat, his eyes scanning the various readings that moved across the
screens on the console before him, "I have a message for you from Lambda
Deck, Ma'am. Lieutenant Boxey and Brother Kedron have departed the lab
together and Doctor Wilker reports that the repairs on the Drones should
be completed by the end of the day. Muffit and Drone Two should be ready
and waiting for the Lieutenant to pick them up some time shortly after
the evening shift cycle rotations," Omega paused, adjusting a small dial
near the bottom of the console, "Medical Section reports that the last of
the quarantine groups are being processed and Ensign Artemis is cleared
for restricted duty, ship-bound only until alert readiness is
down-graded, as per Colonel Apollo's orders. She's due here for Bridge
duty in less than twenty centons, Ma'am."
     "Very good, Omega," Sheba moved to descend the steps that ran along
the spiraling edge of the Command Platform, "I'll be over at the Core
Command console for a few centons if you need me," Sheba shared another
nod with Omega, this one an acknowledgement of her departure down the
steps as she moved to join Lieutenant Rigel at the large communications
array in the centre of the lower gallery of the Galactica's Command
Centre, "how are those signal logs looking, Rigel?" the Major asked as
she peered past the arrangement of intricate, deep brunette plaits that
the woman seated before her in the standard Bridge Crewman's uniform had
gathered at the back of a gracefully arching neck with a narrow black
ribbon tied in a contrastingly utilitarian bow, "can we be at all certain
that we've found all of the jamming devices?"
     "That's what the Technicians from the Horace are telling us Major,"
Rigel's full, melodious tones strummed a familiar chord with Sheba, as
they did with every other Galactican Warrior, the pilots in particular.
It was Rigel's voice that had guided every one of them, at one time or
another, through the danger of battle and then home to the welcome
embrace of the Battlestar's landing bays, "there are at least two
telepaths with every one of the inspection teams that they sent over to
the Pegasus, and here to the Galactica as well," Rigel adjusted the
head-set that she wore, her brow furrowing slightly as she listened for
an incoming message, "Colonel Rutger is reporting in from Beta Deck,
Major. He confirms no sign of anything anomalous as yet."
     "Very good, Rigel," Sheba took the empty seat next to the other
woman as she studied the array of switches and screens before them,
listening in mild confusion to the various muted streams of communication
traffic that was processed by the Galactica's most highly skilled and
experienced communication specialist, the deceptively girlish and
diminutive Lieutenant Rigel, "so, tell me Rigel, how did things go after
the traffic in and out of the Life Station tapered off? Did you manage to
fit in some furlon time yesterday?
     "I managed to make it out for a little bit of fresh air aboard
Agro-Ship Seven when my relief got here last night, Major," Rigel
responded, still keeping a large portion of her focus on the array of her
console, "I was due to fill in for a relief duty shift cycle on the
technical team over there anyway, to help them calibrate some of the
retro-fitted components. I took a look at the new plantings from the
Temple Ship. Some of the growth rates are pretty impressive, and the
increased food crop potential is promising. The Agro Techs have created
an actual jungle canopy in the aft area, just opposite the section with
the latest crop of fumera seedlings, and they've added some sort of herb
garden as well."
     "Did you go on your own?" Sheba's voice projected a conspiratorial
tone as she leaned in closer to the woman beside her, speaking quietly so
as not to be overheard by the crewmen who sat working at the adjoining
stations, "or did you take a friend?"
     "I shared a ride on an authorized shuttle with someone," Rigel's
smile widened briefly as a slight rush of colour rose from behind her
ears, flushing her cheeks slightly as she threw a quick glance of
exaggerated ingenuousness toward the Major before returning her gaze to
the communication array. 
     "Are you ever going to take it further than a few shuttle rides here
and there, or are you two going to be the stand-outs in the crowd and
stay single?" Sheba knew that the answer to that question was not a
simple one, and she had known it from the first time that she had become
an inadvertent confidante regarding Rigel's quiet, comfortable
relationship with a particular Red Squadron Pilot. Sheba's mind was taken
briefly with the memory of her first substantial encounter with the
amiable and visibly self-controlled Core Command Specialist. It had been
then-Lieutenant Sheba's first duty cycle assessing flight simulation
results for a group of aspiring viper and shuttle pilots. It had been
Adama's hope to integrate the grieving refugees of the Battlestar Pegasus
into the Galactican population as painlessly as possible, to blend as one
family with those who had been left behind by Sheba's Father, the
inimitable Commander Cain, as he and his skeleton crew had faced down at
least three Cylon Base-Ships and disappeared behind the endless curtain
of deep space, leaving the injured, traumatized and heartbroken Sheba in
doubt as the whether her Father and the ship that had been her home was
ever to be seen by human eyes again. She had looked up from the monitor
in the control chamber of the Flight Simulation Section, when Rigel's
familiar tones had caused her to lift her head.
     "Excuse me, Lieutenant Sheba?," Rigel had approached the console at
which Sheba had arranged her notes regarding the various increments of
grading standards required to establish whether a given cadet-level
subject had met the requirements to move on to field training, leaving
the simulations behind and testing their abilities in a series of short
range reconnaissance missions under the supervision of an experienced
Warrior, "may I speak with you for a moment?" Rigel had asked, getting
straight to the point, unlike many of the other Galacticans who had been
kind, but also awkward and uncertain with her in those early days when
she had been recovering from her battle-wounds and missing her Father, "
I understand that Life Station has cleared you to return to active duty,
Lieutenant," Rigel had leaned forward, her expression clearly hopeful, "I
wonder if you might consider coming along on my field testing missions,"
Sheba remembered how surprised she had been at Rigel's request, "I know
that you're more than qualified to help me certify for my active viper
pilot status, and I would appreciate having you along when I need to call
in to my relief at Core Command," Sheba had realized in an instant that
the somewhat introverted Rigel was not comfortable with the thought of
the ribbing, or undue attention that she might attract when the crew at
large became aware that she, the voice of the Galactica, would be calling
in from a training exercise in space instead. Sheba had been touched and
flattered by this display of vulnerability, and it had created the
beginning of what was to become a very close bond between the two women,
both Warriors who had spent much of their duty cycles in what had been a
man's world for a very long time, enduring more than a small number of
annoyances or slights that others around them often did not see or take
seriously. They had each been too proud and determined to succeed on
their own respective merits to complain about any of it to their
superiors and face the potential of making things even more difficult for
themselves in the process...
     "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Major Sheba," Rigel's voice
brought Sheba's thoughts back to the present, to the sound of the
ever-present communication signals making their way through Rigel's
Station, "I'm not having any trouble staying single, Ma'am." Rigel smiled
briefly as she reached for a toggle switch above the central cluster of
monitors in front of her, "Major, we have our patrols coming in for shift
rotation. Do you have any special orders?"
     "No, Rigel, Bring them in on standard courses and get them safely on
their way to decontamination after you've sent out the next group," Sheba
rose from her seat, stretching her limbs deliberately as she assumed a
more alert posture, "Artemis is back on rotation to your Section for the
time being. She should be here any centon. In the meantime, I'll leave
you to it, Specialist," Sheba nodded a farewell as she moved to return to
the Command Platform.
     "Affirmative, Major," Rigel's voice maintained its ever soothing
tones as she returned Sheba's parting nod with a slight movement of her
own head and then began to direct the landing procedures for a returning
group of reconnaissance vipers, her smile giving way to a more neutral
expression of professional focus as she ran through the display that
listed the currently open areas of the Galactica's landing and launch
bays, her mind firmly filing her own concerns to one side as she assumed
the mantle of the voice of the Core Command of the Battlestar Galactica.

Scene Six

     "Hey! Skipper! Wait up!" Captain Boomer cried out, sprinting across
the decking of the lift junction complex, Captain Starbuck beside him, to
join Apollo as the dark-haired Colonel quickly depressed the 'hold door'
key on the control console of the lift in which he now stood. Apollo
released the connection as the other two men stepped together through the
now-closing doors of the lift that would deposit them into the main
corridor of the Alpha Deck of the Galactica.
     "You look a little worse for wear, Starbuck," Apollo smiled grimly,
his green eyes taking in the rumbled state of Starbuck's uniform, "I
noticed from The Medical Section reports that you and Cassie have been
working right through since the...since the /party/."
     "Yeah, well I kind of got stuck in Life Station helping to process
test results. They were only just finishing up with Artemis and a few
others when Boomer came to get me," Starbuck leaned tiredly against the
bulkhead that made up the rear of the lift chamber, his face a study of
fatigue, "Apollo, almost everyone in the Fleet was affected. If that
signal has evolved into something that the scanners can't detect..."
     "We don't know that," Boomer interjected, "the source of the
original signal had to rely on that lunatic with the delta blockers. What
that tells us is that Iblis needed to use an accomplice. He needed to
disable the Drones and shield his activities from the telepaths in the
Fleet before he could pull us all into that delusional fog, and then make
his appearance. But after all that effort to make it back into solid
form, he seemed surprised when Kedron confronted him. He didn't seem to
understand what was happening when Kedron blasted him back to Hades with
the amulet. What was it that left him vulnerable, unprepared? Was it the
telepath, the amulet, or both of them together?"
     "Salik released Kedron from observation this morning," Starbuck
spoke cautiously, gauging the Colonel's reaction, "Cassie told me he
might have died from that burst blood vessel if Artemis hadn't rushed him
to the Life Station so quickly."
     "Are you going to be able to get along with him?" Boomer's voice was
cautious as Starbuck's had been, "I know that you and Artemis made up
while he was still unconscious in the Life Station, but..."
     "Don't worry about /me/ Boomer," Apollo grinned gratefully at his
friends, understanding their concern that he should make peace with his
daughter and her choice of romantic partner, but reluctant to discuss it,
"worry about Starbuck," the Colonel nodded toward the work-weary blonde
Captain, "I'm not sure he's going to make it if we don't get this meeting
over with and send him through a turbo wash and into a fresh uniform."
     "I'll second that sentiment, "Boomer replied, "no offense, Starbuck,
but it's seems as if you're beginning to spoil."
     "That's the thanks I get for putting in such a long shift, serving
my fellow man," Starbuck sighed and patted his sleeve once more, "Life is
so unfair."
     "No offense here either, Starbuck. But right now, much as we all
appreciate your sacrifice and that you're ready for a well-deserved
furlon rotation, I'm more concerned over how long the delta frequency
interference was in place, and in establishing the source of that
signal..." Apollo's mind drifted back to the nightmarish image from two
daily cycles ago, of Boxey and a group of Junior Officers storming the
hatchway behind which a crazed emissary of evil had been providing
electronic cover for the renewed attack from the Fleet's greatest and
most insidious enemy, "I'll feel better once the security sweeps are
completed and we get the Guardian Drones back on watch. This peace and
quiet seems too much like a calm before a storm on a Caprican beach."
     "I wouldn't say it's as relaxing as the beach, Apollo," Starbuck
straightened as the lift rose and fell with a gentle jolt, and the doors
began to open, "unless the Commander has authorized some furlon time on a
nice sunny planet for a daily cycle or two, in which case, I'm /in/."
     "Sorry, Starbuck. I haven't got a beach to offer, but I'll sign off
on at least one shift of that furlon time for you, right after we've met
with Adama."

Scene Seven

     "Going my way, fellas?" Boxey and Kedron turned at the sound of
Sheba's voice, nodding in deference as the Major emerged from the small
hatchway behind the Galactica's command platform and into the short
corridor beyond to join the two younger Warriors on their way to
Commander Adama's chambers.
     "Boxey, would you please go on ahead?" Sheba gestured toward another
hatchway at the far end of the access route from where they now stood,
"I'd like to have a word with Lieutenant Kedron before we go in."
     "Mother...?"
     "We'll just be a few microns, Son," Boxey hesitated, then nodded
once more, his familiarity with the expression on his second mother's
face telling him that Sheba would broach no questioning from him at this
moment.
     "By your leave, Major," he turned to take a glance at Kedron's
near-impassive features, "Kedron, I'll see you both inside," Boxey took
his leave of them, disappearing quickly through the hatchway as they
stood to watch the opening close behind him.
     "Kedron, how are you feeling?" Major Sheba placed a cautious hand
against the young man's chest, gently grasping the open lapel of his
long, black coat in a decidedly maternal gesture, "Doctor Salik said that
the aneurysm you suffered was rather serious. We were very lucky that
Artemis had you rushed to the Life Station so quickly."
     "Yes, Ma'am," a small smile threatened to lift a corner of Kedron's
lips at the sound of his lover's name, "I was fortunate that she was
there for me."
     "We need to talk, Kedron, about certain duty rotation billets that
have come to me for authorization," Sheba glanced from one side to
another, then leaned upward, staring into Kedron's clear grey-blue eyes,
"one of our Junior Officers on Bridge and flight duty cycles aboard the
Horace has been billeted in a different section than the others," Sheba
breathed her next words with a lift of an eyebrow and a tightening of her
grip on the tall man's coat, "perhaps you can explain to me why my
daughter is living part-time in the Officers' Section just off the
Horace's Alpha Deck?"
     "As you said, Major," Kedron's voice was low, a whispered match for
Sheba's, his gloved hand reaching up gently to grasp her fingers and hold
them against his chest, his heartbeat sending its steady rhythm through
her hand, "it's close to Alpha Deck, and I would add that it's
conveniently close to the launch bays currently set aside for assimilated
flight training exercises as well."
   "Kedron, when the Colonel finds out that his daughter is co-habitating
with her boyfriend instead of billeting in the pilots' barracks," Sheba
smiled in spite of herself, her sincere affection for the young Priest
impossible to conceal, "He's gonna go /crazy/!"
     "I leave it to Artemis to discuss her personal decisions with her
parents at a time and place of her own choosing," Kedron responded
softly, releasing Sheba's hand, and nodding a slight, formal bow toward
her once more, "She /is/ one of only /two/ Colonials on the current
assimilation cycle with Scarab Squadron, Ma'am."
     "Now that you mention it, my nephew Zac is staying in the barracks
during /his/ rotations, Kedron," Sheba spoke playfully, impressed with
Kedron's loyalty to her daughter, "what about /him/?"
     "My apologies, Major, but I doubt that I'd have enough space for
/him/ in my quarters as well," Kedron's face maintained its impassive
posture, but his eyes glittered, and Sheba saw the conspiratorial
laughter showing from deep within their blue-grey surface.
     "And they say you have no sense of humour, Kedron," Sheba smiled and
took Kedron's arm, though her expression still held a firm tone of
authority, "After the current situation has been addressed, and the Fleet
stands down from alert readiness, you and my daughter will kindly inform
the Colonel of your /informal/ living arrangements before he hears about
it from somebody else. Understood, Lieutenant?"
     "I shall speak with Artemis, Ma'am," Kedron bowed again and the two
of them walked together to follow Boxey through the hatchway at the end
of the corridor.
     Two figures moved from the shadows of a nearby maintenance alcove,
stepping quietly into the corridor as Sheba and Kedron disappeared behind
the hatchway that would lead them to Adama's office chamber.
     /The Major warmed to him from the beginning/, the slighter of the
two figures took her taller companion's arm, speaking only with her
thoughts as both of them began walking together with their hooded cloaks
pulled forward, their faces shrouded in darkness and their footfalls
muffled by padded heels, /Did he sense our presence/?
     /Yes, he's been expecting us/, the taller figure held firmly to his
companion's arm as they hurried toward their destination, /he knows that
Roman has encountered a problem with The Mechanic's rehabilitation, and
he's sensed that one or both of us is here from the near future/.
     /What if I'm seen by my other self/?  Lieutenant Artemis peered up
from beneath her dark hood, a mischievous glint reflecting from her
shaded green eyes, /she hasn't travelled back to the Oberon with past
Boomer yet/.
     /Don't worry about it. Our route should be empty of traffic for now.
The alert hasn't sounded yet, and our younger selves should each be
headed for the Command Centre within the next few centons, and then on to
Captain Starbuck's quarters/, Kedron replied, his thoughts merging with
hers in a moment of shared remembrance as they continued their silent
conversation, /Roman and John will nudge Cassiopeia forward after Baltar
makes his move up here on Alpha Deck. That leaves it to us to get to the
aft of the ship and take care of things there/.
     /You've explained to me how serious and necessary all of this is,
and that it's always been a part of my destiny, and yours, to help put
the Continuum right/, Artemis held tightly to him as they stepped into
the darkness of a maintenance hatchway and followed the sloping access
route that spanned the length of the Galactica's massive engine
thrusters, /but you never told me that being a Guardian of Time could be
so much fun/.
     /I reckoned that you'd enjoy finding that bit out for yourself/, she
felt him smile without looking, and released his arm to take his
un-gloved hand instead, as the two of them hurried onward together to
help put in motion a series of events that could keep the fun going for
them for some time to come.

Scene Eight

     "This /is/ rather unsettling news, Chameleon," Adama sat
stone-faced, his elbows resting on the desk top in front of him, his
fingers steepled thoughtfully as he spoke to the diminutive geneticist
and long-time gambler who sat in the chair across from him, "after all
these yahrens, when we were finally beginning to hope that Baltar had
recovered his senses, that he might finally be willing able to tell
us..." Adama's voice trailed off as the two men shared a look that spoke
of the many yahrens since Adama had first approached Starbuck's long-lost
and recovered father and asked him to become a part of the group of
volunteers who had regularly engaged with the long term inmate of the
Secure Term Care Section. Baltar's madness had seemed to subside in
recent sectars, and the haunted man had begun to show an interest in the
material world around him, rather than obsessing over images and voices
that only he could see and hear and suffering episodes of altered states
of mind, "it is surely no random chance that Baltar's regression has
coincided with recent events, and with the behaviour of our /other/
mysterious Term Care patient."
     "Father?" Apollo's voice gently pulled the two older men from their
brief reverie and drew their gaze toward the Colonel where he stood near
the edge of Adama's large desk, Starbuck, Boomer and Boxey standing to
one side of him, Sheba and Kedron to the other, the six of them arrayed
in an unconsciously strategic phalanx.  "Father, the results of the
investigations have indicated that the signal appears to have stopped for
now and that most of the Fleet's population doesn't even remember the
below decks party, yet Baltar..." Apollo paused, he and Sheba sharing an
enigmatic glance before he turned once more toward the two older men, "A
generous assessment would be that the reports from the Secure Term Care
Section seems less than optimistic."
     "Don't be discouraged, my boy," Chameleon smiled consolingly at his
son's dear friend and comrade, "Baltar is still speaking to me, albeit
incoherently, but he still has some periods of lucidity. I urge you to
see that as a good sign."
     "Baltar is only one single element of this riddle that we are faced
with, Apollo, and there are several investigations, both military and
civil, still to be completed," Adama rose, straightening his spine and
clasping his hands behind his back, pacing slowly past the assembled
group and then turning once more to address them all, "our immediate
concern is the safety of the primary targets of Iblis' attack," Adama
rested his gaze upon Sheba's stoic features, "as you all know, the
Children of Cain have been assigned to ship-bound duty and Learning Cycle
rotations both here and aboard the Pegasus. Brother Kedron, has Commander
Kellen put the temporary Guardians in place?"
     "Yes Commander," Kedron stepped forward, his face impassive as ever,
his voice a now-familiar tenor monotone, "Colonel Rutger has assigned the
security details to remain in place until the Drones have been repaired
and field tested. I am to join Sister Alice and six others here aboard
the Galactica, and two more pairs have been dispatched to the Pegasus to
attend to Captain Bojay and Flight Corporal Zac."
     "Just a centon," Apollo turned to address Kedron directly, his face
a study in an effort to control his precariously controlled temper, "Let
me get this straight, /you/ have been /assigned/ to /guard/ my daughter
for at least the next daily cycle or longer?"
     "I would not have worded it quite that way, Sir," Kedron nodded, his
voice unchanged in its carefully modulated tone, "however, your
assessment of the duty assignments is effectively accurate."
     "Kedron, was that some sort of passive-aggressive wisecrack? Are you
/deliberately/ attempting to provoke me to..."
     "Can we discuss these personal matters at a later time, please?"
Sheba interjected, stepping forward to become a physical barrier between
her husband and her daughter's lover, much to the obvious relief of the
others still gathered with them in Adama's chambers, "perhaps Brother
Kedron could be assigned to accompany /me/ for the duration of his
current security assignment aboard the Galactica, "she turned to address
Kedron directly, as Apollo had done, though with much less emotion, "you
don't mind spending the rest of the day with /me/, do you Kedron?"
     "Of course not, Major," Kedron bowed, his voice unchanged, but a
small twinkle of light emerged from his grey-blue eyes and was mirrored
back to him from Sheba's warm, brown gaze, "It is my honour to serve."
     "Very well, then," Adama coughed forcedly, drawing the attention of
the room once more to his authoritative baritone, "there is also the
matter of the ore," Adama stepped forward to address Kedron once more,
"after the confused events of the last several days, the Council of the
Twelve has finally been convinced to authorize the transfer of a portion
of the remaining ore from our Stasis Storage Section," Adama moved to
pace slowly once more past the group as he continued speaking, "As you
all know, we've not disturbed any of the remaining containers since
Doctor Wilker used a portion of the untainted ore to fabricate several
copies of the original two amulets in our possession. These reverse
engineered amulets are installed throughout the Fleet, and form a
network, a detection shield that would normally have responded to
recurrence of the /Mephiston Matrix/ and triggered an alert. It has been
twenty yahrens since we first discovered the planet that we now know was
fabricated from that same ore and constructed to accommodate the Temple
of Horace, and the Celestial Chamber and Star Map that led us to seek out
signs of our brothers from the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Tribes," a
silence had come over the group as Adama spoke, each of them remembering
the passage of time since the events that the Commander had referred to,
each of them aware of the persistent complaints of the various civilian
politicians who had sought to use Adama's security measures as a point of
contention between the military and civilian authorities within the
Fleet. With the arrival of the Battlestar Horace and its smaller Fleet of
Horacian Priests and High Kobal Guards, along with a few assorted
civilians who generally shared in the ideology of the followers of
Horace, and thus shared also in the ideology of Adama himself. This had
placed some on the Council in a defensive posture, especially when it
came to assimilation of the two Fleets and the sharing of resources, such
as the ore, "only this morning have I been able to confirm that the
Council has agreed unanimously to give the Priests of Horace access to
our stockpile of ore."
     "Now you Priests will be able to fabricate amulets for each of the
telepaths in the Combined Fleet, Kedron," Boxey interjected, "You'll be
less vulnerable to any more frequency interference, now that you finally
have access to the untainted ore, won't you?"
     "Yes," Kedron spoke cryptically, distantly, a gloved hand reaching
upward to touch the insignia, the silver Star of Kobol that he wore on
his collar, his hollow, almost mournful tone impossible for any of the
assembled group to interpret clearly, "It has been twenty yahrens since
our own supply was corrupted and had to be destroyed. Now, before the
next yahren is over, we shall be able to increase the Galactica's
untainted supply and put the Continuum right."
     "What do you mean, 'put the Continuum right'?" Captain Boomer seemed
to speak reflexively, his dark eyes probing the young Priest's face, a
sudden sense of realization creeping up from his memory, a vision of a
long ago, but yet to be mission with his protégé, the future Artemis, the
Lieutenant First Level, Valkyrie Squadron pilot that was yet to aid in
the time shifting rescue of Baltar, more than twenty yahrens ago. Boomer
recovered quickly and shared a brief look of mutual comprehension with
Commander Adama.
     "The Priests are the true architects and Guardians of the original
matrix of the ore," Adama shifted the dialogue skillfully, his experience
as a diplomat guiding his swift action to intervene, deflecting the
group's focus from Boomer's inadvertent outburst. So far as Adama and
Boomer had been aware, they were the only two still living that had been
privy to the details of Boomer's past mission with the future Artemis, to
bring Baltar back to his proper place and time, a mission to be overseen
by a Boomer from the near future, a future that, by the best reckoning of
both men and that of the late Commander Cain, the third in their triad of
secrecy, a future that was to be played out within the limit of the next
standard Colonial yahren, "It is an historic moment for the House of
Horace, Kedron," Adama turned away from Boomer, planting the attention of
the group upon the young Priest.
     "Yes, Commander Adama," the young man seemed somehow quieter than
usual, "we have waited twenty yahrens to seed another stone garden, a
renewable source for the untainted Ore of Horace."
     "You sound a little like a religious zealot, Kedron," Apollo spoke
in an oddly subdued tone, his brow slightly furrowed as if he was seeing
the young Priest for the first time in a different light, taking in
details that he had not considered before.
     "I am a Child of the Fourteenth Tribe of Man, a Warrior Priest and
an Orphan of the House of Horace, the revered founder of the High Kobol
Guard and the High Holy Priest of the Ninth Lord of Kobol," Kedron's
posture had become uncharacteristically confrontational, his long spine
straightening perceptibly, his grey-blue eyes registering a stirring of
emotion, perhaps even a whisper of anger from deep within as he glared
downward into Apollo's glittering green eyes, "how does the Colonel
/suggest/ that I should sound?"
     "Ummm, Commander!" Chameleon interjected suddenly, leaping from his
chair with an impressive agility for a man of his advanced yahrens,
taking Sheba's place this time between the two of them, Apollo and Kedron
and turning gracefully on his heel to face Adama, "If there's nothing
else for now, perhaps we could finish up here and allow everyone to get
back to their duties? Your Flight Commander, for one, looks a little in
need of a rest," the diminutive elder nodded sadly toward his own son,
the rumpled Starbuck, who took his cue and spread his hands in front of
his chest, smiling hopefully in Adama's direction.
     "By your leave, Sir, I've not been off duty for more than two days
now, and I've a turbowash chamber and a soft bed in my quarters that
require my attention for a few centars."
     "Indeed, Starbuck, "Adama's eyes softened, silently acknowledging
Chameleon's and Starbuck's smooth act of intervention, "I must say that
you /do/ look a little worse for wear," the Commander turned to address
the group once more, "Very well, then. Starbuck, you go and take that
well-deserved furlon, get some rest. Everyone else, please attend the
Command Centre with Apollo, Sheba and myself, and we shall sort out the
temporary duty rotations from there. We must try to be patient while the
Medical and Science Sections continue with their investigations.

Scene Nine

     "It was no surprise that Commander Kellen has decided to keep our
little secret for now." Doctor Roman turned at the sound of the voice
beside him in the lift, sharing a wry smile of greeting at the man with
curly salt and pepper hair in the spotlessly white suit that had suddenly
appeared to address him in a pleasantly mundane tone.
     "Yes, /John/" Roman teasingly used his colleague's preferred alias
among the humans that he had interacted with directly on occasion,
"Kellen and the other telepaths are willing to overlook the fact that we
are not as /human/ as we may appear to be. She is a Priest of Horace, a
telepath, and she is well aware of the legacy of the Guardians of Time.
She is loathe to keep such a secret from Adama and Tigh, but she
understands that our common goal is to return the Colonial Fleet to its
proper place in the Continuum. She and her fellow telepaths will avoid
any confrontations so long as they can be confident that we are
benevolent."
     "And what of Baltar? Chameleon and Calvin were getting through to
him before the events leading up to Major Sheba's rather unpalatable
birthday surprise reconnected him with his master's essence," John leaned
back against the bulkhead, staring at the interior of the lift doors and
speaking almost absently as he loosely crossed his white-sleeved arms
across the front of his impeccably tailored jacket, "He is what our
Colonial friends might call a wild card. He and our latest victim of
madness could possibly succeed in harming someone on their way to hunt
for our dear Artemis."
     "You've grown fond of her as I have," Roman leaned back beside his
companion, crossing his own arms and joining in a study of the rivets in
the door, "she knows that Kedron has met her before, but love has enabled
her to trust him when he asks her to wait for a full explanation. He
senses but does not clearly see her pending past mission with Boomer.
Captain Boomer already suspects that Kedron knows something, Adama will
soon begin to wonder as well, and then we have Athena and her..."
     "All of that is well within a manageable domain. I shall introduce
myself to Artemis at the appropriate time," John interjected, "what is of
immediate concern is that Starbuck is given a tool to defend himself. We
must keep Cassiopeia within arms' length of her husband and his towel. So
long as Starbuck remains unharmed, we shall be back on track. Baltar
shall be back in custody, and The Mechanic's memory engrams shall be
dealt with directly. The head injury will provide a credible explanation
for his memory loss, and his origins shall remain a mystery, even to
him."
     "What of the signal?" Roman said, shifting his weight and turning to
lean on one shoulder, his dark eyes sharing a shadow of a twinkling
humour with his companion, "the Drones will be back to work within a
daily cycle, along with Artemis' surprise for her brother and a few more
of Muffit's friends here and there throughout the Fleet. The telepaths
shall overlook us so long as we 'behave', but what happens when the
signal returns and our fallen brother makes yet another attempt to
over-ride our dominion and re-enter this realm? I suppose the Priests
shall have to fill in the gaps now that they have access to the ore."
     "Sheba shall be asking you some questions very soon. She has been
holding back for a long while now, trusting in you to keep her children
safe, but it's clear that she wishes to know the truth. She feels ready
now to learn why we did not intervene..."John's words trailed off as he
and Roman shared a silent moment of understanding, of endless memories of
delicate interventions and difficult moments when intervention had not
been the better option. 
     "I shall have a conversation with Sheba while Artemis is making
peace with her father. By then, Kedron shall have returned from the
Temple Ship to join us before dinner. Apollo may be quick to anger at the
moment, and he shall have his confrontations with his daughter's lover,
but his spirit shall require only a few nudges in order for him to
recover his balance and remember that his duty is to guide his daughter
without judgment. He has the continued fellowship of several convenient
friends and family around him who can be maneuvered into his path without
much effort before he finds out about his daughter's living
arrangements," Roman paused, a thoughtful look upon his dark face,
"Captain Boomer will be especially helpful. He's been keeping the note
with the permutations for the baby pool wager in his jacket pocket, ready
for his younger self to close that small circle, though he knows that his
first priority is to see his protégé through to her first level
Lieutenant's exams."
     "We /could/ simply do a re-set," John opined with a less than
serious tone, "wipe /everyone's/ memory engrams and give them something
credible in their place."
     "You know as well as I do that some excuse of unsolved sabotage and
memory loss would be a waste of time," Roman laughed softly, "we'd just
end up back here in the lift, planning it all over again with Artemis'
children, or perhaps with her grandparents, and /then/ you'd have to come
up with some new jokes to try out on me.
     "Have we become comfortable, meeting in the darkness and playing out
our roles, carefully stitching the torn fabric of the Continuum back
together?"
     "You've become a philosopher, John," Roman laughed again, this time
with a true hint of humour, "we do what we must do, and our task at hand
is to give Cassiopeia a little nudge at the crucial moment, even if
Captain Starbuck might suffer a bruising of his ego in the aftermath."
     Both of them laughed quietly together as they straightened
themselves and emerged from the sub-quantum bubble that had held them
timelessly in the lift for the duration of their conversation. They
watched together as the console registered deck after deck of upward
motion.
     "Time to get back to work, I suppose. We've a busy evening ahead of
us." John's projected form evaporated as the lift doors opened onto the
Galactica's Alpha Deck and Roman stepped into the corridor that would
lead him to the periphery of the network of private chambers that were
designated for the family of Adama.

Scene Ten

     "Hey Son," Starbuck stepped through the hatchway and into the
central chamber of the family quarters that he and Cassiopeia had shared
for nearly twenty yahrens, a cluster of chambers on Alpha Deck that had
been retro-fitted to incorporate the small utilitarian space that had
once been the domain of then Colonel Tigh, and was subsequently occupied
by Cassiopeia when she had become a Sister Guardian to Apollo and Sheba's
children, and Tigh had become the Commander of the Battlestar Pegasus.
Now the expanded cluster of chambers provided a living space for
Cassiopeia and Starbuck, and their children, seventeen yahren Laurette
and Cainan, the fifteen yahren boy who now deftly avoided a near
collision with his work-weary father at the door, "what's so important
that you have to run over your poor old Dad before he gets all the way
through the hatchway?
     "Sorry, Dad," Cainan grinned, returning his Father's warm embrace
and then stepping back with an exaggerated shake of his head, "you look
the worse for wear."
     "You're not alone in that unsolicited assessment, Son," Starbuck
sighed, "Boomer, Cassiopeia, Apollo, the Commander, my own father, my own
/son/," Starbuck looked mournfully up at the ceiling, then gazed once
more into his son's blue eyes, "I get no respect for putting in such a
long, tedious duty rotation, no respect at all."
     "Don't worry, Dad," Cainan struggling to contain his laughter, his
straw streaked blonde hair falling across his forehead as his toothy
smile widened "we'll be sure to hose you off once every secton or so when
you become too old and infirm to do it yourself."
     "Smart guy," Starbuck muttered, "where are you off to that you were
moving so fast?"
     "Isis and Ila are having a few of us over to keep them company until
dinner, when the Drones are to be back on duty. For now, they're ship
bound with four telepathic Priests looking over their shoulders, so they
decided to stay in to watch some old Colonial entertainment crystals.
Laurette and a few of the Cadets and Junior Officers are going to be
there. Mother said it was alright. She's over there right now, checking
in on everyone."
     "If you and your sister are just down the corridor with the twins,
/and/ you have your Mother's approval, then I've got no problem, either.
Have a good time, Son," Starbuck kissed the blonde head as Cainan ducked
past him and out into the corridor, "I love you."
   "I love you too, Dad," the young man cried as he rushed down the
corridor, "Don't slip and fall in the turbowash!"
     "Smart guy," Starbuck repeated tiredly as he trudged forward,
crossing through the private space that he shared with his wife, and on
into the small turbowash chamber beyond, shedding his clothing as he
walked and stretching as he reached forward to initiate a pre-programmed
turbowash sequence, "/ooooooohhhh/," he let loose a guttural sound as his
tense and tired muscles finally began to relax, the warm, soapy water
covering him with a light foaming froth and then running downward to
escape into the drain below, "/mmmmmmmpphh/, that's sooo much better,"
Starbuck's mind let go as the warm water flowed over him, the realization
setting in that more than two daily cycles had passed since he had last
stood beneath the foaming turbowash spray, just before he and Cassiopeia
had left for Sheba's birthday celebration, a dinner with Apollo and Adama
and Tigh and the children...Athena and Bojay and Zac had been
there...Tinia and Chameleon and Blassie had stopped in for a quick toast,
and then the below decks party...Artemis and Kedron.../why didn't I
recognize the amulet's markings, and how did it get there in the first
place?/ ...disjointed colours moved through Starbuck's sleep-starved
thoughts, images from the present intermingling with those from the
past.../where did the first amulet come from?/...so long ago now,
Cassiopeia had always said that the necklace had seemed to virtually
appear, suddenly hanging from baby Artemis' chubby fingers, and Boxey,
the only other person in the chamber had seen nothing except the shiver
that had run over Cassiopeia's spine, from a small draft of air that
should not have existed in that climate-controlled chamber.../so that's
three of them, one from the covering on the Field Manual, and the other
two.../...Starbuck stretched as the turbowash unit's final rinse sequence
embraced him with a steady flow of clear, warm water, his body screaming
out with gratitude as a comforting fog of fatigue settled over
him.../Cassie found one, and then I found another...twenty yahrens
later/...Starbuck's mind wandered further ahead to the gathering in
Adama's office chamber, to the moment when Artemis' boyfriend, the Priest
had said... 'put the Continuum right'...and Boomer, Boomer had reacted,
then tried to hide it, and the Commander had maneuvered away from the
subject...Starbuck realized that his practiced gambler's instincts had
not broken through his weariness to give him pause until now.../Boomer
and the Commander have some sort of secret/...Starbuck's mind wandered
back once more, back to a mission, a mission with Apollo and Bojay and
Jolly, all of them desperate to find...Boomer...and after both the
Pegasus and Boomer had been found...Apollo's words came back to him, a
moment frozen in time.../Adama and Cain have classified Boomer's
report/...the response to Starbuck's question.../did Boomer tell you
anything more about that 'nonexistent' ship he materialized in on?/...a
dawning thought rose up over the seemingly random images, suddenly
bringing into focus a moment, long ago when Cassiopeia had spoken of that
first mysterious necklace.../Apollo says it's a crest from an ancient
Warrior Priest clan...it  means something like 'Guardian' or 'Guardian of
Time.../...Starbuck reached for a thick green towel as the turbowash
cycle ended and a gentle flow of warm air circulated briefly over him
through the unit's automated drying cycle. The bemused Captain wrapped
the towel around his waist and stepped back into the private chamber, his
thoughts still focussed on that long-ago image of the amulet that had
hung from the liquid-like auricon chain around Cassiopeia's slender neck
until the /Mephiston Matrix/ had awakened the small machine from its
slumber.../Guardian of Time/.../put the Continuum right/...Starbuck
paused, oblivious to the chamber around him, his mind slowly reaching for
that one elusive thought that would bring it all together, to make sense
of...
     "Starbuck?" Cassiopeia's melodious tones fell like small pebbles
against the fragile shards of images that had begun to coalesce in his
mind, forming one even larger network of broken edges with many sides, of
faces and voices..."Starbuck, are you alright?"...the last of his
concentration evaporated as he emerged through the weakening network of
images to find himself suddenly in the present moment, turning to look at
his wife and returning the welcoming smile that she gave to him, "you
look so tired..."
     "I'm exhausted, Cassie," Starbuck fell into the embrace of his bed,
landing in a dizzying rustle of bedcoverings, and stretching his arms
above his head, "I could sleep for an eternity..."
     "Go ahead my love, the Life Station is nearly empty, the children
are out for the night, and we've finally got a furlon to sleep,"
Cassiopeia whispered, her voice disappearing into a large, black void, a
single planet with a dead star in the center of it...Kobol...the Warrior
Priests...Horace and Sagan had written the Field Manual, but the
ore...the amulet on the Field Manual must have come from Kobol, but
how...Boomer and Adama...classified...Baltar, something about Baltar...
"Sleep," Cassiopeia pulled a blanket over his aching form, and slipped
beneath it to lay beside him, succumbing to her own fatigue as the two of
them fell into a dreamless void together.

Scene Eleven

     "Baltar? Baltar?" a voice called to him from somewhere. Was /it/
coming to visit him? He had waited for so long..."Balter? Wake up, it's
time."
     Baltar emerged cautiously from beneath his blanket, staring in
fascination at the figure who stood in the open hatchway to Baltar's
private chamber, the cell in which he had been confined for more than
twenty yahrens, "Time for what? Who are you? I don't know you. You're not
real! Go away!" Baltar pulled the blanket back over his head, rocking
back and forth on the mattress of his sleeping platform and muttering to
himself.
     "Baltar, I am as real as I am meant to be," Baltar could sense the
movement of the figure in the doorway, feeling a cold rush of fear as the
intruder bent close to the small opening in the blanket, "Baltar, The
guards are sleeping. Come with me."
     "What garden?" Baltar asked as he emerged once more to study the man
who stood before him, so close that he could feel the hot, dry breath
upon his face, "how did you get in here? Who /are/ you?" Baltar leaned to
one side/ peering through the hatchway to see an arm clothed in a
Colonial Security uniform lying still upon the decking of the corridor
outside, "Did you kill them?" he asked distractedly, still wondering to
himself if this was merely another of his often confusing dreams.
     "No," the thin man spoke in a dull, rasping tone, "I only hit them
with the handle," Baltar's eyes widened as the man raised his arm to
brandish a large serrated blade with a long wooden handle, "but you can
have the other end."
     "Don't hurt me," Baltar cried, his back against the bulkhead, "I
won't tell. I won't tell anyone. You can escape and, when they ask me,
I'll tell them I didn't see a thing!"
     "I won't hurt you. You're on /my/ side. That's what /It/ told me,"
the thin man stepped backward, offering his free hand to Baltar.
     "Ye...yes! I'm on /your/ side!" Baltar swallowed hard as his
companion pulled him to his feet, "I...I don't know you. Who are you?"
     "I am The Mechanic. I build machines," the dark eyes seemed to bore
holes into him, seeing everything, knowing.../everything/..."you have
some work to do."
     "Where...where are we going? Why are we going there?" Baltar asked
as he followed the thin man with the knife, clutching his blanket around
his neck, stepping into the corridor and over the unconscious forms of
the two Colonial Security Officers who normally stood guard outside
Baltar's locked door.
     "We must go and do some weeding first, before we can get to the
flowers," the thin man muttered as he pressed a key on the lift console,
somehow managing to over-ride the secured codes that were normally
required to open the door, "we're going up to the top, to find the weeds
and cut them down before they can take over any more of the Master's
garden."
     "I don't /know/ anything about gardening," Baltar absently studied
the interior of the lift as the doors closed and his companion selected
the key labelled 'Alpha Deck'.
     "That's alright," the thin man spoke, his eyes like empty black
holes as he hefted the blade, "I'll help with the weeding, and /you/ plan
the party."
     "A garden party?" Baltar offered helpfully, a hopeful smile crossing
his addled features, "I haven't been outside in so long."
     "You can go outside when we're finished,' the man said, his hollow
voice seeming to echo in the small lift chamber, "but first, we need to
stop the Guardians and put the party plans back the way they were," the
thin man turned to face Baltar, the blade hovering between them as the
lift came to a gently jolting stop and the doors opened onto a long,
empty corridor.
     "This is the way to Adama's quarters," Baltar said idly, as the two
walked together, their footfalls echoing slightly through the space of
the corridor, "are you going to /kill/ Adama?"
     "We cut down whomever gets in our way," the thin man gestured with
his free hand, holding the blade close to Baltar's face with the other,
"show me where the Guardians are sleeping, and don't get in the way."
     "No...no...I won't get in the way. We're partners, right? I'm not in
the way...am I?"
     "Where's the hatchway? Which one do we open?" the thin man's eyes
moved down the bulkhead near the end of the curving corridor as he
whispered fiercely, "all the doors are the same. Which one has the
Guardian in it?"
     "I, I don't know! I've only ever been to Adama's chambers, and this
corridor is different..."
     "Choose one! Show me the way to the flower garden, and then you can
go outside, and you can take the weeds with you!" Baltar staggered
forward, his mind moving through a moment of lucidity in which he
realized that he had never been to this part of the ship before, that the
corridors had been retro-fitted since he had last emerged from the lift
and been brought to share a drink in Adama's office chamber, so long ago
when he had bargained for a chance to be marooned, only to be found and
come full circle back to his seemingly endless imprisonment aboard the
Galactica and ultimately within the confines of his own tortured mind,
"I, I think it might be /this/ one," Baltar pointed desperately at one of
the hatchways that spanned the bulkhead before him, "maybe we should wait
and..."
     "Don't you /know/ where to find the Guardians?" the thin man that
had introduced himself to Baltar as 'The Mechanic' brandished the
serrated blade, moving it slowly across the field of Baltar's vision and
allowing the soft illumination of the corridor to reflect itself from the
blade's shining and uneven surface in a diffuse glittering network of
light that distracted Baltar and evaporated the bonds of whatever lucid
thoughts may have been emerging from his disjointed thoughts.
     "Ye...Yes! It's got to be this hatchway here..." Baltar stared
blankly into his companion's feverish eyes, his own lucidity now receding
once again into madness and confusion, "are you here to escort me back to
my ship? That rude girl ruined my party, and I was promised a new one."
     "Just open the hatch, and be quiet," The Mechanic hissed, pushing
Baltar toward the console beside the hatchway, "enter the code that you
used on the Oberon."
     "The Oberon! My beautiful ship! Can you take me there? Will you be
coming there with me to wake up the party guests before the Battlestars
arrive? How shall we decorate the banquet tables?" Baltar swiveled
suddenly with his arms outstretched as the hatchway opened with a
near-silent /swoosh/. He smiled brightly at the memory of his time aboard
the clean and quiet ship, with its open spaces and the nice little room
off the Bridge where he had felt so safe and warm...
     "Look out, you idiot!" The Mechanic cried as he stumbled into
Baltar, the two of them caught in an inadvertent embrace as they danced
awkwardly over the doorsill together and fell, sprawling onto the decking
in the small private chamber with a sickening /thwump/ of The Mechanic's
skull against the deckplate below him.
     "Wha..." Starbuck cried as he reflexively switched on the lights and
sat up blinking in his bed, Cassiopeia beside him, still in her Medical
tunic and skirt, the sudden sound and light momentarily blinding them as
they blinked the approaching figure into focus, "/Baltar!?!/, what
the..."
     "Where is my party? Where are the flowers? I'll need to cut some
flowers for the centre-pieces!" Baltar screamed as he scooped up the
blade from beside his unconscious companion's form and leaped forward to
grab a handful of Starbuck's still damp hair. He maneuvered the serrated
edge of the blade against Starbuck's throat, pulling the Captain's head
back and whispering into his ear, "I came to pick flowers, but I can do
some weeding on the way..."
     "Starbuck, don't move!" Cassiopeia scrambled away quickly,
surreptitiously depressing the emergency alert switch on the console
beside the bed, "just stay still and let's talk this over," the Doctor
spoke with an even, clear tone, looking directly at Baltar's feverish
eyes and willing her face into a pleasantly helpful expression, "what can
we do to help you, Baltar? Maybe you'd like to sit down and tell us about
it."
     "No! Are you the Valkyrie? No...you're the Guardian. /You/ don't
/get/ any flowers," Baltar pulled Starbuck from beneath the covers,
standing behind the suddenly wide awake Warrior, the blade coming
perilously close to blonde Captain's throat, "You'd better stay back
young lady, or I shall have to cut off his head!"
     "Baltar, let's talk things over. Perhaps I can help you," Cassiopeia
struggled to maintain a calm and soothing demeanor, her darting glances,
first toward the bedside console and then toward the door, enough to
communicate silently to Starbuck that the klaxon was soon to react to her
surreptitious action and sound throughout the ship over the Unicom
network. She locked eyes with her husband, willing him to stay still,
hyper-alert for an opportunity to act, her mind rushing through images
of...something...something warm and white and encouraging, and then...a
gentle rush of air seemed to propel her slowly forward as she kept steady
pace with Starbuck and Baltar, all of them gently moving together toward
the foot of the sleeping platform. Baltar muttered incoherently as
Cassiopeia and Starbuck maintained their state of mutual readiness for
when they knew that one or more Colonial Security Officers would be
coming through the door.

Scene Twelve

     "We're finally on a shift rotation together, Colonel," Sheba
whispered with a smile as she and Apollo moved through the access route
on their way to the Command Centre, Adama, Chameleon and Boomer and
Boxey, along with Brother Kedron and the recently-arrived Sister Alice a
few steps behind them, "Isn't it romantic?"
     "Romantic? Let's see," Apollo grimaced wryly as he began to count
his fingers, "there's you, me, my Father and Chameleon. Boomer's had his
flight rotations scrapped. Our eldest daughter is ship-bound in Core
Command with two Priests guarding her, our son is here, so he might as
well do the assimilation inspections, and you have /your/ pair of
telepaths as well, one of whom is our daughter's boyfriend. I'm beginning
to wonder if Cassie and Starbuck didn't wind up with the easier shift
after all," Apollo smiled with a trace of sincere humour this time,
"well, if this is what you call romantic, then..."
.../CRASH/...
   "What is it? What's happened?" Apollo cried, running ahead of the
others through the hatchway behind the command platform as the alert
klaxon smashed its way through the Galactica's Command Centre from the
Unicom speakers, "Omega! Why have you called an alert?"
     "I /haven't/ called it, Sir!" Bridge Officer Omega responded in a
clearly modulated tone as Apollo and Sheba and Boomer sprinted up to join
him on the command platform, "there's nothing of note showing on any of
the external sensors, and there's no indication of any unusual signal
traffic..." Omega turned to address the Officers behind him, nodding as
Commander Adama mounted the steps, followed quietly by Brother Kedron and
another Priest, Sister Alice, a tall woman with grey-blue eyes and a mane
of flaming red hair, "Commander! The alert klaxon has been tripped from
within the ship," Omega returned his attention to his console, "I'm not
receiving any messages or calls for help as yet, Sir."
     "It can't be the Drones," the group turned as Ensign Artemis
approached from her station at Core Command, a finger pressed to the
earpiece of the head-set that she wore. She stopped at the foot of the
platform stairs, discreetly following behind her were two more black-clad
telepaths, a man and a women with those same grey-blue eyes, and blonde
hair similar in shade to Kedron's, "they're still going through a final
check down on Lambda Deck, and there's no sign of the /Mephiston Matrix/
on any of our frequency scanners," Artemis gestured toward the Priests
standing behind her, "Brother Aaron and Sister Eva say they sense no sign
of it either, or of any delta frequency interference. Somebody's
triggered the alert for some other reason, but they haven't followed up
with a call for help."
     "I have it!" Omega turned once more to face the group behind him, a
look of confusion furrowing his brow, "the alert was triggered from a
manual console..." Omega touched his earpiece, listening intently as
Artemis had done before him, "Commander! The alert was sounded from
Captain Starbuck's quarters, Sir!"
     "What?" Apollo cried, the confusion on his own face a mirror for the
others around him, "but he was just at the meeting in the Commander's
quarters! The kids are over at our place, and he went home to sleep! So
did Cassiopeia!"
     'Never mind that!" Sheba was the first to stir herself into action,
"Security! Join us at the main hatchway to Captain Starbuck's quarters!
Omega! Turn off that klaxon and try to get hold of somebody in the family
quarters! Have Security check on the children in /our/ quarters as well!"
Sheba ran for the access route behind the platform, the rest of the group
following close behind her as they ran behind the first two Colonial
Security Officers that had responded to Sheba's cry.
     "Starbuck! Cassiopeia! Are you in there? Open the hatchway and let
us in!' Apollo repeatedly activated the chime from the console outside
the entrance to the couple's private family chambers, "Starbuck?
Cassiopeia?"
     "They will not answer, Colonel. They are being held hostage," Kedron
stepped forward, the other three telepaths beside him, all of them
staring unblinkingly at the hatchway as they reached into their long
black coats, drawing their lasers and tensing, long legs bent as they
readied themselves to move forward, "there are four individuals inside
the chamber, and one of them has a weapon, a blade of some sort," Kedron
turned briefly to address Sheba, "Sister Abigail and the other three
Priests are still in your chambers, Major. They've locked themselves in.
Your daughters and the others are safe."
     "Security, open the hatch, and be careful. Brother Kedron, you can
already see inside. You four take the lead," Commander Adama ordered,
stepping behind the four telepaths and the two Security Officers,
ushering the others in the group to join him, "Laser pistols ready!"
     "Get back! He's got a knife!" Cassiopeia's voice rang out from the
opening hatchway as the group moved slowly forward.
     "I'll do it, Adama!" Baltar screamed, laughing manically as the
Security Officers raised their pistols, and took position at either side
of the opening, affording Adama and the others a clear view inside the
chamber, "I'll cut off his head, the way you decapitated my Centurions!"
     Adama stopped short, his eyes riveted on the scene before him.
Inside the chamber, there were four individuals, as Kedron had said.
Doctor Cassiopeia stood to one side, her posture one of caution and
hyper-awareness, and below her, lying senseless on the deck was the form
of a man, his face turned away, but it was the other two forms that
caught the attention of the group at the door.
     "I think he means it, Commander," Starbuck gurgled, as he tensed to
avoid the weapon at his throat, beside him, Baltar, his clothing in
disarray, a tattered blanket clasped round his neck, much like a cape.
One boney claw clutched a clump of Starbuck's hair, pulling the Warrior's
head back as the other hand clutched the long, serrated blade that
vibrated alarmingly in front of Starbuck's neck. Starbuck stood
awkwardly, still wearing nothing but the soft green towel that he had
wrapped about his waist before falling into his bed, his arms at his
side, and his damp hair falling over his eyes.
     "Baltar," Adama spoke cautiously, assuming a bland expression as he
moved to stand beside Kedron, "Baltar, what's happened? What's wrong?
Perhaps we can talk..."
     "Enough talking, Adama!" Baltar cried, the unsteady blade moving
perilously closer to Starbuck's throat, "I want my ship back!"
     "Baltar!" Chameleon stepping carefully to stand beside Adama,
speaking to the crazed man in a pleasant, gently melodious tone, "Baltar,
it's me, Chameleon. Wouldn't you like to sit down and tell me what's
bothering you? Perhaps I can help."
   You can't help me, you...," Baltar froze, his expression suddenly rife
with shock as he stared into the array of faces over Chameleon's
shoulder, "/You/!" Baltar spat the word, "Boomer! You and that girl
spoiled my party! /You/!" Baltar screamed in undiluted rage as he stared
past Boomer, shifting his focus to Artemis' face. He unconsciously
lowered the blade and stepped forward, "/you ruined everything/!"
     "Starbuck! Grab him! Get the knife!" Cassiopeia cried as she moved
with the speed of an athlete, grasping the edge of the towel at
Starbuck's waist, unfurling it like a waving green flag and throwing it
squarely over Baltar's head.
     The chamber was suddenly awash with activity as Starbuck responded
with the reflexes of a practiced pilot and threw his arms over Balter,
hugging the crazed man to his chest and grasping the handle of the blade
with both fists, wrestling it away and tossing it aside as the two of
them stumbled blindly over the unconscious form of the man at their feet.
     "Starbuck!" Cassiopiea cried once more as the four Priests rushed
forward, grabbing Starbuck and Baltar, separating them and handing the
towel covered Baltar over to the two Colonial Security Officers.
     "Get that man down to the Life Station!' Adama pointed to the prone
form on the deck, "and get Baltar into a secured chamber until we can get
to the bottom of this!" Adama stepped forward as one of the Priests knelt
down to turn the prone man over, testing for a pulse with two
black-gloved fingers, "Lords of Kobol! It's the other prisoner from the
Term Care Section, the man who made the delta-blocking devices that
disguised the /Mephiston Matrix/ signal! Someone get down to the Secure
Term Care Section and check on the guards down there!"
     "Would somebody mind telling me what in Hades is going on?" Starbuck
sputtered as two Priests steadied him to his feet, "I was asleep, and
then Baltar was there with a knife, asking me where he could find some
/flowers/...." Starbuck stopped speaking as he surveyed the faces of the
group that stood arrayed before him, "What? What is it? What's the
matter? What's wrong with everybody?'
     "Ahem," Boomer coughed, a strangled laugh escaping from his lips as
he struggled for composure, "you, um.../mmmphff/...you might want to grab
another towel, Starbuck."
     "You look a little cold," Sheba volunteered, attempting to swallow a
similar coughing sputter that had risen up in her own throat, "maybe you
should turn the temperature up in here."
     "Wha..." Starbuck froze, suddenly realizing that his towel, as well
as a generous portion of his dignity, had left him standing, naked and
confused, in front of a large group of people including not only his wife
and his own father, but his Commander and several of his friends and
colleagues as well, "uh...well...I'm...we..." Starbuck began to slowly
back away toward the turbowash chamber, his face struggling to find an
expression to suit the occasion, "...uh...so...Commander...um, by your
leave Sir, does this mean that my /furlon time/ is going to be shorter
than expected?"
     Even the four normally stoic telepaths were seen to smile as the
group that now occupied the chamber with Starbuck, and those that had
stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed in the corridor outside, released their
coiled tension in a wave of spontaneous laughter.

Scene Thirteen

..."I agree with Doctor Roman's recommendation, Gentlemen," Commander
Kellen's voice carried clearly over the Alpha Channel, one signal in a
network of three, her words relayed through the secure receivers to
Commander Adama aboard the Galactica, and Commander Tigh aboard the
Pegasus, "Baltar and the other prisoner shall be interned aboard the
Horace indefinitely, or until further review suggests another course of
action. There need be no fundamental interruption of their medical
treatment routines."
     "Yes, Commander Kellen," Adama spoke thoughtfully, studying the
images of Kellen and of Tigh as they now looked out at him from two of
the monitors inset into the recently retro-fitted Alpha Channel relay
console at one side of the large desktop that dominated the inner
bulkhead of Adama's office chamber, "Doctor Roman's reasoning seems
sound, and Lieutenant Boxey tells me that the enhancements to your secure
accommodations are complete. In fact, he reports that the overall
assimilation program is progressing ahead of projected scheduling,
according to the current data from the Technical Sections."
     "The Pegasus has completed its final testing of the adaptive
equipment in the Landing and Launch Bays," Tigh's smooth tones competed
successfully with the background static of the secure three-way
communication, "we can now receive traffic from any ship in the Fleet
with only nominal manual adjustments required for a handful of
specialized vessels, "Tigh's elegant features were brightened with a
smile of satisfaction, "this will tighten security for all three hundred
plus ships in the Combined Fleet, and reduce emergency response times
across the board for all three Battlestars. We also have Komma bringing
Drone One back aboard within a centar or two. Bojay and Zac will be glad
to have their freedom back, no doubt."
     "I look forward having my daughter and her family over here aboard
the Galactica for dinner this evening, Tigh, if you can still spare them
from Bridge duty," Adama's smile reflected a shared measure of Tigh's air
of satisfaction, "As to the improved traffic situation, the assimilation
measures shall provide our Horacian brothers and sisters with a closer
connection to the rest of us. We shall be able to intermingle our
populations after struggling for nearly half a yahren with the divergent
evolutions of our respective Kobollian-based technologies and the
hesitance of the Council of the Twelve."
     "The additions to the gardens aboard Agro Ship Seven are nearly
complete, including a planting of the Holy Herb of Horace," Kellen's
level tone betrayed little trace of the shared sense of accomplishment
that her two fellow Commanders had come to know was there beneath her
near emotionless veneer, "soon we shall have a new stone garden aboard
the Temple Ship as well. It is our hope to open public viewing galleries
aboard her, to supplement the yields of the Agro Ships and to increase
recreational capacity."
     "I admit that I must often defer to the judgment of our Agro Techs
on such details, Kellen. I was never the gardening enthusiast in my
family. There is another matter, however," Adama's voice carried a
darkened undercurrent as the images of the other two Battlestar
Commanders showed them silently anticipating his next words, "the results
of our Fleet-wide investigations are beginning to filter in. Most of the
citizenry has little memory of the below decks celebration, even though
they are aware that they have been processed through our Medical Section
and emergency decontamination protocols. They have, for the most part,
accepted Doctor Roman's explanation of a viral infection. They believe
that they have been victims of a quickly spreading virus and then
recovered their senses once it had run its course over a few daily
cycles."
     "I don't like lying to almost all of our people any more than you
do, Adama," Tigh spoke thoughtfully, his fingers steepling in front of
him above the desk in his office chamber aboard the Battlestar Pegasus,
"but the alternative could result in a Fleet-wide panic, and a sense of
paranoia. This wouldn't do any of us any good at all."
     "Tigh is correct, Adama," Kellen interjected, "subterfuge is
/always/ a difficult path for a leader to choose, but there is still a
lingering sense of fear and distrust amongst the Colonial population.
They fear having telepaths among them, and it serves no reasonable
purpose to provide potential fuel for that fire. Assimilation of the
Combined Fleets must be a priority, even if only for security's sake."
     "We are agreed, then," Adama intoned, "we shall relieve the
telepathic guard details as soon as the Drones return to their usual
patrols aboard the Galactica and the Pegasus, each of them armed with one
of Doctor Wilker's reverse-engineered amulets, "Adama smiled suddenly,
his glance settling on the image of Commander Kellen, "I understand that
young Kedron is to bring Muffit's new.../trainee/ with him to dinner this
evening. This will be a very special surprise for my grandson, and it's
been no small feat to keep the secret from him. As you know, his duty
rotations with the Technical Sections provide him access to almost all of
the Fleet's inter-ship communications."
     "Indeed, Commander Adama, it has been challenging at times, but the
element of surprise in this matter appears to have been preserved,"
Kellen's voice softened almost imperceptibly to Adama's ear, in spite of
the static in the background, "It has been our honour to serve."
...."And it has been /our/ honour, Tigh's and mine, to welcome you into
our family, to have you with us on this journey, Commander Kellen," the
three of them remained silent, each staring out at the others from the
relays on their respective ships, until the momentary spell was broken by
Adama's incongruously routine sign-off, "Galactica, out."

Scene Fourteen

     /My Mother seems to have enjoyed having you and Sister Alice
around/, Artemis spoke silently as she stood beside Kedron, watching the
level indicator on the display above the hatchway before them, /She may
miss the extra attention now that the Drones are back on duty/.
     /The Major will be seeing me again soon/, Kedron stepped through the
opening doors as the lift came to a gentle stop, his thoughts reaching
out and intermingling with hers, /I shall be bringing your brother's new
trainee back with me before dinner. As you know, I have been ordered to
attend a meal by /each/ of your parents/. 
     /Kedron, you /will/ be sure and bring the grey one, won't you? The
one with the white star on its chest?/, Artemis' thoughts tumbled
excitedly from her mind, as she took the tall Priest's bare hand and
followed him, stepping down from the platform of the primary lift access
to the Beta Launch Bay of the Battlestar Horace. She stood facing upward
into Kedron's grey-blue eyes, /It appears that Grandfather has
successfully managed to help keep the second part of the surprise from
both Boxey /and/ from my father. They're expecting another Drone that
looks just like the others/, her green eyes glittered as her unrestrained
thoughts carried her raw emotion of anticipation into his mind, /I can't
wait to see the expression on Boxey's face/.
     /I am pleased to see the expression on /your/ face/ Kedron bent down
and brushed his lips briefly against hers, /I shall be sure to bring the
grey one with the markings of a Guardian/, he continued to speak
soundlessly as his words reached inside her mind and his telepathic
thoughts projected like gentle tendrils to intermingle with hers, /and
the Temple Guardians have agreed to send another one to the Pegasus, to
Zac, if that is his wish, to trained with Drone One and to join with the
House of Bojay and Athena/.
     /I have a suspicion that Commander Tigh and Colonel Tolen could be
the default keepers in that scenario, especially if Zac is promoted to
Flight Sergeant next yahren/.
     /And /you/ shall be a Lieutenant first level/, his thoughts formed
words without letters giving her a sense of silent one-ness with him that
had been woven into the sturdy fabric of their relationship from mere
centons after their first meeting, /you shall challenge the qualification
standard in a few sectars, and by then, I'll have completed the gift that
I am making for /you//.
     /I won't bother trying to guess what it is/, Artemis felt her
thoughts being pulled ever so gently into a slow, virtual vortex of
softly shifting colours in her mind as the two of them continued their
silent conversation, each of them momentarily lost in the other's eyes,
/but I /am/ beginning to wonder about you sharing my Uncle Boomer's
insistence that I challenge that examination and skip over the
maintenance centars for a four out of five on the simulators and a
practical with advanced battle maneuvers/, she felt his uncovered fingers
tighten gently over hers as she lost herself in his eyes, /has it to do
with the previous meeting you've had with me in my future/?
     /Not exactly/, Kedron's thoughts passed over an image of a place of
shifting sands and silent stones, then another of a small boy looking up
at a beautiful woman in a soft blue gown with long flowing locks of
shining brown hair framing a crookedly appealing, yet deeply sad smile,
then the brief glimpse evaporated as their minds came together into one
single thread of thought, /we shall meet, my Love, not long after you've
achieved that promotion. We shall have met a few times in fact, over the
next several yahrens, but for now.../, the moving images faded, to be
replaced suddenly with a sense of open space and a distant planet
hovering at the edge of her awareness. The image winked sharply into
darkness and he released her hand, gesturing toward the transport shuttle
that sat, engine thrusters warming, as it waited for its compliment of
Galactica-bound passengers to board, /I shall bring you the grey one, but
in the meantime, much as I have enjoyed our bit of salvaged furlon time
together here aboard the Horace, you must get back to the Galactica and
have that conversation with the Colonel. /Then/ you have that training
flight to attend to. Try not to become too entranced by the stars while
you're out there/, he smiled brightly as she had seen him do only on
occasions when they had been alone together, thoughts mingled in a
network of two, her senses touched by his deep and fervent love for her,
/It would make me jealous of their beauty, that they could draw you away
from me so easily/.
     /There is no competition, Kedron/, she smiled brightly in return, /I
can love both you /and/ the stars at once without contradiction and for a
lifetime, maybe over multiple lifetimes, if this Continuum of yours works
the way that you've explained/, she paused, her smile turning downward
for a moment, /and I shall try to speak to my father when I get home to
change, I promise/, her smile returned, though not so brightly, /I may
need to move over here full-time for a while if he takes it badly/.
     /We shall know where we stand by dinner-time, but for now, the other
passengers should be arriving in about five centons/, he released her
hand and returned his own to its usual place within the confines of the
tailored black glove that he had retrieved from beneath the strap at his
shoulder, sliding it over his long fingers and the edges of a tattoo that
flashed briefly from beneath his tunic and jacket sleeves, /enjoy the
flight training, and be careful/, he kissed her lips once more, quickly,
and then took his leave of her, walking toward another smaller shuttle
beyond the one that Artemis now moved to board, his face returning to its
habitually impassive posture as he stepped through the open hatchway of
the small utility transport, and settled into the pilot's seat, his
gloved fingers inputting a course into the console before him as the
hatch closed with a dull /thud/. The small ship's thrusters engaged as he
maneuvered his way into space and began the short journey to attend to
the first of his pre-dinner errands aboard the Temple Ship of the Priests
of Horace.

Scene Fifteen

     "Boomer! Wait up!" Apollo stepped quickly down the corridor from the
Command Centre access, catching up with Captain Boomer as the Red
Squadron Leader's hand had extended itself toward the control console
beside the lift, "Boomer, I was just finishing a rotation on the Bridge
authorizing some duty assignments before I head home...," the Colonel
paused, knowing as he spoke what the answer would be, but he somehow felt
compelled to ask his question anyway, "I see that Artemis is already back
up on your flight training roster. Boomer, do you think that's wise? What
if...?"
     "Begging the Colonel's pardon, but didn't you and your daughter have
an agreement that you would leave matters regarding her piloting
qualifications under my administration?" Captain Boomer spoke with the
formality of rank, but his tone was one of playful remonstration toward
his friend, "Look Apollo," Boomer stepped away from the lift, nodding as
two crewmen passed by and moving with Apollo to the side of the corridor
opposite the lift, "Artemis is fine. Life Station has checked all of our
current flight rotation trainees, and all of them have been cleared,
including her."
     "Boomer, what happens if the /Mephiston Matrix/ comes back? What if
it strikes when she's out there, in a viper, without the Drones to shield
her? She's taking a chance that..."
     "And what happens when she decides that she's willing to take that
chance, Apollo?" Boomer stood squarely, his deep brown eyes seeming to
Apollo that they could see right through him with their warm intensity,
"Apollo, what happens when /any/ of us decides to take chances, to fly
into danger? Artemis is a Colonial Warrior, and it's /my/ job to make
certain that she's able to cope when she's faced with danger, as she's
been raised to do," Boomer's eyes softened as he took a step closer,
placing a firm hand against the back of Apollo's neck, shaking him once,
gently, and speaking intently into those familiar green eyes, "you can't
keep everyone safe all the time, Apollo, not matter how much you love
them, no matter how hard you try, not even her."
     "When did you become so wise, Boomer?" the Colonel's green eyes
filled with hot tears and he attempted an awkward smile, "it seems that
you're one step ahead of me these days."
     "I have /always/ been this wise, Apollo," Boomer released his grip
on Apollo's neck with another gentle shake, and turned once more to reach
for the keypad on the lift control, "you've just been a bit too
preoccupied to notice, my friend," Boomer stepped through the opening
hatchway and into the lift chamber, his own smile widening as the lift
doors began to close, "time is a precious commodity, Apollo. Take my
advice and don't waste any more of it in fighting with her when you can
decide to laugh with her instead. Ask your wife. You know she'll agree
with me."
     "I'll take that under advisement, Captain, and I'll see you at
dinner!" Apollo's smile succeeded this time, lighting up his face as the
lift door closed between them and he turned to enter his family's private
quarters where he knew in his heart that Boomer's prediction would be
correct.
     "Sheba, I understand that the security alert status is now nominal,
and that Boomer is absolutely correct in his judgment," Colonel Apollo
stared out the viewport from where he now stood, having joined Major
Sheba in their private chamber, a look of sadness taking hold of his dark
features, "I just don't want anything to happen to her, and she won't
even have the Drones, or a detail of Priests..." 
     "Oh, Apollo," Sheba pulled him into a gentle embrace as they both
stared dreamily out into space together, "first of all, she has an amulet
to alert her, and she knows that she is to head for home immediately if
that should happen," Sheba leaned her face against his shoulder, burying
her cheek into the soft fabric of his jacket, "if only the two of you
could find a way to stop provoking one another. Boomer /is/ right. You
can't keep her safe all the time, Apollo, and I know that you don't want
her to fear her own father. Trust me, my love, I /know/ how very much she
needs her father's approval, and for him to be proud of her."
     "I /am/ proud of her," Apollo turned his head towards her, brushing
his lips against her hair, "I just..." his voice trailed off as if
stopped by the scars that had left a lump in his chest, a place from
which the voice of fear had told him so many times over these many
yahrens that he could lose everything, and he believed it, because he had
lost everything at least twice already, "I suppose that I'm afraid,
afraid to move forward, afraid to look back..."
     "We've all had to find a way to go on, Apollo, everyone in the
Fleet, in one way or another, and the passage of time doesn't necessarily
make it any easier at those times when we're reminded of how much we've
lost, "Sheba reached upward to touch a gentle finger to his jaw and
lifted her gaze to intersect his, "but there /are/ some things that we've
gained. We have each other, and we have four children, and they were born
to us, by a turn of fate, somehow rising with joy out of the ashes of our
past lives, and of our past suffering."
     "I've upset you," Apollo took her hand from his face and kissed her
fingers gently, "I've reminded you of..." he paused, not needing to
finish the sentence, "I've been selfish, Sheba, and I'm sorry. I guess I
wasn't as ready as I had assumed I would be for my little girl to grow
up," he pulled her closer to whisper into her ear, "forgive me for not
remembering that I have...above all else, I have you to love me," she
felt him smile against her hair, "Any regrets, my Love?"
     "Hades of a time to ask me, Skipper," she whispered into the folds
of his jacket, responding as she always did to the playful question that
had been a gentle joke between the two of them since the day that they
had been sealed, more than twenty yahrens ago. They parted, still holding
one another's arms and then turned once more to gaze out through the
viewport together.
     Apollo's smile turned to a thoughtful grimace, his eyes unfocussed
as a hazy image crossed his mind, of his first born daughter, her
toddler's arms reaching out for him from the past "time to let go," he
whispered to himself, then he turned back toward the warm comfort of his
wife's deep brown eyes, and resolved to make good on his word.

Scene Sixteen

     Artemis studied the flinton in her hand, staring at the stylized
Pegasus that glared back at her from the bright red insignia of the
Battlestar Pegasus and the name that was etched in auricon directly
beneath it. The lights inset into the chamber ceiling above her reflected
brightly from the flinton's surface as she turned absently in her hand,
her mind taking her back to the previous secton, days before the terrible
argument that she'd had with her father and the madness of her mother's
birthday celebration had ensued. Her thoughts continued on back to the
day of her most recent viper training flight, and the meeting with Boomer
as she had entered the launch bay and walked toward her ship.
     "Ensign Artemis! Let's go! They've got the training recorders
calibrated! Let's get you another step closer to challenging that first
level Lieutenant's standard!" Captain Boomer's mellow baritone had
carried easily across the Alpha Launch Bay of the Battlestar Galactica,
"I've got a lot of cadets to process this sectar, so grab your gear and
let's see if you've learned anything from all those simulations!"
     "Do I have an option to slack off at any point, Captain Boomer,
Sir?" Artemis had smiled, the broad bright smile that always seem to come
across her dark face whenever her beloved 'Uncle' Boomer was around, "I
imagine you'd haul me out of my billet if I didn't make a training
rotation."
     "Don't push your luck, Trainee, or you might just be surprised how
far I'm willing to go," Boomer's smile had rivalled hers as the two had
walked briskly, helmets held at their hips to approach their vipers at
the mouths of the two nearest launch tubes, "Have you had a talk with
your Father yet, Artemis?" Boomer had gestured for his protégé to stop
and face him at the foot of the first of the two mobile access platforms
that stood at the ready beside each of the vipers, vapour rising up from
the heat of the warming thrusters, "He hasn't had a complete breakdown
yet, so I assume that he still doesn't know."
     "I know, Uncle Boomer, I know," Artemis had sighed and spun her
helmet slowly in her hands, "I've...I've been looking for a good
moment..."
     "There are no perfect moments, my girl," Boomer's deep voice had
lowered at this point, his tone barely loud enough to carry above the
thrumming vibration of the nearby vipers, "you have to make your own
moments, like now," he had gestured with an arcing arm toward the launch
tube openings, "you'll pass that exam next yahren and get that
Lieutenant's epaulette on your flight jacket collar because you earned it
through determination and hard work "Artemis, tell your Father the next
time you see him. Ask him to step to the side of whatever he's doing,
take a deep breath, and /tell/ him," Boomer had smiled once more, not as
broadly this time, but thoughtfully as he had appeared to briefly ponder
something that Artemis could not guess at, a memory causing a slight
cloud of /something/ across his dark and suddenly unreadable features.
She remembered herself wondering if perhaps he was seeing her in his
mind's eye as a child whose first word had been Boomer's name, a word
that had made up the totality of her toddler's vocabulary, to her
parents' endless annoyance, until at least halfway into her second yahren
of living.
     "Yes, Sir," Artemis had hefted the helmet in her hands, reaching to
place it over her dark mane of hair, "I'll try to tell him before our
next training rotation, I promise."
     "Very good, Ensign," Boomer's voice had taken on an affectation of
formality, "now, let's get to working on those maneuvers out there."
     "Aye, Red Leader!" Artemis had responded and straightened with an
exaggerated salute. She remembered turning away from him to bound up the
mobile steps to the platform above and into the pilot's seat beneath the
open canopy of her viper, nodding an assent to an all clear instruction
from the flight crew as they descended the stairs and rushed away with
the platform, and the canopy closed above her...
     "I remember when Starbuck gave you that flinton Artemis," Apollo's
voice cut through the vision of the descending viper canopy, bringing her
focus back to the present, back to the flinton in her hand. The
dark-haired Colonel spoke softly as he stepped through the hatchway to
join his eldest daughter in the family's Common Chamber. This was the
designation often used to refer to the large space on Alpha Deck that
formed a central gathering place where the members of the family of Adama
regularly crossed paths with one another over the course of their various
daily cycle routines. Most of the family resided in the various adjacent
quarters that opened onto the large space in Artemis now stood, staring
down at Cain's flinton in her hand, listening as her father continued to
speak, his voice gentle with remembrance of the day that his daughter had
become a Colonial Warrior, "everyone was so excited when you graduated
from Cadet Training. People might have thought that Starbuck and Boomer
were your parents that day. The two of them were beside themselves trying
to out-do each other on that big send-off they threw for your class. I
remember thinking how much time had passed, that my Baby was eighteen
yahrens already, and now you're twenty-two..."
     "Father..." Artemis returned the flinton to its regular place in the
small pocket sewn into the sleeve of her jacket where it hung from the
back of a nearby chair, then reached for the laser pistol and holster
that lay on the chair's cushioned seat, securing the fastenings around
her waist and left thigh, "Father...I can't stay... I have a training
flight scheduled. I...I just came in to grab a turbo wash and...and
change my uniform," she avoided looking at him directly, speaking
hesitantly as she struggled with her words, "I'm sorry that I didn't tell
you about my relationship with Kedron. I just..."
     "You were afraid of my temper," Apollo said, his voice still
carrying that same gentle tone as he retrieved her flight jacket from the
chair between them, holding it open for her while she turned and shrugged
her arms into the sleeves, "Artemis, I'm not entirely comfortable with
you taking a flight duty rotation right now. Is there any point in
reminding you that you may still be a target of..."
     "Father..." she turned toward him, still avoiding his direct gaze,
adjusting her jacket and running a routine check on the settings on her
laser pistol's display, "Father, I know that you and Mother can alter my
schedule any time you want to but I hope that you won't. I'm not willing
to put my life on hold for something that /might/ happen. I have a
qualifying patrol with Red Leader after you've all finished with your
meeting. He's determined that I'm passing the first level Lieutenant's
exam next yahren, and if I'm late he'll give me a lot of grief..."
     "Alright, I don't want to argue again, but make sure you do exactly
as Red Leader tells you, and no long-range maneuvers. I will inform
Boomer myself that I want you well within the limits of the Galactica's
short range scanners until we ...," Apollo touched her chin with his
fingertips and lifted her head to face him, two sets of deep green eyes
intersecting as Apollo spoke earnestly, taking her off guard as she saw
how he also struggled for his words, "Artemis..."
     "Daddy..."
     "You haven't called me that in a while, Baby," Apollo smiled,
lowering his hand and opening his arms to embrace her, relieved to feel
her moving toward him and placing her slender arms around his waist, the
two of them holding one another tightly, neither wishing to be the first
to break away.
     "Daddy, there's something else that I need to tell you, and I just
know that it's going to start another fight between us," Artemis pulled
back reluctantly from her father's embrace to look once more into his
eyes with an expression that he found difficult to read, "Daddy, I know
that you were unprepared to find out that Kedron and I have been involved
with one another for nearly half a yahren, and I understand why
you...um..."
     "What is it?" Apollo held her by the upper arms, his face now a
study in fatherly concern, "Artemis, I don't want you to be afraid to
tell me /anything/, whatever it is."
     "I've been sharing Kedron's quarters aboard the Horace since I
started the shift rotations over there," Artemis paused uncertainly,
determined to get all of her words out before the Colonel had a chance to
react, "It's not like we're often even on the same duty rotations, and it
just made sense to me to leave the spot in the barracks for some of the
other..."
     "You...at the age of twenty-two...you've been sharing /living
quarters/ with your boyfriend of half a yahren...and all this time..."
Apollo's face registered rank surprise rather than the explosion of anger
that his daughter had feared might erupt at her admission, "...Artemis,
how have you kept this from all of us..."
     "My age is irrelevant, Father! My own mother was married with two
children and expecting two more when she became a Major at the age of
twenty-six!" two sets of green eyes glittered with rising emotion as if
each were reflected from a mirror, each registering a concerted effort to
avoid an explosion of two equally flammable tempers, "I haven't kept it
from /everyone/, Sir," Artemis looked downward at her father's booted
feet, her words coming slowly and deliberately, a piece of her feeling
like a small child caught in a lie, ready to launch into a frustrated
tantrum, She took a deep, calming breath, exhaled slowly and then raised
her head to look directly once more into her father's eyes, "you're the
one that I've been unable to tell...Daddy...I...I don't want you to be
angry, I don't want you to be disappointed in me, but I am /not/ a child,
and you're just going to have to accept my choices, and if not now,
well...then.../when/?"
     "Artemis..." Apollo stepped back, turning and walking toward the
nearby viewport to stare dreamily out into the darkness of space that
surrounded the Galactica, "are you certain about this?" Apollo turned to
look once more into those green eyes, so like his own that it took his
breath away sometimes just to marvel at the independent young woman that
she had become, somehow, without him fully realizing it. Or perhaps, the
thought broke its way into his reluctant mind, in his heart he had wished
to see only the little girl that had toddled through these very chambers
as a tiny creature with a fiery temper already evident in her stubborn
infant's ways, "do you love him?"
...."Yes, Father. I do," each of them took a small, hopeful step toward
the other, "I /do/ love him, and /he/ loves /me/ as well."
     "Well, he'd better, and I expect you to inform Lieutenant Brother
Kedron that he will be expected to adjust his duty rotations in order to
attend dinner with your family at least once or twice every secton,
"Apollo moved forward to embrace her once more, holding her at bent arms'
length, "I will not have my daughter...," he paused with a moment of
awkwardness, considering her expression as well as his words before he
continued to speak, "I will not have my daughter.../sharing quarters/
with a man who is a stranger to me," the edges of Apollo's lips curved
upward, albeit a little forcedly, revealing a determination to keep the
peace between them and he was relieved to see a variation of his smile
now mirrored back at him from his daughter's face, "If this young man is
in love with my little girl, then he's going to have to spend some time
with your Mother and me, whether he likes it or not. That's the deal,
Baby."
     "Yes, Daddy. I can arrange that, but you'll have to tell whomever's
cooking dinner on those days that Kedron doesn't eat meat," Artemis leapt
impulsively forward, throwing her arms tightly around his neck, then
pulled away and pressed her lips against his cheek, smiling through the
warm tears of relief that had escaped from her eyes, "I have to go now,
Sir. Uncle Boomer will be on his way to the launch bay once I've run
through the training protocols, and I'm pretty certain that he'll come
looking for me if I'm even a few microns late..."
     "Remember what I said, Ensign! I want those maneuvers kept well
within scanner range!"
     "I love you, Daddy!" she turned and ran, brushing away her tears as
she rushed out the hatchway and into the main corridor outside.
     Apollo stood watching as the door closed behind her, his eyes
overflowing now with warm tears of their own, "I love you too, Baby," he
whispered to a lingering image of her smile.

Scene Seventeen

     "Roman?" Sheba spoke quietly as she entered the hatchway to the
Galactica's primary Conference Chamber, "why is it so dark in here? Are
you afraid of the light?"
     "Hello, Sheba," Roman's silhouette appeared as a human-shaped void
in front of the large viewport gallery that dominated the observation
deck. The void seemed, from Sheba's perspective, to be surrounded by a
field of stars and the sight of several of the smaller ships of the
combined Fleet, "The view is more beautiful with the lights turned down,
don't you think?"
     "Why did you send word for me to meet with you here? Obviously you
must have something to tell me that you can't share over dinner. What's
going on, Roman? I've seen the report that was given to Adama, telling
him that the man who called himself The Mechanic is now in a vegetative
state, unable to function independently or to answer any questions,"
Sheba moved forward into the darkness to stand beside the alien that she
had known as Roman, a member of her father's crew, a comrade that she had
lived and worked with, and trusted, for many yahrens aboard the Pegasus,
and then aboard the Galactica, before a glimpse of his true nature had
been revealed to her, "what is going on, Roman, and why can't /you/ do
anything about it? /You/ have been largely absent from my sight over the
duration of the recent crisis, and /you/ are the one who was
administrating Baltar's treatments, even bringing in some telepaths to
help. Roman, do the telepaths know..." her voice trailed off as her mind
struggled to make sense of the confusion that had stubbornly gripped her
mind for the last several daily cycles, the vision of the creature known
to her as Count Iblis still moving through her recent memory.
     "The telepaths know that I am not as you are, but they have decided
amongst themselves to overlook our little /secret/ in the interest of
returning the Continuum to its proper balance," Roman turned to face her,
his dark features indistinct to her as the stood together with the gentle
illumination of the stars from the viewing gallery playing gently across
their faces, "they are Priests, true believers, the Guardians of Time,
and they sense that I am benevolent, that it would be detrimental to the
state of the Continuum to expose me."
     "I'm not very good with all this intrigue, Roman," Sheba sighed and
entered the walkway beyond the railing that spanned the viewing gallery,
"give me a viper and a target, and I'm fine, but this..."
     "You sound like Commander Cain, annoyed by what Doctor Salik calls
'metaphysical felgercarb'," Roman said gently, then stepped toward Sheba,
and lightened his tone, "things are actually going rather well, believe
it or not," he allowed a hint of humour to flavour his words, "the
Council has relented without need for any intervention and allowed the
telepaths the access that they need to fabricate new amulets using Horace
and Sagan's original wiring diagrams. The Guardian Drones are now
retro-fitted with improved defensive alert systems and amulets of their
own. As to Baltar, and his neighbour from the Secure Term Care
Section..." Roman leaned against the railing, his arms crossed in front
of him, his familiar and comforting smile dispensing some of Sheba's fear
in spite of her skepticism, "Baltar has regressed, it's true, but there
is still hope for him. The telepaths have been slowly unravelling the
tangled mess in his mind, but it is a slow and careful process. Our
friend The Mechanic, however, follows a path that leads elsewhere. For
many reasons that I cannot yet share with you, his memory is gone. He
shall begin again, and the Medical Section shall help to re-educate him.
     "He can't be treated as Calvin and Chameleon were? Is he like Jain,
then?" Sheba's mind focussed on a face from more than twenty yahrens ago,
of an Agro Tech whom she and Apollo had befriended, and whose mind had
been damaged by the evil entity that still pursued the Fleet, and the
Children of Cain in particular, "she was one of /your/ people before she
was corrupted, and then she simply disappeared. Will Adama be classifying
yet another report of a mysteriously vanished person?"
     "Hopefully not," Roman reached to touch the Major's hand where it
rested on the railing beside him, "Jain is safe and well now. She resides
in a place where she has no memory of her journey through the darkness
that had overtaken her, and there are others who will look after her. We
obviously wish to avoid such direct intervention in future, and the
telepaths have been /helpful/.
     "It's not the Horacians that I'm most confused about Roman. I've
come to know my daughter's young man a little better over the last few
days and I can see that he loves her," Sheba took a step toward the
star-scape of the viewing gallery, "Roman, why couldn't you have saved my
Father?" her voice was hollow, reflecting the emptiness that she felt in
that piece of her heart that would always be connected to Commander Cain,
and the fear that she might not wish to hear Roman's answer, "it was you
who developed the antidote, the serum that saved the Pegasus' crew from
the radiation of the mutated ore, from Iblis' voice, but..."
     "Why did Cain have to die of radiation poisoning while /I/ was
there?" Roman spoke the questions that had plagued her, "Why did
/anything/ bad happen to anyone aboard that Battlestar while I was aboard
her? I know that I have never given you a direct or satisfactory answer,
my comrade, my dear friend Sheba."
     "Why didn't you save him?" she spoke simply, feeling as if the bulk
of her emotions had already been spent over yahrens worth of centars in
hesitating to ask, "you could have, if you'd wanted to."
     'Perhaps," Roman's voice carried gently through the darkness as
Sheba blinked back her tears, "but there are worse things than dying in
your bed with your daughter's arms around you."
     "Do you mean to say that things would have been worse for him if you
had intervened?"
     "We intervene where we must, and we must accept that there are times
when intervention will defeat our purpose. In order for Cain to have
regained his health and lived a longer time, there was no result that
ended in other than tragedy for him and for all whom he loved."
     "You said 'result'," Sheba spoke hesitantly, her mind moving too
quickly for her words to properly capture, 'you didn't say 'projected
result'," a moment of clarity brought Sheba's mind into focus, "Have you
been travelling with the Pegasus in other time-lines, in other parts of
..."
     "Other parts of the Continuum?" Kedron's voice took her out of her
frozen posture as his tall dark silhouette moved to join them, crossing
from the light of the corridor outside the large chamber's entrance to
the darkness of the gallery, approaching steadily until Sheba could make
out the sharp edges of his cheekbones, and the glimmer of reflected light
from his pale eyes, "Major, what Roman tells you is the truth. If
Commander Cain had been saved from the radiation, and certain other
critical events were to have happened without careful intervention, these
points along the Continuum would then have conflated to cause a ripple
effect that ends with the destruction of the Fleet and everyone aboard
its ships."
     "Kedron," Sheba felt the tendrils of his mind reaching into hers,
showing her images, fleeting and vague images of times past that had
never happened, and then a brief moment, of Cain aboard the Pegasus,
Sheba beside him, the two of them staring out into space together,
"Kedron, you Priests, all of the telepaths of the Horacian Fleet, you've
known all along, about Roman, about the Ships of Light?"
     "Not exactly, but we had seen many small things in the minds of
others, and when we joined with the Colonial Fleet six sectars ago, we
realized that Roman and his people had been in contact with you,
intervened to return you to your rightful place, even sent emissaries to
move amongst you," Kedron paused, "the telepaths of the Horacian Fleet
have collectively struggled with the question of whether to share all
that we know, but we have decided that to do so would ultimately cause
harm to all of us. Commander Kellen has cautioned those who know of these
matters to avoid the subject until the sanction is lifted."
     "And Artemis?" Sheba's voice quavered with emotion and uncertainty,
part of her not wishing to hear an answer, fearing that it would the one
that she did not wish to hear, "are you really in love with her, or is
she just another game piece to manipulate in this Continuum of yours?"
     "I love her with all my heart, and I have done my very best to
protect her," Kedron stepped closer, looking deeply into Sheba's eyes, "I
am a Priest of Horace, a Guardian of Time, and I shall never deliberately
allow Artemis to be put in harm's way. I promise you that."
     "The birthday party...the necklace," Sheba paused, lips parted as
she felt a revelation come over her, the image of the young Priest taking
the amulet from Starbuck, and using it to repel the enemy, "Roman, /you/
put the necklace there on the deck for Starbuck and Cassiopeia to find,
and then put the image into Kedron's mind as soon as Kellen sent Boxey to
break the spell of delusion that we were trapped under, and the
delta-blocker was deactivated."
     "Your assessment is not.../inaccurate/," Roman responded, seeming to
consider his words carefully, "the amulet was the most efficient and
practical tool with which Kedron could confront my former brother when
his presence and intention became clearly known to us.
     "I shall be telling my husband about this conversation. You both
know that, don't you?" Sheba's voice had become stronger, and her posture
straightened, "this may not help him to warm up to you, Kedron."
     "Perhaps, Major," Kedron smiled as he removed a glove and took her
hand in his, the images in her mind now bright and clear and focussed
together on one brilliant point of light where Artemis stood, accepting
her promotion to Lieutenant first level and smiling upward into her
father's proud face, then turning to embrace her brother, Boxey as he
stood with a daggit beside him, "but if my choice is either sparring with
an angry father or losing her to an alternate reality where she will
cease to exist, or perhaps not even exist at all, then I am willing to
spar with the Colonel for a while. Perhaps the new companion for Muffit
will help to make things a little easier for him. I've just come from the
Temple ship, and have it ready to bring with me this evening. I shall be
joining you for dinner shortly after Artemis returns from Flight Training
maneuvers."
     "I'm sure that the additional Guardian will make a good impression,
Kedron, but it will still take the Colonel some time to get used to
having you around," Sheba smiled as Kedron released her hand, "at the
very least, Boxey will be pleased. He's the one that all the Drones are
programmed to respond to as they're most familiar with his voice and body
language," she turned back to Roman, "and you, Roman? What is it that
/you/ love?"
     "That is a complicated question, Sheba," Roman smiled, "but the
simple answer is that I love /you/, just as I grew to love your father,
and all the others here in this Fleet that have welcomed me as family,
and I know that it has been difficult for you and Apollo to keep my
secret, as it shall be difficult to keep Kedron's as well, but in time
your trust and patience shall be rewarded. That is /my/ promise to
/you/."
     The three of them stood together in the darkness, an odd trio of
benevolent conspirators, staring out at the stars for what seemed to
Sheba to be a very long while before she roused herself and took her
silent leave of them, retracing her path along the corridor and entering
the access route to her family's Common Chamber to prepare for the
pending gathering over the evening meal.

Scene Eighteen

     "You've not had these sorts of struggles when I have included Siress
Tinia in the occasional family gathering, my Son," Commander Adama leaned
back against the front of his desk, crossing his blue-sleeved arms over
his chest and smiling with more than a hint of amusement Colonel Apollo's
agitated posture, "Apollo, you've been pacing the chamber since you
entered. Perhaps you should stop and ask yourself why this bothers you so
much."
     "I know why it bothers me, Father, and you know as well as I that
your friendship with Tinia is not the same as what Artemis has with..."
Colonel Apollo slowed his nervous movements and stopped to lean against
the desk beside Adama, crossing his own arms and gazing absently forward
as he struggled to describe the mixture of emotions that had tangled
together inside him, "Father, it's not just that she was afraid to tell
me. It's that she suddenly became this new person, and I felt like she
was leaving me behind somehow...it seems very selfish of me, doesn't it?"
     "You mustn't be so hard on yourself, my Son," Adama uncrossed his
arms and placed one of them securely around the younger man's shoulders,
cupping his long fingers around an upper arm and pulling him gently
closer, "I recall a time when you stood with me in this very chamber, a
little more than twenty yahrens ago, asking me if perhaps my reluctance
to accept Athena's desire to seal with Bojay wasn't born of my sorrow
over moving so much farther away from the past...and away from your
Mother," Adama turned to fully face his son, holding him loosely with
both arms now as Apollo smiled sadly and grasped the arm that was now
draped across his chest.
     "I remember, Father," Apollo squeezed Adama's arm as both men moved
away from their position at the desk, standing to face one another near
the center of the chamber as Apollo continued speaking in a voice that
seemed to Adama to be very far away, echoing from somewhere in the past
where the younger man's heart still struggled, on occasion, to avoid the
sense of loss that his father knew had occasionally overtaken him over
these yahrens since they had lost the life before this one, and so many
that they had loved, back so many yahrens ago with the Destruction of
Caprica, and the love that had saved Apollo from out of his despair after
the loss of his brother and mother, only to perish in the most painful
way, in front of them as he and Adama had been helplessly unable to save
her, or to save any of them, "I believe that I was trying to convince you
that it wouldn't mean letting go of Mother to give Athena your blessing,
so much as you might have been torn about allowing yourself to move
forward."
     "Yes, my Son," Adama spoke earnestly, willing Apollo to allow
himself mercy over the guilt that lingered from all those that had been
lost, and sorrowful certainty that he would have given anything to have
been able to save them, "and perhaps it is time for you to allow /your/
daughter to make her own way, and for you to accept that she is bound to
make her own decisions from now on."
     "Have I become rigid and set in my ways, Father? When I found out
that she was living part time in his quarters with him..." Apollo's words
seemed to stop in his throat as Adama looked on, silently waiting for
them to emerge, "Father, I know that it's been nearly twenty five yahrens
now, but I look at Boxey and Sheba and Artemis and the twins, and I feel
like I should let go of all the sorrow, but then I remember...I...I
remember..."
     "Serina would tell you to be happy, my Son, and to have faith in
pursuit of your destiny," Adama's deep voice was gentle and cautious as
his words probed deeply into the wound in Apollo's heart that both men
knew would never completely heal, "you have cared for Boxey as the Father
that she knew you would be, and we who loved her as a wife and a beloved
daughter and as so much more shall never forget her, or allow her memory
to fade from our hearts," Adama took his son by the arms, holding him
firmly and speaking as if trying to reach directly into his soul and draw
out the pain that had seemed to engulf him, "it was Serina's legacy that
saved Boxey's sisters, and Athena's son, from an enemy that pursues us
even now. She is not merely with us in spirit, but her very blood runs
through the Houses of Cain and Adama, and, by some astonishing turn of
fate, though she no longer walks among us in this life, her legacy has
made us all stronger. I do not pretend to understand these things,
Apollo, but I know that your daughter, as impulsive as she can be, should
not be made to conceal herself and her love from a father who loves her
and has raised her well. Trust her, my son. Trust that you and Sheba have
taught her to choose wisely, and welcome her choices, as you must now
welcome that young man into your family circle, where you have expended
so much effort to keep her safe. It is a time for you to move forward,
Apollo, a time for all of us to move forward, even if fear might still
pursue us."
     "Thank you, Father," Apollo slowly disentangled himself from Adama's
gentle grip, and moved to step toward the hatchway that would lead him
down a short access route and on to the family's Common Chamber, "I
suppose that I should learn to take my own advice, but somehow those
words sound so much wiser coming from you."
     "Practice makes perfect, Apollo," Adama smiled with humour this
time, seeing the cloud of painful remembrance clearing from the Colonel's
face, then pausing to glance at the chronometer on his wrist, "now, go on
ahead and join the others. Boxey should be home any centon now, and we
don't want to miss seeing the look on my grandson's face when Artemis
presents him with a new trainee for Muffit to oversee."
     "Yes Sir. I'm sure that another Guardian Drone will be useful though
I'm still uncertain as to why it needs a formal unveiling before dinner.
I'll see you there directly," Apollo nodded, exchanging a look with his
father that carried with it a volume of unspoken words, "don't take too
long, Father."
     "I shall be right behind you, Apollo," Adama nodded back toward the
desk, "I just have a few things to put in order here, and then I shall be
in to join you and the family before Boxey arrives," Apollo nodded once
more and stepped through the hatchway, leaving behind him a empty silence
through which Adama moved, walking past the desk and reaching to lift a
small framed image from the shelf inset into the bulkhead beyond, "Oh,
Ila, I wish so much that I had been there for you when it mattered," he
whispered into the pale blue eyes, so like the daughter that she had
raised with him, and all too often, to his most painful regret, /without/
him as well, "you would be so proud of them both, my love. They have made
lives for themselves out of the ashes that were left for them after
they'd lost their world, their brother and...oh, my beloved...I shall do
my very best, I promise you, to give them the comfort that their Mother
would have given. You shall be there tonight as I gather with our family,
with a special surprise for Boxey, /and/ for Apollo, and I shall always
remember," Adama coughed himself into a state of calm and gently returned
the small frame and its precious occupant to its special place of honour,
"I shall love you always," the white-haired Warrior gave the image in the
frame one more smile that spoke of so many yahrens of sweetness and of
sorrow, then he turned to follow his son and join the family that his
beloved wife Ila had left in his care.

Scene Nineteen

 ... Lieutenant Boxey's mind moved back to a moment captured sharply in
his memory when he had been barely eleven yahren, when his beloved
'Grandpa Cain' had given him the scepteron, a gift from a deathbed to a
grandson bound by family and not by blood, and a promise to the sorrowful
little boy that Cain would deliver a message of love and comfort to the
boy's first mother, Serina, when the dying Warrior was to make his
arrival in the afterlife. Boxey hefted the scepteron, gazing fondly at
its elegant lines as he had done so many times over these twenty yahrens,
studying the auricon wings of the stylized equine that adorned the top of
this, one of his most cherished and prized possessions, a gift to a
younger and unproven Commander Cain from his crew after a hard fought
battle from an even more distant Colonial past, and in turn, a lifetime
later, a gift to the Son of Serina, the primary title that young Boxey
had requested for his entry into Adama's handwritten family record.
.../Bark, bark, whirrrr/...
     "Alright, Muffit," Boxey emerged from his bittersweet reverie,
laughing with affection as he replaced the scepteron onto its hooked
hanger above the exterior viewport of the small, utilitarian chamber. He
knelt down onto the decking below him and opened his arms for the little
mechanical drone to enter his embrace, its ears spinning as it settled
comfortably against his chest, "I know, you old daggit, you, it's time
for dinner, but we're not having a big party, so you won't have to worry
about us losing track of you this time. I promise I'll keep better watch
over you from now on, Old Buddy."
     "Boxey?" Artemis tapped lightly on the frame of the partially opened
hatchway, peering cautiously into her brother's private chamber, "are you
coming out soon? I have a little surprise for you."
     "Tell me that you and Mom haven't tried to do any cooking," Boxey
stood, patting Muffit Two firmly on the head and gesturing for the drone
to precede him through the hatchway, as the young Lieutenant paused to
address his younger sister, "We all appreciate the effort, but few of us
can afford to be down with food poisoning just before a new shift
rotation, and Mother and Father almost always have a spat over his
personal supply of field ration packets that he hoards for those times
when she tries to feed him something she's prepared on her own."
     "Very funny, big brother," Artemis punched Boxey playfully on an
upper arm, then reached to straighten his jacket, smoothing the soft
material beneath her delicate fingers, "neither Mother nor I have been
doing any cooking, there's no over-flowing of excess and delusional
drinking, and you've not been diverted by some mysterious recon
rotation," the two of them paused, a serious cloud passing over them as
they each recalled the confused and frightening events of the last
several daily cycles, of their mother's birthday celebration gone
terribly awry ",this is our chance to get it right," Artemis pulled
herself back into a playful posture, determined not to dwell on the
darkness that may still lurk out there in space, waiting for an
opportunity to attack, "and Kedron's coming to join the family properly
this time,: she raised her head from her study of the fasteners on his
flight jacket and levelled her bright green gaze to stare into the warm
brown of his own, "you'll help me with Daddy, won't you Boxey?"
     "Don't worry, Artemis," Boxey smiled indulgently, embracing his
sister now much as he had embraced his daggit drone, with affection and
an offer of comfort, "Father will come around. He's already agreed to
accept your relationship with Kedron, but your living arrangements..."
Boxey stepped back out the embrace, holding her upper arms in his steady
hands and lifting his eyebrows in an expression of encouragement, "well,
that's going to take him a little time, as you well knew when you decided
to choose your boyfriend's quarters as a billet for your rotations aboard
the Horace instead of staying with Zac and the rest of the pilots in the
barracks. It still amazes me that Father seems to have taken it so well."
     "I know," Artemis interjected, "Father /has/ been trying to be fair
to Kedron and keep his temper from getting the best of him, but it's nice
for a girl to have a little back-up for times like these, big brother,"
Artemis and Boxey laughed together, exchanging another quick hug and then
stepping through the hatchway, following Muffit down the short corridor
that would afford them access to the family's Common Chamber.
     "Boxey!" Adama's baritone carried in a joyous wave through the large
Common Chamber, "come join us, my Grandson, may the Lords of Kobol grant
us a small, /simple/ celebration for this family gathering!"
     "I'm with you on that sentiment, Grandfather," Boxey laughingly
accepted a warm handclasp and squeeze of a shoulder from the beaming
Commander, then turned to accept a similar gesture from his father,
Apollo.
     "Glad you could join us this time, Son," the dark-haired Colonel
hesitated briefly before releasing his hold on Boxey's wrist, "I hope we
haven't disturbed the new assimilation drills by having you meet with us
here a little early."
     "They don't need me there until tomorrow, Father," Boxey turned to
face his family, who stood in a rough circle about the chamber, chalices
in hand, preparing for a toast in what seemed to Boxey to be an oddly
formal posture, "the last Section evaluation with the training
facilitators from all three Battlestars came out with very few problems,
most of which were related to some incompatible equipment components.
Doctor Wilker has been designing and fabricating some adaptive
quick-fixes until we've completed all the re-fits. In less than a couple
of sectars, we hope to be up and running for a Fleet-wide test, with
everything on-line and all communication frequencies easily adjusted and
monitored across the network." 
     "Sounds like you've got it all under control, Son," Colonel Apollo
smiled and walked with his arm over Boxey's shoulder, both of them moving
to join Major Sheba where she stood next to Starbuck and Bojay, all of
them standing in a posture that made a slight ripple of curiosity rise up
from Boxey's mind. His near twenty five yahrens of knowing these people,
his family, had sharpened his natural abilities to cut through the
felgercarb and read such small anomalies in their body language, a skill
that many had credited as an inheritance from his first mother, Serina, a
journalist of Caprica, of great past renown.
     "Before we all go in for dinner," Artemis spoke up, her eyes
glittering with what seemed to Boxey like a bright light of mischief,
"and if Muffit doesn't mind too much, Kedron's on his way down the
corridor with a surprise for you, Boxey," the entrance chime sounded and
Artemis moved to open the hatchway, "come in, Kedron. You're just on
time, of course," Artemis stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips against
Kedron's cheek as the young Priest darted a cautious glance in Colonel
Apollo's direction, "bring it over here, will you?"
     "What? What do you mean, 'if Muffit doesn't mind'?" Boxey's eyebrows
curled downward in confusion as he watched Artemis usher her now publicly
admitted boyfriend into the chamber to join with the group. Artemis
turned back toward Boxey, still smiling excitedly.
     "I have it here," Kedron slowly and carefully hefted the handle atop
a small crate with a grid-work of perforations across its upper half. He
placed it carefully onto a nearby table, waiting patiently as Artemis
turned to address her brother and the assemblage of bemused family
members in an incongruously formal tone.
     "Boxey, the new Guardian Daggit, it's not just another drone. It's
been so difficult to keep this a secret from almost everyone. Now this is
no offence to Muffit, but when Kedron showed these to me, I knew that I
had to get you one, for work of course, and not for any old sentimental
reasons," an excited giggle broke through Artemis' attempt at a demeanor
of gravitas, surrendering her self-control to the confused excitement
that now rippled openly through the group in the chamber.
     "What's all this about?" Boxey's eyebrows knitted in bemusement at
his sister's attitude and the expectant smiles moving across the faces
that surrounded him. He started at the small sounds that now emanated
from the perforated crate that Kedron had placed on the table, "is there
something /alive/ in there?"
     "Kedron, would you open it please?" Artemis giggled gleefully, her
attempt at formality now completely abandoned as the young Priest opened
one end of the crate and Artemis reached inside, gently lifting a small
ball of what looked to Boxey like some sort of dark grey fluff...
     "Oh my God!" Boxey breathed as the wriggling ball moved itself
within Artemis' grasp, "it's a daggit! A flesh and blood daggit!"
     "Here, big brother," Artemis beamed with delight amid the shocked
and happy sounds that rippled through the group in the chamber, "here's
the new Guardian for you and Muffy to train, like I said, not for any old
sentimental reasons, just because the Priests need volunteers to train
them. They're not exactly like Colonial daggits. They're still canines,
but Kedron says that they're descended from an Earth-based variant of the
species called 'dhogs' in some of the ancient writings," the young woman
stepped forward and carefully deposited the small grey creature into
Boxey's arms, watching with delight as he stared at the ball of fur in
his grasp that now looked up at him with its bright blue puppy's eyes,
and whimpered softly, reached upward with a tiny paw to touch his new
master's face.
     "Oh, Artemis! It's not a Drone! It's /real/!" Apollo breathed,
stepping forward to stand beside his daughter and stare at the squirming
puppy in his grown son's arms, his fiercely whispered words like an echo
from a long past sorrow, a remembered moment that was still held in a
small shared pocket of grief within the unseen bond between his and
Boxey's once broken hearts "a /real/ daggit, one of Muffit's friends,"
Artemis did not recognize the expression that now crossed her Father's
stricken face, a mixture of joyful surprise and another, deeper layer of
darkness and sorrow that she knew of, but did not fully understand.
     "I don't know what to say," Boxey's struggle against the warm tears
that now threatened to overflow his eyelids brought a small sob from deep
within him, as he held carefully to the tiny creature that looked
inquisitively up at him from the secure cradle of his own arms.
.../Whirrr, bark, Whirr/...
     "It's alright, Muffit," Boxey laughed chokingly and knelt to
introduce his new friend to his older one, "you don't have to worry, He's
not taking your job. In fact, we'll be needing you to train him. He
doesn't have any programming to tell him what to do, so he'll need to
learn the hard way."
     "There is /one/ more thing," Kedron spoke, his tenor monotone
inspiring a sudden lull in the exclamations of bittersweet joy and
surprise that had filled the room with the revelation to the onlookers of
Boxey's special gift, a gift that had taken most of them off guard,
"You'll be needing one of /these/ for the first couple of sectons. The
dhog is not yet fully trained to enter a turbo-flush chamber when he has
the need."
     Boxey stared at the object in Kedron's outstretched hand, and began
to laugh through his happy tears as he realized what it was. Then,
carefully placing his precious new companion down on the decking beside
Muffit Two, took the small plaston bucket and long handled sieve that the
tall Priest had proffered, and stood to grasp the other man's wrist in a
gesture that clearly spoke of a bond of brotherhood that now existed
between the two of them.
     "And they say you Priests have no sense of humour, Kedron," Boxey
laughed delightedly, a laughter that rolled infectiously over the
assembled group, filling their hearts with the same joy that overflowed
from Boxey's and echoed through the chamber for many centons afterwards,
all but one of them oblivious to the small point of light within the
frame of the exterior view port that brightened briefly and then winked
out of sight.

Epilogue

     "Mission accomplished," Kedron and Artemis turned to face the source
of the pleasantly cheerful voice behind them, the three of them, figures
in white, standing together in a chamber of gently chiming sounds and
vaguely moving slivers of light, "you have done well, young Guardians."
     "Thank you, John," Kedron responded, "we de-activated the device at
the aft of the ship and disposed of it before the Drones were to be put
back on patrol. The other Kedron is the only one who clearly sensed our
presence besides you and Doctor Roman."
     "The family should be sitting down for dinner about now," Artemis
smiled at the man in the impeccably tailored suit who stood before her,
"in both time-lines."
     "Both time-lines have become one again, Lieutenant Artemis," John's
ever-agreeable expression was brightened by a sudden smile, "when you get
back, Boomer shall be waiting for you as planned to provide any necessary
cover to distract the others from your movements, and the /incident/
shall have been averted."
     "I don't pretend to understand all of these complicated plots and
stealthy assignments, John," Artemis tilted her head, her mane of black
hair contrasting sharply with her brilliantly whitened uniform, "but I
/do/ appreciate you honouring my special request."
     "You may thank the Priests of Horace for that, my dear. It shall do
no harm to the Continuum for your brother to have his long-forsaken
childhood wish fulfilled."
     "The Guardians of Horace had already planned to clone another
breeding pair of dhogs for the Temple Ship in any case," Kedron
interjected, "the adjustments to the timing should be nominal."
     "The first Muffit meant everything to Boxey when he was little, and
we know now that the gift of this new dhog will have meant a lot to him
as well.../and/ to my Father...more than even I had realized."
     "You have accomplished a task that no-one else was ever able to do,
my dear, not even the brilliant Doctor Wilker, or your lovely Mother,
Sheba," John's tone of affection was that of a mentor gently teasing a
student, "you have helped to heal a portion of a wound that has remained
open for both your father and your brother since before you were born."
     "What next?" Kedron asked, "We have left Baltar and The Mechanic in
Doctor Roman's care, the Colonel is digesting the revelation of our
living arrangements and another tragedy has been averted for now."
     "We see Ensign Artemis through to her promotion, and then we send
her back with Boomer to the Battle of Altrua to retrieve Baltar before
her Grandfathers' ships join with the Atlantia to destroy the Oberon,"
John's face settled into its usual bland posture, "in the meantime, the
two of /you/ should be getting home."
     "Home," Artemis spoke the word with a thoughtful, speculative tone,
"it's a word that seems to shift in meaning for me as time passes."
     "Home is wherever...or /whenever/ we are," Kedron reached to take
her hand, "so long as we are there together."
     John shared another smile with the two humans before him as they
disappeared from his view with a wink of light and an almost
imperceptible sound of rushing air, "Home," he muttered softly, then
turned to enter a nearby opening in a splinter of light, and re-join his
fellow travelers aboard their Ship of Lights, fulfilling their task of
over-seeing the various Guardians of the Continuum of Time.

/Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny...the last Battlestar, Galactica, leads a
rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest...a shining planet
called...Earth./