The Sum of All Parts, Episode Five: Transitions
by Carla
 
'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.'  
 
 
Chapter One - Scene One  
 
     "Father?" Sheba walked slowly into the darkened chamber, shifting
the infant that struggled playfully in her arms and smiling into her
daughter's bright green eyes, "I wonder where Grandfather Cain has gone,
Artemis," she spoke in a concerned tone, glancing around the main chamber
of Cain's quarters, her gaze resting briefly upon the holographic imaging
device that dominated one end of her father's rectangular desk top.  
     "Lieutenant?" Sheba started slightly at the sound of a voice at the
open hatchway behind her, turning to see Colonel Tolen, hands clasped
behind his back, a congenial expression on his young, though
battle-hardened, features, "I'm sorry, I didn't intend to startle you,
Sheba," Tolen took a step forward, smiling as Artemis giggled delightedly
and waved her small arms, recognizing the young Executive Officer of the
Battlestar Pegasus. In these first few sectons of her young life, he had
become one of a group of people whose faces she had seen on a near daily
basis as she had accompanied her mother on regular excursions between the
Pegasus and her sister ship, Sheba's home, the Galactica. Tolen returned
his gaze to Sheba's face, seeing the anxiety that had begun to furrow her
brow, "The Commander was delayed down in the science section. We've had
some recent transports of equipment from the electronics ship and, well,
Drone One got a little carried away and won't let anyone open the
containers. I don't suppose you have Boxey and Muffit with you today?"
Tolen lifted a hopeful eyebrow, knowing that Muffit was programmed with
the shut down sequence for Drone One and Drone Two, the erstwhile
prototype survey drones that almost continuously patrolled the corridors
of the Pegasus and the Galactica, watchful for suspicious input, though
the Drones' interpretations of the term 'suspicious' could occasionally
result in what Doctor Wilker referred to cryptically as 'anomalous
behaviour', "No? Well, Doctor Wilker's on his way in with the next
transport. He should be able to convince the drone that we're authorized
to unpack the shipments. At any rate, the Commander should be..."
     "The Commander should be right here, greeting his girls!" Sheba
smiled brightly as Cain strode through the hatchway. The older man
touched a relay on the control panel inset into the bulkhead beside the
entrance, increasing the level of illumination in the chamber, then moved
past Tolen to lay the ever-present scepteron on his desk, then approached
his daughter with his arms outstretched, embracing the mother and child
gently, though firmly, "I'm sorry I've kept you waiting, Baby. That
damned electronic Hades Hound of Wilker's has gone berserk over a lit
fumarello and won't allow anyone near a shipment of connection
insulators," Cain kissed Sheba's cheek, ending the embrace and turning
back to face his Executive Officer, "Tolen, you'd better get down there.
Wilker's just arrived and he's spouting some felgercarb about mushies and
compression weapons."
     "Aye, Sir," Tolen said with a nod, and made an abrupt exit, the
hatch closing behind him as he began to make his way briskly along the
corridor.
     "Father, if you need me to go down and help with the drone, I..."
     "No, Baby," Cain reached to take the wriggling infant from Sheba's
arms and gestured toward two large chairs that flanked a small table near
the innermost bulkhead of the chamber. Father and daughter each settled
comfortably into a well cushioned seat, "Tolen can handle it. He's a very
capable leader."
     "Yes, Father," Sheba tucked the hem of her long, belted tunic over
her trousered legs and pulled her booted feet up under herself, sinking
deeper into the upholstery of the chair, watching as Artemis grabbed with
her chubby baby's hands at the gleaming insignia that adorned a good deal
of the surface area of the Pegasus Commander's jacket, "He's learned from
the best, as have I."
     "You /do/ understand, don't you Baby?" Cain lifted his eyebrows,
studying his daughter's face, /so like her mother in her looks, so like
me in her ways/, "It had to be Bojay that got the promotion and transfer.
The timing..." Cain paused, seeing the fear and sorrow that Sheba had
been struggling to hide from him for these many sectons, reluctant to
speak the words that he knew his daughter did not wish to hear, but
knowing that he must.
     "Father," Sheba plucked absently at the embroidery adorning the edge
of her tunic's flared sleeve, "It's not like you to second guess a
decision. I /do/ understand. Apollo and I are building a family, a life
together, on the Galactica. If I were to be promoted to Captain and moved
to the Pegasus indefinitely, then, well, it's one thing for me to hop a
shuttle over here every day or so with the children while I'm still on
maternity furlon, but it would be quite another for us to work out a duty
roster that would accommodate everyone's needs," Sheba paused carefully
avoiding Cain's gaze, and the one subject that was uppermost in /both/ of
their minds, "Besides, my furlon will be over soon, and I'll be back to
my duty rotation as Valkyrie Squadron Leader," Sheba lifted her warm,
brown eyes to meet her Father's intent stare, "Father, I don't begrudge
Bojay the position as your Squadron Commander, and I /know/ his promotion
wasn't a matter of gender bias. He's been a brother to me, and I'm glad
that he's the one you chose."  
     "There /is/ another matter we need to discuss, Baby," Cain kissed
his granddaughter's dark head and set the infant down on the soft rug
that defined the sitting area beneath them, "the fact that I won't be
here with you much longer."
     Sheba swallowed hard, staring down at Artemis, who laughed and
grasped the nearest buckle of her grandfather's boot, pulling at it
determinedly with a fair approximation Apollo's characteristic intensity
gleaming in her green eyes.
     "Baby," Cain's voice was gentle, but relentless, "I know that this
is terribly difficult for you to face. I remember how it tore your heart
out to say goodbye to your mother. If there was some way that I could
change things..." Cain reached out for his daughter as Sheba moved from
her chair to kneel beside her father, leaning against his leg and pulling
Artemis into her own lap, holding the infant securely, comforting herself
with her child's warmth and beginning to weep, her tears spilling onto
the fabric of Cain's uniform. Cain rested his hands on her slender
shoulders, leaning downward to peer into her anguished face, "Come on
now, Lieutenant. Let's have a little perspective," Cain assumed a measure
of his infamous bravado, "I'm only dying of radiation sickness," he
smiled wryly as Sheba looked up at him, slowing her sobs as best she
could, "it's not like I'm being court-martialed or bumped off by some
ambitious aide. Now /that/ would be /embarrassing/!"
     "Father!" Sheba sputtered slightly and stared at Cain in shock, then
smiled through her tears and began to laugh in a series of hiccoughing
sobs, "Oh, Father," she swallowed hard once again, laying her cheek
against her Father's hand, holding his leg with one arm and hugging a
slightly bemused Artemis tightly with the other, "It's a good thing that
you're such a great warrior, because you sure would have made a lousy
diplomat!"
     /Bridge to the Commander/, Athena's voice rang out from the small
speaker in the communication array on the console adjacent to Cain's
desk, /Commander Cain, contact the Command Centre please/. 
     Sheba rose, setting Artemis gently on the soft fur-like rug, and
moved swiftly to activate a relay on the console, nodding to Cain as she
adjusted the outgoing signal volume.
     "Cain, here," the Juggernaut called out from his chair, "What is it,
Athena?"
     "Sir," there was a distinct pause before Athena, one of the newer
members of the Pegasus bridge crew, it's third officer in command,
continued speaking in her characteristically well modulated tone,
"Commander Adama is on Alpha Channel for you. I am transferring the
signal to your console now."
     "Cain?" Commander Adama spoke from his own console on the Battlestar
Galactica, seeing Sheba's face on his own display as she watched Cain
deliberately rise from his chair, "Sheba, is he there? Is everything
alright?" 
     "He's here, Commander," Sheba said briefly, then stepped aside as
Cain made his way around the large desk to stand before the console.
     "Adama! Alpha Channel?" Cain's brow furrowed, "Have we engaged the
enemy?"
     "Yes," Adama's voice was grave, "Long range patrols report Cylon
activity. We are now on alert status," Adama paused, taking a deep
breath, his image staring grimly at Sheba and Cain, "Cain, initial
reports indicate that we may have stumbled upon at least three base
ships, perhaps more."
     Father and daughter turned to share a glance, then faced the image
of Adama once again.
     "Well, Adama," Cain said, his own expression grim, "I guess I'm not
retiring just /yet/."

***  

Chapter One - Scene Two  
 
     "Hello, Father," Adama turned to see his son climbing the steps to
the command platform, noting the young man's flight uniform.
     "Might I infer from your battle-ready attire, Captain, that Doctor
Salik has cleared you for duty fitness?" the older man gestured for
Apollo to step forward, clasping the Squadron Commander's right shoulder
gently, "are you certain that you're up to it, my Son?"
     "Father, Doctor Salik has poked and prodded at me for sectons now,
half a yahren, in fact, from the time that I was injured, until just a
few centons before the alert status indicators began lighting up in the
Life Station," the Captain smiled quietly into Adama's deep brown eyes,
"I've surpassed the highest levels on the last several flight and battle
simulations that I've performed, Father, /and/, as you know, I've already
been out running a few short range maneuvers with the latest group of
qualifying cadets. It's time for me to get back out there," the Captain's
smile broadened, "before Starbuck gets too used to doing my job." Apollo
assumed an attitude of attention, a formality, "All I need is a command
level officer to endorse Doctor Salik's recommendation, and I'm back on
active duty status."
     "You have it, Captain," Adama said warmly, "as to Starbuck, well,
your wingman has served you with distinction over the last few sectons,"
Adama gestured for Apollo to join him at the console across the platform
where Colonel Tigh and Bridge Officer Omega hunched over a display
monitor, conversing intently and issuing orders to various sections by
means of the relays in the headsets that both men wore, "but from the
appearance of these initial readings, we may soon be needing you and
every /other/ pilot we have. Jolly and Boomer are on their way in from
long range patrol. They destroyed two enemy raiders far forward, but it
looks as though they may have evaded detection as yet."
     "Commander," Omega looked up as Adama moved to stand behind him and
rested an arm over the back of the younger man's chair, "Sir, Beta Patrol
is receiving landing clearance for Alpha Landing Bay. Lieutenant Boomer
reports no further direct contact with the enemy. I have relayed his
information to the Pegasus. Colonel Tolen has launched Silver Spar
Squadron. Captain Bojay will be dispersing his fighters in an elliptical
battle readiness pattern patrolling the Fleet until further notice."
     "Very good, Omega," Adama glanced at his son, then fixed his gaze on
Colonel Tigh, "Colonel, has the shuttle traffic between the Galactica and
Pegasus been concluded?"
     "Sheba's returned on the last shuttle with Wilker and Drone One,
Sir," Tigh's face betrayed a pained expression, "Apparently someone lit
up a fumarello in the Pegasus science section and..."
     "Yes, Tigh. I heard the report coming in a few centons ago. I hadn't
realized that the fumarello production section was back in operation,"
Adama's face took on an equally pained expression, "Wilker will have to
deal with /that/ situation on his own, I'm afraid. Let us simply be
grateful that there was no ammunition readily available to the drone
before Wilker, er, /convinced/ it to stand down."
     Apollo's expression had become progressively more horror-stricken as
he deduced the reason that Adama and Tigh were speaking circumspectly in
his presence, that the Captain's wife and infant daughter had apparently
hopped a shuttle craft with Doctor Wilker and a malfunctioning Drone One
during a period of alert readiness. His face reddened slightly and he
opened his mouth to speak...
     "Commander!" Lieutenant Rigel's voice carried up from her station in
the lower gallery forward of the command platform, "Alpha Patrol reports
no activity detected in the remaining scan grid. I have them coming in on
a clear trajectory behind Beta Patrol."
     "Thank you, Lieutenant," Adama nodded, allowing himself to relax
slightly, "Have Alpha and Beta Patrol leaders join us in my office after
they get out of decontamination," the Commander returned his attention to
the officers beside him on the platform, "there is another matter,
Captain," the Commander turned from a curious Apollo to briefly place a
hand on Bridge Officer Omega's shoulder, "you have the bridge, Omega.
Keep me informed," gesturing for Tigh and Apollo to follow him, Adama
made his way briskly down the steps of the command platform to proceed
through the hatchway off the lower aft gallery that opened onto a direct
path along the corridor to the Commander's quarters.
     "What is it, Father? There's something more to this than a group of
base ships, isn't there?" Apollo's jaw was clenched in concerned
anticipation of the unknown as he and Tigh flanked Adama and hurried with
him toward his quarters.
     "Indeed there may be," Apollo's concern deepened at the incongruous
undertone of humour in Adama's voice, "but /this/ particular matter has
to do with duty assignments, something we shall endeavour to reconcile
before any of the base ships arrive."
     Apollo's expression altered dramatically as his eyes took in the
sight of Sheba, standing at ease before the hatchway to Adama's quarters,
attired as Apollo himself was, in full battle dress, for the first time
since shortly after her furlon had begun, roughly a yahren ago, when her
father had returned to her aboard the badly damaged Battlestar Pegasus,
and her pregnancy had precluded her flight duties.
     "Well, it appears that we've both had the same idea, Skipper," Sheba
said to her husband and Captain with an ingenuous lift of her eyebrows,
then turned to nod at Adama, "Commander, Doctor Salik has approved me for
duty fitness, and..."
     "Yes, Lieutenant," Adama smiled indulgently at his son's wife, "and
I'm certain that you have surpassed the highest levels on the last
several flight and battle simulations that you have performed, as well,"
Adama glanced at Tigh, "Colonel, make a note in the log, when you have a
centon, that both the Captain and the Lieutenant are approved for active
duty," Adama paused as he reached for the control panel beside the
hatchway, glancing at Apollo with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes,
"unless the Squadron Commander has any objections?"
     "No, Sir," Apollo said, gazing briefly into Sheba's warm, brown
gaze, attempting with little success to hide the look of admiration that
crossed his features at her strategically apt manner of returning to duty
at a time of battle readiness and with a minimum of bureaucratic
formalities, much as he, himself, had done, mere centons ago on the
bridge, "we have an agreement. Doctor Salik's approval and that of a
command level officer, and the Squadron Commander shall have no
objections."
     "Nor shall I," Sheba said sweetly, returning her husband's gaze. 
     "Very well, then," Adama keyed the sequence that opened the hatch
and entered into the office area of the large chamber, gesturing for
Tigh, Apollo and Sheba to follow, then suddenly reached to prevent the
hatch from closing as his peripheral vision captured the sight of
Lieutenants Boomer and Starbuck emerging from the nearby landing bay
access corridor, "Come in, gentlemen. I want to hear about these base
ships, Boomer."  
     "It's about the worst sort of thing that the Fleet could stumble
over, Sir," Lieutenant Boomer, after he and Starbuck shared a blink of
surprise at the sight of Apollo and Sheba back in battle dress, he
himself only having returned to active flight duty within the last secton
after having been stabbed in the back by a rather enigmatic assailant,
only centaurs before Apollo had suffered his own injuries some half a
yahren ago, "Jolly and I counted three base ships, as you know, and we
can't be certain that there weren't even more of them beyond our scanner
range," Boomer paused, placing his hands on his hips and assuming a
clearly grim expression as he addressed his Commander, "Sir, there was
something unusual about one of those base ships. It appeared on visual
inspection to be larger and much more heavily armoured than the other
two."
     "Perhaps the results of your scans will reveal some useful strategic
information, Lieutenant. Tigh and I will go over the data and consult
with Cain," Adama scanned the faces of the four men and one woman who
stood before him, awaiting his orders, "In the meanwhile, I suggest that
you pilots, particularly you squadron leaders," The Commander's gaze
rested on Captain Apollo's dark features, "get your duty assignments
straight and see to it that the Galactica's squadrons are at battle
readiness." The four pilots nodded and took their leave of the Commander
and his Executive Officer, exiting the hatchway with Adama's words of
dismissal.
     "Three or more base ships, Adama!" Tigh turned toward Adama,
revealing a gravely serious expression that had overtaken his elegant
features, "How can the Fleet withstand that sort of firepower?"
     "/That/ is a good question, Tigh," Adama moved to stand beside the
Colonel, "Let us hope that we shall not be required to answer it!"
 
***  

Chapter One - Scene Three
 
     "I didn't realize that the two of you were returning to active duty
at the same time," Starbuck's effort to resist making a remark had
failed, as they had all known it would. He had managed, but only for a
few microns, quietly regarding Apollo and Sheba, sharing glances of
obvious amusement with a notably silent Boomer while the four warriors
stood together on the decking within the express lift chamber, making
their way down to the level of the Galactica that was allocated for the
barracks and crew quarter sections, "how romantic!" 
     "And how profitable for /you/," Boomer interjected wryly, watching
the indicator above the hatchway that counted the levels until he could
exit the lift chamber, "with these two back on duty, not only will you
relieved of the heavy burden of command, but haven't the permutations
surrounding Apollo and Sheba returning to duty been eating up a rather
large segment of your latest wagering pool banner?" 
     "Don't be so quick to judge now, Boomer," Starbuck patted the
utility pocket on the sleeve of his flight jacket, exhaling softly
through his mouth and then smiling serenely at his friend, "you did
pretty well in the infant section. Of course, Artemis will trip you up in
the next permutation when her first intelligible word is 'Starbuck', not
'Boomer' as you've projected. How much was that wager again, Buddy? It
was for double or nothing, as I recall."
     "Why don't you light up that smoke in your pocket, Starbuck?" Sheba
lifted an eyebrow at the blonde Lieutenant, "I understand from one of the
lab-techs on the Pegasus that the first production compliment of
fumarellos has been shipped from Agro Ship Seven to the commerce section
distributor."
     "That's right, Starbuck," Apollo chimed in, sharing his wife's
tenuous hold on a serious expression, a smile threatening to lift the
corner of his mouth, "Now you can enjoy that fumarello in your pocket,
light it up with Cain's flinton. You know, the one that you claim you're
keeping fueled and maintained as a gift for Artemis when she graduates
Cadet Training and becomes a warrior," Apollo allowed the smile to
accomplish its task and assumed an innocent, even ingenuous tone, "Are
you trying to quit?" Apollo's voice dissolved into laughter, in which
Sheba and Boomer delightedly joined in.
     "Why does a guy need to worry about Cylon base ships when he's got
such supportive friends right here at home?" Starbuck said in a
dramatically longsuffering tone as the lift access hatch opened and the
four warriors stepped into the corridor, "Oh, and speaking of Artemis,
who's watching the kids now that you've both returned to us for active
duty?"
     "That's all taken care of, Starbuck," Apollo gestured in the
direction of the squadron barracks, "though I'd appreciate it if you and
Boomer would gather and start briefing the pilots on the current
situation while Valkyrie Leader and I check in at home," he gestured this
time toward the other end of the corridor, and the hatchway leading into
his own quarters, then turned to address his wife, "Boxey would have been
in learning period when the alert readiness indicator sounded."
     "Cassiopeia's watching for him, but you're right," Sheba turned to
Starbuck and smiled, batting her eyelids in an exaggerated gesture of
mock apology for her laughter at his expense, "would you mind telling
Deitra that I'll be there directly, Lieutenant?"
     "No problem, Sheba," Starbuck paused suddenly, the toothy smile
freezing in place momentarily and then giving way to a more thoughtful
expression, "Did you say /Cassiopeia/ is watching the kids? I thought she
was on evening cycles in Life Station for the duration of this duty
period."
     "Never mind that now, Starbuck," Apollo said quickly, seeing
Starbuck's eyes narrow as the Captain touched the small of his wife's
back and began walking with her along the corridor, "Just get everyone up
to speed and, Boomer," Apollo pointed a finger in the dark Lieutenant's
direction, "contact the launch bays. Last time we were on alert
readiness, they took a little longer with the refuelling and damage
inspection protocols than they should have."
     "Aye, Sir," Boomer responded crisply, "it'll be good to have you
back out of the office chamber and into a fighter, Strike Leader," he
called out, smiling as the Captain paused and turned to regard his two
friends and comrades. 
     "It's good to /be/ back," Apollo flashed a rare boyish grin, then
resumed a brisk walk toward his quarters, his wife keeping a precise
military pace beside him.
     "/That/ was close, Skipper," Sheba said quietly as she looked back
to see that Starbuck and Boomer were proceeding out of earshot,
"Cassiopeia hasn't told him yet."
     "I suppose we shouldn't judge her too harshly," Apollo came to a
stop in front of the hatchway to their quarters and placed his hands on
his wife's shoulders, impulsively pulling her to him and sliding his
palms down the length of her upper arms to grasp her elbows, feeling the
warmth of her body against him as she took hold of the lapels of his
flight jacket and smiled into his bright, green eyes, "we seem to have
both reported for active duty status without consulting one another
first," the Captain stopped the words that were about to escape from her
lips with a soft kiss then pulled back to once more gaze deeply into her
warm, brown eyes, "I've been on the injured list for half a yahren now,
half the time that you've been on maternity furlon. Though I wouldn't
exchange all the time I've been able to spend with you, and with the
children, for anything, I'm hungry to get back out into open space with
Blue Squadron," Sheba tilted her head, regarding him quietly as he
continued speaking, "that's the main reason I'm not giving you a hard
time about being just as eager to rejoin the Valkyries."
     "Shall we go in and check on our kids before we launch, Squadron
Commander?" Sheba said in a suggestive tone that evoked a perceptible
reddening of the Captain's features.
     "Yes, Lieutenant, I suppose we should," in spite of their words,
neither of them moved for a moment, unwilling to end the embrace. Apollo
leaned forward and kissed her once more, then gently released his hold on
her arms and reached for the control panel inset in the bulkhead beside
the hatchway, opening the hatch and gesturing for Sheba to enter before
him. 
     "Mom! Dad!" Boxey rushed to greet his parents as the hatch closed
behind them.
     "Hey, Son," Apollo laughed brightly and lifted the boy into a
sweeping hug, kissing his forehead through soft wisps of light brown
hair, conscious of how much taller the boy had grown in the last half
yahren, and how much heavier he felt in the Captain's arms than he once
had, "I see you and Muffy made it back from learning period in one
piece."
     "Cassiopeia says that you're /both/ back on active duty status,"
Boxey, regaining his feet as his father released him from his embrace,
turned to face Sheba, expressing the sudden thought that came into his
mind, "What about Grandpa Cain? Won't he still need us to come and visit
him?"
     "We'll still be spending lots of time with Grandpa Cain, Boxey,"
Sheba felt a lump form in her throat as Apollo's warm hand rested softly
on one shoulder, then turned and smiled sadly as Cassiopeia moved to
touch the other. Moving out of their comforting grasp, she knelt before
the boy and touched his face with a gentle mother's hand, "just as soon
as the alert status is lifted. In the meantime," the Lieutenant rose to
her feet, "your father and I have each apparently asked Cassiopeia to
come and stay with you a little earlier than was expected."
     "Oh, Sheba," Cassiopeia giggled, "when you dropped Artemis off with
me, I wanted to tell you that Doctor Salik had already cleared Apollo for
duty fitness, but, well, I just couldn't resist. You were each being so
careful not to be discovered by the other."
     "In any case, Cassiopeia," Apollo reached forward to take
Cassiopeia's hand in his own, squeezing her delicate fingers gently, "we
appreciate you being here for the children, and for us," he released her
hand and smiled mischievously, "Starbuck's discovered that your duty
period schedule has been altered."
     "Starbuck will just have to make an accommodation for any
disruptions to his social life," Cassiopeia giggled again, "in the
meantime, /squadron leaders/, perhaps you'd both better kiss your
children goodnight and get busy dealing with that alert, "Cassiopeia
smiled and placed a protective hand on Boxey's shoulder, "we'll be just
fine until you get back."
 
***  

Chapter One - Scene Four
 
     "What do you make of it, Adama?" Cain's image wavered briefly as it
was transmitted over the Alpha Channel relay signal to the display on the
monitor inset into the communication array on Adama's desk and the
computer made minute adjustments to correct for ambient frequency
disturbance from the constantly shifting space between the guardians of
the Colonial Fleet, the Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus, "It's unlike
anything /I've/ ever encountered before, and I thought I'd seen every
type of Cylon armament there was."
     "This appears to be something new, Cain," Adama studied the still
images that Corporal Komma had compiled for him from the visual
recordings extracted from the data obtained by Lieutenant Boomer during
his patrol's brief, and presumably undetected, encounter with the Cylon
forces that they had discovered beyond the Galactica's scanner range, to
the forward of the Fleet, "these images are not of the finest resolution,
however, they reveal enough detail to give me the impression that this
base ship may be a prototype of some sort. It has a rather unrefined,
/unfinished/ look." 
     "Like that daggit drone of Wilker's. Gods of Hades' Gates, Adama!
You should have /seen/ what it did to that poor devil on the Council
Security Awareness Learning Period Tour. /Reese/, that was his name.
Council Security Officer Reese. Too bad Boxey and Muffit weren't on that
rotation. The kids got back on their shuttle alright, but Drone One
seemed to be /holding a grudge/ against this fellow. And what's wrong
with the boy's hair, anyway? It looks like he's been fed head first
through a flight gear maintenance terminal," Cain shuddered visibly, then
shrugged and returned his attention to the present, "But back to those
blasted Cylons, Adama. Why /that/ particular location?" Cain's voice
crackled slightly in its journey from the relay to the small speaker near
the monitor, "is it a coincidence that the Cylons have appeared on a
point lying directly along the path between us and our target
co-ordinates?"
     "Indeed," Adama nodded in the direction of the communication array,
transmitting his own image to the monitor in Cain's quarters aboard the
Pegasus, "it would be /quite/ a coincidence as a random event," the
Galactica's Commander pushed the two dimensional images of the base ship
into a neat pile to one side of his work space and clasped his hands
before him in an attitude of contemplation, touching his extended index
fingers to his chin and gazing at the image of his fellow Commander,
"however, coincidence or random happenstance notwithstanding, we must
establish a plan, a course of action, before our choices become more
limited. We must act /before/ the Cylons detect us, that is, assuming
that they have not done so already."
     "There was a time when I would have insisted on engaging them,
hitting them quick and hard and then disappearing into deep space for a
while," Cain's voice sounded almost soulful to Adama, who did not fail to
recognize the ashen pallor of the other man's face, "I won't be able to
visit the bridge much longer, Adama," Cain lifted one side of his mouth,
his eyes twinkling with bittersweet, even wry, humour, "let's get rid of
those gall-monging pieces of scrap metal and get on with the trip to find
your elusive and mystical Thirteenth Colony. The Cylons are beginning to
annoy me, my friend," Cain leaned back in his chair, his face shifting
momentarily outside the frame of the display monitor before he settled
with a weary motion into the soft upholstery, holding up his ever present
scepteron and making an outwardly distracted study of the stylized winged
equine at its head before returning his gaze to the relay that would
transmit his image and voice to Adama, "they're getting in the way of my
retirement."
     "You've encouraged your daughter to return to her duties, Cain,"
Adama leaned back in his own chair, feeling the misting of sadness
tearing his eyes as he regarded his fellow Commander's haggard and
battle-hardened face, "Is there any reason for me to be concerned?" 
     "Adama," Cain laughed, his eyes seeming almost feverishly bright to
Adama's perception, "you worry too much. The alert was a good opportunity
for Sheba and that ovine-headed husband of hers to both get back on duty
with a minimum of heat from those tempers over who's fit and who's not.
Lords know where they get it from," Cain smiled sweetly, as Adama had
seen his son's wife do on many occasions when her mood was mischievous,
"Sheba and the grandchildren visiting with me virtually every daily cycle
since Artemis' birth, well, it's been a rare oasis of joy for an old war
daggit like me, but even my Sergeant Medic turned Doctor, Roman, can only
keep me on my feet for so long with his noxious potions and experimental
treatments," Cain's face betrayed his great weariness, "let's get rid of
these gall-monging, pain in the astrum Cylons, get back on the trail of
the Thirteenth Colony, and get the last of the ranking command
assignments sorted out, so that I can say proper goodbye to my little
girl, and leave my ship with her new Commander at her helm."
     "Very well then, Cain," Adama swallowed hard and assumed the
enigmatic expression of a practiced diplomat, /time enough to grieve
later/, his thoughts were of Sheba, and his need to be a strong leader in
the face of such a pending loss. He leaned forward once more, his fingers
intertwined in front of him, his elbows still resting on the side
supports of his large chair, "We shall endeavour to accommodate you and
subdue the Cylon threat so that you may have the longest, most dramatic
and formal military death ritual of your choosing."
     "Adama!" Cain laughed delightedly and brandished the scepteron at
the relay before him, "and they say you have no sense of humour!"
     "And who, pray tell, are /they/?" Adama found himself reluctantly,
though sincerely, sharing in Cain's rather macabre laughter.
     "Sorry, Adama," Cain smiled smugly, "I take /some/ information
/with/ me when I go," Cain's expression shifted to a more serious
attitude, "now, back to the Cylons. Shall we go /around/ them or
/through/ them?"
     "I wish I knew what to tell you, Cain," Adama straightened his
spine, glancing briefly at the tidy pile of images on his desk, pursing
his lips at the sight of the anomalous base ship, then stared grimly once
more into the image of Cain's bright eyes, "I wish I knew."

***  

Chapter One - Scene Five
 
     "Baltar," the voice at the door was familiar, but Baltar could not
place it. There was a party that he had been going to, and the games had
ended...
     "Baltar?" the bifurcated panels of perforated transparent tylium
that comprised the secure term care chamber's hatchway slid open with a
quiet /swish/ and a small framed, delicately featured man approached the
bed upon which Baltar sat, thin legs dangling listlessly from beneath his
long unbelted tunic. The man paused, two security officers at the ready
behind him, "do you remember me today? We've spent some time together
before, and I've come to visit with you," the elderly man gestured with
an air of cautious familiarity toward the nearby chair that sat before
the single utilitarian shelf that served, for the most part, as a desk
and dining surface, in the small sparse chamber in which Baltar had been
housed since his encounter with the portion of the electromagnetic matrix
devised by Doctor Wilker's now reinstated Laboratory Technician, Calvin,
that had, or so the Colonials hoped, banished Baltar's erstwhile master,
Count Iblis, to another realm of existence. "My name is Chameleon. Do you
mind if I sit and speak with you for a while?" Baltar stared blankly at
the stranger's disarming smile, tilting his head, and
remembering...remembering.../something/...
     "Starbuck," Baltar narrowed his eyes as the small man gracefully
twirled the chair to a desired position and sat with the fluid grace of a
dancer, "Starbuck shot my centurion. I lost my helmet, you know," Baltar
leaned forward, glancing suspiciously up at the security detail, wincing
at the sight of the weapons arrayed on their belts, and the stun batons
that they each held ready, then gestured for Chameleon to offer him an
ear into which he whispered hoarsely, "that was before I tripped over the
lupus and...no, it was a daggit, I think...yes, a daggit," Baltar
furrowed his brow, leaning his back against the smooth, grey metal of the
bulkhead behind his bed, "was it fair that they took my ship away? It
would have been such a lovely party if Lieutenant Boomer hadn't brought
that rude girl with him." 
     "Life is often unfair, my dear fellow," Chameleon smiled innocuously
and crossed his ankles, resting his elbows against the back of the small
chair, and clasped his hands together, resting them over his lap, "why
don't you tell me what else has happened to you? Perhaps I can help you
sort through some of the confusion," Chameleon lifted a questioning
eyebrow at the security officers, who nodded and moved back out into the
corridor, leaving the hatchway unsealed and standing at the ready before
the opening, keenly assessing Baltar's every move from no more than three
metrons in distance, as was their current protocol, "now then, what were
we talking about?" 
     "Starbuck," Baltar struggled to focus his dark eyes on Chameleon's
amiable features, /something/, something about this man's association
with Starbuck was important, though it was one of many jumbled images
that eluded cohesion with one another within the dark, fragmented abyss
that dominated the perceptive abilities of Baltar's damaged mind, "He
said once that he'd give his life for a shot at me," Baltar tilted his
head, drawing his feet up before him and clasping his knees with his thin
arms, the bones of his elbows sharply evident under his voluminous
sleeves, "but that was before the tents caught on fire and Lucifer had
them carry me to the..." Baltar stopped suddenly, one fragment of his
memory suddenly colliding and adhering to another, forming a vision of
the IL Series Cylon, Lucifer, as Baltar had first seen him, at the base
of the newly installed Imperious Leader's command platform, "Lucifer,"
Baltar said the name slowly, "has he come to get me yet?"
     "I do not believe that I have ever personally encountered anyone
with that name," Chameleon said in a carefully modulated tone, speaking
in a rhythmic manner so as not to jar Baltar from this sudden approach
toward lucidity, "can you describe him to me?"
     "Starbuck," Baltar's expression became suddenly angry, though he
maintained his defensive posture on the bed, pressing himself back
against the bulkhead as his hands clutched his knees with whitened
knuckles, "/You/! You are Starbuck's father! That's what /she/ told me
after she split in two and gave me the blade," Baltar's anger melted into
a sudden air of concentration, as though another memory had gained
cohesion with some form of it's corresponding context amongst his
disjointed thoughts, "she told me to find the boy, the Captain's son, but
that mechanical lupus knocked me down and the warrior took my blade, then
Adama..."  
     "Yes, Baltar?" Chameleon gently prompted, "Adama?"
     "Mmmm, so," Baltar's tone was now sly, his eyes narrowing once more
as he regarded the small man reclining easily in the chair before him,
confident in the reflexes of the security detail beyond the open
hatchway, "Adama is behind it. I might have known. He's always blamed
/me/ for everything. His house was destroyed, you know," Baltar stared
over Chameleon's left shoulder, the furtiveness of his manner giving way
to a contemplative air, "I was there for a formal dinner, once,"
Chameleon listened raptly, uncertain as to where Baltar's memory was
taking him, not wanting to break this rare and typically tenuous chain of
ordered thought, "Boomer didn't stay for dinner. Artemis. That was her
name. That's what he called her," Chameleon felt a chill as he heard the
name of Captain Apollo's infant daughter cross Baltar's lips, "/she/
ruined my party," the shockingly thin man leaned forward once again and
gestured for Chameleon to offer an ear, Baltar spoke again in a hoarse,
whispering voice, "Sheba was to have been my Lord's consort. Apollo took
her and ruined everything. /Their/ offspring are a threat to..." Baltar's
face suddenly contorted in fury as he sprang from the small mattress and
pounced like a feral quadruped, the security detail rushing in to catch
him in mid spring with a jolt from their stun batons, catching him as he
stiffened, convulsed sharply and fell limp with unconsciousness within
their respective grasps upon his arms.
     "Oh dear," Chameleon stepped forward from where he had swiftly
swivelled to avoid Baltar's movement, behind the relative shielding of
the small chair that he had been reclining in only microns earlier, "I
suppose that's all for today," Starbuck's father shared a lift of his
eyebrows and a pursing of his lips with the two security officers as they
dumped Baltar unceremoniously onto the bed, performing a brief check of
his breathing and heart rate, "make certain to send a copy of the
surveillance recording to Commander Adama, will you?" One of the officers
nodded in acknowledgement as he ushered Chameleon through the hatchway,
closing it manually when all three men were clear of the threshold and
standing in the corridor. 
     "Anything?" a voice cut through the silent contemplation of
Chameleon and the two security officers as they stood together near the
transparent, and firmly secured, hatchway.
     "Perhaps. I'm not certain, Doctor Wilker. I was just suggesting a
transmission of the recorded data to Commander Adama," Chameleon smiled
and extended an arm for a handclasp of greeting with the new arrival,
"Doctor, I thought I saw you occupied with a malfunctioning drone just
before they shut down the civilian traffic from the landing bays."
     "All in a daily cycle's work, I'm afraid," Wilker's mournful tone
betrayed no inclination to discuss his struggle, several centaurs
earlier, to transport Drone One to the landing bay lift and down to the
science lab in Lambda Section, "I don't recall seeing you at the landing
bay. Are you stranded here for the duration of the alert?"
     "Well, I was actually just arriving to meet my son," Chameleon
watched as the scientist opened a small sliding drawer built into the
control panel beside the hatchway to Baltar's chamber, exchanging the
data crystal within with a fresh one from the utility sleeve built into
the yoke of his uniform tunic, "we were to get together for some
recreation after he returned from his patrol, but, well, apparently the
warriors have encountered some sort of problem, at least I assume so from
the current state of battle readiness," Chameleon nodded an affable
farewell to the security detail as he followed Wilker's gesture to
accompany the scientist to the express lift access to Lambda Section.
     "Perhaps you'd like to pass some time in the lab, until Lieutenant
Starbuck is free," Wilker held up the data crystal, "I'm processing the
data on Baltar for Commander Adama," Chameleon moved to join the quietly
pessimistic scientist in the lift chamber, nodding politely as Wilker
keyed the 'door close' command, "perhaps you can add some insight, as you
/are/ one of the people assigned to stimulating his memory."
     "I appreciate the offer," Chameleon stood quietly beside Wilker as
the lift door closed, "not many useful functions for an old civilian like
me to perform around here while Starbuck is occupied with the alert and
Baltar is, um, /indisposed/."
     "Hmmmphf," Wilker responded, "like I said," the two men turned
toward one another, each with a lifted eyebrow, just as the hatch closed
before them and the lift began its downward journey toward Wilker's
domain in Lambda Section, "all in a daily cycle's work."
 
***  

Chapter One - Scene Six
 
     "We shall remain at battle readiness until further notice," Captain
Apollo, Squadron Commander of the Battlestar Galactica, scanned the faces
of the assorted pilots that stood attentively receiving his orders,
"recreational activities within /reason/ please, don't stray far from the
nearest launch bay tram. Naturally, the hope is that we won't need to
scramble, but let's be ready for it," the young man pursed his lips
slightly as he once more scanned the faces before him, "that will be all
for now. Your attention is dismissed." Apollo stood, thumbs hooked over
the edges of his gun belt, watching as his Squadron Leaders exited the
main chamber of the Blue Squadron Barracks, which often doubled as a
pilots' briefing section, for the most part because of it's central
geography in the crew quarter section, it's ready access to the Squadron
Commander's office chamber and its function as the Squadron Commander's
occasional billet in his capacity as Strike Leader and Blue Squadron
Leader. It was the place that his subordinates would come to find Apollo
in times of battle readiness, now that he was back on active duty status.
Apollo smiled slightly as Sheba, the Valkyrie Squadron Leader, paused to
mirror his gaze and return his smile before exiting into the corridor
beyond the open main hatchway. 
     "First evening cycle apart for you two after the extended furlon
time?" Starbuck moved to stand beside his friend, Captain and wingman,
smiling fondly as he joined him in gazing thoughtfully at the now empty
hatchway, "all that Youth Triad coaching and being fussed over by, not
only /your/ woman, but everyone else's as well. I never saw a guy, a
/married/ guy in fact, who had less difficulty engaging childminders for
late night /excursions/ with the missus," Starbuck turned and nodded as
Lieutenant Boomer moved stand on the Captain's other side, "How does a
guy who was always so shy and retiring and disinterested in superficial
entanglements wind up being nursed back to health for sectons by
practically every female crew member aboard the ship?" 
     "What's the matter, Starbuck?" Boomer laughed and gave Apollo a
conspiratorial smile, "feeling a little envious now that Cassiopeia's
trimmed your compliment of girlfriends down to the manageable number of
/one/? Don't worry about him, Captain, he's just feeling resentful
because he fears Cassiopeia will spend so much time with your children
that she'll soon be wanting some of her own," Boomer and Apollo sputtered
with laughter upon the sight of Starbuck's face, momentarily frozen in
abject fear, though his practiced gambler's instinct aided him in quickly
recovering from the strategic blows delivered to his outer veneer of calm
by Boomer's brotherly remarks.
     "Really now, Boomer," Starbuck replied with an exaggerated attitude
of congeniality, "I believe I also saw a certain sweet, young Valkyrie
passing up a date with /you/ to go 'help the Captain and Lieutenant Sheba
with the baby'," Starbuck was gratified to see a small start of surprise
interrupt Boomer's laughter.
     "Don't worry fellas," Apollo stifled his own laughter with some
difficulty as he placed a hand on Starbuck's shoulder and smiled
affectionately at first him, and then Boomer, "As soon as Artemis is
walking and talking, the novelty will wear off and the Valkyries will
return to their first loves," the laughter returned as all three warriors
broke off the conversation and moved to sit at a nearby table, settling
in to relax together until either an alert sounded, or the Squadron
Commander was summoned to receive new orders. For this they, indeed /all/
of the pilots that served aboard the Galactica and the Pegasus who were
not currently on an active duty period, taking their turn at patrolling
the Fleet in an elliptical surveillance pattern, waited in battle
readiness. It was now up to the Senior Officers to decide on a course of
action for the Fleet and the warriors who stood ready to defend it.
     "It's lousy timing," Starbuck pulled a deck of gaming cards from an
inner pocket of his jacket and began an abbreviated version of a standard
Caprican Pyramid Solitaire game, sighing with a measurable degree of
petulance as his fingers nimbly manipulated the cards, "Chameleon and I
were planning to visit the new chancery tables on the Rising Star when I
got back from patrol," Starbuck placed a Capstone near the center of the
growing network of card sequences that were developing on the table
before him into a rudimentary pyramid, "we were trying out a new system!"
     "Father and Son delinquency outings," Boomer said dryly to Apollo,
"how charming. Do they wait until they get caught in some questionable
situation, or do they just take Council Security /with/ them to save
time?," Boomer turned toward Starbuck with an exaggerated expression of
curiosity, "I wonder if Reese plays Pyramid?"
     "Very funny, Boomer," Starbuck's expression became serious as he
failed to achieve the solitaire pyramid. He sat gazing at the table top
as he gathered the cards absently into a pile, shuffling them in a slow,
deliberate manner, then cautiously addressed a matter that had occupied
the thoughts of all three men at one time or another over the last few
sectons, "Speaking of fathers," Starbuck cleared his throat and lifted
his head to find a pair of bright green eyes regarding him steadily, "we
all know that Cain is leaving us soon," Starbuck spoke quietly, patting
the still unopened fumarello and readily fueled flinton within the
utility pocket on his flight jacket in what had become, to his friends'
fascinated observations, a constant habit of late, unaccompanied by the
actual smoking of the 'smouldering weed' as Cassiopeia was wont to call
Starbuck's usual trademark fumarellos. Starbuck glanced at Boomer's now
solemn expression, as if in search of support, then turned his attention
back to Apollo "when te dust of the altered duty assignments settles,
will we still have our Squadron Commander? You're not trading in a viper
cockpit for a place on the bridge just yet, are you? I know it's not
procedure for Omega to move up just yet, but we've hardly been able to
follow strict procedure since the Destruction reduced us to two
Battlestars and few older, more seasoned command level officers, not to
mention that our pilots number only..."
     "Starbuck," Apollo's gently and briefly raised hand brought the
Lieutenant's probing line of questioning to a stop, "as you are certain
to be aware, I am not at liberty to discuss the personnel assignments, so
you might as well not bother trying to pump me for information," the
Captain smiled dryly, "but I will tell you that I didn't spend all that
time in flight and battle simulations and working out in the recreation
section, not to mention all those triad practices with Boxey, just to
impress Doctor Salik, or my wife, /or/ to avoid the steady flow of
baby-talking female traffic through my daughter's bedchamber," Apollo's
smile regained a measure of his previous good humour as he read the
relief in his two best friends' eyes. His message was clear. He was not
accepting an assignment as a Senior Bridge Officer in the event of Cain's
pending death, at least, not /yet/.
     "So, Starbuck," Boomer turned his attention to the table top,
watching distractedly for a centon as the blonde Lieutenant deliberately
laid out another solitaire grid and began shuffling and placing the cards
into yet another rough pyramid shape, "I ran into Calvin near the landing
bay just after Jolly and I got out of decontamination," Boomer smiled
sweetly at Starbuck, "apparently Drone One was doing its regular patrol
of the Pegasus Science Section when one of the technicians lit up a
fumarello," Boomer sniggered softly as Apollo coughed and attempted to
maintain a serious demeanour, with little success, "All I can say is,
that if either of those prototypes get their, um, /hands/, on any
mushies, I hope you're stocked up on your allergy medication, my friend."

     "Come on now, Starbuck. You're not still suffering from latent
battle fatigue trauma from the /incident/, are you?" Apollo laughingly
plucked at a loose thread on his flight jacket, "I'm sure Boomer's just
concerned about your well-being. In fact, Sheba was aboard the Pegasus
when Drone One malfunctioned, and /she/ says that Wilker is planning
to..."
     /Captain Apollo to the Bridge, please/, Lieutenant Rigel's voice
rang out from the Unicom speaker, bringing the buzz of conversation and
other activities within the bulkheads of the barracks chamber to a sudden
stop, and evoking a swivelling of many heads whose inquisitive eyes were
firmly focussed on the young Squadron Commander, /Captain Apollo. Please
report to the Bridge/.
     Apollo scanned the room, meeting those eyes with a practiced,
reassuring gaze of his own as he rose, then silently strode through the
still open main hatchway, passing through it and marching toward the
express lift access that would facilitate his journey to the Command
Centre and whatever orders awaited him, and through him, the people under
his command.

***  

Chapter One - Scene Seven

     "Come on, Muffy, might as well get comfortable," Boxey retrieved a
small shoulder pack from the deck beside the bench seat beneath the view
port in the main chamber of the quarters that served as a home for
himself, his parents and his infant sister in the section of the
Galactica's crew quarters that was allocated for officers with families,
"if I don't finish the assignments, there'll be no triad practice on
Fifth-Day," the boy looked down at his daggit drone companion and sighed
with a childish drama befitting his nine, nearly ten yahrens of age, "but
if the alert status stays up, the practice will be cancelled anyway," he
pulled out an electronic writing tablet and stylus and set them neatly on
the small table near the communication array and bookshelves that defined
the area constituting a small office for Apollo and Sheba, and a work
area for Boxey to complete his learning period assignments. As Boxey and
his family well knew, in times of battle readiness, the children of the
Galactica who normally attended learning period instruction were given
several daily cycles worth of assignments and required to remain in their
quarters, or other specifically designated areas. In the yahrens that
Boxey had been a part of Apollo's family, since the Captain had married
the boy's now-dead mother, Serina, and taken Boxey as his son, a son in
love if not in blood, he had learned, at times with difficulty, not to
question such regulations. At the sounding of the battle readiness alert,
he had lined up with his fellow learning period students and received
hastily programmed tablets from his instructor, then headed directly for
home.
     "Did the learning period instructor load you down with a lot of
studying to do, Junior Warrior?" Cassiopeia emerged from the small
chamber that currently served as a bedchamber for Boxey's sister of half
a yahren, Artemis, who now squirmed against the grasp of Cassiopeia's arm
as the young woman tossed a thick blanket to the deck near the sitting
area beneath the view port, settling the infant to crawl over the
blanket's textured warmth, then moving to embrace the boy from behind
with a quick squeeze of his shoulders.
     "Not really, Cassiopeia," Boxey tossed the empty pack beneath the
small work top, "I think I can get it all done within two or three daily
cycles. I hope the alert status is over before the triad practice on
Fifth-Day."
     "We'll just have to wait and see, Boxey," Cassiopeia took a step
back toward the center of the utilitarian chamber to stand near the edge
of Artemis' blanket, gazing out the ovoid view port, hugging herself by
the elbows as a sudden chill seemed to go up her back, "I'm certain that
your grandfathers shall have the alert status lifted in no time," she
turned to see Boxey seating himself at the small work area, reaching for
the stylus and using it to key in a sequence of parameters, applying them
to the display that now moved across the surface of the tablet, then
considering his responses to the review questions that his instructor had
programmed into the tablets data storage crystal. Cassiopeia noted
inwardly that Boxey had not seemed affected by the sudden draft of cool
air, /must have been from the ventilation system/, she shrugged, laughing
softly at herself for feeling so edgy, but it took several centons for
the dissipation of the electrical sensation of unease that had pimpled
her flesh.
     "Cassiopeia?" Boxey paused, stylus in hand, his head tilted
slightly, "Are you alright? You went all pale for a micron."
     "What?" Cassiopeia quickly assumed an expression of good humour,
flashing the boy a bright, though slightly forced smile, "Oh, I just felt
a cool breeze, that's all," the young woman reached downward, suddenly
spying a metallic object attached to a long chain that now dangled from
Artemis' fingers, and plucked a small auricon medallion from the infant's
chubby and ever-grasping hand, "Artemis! Where did you get /this/?" 
     "What is it, Cassiopeia?" Boxey lowered his stylus and crossed the
chamber to stand beside his sister and his childminder, staring at the
glittering necklace, making out a raised design on it's small ovoid
surface, "It doesn't look like anything I've ever seen Mom or Dad with.
Besides, they never leave stuff for Artemis to get into. Somebody must
have dropped it when they were visiting. I heard Dad say it's ironic that
he's had every woman on the ship pass through his quarters in the last
few sectons while he's been on medical furlon and Starbuck's been doing
the Squadron Commander duties and only seeing one girl. He told Mom that
the only way he knows it's not a parallel universe is that /he's/ still
doing all the duty rosters, while Starbuck gets to do all the flying."
     "Boxey!" Cassiopeia sputtered with laughter and put an arm around
the boy's small shoulders as the two stood together studying the small
medallion, "you'd better not repeat that to anyone else, alright?" she
held up the medallion, turning it over in her graceful hand, "I don't
recognize any of these markings. Well, I'll just ask Sheba or Apollo
about it the next time one of them checks in with us," she dropped the
necklace into a deep pocket concealed along the seam of her long belted
tunic, "and no more eavesdropping on your parents, young man!"
Cassiopeia's ever bright smile belied her disciplinarian tone. Boxey knew
how well Cassiopeia understood how difficult it was for him /not/ to
listen, his inquisitive and mercurial nature being honestly inherited
from his investigative-journalist mother. Cassiopeia was a member of the
circle of companions who, for Boxey, came from a time before the boy's
mother had been felled on Kobol by a Cylon laser pistol roughly three
yahrens ago, and she remembered Serina's sharp wit and determination, and
the way that the strikingly beautiful young mother, in the short sectons
following the Destruction that Cassiopeia had come to know her, displayed
an apt ability to pry the most intimate expressions of thought and
feeling from those around her, with the relative ease and effortless
grace of an accomplished negotiator or diplomat.
     "Cassiopeia?" Boxey stepped back as Cassiopeia released his
shoulders with a squeeze and bent to sweep up Artemis, cradling the
infant within the embrace of her deceptively strong arms, "Is Dad going
to be stuck on the bridge and not allowed to fly with Starbuck and Blue
Squadron when Grandfather Cain goes away?"
     "More eavesdropping, young man?" Cassiopeia moved to sit on the
bench seat, kicking off her boots and sinking her bare feet into the soft
blanket that still lay on the deck, turning Artemis to sit on the blanket
beside Cassiopeia's bare toes, Cassiopeia's fingers finding themselves
petulantly pushed away by chubby infant arms as Artemis attempted to
achieve success in her most recent effort to stand unassisted, a skill
that had thus far eluded her and provoked several tantrums of frustration
in her brief half yahren of life. Artemis, by Cassiopeia's reckoning,
would be walking and talking in no time.
     "Grandpa Adama says that Dad might have to give up being a pilot
sooner than he wants," the boy looked soulfully back into Cassiopeia's
sympathetic blue eyes, "because Grandpa Cain is going away and there's
nobody else to..."
     "Boxey!" Cassiopeia, releasing Artemis, lifted a gentle hand,
gesturing for the boy to come and sit beside her under the view port.
Artemis, evidently opting for a less complex method of travel in the form
of crawling began her determined journey in what the childminder deemed a
safe direction, Establishing Artemis' status to her satisfaction,
Cassiopeia turned to look intently into Boxey's expressive, brown eyes,
grasping the boy's hands firmly. "I know that there are some decisions
that have yet to be made, but I am quite certain that your father, /and/
your grandfather, will do whatever they thinks is best for everyone,
including /you/," Cassiopeia let go his small hands and touched his lips
gently with an extended index finger, "and, remember, no more repeating
what you hear," Cassiopeia glanced around in an exaggerated posture of
secrecy, "except to /me/, of course!"
     Boxey's brown eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly in shock,
then his lips turned up at the edges as he shared in her mischievous
smile, the two of them laughing together as Artemis sat watching from her
position across the chamber, not comprehending the reason behind their
private joke, but delightedly joining in with her infectious infant's
giggle as she returned the wave of the man in the white suit who stood by
the hatchway to Artemis' bedchamber, unobserved by all but her. He smiled
fondly, then, touched a finger to his lips and was suddenly gone, even
Artemis, along with her childminder and brother, oblivious to the barely
audible rush of air that accompanied his departure.
 
***  

Chapter One - Scene Eight
 
     "This isn't much to go on , Colonel," Athena studied the image of
the base ship that the young Colonel Tolen had placed into her hand as he
had marched briskly up the steps to join her on the command platform of
the Battlestar Pegasus, "we don't even know for certain how large or
varied the Cylon forces /are/."
     "I know, Lieutenant," Tolen knew that his subordinate preferred to
be addressed by her Warrior rank of Lieutenant rather than the more
administrative title of 'Bridge Officer'. Unlike the Galactica's Officer
Omega, whose speciality was in data analysis and administration, Tolen
and Athena had each balanced such studies at the Academy with officer
training as combat warriors and were both fully qualified pilots and
martial artists as well as experienced data analysts. Tolen leaned
against the perimeter rail, looking down at the latest image that
Corporal Komma had relayed to the Pegasus bridge as he had uploaded and
processed the data from the computer aboard Lieutenant Boomer's patrol
viper. The Colonel pointed at a small shadow on the surface of the base
ship displayed on the thin plaston sheet, "the resolution could be
better, but doesn't that look like some sort of docking structure?"
     "A mount for a new weapon, perhaps?" Athena voiced the thought that
had crossed both of the warriors minds as she looked up, brow furrowed,
at the large main view screen affixed to the bulkhead across the large
chamber of the Command Centre, upon which a magnified display of the
space several mega-hectons forward of the Pegasus was displayed in real
time, "Colonel Tolen, what are the Cylons up to? What are they /building/
out there?"
     "I don't know," Tolen crossed him arms thoughtfully over his lean
chest and followed Athena's gaze with his own, studying the star field on
the view screen, then turning to ponder the space immediately forward of
the ship, as framed by the transparent tylium panels of the forward
observation shield, "let's hope we can find out before the Cylons detect
the Fleet's presence."
     "Colonel," Athena, glancing down at the sound of an indicator chime
emanating from the speaker inset in her console, reached for a relay on
the console before her that stopped it's sound. She reached for another
relay with which she slowed the flow of text that ran steadily across the
largest of the monitors before her, then stopped the motion and tapped a
portion of the display with an index finger, "this doesn't make any
sense," she turned to look up at the Executive Officer, confusion evident
in her pale blue eyes, "these readings are indicating a large level of
electrical activity in Beta Sector," Athena told Tolen what both of them
already knew, "our patrols have found nothing but a few asteroids in that
sector of the reconnaissance grid."
     "Clean up the distortion," Tolen leaned forward, placing his hands
against the back of Athena's chair as he watched the Lieutenant apply
multiple sequences of matrix refinement processing to the data streaming
across the face of the smaller display monitor on the lower right portion
of the command console, "I don't see how we could miss something that
size," Tolen reached for the upper portion of the console, resting his
finger beside the Unicom relay switch, "it would have to be massive to be
generating a charge of that magnitude. Has Silver Spar Squadron rotated
in from active patrol sweep?" at Athena's nod, Tolen moved the relay to
broadcast on Unicom shipwide mode. He leaned forward and spoke clearly
into the communication array before him, "Captain Bojay to the Bridge.
Captain Bojay, report to the Bridge," Tolen manipulated the relay switch,
this time opening only the relay that would connect him with the
Commanding Officer's quarters, "Commander Cain, Sir," the young Colonel
addressed the image of Cain that appeared on the monitor at the top of
the command console, "We've processed some anomalous data from a sweep of
Beta Sector. There's a large area of electrical activity that just
shouldn't be there, Sir. I'm sending Captain Bojay to check it out."
     "Very good, Tolen. Coordinate with the Galactica. Adama will be
sending a patrol forward to try and get some more definitive scans of
that base ship," Cain's voice carried from the small speaker near the
image of his face above the command console's communication array, "I'm
just about to submit to consuming one of Doctor Roman's distasteful
potions," Cain momentarily rested his gaze upon a point beyond the
recording array's range, smiling resignedly at the Chief Medical Officer
that Tolen knew was present in the Commander's quarters, ready with a
regular daily treatment of medicinal mixtures, concocted by Roman and
approved by the Galactica's pharmaceutical expert, Doctor Paye, that had,
for several sectons, staved off the most uncomfortable and debilitating
of the symptoms of the radiation damage that had caused Cain's weakened
condition, "if /that/ doesn't finish me off, then I'll be up to join you
on the bridge in a few centons. Cain out." The display gave way to static
as Cain broke the connection from his quarters.
     "Colonel," Athena spoke softly to Tolen, so as not to be heard by
the crew below in the forward gallery of the Command Centre, "he's not
sounding very strong. Perhaps it's time to..."
     "Not yet, Lieutenant," Tolen spoke quietly as well, "Commander Cain
will tell us when it's time," the young Colonel placed a reassuring hand
on Athena's shoulder, "there's not going to be an easy way to go through
a transition like this. The others will look to us for guidance. We must
attempt to appear confident. Understood?"
     "Yes, Sir. Of course. We must ride out the storm with apparent grace
and certainty, not just for ourselves, but for those who will make the
journey behind us."
     "That's an expression I don't recall hearing before, Lieutenant,"
Tolen lifted an interrogative eyebrow, releasing his subordinates
shoulder and leaning on the nearby perimeter rail that defined the edge
of the command platform.
     "Just something I sometimes used to hear my Father say when he was
mired down with administrative or diplomatic duties," Athena's tone
became thoughtful, "I don't suppose those politicians back on Caprica, in
those days when we were children, could have envisioned what the
descendants of the Twelve Colonies have faced as they've evolved into the
Colonial Fleet."
     "I doubt if that it occurred to any of them that the Twelve Colonies
could fall, Athena. That was a part of the problem." Tolen and Athena
remained momentarily lost in their own thoughts as they gazed at the
plaston sheet bearing the image of the Cylon base ships that still lay on
the work top affixed to the command console. "In any event, Lieutenant,"
Tolen shook off his contemplative demeanour and nodded as Captain Bojay
ascended the steps to the command platform, having entered from the
access corridor behind the aft gallery below, "open a channel to the
Galactica and let's get everyone up to speed before the Commander gets
here and kicks our astrums for us," Athena nodded and reached for the
communication array, sharing a quick smile of Greeting with Bojay, her
husband of nearly half a yahren, as the young Squadron Commander moved to
join Tolen in a brief study the scans of the mysterious electrical
anomaly that Athena had detected within the area designated the Beta
Sector of the Colonial Fleet's current scanner grid.
     "I want you to take a patrol out there, Captain," Tolen addressed
Bojay as Athena consulted with the Galactica's Officer Omega over her
headset. "This field is massive, but there was nothing detected on any of
our previous scans. Whatever it is, it's big and it just arrived. We need
to find out what it is and what strategic impact it may have on the Fleet
/before/ we find ourselves engaging those base ships."
     "Do you think that's likely, Tolen?" Bojay frowned at the wave that
represented the anomalous electrical readings from Beta Sector, "if the
base ships don't detect us, perhaps we can divert the Fleet and go around
them without deviating too far from our primary heading."
     "Alpha Patrol has launched from the Galactica, Colonel," Athena
spoke as she manipulated the controls before her, analyzing multiple
streams of data as they moved across her console, but maintaining her
habitually conditioned and clearly modulated tone, "Captain Apollo and
Lieutenant Starbuck are on their way to recon the Cylon base ships."
     "Your question may be soon answered," Tolen stared grimly down at
the plaston image of the base ship that lay, it's mysteries as yet
unexposed, at the base of the console before him, "In the meantime, let's
make certain that the Cylons haven't got anything to do with that
electrical anomaly, shall we Captain?"
     "Aye, Sir. I'll get my wingman and be launched in five centons,"
Bojay turned on his heel, winking discreetly at his wife as he marched
briskly back down the steps and made his way back to the corridor that
would take him to the Alpha Launch Bay of the Battlestar Pegasus and
whatever awaited him beyond the electrical field in Beta Sector.
 
***  

Chapter Two - Scene One

     "System check, Starbuck," Apollo's steady voice filled the pocket of
air in the space under Starbuck's viper canopy, "we're only a few centons
away from the reference coordinates Komma gave us from Boomer's patrol
scans."
     "Aye, Captain," Starbuck, after a half yahren as acting Squadron
Commander savoured the sensation as the words crossed his lips, "I
haven't taken the second wing position for a while," Starbuck glanced
through the transparent tylium panel that separated him from the open
space between his viper and Apollo's, to see the Captain's dark face
brightened by a white smile, "I have to say that it feels nice not to be
the Strike Leader for a change." 
     "Father seems to think that you've been doing a pretty good job,"
Apollo responded as he methodically ran a standard field check on the
systems controlled and monitored by the console before him, "of course,
/I/ somehow wound up with all the administrative duties."
     "Hey now, Buddy," Starbuck laughed, hearing the jokingly martyred
tone in his friend's voice as he ran, in the same conditioned manner as
his Captain, an identical check on the systems of his own fighter, "it's
not /my/ fault you insisted on working from your sickbed. If it had been
/me/, I would have laid back and enjoyed all that pampering and cushion
adjusting and gushing of sympathy from the female populations of both the
Galactica /and/ the Pegasus just a little more thoroughly," Starbuck
sighed in a fair approximation of a man who has been sorely wronged, "to
think that it was all wasted on an old married man like you."
     "I'm beginning to suspect that Boomer may be on to something,
Starbuck," Apollo's smile gave way to his own quiet laughter, "are you
jealous because Cassiopeia's been spending so much time with Artemis and
Boxey lately?" 
     "Me? Jealous?" Starbuck managed a weak laugh, though his expression
was thoughtful as he completed the final check to his weapon systems,
"System check complete, Captain, all systems operating within acceptable
parameters," Starbuck glanced once more across the space between the two
ships, "and, /no/, I am /not/ jealous."
     "Affirmative," Apollo's voice responded crisply, "all systems check
operational," the Captain met his friend's glance across the space
between them, "the tribunal is still out on your jealousy issues,
Starbuck," the white smile brightened the dark features once more, "thus,
I feel it only fair to warn you that Sheba and I will be depending on
Cassiopeia's help with the children for a... 
     Apollo's words were cut abruptly short by the sudden chiming of the
proximity alerts emanating from the consoles of both fighters.
     "I'm not seeing anything on my scanner yet," Apollo's voice had
become brisk and businesslike as he and Starbuck wordlessly moved their
fighters into a closely staggered defensive wing formation, "let's be
vigilant," Apollo glanced agian at his wingman, then back at the scanner
display before him, "if Boomer's positioning calculations were accurate,
then we should be picking up some sign of..."
     "There!" Starbuck cut in sharply, "Apollo! I'm picking up a signal
at the outer edge of my scanning range."   "Affirmative, Starbuck,"
Apollo breathed slowly in and out, focussing his sharp, warrior's mind as
he watched the targeting computer identify what both pilots had already
recognized, "it's the size of a base ship, alright, but I only see one
signal. We know that there were at least three of them when Boomer and
Jolly captured those images yesterday," Apollo eased up on his forward
acceleration, as did Starbuck, strategic conditioning and regular
practice with his wingman and others in the flight simulators aboard the
Galactica over the course of Apollo's half yahren medical furlon
evidently affording the Captain a relatively effortless return to active
duty. 
     "We've got to get in for a closer look," Starbuck relaxed slightly,
realizing to his surprise, and a slight twinge of guilt, that he had been
inadvertently tensing his muscles, gauging the Captain's performance on
the Wing Leader's first recon patrol since his injuries had removed him
from duty, "If we stay on our current heading, they'll spot us for sure."
     "I'm picking up an electrical disruption," Apollo tapped the keypad
below the signal filtration display at the upper left of his viper's
scanner array, "it's right on top of us in the quadrant to our aft
starboard."
     "I see it on the scanner, but," Starbuck swivelled his head as far
as his helmet allowed and peered intently to the rear, seeing nothing but
open space and stars beyond the edges of the lower starboard of his
fighter's trio of turbo-charged engines, "I don't have visual
confirmation on anything behind us."
     "Starbuck!" Apollo's voice rose in pitch slightly, as a sudden flow
of adrenalin rushed through his body, a inflection that Starbuck knew
well, a warning that they were engaging the enemy, mere milli-microns
before he saw them himself. "Raiders! Coming up on my port forward! Looks
like a patrol wing pair. Entering firing range! Evasive maneuvers! I've
got the one on the left."
     "And /I've/ got the one on the right," Starbuck had a fraction of a
micron's memory of the sensation of a fumarello's white smoke curling up
around his nostrils, framing a momentary image of Cassiopeia's smiling
face, as he pushed steadily forward and in a gentle arcing motion on the
control stick in his hand, nudging his viper into a sudden roll that
brought him rushing in to engage the Cylon fighter that had already begun
bearing down on him at a virtually head-on trajectory. Too late, the
raider attempted to correct for Starbuck's abrupt change of position, but
was unable to avoid the laser bursts that converged on a point at the
forward edge of its port wing section, slicing through the metallic hull
and quickly reducing the raider's components to a sudden burst of light
and debris that barely scored the well armoured surface of Starbuck's
viper as he continued the arcing motion through the space that the raider
had occupied before its destruction, stabilizing his movement to catch
sight of Apollo's viper completing a similar sweep past the debris of the
second raider.
     "Is is just me, or did that seem a little too easy?" Apollo aligned
his viper with his wingman's in another swiftly negotiated arc, "They
didn't put up much of a fight."
     "Sounds a lot like the encounter that Boomer and Jolly had just
before they stumbled over the base ships," Starbuck studied his scanner
intently, "but there's nothing on the scanner now. Both the base ship
/and/ the electrical disruption are gone," Starbuck looked over at his
friend and Captain, "Well, Skipper? What are your orders, Sir?"
     "We haven't gathered much in the way of information. We go a little
further along our original course, until fuel restrictions force us to
return to the Fleet," Apollo flashed another white smile across the space
between himself and his wingman, "that is, if you reckon that I've passed
your fitness inspection, Lieutenant."
     "It's nice to have you back out here with me, Buddy," Starbuck
grinned sheepishly, then returned his attention to the console before him
as the wingmen continued on their vigilant journey, "was I watching you
that closely?" 
     "It's alright, Starbuck," Apollo laughed softly as he ran a series
of quick system checks, glancingly observing his own scanner display, "I
haven't been able to move for the last half yahren without someone
rushing to help me. I guess I just have to wait for everyone to get used
to me being back on my feet."
     "Will that be /before/ Adama puts an auricon Colonel's braid on the
collar of your flight jacket, /Captain/?" Starbuck had quickly recovered
a measure of his previous bravado, "if I recall correctly, you implied
that you'd be remaining on active flight status, but you didn't say you
/wouldn't/ be taking Tigh's place."
     "Starbuck, you might as well give up," Apollo's voice took on a
chiding tone, "I told you that I'm not at liberty to comment on personnel
assignments." 
     "You don't have to, Apollo," Starbuck grinned, this time
mischievously, keeping his next thought to himself, /I can read you like
an antique Kobollian Field Manual, my friend//.
     Apollo gave his wingman a briefly enigmatic look, then returned his
attention to the star field before him as the two warriors roared on,
turbo chargers firing briefly as they laughed together, easily, in the
fashion of the closest of friends, maintaining a practiced watchfulness
for what unknown threats might lay before them and the Colonial Fleet.
 
***  

Chapter Two - Scene Two

     /Whirr. Bark. Bark./
     Drone One shifted position as a carefully applied progressive matrix
repair program made it's way through the mechanical daggit guardian's
systems, evoking a glance from each of the two diminutive men sitting
across from one another under a softly lit area deep within the darkened
interior of Doctor Wilker's laboratory down on the Lambda deck of the
Battlestar Galactica.
     "I don't intend to appear ungrateful or unduly critical, Doctor
Wilker," Chameleon turned from his brief study of the small drone, then
nodded in congenial thanks as Wilker leaned forward across the work
platform, hefting a large crystalline decanter and tilting it in a
practiced motion to replenish the small supply of flame coloured liquid
in the miniscule tumbler grasped delicately in Chameleon's agile hand,
"aren't you concerned about, er, /overindulging/ during a period of alert
status?" Chameleon tipped the small glass to his lips, carefully
swallowing a tiny sip of the potent liquor, grimacing in a bittersweet
expression of discomfort and anticipation as it burned its way over his
tongue and past his throat. He smiled contentedly as the warm rush of
intoxication momentarily moved in a wave up over his chest and face,
"What if you were to be called to assist in a crisis?"
     "That's what we have /these/ for, Chameleon," Wilker's typically
mournful tone was downright funereal as he gestured toward a tray,
balanced precariously atop a stack of computer print outs on the work
surface near the Doctor's right arm, and containing two large medical
injectors, each sealed in a thin plaston wrap and filled to their maximum
incremental measurement indicators with a dark bluish gel-like fluid,
"Trioxon solution," Wilker raised his own miniscule tumbler, filled to
the brim with the flame-coloured drink, and gestured with it in
Chameleon's direction, "in the event that the /minor/ effects of a few
harmless shots of alcohol were to become /inconvenient/, one shot of this
directly into the bloodstream will give you the virtually instantaneous
sobriety of a Tribunal Administrator. Cheers!" Wilker downed his drink
with a smooth arcing motion and a satisfying, and strangely graceful,
exhalation of /Wooo!/, as the brightly potent liquid burned its way into
his own bloodstream, "/that/ was a good batch!"  
     "Indeed," Chameleon maintained his congenial expression and nodded
once more as Wilker promptly freshened both mens' drinks, filling the
tumblers, as he had been for the several centaurs since the announcement
had been broadcast over the Unicom that the alert status was to continue
indefinitely, and he had pulled the large decanter from its distillation
chamber, settling at the work platform with his guest and producing the
two small tumblers from a nearby shelving cubicle. "You've been most
generous and hospitable, Doctor, considering that I've been stranded here
on the Galactica, under your feet, for more than half a daily cycle."
     "Nonsense, my good man," Wilker shrugged and lifted his eyebrows,
tilting his head in a politely dismissive gesture and downing yet another
tumbler of the most certainly flammable liquor, "those of us in
non-combatant positions have an intimate understanding of what it means
to sit and wait until our specialized skills are required for whatever
urgent matter may arise along this, this.../mystic quest/ that we've been
on now, for how long?
     "I believe it's been about three and one half yahrens since the
Destruction, Doctor," Chameleon said quietly, sharing a briefly grim
expression with Wilker, "you were here on the Galactica when it happened,
I gather?"
     "Yes," Wilker set down his empty tumbler, reaching once more for the
decanter, refilling both his tumbler and Chameleon's with an agility that
belied the level of alcoholic intoxication that the Doctor had achieved,
"the Galactica's been my home since Adama was first assigned to command
her. I didn't lose as much as most of our people did in the Destruction,
Chameleon," Wilker grimaced in what Chameleon guessed could be a poor
approximation of philosophical smile, "/I/ still have my home and much of
my family intact."
     "Then /you/ are a lucky man, my good Doctor," Chameleon lifted his
eyebrows and watched in agreeable fascination as Doctor Wilker slumped
into unconsciousness, face down on the work top, his rather boney arms
splayed before him, the crystalline stopper from the liquor decanter
rolling gently from the now flaccid fingers of one limp hand. "A very
lucky man," Chameleon shrugged amiably and downed the remainder of his
own drink, placing his tumbler onto the work top and replacing the
stopper into the top of the nearby decanter. Stumbling slightly, he
lowered himself from his perch on the precarious stool that the Doctor
had provided for him and turned to survey the large central chamber of
the science laboratory in which he stood. Wandering aimlessly from the
well-lit area in which he and Wilker had been sitting, Chameleon's eyes
were suddenly drawn to a familiar shape displayed on a two dimensional
plaston image displayed on a back lit sheet of thin, opaque tylium.
Narrowing his eyes in curiosity, the deceptively agile old man moved
further into shadowed area that accommodated the manual viewing screen,
/genetic sequence samples/, Chameleon studied the various sheets of
plaston tucked into the grooves defining the area of localized back
lighting that made the images on the transparent sheets clearly visible
in the darkness of the lab, /hemotype, iris cone count/, the old man took
a step back, a sudden pattern leaping out at him, clearly recognizable to
a man accustomed to yahrens of assessing the variables of chancery gaming
tables and back-chamber Pyramid games, /Lords of Kobol, this could be
significant/. 
     /Bark. Whirr. Bark./, Drone One stepped aside in the attitude of
what Captain Apollo's son, Boxey, had often claimed was its tendency to
pout, Chameleon having turned and tripped over the erstwhile survey drone
turned guardian daggit, falling to the deck and landing painfully next to
the base of Wilker's work platform.
     "Oh my," Chameleon pulled himself up the height of the stool that he
had previously vacated and nodded in Drone One's direction, "I /do/ beg
your pardon," he elevated himself to his feet and stood shakily, reaching
over Wilker's snoring form to grasp one of the Trioxon injectors from its
tray, pulling off the thin plaston film and pursing his lips in resigned
determination, extending his slender, though wiry arm and bringing the
injector spike down squarely through the fabric covering the fleshiest
portion of his own upper thigh. Chameleon grunted, not so much at the
effect of the injection puncture, but at the almost instantaneous pain
that tightened like a ferron band about his now tender head, "Oh my,"
Chameleon clenched his sharply featured face into an attitude of further
determination and plucked the second Trioxon injector from the tray, "My
apologies, Doctor Wilker," the old man moved slowly around the work top
to stand gazing sadly down at the scientist, listening to the
surrealistically mournful tone of the unconscious man's snore, then once
more extended his agile arm, this time to drive an injector spike through
the loosely fitted material of the pale coloured uniform trousers and
into the fleshiest, and most conveniently exposed area of Doctor Wilker's
less than ample backside, "I /am/ sorry about this, my dear man, but I
believe that I may have discovered an urgent matter that requires your
specialized skills, and I'm afraid that I can't think of a more
non-combatant means of gaining your sobriety!"

***  

Chapter Two - Scene Three
 
     Apollo moved through a dense fog. There was something...the base
ship...then, light, blindingly brilliant, but accompanied by a heavy,
almost viscously oppressive sound, like a cold moist blanket, irritating
his skin, so low in frequency that that its rhythm had pulsed forcefully
through his body, into his mind, then darkness...
     He had lowered the level of illumination in the chamber as they'd
entered from the corridor, pulling Sheba into an embrace in the partial
darkness near the center of the main chamber of what he recognized as the
quarters that he had shared with his son, Boxey, in the days before his
marriage to the woman he now felt, warm and real against him.
     The light and the sickening sound were forgotten as he moved his
fingers slowly along the shoulder seam that defined the length of the
fastening strips at the yoke of her tunic, separating the two surfaces,
tracing the contour of her collar bone through the thin barrier of the
pressure suit that she wore, as did every active duty pilot in the
Colonial Fleet, beneath her uniform like a second skin. He moved his hand
back upward, reaching for the pressure suit fastening, then felt her
stiffen and move back from his touch. 
     "What is it?" he whispered into her ear, then kissed her neck softly
and pulled her close, the smell of her hair like a heady perfume in his
nostrils, "I've made you uncomfortable..."
     "It...it's not...it's not you," he could feel her tremble within his
warm embrace, her whispered words tumbling reluctantly from her lips as
she lowered her head, allowing her hair to obscure her features from the
periphery of his vision, fighting back the tears that he could feel on
her face as his cheek brushed against hers in the near darkness of the
chamber, "it's just that, well, I've never...I haven't ever..." 
     "Sheba," dawning realization struck the Captain with sudden clarity,
/never/, he stepped back and moved his hands upward to touch her face
with his gentle palms, lifting her down-turned face until she looked
upward, meeting his gaze reluctantly, awkwardly, a flush of redness
moving up from her throat, colouring her cheeks as she struggled to
resist the urge to burst into tears. /She's embarrassed because of
/that/. For Sagan's sake, Skipper, don't say something stupid and make it
worse/, Apollo moved his thumb to brush away an errant tear that had
begun to trace it's way down the side of her nose, touching her skin as
gently as he could, desperate for her not to feel uncomfortable with him,
"Oh, Sheba, I am so sorry. I made an assumption that...well, when we
first met, you projected a very self-assured and experienced persona," he
smiled in remembrance, "the way you shot Starbuck down at the first
advance was truly masterful, but I can see now, I should have realized, a
ranking female warrior serving on a ship predominately populated by men,
being the Commander's daughter," he voiced what perhaps only another
child of a ship's Commander would so thoroughly understand, "it's the
same problem I've seen my sister endure at times, people might assume
that you were, um, more /worldly/, like many warriors are, but, of
course, no man under Cain's command would have had the nerve to approach
you, except perhaps Bojay, who, fortunately for me, is your friend, and
not your lover," he slid his hands downward to rest them on her slender
shoulders, holding her gaze with his own and stammering ever so slightly,
his own face having reddened, much to his dismay, as he continued
speaking, "if you're not ready, I can...I mean, we can wait until after
we're...I don't want to pressure you to go further than...when you're
ready to..."
     His words were stopped as Sheba briefly touched two delicate fingers
to his lips, then moved back into his embrace, pulling his arms around
her and, in turn, encircling his waist with her own.
     "Stop babbling, Skipper. I don't want you to stop," she whispered
into his ear, "I just don't want to disappoint you."
     "Disappoint /me/?" he tightened his arms around her as he once more
leaned downward to kiss her neck and then return the whisper with one of
his own, "I doubt very much if /you/ could disappoint me," he laughed
softly, nervously, "in case you hadn't noticed, my name is /not/
Starbuck, and I /don't/ have a former girlfriend on almost every ship in
the Fleet," Apollo felt her trembling begin to subside with his teasing
tone, as he loosened his hold on her, stepping back and taking her by the
hand, making an effort at a more relaxed expression, smiling a little
forcedly and pulling her gently in a walk beside him as he reached toward
the touch plate that would open the hatch leading into his private
chamber, "all the same, let's discuss it in here," his face flushed to a
slightly darker shade, "I mean, I know Boxey's staying with Athena
tonight, but, well, even though he knows that we're to be married, I'd
prefer not to risk having him walk in on..." he paused with the opening
of the hatch and walked through, into the small, utilitarian bedchamber,
Sheba beside him, her hand clasped firmly within the embrace of his own,
the hatch closing behind them with a small /swish/ of compressed air. He
pressed a series of keys that initiated the 'lock door' function and
manipulated the illumination up only so far as to match the level of
semi-darkness in the main chamber, hoping to give her, indeed both of
them, an opportunity to feel less scrutinized with the obscurity of their
mutual vision, and in spite of the intimacy of their posture...
     "Apollo!" the fog returned abruptly, rushing past his face as
Starbuck's voice came from very far away, but why was Starbuck here, with
Sheba and...sudden consciousness brought the Captain's mind reeling
wildly away from thoughts of his wife and the first time that he had made
love with her, close to two yahrens ago, in the darkness of his chamber,
both of them awkward with the newness of this evolution of their
relationship, just sectons before their marriage, on a rare occasion of
privacy in that time of nearly constant enemy attacks upon the Fleet. His
senses came crashing back to the present, back to the space beneath the
canopy of his viper, Starbuck's voice ringing urgently in his ears,
"Apollo! Can you hear me?"
     "Yes! I'm awake!" the Captain ran a speedy check of his fighter's
systems, finding, much to his relief, that the environmental and gravity
stabilizing systems appeared fully operational. His reaction was less
than pleased, however, when it became evident that his scanning sensors
were unresponsive, "My life support and gravitational controls are fine,
but I'm flying blind with no scanners! Visual navigation references
only!"
     "Same here," Starbuck's tone registered relief at the sound of his
Captain's voice, "what in Hades just hit us? According to my chronometer,
we've been out of it for at least ten centons! I can't remember anything
except..." Starbuck's voice trailed off into a thoughtful silence.
     "There was a light," Apollo said quietly as he crossed several
relays on his console in an effort to divert power to his scanner array,
"then, well, I guess I must have been hallucinating, or dreaming," Apollo
exhaled in frustration as sparks flew from the space behind the small
access panel that he had removed from his viper's console, then swore
softly as he touched a scorched fingertip to his tongue, "I can't get my
sensors working, Starbuck. Let's try and orient ourselves from our
previous positions and make our way back to the Galactica. We're in no
shape to elude a base ship, let alone three or more of them.
     "I'm with /you/, pal," Starbuck's voice now had a vague tone of
un-ease, "I don't know what's going on out here, but I don't like the
idea of hanging around to find out without a working scanning sensor. For
all we know, there could be a whole squadron of raiders bearing down on
us, and we wouldn't see them until they were right top of us."
     "Right," Apollo said decisively, "let's get our course plotted and
get back to the Galactica at best speed."
     "I think I've got a bearing triangulated at mark zero two alpha,"
Starbuck said, looking up from his console and sharing a bright smile
with Apollo, "permission to lead the wing, Sir?" 
     "Affirmative, Starbuck," Apollo laughed, though an edge of tension
belied his appearance of good humour, "Looks like I'm limping home behind
you as you feared I might."
     "Not to worry, Skipper," Starbuck mirrored Apollo's edgy tone, "I
promise I won't tell the missus."
     Apollo said nothing, the image of Sheba's face, and a renewed sense
of un-ease moving through his mind as he fell into a tight formation
behind Starbuck, following a course that they both hoped would lead them
safely home, and away from the unknown and unseen force that had
mysteriously disabled them.

***  

Chapter Two - Scene Four

     "Lieutenant," Athena turned at the sound of her Commander's voice,
nodding in an attitude of acknowledgement and deference as Cain moved
deliberately to stand beside her chair, tucked his scepteron along one
forearm, and placed his free hand on the dark blue fabric that covered
the younger warrior's lean shoulder, "any word yet?"
     "Captain Bojay's Patrol has landed in Alpha Bay, Commander,"
Athena's voice faltered slightly and she paused, staring at the scan grid
displayed on the largest and most central of the monitors inset on the
console before her, then continued in a steadier tone, "There has been no
word from Galactica Recon Patrol Alpha," the young woman turned and
looked up into Cain's rugged face, meeting his steady blue gaze, "Captain
Apollo and his wingman have been gone now for almost an entire daily
cycle, Sir," Athena's breath faltered as tears misted her own pale blue
eyes. She blinked them back determinedly and swallowed hard, clenching
her jaw in her effort not to succumb to the spread of the numbness that
had begun to creep up from the pit of her stomach, "they should have made
contact with Core Command at least six centaurs ago."
     "I know, Athena. I lost a brother, much as you did," Cain's gravelly
tone was audible only to the dark-haired Lieutenant, as he leaned stiffly
downward, his lips close to her ear, "showing concern over the people you
love doesn't leave you any less capable, or deny you the right to serve
on this bridge. Remember that in times to come, when I'm no longer here
to remind you, my girl," Cain squeezed Athena's shoulder briefly, giving
her a decidedly paternal smile of understanding, knowing how traumatic
the sight of Zac's death had been for her as she had watched it happen on
the scan grid display from her station on the Galactica's bridge, as the
young man's exploding viper had heralded the Destruction of the Twelve
Colonies of Man some three and one half yahrens ago. The horror of it had
been described to him by Adama some sectons previously, not long after
Cain's medically terminal fate had been confirmed by Doctor Salik, on a
quiet and rare evening as the two Commanders had sat comfortably on the
bench sat in Adama's quarters, a bottle of strong drink and memories of
battles won and lost shared between them. Cain released his grip and
turned to focus his attention upon his young, though battle hardened
Executive Officer, "Tolen! Report! Pegasus Alpha Patrol's status?"
     "Captain Bojay will be on his way up from decontamination in five
centons, Sir," Tolen stood, hands clasped behind his slender, though
athletically formed back, "he reports no sign of the electrical anomaly,
but says he has something of note to report," Tolen lowered his tone,
keeping his voice audible only to Cain's and Athena's ears, "something he
didn't want to broadcast through open space, even over a coded channel."
     "Strange," Cain muttered thoughtfully, "we all saw the scan display.
That field was massive," Cain tapped Tolen gently on the shoulder with
the auricon wings atop the head of his ever-present scepteron and then
moved to perch casually into a semi-seated position against the nearby
perimeter rail that defined the circumference of the command platform,
"once we make a determination regarding the relevance of Bojay's report,
Tolen, we'll send a copy of our data to Komma, over on the Galactica.
Adama has him compiling and correlating various types of anomalous scan
readings, hoping to find some sense to something that might simply be a
sequence of mere random events."
     "Is that what /you/ believe, Sir?" Tolen moved to sit against the
rail beside his Commander, the man with whom he had shared a multitude of
battles and the burden and authority of command, "that all of this,"
Tolen waved his hand in a generically inclusive gesture, "the journey to
find the Thirteenth Tribe, is merely an event of historical note, nothing
more? What about Commander Adama's mysticism?" Tolen smiled as Athena
regarded him with a lifted eyebrow, knowing the young Colonel well enough
after a half yahren of service aboard the Pegasus under his friendly,
patient and efficient direction, to appreciate that he was attempting to
lighten the edginess of the mood that had descended upon the Pegasus
bridge after news of the tardiness of the Galactica's Recon Probe Alpha
had been relayed privately to Tolen through his headset and he had
attempted what he had hoped was the least painful means of informing his
young Bridge Officer that her brother and Starbuck had failed to report
in to their Core Command at the appointed centaur.
     "By your leave, Sir!" Captain Bojay rushed up the steps to the
command platform, close behind him, his wingman, Lieutenant Masud, Silver
Spar's Second Wing, a dark young man with a serious demeanour who had
been with the squadron back in the time before Gamoray, when the
Commander's daughter, Sheba, had been the Squadron Commander of the
Battlestar Pegasus.
     "Ah, Captain. Report!" Cain straightened his posture and stared
expectantly at his Squadron Commander, "Tolen tells me that the
electrical anomaly has eluded you hotshots!"
     "Apparently so, Sir," Bojay responded, not completely disguising the
wry tone in his voice, "we showed up for a party, but there was nobody
there," the young Captain swallowed hard and showed his Commander a grim
expression, "but we /did/ find a debris field," Bojay scanned the faces
on the command platform, sharing a glance with Masud, then returning his
attention to his Commander's questioning face, "a debris field that
appeared to both of us to be comprised of the components of a Cylon base
ship with what might very well have been a full complement of centurions
and raiders," Bojay set his jaw, his expression becoming even more grim,
"which could mean, in my view, Sir, that we may be in imminent danger of
encountering a force capable of destroying a base ship. Whether that
force is a phenomena of nature or the action of an aggressor, is unclear
at this time, Commander!"
     "Great gall-monging shards of Imperious Leader's glass jaw, Bojay!"
Cain lifted his scepteron and stepped toward the command console,
reaching over Athena's shoulder with the ornamental baton and using its
auricon coated tip to adjust a series of relays, opening the Alpha
Channel frequency, and then, with another practiced motion, sending its
incoming visual and audio signals to the monitor, and small speaker,
uppermost on the console.
     "Cain!" Adama's image appeared on the monitor, his face registering
an obvious relief that was decidedly incongruous to the sombre mood that
had enveloped the officers gathered upon the command platform of the
Battlestar Pegasus, "but, I was only just about to contact /you/! We have
a coded message from Galactica Alpha Recon! Apollo and Starbuck are
making their way back at best speed on a visually oriented course. Some
mysterious force has taken out their scanning arrays and navigational
computers, however they report no injury or life support failures. They
took out two raiders before their equipment failed, but they report no
contact with the base ships that Boomer's patrol documented," Adama
paused, Cain's sombre expression telling him that his was not the only
news, "Cain? What is it? What else has happened? Is it Bojay?"
     "He and his wingman are here with us now," Cain peered intently at
the image of Adama's now cautiously expectant expression, "Adama, they
haven't found the source of the electrical disruption, but they've found
something else," he paused, his jaw clenching with the gravity of his
news, "they've found a debris field out there in Beta Sector, and both of
them are convinced from their initial visual scans that it was produced
by the destruction of a least one fully armed Cylon Base Ship!" 
     "Lords, Cain," Adama's stunned expression transmitted clearly
through the relay, his features exhibiting the same troubled thoughts
that were reeling through the minds of all the warriors who stood
collectively, listening in grim silence, upon the command platforms of
the Galactica and the Pegasus, "What is going /on/ out there?"
     "I don't know, Adama. Perhaps we'll have more when Komma analyses
the data," Cain said with a snort of derision, "at any rate, it's more
annoying felgercarb to get in the way of my retirement," Cain pointed the
scepteron directly at the image of his friend and fellow Commander,
"let's get busy and wrap this one up, Adama! I won't have my send-off
ruined by a few base ships and some elusive electrical disruptions!"
     "We shall endeavour to have the mystery solved and the situation
reconciled as expeditiously as possible, Commander Cain, "Adama smiled,
though his gaze remained grim, with an added element of sorrow that
became more evident with his next words, which were relayed in a subdued
and slightly hesitant tone, "though I had hoped that you were to be
fashionably late for the, uh, /send-off/."
     "I appreciate that Adama," Cain laughed loudly, his bright blue eyes
shining with mischievous delight, startling the warriors who stood with
him on the command platform and evoking a sad smile of affection, and
sincere amusement, from the image of Adama that regarded his ailing
counterpart through the Alpha Channel signal being transmitted between
the two ships, "I shall endeavour to accommodate you by staying alive for
just a little while longer."

***  

Chapter Two - Scene Five  

     "Slow /down/, Doctor Wilker!" Colonel Tigh spun on his heel as he
paced in frustration, skimming the reams of paper and two dimensional
transparency images that Wilker and Chameleon had unceremoniously dumped
on the surface on his modestly equipped desk, in the utilitarian office
chamber aft of the rear gallery of the Battlestar Galactica's Command
Centre, "Start from the beginning and run it by me step by step.
Precisely /how/ is the genetic hemotype structure of this sample related
to the appearance of this new base ship?" 
     "That's just it, Colonel. I don't believe that it /is/ a base ship.
You see, well, I'd better let Chameleon explain it to you," Wilker winced
and rubbed his temples slowly, gesturing for his erstwhile drinking
companion to step forward, "He /is/ the one who first noticed the
correlations between the two data sequences," Wilker found himself
meeting Colonel Tigh's intent gaze, noting a subtle hint of suspicion
flickering across the Executive Officer's elegant features, "he's been,
uh, /assisting/ me in the lab since the commencement of the alert, and
the resulting inter-ship civilian traffic suspension."
     "Hmphf," the sound escaped Tigh's lips as the aroma of something
akin to the turbo exhaust of a shuttle with a faulty environmental filter
assaulted his senses, /'assisting' you in emptying one of those foul
canisters of rot-gut hidden in the distillation chambers, more likely/,
Tigh shook his head disgustedly, though he refrained from any verbal
castigation of the Chief Science Officer, as he surveyed the information
that had been laid out in relative disarray on his normally well-ordered
desk, and turned instead toward Chameleon, whose breath was every bit as
aromatic as the dishevelled scientist, "Chameleon, what /is/ this
'pattern' of yours and /why/ did the two of you find it significant
enough for Doctor Wilker to call me away from the command platform during
a period of alert status. It had better be for something more momentous
than the opportunity to watch the two of you cluttering up my workspace!"
     "Well," Chameleon tilted his head with a tentatively congenial
smile, shrugging in good-natured resignation, though painfully aware of
Tigh's volatile expression and the slightly flared condition of the
Executive Officer's nostrils, /and/ of the band of discomfort that still
held his own cranium in its virtual vise-like grip, "Um, yes," the small
erstwhile confidence man coughed quietly and fixed his bright blue eyes
determinedly upward, gesturing gracefully with his small hands while he
spoke, as was his habit, and resisting the impulse to fidget awkwardly
under the Colonel's piercing glare, "You see, I was taking a brief /tour/
of Doctor Wilker's facility, er, while he was, um, /supervising/ the
matrix repair procedures being administered to Drone One," Chameleon's
smile faltered slightly as he coughed once more and assumed as amiable an
expression as the pounding pain behind his eyes would allow him, "and I
happened to see a selection of images and graphic data displays that your
Corporal Komma has been compiling for Doctor Wilker's review. I was about
to turn away, uh, to /assist/ Doctor Wilker with the, um, well, the point
is that I happened to notice the other sampling of data sequences
displayed on the remaining section of the manual viewing screen."
     "You mean this?" Tigh asked as he studied the plaston transparency
in his hand, "this is a /medical/ scan of some sort," he lifted an
eyebrow and regarded Chameleon with an assessing gaze, "what does /this/
have to do with the intelligence recordings of the base ships?" 
     "It's a basic genetic hemotype structure, Colonel," Chameleon
reached into a precarious pile of transparencies to pull out an image of
the Cylon base ships as they had been recorded by Lieutenant Boomer's
patrol viper, almost two daily cycles ago, "these lines drawn by the
riveted seams connecting what could be panels of armoured tylinium take
on a whole new aspect when seen next to this molecular image of the iris
cone count sample from this subject in Corporal Komma's study,"
Chameleon's voice took on an uncharacteristically sombre tone, "Colonel,
this structure in front of the two base ships was presumed to be
/another/ base ship, perhaps a new prototype, of differing design from
the other two. What if it's not? What if it's a machine patterned, for
some reason, to project an energy field whose matrix design resonates
with a specifically targeted segment of the standard elements of the
human genome?" the old man shared a grim nod with Tigh as the darker man
sat on the edge of the desk, transparency in hand, oblivious to the
avalanche on printouts that began to cascade to the floor at the nudge of
his thigh, comprehension beginning to dawn over his elegant features as
Chameleon continued speaking in a clear emotionless tone, "as you know,
Colonel, I've been helping out on our Orphan Ship for some time now,
facilitating and assisting with the genetic testing and profiling that we
use to identify and reunite our children with whatever remnants of their
families might be scattered throughout the Fleet's population," Chameleon
pointed at the image of the structure in question, "I've become quite
familiar with various types of genetic samplings and images, and I call
tell you definitively that the pattern on the surface of this thing the
size of a base ship, is constructed in such a way as to resemble the
basic foundational structure of human tissue."
     "Furthermore," Wilker interjected, his own head pounding painfully,
though he managed a level tone, "this structure here," the scientist
brought a slender finger to rest against the transparency in Chameleon's
hands, "looks to me like it could be a mount for either a weapon, or
possibly an /antenna/."
     "An antenna?" Tigh exclaimed, rising from his perch on the edge of
his desk and stepping over the pile of printouts that now lay on the deck
at his feet, "for the purpose of doing what?"
     "Colonel," Doctor Wilker intoned in as mournful a fashion as the
timbre of his voice had ever reverberated against the bulkheads of any
chamber aboard the battlestar that had been the inimitable scientist's
home for these many yahrens since the early days of Adama's command,
"though the data that we have is minimal at best, it is my considered
opinion that this structure that Lieutenant Boomer's patrol encountered,
and the one toward which Captain Apollo's patrol was last headed, may be,
not only a transmitter, but an incredibly powerful /amplifier/ that could
be capable of producing and maintaining a directed signal at the Fleet
that /may/ have a disrupting effect upon the segments of genetic
structure predominately found in the sensory organs of the human body!"
     "In simple terms, Colonel," Chameleon added, gazing thoughtfully at
the image in his hand, "it could be a machine designed to target the
average human brain, perhaps even extract information from it, but surely
capable of inducing an hallucinatory effect upon the systems of the mind
of anyone within scanning range!" 
     "By you leave, Sir!" Lieutenant Rigel rapped her small hand firmly
upon the bulkhead next to the control panel beside the office chamber's
open hatchway, "We've just had word! Captain Apollo's recon patrol
estimates arrival in Alpha Landing Bay in a centaur . They encountered
only one Cylon patrol wing, which they destroyed before sustaining
systems damage to both of their fighters and, well, the rest is a little
confused, Colonel. Pegasus Recon Patrol came in with some disturbing
news. The Commander asked me to fetch you back to the command platform."
     "Thank you, Lieutenant," Tigh nodded officiously, "I'll be there
directly," the Colonel moved a long elegant finger in a sweeping gesture
indicating both of the diminutive, dry-mouthed men who stood swaying
precariously, though determinedly maintaining their respective footholds
upon the deck of the office chamber, "You two! Pick up this mess and wait
for me with it in the main conference chamber," Tigh took one last,
disgusted look around, "but first, take a turbo wash, for Sagan's sake!
Do something about that breath and wash off the remnants of that homemade
scow paint remover! It smells like a poorly cleaned gaming chancery in
here!"
     "Yes, Colonel," Wilker intoned as the Executive Officer's elegant
back disappeared from view into distant hum and constantly shifting
lights of the main chamber of the Command Centre. Wilker and Chameleon
stood in silence together, regarding the empty hatchway.
     "I think that went rather well, wouldn't you say?" Chameleon's
hopeful smile wilted slightly under Wilker's funereal gaze, "uh, huh,"
Starbuck's father sighed resignedly, with a wry down turning of his lips
and, with a philosophical lift of his brow, moved to help Wilker collect
the pieces of paper and plaston that had been scattered across Tigh's
desk top.
 
***  

Chapter Two - Scene Six

     "Valkyrie Leader, we are relaying your trajectory for landing Bay
Alpha," Lieutenant Rigel's familiar, well modulated tones held only a
portion of Sheba's practiced pilot's attention as she targeted the
landing bay on the port side of the Battlestar Galactica with the nose of
her fighter, glancing with a practiced eye toward her wingman's ship,
gauging the parameters of the distance between them as they pulled into
formation for their shift rotation from the ever moving net of vipers
that had, at the first indication of enemy activity, formed an elliptical
security grid encompassing the entirety of the Colonial Fleet.
     "Affirmative, Core Command," Sheba paused, swallowing hard, "Rigel?
Any news?"
     "Affirmative, Valkyrie Leader," Sheba relaxed visibly as she sensed
the positive tone of Rigel's response, "we have confirmation that both
members of Galactica Alpha Recon are on their way in on visual
navigation. We expect them in Alpha Bay in less than a centaur." 
     "Thanks, Core Command," Sheba exhaled the breath that she now
realized she had been holding back. /He's alright. He hasn't flown out
with Starbuck and disappeared on his first day back, like some horrible
stage drama, just before Father.../, Sheba pushed aside her next thought
as she moved the control in her hand with a practiced, conditioned
precision, adjusting her heading and speed to begin the appointed
approach into the welcoming embrace and shelter of the battlestar's
landing bay.
     "You see, Sheba?" Lieutenant Deitra's voice filled the air beneath
Sheba's canopy, rich with its habitual tone of gentle self-assurance and
confidence, "the Skipper's just fine." 
     "Who said I was worried?" the two warriors laughed together at
Sheba's obviously self-mocking tone, "In fact, I wasn't at all concerned
about...
     /HWHHMMMMFFF/
     Sheba felt an electrical charge move over her body as a sickening,
pulsing sound moved with a boomingly low frequency against her, dulling
her senses and pulling her through a thick, muddy cloud of diffused light
as she moved to depress the relay beside the Gamma Frequency refinement
array that Boomer and Apollo had been building, over time, gradually
upgrading the original control console of the last remaining Celestial
Chamber above the pulsing thrusters of the massive engines of the
Battlestar Galactica.
     "That's it, Skipper," she giggled as she spun in the observation
chair, scooping up one of the bottles of ambrosa that she and her husband
of four daily cycles had smuggled quietly, and with considerable stealth
considering the level of their intoxication, out of the victuals supply
that had been piled high in the small mess area in the Blue Squadron
Barracks like a monolith of food and drink buffeted by the sounds of
revelry of Starbuck's improvised Fleet-wide wedding celebration, as
structured after the descriptive writings in the antique Field Manual
that Adama had placed trustingly into the Lieutenant's hands after having
read the translated portion of the ancient field combat sealing ritual
with which Apollo and Sheba had been married, "the Thirteenth Colony is
going to have to wait until after the party's over," she took a drink of
the amber coloured liquid and watched with a smile as Apollo climbed up
to sit upon the edge of observation platform, dangling his booted feet
over the top of the short ladder and reaching back to accept the
proffered ambrosa bottle from his wife's hand. He lay back and coughed
down a generous swallow of the strong liquor and watched her spin the
chair once more in a circle, stopped abruptly and stumbling, to land in a
heap beside the laughing Captain, "I've left the receiving and recording
equipment running, but the rest of the console is /off/," Sheba combed
the fingers of one hand through her light brown hair and moved to lay her
head on his shoulder. He shifted his position, leaning his back against
the smoothest portion of the base of the swivelling observation chair and
tightened an arm around his recently acquired wife, holding her closely
and laying his dark cheek against the softness of her hair, "If Earth
calls, they'll have to leave a message," Sheba moved to look into
Apollo's bright green eyes as he handed her the bottle with a broad,
white smile, "I heard Tigh tell Adama, shortly after the sealing ritual,
that, according the victual inventory, he estimates Starbuck's Warrior
Priest styled sealing celebration could last as long as fifteen days,
maybe more," they sputtered with laughter, their mutual mirth due to the
fact that, according to the translation of that same ancient text, the
length of the celebration was to dictate the time that the two of them
were to have together, undisturbed by anyone, including, supposedly, the
'evil spirits' that the festivities were designed to distract and
discourage from any attempted attacks upon the bride and groom. 
     Apollo watched her take another drink, then took the bottle from her
hand, reaching behind them to set it carefully on the other side of the
base of the observation chair. 
     "I am certain Starbuck shall accommodate us by discovering some way
to make the party last for as long as humanly possible," Apollo's
laughter became more subdued as he leaned forward to kiss her, the sight
of the star field behind him...
     /HWHHMMMMFFF/
     Sheba heard the distant sound of a klaxon, and a voice, /Pull up!
Sheba! Pull up!/...then, more sound and unfocussed images...
     "Hmm?" Apollo's drowsy voice whispered softly into her ear as she
felt him roll over on the bed behind her, to slide his arm gently over
her, pulling her into an embrace under the soft blanket, "What's the
matter?"
     "I...um...the stars were wrong," she sat up, moving out of his
embrace and looking down at him in the darkness of the bedchamber that
they shared in the crew quarters section, pulling back the blanket to
expose the network of exo-skeletal filaments that supported the damaged
muscles around the scar on her husband's chest and the healing breaks in
his shoulder, collar bone and ribcage, /but, those came off a secton
ago/, she gazed up at the ovoid view port near the head of the bed, a
sudden chill tightening her stomach as a dark presence pulled at her
mind, willing her away from her study of the star field, /we're not here,
any more/, she gazing down at her sleeping husband, the tylinium alloy
filaments glinting in the darkness against the light of.../the star
field's not right/, the darkness pulled even harder, but she stared
determinedly at the star field framed by the view port, wrestling her
thoughts back under her own control, /this isn't real/...
     /HWHHMMMMFFF/  
     "Sheba! Pull up!" Deitra screamed desperately as she watched her
squadron leader's viper spiral wildly downward, out of control, directly
toward the huge entrance to the Battlestar Galactica's Alpha Landing Bay,
"Sheba! Pull up, /now/!"
     Sheba emerged violently through a dense fog of sound and light,
hearing only Deitra's voice, and pulled up hard on the control stick in
her hand, ignoring her displays and visually aligning herself on a
heading parallel to the painted lines and rows of indicator lights that
were visible on the deck of the landing bay, realizing with the sight of
the speedily approaching deck through the transparent tylium panels of
her viper canopy, that it was too late to check her instruments or
rethink her approach.
     "Galactica Core Command!" Sheba shouted abruptly into the
communication array before her on the console, "Valkyrie Leader is coming
in hot on Alpha Bay! Reverse thrusters are not responding! Get out of the
way, guys! I'm braking with forward thrusters once I hit the deck..."
Sheba's words were drowned out by the sudden screeching of metal on metal
as she vectored her viper into an acute angle with the landing bay deck,
minimizing the force of the impact and then pulling hard about in a sharp
manipulation of the control stick in her hand, grimacing with the effort
of resisting the centrifugal force that held her pinned to her pilot's
seat waiting in agonizing urgency until the sight of the star field
beyond the entrance that she had used told her that she had turned a full
one hundred and eighty degrees since beginning her wild slide toward the
interior of the bay. Sheba pushed down forcefully and briefly on the
thruster control switch, closing her eyes as the turbos fired, their
sudden burst of directed energy bringing the viper to a violent stop and
slamming her suddenly forward against the strong netted fabric of her
safety harness.
     "Lieutenant!" strong hands pulled at her safety harness as her
damaged canopy clattered noisily on the deck, "Lieutenant! Can you hear
me?" Sheba looked up into the dark eyes of a landing bay technician who
was hurriedly checking her over for injuries.
     "Frak," Sheba replied as she stared stonily down the length of the
angry tear in the decking of the landing bay, "on my first day back, like
some horrible stage drama," she muttered weakly as the technician pulled
her by the arm from the wreckage that had been her viper, "I don't
suppose we can avoid telling the Squadron Commander about this?"

***  

Chapter Two - Scene Seven

     "Adama," Colonel Tigh's voice rang out over the cacophony of sound
that emanated from the chaotic waves of warriors and support crew that
moved fluidly to attend to the multitude of communication chimes and
alert klaxons sounding from the duty stations in the galleries that
orbited the command platform of the Battlestar Galactica. Adama turned to
see the Executive Officer pressing a finger against the ear piece of his
headset, "Landing Bay Alpha reports no serious injuries. Lieutenant
Sheba's viper tore up the port side decking but the starboard is still
open for incoming traffic, " Tigh shared a look of relief with his friend
and Commander, "Sheba's on her way up here, now. The medics have cleared
her with minor scrapes and bruises. She's alright, Sir."
     "Thank the Lords of Kobol," Adama breathed the words with heartfelt
relief.  
     "Sir," Omega interjected crisply, "we have reports coming in from
all ships and fighters," the young man paused as he studied the console
before him, "it's not clear what hit us, Commander, but whatever it was,
it's taken out random electrical relays in multiple sections /and/ in
some of our active duty fighters. I have Rigel coordinating emergency
shift rotations to Beta Bay. I'm also getting reports from the medical
staff of multiple minor injuries from disorientation due to what appear
to be /mass hallucinations/," the Bridge Officer lifted his eyebrows, as
well as the timbre of his voice, and glanced up at Adama with an
enigmatic expression of mystification. 
     "Tigh, let's get to the conference chamber! It may be that Wilker's
theory is correct. Omega, you have the bridge! Apprise the Pegasus of our
status and send out a message on Unicom instructing all Fleet ships to
maintain their current positions, and alert status, until further
notice," Adama paused at the top of the command platform stairway, "and
redirect Lieutenant Sheba to join us in the main conference chamber.
Perhaps she can shed some light on what's happening out there!"
     "Aye, Sir," Omega nodded firmly and returned his attention to his
console as Adama and Tigh rushed down to the aft gallery and through the
hatchway that would take them along the corridor to the nearby conference
chamber.
     "Adama," Tigh frowned suspiciously, pausing to address his Commander
as he pressed the touch plate that would open the conference chamber
hatch, "From the looks, and the /smell/ of them, Wilker and Chameleon had
to have been doing a lot of drinking down there in the lab. I just don't
know how reliable..."
     /Bark. Bark. Whirr-irrr-rrr.../  
     Tigh's words were stopped as the two seasoned warriors froze, framed
in the hatchway together, taking in the sight of Doctor Wilker, Chameleon
beside him in a posture of attentive observation as the freshly scrubbed
senior watched the scientist manipulating a relay within the main control
unit of a partially disassembled Drone Two. Several small components of
the guardian drone's systems were spread across one half of the large
table that dominated the conference chamber, while the other half was
piled high with the transparencies and printouts that Wilker and
Chameleon had brought with them from Tigh's office chamber.
     "Ah, Colonel," Wilker said dryly, "You've arrived at last. Looks as
though our theory may have been partially confirmed," the Chief Science
Officer casually, and in a manner that, over the yahrens, had never
failed to give Tigh's sense of protocol a painful twinge, gestured with
the small soldering wand in his hand, indicating Drone Two, "I had Komma
bring the drone up here. It was disabled with that last burst of energy.
Komma and Calvin have reported to me that the electrical disruptions
throughout the Fleet appear random at this point. Drone Two was hit by
some sort of dampening wave that shorted out several of its relays, yet
none of the equipment in the nearby chambers appears to have been
affected," Wilker looked at the expressions of confused consternation on
Adama's and Tigh's faces, "this suggests to me that the phenomena is
being broadcast only on specified frequencies, targeting electrical
systems that are similar in mechanical structure to the human nervous
system. In fact, it's possible that the random bursts are indicative of
simple field testing procedures," Wilker scanned the faces of his Senior
Officers, his expression characteristically grim, "the Cylons may be
performing systematic tests at specific frequencies in order to find one
that will be adequately destructive."
     "I got here as fast as I..." Lieutenant Sheba, dishevelled and
bruised by her viper's abrupt encounter with the landing bay deck,
stopped in her tracks between Adama and Tigh as she took in the sight of
the conference room table, "Chameleon? Doctor Wilker?" she stared at the
two diminutive men, narrowing her eyes in speculative confusion, "Why is
your hair wet? You two look like you just got out of the turbo wash!"
     "Never mind that now!" Adama regained his power of speech and
stepped through the hatchway, Tigh and Sheba close behind him, "What do
you mean, Wilker? Are you saying that the damage to Drone Two supports
your theory that the Cylons are transmitting a signal that can disrupt
the functioning of our /minds/?" 
     "Yes, Commander," Wilker's expression was as lacking in hope as
Adama had ever seen it, "I believe so, Sir."
     "Tigh, have Omega contact the Pegasus on Alpha Channel and relay the
signal here to the conference room!" Adama turned toward Sheba as the
Colonel moved quickly toward the nearby communication array, "Lieutenant,
you look a little worse for wear," his concern for his son's wife was
evident in his tone, "I understand that you have taken it upon yourself
to perform some /cosmetic alterations/ on the deck of Alpha Landing Bay."
     "I'm fine, Sir, and the /alterations/ were unintended, I assure you.
I remember coming in for a standard approach when I found myself, well, I
remember a feeling of going through a fog, then, I think I may have been
hallucinating..." her voice trailed off as an image of the landing bay
deck moved threateningly through her mind, "Sir, if it hits us again..."
Sheba's gaze was drawn toward the monitor that sat atop the communication
console, as Cain's face came into view. 
     "Adama!" Cain's strident tone contrasted sharply with Sheba's
hesitant one, "What's this I hear about my little girl tearing a strip
out of your landing bay?"
     "We can discuss that later, Cain," Adama moved to stand beside Tigh,
speaking into the microphone inset into the communication array, "It
appears that Wilker's theory may have some substance after all..."
     /HWHHMMMMFFF/  
     "Adama!" Cain spoke sharply into the sudden static that replaced his
fellow Commander's image on the display monitor atop the console before
Athena's chair, "Adama..." Cain suddenly turned and scanned the eerily
silent Command Centre of the Battlestar Pegasus, his mind quickly
assessing the bizarre scene that lay before him, "Lieutenant?" he touched
Athena's shoulder, finding it hard and unyielding, her body apparently
frozen in place, like a well carved statue. Cain scanned the large
chamber once more, hearing only the sound of machinery, staring at one
after the other of his crew, all of them frozen in place as Athena
appeared to be, like statues, "What in Hades?" Cain whispered quietly,
thoughtfully tapping the stylized winged equine atop the head of the
ever-present scepteron against his palm, his strategist's mind working
quickly, searching for an efficacious course of action in such an
unfamiliar situation, "What have those gall-monging Cylons done now?"
     "They have developed a remotely controlled weapon that can
potentially interact with the human brain and nervous system in a
directed and destructive manner," Doctor Roman stepped through the aft
hatchway and moved toward the command platform, "they are performing
field tests on the device, /and/ with experimental teleportation
technology. They hope to teleport the amplification sphere, the structure
that you first mistook for a base ship, to a point in space directly
forward of the Fleet," Roman smiled gently at the man who had been his
Commander since shortly before the infamous battle at Molecay, when the
Pegasus had begun her journey away from the Twelve Colonies to ultimately
join the Galactica in defense of the Colonial Fleet, "I was wondering if
you might be up to a last viper flight before your retirement begins,
Commander," Roman gestured toward the aft hatchway through which he had
entered, "The Fleet needs you out there one more time. I can explain on
the way to the launch bay, Sir." 
     "You're one of /them/, aren't you Roman?" Cain smiled thoughtfully,
his bright eyes narrowed, "you're one of those aliens that helped save my
Baby from that creature, Iblis." 
     "Yes, Commander Cain," Roman nodded and gestured once more toward
the hatchway, "but, by your leave, Sir, this time, it is /your/
assistance that is required."

***  

Chapter Two - Scene Eight

     "Apollo and Starbuck will be approaching visual range of the
battlestars as you phase back into synchronous time with them, and the
rest of the Fleet," Roman spoke succinctly, clasping his hands behind his
back as he and Cain paused within the shadow of the viper currently
poised at the mouth of the first in an array of several launch tubes in
the Alpha Launch Bay of the Battlestar Pegasus, "Recon Alpha's navigation
and scanning arrays have been disabled by the weapon. They'll have to
cover you with visual references only," Roman smiled amiably, "you'll be
depending on their skill to cover you while you take out the antenna and
then assist you in destroying the amplifier itself, /without/ their
targeting scanners."
     "Roman," Cain extended the molded auricon pegasus at the head of his
scepteron toward the young field designated Doctor, an alien whose people
navigated what the people of the Fleet had come to know as the 'Ships of
Light', a brave young warrior who had served with distinction in the
medical section of the Commander's own vessel since just before the
Destruction of the Twelve Colonies, /three and one half yahrens, and I
never so much as suspected him/, "I've read all those handwritten reports
in Adama's private journal. I know the details of your peoples'
encounters with the Fleet from the time my little girl was first pulled
into the thrall of that Serpent of Hades who calls himself Iblis, and
pursues her still. I suppose you'll tell me next that there's some
gall-monging cosmic law of the universe that prevents /you/ from taking
direct action in this situation and flying this mission yourself, or
applying your comparatively advanced technology and enlightened
felgercarbing /attitudes/ to the problem, or that you're not revealing
your secret to me and sending me off on this mission because I'm dying
anyway. I suppose those medical treatments you cooked up with Salik have
induced a resistance to the signal coming from that Cylon amplifier?" 
     "Yes, Commander," Roman laughed in sincere amusement, "It is no
small task to deceive one of humanity's greatest strategists, even with
an enlightened felgercarbing /attitude/, Sir."
     "Why not just cure the damage from the radiation while you were at
it? Why not keep me alive?" Cain returned Roman's smile, "and that's
'humanity's /greatest strategist/' to you, my boy."
     "If that had been within the scope of my abilities, I most certainly
/would/ have, Sir," Roman's dark eyes regarded Cain with what the
Commander found himself believing to be genuine affection, "I /am/ sorry,
but, at best, I have been able only to extend your life for several
sectons, and, as you have guessed, bolster your existing measure of
immunity to the base signal structure produced by the electromagnetic
matrix that the creature you know as Iblis has imprinted on the Cylon
consciousness. However, the certainty of your departure from this
physical realm is a condition that I will not be allowed to prevent,
though the circumstances and timing can be altered."
     "I'm coming back from this one, Roman," Cain moved toward the steps
of the portable launch platform that would afford him access to the area
under the open canopy of the viper, "twice, I've taken the Pegasus into
deep space and disappeared for a time, on the second of those occasions,
I left my daughter behind, unable to let go of her hope for my return and
grieve for me properly," the Commander paused to smile grimly at the dark
haired young man before him, the alien that he himself had field promoted
to the title of Chief Medical Officer, and the warrior rank of
Lieutenant, "I can't have my last mission be that predictable. No. I'm
taking out that piece of hardware, with the help of the two young men who
have taken for themselves the two women that are most dear to me, then
I'm coming back to this amalgamation of ships that Adama calls a Fleet,
and say a proper goodbye."
     "Perhaps I can alter one circumstance to your advantage, Sir," Roman
said with an air of thoughtful decision and reached forward to touch
Cain's shoulder.
     Cain stood frozen, his flight helmet and scepteron in his hands, as
he felt himself being infused by the energy transmitted from Roman's
touch. A light blinded him, causing him to blink and then refocus his
eyes on Roman's face. At the corner of his eye, he saw the head of the
scepteron that he had carried since the days of the Battle of Altrua, a
gift from a faithful crew, in part a therapy that had helped him to avoid
the fumarellos that had once been a fixture for him, looking as it always
did, except for it's current shade of brilliant white. Cain looked down
briefly to see that his uniform had taken on the same white hue, then
paused once more, frozen, as he took a deep, hearty breath, feeling a
vigour that he had not experienced for many yahrens.
     "Yes," Roman said in answer to Cain's silent question, "the
radiation damage has been temporarily, um, /reversed/," Roman raised a
cautionary hand, "but you must understand that the effects will
dissipate. By the time your mission is over, your infirmities shall have
returned, and your life force depleted," Roman gestured toward the launch
platform and followed as Cain made his way up the steps and, with an
agility like that of a much younger man stepped lightly into the
upholstered pilot's seat beneath the open canopy of the viper, tucking
the scepteron beneath his seat, snapping the catches of the safety
harness firmly in place and tripping the relay that activated and
illuminated the transparent atmospheric filtration shield over the
opening of the helmet that he now wore, turning to look one last time at
Roman as the young doctor crouched over him from the deck of the
platform. 
     "You'll be here when I get back, Roman?" Cain smiled amiably, "and
you'll be staying on for a time after I've retired?" the Commander
reached up to grasp Roman's wrist with a firm, affectionate grip, "I'd
appreciate you attending my send-off, Lieutenant. Adama's arranged quite
a ritual for me."
     "Yes, Sir," Roman returned the handclasp and moved to step back from
the fighter as the canopy began to close with Cain's tripping of the
relay that controlled its locking mechanism, "I've a few more duties to
perform here in the Fleet before I've accomplished my /own/ mission,
Commander. I may be here for a good while yet, before it's time for me to
return home."
     "You watch over my little girl for me, Roman," Cain watched through
the closing canopy as Roman nodded and smiled, then made his way down the
steps, disappearing from Cain's view and pushing the wheeled platform
clear of the viper, making briskly for the hatchway through which he and
Cain had previously entered, not bothering to turn and watch as the viper
launched with an explosive force, the exhaust of its turbos roaring back
toward the massive vent that faced the opening of the now empty launch
tube. Roman raised a hand, gesturing in a small wave as he slowed the
accelerated pace that he, and the fiery ball of exhaust from Cain's
viper, had been functioning in, giving the appearance that the vent had
suddenly become operable, as it's movement in time was matched to the
viper exhaust, drawing the roiling mass of flame from the launch bay,
diffusing and expelling it automatically, and harmlessly, into the space
beneath the belly of the Battlestar Pegasus.
     "You aren't losing your perspective, are you Roman?" Roman smiled
wryly, pausing in the corridor beyond the hatchway, to regard his
companion, taking in the appearance of curling, white hair and the tunic,
trousers and boots, also a brilliant white. He also appeared much older
than Roman, though neither of their appearances were indicative of their
chronological age in any human terms, "you gave the Commander a little
more than an advantageous circumstance to help him on his way." 
     "Regardless of my /perspective/, John," Roman crossed his arms over
his chest and allowed his smile to adjust itself into one of resignation,
"This particular mission is now out of our hands. It's up to /him/ now."
     John returned Roman's smile, a glimmer of amusement in his bright
eyes, then departed as abruptly as he had appeared, with a faint rush of
air, leaving Roman alone in the corridor, with his thoughts of the human,
Cain, whose existence in this realm would soon come to an end, though not
before enlisting Apollo and Starbuck, and their disabled vipers, in
helping to save, as Roman now optimistically hoped, not only a beloved
daughter, but the entirety of the Colonial Fleet.

***  

Chapter Two - Scene Nine

     "Starbuck? Are you still awake?" Cassiopeia emerged from the turbo
wash, wrapping herself in a soft green towel, then launched herself
playfully onto the opulently upholstered surface of the large crescent
shaped lounging platform built into the bulkhead beneath the large view
port of one of the most well appointed private accommodations that the
Colonial Fleet's pleasure cruiser, Rising Star, had to offer, it's
efficient wait staff having responded agreeably to the satisfying /clink/
of the small stringed purse that had held Lieutenant Starbuck's
considerable chancery winnings.
     "Umm-hmmm," Starbuck laughed as the slender blonde, still damp from
the turbo wash, came to rest breathlessly beside him, scooping up the
half full goblet of ale that she had previously left on the nearby table
and taking a generous swallow of the dark liquid.
     "Mmmm, I don't believe that I've had such a carefree evening cycle
in, well, the duty rotations in Life Station have seemed wearying at
times these last few sectons," she giggled through her bright smile as
Starbuck touched the skin of her water-beaded thigh, running his finger
along the edges of the towel where they draped together, then parted,
exposing her white leg against the dark green fabric, "I'm planning to
alter my working routine, add a little more variety to my duty
rotations."  
     "Oh?" Starbuck asked dreamily as he pulled her against the warmth of
his bare chest, holding her in a firm embrace as they gazed out of the
view port together, each lost for a moment in their own thoughts, "what
were you thinking of doing? Putting in a few rotations on some other
ships?
     "Starbuck, you and I both know that as much as Apollo resists it,
he'll have no choice but to accept a promotion and more responsibility,
once Cain has...gone," he glanced at her quietly, hearing the unspoken
sadness that Cain's illness had wrought in her over these last few
sectons as she had regularly assisted the Fleet's doctors with the
Pegasus Commander's medical treatments, seeing her expression becoming
more contemplative as she continued to gaze out the view port, her voice
taking on a more serious tone, "The same goes for Sheba. As she hopes to
have more children, she may have no better alternative than to accept a
bridge rotation as well, probably at a higher rank, for every yahren of
maternity furlon, leaving someone else to lead the Valkyries, perhaps
Apollo," Starbuck lifted his eyebrows, the thought of Apollo relieving
his wife with her squadron for a maternity furlon never having occurred
to him, the possible ramifications of such a situation including..."As
for /you/," Cassiopeia turned to face him, pulling a soft cushion under
her damp blonde curls and leaning with it on her elbow, willing her face
into a more cheerful expression, pulling him back into the moment with
the sight of her uncombed hair and the tiniest beads of water that made
their slow way down from her neck to the upper edge of the towel that
still covered her slight frame from chest to thigh, "you will almost
certainly be promoted to Captain and be put in Apollo's place as Blue
Squadron Leader and perhaps even Squadron Commander."
     "Though I find the premise of /Colonel/ Apollo getting Valkyrie
Squadron Leader pregnant so he can fly with /her/ wingman for a yahren to
be a surprisingly viable, and potentially amusing, permutation for a baby
pool, I fail to see what it has to do with /your/ duty rotations,"
Starbuck pulled her to lay atop him, to look down at him with her
forearms resting on his bare torso, her fingers touching the soft whisper
of curling hair on his hard chest as he looked up at her in questioning
bemusement, "Cass, what is it?" 
     "Don't look so worried, Starbuck," Cassiopeia smiled suddenly,
laughing once more and rolling back off of him to reach for the goblet of
ale, "I'm just talking about helping Sheba out a little more. As she and
Apollo are agreeable to having more children, while both of them continue
to maintain their full active duty status as warriors, they've accepted
the fact that they shall be needing someone to help them on a more
structured basis for a few yahrens, until the youngest has grown beyond
infancy."
     "You're serious about this?" Starbuck sat up, the blanket at his
waist sliding down over the muscles of his abdomen and gathering in soft
folds over his lap, "It sounds to me as though you and Sheba have
discussed it in detail," he lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully, "just how
many kids are those two planning to /have/, and most importantly, how is
this going to affect future opportunities for /me/ to see more of /you/
in that towel, or should I say, /out/ of that towel?"
     "Yes, we /have/ discussed it," Cassiopeia set down her goblet,
trying to swallow as her laughter escaped sputteringly from her lips,
"and /yes/, no matter how our duty rotations, yours and mine, may be
altered in future, you will /still/ be seeing me in, and /out/ of the
towel," she moved to join him beneath the blanket, pushing against his
chest with one hand, and deftly removing and discarding her towel with
the other, "if you still want to, that is, if you're not going to be too
busy to spend time with me once you've become a /Captain/."
     "Mmm-hmmm," he laughed in his characteristically breathy manner as
he drew her downward toward him, pulling the blanket up over the two of
them and kissing her gently on the lips, "Cassiopeia, my love, I assure
you that you can count on me to..."
     "Starbuck!" Apollo's voice was unmistakeable, though distant, and
the sound, the sickening, pulsing throb of it moving through his body, a
diffused confusion of light and noise surrounding him as he struggled to
focus, /Apollo? What's /he/ doing here with...wait, something's wrong/.
Cassiopeia. The Rising Star. But, that was over a secton ago, when Boomer
had taken Starbuck's duty rotation, leading the squadron for a...the
squadron...the /recon/ wing...no scanners.../oh my god, the Cylons!/...
     "Apollo! It's not real!"
     /HWHHMMMMFFF/
     "Starbuck? Starbuck! I know it's not real! Can you hear me?,"
Apollo's voice suddenly gained clarity in Starbuck's ears as the
Lieutenant stared downward, momentarily stunned at the sight of the
console before him, "Starbuck! Snap out of it! We've deviated from our
course! I have a fix on our last confirmed position. Get into formation
behind me and orient yourself!" The Captain and his wingman shared a
glance across the space between their fighters, "I'm not certain what's
happening, buddy, but we'd better keep our navigational references
straight. We're only about five centons away from a visual of the
Galactica, though I haven't been able to establish contact with them
since we confirmed our course with Rigel and Omega," Apollo made some
minor course corrections, running a practiced check on the systems of his
fighter that were still operational and relaying his navigational
computations to Starbuck over the multi-ship communication system.
     "Apollo? What in the name of...what's going on?" Starbuck spoke
quietly, keeping up a constant glancing division of his gaze between his
own console and his wing leader's ship, "I was dreaming, no, it was a
memory, /I think/," he paused thoughtfully, "it was so /real/, so
/vivid/, like I was back there, in that moment, with Cass..."
     "I know, Starbuck," Apollo's voice was subdued as well, "it's like
something reached into my mind and put me back in the moment
of...well...it was a memory, but..."
     "Galactica Recon Alpha," Apollo and Starbuck snapped into an
attitude of battle readiness, and more than a little disbelief, as they
recognized the voice that was suddenly competing with a loud burst of
static over the multi-ship communication relay, "Galactica Recon Alpha.
Apollo! Starbuck! Are you receiving me?" The two young warriors shared
another glance across the space between their vipers, each of them
mirroring the other's momentary consternation, "Acknowledge, Alpha Recon.
This is Cain. I'm coming to lead you poor blind daggits in from the cold,
boys, but first we have a little Cylon astrum to bite on the way home!"

***  

Chapter Three - Scene Ten

     "Athena?" Captain Bojay, the Pegasus Strike Leader and Squadron
Commander, entered from the corridor and into the darkness of the main
chamber of the quarters that he shared with his wife, moving to stand
behind her as she gazed out the view port at the ships of the Fleet that
were currently visible against the ever shifting star field, the open
space through which the Colonial Fleet travelled, following the trail of
the elusive Thirteenth Colony of the Tribes of Man that originated from
the now dead planet of Kobol, "is everything alright? Are you still
feeling ill?" He embraced her warmly with his strong arms and kissed her
slender neck where it joined with the line of her jaw, "what's the
matter?"
     "Oh, it's just so frustrating," Athena sighed and leaned against him
for a moment, "I was watching the latest political discussion panel on
the IFB feed," the dark-haired Lieutenant moved out of her husband's
embrace and turned to face him, a mixture of hurt and anger evident in
the glint of her light blue eyes in the dimly lit chamber, "as we all
know, Sire Domra and some of the others on the Council have been rumbling
for a while about Adama and Cain, and the gradual restructuring of the
ranks. They're singing the old song about martial law being lifted, and
Council Security being put back in charge. They've forgotten the lesson
they learned back when they were taken hostage by our Luna Seven
/visitors/. There was a lecture given by some civilian academic who
claims to have specialized in military studies. I've never even heard of
him before. He used a thinly disguised historical scenario to all but
accuse the Commanders of manipulating the Colonial Forces into one
amalgamated Warrior Clan and using their own children, Apollo, Sheba, and
/me/, as /breeding/ stock in furtherance of a totalitarian military
regime."
     "A civilian academic can't know what it truly means to be the line
of security between the Fleet and the enemy that seeks to annihilate us,"
Bojay placed his hands on her shoulders, "it may seem like some sort of
family takeover from the outside, but Cain and Adama are right," he
lowered his hands, sliding his palms over the dark blue fabric of her
sleeves as he took hold of her upper arms in a firm grip, speaking
earnestly to her, his voice conveying his convictions, "we can no longer
function as an efficient military force and continue to use the complex
ranking and assignment structures that we had back in the Colonies. We
have only two battlestars, and limited seasoned officers," Bojay paused,
looking down into her face, smiling reassuringly, but with a slightly
quizzical air, "but why is this bothering you now? We've heard such
statements before. Who can forget the backlash from that Fleet-wide
eighteen daily cycle sealing celebration that Starbuck managed to pull
off for Apollo and Sheba? Why has this IFB programming touched such a
sensitive nerve for you?"
     "It's not so much the program, as the timing," Athena reached up to
grasp the lapels of his flight jacket, and leaned forward with a sudden
white flash of a smile showing through the darkness and contrasting with
her shadowed face, "Bojay, we're having a baby, in about half a yahren,
Doctor Roman's confirmed it, the next member of Cain and Adama's family,"
her smile broadened, though the tone of her voice was wry, as she studied
his dumbfounded features, reaching up playfully to place an index finger
to the tip of his nose, "we'll be placed under surveillance, without
mercy, but not by anyone from the Council or the IFB. No, my dear
Squadron Commander, it will be at the hands of all of the pilots who
serve under you here on the Pegasus, just as Apollo and Sheba have been
almost constantly monitored by their fellow pilots and nearly all of the
support crew aboard the Galactica, since before they were married, when
Starbuck's wagering pool had only just begun its bizarre evolution into
an open-to-all-gamblers history of our family relationships," Athena
laughed as she saw him begin to relax his briefly frozen attitude,
"welcome to the warrior clan, my love, /and/ the inevitable political
conflict, /and/ a permutation sequence graphic on Starbuck's banner!" 
     "I wouldn't trade my graphic on Starbuck's banner for anything, my
wife. It would be foolish of me to even consider resisting the enigma of
the infamous wagering pool," he spoke in a mockingly formal tone and they
laughed together as he leaned down to kiss her...
     "Cain!" the sounds and sights of the Command Centre crashed
instantly into her consciousness in an abrupt and jumbled screech of
bright, multicoloured lights and the sounds of the chaos erupting from
the lower galleries of the massive forward chamber of the Battlestar
Pegasus, "Tolen! What's happened to Cain?" Adama's voice sounded clearly
in Athena's ears as it was transmitted over the Alpha Channel Relay.
Athena stared briefly at the images of Adama and Sheba, framed by the
edges of the display monitor before her, the two of them standing
together before the communication array in the largest of the Galactica's
conference chambers, behind them Athena recognized the forms of Doctor
Wilker and Chameleon bending over the large conference table, focussed on
what looked like a partially disassembled guardian drone, and a large
untidy mass of paper printouts and plaston transparencies.
     "Bojay!," Athena turned quickly, sharing a series of confused, and
concerned, expressions with Bojay, Tolen, and Masud, "Colonel Tolen!
Where is the Commander? Where is Cain?"
     "Commander Adama!" Tolen cried, "Commander Cain was just here, but
then that, that, /thing/ hit us, and, I..." Tolen paused, frowning in his
effort to organize his thoughts with his normally sharp and analytical
mind, "Sir, I'm pretty certain that I've just experienced a very vivid
hallucination."
     "/I/ wasn't hallucinating," Athena said flatly, staring at the deck,
at the place that Cain had last been seen by her, searching her memory to
the point in time just before she had found herself in her quarters with
Bojay, "I was remembering something that actually happened, not more than
a secton ago," she glanced at her console, "according to my chronometer
display, we've been out of it for at least ten centons."
     "Tolen!" Tigh's voice emanating from the Alpha Relay audio feed
snapped the warriors on the Pegasus command platform to attention as he
strode forward from his position near the center of the Galactica's
conference chamber to stand between Adama and Sheba, his image now also
framed within the perimeter of the display monitor on the Pegasus command
console, "run emergency diagnostics on all of your systems, get status
reports from all active duty vipers, and from the medical facility, and
/locate Commander Cain/!"


     "Commander Adama!" Bridge Officer Omega's voice cut in abruptly over
the relay, "you'd better get up to here to the bridge, Sir!" there was an
unfamiliar hesitation in Omega's normally controlled tone that neither
Adama nor Tigh recalled ever having heard before, "I have Captain
Apollo's Recon Probe in visible range. They're being guided in on a toric
trajectory behind one of Silver Spar's fighters. I am receiving orders
for both battlestars to target a massive energy field that is now
building in intensity at three hundred hectons forward of the Fleet. Core
Command has been ordered to stand ready for further instructions.
     "Orders? Further instructions?" Adama lifted his eyebrows and
exchanged confused glances with both Sheba and Tigh, "from Captain
Apollo?"   "No, Sir," Omega's voice responded with a distinctly
incredulous tone, "the orders are coming in from the Silver Spar viper.
Commander Adama, unless I'm hallucinating, Sir, the viper is being
piloted by... /Commander Cain/!"  
     "Father!" Sheba gasped and turned to run toward the hatchway, Adama
and Tigh close on her heels as the three of them rushed along the
corridor and on through the hatchway leading into the Galactica's Command
Centre, all of them reacting as well conditioned warriors in spite of the
shock that had been evoked in them as they had absorbed the significance
of Omega's words.

***  

Chapter Two - Scene Eleven

     "Starbuck and I are flying blind, Sir," Cain watched the displays on
his console with a pilot's practiced eye as Apollo's voice addressed the
Commander over the multi ship network frequency, "What are we targeting,
Commander?"
     "Captain, I have received confidential intelligence that I believe
to be reliable, indicating that the Cylons are experimenting with
teleportation technology, and more," the older warrior paused, noting, on
the display of his own viper's operational scan sensors, an increasing
flow of electrical energy being emitted from the direction of the
disruption in the space forward of the Fleet, "the structure that your
Lieutenants Boomer and Jolly observed over two days ago on that routine
probe isn't a prototype for a new base ship as we first suspected. It's
an amplifier for a signal designed to interact with the flow of energy
within the human physiology. Those gall-monging robots are trying to
invade our thoughts and memories, trying to get to us through the
electrical impulses in our own brains. They've already made one attempt
at teleporting a base ship into Beta Sector. It failed. They teleported
the ship, alright, but destroyed it in the process. Bojay and Masud
discovered the debris field. The enemy have used the data from their
little mistake to fine tune their teleportation equipment and now the
amplifier is on its way through a virtual fold in space to blast that
accursed signal at our people from close range!" 
     "Oh my God!" Starbuck's voice joined in on the multi-ship signal,
"but the two of us have no targeting scanners!"
     "That's why /I'm/ here, Starbuck," Cain laughed grimly, "/my/
targeting scanners are working just fine. All I need is one clear shot at
the main antenna mount. We take that antenna out the micron that the
amplifier becomes visible to us, before we're disabled by that
mind-scrambling signal, and we take out the remote signal reception. That
will effectively turn the amplifier into a ball of useless scrap metal,
giving the two of /you/ some manual targeting practice," Cain laughed
once more, with genuine good humour, "that should make for a large enough
stationary target for /anyone/ who could hit the broad side of a base
ship, so don't feel inadequate with your unresponsive scanners, men."
     "Thanks for the vote of confidence, /Sir/," Starbuck resisted his
instinctive urge to respond any further to his superior's less than
subtle challenge of primacy, realizing that it was Cain's way of
maintaining his own equilibrium, realizing also, as did Cain and Apollo,
and the warriors now standing on the command platforms of the Battlestars
Pegasus and Galactica, listening intently to the interchange among the
three pilots over the multi ship network frequency, that without Cain's
skill at targeting and destroying the antenna within mere microns of the
amplifier's imminent arrival, the entire population of the Colonial Fleet
could be wiped out in one brutal blow, the manipulation of their own
thoughts used to render them defenseless to the Cylon threat.
     "Starbuck, keep alert," Apollo interjected, "and pray that the
Cylons aren't able to teleport a squadron of raiders along with their
amplifier."
     "Cain! We have suffered damage to our targeting scanners. We dare
not fire any laser bursts until after the three of you are out of our
firing range," Commander Adama's voice joined the conversation, his
struggle to maintain his own equilibrium evident in the heightened pitch
in the timbre of his distinctively deep voice, "Commander, I presume that
the circumstances surrounding /your/ sudden presence out there in that
viper are somehow connected to this 'confidential intelligence'?"
     "How did you guess, Adama?" Cain responded amiably, "one would think
you had a little experience with such things."
     "I /have/ encountered some measure of intrigue over the yahrens, my
friend," Adama said dryly, "however, the universe never fails to continue
surprising me."
     "Father?" Sheba spoke from where she stood beside Adama on the
command platform of the Galactica, "Father, you will be careful, won't
you?"
     "Don't worry, Baby," Cain's voice took on a gently chiding tone,
"I'll be back to help you complete the preparations for my retirement
party, just as soon as the boys and I take out this pesky little mind
control device."
     "Commander Cain!" Colonel Tolen's urgent voice joined the multi ship
network transmission from the Pegasus, "Sir! I suggest that the three of
you stand ready with weapon systems! Our scanning array is inoperable,
but Athena's rigged a few isolated and grounded relays to the short range
sensors on the forward weapon mounts. The electrical disturbance is
becoming more substantial! We are registering a massive surge in the
anomaly's energy output! If I'm interpreting this data correctly, the
amplifier is approaching its arrival threshold...NOW, SIR!"
     "Lords of Kobol protect them," Adama inhaled in horror as the image,
the amplifier that he had seen in the data recordings from Boomer's
patrol, the structure that he and his fellow officers had originally
mistaken for a base ship, now materialized before him with a surge of
sickening, pulsing sound that emanated suddenly from every remaining
operational communication array in the Galactica's Command Centre. Adama
let out his breath raggedly, struggling against the tendrils of light and
sound that reached into his mind, a siren song targeting the pleasure and
memory centers of his brain, luring his thoughts from the sight of the
Cylon weapon plainly visible through the massive transparent tylium
panels that formed the real space viewing screen at the forward of the
Command Centre Section of the mighty battlestar, "Omega! Close the blast
doors!"
     "Athena! Get those blast doors down! Hold on to something solid!"
Tolen cried, reaching for the anchoring support of the command platform's
perimeter rail, as did Lieutenant Masud. Bojay, clenching his jaw against
the heavy throb of the sound crashing through all of their bodies,
launched himself at the command console, holding tightly to Athena with
one arm and a vertical support of the perimeter rail with the other,
their eyes catching a brief view of the three fighters, turbos firing
them into a graceful arcing maneuver, a standard chevron formation
targeting the dark, alien, almost organically textured hull of the Cylon
amplifier, then, as the blast doors closed, there was nothing but the
sickening pulse of the sound and indistinct movement of light.
     "Targeting the antenna mount!" Cain wasted no time in placing the
amplifier's antenna directly on center with the targeting display that
Roman had shielded from the Cylons' disruptive transmissions of
electrical energy during the course of the field trials to teleport the
amplifier to a strategically optimal position relative to the Colonial
Fleet, "Take that you brain scrambling piece of Cylon felgercarb!" Cain
depressed the firing control on the stick in his hand, his scanner
automatically triangulating a burst from the laser mount array of his
delta wing fighter and pulled up hard, arcing sharply away from the now
silent amplifier as the antenna mount exploded in a violent burst under
Cain's well placed shot, "Apollo! Starbuck! Snap out of it! The signal's
been interrupted. Fire on the amplifier and get out of there, NOW!"
     "Aye!" Apollo cried, "Go, Starbuck, go! Whatever it was, it's not
real! Fire on the amplifier and pull out fast!" the Captain and his
wingman fired simultaneously, not bothering to consult their inoperable
targeting scanners, but simply firing dead ahead, visually targeting the
massive sphere and pulling up sharply as Cain had, leaving behind them an
angry tear of explosive force that ripped open the seams holding the
armoured panels of the strangely textured hull together, "Starbuck!"
     "I'm alright. I'm getting hit with a little debris, but at least the
spots are disappearing from in front of my eyes," Starbuck's voice evoked
a breath of relief from Apollo as the two younger men fell into a chevron
formation once more, with Cain's viper, its turbos sputtering, in the aft
point position ahead of and between them, "Commander? Sir?!" 
     "Commander Cain!" Apollo's voice rang out over the multi-ship
network, to be heard aboard both battlestars as well in the other two
vipers, "Commander, what is your status, Sir?" the Captain pulled his
viper up alongside of Cain's port side, to see the Juggernaut slumped,
senseless, over the console of the Silver Spar Viper. Apollo reached down
and initiated the emergency grappling net control beneath his console,
manually targeting Cain's fighter, "Starbuck! Emergency grapple nets,
now! I've got his left. You come in on his right. We'll carry him in to
the Galactica," Apollo and Starbuck released the netted cables of
tylinium alloy, snagging them over the structure of Cain's fighter, it's
turbos now ceasing their undirected fire, and flew with it, like fishers
with an angular catch scooped from the ocean of space, carrying her and
her pilot toward the Fleet.
     "Apollo," the Captain exchanged a silent, sorrowful look with his
wingman at the sound of Sheba's tremulous voice over the multi ship,
"Take him to the Pegasus. I'll get Cassiopeia and the children and join
you there directly."

***  

Chapter Three - Scene One

     "Bojay!" Commander Adama, strong emotion evident in his voice,
called out to the Captain as Adama and Tigh disembarked briskly through
the hatchway of the shuttle that had carried them from the Battlestar
Galactica to the Alpha Landing Bay of her sister ship, the Pegasus, "How
is he?"
     "He's been drifting in and out for a while now, Sir," Bojay's
militarily correct manner was belied by the reflective streaks of
moisture that had been left by the errant tears that had made their way
down his face over the six centars since Commander Cain had been
delivered to the Pegasus, and the crew had been made aware that the
Juggernaut's death was imminent. While still in the midst of a battle
readiness alert and the chaotic and rushed repairs to the damaged systems
of both battlestars, at least half of the Fleet's vipers, and most of her
ships, Bojay had been struggling to hold back his emotion at the prospect
of losing the man who had been a mentor, indeed a /father/ to him since
the young man's first transfer from the Galactica to the Pegasus, a
lifetime ago it seemed to him now, "Roman and Cassiopeia got him settled
in his quarters shortly after Apollo and Starbuck brought him in. We've
been taking turns at sitting, and /speaking/ with him, Commander,"
Bojay's message was not missed by the older men, /we've been saying
goodbye/, the younger man gestured as he spoke, directing Adama and Tigh
toward the hatchway that would lead them to the corridor that ran past
Pegasus' Command Centre Junction Access, then on to the Commander's
private quarters, "Colonel Tigh," Bojay paused as the three men reached
the hatchway leading to the Command Centre, "Commander Cain requests that
you take the watch on the bridge in his absence, Sir. We're still reading
Cylon signals using wing patrols of our currently operational vipers as
relay points for long range scans until we can get the Command Centre
stations repaired. It's still unclear whether the enemy is retreating or
leading us into a trap."
     "Take command, Tigh," Adama clasped his friend firmly by the wrist,
pondering for a brief moment the dark, elegant warrior who stood before
him, the man who had faithfully shared with Adama the burden of duty, of
the authority that had rested firmly upon their shoulders in the days,
the sectars, the sectons, now roughly three yahrens and one half since
the Destruction that the Cylons had brought down upon their worlds and
turned them into nomadic refugees in search of a haven with the mythic
Thirteenth Colony of Kobol, "you and Tolen co-ordinate with the
Galactica. See that Omega and Rigel have Boomer and Deitra continuing to
lead the Galactica's active duty wings. Tell them to divert any emergency
traffic to Beta Bay, and maintain the viper rotations over there until
the technicians get the decking repaired in Alpha Bay. Secure the areas
central and aft of the Fleet. We shall not allow the enemy to strike at
us from behind, and in a condition of disarray and mourning, whilst
Cain's pilots stand watch forward. I shall be with Bojay and the others
in the Commander's quarters until further notice, my friend," the two
senior officers shared a gaze of grim understanding, knowing that at
least one of them, at all times, must be available to command the Fleet,
particularly in the wake of the damage wrought by the long range
transmission and teleportation testing that the Cylons had apparently
been performing in their efforts to execute their attack, as well as the
resulting close range transmission that had blasted from the enemy
amplifier in the microns before Cain had destroyed the antenna, affording
Apollo and Starbuck the opportunity to deliver the destructive laser
bursts that had reduced the Cylon sphere to a massive field of debris,
tumbling aimlessly in the space forward of the Colonial Fleet, the larger
pieces now serving as practice targets for the ready laser cannons of the
alert Pegasus squadrons who waited at the forward of the Fleet, the
threat of Cylon invasion before them, the death of the man, the living
legend who had Commanded them as only Cain would, with a frighteningly
firm discipline in no way hampered by a passionate loyalty to his crew,
his family and loved ones, and his steadfast determination to defeat what
he had always seen as the dark and soulless machine evil of the Cylon
Empire.
     "Aye, Commander," Tigh said simply, breaking the handclasp with
Adama and turning without ceremony to enter the open hatchway that would
take him into the rear gallery of the Pegasus Command Centre.
     "Doctor Roman looked in on him just a centar ago. Sir, there is
nothing more to be done for the Commander other than to keep him
comfortable," Bojay continued down the corridor, Adama striding gravely
at his side, "though we're all still unclear as to how he came to be in
that viper in the first place, it would appear that the exertion of the
attack maneuvers that he used against that amplifier has taken the last
of his energy reserve," Bojay paused at the hatchway to Cain's quarters,
laying a politely restraining hand on the arm of his wife's father, "I've
already said my goodbyes, Sir, as have Athena and Starbuck. Cassiopeia
was still with him when I left to fetch you, waiting for him to awaken
again. Sheba, well, she's having a hard time walking in there, saying
goodbye, or taking in the children. She's dreading it, Sir," Bojay's
voice failed him, his tears choking them back as they sought an avenue of
release against his struggle for self control," Apollo and I thought that
perhaps you could help her, as a father, Sir."  
     "Very well, then, Captain," Adama placed a warm hand of sympathy
upon Bojay's shoulder, feeling the young man straighten beneath his firm
grip, gaining strength from the older man's calm and reassuring manner,
"let's go in, shall we?"
     Bojay nodded, his voice failing him once more as he blinked away a
sudden fresh wave of hot tears that threatened to overflow from his moist
brown eyes, then, breathing himself slowly back to a state of control,
reached forward to initiate the control that would open the hatchway
leading into Cain's private quarters. 
     Adama marched briskly through the hatchway, Bojay close behind him.
The older warrior paused as he surveyed the group that had gathered
within the large main chamber. Sheba wept quietly into Apollo's chest,
the two of them standing near the interior hatchway that led into
Commander Cain's private bedchamber. Behind them Athena sat holding a
tearful Boxey, rocking him gently as his infant sister Artemis, her sense
of the mood of the adults in the room subduing her characteristically
ebullient manner, sat quietly on a soft rug near the innermost bulkhead
of the chamber pulling distractedly at the buckles of Starbuck's flight
boots as he stood with his head bowed, silently watching the infant at
his feet, his hand resting on the back of a large, upholstered chair,
waiting sadly, though steadfastly, for Cassiopeia to emerge from the
chamber where she now took her turn at sitting vigil with the dying Cain.

     "My dear," Adama spoke huskily, emotion once more altering the
rhythm of his normally mellow voice as his eyes rested upon Sheba, he
opened his arms for his son's wife to step numbly from within the shelter
of her husband's strong arms and into Adama's paternal embrace, her
slender body wracked with the tide of tearful sobs that she had found
herself unable to stem, "let it out, my daughter, let it go," Adama spoke
deliberately, blinking back his own pooling tears, as he held the young
woman tightly, patting her gently on the back, "cry it out for a while,
my girl. It may ease the difficulty of saying goodbye, make it possible
to face those last moments with him, if only by a small measure," Adama
looked over Sheba's shining brown hair at the bright green gaze of his
son, "Apollo, Bojay tells me you've yet to go in and see him. You take
the next watch, say what needs saying, then Sheba and I shall bring the
children in for a few centons. And then," Adama tightened his grip on
Sheba's hunched shoulders, speaking gently, but firmly into her ear,
"then we'll all leave you to visit with your Father for a while, my dear
Sheba, and give you some time alone, while we repair the damage that was
sustained by the Galactica's Alpha Landing Bay," Adama smiled through the
tears that now unabashedly fell from his dark eyes, "the landing bay
technicians report that one of our more distracted Squadron Leaders tore
up a few of our deck plates while refining her emergency landing
procedures on her first duty rotation back from maternal furlon."
     Sheba laughed reflexively, though sadly, through the slowly
dissipating flow of her tears, feeling the strength and reassurance of
one father's warm embrace supporting and reinforcing her resolve, indeed
her need and duty, to face the weakened and failing life force of the
other, Cain, as he lay dying in the adjoining bedchamber, awaiting her
with one all too final goodbye, from a father who had always before
managed to defy death and return from danger. Sheba could see, in Adama's
dark, brown eyes, the knowledge of the finality that she had feared would
overwhelm her, the acceptance of Cain's death, and the relinquishment of
her well-worn hopes that had seen her through the sectons without him
from the battle over Gamoray and herself being injured in battle just
before his dramatic disappearance between two exploding base ships in his
daring pursuit of the third base ship, and Baltar, to the reunion of the
Pegasus with the Colonial Fleet, amidst the blinding flash of another
exploding, and enigmatic ship, the Oberon, brought to threaten the Fleet
in an attack from the creature that the Colonials knew as Count Iblis,
roughly half a yahren after her marriage to Apollo, at the beginning of
the yahren long maternity furlon that Artemis' birth, and Colonial
military and medical protocols had dictated for her. This time, Sheba
knew, as Adama's eyes reflected, that Cain would not be coming back, and
her hopes must soon turn away from her beloved father, and toward the
still living future, and the duties yet to be performed, that would
remain when he had gone.

***  

Chapter Three - Scene Two

     "If I'd thought for a centon that we might have had a future
together, my precious Cassiopeia," Cain studied the young woman's briefly
frozen expression, her relief at his most recent return to consciousness
mixed with a pain that she was unable to hide from him as he smiled up
into her pale blue eyes, "I'd have married you, /properly/."
     "I know," Cassiopeia wiped away a tear that had breached her best
effort at a practiced medical technician's demeanour, looking down at
Cain where he lay in the large bed that dominated his private chamber.
She resumed an adjustment of the cushions that supported his neck and
back, allowing him a relatively vertical posture, "I know," she repeated,
then began to weep, "I'm so sorry," with substantial effort, the young
woman regained a fair measure of her composure, and smiled sadly at Cain,
"it's just so difficult to say goodbye, it's so, so /complicated/." 
     "Nonsense!" Cain reached out for Cassiopeia's hand, "It's quite
simple, really. You've cared for me in those times when I've needed you
most. You'll care for my grandchildren, eventually marry that overgrown
delinquent, Starbuck, maybe even have a few offspring of your own.
Perhaps one of /them/ will marry one of /mine/," the Pegasus Commander
laughed and squeezed her delicate fingers gently, "this will be our third
and final farewell, Cassiopeia, and I don't want you to have any regrets
over having loved me, or having found someone else when it was clear from
the beginning that we weren't to be together."
     "Oh, Cain," Cassiopeia smoothed the skirt of her of her long tunic
over her trousered legs with her free hand as she sat gently beside him
on the edge of his bed, several more tears escaping from her eyes and
coursing unhindered down her pale cheeks, though she managed to smile
with a perceptible effort, "You've meant so much to me, from a time
when..."  
     "We've both had our difficult times, you and I," Cain pulled her
hand to lay it palm down against his lean and wiry chest, allowing her to
feel his heart through the sparse grey hair revealed above the v-necked
yoke of the loosely flowing tunic that he wore, "we found one other at a
time when we were very good together. Everything changes, my love. That's
something I've always said to my men, and to Sheba, trying to protect her
from heartbreak and disappointment, I suppose, though I'm certain that,
over the yahrens, I caused more than I prevented at times, and my little
girl always forgave me for being such an insensitive and distant parent,"
Cassiopeia closed her eyes briefly, feeling Cain's heart, finding its
rhythm to be slow and steady, a condition that she well knew was
gradually deteriorating as his body's systems were beginning to fail, the
toxic effects of the radiation that had poisoned him taking their final
toll on the battle-weary warrior, "always remember that I love you,
Cassiopeia, and don't have any regrets. Follow where your heart takes
you, my lovely girl. Live a long, rich and full life for me, won't you?
And tell my grandchildren what a great man I was!"
     "I shall," Cassiopeia tilted her head and gazed earnestly into her
former lover's eyes, "and I shall always remember you, Cain," she smiled
again through her tears, this time with affection and some measure of
amusement, "though I still claim that it's /complicated/, you old
war-daggit!"
     "Sir?" Apollo stepped cautiously through the partially opened
hatchway of Cain's bed chamber, having heard the sound of the couple's
incongruous laughter, his sharp green eyes taking in the evidence of
Cassiopeia's tears, "If I'm interrupting..."
     "Come in, my boy," Cain squeezed Cassiopeia's hand, letting go with
slow reluctance, "Tell Adama to bring my daughter and my grandchildren in
to see me, won't you, Cassiopeia? After I've spoken with the Captain for
a few centons, /alone/," the Commander lifted his eyebrows in Apollo's
direction as the young man approached the bedside, "I presume they've
been waiting outside for me to wake up, Son? Cassiopeia tells me we've
been back from the mission for a few centars now.
     "Aye, Commander. Several of us have been taking turns, um," Apollo
coughed as his voice failed him, "waiting for you to wake up, Sir," the
young Captain stepped back as Cassiopeia moved quietly past him, pausing
to share one more enigmatic glance with Cain, then smiled through the
threat of a wave of fresh tears and hurried from the room. "She cares a
great deal for you, Sir," Apollo spoke slowly and deliberately to his
wife's father as he gazed at the hatchway through which Cassiopeia had
rushed, then, reluctant to concern himself with more than the outermost
perimeters of the intimacies that Cain and Cassiopeia had shared, assumed
a less casual posture and moved to stand beside the Commander's bed, his
thumbs tucked over the edges of his gun belt, "we all do."
     "I'd like for you to know how impressed I am with /you/, Captain,"
Cain looked up at the young man who had been his daughter's husband now
for roughly one yahren and a half. Apollo remained silent as the older
man paused to consider his words, "I know that you and Boxey will look
after my girls," Cain smiled at the subtle shift of expression in the
Captain's eyes, "grandfather's prerogative, Son," the man in the bed
managed a hoarse laugh, "I know that Sheba and Artemis are /yours/, but
they're mine as well, and I can move on knowing you'll care for them.
That's a great gift, my boy, to know that my only child will be
surrounded by a family who loves her, that will see her through to the
acceptance of my death."
     "There is one thing that I don't believe I've ever properly thanked
you for, Sir," Apollo felt hot tears behind his eyes, but swallowed hard
and managed to contain them, "you've treated Boxey as your grandson,
every bit as much your grandchild as Artemis, and I know that
Boxey's...Boxey's /mother/," Apollo paused as he pondered the vagaries of
destiny that had guided the progression of his life over the three
yahrens since the loss of his beloved Serina, shortly after she had
fallen, mortally wounded by an unfeeling and soulless enemy, upon the
dead and empty sands of the planet Kobol, so far behind him now, to bring
him to this moment, to say goodbye once more, and to remember as well,
"she wanted so very much for him to be loved and well cared for, and he
has been, by his second mother, /and/ by his second grandfather, among
others," the younger man pursed his lips, feeling the heavy, all too
familiar, blanket of sorrow at the sight of death before him, etched into
the ashen furrows of Cain's face, "and that's meant a lot to /me/,
Commander Cain."
     "I know what it is to lose the love of your life, son, the mother of
an only child," Cain's gravelly voice sounded alarmingly weak to Apollo's
ears, "and, like you, I was lucky enough to find love a second time,"
Cain smiled up at the serious young man before him, "I'm glad that my
Baby chose you, Apollo. I'm only sorry that I'm going to be missing all
the tempers that will be flaring around the Council Chamber when Adama
reshuffles the command assignments," the older man laughed dryly as
Apollo tilted his head in silent attention, listening carefully to Cain's
words, taking in these last moments with his wife's father, trying to
share in the laughter, but unable to conceal the grief in his tear-bright
green eyes, "you, and Sheba, as well as Bojay and Athena, the four of you
will be labelled by at least a few of those reptiles on the Council of
the Twelve as puppets of Adama, a mindlessly obedient military brood,
lusting for power," Cain's voice took on an element of helpless disgust,
"/Civilian politicians/. They often bite the hands that pluck their sorry
astrums out of danger, and afford them the security to live in relative
safety and comfort. No discipline. No honour as we have among warriors,"
Cain lifted a long, angular finger and reached to touch Apollo's chest,
"you watch Adama's back, my boy. When he puts that Colonel's braid on
your flight jacket, you keep on flying, keep in touch with the men, /and/
put in those rotations on the bridge, as well," Cain looked deeply into
Apollo's eyes, willing the younger man to understand and remember his
advice, "With Tigh here on the bridge of the Pegasus, Adama will need you
to maintain the command structure and see to daily cycle operations,
while he practices his ever optimistic diplomacy at the table in the
Council Chamber. He's got a real mess of politics, religion and intrigue
to contend with, not to mention those gall-monging Cylons and their
unholy machine matrix," Cain smiled once more, reaching for Apollo's
wrist, "there's one more thing that I have to tell you, but you must keep
it to yourself for now. I believe that it's important for at least one
person to know about this after I'm gone. It's about Roman..." Cain
pulled Apollo closer, maintaining the handclasp and whispering intently
into the younger man's ear.
     Apollo stared into Cain's twinkling blue eyes with his lips parted
in astonishment as the dying man released the young warrior's wrist with
one final squeeze of affection and encouragement, laying back on the bed
and adjusting his own blanket with a determined resistance to the ever
increasing limitations of his energy depleted metabolism.
     "Father? Is it alright for us to come in now?" Sheba entered slowly,
Adama's arm supporting her, Boxey beside her, Artemis in her arms, the
infant squealing in incongruous delight and clapping her chubby half
yahren's hands, as she habitually did at the sight of her father who
stood in silent thought at Cain's bedside. In contrast, and in spite of
her own best effort, tears flowed steadily from Sheba's reddened eyes,
coursing down her cheeks in glistening rivulets, "I've brought the
children to...visit with you for...a while."

***  

Chapter Three - Scene Three

     "Blue Leader to Silver Spar Leader," Lieutenant Boomer's voice was
transmitted throughout the multi ship network that connected the
defensive and communication relay viper wing pairs as the active duty
rotation pilots moved their fighters through the space immediately
surrounding the Colonial Fleet and some distance forward, maneuvering in
a series of graceful arcs that had been choreographed by Colonel Tigh
from where he monitored the Fleet's status on the command platform of the
Battlestar Pegasus. "Masud, anything happening forward?"
     "Negative, Blue Leader," Bojay's usual wingman, Lieutenant Masud,
responded crisply through the strong emotion felt by all of the pilots
that joined with him in forming the defensive and communication grid that
surrounded the Fleet, "We've encountered no sign of the enemy at our
farthest range forward for at least two centars. They've disappeared from
our scan displays. All we've seen are pieces of the amplifier that the
Commander and Galactica's Alpha Recon Patrol destroyed." 
     "I know, Masud," Boomer responded, his own voice underscored with
the tension of battle readiness, "it's too quiet. All we've found central
and aft are a few pieces of that debris field that you and Bojay picked
up in Beta Sector before that amplifier hit us. Not that I'm complaining
about the lack of action, but I can't help wondering why the Cylons were
willing to risk a base ship with an apparently full crew complement to
test their new teleportation technology, yet they haven't they sent more
armaments to take us out while so many of our systems are damaged."
     "Valkyrie Leader to Strike Leader," Lieutenant Deitra cut in,
"Boomer, we're slowly moving forward with the Fleet, clearing the debris
fields. We've detected no sign of enemy activity for two centars, as
Masud says. Do you think it's possible that the Cylons have withdrawn to
await reinforcements?"
     "Your guess is as good as mine, Valkyrie Leader. Anything is
/possible/," though Boomer's frustration was evident, he maintained a
deliberately calming and authoritative tone, "the only thing I /am/
certain of is that we'll be on battle readiness alert for some time to
come," Boomer spoke in his characteristically wry manner, knowing that,
as acting Fleet Strike Leader and Galactica Squadron Commander in the
absence of Apollo, Bojay, Sheba and Starbuck as they sat vigil aboard the
Pegasus with the dying Commander Cain, the pilots who continued to patrol
a grief-stricken, and electronically crippled Fleet were looking to him
for direction and leadership, "Deitra, you and the Valkyrie wings go on
in for a rest period rotation. Rigel will put you on an approach for Beta
Bay. Last time I checked the technicians weren't quite finished repairing
the slice that your Squadron Leader's viper took out of the decking
plates in Alpha Bay."
     "I'm just lucky I pulled up in time to avoid coming in the same way
she did, Strike Leader. And it's a good thing Commander Cain and Alpha
Wing took out that amplifier when they did. Considering the impact of the
remote signal that hit us just before Sheba's crash landing, the short
range transmission would surely have finished us. I don't know about any
of you guys, but that signal put me into a very distracted state of
mind," Deitra's voice lost its thoughtful tone as she issued orders to
the pilots of her squadron, "Valkyrie Leader to Valkyrie wings! You heard
the man! Let's make for Galactica Beta Bay and let some of those well
rested Red Squadron pilots take this duty over for a few centars!" 
     "Belay that order, Deitra!" Boomer's voice sharpened as the empty
silence of the scan displays before him were suddenly replaced with
multiple readings of varied signals, "my console's lighting up like a
pyrotechnic display! Valkyrie Leader! Bring your wings into defensive
chevron formation. Pegasus Strike Leader! Masud! Something big is
registering on my electrical energy level display. If it's another
amplifier, then we must destroy it before it knocks us all senseless and
takes out our targeting scanners! If it's a base ship, well I guess the
same principle applies! Core Command, this is Galactica Strike Leader!
Are you picking up these electrical and gravitational readings?"
     "Affirmative, Galactica Strike Leader," Rigel's carefully modulated
tones filled the space around Boomer's ears, "we are reading a large
electrical disturbance two hundred metrons forward of the Fleet, "Pegasus
recon relay vipers are reporting system failures."
     "Boomer! Masud!" Colonel Tigh spoke suddenly from the Command Centre
of the Battlestar Pegasus, capturing the attention of every pilot in the
space surrounding the Fleet as his voice was transmitted over the multi
ship network in a sudden burst of static, " Maintain defensive positions
and ready laser cannons! That last electrical surge was off the scale!"
     "My readings are all over the place, Colonel Tigh," Masud responded
from his position at the forward of the Fleet, "we're experiencing random
equipment failures and scan fluctuations up and down the forward scanning
relay network. The disruption is moving and varying in intensity in
apparently random instances," the acting Silver Spar Leader conveyed his
grim demeanour through his serious tone, "Permission to fall back toward
the Fleet, Sir?"
     "Affirmative, Masud," Tigh responded crisply, exchanging a glance of
concern with Tolen, "have the forward relay wings fall back into a battle
readiness formation and make their way back. Maintain an open channel and
watch for that disruption. Record as much data as you can without
overtaxing your electrical systems. As Lieutenant Boomer pointed out, we
must assume, for the present, that the appearance of another amplifier or
base ship is a possibility. Squadron Leaders, keep your wings close to
home for now and maintain vigilance. Tigh out."
     "Colonel?" Bojay's voice carried from the rear gallery, "is there
anything for me to report to Commander Adama, Sir? He sent me to check in
with you as he went in to, um...speak with Commander Cain," Bojay stopped
and stood at attention at the base of the command platform, "I don't
believe that...it will be much longer, Sir."
     "Yes, Captain," Tigh shot a look of sympathy at the young Squadron
Commander, knowing that Cain had been a father to him, and that the
deathwatch vigil had taken it's toll on him over these last several
centars, "Tell the Commander that we've been tracking another electrical
disruption. It's movements are apparently random, thus far, and our
forward relay fighters are experiencing equipment failures," Tigh leaned
against the perimeter rail at the edge of the command platform, looking
down at the earnest young man below him, "please ask Commander Adama to
join us on the bridge at his first convenience."
     "Aye, Sir," Bojay said, nodding up at Tigh with a tightly controlled
air that was belied by his tear stained cheeks and turned on his heel to
march briskly back to Cain's quarters and make his status report to
Adama. Tigh and Tolen grimly returned their attention to the displays on
the Pegasus' command console, and the communications coming in over their
headsets, waiting in silence for the next appearance of the electrical
disruption that could herald another enemy attack.
     "Tolen," Tigh said quietly, cautiously, not yet close enough to
Tolen to know how far to venture into the younger man's personal pain,
"if you'd like to join the Captain and the others..."
     "It's alright, Sir," Tolen closed his eyes for a micron, then turned
to look into Tigh's sympathetic eyes, "Commander Cain and I have said our
goodbyes over the last few sectons. He'll have left a holographic
recording for me to view if there is anything more that he wants me
to..." Tolen blinked once more, holding back the sorrow that he felt at
the imminent loss of his Commander, forcing his attention to the task at
hand, and pressing a finger suddenly to the earpiece of his headset,
"Colonel Tigh, I'm getting a transmission from Boomer on a low level
frequency. Fleet Strike Leader reports anomalous readings roughly six
hundred hectons off the Galactica's port, damage to communication array
in several vipers. Boomer's had them rig the multi ship for lower
frequency modulation. It seems to be effective even with the sporadic
electrical interference."
     "Synchronize our multi ship frequency with our fighters, Tolen,"
Tigh leaned over the console beside the younger man, studying the streams
of data running across the display monitors with a practiced eye, "we
must maintain our communication array."
     The two men on the command platform shared a silent look of
understanding as they struggled to maintain their focus in the face of
loss and grief to one side and the threat of danger to the other.

***  

Chapter Three - Scene Four
 
     "Muffy would have come to see you, Grandpa Cain," Boxey moved to
stand tearfully beside the dying man's bed, as Apollo placed a comforting
hand on the boy's shoulder, "but those old gall-monging Cylons gave him a
short circuit. Mom and Cassiopeia dropped him off with Doctor Wilker, but
Muffy has to wait until Drone One and Drone Two are fixed before he gets
his turn."
     "Not to worry, son," Cain's face softened as he gazed into the eyes
of the boy of nearly ten who had been a grandson to him for the one short
yahren since the Pegasus had rejoined the Colonial Fleet after the many
sectons of travelling through Cylon held territory beneath a toxic
radioactive shield, "Wilker may be a few mushies short of a full victual
platter, but he knows his electronics. I'm certain he'll have your
guardian drone fixed for you in no time," the old man reached down to
wipe away the freshest of Boxey's tears, placing a gentle hand on the
boy's cheek, seeing the pain in those moist brown eyes, searching for the
words that would ease it and finding none.
     "I wish you weren't going away, Grandpa Cain," Boxey moved forward
into Cain's embrace, his small frame held tightly against the
Juggernaut's chest, "I know Dad says that it's just your body that's
going and not your spirit or your love for us, like when Momma went away,
but I'm still going to miss you."
     "I shall be with you always, my boy," Cain said hoarsely, "so long
as you remember me."  
     "Grandpa?"
     "Yes, my boy?"
     "When you get to heaven, would you give my Momma a message for me?"
     "I'd be glad to, son," Cain held the boy tightly and looked up into
Apollo's dark face. The older man did not bother to disguise his
amusement as he regarded the bemused expression that currently flickered
across the features of his daughter's husband, a serious, reserved and
somewhat circumspect young man, to Cain's observance, though an obviously
brilliant strategist, skilled pilot and natural leader as well. Cain had
adopted an habitually mischievous and sometimes blatantly abusive, though
sincerely playful manner that he used with Apollo, who stood now, in the
midst of the family drama that unfolded before him, having had no
opportunity to recover from or respond to the revelation to him of the
secret of Doctor Roman's identity as Cain has whispered it into the
younger man's ear only centons earlier, absorbing the significance of the
knowledge that, upon Cain's death, only Apollo would possess. Roman was
an alien, just as the medical technician Diana had been, an alien whose
people had appeared to the Fleet in what the Colonials had called the
Ships of Light.
     "You know to ask for Serina. Please tell her that I love her and
I've not forgotten that she'll love me always, and that me and Dad think
about her every day, and that Sheba's a good mom too, except she can't
cook, but that doesn't matter, 'cause she's good at a lot of other stuff,
and I like having a little sister, even if I do have to wait a few
yahrens for her to get big enough to play triad," Boxey lifted his head,
moving reluctantly away from the bed, knowing without having to be told
that Cain's time was soon to end, "and tell her that you were my Grandpa
for a whole yahren, and that Dad and Mom and Grandpa Adama and
Cassiopeia, and a bunch of other people, all love me and take care of me,
so she doesn't have to worry about me, 'cause I'm alright." 
     "Consider it done, Junior Warrior," Cain winked at Boxey, and then
resumed his shared gaze with Apollo, "pick up my scepteron from the table
over there, Captain, and give it to the boy," the older man laughed
hoarsely at Apollo's efforts to regain his equilibrium, and touched
Boxey's unruly hair with a steadily weakening hand, "later on, when the
alert status has lifted, and he has a little time for bedtime stories,
have your Grandfather Adama tell you how I came to receive this
scepteron, my boy," Cain turned his attention to his fellow Commander,
who had been standing silently near the hatchway at the foot of the bed,
keeping his distance while Sheba and the children had joined Apollo at
Cain's bedside, his moist eyes belying his stoic posture as he listened
to the dying man's words, "as you know, Adama, I've left holographic
recordings for you, Tigh, Tolen, a few others, and of course," Cain
turned to address his daughter, an uncharacteristically gentle tone in
his normally brash voice, "I've left one for my Baby as well," Cain
returned his gaze to Boxey's tearful face, "and as for my grandson, to
always remind you that it's not only blood that can make for family,"
Cain touched the scepteron that Apollo had laid carefully into the boy's
hands, "this I give to you, my boy, in celebration of the privilege I was
afforded in being one of your grandparents, if only for a brief time,"
Cain touched the boy's hair once more, closing his eyes as the effort of
movement became more taxing. He breathed himself back to a place of
determination, as yahrens of training and combat had taught him, then
reached out to take Artemis from Sheba's arms. He propped the half yahren
on the bed beside him and smiled into her silently curious gaze.
"Artemis, my girl," Cain shared another enigmatic glance with Adama, "I
foresee some interesting times for you," leaning forward, he kissed the
infant tenderly on the forehead, "in no time at all, you'll be taking
your first solo flight in a viper, my little Valkyrie," he moved back
into the cushions behind him as Apollo lifted Artemis from the bed,
stepping back to stand with his wife and son, making room for Adama to
step forward.
     "Cain, my friend," Adama's eyes were moist as he stood looking down
at his fellow Commander, his comrade and friend, so different from
himself in attitude and nature and many philosophies, but holding the
same ideals of principle when it came to defending the last remnants of
the Colonies of Man from the continuing Cylon Threat, "mere words seem
inadequate."
     "Then you might just as well get up to the bridge, Commander,"
Cain's eyes glittered with decisiveness, "if the Cylons still have the
capacity to teleport something the size of that amplifier from a distance
beyond the reach of our scanning range, then another attack could be
imminent. Adama," the man on the bed reached up and grasped the white
haired warrior's wrist, embracing it firmly in spite of his weakened
state, "we've said almost all there is to say over the last few sectons,
and I've left those recordings for you and the others. Leave me to spend
a few centons with my little girl. Go, send those gall-monging Cylons
into Hades fire for me, and remind Tigh to expect a regular lecture from
that damned Councillor Domra over the half yahren the Council had to
delay the construction of the Auricon in order to repair and refit the
Pegasus. Tell him to take care of the old girl. She's carried my crew
beyond every limit that she was ever intended to withstand, and she
deserves to be treated well."
     "The Pegasus shall be in good hands, and so shall her crew," Adama
swallowed hard at the sight of Cain's dwindling vigour, "I promise you
that, my friend," Adama squeezed Cain's wrist one last time, "may the
Lords of Kobol bless and guide you on the journey that lay before you,"
the Galactica's Commander blinked hard, leaned to kiss Sheba's dampened
cheek, placed a guiding hand on Boxey's shoulder, then walked silently
from the chamber, ushering his grandson before him.
     "I will be in the outer chamber, my love," Apollo said quietly into
Sheba's ear, kissing her gently, then turning toward Cain and pursing his
lips in his effort to stem the tide of emotion that threatened to well up
from within him, "Sir." he said simply, the single word catching in his
throat. He turned his infant daughter in his arms to afford her the
opportunity for one last look at her maternal grandfather, sharing a long
and thoughtful look of his own with the warrior in the bed before him.
The younger man nodded grimly, taking his leave of the small bedchamber,
turning only briefly to regard Cain and Sheba, father and daughter,
cradling his own daughter firmly within the curve of one strong arm, then
reached to close the hatchway behind him with the other.
     "Baby," Cain reached for his only child's hand, his slowly failing
heart still managing to ache at the emptiness of sorrow that had
overtaken her warm, brown eyes, /her mother's eyes/, he opened his arms
weakly, a wan smile on his ashen face, though his eyes contrasted his
look of mortality with their bright blue intensity, "come and sit with me
for a while, until it's time for me to go."
     "Oh, Father," Sheba moved into her Father's embrace, laying her head
lightly against him and spilling her warm tears onto his chest , "I
wouldn't mind if you could manage to stay with me for a little while
longer."

***  

Chapter Three - Scene Five

     "Tigh!" Adama entered the rear gallery of the Command Centre of the
Colonial Battlestar Pegasus, quickly traversing the few metrons from the
aft bridge access hatch to the steps at the base of the command platform,
Athena, Starbuck and Bojay emerging from the corridor behind him, "What's
happening? Bojay tells us that you've been tracking another electrical
disturbance."
     "Aye, Commander," Tigh stepped aside as Athena took the station that
he had been occupying beside Tolen at the command console. The Colonel
glanced briefly at Starbuck and Bojay, then returned his attention to
Adama, "Sir, Commander Cain...?"
     "Cain will soon be leaving us, Tigh," Adama spoke quietly, his eyes
still moist from his brief farewell to his fellow Commander, clasping his
hands behind his back and leaning slightly forward, "Apollo and
Cassiopeia are maintaining the deathwatch vigil with the children while
Sheba waits with her father," Adama pursed his lips as he assumed a more
controlled expression, straightening his back and turning toward the
large viewing screen mounted on the bulkhead across the large chamber,
"Cain has left recordings for some of us to view. We shall do so, /after/
the current situation has been dealt with."
     "Commander," Starbuck stepped forward, his own eyes still moist from
his all too recent memory of Cassiopeia's tears as she had emerged from
Cain's bedchamber and then cried into his broad chest while he had held
her tightly and whispered words of gentle comfort into her ear. Adama had
gathered Sheba and the children to make their goodbyes, and Athena had
sat quietly beside a small table near Cain's desk, idly fingering the
cover of a book that Starbuck had recognized as the Field Manual, the
ancient book passed down from the times of the exodus of the Warrior
Priests of Kobol, who had defended the safety of the people who had
journeyed to settle the system of planets that had eventually become the
Twelve Colonies of Man, "Sir," Starbuck forced his thoughts away from the
scene of Cain's deathwatch, and his admittedly substantial measure of
desire to stand vigil with Cassiopeia above all else, and focussed
instead upon his simultaneous eagerness to take action, "I need to get
out there with Blue Squadron and..."
     "No, Starbuck," Adama placed a firm hand on the blonde Lieutenant's
shoulder, "Bojay will go out and lead the defensive wings with the
Squadron Leaders, "I am returning to the Galactica and, with Tigh
commanding the Pegasus, and Apollo and Sheba otherwise occupied, I shall
be needing /you/ to take the duty rotation as Executive Officer until
further notice," Adama smiled grimly, nodding in Tigh's direction,
"Colonel, it is time for us to begin our transition to the new command
structure. Starbuck and I will be borrowing one of your undamaged vipers
to transfer over to the Galactica."
     "Aye, Commander," Tigh responded crisply and gestured toward Bojay,
"Captain Bojay, get down to the launch bay with the Commander and his
acting /Executive Officer/," Starbuck was later to claim that Tigh's
elegant features had briefly formed a look of horrified resignation as
the Colonel had continued speaking to the Pegasus Squadron Commander,
"get them into a fully armed and operational viper and off to the
Galactica, then join Boomer and take over in forward Strike position with
Silver Spar," Tigh pointed a long, graceful finger directly into
Starbuck's face, lifting an eyebrow and speaking in a stonily
authoritative tone, "stay out of trouble on that bridge, young man!"
     "Wha...?" Starbuck made a sound that Athena later described as a
'level five on the steam purge scale' as he pawed reflexively for the
utility pocket on the sleeve of his flight jacket, where Sheba's
fumarello and Cain's flinton temptingly awaited his ready lips. 
     "Starbuck! Bojay!" Adama moved toward the steps leading down from
the platform, pausing only for a micron to place a reassuring hand on
Athena's shoulder, sharing a look of sorrow with her and with the other
warriors on the command platform, all of them thinking momentarily of
Cain, "we must see to it that the Fleet is protected," he scanned the
faces before him, "once we have seen our people through this crisis,
/then/ we shall make time to grieve," the Galactica's Commander turned,
his jaw clenched with conflicting emotion and rushed with a quick martial
stride down the steps and through the aft hatchway, Bojay and Starbuck
close on his heels.
     "Colonel Tigh!" Tolen adjusted a frequency relay on his recently
repaired and still partially disassembled console, "Galactica reports
electrical relay failures occurring randomly throughout the ship," the
younger man stabbed a finger at the display monitor before him, "Sir!
That last disturbance was right off their port, not more than twenty
deca-hectons distant."
     "Colonel Tigh, Lieutenant Starbuck's viper has launched for the
Galactica, with Commander Adama safely aboard. Galactica Core Command
confirms them for an expedited landing on the undamaged portion of Alpha
Bay," Athena turned to regard Tigh and Tolen, placing a delicate finger
against the earpiece of the headset that she now wore, "Captain Bojay is
on his way forward to join Masud. Boomer and the Squadron Leaders report
no activity at present in the current scan grid, though some of our
fighters are still disabled from that last big surge."
     "If we could find some pattern to the anomaly's movements," Tigh
crossed his lean, though firmly muscled arms over his chest, "perhaps we
can gain some understanding of how to stop it, or at the very least, veer
away from it's next projected manifestation," the Colonel stared grimly,
as did Tolen and Athena, at the data that streamed across the displays of
the hastily, and none too neatly repaired command console, "there just
isn't any discernable order or consistency that I can detect."
     "Wait," Tolen said quietly, "look over here in Beta Sector," the
younger man's eyes widened as he extended an index finger, directing the
attention of his fellow officers to a wavelon reading currently being
recorded and transmitted by one of the fighters that patrolled the
portion of the defensive network surrounding the ships of the Colonial
Fleet that was currently designated Beta Sector, "Lieutenant Jolly
reports inadvertently picking up a repetitive pattern over the lower
frequency range while bypassing some burned out relays in his viper's
targeting scanner array," Tolen unceremoniously pulled an access panel
from the main console and adjusted several receptor relays, skillfully
and efficiently synchronizing the base line scan range of the Pegasus'
functioning targeting arrays with the frequencies indicated by Lieutenant
Jolly's transmission, "this configuration should allow us to capture and
compare any subsequent signals over the indicated frequency parameters,"
Tolen's voice registered a hopeful tone as he turned to regard Tigh's
elegant features, "perhaps we can find a way to fight back, Sir."
     "Let's hope so, Tolen," Tigh said grimly, turning to Athena and
gesturing toward the Alpha Channel Relay, "Lieutenant, pass our data on
to the Galactica and keep the direct channel open. We may need to
coordinate our actions quickly if these low frequency patterns indicate
some activity involving the Cylons' new teleportation technology." 
     "Colonel?" Athena's voice was edged with the anxiety that every
warrior in the Fleet was currently experiencing, "do you think that
they're sending another amplifier to try and finish us off?"
     "If they are, then let's be ready for them," Tigh's face became
somehow more angular in its intensity of expression as he regarded first
Athena, and then Tolen, willing them to remain strong with the
encouraging and confident tone of his next words, "at any rate, no matter
what happens here on this daily cycle, we shall see to it that Commander
Cain's faith in the three of /us/ has not been misplaced."

***  

Chapter Three - Scene Six

     "I know that it's difficult for you to watch Starbuck and the others
deal with a crisis while you stay behind, Apollo, especially since you've
only just returned from medical furlon," Cassiopeia spoke quietly as she
approached the Captain, interrupting his restless pacing of the width of
the main chamber of Commander Cain's private quarters, "but Adama was
right when he insisted that you remain here," the young woman glanced
toward the bench seat where Boxey dozed fitfully beneath a thick blanket,
Cain's scepteron clutched tightly in his small hand, his slumbering
infant sister, Artemis, propped within the cradle of some cushions
nearby. She turned to face Apollo, "Bojay and Starbuck will join Boomer,
Masud and the other squadron leaders if they are needed. They're all very
capable warriors, and you must trust in their abilities. In any case,
it's as your father says, this is one of those times that Sheba and the
children /need/ you to be with them."
     "Of course, you're right Cassiopeia," Apollo gazed thoughtfully
beyond Cassiopeia's shoulder, studying the faces of his children as they
slept, "though I'm not certain what help I can be," he looked into the
blue eyes that returned his gaze with a frown of concern mixed with their
own personal manifestation of sorrow, "I find myself remembering..." his
gaze moved this time toward the closed hatchway beyond which his wife now
sat vigil at the bedside of her dying father, his air of guilt and self
doubt clearly visible to one who knew his history of loss as well and as
intimately as Cassiopeia.
     "You mustn't feel badly about thinking of Serina at a time like
this, Apollo," the Captain started slightly at Cassiopeia's direct
confrontation of his pain, "besides any memories that were induced in
most of us during the enemy attack, and in spite of all that's happened
in your life since you lost her, both sorrowful and happy times, and a
whole new beginning with Sheba, it /has/ only been three yahrens," she
laid a gentle hand on the crook of his elbow, smiling through the tears
that she shed for Cain, and for Serina, and for countless others that now
existed only in her seldom pondered memory from her far away life before
the Destruction of the Twelve Colonies of Man, "after all that you've
been through, it makes you that much more able to understand, to /feel/,
Sheba's pain."
     "Yes, I suppose that's true," Apollo reached to squeeze the fingers
that still held to his arm, then released them and turned to face the
hatchway to Cain's private chamber, his thumbs hooked over the edges of
his gun belt, his jaw clenched with the effort to control his need to
act, to /do/ something/, this lack of physical release in a time of grief
and danger something that his warrior's instincts were unaccustomed to,
at least not without some physical injury to hold him back, the fact that
he'd only just returned to active duty from half a yahren of medical
furlon adding to his frustration at knowing that Adama had been quite
correct in his insistence that Apollo stay behind while Starbuck, Bojay
and Athena had joined the Commander to consult with the officers on the
Pegasus Bridge, "but it doesn't make me feel any less selfish," he smiled
humourlessly at the woman beside him, an empathetic expression flickering
briefly over his troubled features, "it must be very difficult for you as
well, Cassiopeia," the two of them stood side by side, momentarily lost
in their own thoughts and memories.
     "Yes," Cassiopeia spoke softly as Apollo moved across the chamber to
adjust Boxey's fallen blanket, gently sliding the scepteron from the
boy's small hands and laying it carefully upon the nearby table. He
straightened, glancing once at Artemis as he moved to stand again beside
his friend and trusted guardian of his children, lover of his closest
friend, and former lover of his wife's father. "Apollo, I'm grateful to
you for indulging Cain in his request that I be made a legal member of
the family, though I'm hoping that when Starbuck finds out, he won't feel
as though I've chosen Cain over him."
     "It's not a contest of popularity," Apollo began to walk in a slow
circle, absently gazing at the bulkheads, adorned with various military
icons and medals from many of Cain's past campaigns and countless
victories in battle against Cylon forces, "I am certain that Starbuck
will support whatever makes you happiest, Cassiopeia, and it's not like
anything is going to change all that dramatically. You'll just be
spending more time with us and a little less with Doctor Salik," the
Captain smiled, this time with a small effort at amusement, though it was
difficult to break through the grimness of the vigil that the two of them
now shared, waiting for Sheba to emerge from her father's private
chamber, "Your medical studies need not be interrupted. Besides, it might
afford me some small measure of revenge for that damned wagering pool
turned family chronicle."
     "Oh, Apollo," Cassiopeia laughed softly, sadly, "you know how much
Starbuck loves you," she reached idly to touch the antique book that lay
on a small work table to one side of Cain's desk, "the pool has evolved
into an entity that he couldn't stop now, even if he tried. There are
permutations projecting yahrens into the future. Artemis' wedding day is
bound to be a big currency occasion, according to Chameleon and..."
Cassiopeia's voice trailed off as she traced the metallic crest on the
center of the old book's cover, her brow furrowing and her free hand
reaching into her pocket.
     "Cassiopeia?" Apollo stopped in his aimless circuit of the chamber,
turning at the abrupt end to the young woman's words, "What is it?" he
moved to stand beside her, regarding the book, recognizing it as the
ancient Kobollian Military Field Manual from which Athena and Tolen had
been translating several complex texts, requested by Cain to be used as a
framework for the funeral ritual that would commence shortly after his
death.
     "Apollo," Cassiopeia pulled her hand from the deep pocket built into
the side seam of her long, belted tunic, dangling a small auricon
necklace over the book on the table before them, "the markings on this
amulet, they're identical to the symbols on the cover of this book," she
turned to look into his curious face, "I took this from Artemis' hand,
shortly after you and Sheba first returned to active duty, roughly three
days ago, now, though it feels like an eternity," her gaze rested
momentarily upon the hatchway to Cain's bedchamber, the presence of his
impending death impossible for either of them to ignore.
     "Cassiopeia?" Apollo spoke gently, reading in her gaze and in her
expression the heartache that she felt.  
     "Sorry," the young woman shook her blonde head and blinked away the
freshest wave of tears that threatened to overflow from her red and
swollen lids, taking a deep breath and returning her attention to the
small medallion in her hand, "I found this in Artemis' hand. I put it in
my pocket, thinking to ask you or Sheba if you knew anything about it.
Boxey thought perhaps it might belong to one of the pilots in Sheba's
squadron, but look," she held the small ovoid medallion, it's raised
design glittering with a flash of auricon, next to the symbol on the
Field Manual. Both she and the Captain could plainly see that the
markings were virtually identical, "the markings are the same,"
Cassiopeia turned toward Apollo, her brow still furrowed with curiosity,
"can you read any of it? Starbuck tells me the ancient dialect in this
manual is very complex."
     "Father and Athena are better with these old writings than I am,"
Apollo touched the face of the glittering auricon amulet and chain that
now lay upon the book next to its more weathered counterpart, "but I /do/
know that the symbol in the center of this particular book is a military
icon. It was used as a crest by one of the largest of Kobol's
warrior-priest clans. Father told me about it on the day that I married
Sheba, shortly after the field combat sealing ritual that we had asked
him to choose for us from the Manual. Of course, you were there, so you
no doubt remember how Starbuck rushed out of the chamber with the book to
start that eighteen day sealing celebration. Father said that the icon's
meaning translates roughly into Caprican as 'Guardian', or 'Guardian of
Time', depending on its context," the Captain reached down and picked up
the necklace, placing it back into Cassiopeia's hand, "you keep it for
now, Cassiopeia. Perhaps we can find out where it came from later,
after..." the Captain's words were stopped short by the /swoosh/ of the
opening hatchway as Sheba emerged from the interior chamber.
     Apollo moved to stand before his wife, his lips parted as he
struggled briefly to find the words to speak to the awful sorrow upon her
face, then, finding none, he opened his strong arms instead, gathering
her to him and holding her tightly as she stepped forward into his
embrace, her body racked with the sobs of acceptance that she had held
back for so many sectons, since learning of her father's terminal
condition.
     "He's gone," Sheba whispered, her breath catching in her throat as
the reflexive sobbing resumed.  
     Cassiopeia replaced the necklace into her pocket, then moved to sit
quietly in one of the large upholstered chairs that occupied the more
dimly lit area near the interior bulkhead of the chamber, wrapping a soft
blanket about her shoulders, lost in her own thoughts as Apollo whispered
words of comfort and love into Sheba's ear, moving with his grief
stricken wife to sit beside her on the seat adjacent to their childrens'
sleeping forms.
     Apollo, Sheba, Cassiopeia and the still slumbering children stayed
as they were for some time afterward, unaware of the presence of the
shielded alien known as John, who watched them, with a sympathetic gaze,
from a position behind Cassiopeia's chair.

***  

Chapter Three - Scene Seven

     /WHMMMMMMMPHF/  
     Starbuck struggled tenaciously with a stiffening navigational
control as a roaring stream of light and sound washed over him. The
control stick seemed to melt from his clutching fingers as he writhed
helplessly under the pressure of the sickening pulse of the deeply
thrumming low frequency signal that coursed through his body, pulling him
into an ever-thickening, and horrifyingly familiar fog.
     "Starbuck!" Adama's voice came to him as though from a great
distance and a hand grasped his shoulder from behind as Starbuck pondered
briefly that the Cylon signal matrix would surely cause him to lose
control of his now disabled viper if he did not pull up on the... 
     "Starbuck?" Cassiopeia giggled playfully as Starbuck woke
reluctantly from a dream of flying through space, piloting his viper
toward the landing bay, to feel the tendrils of his lover's hair tickling
his face, "you must have been exhausted from that long range patrol, you
poor thing. Or was it all those consecutive centars of gambling with
Chameleon at the chancery tables on the Rising Star after you returned?
It looks to me as though you haven't moved from beneath that blanket
since before I left for duty in Life Station more than eight centars
ago!"
     "I recall becoming briefly mobile at one juncture," Starbuck lay
with his eyes still closed, loathe to leave the pleasantly numbing fog of
unconsciousness that had enveloped him, "I decided that it would be a far
more attractive option for me to go back to your bed and await your
return than to get all dressed up only to join the guys in the barracks
for the remainder of my furlon period," Starbuck opened his eyes and
lifted his strong arms over his head, yawning in a mockingly exaggerated
fashion, pulling free of the vague nagging sense of un-ease that touched
the periphery of his awareness, invitingly lifting the edge of the
blanket under which he lay, grinning boyishly and watching with an air of
assumed concern as her skirted uniform and the filmy undergarments that
had been worn beneath it fell to the decking beside the narrow bed that
dominated a good portion of Cassiopeia's tiny living quarters, a single
main chamber with a correspondingly small, adjoining turbo wash chamber,
a billet for one in the section of the Galactica's crew quarters that was
designated for single medical officers and technicians, "I was hoping
that you wouldn't be opposed to me taking liberties with your private
space while you were working, nursing all those poor sick and injured
people in Life Station back to health, and studying to become a great
healer," he slid his palms to rest gently over Cassiopeia's shoulder
blades as she moved to lay beside him and he pulled her into a firm
embrace, laughing softly in his habitually disarming manner and reaching
to pull the blanket slowly and teasingly up over her bare back "hmm,
Cass, you'd better get under this blanket with me before you catch a
chill," Starbuck felt a rush of desire at the feeling of her soft skin
gliding with a tantilizing friction over the more roughly textured and
weathered skin that covered the athletic musculature of his own naked
body, still drifting in that euphorically blurred state of awareness
between sleep and wakefulness, closing his eyes once more to briefly
inhale the intoxicating fragrance of her hair.
     "How about taking some liberties with my private space while I'm
/not/ working," Cassiopeia's mischievous laughter was muffled by Starbuck
springing suddenly into wakefulness, the muscles in his strong back
tensing as he held her firmly, the blanket falling from their bare bodies
to rest in in a rumpled heap beside Cassiopeia's clothing, his blonde
hair sweeping downward to frame his face as he rolled her gracefully to
lie beneath him, entangling his legs with hers and kissing her
lingeringly on the lips, chuckling breathily as she returned his kiss,
touching her tongue lightly to his parted lips and then biting his lower
lip enticingly as she reached for...
     "Starbuck!" Adama's voice roared into abrupt focus, as did the sight
of the rapidly approaching landing bay deck that was dominating the view
through the transparent tylium panels of the viper in which the two men
now rode wildly, out of control, "Starbuck!" Adama's elbow caught
Starbuck's windpipe with a sweeping blow as the older warrior reached
determinedly against the centrifugal force that was pushing him further
back into the small passenger and transport compartment behind the
Lieutenant's seat, pulling the control stick into a deliberate arc as the
viper spun sharply, its starboard delta wing slicing into the recently
repaired deck plates of the Galactica's Alpha Landing Bay, "come out of
it, Lieutenant, and take the control, quickly!"
     "Galactica Core Command! Alpha Landing Bay! If anyone can hear me,"
Starbuck yelled into the multi ship relay in the console before him,
uncertain if his signal was being received and having no time to confirm,
snatched the control stick unceremoniously from Adama's hand and engaged
the emergency landing thrusters, grateful that they were still
operational as he used them in reactive, directed bursts to slow the
progress of the fighter as it peeled a large ribbon-like strip of
tylinium alloy from the deck in an arc that intersected squarely with the
long, narrow hook-shaped trail of damage that Sheba's similarly disabled
fighter had left in its wake several centars previously, "get out of the
way! Galactica Alpha is coming in on visual reference only. We're taking
a wide curve, fellas! Clear the bay!" Starbuck clenched his jaw against
the increasing gravitational force as he spun the control in a final
sharp maneuver that brought the ship to a screeching halt in a painfully
deafening roar of shredding metal and a final groaning complaint from the
damaged viper's structural framework as it slowly collapsed in on itself,
surrounding the still secure canopied section like a large metal arachon.
     "Lieutenant!" It was several microns before Starbuck looked up to
see Adama's face above him and idly wondered why the Commander appeared
so dishevelled, "Starbuck! Can you hear me?" Adama stared into Starbuck's
unfocussed eyes, "Starbuck! Say something, boy!"
     "Cassie, will you marry me?" Starbuck spoke in a small weak voice,
staggering as Adama and two landing bay technicians guided him to his
feet beside the smoking remains of the viper that he had somehow managed
to land within mere centrons of an interior bulkhead, "Chameleon? Father?
Have you grown in height?"
     "I /am/ sorry, son," Adama spoke grimly, "but I haven't the time for
you to snap out of it on your own, and we need to get to the bridge," the
Commander raised a reluctant, though well toned arm and swung his open
palm to connect sharply, and rather loudly, with the side of Starbuck's
already pounding cranium, evoking a sympathetic wince from the assorted
technicians and emergency crew that had assembled nearby.
     "Ow! Hey! What the..." Starbuck's blue eyes came into clear focus as
he returned abruptly to full consciousness with the solid /crack/ of
Adama's well placed blow, "Commander! But Cassio...oh my god, Sir! Was it
another amplifier that hit us?" Starbuck turned to stare at the wreckage
behind him, then scanned the wide, surreally sculpture-like ribbon of
torn metal that marked the recent passage of his now smouldering and
sparking viper, /and /I/ was watching /Apollo/ for slowed reflexes/, the
blonde warrior turned to address his Commander once more, "Is there any
way that we can avoid having the Squadron Commander find out about this
one?"
     "Starbuck," Adama sighed and surveyed the rubble that surrounded
him, "within a daily cycle or two, /you/ will /be/ the Galactica's
Primary Squadron Commander," the older man allowed himself a small smile
of satisfaction at the sight of the dawning horror on the bruised and
dirtied face of the young man who had been like another son to him since
before the Destruction, knowing how devoted Starbuck often was in his
efforts to avoid assuming responsibility of any kind, particularly if it
might threaten to hamper any of his recreational pursuits, "now, for the
time being, unless you would care to propose marriage to me again,
Lieutenant, let us make haste to the bridge and find out how badly we
have been hit!" Adama gestured toward the hatchway leading to the most
expeditious route to the Galactica's Command Centre and, nodding
officiously to the varied crew members that now rushed to contain and
repair the newest and most dramatic swath of damage to the landing bay,
marched quickly with Starbuck at his side to join Omega and Rigel on the
command platform, uncertain as to how widespread this latest encounter
with the enemy signal matrix had been, and praying fervently that some of
the Fleet's defensive systems were still operational.

***  

Chapter Three - Scene Eight

     "Commander!" Adama's eyebrows lifted, not at Omega's relieved
greeting, but at the scene that surrounded the young bridge officer,
"Sir, thank the gods you landed safely! We were hit by another apparently
remote signal. More than half of the bridge crew were affected and
several of our communication and scan relay networks are down. We're cut
off from the Fleet, for the moment. Doctor Wilker and Rigel are
attempting to re-establish communication with the Pegasus," Omega stepped
back as Adama and Starbuck, after sharing a confused glance, ascended the
steps to the plateau of the command platform and found themselves sharing
the limited space, not only with Officer Omega and Lieutenant Rigel, but
with Doctor Wilker, Chameleon, Muffit and Drone Two.
     "Omega!" Adama stepped carefully around Wilker and Rigel who, having
removed a large access panel beneath the command console, were presently
lying with their backs on the deck and reaching up as they busily
repaired and rewired a large section of the scorched and sparking
interior. The Commander gestured toward Muffit and Drone Two, who sat
silently near the perimeter rail at Rigel's side, "Why are these drones
on the bridge?"
     "We've done it, Sir! We've cracked the code!" Wilker's voice echoed
soulfully from the decking near Adama's booted feet, "Chameleon! Explain
it to them! Rigel! Hand me that relay clamp!"
     "Doctor Wilker?" At the Commander's words, Starbuck stepped back
unconsciously, wincing, touching the side of his head, then reaching to
pat the pocket that held the ever-present and still unused fumarello and
flinton as he watched Adama move in Wilker's direction, the resounding
clap that Starbuck had received in the landing bay from the older
warrior's strong arm still sounding in younger's ears, "are you saying
that you have found a way to repel these insidious enemy attacks?"
     "Commander Adama! By your leave, Sir," Omega interjected, gesturing
for Starbuck's father to step forward, "it /would/ be most expeditious
for Chameleon to explain it to you, Sir."
     "Um," Chameleon stepped forward tentatively, pausing for a heartbeat
to regard Starbuck with an affectionate and paternal smile, "Son," then
turned and assumed a less casual demeanour to address Adama, "If I may,
Commander," the small man coughed once, continuing in a steadier, more
confident tone, "you see, it's about isolating the signal's basic matrix,
using its similarity to the human nervous system as a template,"
Chameleon glanced from Adama's face to Starbuck's and then back again,
seeing the warriors' confused expressions and continuing to speak in his
slightly deprecating and always charming manner, "as I understand it, if
the, er, guardian drones, connect themselves with the Fleet's
communication array and await the next Cylon transmission, they may be
able to create a feedback surge that could destroy the source of the
signal!"
     "We have the Alpha Channel Relay receiving a signal from the
Pegasus, Commander!" Rigel's well modulated tones were muffled by the
barrier of the console structure as she and Wilker continued to work
steadily on the next section of the main communication array.
     "Tigh!" Adama felt a rush of relief at the sight of Tigh's elegant
features coming into focus on the small display monitor atop the command
console, "What is the situation over there? Do you have communications
with the rest of the Fleet?"
     "Affirmative, Commander," Tigh's voice was grim, "that last attack
took out almost all of our scanning capabilities, but we have some
communications. We haven't many vipers left out there without electrical
disruptions and disoriented pilots. I've ordered emergency landings for
those most severely affected to Pegasus Alpha Landing Bay. We're trying
to effect some repairs and I've got Captain Bojay working at
re-establishing the viper scan relay network forward of the Fleet,"
Tigh's image registered his frustration, "Adama, it's a miracle that
no-one's been killed in a collision."
     "Agreed," Adama shot a long-suffering look at Starbuck, the
Galactica's acting Executive Officer, who responded with a weak attempt
at a disarming smile, he himself well aware that the effect would be
somewhat diminished by his still dishevelled appearance, "but we may have
a solution at hand, Tigh! Wilker is implementing what he believes may be
a means of destroying the signal at it's source!"
     "We're ready here, Omega!" Wilker spoke firmly as he and Rigel rose
to their knees before the console and began methodically connecting a
series of carefully arranged wires between the console and Drone Two's
main control unit, "once we have the drone wired into the Galactica's
communication array, we'll be ready to test our theory with the next
enemy transmission," the droll doctor looked upward into Adama's deep
brown eyes with his own bluish grey gaze, these two men who had shared so
many yahrens together aboard the Battlestar Galactica, in that instant,
knowing simultaneously that they had not come this far, from before the
Destruction of the worlds of their birth to this firing range in unknown
space, fighting to survive against such monumental odds, to be stopped by
the Cylon Empire and its latest attack upon the very essence of their
humanity, "I've ordered Komma to bring Drone One up to Alpha Launch Bay
from Lambda Section. With your approval, Commander, I'll have Muffit
input the new signal recognition parameters into Drone One's main
processor and send the two drones over to the Pegasus," Wilker smiled
ever so slightly as Adama read the message in the diminutive scientist's
expression, "Komma can stand ready with Drone One on the Pegasus bridge,
while Muffit Two checks in on the, um, civilians."
     "I am certain that Boxey and Artemis shall appreciate your
foresight, Doctor Wilker," Adama spoke quietly as he mirrored the
doctor's enigmatic smile, then turned abruptly, assuming a more serious
expression to address the image of Tigh that still fluctuated with random
static on the Alpha Channel Relay display, "Tigh! We're sending Corporal
Komma over with Guardian Drone One and Muffit!"
     "But Sir," Tigh's face displayed a skeptical expression, clearly
visible even through the static over the Alpha Relay, "after the incident
in the landing bay with Council Security..."
     "Just make certain that no-one lights up any fumarellos around Drone
One, Colonel," Doctor Wilker interjected as he rose to stand beside
Adama, "Komma can directly connect the drone to your communication array.
Doing it remotely might leave the feedback signal more vulnerable to
distortion in the lower frequency ranges. I suggest we move fast,
gentlemen. There's no telling when the next attack might occur, and this
is the only tangible course of action that we have."
     "Wilker's right, Sirs!" Adama lifted an appraising eyebrow as
Starbuck flanked his other side, speaking earnestly as the younger man
looked first at Adama, then at the image of Tigh on the monitor before
him, "It's the only chance we've got! When that last signal hit us, I
could feel it moving into my mind, but I could do nothing to stop it. I
woke directly into a memory of...uh," Starbuck flushed slightly as the
whisper of Cassiopeia's clothing sliding to the deck beside her bed
crossed through his mind, revealing the sight of her naked body as she
slid to the...he shook his head perceptibly and forced his attention back
to the present situation upon the Galactica's command platform, "well,
the point is, I was unable to resist being drawn into my own memory by
that thing, as were many others, apparently," the varied men and women
who stood assembled upon both command platforms exchanged grave glances
as they listened to Starbuck's words, "if the attacks continue, if we
can't stop them, the Cylons will surely finish us in a matter of
centars!"
     "Yes, Starbuck," Adama turned and regarded Muffit Two, who now sat
alertly at the Commander's feet, "we must make the attempt. We have no
other options."
     /Bark. Bark. Whirr./ Muffit tilted its head and gave a convincing
approximation of returning Adama's thoughtful glance.
     "Alright, everyone!" Adama straightened and scanned the faces before
him, "You all know what to do!" the Commander nodded as Wilker ushered
Muffit down the steps and toward the exit leading to the launch bay,
leaving Rigel and Chameleon to monitor the activity of Drone Two's
retrofitted main processor, and Omega to continue the repairs on the main
console. Adama rested his gaze upon Starbuck's determined features,
focussing on an oily smear that ran diagonally across the younger man's
handsomely chiselled cheek and realizing absently that both men were
still dirtied and bruised from their recent crash landing, a condition
that fell far below Adama's customary standard of appearance for the two
Senior Officers atop the Galactica's command platform, and praying
fervently, not only for the success of Wilker's plan, and the destruction
of the enemy transmitter, but that this was not a foreshadowing of a
typical duty rotation with Starbuck, "Let us prepare for the next attack,
and may the Lords of Kobol help us all!"

*** 

Chapter Three - Scene Nine

     "Roman?" Apollo spoke softly as he entered Cain's bedchamber to join
the Chief Medical Officer of the Pegasus, who had arrived some centons
earlier, taking the opportunity of a lull in the activity in Life
Station, to attend to the practical duties of preserving and dressing
Cain's body in preparation for the deceased Commander's funeral rituals
that would begin, presumably, soon after the immediate threat of enemy
attack had been repelled, "Roman," Apollo repeated the name, turned to
see that the hatchway had closed behind him, then moved to stand next to
the Doctor at the side of the bed, watching as the other man began to
gently remove the varied remote sensors and automatic pain suppressant
infusers that had been hidden beneath Cain's tunic, "Cain told me the
truth about you," Roman paused at Apollo's words and the two dark young
men regarded one another silently, emotionlessly, "he told me that you're
one of the aliens that began appearing to us is the ships of light, after
we'd encountered Count Iblis, like John."
     "Yes, Captain," Roman resumed his work, straightening Cain's tunic
with care as he replaced the dead man's arm beneath the soft blanket that
covered the body, "I know," Roman smiled as he initiated the shutdown
sequence on the large medical console that occupied one corner of Cain's
bedchamber, using the side of his boot heel to release the hinged
mechanical brakes that held it in place, then pushing it to stop beside
the hatchway, "I'll have this larger equipment moved out later, when
Sheba and the children are not here to see," Roman stood staring absently
at the now inoperative medical console, then turned to meet Apollo's
speculative gaze, "you'll be telling her, I suppose. You're not the sort
of man who would wish to keep a secret like this from your wife."
     "That's right, Roman," Apollo's voice faltered slightly as he felt
the ache of Sheba's loss, and his own, take hold of his senses, "but I
/have/ decided to wait until after the funeral rituals are over. She can
grieve for her father first, and learn about /you/ later."
     "But you won't tell anyone else?" Roman smiled and moved to pack a
nearby cart with various small instruments and pieces of equipment that
had been utilized in Cain's treatment, "You've decided to allow me to
continue in my mission here?"
     "What precisely /is/ your mission here, Roman?" Apollo spoke,
extending a small waste canister into which Roman swept several emptied
vials of varied medical solutions, "Is it to watch over my wife, and my
children?"
     "In part, yes, Apollo," Doctor Roman took the canister with one
hand, grasping the Captain's upper arm with the other, "mistakes have
been made, by my people, and by others, that have resulted in the
creature that you know as Iblis being afforded these opportunities to
attack you. I am here to play a part in correcting those wrongs with as
little disruption as possible to the natural flow of the continuum of
space and time through which we all travel in one direction or another,
depending on our choices."
     "Apollo?" Lieutenant Athena's voice carried suddenly through the
opening hatchway and Roman released his grip on the fabric of Apollo's
jacket sleeve, both men turning to face Apollo's sister with emotionless
expressions as she stepped tentatively into the chamber, glancing
tearfully at the still form beneath the blanket on the bed, "Tigh asked
me to check in on things, here. Ship wide communication is down from that
last attack, though Sheba and Cassiopeia tell me that none of you felt
any effects."
     "Apparently not," Apollo shot an enigmatic look into Doctor Roman's
dark eyes, "perhaps we were shielded from the transmission somehow," he
shrugged and moved to join his sister at the hatchway, hugging her
briefly and sharing another glance with her toward the form on the bed,
"at any rate, there's nothing more that we can do here. Let's leave the
Doctor to his work, little sister," Apollo shared a nod of understanding
with Roman, the Captain's thoughts clear to both of them, /I'll be
watching you, Roman/, then, he and his sister moved through the hatchway
together.
     /Rrrr. Bark. Bark./ 
     "Muffit," Apollo felt a small rush of gratitude to see his son's
arms wrapped securely around the now fully functioning guardian drone's
neck, grateful that the boy would not be faced with the loss of the drone
upon whom he had been so emotionally dependent since those early days
after the Destruction when Wilker had hastily put the drone together and
programmed it to respond to Boxey's image. Muffit had seen its master
through, not only the loss of the original Muffit, a dearly loved daggit,
whose life had been extinguished beneath a falling minaret, as witnessed
by Serina, in the streets of Caprica City during the worst of all enemy
attacks on Colonial ground, but through the loss of his world and his
mother, and all before the age of seven yahrens. Though Apollo knew that
the boy would gradually outgrow this deep emotional need for the drone's
comforting presence, the young father was grateful that the death of Cain
would not be compounded for Boxey in the short term by the permanent
deactivation of Muffit Two as well.
     "Doctor Wilker sent him over with Komma and Drone One," Athena
smiled through her tears as her brother lifted his eyebrows
inquisitively, "we may have a means of fighting back against the enemy
transmission. Wilker's programmed the drones to create a feedback signal
from within the communication arrays of both battlestars and use it to
destroy the signal at its source, even if it's still at a remote distance
during the frequency interface."
     "What about the vipers?" Apollo's sharp warrior's mind began to move
through the fog of grief that he had been contending with, as he
considered the possible effects of the latest attack, "Roman didn't
mention any reports of injured pilots."
     "We've been lucky so far. The worst of the physical damage is to the
electrical systems. We've had to work hard at keeping communications
operational. Starbuck and Father had a rough landing heading into
Galactica Landing Bay Alpha," Athena raised a calming hand, stopping
Apollo's words of concern before they escaped his lips, "they're both
fine, though Starbuck was a little stunned at being thrust into the
Executive Officer's position in your absence."
     "Poor Starbuck," Apollo allowed himself a small smile of amusement,
"Perhaps we should have better prepared him for the new command
assignment rotations."
     "He'll find a way to work it to his advantage, no doubt," Athena
shared a glance of amusement with Cassiopeia as the blonde woman stepped
forward, the rift over Starbuck's affections that had first defined their
relationship, now having evolved into an easier and friendly interaction
that made them, not quite sisters, but still members of the same family,
loyal to the same people and principles, "Wait until he finds out about
Cassiopeia's new legal designation."
     "But he /is/ alright, isn't he?" Cassiopeia's face registered relief
at Athena's affirmative nod.
     "Apollo," Sheba spoke quietly as she tucked the edge of a soft
blanket around Artemis' sleeping form, and moved to stand with her
husband and the other two women, "Cassiopeia tells me that she's up to
staying here with the children," she stared for a moment at the hatchway
beyond which Doctor Roman performed his sad duties, caring for the empty
shell that no longer housed the spirit of her beloved father, "while you
and I join Athena on the bridge," Sheba's upraised palm a clear signal to
him that nothing short of a direct order would alter her intention, and
even so, it was equally clear to her that Apollo felt unwilling to test
that assumption.
     "Very well then," Apollo observed the distinctive angle to his
wife's clenched jaw, an attitude of posture that warned him that her mind
was indeed set, "Cassiopeia," he turned toward his childrens' guardian
and touched her shoulder with a gentle hand, "are you certain that you
want to stay here alone?"
     "She's not alone, Dad," the four adults turned and glanced downward
as Boxey reached with his small hand to firmly grasp Cassiopeia's
fingers, "Muffy and me will be here to look after her and Artemis while
you and Mom and Athena go blast those old Cylons!"
     "Of course, Son," Apollo smiled into Boxey's tearful brown eyes, a
lump forming briefly in his throat at the expression on the boy's face,
so like another whose face had registered that same brave determination
at the threat of danger, even death, /Serina, my love, you would be so
proud of him/, "we'll be back just as soon as we can," the young father
knelt down to embrace the boy, feeling as though he were drawing strength
from the small form in his arms, "after we've blasted those old Cylons!
Then, later, we'll all say a formal goodbye to Grandfather Cain," Apollo
stood and, with an encouraging tousle of his son's brown hair, a nod of
appreciation for Cassiopeia, and an enigmatic glance at the bedchamber
hatch, he followed his sister and his wife out the main hatchway and into
the corridor that defined their path to the Command Centre of the
Battlestar Pegasus.

*** 

Chapter Three - Scene Ten

     "Colonel Tigh," Corporal Komma looked up from where he had completed
a wired connection between the communication array relays beneath the
command console of the Battlestar Pegasus and several carefully sequenced
ports built into the control panel that accessed Drone One's input
processors, "I've followed Doctor Wilker's instructions precisely, and
the drone appears to be functioning properly," Komma stood and came to
attention, his attempt at a detached expression failing to hide the
anxiety that he felt, and to varying degrees, all of the warriors present
were feeling, "Sir, as Doctor Wilker explained over Alpha Channel, the
only way to test our theory is to wait for the next attack."
     "Yes, Komma," Tigh moved his long elegant fingers to grasp
corresponding elbows as he crossed his arms over his well muscled chest,
"I know. We haven't any choice but to wait," he turned to stare briefly
out through the transparent tylium panels that afforded the bridge crew a
real time view of the space forward of the Pegasus, and the rest of the
Colonial Fleet, "let's hope that Chameleon and Wilker are right!"
     "Colonel Tigh!" Lieutenant Athena ascended the steps to the command
platform, her brother and his wife close behind her, "I've briefed Apollo
and Sheba as to our current status," Athena's dark face clouded as she
paused on her way to her usual station at the command console, standing
to face Colonel Tolen, where he stood beside Tigh, "I'm sorry," she
glanced at Sheba, then looked into Tolen's face once more, "Commander
Cain is gone."
     "Tolen," Sheba stepped forward, placing a light hand on Tolen's arm,
her sorrowful expression mirroring his, "as you know, Father left
recordings for you and a few others, including myself. We'll listen to
them later, after we've finished what he started when he destroyed that
amplifier," Sheba and Tolen were able to stop all but a few tears that
escaped in trails down their respective cheeks, as the young Colonel
squeezed the hand of Cain's daughter, pursing his lips slightly and
nodding as he coughed his emotion away for the moment and turned as Tigh
had done, and as Sheba did also, to regard the view forward of the ship.
     "Colonel Tigh," Apollo placed a hand on the back of Athena's chair,
leaning forward to study the gauges that measured the electrical impulses
that were being exchanged between Drone One and the communication array
of the Battlestar Pegasus, "what about the squadrons, Sir? Has Wilker
found a means of shielding the electrical systems in the vipers?"
     "We've been bringing the pilots in on both landing bays and
Galactica Alpha Bay. Most of the system failures are manageable at this
point, though many of our vipers are coming in with faulty scan sensors.
Some of the landings have been a little rough," Tigh stepped around Drone
One to stand beside Apollo, "Commander Adama has ordered emergency
traffic only, no-one launches from either battlestar, or any other ship
in the Fleet until the threat of another enemy transmission has passed.
In the meantime," Tigh failed to hide the frustration that all of the
warriors were feeling with him, "we must wait, and hope that Doctor
Wilker's plan will work."
     "Colonel," Athena touched a forefinger to the earpiece of her
headset, her small exhalation of relief at the sound of a much awaited
voice evident only to Tigh and Apollo, who leaned in closely behind her,
"Captain Bojay reports no sign of enemy activity within our current
scanning range. Only Silver Spar and Blue Squadrons currently maintain
the scan relay network. The Galactica reports Alpha Landing Bay is still
undergoing emergency repairs. The last wings from Valkyrie and Red
Squadrons have landed safely. No serious injuries reported, though most
of our vipers have electrical system failures. The tech crews on both
battlestars are rushing the repairs and refits as much as they dare,
Sir."
     "Tigh!" the warriors atop the Pegasus' command platform turned their
attention to the voice corresponding with the image of Commander Adama
that now regarded them from the monitor to which the Alpha Channel relay
had been routed, "Wilker tells us that the communication relay is
functioning properly," Adama's expression softened as he noted the
presence of Apollo and Sheba, "Apollo?"
     "Yes, Father," the Captain spoke gravely, barely noticing the
dishevelled and dirtied condition of Adama's tunic, and the smear of
grease across the face of Lieutenant Starbuck, the Galactica's acting
Executive Officer, who stood slightly behind Adama, his pale blue eyes
registering sympathy as he anticipated the content of his closest
friend's next words, "Commander Cain is gone, Sir."
     "May the Lords of Kobol guide him..." Adama lowered his eyes and
prayed silently for the man who had been his friend, his peer and
comrade, his family, and, in difficult times past, his adversary, then,
taking a deep breath, the Commander adjusted his expression to one of
determination, "we shall honour the passing of our fallen hero, a legend
among the ranks of Warriors of the Twelve Colonies of Man, by dispatching
the enemy with every resource at our disposal."
     "The signal!" Komma cried suddenly, "Drone One is registering
something big," the shy Corporal, his usual awkwardness in the presence
of the beautiful, albeit decidedly unavailable, Lieutenant Athena
forgotten in his urgency as he roughly grabbed her shoulders and hauled
her from her seat, "Lieutenant! You're not grounded here! Quick! Everyone
grab the perimeter rail! Don't touch anything else! The feedback is more
powerful than Wilker anticipated! Drone Two! Alert the active squadron
leaders to fall back! Move the vipers aft! We're in for an energy
discharge from..."
     "Komma!" Wilker cried in the general direction of the Alpha Channel
Relay from where he and Rigel had hurriedly ushered Adama, Starbuck,
Omega and Chameleon, to stand as the Pegasus crew had, holding tightly to
the perimeter rail of the Galactica's command platform, "Drone Two!
Receive, relay and transmit! Connect to system control and close the
blast doors! Relay order to Drone One on the Pegasus! Close blast doors!"
     "Good thinking, Doctor Wilker," Adama cried as he watched the blast
doors closing on what looked like a small thread of light that
lengthened, then tore its way through the fabric of the dark space
surrounding it and began to take form, a sickeningly familiar form, /a
base ship!/ the Commander grasped the perimeter rail and braced his
strong legs as a shudder of low frequency sound moved forcefully through
the structure of the ship and through the bones of his skull, tearing at
his mind in violently probing pulses of light and sound. Adama felt his
senses giving way as the alien signal matrix once again targeted the
memory and pleasure centers of his brain, then suddenly, he became aware
of another sound, /the feedback signal!/, he looked down at Drone Two,
who sat fixed before the command console, a loud, whining, high frequency
hum beginning to emanate from its small audio output ports.
     "Commander!" Starbuck cried, as his mind struggled from beneath the
oppressive persistence of the Cylon transmission, "It must be working!
The signal..."
     Starbuck's words were lost in a sudden crackling discharge from the
command console, a virtual sheet of white sparks moving in a tremendous
wave, outward in all directions from the ports that connected Drone Two
to the Galactica's system controls and communication array, shorting out
several of the little drone's systems and effecting a blinding flash of
light that briefly obscured the sight of the fully materialized base ship
through the forward viewing panels. The base ship held Starbuck's
fascinated gaze for a mere micron before it began to erode into rippling
blasts of energy as the battlestar's massive blast doors moved to close
with a solid /clang/ of metal on metal, shielding the occupants of the
Command Centre from the final explosive burst of light and the mass of
debris that flew violently outward from the now destroyed base ship.
     The alien transmission abruptly stopped, plunging the Fleet into
momentary and unaccustomed silence, the bridges of both battlestars
bathed in the red wash of emergency lighting and the pilots of Silver
Spar and Blue Squadrons in the vipers surrounding the Fleet speeding
quickly aft and away from the spreading wave of destruction that battered
the bows of the Galactica and the Pegasus.

*** 

Chapter Three - Scene Eleven

     "Squadron Commander! Bojay, can you hear me?" Boomer's voice seemed
far away as Bojay stared dreamily downward, squinting his eyes,
struggling to focus, the console becoming two and then one again,
"Captain Bojay! Snap out of it! You're out of control! Pull up and
starboard fast!" Bojay reacted to the urgent tone to the Blue Squadron
pilot's words and pulled up hard and sharply right on the control stick
in his hand, narrowly averting a collision with the Infrastructure
Section's pride and joy, the mobile space dock, and the nearly completed
outer hull of the Fleet's newest residential ship, the Auricon, where it
appeared to hang in the firm embrace of the massive docking clamps.
"Bojay! Respond!"
     "I'm alright, Boomer!" Bojay shook his head and made a quick, visual
scan of various gauges and display indicators, assessing his fighter's
system status with a practiced eye, "my electrical system readings are
all over the place, but I have life support and propulsion. What about
the rest of you guys? Masud!"
     "Right here, Captain," Bojay's wingman spoke succinctly, competing
with the static that was being produced by his damaged communication
array, "I have visual confirmation on Silver Spar vipers. All wings
appear to be under manual control."
     "Blue Squadron wings accounted for, Captain," Boomer's relief was
evident over the multi ship network, "looks like all of our active
fighters made it through the...whatever that was."
     "All wings move in toward the Galactica Beta Bay and Pegasus Alpha
Bay," Bojay pulled open an access panel on his viper's console and
attempted to power up his targeting scanners, but to no avail, "anyone
with targeting scanners operational?" Bojay scowled as no response was
forthcoming, telling him that the individual fighters of both squadrons
were operating under visual navigation only, or had no electronic
communications, or both, "Alright everyone, each of us will establish
visual communication with the fighters in our immediate vicinity and
start moving in two relay trajectories for our respective landing
targets. I'm not receiving any signals from the Galactica or the Pegasus,
so let's be alert and leave lots of room between fighters, and watch out
for that debris field. Some of those fragments appear to have some
serious velocity. Let's pray that the battlestars got their blast doors
down in time!"
     "Affirmative, Squadron Commander," Boomer's tone was all business as
he and his wingman, Lieutenant Jolly, quickly assembled the Blue Squadron
vipers into a well spaced formation heading carefully toward the Beta
Landing Bay of the Battlestar Galactica, "you heard the man, Jolly! Let's
get these over worked Blue Squadron pilots landed safely, and then you
and I will make for the bridge. We must re-establish inter ship
communications as quickly as we can!"
     "We'll do the same on the Pegasus, Blue Leader," Bojay's voice
registered an anxiety that told Boomer where the Strike Leader's thoughts
were lingering in the midst of the chaos that the pilots of both
squadrons had found themselves in upon the destruction of the teleported
base ship, /Athena/.
     "I'm sure the damage is superficial, Captain," Boomer conveyed as
much conviction as he could manage, "your wife will have the Pegasus'
communication array up and running before you make it to the Command
Centre."
     "Thanks, Blue Leader," Bojay smiled gratefully in spite of his fear,
"we're going in. If communications aren't back up by the time all the
vipers have landed, Boomer, get back down to the landing bay and
re-establish the multi ship network with Silver Spar. If the battlestars
stay dark, we'll use the vipers to communicate."
     "Aye, Captain," Boomer responded, "Galactica Alpha Wing moving in to
Galactica Beta Bay. We'll make our way to the Command Centre from there.
Boomer out."
     "Good luck, fellas, and watch out for that debris! If a piece
crosses your landing trajectory too closely, then go around for another
run. Don't be overconfident with your visual reckoning! Squadron
Commander out," Bojay watched as the lead wing pilots of Blue Squadron,
Boomer and Jolly, moved their vipers across his range of view, heading in
for a straightforward trajectory toward the Galactica's undamaged landing
bay, "alright, Masud," Bojay glanced over at his wingman's ship, seeing a
mirrored version of his own grim expression across the space between the
transparent tylium panels of their fighters' canopies, "let's get these
fighters landed and check on our people."
     "Captain!" Masud spoke slowly, his voice still competing with the
static being transmitted by his damaged console, "The Pegasus! She's
powering back up, Sir! I can see the landing bay lights!"
     "Thank the Lords!" Bojay let out the breath that he had been
reflexively holding in his instinctive need to get to the command
platform and his family, "Pegasus Command Centre! Colonel Tigh! Silver
Spar Leader to the Pegasus!" he exhaled once more in frustration, "Masud!
Carry on with our original landing protocol. We'll see to it that all
hands have landed safely, and if no-one's waiting for us with some
answers in the landing bay, we make for the bridge! Let's do it,
wingman!"
     "Aye, Captain. See you on the deck in a couple of centons!" Masud's
viper levelled its approach, moving smoothly into the entrance of the
Pegasus Alpha Landing and, for the moment, out of Bojay's field of
vision. Bojay took a deep cleansing breath, a habit that he had picked up
from his wife. It was the routine of Adama's children, both together and
individually, to maintain the practice of martial arts disciplines that
their parents and the Academy had instilled in them from an early age.
Bojay and Sheba, as the spouses of Athena and Apollo, had adopted many of
these personal habits, as well as introducing some of their own. Bojay
swallowed hard as he followed Masud's path, grateful for the illumination
that now flooded the landing bay as he brought his fighter in to
carefully land on as open area of the massive interior chamber, where
several other vipers from varied squadrons now sat, their pilots leaping
from beneath their opening canopies and dropping in battle ready postures
to the deck below.
     "Captain!" Bojay powered down his fighter and moved quickly from
beneath the opening canopy above him, landing in a crouch on the deck and
turning his attention toward the sweetly familiar voice that had
addressed him, "Bojay!" Lieutenant Athena ran from where she had stood
beside Corporal Komma near an interior hatchway, launching herself into
her husband's embrace. He tightened his arms around her, relief spreading
outward from the pit of his stomach, banishing the fear that had sat like
a stone in his gut at the sight of the Battlestar Pegasus, hanging
silently in space. "Thank the Lords you're alright," Athena kissed him
quickly and stepped back, assuming a more formal demeanour, "the
communication array relays on the bridge are all shorted out. We have
only the Alpha Channel still functioning. Both battlestars have made it
through the attack with minor injuries only, but we need to use some
undamaged communication arrays from the vipers to establish communication
with the rest of the Fleet."
     "By your leave, Captain," Corporal Komma stepped forward, tool kit
in hand, somehow managing to assume a posture of attention while
brandishing a large wrench, "Colonel Tigh requests your presence on the
bridge while Lieutenant Athena and I remove the consoles from a couple of
your vipers."
     "It's alright, Bojay," Athena laughed, letting out a little of her
own pent up anxiety, "Doctor Wilker is convinced that the enemy has
retreated, at least for now."
     "Very well, then," Bojay, unconcerned with the audience of pilots
and technicians now gathered in the large chamber of the landing bay,
reached to embrace his wife and unborn child once more, "I'll head for
the bridge. Let's hope Wilker is right. Cain wouldn't have tolerated us
letting those 'gall-monging' Cylons get the jump on us."
     "He'll get a proper send-off, Bojay," Athena moved out of her
husband's embrace, resting a hand on the sleeve of his jacket, the sorrow
that had seemed to permeate the very air of the ship at Cain's passing
touching her dark features, "Father and Tolen and I have seen to that."
     "I know, my love," Bojay touched her hand, squeezing her fingers
gently, then took a deep breath and began to move quickly toward the
hatchway through which his wife had emerged to greet him, "Masud, stay
here and help Athena with the communication relays, and get everyone as
battle ready as possible, just in case Doctor Wilker is mistaken! I'll be
on the bridge!" with a last wink at Athena the Squadron Commander of the
Battlestar Pegasus rushed to join Colonel Tigh, his soon to be Commander,
on the bridge of the massive ship that would no longer move under the
watchful gaze of the man who had been a father to Bojay, the legendary
Commander Cain.

*** 

Chapter Three - Scene Twelve

     "Doctor Wilker," Commander Adama sat in a chair at one end of the
ovoid table in the Battlestar Galactica's largest conference chamber, his
legs crossed and one elbow perched upon an akimbo knee, it's
corresponding fisted hand supporting the weight of Adama's jaw as he
rested his chin thoughtfully on his knuckles "How can you be so certain
that the enemy attacks have ended? What is to stop the Cylons from using
this new teleportation technology of theirs to launch a full scale attack
upon us whilst we are still in the midst of repairs, not only to the
battlestars, but the vipers and almost every other ship of the Fleet?"
Adama lowered his unclenching fist, uncrossed his legs and moved to stand
beside the diminutive Chief Science Officer in front of the transparent
tylium screen that displayed the charted areas of the space that
currently surrounded the Colonial Fleet. He scanned the chamber that he
had designated as the Galactica's temporary Command Centre for the
indeterminate time that would be required to replace and repair the
damaged circuitry within the massive banks of equipment upon the
battlestar's bridge, taking note of the faces arrayed before him.
Chameleon stood near the far end of the table, beside the tidied piles of
transparencies and printouts that had been scattered about the room only
centars ago as Starbuck's father had assisted Wilker in programming the
guardian daggits, Drone One and Drone Two, to fend off the enemy
transmission matrix with one of their own. Omega, Starbuck, Boomer and
Jolly stood together, unconsciously forming a standard chevron formation
as they stood ready, waiting for their Commander's orders, "Doctor,"
Adama returned his attention to Wilker, "upon what evidence are your
conclusions being based? As I see it, all we know is that another enemy
base ship has been transported from a remote location to the space near
the Fleet by an unfamiliar and insidious teleportation technology.
Thankful as we all are that the enemy was dispatched by your utilization
of the Guardian Drones, why should we assume that another attack is
unlikely? What is driving this certainty of yours, Doctor?" the white
haired warrior crossed his arms over his chest, glancing at the display
monitor inset into the console of the communication station built into
the interior bulkhead of the large conference chamber where Colonel
Tigh's image was being relayed from the command platform of the
Battlestar Pegasus over the still functioning Alpha Channel, then turned
his attention back to Doctor Wilker's painfully grim face, "What is it,
Doctor?" Adama found himself becoming concerned with Wilker's
exceptionally serious demeanour. 
     "Sir," Wilker's face had assumed more than its usual mournful
expression. Adama, having known the Doctor longer than both men had known
the Galactica, had rarely seen the Doctor so sincerely grim, so shaken,
"there was a coded signal recorded by Drone Two before the wired
connection was shorted out by the feedback," Wilker nodded his head in
the direction of Starbuck's father, seeing his own expression somewhat
mirrored in the resigned pursing of Chameleon's lips and the serious
posture that the diminutive gambler had assumed, "Chameleon was able to
decipher the pattern in the secondary signal's matrix by adjusting its
frequency and running it through a languatron unit," Wilker looked over
at the image of Tigh, with Apollo and Sheba visible behind him, then
sighed and extended his arm before him with a small sigh, depressing a
parameter panel on the edge of the rectangular metal casing of the
languatron that he held in his now outstretched hand, frowning even more
deeply as he heard the gasps of horrified recognition that were elicited
from almost all of the people who stood within earshot, in both the
Galactican conference chamber and upon the Pegasus command platform, of
the clearly audible voice that emerged from the static of the
languatron's small audio output grid. 
     /Well played, Adama/, the recorded voice of the creature who had
been known to the Colonial Fleet as 'Count Iblis', the entity whose
energy matrix had been imprinted into the very programming of the enemy,
the voice of the Imperious Leader of the robotic Cylons whom had waged
war against the humans of the Twelve Colonies of Man for the last one
thousand yahrens, the voice that had last been heard by Adama in the
Galactica's Life Station, roughly half a yahren ago, shortly after the
birth of the Commander's first granddaughter, the infant Artemis, when
the crazed and tortured Baltar had fallen into an electromagnetic trap,
breaking a tenuous connection and closing a doorway between dimensions,
thus inadvertently aiding the Colonials in banishing the manifestation of
the malevolent Count Iblis to another plane of existence, the voice of
the enemy that now spoke from an undisclosed time and space, addressing
its adversaries through the signal that Chameleon and Wilker had isolated
with the help of the languatron's specialized signal refinement
programming, /tell my princess, Sheba, that I shall return to extract my
fair measure of justice. She has allowed Apollo to take what was mine,
wronged me when she altered the bargain that she entered into when she
promised herself to me. Make no mistake. Cain shall not be there to delay
me next time. I shall once more replenish my energy reserves and resume
my quest to take what should by rights be mine. Apollo has taken my
intended bride from me, but I shall take from him those lives more
precious to him than his own. Adama's line, and all who stand with them,
shall pay for my unjust punishment at the hands of my former brothers/, a
chill ran through Adama's body, causing him to shudder reflexively as the
sickeningly and incongruously amicable tones of Iblis' voice washed over
him. The Commander looked at the monitor above the communication console
across the chamber, his heart aching as he saw Apollo take hold of a
shocked and slightly swooning Sheba, listening, as were all the others
assembled, silently taking in the threat in Iblis' tone, /at the very
least, at my earliest opportunity, I shall be paying my sincerest regards
to sweet little Artemis. Perhaps /she/ shall consent to give herself to
me. Hmm-mmm-mmmm. Until we meet again, my /friends/.
Hmm-mmmm-mmmmm-mmm.../, the recording ended with the sound of the
creature's muffled laughter, coupled with the unmistakeably familiar
oscillating hum of a Cylon centurion's optical scanner, then, nothing.
Doctor Wilker lowered the hand that held the now silent languatron unit,
sharing a soulful look with Adama, and the images of Apollo and Sheba. 
     "Unless this is some sort of bizarre ruse, Commander," Wilker laid
the languatron thoughtfully onto the surface of the nearby conference
table, "the creature we know as Iblis has given way to his anger and
madness to such a degree that his loss of control has caused him to
indirectly give us some clues as to his limitations and vulnerabilities.
His words may be threatening, but in a reactive manner. His resources
must be limited if he needs to regroup. For some reason I have not yet
deduced, he has apparently ended the Cylons' teleportation efforts. It
could simply be that the massive energy output needed to transport
something the size of a base ship, or the amplifier that Commander Cain
destroyed, has depleted the enemy's energy reserves. This may be our
opportunity to evade the Cylons in this area of space, as soon as we get
our scanning and defensive systems operating sufficiently for the Fleet
to start moving again."
     "Yes, yes of course, Doctor," Adama began to rouse himself from the
state of shock that had taken hold of him at the sound of his
granddaughter's name being uttered by that dreadful, poisonous creature's
voice, "repairing the damage to the ships of the Fleet and bringing our
defensive forces back up to battle readiness capability must be our
priority, regardless of the likelihood, or lack thereof, of the danger of
another attack."
     "No more fear!" Sheba's voice was strangely calm and level as she
steadied herself on her husband's arm, her jaw clenching in fury as
Iblis' threatening words still echoed in her mind, "That monster from the
pits of Hades has toyed with all of us. He has /murdered/ my Father,
threatened my husband and my children, and every other man, woman and
child in this Fleet, and it stops now!" Adama saw the determination that
now settled onto the face of Cain's daughter over the Alpha Channel
Relay, "It was my self-absorbed fear and vulnerability that allowed this
creature to bend my will for his own evil purpose in the first place! No
more, Adama!" Sheba's voice took on a stubborn tone that was reminiscent
to all whom could hear her, on both battlestars, of Cain himself in the
midst of a battle, decisive and steadfast in the face of danger, "we will
give my Father the farewell that he requested, and if that foul demon
wants to interfere, then let him come, and we'll drive him back down the
hole in space that he keeps managing to crawl out of!"
     "Very well then," Adama lifted his eyebrows and regarded the monitor
that displayed the image of his son's wife with a fondly amused smile
that he made no effort to conceal, "if I am interpreting your /considered
opinion/ correctly, my daughter, I will venture to say that you concur
with Doctor Wilker," Adama turned to survey the group still gathered in
the conference room, then turned his attention back toward the monitor,
"Tigh! It's decided! Sheba is right. We cannot allow our fear to dictate
our every action and thought. We shall operate under the presumption that
the attacks have ended for the time being, though we shall keep the Fleet
on readiness alert status and get at least one squadron of vipers
repaired and out on patrol as quickly as possible. Have them operate on
regular rotations as repair schedules allow," Adama's tone of fatherly
amusement was replaced by a more sombre one, "then, after announcing the
new ranking and duty assignment changes to the Section Leaders, we shall
say our formal goodbyes to Commander Cain," Adama smiled once more, this
time with a grim determination that matched the look on Sheba's
tear-stained face, "and if Iblis wishes to interfere, then we shall take
the advice of Cain's daughter and drive that foul creature back to Hades'
pit where /it/ belongs.
     Aboard the Pegasus, Apollo tightened his grip on his wife's
shoulder, drawing strength from her determination, but feeling also, as
none of the others assembled could, the trembling of fear that still
racked her wounded soul, promising himself that he would do whatever it
took to see that Iblis would never have the opportunity to threaten her
again.

*** 

Chapter Three - Scene Thirteen

     "Shall I still call you 'Skipper', now that you're not a Captain
anymore?" Sheba put forth an attempt at bravado, standing with Apollo in
their small, utilitarian bedchamber, though she failed to hide the sorrow
that had a palpable presence in her voice.
     "The farther away I am from being 'the Captain'," Apollo's own voice
caught in his throat, "the farther away we are from..."
     "As we travel further from the places that we once called home, the
farther away we are from our Mothers, and for you, from Zac, and," Sheba
reached up as he turned to look away from her sympathetic, though
unyielding, gaze, "and Serina," he lifted his eyes as she traced the line
of his jaw with her fingertips, "If we were back in the Colonies, you'd
be the Galactica's Squadron Commander for a few yahrens longer, and maybe
I'd be doing the same job on /my/ Father's ship," her own breath caught
as his had, on the sharp pangs of loss, both past and present
intermingling in a flood of bittersweet memories, that Cain's death had
evoked in the two of them, indeed, to varied degrees, in every citizen of
the Colonial Fleet," Sheba stared deeply into his glittering green eyes,
"but we're not back in the Colonies, are we?"
     "No, /Captain/," Apollo reached up with his fingers and wicked away
the tears that had gathered beneath her eyes, then took hold of her
shoulders and kissed her soundly on the lips, "We've had to leave the
Colonies, and the lives that we had before, behind us," he pulled away
with a look of the deepest sympathy and understanding, knowing what pain
it must be for her, losing the person that, along with her beloved
mother, had been everything to her for the entirety of her youth, "but
now here we are, together, at this centon, on this point along the
continuum of time and space," Apollo was relieved to see a tentative
smile make an effort to adjust the expression on her tear-stained face,
"Sheba, you're offering /me/ comfort when /you're/ the one in need of
it."
     "It's alright, Skipper," Sheba paused as she reached down to smooth
the dress blue tunic that she had laid out on their bed, adjusting the
still unfamiliar Captain's medallion that had been added to the array of
rank insignia that adorned her most formal of uniforms. She began to fold
the garment carefully, placing it in a lightweight shoulder pack, then
reaching for the matching trousers that lay nearby. Sheba had informed
her husband firmly that she was attending the short Section Leaders'
briefing that was to be held in the Galactica's Blue Squadron Barracks to
inform the heads of sections throughout the Fleet as to the reassignments
and elevation in rank of the warriors whose positions were most directly
affected by Commander Cain's recent death. Adama had ordered the informal
gathering to be convened, before the commencement of the first of the
many funereal rituals marking the passage across the river of space of
the spirit of Commander Cain. Sheba had planned her departure from the
Galactica to the Pegasus such that, immediately after the briefing, she
would be boarding a shuttle for the Pegasus, along with Adama and Tigh,
to view the holographically recorded messages that Cain had left, for her
and for the two of them, among others, "I'll attend the briefing with you
and the others, get Deitra up to speed on the Valkyrie Squadron duty
rotations, /then/ I'll head over to the Pegasus with Adama and Tigh. I'll
view the message that Father left for me, and then I'll go to Athena's
quarters to change. She and Bojay are waiting for me there with the
children..." her breath caught in her throat as the malevolent words of
Count Iblis echoed through her mind, /I shall be paying my sincerest
regards to sweet little Artemis/, Sheba and Apollo gazed stonily into one
another's eyes, both silently resisting the fear that had assailed them
at the overt threat to their infant daughter, having agreed that they
must push it aside for the present, move through this time of transition
and battle readiness alert, grieve for a time, and then to work toward
providing their children with means of defense and security in spite of
the vengeful Count's threats. Sheba smiled determinedly, acknowledging
her fear, but consciously holding it at bay, turning instead more
immediate and practical concerns, "meanwhile, you can come back here and
get changed. Taking a later shuttle with Starbuck and Cassiopeia will
give you a few centons to help her explain her formal designation as a
legal member of the family," Sheba straightened her shoulders and set her
jaw in an attitude that her husband had grown to know well, "then, after
we've watched Starbuck fondling that fumarello and flinton through his
tunic pocket with that weird lost look of his, we shall all have the
honour of attending the first of my Father's personal selections of the
longest and most complex funeral rituals that Athena, Adama and Tolen
could find for him in both the Field Manual and the Book of the Word,"
she hiccoughed slightly as her tears welled up once more, "leave it to
Father to go all out to be the center of attention," in spite of her
efforts at bravado, Cain's daughter succumbed to her tears, moving into
Apollo's warm embrace and sobbing freely into his chest."
     "Oh my poor Sheba, I am so sorry," Apollo spoke quietly into her
soft brown hair, "if I could do anything to spare you this pain I..."
     "I know," she interjected firmly, then disentangled herself from the
comfort of his strong arms, "it will soon be time for us to get started,"
she snapped the fastener of her pack closed over the neat bundle of her
dress blue uniform tunic and changes of clothes for the two children,
"Remember what Adama said," she shook her head, laughing in a bittersweet
mixture of barely contained sobs and an incredulous undertone of sincere
amusement, "Father chose a series of rituals and ceremonial gatherings
that are to last at least seven daily cycles," she wiped away her tears
with a soft, green handkerchief, "and you and I are to attend all but the
drinking party down in the barracks after the reading of Father's formal,
public remarks to his descendants. I think that particular function goes
through shifts with the formal rituals and the active duty rotations from
the evening of the first day to the evening of the sixth. Those ancient
Warrior Priests must have had some pretty wild gatherings," she folded
the handkerchief neatly, then tucked it securely beneath the cuff of her
sleeve, straightening her shoulders and taking the arm that her husband
and Colonel now offered to her, smiling up at him with a promising sign
of the first small recovery from the heartache she had suffered, knowing
within herself that the pain would subside with time, "Walk me to the
briefing, Skipper? I want to show off the new gold braid on my husband's
collar," Sheba tossed the pack over her shoulder and took Apollo's arm
with her free hand as the two of them walked through the hatchway
together, entering the main chamber of the quarters that they had shared
through the first yahren and one half of their marriage, both of them
pausing to stare out through the transparent tylium panel of the ovoid
view port inset into the exterior bulkhead, where the Battlestar Pegasus
appeared to hang in space, several newly repaired vipers arcing
gracefully around her in a protective network of scanning sensors and
communication relays, as the other currently active fighters patrolled
the remainder of the battle-damaged, though slowly recovering ships of
the Colonial Fleet.
     "It would be my pleasure to walk with you anywhere, my love, gold
braid notwithstanding," Apollo laughed softly, encouraged by the small
measure of vigour and good humour that had returned to his beloved's
demeanour, in spite of her monumental grief, "as to Starbuck, I suspect
that he may be more concerned with the prospect of having to serve some
of that administrative duty that he dodged through my medical furlon than
he will over Cassiopeia's new designation." Sheba leaned heavily on his
arm, drawing strength from the firm grip of his hand over hers, as she
shared in his subdued laughter, then stopped short as he turned and
reached to grasp both of her hands with his, entwining his fingers with
hers and leaning forward to kiss her slightly parted lips, lingering to
touch his cheek to hers and whispering into her ear, "any regrets,
/Captain/?" he squeezed her fingers gently as she mirrored his gesture,
her lips softly brushing his ear as she spoke the words that had become a
loving ritual between the two of them, since the first daily cycle of
their marriage.
     "Hades of a time to ask me, /Skipper/!" they laughed and cried
together for several centons, then wiped their tears and resumed their
short journey, arm in arm, through the main hatchway and along the
corridor that would lead them to the Blue Squadron Barracks, and the
Section Leaders' briefing, moving through the transitions that had begun
to wash over them as they made their way together into what they had
steadfastly determined between the two of them, in spite of Iblis' ugly
threats, would be a hopeful future, not only for them and their fellow
warriors and beloved friends, but for their children, as well as the
remnants of the Twelve Colonies of Man that comprised the Colonial Fleet
that continued on its voyage, following the coordinates that would lead
them to the Thirteenth Colony and a new home among the brothers of man.

*** 

Chapter Three - Scene Fourteen

     Sheba walked slowly into the darkened chamber, her gaze resting upon
the holographic imaging device that had dominated one end of her father's
rectangular desk top for as far back as her memory would take her. She
moved slowly forward, not bothering to raise the illumination level,
instead stepping softly through the darkness to sit in Cain's chair,
touching her fingers gently to the large utilitarian desk, then reaching
to input a numerical command sequence into the parameter panel near the
base of the imaging device, knowing without hesitation that the resulting
series of numbers that represented the date of her own birth would access
the recording that her Father had left for her to view upon the event of
his death. 
     "Hello, Baby," Cain's smiling face appeared suddenly before her as
she sat back and rested her cheek against the upholstery of the chair,
closed her eyes briefly as she inhaled the familiar scent of the fabric,
then focussed her attention on the twinkling blues eyes that regarded her
from the recent past, "I know you're feeling pretty low right now. I wish
that I had some means of sparing you that, but I /can/ tell you that the
grief will subside in time. Besides, you and that Captain," the image of
Cain chuckled mischievously, "I mean that /Colonel/ of yours," Sheba
pursed her lips and felt warm tears begin to breach her eyelids, spilling
freely down her cheeks, "the two of you will be to busy increasing the
number of my grandchildren to sit too long in sorrow, if I read my little
girl correctly, and I almost always do," there was a pause as the rugged
face tilted slightly in an attitude of remembrance, "I've watched you
grow from the tiniest person I've ever encountered, into a fine young
woman, with convictions and principles that would make /any/ father
proud. I credit your Mother for that, Sheba. Isis was the love of my
life, and my one most painful regret is that I didn't spend every moment
that I could have had with her, and with you, before she was gone." 
     "It's alright, Father," Sheba whispered softly as she watched Cain's
image lean back in his chair, the same chair in which she now sat, her
booted feet pulled up and curled beneath her, her cheek still resting
against the fabric of the upholstery, "Mother and I understood when you
had to be away."
     "I can see now, looking back, how difficult it was for you, how
alone you were in your grief, how you hated me, and Cassiopeia, when I
turned to her for comfort, instead of to you," Sheba's lips parted, a sob
escaping from behind them, as she saw the look of sadness on Cain's face,
"I needed to forget for a while, Baby, and I didn't realize how much
/you/ needed to remember. I left you alone in your grief, hurt you, and I
never for a moment realized how thoughtless I'd been in my need to escape
from my /own/ grief. You see, I know that I've never been very good at
admitting my mistakes and flaws of character, and it shames me to say
that I couldn't bear to look into your beautiful face and see the image
of your Mother. You look so much like Isis, there's so much of her in
your eyes. I couldn't give you the comfort you needed from me at the
time, and I suppose I was afraid you'd see how painful it was for me to
even look at you, those early days after we lost her," Cain sighed
deeply, forcing a smile to his lips, brushing away an errant tear that
had traced a single glistening trail down one cheek, "in a way, for me,
it was a blessing, even a relief, when we headed off into deep space
aboard the Pegasus after the battle at Molecai," Cain's smile became more
animated, a flash of white teeth evoking a responding smile from Sheba as
she listened intently to these uncharacteristically intimate and
revealing words of the father that she had so recently lost, "In spite of
the danger, and everything we went through out there until that husband
of yours stumbled over us, it was a rare privilege for me to be able to
spend so much time flying through space and into uncertain battle, by the
seat of my britches, with my little girl at my side. We may have been
busy harassing those gall-monging Cylons every five frakking centons,
Baby, but I had you with me, as well as the best crew, and the finest
ship, that a Commander could ask for. It gave me an opportunity to see
what an outstanding warrior, and what an extraordinary young woman you
are," Cain's image wavered slightly and then refocussed as he reached
forward to make an adjustment to the parameter panel of the imager, then
settled once more into the yielding cushions of his chair, his expression
now almost poignant, "it broke my heart to leave you behind after
Gamoray, but I truly believed that it just might be my last battle. If it
hadn't been for Apollo and Starbuck taking out the laser cannons on those
base ships, then it very probably /would/ have been. I'm sorry, Baby. I
know how much you wanted to stay with me at the time, but I couldn't take
you on what seemed so likely to be a suicide mission, when there was a
chance that you might have a future on the Galactica," the smile
returned, "I knew Adama would care for you as he does for his own
daughter, and his son," the smile gave way to a chuckling wave of
laughter, "of course, I didn't consider at the time that he'd go so far
as to formalize the relationship and make you his daughter by marriage,"
Sheba felt as if her heart might burst from her chest with the
bittersweet emotion that suddenly overwhelmed her at the sight and sound
of Cain's merriment, "I'm pleased with your choice of a father for my
grandchildren. Apollo is a fine warrior, a born leader, and he has a
firmly fixed moral compass when it comes to his commitment to you and his
children. He'll look after you, Baby, and you'll look after him. Don't
make the same mistakes that I made. Being a warrior doesn't have to
prevent you from being a mother. With Cassiopeia there to help you, I'm
hoping that you'll have the best of both worlds. Spend time with your
children while they're small, my girl. It will seem like only a heartbeat
before they've grown and become busy rearing families of their own." 
     "Yes, Father. I will. I promise." Sheba breathed the words quietly,
the emptiness that had settled within her at the moment of Cain's last
breath somehow seeming to dissipate, even if only in the slightest
measure, the encouraging words from this reflection of her father evoking
the memory of the warmth of his love, a sense of his presence washing
over her and refilling a little of the space that his absence had left. 
     "Well, Baby," Cain's image sighed once more and grimaced slightly
with the failed effort to contain another tear that coursed down his
battle-hardened features, "I guess there isn't much more to say. We've
said it all over the last half yahren. I've been blessed to have been
able to spend my last sectons here on the Pegasus, seeing you and the
children almost every day while you were still on furlon. I'm sorry that
I won't be there to see your children walk on the surface of their new
home planet," Cain's eyes stared dreamily into a private space that only
he could perceive, then returned their gaze to the recording port of the
holographic imager, as if willing his daughter from beyond the barrier
that his death had placed between them to feel the warmth in his words,
and gain comfort and hope from them, "I have no doubt that Adama will
elude those soulless Cylons and get you all safely home to the Thirteenth
Colony. Help him as a daughter should, Baby. Support him in the face of
the idiocy of that damnable Council, and when you need a father's
embrace, I know he'll be there to provide it. Know that I will love you
always, my dearest daughter, . Never forget who you are, or where you
come from. You are Sheba, Daughter of Cain and Isis, a proud and
accomplished Warrior of the Colonial Fleet, a defender of Humanity and a
mother of its next generation. But to me, first and foremost, you will
always be my Baby, my little girl, the brightest star in my sky, and a
comfort to me in my last centars with you. Live well, my daughter. Don't
grieve too long for me. Be happy, and tell my grandchildren about me, and
make sure that they use the word 'gall-monger' at least once every secton
or so," Cain laughed hoarsely, coughing slightly with the effort, "that's
just to put that pained look on /Colonel/ Apollo's face. My last little
gift of paternal abuse from me to him. He's a good man, but he's a little
too serious sometimes, just like Adama," the voice softened as Cain's
image leaned further forward, an intensity of emotion revealing itself on
his features, "it's time for me to go now, Baby. Goodbye my beautiful
girl. Never forget how much your Father loves you." 
     "Goodbye, Father," Sheba began to weep as Cain's image disappeared
from the viewing area of the holographic imaging device and gave way to
another image, one that Cain had played many times in the lonely centars
in this chamber while he and his daughter had been separated by the
vastness of space. Sheba found herself staring at her own younger self,
the shining face and bright smile looking up lovingly at someone who at
that moment had stood beyond the limit of the recorder's visual range,
"Happy birthday, Father. I love you." At the younger Sheba's words, the
woman in the chair behind Cain's desk felt a small sense of cleansing
relief. She stayed there in the darkness, alone with her thoughts for
several centons, then stood and walked firmly from the chamber, moving on
through the hatchway and along the main corridor to fetch Cain's
grandchildren from the care of their Aunt and Uncle, taking them with her
to rejoin her husband and begin the ritualistic farewell that her beloved
father had chosen for himself. She paused in her purposeful stride for
only a moment, the varied tones of Cain's voice still echoing
comfortingly in her ear, then smiled and continued on her way, knowing
with a sudden rush of certainty that, in spite of the sorrow that now
enveloped her, everything was somehow going to be alright. 

*** 

Chapter Three - Scene Fifteen

     "Whoa. Now hold on just a centon, /Colonel/," Captain Starbuck
stood, his rarely worn dress blue uniform in keeping with the sombre
occasion of a formal military death ritual, but feeling especially new
and alien to him with the added insignia of his Captaincy, Cassiopeia in
a simple dark blue gown beside him, in the corridor outside of the
opening that led into the Great Hall of the Battlestar Pegasus. The
blonde warrior stared at his best friend, lips parted in unrestrained
astonishment, a posture to which he was decidedly unaccustomed,
"Cassiopeia is moving up to Alpha deck, across the corridor from you and
Sheba, moving into Tigh's old quarters, and taking the title of /what/?" 
     "As authorized by Commanders Adama and Cain, Cassiopeia has been
formally designated a Guardian and legally acknowledged member of the
Houses of Adama /and/ of Serina," Apollo, feeling the newness of his own
relationship with the Colonel's insignia now affixed to the formal dress
blue uniform that he wore as Starbuck did, for the occasion of Cain's
death ritual, paused and pursed his lips, looking upward as though
considering his next words carefully, "and a Con..." Apollo snorted
involuntarily as he struggled to hold back his laughter at the dawning
expression of horror that had begun to establish itself over Starbuck's
handsome face. He pursued the attempt to control his mirth as he
continued speaking, slowly and deliberately, "A Concubine of the House of
Cain," he lost his battle with his errant laughter when he saw Starbuck
reflexively reaching for the utility pocket within which the young
Colonel knew lay Cain's flinton and Sheba's fumarello, together, but as
yet still mutually un-introduced. 
     "Starbuck," Cassiopeia interjected, shooting Apollo a look of
admonition, "it's really just a formality that gives me legal status as a
member of the family," she smiled tentatively, sadly, "it was one of
Cain's last wishes, something that he wanted to do for me, and for his
grandchildren. I know it may seem very complicated, and even a little
strange, but, well it really doesn't change anything between /us/, /does/
it?" 
     "I..." Starbuck grimaced incredulously, uncertain as to the
appropriate response to what his woman was telling, and then asking him,
"Cassiopeia," his heart ached at the tears that welled up unbidden from
behind her bright blue eyes, "I know that you loved him, and I respect
the fact that he wanted to legally ma...uh, /adopt/ you into the family,
/and/ I know that I've had my /own/ share of complicated relationships,
but," Starbuck tilted his head as he glanced into Apollo's glittering
green eyes, then returned to his study of Cassiopeia's face, "I'm fairly
familiar with that Field Manual myself, and, if I recall correctly from
the studying I did while I was executing the organization of my /best
friend's/ wedding party, a celebration, I might add, that many in the
Fleet still speak of with awe, "the fact that Cain has..." Starbuck
softened his tone and placed his arm around Cassiopeia's waist, feeling
her head rest comfortably, reassuringly, upon his broad shoulder, "the
fact that Commander Cain has gone now, means that you are now, legally
speaking, a Con..." Starbuck's voice failed as Apollo's had, but not from
excessive mirth, more a tone of stunned martyrdom. The new Blue Squadron
Leader borrowed a stress relieving habit from /his/ new Colonel and took
a deep cleansing breath, exhaling slowly before he began to speak again,
"According to what I recall regarding the familial relationships of the
Warrior Priests of Kobol, as laid out in that Field Manual that our new
Colonel here used to select his wedding ritual, and is apparently also
using as a model for his /own/ little warrior clan, the fact that
Commander Cain has gone means that /you/ are now legally a /Concubine of
the House of Apollo/!" 
     "Actually," Apollo's posture became noticeably more solemn as he
straightened his shoulders and indicated with a nod the approach of his
wife, the other newly installed Captain of the Galactican compliment of
warriors, and the bereaved daughter of Commander Cain, also wearing the
dark blue dress uniform that protocol required for one of her rank on
such a decidedly formal occasion, her infant daughter, Artemis, held
firmly in her arms, and Boxey, Muffit behind him, walking quietly at her
side, "it would be more accurate to say that she is a Concubine of the
House of Sheba," Apollo smiled into his daughter's eyes as Artemis
extended her chubby arms delightedly and grinned, exposing her one early
tooth as her father reached to take her from Sheba's grasp, pausing to
kiss his wife softly on the cheek, glancing for a micron into her sad
brown eyes, knowing the pain that resided there, then lifting Artemis
high into the air, spinning slowly in one wide circle, spiralling her
into a firm embrace within the crook of his arm,"Are you alright?" he
returned his gaze to Sheba. 
     "Yes, at least, I /will/ be," Sheba stepped back as Apollo reached
to touch Boxey's unruly hair, then encircled the boy's shoulders
comfortingly with his free arm, maintaining his hold on Artemis with the
other. "I take it they've broken the news to you, Starbuck?" Sheba smiled
sadly, much as Cassiopeia had done, grief subduing her characteristic
bravado and optimistic nature, though the obvious humour of the situation
and the fact that it was due, for the most part, to the machinations of
Cain himself, as a living legacy, and familial smirk from the heavens, a
daily reminder of his sheer 'gall-monging' nerve, as he had put it to his
daughter only centars before he had drawn his last breath, "as requested
by my father, and solemnized by my /husband's/ father, /your/ girlfriend
is now a legal member of /my/ family, and a guardian of my children." 
     "Hey, Starbuck?" Boxey lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully,
calculatedly for one so young, "doesn't that mean you're Mom's uncle or
something?" 
     "I'm a little too confused right now to respond to a question like
that, kid," Starbuck said dryly, hooking the thumb of his free hand over
his narrow black formal dress belt, and lifting his own eyebrows in a
gesture of resignation, "let's just get through your Grandfather Cain's
send-off, then I'll try and come up with something after my mind clears.
Perhaps I'm still suffering some after-effects from that Cylon
amplifier." 
     "Not feeling well, Starbuck?" Athena spoke quietly as she and
Captain Bojay approached slowly, arm in arm, along the corridor,
following in Sheba's path, "we can get Chameleon to give you a shot in
the..." 
     "Athena!" Apollo spoke sharply, though he failed, admittedly with
little effort, to conceal the hint of a sibling's suggestion of
solidarity as he sputtered involuntarily with suppressed, slightly edgy
laughter, "Trust me. Starbuck has had enough for one day." 
     "We'll be going in directly," Cassiopeia held tightly to Starbuck's
arm, glancing down the length of the corridor beyond Bojay's shoulder,
"Adama and Tigh have arrived." 
     The group turned as one in silent greeting as Commander Adama of the
Battlestar Galactica, and the newly commissioned Commander Tigh of the
Battlestar Pegasus moved to stand before them. 
     "My dear," Adama's arms embraced Cain's daughter as she stepped
forward, feeling the warmth of paternal sympathy that he transmitted in
his unspoken understanding of her loss, "Tolen and Roman have everything
in place for the first ceremony. Shall we begin?" 
     "Yes...Father," Adama's eyes misted with bittersweet emotion at her
use of the title as Sheba moved away from him to take hold of her
husband's arm from over Boxey's shoulder, replacing it with her own
maternal embrace, while Apollo continued to hold his infant daughter in
the cradle of his other arm. 
     "Commander?" Bojay looked down at his wife's upturned face, then
returned his attention to Adama's quietly questioning features, "There is
just one thing that we wanted to share with you, with /all/ of you,
before we go in," Bojay continued speaking as Sheba gave him an
encouraging nod, having been consulted mere centons earlier as to what
news it was that he and his wife had decided to share at such a time,
"We, that is, Athena and I are..." he faltered slightly under Adama's
steady, and slightly amused, gaze. 
     "We're having a baby," Athena said simply, smiling and stepping
forward to accept a fatherly kiss of congratulation on the forehead,
"early next yahren. With Sheba's blessing, we decided that it would be
simplest to tell you all now, while we still have a quiet moment of
gathering, before the, uh, seven days of rituals begin," Athena spoke
cautiously, painfully aware that all present knew that it had been /she/
who had translated, to the macabre delight and pealing laughter of the
late Commander Cain, the references in the ancient Field Manual to the
seven daily cycles of mourning rituals, held only for one of Kobol's most
legendary Warrior Priests. 
     "May the Lords of Kobol be praised for bringing us such hope for our
future in the midst of our mourning," Adama gestured for Sheba, Apollo,
and the grandchildren that he had shared with Cain, Athena and Bojay
close behind them, to lead the formal procession of family that marked
the beginning of what most of them quite rightly suspected was ultimately
to be the longest, most complex, best remembered and most thoroughly
researched, documented and legally solemnized military death ritual, ever
conducted in the entirety of the presently recorded history of the
Colonial Fleet of Humanity. 

*** 

Epilogue 

     "It may be advisable to redirect a few selected memory engrams in
Colonel Apollo's brain before he shares his knowledge of your true
identity with his wife," Doctor Roman smiled without turning at the sound
of John's voice, his fellow alien from what the Colonials had dubbed
simply 'the Ships of Light', and continued adjusting the Lieutenant's
insignia of his dress uniform using the mirror above the small wash basin
in the turbo wash chamber in which he stood, glancing idly into the
twinkling eyes that now regarded him in the reflective surface before
him, "/that/ was not a part of the plan, Roman." 
     "The plan?" Roman turned and looked directly into his compatriot's
face, "the plan was to return the continuum as closely as possible to
it's originally destined configuration, to correct our mistakes, and to
make right the wrongs that have been perpetrated against the Colonials,"
Roman lifted a finger in a gesture of exaggerated admonishment, "it is
our responsibility to return these people to /their/ originally destined
path along that continuum, to correct the evil and demented machinations
of one who would re-imagine their fate and cut their future prematurely
short, and to do so as precisely as we are able, with as little direct
influence as possible," Roman's expression was suddenly grim, the amiable
smile momentarily extinguished by the fire of determination in the
doctor's dark eyes, "the intrinsic nature of our plan suggests that we
must be adaptable to change. We cannot predict with any measure of
workable certainty when, or even how, Iblis will strike again. We may
have denied him his ability to shield himself from electronic scans and
recording devices as part of his punishment for wrongfully striking
Apollo down, but his influence over those who still serve him is
formidable. This last series of attacks was repelled because Starbuck's
father, Chameleon, was spared from the worst of the effects of the toxic
radiation aboard the Senior Ship Cheops, to be present, with his
specialized and rather unorthodox skills, at a time when those particular
compilations of data were on display in Wilker's laboratory. One more
base ship, one more successful teleportation attempt, and the Cylons
might have had a very real opportunity to kill everyone in the Fleet, to
wipe out the last of the Colonial humans with one brutal wave of
violence," Roman shook his head as he assumed a less confrontational
stance and leaned against the turbo wash basin behind him, allowing some
room between the two men in the small chamber, "there is no need for you
to remind me of the complexity, or the significance, of our purpose here,
John, just as there is no need to effect any influence over Apollo's
perceptions." 
     "You trust him?" John had assumed an innocuous air of detached
amiability, lifting an eyebrow and throwing Roman a playfully speculative
glance. 
     "Don't /you/?" Roman crossed his arms over his chest, studying
John's face thoughtfully, "he discharged his part of the bargain on
Terra, as did Starbuck, for that matter. They risked their lives on your
word. You told Apollo the truth, that Terra was not Earth, saved the
Fleet the time it would have cost them while they found it out on their
own. Was that a part of our almighty plan?" 
     "Point taken, my brother," John smiled slightly, though his eyes
remained veiled, "and Baltar?" 
     "Paye has reported to Salik and myself that Baltar has been behaving
rather atypically since the enemy transmissions began. The close range
signal from the teleported amplifier seems to have affected him most
dramatically, even though it only maintained the structural integrity of
its intended matrix configuration for a few microns before Cain destroyed
the antenna mount," Roman paused and exhaled resignedly, "Baltar has
heard his master's voice. I do not yet know what Iblis has said to him,
but I shall find out as soon as I can make the time to get away and
observe Baltar for myself." 
     "Baltar will bear watching," John looked deeply into Roman's dark
eyes, "and there is the matter of the amulet." 
     "Cassiopeia was wearing it 'round her lovely neck at the first of
Cain's chosen death rituals," Roman uncrossed his arms and straightened
his uniform cape, touching the metallic trim absently, then raising his
eyes to meet John's gaze once more, "she and Apollo have noted its
connection to the book. In any event, the amulet is where it belongs, in
the possession of an appropriately appointed Guardian, though she is
unaware of its significance for the present." 
     "There is much for us to do, before our fallen brother mounts his
next attack," John allowed a little of his sincere emotion to become
evident in the glimmer of his normally enigmatic eyes and the ease of his
smile, "Apollo and Athena's children must survive Iblis' attempts at the
genocide of their line. Without them, /and/ the son of Serina," both men
suddenly adopted a grim, though determined posture, "the Colonial humans
will never find their mythical Thirteenth Colony, indeed, without the
grandchildren of Adama, they will likely be exterminated, winked out of
existence on /this/ continuum." 
     "Then we shall make our best effort to see to it that they do not
fall," Roman took one more look downward at his meticulously adjusted
uniform, then reached up to touch John's shoulder, "the next of the
rituals is soon to begin. Duty calls," Roman closed his fingers on empty
space as his companion winked out of sight with a slight rush of air.
Roman turned to regard his own image in the mirror, "We shall make our
best effort," he repeated the words and nodded, as if affirming his
promise to himself, then assumed a sadly serious expression, as a young
officer would for such a sombre occasion as the death ritual of his
Commander and moved purposefully through the hatchway, out of the small
turbo-wash chamber and along the corridor to the Great Hall of the
Battlestar Pegasus, to say goodbye to a man that he admitted freely to
himself had evoked in him a sense of comradeship and a passion for living
that he had never imagined before he had assumed his duties aboard Cain's
ship, /So long as Doctor Roman serves aboard the Pegasus, Commander/, the
alien known as Roman considered idly whether the spirit of the Juggernaut
was listening, and deciding that it surely was, as any good strategist
would, /the children of Cain and Adama shall not be unprepared to battle
the evil that seeks to devour them. I promise you that, Sir/, Roman was
distractedly surprised to feel a tear escape from one of his dark eyes.
He brushed it away with a wry smile, then continued on his way to fulfill
his duties as the battlestar's Chief Medical Officer, a friend of a
bereaved family and crew, and as a secret Guardian of the Colonial
Fleet." 

*** 

'Fleeing from the Cylon tyranny, the last battlestar, Galactica, leads a
rag tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest. A shining planet known as
Earth.'