Battlestar Galactica: War Of The Gods
                       Prologue
                    By: Eric Paddon

   "Silver Spar leader, this is core command.  All launch systems
transferred and you are clear to launch."
   As the canopy of Bojay's viper locked into place, he felt a
strange tingle of satisfaction go through him as he savored the
title that Rigel had addressed him by.  It almost seemed just
like old times again.
   "Affirmative core command, we're ready to lead Advance Probe
out."
   With that, he started up the controls and within seconds his
viper had roared off down the launch tube and into the starlit
blackness.  Three additional vipers that were attached to his new
squadron immediately followed.
   "Silver Spar group report," he commanded gently as he took his
viper into the lead position.  The affirming replies from
Lieutenant Jolly, Sergeant Cree and Cadet Danning were dutifully
prompt.
   "Okay," Bojay sounded thoroughly relaxed and injected a note
of dryness, "Since this marks the first official Advance Probe of
the Galactica's brand new Silver Spar Squadron, may I say that it
will be an honor to be leading all of you on the first of many
such long, tiresome probes."
   "When we get back, you should commemorate the event by buying
us all a round at the club, Bojay," Jolly chimed in.
   "You'll do anything for free food and drink, won't you Jolly?"
Bojay replied with good-natured dryness to the fat lieutenant's
quip, "I'll take that under advisement."
   For the next two centars, the four vipers continued on their
course far ahead of the trajectory that the Galactica and her
fleet of 220 ships presently lay on.  It was up to them to see if
there were any dangers to the last remnant of human civilization
that lay ahead of them, be they from their hated enemy the
Cylons, or anything else.
   With nothing to attract their attention, Bojay found himself
thinking how good it felt to be leading a group with the name of
Silver Spar Squadron again, just as he had done for more than
three yahrens aboard the Battlestar Pegasus.  The decision to
form a new Silver Spar group for the Galactica had been Adama's
idea.  The Commander had decided that a flyer of Bojay's
experience needed to command his own group, even if for now it
could only be four vipers.  But as soon as the Fleet developed
the capacity to build new vipers, that would change and Bojay
knew that in no more than a yahren's time from now, he'd be
leading a group almost as large as the one he'd led in his
Pegasus heyday.
   Since the Pegasus's disappearance a month ago, he'd idly
thought on many occasions about who'd taken his place and Sheba's
in the leadership of his old squadron.  He and Sheba had always
intimidated the rest of the Pegasus's flyers with their sheer
brilliance, and he wondered if any one of them would be up to
fulfilling the responsibilities of whatever Cain was doing now.
(Bojay could never let himself think for one micron that the
Pegasus was anything other than alive and well).  There'd been
Lieutenant Banker, Lieutenant Paris, Lieutenant Angus and
Lieutenant Skyler.  All of them competent flyers, but all of them
conditioned more for following orders than giving them.  Which
one would Cain have chosen?  Probably Skyler, he thought.  If the
choice had been left to Bojay, that's who he would have picked.
   Right now though, Bojay knew he couldn't think too much about
the past or the future.  As always, the Fleet had to live with
the constant reminder that they were a hunted people, and even
though nearly a month had passed since the last Cylon attack, the
time for feeling secure had by no means come yet.  And so, he
returned his attention to the scanner, looking for any sign that
the enemy's presence was somewhere nearby.
   As the scanner continued to show the blank reading they all
preferred it to show, Silver Spar Leader finally broke the
monotonous silence that had permeated for most of the last two
centars.
   "This is Flight Leader to Advance Probe.  I think everything
looks okay for the Fleet in this sector.  Let's start thinking
about a last wide sweep and then heading for home.  Copy?"
   "Loud and clear," Jolly said from his position that was off to
one side and slightly in back of where Bojay was flying the lead
position, "Making one final scanner sweep of----"
   And then, the words of Silver Spar group's deputy leader were
cut off as a shining white light, brighter than anything his eyes
had ever beheld in his life, suddenly streaked in front of his
cockpit, causing him to throw up his hands as a shield from the
glare.
   "Bojay!" he shouted.
   It had also passed in front of Silver Spar Leader's cockpit,
and also those of Cree and Danning.  They too, experienced a
similar reaction of abrupt surprise mixed with a slight edge of
alarm.
   "Captain, I'm seeing spots in front of my eyes," Cadet Danning
hastily rubbed his sockets to alleviate the pain, "I can't even
make anything out on the scanner."
   "What in the name of Kobol was that?" Cree blurted.
   "All right, all right, take it easy you guys," Bojay injected
a note of stern authority for the first time as he too, rubbed
his eyes to alleviate the sting the flash had caused, "Whatever
it was is gone now."
   "Nothing I've ever seen anything like before," Cree slowly
regained his bearings as a flashback to a time above an ice
planet called Arcta went through his mind, "If that's some kind
of new Cylon weapon, we're really in trouble."
   "Don't jump to conclusions, Cree," Bojay grew slightly more
stern, "If we're all okay, we'll just ease over in that direction
where it came from."
   "Maybe we'd better alert the fleet," the uneasiness lingered
in Jolly's voice.
   "There's plenty of time for that," Bojay retorted.  On his
first patrol as a Galactica squadron leader, the last thing he
was going to do was allow any kind of panic.
   Suddenly, another flash of light streak over the four Colonial
vipers, with the same intensity as the first one.
   "I not only saw that, I felt it," Jolly said with a slight
exclamation of pain.
   Before Silver Spar Leader could reply, he heard Danning's
nervous voice cut in again, "Captain, there's more of them!  Left
center!"
   Bojay's mouth fell open slightly in amazement as he saw a
whole column of the white round streaks of light come towards
them.
   He shook himself out of his brief stupor and quickly hit his
automatic distress beacon switch.  As determined as he was to not
panic hastily, he knew he had to take some basic precaution.  Now
was not the time to start acting with the reckless daring of his
former commander.
   "Whatever they are, they're coming right at us and fast,"
Jolly stressed the last word as heavily as he could.
   "Activate attack computers," the squadron leader's voice
regained some of its firm edge, "Stand by to intercept."
   As Jolly consulted his target readout, he shook his head in
further disbelief, "I'm not picking them up on my scanner.  Frack
Almighty, I'm not picking anything up."
   "Well they're there and they're not slowing down," an edge of
exasperation entered Bojay's tone, "Stay with them."
   "It looks more like they're staying with us, sir," Danning
jumped in.
   Another large cluster of the white objects then soared
directly toward them, passing over the heads of all four pilots.
   "Captain, I'm ready to take a shot at these things, whatever
they are," Cree spoke up.
   "Not yet, not yet," Bojay felt as if he were losing control of
them already, "Right now, we don't know whether it's hostile, or
if it's just some kind of harmless astral phenomenon.  Now all of
you, stay calm now!"
   Cree resisted the urge to speak-up that he knew from personal
experience that waiting too long to figure out whether it was
hostile or not, could make all the difference in survival.  He
only had to remember two cadets he'd trained with named Bo and
Shields to be reminded of that.
   "Good Lord, they're fast," Bojay looked over his shoulder as
another one zoomed overhead, "Anybody get a good look at them?"
   "No," Jolly said, "But I'll tell you this, whatever they're
flying can outrun us, and could probably outrun the Galactica's
top speed."
   "Let's get out of here," Cree wasn't going to hold himself
back any further, "We've got to warn the Fleet."
   "So far, we don't know if there's anything to warn them
about," Bojay again took a stern edge, "Now hold your positions
and your fire until we get a fix them on them.  I've already
activated the automatic distress beacon just as a precaution."
   "Wait, they're moving up behind us," the urgency in Jolly's
voice increased.
   Again, Bojay looked back.  This time, the cluster came from
behind and streaked right past them.
   "Whoever it is, doesn't seem too interested in us, or else it
would have probably blown us out of the stars by now," the fat
lieutenant continued, "Let's turn around and get out of here."
   As Bojay saw the clusters move away from them, he decided that
this was not the time to be getting too inquisitive about
whatever these things were.
   "Jolly, you speak the wisdom of the Lords.  Okay warriors,
let's turn around and----"
   Before Bojay could finish, something caught his attention from
behind in the corner of his eye.  He looked back and this time,
his mouth fell open in a level of shock far greater than anything
he'd ever experienced in more than ten yahrens of service as a
warrior.
   "Captain?" a note of fear had crept into Danning's voice,
"Captain?"
   Bojay was still too frozen with shock to reply.  Coming up
behind them was a mammoth white ship, bigger than anything his
eyes had ever beheld in his life.  Much bigger than any
battlestar or Cylon baseship that had ever been constructed.
   "Bojay, what in Hades is that?" Jolly's panicked voice filled
his helmet.
   "I see it," he barely managed to get his words out, "Holy
Frack, I have no idea."
   "Captain, my instruments are gone.  I can't read a thing,"
Danning was finding it impossible to hold back the terror he now
felt as he looked at his directional gauge and saw it acting in a
manner he hadn't even seen in his training days
   "Mine are spinning like crazy," Jolly's glance alternated
between his malfunctioning gauge and the sight of what lay behind
them, as a new element that added to the tension was suddenly
injected.  A loud, high-pitched hum, steadily rising in
intensity, "What's that noise...I can't stand it..."
   "Sir, what do we do?" Cree had placed a hand on his helmet as
he felt the intensity of the noise increase inside his cockpit.
   "Divide and run!" Bojay shook his head and tried to get some
of his bearings back, "A four point peel-off on three!"
   "Bojay, I've lost power on all my turbos.  I'm losing speed!"
Jolly shouted as the increased roar of the sound forced him to
raise his voice.
   "I can't do a thing, Captain," Danning felt the pressure
increase on his head and felt as though it was about to explode.
   "No good," both of Cree's hands were clutching his helmet,
"Can't stand the sound."
   Bojay took another look at the ship that now dwarfed his field
of vision.  What was this thing?  What did it mean?
   Before he could think about that any further, the pressure of
the noise finally took its toll.  Silver Spar Leader's eyes
rolled slightly, and he slumped back in his seat as
unconsciousness finally overtook him.

                     Chapter One

   On the lowermost level of the Rising Star, a crowd of more
than 500 exuberant spectators had crammed the galleries
overlooking the triad court below.  Beneath them, they were
witnessing the most intense athletic competition that any of
those present could remember seeing since before the Holocaust.
A tight, even, furious match between the Gold Team of Apollo and
Starbuck, against the Blue Team of Boomer and Sergeant Castor.
On eight previous occasions, these two teams had faced-off and
the results had always been fairly easy victories for the Gold
Team.  But on this occasion, the outcome was less certain than it
had been before.  For the first time, Boomer and Castor were on
the verge of defeating the Gold Team.  They had just scored to
take a 14-13 lead with barely a full centon remaining in the
final period.
   "This is it," Boomer muttered under his breath as the four
players gathered together in the circle formation at the center
of the court to wait for the triad ball to drop into play again,
"Get control of this, and it's finally it."
   Ever since the Galactica warriors had begun playing organized
triad matches several sectars ago, Boomer had felt a sense of
frustration inside over never being able to beat Apollo and
Starbuck.  As much as he loved them as the two best friends he'd
ever known, he had always secretly wished that there could be
just one thing in life that he could say he excelled at better
than them.  Long ago, he had resigned himself to the knowledge
that as warriors they were the best, and that he would have to
content himself with being in their shadow.  But Boomer had
always taken pride in his skill as a triad player ever since he'd
first played the game on the backstreets of Caprica City, and
long believed that there were few who'd mastered the game better
than him.  Losing to Apollo and Starbuck once had been ego-
bruising enough for Boomer.  Losing to them again and again, and
seeing them emerge as the team the fans regarded as the best, was
almost aggravating beyond belief for Boomer's psyche.  It had now
reached the point where beating them just once would be enough
for him.
   The four players clasped hands and began dancing around the
center of the court in their circle formation again as the rubber
triad ball dropped from the ceiling into the space between them.
It caromed off the right side wall, leaving it open for either
Starbuck or Castor.
   As Boomer and Apollo moved back toward the other side into the
rebound positions, the dark-skinned warrior felt his heart rise
with excitement when he saw his muscular partner get to it first.
As soon as his hands were on the ball, Castor spun around and
then launched it toward the corner where Boomer was in perfect
position to receive it on the first bounce off the wall.
   His hands clasped the ball and he felt the surge of excitement
inside him increase.  If he made this shot and scored another
point for his team, that would put it out of reach.  There'd be
no time left for Apollo and Starbuck to win.  He'd finally beat
them for the first time.
   The opening of the scoring circle loomed like an inviting
beacon, waiting for him to put his shot through for the score
that would clinch the victory.  He decided that he would make
that score emphatically, for the benefit of everyone who'd come
to watch expecting to see another triumph for Apollo and
Starbuck.
   Boomer began to move on a run around Apollo's blocking
motions, determined to leap high and slam the ball right into the
opening with authority.  It was a movement he'd patented to
perfection as a child, and had earned him awed admiration from
all of his childhood friends.  Now the people watching would
learn just who the real triad player was!
   Boomer's timing was perfect.  His jump was right on the mark.
His outstretched arm with the ball clasped in his hand rose high
into the air toward the opening until it was perfectly aligned
with it.  And then, as his body started to come back down, his
arm began the sweeping downward motion to the opening and
released the ball.
   But instead of going in, the ball grazed the side of the
opening, which was just enough to cause it bounce all the way
back out to the center of the court.
   What the frack?  Boomer was so stunned that the ball had not
gone in, that he hesitated for a brief instant in getting back to
his feet after he'd come down on the floor.  That couldn't have
missed.  It couldn't have.
   The miss, and Boomer's hesitation in getting back into the
play gave new life for the Gold Team.  Starbuck fielded the ball
after it had ricocheted out and got off a perfect sweeping carom
bounce to Apollo, who was all alone in perfect position thanks to
Boomer's brief delay.  As a result, Apollo had a clean shot at
the opening, which because of his positioning was worth two
points, instead of one.
   Just as Boomer thrust himself into a blocking motion, Apollo
got off his shot.  It landed in the center of the opening,
resulting in two points, and a 15-14 Gold lead just as the buzzer
sounded indicating that time had expired.
   Apollo and Starbuck had won again.  The two victors threw
their arms up in the air in a sign of triumph, and acknowledged
the frenzied cheers of the crowd.  Starbuck was still pumping his
fists in the air with excitement as he and Apollo exited the
court first.
   Boomer was still in a state of near-shock when he felt a tap
on the shoulder from his partner.
   "Come on Boomer," Castor said dejectedly, "Let's get moving.
   The dark-skinned warrior felt as if he were in the middle of a
bad dream as he finally walked off at a slow pace.  When they
emerged in the corridor outside, they could see Apollo talking
with a jubilant Sheba.  Starbuck was further down, slightly
obscured by the guards that had gathered there to keep the
throngs of spectators from getting in.
   "I'm heading for the turbowash, Boomer," Castor said as he
started to make a beeline for the corridor that led in the other
direction.  The burly Colonial Security Guard wasn't in the mood
to talk to either of his opponents at that moment, "Talk to you
later."
   "Yeah," Boomer mumbled as he stumbled forward, just in time to
hear the end of Apollo's conversation with Sheba.
   "I don't know if I'd go so far as to say you were incredible,"
Sheba was saying as she smiled and patted Apollo on the back,
"But I might be able to grant that you were reasonably proficient
and buy you a drink."
   "How generous of you," Apollo chuckled, "You've got a deal.
I'll meet you in the Officers Club on the Galactica later."
   "Just be sure you wash down thoroughly," Sheba threw him a coy
glance as she turned away just in time to see Boomer approaching.
She patted him on the back in consolation before she headed back
toward the spectators tunnel.
   She had only moved ten feet toward the exit when she saw a
grim-faced Colonel Tigh approaching.  She promptly stopped in her
tracks as she realized that the Galactica's executive officer was
not coming to simply congratulate the winners and console the
losers.  This could only mean something serious.
   "Nice game, Boomer," Apollo put his arm around his friend, as
Starbuck moved back toward the both of them.
   "Nice game, yeah," Boomer was all smiles outward, but he
didn't bother concealing the frustration he felt, "Just once I'd
like to beat you two."
   "Well I'm sure there's something you're better at," Starbuck
needled, "Anyway, what'd you expect from a natural-born athlete?"
   Boomer gave his friend a good-natured rap in the stomach with
his headgear, "Natural-born athlete my ass," he managed to grin,
"It wasn't even your shot that won the game.  Just for that,
you're buying."
   "I'm afraid nobody's buying."
   The three warriors turned around and saw Colonel Tigh emerge
from behind with a concerned Sheba trailing him.
   "Emergency meeting on the Galactica, immediately." the
executive officer was blunt.
   Starbuck let out a groan, "For sagan's sake Colonel, we just
ran ourselves ragged in this game.  And I need a drink."
   "You'll need one even more when you find out what's happened,"
Tigh said, "Don't waste a micron in the turbowash.  I've had the
Canaris personally commandeered to rush all of you back."
   "Well, Colonel could you at least give us a little preview?"
Starbuck demanded.
   "Later," Tigh said curtly as he turned and disappeared back
down the tunnel.  Leaving Apollo, Starbuck, Boomer and Sheba
alone to ponder what this could possibly mean.


   Thirty centons later, the four warriors were on the upper deck
of the Galactica's bridge, staring intently at the giant
Navigation Board that Adama stood in front of.  From the micron
Tigh had explained the situation to them on the shuttle trip back
from the Rising Star, the mood on each of their faces had been
downcast.
   "They disappeared here in this sector," Adama said as he moved
his hand across the lower left-side of the board and moved back
to the other side of the railing.
   "And there's been no transmissions of any kind?" Apollo asked.
   "We received one automatic distress signal from Bojay's viper
just before it happened," Tigh said as he kept his hands clamped
on the rail of the topmost level, next to Omega's console.
   "Since then, nothing," Adama finished, "The four of them have
simply vanished."
   Apollo took a brief glance back at the board, "What kind of
land mass is indicated in the area?" he asked with a nervous
edge, "Planets?  Asteroids?  Anything at all they could have
landed on?"
   "I don't know," Adama confessed as he shook his head slightly
and tugged at his left ear, "But our seismic readings indicate
that something has happened there within a time-frame that could
have a bearing on our missing ships."
   "Huh?" Starbuck frowned, "I think you just lost me, Commander.
What's the connection?"
   "We don't know if it is a connection," Adama said, "All we
know is that there are readings of some kind of massive space
explosion or disruption of some kind that happened relatively
recently in or near this same sectar.  We're still too far out
though, to tell if the disruption took place before or after they
disappeared."
   "Then just about anything could have happened to them," Boomer
said glumly, and then stopped short of rattling off a list of
potential possibilities.
   "Yes," the commander nodded.
   At that point, Sheba, who'd been quietly standing off to one
side with a stiff-lipped expression, finally spoke up,
"Commander," her voice cracked slightly, "Bojay's like my family
to me.  He's all that I've got left from...." and then she
trailed off, unable to go any further.
   "I know," Adama said in understanding as he touched her arm,
"I know.  Get your gear and report to the launch bay."
   "Thank you, sir," she smiled weakly and then walked off the
bridge at a determined pace.  Apollo watched her leave and then
slowly made his way over to his father.
   "Father," he said quietly, "Maybe sending her is a mistake."
   "Oh?" Adama glanced at him, noting that there was a strange,
protective note in his son's voice.  It took him a micron to
realize that the last time he'd heard that kind of tone had been
almost a yahren ago, when Apollo had asked him not to send out a
squadron of inexperienced pilots on a mission that had included
Serina.
   "There's been no trace of her father or the Pegasus since they
disappeared a sectar ago," Apollo went on, "And now losing
Bojay..."
   Starbuck moved in to join the conversation and shook his head,
"Look, if emotion's a factor in finding those four pilots, we're
all equally motivated.  Jolly's like a kinsman to me.  And after
what happened at Arcta, I also feel responsible for anything that
happens to Cree."
   "Well, then I guess we've got the right team for the job
then," Apollo decided to admit the obvious.
   "And you can count me in, too," Boomer added.
   "Wait a micron," Adama held up a hand, "Boomer, you have to
stay because I need at least one senior pilot on standby in case
this turns out to be a Cylon ambush of some kind.  For now, I'm
going to just let the three of you do it."
   "Very well sir," Boomer said, feeling that his ego had just
taken another bruising, "I'll have the other squadron pilots come
down to Operations for a full briefing and let them know how
things stand for now."
   "Do that," Adama nodded, "It's best we not keep any of them in
the dark."
   As Boomer left the bridge, the commander turned back to his
son, "Don't take any chances," he said firmly, "If they're not on
any of the planets in the area--"
   "I know," Apollo quietly interrupted, "They wouldn't have fuel
enough to be in continuous flight since they left.  If we don't
find them, we come right back."
   "All right," Adama nodded, "Good luck."
   No sooner had Apollo and Starbuck both left, when Tigh came
down from the topmost level.
   "Commander," he said, "That seismic report.  I don't like the
implications of it.  It was much too sudden and abortive.  It
doesn't fit the profile for anything natural.  If it's an
explosion, it...well it would have to be something else.  And if
I were to make a preliminary guess, I'd say that something
massive crashed with full force into one of the planets in that
sector."
   Adama frowned slightly, "Well if there's a connection with
Silver Spar's disappearance, it wouldn't figure that four ships
would just crash simultaneously?"
   "That's true," Tigh nodded, "And at any rate, that wouldn't
begin to account for the level of this kind of reading.  But
there's the possibility that they could have been on the ground
when whatever it was hit."
   "I suppose anything is possible," Adama turned back to the
board, "Hopefully we should know soon enough."


   For the first thirty centons after the three vipers left the
Galactica, there was a large measure of tension-filled silence.
Each of the warrior's had so much of a personal interest in the
outcome of what they would discover on this mission that none of
them felt in the mood for the normal kind of cockpit small-talk
they would have engaged in.
   With Starbuck, he kept thinking how ironic it was that once
again, he was on a mission to find out what had happened to Cree,
and if he was still alive, just as he'd done at Arcta nearly a
yahren ago, when Starbuck had been on the verge of sacrificing
the good of the mission so he could get a chance to rescue the
young cadet from a Cylon prison cell.  In the time since, he'd
been pleased to see Cree mature considerably as a warrior to the
point where he'd been promoted to sergeant and he wasn't about to
accept the prospect that this time, the young warrior's career
had come to a permanent end.
   He also found himself thinking of Jolly.  He might have
regarded Apollo and Boomer as the two warriors he was personally
closest to, but Jolly was the only one he'd known since his
childhood.  He and Jolly shared the bond of being victims of the
Umbra disaster, more than twenty yahrens ago when a surprise
Cylon attack had totally levelled and destroyed Caprica's fifth
largest city and left hundreds of young children orphaned,
including Starbuck and Jolly.  The two had first met in the
orphanage for Umbra Victims, and when their paths had crossed
again many yahrens later at the Colonial Military Academy,
Starbuck's memory of the fat child from the orphanage he'd
enjoyed playing games with, remained strong enough for him to
make Jolly one of the few people in his inner circle of friends.
   Jolly had told him at the Academy that he'd been able to track
down his real family over time.  Starbuck always envied his
friend for that.  So many victims of the Umbra disaster had been
too young to remember their families, and never know for certain
if their parents had survived the disaster or not.  Starbuck fell
into that unfortunate category.  In all the yahrens since, he'd
never gotten any closer to knowing who his real parents had been,
thus making him a man without a past or heritage.  It was the one
part of his life that he would have gladly traded in an instant.
   "We're approaching Epsilon seven quadrant," Apollo suddenly
broke the silence, "Indications are of one planet only in the
system.  If they had to make a landing, this is the only place
they could have ended up.  ETA to scanning range in one centon."
   Starbuck slowly returned to his awareness of the blackness of
space surrounding him.  He shook his head and seemed to shudder
slightly.
   "You know," he said, "I don't why, but this part of space
makes me nervous for some reason."
   "That's because since we left Gomorrah behind us, we've
reached a point of space that was never mapped by Colonial star
navigation," Apollo said, "From this point on, every star system,
every planet we come across has no name in Colonial records.
It's all virgin territory for us until we find Earth."
   "Kind of makes the whole enormity of the journey more
apparent," Starbuck grunted.
   "There it is," Sheba quietly spoke up, "Planet dead ahead."
   They could see the reddish-gray planet looming up ahead of
them in their field of vision, growing steadily bigger and
bigger.
   "Activating scanners," Apollo sucked in his breath as he hit
the switch on his main console.
   In a matter of microns, the important data was flashing on his
tiny monitor in bold, block letters: NO LIFE FORMS.
   "No life forms," he repeated dejectedly.
   "I wonder why?" for the first time since they'd left, Sheba's
professional instincts seemed to kick in, "The atmospheric
conditions seem right.  There's no reason why the planet should
be devoid of life."
   "I doubt that any explorers or travelers from the colonies
ever made it out this far," Apollo said, "Not unless they had a
visitor leaving Gomorrah who's ship went a hundred-eighty-degrees
in the wrong direction.  This whole area of space is on the
outermost periphery of what we considered the Delphians
territorial domain, even though they never bothered to explore it
for themselves.  That's why we don't have any records starting
with here."
   "You're forgetting something," Sheba said, "Finding no trace
of any kind of human life doesn't bode well for the direction the
Fleet is travelling in to find the lost thirteenth tribe.  If
they really did traverse across the stars to this planet called
Earth, then there have to be some inevitable signs of human life
somewhere along the way that have no connections to the colonies
at all."
   Apollo craned his head toward her viper in half-amusement.  In
only a sectar's time since she'd been thrust into the new
experience of life aboard the Galactica, Sheba had gone out of
her way to learn as much as she possibly could about the saga of
the thirteenth tribe.  On all the occasions he'd spoken with her
since, he was amazed at how she'd embraced the belief in Earth's
existence with as much fervor as his father pursued it with.
   But then again, he mused further, since being parted from the
man who'd been the center of her life, Sheba had been in
desperate need of having something to believe in, in order for
her life to have any new kind of meaning.  Embracing the belief
in Earth as a hope for humanity was the least she could have done
under the circumstances.
   There I go again analyzing her, Apollo suddenly chided
himself.  Why in the name of Kobol do I keep doing that?  It
seems like ever since she came here I've been doing nothing but
wanting to probe her feelings on everything.  What is it about
her that makes me want to do that so much?
   Before he allowed his mind to ponder that question, he
abruptly, deliberately, shut his mind off from those thoughts and
returned to the matter at hand.
   "One problem at a time, Sheba," he said, "Our first concern is
finding traces of Silver Spar patrol.  Let's head on in for a
first look."
   The three vipers then descended into the atmosphere of the
planet.  As soon as the cloud cover dissipated around them, they
were greeted to a strange sight in the sky around them and the
landscape beneath them.
   "Apollo, Starbuck.  Look at the color of the vegetation,"
Sheba said in amazement, "It's all red."
   "Yeah," the same tone was in Apollo's voice, "I've never seen
anything like this before.  Try to find a place to set down and
we'll do some investigating on foot."
   "Hey just over that rise ahead," Starbuck quickly interjected
with a note of excitement, "Look at that."
   As the vipers streaked over the landscape, they were surprised
to first see the sky around them return to a normal color, and
then beneath them, a blackened scarred gully filled with massive
pieces of some kind of wreckage that Apollo didn't recognize.
   "Looks like something big hit this area," the flight leader
said, "So big it destroyed and burned out all the vegetation.
That's why the sky's now a normal color again."
   "I see the wreckage, left-of center," Starbuck said, "Whatever
it was, it's huge."
   "Let's go in," a determined edge entered Apollo's voice as the
three of them brought their vipers back into the red areas beyond
the gully where an open field came in to view.  Less than a
centon later, the three of them were on the ground.
   Sheba was the first to get out of her viper, and she sprinted
across the field to where Apollo and Starbuck had just gotten out
of theirs.  The red glow of the sky cast its strange tint not
only on the surroundings, but on each other as well.
   "This is the strangest light I've ever seen," Apollo shook his
head in disbelief at what seemed like something out of an old
fairy-tale story to him.
   "You two should see yourselves," Starbuck grinned at Apollo
and Sheba, "You both look like a bad contrast picture on a
hovermobile license come to life."
   "So do you Starbuck," Sheba smirked back at him, "And in your
case, you never looked better."
   The brash warrior chuckled as he realized that he'd been
topped.  After the way she had so expertly cut him down to size
when he'd made his subtle proposition attempt before the Gomorrah
commando mission, he realized he should have known better.
   "Well at least the atmosphere readings check out," Apollo's
eyes wandered about the field and the nearby forests,
"Comfortable to breathe in every sense."
   "And yet everything's so eerie," the smirk faded from Sheba's
expression as she stopped to take in the surroundings.
   "But alive," Starbuck tried to reassert an optimistic note.
   "The wreckage is about five hundred metrones that way," Apollo
pointed to an area where the red glow's dissipation became
apparent, "Let's check it out."
   Several centons later, they had emerged in the more reassuring
glow of a normal-tinged sky.  But once they looked beneath them
at what lay in the gully far below, that reassurance promptly
vanished.
   "Would you look at the size of that crater," Apollo said in
near-awe, "Whatever hit this place must have been as big as a
battlestar."
   "And that," Starbuck pointed, "looks like the remains of a
very big ship."
   They stared at the twisted, blackened remains of the massive
craft beneath them, trying to see if it registered any sense of
familiarity with them.
   "About the only reassuring thing I can say, is that that's
obviously not a viper, let alone four of them," Apollo said.
   "I wonder," Starbuck mused, "Are there any records of
battlestars disappearing without a trace since the war began?"
   "Yes," Sheba said as she looked at the wreckage with the same
transfixed amazement, "The Battlestar Callisto disappeared five
hundred yahrens ago with no explanation while on a deep space
intelligence probe, but as big as that thing is, that doesn't
resemble a battlestar or anything Colonial in the least."
   "Let's get a closer look," Apollo said as they started down
the sloping hillside.
   They had only gone twenty feet, when the three of them were
suddenly startled by a sound from behind them.
   "I wouldn't go down there."
   The three warriors all grabbed for their laser pistols as they
spun around and saw something that none of them had expected to
see.  The sight of a man standing at the top of the ridge.
   "Where did he come from?" Sheba whispered in bafflement, "The
scanners said no life forms."
   The man seemed to be slightly middle-aged in appearance, but
for the most part seemed quite handsome.  He was of average
height, with dark brown hair swept back and piercing dark eyes.
His clothes though, were what gave him an almost regal aura.  He
was garbed in elegant white robes from collar to foot and seemed
like someone who belonged more in a royal chamber, than amidst
the emptiness of a deserted planet.
   Despite the man's warning, he made no initial move toward
them, and remained standing on the ridge.  "It's not safe down
there," he spoke again.
   And then, as the three warriors watched in total incredulity,
he slowly made his way down the slope to where the three warriors
were standing.  By the time he reached to within five feet of
them, he added, "The radon levels are extremely high."
   Starbuck was the only one who still had his pistol out, and he
kept it cautiously trained on him, "Where did you come from?" he
demanded.
   "Where did you come from?" the man smiled back with a gentle
retort, "I was here on this planet long before you, I would
think."
   "We mean you no harm," Apollo said, adopting a diplomatic
tone, "You're obviously human.  Do you need our help?"
   "Well I think it's more likely that I can help you," the man
said.
   "How?" Starbuck refused to lower his pistol, "Are there others
like you?"
   The man's face suddenly took on a grave expression, "Not
here."
   Apollo quietly motioned Starbuck to lower his pistol.  As his
friend put it back in his holster, Sheba cautiously spoke for the
first time since they'd seen him, "Was that a ship?" she pointed
sown to the gully without taking her eyes off the stranger.
   The man's eyes gazed down and the grave aura of his expression
only increased, "Yes, it was.  It was destroyed."
   "By whom?" Apollo asked.
   "The Great Powers," he said simply, and then left it at that.
   "You mean the Cylon Empire?" Sheba gently prodded.
   "No," he replied flatly, and once again refused to go further.
   Despite putting his pistol away, Starbuck refused to be as
diplomatic in his tone, "And just who are these 'Powers' as you
call them?"
   "It's not easy to explain," the man was once again cryptic.
He then cast a glance at the wreckage in the distance, "Would you
mind if we moved from here?  I don't want to be reminded of what
happened to my people."
   Even before he had finished though, the man had already
started to move off back up the slop toward the path that led
back to the top of the ridge.
   Cautiously, the three warriors began to follow him.  Apollo
pulled out the portable scanner from his belt pack and quickly
activated it.  As he trained it on the man ahead, he frowned in
disbelief, "Something's wrong with my scanner.  I can't get any
reading."
   The man suddenly stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around,
"That scanner won't be of much use to you.  As I said, the radon
levels are enormous."
   He resumed walking, and again the three Galactica warriors
followed, leaving the massive wreckage of the ship behind them
alone and forgotten for now.


   They moved back into the reddish tinted area, and for a brief
micron Apollo felt a sense of unease go through him when he saw
the mysterious man bathed in the red glow.  He couldn't quite put
his finger on it, but the sight alone seemed like a warning flag
that he should take heed of.
   He watched as the man came to a stop in front of a small pond
on the other side of the meadow where the three vipers were
parked.  His shoulders seemed to sag in weariness, causing Sheba
to come over to him and offer an arm in support.
   "I don't understand it," Starbuck mused quietly to Apollo,
"Who is this guy?"
   Apollo didn't respond immediately.  His attention was still on
the man, and on Sheba.
   "Apollo?" Starbuck gently nudged him.
   "Sorry," Apollo shook his head, "I was just thinking."
   "And?"
   His friend took a breath, "I don't know.  I've got a very
strange feeling about him."
   "That makes two of us," the brash lieutenant grunted.
   "I don't understand how he could survive that crash without a
mark on him."
   "Especially if that ship crashing is the tie-in to what the
Commander was telling us about the massive seismic disturbance
the Galactica's scanners picked up," Starbuck noted.
   "And is there a connection with Silver Spar Squadron's
disappearance?" Apollo added, "I think I'd better do some
delicate probing of him."
   The two of them made their way over to the edge of the pond.
   "I'm very weary," the man was saying to Sheba, "I'm drained of
energy."
   "We have some emergency rations with us," Sheba's tone was
gentle and friendly, as she continued to hold him up by the arm,
"We'll be happy to share them with you."
   The stranger turned and smiled warmly at her, "You're very
kind," his voice matched the grateful benevolence of his smile,
"It's not food I require."
   "Look," Apollo entered the conversation, keeping his tone
cautious and diplomatic, "Mister, ah...."
   "My apologies," the man turned to Apollo and bowed slightly,
"My name is Count Iblis."
   "Count Iblis," Apollo said, "How did you survive the crash?"
   A blank frown came over the face of Count Iblis, "I honestly
don't know," he sounded apologetic, "That might seem difficult to
explain, but I simply can't recall."
   "You spoke of your people," Starbuck said, "Were there people
on that ship?"
   "Yes," Count Iblis admitted, "They are now gone from this
dimension.  Gone to other things," his voice trailed off as he
turned away and looked off into the distance.
   Before any of the warriors could say anything else, he
abruptly turned around and started to cautiously pace in front of
them, "But what about you?  You must have people.  Will you be
returning to them soon?"
   "Yes," Apollo nodded.
   The caution suddenly faded from Iblis's face and was replaced
by an expression of politeness, "I wonder if I might accompany
you?"
   "We'd have to know a little more about you," Apollo said, as
he tried to be firm without being antagonistic, "Where do you
come from?"
   "You do not know my people," Iblis walked several steps away
from them, "They are not of your world."
   Starbuck moved toward him, "Yes, but if they are human, maybe
there's some connection.  Maybe, ah---"
   "Maybe I can help you with your quest," Iblis unexpectedly
interrupted.
   "Oh?" Apollo raised an eyebrow, "What quest was that?"
   "Whatever it is you're looking for," Iblis said simply and
then looked off into the distance, "My knowledge of the universe
is infinite.  If you desire my help, I think we had best be going
immediately."
   And then, the mysterious man in white walked off in the
direction of the three vipers.
   "Well," Apollo said aloud to Sheba and Starbuck, "What's your
preliminary assessment?"
   "Hard to say," Starbuck said, "Likable.  But a bit on the
loony side, if you ask me."
   "I just wish I knew where the frack he came from," Apollo kept
his eye on Iblis's retreating form.
   "You keep asking that," Sheba seemed amazed by the level of
suspicion in his voice, "What does it matter?"
   Apollo looked back at her, equally amazed by her lack of
suspicion, "It should matter a lot, Sheba.  Especially since he's
here for no apparent reason, and we're still left with an
unanswered question about what happened to our missing pilots."
   "I don't even think you bothered to put the question to him,"
she retorted mildly, "Not that he'd probably know a thing about
it anyway.  At least we know he's human.  And he's all alone."
   "Sheba, why are you suddenly so protective of him?" Apollo's
amazement deepened, "So far, he's been nothing but evasive with
us."
   "He's probably just confused and disoriented," she held her
ground, "I think he's in shock from the explosion."
   "That makes sense," Starbuck conceded, "If he ejected from
that ship, the fall may have hurt him."
   "No," Apollo shook his head, "He doesn't look any too tattered
to me.  Robes all neatly immaculate, not a hair out of place.
There has to be more to it than that."
   "Well we just can't leave him behind," Starbuck said.
   "There's always the possibility he could be some kind of spy,"
Apollo suggested, "Someone who was planted here and knew we'd be
coming.  Done after whatever it was that caused Bojay and the
others to disappear."
   As soon as he mentioned the name of her only friend left from
the Pegasus, Sheba looked back at where Iblis was standing, as
though she were inwardly reproaching herself for not being
cautious enough.
   "Apollo, he's only one man," Starbuck pointed out, "If we keep
our guard up, I just don't see what he can do."
   Apollo cast another glance at the mysterious Count Iblis and
finally nodded, "All right.  But first let's make sure he's not
carrying any kind of homing device."
   "Good idea," Sheba said, her voice more cautious than it had
been before, "If this is one of Baltar's little tricks, maybe
it'll backfire."
   "Starbuck, get yourself into orbit and radio the Galactica
that we need a shuttle.  And see if there's any further word from
Silver Spar.  If we're lucky, maybe they've turned up while we've
been away."
   "Right," Starbuck nodded and headed off to where his viper was
parked.  At the same time, Apollo and Sheba went over to the
other side of the meadow where Iblis remained transfixed, looking
up at the sky from time to time.
   They reached the mysterious man just as Starbuck's viper
powered up and took off into the atmosphere to begin its return
trip.
   "We've decided to take you with us," Apollo said.
   "Good," Iblis smiled and then moved off into the center of the
meadow.
   Apollo gave Sheba a sarcastic glance, "Overwhelmed, isn't he?"
   "Apollo," she gently chided, "That's enough.  We've taken all
the precautions we need to for now.  Let's not make things
difficult."
   Apollo kept looking at her for a long micron as though he
wanted to say something else.  But before he could do that, Sheba
had moved off in Iblis's direction.
   As soon as they came to where Iblis was, Apollo and Sheba were
both startled by an entirely new sight.  The sight of mysterious
flashes of white light racing through the sky at tremendous
speed.  They streaked overhead with incredible intensity, and
seemed to give off an ear-piercing sound that both warriors found
deafening.  Apollo and Sheba's hands shot up to their ears in a
vain attempt to block the noise out, but it had little effect.
They both staggered and seemed ready to collapse.
   Yet throughout it all, Iblis remained perfectly erect and
didn't even flinch in response to the sound.  Yet his expression
for the first time appeared to grow slightly angry, and seemed to
border on defiance.
   "What is it?" Sheba moaned in near agony from the noise,
"What's happening?"
   As soon as she'd finished, the noise level slackened off and
the lights began to fade from view.
   "I don't know," Apollo took his hands down and looked at Count
Iblis in amazement, "But it didn't even faze him."
   "We'd better hurry," Iblis spoke up, still looking
suspiciously at the now empty sky, "They're coming back.  They're
looking for me."
   "Looking for you, Count Iblis?" Apollo took a step toward him,
"What are you talking about?  How can some lights in the sky be
looking for you?"
   Iblis turned back and the warm smile returned to his face, "Ah
forgive me.  The lonely dreariness of this place has affected me
too much.  May I say once again how appreciative I am of your
kind offer to take me back to your people."
   "You're most welcome," Apollo straightened his jacket as he
shook off the rest of the unnerving noise's effect from his head,
"Lieutenant Starbuck is signalling our ship to send over a
shuttlecraft that will take you back to our ship.  It should be
here in a matter of time."
   "Thank you," he bowed slightly, "And it occurs to me that I
don't have the pleasure of knowing either of your names."
   "I'm Lieutenant Sheba, and this is Captain Apollo," Sheba
stepped forward and returned the smile, "We're from a ship called
the Battlestar Galactica."
   Iblis looked them over for a brief instant and then slowly
nodded his head.
   "Ah yes," he smiled again, "I have a feeling that I will long
remember both of your names.  Not simply for the kindness you've
shown me today."
   He moved away from them toward their vipers and seemed to cast
an admiring glance at the machinery.
   Apollo shook his head in amazement, "He must be as mad as a
Skorpian hermit."
   Sheba suddenly threw him a disapproving glance, "For sagan's
sake Apollo, do you have to be so rude?"
   "I'm not being rude," he kept his attention on Iblis, "That's
just the way he seems to me.  If he isn't a prime candidate for
the Nuthouse, he's holding something back."
   "Is your first instinct always to be so hostile to people you
don't completely understand?" she retorted in a cold tone that
caused Apollo to look at her.
   "What do you mean by that?" he asked gently.
   She drew herself up and defiantly shook her head, "Nothing,"
she said, "Never mind."
   "No come on," he took her by the arm, "I want to know what you
meant by that, Sheba."
   Sheba took a breath, "All right.  I'm reminded of how you were
ready to think that my father was a madman just because he
pursued a different line of strategic thinking from the one you
preferred."
   Apollo rolled his eyes in disgust, "Oh for the love
of....Sheba, are you trying to tell me that after a whole sectar
of trying to...." he broke off and suddenly walked away, too
angry and hurt to say anything else.
   It only took a micron for Sheba to catch up with him, "Apollo
wait," she took him by the shoulder, "Apollo, I'm sorry.  I
didn't mean...."
   He turned around and calmly exhaled, "Okay," he said gently,
"Okay, let's forget that whole thing.  Let's both agree for now
to just be on our guard about this Count Iblis person and jump to
no more conclusions until the facts warrant it."
   "Agreed," Sheba nodded and extended her hand, "Truce?"
   He smiled and took it, "Truce."
   They came up to Count Iblis, and when Apollo spoke, his tone
was more polite than it had been at any other point.
   "Count Iblis, there's one question I neglected to ask you.
Have you seen any other people like us, or any ships like ours
before or after you came to be here?"
   "Other Colonial warriors?" Iblis thoughtfully mused, "No, I
can't say that I have.  I certainly don't think I'd be in this
lonely predicament of mine if I had seen anyone else."
   Apollo didn't bat an eyelash or lessen the politeness of his
tone, "Excuse me Count Iblis, but do you mean you know what kind
of people we are?  I don't think I mentioned the term Colonial
warriors."
   The stranger broke into a disarming smile, "Yes, I understand
what you mean, Captain.  But I do know of your people.  After
all, as I said, my knowledge of the universe is infinite.
Including the knowledge of your people, and of your quest."
   "And you say you can help us in that?" Apollo folded his arms.
   "Perhaps." he turned away from them, "I feel so fatigued from
my ordeal.  I hope it would not be asking too much if these
questions which I know are legitimate ones, could wait until I am
aboard your ship and have had a chance to recover myself more."
   "That's perfectly all right," Apollo said, "We'll let things
go until then."
   As Iblis moved off again back toward the middle of the meadow,
Apollo shot a glance at Sheba and felt a tinge of unease at the
look of fascination on her face, as she kept her eyes trained on
the stranger.
   He found himself dearly hoping that it didn't mean anything
significant.

                 Chapter Two

   The shuttle arrived twenty centons later and came to a stop in
the middle of the meadow.  Iblis wasted little time in boarding
it.  As soon as it was away, Apollo and Sheba took off in their
vipers, and as soon as they reached escape velocity from the
planet, rendezvoused with Starbuck's viper, which had been
staying in a holding pattern during the entire time.  The three
fighters then assumed a protective flank around the shuttle to
begin escorting it back to the Galactica.
   "Mackin?" Apollo radioed the shuttle pilot, "How's our guest
acting?"
   The voice of the young female shuttle pilot came back through
his headset, "He's acting perfectly normal Captain.  Just sitting
in the back relaxing.  He hasn't said a word since he said hello
to me, but he does seem grateful that he's off that rock."
   "Okay thanks.  Let me know if he says anything, or if
something funny happens."
   "Are you expecting something to happen, sir?" Mackin inquired.
   "I'm not sure, Mackin," Apollo said, "I'm not sure."
   The flight leader then switched frequencies, "Starbuck, did
you get any word from the Galactica on Silver Spar group?"
   "The word was that there's no word, Apollo," Starbuck sounded
dejected, "I hate to say this, but barring a miracle, I don't
know if I have much hope for them at this point."
   "So much for your vaunted optimism, Starbuck," Sheba suddenly
snapped, "I don't want to hear you say that."
   "Look Sheba, I'm only repeating facts."
   "I refuse to believe Bojay's gone," she said, "Somehow, I
think things will turn out all right."
   "How?" Starbuck demanded, "Feel like telling me?"
   "I don't know," her voice trailed off, "Something I felt, when
I was talking to Count Iblis on the planet."
   "I didn't hear him say anything to inspire confidence on that
point, Sheba," Apollo said, choosing his words carefully.
   "Maybe not," she said with slight awe, "And yet at one point,
I could feel it.  Being with him somehow makes me think that
something important and good for all of us is going to happen."
   Apollo promptly choked off the retort he was thinking of and
kept silent.  Starbuck was too incredulous to say anything
himself at this point.
   What's with you, Sheba?  Apollo thought.  Is there any reason
why you want to trust him so willingly?
   The reassuring sight of the Galactica finally came into their
field of vision.  The three vipers landed first in the port
landing bay, followed microns later by the shuttle.
   As Apollo got out of his viper and dropped to the tarmac, he
felt his stomach knot slightly when he saw Sheba instinctively
head toward the shuttle as soon as she was out of her viper.
   At that point, Apollo saw Colonel Tigh step off the turbo lift
and enter the landing bay, with Athena trailing him.  A look of
concern lined the executive officer's face.
   "Starbuck said you needed a shuttle, but there was no sign of
the others," Tigh said, "Would you tell me exactly what happened
there?"
   "We didn't find Silver Spar, but we didn't exactly come up
empty Colonel," Apollo said, "We found somebody."
   Before Apollo could go on, Sheba escorted the mysterious man
up to where they were standing, "May I introduce our guest?" she
smiled and motioned to Iblis, "Count Iblis, this is Colonel Tigh,
and Lieutenant Athena."
   Iblis bowed slightly as he'd done before when he'd introduced
himself on the planet, "An honor, Colonel."
   The executive officer said nothing, and appeared to look him
over with a dubious expression.
   "I know your mind is full of questions," Iblis went on, "But
as I explained to Captain Apollo, I was hoping to find somewhere
to rest after my ordeal."
   "I'll be glad to give you and my father a quick debriefing,"
Apollo said to Tigh, "But I'm sure he'll want to talk to Count
Iblis at length."
   Tigh slowly nodded, "Of course.  Sheba, once you and the count
finish de-con, proceed to the Life Station.  I'm sure Dr. Salik
will help you find some quarters for our guest."
   Sheba was still beaming as she motioned Iblis to follow her
out of the landing bay toward the decontamination chamber.
Standard procedure dictated using it whenever a warrior came back
from a mission that had required him to land on an unknown
planet.
   "As soon as you finish decon, report directly to the
Commander's quarters," Tigh said to Apollo, who was still staring
at where Sheba and Iblis had disappeared, "He'll have to fill me
in later.  I'm only here because I'm on my way over to the agro
ship to see if the crop levels are at a point where some of the
food shortages can be taken care of."
   "Trouble acting up again on that front?" Starbuck asked.
   "Very," Tigh said, "Council Security reported there was a near-
riot aboard the Antares last night over food supply shortages.
We've had to double the detail on all of the passenger
freighters."
   "Council Security couldn't put down a riot of one school child
throwing a tantrum over no mushies for dessert," Starbuck
snorted, "One Colonial Security man like Castor is worth a
hundred men like Reese."
   "Be that as it may, they're all we've got to handle the
situation.  You know what kind of an uproar would happen with the
Council if we had to send in Colonial Security men to handle a
situation like that," Tigh said as he started to move away, "I
know I'll be interested in hearing the report when I get back.
Our guest seems....very interesting."
   Apollo mumbled a half-hearted acknowledgment and then moved
off to the decontamination center, leaving Starbuck and Athena
alone together for the moment.  Immediately, Starbuck felt a wave
of discomfort hit him.  Ever since his relationship with Athena
had fizzled out many sectars ago, he'd gotten the distinct
impression that Athena had been developing a cold hostility
toward him.
   But to his amazement, when Athena spoke, her tone was anything
but antagonistic.
   "There's something bothering him," her eyes were still trained
on her brother, who had finally disappeared from view down the
corridor, "I know that look on his face."
   Starbuck decided it was safe to talk, "Well, I don't think
Count Iblis exactly inspires confidence in him or me, for that
matter."
   "But he seems to with Sheba," Athena noted, "And that appears
to be bothering Apollo already."
   Starbuck chose his next words carefully, "Athena," he said,
"Have you ever gotten the impression that maybe Apollo...."
   "Has some kind of interest in Sheba?" Athena finished without
looking at her one-time boyfriend, "I certainly have.  And what's
sad about it, is that he feels that if he ever admitted that to
himself, let alone anyone else, he'd feel like he was violating
Serina's memory.  That's why he's been keeping it bottled up
inside him as much as he possibly can."
   "You ever plan on telling him that?"
   Athena looked at him and her expression took on that cold aura
Starbuck had been expecting sooner or later, "I will not, and if
you really are his friend, you won't either.  If Apollo's gone
soft on Sheba, then he has to either admit that to himself, or
else Sheba has to get the hint that he really does care and drag
it out of him someday on her terms.  The best thing I can do as
his sister is just steer clear of the whole thing."
   "The best thing?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow, "Are you really
sure of that?"
   "I am," her cold expression deepened, "I have known him longer
than you, Starbuck."
   Starbuck was on the verge of making another retort, but then
decided that he'd only be making things worse.  If it had been
anyone but him, Athena might not have been so hostile.  But the
relative ease in which he had gone over to Cassiopeia after their
break-up had seemingly produced a bitterness in Athena that
wasn't apt to heal for a long time.  Which Starbuck regretted,
because he still cared deeply for Athena in a non-romantic way.
   "I've got to do decon myself," Starbuck said calmly, "Can't
keep Apollo and the Commander waiting."
   He felt an intense sense of relief as he went through the
compartment door and heard it close behind him.


   Ten centons later, with their decontamination procedure
finished, Apollo and Starbuck were both in Adama's quarters
giving him their report on what had happened.
   "And he was all alone on the planet?" the commander was
incredulous as he paced about the room.
   "As far as we could tell," his son said, "Along with the
wreckage of an immense ship of unfamiliar design."
   Adama stopped in front of his desk and looked directly at the
both of them, "What's your report on the wreckage?"
   "Well it was giving off exceptionally high radon levels,"
Apollo explained.
   "We couldn't move into the area without returning to the
Galactica for special gear," Starbuck added.
   "Too bad," Adama mused in disappointment, "And yet he survived
despite the radon levels?"
   "I can only speculate he ejected from the ship before she was
struck," Apollo said, wishing he could come up with a better
possibility than that.
   His father lifted an eyebrow, "Struck by the Cylons?"
   "Not according to him," Starbuck said.
   "Then what?" Adama prodded, "Did he elaborate?"
   "He said something about some 'Great Powers', which didn't
make much sense," the blonde lieutenant went on, "Who knows what
condition his mind was in after going through the encounter he'd
been through."
   "Yet he specifically ruled out the Cylons?"
   "He did."
   "Father," a pointed, urgent edge entered Apollo's voice, "He
seemed to be very evasive.  I don't trust him."
   Adama paused to reflect for a moment before responding.
   "All right," he said as he sat behind his desk, "I want a
complete report on him from the Life Station.  Cranium probe,
neuro systems, everything up to and including psycho electron
recall.  As soon as they're finished with him, I'll see about
meeting with him later."
   The two warriors nodded and left Adama alone to his paperwork.


   After finishing with the decontamination procedure, Sheba led
Iblis down the corridor in the direction of the Galactica's Life
Station.
   "We can stop here for some hypernutrients and a quick energon
treatment," Sheba was saying, "It will get your strength up and
get you through the debriefing."
   Count Iblis, who'd been seemingly paying little attention to
her, abruptly stopped in his tracks and said in a flat monotone,
"No."
   Sheba turned around and looked at him with surprise.
   "Oh it's not that I don't appreciate your concerns," he smiled
as the air of charming warmth returned to his voice, "But I had
my own concerns."
   "We only want to help you," she said reassuringly.
   "I'm sure.  But you don't understand," a distant quality
entered his voice, "I'm not of your world.  It's highly probable
your instruments could be destructive to me."
   "They're the very latest---"
   "For your time," Iblis interrupted and then looked her in the
eye, "For your time, perhaps.  But...as you sensed back on the
planet....by the pond, when you held me by the arm....I
am....quite....different."
   For almost a centon Sheba's gaze was locked on his smiling
visage.  Finding herself thoroughly captivated by his expression
and the soft, gentleness of his words.
   "May I see more of your ship?" Iblis's smile only deepened.
   She smiled back at him, and feeling like there was nothing
else she could possibly say to him, nodded affirmatively, "This
way."
   With that, she moved away from the door to the Life Station
corridor and began leading him in the other direction toward the
turbo lift that led to the Bridge.


   Damn, Athena kept saying to herself over and over again, ever
since her frosty conversation with Starbuck in the landing bay
had ended, and she'd returned to her station on the Bridge.  Just
once, can't I get through a conversation with that man without
treating him like a Piscean Plague?
   And yet, whenever Athena tried to put the whole matter of
Starbuck into some kind of perspective, she found that it was
impossible to be anything other than angry at the man she'd once
been on the verge of marrying before the Holocaust.  It was true
that she'd rebuffed his awkward request to go ahead with those
plans when he'd confronted her in the warrior's locker room, but
to her way of thinking, he should have expected that.  Coming so
soon after the tragic loss of her brother Zac, and her mother
Ila, she found it impossible to think that Starbuck wouldn't
understand her reluctance to formally commit herself in something
as sacred as getting sealed.  At least not yet.
   What still rankled Athena, and what she could never in her
heart forgive Starbuck for, was his refusal to be patient with
her.  Inevitably, over time, she might have been able to overcome
her reluctance.  Surely he could have recognized that, and just
waited her out for a while, when the time would become right to
move forward again.  If he truly loved her, as he said he did on
more than one occasion to her, then he would have waited.
   Instead, it seemed as though he'd been ready to drop her in a
micron and move on to the next woman that crossed his path.
Which turned out to be a young socialator-turned-med tech named
Cassiopeia.  In doing that, she felt a sense of betrayal that was
impossible to forgive or forget, even though she had nothing
against Cassiopeia as a person.  To her way of thinking, Starbuck
hadn't given her a fair chance.
   She'd resigned herself to the fact that Cassiopeia had stolen
Starbuck's heart away forever.  As of yet though, she hadn't been
able to overcome her inner devotion to the man she'd once loved,
to the point where she might feel comfortable seeking someone
else out.
   Damn you for making my life a fracking mess, Starbuck, she
said to herself as she went to the main communications bank on
the far side of the Bridge wall.
   "Omega?" she motioned to the young bridge officer, "Could you
come over here?"
   "Just a micron," Omega adjusted his headset, "Colonel Tigh,
your shuttle is cleared to land in Alpha Bay.  Commander Adama
wants you to report to his quarters as soon as you're back
aboard."
   The bridge officer then came down from his console on the
upper level of the bridge and joined Athena at the communications
banks.
   "Run down the checklist for all of the communications
systems," she said, "They're due for a full inspection now."
   For the next several centons, the two of them went over each
monitor, and each piece of communications circuitry, making sure
that each was in proper working order.
   "Looks to be running smoothly," Athena said.
   All of a sudden, the images on several of the monitors in back
of them were filled with snow and static.
   "What the--?" Athena was caught off guard and then pulled her
earpiece out as she heard the annoying crackling sound of static,
"Omega, what the frack happened?"
   "Can't tell," the bridge officer looked befuddled, "It doesn't
seem possible."
   At that moment, they were both distracted by the sight of
Sheba entering the bridge.  Behind her, Iblis followed her steps,
looking about the bridge with considerable interest.
   "This is our communications center.  Where we can maintain a
constant monitor on all the ships in the Fleet," Sheba was saying
to the man, and then motioned toward the banks, "Lieutenant
Athena, whom you met earlier, is in charge of this station."
   Athena looked up in surprise at the sight of the two people
who had provoked her hostile conversation with Starbuck earlier.
   "A pleasure to see you again, Lieutenant," Iblis smiled and
bowed.
   "Yes," she dimly nodded, "I'm, ah, sorry our hands are a bit
tied right now.  We seem to be receiving some unexpected
electrical interference.  The whole system was fine a centon
ago."
   "Sorry to see that," Sheba said and then looked back at Iblis,
"One of the many problems of space travel.  Electrical voids and
equipment failure.  But I'm sure you understand all that, don't
you?"
   "Completely," Iblis kept smiling, "Completely."
   As Sheba led him away from the banks, Athena found herself
staring at their retreating forms for a while, thinking about the
potential ramifications.  She was so lost in thought that she
didn't initially feel Omega tugging at her sleeve.
   "Look at this," the bridge officer said in amazement, "Now
it's all cleared up again."
   Athena looked back and her eyes widened in amazement at the
sight of the clear images on the monitors.
   Strange, she thought.  When he was here, they were all crazy.
And now that he's gone, they're back to normal.  And why is Sheba
just leading him about in an area like this?
   "Omega," Athena said quietly, "Get hold of the landing bay and
see if Tigh's landed.  I think he has to tell the Commander about
this."


   Adama was still absorbed in administrative paperwork when he
saw his door slide open and a concerned Tigh enter.
   "Ah, I'm glad you're back, Tigh," Adama said, "What's the
situation on the agro-ship?"
   "Adama, I think something more serious just came up," the
executive officer said, "As soon as I was aboard, I got an urgent
message from Athena.  Our strange visitor just left the bridge
with Sheba.  I've got a Security team tracking them down now."
   Adama suddenly dropped his papers onto his desk.
   "Just left the bridge?" his voice was equal parts angry and
stunned, "What sort of ship are we running here?  A perfect
stranger comes aboard the Galactica, and he's suddenly given
access to a sensitive military control center?"
   Tigh stiffened in embarrassment.  At the moment, he was
kicking himself inwardly for not having stayed aboard and keeping
an eye on Iblis himself, instead of going over to the agro-ship
as he'd done.
   "It...does seem a bit out of the ordinary."
   "Out of the ordinary?" Adama's voice angrily rose, "Sheba's
the type of warrior who should know better.  Why would she do
this?"
   "I don't know," Tigh said.
   The commander went over to the intercom and pressed the switch
that tied him into the communications network throughout the
entire ship, "Attention, Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck.
Report back to my quarters immediately."
   Adama looked back at his old friend and seemed on the verge of
seething, "I want some answers about this man, Tigh.  And I want
them now!"


   "Down this way is the Rejuvenation Center," Sheba motioned as
she and Iblis got off the turbo lift and began walking down the
corridor, "The place where we spend much of our spare time
relaxing.  It's not much, but that's because the one we use now
is a rather makeshift kind of set-up.  Our main Rejuvenation
Center is one level up on Alpha Deck, but that entire area was
destroyed in a suicide attack, a sectar ago.  We still haven't
finished all of the renovations on that level."
   Iblis stopped in his tracks and looked at her with disarming
charm yet again, "You're very kind, Sheba.  But I think the time
has come for that debriefing you spoke of with Commander Adama."
   "Oh," she almost seemed disappointed, "Well I'm sure if you
fell like waiting a while longer, they wouldn't object."
   "Perhaps not," he said as his gaze into her face grew more
piercing, "But lead me to Commander Adama."
   Again, Sheba found herself looking at his face with transfixed
awe for nearly a centon before she once again nodded and led him
in the direction he desired to go in.


   As soon as Apollo and Starbuck heard Adama's less than
pleasant voice pipe through the Galactica demanding their
presence, the two warriors were decidedly uneasy about what
they'd be hearing from the Commander.  As soon as they arrived
and he told them what Tigh had reported, their discomfort only
increased.
   "Now where in the name of Hades is he, and how did he get free
run of the ship?" Adama demanded.
   Apollo was in a state of incredulous disbelief.  As concerned
as he'd been by Sheba's overpoliteness toward Iblis, he hadn't
counted on something like this happening.
   "Father," he started awkwardly, "I left him with---"
   But before his son could go any further, the door to Adama's
quarters abruptly slid open and Sheba entered, with Iblis right
behind.  The three men were so surprised by his entrance that
they didn't notice the burst of static that erupted briefly from
the monitor outside the door, and which quickly faded as soon as
the stranger entered the room.
   "You are Commander Adama," Iblis was full of respect as he
bowed slightly, "Count Iblis, at your service."
   Adama's angry expression softened so he could show some
courtesy to Iblis's greeting, "Thank you."  He then turned back
to the three warriors, "I want to see each one of you, later.
Make sure you're in one place so we don't have to look all over
the ship for you."
   "Would the Officers Club be suitable?" Starbuck delicately
asked.
   "Perfectly," the commander responded sourly, "I know you won't
leave there.  Dismissed."
   One-by-one, Sheba, Starbuck and Apollo filed out of the room,
leaving Adama and Iblis alone.
   As soon as they were in the corridor, Starbuck heaved a sigh
of relief, "I don't think I've ever seen him quite
so...unsettled."
   "You'd think we just deserted him or something," Sheba's tone
was light and nonchalant.
   Apollo decided not to be nonchalant with her.
   "Actually, I don't think you can blame him, considering that
you just escorted a perfect stranger into a classified area.
That's not the sort of thing a good commander, whether it's him
or your father, would understand."
   Sheba stopped and stiffened at the harshness of his remark,
"He asked me to--"
   "Do you always do everything you're asked to do?" he demanded.
   "Apollo!"
   "You know what I mean," Apollo calmed down slightly, "Look, we
agreed no prejudging of him before we had more information, but I
don't think giving him free rein aboard the Galactica amounts to
playing things by the book."
   "Look," Sheba said, trying to make him understand, "I know
it's a little hard to explain, but...it wasn't so much as what he
said, as what I felt."
   "Felt?" there was a mixture of concern and dubiousness in
Apollo's response.
   "He needed to feel order and security," she went on, "So I
took him some place where I could help settle him.  And it
worked.  He feels much better now."
   "You've been acting this way ever since we found this Count
Iblis, or he found us," the level of concern in Apollo's voice
increased, which Starbuck found hard not to notice in light of
his earlier talk with Athena, "All that stuff on the planet, and
while we were flying back to the Galactica.  What makes him so
important to you?  You don't know who he is.  None of us do."
   Sheba's eyes then blazed at him with a defiant fury
reminiscent of her father, Commander Cain, "I know he cares."
   "For you?" the question seemed to impulsively come out of
Apollo's mouth.
   "For all of us," she said, "And if I have to explain that to
you, then I guess I've been misjudging you for the last sectar.
Maybe you're not as sensitive as I thought you were."
   Apollo felt like he'd taken a blow to the chin.  He said
nothing as Sheba walked away from him.
   "She thinks you're insensitive?" Starbuck mused aloud as he
watched her disappear down the corridor, "Where the frack does
that leave me, then?"
   He then turned around and saw the look on Apollo's face.
Feeling concerned, Starbuck cautiously came over to his friend
and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Apollo--"
   Abruptly, Apollo pushed him away, "I don't want to talk about
it, Starbuck," he said quietly, "Not now.  Maybe my father will
find out something better to tell us when he gets through with
him."
   An uneasy silence filled the air as the two of them resumed
walking toward the Officers Club.


   As soon as they'd been left alone, Adama had summoned all of
the training in diplomacy he'd received over the yahrens to the
forefront, acting with cautious courtesy, as he offered Count
Iblis a drink.  The stranger gratefully accepted it.
   "As you probably realize, we are in a constant state of
emergency," Adama said, "However, I trust you will find your
quarters here to be suitably comfortable."
   "I'm infinitely grateful to you," Iblis smiled as the two of
them raised their glasses and drank.  Once they had finished,
Iblis set his glass down, "Not simply for your kind hospitality,
but for delivering me from my enemies."
   "Oh?" Adama carefully set his glass down and moved back toward
his desk, "Tell me about them."
   An almost mystic, dark expression came over Count Iblis's face
as he suddenly shifted his gaze toward the stars shining through
the porthole, "They are infinite," he whispered, "They are
everywhere.  They are relentless."
   "Who are they?" Adama kept his tone neutral and cautious,
"What are they called?  Where are they from?"
   Iblis looked back at him, and the charming smile abruptly
returned to his face as if it had been switched on, "Forgive me
my inability to communicate with you.  Those are things you might
not understand."
   "Count Iblis," the commander said patiently, "I've been told
that I'm a fairly bright chap when I'm given a chance."
   "Yes of course," Iblis smiled and came towards him, "And
generous to stop for one more survivor.  That's precisely why I'm
not sure it's wise to burden you with my fight."
   "I don't mean to infer that we can take on more enemies than
we now have," Adama said, "But perhaps we are already fighting a
common foe."
   The stranger's expression darkened and grew pointedly cold,
"There are great and infinitely more dangerous powers in the
universe than your Cylons and all their allies combined."
   Adama refused to be impressed, "Then you do know of the Cylon
Empire and our plight."
   "My knowledge in such matters is infinite," Iblis said, "Let
me use that to bring you a more optimistic epistle."
   "For instance?"
   Iblis looked him in the eye, "You are searching for a place
called Earth."
   The commander didn't bat an eyelash, "My son told you that?"
   "No," Iblis smiled, "But that's not all I know.  You are of
the House of Kobol.  Your tribes are scattered.  The thirteenth
tribe travelled to Earth some seven millenia ago."
   For the first time, Adama seemed impressed with Iblis, "Am I
to understand that you know what became of them when they
settled?"
   "Of course," Iblis said.
   Adama felt a cautious air of optimism fill him.  He was
hearing things he had not been prepared to hear.  Had it not been
for Iblis's use of terminology regarding Kobol and the thirteenth
tribe, he might have been more inclined to write the stranger off
as a madman.  But now he was determined to hear him out
completely.
   "Can you tell me about their civilization?"
   "It has known great rises and falls," he replied cryptically.
   It still seemed impossible to Adama that one man alone could
know so much about the things he had placed the survival of the
human race on.  "Who are you?" the commander demanded calmly,
"Where are you from, that you could know such things?"
   Iblis's silence indicated he wasn't going to get an immediate
answer to that question.
   Adama decided to change tactics again. "Is their civilization
strong enough to help us defeat the Cylons?"
   "Your people will be safe," Iblis said, "Under my leadership."
   Once again, Adama found his mind racing as he tried to come to
terms with the enigma of this man, and the things he was saying.
   "Count Iblis," he decided to retain the initiative, "I don't
believe that's answering the question I put to you.  My question
was, is the civilization of Earth, which you claim to know about,
strong enough to help us defeat the Cylons?"
   "Place yourself under my protection and leadership and you
will know the answer soon enough, Adama," Iblis smiled, "Why do
you think I'm here?  I have come to prepare your way to Earth."

                  Chapter Three

   Three days had passed since the arrival of the mysterious
stranger called Count Iblis.  Despite the magnitude of his
revelations to Adama, the Galactica commander had chosen to
remain cautious in implementing his next moves.  He had shared
the full details of his conversation with Iblis only with Tigh,
and then Apollo and Starbuck, while keeping the details to a bare
minimum with the members of the Council of Twelve.  At the
moment, he knew he couldn't dare run the risk of what one of his
political opponents like Sire Domra, or the young Sire Antipas
might do if the full level of what Iblis had said were made
public.
   Yet despite Adama's attempts to keep word of Count Iblis kept
to a minimum, it failed to prevent rumors from starting to spread
throughout every corner of the Fleet.  Whether it had come from a
Council Security guard listening in on one of the commander's
conversation, or an enthusiastic remark from Sheba to another
warrior who in turn told another person, the word managed to get
around that a remarkable man had arrived who conceivably could
help the Fleet solve all of its major problems.
   For the most part, Count Iblis seemed to accept Adama's
reluctance to press too far ahead in trusting him completely.  No
sooner had Iblis finished his revelation about preparing their
way to Earth, when he had also commented on how past experiences
were dictating Adama's desire for caution, and that he could
appreciate that.
   "You have been the victim of betrayal before by those who
promise so much," Iblis had said to Adama, "I will soon make it
clear to you that you need not fear such a repetition by placing
your trust in me."
   At this point, three days later, the one piece of information
Adama wanted most was a full medical scan of Count Iblis.  After
another meeting with Apollo and Starbuck, he had literally
ordered them to do what they could to insure that such a scan be
taken.
   Apollo and Starbuck entered the Life Station, to see if the
latest attempt to get that important information had finally paid
off.  As soon as he saw the two warriors arrive, Dr. Salik let
out a dismal groan and started to walk away from them.
   "Doctor, wait," Apollo called after him.
   "I know what you want, Apollo," the chief medical officer
refused to turn around, "And I'm sorry, but I still don't have
it."
   "Come on," Apollo finally caught up to him, "Even if he still
refuses to come in himself for a full testing, there are all
kinds of portable scanners.  Surely you can get close enough to
him to get a simple respiratory probe."
   Salik spun around, "I tried that Apollo.  I sent two of my
best technicians to get close to him.  They both came back with
broken scanners."
   "You've got to be kidding," Apollo shook his head in
disbelief.
   "I'm not," the middle-aged doctor said, "I even sent
Cassiopeia.  If you want to see how she failed--"
   "We're interested," Starbuck spoke up.
   "Very well," Salik said and led them over to the other side of
the Life Station where Cassiopeia was busy with the scanning
equipment, "Cassiopeia, suppose you explain how your attempt with
Count Iblis went."
   The blonde med-tech looked up at them and smiled faintly,
"When all of our medical technology fails, we still resort to
blatant feminine wiles."
   "Hmmm," Starbuck injected a note of mock jealousy into his
tone, "And what happened?"
   "Well, I certainly think he was the most charming man I've
ever met," Cassiopeia said candidly.
   "The most charming?" Starbuck smirked at his girlfriend, "You
mean I've been displaced?"
   "Starbuck," Apollo impatiently jabbed his friend in the side,
"Leave the small talk for later."
   "The charming part was all on the outside," Cassiopeia
resumed, "I still have no idea what he's like under that
beautiful smile."
   "Maybe you weren't close enough to get a good scan on him,"
Apollo offered.
   Cassiopeia chuckled, "Apollo, do you mind if we discuss this
without Starbuck around?  Not unless you want to hear more
inevitable side remarks."
   "Hey look, this was all done in the line of duty," Starbuck
said and then cast a sly glance at her, "Wasn't it?"
   She let out another chuckle, "Starbuck, I'd be lying to you if
I told you I wasn't impressed by him.  But the bottom line is
that I still came back with an empty tape.  Let me show you."
   The med-tech placed a thin silver strip into one of the
machines on the table and activated it.
   "What are you talking about, an empty tape?" Starbuck glared
slightly at the rhythmic dancing line on the bottom of the
screen, "That heart rate is dancing around like a Cylon scanner."
   "You're looking at the wrong line," Cassiopeia said, "That's
my pulse rate.  The other line is his."
   She pointed to the line on top.  It was a continuous straight
line, with no indication of any movement.
   "A straight line," Starbuck smirked at her, "Guess you've lost
your touch Cass, to have that kind of effect on him.  Of course
that would tend to make Iblis less advanced if he can't have any
reaction to you."
   "It's not Cassiopeia, gentlemen," Salik re-entered the
conversation, "It's the equipment.  Now either it's defective, or
he's operating on some other wavelength."
   "Or he has some way of deliberately jamming us," Apollo said
with a slightly ominous air.  This latest piece of information
about Count Iblis only made him feel even more nervous about the
man.
   "Possible," Salik conceded, "Although I've yet to see any kind
of species, human or otherwise, with that kind of capability."
   "Doctor," Apollo ventured, "Is it possible that this man,
however handsome, could be an android?"
   "A machine?" the chief medical officer rubbed his chin,
"Designed in every way to look like a man?"
   "Exactly," Apollo nodded.
   "Conceivably programmed as a special project by some other
machines?" Starbuck inquired casually, to see if he understood
where Apollo was going, "Is that what you're thinking Apollo?
That Iblis may be a Cylon underneath that exterior?"
   "Let's just say it's one possibility that deserves to be
considered," Apollo said.
   "Our bio-robotics institutes were well-advanced in that
science before the Holocaust," Salik said, "Dr. Wilker would be
your best expert on that subject.  He might know if the Cylons
had developed the same capacity.  I think he's back here on the
Galactica now."
   "Then I guess a trip to his lab is in order," Apollo said,
"Thanks for the help, Dr. Salik."


   Sheba felt relieved to finally get out of her uniform for the
first time in many days.  Since she had been unable to bring over
any personal effects from the Pegasus, Cassiopeia and Athena had
helped her select a complete civilian wardrobe from some of the
new shops that had been set up aboard one of the recreational
ships in the Fleet, but she had had little opportunity to make
use of them.  Now, she had received a twenty-four centar furlong,
and had decided to spend it in the one place she'd been
frequenting most often since her arrival aboard the Galactica one
month ago, whenever she decided she needed to be alone and
collect her thoughts.
   As she left her quarters, she was pleasantly surprised to see
the smiling form of Count Iblis standing in the corridor, as
though he'd been waiting.
   "Hello Sheba," he said, "You look very attractive."
   Instantly, she felt herself blushing.  She had selected a
simple, casual violet-colored dress that wasn't designed or
intended to be provocative or attract attention.
   "Thank you," she managed to say.
   "Are you off to somewhere?"
   "Yes," she kept her gaze on him, "I was planning a visit to
the agro-ship.  It's one of the few lovely spots in the Fleet."
   "I'd be honored if you'd show it to me," Iblis kept smiling,
"If it's all right with you."
   As she continued to look at him, she knew right away that only
one answer was possible.
   "It's quite all right," Sheba said, "Come with me."
   They rode a shuttle out to the nearby ship that served the
critical function of growing and supplying all agricultural
foodstuffs to the Fleet.  It also served another purpose as a
vast greenhouse for all known species of Colonial plant life that
had been salvaged from the wreckage of the colonies.  In some
sections of the ship, there were trees that towered high towards
the tops of the clear glass domes that dotted the length of the
ship, which to many a visitor, created the illusion of walking
through a vast forest.
   That very illusion was why Sheba enjoyed coming to the agro
ship.  She could still remember how as a child, she had enjoyed
taking long walks through the Caprican woods, where her mind
always felt at its freest, and where her sense of imagination
could run wild.   Coming here to ease her mind from the trauma of
losing everything that had been dear to her had done a lot to
help her adjust to her new life aboard the Galactica.
   Not that the people aboard the Galactica hadn't been doing
their share to help as well.  She had appreciated it from the
very outset that Adama had promised to make her part of his
extended family, and she had seen plenty of kindness from people
like Cassiopeia, Athena, Starbuck.....and Apollo.
   As the shuttle drew closer to the agro ship, she found herself
thinking of Apollo.  The more she thought of him, the more she
felt that he was more of an enigma to her than Count Iblis was.
After a sectar, she had received too many signals from him that
only seemed confusing.  There were many occasions when she
wondered if he was expressing some kind of special interest in
her.  But if that were true, it seemed much too tentative and
restrained to be anything other than ordinary warrior's
camaraderie.  He could be sensitive and gentle on one occasion,
yet on other occasions he struck her as being too arrogantly sure
of himself.  That he alone, was the only person capable of doing
any kind of difficult job, or that his instincts alone about
people were all that mattered, and that any one else's opinion
paled before his.
   "We've arrived," Count Iblis's voice broke her train of
thought.
   "So we have," Sheba smiled, "Let me show you.  It's really
quite beautiful."
   Several centons later, she was leading him through the section
of forest underneath the first dome of the ship.  All around them
was a wide variety of plant life from each of the twelve world.
Tall Caprican oaks, mixed with fragrant Sagitarian spruces, and
dotted along the bottom by the exotic colored flowers from
Skorpia and Aeries.  A first-time visitor always took note of the
somewhat strange clashing of styles, but once he or she began to
walk through the area, they inevitably found themselves
overwhelmed by the beauty of the scenery.
   "Was I right?" she asked, "Isn't it lovely?"
   "A veritable garden," Iblis noted.
   "From what I've learned, they brought a few of everything from
each of the twelve worlds that was possible in the time there was
before this whole journey across the stars began," Sheba said,
"After all, they had no idea what we could expect to find on
Earth."
   She then came to a stop and looked at him with total trust.
She felt absolutely sure that he was capable of answering the
next question.
   "What can we expect to find on Earth?"
   Iblis smiled, "What do you wish to find?"
   "The thing all of us desire the most," she said, "A
civilization strong enough to fight back against the Cylons."
   He looked her in the eye again and faintly shook his head,
"That is not the quest which burns truly closest to your heart."
   Sheba seemed caught off-guard by his comment, "Well of course
it is.  It's what we all want.  How would you know?"
   "I know you," his voice suddenly grew softer and his gaze grew
more intense and piercing, "I feel you.  At this moment I am
closer to your soul than anyone has ever been."
   Sheba found herself unable to take her eyes off him, "You're
unlike anyone I've ever known."
   "Think Sheba," he went on, "Think with your soul.  And I will
tell you your heart's desire."
   There was a mixture of confusion and awe on Sheba's face.
Still, she kept her gaze locked on him.  She found that even if
she'd wanted to turn away from him, she wouldn't have had the
strength to do so.
   "Many thoughts go through you," Iblis said, "You've been
thinking of Apollo only recently.  You are still concerned of
course for your friend Bojay, and whether he is still alive and
well.  But..." Iblis's eyes seemed to narrow in understanding,
"Yes, yes of course.  I should have known sooner."
   And then, Iblis suddenly smiled reassuringly, "You will see
him again."
   "Who?"
   "Your father, the legendary Commander Cain," his smile seemed
to intensify, "You will see him again.  The Battle of Gomorrah
was not the last chapter of his stellar career."
   Sheba's awed bewilderment only increased, "How could you know
what I was feeling?"
   "All people are capable of feeling each other's thoughts,"
Iblis drew closer to her, "It merely takes time and experience.
Place your trust me, and I promise you, all things will be
possible."
   He suddenly pulled her close to him and gently kissed her on
the lips.  Sheba didn't even bother trying to resist.  She only
felt a sensation of awe that for the first time, someone was
offering everything she'd always desired.  A promise of hope for
the future.  And a promise to see her father again.  For the
first time after a long month of loneliness since being parted
from the Pegasus, it seemed as if all the things she'd only been
able to think of dreams could become a reality.  All because of
this one man.
   You are so wrong Apollo, her mind blissfully whispered to
herself, so wrong.
   Too numb to respond herself to Iblis's touch, though she felt
herself dearly wishing that she could, she simply allowed herself
to go limp as she relaxed in his embrace.


   Dr. Wilker's main computer lab aboard the Galactica was
cluttered with a large amount of disassembled machinery when
Apollo and Starbuck entered.  Once they explained their reasons
for coming though, the scientist was all too happy to put his
work aside to talk with them.  Long ago, Apollo had come to
realize that one of Wilker's most distinctive traits was that he
seemed to enjoy talking about his work even more than actually
doing it.
   "Ah yes, android technology," Wilker's eyes seemed to light
up, "There were so many projects that we were on the verge of
unveiling at the time of the Holocaust.  It's such a pity that we
weren't able to salvage the blueprints for any of them, or else I
might have been able to resume them here aboard the Galactica."
   "For what purposes?" Starbuck casually inquired.  The way
Wilker talked so lovingly about them made him feel a trifle
uneasy.  But then again, Starbuck always felt that Wilker was a
trifle odd in his devotion to technology.
   "Quite a few Lieutenant," Wilker said, "Factory drone workers
for one.  And the military even commissioned a feasibility study
on the use of androids to replace viper pilots---"
   "Wait a micron, Doc," Starbuck suddenly interrupted, "Now
there are some things that I'd definitely draw the line at, and
giving up my job to a robot---"
   "If you let me finish, Lieutenant, I was about to say to
replace viper pilots for missions that carried the risk of being
one-way in nature."
   "Care to amend yourself, Starbuck?" Apollo grinned.
   "I guess I should," the brash lieutenant blushed slightly in
embarrassment, "Doc, that's the most brilliant idea I ever heard
of, and I'll gladly contribute two sectars pay to help you
restart that project."
   "The day you contribute two sectars pay to anything but
yourself is the day I see Baltar waltz over from his baseship and
meekly surrender to the Council," Apollo turned back to Wilker,
"Did Colonial Intelligence ever give you any briefings on how far
the Cylons had advanced in artificial human technology?"
   "We never had any indications that they were trying such an
experiment at all, Captain," Wilker said, "The whole idea of the
Cylon robot as we know it is to emulate human form only in terms
of general bipedal structure, certainly not to emulate human
appearance in any specific sense.  The hatred they possess of
humans is so great, that the best guess from Intelligence was
that they were too stubborn to think of such a project, even
though it would have been an ingenious way of carrying out covert
intelligence projects of their own."
   "Then what you're saying is that even though you don't know of
any specific projects, it's still theoretically possible to
construct a human android that can blend in among real humans
without being detected?"
   "Absolutely," the scientist nodded, "It is possible.  But
there are subtle ways for an expert to tell the difference.  For
instance---"
   Before Wilker could go any further, the Red Alert klaxon began
to sound.
   "Sorry Doc," Apollo said hurriedly, "We'll talk to you later."
   "We hope," Starbuck added, as he and Apollo dashed out of the
lab.


   Adama was already on his way to the bridge for a routine
inspection when he heard the klaxon.  He promptly picked up his
pace and arrived somewhat out of breath, expecting to see columns
of attacking Cylon fighters on the main viewing screen.
   When he arrived though, his mouth fell open in amazement when
he saw that the alert was not the result of Cylons, but by
something else entirely.
   Strange mysterious flashes of white light zoomed past the
screen.  They seemed to go by in multiple waves, faster than the
eye could comprehend.
   "What's going on?" Adama demanded.
   A bewildered Tigh turned around, "Unknown, Commander.  There's
not a thing registering on our scanners."
   "That's not entirely accurate, Colonel," Athena called up from
her station, "They're here, but they're just not here long enough
for us to get a reading."
   "They must be travelling at speeds beyond our comprehension,"
Tigh looked back out at the scene in amazement.
   "Commander," Omega said with alarm, "We're receiving distress
calls from every ship in the Fleet.  People are panicking."
   "Put me on unicom," Adama gritted his teeth slightly.  Omega
activated the switch, and the commander's voice was now able to
fill every corridor of each ship throughout the Fleet.
   "People of the Fleet," Adama summoned all the reassurance he
was capable of mustering to his voice, "This is Commander Adama.
Please maintain communications silence.  There is no reason for
alarm.  The ships....or manifestations that we are encountering,
do not appear to be in any way hostile.  Only by keeping the com-
lines free of random signals can we hope to utilize the full
potential of our scanners.  Thank you."
   Adama removed his headset and assumed an authoritive posture,
"Launch Red Squadron for a precautionary intercept.  They are not
to open fire without my authorization."
   "Red Squadron launching," Rigel reported back, "Lieutenant
Greenbean leading four ships in to intercept."
   Adama moved over to the railing of the upper level and shook
his head in amazement at the sight of the white lights.
   "What do you think?" Tigh asked, unable to venture any opinion
of his own.
   "I don't know," the commander shook his head, "And yet
somehow, I suspect that our guest Count Iblis might be able to
tell us."


   Aboard the agro ship, the white lights shot over the clear
dome above where Iblis and Sheba were standing.  He promptly
released her from the kiss they'd been sharing and looked up with
concern.
   "What is it?" Sheba asked with alarm, "What are they?"
   "Don't be frightened," Iblis protectively tightened his hold
of her, "They cannot hurt you as long as you are with me."
   "The lights?  But they're so beautiful---"
   "Don't be beguiled," his voice dropped to a whisper, "They
torture you with a glow that conceals everlasting darkness.  Look
away, Sheba.  Look away."
   She instinctively buried her head in his chest.
   "Yes, my princess," he began to stroke her long brown hair as
he continued to look up at the lights with an almost defiant air,
"You are safe with me."


   The four vipers from Red Squadron, under Greenbean's command,
wasted little time in catching up to where an entire column of
lights seemed to be moving in a steady procession.
   "Giles, Brie, do you see them?" Greenbean radioed to the two
vipers on his right flank.
   "Got them in my sights," Giles said, "Lords of Kobol, look at
those things move."
   "I don't see how in the world we can keep up with them," Brie
shook her head in wide-eyed amazement.  The willowy blonde female
pilot, who'd first been pressed into service when so many
warriors had been struck ill by a mysterious space disease prior
to the Battle of Kobol, almost found herself hoping that they
couldn't keep up with them.  She wasn't sure that this was
something she wanted to learn more about.
   "We're going to do our fracking best to stay with them,"
Greenbean retorted, "Is that understood?"
   "I'm afraid so," Brie whispered.
   "Easy Brie," Dietra chimed in from the fourth viper in the
echelon.  Like Brie, she too was a veteran of the 'Kobol Unit' of
female pilots, "There's no indication they're hostile."
   "All vipers, activate main turbos and pursue at full power!"
Greenbean barked.
   The four vipers instantly went to their maximum speed and at
first, appeared to close in on the lead column of lights.  Then,
without any warning, the lights disappeared completely in the
blink of an eye.
   "Where'd they go?" Brie's bewilderment deepened, "They just
vanished."
   "No," Greenbean shook his head, "They just left us virtually
standing still, compared to their speed."
   "What kind of thing would be capable of that?" Giles spoke up,
"We're going fast enough to be halfway across the stars in a few
centars.  Whatever those suckers are, I'm not sure I'd want to
know what kind of weaponry they possess."
   "So what do we do then?" Brie persisted, "Pursue or turn
back?"
   "Pursue what?" Greenbean said with an edge of exasperation,
"There's nothing on my scanner.  Except a---"
   Greenbean suddenly broke off when he first saw the magnitude
of what was registering on his scanner.  And then, he felt his
eyes almost blinded by something intense flashing from behind.
   "Greenbean!" Giles blurted, "Do you see it?  Do you see it?"
   Red Leader slowly turned around and his mouth dropped open in
horror at the massive white craft that filled his entire width of
vision.
   "Holy frack," he whispered as he suddenly heard a piercing,
deafening hum that caused him to cover his ears.
   "I'm losing all power, Greenbean!" Dietra's voice rose in
futility, "Can't outrun that thing, whatever it is."
   "That sound!" Brie moaned, "That sound!  Oh Lords, make it
stop!"
   And then, there was no further sound from any of the four
pilots in Red Squadron, as they all felt unconsciousness overtake
them.


   "Standby to launch Blue Squadron," Adama said, "Give Captain
Apollo the present coordinates of Red Squadron so they can
rendezvous."
   Athena was staring at her console in horror.
   "Athena?" Adama looked down at his daughter with concern.
   "Father," she whispered, oblivious to her breach in protocol,
"We don't have the coordinates of Red Squadron.  They've
disappeared completely from the scanners."
   "Disappeared?" Adama mounted the steps up to her console,
"What do you mean?"
   "There's no indication they were attacked," Athena said, "They
were there just one micron, and then they were gone.  As if they
were snatched from the face of the universe."
   Tigh seemed to deflate in despair, "Just like what happened to
Silver Spar Squadron."
   "Damn," Adama slowly shook his head and clenched his fist,
"Damn."
   "Do we proceed with the launch of Blue Squadron, Commander?"
   "No," the commander warily looked up at the executive officer,
"Cancel the launch order and cancel the Red Alert."


   "I don't understand this," an angry Starbuck said as he
stepped out of his viper and dropped to the tarmac, "Four vipers
just disappear and the Commander cancels the Red Alert?  What the
frack's going on?"
   "It doesn't make any sense," Apollo said as he joined him,
"Did the Cylons just come and go or something?"
   The groundcrew CWO Jenny, who'd been attending to Starbuck's
viper, suddenly turned to them, "It wasn't Cylons, Captain."
   "What?" Apollo frowned.
   "I was talking to the Bridge a few centons ago when they told
us to get your vipers ready.  They said it was something else.
Giant white lights zooming through space."
   "White lights?" Starbuck frowned, "What do you mean?"
   "I wish I knew," Jenny shook his head, "They said it was the
damndest sight ever."
   Apollo suddenly went ashen as something came back to him.
   "Oh Lord," he whispered, "Oh Lord."
   "Huh?" Starbuck frowned, "Do you know what she's talking
about, Apollo?"
   "I think I do," Apollo said quietly, "We'd better tell the
Commander immediately."
   "About what?"
   "I'll tell you on the way over."



   Ten centons later, Apollo was telling his father about the
same phenomena of white lights that he and Sheba had witnessed on
the planet, after they'd met Count Iblis.
   Adama was clearly angry, "Why didn't you mention those lights
before?" he demanded as he rose from his desk.
   Apollo felt hot with embarrassment, "We thought we were in
some kind of meteorite storm," he said, "And frankly, this Count
Iblis pretty much had our full attention."
   "Did he?" Adama raised his voice, "You took notice of the fact
that he was unaffected by the noise those lights emanated, and
yet that wasn't important when you made your report to me?"
   Apollo hadn't heard such anger from his father directed at him
since he was a child, when he'd often had to fear the prospect of
having a leather belt rapped over his rear as punishment for
something.  He was literally too ashamed to admit the truth that
the reason why he hadn't remembered reporting that detail about
Iblis was because he'd been letting Sheba's preoccupation with
the count overwhelm most of his thinking.
   "Apollo," Starbuck spoke up, "On the way over here, you said
Iblis mentioned something about them being after him."
   "Yes, he did," Apollo admitted, knowing that only made the
situation worse.
   "And you didn't think that was important either?" his father
demanded.
   Apollo flushed an even deeper shade of red.  But he was
determined to not acknowledge the real reason for his failure no
matter what, "Look," he said, "Nothing he was saying made any
sense.  He seemed to be in a state of shock."
   "Suppose he were in a state of shock," Adama folded his arms,
"But suppose he were telling the truth and those beings were
pursuing him?"
   "Well, ah," Apollo nervously exhaled, and then seized on the
opportunity to change the subject to something else, "We've lost
eight ships without a trace, Father.  I don't think we have a
prayer of fighting these beings, whatever they are."
   "I'll tell you one thing," Starbuck said with a rising tide of
exasperation, "I think it's time to take off the diplomatic
gloves.  If this count is letting us send fighters in to be
killed without a chance, then I for one don't think much of him.
I mean he owes us some kind of explanation."
   Adama nodded and turned back to Apollo, "I think he's right.
We're up against something we really don't understand.  Have
Count Iblis brought to me at once."


   After leaving the agro ship, Sheba had taken Iblis over to the
Rising Star, where she led him to the deserted emptiness of the
triad court.
   "So this is where you play your games," he said as he looked
about.
   "Triad," she said as they walked about, "The oldest
competitive contact sport in Colonial history.  For those of us
who can't play it though, it's a lot more than just a game.  It's
a very important part of the well-being of our people.  It gives
them something to root for.  A chance to win and be a part of
something.  A moment to be away from the war and being caged up
inside small metal ships."
   "You don't have to convince me," Iblis said as they came to a
stop underneath the scoring circle, "I'm a great believer in
distraction," he then flashed another smile at her, "Even
pleasure."
   She smiled back, "And what kind of games do they play where
you come from?"
   "Games that amaze you," the mystic quality entered his voice,
"Games of life.  Games of death."
   For the first time since they'd been together, a look of
unease came over Sheba's face, "How horrible."
   He looked at her as if in reproachment, "Far from it.  Death
is not the end.  It's just the beginning."
   "You have a very dark side to you," she said carefully, not
wanting to make it sound like a criticism, "There's something
about you that reminds me of my father.  His love of war and
conflict."
   Iblis smiled again, "That's a very perceptive observation."
   "Maybe that's why..." she started awkwardly then stopped,
"Maybe that's why I think...."
   "Maybe that's why you find me so impressive?" he finished her
thought, "You see so much of the one most dear to you?"
   Sheba felt herself blushing again.
   "You need not answer that, Sheba," he said gently, "The answer
is already clear to me."
   She slowly regained her bearings, "This war you fight, Count
Iblis," she said, "Is it one of your choosing?"
   "I think Commander Adama would like to share in this
discussion."
   They both looked up and saw that Apollo and Starbuck had
entered the court.  There was a firmness in Apollo's bearing and
voice, as he tried with all his strength to mask all of the other
emotions he was feeling.
   "The conversation was between Sheba and myself," Iblis said
coolly as he glared at Apollo.
   Apollo bit his lip slightly but refused to let his voice
crack, "Count Iblis, you will accompany me to the Galactica as my
guest, or as my prisoner.  Your choice."
   Sheba's eyes suddenly blazed with anger, "Apollo, I think
you're being terribly rude.  Of course Count Iblis will go to see
Adama if that is his wish," she then looked at Iblis, "Won't
you?"
   Iblis's implacable glare suddenly vanished as he turned back
to Sheba and smiled at her, "If it is your pleasure, my
princess."
   He casually walked across the court and out into the corridor
without looking at either of the two warriors.  Before Sheba
could follow him out, Apollo impulsively grabbed her by the
shoulder.
   "Sheba," his voice was still level, but if she'd looked
carefully into his eyes, she might have seen an emotion bordering
on genuine fear.  For at that moment, Apollo felt genuinely
frightened for her with an intensity that he would not have felt
if it had been any person other than Sheba, "Are you all right?"
   She was too angry with him inside to notice his eyes, "Of
course.  What are you talking about?"
   "You don't seem like yourself," he said, wishing she would
take the hint he was dropping to her.
   "How would you know?" her voice almost sounded taunting, "You
never really knew me."
   Her gaze then shifted toward Iblis, who was still standing in
the doorway to the corridor.  Apollo almost felt his heart sink
into the pit of his stomach when he saw an almost adoring
expression come over her.
   "This is the only man who has ever truly known me," Sheba said
in a tone that matched her expression.  And then, with a defiant
air, she shook herself loose from Apollo and walked out into the
corridor.
   Before Apollo could emotionally recover himself from what
she'd said, he saw Iblis step back from the doorway on to the
court, so he stood only inches from the warrior.
   "Apollo," his voice was low, but had taken on a distinct edge
of ominous malice, "Don't ever make the mistake of threatening me
again.  Or you'll forfeit your life in the wink of an eye."
   He walked past him and followed Sheba down the corridor.
Starbuck bolted from his position next to Apollo as though he
were ready to charge after the count and challenge him to a
fistfight.
   "Don't," Apollo said quietly, as he grabbed him by the arm,
"There'll be a better time.  Besides," for the first time, his
composure came back, "I think our guest just revealed a hint of
his true color."

                 Chapter Four

   Adama was waiting in the empty conference room where the
determined Council of Twelve usually met for their meetings.  As
if he was to show his authority to its fullest, he had settled in
the President's chair at the head of the Council table, waiting
to confront the mysterious man who had asked Adama to surrender
all of his authority to him alone.
   He finally saw the door slide open and saw Iblis enter with a
flourish of his white robes.  Behind him, Apollo, Starbuck, Sheba
and Athena filed their way in.
   "Be seated," Adama gestured coldly.
   Iblis nodded and took a place at the other end of the table.
   "We have lost eight good warriors in the last several days,"
Adama refused to let up, "What do you know about that?"
   Iblis threw him a disarming look, "I told you that I could
give you protection."
   "How?" Adama knew what was coming anyway, but decided to let
him say it again in the presence of others.
   "Follow me," the count said pointedly, "And I will lead you to
safety."
   "Who are you?" the commander's eyes blazed angrily.
   "I am of another world.  Degree of being developed far in
advance of your own."
   "How can you verify that?"
   "Prepare for me three tests," Iblis leaned back in his chair
and then pointed at the crystal centerpiece of the table, "And as
I have the power to move that object, so I have the power to
deliver your people."
   Iblis remained motionless in his seat and stared at intently
at the centerpiece.  And then, to the stunned amazement of those
present, the object slowly slid across the table from the center
towards the far edge where Iblis sat.
   Adama refused to let what had happen shake the anger from his
visage, "I will ask you once again.  Who are you?  Where do you
come from?"
   Iblis rose from his chair and walked toward them, "I am from
that place where man's ability to comprehend and to will is in
the highest degree of accomplishment."  He stopped and smiled
with a superior air at Adama, "We've learned to use the powers of
the mind to create what you deem to be miracles."
   "For what purposes do you use these 'powers?'"
   The count's expression grew cold, "Adama, I converse with you
out of courtesy.  I know your questions before you ask them.  I
know your fears, your grievances.  That man on your immediate
right for instance, Lieutenant Starbuck.  He's thinking quickly
of the pilots you lost, especially two from the first group.  I
believe that he feels a sense of responsibility for one of them.
A young warrior by the name of Cree, is it not?"
   Starbuck stiffened in amazement at how Iblis had tapped into
exactly what he was thinking at that particular moment.
   "And your son," Iblis continued, "He too is thinking of the
pilots.  Although," he looked at Apollo directly and smiled wryly
at him, "Although that is not the only thing that preoccupies his
mind at the moment with regards to me.  Something of greater
concern burns within him, although modesty forbids me from
mentioning what that is."
   Apollo's face reddened as he knew right away what Iblis was
referring to.  He shot a glance at Sheba, and almost felt
relieved that her attention was still on the count, although his
expression was noticed and instantly understood by both Athena
and Starbuck.
   "The disappearance of your men was not my doing," Iblis turned
back to Adama, "They were beyond my dominion.  But that can
change if you agree to follow me."
   "To Earth?" Adama pressed, "You said to me at our first
meeting that you had come to prepare our way to Earth."
   "If that is your wish."
   "Then it is of no importance to you, where we go."
   "If your destiny is to Earth, let us begin the voyage at once.
I have the ability to lead you to that elusive thirteenth tribe
of the House of Kobol."
   Starbuck cautiously stepped forward, "If you have the power to
do that, Count Iblis," he said, "Then surely you could also have
the power to bring our missing pilots back."
   "That might present a problem," Iblis said.
   Apollo pushed the thoughts about Sheba that had been crowding
his mind aside as he stepped forward, "Even if we include that
among the three tests you will grant us in exchange for your
leadership?"
   "The wishes must extend from this point in time forward," the
count's tone was emphatic, "I cannot change that which already
is.  I am as powerless to honor a request concerning your men, as
I would for a request that the wheels of time be turned back in
order to prevent the destruction of your civilization at the
hands of the Cylons."
   Adama slowly exhaled.  Much of the anger was gone from his
face by this point, but he was still determined to not show any
signs of immediately caving in on the spur of the moment, "You
will have our decision," he said as he rose from his chair.
   "Soon, I trust," Iblis called after him, "Because the powers
you encountered today will return again and again, until you are
under my protection."
   Adama refused to turn around and look back at Iblis as he
quietly stalked out of the room.  Athena and Starbuck were next
to leave.  Before Apollo turned to go, he looked across to the
other side of the room where Sheba was still standing.
   "Sheba?" he quietly called over to her, "Are you coming?"
   "Later," she didn't look at him.  But there was an air of
finality in her voice that indicated that she wouldn't respond to
any protest he made over that.
   Apollo slowly felt his fingers knotting up as he turned and
left the room, leaving Sheba alone with Iblis.
   "Are you convinced, Sheba?" the count asked.
   "Completely," she said, "Soon, they should realize the only
course of action that must be taken."
   "Let us hope so, for your sake and for the sake of all the
people in this Fleet," Iblis drew closer to her, "But in the even
that Adama chooses to act foolishly, it might be a good idea for
me to have had a chance to gauge the feelings of the people, and
how they might react to the prospect of my leadership."
   Again, she found it impossible to take her eyes off him, "Do
you wish to see them now?"
   "I think so," he said, "Perhaps a tour of where there is great
suffering going on.  Aboard one of your passenger freighters, for
instance."


   Far away in another quadrant of space, a lone Cylon basestar
travelled through the stars in a cautious, silent pursuit of the
Galactica and her Fleet of 220 ships.  If it had been up to the
commander of the basestar, he would have gladly ended the
frustrating game of discreetly tracking the Galactica and carried
out the task of destroying her once and for all.  But the events
of the past month had dictated otherwise.
   It was still impossible for Baltar to believe that only a
sectar ago, he had Adama exactly where he wanted him.  He had
finally caught up to his hated enemy with the power of three
basestars at his disposal.  Much more than enough to dispose of
the last Colonial battlestar with ease.  As he had boldly
declared to Lucifer, he would insure that a rout and a massacre
would take place.  One that would elevate him to a level of
prestige and power unmatched in the Cylon Empire, and vindicate
for eternity his decision to betray the human race.
   And then, those plans had been upset by the unexpected arrival
of the Battlestar Pegasus.  The sudden intrusion of the second
battlestar had wrecked all of Baltar's plans for finishing off
Adama.  When the dust had finally settled, Baltar had seen his
two additional basestars destroyed, and serious damage inflicted
on the outer capital of Gomorrah, while the Pegasus had
disappeared before he'd had a chance to confirm its destruction.
   Desperate to salvage something from the disaster of the Battle
of Gomorrah, Baltar had played one last gamble two days later by
having all of his remaining fighters loaded with the deadly
chemical solonite, for the purpose of making suicide hits on the
Galactica.  Hopefully, the damage inflicted from only a handful
of fighters would be so massive that the Galactica would be
destroyed without the need of a sustained battle.
   The last gamble had backfired.  He had inflicted massive
damage to the Galactica (and without knowing it, had almost
killed Adama in the process), but the great battlestar had
defiantly survived.  And in the process, Baltar had lost all of
his remaining fighter strength.  He no longer had any kind of
effective fighting force for a meaningful attack on the
Galactica.   And because the destruction of his other two
basestars left his own ship as the only Cylon warship in the
region, he had been forced to resume the pursuit of Adama with
only a handful of reinforcements from Gomorrah, lest the
Galactica be permitted to get away completely.
   For a sectar, he had played the game of watching from afar and
waiting.  Wondering when the day was going to come when
reinforcement from the Cylon home planet would finally arrive,
and he could resume the chase with new vigor and determination.
   His mind was still obsessed with the subject when Lucifer
entered his throne room, "By your command."
   "Speak," with each passing day, it seemed as though Baltar's
tone had grown more quiet and less boastful than it had once
been.
   "A curious development is taking place at this very moment."
   "What are you talking about?" the human traitor frowned.
   "If you will come to the command center, it might be easier to
explain."
   Baltar calmly stepped out of his throne and followed the IL
Cylon over into the next room, where the main command center was
located.
   "Observe the main external monitor," Lucifer motioned.
   Baltar stared at the screen and his frown deepened.  What he
saw were enormous flashes of white, zooming around the basestar
at speeds far faster than he could comprehend.
   "What are those things?" there was an air of bewilderment in
the human traitor's voice.
   "Unknown," the IL said, "Our interceptors reported a large
number of these flying objects.  They appear to be all around us,
and yet are not.  They move away too quickly for any accurate
registering on our scanners."
   "Adama," Baltar absently mused, "He has scientists aboard the
Galactica.  Perhaps it's a technological breakthrough of some
kind."
   "Let us hope so."
   The human traitor turned to his second-in-command in
amazement, "You would hope that the humans have made so advanced
a breakthrough?"
   "Consider the alternative," Lucifer pointed out, "Which would
be that we have encountered a new and more powerful force in the
universe than our own."
   Baltar took in the IL's remark and began to absently chew his
thumbnail.  If what Lucifer said was true, then he now faced a
prospect that only seemed frightening to him.
   He took another look at the monitor at the parade of lights
zooming past.  The longer he looked at them, the more he felt
some strange sensation come over him.  Something pushing him to
consider ideas he would have found laughable only a sectar ago.
Yet coming at a time when his strength was so depleted, seemed
much easier for him to consider.
   "Launch our remaining interceptors," he drew himself up to a
more firm posture, "See if they can track them to wherever
those...things have come from."
   "By your command."


   After stopping at her quarters to change back into her
uniform, Sheba was once again taking Count Iblis to one of the
ships in the Fleet.  This time however, it was not to a place of
quiet beauty like the agro ship, or of high-class luxury like the
Rising Star.  This time, it was to one of the Fleet's three main
passenger freighters, the Antares.  The Antares had once been a
medium-sized luxury cruiser for short-range interplanetary
travel, designed to carry only 500 people.  As a result of the
Holocaust though, the Antares had been overhauled into something
radically different.  A long-range space freighter with most of
its luxury fittings stripped to accommodate a maximum load of
3000 passengers.  The overcrowding of the ship had led to people
being forced to live in confined spaces no bigger than a
warrior's bunk, where luxuries like privacy were a rarity indeed.
It was almost impossible to maintain proper standards of
cleanliness in such areas, with the result that the lower levels
of the Antares had taken on the quality of the kind of urban slum
that had not existed in any of the colonies for more than a
hundred yahrens before the Holocaust.  They had been derisively
dubbed the "slum corridors".
   The people who lived in the slum corridors were for the most
part, too poor to afford the privilege of gaining access to other
areas of the Antares, let alone the other ships in the Fleet.
They could only sit in their cramped confines, conducting
business amongst each other, where bartering for an extra crumb
of food or a clean set of clothing was considered a major
business activity.
   When they saw the locked door at the end of the corridor, and
saw the sight of a warrior followed an elegantly dressed man in
white robes enter, the inhabitants of the slum corridor
immediately took notice.
   "The people here in these large freighters have fashioned
dwellings as best they could," Sheba was saying to Iblis.
   "It's appalling," the count said with an air of disgust.
   "Who asked you?" an old woman in a tattered green dress and at
least three missing teeth that had fallen out from lack of
treatment, suddenly spoke up from the cramped confines of her
cubicle.
   "Oh please, don't be rude," Sheba stopped and looked at her
with a kind, sympathetic expression, "This man is our friend."
   "Oh?" the old woman's voice dripped with sarcasm, "And where
is the count staying?  What kind of food does he find on his
table?"
   A small cluster of people, equally tattered and bedraggled as
the old woman, but representing a wide cross-section of ages,
suddenly emerged from their own cubicles at the end of the
corridor and had begun to listen in.
   "How did you know who he is?" Sheba was puzzled.
   "Everyone knows who the count is," one of the men who'd
emerged spoke up.  He was in the later stages of middle-age, and
was dressed in what was once an elegantly cut brown Caprican suit
that had become threadbare and ragged over time.  He had the look
of someone who had once been part of the Caprican middle-class
during the days before the Holocaust, enjoying a lifestyle where
concerns over food, cleanliness and health were totally
unthinkable.  "The man who has come to talk to us of miracles."
   "Yes, show us a miracle," the old woman taunted, "Take my
meager rations and multiply them."
   Iblis seemed half-amused by her request, "Is that all you
would have me do?"
   "When you have but a single talon plant to last a sectan," she
said bitterly, "two such plants would be miracle enough."
   "Then you shall have two.  Multiplied by all the ships in the
Fleet, if that is one of Adama's wishes."
   "Just the sort of answer to our prayers we might expect," the
man retorted acidly.
   Iblis looked down at him and held up his hand as if to offer
reassurance, "Feel better, old man," he said, "Stand tall.  I do
not come here by chance.  You follow me, and I will lead you."
   "Adama is the leader of this Fleet!"
   Sheba and Iblis looked up and saw a determined Apollo coming
down from the opposite direction, with Starbuck right behind.
   "You seem to be most interested in keeping track of my
whereabouts, Captain," Iblis said mockingly and then raised his
voice loud enough for all of the people to hear, "But if Adama is
such a great leader then why does he have no compassion for these
people?  They're living like animals!"
   "My father doesn't promise what no man can deliver," Apollo
held his ground, "The only thing he ever promised was survival
and escape from the Cylons following the Holocaust.  And I don't
think he needs a lecture in compassion since if it were not for
him, all of these people would be dying in the wreckage of the
colonies waiting for the Cylon occupation forces to arrive!"
   "That was yesterday, Captain Apollo!" the man spoke up
sharply, "What of the struggle that we face today?  And tomorrow?
And that of our children?"
   "You speak wisely, old man," Iblis smiled, "Adama's past
greatness should not be slighted.  But a leader should maintain
respect only by what he does for you here and now." he turned
back to Apollo, "Adama has but to ask me and these people will
have all the food and comfort they desire.  Yet when the choice
should be so obvious to him, he hesitates."
   "Then forget Adama!" the old woman spoke up, "We'll follow
you.  Fill our cauldrons with food, give us more heat, deliver us
to Earth or anyplace else where we can live in peace."
   "If I give you these things," Iblis said loud enough for all
to hear, "Will you follow me?"
   "Yes!" the people spoke in a near-unified chorus, "Yes, we'll
follow you!"
   "There Apollo," Iblis said above the din that continued to
shout in approval for him, "You have your ans