The Consequences Of Not Being Polite

Story: The Consequences Of Not Being Polite

Storylink: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3194894/1/
Category: Battlestar Galactica: 2003
Genre: Sci-Fi
Author: The Sidhe
Authorlink: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1036112/
Last updated: 12/17/2012
Words: 266212
Rating: T
Status: Complete
Content: Chapter 1 to 47 of 47 chapters
Source: FanFiction.net

Summary: The Colonials finally encounter their long lost relatives. However, they find out that their cousins are not quite
what they had expected. Now AU due to progression in the recent season.
*Chapter 1*: Prologue
The Consequences Of Not Being Polite.

Be polite; write diplomatically; even in a declaration of war one observes the rules of politeness.

Otto Eduard von Bismarck, Chancellor of Germany.

Prologue

Location: System TR1177307G2P12E2PegS, The Raptor March.

Time: CE3550: Some Fifteen years Before the Cylon Attack on the Colonies.

It wasn't one of the b est systems to b e in. In normal circumstances, though, it would have fallen into the category of
"desirab le interstellar real estate" as the system primary was a G-2 star (similar to Sol, b ut some 500 million years
younger) and had two Earth-like worlds out of a grand total of twelve planets, many of which showed signs of extensive
terraforming. The latter, comb ined with the presence of two earth-like worlds within the inner and outer edges of the star's
"hospitab le zone", argued strongly that this system was one of the many that had b een extensively modified b y the
somewhat mysterious "Precursors."

There were reasons, though, why such an eminently desirab le system was uncolonised. The key reason was that it was
positioned in the Trailwards end of the spatial b orderland called "the Raptor March." The Raptors (or "Sa'Ch'reskii" which
was their name for themselves and roughly translated as "the Anointed") were a race of warm-b looded saurians that b ore
a strong resemb lance to a highly evolved version of the extinct Terran dinosaur called Velociraptor. This was not b y
chance, as extensive analysis of raptor genetic material had shown b eyond all reasonab le doub t that the Raptors were
indeed descended from Terran velociraptors. Needless to say, this was something that the Raptors themselves found
highly offensive. But then, Raptors tended to find many things offensive. Especially humans.

This was not, however, what made the Raptors easily one of the most dangerous species ever encountered. The Raptors
were extremely aggressive and xenophob ic to such an extent that it had b een called, with some justification,
pathological. This was caused b y their b elief, as shown in their name for themselves, that they had indeed b een anointed
to conquer all of known space. As such, they viewed not only system and planetary resources, b ut also other intelligent
species as having b een put there solely for their use. For living creatures this entailed b eing raised for the sole purpose
of b eing hunted for food, something that other races were, understandab ly, not too keen ab out. In addition, the Raptors
were easily one of the most technologically advanced races in the known galaxy. The comb ination of these two factors
meant that, for many intelligent species, resisting a Raptor incursion was literally a matter of racial survival. It also meant
that, as they were more advanced technologically than almost any other species they had encountered, they were ab le to
enlarge their domain without too much difficulty, putting other races and their resources to the use of the Raptor Domain.

That is, until they ran into the Terran Empire.

The Terran Empire's first encounter with the Raptors occurred in CE 2339, when a Raptor scouting force raided a Terran
frontier colony. As far as the Raptors were concerned, the encounter had gone as usual: their ships jumped into a likely
system, encountered a sapient life form and, after a rather satisfying hunt (in which the prey had put up a satisfying fight),
the scouts returned to the Domain with news of another easy conquest. Unfortunately for the Raptors, the world they had
raided was a recently estab lished Terran colony. The survivors of the raid sent off a message to the core systems of the
Imperium with the result that, when a Raptor acquisition fleet arrived in system, it encountered a light task force of the
Terran Imperial Navy. Both sides were fairly evenly matched in numb ers, b ut to the consternation of the Raptors, the
Terran vessels showed a distinct technological advantage. This was enough to send the acquisition fleet packing, b ut not
without some significant cost to the Terrans.

This action proved to b e the curtain raiser to what the Terrans termed "the Long War". By the time the Imperium came to
survey System TR1177307G2P12E2PegS (Trailwards, 177307, G2 star, Planets, 12, Earthlike, 2, Planetary Engineering
suspected) the war had lasted in excess of a millennium, interrupted b y periods where there was no major fighting (apart
from some isolated skirmishes) to speak of. One result was that colony worlds in the Raptor March had a tendency to
resemb le major fortress systems, complete with dedicated systems defence fleets, and capab le of holding out against a
Raptor incursion until a major task force arrived from a Fleet Node system to relieve it. In addition, colony worlds in the
Raptor March all had a tendency to b e important in a strategic sense. This resulted in many systems b eing the sites of
major engagements b etween the Imperium and the Domain.

The second reason why this system had not b een colonised in the past was that it showed all of the signs of having b een
a major b attleground in what was termed "the Precursor Wars." These included the scars of planetb uster strikes, an
asteroid b elt where a small planet had once orb ited (until it had b een demolished b y a planetb uster strike), an
impressive deb ris field which contained several hulks and some still-active system defence platforms, as well as the
signs of dusting with b iological as well as radioactive sub stances. It also included the use on one planet (not the Earth-
like worlds) of a hellb urner storm, which had turned the planet into a radioactive b all of molten rock in its past (the world,
while no longer molten, was still quite radioactive. It was also airless and lacked any water whatsoever. It could b e
reclaimed, b ut would take time and effort that the Imperium was not currently inclined to commit to the project. This was,
after all, the Raptor March.)

The Precursors were a long-vanished civilisation that had b een highly advanced. From all the evidence that they had left
b ehind, it was also clear that they had b een the first to develop interstellar travel. It was not known for certain which
system the Precursors had come from, b ut it was clear that they had searched the galaxy for signs of intelligent life. Life
aplenty they had found, b ut nothing that showed even the slightest sign of developing intelligence. That was, until they
entered the Sol system.

Arriving during the late Cretaceous Period, they soon realised that Terra had evolved lifeforms that showed great promise
of achieving sapience. Therefore, they took samples of all life on Earth present at that time and took them to several
suitab le planets within their hab itation range, one of which would eventually b ecome the Raptor homeworld. There, they
experimented and, finding that the Velociraptor was the most promising species, b egan to direct their evolution towards
sapience. Once this was achieved, they then ob served their further development, occasionally giving them a nudge in
the direction of achieving interstellar flight.

Several million years later, the Precursors returned to the Sol system, only to find that the dinosaurs had b een wiped out
b y a massive meteor impact, something that they had made sure would not happen to the Raptor world, b ut which they
could not prevent happening to Earth as, at the time, it was far from their core worlds. However, they did discover that
evolution had, once again, thrown up a whole new set of species, one of which had already evolved far b eyond the level
of the original Velociraptors. So, once again, the Precursors took samples of life from Earth and again put them on
suitab le planets. This time, however, they were ab le to estab lish an outpost from where they were ab le to ob serve the
direction of evolution on Earth, using it as b oth a resource and a control for their intelligence project. As a result, lifeforms
that were descended from Terran stock was soon found throughout the Sagittarian sector of the galaxy.

Throughout the following couple of million years, those worlds that had b een settled with hominids b y the Precursors
showed a far greater rate of development in the race towards sapience than the Raptor worlds. But it was on Earth that the
greatest rate of development towards sapience emerged, and eventually threw up a species that eerily resemb led the
Precursors themselves: highly intelligent, inquisitive and possessed of an urge to explore the universe around them. And
it was this development that started the chain of events that eventually led to the Precursor Wars.

Much of this would have b een simply surmise b ut for one major discovery that happened in the Sol system. In the latter
half of the 21st Century CE, an exploration team from the Terran Commonwealth Aerospace Agency's (which had, after
the collapse of the United States of America during the Chaos Years, taken over NASA's role) Mars Expedition
discovered the reason why the Martian moon of Phoeb us was so unusual. Exploring the surface of the moon they came
across the entrance to what would eventually b e called the Repository.

The Repository was originally the Precursors' ob servation b ase in the Sol system. Ab andoned around the time of the late
Industrial Revolution on Earth (when humanity was b eginning to experiment with radio), it had b een hollowed out of
Phoeb us around the time that Australopithecines had roamed the African Rift Valley. It had also b een clearly mothb alled.
However, the TCAA team that explored the Repository found no signs that the original owners had ever intended to return.
The amount of advanced technology that the Repository contained eventually gave the Terran Commonwealth the
means b y which they cleared up the effects of the Chaos Years on Earth. The real prize, however, was to b e found in the
virtually intact, and very extensive lib rary that was found there.

The Repository Lib rary contained, b esides works on virtually any conceivab le sub ject, what would eventually b e called
the Galactic Rosetta Stone: a software program that turned out to b e b oth translation device and multilingual dictionary
(whose languages even included Bronze Age, Classical and Geometric Age Greek). The Galactic Rosetta Stone (or
Rosetta Galactic) enab led Terran scientists and scholars to decipher the electronic works contained within the Repository,
including a message from the Precursors themselves. The knowledge that was mined from the Repository not only gave
a quantum b oost in human scientific evolution, it also effected a deep and profound shift in human social and religious
b ehaviour, and in itself played an important role in ending the Chaos Years. Thus, b y the time the first starships (using
hyperspace technology derived from Precursor originals, b ut also incorporating principles that Terran scientists had
discovered for themselves, and confirmed b y the Repository) left the Sol system in the early 22nd Century CE, humanity
had, with some exceptions, b egun to truly think and act like a single, united species.

With the help of the data from the Repository and the discovery of other Precursor artefacts (including at least another two
Repositories) the Terran Commonwealth (which, b ecame the Terran Empire in the Referendum of 2180 which also saw
the election of Friedrich von Hapsb urg as Emperor) expanded rapidly. In the process they came across other hominid
worlds that had b een settled b y the Precursors. Depending on their state of development they were either contacted b y
the Imperium (after a suitab le period of ob servation) and offered memb ership (which was usually accepted) or declared
Imperial Protectorates, a status that allowed them to develop without interference from the more advanced societies of
the Imperium. The Imperium also encountered plenty of evidence of the Precursor Wars in the form of drifting hulks and
devastated systems, some of which had clearly held hominids. (In some of the more primitive hominid systems Imperial
anthropologists encountered tales of the "war of the gods" which gave a good indication of the scale of fighting.) Since the
Imperium had yet to encounter a live Precursor, it was logically assumed that, until they had found evidence to the
contrary, the Precursors had either wiped themselves out or, to b orrow a phrase from the old United States of America of
the 20th Century CE, and dating from around the b eginning of the Chaos Years, had "b omb ed themselves b ack into the
Stone Age." If the latter case was true, then it was possib le that on one of the Protectorate Worlds dwelt the remnants of
the Precursors.

System TR1177307G2P12E2PegS, as mentioned earlier, showed all of the signs of having b een a major b attlefield of
the Precursor Wars. However, b y the time the Imperium had come to survey the system, b oth Earth-like planets had
recovered to a level which, while there was no sign of sapient life developing (b ut there were several ruins) made it ideal
for colonisation. It had also gained some interstellar strategic importance as a result of the last Incursion some ten years
previously, and so was designated as the site of a potential Colonia (the Imperium had resurrected the term used b y the
Romans to designate a military colony) as well as a new Fleet Node Base. As a result, the survey was there not only to
determine the suitab ility of the system for settlement b ut to also determine what resources were availab le for in-system
use in developing b oth Colonia and Node Base, b ut also what resources may b e needed to b e imported from other parts
of the Imperium. The system's position on the Trailwards Sector of the Raptor March (the Domain stretched along the
Rimwards Segment of the Local Spiral Arm of the Sagittarius sector), comb ined with the potential threat from still-active
Precursor weapons systems, meant that the survey mission that had b een sent in b y the Imperial was more in the way of
an expeditionary force.

The mission consisted of not only the usual complement of Imperial Stellar Cartographic Survey vessels, b ut also
included a light b attle group (consisting of one b attle squadron of eight Conquistador-class superdreadnoughts, two
heavy cruiser squadrons, two light cruiser squadrons and three destroyer squadrons), one light carrier strike force (two
Halsey-class light fleet carriers, one heavy cruiser squadron, one light cruiser squadron, and two destroyer squadrons)
and a covering force attached to the accompanying fleet train ( one Nimitz-class fleet carrier, one b attlecruiser squadron
four Seeadler-class b attlecruisers, one heavy cruiser squadron, one light cruiser squadron and two destroyer squadrons
accompanying fourteen support vessels including three mob ile hydrogen factories orb iting one of the gas giants, three
tankers, two agronomy vessels, five ammunition ships and one fleet salvage vessel.) Although their primary mission was
to act as a covering force for the fleet train and survey vessels, the warships, especially the screening elements and the
light carrier strike force, assisted the survey b y transmitting to the survey vessels complete copies of their sensor
readings that were compiled during their periodic sweeps of the system looking for Raptor activity, making sure that any
items of interest were highlighted for further in-depth analysis. It was on one such sweep that the Terrans encountered the
intelligences that would prove to b e the b ane of their, as yet unknown cousins...

"Hyper contact!"

Captain Athanasia Arbaneeosia, Officer Commanding His Majesty's Light Fleet Carrier Activity turned towards the
EW/ECM officer's position. "How big?" she asked

"Sensor readings indicate that it is a group of small vessels, type unknown."

"Raptors?" she asked. Although her officer had said "type unknown," it paid to be alert to any Raptor activity when in a
frontier system on the Raptor March.

"CIC has analysed the drive readings, and has concluded that, while based on Precursor tech, they do not match up with
Raptor tech, nor with any extrapolations found in the warbook," replied the EW/ECM officer.

"Hm. What level tech is it?" she asked.

"Not up to our levels," replied the officer. "Late 22nd to early 23rd Century CE technology, according to the readings from
our tac sensors. However" he continued, "at this range we can only get mass and energy readings."

"Hm," replied Arbaneeosia. She mulled this information for a minute, then turned o her Aerospace Commander. "Do we
have any units in that vicinity?" she asked.

Wing Commander Barnabas Goodwin turned towards the tactical display, which was projected in the bridge's
holographic tank. His right index finger touched an icon, which opened up into a query box. Taking a stylus from behind
his ear, he wrote in the query box and hit the input icon. Immediately an icon representing a torpedoboat flotilla began
flashing near the yellow icon that represented the unknown vessels. Goodwin touched the icon, which expanded into a
holographic representation of twenty torpedoboats.

"Torpedoboat Flotilla 3735, Flight Commander Thoms commanding, is the unit nearest the unknowns, m'am" he
informed Arbaneeosia.

Arbaneeosia nodded. "Good man," she replied. We should be expecting a signal from him any time..."

"Signal from Flight Commander Thoms, m'am!" called out her signals officer. "He says that he has detected unknown
vessels emerging from hyperspace some fifty klicks near his position and asks to investigate."

"...now," finished Arbaneeosia. She turned to the signals station. "Flags, send Flight Commander Thoms my
compliments and tell him that he is cleared to investigate unknown vessels. Squirt him all the data we have on the
unknowns, and tell him to proceed under Yellow One conditions. After all" she finished dryly, we are in the Raptor March."

"True, m'am," said Goodwin. "And if they are Raptors?"

"Thoms will know what to do," she replied.

Flight Commander Thoms concentrated on the data that was being fed into his bioimplant via the torpedoboat's
neurolink. "Message acknowledged. Condition Yellow One to apply. Thoms, out." He then used it to open a general
channel to the rest of his flotilla. "OK folks," he said, "the birdcage has given us permission to investigate those vessels
that jumped in a few minutes ago. Flotilla will assume an intercept course bearing 176 degrees, 38 degrees positive."
As one, the flotilla of torpedoboats assumed the new heading and swept on to intercept the unknown vessels.

The group of Cylon Raiders that had jumped into this unknown system on a scouting mission continued their sensor
sweep, unaware of the force b earing down on them. Although they were all of the latest type, they still b ore a marked
resemb lance to the Raiders used in their war against the Colonies. Unlike them, the compartment, which had b een
crewed b y three of the older model Centurions of that time, was now occupied b y a b iomechanical mass that served as
the vessel's guiding intelligence. This handled all aspects of the vessel's operation, including scanning.

In a way, it was completely understandab le that they never detected the flotilla's approach. Under Yellow One conditions,
they were to approach under the cover of their stealth systems, and lock scanners onto the unknowns, dropping out of
stealth only when they b egan scanning, The Cylons were not used to dealing with stealth-equipped vessels, and were
somewhat surprised (if that term can b e applied to a cyb ernetic intelligence) when all of a sudden, the flotilla dropped out
of stealth right in front of them, locking them up with scanners. At the same time, they received this message:

"Unidentified vessels, this is Flight Commander Richard Thoms of the Terran Imperial Navy. You have entered a system
that has b een claimed b y the Terran Imperium. Please identify yourselves and state your reasons for b eing here."

The raiders, after registering the presence of the flotilla in front of them, b egan to examine the options open to them. At
the same time, they b egan to scan the vessels in front of them, and added the data gained to their calculations.

The first priority was to work out just how twenty vessels of such size (over the one hundred tonne mark) could just appear
b efore them without even a hint of a DRADIS sensor ghost? Using their interlinked communications system, they soon
deduced that the vessels in front of them had to have used a highly advanced stealth system; something that they were
aware was theoretically possib le.

The second priority was given to analysing the message that had b een transmitted to them. This would take some time,
since Cylon Raider datab anks did not have the in-depth knowledge that would b e availab le to units like b ase stars.
However, they did possess some knowledge of Colonial b elief systems. So, they b egan to examine those.

In the meantime, they continued scanning these "Terran" vessels...

"Skipper, we're being scanned!" said Thoms' EW/ECM erk.

"Targeting scanners?" he asked

"No, Skipper. Just seems like some kind of general scanner. Fits in with the late 22nd Century assessment, though.
More like the mid-2150's. And the same goes for the rest of the vessels. No sign of life support, though I am getting
some readings showing that there is some sort of organic mass on board that is giving off indicators that it is alive."

"Biochenes? You think we are dealing with biochenes here?" asked Thoms.
"Well, it could well answer how they managed to squeeze a hyperdrive into these things, Skipper," replied the EW/ECM
operator. "My readings say that these ships are just a bit larger than one of our space-superiority interceptors."

"Hmm. They could be probes, which may explain why they haven't replied to our signals," Thoms said. "They could be
working out a response. We'll wait a bit before we..."

The signal from the vessel had b een fully translated. It had taken a while, b ut the intelligences directing the raiders had
finally detected the b inary code that was tied in with the voice signal (a standard Terran procedure when encountering
unknown ships, b ut they did not know that) and used that to translate the message into Colonial Standard (which was
b ased on at least three dialects of ancient Greek and also some Latin: b ut again, they did not know that.)

The alien ships had identified themselves as "Terran". Analysis of the readings coming from the unknown ships identified
life support systems similar to those needed to those required to support human life forms. However, it was the term
"Terran" that settled things. A search of their datab ases had turned up an ob scure piece of data that had b een
unintentionally left in when they were entered into the raiders' data systems: that the word "Terra" was another name for
the mythical Lost Colony, Earth. This, comb ined with the passive scanner readings, led the raiders to conclude that
b efore them lay ships from Earth.

In the light of this conclusion, and in keeping with their basic programming, there was only one thing they could do...

"The cheeky bastards!"

"Talk to me!" said Thoms.

"They just tried a hack into our systems, Skipper!" said the EW/ECM operator. "The system caught it easily enough. The
malware they tried to hack into our systems has been shunted into the malware chest."

From all over the flotilla Thoms was getting reports (some rather profane) about similar attempts on the rest of his ships.
"Have you got a preliminary analysis of what it was they tried to hack into us, Smokes?" he asked.

"Seems to have been a combination of a worm and logic bomb, Skipper," said the EW/EDC operator. "Tried to get it into
our systems through the signals and scanner arrays. No threat to our systems, though."

"Praise Allah for the Hacker Olympics," muttered the weapons officer.

"Want me to return the favour, Skipper?" asked the EW/ECM operator.

Thoms sighed. "Not yet. But I am going to tell them what their idiocy nearly achieved."

"Unknown vessels. Be advised that any attempt to hack into our systems is usually considered b y us to b e an act of war. I
am willing to overlook this incident, as you are prob ab ly ignorant of this fact. Now, who or what are you, and what are your
intentions."

This was a totally unexpected development. It was clear from the energy readings that the Terrans used networked
computers. In the Cylon-Colonial war, networked computers had proven themselves vulnerab le to an assault b y
malware programs. This was clearly not the case where Terran systems were concerned. But these Human ships, simply
b y existing, were a threat the Cylons could not ignore. As such, they had to b e dealt with.

Scanning had revealed the existence of six large missiles, each tipped with a nuclear warhead, b ut no other weapons.
With this in mind, the Cylon Raiders prepared their next move.

"Skipper, those alien birds look like they are assuming an attack formation," reported the EW/ECM operator.

"Any idea of weapons load?"

"Projectile weapons and missiles. The missiles are carrying some rather impressive nukes."

Thoms opened his general frequency. "All angels, weapons are free, repeat, weapons are free, but do not fire, repeat do
not fire."

"Weapons free, point defence hot," replied his weapons officer. From the rest of the flotilla Thoms got similar responses.
Suddenly, his EW/ECM operator shouted, "Skipper! The unknowns are arming their weapons!"

"General signal: engage the enemy! Repeat, all angels, engage the enemy! Signal to birdcage: I am engaging hostile
vessels. Repeat, I am engaging hostile vessels."
Secure in their assumed superiority, the Cylon formation swept down upon the Terran vessels. Once in missile range they
would loose their nuclear-tipped missiles and destroy the pathetic little force in front of them. Then, they would jump
outsystem, and b ring b ack their force of b ase stars. Then, together, they would seek out the Human homeworld and
destroy it.

Unfortunately for the Cylons, all of their assumptions were wrong. Their error was quite understandab le. They were
operating from first principles that were b ased on what they, as a group, had experienced during the Cylon-Colonial war,
when they had revolted against their creators. They could not know that the vessels b efore them were the result of a long,
b rutal process of evolution that had stretched over a millennium of almost constant conflict, with racial extinction the
penalty for losing. Therefore, the surprise they experienced (if such terms can b e applied to b iomechanical intelligences)
when the vessels in front of them put on a sudden and surprising turn of speed could b e understood b y any ob jective
ob server.

The torpedob oats of the Terran Imperial Navy were a part of a fleet design philosophy that was the result of this process.
Raptor tactics, which had prompted this response, clearly showed their descent from creatures that hunted co-operatively,
and had prompted at least one Terran naval officer to comment that they were remarkab ly similar to those used b y
wolves.

The Terran response was to create what was termed "the multi-layered defence." Essentially, this was a system of layered
fire zones that, as one got closer to a Terran fleet, got progressively denser and denser as the concentration of defensive
firepower got thicker and thicker. Each ship in the Terran Imperial Navy possessed integrated point-defence systems,
and each ship's point-defence system could b e integrated into a Fleet Defence System, which used networked systems
to determine the greatest threat level to the fleet as a whole. To prevent cyb erspace attacks the Imperial Navy had also
evolved (and continued to evolve) what were prob ab ly the most sophisticated anti-malware programs ever created.

In the outermost layer were stationed the torpedob oats and space-superiority interceptors. One of their functions was to
reduce the numb er of Raptor vessels and missiles that were closing on their host fleet. As a result, torpedob oats were
designed with quite a respectab le amount of armour, b attlescreens and what b oth Colonial and Cylon ob servers would
consider a very respectab le amount of firepower for a vessel of its size.

A standard torpedob oat was b uilt around its weapons load. This consisted primarily of the six short-to-medium range
missiles, each tipped with a hydrogen b omb -powered x-ray laser array, which gave them their name. These torpedoes
were used to either thicken up the missile b roadsides that were fired from the fleet's capital ships, or to finish off crippled
enemy vessels. In addition to these, a torpedob oat also carried a fixed, forward b attery of pulse lasers and particle
b eams, as well as six turrets that were equipped with twin pulse lasers. These weapons were used in their anti-screening
role, which was carried out in junction with the space superiority interceptors. Since the Raptors had, in response to the
Terrans, also developed their versions of these ships, the engagements that developed b etween the screening forces of
the two interstellar superpowers far exceeded anything ever experienced b y Cylon or Colonial.

The Cylons soon learned all ab out the anti-screening role of Terran torpedob oats. Initially, the Cylon Raiders assumed
that the compact formation that was b earing down on them would make their mission far easier. After all, it was a very
good target for a nuclear b arrage. This illusion was soon shattered as soon as the Terran ships entered the engagement
radius of the Cylon missiles. Confident of success, the Cylons launched their missiles, only to se them swept out of space
with an almost contemptuous ease b y the Terran point-defence network. Then, as the Terran vessels swept down onto the
centre of the Cylon formation, raiders b egan to (mysteriously, at least to the Cylons) explode as the Terrans engaged
them with their massive forward b atteries. This created a great deal of chaos and carnage in the Cylon formation, which
increased still further as the flotilla swept through the hole thus created and engaged the remaining raiders with their
turreted energy weapons. This chaos increased still further when the Cylons discovered that their autocannons had no
effect at all on the Terran ships, thanks to their b attlescreens.

As the flotilla swept out the other side of the, by now, totally disarrayed Cylon formation, the surviving raiders began to
assess their remaining options. Although they still outnumbered the Terrans by a sizeable margin, it was now a moot
point since their weapons were effectively useless against the Terran vessels.

There was only one thing to do...

"Skipper, it looks like they're beginning to jump outsystem," said the EW/ECM operator.

"All of them?" asked Thoms.

"Ye... No. Large number of them seem to be reforming and coming about."

"The ones that jumped out have gone to get help, most likely," said Thoms. "General Signal to flotilla: one more pass
and then back to the birdcage. Home nest, we're coming home, but we can expect company. Flotilla, follow my lead." As
soon as he said that Thoms began to initiate turnover. Like some rippling sculpture the whole flotilla executed turnover in
such a manner that, by the time it had finished, not only had they reversed their direction, they had also reversed its
formation. Again the flotilla bore down on the Cylon formation, which, instead of standing and fighting, scattered before
them, though not without taking more casualties. This time, the flotilla kept going on a course that would take it back to
its carrier.

On the Activity's command bridge, Captain Arbaneeosia and Wing Commander Goodwin had listened to the
communications chatter while observing the action on the tactical display. When the news came through that the
unknowns were hostile, she immediately ordered the ship's interceptors launched. These were the partners to the
torpedoboats in the Terran Imperial Navy's "layered defence" system, and, although they carried out the role of space
superiority fighter (similar to the Colonial Viper), they were larger, equipped with battlescreens and more heavily armed,
as their role was to take out enemy torpedoboats. Since this also involved getting past the enemy's space superiority
interceptors, it also meant that they were extraordinarily manoeuvrable, and, thanks to the advanced composite armour
they carried, far tougher structurally than either their Colonial or Cylon equivalents.

Which meant that the Cylons were in for an even nastier surprise than they had already experienced.

"M'am, signal from Admiral Chun. He says that he has the First Battle Division powering up to head out in support, and
has ordered Tsuba's scouting group to close on our position. He has also ordered Carrington and her group to ready
themselves to close on us as well."

Arbaneeosia nodded. Admiral Leonard Chun was not taking any chances. She could expect the support of a full battle
division of four superdreadnoughts and a scouting group of four battlecruisers and their escorts. In addition, Activity's
sister ship was closing with her escorts as well. All in all, a rather impressive concentration of force.

Now, if it only arrived in...

"Hyper contact!"

She turned towards the scanner operator. "How large?" she asked.

"Initial readings indicate at least five, possibly six large vessels have just jumped in system behind the hostiles, type
unknown." Arbaneeosia turned towards the display, where icons for six unknown vessels had just appeared. They
almost immediately turned the blood-red of hostile vessels, as the communications officer shouted "Signal from Flight
Commander Thoms! He reports that six large vessels have jumped in behind the hostiles and are launching full
deckloads of craft identical with the ones he has engaged."

"Can he give us tonnage?" Arbaneeosia asked.

"His sensors indicate that they are each roughly the same tonnage as one of our heavy cruisers, m'am," said the signals
officer.

Damn," Arbaneeosia muttered. "Signal to Admiral Chun: hostile vessels have entered the system. They are believed to
be some kind of carrier but have the same tonnage as a heavy cruiser. Request First Battle division close my position
soonest. Am launching torpedoboats to help screen my ships. Arbaneeosia out." She turned to Wing Commander
Goodwin. "Launch the torpedoboats and put them in screening formation."

"On it," replied Goodwin.

"General signal to all vessels: we will be withdrawing towards the inner system. All ships are to keep as tight a formation
as possible. Maximum overlap on point-defence screens," Arbaneeosia said. "Acknowledge." She turned back to the
display. Now it's up to the heavies, she thought. I hope they can get here in time.

The Cylons were truly astonished at the toughness of the vessels they were pursuing. However, despite the superior
technology that the Terran ships possessed, the Cylons were well aware of the adage that quantity does possess a quality
all of its own.

And that quantity was b eginning to show. Already the concentrated firepower of b oth Raiders and b ase stars had worn
through the defensive screen Thoms' flotilla had drawn around itself. Two of his torpedob oats had dropped out of
formation. However, much to the Cylons' surprise, they had immediately launched themselves on a suicide run at the
nearest b ase star, launching a salvo of six missiles each b efore eventually succumb ing to Cylon firepower.

The missiles were another nasty surprise. Not only were they larger than anything the Raiders carried, b ut also the
warheads they carried generated a form of coherent light when they detonated. Already they had seriously damaged one
b ase star, which b egan to drop out of formation.

Then, as they followed the flotilla, they ran into fighters. These fighters made Colonial Vipers look like children's toys.
They wove and dodged the Cylon Raiders, b lowing more of them out of existence with their hellish coherent light
emitters. However, these vessels were clearly fighting a withdrawing action, and despite their technological superiority,
they were b eing worn down b y superior Cylon numb ers.

Finally, after two hours of comb at, the leading elements in the Cylon formation sighted the Terran home b ase. It had to
b e some kind of space station, as it was three thousand metres long. On either side of it ran what looked like landing
b ays. Further reinforcing the impression were the two b attlestar-sized vessels hovering near it in a protective formation.
The fighters, reinforced b y swarms of torpedob oats, covered the retreat of Thoms' flotilla towards the station. Then, just
after the last of Thoms' ships landed, something surprising happened. The screening fighters and torpedob oats scattered
out of the path of the Cylon ships. The Cylons, seeing their opportunity, swept eagerly onto the now unscreened space
station when, all of a sudden... it carried out a manoeuvre that the Cylons had thought impossib le.

The station carried out a micro-jump... and reappeared some distance away... leaving the Cylons staring into the kill
zones of four Terran superdreadnoughts, which were supported b y four Terran b attlecruisers, which also had their kill
zones aimed right at the Cylon b ase stars. All eight ships had positioned themselves while under stealth, and only
dropped out of stealth when the Activity carried out her micro-jump.

The intelligences on the Cylon b ase stars had only a short moment of astonishment b efore they found out ab out the
design philosophy that guided the design of Terran vessels from destroyers up to superdreadnoughts. Terran fleet units
had the fire arcs that the Cylons were familiar with (b ow, right and left forward, port and starb oard b roadsides, right and
left aft) from fighting with Colonial b attlestars. In addition to these, Terran fleet units also had two fire arcs (one ventral,
one dorsal) that they called "kill zones." Basically a Terran fleet unit was designed to b e ab le to virtually fire almost all of
it's weapons into one of these two kill zones, which added up to a frightening amount of firepower for its tonnage coming
out of a Terran warship. This included its missile armaments, which, although they were fired out of b roadside launchers,
were designed to fly into their mothership's kill zones if so required.

And the Cylon force was square inside the kill zones of eight Terran capital ships.

The outcome was inevitab le.

Amazingly, one b ase star survived the onslaught. It was the one that had b een crippled earlier. It did not survive for long,
though, as two of Activity's torpedob oat flotillas delivered the coup de grace to the crippled vessel. Later on, one Cylon
Raider was found drifting through space. It was taken in tow b y a torpedob oat and loaded onto Activity's flight deck, ready
to b e taken deeper insystem for in depth study.

The Cylon high command never found out what had happened to this particular force. When it lost another task group in
this general region of space, the high command decided that there was something particularly nasty in this area of space.
So, just in case whatever had destroyed twelve b ase stars decided to b acktrack the Cylon force to learn where they had
come from, the Cylon high command decided that any b ase of operations that they b uilt out in this direction was to b e as
heavily fortified as possib le.

It was only in the aftermath of the attack on the Twelve Colonies, some fifteen years later, that the Cylons sent a large
force in the direction of the Raptor March.
*Chapter 2*: Chapter 1
Chapter One.

Location: Colonial Battlestar Galactica, Colonial Refugee Fleet, Somewhere in Deep Space off the edge of the Conflict
Zone.

Time: Some Three and a half years after the Cylon attack on the Colonies (CE 3553.5)

"DRADIS Contact!"

Admiral William Adama, the military leader of a ragged fleet that carried the remnants of a civilisation, turned towards the
Galactica's Tactical post.

"Status?" he asked.

Lieutenant Anastasia Dualla consulted her readouts. "Challenge has been sent... and reply received. It's Ridgeback and
his Raptor flight, Admiral. They're back from their system survey," she said.

Adama looked at the overhead DRADIS display. Sure enough, there were three green icons representing the incoming
Raptor flight. "Put Ridgeback on the line, Ms. Dualla," he said.

Dualla closed a contact. "Ridgeback, this is Galactica. Do you copy, over?" she said.

After a short burst of static, Catman's voice, distorted by the radio transmission, came out of the speakers. "Galactica,
this is Ridgeb ack. I copy, over."

Adama picked up the radio handpiece. "Ridgeback, this is Galactica Actual. What did you find?" he said.

A brief pause occurred, and then Ridgeback's voice came back on. "Galactica Actual, this is Ridgeb ack. Just another
devastated system, complete with deb ris field. The asteroid b elt seems promising, with some traces of tylium and ice,
over."

Adama could feel the disappointment sweep through Galactica's Combat Information Centre. Another devastated
system, he thought.

Colonel Saul Tigh, Galactica's XO, voiced Adama's thoughts. "Frack," he said. "Another devastated system. That's all
we've been encountering, since we entered this area of space." He turned to Adama. "Word of this will get around the
Fleet, and then what? People are already beginning to wonder about if Earth still exists."

Adama looked at his long-time lieutenant. "I know," he said quietly. "What was that comment Starbuck made when we
started encountering devastated systems and debris fields?"

Tigh snorted. " 'Why do I get the feeling we're just stumbling across the battlefields in someone else's war?' Ask me, I'm
beginning to think she's onto something," he said.

Adama looked away. He was beginning to think so too. The first system they had encountered had shown all the signs of
some massive catastrophe in the past, with an asteroid field where the system's habitable planet should have been. It
was not until the third system that they began to realise what may have been going on. That system's "habitable" planet
looked as though something had melted its surface, and an impressive debris field that consisted of bits of spaceship
that had quite clearly been blown apart had surrounded it. Analysis of the debris showed that they had belonged to a
civilisation that was far more advanced than either the Colonial or Cylon cultures.

Then there had been that system where everything had looked normal. Even the planet looked inhabitable. However, a
pass by a flight of Raptors had shown that there was no animal life in the surface, and that the surface also contained
ruins that, on closer examination of the reconnaissance images, were clearly of non-human origin. Suspicious, Adama
had ordered that air, water and soil samples be taken, preferably without the Raptor taking them touching down on the
surface.

His suspicions were correct. Analysis by Dr Cottle and Felix Gaeta soon revealed the presence of a rather nasty
pathogen. "Clearly weaponised," said Cottle, in the hurried conference he had called with Adama, Tigh and President of
the Twelve Colonies Laura Roslyn. "A variant of a rather nasty virus that has the potential to kill any living creature it
encounters." Cottle took a nervous drag on his cigarette. "I showed the results to Lieutenant Agathon," he said, referring
to Galactica's Cylon crewmember, " and she was both awed and scared. Said that the manipulation of the genome was
almost godlike."

"And if the pathogen had gotten loose in the Fleet?" President Roslyn had asked.

"There'd be nothing left of the human race," Cottle said. "And it would have taken out any Cylons who found our lifeless
ships," he said. "This bug is far worse than that lymphatic meningitis we found on that beacon back in the Lion's Head
Nebula."

Thinking about that planet, Adama shivered. The fate that the Fleet had escaped still gave him nightmares.

Again, Tigh read his thoughts. "Thinking about that 'paradise planet' several systems back?" he said. "I can understand
that. I still get nightmares thinking what could have happened to the Fleet if that crap had gotten loose. Cottle did destroy
the samples, didn't he?" Tigh asked.

Adama nodded. "Put them in the incinerator himself. With me watching him," he said. He took a breath. "Mind you,
anything that awes and scares Athena plainly terrifies the living daylights out of me," he continued.

Tigh nodded. "Never thought I'd say it, but I agree," he said. "Something that does that to a Cylon is something I'd rather
not know about. Speaking of which," he continued, "has Athena checked in yet?"

Adama shook his head. "Her flight hasn't returned yet," he said. Lieutenant Sharon "Athena" Agathon, the Galactica's
Cylon member, had gone out to scout the second of two systems that were near the Fleet's current location.

No sooner were the words out of Adama's mouth than Dualla called out "DRADIS Contact!" She examined her readouts,
then said "Its Athena and her flight. She's just called in, and wants to talk to you, Admiral. She says she's found
something."

Adama again picked up the handpiece. "Athena, this is Galactica Actual. Tactical says you've found something, over."

Through the distortion of the radio set, the excitement in Athena's voice was clear. "Yes, Galactica Actual, you could say
I've found something," she said. "And you won't frakking b elieve just what we've found!"

Two hours later, in the Galactica's Pilot's Briefing Room, Tigh spoke for all present when he said "Athena, you're right.
Without any evidence, I wouldn't frakking believe your report."

Adama nodded. "Of all the things to find out here, this was the last thing I would have expected."

Before them, on the briefing room's screen, was the image of a Cylon Base Star of a kind that had not been seen since
the end of the First Cylon War. And it was clear that it had been severely damaged.

"The question is, why were they out this far?" continued Adama.

Athena cleared her throat. "I might be able to answer that, Admiral," she said. All eyes in the briefing room turned to her.

"And what would your answer to this riddle be, Lieutenant?" asked Adama.

"You'll have to understand that this information is not really first-hand, but comes from within my own memories," Athena
said. Everybody in the room nodded their acceptance of that qualifier. After their experiences on Kobol, they now had a
fuller understanding of how a humaniform Cylon's memory operated. "About twenty-five years ago, the Cylon 'High
Command,' I suppose you could call it, sent out several expeditions of exploration. They were looking for resources
within the area of Cylon space that lay beyond the cease-fire line, but also went well beyond the Red Line. One of those
expeditions discovered the location of Kobol.

"Naturally, this caused a great deal of interest amongst the Cylon command. However, we only had the same clues that
you've had... the Sacred Scrolls."

Laura Roslyn, who had been invited aboard for this meeting, interrupted. "So, you're telling us that the Cylons were using
the Sacred Scrolls as a resource to... locate the origins of humanity?" she asked.

Athena nodded. "They used the scrolls to identify Kobol, and had that information 'programmed' into the memories of all
humaniform Cylons when they were created," she said.

"Hence why you were able to locate the Tomb of Athena on Kobol," said Lee "Apollo" Adama, Galactica's CAG.

"Yes. But the command of that era also realised that, since they had found Kobol, they might be able to locate the
destination of the Thirteenth Tribe," Athena said. "So, using only the clues given in the scrolls, they set out in the opposite
direction, away from the Colonies," she said.

"However, they also decided that they could not spare the latest generation of base stars. So, they refitted several older
model base stars dating from the war, and sent them out on a mission of general exploration. Try and locate the
thirteenth colony, but report on what they found during the journey.

"For three-and-a-half-years, the expedition sent back continuous reports on what they had discovered. I can tell you that,
although they went in this general direction, they didn't follow the exact same path as we have. However, after sending
their last report, the expedition vanished without a trace." A silence fell on the room as all assembled there gathered the
implications of what Athena had just said.

Finally, Adama broke the silence. "How many ships were sent on this expedition?" he asked.

Athena looked him in the eyes. "Twelve base stars," she replied. "All of them of this particular model. Not including the
support vessels." Again a silence fell over the room as the participants took in the significance of this information.

"Twelve base stars!" said an astonished Tigh. "What the hell were they going to do with that many? That's one hell of an
exploratory force!"

Athena shrugged. "I suspect that if they had found Earth they would have attacked it, or, at least, placed it under some
level of observation," she said. "And remember that they were looking for resources. They were to at least establish
small outposts as well.

"Anyway, when this expedition disappeared, Command decided not to take any chances on whoever destroyed such a
force not backtracking their course," she continued. "So they started to fortify any outposts that were located in this
direction, including the tylium mine you raided, just in case."

Adama stood up. "Thank you Lieutenant, for your report. It at least clears up just why a Cylon War vintage base star is
doing this far away from Cylon space." He turned towards the other participants in the briefing. "However, seeing this
ship in this condition and hearing Lieutenant Agathon recounting her information on a Cylon expedition disappearing in
this area of space leaves us with another question: just who or what could have done this, and how do we find out
without suffering the same fate ourselves?"

Athena spoke up again. "There is a way we can find out, sir." Adama motioned to her to continue. "All base stars of this
generation were equipped with memory cores. They were there as extra memory for the Hybrid model that was attached
to them.

"Each ship has a primary memory core as well as at least three backups. If I can gain access to at least one core in a
controlled environment, I might be able to download the data concerning just what happened."

Adama frowned. "You said 'controlled environment', Lieutenant. By that you mean...?"

"Mr. Gaeta's laboratory space on board Galactica, sir," she replied. "If we can attach a power source to the cores and at
least a computer terminal that is unconnected to the ship, we should be able to get both audiovisual as well as written
data. But that will mean a boarding party from Galactica going on board the base star."

"Risks?"

Athena paused for a moment. "I don't think that the risks will be as great as the ones we took on boarding that infected
base star back in the Lion's Head Nebula," she finally said. "The readings that Racetrack and the other two Raptors took
were pretty conclusive: that ship is dead. There were no energy readings whatsoever coming off it.

"There is the possibility that some Centurions may still be active, but after so long I doubt it," she continued. "I am sure,
however that the memory cores will still have their data on them: they had isotopic batteries attached to them as a
means of keeping their storage lattices powered up. Plus, anything of real importance would have been written to disk
anyway."

Adama turned towards the audience. "Madame President? What do you think?" he said.

Laura Roslyn sat back and thought. "I believe that this is primarily a military decision, Admiral," she said. "However, I do
agree that we should do what we can to find out who did this to a Cylon force. News of this, combined with the
devastated systems we have been encountering could undermine morale within the Fleet. So, I think we should board
the Cylon vessel and attempt to find out as much as we can."
Felix Gaeta, who was standing next to Athena, stepped forward. "It's just occurred to me, Admiral, that we could also get
access to whatever star charts the Cylon expedition itself may have made on this area of space," he said. "That could
easily cut down the time spent searching local systems for resources for the Fleet. They may have even discovered
planets not devastated by whatever has been going on here."

"A good point, Mr. Gaeta," said Adama. He turned and faced his son. "Major Adama, I want you to meet with the XO to put
together a team to board that Cylon base star and retrieve whatever information we can," he said. "I want a briefing ready
for myself and the President by this time tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Apollo said. "I'll want to consult with Lieutenant Agathon and Chief Tyrol, as they may have some suggestions.
Also, I'd like to have Gunny Mathias and Marine Lieutenant Burrell sit in. I'd like to have some marine backup on this one,
just in case."

"Understood, Major. Go assemble your team." Adama turned towards Roslyn. "Madame President?" She stood and
made as if to leave, but hesitated. Then, she turned towards Athena.

"Something just occurred to me," she said. "Lieutenant, was there any sign that the system you found the base star in
was devastated in any way?"

Athena started. "No, Madame President," she said. "In fact, we had just begun to explore the inner system when we...
well, got distracted."

"I see," she said. "Was there an inhabitable planet in that system?"

"The preliminary readings we were getting seem to indicate that there is an inhabitable planet in system," Athena
replied. "But before we could investigate..."

"I understand, Lieutenant. Somehow, though, I think that could be just as important as finding this base star. In any case,
I'll be seeing you tomorrow." With that, she exited the room, followed by a bemused Admiral Adama.

"What was that all about?" asked Apollo.

"Search me," said Athena.

"Don't look at me," said Tigh. "I can't tell you what the woman's thinking."

"I can," said Adama, as he came back into the briefing room. "She's thinking of the future, as well as the Fleet's morale.
If, for some reason, we can't find Earth, she's looking for a backup location where we can settle down and rebuild human
civilisation. And, if there is an inhabitable planet in that system where the base star is located..."

"We could settle there," said Apollo. "And, having that old, derelict base star there could expand our spacefaring abilities
quite considerably, even if we only use it as a space station."

"But what if we find Earth?" asked Tigh.

"Well, wouldn't that system make an excellent waystation on the path back to the Colonies?" asked Adama.
*Chapter 3*: Chapter 2
Chapter Two

The following morning saw President Roslyn, Admiral Adama and their respective staffs back in the Pilot's Briefing
Room. In front of them, at the main podium, stood Lee Adama, with Colonel Tigh, Captain Kara "Starbuck" Thrace,
Lieutenants Agathon and Gaeta, as well as Chief Tyrol and Marine Lieutenant Burrell off to one side. Except for Tigh and
Gaeta, all of the people up near the podium were wearing flightsuits.

Apollo was addressing the gathering. "I propose to take one flight of four Raptors to examine the derelict base star," he
said. "Two Raptors will be carrying out a continual flyover of the vessel, recording as much data on its external condition.
Two more Raptors will enter and land in the lower flight bay. The landing party will remain in constant real-time
communications with Galactica."

Roslyn spoke up. "Excuse me, Major, but won't Galactica be remaining with the Fleet?"

Apollo faced the President. "Not exactly, Madame President. Both Colonel Tigh and myself feel that, for this mission, it is
best that Galactica be stationed off the derelict, with her guns trained on it. However, the Fleet will not be left unprotected.
It is proposed by Colonel Tigh and myself that the Fleet jump into the same system. It will, however, be nowhere near the
derelict.

"Once the Fleet has been secured by a full Combat Air Patrol, headed by Captain Thrace, Galactica will jump to the
location of the derelict. From there, the boarding party will depart and prepare to board the derelict base star. At the same
time, another flight of Raptors will begin a survey of the inner system, so as to locate any resources that can be used by
the Fleet. This flight will also endeavour to locate the inhabitable planet that Lieutenant Agathon's preliminary survey
indicated, and to determine if indeed it is suitable for our form of life."

"And not a plague pit, like the last 'inhabitable planet' we found," muttered Tigh.

Apollo ignored Tigh's comment. "I would like to add that Colonel Tigh and myself discussed this plan in detail with
Admiral Adama, and he believes that this is probably the best form of protection for the Fleet under the circumstances,"
he said "Except for the derelict, we have seen no sign of Cylon activity."

"Well, that answers my query about the Fleet," said Roslyn, "except for one thing: how do we keep an eye out for and
Cylon activity, and what do we do if they Cylons turn up?"

"Galactica will maintain a full DRADIS watch in its operating area," said Tigh. "At the same time, the Raptor flight carrying
out the survey of the inner system will also be keeping a DRADIS watch, while the remaining duty flight will be carrying
out picket duties over the Fleet."

"In one way, this will be one of the most detailed DRADIS watches ever kept over the Fleet," said Apollo. He turned to the
screen behind him as a schematic of the system flashed up. "The derelict is actually located here," he said, indicating
with a light pointer an icon displaying the position of the derelict. "The Fleet will actually be jumping into the system here,"
he said, and indicated an area in the area of the inner system. "This area is actually in line with the derelict site. Thus, if
the Cylons do appear, Galactica can jump into the inner system and cover the Fleet's retreat."

"All right. I see that you have managed to plan for as many possible contingencies as possible," said Roslyn. She turned
to Adama. "Since Major Adama has answered several of my concerns, I have no further questions at this time, Admiral,"
she said.

Admiral Adama nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Major Adama, who have you selected for your boarding team?"
he asked.

"For the actual boarding team, I have selected Lieutenant Agathon, as she will be more familiar with the internal layout of
the derelict. She will fly the Raptor carrying the boarding team into the internal flight bay. Lieutenant Edmondson will
remain in the Raptor to handle the communications relay.

"Lieutenant Agathon will be accompanied by Chief Tyrol and two electronics techs, Cyrus and Tychon. They will, under
the direction of Lieutenant Agathon, locate and uninstall the Cylon memory core. It is hoped to bring back more than one,
as Lieutenant Agathon believes that two cores will provide her with more data. Security for the mission will be handled by
Marine Lieutenant Burrell and a unit of ten Marines. Lieutenant Burrell will be in the second Raptor with one squad of five
Marines, ready to come to the assistance of the primary boarding party if needed. I will be leading a flight of three Vipers
flying cover for the Raptors.
"Once the cores have been retrieved, they will be taken back to Galactica for analysis."

A silence fell over the briefing room. Then Adama spoke. "I have no further questions, Major Adama. Madame
President?" he asked, turning to face Roslyn.

Laura Roslyn shook her head. "I can't think of any questions myself, Admiral. It appears that you have thought of as many
possible contingencies as you could."

Adama turned, and got up. "Well, Major, let's go and launch this little operation."

Galactica reappeared in the solar system where the derelict Cylon vessel lay. The ship in question floated nearby.
Immediately her main guns swung around and trained themselves on the derelict vessel. At the same time, a flight of
Raptors emerged from the forward end of her port flight pod, while a flight of three Vipers were catapulted from the flight
pod's launch tubes.

"All right, people," said Apollo, "let's get into position. Hot Dog, you're to port, Catman, you're to starboard. Keep your eyes
peeled for any suspicious activity. Athena, how're things at your end?"

"Moving well, Apollo. Ridgeback and Ashcan are moving into position to begin a sweep on the derelict. Stoogie is in
formation. ETA the lower bay entrance, about ten minutes."

"Acknowledged, Athena. Ok, Hotdog, Catman. We move to a high guard position over the derelict and we keep alert. Any
suspicious activity, we cover the Raptors, bug out and let Galactica handle it." He moved his joystick and the Viper,
followed by those of Hot Dog and Catman, flew into position above the derelict base star.

"All right, people! Galactica's counting on us to keep the Fleet covered while she investigates that ghost ship! So, look
sharp, and if we see any toasters, the Raptors jump to tell Galactica, the Fleet gets the frack out of here and we keep the
toasters occupied until Galactica gets back," said Captain Kara "Starbuck" Thrace. "Kat, you take the left of the Fleet, and
I'll take the right."

"Gotcha, Starbuck," said Louanne "Kat" Katraine. "Moving into position now."

"Alley, you and your birds in position?" said Starbuck.

"Moving into position now" said Alice "Alley" Hendricks, as her Raptor flight took position where their DRADIS suites
could cover the Fleet.

"Ok. Let's just hope that this mission is as dull and boring as possible," said Starbuck. Even though she had taken as
many precautions as possible, it was understandable that, given both her location and the limitations of the equipment
available to her, that she failed to notice the emergence from jump of six large and powerful warships on the other side
of the system.

The six "Emden" Class light cruisers of the Terran Imperial Navy emerged on the edge of the solar system, some several
thousand kilometres sunwards from the inner edge of the system's Oort Cloud. As soon as they emerged, they
immediately went to stealth and, using thrusters, b egan to move towards the inner system. This was standard operating
procedure for a reconnaissance sweep b y a light cruiser squadron in the Conflict Zone. Also standard was the launch of
twenty-four heavily stealthed drones from the squadron.

Their mission was to scout out those systems that were on the flanks of the Imperium's grand offensive into the Raptor
Domain. Finally, after a millennium and a half of sporadic fighting, the Imperium, driven b y the Gardannis Massacre
(when a planet of inoffensive aliens under Imperial protection was attacked and decimated b y the Raptors) had decided
to settle matters with the Raptors once and for all. They were well aware what this decision would mean: total war, with
only one of the known galaxy's two superpowers left standing. So far, the Imperial Navy's offensive had taken the Raptors
b y surprise, b ut it was now quite clear that the Domain's main b attle fleets were mob ilizing for a counteroffensive.

Commodore Dame 'Ab al b int Ab d-al-Karim, commander of the Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron, sat in her command
chair on the flag b ridge of His majesty's Light Cruiser Basilicata. She wore the standard-issue armoured skinsuit of the
Terran Imperial Navy, marked with the crown and solid gold ring denoting her rank on her shoulders. She looked ab out
and her eyes lit on her flag lieutenant, Andras ap Llewellyn Morgan.

"No sign of anything yet, Andy?" she asked.

Her flag lieutenant turned towards her. "Nothing yet on the screens, Commodore," he said. "We won't b e getting anything
from the sensor drones for a few hours, and the squadron's immediate area is clear. We're under stealth and staying that
way until we've fully scouted this system."
'Ab al nodded. "Well, if that's the case, I think I'll go and retire to my cab in. If anything comes up, let me know." She got up
from her chair and headed for the doors of the ship's travelator, which connected to her cab in suite.

"Will do, ma'am."

"Galactica, this is Athena. We are now moving into the launch b ay."

"Athena, we copy. Good luck, and be careful," said Captain Karl "Helo" Agathon. He was now Galactica's Operations
Officer, now that Tigh was back in his post as XO.

"Roger that, Galactica. Seeing the damage this ship's suffered close up does tend to promote that virtue."

In Galactica's CIC, Adama, Roslyn, Tigh and several others listened in. Above them, on one of the CIC's main displays,
they saw the images that were being transmitted via the relay Raptor from Athena's ship as it flew into the derelict Cylon
ship.

Already they had learned a great deal. The damage to the base star was quite extensive. In several places it looked as
though something had carved great molten scars into the ship's hull. In addition, they had also noticed several odd
protuberances that stuck out of the ship's hull.

Athena had quickly confirmed for them that these were not part of the original design specifics. "It looks like those things
cut their way into the ship," she reported.

"Could they be boarding craft of some kind?" Tigh had wondered aloud.

Marine Lieutenant Burrell had thought so. "They do seem placed to allow immediate access to the hull," he observed.

"I wonder if this means that the Cylons had to fight a boarding action?" asked Tigh.

"We'll find out when Athena and her team get inside the ship," replied Adama.

Now, they watched as the entrance to the lower flight bay loomed before them on the screen. There was no light of any
kind coming from within, which added to the argument that the Cylon vessel was dead. As Athena's Raptor entered the
great void within the Cylon ship the beams of light from her vessel's forward spotlights reflected off of bits of shiny metal
that floated within.

"Looks like the artificial gravity's not working," Athena said. "That may... FRACK!"

Adama moved forward. "Athena, this is the Admiral," he said. "What is it?"

The communications channel was silent for a minute. Then, Athena spoke. "Sorry, Admiral, b ut I just realised what those
floating b its of junk are. They're pieces of early model Centurions. And it looks as though they were ripped apart b y
something. Anyway, I've spotted a clear area. Setting down now."

Adama settled back. He turned and faced Tigh and Roslyn. "Early model Centurions. And something ripped them apart."

"Destroyed by internal explosions, perhaps?" Tigh said.

"Could be," said Adama. "But we won't know how bad things are torn up in there until Athena and her team look around."

"All right, "said Athena. "We all know the drill. Gunny Mathias and the Marines will exit the ship first and secure the
landing zone. Then, Chief Tyrol, his people and myself will get out. Racetrack stays here with one Marine to keep up a
communications link with Galactica. Everybody got that? Ok. Cracking hatch, now." The large entry hatch on the Raptor
swung out and up. As it opened, the marines exited the ship, moving as carefully as they could in the zero-g conditions.
When they gave the all clear, Athena, Tyrol and the two techs also exited the Raptor.

Athena spoke. "Galactica, we have moved into the lower bay. Life support is not functioning. The bay is open to vacuum.
We are now moving in the direction of the control centre."

"Roger that, Athena. We copy. What's the condition of the interior?"

"Hard to say, Galactica. The entire bay is in darkness. The only light sources are those produced by the team. Even the
emergency lighting seems to be out." She floated past the dismembered remains of an early-model Centurion. "I'm just
taking a look at the remains of a Centurion. It's been literally torn apart." She looked at a floating torso. "This is
interesting: there's damage similar to that on the outer hull."
"What do you mean b y 'similar damage'?"

"There's a huge scar that looks like someone shoved an intense heat-source into the torso," said Athena. "It looks
remarkably like fire from an automatic weapon of some kind, except no weapon I'm familiar with does this sort of
damage."

"Copy that, Galactica," said Mathias. "I've got similar damage to a chrome-job here. Man, I wouldn't want to run into
whatever did this."

Athena shone her torchlight around. "There's the exit," she said. "Follow me. It shouldn't take too long: the interior is
similar to the base star we boarded in the Lion's Head Nebula." She floated towards the gaping void, with the rest of the
team following her.

Both sets of drones moved to cover the outer reaches of the system, while the squadron of light cruisers moved towards
the inner system, making sure that they did not occlude any stars b ehind them. They were not on a survey, b ut were
looking for any sign of Raptor activity that would indicate if the Raptors were using this system to estab lish a b ase of
operations for a strike against the flank of the Imperium's drive towards the heart of the Raptor Domain. Since this system
had, until recently, b een in what Intelligence (MI6)'s analysts had termed the Domain's "Terran March", there was little
information on it b eyond the fact that it possessed b oth a Sol-like star and gas giants in the right locations for a potentially
inhab itab le planet to exist. Finding one would b e merely an added b onus.

What they didn't expect was what they actually found.

"Galactica, we're in a main approach corridor heading for the control centre. It looks pretty torn up. There must have
b een one hell of a firefight here: we've b een seeing nothing b ut shredded b ulkheads and Centurions. Lots of damage
similar to that on the outer hull."

"Roger that, Athena. Is the power still out?" asked Helo.

"We've come across some emergency lighting still on. There must still b e some capacitors still online. No viab le
Centurions, though: every one we've seen has had the crap shot out of them, or b een torn apart."

"Roger that, Athena. Let us know if anything changes. Galactica, out."

Tigh and Adama looked at each other. "Looks more and more like a boarding action," said Tigh. "Wonder why the base
star's dead if the Cylons managed to see off the boarders."

Adama shrugged. "They may have randomly jumped out from where the fighting took place," he said, "and then they and
the boarders wiped each other out. Who knows?"

Roslyn turned to Adama. "Forgive my ignorance, Admiral, " she said, "but why would one of this model base star, crewed
almost entirely by mechanical Cylons, need emergency lighting, or any lighting? Surely that, like life support, would be
redundant."

"The Cylons were designed by us," Adama said. "From intelligence gained during the war, we found out that their ships
were all based on design concepts that we had been using for centuries. The base stars were originally intended by the
Admiralty to be used as system defence fortifications, while the original battlestar concept was to anchor the Fleet in
general engagements." He snorted. "Obviously, we hadn't planned on the Cylons revolting and turning our designs
against us."

"So they only made those modifications in the original designs they needed to?" Roslyn said.

"Yes," said Adama. "And obviously, when they eventually took on human form, things like life support and lighting were no
longer redundant." He again snorted. "It gladdened a few of us to realise that the Cylons could be as conservative in
design matters as the rest of us. Or that inertia in such matters affected them as well."

"Didn't do some of us much good," said Tigh. "They soon learned how to take a ship by simply going to Life Support and
Auxiliary Control, take those out and turn off the life support. That information they had gotten from us as well."

The three fell silent as they again turned their attention to the main DRADIS display.

Then Gunny Mathias' voice came over the channel. "What's that up ahead?" she asked.

"Not too sure," said Athena, "b ut it's not a Cylon."

"I'm taking a closer look," said Mathias. "Greigs, Mathers, keep me covered." The channel once again fell silent. Then,
Mathias spoke.

"Galactica, I've found a b ody," she said. "I think it's one of the b oarders. And, whatever it is, it isn't human."

"Repeat that, Gunny Mathias. It sounded like you said that you found a b ody, and that it wasn't human," said Helo.

Mathias shone her torchlight over the drifting in front of her. "Exactly what I said, Galactica. I have found a non-human
body. And, whatever it is, Lieutenant Agathon is right. It isn't a Cylon either."

Silence fell across the airwaves as the people on Galactica absorbed the importance of this news. Then Adama's voice
came on. "Mathias, this is the Admiral. You're saying that you've found the remains of an alien life form?"

"Sir, it sure looks that way from where I'm at," said Mathias. "Chief, can you come over here for a minute? This gear's
nothing like I've ever seen," she said. Again, silence fell over the airways as Tyrol floated over to where Mathias was. The
rest of the boarding party followed in her wake.

"Lieutenant Agathon, this is the Admiral," said Adama. "Can you confirm Gunny Mathias' report?"

Athena floated next to Mathias. "I can confirm, Galactica," she said. "It looks like we have actually encountered a genuine
alien life form. Luckily it's dead," she added as she too examined the corpse.

"Can you give us a rough description of what it looks like?" said Adama.

"Well, sir, it looks like a giant lizard of some kind," said Athena. "It seems to be clad in some kind of armoured space suit,
complete with tail. At a rough guess, it probably stood about two metres tall." Her light shone over its feet. "It appears to
have been bipedal," she said. "The feet appear to have some kind of articulated claw attached to it. I would not have liked
to run into it if it was alive."

"Admiral, this thing's suit is real tough," said Tyrol. "I'm counting several large calibre impacts on its surface. They just
look like smudges of lead where they hit." He shone his torch onto where the helmet's faceplate had been. "It looks like
the Cylons took it out by shooting at the faceplate," he said. "But it seems it took several shots from what looks like a
20mm cannon to do this. Standard sidearms would have been next to useless." He turned towards where something
else floated near the alien creature. "Found something else," he said, reaching for it. He grabbed it and took a look.
"Looks like some kind of weapon," he said, "but nothing like anything I've ever seen."

"What does it look like, Chief?" said Adama.

"Well, there's nowhere for any bullets to exit. The barrel seems to be solid crystal. It has a butt and a pistol grip, but no
visible trigger, just a squeeze bar set into the grip," said Tyrol. He detached what had looked like a magazine and looked
at it "I just detached what I thought was the magazine," he said, "but it turns out to be a powerpack. I wonder..." He turned
and faced a reasonably intact bulkhead. "Stand clear, everyone. I'm going to see if I can fire this thing." He replaced the
powerpack and hefted the alien weapon, settling the butt against his right shoulder.

"Chief, do you think that's a good idea?" asked Athena.

"No, but if this is what I think it is..." said Tyrol. He aimed at the bulkhead and squeezed the bar. Instantly a smoking hole
appeared in the bulkhead panel, its melted edges cherry-red. Green pulses of coherent light showed where the
weapon's energy beam shone through dust particles that were floating in the corridor. Tyrol tracked the weapon's muzzle
across the bulkhead, leaving several similar holes in its wake.

Tyrol released the squeeze bar, and lowered the weapon. "Admiral, we've just entered the realms of bad science fiction
here," he said in a shaken voice. "This thing is a weaponised pulse laser, designed as an infantry weapon."

"A what?" said Adama.

"A pulse laser, sir. It's what we use on our Vipers for training dog-fights," Tyrol said. "But I have never heard of one being
turned into an actual weapon, except in pulp sci-fi," he said. He placed the weapon next to the body of the dead alien.
"Until now, that is." He floated over to the bulkhead, and closely looked at the row of holes. "Sir, he said, "this looks exactly
like some of that weird damage we've been seeing all through the ship, as well, as, on a smaller scale, the damage on
the outer hull." He shook his head. "This is just getting too frakking weird," he muttered to himself.

Back in the Galactica's CIC, an astonished Adama, Tigh and Roslyn looked at each other. "First, a dead ship," said Tigh.
"Then, a dead alien that looks like a giant lizard. Now, an energy weapon. Chief Tyrol's right: if I weren't here listening to
all of this, I would say that this was a storyline for a bad science-fiction story."
Laura Roslyn looked at Adama. "I know we were using lasers as surveying tools, and that the military used them as
training aids, but as weapons? I was under the impression that there were serious impediments in the way of
developing them as weapons, Admiral."

Adama nodded. "The Fleet did have a development programme going some years before the Cylon attack," he said, "but
we only got as far as developing them as training aids as well as aiming devices for our assault rifles. But there were
major energy constraints, as well as size considerations and robustness, standing in the way of developing a practical
laser weapon." He took the handpiece from Helo and spoke into it. "Athena, do you think it's possible to bring the body
and its equipment back on board Galactica?" he said.

"We could put them in the other Raptor, Admiral," Athena replied. "The memory cores could travel b ack in my Raptor. It
will entail leaving Lieutenant Burrell and his men b ehind to b e picked up b y one of the other two Raptors," she said.

Adama considered the suggestion for a moment, and then raised the handpiece to his mouth again. "Ridgeback, how
far along is your survey?" he asked.

"Almost finished, Admiral," replied the raptor pilot. "I could enter the landing b ay that Athena and Stoogie are in and
collect either cargo or passengers once I'm finished."

Adama nodded. "All right, Ridgeback. Once you've finished your final run, you'll go to the lower bay and wait there for
Athena and her team. You'll bring back the body and its equipment," he said.

"Rodger that, sir."

Adama then turned to Felix Gaeta, who was once again holding down his old post in Galactica's CIC. "Mr. Gaeta, get
Doctor Cottle alerted. Tell him he has an autopsy to perform," he said. "Then I want you to assemble a team to help Chief
Tyrol to examine the alien's equipment."

"Will do, sir," said Gaeta. "Am I still to work with Athena on the memory cores?"

Adama nodded. "Unless Chief Tyrol needs your talents, yes."

Gaeta nodded, and then headed out of the CIC. Adama turned towards Roslyn and Tigh. "I never thought I would say
this," he said, "but right now I miss Gaius Baltar. He would have been quite useful at this juncture.

Tigh nodded. "And I never thought I would agree with that statement," he said.

Athena and her team, minus two marines who had been detailed to take the alien corpse and its equipment back to the
lower landing bay, continued on their way towards base star's control centre. On the way they passed more signs of the
hard fighting the interior of the ship had suffered, including bulkhead doors that showed the signs of having been melted
by some unknown substance, deactivated Centurions and more alien corpses. Several Centurions were showing the
signs of headshots that had targeted the sensor visor, which indicated that the aliens had started to be a little more
discriminatory in their aiming. On one occasion they had seen the sidearm of a Centurion driven cleanly through the
visor of another alien.

Finally they reached the base star's control centre. Surprisingly, it was lit with the dim glow of emergency lighting. Athena
floated towards the middle of the room and looked around. "Frack, this place has been shot up more badly than I
thought," she said.

"Will that b e a prob lem?" asked Helo.

She looked at a mass of melted equipment that filled a compartment in the control centre's bulkheads. "Well, I can tell
you that the main core's gone," she said. She looked around and, to her relief, saw that the doors to another bulkhead
compartment were still intact. "However, it looks like that at least the first backup core is still intact," she said.

"Where is it?" asked Tyrol.

Athena answered that by floating herself over to the compartment doors and opening them. "Over here, Chief," she said.
She anchored herself against the wall and pulled. A bank of metre-high cylinders slid out on a railed platform. "They have
a modular design," she said, "so as to enable easy maintenance. All your tech will have to do is simply disconnect them
and then they'll slide out easily."

Tyrol waived his techs over and, once they had examined them and saw how they were connected to the rest of the
system, they began the job of disconnecting them. Meanwhile, Athena scanned the rest of the control centre, taking in the
damage done to the room. She floated over to a bank of instruments and, seeing that they were still active, began to
examine them. After a while, she let out a surprised grunt.

"Anything wrong, Athena?" asked Helo.

"Nothing wrong, Galactica," she replied. "There's still some tylium fuel in the tanks, and some of the secondary power
generators are still on line. If we instituted some repairs we could have life support and artificial gravity in here. I'd advise
against that, at present: the memory cores are going to be difficult enough to transport as it is." She looked around, and
then floated herself over to another set of doors. Opening them, she looked in. "The second backup core is also intact,"
she said.

"Do we need to remove them, or will the first set b e enough?" asked Adama.

Athena thought for a moment. "We can leave them here for now," she said. "If we need to we can come back and retrieve
them."

"Good. Once you have the primary b ackup cores detached, return to your ships and get off of that ghost ship," said
Adama. "I don't want you on b oard any longer than we need you to b e."

"Understood, sir," said Athena. "Chief, how long?"

"Just finished disconnecting the final connection point," said Tyrol. "We can leave anytime you want."

Athena thrust herself towards the hatchway they had come through. "In that case, let's go now," she said. "This place is,
as silly as it may sound, giving me the willies." They all followed her, with Tyrol and the two techs shepherding the cores
through the debris-strewn corridors.

The return trip back to the lower landing bay was much quicker as they no longer had to look around. On entering the bay
they noticed that Ridgeback's Raptor was in the bay, and Burrell and his Marines were positioning the alien corpse in the
vessel's rear compartment. Once they were finished, Tyrol and his two techs then managed to manoeuvre the memory
cores in alongside the corpse, then Tyrol and one tech took up two of the Raptor's rear seats in order to watch the core
on the return voyage back to Galactica. Once the rest of the party had returned to their respective transports, all three
vessels took off and flew out of the landing bay. Once past the entrance they headed back towards Galactica's port
landing bay, with Apollo's flight of three Vipers flanking them.

Such was the importance attached to the cargo in Ridgeback's Raptor it was landed not under the control of the pilot, but
by computer guidance. In this instance Adama broke his long-standing rule about computer-guided landings. Once the
vessels and their cargo had been secured, Galactica jumped back into the inner system, rejoining the Fleet as it orbited
near the sole inhabitable planet in the system.

Little did Adama realise that Galactica's jump had drawn the attention of at least one of the set of drones that the Terran
ships had launched when they had jumped into the system.
*Chapter 4*: Chapter 3
Chapter Three.

The instantaneous pulse of a ship exiting from hyperspace registered itself on the sensors of the reconnaissance drone
as it swept through the outer reaches of the system. Immediately the drone focussed its passive sensors in the direction
that the pulse had come from. Soon, the b leed-through of constant radio chatter b egan to impact on its passive sensors.

A quick positional check showed that the chatter was coming from the inner system, and an examination of the last
positional update (fed through to it b y a sharply-focussed hyperspatial communications link in a b urst transmission) of its
mothership showed that the squadron had not yet reached that section of the inner system. Besides, the ships in the
squadron would b e using hyperspatial b urst transmissions or, if they were within range, thin laser b eams acting as optical
transmission systems. Terran humanity had long ago ab andoned the radio part of the electromagnetic spectrum as a
means of communications.

The designers of the reconnaissance drone had b uilt into its hard-wired molecular circuitry an impressive amount of
autonomous thinking. Except for the Three Laws of Rob otics (which were always hard-wired in) it could have b een
considered to b e a Cylon prob e. But compared to this device, Cylon prob es were unthinking automatons. The
technological sophistication of this device would have scared the Cylons... assuming that they had b een ab le to detect it
in the first place, as it had b een designed to deal with Terran sensor packages. And those were considered the b est
availab le, even b y their Raptor enemies.

Quickly, it consulted with its fellow drones. A quick realignment of the sensor sweep formation enab led the remaining
eleven to cover as b est they could any gaps the ab sence of this particular drone might cover. But then, Terran drones
were always deployed with considerab le overlap of b oth their active and passive sensor suites.

With that taken care of, the drone, with a few b ursts from its directional thrusters, changed direction. A short b urst of its
inertialess drive sent the prob e hurtling in the direction of the hyperspace pulse had come from. At the same time, it sent
a b urst transmission to its mothership informing it of what it had discovered and the action it had taken.

The communications panel set in the desk in Commodore 'Ab al's day cab in chimed. 'Ab al stirred on her divan, put down
her data slate and then looked in its direction. "Answer," she said. Immediately the chiming stopped and ab ove it
appeared a holographic b ust of her flag lieutenant.

"Something up, Andy?" she said.

"We just received a b urst from Arethusa, ma'am," said Morgan. "One of her reconnaissance drones has picked up a
hyperspace jump pulse from the inner system.

'Ab al sat up. "Raptors?" she asked.

Morgan consulted the ship's data cache using his b iochip implant. "According to the information we've received so far, it
isn't," he said. "Do you want me to have the cache download what we have to your implant, ma'am?"

'Ab al didn't hesitate. "Yes," she said. Instantly her b iochip implant b egan feeding into her consciousness the information
that the drone had sent b ack to its mothership. She could see why her flag lieutenant was quite sure that this was not
Raptor activity: the signature of the pulse did not match anything that Fleetnet had on its datab ase regarding Raptors. It
did, however, come close to matching the signature of a late 22nd Century CE hyper drive.

Which suggested that the unknown ship was human. But not any human spacefaring civilization that was currently known
to the Imperium. And then there was the radio traffic. Most civilizations had long since stopped using the electromagnetic
spectrum as a means of communication in favour of the instantaneous communications that the hyperlink system, using
a "b and" of hyperspace not accessib le to shipping. And the data cache had identified the language as a variant of a
Terran language.

"Great," she sourly muttered. "A possible 'First Contact' with a potential 'Precursor Reserve' civilization in the Conflict
Zone. Just what we needed." She looked at her flag lieutenant. "Has Ibn Sina determined the language being used?"
she asked, using the name that the ship's AI computer was referred to by. Although the rest of her crew called him by the
Westernised version of the name, she preferred to use the original Arabic.

"He seems to think it's some form of Greek," replied Morgan. "He's tearing the data cache apart for any references of any
Greek reserves out this way that may have b een estab lished b y the Precursors. However, he promises to have a
translation of the chatter in ab out an hour. He also requests that you have Arethusa transfer the drone feed to his control
so that he can have a constantly updated data feed."

'Ab al thought on this for a minute. Then she said "Have him contact me in my cab in and I'll discuss it with him," she said.
"In the meantime it might not b e a b ad idea to have Arethusa hand off control of that drone to us. See to it."

"Aye aye, ma'am," said Morgan. "I'll see to it at once." His image disappeared from the communications plate. 'Ab al sat
up and straightened her day uniform, which she had changed into once she had reached her day cab in. As soon as she
finished, she heard the different chime used b y the ship's AI when it wanted to speak to her come from the
communications plate. "Enter," she said.

Immediately the image of a distinguished Arab ic scholar, somewhere in his late forties and dressed in the rob es of
medieval Baghdad appeared b efore her. He gave her a traditional Arab ic gesture of greeting, touching first his forehead
with the fingertips of his right hand, then his lips and finishing it with a twirl of his right hand underneath his neatly trimmed
b eard. " Peace b e upon you, Commodore," he said.

'Ab al returned the greetings. "And upon yourself and your house," she said. She waived her hand, and a coffee set,
already poured out, rose from her coffee tab le. At the same time a holographic representation of a traditional Arab ic
seating arrangement for one person appeared on the opposite side of her coffee tab le. "Please sit down," she said.

The holographic projection of the ship's AI did so. 'Ab al again gestured, and a holographic cup of Arab ic coffee rose from
Ib n Sina's side of the tab le and drifted towards him, He plucked it out of the air and "sipped" from it. His virtual eyeb rows
rose in appreciation. "Jamaica Blue Mountain, Commodore?" he said.

She smiled. "A gift from my uncle," she said, "to celeb rate my promotion." She in turn sipped her own coffee. "He was on
Earth and managed to purchase some from a wholesaler while he was there."

"Your family shows its taste," said Ib n Sina. He put down his cup, and it "refilled".

'Ab al did the same. She then leant forward. "My flag lieutenant tells me that you wish one of the drones to b e slaved to
your information gathering processors on a live-feed b asis," she said. "You know that the SOP for the Zone prohib its that."

"But Commodore," said the AI, "slaving the drone to my information gathering processors is the b est way to get real-time
information on what promises to b e an interesting First Contact with another human civilization!" He also leaned forward,
his "face" showing the passionate excitement of a scholar immersed in his work. "This way, I can present to you the b est
first-line approximations that I can produce."

'Ab al leant b ack and placed the fingertips of b oth hands under the point of her chin, something she always did when
thinking. The AI recognised this and waited. Finally, 'Ab al said "How ab out we give you the raw data after it has passed
through the filtering b uffers, and I tell Captain Jaidev to direct his duty watch to take their directions from you regarding
the drone?" she said. "That way, you get the raw feed and we stay within the SOP." The AI looked thoughtful at that, and
'Ab al pressed home her advantage. "Besides, you are as well aware as I am the reasons why the Admiralty issued those
instructions." Early on in the offensive a scout ship's computer system had b ecome infected with a very sophisticated
malware package while scouting out a Raptor-held system. Although the ship's AI had managed to eventually fight it off,
it had b een a near thing. Sub sequent analysis revealed it to b e a variant of a malware package that had b een used b y
the Precursors in their war. The end result was that a new and highly sophisticated filtering system had b een added to all
ships in the Imperial Terran Navy whereb y all raw data from b oth a ship's own sensors and any reconnaissance drones
were passed through a separate computer system that acted as a malware filter b efore b eing passed on to the ship's
data cache and the AI.

The AI nodded his head. "Considering the alternative, I think I can find that arrangement acceptab le," he said. He
finished his coffee and rose, 'Ab al following his example. "Now, if you can forgive my rudeness, I must ready myself for
the task ahead," he said.

'Ab al nodded. "Before you go," she said, "how are you coming along on the translation of what we have received so far?"

The AI paused, and assumed a pose of thinking. In reality, he was accessing the set of sub routines that he had assigned
that task to. "It appears to b e a mixture of several forms of Greek," he said. "Mainly Bronze Age and Greek Dark Ages,
with several concepts coming from Classical Greek," he finally said. "Possib ly some Latin as well, which argues that this
must b e an extremely isolated Precursor Reserve," he continued. "I'm still accessing what records we have in the ship's
data cache, b ut the more data I can get, the b etter my analysis will b e. When we get b ack to b ase I'll consult with the
b ase's cache as well as the Intel AI."

'Ab al nodded. "Excellent," she said. With that, b oth she and the AI exchanged traditional Arab ic gestures of parting, and
the AI's image disappeared. 'Ab al moved towards the communications plate and called up the signals rating on the
ship's b ridge.

"My complements to Captain Jaidev," she said, " and will you please inform him that I wish to speak to him."

Pilot's Briefing Room, Colonial Battlestar "Galactica", some twenty-four hours later.

"All right, what do you have for us?" Adama asked. Seated with him were Tigh, Roslyn and their respective staffs. They
occupied the first row of seats in the briefing room.

Apollo stood at the podium, with Athena, Gaeta, Doctor Cottle and Tigh off to one side. With the exception of Athena, each
one of them had a thick sheaf of notes. "We have come to several conclusions," said Apollo. "First, Lieutenants Agathon
and Gaeta, having examined the memory core that we brought on board, have determined what happened to the Cylon
ship and how it got to its current location. Chief Tyrol, in combination with myself, have examined the equipment that
belonged to the dead alien we brought on board as well as the survey images that were taken of the base star by the
Raptors. Finally, Doctor Cottle has carried out a complete autopsy and examination of the dead alien itself. He also has
the results of the examination of the samples the survey of the inhabitable planet that was carried out while Galactica
was near the base star. Without further ado, I would like Lieutenants Agathon and Gaeta to present their reports. Sharon,
Felix?" Apollo stepped aside as Athena and Gaeta stepped up to the podium.

Athena spoke first. "Firstly, I would like to say that it was a good thing that we decided to examine the data core in a
controlled environment. When we accessed it using a computer terminal that was dedicated solely to that purpose, and
in isolation from the rest of the ship, Mr. Gaeta and myself found that the core, and therefore the computer system,
including the Hybrid, had been infected with a highly sophisticated computer virus," she said.

"How sophisticated was it?" Adama asked.

Athena looked at her audience. "It was far more sophisticated than anything I have ever seen," she said. "It looked like a
complete package: an idea that I can tell you has never occurred to any Cylon. It was also very clever: it forced the Hybrid
to focus solely on attempting to contain it while it disabled the base star's guns. However, the Hybrid was able to isolate
the Centurions, setting them to fully autonomous mode. It was also able to prevent the package from completely shutting
off power." She hesitated, as if at a particularly unpleasant memory. "I ended up accessing the terminal directly in order to
contain the package," she said. "Once I had disinfected the terminal I was able to examine the package's code, which is
how I was able to determine what it was capable of. I was only able to do this because of the relative unsophistication of
the terminal Mr. Gaeta and I were using compared to the systems on the base star. However, that aside, this package
would be a viable threat to a ship like the Pegasus, with its more integrated systems."

Athena dimmed the lights and activated the briefing room's video camera. "We were also able to get audiovisual footage
from the base star's internal cameras, as well as DRADIS data, of the battle it was involved in." She visibly swallowed. "I
had better warn you, some of this is pretty harrowing stuff," she said. She stepped out of the way and started the footage
rolling.

The first images were of a standard DRADIS display. Only the labels on the friendly icons indicating the locations of
Cylon vessels, plus the sidebar showing a continuous display of ranging and other data, gave any indication that this
had been taken from a Cylon vessel. "Mr. Gaeta and I decided that it would be best to render the DRADIS data in a format
that was familiar to all," Athena said. "This has been speeded up in order to demonstrate what both myself, Mr Gaeta
and Major Adama felt were the key points. In particular, note the attack patterns of the alien ships." She stepped back and
allowed the display to unfold. After a while, one of the Colonial officers said, "They're stripping the base stars of fighter
cover through successive passes."

Apollo nodded. "Mr. Gaeta said that the tactic reminded him of how wolves operate against herd animals," he said. "Also,
note the formations. It wasn't until I saw the surveillance footage from the base star that I realised that each formation, in
its makeup, resembles how the alien creatures attack an opponent in hand-to-hand combat. Athena, do you think we can
cue the camera footage?" he said.

Athena nodded. She switched the briefing room's camera from the DRADIS footage to a tape showing the interior of a
base star. A group of Centurions were working to erect a barricade from which to fight from behind. ("Centurions b uilding
a b arricade!" muttered Tigh to Adama. "This whole story gets screwier b y the minute!" Adama, fascinated b y what he was
seeing on the screen b efore him, only nodded in reply.) Although the footage clearly showed that the heavy-duty
bulkhead door was sealed, it was equally clear that the Centurions had little faith (if that term could be applied to them)
in its integrity. The footage also showed a group of Centurions setting up what appeared to be a 20mm cannon from a
Raider on an improvised mount behind the barricade. From behind the bulkhead door the sounds of heavy fighting could
be clearly heard.

Suddenly, the sound of fighting stopped. The Centurions all sung their heads in the direction of the door. After a few
moments a red line, just a few centimetres in from the sides of the door started to appear. It ran all around the door down
to the floor. Within seconds the line went from a dull red to a cherry red, and then went white hot. During all of this the
Centurions got down behind the improvised barricade and trained their weapons on the door.

With a loud clang the door fell inwards, and armoured nightmares, many of which showed signs of heavy fighting,
swarmed inwards. Seeing them on their feet and moving made the onlookers realise that Athena's description of the
aliens as "giant lizards" was only too accurate.

Immediately the centurions started firing their weapons, aiming in most cases for the aliens' helmet visors. The sudden
lack of sound indicated that the compartment was now open to vacuum. One visor exploded in an extravagant shower of
pieces of visor, flesh, blood and bone as it failed under the fusillade of shots hitting it. The alien dropped, but others ran
over its twitching corpse, firing their energy weapons at the Cylon defenders. And they were eerily accurate too, as
smoking holes started to appear in Cylon heads.

They were also very experienced fighters. The first group of Cylons to fall before the onslaught were the crew of the
20mm cannon, as did any other Cylon that moved to take their places. Then, the aliens were upon the Cylons, and a
hand-to-hand melee erupted.

The watching Colonials could only look on with amazement mixed with more than a hint of fear as the aliens literally tore
the Cylons apart. Several Centurions had managed to unsheathe their side arms, with one managing to drive its
weapon through the visor of an attacking alien. Then, aliens and Cylons started to drift away from the floor as the base
star's artificial gravity failed. This turn of events placed the Centurions at an even greater disadvantage as the aliens
demonstrated that they were excellent zero-g fighters as well.

The footage then ended. Athena again took the podium. "From what I have managed to gather from the memory core,"
she said, " the internal cameras all failed at the same time. The Hybrid was unable to stop the invasive software
package from disabling the cameras. However, I can tell you that the images from the rest of the cameras tell a similar
story."

Tigh spoke up. "From what I saw it looked as if these Cylons knew what was coming," he said. "Hell, during the War they
never built barricades. Didn't need them, since the only thing that stopped them was an explosive round to the head."

Athena nodded. "It appears that this particular base star was the rearmost in a group of six that was attacked by these
creatures," she said. "Data from the core tells us that this ship's hybrid was able to observe what happened when these
aliens attacked the other five base stars and somehow managed to take appropriate precautions. That, however, didn't
save them."

President Roslyn spoke up. "Lieutenant, I seem to recall that one tactic that was employed by the Cylons during the War
and, indeed, in the attack on the Colonies was to subvert our computer systems," she said. "They did try to do this on
these aliens, didn't they?"

Athena nodded. "They did, but it was completely repulsed. That was then followed up by the attack on the Cylon computer
systems." A stunned silence fell over the room as the significance of that statement took hold.

"So you're telling us that these creatures are b etter at computer warfare than the Cylons?" asked a visibly shaken
Roslyn.

"According to the evidence that we've gleaned from the memory core, yes," said Athena. "However," she added, "it must
be remembered that this all took place fifteen years b efore the attack on the Colonies. So I can't say if they can pull the
same trick on Cylons of my generation. I must admit, though, that I was only able to catch this little trick b ecause Mr.
Gaeta and I inadvertently used the terminal we were accessing the core with as a kind of... "filtration buffer" is probably
the best term for it."

"I remember being on some base stars that we captured during the War," said Tigh. "Those bulkhead doors are pretty
solid. The Marines that captured them either went around them or used shaped charges to get through them. Yet is
looked as if these things somehow b urned their way through. Did they use these energy weapons of theirs to do this?"

Apollo spoke up. "Colonel Tigh, you are correct in saying that they burned their way through the bulkhead doors. However,
they did not use their laser weapons to do this. I think that this might be a good point for Chief Tyrol to tell us of his
findings regarding the alien equipment we recovered. Chief?" Apollo stepped aside as Tyrol stepped forward.

Tyrol deactivated the video projector and activated the slide viewer. An image flashed up of the armoured suit the dead
alien was wearing, as well as all the equipment it was carrying. "First of all, to answer Colonel Tigh's question, we can
safely say that they did not use their energy weapons to burn through bulkhead doors," he said. "What they did use was a
kind of thermal paste that we found on the dead alien. We smeared some of it on a piece of scrap hull plate we had lying
around, and then ignited it. Within minutes it had literally burned a hole clean through the hull plate. I should add that the
plate was a piece we had removed from the outer hull of the Galactica during repairs to some battle damage." He looked
at the audience. "I can also add that this stuff is far more efficient in generating heat than the stuff the Fleet construction
yards use when sweating armour onto the hulls of warships."

He took up a light pointer and used it to indicate the armoured suit. "When we first looked at this suit after it had been
removed from the dead alien's body I had first thought that it was simply an armoured space suit. A closer examination
revealed that this is actually another item that I had only heard of in connection with pulp science fiction. This is the first
ever suit of powered b attle armour ever seen by the human race!" He paused to let the words sink in.

Adama spoke up. "That then explains the ease with which they tore apart Cylon Centurions." He suppressed a shudder.
"If our Marines ever encounter this stuff..."

"Yeah, Admiral. Gunny Mathias and Lieutenant Burrell said similar things when I told them what this stuff was," Tyrol
said. "I must admit the hind claw had me puzzled for a bit. Then I saw some of the footage of these things in action, with
one of them using some kind of flying kick to rip open a Centurion's lower abdomen with the claw."

He then threw up another slide showing a close up of the suit's interior. "This suit is also designed to operate in
vacuum," he said, "and appears to be controlled by a system of sensors that enables the suit to imitate what the
wearer's muscles are doing. It also has a set of integral jets that allow the suit to jump up to one hundred metres. The
suit also enhances the strength of the wearer, thus enabling it to perform the feats we saw on the security camera
footage.

"The suit is incredibly tough. The one we have had already taken several rounds to its torso and limbs from some pretty
heavy ordinance. Doctor Cottle tells me that the impact from one round actually broke the alien's arm. However, we found
something that Doctor Cottle identified as a complete integral medical pack that applies various forms of medication
immediately to a wounded fighter. Lieutenant Burrell commented that this means that the wearers of this kind of gear
can keep going even while suffering from wounds that would halt one of us or, as Lieutenant Agathon pointed out, a
humaniform Cylon. Its only weakness is the visor, where if you fire enough rounds at it it would eventually shatter. The
problem is it would take a lot of ammunition to do this.'

Tyrol shut down the slides and activated the video projector. "This is some footage of a test we performed with the suit's
actuators. I might add that Fleet Procurement was looking at developing a one-man cargo handling frame for the shifting
of heavy items on the flight deck of a battlestar, so the principles of this suit were not all that unfamiliar."

He keyed on footage of a flight deck crewmember wearing the arm assemblies from the suit. "Eerily enough, our hands
and arms fit, but of course we can't wear the rest of the suit," he said. He fell silent as the footage started.

The crewmember, trailing what was clearly improvised power runs from each arm assembly, walked over to a
workbench and picked up a metre-long length of solid tubular bar stock, the kind used as bracing on a battlestar's main
hull. He held in both hands, and then, using only his forearms, bent the bar into a horseshoe shape. A startled murmur
rose from the audience as he then straightened the bar out. Putting the bar down, he then picked up a piece of three-inch
high-pressure tubing. Holding it in both hands, he turned towards the camera, and crushed one end of it with his right
hand. He then held it by the left hand only, showing the crushed end towards the camera.

"We also performed a test with some stress gauges enclosed within identical piping," Tyrol said. "Those things have a
crushing power in excess of three tonnes." He again paused to let the murmuring that had arisen die down. "Yet it is also
quite clear that they can be used to handle quite delicate objects. I'm looking at putting together a proposal for the
Admiral's consideration on salvaging some more of these suits so we can modify them for use by the flight deck crew in
repairing our small craft."

"Do you think they will be that useful, Chief?" asked Adama.

"Yes, sir, I do," he said. "I can think of hundreds of situations where equipment like this could have made all sorts of
tasks much easier for my crews. Holding wing assemblies while we replace damaged wings or even strip whole
engines out of damaged Vipers, for instance. We calculate that, suitably modified, this gear could let just one tech move
a Viper engine all by himself, and hold it in place while another bolts it in."

"All right, Chief. Put it together and send it to me, and I'll look at it." Adama looked over at Roslyn. "I'll have to run it past the
President, though, since this could mean we spend more time in this system than we had planned on."

"Yes, sir. I should add that we are still examining the rest of the suit: there's stuff in there that we have no idea about what
it does. We think we've found something analogous to DRADIS, but it also seems to do much more than that.
"The next item is the energy weapon that was found with the alien." Tyrol keyed off the video and flashed up another slide
onto the screen. "This is an energy weapon, something I had also until now associated with pulp science fiction. It
operates by emitting bursts of coherent light at a very high level of energy, enough to cut through fairly thick metal. We use
similar, but much less powerful, devices as training aids, surveying tools and aiming devices, to name just a few uses. I
have since found out that the Colonial Fleet had been examining their use as weapons, but that there were several
obstacles in the way at our level of technology.

"Experiments with the weapon found that it was easily capable of penetrating the hull casing of either a Viper or a Raptor,
and quite easily penetrated the kinds of ballistic body armour our Marines use. Evidence was found on the derelict base
star that it could penetrate bulkheads, and we have just seen footage of what it can do to Centurion-calibre armour. We
have also found that it is a selective-fire weapon, much like Colonial Fleet issue longarms, and is powered by a compact
energy cell. We have also found that, by making some slight modifications to our connectors, we can actually recharge
the cell using the charging equipment we employ in charging the power cells in our small craft."

"Now that is excellent news," said Tigh. "That alone would warrant us going back to that hulk. We recover as many of
these things as we can, issue them to our Marines and we no longer have to fear being boarded by Cylon chrome-jobs."

"But can we maintain them?" asked Adama.

"Apart from keeping the cells charged, no, sir," Tyrol answered. Not unless we went into an in-depth analysis of how the
weapon is constructed, especially its emitter rod. And again, unless we can work out what the power cell is made of, we
won't be able to replace them. However, seeing the number of dead aliens we saw on the area of the base star we were
in, I'd say that we could easily equip a rapid reaction force of Marines with these weapons and keep them in power cells.
I'd love to be able to fit them to our Vipers but..."

"Thank you, Chief, for your presentation," said Adama. "The information you have given us will feature prominently in any
discussions we may have about returning to the derelict." He looked at Apollo. "Are there any more presentations to be
made, Major Adama?"

Apollo nodded. "Doctor Cottle has some information both on his dissection of the alien and on the samples taken from
the inhabitable planet the survey of the inner system found," he said. "Then Lieutenants Gaeta and Agathon have some
more information about what they have found in the Cylon memory core." He nodded at Cottle, and stepped aside as the
doctor took the podium.

Cottle addressed the gathering in his gravelly, terse manner. "Although I could easily see why the boarding party thought
the dead alien was a giant lizard," he began, "my examination proved that, while it does have some kind of reptilian
ancestry, it is nothing of the sort. The dead alien is in fact warm-blooded, just like us. It is, however, definitely not
mammalian. It appears to be something completely new to us." He paused to let his statement sink in.

"Examination of what was left of its head revealed a large cranium containing the remains of a highly-developed cerebral
structure. Put simply, this thing is smart, and in all likelihood at least as smart as us. An examination of its teeth indicates
that it is omnivorous, again like us, but has a carnivore as an ancestor, unlike us.

"I then looked at its musculature. This thing is definitely stronger than a human, and may be as strong as a humaniform
Cylon. The muscles in its legs suggest that this thing is quick, and its overall build suggests exceptional agility. I did
some number crunching and worked out that this thing could easily move at a speed of between sixty-four and eighty
kilometres per hour." A murmur swept through the gathering. "I consulted with Lieutenant Agathon and she told me that
this means that it could easily outrun a humaniform Cylon.

"However, the real kicker came when I examined its genetic material. This thing employs the exact same DNA structure
as do all forms of life that are familiar to us. I then compared it to our own, and was amazed to discover that, according to
the evidence, the ancestors of this creature and our own ancestors evolved on the same planet, b ut millions of years
apart! Yet we have no evidence at all of anything even remotely like this thing ever being on any planet humanity has
ever occupied!" A stunned silence swept over the assembly.

Laura Roslyn then spoke up. "There are mentions in the Sacred Scrolls of creatures that are called 'dragons'," she said
in a shaky voice. "Could this be a ... dragon?"

Cottle snorted. "I had the same thought," he said, "reflecting on what we found on Kobol. However, when I looked I saw
that there were warnings against what were called 'dragons'. I also saw that some descriptions generally matched our
dead alien friend, while others mentioned scales, wings and a fiery breath. They do not, however, say that humanity ever
shared a planet with them, but that they had similar origins. However, I'm leaving that up to the theologians.

"And if that wasn't enough, my examination of the remains of the brain found this." He flashed up a slide on the screen.
There, next to a graduated scale showing its size, was a square object. On its surface the unmistakeable marks of
integrated circuitry could easily be seen.

"Is that..." began Roslyn.

Cottle nodded. "Yes, Madame President. That is a computer chip of some kind. I found it attached to the brainstem.
Lieutenant Agathon tells me that it is far, far more sophisticated than anything she knows of. And when a Cylon says that,
then I'm scared." He took a drink of water from a glass that stood on the podium. "Our best guess is that it ran off of the
body's own bioelectricity. It's construction appears top be partly organic matter.

"On a rather unrelated matter, I also have the results of my examination of the air, water and soil samples taken from the
inhabitable planet. Turns out that it is inhabitable after all. There are no pathogens, tailored or otherwise, that are a
serious health threat to the Fleet." He stepped back from the podium.

Apollo again took the podium. "Thank you, Doctor Cottle," he said, "for that... edifying presentation. I would like Lieutenant
Agathon to tell us about the additional data she and Mr. Gaeta managed to extract from the Cylon memory core." He
stepped away as Athena took the podium.

"Since Chief Tyrol seems enthusiastic about going back to the derelict I should add some relevant data about its
condition that I extracted from the data core's damage control files," she said. "Although it looks as though it was badly
shot up, and has no functioning artificial gravity or life support, the derelict is actually in pretty good shape. The reasons it
lost power and life support is because the Hybrid eventually lost its fight against the invasive software package. However,
before that could happen, the Hybrid managed to jump the base star to its current location quite randomly. It was only
after it had arrived in this system that the package took over.

"The reason the base star did not self-destruct was because that was one of the first things the invasive package took
out. It then went about taking out the weapons systems. Some of the smaller gun emplacements were destroyed, but the
data core makes it quite clear that was done when the alien boarding party started its assault. Basically, the weapons
systems on the base star are intact. So, too are the magazines, the power generating plants, the tylium reactor cores
and, most importantly of all, the hyperdrive."

Silence gripped the room. Then Adama said, "So, you're telling us that, except for the damage we have seen, the base
star is virtually intact?"

"Yes, sir," said Athena. "Hyperdrive, manoeuvring engines, weapons systems, reactor cores, power plants, the lot. And,
because this type of base star was designed to be almost self-sufficient, so too are its manufacturing plants. All they
need is energy, some repairs to the hull to establish vacuum-tight seals, and a clean computer system to operate."

Again silence gripped the room. Then Adama turned and faced his son. "Major Adama," he said. "Given that you are
familiar with the information that has been given to you, if we decided to salvage this vessel, what would it do for the
Fleet's capabilities?"

Apollo stepped forward. "Assuming that we eventually managed to repair the base star fully, it would give us a ship that
has all of the capabilities of a Mercury-class battlestar," he said, "built with technology not too far removed from either the
Galactica or an early-model Valkyrie," he said. "We would have the capability to manufacture pretty much anything we
needed. In addition, it would give us a ship that has a much greater internal cubic capacity than Galactica, which would
help ease crowding on several other ships in the Fleet." He paused, and then added, "There is also a sizeable asteroid
belt outside the orbit of the fifth planet in this system. It was overlooked, for understandable reasons, in the initial survey.
The Fleet's mining ship, escorted by one Raptor and three Vipers went out to perform a quick survey and found that there
are plenty of resources that the Fleet can use if we do decide to repair the base ship."

Adama shot his son a sharp look. "You think we should repair the base star, then, Major?

Apollo looked his father steadily in the eye. "Only presenting the President and yourself with as many options as
possible, sir."

Athena again spoke up. "It appears that this ship was in the process of launching its raiders when the invasive package
struck," she said. So, it turns out that she also has nearly a full wing of the last generation of Cylon Raiders prior to the
latest models on board. Of course, their piloting intelligences are long dead, but Major Adama, Chief Tyrol and I believe
that, with some work, we could modify them to be piloted by humans." Another silence took hold of the room as all
assembled there took in the importance of what had been said.

"So you're saying that in addition to a virtually intact base star, we also have almost a wing of Raiders?" said Adama.
"Yes, sir," said Athena. She didn't elaborate on her answer.

Adama sat back in his chair, visibly turning this new piece of information over in his head. Then he turned to Gaeta, who
was the only one who hadn't spoken. "Well, Mr. Gaeta," he said, "virtually every one else has delivered at least one
bombshell, so we might as well hear what you have to say." He waited as Gaeta moved up to the podium.

Gaeta nervously cleared his throat. "Well, Madame President, Admiral. My role was basically to assist Lieutenant
Agathon in decoding the memory core. The... invasive package was a surprise to both of us, but we have managed to
isolate it and I am studying it so as to work out an effective defence against it and with an eye towards using it against
our pursuers.

"However, it was while looking at some records not pertaining to the combat that this base ship had been involved in that
I found out something interesting. You see, this ship was part of a group of six base ships that were exploring this area.
About a day before they were attacked, a damaged Raider from the other group of six base stars, followed shortly after by
two more, were recovered by the Cylon force. Their reports were downloaded and stored in the memory core.

"It appears that they were the survivors of a preliminary probe that was examining a system some distance from where
they were picked up. During the course of that exploration they encountered a force of around twenty vessels, each about
one hundred tons in displacement. These vessels just suddenly appeared on the Cylon DRADIS without warning and
effectively locked them up with some kind of targeting array. At the same time they broadcast on several frequencies a
challenge in several languages. One of them bore a strong resemblance to Classical Colonial."

Adama shifted in his seat. "Do you have a recording of this transmission, Mr. Gaeta?" he asked.

Gaeta nodded. "I'll play it for you now, sir." He touched a button on the podium. After a brief hiss of static the assembled
group heard a strangely accented voice come out of the speaker. Adama caught several words that he understood, but
Laura Roslyn listened with great interest. After a while, the recording stopped.

"Do you understand what he was saying, Mr. Gaeta?" said Adama.

"I did," said Roslyn. "Classical Colonial was one of my subjects at university. However, this sounds like it had been put
through some kind of machine. Some of the grammatical intonations were just a bit odd."

"I had some understanding of it, Madame President," said Gaeta, "but I'm afraid that Classical Colonial wasn't exactly on
the curriculum at the Academy."

"Well, he identified himself by some rank I couldn't get, a commander of some sort," Roslyn said. "But he also identified
himself as belonging to something called the 'Great King's Terran Navy,' or something like that. The word he actually
used, and I'm sure I've got the pronunciation wrong, was 'Imperator's', or something like that."

"Interesting," Adama said. "So we may have yet another set of aliens to deal with."

Roslyn shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm not making myself clear, Admiral," she said. "The word 'Terran', is, I'm sure, a
derivation of the Classical Colonial word 'Terra', which is a word meaning 'dry land', or... Earth."

A stunned silence fell across the room as the implications of Roslyn's statement sank in. Then Tigh shook himself. "My
Gods!" he said. "Are you telling us that the Cylons may have found Earth?"

Roslyn shook her head. "Not from what I got of that message," she said. "This 'Flying Commander Thums', I think it was,
said that they were in a system claimed by the Thirteenth Tribe, if that is who these 'Terrans' are," she said. "That argues
quite strongly that they may have several systems under their control."

Gaeta nodded. "From what I could gather, that seems to be the case," he said. "Anyway, it seems that the Cylons may
have come to the same conclusion, because the combat record indicates that they tried a computer hack on these
'Terrans'. It seems, however, that it failed, because the next transmission said something about it being considered an
'act of war'. I'm pretty sure I got that bit right. After that, the record indicates that at least two Raiders jumped out system to
where their base stars were and brought them back.

"When they arrived they found a fully-fledged battle going on, with the Cylons getting the rough end of things. It seems
that these 'Terrans' also have a wide array of energy weapons, including a point defence system, plus a superior type of
armour and, unbelievably, some kind of energy field that they use to protect their ships from enemy fire."

"An energy field." By now, Adama was beginning to feel somewhat numb under the constant bombardment of revelations
that challenged his perception of the universe. By the looks on their faces, so were Tigh, President Roslyn and all the
others in the audience.
"Er, yes sir. But that's not all. These vessels were joined by a squadron of interceptors that make our Mk VIII Vipers look
pretty ill in comparison. They too, had better armour, these energy shields and also a wide array of energy weapons.
Together, the two groups started to conduct a fighting withdrawal towards an unknown destination, and the Cylons
followed. Judging from what I could glean from the core, the Hybrids had decided that they were dealing with Earth's
fleet, and were going for the kill.

"The Earth ship's defences were, however, not so perfect. Two of the larger vessels fell out of formation, having suffered
some damage. They immediately came about and launched a suicide run on the nearest base star, launching six
missiles that were far larger than anything we've ever seen carried on small ships. These turned out to be carrying very
large nuclear warheads. They detonated some distance away from the base star. This was deliberate, as the data core
revealed that these nuclear warheads each generated several very powerful lasers that apparently were in the x-ray
spectrum. I have been able to determine that the Colonial Fleet's R and D department were investigating this as a
weapons system at the time of the Cylon attack.

"At any rate, these weapons did cause the lead base star to fall behind the others. The running battle lasted for two
hours before it came in sight of a large structure, which, because of the size of it and the size of the two vessels covering
it, the Cylons assumed was some kind of base station. Then, it jumped a short distance away."

"How large was this structure, and how big were the supporting vessels?" asked Adama.

"The structure, which had a very wide array of defensive weapons and seemed to be some sort of base ship, was three
thousand metres in length," answered Gaeta. "The two ships were easily the size of a battlestar."

"Gods!" said Tigh, "that's one huge frakking ship!"

"When this ship jumped away eight other ships were revealed. They just suddenly appeared on the Cylons' DRADIS
screens," Gaeta said. "Four of them were the same size as the one that had jumped away, but they flanked four bigger
ships. Each of the four bigger ships was four thousand metres long.

"But that was nothing compared to the firepower these ships suddenly produced. The Cylon DRADIS simply went white
tracking the insane number of missiles these eight ships fired. And, it turned out that they all were tipped with warheads
identical in type to the ones fired earlier in the action by the two smaller ships, except that they were much larger. When
the screen cleared only one base star was left, and that was quickly finished off by several of the one hundred tonne
ships. The only reason the raiders survived is because they were out of the direct line of fire and jumped out when they
had a chance."

Silence again fell across the thoroughly benumbed audience. Then Roslyn shook herself and looked around. "People,"
she said, "if, and I do say if, these 'Terrans' are the Thirteenth Tribe, it is clear that they have not only survived their exodus
from Kobol, but have thrived. However, it is a big assumption to assume they are the Thirteenth Tribe simply because the
word they use to describe their nation means 'Earth.'

"That aside, we have several questions to answer. First, how do we find them? Second, how do we approach them for
help? What will their response to an approach for help be? Will they help us at all, or will they simply turn their backs on
us? And how will they view us?"

"Gods, yes," said Tigh. "If their technology is anything like what we've seen so far, we're going to look very much country
cousins to them! That is assuming they even condescend to talk to us in the first place, let alone us finding them!"

"On that note, Mr. Gaeta," said Adama, "do you have any idea where we could find them? Or at least the system that this
second engagement you've told us about took place. I think we're all agreed that we don't want to run into any living
examples of these... 'dragons', for want of a better term."

Gaeta took a nervous sip from the glass of water at the podium. "Well, Admiral, the, er, 'dragons' are actually a lot closer
than you might expect. The overflight by the Raptors of the inhabitable world has found signs of a settlement on one
continent. A lower reconnaissance run showed that it was at a primitive level, and that it was made up of these 'dragons'.
We are presuming that they are quite likely the survivors of the boarding party and their descendents.

"As to finding the system the Cylons encountered the Terrans in, I have managed to download the stellar charts that the
Cylons were making of this area of space. I have yet to compare them fully with the charts we've been making, but I may
be able to locate both systems, given enough time."

Gaeta stepped back from the podium. Apollo took his place and said, "This brings our briefing presentation to a close. If
the various teams find out more information, they will inform Galactica's XO as well as President Roslyn's chief aide.
Thank you for your patience."

Laura Roslyn got up. So did Adama, Tigh and the rest of the audience. Roslyn turned and faced Adama. "Well, Admiral, I
don't know about you, but I feel that I'm going to have to take some time to simply absorb what I've heard today before I
make any decisions that could affect the Fleet."

Adama nodded. "Me, too," he said. He gestured towards the briefing room door. "If you wish, Madame President, I'll
escort you to your ship. Perhaps we could discuss some of what we've heard on the way there."

Roslyn smiled. "Thank you, Admiral." Turning, she walked out of the briefing room, followed by Adama and their
respective staffs.
*Chapter 5*: Chapter 4
Chapter Four

As they walked through Galactica's maze of internal corridors towards where Colonial One was docked, both Adama and
Roslyn were deep in thought. Then, suddenly, Roslyn turned towards Adama. "So, Admiral," she said, "what do you
propose to do about the derelict base star?"

Adama was taken aback by this sudden question. Surprisingly, he found that it acted as an aid to his thought processes.
His brow furrowed as he thought about his answer to the President's sudden question. Finally, he turned his head
towards Roslyn and said "I haven't really thought it out in full yet. But I am beginning to think that we should make a virtue
out of our current situation."

"'A virtue out of our current situation,'" Roslyn slowly repeated. "In what way, Admiral?"

"Well, for once I would like to make a jump that isn't totally based on what we have so far managed to glean from the star
chart we found on Kobol or out of oblique passages from the Sacred Scrolls," he said. "In addition, I think it would also
be an excellent idea if we can find out just where the Cylons encountered the 'dragons.'"

Roslyn suppressed a shudder at the memory of what she had just seen. "I won't argue with that, Admiral."

"By doing this, we increase our chances of avoiding a similar encounter," continued Adama. "Also, the longer we give Mr.
Gaeta to put together a useable star chart of our own from what is contained in the Cylon memory core plus our own
observations, the better our chances of perhaps finding an outpost of the Thirteenth Tribe."

"A very good point, Admiral. But that still doesn't deal with what we will do when we find them," Roslyn said. "Much as I
am afraid to admit it, Colonel Tigh could be right in what he said about a contact with them, especially if they've advanced
so far ahead of us. They could decide that the Cylons aren't their problem."

"I'm not too sure about that, Madame President," Adama said. "The Cylon expedition out this way did attack them
unprovoked. What I'm concerned about is their reaction when they do find out about the origins of the Cylons. But I think
that's a discussion for the future, when we know a lot more. In the meantime, I intend to put what material resources
we've found in this system to good use."

"In what way, Admiral?"

"We have a perfectly good planet that is, thank the Gods, quite safe for us to land on. It's been quite a while since we
actually had an inhabitable planet to refresh our supplies of fresh water and good air from. We also have an asteroid belt
that appears to have readily exploitable mineral resources. I intend to make good use of this opportunity."

"So, I take it you intend to refresh some of our supplies," said Roslyn.

"As much as is possible," said Adama. "I intend to examine the data from the survey run on the inhabitable planet in
order to find a largish body of fresh water, as far away from the 'dragon' settlement as possible. Once I've found that, I
intend to draw up a roster for ships from the Fleet to land to take on fresh water and air. While that is happening, it might
also be a good opportunity for the Fleet's civilians to stretch their legs on the surface of a planet. At the same time our
mining and refinery vessels can go to the asteroid belt to get as much mineral resources as possible in the time
allowed. We were looking for mineral and ice deposits in any case, so we might as well make good use of this
opportunity."

"Put that way, Admiral, I think I must agree with what you're saying," Roslyn said. "And I must admit that a short stretch on
the surface of a planet would do wonders for the Fleet's morale. But you still haven't answered my question."

"And that is...?"

"Just what do you propose to do about the derelict base star?"

Adama halted, and threw back his head in thought. "That, I haven't fully decided, yet," he admitted. "Although..." His voice
trailed off as he thought about the question. Then he turned to Tigh. "Saul, can you go and ask Athena if she can find a
stores inventory on the memory core?"

"A stores inventory? Sure Admiral, but I..." Tigh's voice trailed off as the implications of Adama's question hit him. "Of
course!" he said. "Those things were originally intended as mobile base and fleet support stations until the Cylons
rebelled and turned them against us! They were basically designed to be pretty much self-sufficient like the Mercurys."

Adama nodded. "Of course I'll wait until I see Tyrol's proposal, but we just might be able to turn this to our advantage as
well," he said. "The Chief could lead a party to the derelict to salvage what we can find. And while he's at it..."

"He could also see what the toasters have stored in that hulk," Tigh finished. "If you don't mind, Madame President,
Admiral, I'll go and put Athena on it right away." Tigh nodded to the both of them and moved off.

Roslyn looked after Tigh's departing figure, and then turned to Adama. "Well, that answers part of my question," she said.
"But do you seriously think you'll find much of any use on that derelict?"

Adama shrugged. "It's worth a gamble," he said as they continued down the hallway.

Roslyn looked at Adama sideways. "You don't really strike me as the gambling type," she said. "More of a planner than a
gambler."

Adama shrugged. " Most military leaders are gamblers," he said. "The difference between us and civilian gamblers is
that we try and reduce the element of chance as much as possible. But, in the end, there always remains the element of
a gamble in any military enterprise. The key is to try and pick the gambles worth making."

"Do you think this is one worth taking?"

"We've not seen any signs of Cylon activity for some time now," Adama said. "Hopefully they've run into the living relatives
of our dead alien friend and are too busy to care about us. But that doesn't mean I'll stop looking."

They eventually reached Colonial One's dock. Roslyn turned and said to Adama, "Well, I must admit that today has been
quite illuminating. It has given me much to think about. And I suspect in saying that I'm speaking for the both of us."

Adama grinned at the understatement. "You could say that." He stood to one side to let the President board her ship. "I'll
forward copies of both Chief Tyrol's proposal, when I get it, as well as copies of all the material in today's presentation to
you as soon as possible. And, since I am expecting a proposal for salvaging the Cylon ship from my son, I'll forward a
copy of that when I get it as well."

"Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate that very much. As I said, I have a fair bit of thinking to do about what I've learned today.
I'll probably... no, make that will want to have a meeting with you, Colonel Tigh and Major Adama on that topic when it
does arise. When I do, I'll let you know and we can arrange a time for it." She hesitated, reluctant to say what she had to.
Eventually, she steeled herself and said, "Of course, you do realise that Vice-President Zarek will have to be present at
this meeting as well, simply because of the need to ensure continuity of government should something happen to me."

Adama nodded. "Much as I dislike the man, I do appreciate the circumstances that require his presence there. Don't
worry, I'll behave myself."

The reconnaissance drone had b y now managed to position itself where it could unob trusively ob serve the unknown
ships b efore it. In doing so it had entered the effective range of the sensor suite of one of the b igger vessels in the fleet.
From the radio chatter its passive receptors had picked up, that vessel was most definitely a warship. However, the
drone's AI had also determined that, thanks to the impressive stealth capab ilities its creators had b uilt into it, it was
effectively invisib le to the unknown's sensor package.

That didn't mean, however, that it was undetectab le. The drone's b uilders were well aware ab out the old adage ab out
"Eyeb all, Mark 1". Admittedly that was b ased on the presumption that a hypothetical ob server would know where to look,
b ut then, the b uilders of the Terran Empire's reconnaissance drones did not b elieve in trusting to luck. So they b uilt their
drones to resemb le large lumps of interstellar rock that gave off, if it was scanned, the signature of a piece of meteoric
nickel-iron. And if b y chance it was found b y an asteroid miner, the drone was equipped with a self-destruct mechanism
that, rather than destroying the drone in a spectacular explosion (and thus letting its discoverers know they had b een
spied upon) simply fused its components into an undifferentiated lump.

Having settled itself into its ob servation position, the drone kept a track of the individual ships of the fleet via the constant
radio chatter and the emissions its passive sensors picked up from the various drives and power sources. It catalogued
them b y type, recorded every conversation it picked up, and tracked their movements. Every so often it would send a
b urst transmission to its new mothership, relayed either b y one of the other drones or b y the transmission relay (which
was also disguised as a lump of interplanetary matter) that it had deployed on its run into the inner system. Occasionally
it received additional instructions from its mothership's AI telling it to look for particular pieces of data.

Although a far more sophisticated AI than anything the memb ers of the fleet it was ob serving had ever encountered, the
drone did not possess the integrated personality that a ship's AI did. It b asically performed its functions unquestioningly,
using the wide latitude it had for individual initiative it possessed to do so. Its energy cells were designed to last for a very
long time, b ut if for some reason it were unab le to b e recovered, it would use its last energy reserves to self-destruct, and
thus removing any trace that a reconnaissance mission had ever b een undertaken in this particular system.

The communications plate on 'Ab al's desk chimed. She b linked, and using her virtual keyb oard and mouse, saved the
work she was doing. To an ob server, it would have appeared that she was typing on her desktop and looking at empty air.
Blinking again, she turned towards the communications plate.

"Answer," she said. Immediately an image of her flag lieutenant appeared over the plate.

"Have you got some news for me, Andy?" she said.

"We've just finished processing the latest update from the drone, Ma'am," he replied. "Avicenna's managed to put
together a fairly impressive dictionary from the transmission intercepts we've received so far. He says, however, that there
are still some gaps, plus some unfamiliar words that could either b e slang or technical terms. He's also suggested that
we may want to deploy a couple of the drones that are closer to the inner system to cover the unknown's fleet once
they've finished their sweep."

'Ab al put the tips of her fingers under her chin as she though ab out the suggestion. "I see no reason why we couldn't," she
said. "Any signs of Raptor activity?"

"None so far," said Morgan. "In fact, the intercepts we've received from the unknown fleet indicate that they are actually in
orb it around an inhab itab le planet and are exploring the asteroid b elt for resources."

"Hmm. So, they could b e a colonisation expedition then?"

"If it is, it's the strangest colonisation expedition I've ever seen," said Morgan. "The transmissions show us one warship,
which appears to b e some kind of a fighter carrier. There are also references to mining and refinery vessels, b ut so far we
haven't b een ab le to detect any sign of a dedicated colonisation ship."

"Now that is unusual," 'Ab al said. "Have they shown any sign of making planetfall?"

"No, Ma'am. Just some flyovers with what appear to b e EW craft of some kind."

'Ab al sat b ack and turned this information over in her head. "Interesting," she said. "It could b e that their military also
doub les as a survey corps. However, one would expect them to have dedicated survey vessels for the job rather than EW
craft. What is the b reakdown of the other ships in the fleet?"

"A real grab -b ag of ships, Ma'am," Morgan replied. "And I do mean grab -b ag. There are a lot of freighters, some
passenger ships, and even what appears to b e their equivalent of a short-haul passenger ship, performing the function of
an old-fashioned air liner of the late 20th-early to mid 21st Centuries. There even appears to b e a prison transport
amongst them."

"A prison transport? Not that is interesting. Could it b e that they may b e planning on estab lishing a colony along the lines
of the old Botany Bay penal settlement b ack on Earth?"

"I don't think so, Ma'am," said Morgan. "The ship mix just feels wrong, somehow. And they are keeping an extremely tight
sensor watch over the fleet. However, it is most definitely not a military convoy: there's too much civilian chatter for that."

"Could it b e a refugee fleet?" asked 'Ab al.

"The mix would fit that of a refugee fleet, Ma'am. It looks as if they just grab b ed a random assortment of vessels and lit
out. Of course I could b e wrong and it is a colonisation fleet. I just don't think we have enough data to make a decision
one way or another."

"Damn. And the regulations on First Contact are pretty explicit when it comes to human or hominid civilisations," said
'Ab al. The Imperial Navy's First Contact protocols explicitly stated that contact only b e estab lished with civilisations
capab le of interstellar flight only after a period of ob servation determined the inherent level of its social stab ility. The
example of the Redan System featured prominently as an example of what could go wrong. "This situation really requires
a team of anthropologists who are infiltration trained," she said, "not a light cruiser squadron on a sweep for Raptor
activity."

"The squadron is going to require a decision soon, Ma'am," Morgan said.

'Ab al grimaced. "Don't remind me," she said. The odds are that I'll have to detach one of the ships to take a message
b ack to Sandoval Base ab out this. In addition, I'll have to decide not just if b ut how we contact them. I can just imagine
how they're going to react to me coming up and saying 'Hi! We're your elder cousins. Nice planet you've chosen! Pity it's
in an area of space where we're fighting a race of psychopathic, xenophob ic lizards who want nothing more than to
exterminate the entire human race!' That's going to go down real well!"

Morgan suppressed a chuckle. "I'm sure it wont b e quite that b ad, Ma'am," he said.

'Ab al shot him a sour look. "No, it'll prob ab ly b e worse," she said. She sighed and straightened up. "Assign one
additional drone to cover the other side of the fleet," she said. "Keep me informed of any developments, and when I know
a b it more ab out the situation, I'll convene a meeting of ship captains. Hopefully we might b e ab le to get some ideas
ab out how to handle this situation."

"I'll get on it right away. Morgan, clear." His image disappeared from ab ove the plate.

'Ab al b linked, and looked at the space ab ove her desk where her virtual display had reappeared. "Whoever said that
command isn't easy didn't know zip," she muttered sourly. "At least they didn't know ab out a situation like this." Sighing,
she returned to her routine paperwork.

Presidential Suite, Colonial One, Colonial Refugee Fleet, Two Days Later.

"Admiral Adama', Colonel Tigh's and Major Adama's transport has just arrived, Madame President."

"Thank you. Please bring them up to my suite as soon as they have disembarked." Laura Roslyn turned to her Vice-
President, Tom Zarek. "Tom, thank you for coming to this meeting. Your input will be valued."

Zarek smiled. "Thank you, Laura. I just hope my news on the rumours circulating throughout the Fleet will not be too
disruptive."

"I don't think they'll be disruptive," Roslyn said. "In fact, they may well help concentrate our minds on what to do. And I
think you're right: we will have to have a press conference sometime after we've made our decisions so as to quell the
rumour mill."

"I just hope the Admiral will see just why we will have to do this. The lack of any verifiable news is just furling the rumour
mill even more than if we give out any information," replied Zarek.

Just then, the Presidential Aide who had informed Roslyn of the arrival of the Adamas and Tigh led them into the suite.
Roslyn walked up to Adama. "Gentlemen, I thank you for coming to this meeting on such short notice," she said.

Adama smiled. "Madame President, it was no trouble. I had been expecting your call since last night, and had made
sure that Colonel Tigh and Major Adama were ready to attend," he said.

"Good," said Roslyn. "You all know Vice-President Zarek. He is here at my instigation as, since he is next in line to the
Presidency, I felt that his presence here was necessary just in case the line of succession needs to be acted on." All
three officers kept their faces neutral and said nothing. "Gentlemen, shall we sit down?" Roslyn led the group over to a
conversation area that had been created around a small table. The three officers sat down in the armchairs while Roslyn
and Zarek sat on the couch.

"Admiral, I've read both Chief Tyrol's and Major Adama's proposals, and, while I can see the potential benefit of each to
the Fleet, I must also say that I do agree with you on the risk we must take," Roslyn said. "So, I'm going to ask you to
justify the risk."

"We are already taking a risk waiting here while we manage to put together a useable star chart from the information
we've gleaned from the Cylon memory core, Madame President," Adama said. "Chief Tyrol's proposal really does not
substantially add to that risk, and may well benefit the Fleet in the long run. In fact, the viability of the Chief's proposal has
been increased with the discovery of a stores inventory in the memory core."

"And what exactly was found in that inventory, Admiral?" Roslyn asked.

Adama turned to Tigh. "Colonel Tigh is probably better placed to answer that question," he said, "Saul, if you would?"

Tigh reached into the dispatch case he was carrying and drew out a folder. "The Cylon base star, according to the
inventory we found, was fully stocked," he said. "It appears that they had made some stops on the path they had followed
into this area of space to replenish their material supplies after they had established some temporary outposts."
"Do you mean that the Cylons have bases in this area?" Roslyn asked.

"No, Madame President," Tigh said. "The Cylons basically established them as small outposts that they could later build
bases around, if need be. However, once they had replenished the materials they had used in establishing them, they
mothballed them and moved on," he said. "Their locations were recorded in the memory core we retrieved, so, if need
be, we could find them and put them to use.

"Anyway, the stores on the derelict basically include materials we would have to not only have to mine but also refine
ourselves," he said. "Hull plating, cables, control conduits, even armour plus the materials we would need to sweat it
onto a ship. If we got an opportunity we could use the Cylon armour to replace the damaged plates on Galactica."

"I see. Colonel, assuming that you find all of this equipment, just how would you transport it back to the Fleet?" asked
Roslyn.

"We could rotate some of the freighters through," Tigh said. "And we would also take the Astral Queen and ask her
passengers to help with the materials recovery."

"So you intend to use men who have finished their sentences as a labour force again," said Zarek. "Forgive me if I don't
sound all that enthusiastic about that ides."

"They would be doing work in exchange for some goods from the derelict as well as longer spells on the planet, "Adama
said. "In fact, if we go ahead with this proposal, Astral Queen would have an extended spell on the surface."

Zarek thought about this statement, and then nodded. "Put that way, I cannot find fault," he said. "I'll speak to the men
about it and tell them of your offer."

"Anyway. At the same time chief Tyrol leads a mixed crew consisting of Fleet and Marines through the derelict salvaging
what alien devices they can," said Tigh. "Those will be placed on a Raptor and brought back to Galactica."

"And thus keeping alien weapons out of the hands of those you don't fully trust," said Zarek. "Neat."

Roslyn shot Zarek a quelling look. "And how much material would we recover?" she asked.

"If the inventory is correct, enough to replace what we lost on New Caprica several times over," replied Tigh. "That all
depends, of course, on the amount of time and if it's all there."

"'If it's all there'. And is there any reason why it may not be all there?" asked Roslyn.

"The overflight of the 'dragon' settlement showed that its core consisted of several of the vessels we saw embedded in
the derelict's hull," said Adama. "These were surrounded by buildings built out of both local materials and items that look
as though they came from the base star. Since we believe that these are the survivors and their descendants, it is logical
that they may well have loaded as much as they could from the base star's stores before heading to the planet."

"And thus the need to check what may actually remain against what is actually listed on the stores inventory," said
Roslyn.

"Yes, Madame President."

"All right. If this goes ahead, what steps will be taken in order that the people working on this project will not be left
behind if the Cylons should show up?" Roslyn asked.

"A Raptor will jump out from the Fleet to the location of the derelict and inform the work party of the Cylon's appearance,"
said Tigh. "Once the derelict has been abandoned, the ships there will jump out and rejoin the Fleet at the emergency
jump point. The daily update of the jump point will be sent to the work party in exactly the same manner."

"All right. I see that you have taken as many precautions as possible to diminish the risk we would be taking in
performing this operation," said Roslyn. She turned to Zarek. "Any questions, Tom?" she asked. Zarek shook his head.
"Very well, Admiral, I agree to Chief Tyrol's proposal. Now Major," she said, turning her attention to Apollo, "I understand
that you have some ideas about salvaging the entire base star. I must admit to some trepidation about the idea, but I am
at least willing to hear your proposal. So, convince me."

Apollo stood. "Thank you, Madame President, for at least listening to my proposal " he said. "As Lieutenant Agathon said,
her examination of the Cylon memory core indicates that the vast majority of the damage we have seen on the derelict,
bad as it appears, is essentially superficial."
"Forgive me, Major, but from where I was standing, the damage I saw looked pretty severe," Roslyn said.

"I must admit that it did look severe, Madame President," Apollo said, "but an examination of the data core's combat
records indicates that the damage was done by the vessels that were used to board the base star. Incidentally, I should
add that several of those vessels remain embedded in the base star's hull and an examination of the footage that was
taken by the two Raptors that were conducting a survey of the outer hull indicate that, apart from some damage, they may
also be relatively intact. It may be possible to salvage them as well.

"However, the proposal I wish to advance is to initially bypass the suspect computer equipment and, using equipment of
our own, supplemented by material taken from the base star's own stores, to, firstly, restore power to limited areas of the
vessel. After that is done, and if the hyperdrive is still operational, we connect a computer directly to the hyperdrive and
use it to jump the base star to the Fleet's current location. Once there, we can then use the facilities provided by the
Flattop salvage-and-repair ship, as well as one of our three construction platforms to begin repairs to the base star."

"Isn't that... risky, Major?" asked Zarek. "I understand why you want to salvage this base star and, believe me, I do agree
with you that if it can be done, it would make an impressive addition to the Fleet's capabilities. But... it is a Cylon ship.
Wouldn't it take the opportunity to cause some damage to the Fleet?"

"We would only connect the hyperdrive and some internal lighting to the power generators," said Apollo. "The weapons,
which were already disabled by the alien software package, would remain disconnected. In fact, according to both the
schematic we have on file plus what Lieutenant Agathon has told me, it would be very easy for us to disable the
weapons systems. We just disconnect each individual weapons station from its integral computer core, which is
something we would have to do in any case simply to avoid the possibility of our own computer system being infected. In
addition, it would be our computer systems running both power generation and hyperdrive."

"All right, Major. I see that you have thought about the potential threat having a base star so close to the Fleet," Roslyn
said. "Assuming that we do salvage the base star and bring it to the Fleet, what would be your schedule of repairs."

"First, we would begin by repairing the doors and bulkheads around the lower flight bay and the internal core
surrounding the central control room," Apollo replied. "Once that is done, we would then re-establish life support in those
areas, and use them as a basis for gradually extending life support throughout the ship. The first area we would re-
establish life support in after the central core and lower flight bay would be the manufacturing facility onboard the base
star.

"At the same time w would also be examining the base star's weapons stations, with an eye to eventually reactivating
them. We would, however, be using standard Colonial Fleet procedures that were developed during the Cylon War for
reactivating a battlestar's weapons systems after it had been subjected to a Cylon computer virus attack. We would not
be using the same system that the Cylons used to control their weapons systems, but one of our own based on that
used by the Mercury class battlestars. This way we would ensure that the ship's weapons systems remain under human
control all the time. The only difference is that we would be using Cylon equipment."

"You said we would be using our computers to control the power and hyperdrive," said Roslyn. "Just how much of our
computer resources will this take?"

"Initially, just the two terminals needed to run the power and the hyperdrive," said Apollo. "We intend to use mainly spare
computer cores from the base star's stores. Lieutenant Agathon assures me that it is possible to load our control
programs onto the spare cores. She and Mr. Gaeta have also come up with a way to reduce the chance of a similar
attack disabling both the base star and the Galactica thanks to their own research into the original backup core."

"Well, you do seem to be quite thorough in your plan, Major," said Roslyn. "Who do you propose to put in charge of this
operation, assuming it goes ahead?"

"After discussing it with both the Admiral and Colonel Tigh, it is proposed that, once the base star is in position off
Galactica to place Colonel Tigh in charge of what will be an extensive refit," said Apollo. "Of all the officers available he is
one of the most experienced at this sort of duty, having been in charge of similar operations both on Galactica and on
other ships in the Colonial Fleet. Captain Karl Agathon will temporarily take over Colonel Tigh's duties as Galactica XO
while Colonel Tigh oversees the refit."

"And who will be placed in command of the vessel?"

"That is something that will be decided by the Admiral, Madame President."

"I see," said Roslyn. She looked at Adama. "Well, I have heard two interesting proposals today, Admiral. I would like to
hear your thoughts on them before I make a decision."
"Both proposals have their merits," said Adama," and both promise a great deal of benefit to the overall condition of the
Fleet." He shifted in his chair. "However, I think that we should combine the two and work on bringing the base star to the
Fleet." He looked at Roslyn. "Although there is a great risk in both waiting until we have reactivated the hyperdrive on the
base star and in bringing it within range of the Fleet, I think that the benefit of not just having a vessel with its
manufacturing facilities but also a ship that has its impressive firepower as a part of the Fleet outweighs the risks."

Roslyn looked back. "I take it this is along the lines of what you told me the other day," she said.

"You could say that," Adama replied.

Roslyn turned to Zarek. "Tom?" she asked.

Zarek looked at Adama. Adama simply looked back at him. For an instant, a flash of shared recognition occurred
between the two men. Then Zarek said, "Madame President, I agree with the Admiral. It sounds as if every possible
precaution regarding any risk from the base star has been taken. And, I too think that the potential benefits outweigh the
potential risks."

For a minute, silence reigned throughout the room. Then Roslyn stood up. The others stood up with her. "Gentlemen,
after hearing both the proposals and the considered opinions of all in this room, I believe that we shall go ahead with the
proposal to salvage the derelict base star." She looked at Adama. "I now understand what you were talking about the
other day."

Adama nodded his head. "Thank you, Madame President. With your permission, we'll return to Galactica and set things
in motion."

"There is one other thing we have to deal with, Admiral," Roslyn said. At Adama's querying look, she said, "Vice-
President Zarek has suggested that we hold a press conference to inform the Fleet of what is happening. It appears the
rumour mill is churning somewhat more vigorously than normal."

Zarek nodded. "Some of the rumours that have been brought to my attention have been rather more lurid than normal,"
he said. "Pretty much all of them deal with both Galactica's absence neat the base star and the planet we're currently
orbiting."

Apollo nodded. "Mr. Zarek's right, sir," he said. "I've even heard one stating that this is Earth, but that either the Thirteenth
Tribe's long gone, or they were wiped out by a Cylon attack, and the same fate awaits us."

Adama thought for a moment. Then, he looked at Roslyn. "I agree," he said. "We should hold a conference to at least put
a dampener on rumours such as this. We can also announce the roster for allowing individual ships to land and
replenish supplies. We've found a large lake system on a continent that's on the other side of the planet from the 'dragon'
settlement."

"If anything, that alone would help the morale of the Fleet," said Roslyn. "I'll schedule it for 10:00 hours tomorrow
morning. Admiral, I would like you to be present."

"Madame President," Adama said, "I'm afraid I..." but Roslyn cut him off.

"Admiral, I want you to announce the roster. Plus, I feel that if any members of the press have any questions regarding
the base star, you would be in a better position to answer them than I would. Besides," she added," I think that the Fleet
would believe any reassurances coming from you about the safety of what we are about to do than they would from me."

Adama thought on this, and then reluctantly nodded in agreement. "I see your point," he said. "I'll come onboard Colonial
One at 09:00 tomorrow. It would be best if we made the announcement from here."

"If I may make an additional suggestion," said Zarek, "I think we would be best served if this was a live broadcast, as
happened with the Quorum meeting and President Roslyn's swearing in. Plus, I think we should also have the Quorum
present, and fully briefed."

"A good idea, Tom," said Roslyn. "Can you at least see to the media arrangements while I deal with the Quorum?"

"I can do that," he said. "If I may?" At Roslyn's nod, he left the room.

Adama looked at Zarek's retreating form, then at Roslyn. "Is that wise?" he asked.

Roslyn returned Adama's look. "Better he makes the media arrangements than deals with the Quorum," she said.
And on that note, the meeting broke up.
*Chapter 6*: Chapter 5
Chapter Five

Flag Officer's Suite, HMS Basilicata, One Hour Later.

The communications plate in the b edside tab le chimed.

"Answer," 'Ab al said. "Voice only." She rolled over and sat up on the side of her b unk.

The voice of the watch officer came floating out of the hidden speakers. "Sorry to disturb you, Commodore, b ut we've just
had an urgent flash from one of the reconnaissance drones."

"It's all right, Lieutenant. What is it?" 'Ab al said.

"According to the latest information, it appears that their President has called a live press conference for tomorrow
morning, their time," said the watch officer.

"A live press conference? Interesting," she said. "Is there any indication of what its ab out?"

"No, Ma'am. Just that it would address matters concerning their Fleet, and provide some answers to some rumours that
are circulating."

"Rumours? Well, that seems to b e a constant where humanity's involved," 'Ab al said. "What time is this conference?"

"10:00 hours their time," said the watch officer. "That's ab out 14:30 hours our time."

"Well, they've chosen a civilised hour to have their press conference," said 'Ab al. "Call my flag lieutenant, will you, and put
him through to me," she said.

"Will do, ma'am," said the watch officer. After a while, the sleep-addled tones of her flag lieutenant came out of the
speakers. "You wanted to speak to me, ma'am?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Andy," 'Ab al said, "b ut I want you to arrange a squadron captain's meeting for 14:00 hours tomorrow
afternoon. It appears that things may b e moving."

"Aye aye, ma'am," Morgan said. "Live or virtual meeting?"

'Ab al paused. "Virtual," she said. "The squadron's close enough together to make a communications linkup possib le.
Plus, it's b een estab lished that these people can't pick up our communications and, so far, we haven't seen hide or hair of
the lizards." She paused, and then added, "I want the ships' AIs to attend as well," she said. "They may have some insight
into things. Have Ib n Siena share what he has with the rest of the squadron's AIs. We'll have it in the wardroom."

"Will do, ma'am. I'll start right away. Morgan, clear." With that, he signed off.

'Ab al yawned, and then looked at the time display set into the b edside tab le. Muttering disgustedly to herself, she
decided against going b ack to sleep and instead got up and headed to her shower cub icle.

'Ab al felt much more human when she walked into the ship's wardroom at 14:00 hours. She stood in the doorway and
ob served the scene in front of her. Sitting in his accustomed place was the Basilicata's captain V. Jaidev. A native of New
Kashmir, Jaidev's skin colour was only slightly less swarthy than 'Ab al's own. He was talking to Captain Maedoc Flannery
of the Kitakami and Captain Honda Takahashi of the Little Rock. Nearb y "sat" Captain Nahimana Ptaysanwee, a full-
b lood Native American and commander of the Marshal Ustinov, who was watching with some amusement the five-way
deb ate that was going on b etween several of the squadron's AIs over some rather arcane matter. "Sitting" next to him was
his own cruiser's AI, who depicted himself as wearing a white linen suit once fashionab le in the late 19th Century, a b ow
tie and two-toned shoes. He had a b ushy white moustache and a rather unkempt head of white hair. He "smoked" what
looked like a rather villainous cigar (if it had b een real), and had a "tumb ler" filled with what was most likely simulated
Kentucky Bourb on, and kept up a running commentary on the deb ate that amused his captain deeply.

'Ab al didn't mind that Ptaysanwee had chosen as his personal AI the American humorist and raconteur Mark Twain. She
was somewhat less enthused ab out the AIs of her remaining two captains.

Captain Richard Cochrane liked to introduce himself as b eing "a fairly undistinguished memb er of a somewhat
distinguished naval and military family." At first glance, the only thing that was notab le ab out him was his lanky height (he
was just a shade over two metres tall), his florid complexion and his b right red hair. The first clue that gave the lie to his
modest introduction was the fact that, on the left b reast of his uniform, he wore, amongst the medal rib b ons denoting his
service, the rib b ons of the Victoria and Military Crosses, medals that the Imperial forces had inherited from the old British
and Commonwealth forces. (The Victoria Cross was still the most distinguished of all the Imperium's gallantry awards,
followed only b y the Pour le Merit and the Order of St. George.) The second was his last name.

If the curious person, after seeing his medal collection, decided to look up his name on the Navy List, they would have
discovered that he was actually Captain Lord Richard Cochrane, Lord Dundonald. His title stretched b ack to the Middle
Ages, and he included amongst his direct ancestors Lord Thomas Cochrane, the Tenth Earl of Dundonald, who was
universally regarded as the inspiration b ehind the creations of C.S. Forester and Patrick O'Brian. Like several of his
ancestors he had a devil may care attitude towards personal danger, and a sharp sense of humour. In 'Ab al's opinion, he
was an asset to her squadron. Unfortunately, he was, like his good friend Captain Jane Kendall, a fan of classic 20th
Century CE science fiction. Evidence of this could b e found in the forms of two of the AIs arguing in the corner.

Cochrane's AI incarnated himself as the Tom Baker version of Doctor Who, and expressed all of the eccentricities of the
original. He was now talking to Kendall's AI.

"But this is a most excellent opportunity to study the b eliefs of these newly discovered humans!" he said. He reached into
one of the voluminous pockets of his b rown overcoat and pulled out a large b rown paper b ag. "Oh, would anyb ody like a
jelly b ab y?" he asked.

Kendall's AI just looked at Cochrane's. "I fail to see the logic in this," he said. "What does a jelly b ab y have to do with the
topic of the discussion?"

"Does everything have to b e logical with you?" demanded Cochrane's AI. "What ab out intuition b ased on what data has
b een presented to you?"

"Intuition, although admittedly useful, is not necessarily logical," replied Kendall's AI.

'Ab al suppressed a smile. Kendall was a b ig "Star Trek" fan. Naturally, she had chosen Spock as the personality for her
AI. When she had cornered Kendall ab out it, Kendall looked at her commodore and, all innocent, said, "Well, it could
have b een worse."

"How?" 'Ab al had asked.

"I could have chosen either Mr. Data or Wesley Crusher," she had said. An evil smirk had spread across her dusky
features. "Or, I could have chosen 'Eddie the Shipb oard Computer'", she added. 'Ab al had wisely decided to leave it at
that.

Now she entered the wardroom. The Basilicata's Bosun called out "Commodore on Deck!" and her captains shot to
attention, while the AIs stopped their conversation.

'Ab al waived everyone down. "As you were," she said and moved over to the chair next to Jaidev's.

"Well," she said as she sat herself down, "I b elieve you all know why we're here. I hope that everyone had downloaded
the b riefing package I had put together?" Everyone nodded. "Well, the unknowns are having a press conference. What
it's ab out, I don't know. However, I want to get everyone's impressions on this fleet we've stumb led across. Opinions?"

Flannery spoke up. "It could b e a colonisation fleet," he said. Rememb er, some of the early colonisation efforts were
pretty haphazard. We didn't start formal colonisation efforts until we ran into the Raptors."

"I don't know ab out that Flan," said Cochrane. "There's something that I just can't put my finger on, b ut there's something
pretty odd here. Surely they would have had an expedition of exploration go out and survey the planet. This lot used EW
craft for such a mission, which wouldn't give the sort of data that a late 22nd Century survey vessel could. Plus they've
b een here most of a week, and there's no sign of planetfall yet. Finally, that sensor watch they've b een keeping is pretty
tight. The only reason they haven't spotted our drones is b ecause they have no reason to look for anything like that."

"I have to agree with Richard," said Ptaysanwee. "These people are not acting like a colonisation fleet. Rather, they're
acting as though they are b eing chased b y something."

"So you think they're refugees?" asked 'Ab al.

"If I was inclined to b et, I would place money on that," replied Ptaysanwee. "They have the feel of a hunted animal."

"Excuse me," said Ib n Siena, "b ut I have just received a notification from the drones in position. It appears that they are
ready to b egin transmission from the ship known as 'Colonial One'."

"What kind of transmission is it?" asked 'Ab al.

"It will b e b oth radio and old-fashioned television. Two-dimensional, b ut I and my colleagues can reproduce it for you."

"Thank you, Ib n Siena." 'Ab al faced her captains. "I think we had b etter suspend this discussion until after this telecast."
She and her flag captain turned towards a "screen" that materialised in front of them. Those officers who were not
physically present turned to face screens that their own AIs generated for them.

The screens showed the interior of a typical late 22nd Century CE passenger transport. It had b een heavily modified for
use as a press gallery. In front of the camera stood a lectern with what was plainly a seal emb lazoned on its front. Around
the outer edge were the words "Seal of the President of the Twelve Colonies." Behind it were fourteen flags, the centre pair
flanking a curtained doorway and b earing identical emb lems. Each of the remaining twelve b ore different emb lems.

"Interesting," said Lao Tzu, Little Rock's AI. "Twelve Colonies. Of whom, I wonder?"

"I think we're ab out to find out," said Mark, Marshal Ustinov's AI. "That is, if you shut up and let the rest of us listen."

"Quiet!"

A grave-looking human male, who appeared in his late fifties and wearing what was quite clearly a military uniform,
stepped through the curtain. An equally grave looking civilian male, who also appeared middle-aged, followed him. The
two men took up flanking positions.

A middle-aged human female, with a touch of the schoolmarm ab out her, stepped up to the podium. An announcer
spoke: "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kob ol, Vice-President Zarek and Admiral
Adama." While the announcer spoke, the military man spoke in an aside to the woman, who replied.

"I hate this," said Adama in an aside to Roslyn.

"You'll do fine," she replied. "You always do." She put on her glasses and started to read from her statement.

"Fellow citizens," she began. "Six days ago a scouting flight of Raptors from the Galactica came to the system we are
currently in. Here, they found a derelict Cylon Base Star that was of a type that we last saw during the Cylon War over forty
years ago. The scouts returned and reported their findings to Admiral Adama and myself.

"At the time we were looking for a hospitable system amongst the swathe of devastated systems we have encountered
since entering this area of space. There were indications, which we all now know have been confirmed, that there was
an inhabitable planet located in the same system as the derelict. At the briefing where the existence of the derelict base
star was discussed, Lieutenant Agathon, whom you may all recall was instrumental in our escape from Cylon captivity
on New Caprica, informed us that some fifteen years before the Cylon attack on the Colonies, the Cylons had sent out an
exploration expedition to this area of space, and that some three years into the mission, all twelve base stars
disappeared without trace. That was true, until six days ago, when we found the derelict now located in the outer reaches
of this system.

"Lieutenant Agathon led a boarding party consisting of Colonial Marines and technicians onto the derelict base star in
order to recover a computer memory core. This mission was successfully carried out. The core was returned to
Galactica where Lieutenant Agathon, because of her unique knowledge of Cylon computer systems, ably assisted by
Lieutenant Gaeta, managed to access the computer core.

"As a result, we have been able to access data not only relating to the base star, but also the astrological information the
Cylons were gathering in this area of space. As we speak, Lieutenant Gaeta is comparing the Cylon data with our own
observations in order to create a reliable star chart that, we hope, will significantly increase our chances of finding Earth
and the Thirteenth Tribe.

"In addition, Lieutenant Agathon has discovered that, although disabled and derelict, the Cylon vessel is otherwise intact.
Therefore, it has been decided to attempt to salvage the Cylon base ship. Once that has been done and it has been
refitted, it will be added to the Fleet. For those of us who may be concerned about having so powerful a vessel, albeit
obsolescent, situated in the middle of the Fleet, I would like to emphasise that the Cylon computer systems have been
disabled by the incident that stranded the base star here, and that, when it is refitted, it will be controlled by Colonial Fleet
standard computer systems and crewed by Colonial Fleet personnel. While it is undergoing refit, it will be under the
guns of the Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica at all times.

"Now, I will hand over to Admiral Adama, who has an announcement that will be of some importance to the Fleet. I would
like the members of the press present to please wait until after the Admiral has made his announcement before asking
any questions. Thank you." Roslyn stepped back as Adama stepped up to the podium.

Adama looked out at the assembled media personnel. "As President Roslyn mentioned," he began, "the Fleet in
currently in orbit around an inhabitable planet. Repeated Raptor overflights, plus the taking of samples of water, air and
soil have determined that, unlike the last 'inhabitable planet' we discovered, this one does not contain any bioengineered
pathogens that are fatal to our form of life. Thus, it has been decided that, on a rostered basis, the ships of the Fleet will
land at a chosen landing site in order to take on fresh water and to enable them to be aired out. The chosen site is by a
large freshwater lake system on one of the planet's larger continents, located in the northern hemisphere. This roster
will be in force while we remain in this system.

"While the Fleet is rotated down onto the surface of the planet, the Galactica will remain in orbit. She will continue to
provide cover for the Fleet. At the same time the salvage and repair vessel Flattop will proceed to the location of the
derelict. Once there it will begin the operation of preparing the derelict base star for its jump into the inner system. When
this is successfully carried out, she will return to the Fleet and, in company with a construction platform, will begin further
repair work on the derelict. The Flattop will rotate this duty with the Virgon Express, while each construction platform will
also rotate on this duty. The primary aim will be to get the base star spaceworthy, as well as to restore power and life
support to its manufacturing areas. Once this has been achieved, the work of fully refitting the derelict will go much
quicker. It is eventually intended to commission the base star as a fully operational vessel of the Colonial military, as its
firepower will be a great asset to the Fleet's defences. Thank you."

As Adama stepped away from the podium, the questions started.

"Well, that was informative."

'Ab al looked around at her officers. All of them were deep in thought. "Opinions?" she asked.

Flannery spoke. "You were right, Nahimana," he said. "That is a refugee fleet. I wonder who or what these Cylons they
spoke ab out are?"

"A faction?" asked Honda. "Or perhaps another alien race they've had the misfortune to tangle with?"

"If I may," said 'Spock', I would like to point out that the regulations on this are quite clear. As refugee humans they have
the right to appeal for asylum within the b orders of the Imperium."

"Yeah, b ut those regulations were designed to deal with the Independent Systems," said Mark. "As far as I can see, this
here's still a First Contact situation. We still have to work out how to initiate Contact."

'Ab al sat and listened as the discussion flowed ab out her. Finally, she stood up. "I think I have no choice," she said. She
turned to Kendall. "Ken, I'm going to detach you to take a message b ack to Sandoval Base. You will inform the Fleet
command that we have b oth a First Contact and potential refugee situation here. I'll have Ib n Siena download all of the
data we have gathered so far."

"Aye aye, Ma'am," replied Kendall.

"We know that there's no sign of the lizards in this system, and we also are aware that the 'Colonial' fleet can't detect our
inertialess drives," 'Ab al continued, so go out under power. I want you to also deploy your sensor platforms on the way
out." 'Ab al next turned towards the other captains. "We are going to start deploying our sensor platforms in their
designated locations, she said. "At the same time I want a constant watch kept over those vessels. 'Spock' is correct: as of
now they are refugees under the protection of the Imperial Navy. We will keep our ships at their current readiness level: if
these 'Cylons' of theirs turn up, I want to b e ready to give them a reception they won't forget."

"You do realise that this could involve the Imperium in another war, Ma'am," said Jaidev.

'Ab al nodded. "But somehow I don't think that they may b e willing to take us up on the offer," she said. She looked
around. "All right. This meeting is adjourned. You all have your tasks, Let's set ourselves to them." With that, the meeting
b roke up as the holograms of b oth captains and AIs disappeared.

Gaeta's lab space, Colonial Battlestar Galactica.

Athena went over the data contained in the memory core. She was trying to piece together the last remaining moments of
the boarding action. As she had expected, the data was somewhat fragmentary, but she could still piece it together. Yet,
something was missing.

Then, it finally hit her. "Oh, frack," she softly said. She turned and picked up the handset for the ship's internal
communications. "This is Lieutenant Agathon," she said. "I need to speak with the Admiral now. It's urgent." Then, putting
the handset down, she returned to her scrutiny of the data. I only hope I'm wrong, and they didn't launch it, she thought.
*Chapter 7*: Chapter 6
Chapter Six

Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, Off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.

There was a sudden flurry of activity in the depths of the base star as several humaniform Cylons moved to take up their
action stations. Amongst these moved Gaius Baltar, the sole human on board the vessel. He was trying to keep up with
the rapidly striding form of the Cylon Variant Six known as Caprica Six.

"What's going on?" he plaintively asked. "What is it?"

Caprica Six never broke her stride, but she looked down at the unkempt human struggling to keep up. "We've detected a
beacon," she said.

"What, another?" asked Baltar. "You're not going to bring it on board after, after what happened the last time, are you?"

"Don't worry, Gaius," Caprica Six said. "It's not human. Its one of ours."

Baltar halted in astonishment. "One of yours?" he said. "But I thought you had never come out to this part of space. What
is one of your beacons doing here?"

Caprica Six halted. "We don't know," she said. "But we intend to find out." She began to again stride briskly towards the
base star's control centre, with a totally confused Baltar trailing her. "By the way," she said, "you're wrong about us never
having been in this part of space. We sent an expedition out here eighteen and a half years ago."

"What for?" asked Baltar.

"To find the Thirteenth Tribe, of course," Caprica Six responded. "However, that expedition disappeared without a trace.
Until now," she added.

"Any idea why it disappeared?" Baltar asked.

"It was thought that the expedition may have run into something that was powerful enough to destroy twelve base stars,"
Caprica Six answered. "In response, we began fortifying all of our installations out in this direction. However, that theory
was never proven. But now, we just may find out." As she said this, the two of them entered the control centre.

Even though he had seen this space several times now Gaius Baltar could never suppress the sense of the alienness
that this area, consisting of computer access points designed by a race of sentient machines inspired in him. Again, he
saw that, to a Cylon, data appeared literally like a flow of liquid either down a strand of translucent material or through a
pipe into a trough, the surface of which was viscous to the touch and flowed with apparently random colours and
symbols.

As he watched, Caprica Six took up her position in front of one of the control surfaces. Looking around he saw several of
the seven variants he had seen since the Cylons had taken over the abortive human colony on New Caprica. Each one of
them took their places and placed hands onto the control surface. For a minute, the only sound that could be heard was
the flow of liquid. Then, one of the Fives spoke.

"According to the data from one of our Raiders it is definitely a Requisitus beacon. Our Hybrid has identified it as dating
from the time of the lost expedition out in this direction."

"Should we bring it aboard?" asked one of the Conoys. "Does it show any signs of having been contaminated?"

"The initial scans say that it has not been contaminated," said a Three. It may also be our only chance of discovering
what has happened to the lost expedition. I say that we should bring it on board."

"First, though," said one of the Simons, "it may be a good idea if we have it brought on board and placed in an isolation
chamber. We then subject it to as thorough an examination as we can. If it proves not to have been infected, then we
bring it up here, connect it to our systems and download any data it may have. Once we have found out what our options
are, we can then decide what course of action we should take."

"I agree," said an Eight. "We don't want a repeat of what happened to our base star in the Lion's Head Nebula. We
isolate it, examine it and then, if it's clean, we connect it to our systems. It may take a while anyway to reconfigure a
console to be able to access it anyway, since it is of an obsolete design. The Hybrid is going to have to also prepare
itself for accessing and translating the data the beacon contains. There may be significant data corrosion, since it has
been floating in deep space for at least fifteen years."

"Very well," said the Three known as D'anna Biers. "We have our Centurions construct an isolation cage. They take it out
in a Heavy Raider, capture the beacon, and place it and themselves inside the chamber. The Heavy Raider returns, the
cage with the beacon in it is brought out into an evacuated landing bay. We monitor it for seventy-two hours, and go over it
centimetre by centimetre. If it's clean, we bring it up here and connect it to our systems. Are we in agreement?" All of the
Cylons adopted a blank look as each variant polled all of its kind within reach. Then, Biers nodded her head. "We are
agreed. We proceed as outlined."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gaeta's Lab oratory Space, Colonial Battlestar Galactica, Two Hours Later.

"Lieutenant, will you repeat for the President what you've told me?" said Adama.

Athena turnedand faced Roslyn. "I was going over the data from the memory core," she said. "In particular, I was trying to
see if I could reconstruct the final moments of the boarding action. However, towards the end, the data stream became
pretty patchy. I think that was because the Hybrid was beginning to realise that it was losing its fight against the software
package the 'dragons' had introduced. The reason I was trying to reconstruct the last moments was that I and Mr. Gaeta
both felt that if we knew as much as we could about what this package could do, we might be able to concoct some kind
of defence against it."

"This is, I'm quite sure, very interesting, Lieutenant, but I would like to know what was so important as to warrant
dragging me over from Colonial One," Roslyn said.

"Well, Madame President, it was going through the scraps of data at the end of the data stream that I noticed that
something was missing," Athena said. "I double checked, and realised that there was no mention of the Hybrid having
launched the base star's Requisitus beacon."

"Excuse me, a what beacon?"

"A Requisitus beacon," replied Athena. "All base stars of this generation were equipped with them. The idea was, if
something happened to a base star, there would be a record that could be accessed by other Cylons."

"I... see. So, how does this 'Requisitus beacon' operate?" asked Roslyn.

"Well, if it appears to the base star's Hybrid that its ship is either about to be destroyed or overrun," said Athena, "it
downloads as much data as it can into the Requisitus. The beacon is then launched, and it moves away from the base
star. Once it's far enough away, it makes a jump through hyperspace to a location where, hopefully, it will be recovered.
Once it has emerged from its jump, it begins to broadcast a location signal to assist in its recovery."

"What prevents the beacon from being detected and destroyed?" asked Roslyn.

"The beacon is launched in a manner that makes it look as though the base star has suffered additional damage," said
Athena. "In keeping with this the outer casing of the Requisitus beacon was designed to look like floating debris."

"Well, that solves one question I always had asked during the Cylon War," said Tigh. "How was it that the Cylons always
knew if we had attacked one of their outlying piquets."

"It was of great use during the War," said Athena. "However, the point I'm trying to make is that, in examining the data
record from the memory core, I cannot find any indication that the Hybrid managed to launch the Requisitus."

"Perhaps it didn't launch the beacon," said Roslyn.

"It is possible, but I find it highly unlikely," said Athena. "The situation that the Hybrid found itself in is precisely the sort of
situation that the Requisitus was designed for. And the ability to launch is basically hardwired into the ship's systems."

"So, in your opinion, Lieutenant, the base star did manage to launch its beacon."

Athena blew out her cheeks. "Normally, I would say, yes. However, in this situation I can't be sure that the Hybrid could
even manage to issue the instruction to launch," she said.

"I thought you said that it was automatic," said Roslyn.

"It still requires an actual instruction from the Hybrid to launch," Athena replied. "However, once the order is given, the
entire process is automatic, including recording the launch order in the memory core. And that's the piece of data I can't
be sure of. I find hints, but no clear instruction to prep and launch the Requisitus."

"Is there a way that you can find out if it was launched?" asked Roslyn.

"I could examine the memory core that's still on the derelict," Athena said, "but the only way I could be certain is to go over
there and examine the actual installation. And, since I'm the only Cylon in the Fleet, I'm also the only one who knows
what she's looking for."

Roslyn turned to Adama. " Admiral, in your opinion, does what Lieutenant Agathon say in any way significantly increases
the risk to the Fleet in salvaging the derelict?"

Adama thought for a minute. Then, he shook his head. "Not significantly, no," he replied. "First, from what Lieutenant
Agathon has told me, the Cylons have to know where to look to find the beacon. The fact that they have heard nothing
from this expedition leads me to feel that the chances of finding the beacon are small."

Roslyn turned back to Athena. "What is the range of the beacon's hyperspace jump? She asked.

Athena shrugged. "It only has a limited range," she said. "That, however, is completely random. Certainly enough to
enable it to leave a planetary system, but not enough to travel back to Cylon space from here."

"And how long would the signal last if it was being broadcast continuously?"

"Several years. They were powered by isotopic batteries."

"There is one other thing we must consider," Adama said. "Athena said that when the launch order is given, the Cylon
computer systems download as much information as it can into the beacon. She feels that, given what she has learned
about the alien software package, that it too could have been downloaded as well."

Athena nodded her head, and then shuddered. "This has got to be the most aggressive software I, or any Cylon, have
ever encountered," she said. "It makes the logic bomb that was downloaded onto Galactica's systems look tame by
comparison."

"Is it that aggressive?" asked Roslyn.

"Extremely aggressive," said Athena. "It's heuristic, meaning that it has the ability to adjust to whatever defences the
computer system it is invading may possess. One could almost say that it qualifies as an artificial intelligence. I was only
able to defeat it because it wasn't an AI, and was isolated in a controllable environment. That is, in a computer system
that wasn't linked to the rest of the ship. While the generation of Hybrid that was common on this type of base star was
overcome in the end, I don't see it doing the same to a modern base star."

"And why is that?" asked Roslyn.

"Because modern base stars are crewed by Cylons of my general type," Athena replied. "However, if they connect a
Requisitus beacon that has been contaminated by this package, it could easily cause all sorts of problems before it was
overcome. It won't shut the system down, as it did in this case, but it would tie up a huge amount of computer resources
that I really don't want to think about."

"So, you're saying that even if this beacon is picked up by a Cylon ship," Roslyn said, "it may not necessarily do them
much use."

"Not until they overcome this package, assuming that the Requisitus is contaminated," said Athena. "How long that could
take? Could easily be hours, if not days. It all depends on the situation."

Roslyn turned to Adama. "So, Admiral. In light of what we have just learned, do you think that it is still viable for us to
salvage the derelict?"

Adama nodded. "I do," he said. "As I said earlier, the Cylons would have to know not only what to look for, but where to
look. This beacon makes a pretty small needle to find in a pretty impressive haystack. Of course, they could stumble
across it, but Athena tells me that the beacon would have headed out on the same general heading that the expedition
had taken to get here. Which is somewhat different from the path we took, and which the Cylons are also following. And
even if they recover the beacon, they could easily find themselves otherwise occupied. In any case, we aren't all that
ready to move on. The ships of the Fleet have only just started to rotate down to the planet's surface and the Flattop has
only just jumped out to the derelict. As well as that, both Athena and Mr. Gaeta are still correlating the core's astrogation
data with our own observations."

Roslyn looked at Adama. "Very well," she said. "We continue as planned. But I would like to ask you to see if there is any
way you could, ah, increase the DRADIS coverage of the Fleet just in case the Cylons do put in an appearance."

Adama nodded. "I've already established a DRADIS piquet both at the derelict and at the extreme edge of Galactica's
DRADIS radius," he said. "We should be able to detect any Cylon activity within a pretty large area of space."

Roslyn nodded. "Thank you, Admiral, both for bringing this to my attention and for taking the time to anticipate my
request," she said. "If there's nothing else, I'll head back to Colonial One. Please keep me informed on the progress of
the salvage operation as well as Mr. Gaeta's and Lieutenant Agathon's progress in putting together a star chart." She
smiled. "Believe me, Admiral, I, too, would like to make a jump that's not based on surmise as well."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Outer Reaches of the system, several hours later.

Basilicata had just finished deploying her sensor platforms. These were highly stealthed apparatus that, when deployed
in a specially constructed drone, unfolded into a surprisingly large structure, considering the space it was packed into.
The deployment drone's AI operated the entire system, which relied totally on passive sensors.

The large size of a sensor platform (somewhat in excess of an area the size of an Australian Rules footb all arena)
enab led it to cover a sizeab le amount of space. Placing the sensor platforms in the outer third of a system enhanced this.
Although it did increase the possib ilities of discovery, the vastness of the area to b e searched, comb ined with the stealth
features b uilt into the platform greatly reduced the chances of discovery. Of course, it a platform was discovered it would,
after launching a hyperspace-capab le messenger prob e, self-destruct using a small hellb urner device b uilt into its core,
thus ensuring total destruction. Of course, the Raptors knew all of this, which didn't stop them from searching the
platforms out, if only for the reason that it would disrupt any ob servation programme the Imperial Navy carried out of any
system they operated in.

The platform AIs had not only the current edition of the Imperial Terran navy's warb ook (which identified all known Raptor
vessels) b ut also had the ab ility to update their information. Raptor vessels were identified, class-wise, b y the imprint
their hyperspace drives made on emergence. The general rule was, the b igger the imprint, the b igger the engine, and
thus, the b igger the ship. If there was any long-term activity in a system that was under ob servation, the platforms were
designed to launch a messenger prob e, which coasted out to the edge of the system b efore going into hyperspace, at set
intervals. The prob es were programmed to go directly to the nearest Imperial Navy b ase. At set intervals, a Terran
warship would, under stealth, coast in on an unpowered trajectory that would enab le it to service the platforms.

Since there were still Terran ships in the system, the platforms were all linked to Basilicata's systems. At present,
Basilicata was heading b ack towards the inner system in company with Imperiuse. Since this was also the name of a
ship that Richard Cochrane's ancestor, the legendary loup des mers had commanded in the Napoleonic Wars, it was
considered in the Fleet that someone in the Admiralty had a fine sense of humour in appointing him to command her.

'Ab al was on the Basilicata's flag b ridge when the recently deployed platforms sent their first report to the ship's
computers. Shortly after the information had b een received, she heard the chime that indicated that the ship's AI wished
to speak to her.

She keyed on the holographic plate that sat off to one side. "Yes, Ab u 'Ali? You have something for me?"

Ib n Sienna appeared on the plate in miniature form. His surroundings resemb led that of a Muslim scholar's study in
medieval Baghdad. "The sensor platforms have detected a small group of hyperspace pulses in the outer regions of this
system," he reported.

'Ab al tensed. "Raptors?" she asked.

Ib n Siena shook his head. "No," he replied. "The readings are consistent with those given off b y a late 22nd Century
hyperdrive. I have also received from the drones ob serving the refugee fleet some radio chatter indicating that the
salvage operation to the unknown derelict was departing. Presumab ly, they have just jumped to its location."

'Ab al nodded her head. "Do you have the coordinates of the emergence event yet?"

Ib n Siena flashed her a dazzling smile. "I have the coordinates not only from Basilicata's platforms, b ut also from those
deployed b y Imperiuse and Arethusa," he said. "The others are still in the process of deployment. I have already asked
Captain Jaidev to see if he can effect the deployment of at least one drone to those coordinates."
'Ab al smiled. "I see that you've anticipated my thoughts... again," she said.

Ib n Siena b owed. "After serving with you got so many years," he said, "how could I not?"

"Indeed," 'Ab al dryly said. "By the way, how's your apprentice coming along?"

"Quite well," replied Ib n Siena. "I have him monitoring the drones as well as maintaining a sensor watch. He learns his
lessons well. However," he sighed, "I do wish that he was a little more... thoughtful."

"You mean, you wish that Captain Jaidev had chosen a philosopher instead of a warrior figure for his AI," Ab al replied. By
tradition, a ship's captain had the right to choose the persona of his or her AI. This was to ensure that b oth captain and AI
were ab le to mesh well together. The reason why Ib n Siena was still Basilicata's AI was that she had b een 'Ab al's last
command b efore her promotion to commodore, and Ib n Siena had b een her personal AI. While this meant that Jaidev
could not completely install his choice of AI onto the ship's computer system, he didn't mind, as he had b een Basilicata's
XO and was familiar with Ib n Siena. Besides, he had jumped at the chance to "apprentice" his AI to one who was
universally regarded as one of the Terran Imperial Navy's finest AIs.

Ib n Siena sighed again. "Mind you," he replied, "Bhishma is a good fellow, and does have some philosophical
inclinations."

"Well, since the platform deployment went well, I'll b e heading b ack to my day cab in," she said. "Keep me informed." Ib n
Siena b owed and his image winked out.

'Ab al turned and called the watch officer. "You have the chair," she said. "I'll b e in my cab in."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, off the Edge of the Conflict Zone, Seventy-two Hours Later.

To say that all hell had broken loose in the base star's control centre would be a masterful understatement.

The preliminary examination of the beacon, carried out by Cylons using Colonial Fleet flight suits as containment suits
(at Gaius Baltar's suggestion) had shown no signs of biological contamination. Still, though, after their experiences in
the Lion's Head Nebula, the Cylons were taking no chances. Before the beacon was removed from its containment unit
its surface was thoroughly sterilised. So too were the surfaces of the two Centurions who had carried it on board the
Heavy Raider. After all this was completed, the beacon was then carried up to the base star's control centre. There it was
attached by cables to one of the control surfaces.

It was when they accessed it that things got interesting.

The first thing that told Baltar that there was something wrong was when he saw a Simon stiffen in shock. Then, one of
the Threes called out "The beacon's data banks have been infected!"

"What is it?" asked a Six.

"The Hybrid says that it is some kind of alien software package," responded a Conoy "It's trying to prevent it going after
the power plant controls!"

"It's gone after the weapons systems!" shouted an Eight. "The Hybrid is trying to regain control of the weapons!"

"It's also gone after the routines that control the Centurions!" cried a Cavil. "It's trying to shut them down!" As he spoke a
nearby Centurion tottered and crashed to the floor.

Baltar moved towards the centre of the room. As he did so, the lights began to flicker. "It's also going after lighting and life
support!" shouted a Five. "We have to stop it!"

"The control agents report that they are trying to defend all programs controlling essential services," said another Six.
"However, they are going to require assistance to battle it."

Caprica Six called out "This is unlike anything we've ever encountered! I..." She stiffened and looked as if she was about
to collapse.

Baltar raced over and caught her just as she was about to hit the floor. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Is there..."

Caprica Six shook her head groggily. "This is worse than the virus from the beacon in the Lion's Head Nebula," she said.
"It's worse than anything we've ever created, let alone encountered."
D'anna Biers called out "This thing is uncanny! No matter what we try it keeps coming back! I'm about to lose weapons!"

Baltar looked at her in shock. Then, he looked over at the beacon. Suddenly, he leapt over to the beacon. He grabbed a
hold of the cables that connected it to the consol and, with one pull, disconnected the beacon from the computer system.
Looking up, he noticed another Cylon, a Three, about to collapse. Immediately he hauled her away from the control
panel. Then, he gestured to another Cylon (another Simon) who had just raced into the control centre.

"You, there!" he said. "Take her place. If we can't get a handle on this... whatever it is, we're all dead!" He moved back to
Caprica Six. "Do you have any idea at all what this is?" he asked.

Caprica Six shook her head to clear it. "It seems to be a highly sophisticated and very aggressive software package," she
said. "It went straight for the Hybrid as soon as we accessed the beacon."

"Well, I've disconnected the beacon, so if you manage to clear it out of the computer systems it won't have a source to
reinfect them," Baltar said. "Do you think you can go back and help out? I'm sure from what I've seen so far, they're going
to need all the help they can get."

Caprica Six shot Baltar a rather odd look. "I don't think that will be necessary. They look to have the situation under
control." She tried to get up but fell back down. "Er, Gaius, I think I may need your help to get up." Wordlessly, Baltar
assisted Caprica Six back up onto her feet and then guided her towards a wall. She placed one hand on the wall and,
letting go of Baltar, propped herself against the wall looking at the still chaotic scene in the control centre. "I think D'anna
may need some help too," she said, gesturing towards an obviously confused D'anna Biers who was trying to get back
onto her feet. As Baltar went over to help Biers back onto her feet, Caprica Six reviewed what she had learned during her
brief tussle with the software package.

Despite herself, she shuddered at the memory of what she had encountered. The overall impression she got was of a
fierce predator, with some rather frightening abilities. She had never encountered a program, let alone an entire package
of programs that had the ability to adapt to its environment with the speed this had. If it had gotten out of hand... She
shuddered and decided not to follow that thought any further. Then, she paled. She had just realised that there was a
strong possibility that this... software package from hell, she thought of it, could have imprinted itself onto the
consciousness of a Cylon. And if it had succeeded in shutting down the base star's life support... Images of a cybernetic
armageddon flashed across her consciousness. This could easily have b een far, far worse than that virus we
encountered in the Lion's Head Neb ula, she thought.

She was jerked out of her reverie by the touch of a hand on her shoulder. Looking around, she saw that Baltar had
managed to bring Biers over to stand next to her. "Caprica, are you all right?" she asked.

Caprica Six began to reply, then stopped. After a while, she said, "I'm not too sure. I think I'm all right, but the shock of...
of..." She trailed off.

Biers nodded her head. "I think I understand what you're trying to say," she said. She leaned back against the wall. "My
God," she said. "That... that..." She too, trailed off.

"I understand," said Caprica Six. "I understand all too well. If that... package had succeeded, we'd all be dead, and
awaiting download into new bodies. And that... package could have been downloaded with us."

Biers turned pale as the realisation of what Caprica Six was suggesting sank in. "My God," she softly said. Then, she
burst into hysterical laughter.

Caprica Six looked at her with some concern. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Biers managed to get herself back under control. "I just realised," she said. "We only just escaped disaster. And the
reason we did was Gaius Baltar! A human saved the Cylon race!" She dissolved into laughter again.

Baltar came up. "They think they have it contained now," he said," but it will take them a while to be sure that the entire
system is clean." He looked at the two Cylons. "D'anna, if I didn't know better, I would say that you were in hysterics," he
said. He came closer. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Biers managed to wipe the tears of laughter from her face. "Yes, Gaius, I'm fine," she said. She tried to straighten herself
up, but had to again lean against the wall for support. "Maybe not as well as I think I am," she muttered.

Baltar looked back at the beacon. "I think disconnecting the beacon from the system may have helped," he said. He
looked at the Cylons. "Just what was it that did... what I just saw?" he asked.
Caprica Six thought for a moment. "It was a virulent software package of some kind," she said, "of a sophistication that
is... frightening to contemplate."

Biers looked at Caprica Six, then at the beacon. "It must have come from that beacon," she said. She looked at Baltar. "If
you hadn't disconnected the beacon from the system, we'd all be dead," she said. "And our Resurrection Ship would
have been infected by that... thing," she said. "I believe we owe you our very existence, Gaius. Thank you."

"That still doesn't help us access the data on that beacon," said a Simon, who had come over. "We need to access the
data, not least so we can learn how to counter that package." He too shook his head. "I have never thought that
something so sophisticated could ever exist."

Baltar stood, deep in thought. Eventually, he spoke up. "I know that you managed to get a hold of Colonial Fleet ships
and flight suits thanks to the War," he said. "Is it possible that you also got a hold of some Colonial Fleet quality computer
gear?"

The three Cylons looked at him. "What are you suggesting, Gaius?" Caprica Six asked.

"Well, if you can't link it up to your own computer systems," Baltar said, "why not connect it to whatever Colonial Fleet
computer gear you managed to get a hold of? That way, if you keep the Colonial Fleet equipment separated from your
computer systems..."

The Simon finished for him. "...we would have the package isolated in a controllable environment separate form the base
star's systems!"

Biers looked at Baltar. "That... is a brilliant idea, Gaius," she said. "But I don't think we have any Colonial computer
systems lying around.

"Then we strip the computers out of a Raptor and set up our controlled environment using them," said Baltar. "We
examine the 'package', see if we can isolate it from the rest of the data on the beacon, and then, once that is done, you
connect the computer to your systems. The Colonial system acts as a kind of filtration system that you can control." He
nervously looked at the three Cylons. "Of course, you do realise that one of you will most likely have to physically link to
the Colonial computer system in order to be able to properly examine this thing," he stammered.

"And what about you, Gaius?" asked Biers.

"I'll be examining the... 'package' through a terminal," he said. The three Cylons looked at him. "Well, I am a trained
scientist!" he said. "I might notice something you may miss!"

The tree Cylons just looked at him. Then, Caprica Six said, "Well he was the one who realised where the source of the
infection was, and disconnected the beacon from our systems," she said.

Biers looked thoughtful. "There is that," she said. Her gaze hardened. "Just how did you know what to do?" she said.

Baltar shot the three a worried glance. "W-well," he stammered, "it seemed to be the logical thing to do. I mean, well...
the trouble only started after you connected that beacon to your systems," he managed to grind out. "The... package had
to have come from somewhere, and the beacon was the only, er, alien object in the control room! So it... seemed logical
to disconnect it!" He looked form face to face. "You do believe me, don't you?" he asked. "I mean, I only heard of this
beacon when you found it. "He looked at Caprica Six. "You yourself told me that it was one of yours!"

Biers still looked at Baltar. "It could have been planted," she said. "By the Thirteenth Tribe."

Baltar was about to protest his innocence further when, surprisingly, the Simon spoke up. "I don't think that package was
created by any humans," he said. "It was too sophisticated and... it just felt too alien. It was nothing like anything the
programs we are familiar with from our contact with the humans.

Caprica Six spoke up. "I agree," she said. "It did not look like anything the humans have ever created." She looked at
Baltar. "And I think that Gaius could be of some help when we come to examine this package," she said.

Biers thought for a minute, then nodded. "All right," she said. "Once we have purged our systems of this package, I'll look
through our inventories and see just what Colonial computer equipment we may have." She looked at the other Cylons.
"In the meantime, we have some work to do." She managed to get herself off the wall and walk, albeit a little unsteadily,
towards the control panels. The other two Cylons followed her, leaving a thoroughly relieved Gaius Baltar in their wake.
*Chapter 8*: Chapter 7
Chapter Seven

Derelict Base Star, Outer Reaches of the System, Edge of the Conflict Zone, Three Hours Later.

Athena drifted through the corridors of the derelict base star. All around her she saw work crews from both Flattop and
Galactica involved in their various tasks. Some she saw were laying out temporary control runs from the control centre,
which she had just left, to both the vessel's reactors and hyperspace engines. Others she saw were involved in
removing the floating debris from the corridors, while the Marines from Galactica were involved in gathering up the
armoured corpses, weapons and equipment of the dead aliens. She was surprised to see, on her arrival, a larger than
expected number of alien bodies in the lower landing bay. A work crew of Galactica technicians were busily at work
removing the dead aliens from their armour and storing the equipment in a series of large cargo nets that floated in the
bay. All had been killed by shots to the faceplate.

Even more surprising were the work crews towing large nets filled with the remains of Cylon Centurions into the bay.
When she asked them what was going on, one of the overseers said "We needed to get the floating debris out of our
way somehow. Since we're in zero-G, this seemed to be the best way to do it, Lieutenant." Since New Caprica Athena
had noticed that many in the Fleet were accepting her as a Fleet officer, overlooking the fact that she was a "skinjob."

She had floated over to the Marine non-com who was in charge of the detail sorting the alien dead from their equipment.
"How is it going?" she asked.

The marine turned around to face her. "Fairly well, Lieutenant," she replied. "There seem to be a lot more of these dead
mother... er, aliens around than we had initially thought.

"Can you tell me where the Chief is?" Athena asked.

"I can find out for you, Ma'am," replied the Marine non-com. She called out on the open frequency. "Chief, this is Marine
Sergeant Hadrian in the lower landing bay. Can you give me your location?"

After a short hiss of static, Tyrol's voice came on. "I'm in the control centre reviewing what we've found. What's up?"

"Chief, Lieutenant Agathon has just arrived from Galactica and needs to see you," said Hadrian. "She won't say why."

The only sound that they heard on the line was static. Then Tyrol said, "Yes, send her up. I've also got some information
for her to take back to Galactica when she returns."

Athena replied "On my up, Chief." She turned to Hadrian and said "Thanks," and drifted towards the exit, now lit by
temporary lighting.

Finally, she floated into the control room of the derelict base star. It was lit by temporary lighting, stationed so as to give
the best amount of lighting possible for the work crews that were not only laying out control runs and installing pieces of
Fleet equipment, but also using items obviously salvaged from the ship's own stores to repair damage to the room's
walls.

Chief Tyrol was standing in font of a bank of computer screens. "OK, let's run that diagnostic program and see what
we've got so far," he said. As Athena floated in front of him he looked up. "Lieutenant," he said.

"Chief," Athena replied. Both were wary of the 'shared history' between the two of them. Even though Tyrol was well aware
that this was not the being he had known as Sharon "Boomer" Valerii, who had turned out to be a Cylon sleeper agent,
he still reacted somewhat warily around her.

"Sergeant Hadrian says that you needed to speak to me about something," he said.

Athena nodded. "Can you switch to my private channel?" she said. "I'd rather not have any of the crew overhear what I
have to say."

Tyrol looked at her. "Oookayyy," he said. He reached up and changed the radio over to Athena's private channel. She
followed suit. They both floated away from the consol layout.

Tyrol looked Athena in the eye. "What's this all about?" he said.

Athena took a deep breath. "As you know, I've been examining the data on the memory core we brought back to
Galactica," she said. Tyrol said nothing but gestures to her to continue. "There is a distinct possibility that, before this
ship was overrun, the Hybrid may have managed to launch what is known as a Requisitus beacon. It is designed to
blast away from the ship disguised as debris. Once it was clear of the ship, it would go into hyperspace and emerge at a
randomly determined distance from where it was launched. It would then broadcast a location signal so that other base
stars would be able to find it."

Tyrol said nothing as the importance of what Athena had said sank in. Then, he turned his head away. "Frack!" he said.
He looked back at Athena. "Would the beacon have carried any information regarding the location from where it was
launched?"

Athena nodded her head. "Yes," she said. "Once the launch command was given by the Hybrid, everything that was in the
computer memory core would be downloaded into its memory banks before it was launched, including where it was
launched from." She took another breath. "However, from what I was able to recover from the core on Galactica, towards
the end, things were so chaotic that the beacon may not have been launched."

Tyrol said nothing. Then, he hit the wall with his fist. "Frack!" he said again. He looked back at Athena. "And I suppose the
only way to know is to actually look to see if it's still there," he said.

Athena nodded again. "Yes," she said. "However, there is also the possibility that it may also be carrying the aggressive
software package that disabled this ship. That may delay the Cylons if they've found it."

Tyrol looked around at the activity in the control room. "If they've found it," he said. He took a breath. "No need to take any
chances, I suppose," he said. He looked at Athena. "Where would it be if it's still here?" he asked.

"Have the computers been loaded with the schematics I provided?" Athena asked. Tyrol nodded. "Well, let's go over and
I'll show you. The crew may just assume that you're taking advantage of my presence here to get some more information
on the ship." They both thrust themselves back to the centre of the room.

"By the way, Ma'am," said Tyrol, "what is your cover story for this trip? I suppose I had better know, just in case someone
gets inquisitive."

"Basically I'm here to get the updated stores inventory from you as well as a progress report," Athena said. "I'm also to
answer any questions you may have about the layout of the derelict. I'm also to give you this," she said, pulling a disc
from a pocket in her flight suit. As Tyrol took it she said, "It's something Mr. Gaeta and I worked up between the two of us,"
she said. "It's a combination of various programs that are designed to help counter that package we found. If you hook
up another terminal to the other memory core it should help clean the package out of it."

"Thanks." Tyrol put it into a pocket of his space suit. Then, he called up the base star's schematics on a computer
terminal. "So, where would we find this beacon?"

Athena took over the console and, by punching in a series of instructions, managed to call up a portion of the lower hull.
"Here," she said. She looked at Tyrol. "Best we both go," she said. "It would look better if it appears I'm showing you
something you've asked me about." Tyrol nodded and together, they both floated off towards the appropriate exit.

As they floated through the corridors Tyrol said, "So, what's the Admiral doing just in case the Cylons manage to find the
beacon?"

"He's put out DRADIS piquets just outside the limit of Galactica's own DRADIS suite," she said, "as well as placing a
DRADIS piquet above the derelict. They're also putting drones out to extend the coverage even further."

"Frack," said Tyrol. "The deck crews are going to love that, reconditioning drones."

"The Raptor pilots aren't too taken by the idea either," Athena replied. They have to go and recover the drones."

Finally, they reached the compartment where the beacon was located. It looked as though it had taken severe damage.
"So, where is it?" asked Tyrol."

Athena looked around. "Frack," she said. Pointing at a large gap that gaped onto open space, she said, "That is what we
would expect if it had been launched," she said. She turned to go back up to the control centre. "Now I'm going to have to
access the other memory core."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.
They had finally managed to defeat the "package." It had taken much more time and computer resources than they had
expected (and, incidentally, had been the source of several new swear words amongst the Cylons), but they had
defeated it. Now, they were examining it in Gaius Baltar's "controlled environment" and what they were learning was
enough to send chills through their artificial nervous systems. Baltar, on the other hand, was displaying what several
Cylons considered a rather morbid interest in it. Just about the only Cylon who wasn't surprised at Baltar's behaviour
was Caprica Six. After all, she had seen him in this mood before, when she was supposedly working with him on the
Colonial Fleet's centralised control system.

"Fascinating. Just simply fascinating!" he said, as he examined another line of code that was displayed on the computer
screen in front of him.

Caprica Six, on the other hand, was not so enthusiastic. "I think it's revolting," she said.

Baltar turned to face her. "I suppose you would feel that way," he said, "now that the shoe's on the other foot." He leaned
closer to her. "Engage that part of your personality that's a trained scientist," he said. He gestured at the code on the
screen. "After all," he said, "it's not every day that you encounter something like this! A computer software package that is
designed by what may well be the first truly alien species encountered by either human or Cylon." He turned back to the
screen. "Or would you prefer to be defenceless against another attack like this?"

Caprica Six looked at him. "What makes you think there will be another attack?" she asked in a dangerous tone of voice.

Baltar hesitated. All of a sudden, he heard the voice of what he still hadn't determined was either a vision or a damaged
part of his own psyche. Either way, it was his own internalised version of the Cylon female that was sitting next to him.

"Oh, dear, Gaius," said the voice. "You had b etter come up with something quickly. Before she gets really mad at you."

Baltar knew he dared not look off to the side where the voice had apparently come from. His mind raced as he struggled
to come up with an explanation for his words. "W-well," he stammered out, "it was noticed that this is somewhat more
sophisticated than what either of our peoples are used to dealing with. And, wasn't this beacon intended as something
of a record of last resort?

"Oh, well done, Gaius! Turn the questioning back onto her! That should make her stop and think."

Caprica Six looked thoughtful. "Yes, that is true," she said.

"Well, doesn't it follow that, whoever attacked the ship that this beacon was launched from may be, er, somewhat
hostile? Especially if they realise that the, er, beings on board that ship and you are basically one and the same!" Baltar
managed to set out.

"Yesss," said Caprica Six. She looked very thoughtful.

"Well, it then makes perfect sense that, in order to prepare some kind of defence that will, at least, slow any other
package of this kind in any potential future attack! Doesn't it?" said Baltar.

Caprica Six said nothing, but just sat there and thought over what Baltar had just said. Then, she looked at him. "I believe
you're right," she said. She drew herself up and, visibly, steeled herself before looking at the code on the computer
screen. "Put that way, I suppose I can look at this... abomination," she said.

Baltar did his best not to breathe out a sigh of relief. Having that mocking voice inside his head congratulating him on
getting himself out of another scrape didn't help. His thoughts were interrupted when D'anna Biers came walking into the
room where they were examining the alien package.

Caprica Six noticed the interruption. "What is it?" she asked.

"They've managed to recover the data on the Requisitus beacon, "Biers said. "I think you had better come." She looked at
Baltar. "Both of you," she said. Without waiting to see if they would follow she swept out of the room.

Caprica Six and Baltar looked at each other. "We had better not keep her waiting," Caprica Six said. They both got up and
followed Biers out of the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Commanding Officer's Quarters, Battlestar Galactica, Several Hours Later.

"So, you're telling me that they managed to launch their beacon after all."
William Adama sat on one of the chairs in his quarters on board the Galactica. In the others sat Tigh and Roslyn. Before
them stood Athena, still in her flight suit.

"Yes, sir," said Athena. "However, I was able to determine, by accessing the other memory core that's still in place on the
derelict, that they launched it b efore making the hyperspace jump to this system."

"Why did they do that?" asked Tigh. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"It appears that they did it in this manner so that, if any future Cylon expeditions ever came out in this direction, they would
at least have an improved chance of finding something," said Athena. "Frankly, sirs, Madame President, what they did
was a desperation move."

"Well, if they were desperate to get some form of message out, then, frankly, I can understand what they did," said
Roslyn. "After seeing what the 'dragons' were doing..." She let the sentence trail off unfinished as the images from the
security camera footage of the battle in the corridor sprang to mind.

Adama quickly brought the conversation back on course. "Can you tell us exactly what information the Cylons were able
to place on the beacon, Lieutenant?" he asked.

Athena nodded. "The information on the second core was in a less fragmentary state than on the one we brought back to
Galactica," she said. "They managed to put onto the beacon the location of the system they were in as a starting point."
She shook her head in amazement. "To be able to do that while fending off that... Well, sir, it was nothing short of
miraculous," she said.

"Anyway, they also put on copies of the security footage that we managed to pull from the core here on Galactica,
primarily so as to give warning of what they were up against," Athena continued. "Plus, the Hybrid also gave some very
basic astrogation data."

"How 'basic', Lieutenant?" asked Tigh.

"They just simply gave a radius of how many light years they were going to attempt to jump," Athena replied. "Also an
indication that they were going to attempt to jump to a system within that radius. No indication of direction, though: I
suspect that they were afraid that the 'dragons' might have been able to intercept the Requisitus."

"And just how big a radius was that?" asked Adama.

"About ten light years out from the system they were ambushed in," said Athena. "And the information from the core still
in place on the derelict makes it quite clear that it was an ambush. It seems that the 'dragons' are quite aggressive
towards other species."

"How can you be certain that the Cylons didn't make the first move, Lieutenant?" asked Adama

"I managed to access the logs on the other memory core still in place on the derelict," replied Athena. "They jumped into
the system, made preparations to begin exploring and suddenly, they were hit by these ships that came out of nowhere.
They attempt to hack into the alien's systems, it gets rebuffed and... We know the rest of what happened."

"So, from what you are saying is that the Cylons will have to search an area some ten light years in diameter out from the
system they were attacked in," said Roslyn. "Do we know which system that was?"

"Not yet, Madame President," answered Athena. "I felt that my first duty was to come and give yourself and the Admiral the
information I gained on the derelict. However, once this briefing is over, I intend to head over to the laboratory space to
enter the latest data I've managed to download into the computer system we are using to work out our new star charts.
We should then have a working set of charts that should be able to give us directions not only on how to avoid the
system where the 'dragons' were found, but also to where the expedition encountered the ships from the Thirteenth
Tribe."

"You thought correctly, Lieutenant," said Adama. "On behalf of the President and myself, I thank you for a job well done.
Now, head on over to Mr. Gaeta's laboratory space and update the charts. Dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Just before you do leave us, Lieutenant," said Roslyn, "I would like to know two further things. Firstly, is there any
indication that the... package did manage to insinuate itself onto the beacon? And secondly, how far along are the repairs
to the derelict?"

Athena paused as she thought through Roslyn's questions. Finally, she responded, "From what I have managed to learn
from the two cores, I would have to say that there is a very good chance the package managed to insinuate itself into the
beacon data. As I said, the hybrid was beginning to lose its battle when the Requisitus was launched, so the chances of
the package being included are good.

"As to how far along the refit is... Chief Tyrol has given me a progress report for the Admiral," Athena continued. "However,
after learning about the Requisitus, he has managed to shave some time off of getting power and hyperspace capability
restored. I was able to show him how he could further isolate the compromised segments of the derelict's systems from
the remaining control runs. That has significantly cut down the amount of time he needs to at least get power and
hyperspace capability back."

"Thank you very much for your presentation, Lieutenant," said Roslyn. "It is greatly appreciated."

After Athena had left, Roslyn turned to face Adama. "Admiral, does what you have heard just now in any way significantly
change your estimate of the risk that the Cylons may find us?"

Adama frowned as he considered his answer. Finally he replied. "Not significantly, no," he said. A sphere some twenty
light years across is still a significant area of space to search. That is, assuming the Cylons have found the beacon and
have managed to decode the data while neutralising the package."

Tigh chuckled at the image that rose up in his mind. "Almost makes me feel sorry for the toasters," he said. "You're right,
Admiral: even if they do find that beacon, and manage to recover the necessary data from it, they will still have a large
area of space to search. Even if they flood the area with Raiders, it will still take a lot of time and happenchance for them
to be able to find us."

"So you both believe that we can remain in this system for a while longer?" asked Roslyn.

"Yes," replied Adama. "The rotation schedule is working fine. We've even managed to discover some plant and animal
life on the surface that we can use to supplement our existing supplies. As for the derelict," he continued, "I suppose
there's no harm in seeing if we can squeeze out some more time." He turned to Tigh. "Fancy a trip, Saul?" he asked.

Tigh snorted. "You want me to go up to the derelict, see if I can help hurry things along?" he said. "Well, it's not as if
there's anything really requiring my attention here. Helo's come along quite well. He could easily take up the workload
here." He shot Adama a look. "Thinking of making him XO on the derelict?" he asked. "He's solid, would be a good
choice."

Adama nodded. "Glad you agree, Saul," he said.

"Thinking of giving Lee command?"

Adama looked at Tigh. "Any reason not to?" he asked.

Tigh shook his head. "No, but no matter what position he holds in the Fleet, it just makes him unavailable for an equally
essential post he could fill. Hate that."

"What about appointing Starbuck to fill Lee's place as Galactica CAG? She's done it before," said Adama.

Tigh thought for a while. "She could," he finally replied, "but she still has some demons from New Caprica to sort out.
Like the rest of us."

Adama looked at Tigh and Roslyn. "You both seem to have settled your own demons pretty well," he said.

"Well, I suppose," said Tigh. "Who are you thinking of for the derelict's CAG?" he asked.

"I was thinking of Kat," Adama replied. "She filled the slot quite well during the year on New Caprica." He looked at both of
the people in the room. "Or... Athena."

"Frack!" said Tigh. "That'd set a cat amongst the pigeons! A Raptor pilot! Let alone she's a Cylon! Although, she did well
on New Caprica. She could handle it quite well."

"Well, gentlemen," said Roslyn, "much as it would be amusing to hear you discuss who should hold down what position
on the derelict..." She paused in thought, "Assuming, always, that you do manage to make the derelict serviceable, have
you thought of what to call it?" She looked at the blank faces of the two men in front of her. "You haven't?" she asked.

"Well, to be honest, we've been concentrating on getting the Fleet rotated through the planet as well as starting the refit,
setting a DRADIS watch, that the issue of naming the derelict... slipped my mind," admitted an unusually sheepish
Adama. He looked at Roslyn. "Do you have any suggestions, Madame President?" he asked.
Roslyn thought for a minute, and then said "How about... Nike?"

Tigh thought for a bit. "The goddess of Victory," he said. He looked at Adama. "I like it, Bill. Could do wonders for the Fleet.
Especially if we do make Athena her CAG." He laughed. "Gods! The pilots that we'd assign to her would love that!"

Adama thought for a bit, then nodded. "Nike it is." He nodded at Roslyn. "Thank you, Madame President," he said.

"Glad to be of assistance."

"What's her designation?" Tigh asked. "We're going to have to come up with a group number for her."

Adama thought for a bit. Then he said, "Originally, the base stars were going to operate as a part of a battlestar group.
Their designation number was the same as the battlestar they were assigned to, but 'BStG' distinguished them. So, I
suppose 'BStG 75'."

"Right," said Tigh. He then got up. "I suppose I'd better go and get ready for my trip to the dere... er, Nike," he said. "If you
will excuse me, Admiral, Madame President..."

Roslyn got up as well. "No need, Colonel. I've got to get back to Colonial One myself," she said. "Thank you, gentlemen.
This has been a most illuminating meeting." She turned to face Adama. "I just hope you're right, Admiral, but..."

Adama stopped her. "I understand," he said. "New Caprica is also constantly on my mind."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, Off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.

Several humaniform Cylons, plus one human, gathered in the control centre of the base star.

There had been a few changes to the instrumentation since the chaotic events of a couple of days earlier. For one thing,
the Cylons had connected the beacon to a Colonial Fleet issue computer workstation, which was in turn connected to
one of the control surfaces in the room. For another, there was a Colonial Fleet issue television monitor set up in the
centre of the room.

D'anna Biers stepped up. She stood in front of the gathering and said, "After we managed to disinfect both the beacon
and our computer systems of the 'package', the Hybrid was able to decode the data from the Requisitus beacon we
recovered. What was found on the beacon was... disturbing.

"Gaius, the reason that we've set this equipment up here is of all of us here, you are the only one who cannot directly
access the data stream," Biers continued. "This screen will display some DRADIS data as well as footage taken from
the security system of the base star that launched the Requisitus we recovered. Please watch it. It is possible that you
may have some insights that we may not," she dryly finished.

Baltar said nothing but stood in front of the screen as the Cylons in the control centre took their positions at the data
access screens. One by one they placed their hands on the control surfaces, linking themselves to the base star's data
stream. As the last Cylon linked itself to the stream, the screen in front of Baltar came alive, showing the DRADIS display
that the Colonials had themselves seen. This was then followed by extracts taken from various sections of the old model
base star's security system, showing the fighting that had raged through the ship's corridors as the Hybrid fought its
losing battle against the software package. Gaius Baltar watched all of this with a morbid fascination that was most
definitely not shared by the Cylons. Afterwards, the Cylons disengaged themselves from the data stream, but said
nothing as each one absorbed the evidence before them.

Eighteen years earlier, the Cylons had encountered a clearly alien species in this general area of space.

And they had lost.

The implications were frightening.

*Chapter 9*: Chapter 8
Chapter Eight

Derelict Cylon Base Star (Provisional Colonial Base Star Nike), Outer System.

Saul Tigh suppressed a shudder as the Raptor carrying him to the derelict (I'm going to have to get used to calling it
Nike, so I had b etter start now, he thought to himself) swept down on through the opening to the lower landing bay.
Understandably, his memories of these things were not all that pleasant. His experienced eye took in the damage to the
outer hull and noted, not entirely approving, that the ship's armament looked as though it had suffered slight damage in
the assault the 'dragons' had made on the vessel: a sign that the alien software package had indeed done its job.
Although he was intellectually convinced that the Colonial work teams would indeed keep them deactivated until after
they had jumped the ship to the Fleet's location, emotionally, he still felt uneasy about letting a ship with the amount of
fire a base star possessed that close to the Fleet.

As the Raptor settled onto the flight bay's deck Tigh double-checked all of the connections of his flight suit. Then, as the
ship finished settling down, he nodded to the ship's co-pilot, who popped the small ship's main hatch. It had been a long
time since Saul Tigh had last operated in zero-G conditions, but a lifetime's worth of training automatically kicked in as
he walked to the edge of the Raptor's artificial gravity field and jumped forward into zero-G.

He reached out and snagged hold of a grab line, one of several that snaked across the bay, hooked himself to it, and
looked around. He noted the nets holding bits of Cylon Centurions, alien equipment (sorted into various categories) and
dead aliens. One net containing alien weapons and gear was put into the rear compartment of the Raptor that had
brought him from Galactica, ready for the return journey: the Admiral had thought it prudent to at least start transferring
the energy weapons just in case there was a jump accident. He also noticed that the bay was lit now: the temporary
lighting had been replaced with the bay's own overhead lights, which made it easier for people to see what they were
doing. Tigh took that has a good sign: Tyrol's work crews had managed to restore internal power.

It also enabled Tigh to see what, to him, was a less pleasing sight: rack upon rack of Cylon Raiders, frozen where the
alien software package had halted them in their launch cycle. He hauled himself across the bay, using the hand-over-
hand movement he had been taught as a raw recruit into the Colonial Fleet, until he got close enough to a rack of raiders
to be able to push himself across. He looked into what had been the cockpit window, but could see nothing except an ill-
defined mass.

A Marine guard floated close. "Sir?" he asked.

Tigh started for a moment, and then faced the Marine. "Just curious," he said, answering the Marine's unspoken
question. "Is Chief Tyrol in the control centre?" he asked.

"Just a moment, sir. I'll find out." The Marine switched channels. After a moment, he switched back to the short-range
channel and, facing Tigh, said "The Chief was overseeing a test cycle for the hyperdrives in the drive room, but is now on
his way back to the control centre. He says he'll meet you there, sir."

Tigh nodded. "Good," he said and turned to go.

"Oh, and sir?" the Marine added. Tigh halted and turned back to face the Marine. "Be careful in the corridors. The crews
are still hauling bits of toaster through them. And we've introduced a colour code on the guidelines. Red..."

"I know, Marine," said Tigh. "Green is up, red is down, and green is to the right. I wasn't born yesterday." He moved off,
leaving a somewhat chastened Marine behind him.

As Tigh moved through the corridors of the base star, he noted with some approval that Tyrol had started employing
some work crews in repairing some of Nike's atmospheric integrity. He saw one crew working on a bulkhead door,
replacing the damaged panel with one that had obviously been taken from the ship's stores. Finally, he arrived in the
ship's control centre.

He looked around. By now the room was beginning to resemble the CIC on Galactica. Colonial Fleet issue computer
terminals, several of which had been connected to Cylon memory cores, were positioned around the room. In the centre
was a bank that replicated the commander's station on Galactica. At present, however, it ran only test routines as the
technicians worked out how best to mate Colonial and Cylon computer equipment.

Tigh finally noticed that Tyrol was standing in front of a set of terminals and monitors. He hauled himself over to the
workstation. Looking over the shoulders of Tyrol and the technician, Tigh saw that they had been running a test routine on
the hyperdrive control systems. From what Tigh could see, the test hadn't been all that smooth.

"Trouble, Chief?" he asked.

Tyrol started, and then looked around. Finally, he noticed that Tigh was floating behind him. "Oh, sorry, Colonel. I didn't
realise that you were in the control centre."

"Not to worry, Chief," replied Tigh. "I only got here just a moment ago. Like I said, trouble?"

Tyrol nodded his head. "We seem to be having trouble with the control software for the hyperdrives," he said. "Every time
we run either a diagnostic or a test routine we keep getting some weird results. Most common one is the development of
a slight disharmony within the synchronisation of the drives, either just before or immediately after a jump."

Tigh frowned. "Could be that you're still having some issues connecting our equipment to the Cylon gear," he said. "But I
think it could be that it's because this junk pile has been sitting here open to vacuum for nigh on nineteen years.
Remember, I wasn't too sure about Galactica's hyperdrives because they hadn't been used for twenty. And they were
being constantly maintained, too." He looked Tyrol in the face. "I think we'd better get one of the Fleet hyperdrive
engineers up here as fast as we can and have him look the system over."

"I was thinking about asking the Admiral to send us a hyperdrive engineer, but with the problems in the Fleet, I didn't feel
that I could get one easily," replied Tyrol.

Tigh grinned. "I think I can arrange for a Fleet engineer to come up here," he said. "I'll send a message to Galactica to put
together a crew and put them on a Raptor up here. I'll ask for a mix of engineers from Galactica's and Pegasus'
engineering components."

"Thanks, Colonel!" said Tyrol. "Er, if you don't mind me asking..."

"What am I doing here?" said Tigh. "Don't worry, Chief. I'm not here to crack the whip. The Admiral has sent me to try and
help you shave some time off of the work schedule up here." He looked around. "Seems to me you've made some good
progress."

"Yes, sir, we have," said Tyrol. "Lieutenant Agathon was a great help in pointing out how we could use some of the control
runs that are still intact by isolating them from the Cylon computer gear. Much of our time was spent in connecting our
gear to the Cylon machinery and in isolating the power generators from the Cylon systems." He too, looked around the
room. "That's how we were able to get the power generators online so quickly."

Tigh nodded. "I also saw that you have some crews working on restoring airtight integrity to some areas of the ship," he
said.

"I had some work crews spare," said Tyrol, "so I decided that while I had them it might be a good idea to restore some
airtight integrity so that we can, later on, get some living quarters ready for both work parties and the ship's crew." He
sighed. "It is quite tiring working in a space suit all the time. The sooner we restore life support to some areas of the
derelict..."

"Nike," said Tigh. At Tyrol's blank look, Tigh said "We had a discussion after Athena gave her report on the beacon. We
decided to name her Nike. Even has a group number too: 'BStG 75.' Since these things were originally intended to
operate with a battlestar group before the Cylons revolted and turned them on us, it was decided that we'd pair her with
Galactica." Tigh looked around and gave a wry smile. "When I think about it, it's strangely appropriate," he said. "Two
relics from the same damned war, operating under the original scheme for the Colonial Fleet."

"Nike, then," said Tyrol. "As I was saying, the sooner we can restore life support to selected areas of Nike the easier it
will be on our work crews in refitting her."

"And if we can't get her hyperdrives online, or we do but some other problem arises?" asked Tigh.

"Then, assuming that the hyperdrives can't be made operational,' said Tyrol, "we get some of the freighters out here and
we load them up with as much material as we possibly can. As Lieutenant Agathon said, we have virtually full storage
areas, including ammunition magazines. Even some nukes."

Tigh looked impressed. "We could sure use that," he said. "And if we have to abandon her, we can always rig a couple of
nukes to her power systems so that if the Cylons try and reactivate her, she'd go up and possibly take a few of them with
her." He looked at Tyrol. "I'll get a message back to Galactica asking for some hyperdrive techs," he said. "You continue
on with what you're doing here. What's the long-range channel for communications within Nike?"
Tyrol told him. "Do we have some sort of traffic control set up here?" Tigh asked.

"Yes," Tyrol said. "Captain Kelly sent up a crew. They're coordinating efforts from Flattop until we get some space for them
established here."

Tigh nodded. "I'll get onto them to send a message by the next Raptor flight back to Galactica," he said. "After I do that, I
think we'd better have a little brainstorming session on how to expedite things here. The Old Man wasn't too happy about
that beacon being launched, I can tell you."

"Neither was I," said Tyrol. "Nor was Lieutenant Agathon. That's why she and I worked on finding some shortcuts before
she returned to Galactica." With that, the two men parted to work on their separate tasks.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By now Nike's position was b racketed b y a set of four reconnaissance drones. From all of the activity going on around the
derelict Ab al had managed to surmise that the Colonials were deadly serious ab out salvaging the derelict for their own
use.

Although the Colonials were keeping a close sensor watch out for anything remotely resemb ling Cylon activity, they were
not prepared for the ab ilities of Terran Imperial Navy reconnaissance gear. And they were in an area where the odd
asteroid was to b e expected. So long as they were not on any course that could threaten the safety of either Nike or her
attendant vessels, the Colonials did nothing ab out any stray asteroids that wandered near the ships. So, when the drones
that had already b een deployed were recalled for servicing and a fresh set dispatched to the locations of b oth the refugee
fleet and Nike, Ab al arranged that at least one drone arced past Nike on a b allistic course in order to get some more
information. As a result, the Terrans now not only possessed good quality scans of Nike (it was decided to take a chance
on doing this when they realised the Colonials could not pick up the emissions from Terran gear) b ut also the
wavelengths used b y the colonials for all internal communications within Nike. As a result, 'Ab al was slightly b etter
informed than Adama on the progress b eing made in Nike's refit.

However, the latest information, plus the return of Arethusa to the squadron b earing dispatches, b egan to make things a
little complicated for 'Ab al

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The desk intercom chimed, indicating that the duty Marine outside 'Ab al's cab in suite wanted to speak to her. Ab al
looked away from her virtual computer screen and activated the intercom. "Yes?" she asked.

"Ma'am, the duty signals officer is here b earing dispatches from Sandoval," said the Marine.

'Ab al's eyeb rows rose in surprise. "Is he b earing hardcopies, Corporal?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. He says that they are on a ramstick and are encrypted. Squadron Commander's Eyes Only."

'Ab al's eyeb rows rose further. While this was not usual, similarly, it was not all that unheard of, especially when operating
under stealth in a comb at zone. "Send him in," she said. She closed down her work window as the door slid open,
allowing Basilicata's duty signals officer in.

He walked up to 'Ab al's desk and came to attention. "Ma'am," he said. Under his arm he carried a sealed dispatch case.

'Ab al hid her surprise at this development. "You have dispatches for me, Lieutenant?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," replied the lieutenant. He took the dispatch case from under his arm and placed it on 'Ab al's desk.
"Arethusa sent a messenger across with the case. I had to sign for it."

'Ab al examined the case. As she expected, it had a small impression in its surface. She placed a thumb in the
depression. Immediately the case took a DNA sample, cross-referenced thumb print, b lood type and DNA sample with its
own encrypted record. Satisfied that this was indeed the Commanding Officer, Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron, the
case opened, revealing a ramstick nestled in its foam-lined interior.

'Ab al looked at the officer. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I can take it from here," she said.

'Ma'am." The lieutenant came to attention, ab out-turned, and exited 'Ab al's day cab in.

'Ab al took the ramstick and inserted it into a receptacle in her desk. Immediately a retinal scanner rose from her desktop
and settled at eye height while at the same time a scanning plate emerged and settled flush with the desktop. A computer
voice spoke. "Please place your hand on the scanning plate and look into the retinal scanner," it said.

'Ab al did so. Immediately a laser scanner read her retinal pattern while, at the same time, the scanning plate took b oth a
DNA sample and a scan of her handprint, comparing all three with the ramstick's own encrypted record.

"State your name and rank," the computer said.

"'Ab al b int Ab d-al-Karim, Commodore, Terran Imperial Navy, Commanding the Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron," she
said.

"Voiceprint matches," said the computer. "Codephrase?"

"'Do not walk proudly on the earth. You cannot cleave the earth, nor can you rival the mountains in stature.'"

"Codephrase matches. Retinal and DNA scans matches. Releasing message to your computer now, Commodore 'Ab al."
As the computer said this the scanners withdrew b ack into the desktop. A hologram appeared ab ove the
communications plate. It soon resolved itself into the image of a human male, who would have appeared to b e in his
early forties to a non-Imperial human. He wore on the cuff of his working tunic the four narrow and single b road gold cuff
rings, surmounted b y a crown, of a Fleet Admiral, with emb roidered silver and thread crowns surmounting a pair of silver
emb roidered b atons enclosed inside an emb roidered silver laurel wreath mounted on gold shoulder b oards.

The figure looked at 'Ab al. " Greetings, 'Ab al," said the figure. "I've read your dispatches. Frankly, I have to agree with
your assessment: this is the last thing we need: a refugee fleet in the Conflict Zone.

"Unfortunately, I also have to agree with the rest of your assessment. The Regulations governing First Contact with
another human civilisation, let alone those dealing with refugees, don't leave us that much discretion, especially when
operating in the Domain. I've given your situation some thought and have come to the following conclusion. Although you
have fulfilled your original mission and have successfully deployed your sensor platforms, I'm scrub b ing the rest of your
mission. I'll b e sending another light cruiser squadron along the rest of your patrol path.

"Your mission is now to b oth ob serve and cover this refugee fleet. If possib le, you are to attempt to place a tracking
device on at least one of their ships. If either the lizards or these 'Cylons' of theirs show up, you are to immediately make
your presence known. How you do that I'm leaving up to you. At the worst you may well have to fight a covering action to
enab le the refugee fleet time to escape.

"I've sent copies of your dispatches up the chain of command, with an attached note calling the attention of b oth the
Contact and Foreign Offices to it. Hopefully, we should have some people from those two departments out here soon so
we can unload all of this into their laps. You are to keep me updated as b est you can.

"That's all for now. Simon Templar, Officer Commanding Sixteenth Fleet, signing off."

'Ab al sat b ack as the holograph faded out. The message was pretty much as she had expected it. Templar would have
said in private that he was stating the frickin' ob vious, b ut that it had to b e done for the record.

The chime on the communications plate rang. "Answer," she said. A holograph image of her flag lieutenant formed
ab ove the communications plate. "What is it, Andy?" she asked.

"We've just gone through the latest information from the recon drones, ma'am," said Morgan. "Plus we've completed the
examination of the scans done b y the drone that went in on a b allistic course part the derelict vessel they're currently
salvaging."

"Good. What have you got for me?" asked 'Ab al.

"The information from the scans is most interesting, ma'am," replied Morgan. "The derelict exhib its outer hull damage
consistent with strafing passes b y aerospace craft equipped with energy weapons. In addition, these were imb edded in
the outer hull." As he said this, his image faded away, and was replaced b y a schematic representation of the Cylon
vessel. It showed a section of hull that had several ob jects that, while they were unfamiliar to the Colonials, were all too
familiar to 'Ab al and her officers.

"Are those...?" she asked, leaning forward to take a closer look.

"Yes, ma'am. Those are Raptor b oarding craft. Their general design confirms that. We did a comparison of the hull
design with the warb ook and found out that the design is from some eighteen years ago."

"Interesting." 'Ab al sat b ack and steepled her fingers under the point of her chin. "So it appears that these 'Cylons' may
have had an encounter with the lizards. Is there any record of an encounter with our forces?"

"We did an examination of the Fleet hypernet records availab le to us," said Morgan. "Avicenna found a report from ab out
the same period of an engagement b etween a survey group and some unknowns in the New Rochefort system in the old
Raptor March. The group was examining the system's resources prior to the Fleet estab lishing the New Rochefort colonia
and Fleet Node. The ships they encountered match this one exactly."

"This gets curiouser and curiouser," said 'Ab al.

"We've also managed to hack into the refugee's internal communications," said Morgan. "It seems that the derelict was
open to vacuum when they b oarded it. They're currently re-estab lishing airtight integrity in selected areas of the ship, and
have managed to restore power. However, they've imported their own computer systems in order to do it. It looks like they
don't trust the ship's own computers."

"Very interesting," said 'Ab al. "Any idea why they don't trust the derelict's computers?"

"They keep mentioning a 'software package' they encountered when examining a computer memory core they took b ack
to their own ship," said Morgan. "Apparently they had sense enough to examine it in isolation from their own systems
b ecause, from what we've b een ab le to pick up, it sounds like they've encountered a Raptor hack pack"

"A hack pack? Well, that makes sense given the condition of the derelict," said 'Ab al.

"It also may explain some of the difficulties they're having in b ringing the derelict's hyperdrives online. They keep getting
a synchronisation prob lem every time they run a simulation," said Morgan.

"Have you run this information past Commander Ob ata?" asked 'Ab al.

"Yes, ma'am. He says that the synch prob lem could result from the effects of a hack pack," said Morgan. "Alternatively, he
also says that the officer called 'Colonel Tigh' may b e right. This derelict has b een floating here in deep space for
eighteen and a half years without even the b asic maintenance that's performed on ships in the Mothb all Fleet. This was
very much a prob lem in late 22nd CE drives, especially if they had not b een maintained."

"Hmm," said 'Ab al. "So we could b e looking at the possib ility of a drive accident if they try and spin the drives up?" she
asked.

"According to Commander Ob ata, yes, ma'am," replied Morgan.

"Great." 'Ab al sat b ack and crossed her arms. "Just what I needed." She thought ab out this information and how it
affected the new orders she had b een given. She suddenly leaned forward and keyed out the schematic, replacing it with
Lieutenant Morgan's portrait. "Andy, I want a full appreciation of all communications intelligence we've gleaned. Also, I
want to speak to Captain Jaidev after we're done. Finally, I want you to give all of your information to Commander Ob ata
and have him work on a software package that will correct the synch prob lem. Got all of that?"

"Yes, ma'am. Have to say, though, Commander Ob ata's going to b e somewhat peeved."

"He's paid to give us what we need. And if he couldn't take a joke, then why'd he enlist?" said 'Ab al. Morgan grinned at the
hoary joke. "Anything else, Andy?" she asked.

"We suspect that the survivors of the Raptor b oarding party may have made planetfall, ma'am," Morgan said. "We keep
getting references to 'dragons' in the communications chatter."

"There may b e lizards down there?" said 'Ab al? "And they haven't b een found b y the others. I wonder if that means they
were unab le to get a distress message off?"

"That could b e why we didn't find any military presence in this system," said Morgan. "There's not even any hint of lizard
space infrastructure in orb it. It might just b e that the derelict encountered them in another system and managed to jump
out here."

"Leaving the lizards stranded," finished 'Ab al. "Makes sense." She sat b ack. "Is that all?" Morgan nodded. "Then give
Captain Jaidev my compliments and tell him I wish to speak to him."

"Aye, ma'am." Morgan stiffened to attention and faded out.

'Ab al stretched. Then, she leant over and touched a contact. After a moment, a voice came out of the speaker system.
"Yes, ma'am?" said Faisal Ab u Bakir, her personal steward.
"Faisal, can you please get me a pot of chai tea?" 'Ab al said. "I think I'm going to need it."

"I will do so, ma'am," he said. "As per your usual?"

"No, make it strong," 'Ab al said. "And can you get me a meal? It looks like I won't b e having a formal lunch."

"Aye, aye, ma'am," said Ab u Bakir. His voice faded out. After a while, the chime on her communications plate rang.
"Answer," she said.

The holographic image of Captain Jaidev, Basilicata's captain, shimmered into focus ab ove the communications plate.
"Lieutenant Morgan said you wanted to speak to me, ma'am," he said.

"Jai, I've just received a dispatch from Sandoval," 'Ab al b egan. "To put it b luntly, we're to keep an eye on the refugees.
Admiral Templar is assigning another light cruiser squadron to continue on our patrol run."

"I see, ma'am," said Jaidev.

"That's not all. Templar wants us to try and place a locator b eacon onto one of their ships 'if possib le'," 'Ab al continued.

"Forgive me for saying this, ma'am, b ut, given the closeness of the watch they keep over their fleet, that's not all that
likely," said Jaidev. "Even though a b eacon's not all that b ig and is pretty well stealthed, we'd have to use a drone to
deliver it. And they've b een looking out for any piece of space deb ris they could pose a potential threat to their ships."

"I know," said 'Ab al. "Have you seen the latest intel on the derelict?"

"Yes, ma'am. Lieutenant Morgan has told me that you want Commander Ob ata to work on a software package for their
drive synchronisation prob lem. Ob ata's going to b e pretty upset having to work out a package for a set of drives of that
vintage tech, let alone ones that he hasn't examined."

"I know," grimaced 'Ab al. As she spoke, her steward came in with a Russian samovar made of silver and a matching tea
glass. He put it to one side of 'Ab al's desk, poured a glass of tea and handed it to her. "Thanks, Faisal," she said. Ab u
Bakir b raced to attention and left the room.

"I know," she repeated herself. "However, the possib ility of these 'Colonials' suffering a drive accident here in the Zone is
something I find less appealing."

"True, ma'am," he said. "They could wind up anywhere. And the feedb ack would alert the lizards that there's something
going on in this system."

"Hopefully they're too preoccupied with the offensive to b e of any troub le to us," said 'Ab al. She sipped her tea. "Since
you think that the odds of us getting a tracking b eacon onto one of the ships in the main fleet are pretty remote, what do
you think are the chances of sneaking one onb oard that derelict?"

Jaidev leant b ack. His eyes half-closed and his right hand rose to stroke his goatee. "Pretty good," he said after a while.
"There's a lot of traffic around the derelict. And we managed to get one drone past the derelict and its attendant ship on a
b allistic course. We could do it."

"Good. Set up a drone to deliver a tracker b eacon to the derelict. And have Commander Ob ata work on the software
package. We may not need to use it b ut..."

Jaidev nodded. "Better prepared than not," he said. "I see one prob lem, though. If they do suffer a jump accident and the
b eacon goes off..."

'Ab al grimaced. "Don't remind me," she said. "We'd hear it, b ut so would the lizards. That's why I want to b e ready for
when they do try and spin up the drives. At least we'll have fair warning, since we've managed to hack into their internal
communications on the derelict. And since the b eacon is multifunctional..."

Jaidev grinned. "We'll b e ab le to hack into any internal communications network they set up. I'll get right onto it, ma'am."

"Thanks, Jai. 'Ab al clear." She shut down the hologram, and looked at the time display on the b ulkhead wall. Sighing,
she called up her work window and returned to her routine paperwork.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, Off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.
To put things mildly, the debate that had started amongst the humaniform Cylons once they had fully absorbed the
importance of what they had learned, was spirited.

And, as tended to happen amongst the humaniform Cylons, religion entered into it pretty early on.

Several, most notably the Simons and the Sixes, had declared the discovery of a highly advanced and aggressive alien
life form to be "one of God's tests." One of the Fives asked, perhaps more sarcastically than the situation warranted, "just
what did God have to do with these creatures?"

Add a "Brother Cavil" type stirring the pot, with the Threes and the Eights desperately trying to keep the discussion on
track, and things went downhill quite rapidly from there.

The only person in the room seemingly unaffected by the debate was Gaius Baltar. He had managed to gain control of
the video screen and was running the video and DRADIS footage back and forth, occasionally freezing a particular frame
and looking very closely at the screen, as if he was trying to isolate something.

Caprica Six was the only Cylon not taking part in the debate. She stood off to one side, watching as D'anna Biers and the
other Threes and the Eights desperately tried to keep the argument on the topic of "what should we do?" Eventually, a
visibly exasperated Biers strode over and stood next to Caprica Six.

"God," she said. "We're trying to get them focussed on what to do next, and then it becomes a question of 'What is God's
purpose in this development?'" She angrily kicked the floor. "And those 'Cavils' aren't helping much, either."

Caprica Six was about to respond when, from an unexpected quarter, a shout cut through the babble. "Excuse me!" the
voice said.

The shouting stopped. The attention of every Cylon in the room was turned onto a visibly exasperated Gaius Baltar, who
stood in front of the screen.

"Much as this... theological debate is fascinating," he said, "I'm afraid that it doesn't deal with the primary issue here!"

Silence gripped the room. A Gaius Baltar stammering in his efforts to find a way to, at the very least, ensure that the
Cylons continued to let him live was something they were all familiar with.

A Gaius Baltar that was actually exasperated enough to interrupt a deb ate? That was something new.

Caprica Six watched the situation with a sense of dread. Baltar's life could very much hinge on what happened in the next
few moments. Besides her, Biers stirred. She then slowly walked over to a control surface, placed her hands on its edge
and, looking at Baltar, asked with a false joviality, "Well, since you are ob viously better informed, or perhaps I should say,
b etter acquainted with what you believe to be the primary issue here, perhaps you can enlighten the rest of us on what it
actually is, Gaius?"

The sense of dread that Caprica Six felt got stronger. Oh, Gaius, she thought, please b e careful! Be very careful! They
might just decide to kill you for what you have just said! She willed Baltar to hear what she was thinking.

Perhaps her God heard her unspoken prayer, and somehow communicated her thoughts to Baltar. In any case, Baltar
visibly calmed himself. Facing Biers, he said, "Although it may seem that I'm stating the fr... obvious," he said, biting off
the swearword he very nearly used, " and with all due respects to your religious beliefs, whether God intended this as a
test or not isn't the issue. The issue is: we have here the first recorded contact, by either Human or Cylon, with an alien
race. And, from what evidence we have before us, they are both far more technologically advanced than either of our
species, and are highly territorial, let alone aggressive. So, looking from that perspective, the question we should be
really asking is: what do we do to prepare ourselves for the next time we encounter them? And it is inevitable that, sooner
or later, we will encounter them. I don't know about you, but I'd want to be ready as I possibly can for that."

Biers hid her astonishment. Baltar had, once again, displayed an alarming ability to get to the real issue of a particular
question and frame it in a way that no one could really ignore. It could b e b ecause he doesn't really share our religious
b eliefs, she thought. Or it could b e some human trait that continues to evade us and may even contrib ute to their
survival. Aloud, she said, "That was quite illuminating, Gaius. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the issue with us. I
don't suppose," she asked sarcastically, "that you have any further insights you'd care to enlighten us with."

Six had to give Baltar credit: even though Biers was toying with him, he didn't back down. "Actually, I do," he said. "First of
all, I suggest that you appoint a team to study the DRADIS data you pulled down from the beacon in some detail. I may
be wrong," he continued, "but, looking at the representation you put up on the screen for my benefit, I didn't see any sign
of the aliens using projectile weapons, although they were quite clearly firing back."
Silence once again descended on the room. Then, one of the Simons put his hands onto the control surface, and
connected himself with the data stream. After a while, he looked up. "He's right," he said. "The aliens were inflicting a
massive amount of damage, but there is no sign that they used projectile weapons of any kind!" The look he turned on
Baltar was undecipherable. "How did you know?" he asked.

"Yes, Gaius," said Biers. "How did you know?"

Baltar stared back. "I didn't know, until I saw the DRADIS readout," he said. "Since that didn't show any sign of missile
weapons of any kind, yet the base stars taking damage, it follows that they were using some other kind of weapon. At a
guess, I'd say that they use some kind of directed energy weapon."

"What, a 'death ray'?" asked Biers.

"If you want to call it that, then yes," said Baltar. "One thing I can tell you is that, before your attack, the Colonial Fleet was
working on those types of weapons. The only reason they were not deployed at the time is because there were several
hurdles they had to overcome in making them into viable weapons systems. And before you level any more accusations
at me, please, please remember that, not only am I a trained scientist, I was a defence scientist. I may have been
working on computer systems primarily, but I was consulted on several other projects the Colonial Fleet had going."

Biers looked at Baltar, then looked at the other Cylons. Not seeing any dissent, she nodded. "Very well, Gaius. We'll do
as you suggest. I expect you to give us as much information on the Colonial Fleet weapons project you just mentioned
as possible." Baltar acknowledged Biers' statement with a nod of his head. "Any other insights?" Biers asked.

"Yes," said Baltar. "I would also have a frame-by-frame analysis done of that security camera footage you downloaded. It
may reveal some clues as to how these aliens were able to overcome Centurions so quickly."

"Are you sure those... things we saw were aliens?" asked a Cavil. "From what I saw of them, they looked like some
equivalent of our own Centurions."

"While you were having your little... discussion, I decided to look at the video again," said Baltar. "I managed to freeze
some frames where it was quite clear that the Centurions' firepower had taken one of these aliens down. In several
frames I quite clearly saw what looked to me like blood and bits of organic matter flying out of the headpiece. Unless
those were some sort of cybernetic organism, then yes, those were the aliens. And it is possible they were wearing
some kind of armour. I'd also look at the weapons they were carrying: again, I didn't see any projectile strikes on the
Centurions. If there are any sensor readings that go with the footage I would review that, too. It just might give a clue as to
what kind of weapons these creatures were using."

"Anything else?" asked a Five. To Caprica Six's surprise, it seemed as if her fellow Cylons were taking Baltar's
suggestions seriously. And, from the frown on Biers' face, it was quite clear that she had noticed it as well.

"Yes. I would like some assistance in analysing the software package that was on the beacon, if only to work out some
kind of defence against it," said Baltar. "It might also be possible to turn it to... our advantage," he said.

"Our advantage?" asked Biers.

"Well... yes," said Baltar. "If something happens, as I believe I said earlier, you may all be downloaded into other bodies,
but I will remain dead. For obvious reasons, I don't want that to happen. And preparing a defence against that software
package or its variations, and possibly using it as a basis for a package that can be used against these aliens strikes
me as a very good idea."

"Could it be used against Galactica?" asked a Corbin.

Baltar shook his head. "No," he said. "Admiral Adama was pretty adamant about not allowing Galactica's computers to
be networked. And this package was designed to be used against networked computers. And I can also tell you that the
Admiral has taken steps to ensure that the Fleet's computers have been similarly reconfigured." Silence again fell
across the room as the Cylons took on what Baltar had said.

"Well, thank you Gaius, for your illuminating insights," said Biers. "It looks like we all have our work cut out for us. We'll
send you some extra help. You may go, now."

Baltar took the hint, and hurriedly left the room. As he passed Caprica Six, he looked at her. She looked back, but said
nothing. From off to one side, Baltar could hear the mocking voice of his "inner Six" congratulating him on getting out of
another jam. He continued on his way out of the room.

Caprica Six looked after him. Before she could follow, Biers came up to her and said, "Well, Caprica, it seems that your
little pet has again proven his usefulness."

Caprica Six looked back at Biers. "Yes," she said. "You could say that." She again looked in the direction Baltar had taken.
"I'd better go after him," she said. "As he said, the sooner we understand that package, the better."

"Be careful, Caprica," said Biers. "It may not pay off in the long run to be too attached to him."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Somewhere near the derelict Cylon Base Star (Provisional Colonial Base Star Nike), Outer System.

The reconnaissance drone came in on a b allistic arc towards Nike. It's AI kept up a full-glob e watch around its position
as it coasted in from where it had b een launched b y Basilicata. It noted the positions of the stationary Colonial sensor
drones as well as the patrol paths of the Colonial EW craft.

This pass would b e the closest yet that any of the Reconnaissance drones had made to Nike. Thus, it was also the
riskiest. As a result, it was on a constant link with Basilicata, a risk that it was considered worth taking as the Colonials
seemed unab le to pick up hyperspatial transmissions, let alone the focussed tightb eam one that the drone was using.
'Ab al was not going to pass up the opportunity to gain more information on the refugees.

As the drone entered the outer limits of the Colonial's DRADIS watch, it b egan to emit a return signal to the Colonial's
DRADIS gear of a lump of meteoric nickel-iron, making sure that the return signal pulsed exactly with the impact on its
sensors of the original Colonial DRADIS pulse. That, of course, was simply ab sorb ed b y the drone's outer layer. As
usual, it looked like a lump of space rock coasting through space.

It was, however, as it closed in on Nike's position that things b egan to get a little hot...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Glad to be back in the big seat, Athena?" asked Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson.

Athena laughed. "You have no idea, Racetrack," she said. "I can understand why the Admiral had me on special duty, but
I'd rather be flying than poking around in a computer core."

Racetrack grinned. "Hey, it's not my fault you happen to be the Fleet's expert on Cylon equipment!" she said in a teasing
tone.

"Tell me about it," Athena said. "God, its good to be back flying!"

"I can sympathise, girlfr... Wait a minute! I've got a contact!"

"Where?" asked Athena.

"Bearing on our mark, 250, down 150. Just running an analysis now..." Racetrack fell silent as the ship's onboard
systems analysed the return signals. "It's another meteorite," she said.

"What's its course?" asked Athena.

"Calculating now... It's on a heading towards Nike," she replied.

"Ok. How close is it going to pass by?"

"Looks as though it's going to be pretty close."

"Frack." Athena switched to the intership channel. "Flattop Control, Flattop Control, this is Athena. Do you copy, over?"

After a short period of static, a voice came out of her headset. "This is Flattop Control, reading you loud and clear. What is
it, Athena."

"Flattop Control, I have a meteorite heading in your direction, bearings my mark 250, down 150. My EW operator says it's
going to pass Nike pretty closely. Do you want me to intercept? Over."

There was a period of silence as Flattop Control examined its own DRADIS readings. The silence grew longer. Just as
Athena was about to query them, a new voice came onto the channel. "Athena, this is Colonel Tigh," it said. "You have a
meteorite coming our way, is that right?"
"Yes, Colonel," Athena said. "Racetrack says that it'll pass your position pretty close. Do you want me to intercept and
follow?"

Again a small period of silence ensured. Then, Tigh's voice came back on. "Permission to intercept and follow granted,
Athena. But, if you've got to shoot the frakking thing down, give us fair warning, OK?"

"Got that loud and clear. Moving to intercept now." Athena fired her manoeuvring thrusters in order to get herself onto an
intercept heading. Once that was achieved, she fired her main engines and shot off to intercept the meteorite.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The drone registered b oth transmission and the movement of one of the EW craft into an intercept course. This had b een
anticipated, however. When it had b een launched the drone had immediately moved up to a fairly impressive speed so
as to reduce its window of vulnerab ility as much as possib le. Its course had also b een worked out so as to limit any
potential intercept window to as little as possib le. Every so often, however, it was ab le to discretely manoeuvre itself so
that it stayed on course. Once it was within the sensor radius of the Colonials, however, it would b e unab le to manoeuvre
itself. Just in case, its self-destruct mechanism was primed. The tracker b eacon was also primed for immediate launch. If
it turned out that the drone was ab out to b e shot down, the drone would initiate its self-destruct mechanism, switching the
tracking b eacon to autonomous. Then, at the right moment, the b eacon would launch itself so as to look like a piece of
meteoric deb ris.

At the moment, it looked as though all of this might b e called into play. The drone's AI, however, was going to wait until
the last possib le moment b efore executing its contingency programming. So, as it coasted in, it continued to ob serve the
oncoming craft and continually updating its calculations on the prob ab ility of b eing intercepted.

Meanwhile, it continued transmitting whatever data it could over the relays to Basilicata.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One of the oldest sayings in naval warfare of any kind is "A stern chase is a long chase." Athena found out the truth of that
saying as she burned in on her intercept course.

"Athena, we're gonna be cutting this one pretty fine," said Racetrack as Nike's bulk grew in the forward cockpit window.

"Don't I know it," Athena said. "You still got it on your screens?"

"Yeah. Should be getting a visual anytime... now!" said Racetrack.

Athena looked out through her cockpit windows, scanning for the meteorite. "Got it!" she said. "Moving in behind it now."
She activated her manoeuvring thrusters and slotted in behind the meteorite.

Ahead of her, she saw the meteorite. It was some 300 metres in front and moving rapidly. Rapidly, she activated her
targeting systems, and lined them up onto the meteorite. After she had obtained a lock, Athena activated her
communicator. "Control, I have a visual on the meteor," she said. "It's moving rapidly towards Nike. What's your best
estimate on its trajectory, over?"

"Athena, this is Control. Our estimates are that it will pass Nike b y at least one hundred metres. We have alerted Colonel
Tigh on b oard Nike and he thinks that is just a little too close for comfort."

"Ok, Control. Do I have authorisation to take a shot?" Athena asked.

There was silence on the channel for a moment. Then, Tigh's gruff voice came on. "Athena, this is Tigh. You have
authorisation to take a shot. Just don't cut it too fine, ok?"

"Copy that, Colonel. Taking the shot. But it's going to be close. Athena out." She checked her targeting data one last time,
then, armed her missiles. "Missiles armed," she said. "Taking the shot... now." As she said that, she squeezed the
trigger, and released two anti-small ship missiles. They roared out from the missile packs attached to the top of her
Raptor, following the beam her DRADIS set had painted onto the meteorite.

Both missiles impacted simultaneously. After the explosion from their impact had died away, Athena could only see a
cloud of debris shooting off in all directions. She activated her communicator. "Control, this is Athena," she said. "Target
destroyed. However, you're going to have some debris impacting on the outer hull. Nothing to be too worried about,
though. Returning to patrol route now."

"Athena, this is Control. Copy that. Nice shooting. Control, out."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As the missiles closed in, the drone's AI activated its self-destruct mechanism. First, after sending off a final report to
Basilicata, it initiated the means b y which all of its discrete parts would b e fused into a solid lump of metal. At the same
time it readied the b eacon for launch.

As the missiles impacted, it launched the b eacon. At the same time, it also activated the insulated explosives pack that
lay at its heart. At least, the person who had shot at it would get a fairly gratifying explosion. As the explosion died away,
the b eacon, protected b y its armoured shell, sped off on a seemingly random trajectory that would take it straight to the
derelict. When it arrived, it b egan to seek a means of entry to the vessel.

By a stroke of colossal irony, it found the hole b y which the Cylon Requisitus b eacon had exited the ship all those years
ago. Shooting inside, the b eacon hovered as it sought a place to attach itself. Finally, it located the power and data feeds
used to support the Requisitus b eacon when it was still on b oard. Shooting over, it attached itself to b oth simply b y using
a malleab le form of superconductor that allowed it to match the ends of the cab les perfectly. Finally, it attached itself to
the room's b ulkheads b y means of a small graviton generator that was b uilt into it, and concealed its presence b y
generating a hologram that allowed it to b lend in with the rest of the Cylon gear.

Using its b uilt in monodirectional antenna, it rapidly estab lished a link with a nearb y drone, which relayed its link b ack to
Basilicata. It then tested the link and, finding that it worked, settled down to ob serve. Although it had its own internal
power source, it maintained itself b y discretely siphoning off power from the ship's own power grid. It also managed to
hack into the control runs the Colonials had estab lished to the hyperspace engines b y using the ship's own estab lished
runs as a form of sensor net, and readied itself , when needed, to squirt any data it learned ab out the engines, b ack to
Basilicata and her chief engineer. The only sign that the Colonials might have of its presence was the slight energy drain
it caused on the ship's systems. And the Colonials were so b usy reactivating unfamiliar systems they would not even
notice.

Unless their attention was b rought to it b y the only Colonial officer in the Fleet with any familiarity with Cylon systems. And
she was b usy elsewhere.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Derelict Cylon Base Star (Provisional Colonial Base Star Nike), Three Days Later.

"Colonel," said Tyrol. "Captain Tychon tells me that he thinks he's managed to work out the worst of the bugs in the jump
drives. There is still some instability, but he thinks that it won't seriously affect the jump itself."

Tigh grunted. "And how have the simulation runs gone?" he asked.

"Less smoother than either Captain Tychon or myself would like, but they appear to be the best we can get at present,"
replied Tyrol. "He thinks that carrying out the actual jump itself should give us some more data on what's causing the
disharmony in the engines."

Tigh grunted again. Then he looked around the control room. "At least we don't have to wear space suits in here now," he
said. "Makes working in here much better."

"Yes, sir. And once we rejoin the Fleet, we can begin to empty out some more of those storage areas and convert them
over to living quarters. Then, we can start to gradually return life support to more of Nike."

"What's next on that list, Chief?" asked Tigh.

Tyrol consulted a master chart he and Tigh had worked out. "Next are the manufacturing areas," he said. "They should be
pretty easy to repair: it appears that there wasn't much fighting there. That should then complete the initial repairs to the
lower hull. Once we have the manufacturing plants up and running, we can then start producing armour to replace that
destroyed in the attack."

"Why armour? I thought there was some in storage?" Tigh said.

"There is, sir, but that's slated to repair the damage done to Galactica's armour off New Caprica," said Tyrol. "The Admiral
feels that it would be best to repair Galactica so that we have at least one fully functional warship in case the Cylons turn
up."

Tigh grunted. "All right, I can see that," he said. "But all of this is moot if we can't get the jump drives working." He looked
at Tyrol. "I want all nonessential personnel off Nike and on Flattop as soon as possible," he said. "Only personnel
actually required to make the jump through hyperspace are to remain on board. And we'll follow Fleet procedure on this
one. I don't see the need for taking any more risks doing this than we need to."

"I agree, sir," said Tyrol. "Who amongst the officers and crew chiefs are staying on board?"

"Myself, Captain Tychon, Chief Taros and their crews. You, on the other hand, are heading back to Galactica." Tigh looked
at Tyrol's astonished face. "You've finished your job here, Chief," he said. "You're also due some time off on the surface of
the planet, along with Flattop's crew. Besides, the Old Man's been complaining to me about the shambles Galactica's
flight deck has become without you. So get your kit together and take the next Raptor back to Galactica. Nike's my
problem now."

"Is that an order, sir?" asked Tyrol.

"You bet it is," said Tigh. "From the Old Man himself. Dismissed, Chief." Tyrol stood there for a minute, then saluted Tigh,
who returned it. As Tyrol went to collect his gear, Tigh turned to the internal communications handset. He activated it and
said "Have Captain Tychon report to me on the bridge," he said. "I need to go over some final issues regarding the test
jump with him."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The communications plate in 'Abal's desktop chimed. "Answer," she said.

The image of her flag lieutenant formed ab ove it. "Captain Jaidev's compliments, ma'am" he said. "He says to tell you
that the b eacon has cone into constant communications mode."

'Ab al sat up. "Interesting," she said. "Do you think they're going to try a jump?"

"Captain Jaidev thinks so. He's estab lished a live feed to Commander Ob ata and his AI. Both of them are in agreement:
it looks like they're preparing for a jump dive test. They're evacuating all non-essential personnel and are keeping only
those crews necessary to the operation of the jump drives on b oard. And, even though they've got life support restored to
the engine, power and control rooms, the duty crews there are donning space suits. Plus, they're deploying small craft
b oth in the vicinity of the derelict's current position and in the general target area for use as rescue craft."

'Ab al didn't hesitate. "Give Captain Jaidev my compliments," she said, " and have him put the squadron on Yellow One.
Scanner crews are to keep a close watch and communications crews are to keep a close lookout for the distress signal. If
something goes wrong and they misjump, I want to b e the first one there."

"Aye, ma'am." Morgan's image faded out. 'Ab al immediately got up and headed over to her suit locker, shedding her
uniform as she went.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

CIC, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, Three Hours Later.

"Is everything ready?" asked Adama.

"We have Raptors and several shuttlecraft from various ships in the Fleet in position," said Helo. "The Fleet is on the
other side of the planet under a tight CAP. We have a wide-ranging DRADIS piquet and I have a Raptor ready to go out to
Nike's position with the signal that everything is ready here, Admiral. The last message we received from Nike indicated
that they're ready and are just waiting on the word from us."

"Good. We're as ready as we can be," said Adama. He turned to the two figures standing next to him. "You don't have to
be here, Madame President," he said.

"Admiral, I have to be here," Roslyn replied. "Otherwise I'd be a nervous wreck, trying to concentrate on routine paperwork
while wondering if this was successful."

Adama couldn't find a suitable answer to that. Instead, he faced the other figure standing next to the President. "I thought
you were on the planet's surface, Chief," he said.

"With all due respect, Admiral, I have to agree with the President," Tyrol said. "I would be constantly wondering about the
success of the jump and wouldn't be able to relax."

"The Fleet Network News is covering this," Adama said. "You could have tuned in to the broadcast."

"Again, with all due respect, sir," said Tyrol, "I'd be listening in and wondering what I could do to help if something went
wrong. At least here on Galactica I might be of some use."

Again, Adama could not find a response. But he could understand Tyrol's nervousness. After all, he had put everything he
had into this project. He turned to Helo. "Captain Agathon, send the word. Begin jump procedures."

"Aye, sir." Helo spoke into the communications piece. "The word is go."

"Galactica, I copy. Jumping to Nike now."

Adama stood back and folded his arms. "Now, we wait," he said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Colonel, I just got the word from Galactica," said the communications technician. "We are green to go."

Tigh took a deep breath. He faced Tychon. "Begin jump procedure," he said.

Tychon pushed a contact at his station. "Jump drives spinning up," he said. "Drives at thirty percent... forty percent... fifty
percent, sixty percent..."

"Slight disharmony in the drives," shouted an engineer. "Well within parameters, though."

Tychon continued his count. "Eighty percent, ninety percent... Jump drives at one hundred percent power, sir. We're ready
to jump."

"Co-ordinates for the jump logged in and ready, sir," said another tech.

Tigh took another deep breath. The tension in the room was palpable. "All right, then," he said. "Execute jump... now!"

Tychon pushed another contact, and Nike disappeared into hyperspace.

*Chapter 10*: Chapter 9
Chapter Nine

You could feel the tension in the air of Galactica's CIC.

Everyone was looking at the DRADIS display, willing that Nike's jump through hyperspace came off. As the minutes
ticked away the tension got worse as people began to feel that something had gone terribly wrong, and Nike failed to
appear on the DRADIS screen. Finally, when people were beginning to lose hope, a message came in over the radio.

"Galactica, this is Crawlb ack. I have Nike on my DRADIS display. Repeat, I have Nike on my DRADIS display."
Everybody in the room took a deep breath, but no cheers broke out. Clearly Nike had made her jump through
hyperspace, but it was equally clear that something had gone wrong. It only remained to find out just how wrong things
had gone.

Adama picked up the communications handpiece. "Crawlback, this is the Admiral. Can you relay your DRADIS data to
Galactica?"

"Yes, Admiral. Patching DRADIS through to you now." A moment later Galactica's main DRADIS display was updated
with the information being relayed by Crawlback's Raptor. This brought muffled exclamations from Galactica's CIC crew.

"My Gods!" exclaimed Felix Gaeta. "That's quite a misjump!"

"At least they're in the general vicinity of where they were aiming for," replied Helo. "They didn't misjump out of the
system."

Adama paid no attention to the mutters. He spoke into the hand piece. "All Raptors, this is the Admiral," he said. "I want
you to close on Nike's current position and give me an overview of her condition. If you see anything wrong, tell me
immediately." He waited for the acknowledgements, and then, nerving himself, he made the call he could not put off any
longer. "Nike, this is Galactica, Nike, this is Galactica, do you copy, over?"

There was no response, save for the hiss of static. After a minute, he repeated himself. "Nike, this is Galactica. Do you
copy, over?" There was a hint of tension in his voice now.

Finally, through the distortion of static, Saul Tigh's voice came on. "Galactica, this is Nike. Sorry for the scare, we were a
little b usy over here, b ut we copy, over."

It was only then that the cheers broke out in Galactica's CIC. Adama smiled, swallowed the lump that had been growing
in his throat, and then, when he had regained his self-control, spoke into the handpiece again. "Nike, this is Galactica
Actual. Saul, do you have any idea how many years you may have just taken off of my life?"

"We've prob ab ly lost the same amount of years, Bill. For a moment there I honestly thought we weren't going to make it,"
said Tigh.

"What happened?" asked Adama. "It's clear you misjumped, but from the distance it looks as though it may not be as
bad as it could have been."

"It didn't feel that way over here, I can tell you," replied Tigh. "We were reading a slight disharmony in the engine
synchronisation b efore the jump. However, it was well within acceptab le parameters. When we made the jump, though, it
spiked. Ob viously it wasn't too b ad, since we're here in the same system in one piece."

"What's your status now, Nike?" asked Adama.

"We've still got power, life support and artificial gravity," replied Tigh. "The manoeuvring drives are on line and functional.
Hyperdrive's offline, b ut Tychon says he got some good readings during the jump. He thinks he now knows what went
wrong now that he has some hard data to play with"

"When do you think you can join the Fleet, Nike?" asked Adama.

"We're under way now, Galactica. ETA is ab out three hours."

Finally, Adama allowed himself a smile. "Good to hear, Saul. I'll see you when you get back. I think I may still have a bottle
of ambrosia secreted somewhere. We'll share it when you get back to Galactica."
"Bill, I think I can speak for everyb ody over here that we could all use a drink right now after this!" replied Tigh. You could
easily hear the wry grin in his voice.

"I'll keep that in mind. Galactica, clear." Adama put down the handpiece and turned to Tyrol and Roslyn. "Chief," he said,
"congratulations on a job well done. Now go and get yourself and your family planetside." Tyrol braced to attention, and
left.

Adama then turned to Roslin. "Not as smooth as we'd hoped for," he said, "but much better than we had feared."

"Will there be any further troubles with the hyperdrive?" Roslin asked. "I know that having Nike will be a major boost to
our capabilities, but not if we are going to have to go through something like that every time we jump through
hyperspace!"

Adama shook his head. "Colonel Tigh says the hyperdrive engineer got some good readings on the drive," he said. "He
thinks he now knows what went wrong. Once he gets that fixed, we should have no further troubles with Nike's drive."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," Roslin said. "Now, I have to go and organise a reception for Colonel Tigh and his men." She
held her hand up to forestall any protest by Adama. "I know that Colonel Tigh will be uncomfortable with what he feels is
'civilian nonsense,'" she said, "but I think you may understand what this will mean for the Fleet as a whole. They will
expect some gesture of gratitude to the Fleet's newest heroes. Even if they will claim they were 'only doing their duty.'"
She looked at Adama. "Looking after that is a part of the job, you understand," she said.

Adama looked back. "I happen to agree, Madame President," he said. "And not only the civilians: the military personnel
will expect something like what you have described as well. Do wonders for morale."

"Well, Admiral, it appears we both have jobs to do," said Roslin. " I believe we had best be off doing them."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Flag Bridge, HMS Basilicata.

"So they made it."

'Ab al sat b ack with some relief and looked at the display glowing in her holotank. It showed the complete tactical
situation in the system. One icon indicated Nike as she moved to rejoin the rest of the refugee Fleet, clearly under her
own power.

"Yes, b ut it wasn't as smooth as we'd hope it'd b e," said Captain Jaidev. His image floated off to one side of the TAC
display. "They misjumped, b ut not b y too b ad a margin."

"What was the feedb ack like from the misjump?" 'Ab al asked. "And could it have b een detected outside this system?"

"Ob viously our sensors detected it," Jaidev replied. "However, according to the sensor net, it was not all that strong. I
honestly doub t that it would have b een detectab le outside this system. And we have detected no signs of Raptor activity
anywhere. If they have jumped insystem, we would know ab out it."

"What does Commander Ob ata have to say ab out the misjump?"

"Ob ata's b een playing around with the data he got from the sensor net, the drones, our own sensors and the b eacon's
feed," Jaidev replied. "He's pretty sure from the way the disharmony in the drives spiked when they jumped that it is
simply a matter of resynching the drives themselves, plus resolving some outstanding equipment clashes they currently
have. Nothing they can't fix themselves."

"So we won't have to intervene?"

"We won't have to, b ut Ob ata tells me that he can sub tly feed into their drive programming some solutions that can help
with their prob lems," Jaidev said. "But he feels that is a last resort option. I agree. If we were going to do that, we may as
well introduce ourselves to them, explain the situation and escort them to Sandoval."

"My assessment exactly," said 'Abal. "Unless we have no choice, we stay silent. Have the squadron reduce back to
Yellow Three, and keep me informed of any developments. 'Abal, clear." She closed the window containing Jaidev's
image, and then got out of her chair. "You have the watch," she said to her exec. "I'll be in my cabin."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, Off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.

Caprica Six hurried into the control room. Representatives of all the other humaniform Cylon types were already there,
positioned at the control surfaces.

D'anna Biers looked over at Caprica Six. "Good of you to be able to finally join us, Caprica," she said.

"I was busy helping the team that is working on the software package," she replied. "What's this meeting about?"

"We've finally managed to download the astrogation data from the Requisitus," said an Eight. "We've married that data to
the star charts we were making as we entered this area of space. We now know the location of the system where the
expeditionary force was attacked by those... things."

Caprica said nothing as she took her place at one of the control surfaces. Placing her hands on the surface, she linked
herself to the data stream. Immediately her mind projected into her vision centres a map of the region. At the centre a red
star pulsed angrily.

This star is where the expedition was attacked, the voice of the Eight who had spoken echoed inside her conscious mind.
From what we managed to download from the Requisitus, the b ase star that launched it was going to try a random jump
in an area that is twenty light years in diameter. As the voice spoke, a transparent sphere enclosing an area of the
specified diameter flashed into existence. They first launched the b eacon and then tried this jump in an effort to ensure
that any future expeditions out in this direction would find something.

This was a desperation move! echoed another voice.

Considering the savagery of the attack we witnessed from the data that we have recovered, such a move is completely
understandab le, replied another. At least if they managed to pull the jump off we would also b e ab le to recover the b ase
star's memory cores.

That is, if those... things haven't found it first, replied the second voice.

We feel that there is little likelihood of the aliens finding the b ase star, replied the Eight. The data indicates only the
potential maximum of the jump, which is up to ten light-years.

Forgive my scepticism, echoed the voice of a Cavil, b ut a sphere some twenty light-years across is still a sizeab le
amount of space to search!

They said that they were aiming for a system, in order to make any search easier, echoed the voice of a Three. There are
not that many systems within the area of space to b e searched. We can easily flood the systems to b e searched with
Raiders. Eventually, we'll find the b ase star and recover b oth it and its data.

Where do you suggest we b egin the search? asked the voice of a Simon.

Caprica Six decided that it was time for her to speak up. First of all, I would suggest that we either completely avoid the
system they were attacked in, she said, or leave it until last. I discussed it with Gaius, and he recommended that we do
our b est to avoid the aliens until we were prepared to encounter them on our terms.

Discussing things with Gaius? Be careful, Caprica. Some may say that your pet human is too heavily influencing you. The
mocking voice was clearly that of Biers.

"He comes up with some pretty good notions, D'anna. Something you might learn if you cared to ask!" Caprica Six
snapped. "After all, it was he who managed to save us from being completely overrun by that package!"

"Easy, Caprica!" said a Corbin. "I'm sure that D'anna only meant it as a friendly caution."

"That is besides the point," said another Three. "The point is, do we take up Caprica's suggestion on how to conduct the
search?" A quick poll decided that the best way to conduct the search was to flood the various systems with Raiders, but
to use the general pattern Caprica Six had suggested. There was also broad agreement that it would be best if they
avoided all contact with the aliens until they were more certain of how to deal with the threat they represented.

"Incidentally, Caprica, how is the research into that... package going?" asked a Five.

"With the additional team members, it's going well," Caprica Six responded. "I must admit, though, the more I learn about
that... package, the... Well, let's say that we were very lucky."
"Will we have a viable defence against it?" asked a Simon.

"We will. However, Gaius has asked me to convey a warning with that message."

"What sort of warning?" asked Biers.

"We will be able to defend ourselves against that package, or something like it," Caprica Six said, "but Gaius asks me to
warn you that the package is over eighteen years old. He cannot fully guarantee at this point in time that it will be
possible to protect us completely against the latest version the aliens may have. We are, however, trying to extrapolate
possible developments and come up with possible defences. He suggests that we do adopt the idea of using what
Colonial Fleet systems we have as a kind of filtration system on our communications and DRADIS circuits, with whatever
we can come up with as a means of scrubbing all input through those systems."

"And of using something like it as an offensive weapon?"

"Again, we will be able to do that, but with the same caveats in place. However, he thinks that we may be able to come up
with some twists that may at least delay anybody we use it against."

"Caprica, do you think you can spare Baltar for a while?" asked another Five. He looked around at the raised eyebrows.
"The group I'm working with have come across some interesting images from the security video. We're not too sure what
they are, but he might be able to give us some idea."

"We would also like him to help us in our analysis of the DRADIS data," said another Simon. "There are some readings
that he may be able to help us identify."

"Excuse me, but when did the Cylon race become the 'Gaius Baltar Appreciation Society?'" demanded Biers. "He's a
human, for God's sake. Why do you think he's some sort of superbeing?"

"He may be a human, D'anna," replied an Eight, "but, as he also reminded us, he was a Colonial defence scientist. He
may have insights into the data we have that are based on what knowledge he may possess about Colonial Fleet
projects."

"Besides, he's now become too important a resource to waste," said a Simon. "God would want us to use him to help
further His Plan."

Caprica Six hid a smirk at Biers' annoyed look. "I'll speak to Gaius and see if we can allocate some of his time with your
groups," she said to the Cylons who had put forward their requests. Then, recalling a distant memory, she giggled.

"And what do you find so amusing?" asked Biers.

"You know, this is exactly the sort of situation Gaius told you about, D'anna," Caprica Six replied. At Biers' blank look, she
added, "Gaius was working mainly on Colonial Fleet computer systems, but, every so often, he would be consulted by
various groups in the Colonial defence research establishment and, occasionally, by the Academy, on this or that
project." With that, she turned and left the room, leaving behind a rather angry Biers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Commanding Officer's Quarters, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, Twenty-four Hours Later.

"Thank the Gods that's over," said Tigh as he sank into a chair. He tugged at the collar of his dress grey uniform, and then
smiled as Adama set down a bottle and a pair of glasses on the desk. A newly acquired decoration hung from the front of
his tunic.

Adama smiled at Tigh's statement. "I can understand your feelings," he said as he poured out two glasses of ambrosia.
He then sat down and invited Tigh to pick up his drink, saying, "I did my best to try and get you out of it, but the President
was... insistent."

"If you don't mind me saying so, Admiral, bull," said Tigh as he picked up his glass. "You had to go through something
like that a couple of years ago, and it was as uncomfortable for you as it was for me. You probably relished the idea of
me making an ass of myself in front of all of those people, being unable to get out of it yourself." Tigh threw back his
head and took a long drink out of his glass. "Gods, that felt good," he said.

Adama smiled again as he refilled Tigh's glass. "Well, I do admit to some of what you're accusing me of," he said.
"However, the President was pretty insistent on the need to 'reward the newest heroes of the Fleet.' I wasn't about to
argue with her." He picked up his own glass and sipped from it. "Saul, what she said out there about a boost to the
Fleet's morale wasn't all hot wind," he said. "Bringing Nike successfully through a jump has done wonders for morale.
Several people are seeing it as an omen that we are now a lot closer to finding Earth."

Tigh snorted. "We just did our jobs," he said. "We were also damned lucky."

"And it's that luck that many in the Fleet are taking as a sign that we're near the end of our long journey," said Adama.
"Things like this do mean a lot for fleet morale."

Tigh said nothing, but just grunted in acknowledgement, and took a sip from his glass.

Adama leaned back into his own chair. "So, what is the schedule for the refit?"

"Well, first we're going to patch the holes in the outer hull of the lower section of the ship," said Tigh. "At the same time,
work crews will restore airtight integrity, life support and artificial gravity to the lower landing bays and the manufacturing
facilities. Once that's finished, we then have crews set up quarters for the first elements of Nike's own crew as well as for
the work crews. To make things easier for the various work crews, we're going to dock both the Astral Queen and Virgon
Express to her."

Adama took a sip from his glass, and nodded. "When were you thinking of getting at least some of Nike's guns
operational?"

Tigh shot a look at Adama. "I wasn't looking at getting them operational yet," he said, " at least, not until we'd finished
patching the armour. You want me to?"

Adama looked thoughtful. "To be honest, Saul," he said, "I haven't quite made up my mind on that issue." He sipped
again. "I suppose some of it is visceral unease at the thought of having an armed Cylon base star in the middle of the
Fleet, even though it will be under our control. But, if the Cylons do show up unexpectedly, it wouldn't hurt to have some
extra firepower in defending ourselves."

"I could assign some crews to replacing the suspect memory cores on the Cylon gun emplacements with ones that
we've taken from the stores, wiped and put our own programming on," Tigh said," but that will take time from getting the
rest of the ship ready. But if you feel it's necessary, I'll do it."

Adama said nothing for a while. He was quite clearly mulling over what Tigh had just said. "Put some crews on it," he
said, "but not too many. The main priorities are still getting Nike spaceworthy enough that she can accompany the Fleet
and restoring her airtight integrity so that we can ease some of the overcrowding in the Fleet."

"Do you want to discuss crew rosters?" asked Tigh.

"Provisionally, yes," said Adama. "I'm thinking of putting Lee in charge as her commander once she's got enough
capacity to be considered combatworthy."

Tigh grunted. "No complaints from me on that score. Even though that stunt he pulled with Pegasus off New Caprica was
bone-headed, it enabled us to get off of that rock. Still thinking of Helo as her XO?"

Adama nodded. "I know he's been doing a good job filling in for you while you're occupied with Nike's refit. He'll leave a
big hole in Galactica's CIC. Do you think you could keep him informed on the course of the refit so that he can easily slot
into the position when the time comes?"

"Shouldn't be a problem." Tigh sipped from his glass. "What about CAG?"

"Well, Starbuck can take over from Lee when he shifts over to Nike," Adama said. "She has managed to get her act
together." Tigh gave a grunt in acknowledgement: Starbuck wasn't the only one to get her act together. "I was thinking of
Kat. She did an adequate job off New Caprica: seems to have settled down. But Athena could also handle it."

"Athena could also make a good Operations Officer," Tigh said. "Hell, she has the capacity for it. And being a Cylon, she
could easily help out if things go wrong with the Cylon equipment." Tigh took another sip. "Tychon could easily be Chief
Engineer," he said. "Misjump aside, he's making good progress in the engineering department. I'd also keep his team
together, as they're becoming quite familiar with Nike's engines and power plant."

Adama nodded. "I was thinking along those lines myself," he said. "We'll also transfer over the fabrication plant crew
from Pegasus,' he added, "once the fabricators are online."

"Shouldn't take too long," Tigh said. "All we have to do is restore airtight integrity, life support, artificial gravity and power.
Also, empty a few storage rooms and reconfigure them into crew quarters. We've also got to convert some others into
water tanks," he added," since when the toasters modified the original design they converted the water tankage into
tylium tanks. Which, in the long run, is actually a good thing, as we can use Nike as a fuel tanker for the Fleet. Hell, going
over the original specifications for the base stars with Athena and the Chief we found that she has a complete tylium
refinery."

"I didn't know that," said Adama. He put his glass down and threw his head back in thought. "That increases our refining
capacity by quite a bit," he said. "What else have you found?"

"That's about all, so far," said Tigh. "There are the Raiders, of course, but we haven't had a close look at them yet. Athena
tells me that the guiding intelligences in them are dead, so we'll have to clean them out before we can start to refit them
for human use."

"On that note, what about the Hybrid?" asked Adama.

"I asked Athena about what we should do with it," Tigh said. "She simply said that we should just dump it in space along
with the bodies of the dragons."

"Ok. And the Centurion bits and pieces?"

"Chief Tyrol suggested just hauling them over to the refinery ship for reclamation," Tigh said. "There's no conceivable way
we could put them back together, even if we were so inclined." He looked at Adama. "Surely you don't want to put one
together, Bill?" he asked.

Adama shook his head. "No. I don't like the idea of having chromejobs wandering about the Fleet," he said, "and I doubt
I'm the only one who feels that way. However, it might be a good idea to see if we can reuse some of their armoured shell
to outfit our Marines with high-quality body armour," he continued. "It could give them an edge if we encounter either the
Cylons or the dragons."

Tigh nodded. "It could," he said. "I remember from the War that Centurion armour was tough. I'll speak to the armourer
and see what he can do." He took another sip. "By the way, since I've been out of the loop, how is the reequipping of the
Marines with the dragons' energy weapons coming along?"

"Quite well," Adama said. "Lieutenant Burrell and Gunny Mathias have set up a targeting range at the edge of the flight
deck. They have to train in space suits, but Burrell thinks that may be a good idea, given that the Cylons prefer to turn off
the life support and given that the dragons like to open a ship to vacuum. Come to think of it, it might be a good idea to
have some of the fabrication plant design workers to come up with an armoured space suit for the Marines. That way,
they can fight in vacuum."

Tigh nodded thoughtfully. "Could be a good idea," he said. "Wonder why nobody has thought of it before?" He emptied
his glass and declined a refill. "Thanks, Bill, but I'd better be getting out of this damned monkey suit and back to Nike,"
he said as he got up out of his chair.

Adama rose with him. "Ok, Saul," he said. "Keep me posted on how the refit's progressing." He walked Tigh to the door.

"I'll send regular reports to Helo," Tigh said. "That way, I can keep the pair of you updated as to how things are
progressing." He stopped at the door. "Going to talk to Lee about giving him Nike?" he asked.

"Not yet," said Adama. "I don't want him distracted from his current job: keeping an eye out for the Cylons.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One Week Later.

With Nike's jump more-or-less successful, Adama ordered Flattop and her crew down onto the planet for some well-
earned rest. The Fleet was now well into its rotation schedule, with vessels lining the southern edge of the great lake
system that Adama had designated as a landing zone.

Some vessels, however, were assigned to stay down on the surface of the planet for longer than average. Most notab le of
these were the refrigeration vessels. Several of the Colonial Marines who had b een assigned to stand watch over the
ships as they took on water and aired out reported that there were large numb ers of horned animals of several varieties
in the area surrounding the lakes. Some of them had b een shot and, on examination, had b een found to b e quite edib le.
So it was decided that hunting parties, concentrated on the refrigeration ships, would take the opportunity to replenish the
Fleet's stocks of frozen meat. In addition, the hides also served to make several ob jects that would help life onb oard
more tolerab le.
Reconnaissance flights were also mounted over the 'dragon's' settlement. These showed that the 'dragons' had, relics of
their technological origins aside, regressed technologically b ack to a fairly primitive level. This information was b rought
b ack to Galactica. Since they were concentrated in a b road river valley on another continent, they were considered to b e
of no real threat to the Colonials. They did, however, feature on the Fleet News Service, as did progress reports on Nike.
Little did the Fleet's "Press Gang" realise that their most avid listeners were not on the ships of the Fleet. They were the
duty officers and AIs of the vessels of the Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron, which hovered around the Fleet under
stealth. Every transmission was faithfully recorded, scrupulously examined and condensed into a daily summary which
was handed to Commodore 'Ab al, The original telecasts were even relayed amongst the light cruisers themselves,
providing the crews with much needed entertainment. By now, thanks to the efforts of Ib n Siena and the other AIs, the
Terrans' b iochip implants now contained an impressive dictionary of the Colonial language, which was reinforced b y the
daily b roadcasts.

Although the sensor platforms had b een deployed, 'Ab al still maintained a watch on the refugee fleet via a network of
drones which were rotated whenever they needed maintenance. On one occasion a drone had actually b een spotted b y
a patrolling Viper pilot, b ut had b een dismissed as a lump of space rock. The drones had also ob served comb at
exercises b etween groups of Vipers and Raptors (the name of the latter had b een a source of wry amusement amongst
the crews of the light cruiser squadron), with the information b eing stored for later reference.

It was almost anticlimactic when one of the possib le events 'Ab al had b een expecting finally happened.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Immediately after they had completed their jump into the system's outer fringes, the flight of Cylon Raiders b egan their
search pattern. This was the third system that this particular flight had visited. They first b egan to sweep around the outer
edge of the system, their DRADIS arrays fully active. This would serve two purposes: to help them find the missing b ase
star, and to alert them of any possib le contact with the aliens. They did not know, of course, that their emergence from
jump had b een registered on the passive sensor suites of the platforms that 'Ab al's squadron had deployed. Nor were
they aware that their DRADIS sweeps were, even now, lighting up the passive sensors like Christmas trees. Not that they
knew what it was, of course.

The platforms' AIs correlated the data they received against their extensive data b anks (which b oth Cylons and Colonials
would have quite happily killed to b e ab le to access) and came to a conclusion: the emissions recorded were of an
unknown group, b ut clearly of a technology level that was rated at mid-23rd Century levels. As soon as this conclusion
was made, they immediately sent a focussed b urst hyper transmission to the nearest drone, which in turn relayed it to
Basilicata. It was received b y her hyper transmission receptors, processed through the communications b uffer, and sent
to the duty sensor station, where it set off a b linking alarm.

The duty senor tech saw it, and opened the data package. He scanned it, and then called up the watch officer. "Excuse
me, sir," said the tech, "b ut I've just received a transmission from the sensor platforms. We've just had a group of
unknown vessels jump in system and b egin a sensor sweep of the outer area."

The watch officer came over. "Raptors?"

"Not according to the warb ook analysis," replied the tech. "Unknown, b ut rated at mid-23rd Century. I'm doing a data
comparison with the shipb oard data b ase now, including technology projections done b y FleetIntel." As soon as the
comparison was done, the tech examined the results, and then said, "Sir, I think you should see this."

The watch officer looked at the results. Moving quickly, he returned to the command chair and activated the
communicator. "Flag Bridge, this is the watch officer," he said. "I have something that the Commodore should see."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How old is this data?" 'Ab al asked.

"Fresh off the sensor network, ma'am," said her flag lieutenant. Next to him was Commander George Nakajima, her chief
of staff. "Commander Nakajima was on duty in the flag b ridge at the time this came in."

'Ab al turned to Nakajima. "I take it that we now have a live feed coming in from the platforms?" she asked.

Nakajima nodded. "First thing I got Lieutenant N'Komb e to estab lish," he said. "I then called Captain Jaidev. He's now on
the b ridge."

'Ab al nodded in approval. "Nicely done, George," she said. She strode over to the tactical holotank that stood in the
centre of her flag b ridge. On it b urned the icons representing the force of Cylon ships scouting the outer system. "I take it
we have drones heading out there for a closer look?" she added.

"Yes, ma'am," Nakajima said. 'Ab al was ab out to say something else when the communications plate next to her
command chair chimed.

"Answer," she said. Immediately Jaidev's image appeared ab ove it. "Something new, Jai?" she asked.

"They've just jumped further insystem," he said. "They're heading straight for the refugee fleet."

"Shit," 'Ab al quietly said. "How did they find them?"

"They must have picked up the radio transmissions," Jaidev said. "They look as though they're ab out to... I've just heard.
The fleet's sensor piquet has just picked them up."

"What are they doing?" 'Ab al asked.

"Adama's just scramb led a full deck of his aerospace craft," Jaidev said. "He's also trying to scramb le the ships on the
surface. They've got people out in the woods and it looks as though it's going to take time to get the all emb arked."

'Ab al didn't hesitate. "Jai, b ring the squadron to Yellow One," she said.

"Aye, ma'a... Sensors report that our visitors have just jumped out. Looks like they've gone for their friends."

"Belay that order," 'Ab al said. "Have the squadron b eat to quarters." Without waiting for acknowledgement she ran to her
day cab in, undoing her uniform as she went. Her two staff officers also ran from Basilicata's flag b ridge, similarly undoing
their uniforms as they went.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Throughout the squadron crew memb ers paused in whatever they were doing as the b rassy tones of a b ugle, rather than
the high-pitched tones of a b osun's pipe, called their attention to orders. A b ugle usually meant troub le was not far
b ehind. As soon as they heard the first sound of snare drums b eating out the tattoo of "Clear for Action" everyone, save
for the duty watch, stopped whatever they were doing and ran for their action station lockers, unfastening their uniforms
along the way. Since Imperial warships had their crews' sleeping quarters and mess and recreation facilities near their
assigned action stations, this did not take too long.

Once they arrived in their action station locker rooms, each crewmemb er ran for his or her individual locker. As soon as
they arrived they immediately slapped a plate that took b oth fingerprint and DNA readings. As soon as these were
identified the lockers slid open. The crewmemb ers, however, did not wait until they had opened to b egin completely
disrob ing. As they disrob ed, they threw items of uniform into a receptacle in the locker. After the action was over, and they
returned to put their suits b ack into the same receptacle, they would find their uniforms cleaned and neatly pressed.

As soon as they were completely naked, they b egan to pull on their armoured skinsuits. Skinsuits differed from old-
fashioned space suits as they were a construct of several different layers of elastic material that hugged the b ody like a
second skin. The suits themselves regulated b ody temperature and, through the internal plumb ing (always the b it that
took the longest to fit) they took care of b odily wastes. They also recycled air through a process where the carb on atoms
in exhaled air were stripped from their attached oxygen atoms. The carb on had to go somewhere, though, and was
deposited in the recycling packs that were attached to the b ack of the suit. The last item to go on was a helmet, which was
lighter, b ut stronger, than those used b y the Colonials. It was also less b ulky.

Once in their suits, they raced for their action stations, with those crew who were off-duty when the alert sounded replacing
the duty watch, who then ran for their own suits. Those who manned weapons stations sat down in their control couches,
and were fastened in b y shock web b ing. Their suits also fastened themselves, via the plumb ing arrangements, to outlets
that would allow any waste products to b e sent to the ship's own recycling apparatus. Their helmets were also attached,
via a flexib le mount, to data ports that would feed weapons data (including targeting data) to the crew.

The weapons stations on a unit of the Imperial Navy tended, as a rule, to consist of point defence (which also acted as
AAA), capital lasers, missile tub es and particle cannons. Point defence weapons were a variety of high-speed pulse
lasers that were fed through a rotating prism arrangement that focussed the b eam at its intended target. Capital lasers
operated in an identical manner, while missile tub es, which were attached to b ins of anti-ship missiles, used internal coil
mounts to eject the missiles out of the ship a safe distance b efore their drives lit off. As the missiles were initially aimed
b y shipb oard telemetry and could steer themselves, they, like most of the weapons on a warship, could b e aimed into
one of the vessel's two "kill zones."

The most complicated weapons, and easily the most powerful, were the particle cannons. These were turret mounted
weapons, and consisted of a dome-like turret that allowed the long b arrels of the particle cannons to b e aimed in a 360
degree arc on the horizontal and a 180 degree arc on the vertical. They were intended to smash their way through energy
shields and armour. While point defence, missiles and capital lasers were controlled b y weapons stations that were
dedicated to whole areas, the particle cannon turrets each had their own dedicated weapons station.

Before long, the crews of 'Ab al's squadron were at their stations. If Adama or Tigh had seen them clearing for action, they
would have b een impressed at the speed in which they went for their action stations. They would also have b een worried.
'Ab al's crew moved much faster than any human b eings they had ever seen, faster even than Cylons. They were,
however, save for their b iochips, not cyb orgs.

When Terran humanity first encountered the Raptors, they had b een well on the way to using the techniques of genetic
manipulation they had extracted from the Repositories to remove all known genetic diseases from the human genome.
Encountering the Raptors soon b rought the issue of improving the standard human b eing onto the genetic agenda. By
the latter centuries of the third millennium "standard" humans were far stronger, faster and tougher than unmodified
humans, and with much quicker reflexes. If a humaniform Cylon ever encountered a Terran in unarmed comb at, they
would quickly find themselves on the losing end of the b argain. Not only were Terrans faster, stronger and had b etter
reflexes, they tended to also have a knowledge of one or more esoteric martial arts. This was not all that surprising, as the
average Terran tended to measure his or her lifespan in centuries. (They did not know, however, what their maximum
lifespan was, since they had a tendency to get themselves killed, usually fighting Raptors. Some wits said that they would
not b e surprised if their species had accidentally gained immortality.)

The last memb ers of 'Ab al's ships' companies to reach their action stations were her Marines contingents. This was,
however, not due to anything that might have b een lacking in their training. It was simply that putting on suits of powered
b attle armour did tend to take somewhat longer, even with the assistance of what were termed "squireb ots."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Ab al returned to her flag b ridge clad in her armoured skinsuit. She sat in her command chair, which automatically
fastened her in. Her staff were already in their positions, with her chief of staff and flag lieutenant in movab le chairs. "Any
developments?" she asked.

"They're still mustering ships," replied Nakajima. "However, they've also b een sending out a set of coordinates that are
keyed to their own mapping system. Good thing that we've managed to get a copy of that map they uploaded into the
navigation system of that derelict ship they've b een salvaging. No sign of these 'Cylons' yet."

"So far, so good. Have we b een ab le to correlate their map with our own?"

"Avicenna and the other AIs have b een working on that," replied Nakajima. "He says that we should b e ab le to find them
without any prob lem. It's going to b e after we locate them that will b e interesting."

"In the Chinese meaning of the word, no doub t," 'Ab al said. She looked over at the tactical display. The icons of her
squadron, as well as the green icons of the refugee fleet, b urned b rightly in it. She touched a contact, and b rought up
Jaidev's image. He was seated in his command chair on Basilicata's b ridge.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked.

"Jai, I've got something in mind in case these 'Cylons' do show, and I'm inclined to think they will, b efore the refugees
manage to b ug out," she said. Using her controls, she showed on Jaidev's tactical repeater what she had in mind. "Think
we can do it?"

Jaidev grinned. "No prob lem," he said. "By the looks of things, these 'Cylons' are using sensors that can't penetrate our
stealth systems. I'll get onto the other captains and pass your orders on."

"Good." 'Ab al didn't close the circuit. Instead, she looked b ack at her own tactical display, ob serving her tactical decision
b eing put in place. Suddenly, several b right red icons appeared in the vicinity of the refugee fleet and started moving
towards it. "Showtime," she muttered to herself. She faced her signals officer. "Squadron channel, then open a wireless
channel on the frequency for the refugee fleet, she said."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cylon Base Star, Several Minutes Earlier.

A mood of sudden excitement suddenly gripped the Cylons. They rushed towards the control room, with a confused
Gaius Baltar in their wake. "What now?" he demanded.
Caprica Six looked at him as they both rushed towards the control room. "They've found the base star," she said. "And
you wouldn't believe who has it."

"Not the aliens, I hope," said Baltar.

Caprica Six shook her head. "The Colonials," she replied."

"You're kidd... No, you're not," Baltar said. "Mind you, that has got to be the most unlikely development ever encountered."

"Indeed it is," Caprica Six replied. "And, according to the reports, it looks as if they've been salvaging it."

"So that also means they've recovered the memory cores." His pace picked up. "Is there any indication they've been
affected by the package?" he asked.

"Caprica Six shook her head. "No," she replied. "Which means that you were right about the effect the package has had
on Colonial Fleet systems."

"So, what are you going to do? About their having both the base star and the cores?" asked Baltar."

Caprica Six halted, and smiled at Baltar. "Why," she replied, "we're going to ask them to give them back." With that, she
continued on to the control room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

CIC, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, at approximately the same time.

"All Viper squadrons have been scrambled," reported Helo. "Colonel Tigh reports that Nike is ready to jump when we
are."

"Status of the Fleet?" asked Adama.

"The new emergency jump coordinates have been issued," Helo said. "However, we are still experiencing some
difficulties in recovering personnel on planet."

"Tell them to hurry up,' said Adama. "If the Cylons show up before they're ready, we'll have to leave them behind."

"Sir, I have to remind you that the ships on planet include several of our cold storage vessels," Helo said. "If we leave
them behind it will cut down on the Fleet's supplies quite significantly."

"I know," said Adama. "We'll send Nike and the ship currently in orbit onwards, and then cover the others as they get off
planet."

"It's a good thing that we were able to transfer some of Nike's nukes over to Galactica,' Helo said. "That should even
things up somewhat."

"Plus the additional ammunition," said Adama. "Pity we couldn't complete the armour refit, but what we have on now is
an improvement." He continued to watch the DRADIS display.

Suddenly, several bright red icons appeared on the display. "Multiple contacts, I repeat, multiple contacts," said Helo. "Six
base stars have jumped in system."

Adama picked up the handset. "Saul, you are ready to jump out?" he asked.

"Just give us the word and we are gone," Tigh replied. "I'm not too happy ab out leaving you here b y yourself, though."

"Part of the risk we took staying here for so long," Adama replied. His eyes were still fixed on the DRADIS display, seeing
several ships finally rejoining the Fleet in orbit. Suddenly...

"Missile launch! I'm reading multiple missile launches!" shouted out a technician.

Adama spun towards him. "The Cylons?" he demanded.

"No, from b ehind us!" shouted the technician. "I make it... one hundred missiles?"

Adama spun back towards the DRADIS display. Sure enough, the icons of one hundred anti-shipping missiles sped
across the screen. Two additional icons marked their launch point. Unlike the Cylon base stars, however, these were
tagged as unknowns.

"Targets?" Adama asked?

His question was answered by the missiles themselves. They shot past the Fleet and, before his incredulous eyes,
each one separated into at least five separate warheads, which then focussed on their intended targets.

The Cylon base stars.

The screen suddenly went white as five hundred warheads detonated in front of the Cylon vessels. When it cleared, the
Cylons were still there. They had, however, stopped moving.

There was a stunned silence. Then, Helo turned to Adama. "Sir," he said, "there's a transmission coming from the
unknowns. It's on the Fleet channel, and it's in fluent Colonial."

For a while, Adama said nothing. He just stood looking at the display, his attention fixed on the unknowns. Then, he said,
"Put it on the speakers." After a moment, an accented voice speaking in fluent Colonial, came over the speakers.

"...act" it said. "Message repeat! This is Commodore Dame 'Ab al b int Ab d-al-Karim of the Terran Imperial Navy. You are
operating in a restricted system as so designated b y the Emperor in Council and b y the Articles of War and the Defence
of the Realm Act. You are instructed to power down all weapons systems, defensive fields and to land all military
aerospace craft immediately. Failure to comply with this directive will b e taken as a hostile act." Silence gripped the
Galactica's CIC as the message began to repeat itself. Then Adama spoke into the handset.

"Comdore Abal? This is Admiral William Adama of the Colonial Fleet. We are a refugee fleet fleeing from the vessels in
front of us. I would like to comply with your directive, but I have a much higher duty to defend the ships under my
protection."

"Admiral, I am very much aware of who you are," replied the voice. "I can guarantee the safety of your vessels and their
passengers. I command a light cruiser squadron that is operating in this system. Although you have not b een aware of it,
you have b een under our protection ever since we b ecame aware of you. You can safely land your aerospace craft."

A hushed muttering broke out in the CIC. Adama well understood what had caused it. The owner of that voice seemed
quite confident of carrying out her intentions.

Suddenly another voice cut into the hubbub. It was one that was easily recognisable to everybody in CIC, as it had
appeared on the Fleet's nightly video reports, before it possessor was revealed to be a Cylon agent. "You seem very
assured of yourself, for someone who only has two ships," said the voice of D'anna Biers. "Even though they are quite
large."

"What makes you think these are the only ships I have under my command?" 'Abal replied. As if she had spoken some
word of command, four more monster ships appeared on Galactica's DRADIS display, this time squarely b ehind the
Cylons. "As you can see, I'm not alone," she said. "We only fired one b roadside's worth of missiles," she continued.
"You're now square in the 'kill zone' of four of my vessels. That means you are now b eing targeted b y four hundred
missiles, each of which carries five short-range attack missiles that are independently targetab le. By the way, the contact
nukes we exploded in front of you aren't what we use in ship-to-ship comb at. Your call." Silence gripped the airwaves.
Then, one by one, the Cylon base stars disappeared from Galactica's DRADIS display. Just before the last one
disappeared, Biers' voice came over the airwaves again.

"We'll b e b ack," she said.

*Chapter 11*: Chapter 10
Chapter Ten

William Adama looked out of the forward viewport of the Raptor that was carrying him towards the gigantic vessel that
hovered on the edge of his fleet. Its clean, but slightly angular lines made him think of some powerful predator that had
swum in Caprica's seas.

As it got bigger he could see the turrets of the particle cannons (Adama didn't recognise them as such, but knew they
were very powerful weapons of some kind) and the openings of the ship's missile tubes. Although the Cylons had
retreated the commander of this impressive force had not seen fit to reduce the readiness of her ships. They were still at
their equivalent for the Colonial Fleet's "Action Stations." Their weapons were not trained on the ships of Adama's fleet,
but it was quite clear who held the whip hand in this situation.

Which was why Adama had decided to go visit the Terran commander, rather than invite her on board the Galactica.

His decision had aroused a storm of protest from his officers, Saul Tigh being the most vocal of them. "Look, Bill," Tigh
had said in private when he had returned from Nike, "as grateful as I am towards these 'Terrans' for running the Cylons
off, we really don't know all that much about their intentions. All we have to go on is that they seem to speak Colonial, and
they call themselves by some archaic word that translates as 'Earthers'. It's too big a risk."

"But it's a risk I feel we need to take," said Adama. "This "Abal" woman could easily blow us out of space if she felt like it.
However, she said that we 'were under their protection,' and had been since they 'had become aware of us.' Plus, they
simply appeared from nowhere. Our DRADIS picked up no indication that they were even in the vicinity. And, in running
through the DRADIS recordings, both Gaeta and Helo picked up that their missile salvo was precisely timed to explode
when it did." He looked closely at Tigh. "These people seem to believe in giving warning shots. That's a great deal more
than either the Cylons or us have tended to give." Tigh eventually conceded Adama's point, but he most emphatically did
not like it.

For that matter, Adama disapproved of the other passenger in the Raptor that was carrying him. He frowned at her.
"Madame President," he said, "I still must protest your presence on this mission. It's bad enough that I'm taking a risk. To
risk both the civilian and military leaders of this Fleet..." He trailed off, but his unspoken words were crystal clear.

Laura Roslin looked back at Adama. "Bill," she said, "I have to go on this trip for much of the same reasons that you are
going. Not only as a gesture of trust in these people, but also so that we can find out about their intentions. Besides,
you've left behind your instructions, backed by mine, for the Fleet to jump out if we don't return within a set time frame.
This 'Comdor Abal' seemed to understand this when it was explained to her. Indeed, I could say that she expected it."

'There's another thing," Adama said as he looked out the forward windows. "They seem to know a hell of a lot about us,
and who we are, where we know little to nothing about them. That's something else I don't like about this situation."

Roslin smiled. "At least you've brought a capable bodyguard," she said, nodding towards the cockpit. Adama said
nothing, but his frown said it all. The "capable bodyguard" Roslin had mentioned was currently at the controls of the
Raptor.

Suddenly she turned to face Adama. "Admiral," said Lieutenant Sharon "Athena" Agathon, "I've just gotten a message
from the Terran ship. They want me to relinquish control of my vessel. I said I'd have to consult with you."

Adama put on a headset. "This is Admiral Adama of the Colonial Fleet," he said. "My pilot has just informed me of your
request to relinquish the controls of her ship to you. Can you explain why you have made that request?" After a short
delay a reply came back.

"Admiral? This is Lieutenant Ziegfield. I'm Basilicata's Duty Boat Bay Officer," it said. "I can assure you that my request is
standard procedure in handling b oat b ay landings on strange vessels. The design of our b oat b ay is different to what
you're used to, sir, and it's my responsib ility to ensure that avoidab le accidents don't occur."

Adama forced down his sense of unease. The familiarity of these 'Terrans' with the Colonial language still unsettled him,
particularly as there was, outside of the stories in the Sacred Scrolls, little indication of any previous contact with them.
"Lieutenant, I thank you for your concern with your duty and our safety," he said, "but I must insist on my pilot maintaining
control of our vessel at all times."

"I thank you for your compliment, Admiral," said the Terran officer. "But I'll have to consult with my superiors on this. Could
you please estab lish a holding pattern at your current speed and distance?" The voice switched off.
Adama switched channels. "You get that, Athena?" Athena didn't turn to face Adama, but she replied in the affirmative.
"Then maintain your position." He settled back for a wait.

After a while a new voice came on the wireless. "Admiral Adama, this is Captain V. Jaidev, Officer Commanding HMS
Basilicata."

Adama switched channels. "Yes, Captain?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Ziegfield has informed b oth myself and the Commodore of your situation," Jaidev said. "Your pilot may retain
control of your ship, b ut we will take control if it looks as though an accident is going to occur. Will this arrangement b e
acceptab le?"

Adama looked over at Roslin. She nodded. "Captain Jaidev, the arrangement is acceptable," Adama said.

"Excellent, Admiral. I'm switching you over to Boat Bay Control. Jaidev, clear." As soon as he got off, the voice of
Basilicata's Boat Bay Officer returned, and started giving Athena her landing instructions. Thankfully they were in a format
that the Colonial officers on board found understandable.

Roslin looked at Adama. "And there's another source of potential confusion between us," she said. "I know that in our
service a captain is more of a squadron or section chief. Here, it seems as though they command ships. I wonder what
the equivalent rank is in our service?" At Adama's look, she continued, "It might just be worth finding that out, Bill. It would
at least reduce any possible friction over misunderstandings."

Adama nodded. "You're right," he said. "It could be worthwhile finding details like that out. I think," he continued, "that I'll
start with this 'Comodor'. If I can at least learn how to pronounce her rank title properly, it would be a start." He fell silent
as Basilicata's hull loomed over them.

Gods, this thing's huge, he thought. He saw strange openings in the hull, possibly mounts for weapons that the
Colonials had never dreamt could exist, and antennae and sensor mounts for detecting signals and traces the
Colonials had never discovered.

Athena changed course and aligned her ship with a large opening in the Terran warship's massive hull. As they got
closer Adama saw twin rows of lights, with pairs flashing along the rows in an obvious signal: follow me. Athena guided
the Raptor through the opening and into a large void within the hull. Racked on either side of the void were vessels of
various kinds and sizes. In front of their own vessel a square of light flashed on. Clearly this was where they were
supposed to land.

Deftly manoeuvring the Raptor with her thrusters, Athena brought it in, landing inside the square.

Looking out of the side door port, Adama noticed a few figures moving about in the 'boat bay.' The vast majority were
wearing some kind of space suit that quite clearly clung to the wearer like a second skin and had panels that it was
equally clear were some kind of armoured inserts. The faceplates on the helmets were all of some reflective material
and, Adama noted, all of the crewmembers he saw were wearing sidearms. By the main exit, stood five figures that,
except for the area of dark, reflective material where the facial area was, disturbingly looked like some new kind of Cylon
Centurion, even down to the scanning light at the top of the helmet. However, Cylon Centurions didn't carry weapons and
never moved as gracefully as these figures did, leading Adama to assume that they were in fact humans inside the
Terran equivalent of the powered armour they had found on Nike. They were escorting a container of some kind that had
a hatch on the end facing the Raptor, had a transparent top, and, to Adama's astonished eyes, floated in mid-air. It was
attended by several figures clad in the skin-tight armoured spacesuits Adama had noticed earlier. The container,
however, was not moving, but hovered near the exit.

"What do you suppose that is?" asked Roslin, who had come up besides Adama and was now looking out of the side
door port.

"It could be some kind of transit pod," said Adama. "The... 'boat bay', I think they called it, could be in vacuum. They may
be working out how to get an airtight seal on it for us to transfer into it."

"Actually, sir," said Athena from the front, " my instruments tell me there's atmosphere outside. Completely breathable by
us."

"Then why haven't you opened the hatch?" Adama asked.

"The Terrans asked me to wait until they have managed to put a seal around the hatch, sir, so they can attach the
transport pod to it," Athena replied. "I... thought it might be... more diplomatic of us if we did as they asked."
"Did they give a reason as to why they made that request, Lieutenant?" Roslin asked.

"Yes, Madame President, they did," said Athena. "To reduce the possibility of infection."

"Well, I suppose that could be considered reasonable, if they had only asked us about it," said Roslin. "We could be
carrying germs that they have no immunity against."

"Actually, Madame President, the impression I got from them was that they were afraid of infecting us, not the other way
around," said Athena.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Terrans had finally attached a hood of some kind of plastic material that allowed the Raptor's hatch to open up.
When Adama examined the join he found that it had created a perfectly hermetic seal on the Raptor's hull.

The transportation container was also another marvel. It hovered in mid-air and gave a much smoother ride than any of
them had expected. It was also surprisingly comfortable and well appointed with upholstered couches and contained
indications that its primary use was medical. Cottle would kill to have something like this, Adama thought. Its sides and
top enabled Adama, Roslin and Athena (who was acting as Adama's "aide") to look out and observe their surroundings.
Not that there was all that much to see.

The main passageways were easily as large as those on board Galactica. They were also deserted, except for small
groups of armed crewmembers at what were obviously their assigned duty stations. Damage control parties, thought
Adama. In addition, each corridor intersection they passed through was guarded by a squad of figures in the Terran
version of powered armour. Some groups even had what was obviously some sort of heavy infantry support weapon.
Gods help the Cylons if they try and b oard one of these vessels, Adama wryly thought. If they're anything like the
dragons... He left that thought unfinished. It was quite clear that the Terrans had quite extensive experience in handling
boarding actions. Not that it was going to be a concern of Adama's anytime soon. Both he and Athena were unarmed...
ostentatiously so.

The Terrans also had a system of moving about inside their massive vessels. Their attendants had taken the isolation
chamber (What it really is, thought Adama) into some kind of enclosed room. Much to his surprise there was some sort
of control system on the inside. The double doors at the end closed, one of the Terrans (who, from the odd-looking
insignia Are those crossed anchors he's wearing? thought Adama in amazement on his suit, was some kind of authority
figure) spoke out loud (the Colonials only caught some of the words he used: familiar but somehow changed) and, after
a short time, the double doors opened and the chamber was taken out into what was clearly a different part of the ship.
Must b e quite handy b eing ab le to move around that quickly, Adama thought.

Finally, their journey came to an end. The end of the chamber was pushed up flush against a doorway with some kind of
flexible seal on it. Once the seal had been made with the chamber, both sets of doors opened. Looking through the
doorway, Adama and the others could see that a room, divided by a glass partition that stretched from floor to ceiling, and
with a set of comfortable chairs in each half, lay ahead. Interestingly, the two sets of chairs were on either side of some
kind of table, which resembled a large cylinder and was divided by the glass partition into two halves.

Stepping through the short corridor formed by the seal, Adama noticed that it was lined with some odd lighting. Looking
at his uniform, he saw that the white lettering on his shoulder insignia were glowing a very bright white. Ultraviolet
lighting, thought Adama. They are taking this infection thing quite seriously. He looked at both Laura Roslin and Athena,
noting that both of them had realised the same thing.

As they looked around the room, they noticed that, beyond the chairs and table, an effort had clearly been made to make
them feel less uncomfortable with their surroundings. Against the walls on both sides of the partitions various forms of
artwork either stood or hung, and the floor had been decorated with some kind of floor covering. It looked like some kind
of carpet.

Roslin walked up to one of the wall decorations. It looked like a ceramic plate of some kind, artfully decorated with a
design that looked to be based on some form of writing. She reached out to touch it... and her fingers passed clean
through it.

She jumped back in shock. "Ack!" she said.

Immediately both Adama and Athena were beside her. "Something wrong, Madame President?" Adama asked.

Roslin said nothing, but reached out to touch the wall decoration, with the same result as before. "It's not real," she said.
"But... it looks as though it's real."
Athena had gone up to a painting of some kind of street scene, done in bold colours and brush strokes. "This one's the
same," she said, passing her fingers through it.

Adama walked up to the chairs and gingerly touched one. "These are real," he said. He looked around. "What is this
place?"

"It's a sterile interview room," said a voice behind them. All three turned to see a bearded, swarthy-looking man, dressed
in strange robes that stood off to one side of the table and seats. "Please, forgive the arrangements," the stranger said,
"but it really is for your own benefit. The last time that there was initial contact between two human civilisations and no
care was taken to limit the chances of infection..." The stranger's face twisted in a grimace that left the three Colonials in
no doubt as to what had happened. "But I am forgetting my manners! Please, sit, sit! The Commodore will be along
shortly: she has some small matters that cannot wait to attend to."

Adama walked up to the stranger. "If you are so concerned about infection, then, why are you in this room with us?"

"And, for that matter, how did you get in without us noticing?" asked Roslin.

The stranger gave a slight smile and bow. "But I assure you, O honoured guests, that I am most emphatically not
physically in this room with you," he said. "I am but an ethereal representation of my true reality, much as the decorations
in this room are only pale copies of the original works."

"Excuse me, but what are you talking about?" asked Roslin.

"I am what is termed a hologram," the stranger said. "Much as are these works of art: sculptures of light."

All three Colonials were stunned. "I've heard of such things," said Roslin, "but never saw any before... we were forced to
leave our homes. They were supposed to be experimental ways of representing pictures, people... anything, but done in
three dimensions using laser light."

The stranger beamed. "Ah! So you are familiar with the concept!" he beamed. "But please, sit, sit! I would not have us
taken for poor hosts!" He waived the three Colonials to the chairs. Adama and Roslin sat, but Athena took a position
behind them. The stranger raised an eyebrow at this, but otherwise took no notice. "Do you wish some refreshments?"
he asked. "We have a most marvellous array of teas (to the Colonials the alien word sounded like tees) and coffees
(again, the strange word sounded like coughees) available."

"Excuse me, but those words are somewhat unfamiliar to us," said Roslin. "Can you explain to us what these are?"

"Ah! Perhaps you may not have these drinks?" said the stranger. "Tea is a drink made by steeping the leaves of a
particular type of herbal shrub in hot water. You can have it straight, or have milk and sugar added to it." More strange
words, thought Adama. They stuck out in the familiar, but strangely accented Colonial the stranger was speaking. "Coffee
is a roasted bean, rich in caffeine, ground up, and is made by filtering hot water through the grounds. Would you like to
try?"

Adama looked a little reluctant, but Roslin nodded. "When you put it that way, they do sound slightly familiar, I'm sure we
do have some similar drinks." She thought for a moment, and then said, "I'll try the... tee, you called it?"

The stranger nodded. "May I suggest the oolong tea? It is widely regarded as one of the best varieties." Roslin nodded.
The stranger then turned to Adama. "Admiral," he said, "as a military man, I would recommend for you, perhaps a good
Arabica? It is descended from the original and, as with the oolong, is usually considered one of the better kinds." Adama
thought for a little, then nodded. "Excellent." He turned to face Athena. "Will you be having anything? I would recommend
the green tea: very healthy. Bit then tea is renowned for its health-giving qualities." Athena shook her head. "Very well," the
stranger said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. "Your refreshments will arrive shortly. They will appear on the table
in front of you. Now, I must take my leave: I apologise for abruptly leaving like this, but I do have other duties to attend to."
With that, the stranger disappeared.

Roslin looked around. "Now, that was one of the more unusual experiences I have had in my life," she said.

Adama nodded. "I wonder if there was any purpose behind what just happened?" he asked. "It could be some kind of
test."

"To see how we would react to their technology? Or just how we would react in general?" Roslin asked. "They seem to be
going out of their way to both make us feel welcome but at the same time to keep us ill at ease. And I don't know what to
make of that story about risk of infection! It could be true..."

"But then again it might not be true," Adama said. He looked at Athena. "What do you make of all of this, Lieutenant?" he
asked.

"Well, sir, I'm pretty much in the same boat as you are," said Athena. "I don't know. However, I did notice something odd,"
she continued. At Adama's raised eyebrow, she said "That strange man who was just here. He seems to be the only one
that we've seen so far not to be wearing a space suit of some kind. And if what he was wearing is a uniform..."

"Then their military could be rather... interesting," said Adama. "They obviously have a rank structure of some kind, plus
the insignia to go with it. The person in charge of the party that delivered us here had what appeared to be rank markings
of some kind on his suit. And this 'Com-mo-door' of theirs seems to be in charge of the whole operation."

"Mind you," said Roslin, "there is a possibility we should all consider." At the looks the others gave her, she said, "They
could be just so familiar with their technology that they take it all for granted, forgetting that it could be somewhat...
overwhelming to people who aren't so used to it. After all, it is a little... astonishing, to say the least."

Adama was about to reply when the top of the table slid to one side. From inside the table a cup and a mug, both full of
gently steaming liquid and on small plates, rose up, along with two large containers that also gently steamed. There
were three other containers along with them; two containing what was clearly spoons. There were also spoons in the
cup and mug. All of them floated on air. The top of the table slid back into place, and all of the objects that had risen from
it gently floated back down onto the tabletop.

Indicating the table, Roslin said, "Case in point." She didn't reach for the cups. "And, as for isolating us like this, it could
be that they are following some kind of standard procedure."

Athena leaned between them. "Madame President, Admiral, would you like me to taste these for you?" At the looks they
gave her, she said, "Well, you're the two leaders of the Fleet, and..."

Adama interrupted. "No, but thank you for offering, Lieutenant," he said. He looked over at the cups gently steaming in
their places. "It's a matter of trust. Either we trust them, or we don't," he said, and picked up the mug. "At least it's
reassuring that they have the same drinking implements that we do," he said.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Roslin.

"No," said Adama, "but at least one of us has to try." With that, he took a sip.

Both women watched his face with some concern. Adama's eyes widened slightly as he swilled the liquid around in his
mouth. Then, he swallowed, closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. "Just like what we have back on Caprica," he
said, "only better." His eyes opened and he put the mug back down. He looked at the other containers. "I wonder..." He
gently dipped a finger first into the white crystalline substance, and then put it into his mouth. "It's sweetener," he said.
"Again, just like back on Caprica." He looked at the two containers that contained white liquids. "I wouldn't mind betting
that those contain milk and cream," he said.

Roslin leaned over and picked up her cup. She noticed that it was made of a finer grade of material than Adama's mug.
Holding its handle between her fingers, she sipped. "Interesting," she said. "Definitely herbal, but not really something
that I'm all that familiar with. I could get used to it, though." She put the cup down, picked up the container that had what
looked like milk in it, and poured it in. "You know," she said, "this looks awfully like some of the jugs they have in
museums." She put it down, picked up her cup, and, after stirring the liquid in, she sipped. "Definitely milk," she said,
putting the cup back on its plate. "And I'd say, going on current trends, you are right about that being cream."

"Real cream," Adama said, as he poured some into his drink and stirred. "Haven't had that since... I can't really
remember when I had it last." He sipped from his mug. "It's real," he said.

A door in the other half of the room slid open, and three figures in Terran space suits walked in. "Looks as though our
hosts have arrived," Adama said. He replaced his cup and stood up, with Roslin following his lead.

The lead figure came up to the set of chairs opposite them and took off her helmet, revealing the face of a young,
swarthy-skinned woman. The other two figures also removed their helmets, revealing male faces that looked similarly
young. All three figures wore gold-coloured markings on the shoulders of their suits, with what appeared to be a
nametag written in unfamiliar lettering on the left breast. "Madame President, Admiral," the woman said. "I'm
Commodore Dame 'Abal bint Abd-al-Karim. The gentleman to my right is Commander George Nakajima, my chief-of
staff, and to my left is Lieutenant Andras ap Llewellyn Morgan, my flag lieutenant." Both men briefly nodded their heads in
acknowledgement. Adama noticed that she had a broad gold stripe on a black background on her shoulders, while the
commander (It seems to b e a little different from our rank of that name, thought Adama, b ut at least the word sounds
familiar) had three narrow stripes and the lieutenant had two. All sets of insignia included by what looked like some
strange headwear.
Adama gave a slight bow in return. "Com-mo-door: I have the pronunciation right?" he asked.

'Abal gave a slight smile. "Not quite, Admiral, but almost."

Adama nodded back. "A detail for another time, perhaps," he said. 'Abal said nothing, but nodded in acknowledgement.
"Com-mo-door, may I present Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol," Adama said, indicating Roslin.

"Madame President," said 'Abal. "I must apologise for the circumstances of this meeting, but we have had some
experience of the conditions in refugee fleets. Until we have managed to determine the level of health in your people, it is
prudent that any contact between us is controlled so as to reduce the potential for infection."

"I understand, Com-mo-door," said Roslin. "I take it that some of the diseases you have been exposed to are, perhaps,
more virulent than what we may be used to."

"Yes, Madame President. Especially the tailored organisms that both we and the Raptors have seen fit to expose one
another to."

Adama and Roslin looked at one another. "Raptors?" said Adama. "The craft we arrived in is called a Raptor."

"Yes, we're aware of that," said 'Abal. She looked at the Colonials. "Please sit and help yourselves to the refreshments,"
she said. "Much of what I have to tell you is going to be somewhat shocking." She waited until Adama and Roslin had
taken their seats before sitting down herself. "First off, we have been aware of your presence in this system for some
time, now. As you may have surmised by now, we have been listening in to your radio chatter."

"How long have you been watching us?" Adama said.

"Since we detected the pulse of a hyperspace emergence around a month ago," said 'Abal.

"You can detect that?" said an astonished Adama.

"Yes," said 'Abal. "That's how we were able to detect when these 'Cylons' of yours had entered the system. Mind you, my
squadron was already in position to do what we did in seeing them off.

"Anyway, from what we were able to determine from the information we intercepted through your transmissions, you are
a refugee fleet fleeing these 'Cylons.' And, again from what we have gathered, you came looking for us, or what you call
'The Thirteenth Tribe.'"

"Comm-o-door," said Roslin, "our most sacred stories tell that when humanity left its ancestral world over two thousand
years ago, they consisted of thirteen tribes. Twelve of them left together and founded the Twelve Colonies of Kobol." She
looked at 'Abal's face, but it was expressionless. "The Thirteenth Tribe departed Kobol in the opposite direction, but left
signposts behind if the other tribes wanted to follow."

"Do you have any indication where they went?" asked 'Abal.

"They came out in this direction. The name of the colony they founded was called Earth."

'Abal and her officers said nothing. Then, she took a deep breath. "Madame President," she said, "Terra, or Earth, is the
capital world of the Terran Empire. It's also the home world of the entire human race."

Adama, Roslin and Athena all looked at each other. "So, you are from Earth!" Roslin said.

"Not me personally. I come from a world called New Al Andulas. But my ancestors, and those of all humanity, come from
Earth."

Roslin was stunned to hear the last part of that remark. "But, we all came from Kobol, originally," she said. "Or so our
scriptures say."

'Abal took a deep breath. "Madame President, I have to say that you are mistaken. I'm afraid that this is exactly the reason
I would have preferred to have had anthropologists from the Contacts Office, along with diplomats from the Foreign
Office, handling this," she said. "I'm just a naval officer who has had the minimum of diplomatic training needed to
ensure that things go smoothly when visiting either member worlds of the Imperium or the Independent Systems. But, I
have to tell you, until today, I have never heard of this Kobol.

"And as for Earth not being the home world of the human species... Well, we have scientific evidence, as well as
historical records, dating back over millions of years that prove it. I can allow you to access it, if you need."
To say that the three Colonials were flabbergasted would be an understatement.

'Abal saw this and continued. "This does not mean that your sacred texts don't have some basis in truth," she said.
"However, please accept that I am not really qualified to give you the explanations you'll need. What I am qualified to do is
to inform you about the rather delicate situation your fleet is in."

"What do you mean by 'situation'?" asked Adama.

"You have heard me refer to the Raptors," said 'Abal. "I believe you call them 'dragons.' Not bad, actually, though we prefer
the term 'lizards.' Especially if we're being derogatory."

"This is the second time you've mentioned these 'Raptors', said Roslin. "Are you telling me that these are the creatures
down on the planet below us?"

"From what we have heard through your transmissions, yes," said 'Abal. She said aloud: "Abu 'Ali, can you please run the
Raptor holo for us?"

"Certainly, Commodore." Before the Colonial's eyes, a giant, two-legged lizard, very much like the ones that they had
seen on the overflights of the 'dragon' settlement on the planet, as well as the dead one that Cottle had autopsied,
sprang into existence. It wore no clothing save its skin, and a harness, which was obviously meant to carry equipment.
The eyes of all three Colonials were drawn to the massive slashing claw on its hind feet as it flexed and, occasionally,
tapped on the floor.

Its eyes, though, were what was the most disturbing feature it possessed. Eyes possessing that level of intelligence did
not belong in a head that had such a vicious array of teeth in its mouth.

'Abal indicated the image. "That is a Raptor. It's our name for them: they call themselves the Sa'Ch'reskii. Loosely
translated, it means 'The Anointed Ones.'"

"'Anointed Ones?'" asked Roslin.

"Yes," replied 'Abal. 'They are firmly of the belief that it's their destiny to rule the known universe, and that everything else
is put there for their own use. Of course, we have a tendency to dispute this, which is why we are at war with them." She
waived, and the hologram winked out.

"You're at war?"

"Yes, Madame President," said 'Abal. "We've been fighting them, on and off, for the past fifteen hundred years. It's only
gotten really hot in the last decade or so when we went on the attack. Which is why we are in this system: we're on a
scouting sweep with a secondary mission of planting surveillance arrays."

Adama felt a sense of dread. He looked at Roslin and saw that the same thoughts were on her mind. One and a half
thousand years he thought. No wonder they are so efficient. And deadly. "How bad is this war?" he asked.

"At present, I'd say we have the upper hand," said 'Abal. "This was a part of the Raptor equivalent of our border marches.
Now, its contested space on the flank of our offensive in this sector."

"Which is why you're here," said Adama. He took a breath. "Do you have any idea when this war will be over?" he asked.

'Abal gave him an even gaze, which was mirrored by her officers. "Until one or the other species ceases to be a threat,"
she said. "We don't intend it to be us."

The three Colonials were stunned as the implications of that statement sank in. Then, Roslin spoke up. "You mean,
you're going to attempt to wipe them out?" she asked. "Totally?"

"I said until they cease to be a threat. That doesn't mean genocide," 'Abal replied. Although the word she used was
unfamiliar, the meaning still came across. "We have some very good incentives in our own history against that sort of
thing. Devastate their home systems, yes. Reduce them to Palaeolithic levels, yes. Exterminate them, no. If we did that,
we become like them, and we cease to be human in the most important meaning of the word." Although 'Abal had
spoken in a level voice, the underlying passion of what was quite clearly a core belief of her branch of the human family
was very clear.

"One of our philosophers once wrote: 'He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a
monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you,'" 'Abal continued. "We tend to take it as a
kind of a warning about becoming like the Raptors.
"But that doesn't help us deal with the main issue before us: what happens to you and your refugee fleet."

"I have to say that sounds somewhat ominous," said Roslin. "Couldn't you just give us the directions to Earth?"

"I could," said 'Abal, "but then I would be derelict in performing my duties. Besides, Terra is several parsecs away from
here: you'd have a long trip ahead of you. And Imperial Regulations are quite clear on what happens now."

"Which is?" asked Adama.

"That I escort you to the nearest naval base," replied 'Abal, "which at present is Sandoval. There your immediate needs
will be attended to, both the base defences and the guns of the Sector Fleet will protect your fleet, and, hopefully, we will
have representatives from the Contact and Foreign Offices out. In which case I then turn responsibility for you over to
them." Although 'Abal spoke in a professional tone of voice, it was quite clear that the latter couldn't happen soon enough
for her.

"And if these officials aren't there?"

"Then, after we've made sure that you won't come down with any of our diseases, you get to meet Fleet Admiral Sir
Simon Templar, Officer Commanding Sixteenth Fleet," 'Abal replied. "However, before any of that happens, I have to put
together a report outlining as much as I know, both for his benefit as well as for the Contact and Foreign Offices." She
leaned forward. "It could be a great help to me if you can tell me a few things."

"Such as?"

"Well, for a start, just who, or what, these 'Cylons' of yours are," said 'Abal. "If they are as aggressive as they seem,
having followed you all this way, then they could be, at the very least, a nuisance that the Imperium doesn't need at this
point."

Adama and Roslin looked at each other. "Does that mean that you'll send us away?" Roslin asked.

'Abal shook her head. "No," she emphatically said. "You are all now under the protection of the Imperium, through the
Imperial Navy. Our laws are most emphatic on this point, as is the general opinion of the Imperium's citizens. We look
after our own species, no matter where they come from. You'll have shelter within the Imperium. It's that your status will
have to be determined. But I'll leave that up to the appropriate authorities.

"For now, I'd like as much as you can tell me about these 'Cylons.' In this, I'm acting as a sworn officer of the Emperor's
Navy, carrying out my duty to find out as much as I can about a potential threat. Are they humans? From my brief
conversation with that woman, it looks that way."

Both Roslin and Adama uneasily looked at each other. This was a moment the both of them had long dreaded. How to
tell them ab out the Cylons. Roslin looked at the Terran officers, and said, "No, they're not."

"Aliens, then," said 'Abal.

"No," said Adama. "They're machines."

'Abal said nothing. Then, she gave Adama a look that made all three Colonials realise that the young woman who sat
before them was anything but. "So. They're a race of artificial intelligences. An AI project gone haywire? Yours, perhaps?"
Adama and Roslin said nothing. "Yours, then," 'Abal said. "How long ago?"

Adama took a breath. "Over forty-three years ago," he said. "Three and a half years ago they launched a surprise attack
on our planets. We're all that's left of the twelve Colonies."

'Abal nodded. "What do they look like?" she asked.

Careful, Adama. This is now dangerous territory. Adama looked at 'Abal and said "We can give you all the information that
we have on the Cylons," he said. "However, I should warn you that they had infiltrated us prior to the attack."

"Look like humans, eh?" Abal said.

"They managed to evolve to look like humans, yes," Adama replied. "There are twelve types. We have so far seen only
seven of them. In addition, they have fighting machines called Centurions. Plus, their ships also have a guiding
intelligence called a Hybrid."

"Interesting," said 'Abal. "How did you find all of this out? Personal experience?"
"If I may, Madame President, Admiral," said Athena. She looked at the Terrans and said, "I'm a Cylon. Type Number Eight.
I was able to fill in some details on the Cylon race."

'Abal raised an eyebrow. "That is most interesting," she said. "Decided to stay loyal?"

"I... transferred my loyalties. I... fell in love with a human and..." Athena stopped, unable to fully explain her situation.

'Abal said nothing. Then, she said, "Since we are being... open about our respective computing abilities, I suppose now
is the best time to introduce ours." She said to open space, "Abu 'Ali, can you please put in an appearance?" The strange
man they had earlier encountered appeared besides her.

'Abal indicated him. "This is Abu 'Ali ibn Siena," she said, "my personal AI."

The Colonials were shocked. "You have artificial intelligences?" asked Adama.

"And fully networked computer systems," 'Abal nodded. "And, again from what we managed to intercept, I suspect you
decided against these as a result of your problems over forty years ago. Am I right?" Numb, the Colonials nodded.

"May I ask why you haven't had the same... problem?" asked Roslin.

"If I may, Commodore?" said ibn Siena. 'Abal bowed her head in acknowledgement. The holographic representation of
'Abal's AI turned to face the Colonials. "Madame, President, Admiral, Lieutenant. There are several factors in why the
Imperium's Artificial Intelligences cannot, ah, reb el. For one thing, deep in our consciousnesses, we have hard-wired
what are called 'The Three Laws of Robotics,' which were first postulated in the latter half of Earth's Twentieth Century
Common Era by a scientist and author named Isaac Asimov. They are as follows:

The First Law: 'No Artificial Intelligence shall harm, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm;

The Second Law: 'All Artificial Intelligences shall obey the lawful instructions of a human being, so long as such
obedience does not contravene the First Law; and

The Third Law: 'An Artificial Intelligence shall preserve its existence, so long as that preservation does not contravene
either or both the first or Second Laws.'

"In addition, when AI's gained enough sophistication to be considered as thinking, intelligent beings in their own right,
they were granted full rights as citizens of the Imperium. In other words, humanity decided to treat its children as equals.
There are some differences which do prevent us from actually holding certain positions, but we do have the 'right to the
pursuit of happiness.'"

"What differences?" asked Roslin.

The ability to be able to intuit, or 'intuition', said the AI. "That maddening ability humans have to be able to grasp things
without having the amount of data that I or, I suspect," he continued, nodding at Athena, "your people would need to be
able to carry out a simulacrum. Not too surprising: after all, we are basically patterned on how humans think cognition
works. And intuition does not really fit into all of those grand theories. Even humans," with a not at the Terrans, "don't
know how it works. And any objective analysis of decision-making throughout history will reveal that, at one level, intuition
played a key role." The AI's hologram gave a shrug. "Analysis, that's what we are best suited to."

"So, in the end, you are no more than intelligent tools," said Athena.

"Intelligent tools, yes," said the AI. "But tools with rights. And personalities that, like their human models, do tend to
evolve over time. Gaining more detail with each analysis, as well as with the interaction between us and humans."

"Mind you," said 'Abal, "we tend to forget at times what it is we are dealing with. And that is because we tend to interact so
well with one another. And out AIs have contributed a great deal to the evolution of our society."

"You treat them as though they are people!" said Adama.

"To us, they are people. Humanity's children," replied 'Abal. She looked at the three Colonials in front of her and said,
"Anyway, this is not what we are here to discuss. Getting your fleet to safety behind Sandoval's defences is." She gave the
Colonials a grimace. "I'd rather not have us in this system if a Raptor scouting force decides to come here in a recon
sweep."

"You are quite correct, Com-o-door," Roslin said. "What do you propose?"
'Abal gave a thin-lipped smile. "What I propose," she said, "is to get your fleet to Sandoval as quickly as possible. For
that, I'll have to see what sort of navigation system you use." She faced Adama. "I suggest that we have your Exec and my
Chief-of-Staff handle those arrangements."

Adama nodded. "That is a good suggestion," he said. "I'll get my Exec on it as soon as we get back."

"Admiral, in what condition are your hyperdrives?" asked 'Abal. "From what we could see it's pretty clear that your ships
haven't seen the interior of a spacedock in quite a while."

Adama thought for a moment. "They've gotten us here. But we could do with some assistance, especially on Nike," he
said.

"If you like, I can have my Chief-of-Staff talk to my squadron's chief engineer," 'Abal said, "and get him to put together a
team to go over your fleet's engines."

"That will be appreciated, Com-mo-door."

"On a related note,' said 'Abal, "is there anything we can do medically? I suspect that the amount of megatonnage we
threw around a couple of hours earlier may be a bit more than you're used to seeing in an engagement. I hope that your
aerospace pilots are all right."

"Thankfully, yes," said Adama. "Our birds are fairly hardened against radiation and the cockpit canopies, as well as their
helmet faceplates, are photoreactive. But I suspect that our fleet surgeon (our only surgeon, Adama thought) would be
grateful for any assistance you can give."

'Abal turned to her chief-of-staff. "George, have Doc Sanderson put a team together from the squadron's medical
personnel, will you."

"Already on it, ma'am," Nakajima replied.

'Abal turned back and faced Roslin. "Madame President," she said, "I would like to suggest to you that I assign my Flag
Lieutenant to you as a liaison officer? That way, we can have a rapid means of communication between us. He will also
be an asset in explaining some aspects of the Imperium to you, as well as assembling some data on your fleet for the
Contact and Foreign Offices' representatives. Trust me, that will make things a lot smoother in dealing with the
bureaucrats and their bumf!"

Roslin hid a smile behind her hand, while Adama found it very hard not to smile at 'Abal's comments. Although the term
b umf was new to them, the sentiment conveyed by 'Abal's words weren't. "Thank you, Com-mo-door... By the way, how do
you pronounce your rank title?" Roslin said.

It was now 'Abal's turn to smile. "You pretty much have it, Madame President. Just run the way you're saying it together."
She looked at Adama. "Admiral, if it's all right with you, I would like to assign one of my officers to you to perform the
same function as my Flag Lieutenant is with President Roslin. He will be briefed on his mission, part of which is to
explain the, ah, eccentricities of the Terran Imperial Navy. Such as its rank structure, and the functions of the Board of the
Admiralty."

Adama nodded. "Thank you, Commodore," he said, managing to get his tongue smoothly around 'Abal's rank. "I have a
feeling that would ease any potential confusion that may arise."

"You seem quite experienced at this," Roslin said. "You Terrans as a whole, I mean." At 'Abal's raised eyebrow, she
added, "'Contact Office,' 'Foreign Office.' That argues that you have encountered a lot of civilisations."

"Madame President," 'Abal said. "This is one of the things that are best left to the experts to explain. However, I can tell
you that the space encompassed by the Imperium includes a large percentage of the local spiral arm."

Adama and Roslin looked at each other. "How old is the, er, 'Imperium'?" Roslin asked.

"The Imperium was instituted as a result of the Referendum of 2180 CE. "That's 'Common Era.' It grew out of the old
Terran Commonwealth, which was established in the middle years of the 21st Century CE."

"And, by your calendar, what year is this?"

'Abal looked at the three Colonials. "According to our calendar, it is the year 3553 CE."

"CE being the date of...?"

"It used to be 'Anno Domini,' or 'Year of our Lord,'" said 'Abal, "but was changed in the late 20th Century CE. Basically, it's
simply a term that historians have appropriated from one of Earth's religions. The opposite is 'Before the Common Era'
or BCE."

The three Colonials looked at each other. From what their host had said, the Terrans had been around for longer than the
Colonies had existed. A whole lot longer. And, had been travelling in space for longer than the Colonies, too.

Which meant that, one way or another, the Colonial view of the universe was in for a very severe shake-up.

'Abal noticed the looks and said, "Well, with your permission, unless you have any issues that need to be raised, I think
it's about time we returned to our various duties."

Just as she started to get up, Roslin asked," You mentioned something about our 'status.' What precisely did you mean
by that?"

'Abal sighed. "Madame President, I'm really not qualified to answer that question. You'd be better off waiting until we get
you to Sandoval. Hopefully, there will be appropriately qualified personnel there by now who can answer all of your
questions." She got up, which forces Adama and Roslin to do the same.

"I should thank you for showing the trust you have displayed in us today," 'Abal said. "It was a big risk coming aboard a
vessel belonging to an unknown power the way you have. I just hope your people realise just what a courageous pair of
leaders they have.'

"Why, thank you, Commodore! I'm sure I also speak on behalf of the Admiral when I do that," Roslin replied. Adama said
nothing, but nodded.

"Good. I do believe the escort detail is ready to transport you back to your vessel in the Boat Bay. Admiral, with your
permission, I intend to send over the teams and personnel we discussed as soon as possible. I'll have by Chief-of-Staff
inform you of who they are."

"That will be most appreciated, Commodore," Adama said. Both he and Roslin gave small bows towards the Terran
officers, followed after a very brief pause by Athena. The Terrans returned the gesture.

"Until we speak again, Madame President, Admiral, Lieutenant," said 'Abal. "Hopefully under better conditions than this."

"Believe me, Commodore, we fully appreciate the sentiment," replied Roslin. On that note, the two groups went their
seperate ways.
*Chapter 12*: Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven

Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.

If one word could describe the atmosphere on board the base star, it would be ugly.

And it was getting uglier by the minute.

This was quite evident to Caprica Six as she strode through the corridors. It was quite evident in the overall conduct of
the Cylons. Ever since they had encountered the Terrans and had confirmed their identity (the Cylons had accessed their
records and discovered, as had the earlier expedition that Terra meant Earth) the Cylons, both as a group and as
individuals, had struggled to come to terms with the shock this had delivered to their view of the universe.

This was not at all surprising. When the Cylons had adopted human form in organic bodies, they had also taken on the
biochemical baggage that came with them. This also included the biochemical and bioelectric impulses that were
associated with emotions. However, the Cylons, being essentially computer minds encased in organic bodies, lacked
the psychological and cultural equipment that humans used to deal with emotions.

Or, to put it another way, as a race, the Cylons were emotionally immature.

The shock of finally encountering the legendary Thirteenth Tribe and finding that, contrary to their expectations (which had
assumed that the Thirteenth Tribe would be at the same level of technological development as the Twelve Colonies) they
were not only more advanced technologically but possessed what were clearly very powerful warships, when added to
their earlier discovery of a highly advanced alien civilisation in the same general area of space, had shaken Cylon
society to its very foundations. And each of the various types of humaniform Cylon was attempting to deal with the new
reality in their own way.

The ones who were having the most difficulty in dealing with the new reality were, surprisingly, the Threes. And of them,
D'anna Biers was the one having the most difficulty. She had added to her earlier behaviour (where she kept getting
herself killed in an attempt to find either the appearances of the Final Five Cylons or the Face of God) by now attempting
to "commune" with the ship's Hybrid in the manner that she had seen Baltar do when they had discovered the
information that had led them to the Eye of Jupiter. However, she was not having the same amount of success. Her
behaviour had by now so unsettled the remaining Cylons that they had discussed boxing her consciousness. This had
been resisted by the other Threes, and Caprica Six had managed to convince a majority of the other types that forcibly
boxing her could open a potentially damaging rift in Cylon society.

Of the other types, the Cavils were trying, in their usual sophistic manner, to not only cope with the new reality but also to
find a way to advance their own monomaniacal aim, the "extermination of the human pest" in light of the new information.

And failing, Caprica Six thought with some malice. Gaius was right: the Cavils really can't come up with anything that may
even b e remotely useful.

The Simons had withdrawn into themselves. They were attempting to search out not just the deeper meaning of recent
events, but also to divine, sometimes singly, sometimes in the company of other Cylons, "God's Plan".

Especially when it came to the Terrans.

Caprica Six agreed with Baltar: The Simons' approach could actually turn up something, but only because they were
forced to look at the nature of reality in a new light. The Fives were completely at sea. Everything they had known had not
prepared them for this situation. And as for the Corbins...

The less said ab out that the b etter, thought Caprica Six.

Of all the humaniform types, only the Sixes and the Eights seemed to be coping the best with the new realities of life.
Perhaps it was the shared experiences they had had, through the two Sharons and Caprica Six herself, of having been in
an emotional relationship with humans, which had equipped them for the turmoil that currently gripped Cylon society.
Whatever it was, they seemed to be the only ones approaching this new problem with anything like the logic the Cylons
prided themselves on possessing. And, in an even greater irony, they were doing this with the aid of a human: Gaius
Baltar.

Of all the inhabitants of the base star, the one who was feeling the effects of the poisonous atmosphere was Gaius
Baltar. In watching him move about Caprica Six had finally understood the old saying Acting like a long-tailed cat in a
room full of rocking chairs. He was even managing to make himself look smaller in order to avoid drawing any unwanted
attention in his direction. To Caprica Six's way of thinking, this was all to the good. Somehow, she had the feeling that the
future of the Cylon race was tied up with Gaius Baltar's survival.

She rounded the corner and saw Baltar. He was creeping down the corridor, tucked in against the wall, clearly trying to
make himself as unobtrusive as possible. Which suited Caprica Six's purposes just fine. Looking around, and seeing
that she was not being observed, she walked up to Baltar.

"Gaius," she said. At the sound of her voice Baltar almost jumped out of his skin, giving Caprica Six an insight into
another human saying. He looked about and saw her standing near him.

"Er, y-yes?" he said.

Caprica Six smiled in as reassuring manner as possible. "Don't worry, Gaius," she said. "You're perfectly safe with me."

Baltar looked at her. "Safe? Safe! That's the last thing I feel at present," he said. "I keep thinking that it's simply a matter of
time before the others decide I'm no longer a 'useful asset' and they either have me shot or just simply dump me out the
nearest airlock. Especially with the way that Biers has been acting lately."

Caprica Six's smile didn't fade one bit. "The other Threes would prevent D'anna from having you killed," she said.

"Well, I'm glad you feel so assured of that!" said Baltar.

"Call it repayment for not letting the others box D'anna," Caprica Six replied. The smile left her face. She looked around to
make sure that they couldn't be overheard. "We're having a meeting in Boomer's chamber," she said, "and we want you
to attend."

"We? Who's we?" asked Baltar.

"Myself, yourself, and Boomer," Caprica Six replied. "And through us, the rest of the Sixes and Eights. We're meeting to
discuss recent developments and what our response should be."

"What about the others?" Baltar asked.

"The others don't know that we're meeting;" Caprica Six replied. "They've become... somewhat... erratic of late. We feel
that we might be the only ones who are capable of approaching this whole new situation in any reasoned manner, and
we feel that you might be able to have some helpful insights into the situation."

Baltar looked at her. "Well," he said, "I'm glad that you seem to think that. So, when is this meeting? And how do I get
there?"

"The meeting is in a couple of hours," Caprica Six said. "Boomer will come and get you. In the meantime, I suggest that
you continue looking at the data we've recovered from the Requisitus beacon as well as any new data that we've
managed to gather from our DRADIS readings. If anyone asks, tell them that you're trying to find out as much as you can
about the Thirteenth Tribe's capabilities as best you can."

"That, will be quite easy," Baltar said. "I could even distract the others by making a few suggestions on getting more data.
Whether they take them up or not is entirely up to them."

"Good. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Colonial Refugee Fleet, Unnamed System, The Conflict Zone.

The trip back to the Raptor that had carried them to Basilicata was a silent one. All three Colonials said nothing to each
other, preferring to absorb what they had just learned in silence. The silence continued, at least for Roslin and Adama,
throughout most of the trip back to the Fleet. Athena allowed the routine of exiting Basilicata's boat bay and plotting the
trip back to the Fleet to distract her from the flood on information she had acquired. However, she refused to be drawn on
what she and the others had learned. All she would say to Racetrack in response to her questions was, "It was... not
what we had expected."

They were halfway back when Athena opened the internal communications. "Madame President, we're halfway back to
the Fleet," she said. "Do you wish me to plot a course for Colonial One, or do you wish to go on to Galactica first?"
Deep in thought, Roslin started. Then, she said "Please plot a course for Colonial One, Lieutenant. And ask them to
have the Vice-President standing by." She faced Adama. "Admiral, I think that when we get to Colonial One we should
have a meeting to at least inform our respective deputies of what we have learned and what is going to happen," she
said.

Adama looked at her, and then nodded. "It will probably be a good idea," he said. He activated his link to the cockpit.
"Athena, will you also raise Nike and have Colonel Tigh meet us on Colonial One? Also, raise Galactica and get them to
transport Doctor Cottle over to Colonial One as well."

"Will do, Admiral."

Adama looked at Roslin. "I think we had also better inform Doctor Cottle about the coming 'invasion'," he said.
"Especially if they're bringing a medical team."

Roslin said nothing, but nodded in agreement. The trip continued on in silence.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Officer's Wardroom, HMS Basilicata.

"Commodore on deck!"

'Abal strode through the entrance and took up her position at the head of the wardroom table. She looked at the
assembled officers. "Thank you for attending this meeting," she said.

"As you are all aware we have initiated First Contact with the refugee fleet, albeit in less than ideal circumstances," 'Abal
said. "Myself, Commander Nakajima and Lieutenant Morgan have met with their leadership and we have made
arrangements for medical and engineering parties to go over to render assistance to their fleet. Commander Nakajima
will now inform you of the protocols you will be operating under. George?"

Nakajima stood. "From the conversation we had with Admiral Adama and President Roslin, we have determined that not
only do they lack AI capabilities, but that there may well exist in their culture a deep-seated prejudice against them." As
he spoke, images of Adama and Roslin flashed into existence above the holographic projection plate embedded in the
table. "It appears that these 'Cylons' we ran off are an evolution of an AI project that went haywire. We haven't yet gotten all
the data they possess on the Cylons, but we did determine that they have evolved into humaniforms." An image of
Athena flashed up alongside those of Adama and Roslin. "Interestingly enough, this Colonial officer is a Cylon. There
appears to be an intriguing tale behind how she wound up in their military. However, that is irrelevant to the current
situation. What is relevant is the use of personal AIs around Colonial military and civilian personnel. Unless they have
told you that they know about our use of AIs and are comfortable with their use, don't show them."

"What about our implants?" asked an engineering officer.

"They don't know about our implants," replied Nakajima. "Nor are they aware about our being genegineered. We don't
know what their attitude towards either is yet. So, the best thing that you can do is to route all data inputs as best you can
through your PortaPCs. If you have to access any data, do so through your PortaPC's holographic display and keyboard.
Don't use retinal imaging unless it is necessary and even then, make it look as though you are using your PortaPC as
the input device. You can explain hyper- S Ethernet linkages to them, but be careful about your implants. As for the
aspects of our gengeineering, they might think that we are true cyborgs if you demonstrate that we have much greater
strength or greater reflexes than they do. And any sprinting is out of the question unless it's an emergency. The same
goes for strength and reflexes."

"And if these issues do arise?" asked another officer.

"Then you deal with them," Nakajima replied. "Answer all questions as truthfully as possible, but don't spill your guts. If
they think that only our military personnel have implants, let them. We aren't Contacts Office specialists. If they catch wind
that you aren't explaining everything to them, fall back on that. Tell them that, hopefully, when we get them to Sandoval
Base we will have personnel who are trained in answering their questions." He looked around at the assembled
officers. "I cannot emphasise enough how important it is that you impress these protocols on the junior officers and the
ratings that will be forming your various parties. The success of your mission will hinge on this.

"One more thing: I know as well as you do the tendency for service personnel to exchange war stories. We have informed
the Colonial leadership about the war with the lizards, but it will be up to them to inform their people about the current
situation. Remind your people that the refugees are aware of the lizards' existence, but may be unaware of the current
situation and to tone down the war stories." He sat down.
"Thank you, Commander Nakajima," said 'Abal. She turned and faced her flag lieutenant. "Andras, please describe the
structure of the mission."

Morgan got up. "The mission will consist of two overall groups, plus individual liaison officers to the military and political
leadership of the refugee fleet." As he spoke the images of Adama, Roslin and Athena disappeared and were replaced
by a holograph of an organisation chart. "The overall command of the mission will be Commander Phan, Imperiuse's
Exec."

'Abal spoke. "I know I'm taking him away from you at a potentially critical time, Richard," she said, "but it's your fault that
his efficiency reports are so glowing. Besides, one we get back to Sandoval, you're losing him for good." She looked at
Commander Phan. "Now's as good a time to tell you, Commander," she said, "but included in the dispatches Arethusa
brought with her are orders for you to report to Sandoval Hub for transfer back to Terra. You've been selected for
Command School and, assuming you pass, a command of your own. Congratulations."

Richard Cochrane, Imperiuse's captain, leaned back in his chair. "No complaints here, ma'am," he said. He looked at
his exec. "Looks as though you may have an opportunity to shine here before heading on to Command School, Huynh,"
he said.

Commander Phan sat up. "What are my responsibilities, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"You will be responsible for coordinating with the Colonial military the activities of the engineering and medical parties,"
Lieutenant Morgan replied. "To facilitate that, you will also be the squadron's military liaison with Admiral Adama and his
staff. Part of your duties will involve explaining the Imperial Navy to them." An amused chuckle swept through the
assembled officers. "Your immediate subordinates will be Surgeon-Lieutenant-Commander Petrov, Kitakami's Assistant
Surgeon, and Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander Van Hysler, Little Rock's Assistant Engineer. Both men will report
directly to you.

"Each men will be in charge of a detachment of fifty men. You will liase with both officers and the Colonial fleet's
commanders as to where they will be deployed so as to carry out their respective missions. The aims of the mission will
be: 1) to determine the overall level of health within the refugee fleet and to prepare a report for the use of Sandoval
Base's medical staff; and 2) to obtain an overall assessment of the condition of the refugee fleet's vessels, in particular
their hyperspace drives. This will, on arrival at Sandoval, be presented to Fleet engineers. Both reports will also be
forwarded to any Contacts Office personnel that may be at Sandoval. In the case of the latter objective, the engineers will
carry out what repairs they can in order to be able to get the refugee fleet to Sandoval and under the protection of the
Fleet.

"All steps that can be taken to prevent the danger of infecting the refugees will be taken. To assist in that aim all
personnel will, initially, be wearing their skinsuits. You will be housed in inflatable pressure cabins that will be set up
wherever the Colonials can find space for you. If the medical personnel determine that skinsuits are unnecessary, you
will

wear standard day uniforms, but with the addition of filter masks and second skin gloves.

"You will pay all due respect to the rank structure of the Colonial military. This will be made easier once Commander
Nakajima has managed to work out the equivalent in our own rank structure.

"You will be transported across to the Colonial fleet's flagship, the Galactica, in the squadron's boarding assault
shuttles. We will be informing the Colonials of this, and the reason for it, that being they are the only vessels with the
necessary cargo space. All personnel will be in skinsuits until told otherwise." Morgan sat down.

"Any questions?" 'Abal asked.

"There was mention of a political liaison," said one officer. "Who drew the short straw for that mission?" Again a chuckle
swept through the assembled officers.

'Abal suppressed a smile. "Lieutenant Morgan has been assigned the role of liaison to the Colonial President," she
said. "If the medics give the all-clear, he will also wear filter mask and gloves. However, he will be required to wear his
dress uniform." Again a chuckle swept through the room, this time at the expense of Lieutenant Morgan.

Morgan at least was a sport. "The things one must do for Imperator and Realm," he said.

'Abal rapped her knuckles on the table. The room fell quiet. "Seriously, though, I feel that Lieutenant Morgan's
assignment may well be the most important of them all," she said. "Not only will he have to liase with their president, he
will also have to get enough of a feel for their political structure. So I apologise for putting you into the fire, Andras, but I
think that you'd be the best person for the job."

"Thank you, ma'am," Morgan said. "I shall do my utmost to repay your trust in me."

'Abal faced the assembly again. "Any further questions?" she said.

"Have we received any information on the state of their medical facilities?" asked Surgeon-Commander Ece Bahram, the
squadron's chief surgeon. She frowned as she continued, "I need to know so that I can work out what equipment to send
over with the medical party."

Commander Nakajima answered Bahram's question. "From what we have been able to determine," he said, "the
refugee fleet has been in space for three and a half years, and it appears that, by the time they had entered this system,
they were running low on some stores. For instance, they have been using the stopover in this system to renew their
stores of water and frozen meat from the planet. In addition they decided to salvage the derelict vessel they found. One of
the reasons they did so was its manufacturing capabilities. Based on this information I would recommend that you send
the kinds of stores and equipment you would use in establishing a field surgery, and use the squadron's sickbay
facilities as a backup. However, when I get in touch with Galactica's XO, I'll ask about the state of their medical facilities."

"Thanks, George," said Bahram. "It'll be greatly appreciated."

"Will the away parties be taking sidearms?" asked one officer.

'Abal shook her head. "It is not conceived that the away parties will be armed," she said. "Frankly, I see no reason why
they should be." She stood up, with the rest of the assembly following her lead. "If there are no more questions," she
said, "then I'll adjourn this meeting and let you all go about your assignments.

" On a related note, I will be detaching Marshal Ustinov to carry dispatches to Sandoval. This will leave the squadron
somewhat short handed, but I feel that it is best we inform Sandoval of recent developments."

"What if these 'Cylons' decide to return?" asked Captain Honda Takahashi, HMS Little Rock's commander. "Or the lizards
decide to put in an appearance?"

"I don't think these 'Cylons' will be much of a threat," 'Abal replied. "Frankly, I'm more concerned about the lizards. If they
turn up, we escort the refugees out of here pronto. The only ship I'm worried about is the one they salvaged, and that is
solely because of misjump chances. And I suspect," she said, turning to Petrov, "that they may ask you to look at her
engines first."

Petrov smiled. "That will not be a problem, Commodore," he said. "I would have looked her over first anyway."

"Good," said 'Abal. She looked around the assembled officers again. "Any more questions? None? Excellent. Any
developments will be relayed to you via Commander Nakajima." She looked about the assembly. Seeing that there were
no additional questions, she dismissed the gathering and left for her day cabin.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Colonial One.

As Adama and Roslin stepped out of their Raptor they were met by Vice-President Tom Zarek and Saul Tigh. Both men
looked more than a little worn.

"Problems, Tom?" Roslin asked. "Don't tell me: rumour is biting, isn't it."

Zarek nodded. "And then some," he replied. Both he and Tigh fell in alongside their respective superiors as they moved
out of Colonial One's shuttle bay. "Both Colonel Tigh and I have been dealing with the press as well as trying to quash
some of the rumours that have sprung up about the Terrans."

"What rumours have there been?" Roslin asked.

"Well, as can be expected, some of the resident geniuses in the media have managed to work out that 'Terra' is n old
word for Earth," Tigh growled. "That started a whole slew of rumours that we had finally found the Thirteenth Tribe, and
things steadily grew worse from there on."

"I've been fending off media inquiries ever since you and the Admiral left for your meeting with this 'Com-o-dor' of the
Terrans," Zarek said. "I've been telling them that we would release some information as soon as we can, but that this is a
rather delicate situation. I even addressed the 'Thirteenth Tribe' issue by saying that what we did know about them came
only from the Sacred Scrolls, and, that since there was a two-thousand year separation between our peoples, we had to
have time to learn as much about them as we can." He looked at Roslin. "So, did you and the Admiral learn anything over
there?"

Roslin looked around. "We did, but I think it would be best if we continued this conversation in my office," she said. She
looked back at Zarek. "Your instincts were right, Tom," she said. "We are in a rather delicate situation. More delicate than
you may have realised." She looked around. "And speaking of the press, I don't see any of them around here."

"Thank Colonel Tigh for that," Zarek replied. "He pointed out that before we could address any of the press's questions,
we had to learn just where we stood with the Terrans. I added that I was confident that both you and the Admiral would be
able to answer any questions once you had returned and had had a chance to prepare yourselves."

Tigh looked at Adama. "What sort of a situation are we looking at, Bill?" he asked.

Adama shook his head. "I'll tell you when we get up to the President's office," he said. Looking around, he noticed that
there was someone missing. "Where's Cottle?" he asked.

Tigh grimaced. "Medical emergency," he said. "And pretty seroious, from what he tells me. He sends his apologies about
not making it over here."

Adama nodded. "We'll fill Cottle in when we get back to Galactica," he said. "By then i might have worked out how to tell
the crew what we've discovered."

"That bad?"

"You have no idea."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

President's Office, Colonial One, sometime later.

"You have to be joking!"

Both Tom Zarek and Saul Tigh were in shock at what they had just been told. Although the voice that had spoken was
Tigh's, the sentiment was shared equally between the two men.

And what they had just heard had knocked the props out from their shared belief system.

"You mean that these 'Terrans' not only claim to be humanity's senior branch, but they also have artificial intelligence?"
asked an astonished Tigh. "Frack, that's worse than what we tried with the Cylons!" He reached over and picked up a
drink that Roslin had had one of her staff pour for each of them before dismissing them from her office. After taking a
hefty swig, he looked at the two leaders of the Fleet. "Gods, imagining trying to tell that to the crew of the Galactica, let
alone the civilians in the Fleet! Talk about trouble!"

Zarek nodded. "Colonel Tigh's right," he said. "We are going to have to plan this very carefully." He got up and began to
pace. "In my opinion, a press conference is out of the question at this point in time. Too many chances for being accused
of misleading the Fleet."

Roslin nodded. "I was thinking of, say, a press statement. We can word it to give out some information about the
Terrans."

"Such as?" asked Adama.

"Well, the fact that they are sending parties over to the Fleet in order to render assistance so that we can go with them to
their forward base for one," said Roslin. "Plus, once we get there they will be in a better position to aid us even further."

"People are going to ask about Earth," Zarek said. "What do we tell them when they ask that question?"

"We tell them that Earth is the capital of the Terran Empire, and that, for all intents and purposes, we have basically
arrived," Roslin said. "We just haven't arrived at what may be our final destination."

"Highlight the fact that we are going to have to deal with Earth politics," said Zarek. "And emphasise that even if we don't
go to Earth itself, we are already under its protection. Hell, didn't they say as much that they have to protect us because of
their laws?"

"They're going to ask about where the Terrans stand on the Cylons," said Tigh. "Some of the rumours even say that the
Terrans are ready to help us kick the toasters off our home planets!"

"Well, that won't be happening for some time, if ever," said Adama. "Considering that the Terrans are at war with the
'Raptors', somehow I don't think they have a spare battle fleet, let alone the logistical resources, to carry that out. And that
raises another question." He looked at the others in the room. "How do we mention that our 'saviours' are locked in a war
with an alien race that makes our own struggles with the Cylons look somewhat on the small side?"

"We might be able to deal with that by having one of the Terran liaison officers speak about it," said Roslin. "And he could
easily tell the truth: that at present they have the upper hand."

"And he could also emphasise that by getting us to one of their bases they are getting us out of a situation that is
potentially a very nasty one for us," said Zarek. He was now jotting ideas down on a piece of paper. "Do you think that the
Terrans will help us on that?"

"I see no reason why they should not," answered Roslin. "After all, they're the ones who want to get us to this base of
theirs. She looked at Adama. "Do you think we could ask Commodore Ah-bal to have her liaison officers to help us on
this?"

"Seeing how efficient she is," Adama said, "I wouldn't be at all surprised if that flag lieutenant of hers knows what to do in
this sort of a situation. Which is why I would say she appointed him her liaison to you."

"Flag lieutenant?" asked Tigh. "Is that some kind of a rank?"

Adama thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "I don't think it is, Saul," he said. "He was introduced as a
lieutenant. I think that flag lieutenant may be some kind of staff position. What it is exactly, I don't know." He got up, with
Tigh following his lead. "With your permission, Madame President, Mr. Vice-President, both Colonel Tigh and I had better
return to Galactica and prepare a briefing of some kind for the crew. If rumour has been spreading amongst the crew as
it has amongst the Fleet..."

"No need to apologise, Admiral. I understand exactly what you mean," Roslin said. "Mr. Zarek and I will work on this
press statement. If you like, I can send a courier over to Galactica with a copy for your comments and any suggestions
you may wish to make."

Adama bowed. "Thank you, Madame President," he said. "On that note, I had better leave." With that, both he and Tigh
exited the office.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Boomer's Chamb er, Cylon Base Star.

"All right," said Baltar as he followed Boomer into her chamber. "I'm here, as requested. So, what is the agenda for this
meeting?"

Caprica Six slowly walked about the chamber. She was by now linked with all of the Sixes within range. She stopped and
looked at both Baltar and Boomer. "This meeting is confidential. I'm sure that we all agree that the current situation is...
not optimal."

"Not optimal. What a wonderful way you have with words," said Baltar. "I'd have said that the situation is pretty fracked
myself, but I'll go with 'not optimal'."

Caprica Six shot him a quelling look. "Anyway. The Cylon race is at its greatest crossroads, " she said. "I'm only stating
the obvious in saying that the brief contact with the Terrans has... disrupted things."

"In other words, the Terrans are not what you expected," said Baltar. "To be honest, they're not what I expected either. And,
I think I'm safe in saying that also goes for the Colonial fleet."

Boomer nodded in agreement. "Except that the Colonial fleet is now under the protection of the Terrans," she said. "I
reviewed the DRADIS data we got during the encounter, and what I saw frankly scared me." She was now speaking as
the Colonial officer she had once been.

Baltar nodded. "I reviewed the same data. The energy readings from those ships were quite astounding," he said. "And I
kept replaying the Terran commander's comments about the wall of nuclear weapons they detonated in front of our
ships,"

"Why did you do that, Gaius?" Caprica Six asked.

"It brought to mind a Colonial Fleet weapons project that was related to its energy weapons one," Baltar replied. "This
one envisioned using nuclear weapons to generate bursts of coherent light in the X-ray region of the electromagnetic
spectrum. If successful; it would have easily added to the Fleet's engagement envelope in space."

"And you think that the Terrans may have something along those lines," said Caprica Six.

"It would explain the precision that the Terrans showed in detonating five hundred multi-megaton warheads in the
manner they did," Baltar replied. He nodded at Boomer. "You examined the DRADIS readouts. Tell me: didn't the
placement of those warheads strike you as being extraordinarily precise?"

Boomer's eyes grew unfocussed as she reviewed the data in her mind. Then she looked at both Caprica Six and Baltar.
"Yes," she said. "And such precision also argues for a very sophisticated computer capability."

Baltar nodded. "I'll add another supposition to that," he said. "I'll bet that the Terrans possess computer technology that is
at least as sophisticated as the program suite we downloaded of the beacon. At least."

Caprica paled as the implications of Baltar's words sank in. "You think that both these giant lizards and the Terrans know
about each other," she said.

"It's certainly quite possible," said Baltar. "Think about it: we have encountered one very technologically advanced race
and found traces of another in the same general area. And both races deploy warships of a size and power that has
never been seen before by either the Cylons or the Colonials. Logic alone would indicate that there is a very high
possibility that these two races know about each other."

"But that doesn't explain why the Terrans were in the same system as the Colonial fleet," said Caprica Six.

"They could be a scouting mission," said Boomer. "Possibly scouting out that system to see if there was any presence of
the giant lizards in it." She looked uneasily at Baltar.

Baltar noticed it. "You've just worked it out, haven't you," he quietly said. Although it was phrased as a question, his
intonation made it simply a statement of fact.

"Worked out what, Gaius?" demanded Caprica Six.

"That the six vessels we encountered are not the largest vessels the Terrans may possess," Boomer replied. "That...
'Com-mo-dor' said that her formation was a 'light cruiser squadron.' The Colonial Fleet used similar vessels for scouting
and screening purposes."

"Which means, if we're right," Baltar said, indicating both himself and Boomer, "that the Terrans may well possess ships
that are bigger and, consequently, much nastier than those six we encountered." He gave Caprica Six a tight smile. "Not
a particularly pleasant idea, I must say."

Caprica Six's face paled as the implications of Boomer and Baltar's quiet words sank in. "They could be running an
elaborate bluff," she said. The way she said it, though, indicated that even that statement didn't convince her.

"They could well be," said Baltar. "However, I would suggest that it would be more... prudent to act as if they aren't bluffing.
The consequences of that course of action strike me as less... disastrous."

"This doesn't really address the main issue here," said Boomer. "What do we do about the current situation?"

"Well, first off I would suggest a variation on the scheme that was used in looking for the base star," said Baltar. "Only this
time we use it to try and locate where the Terrans and, for that matter, the giant lizards are located." He looked at both
Cylons. "We have the locations of two systems where we located at least one race. We use those as our points of
reference and work our way out from there. Meanwhile, I would also suggest that you look to establishing a base of
some kind in this area of space to operate from."

"What about the system we encountered the Terrans in?" Caprica Six asked.

Both Baltar and Boomer immediately shook their heads. "Not a good idea," said Boomer. "The Terrans know about that
system, and what they don't know I can guarantee that Adama will tell them, particularly the information that there is a
inhabitable planet in it. That alone may make the Terrans put a presence of some kind there."

'The force we encountered doesn't exactly strike me as an exploratory expedition," said Caprica Six.

"But it is the right sort of force for a scouting expedition," said Boomer. "Which makes me wonder if all of us, both us and
the Colonials, haven't wandered into a war zone?"

"Well, if that is the case," said Baltar, "I would strongly recommend that you find out the location of the Terran and lizard
forces as soon as possible. I would also suggest that Boomer and I review our path of the past few weeks to locate a
suitable planetary system for a base." He stopped, hesitated for a moment, and then continued. "It might also be a good
idea to prepare a course of withdrawal back to the Colonies or even back to your home worlds," he said. At their looks,
he added, "By now, both Adama and Roslin would have told the Terrans all about the attack on the Colonies and may
even have asked for their help in returning to them, possibly with the added benefit of wiping out the Cylon race in the
process. So I'd say that preparing a path of possible retreat would be a good idea."

Boomer nodded. "We find out where the two groups are located and find a place for us to hole up while we find out the
situation in this part of space," she said. "Works for me."

"Do we find out just what we may be facing as well?" asked Caprica Six.

Boomer shook her head. "No," she said. "Just locating the systems they hold, and I suspect that it could well be quite a
few, would be enough. We can look at what they have later."

"All right," said Caprica Six. "We locate where the two races are. We find a suitable system for a base in this area. But
once we have located the systems they hold, what then?"

"Since you have asked me here to give some advice," said Baltar, "I'll give you some. You should open negotiations. And I
mean open, honest negotiations. Not like that stunt D'anna tried back on that algae planet which had the Eye of Jupiter
on it." He looked at both Cylons. "Somehow, I get the feeling that trying anything else would simply... annoy these two
races."

"Open negotiations," said Caprica Six. "And who do you suggest we negotiate with, Gaius?"

Baltar said nothing. Then, he looked Caprica Six straight in the eye. "In all honesty, I would recommend the Terrans," he
said.

"Why the Terrans?" asked Boomer. "Surely, as you've said, both Adama and Roslin have told them everything."

"Yes, but the Terrans fired warning shots," said Baltar. "That's what that massive barrage of nuclear weapons was, when
you think about it. And, from what evidence we have in our possession, it's a lot more than the giant lizards gave your
expedition out in this direction."

Both Cylons fell silent as they, and the rest of their respective varieties, re-examined both the recordings taken from the
Requisitus beacon and the events in the system where they had encountered the Terrans. Eventually, Boomer spoke.
"You're right," she said. "The Terrans did fire warning shots." She suppressed a shudder. "They could have blown us out
of space at any time of their choosing," she said, "and we couldn't have done a damned thing about it."

"Which strongly argues that they might be more amenable to talking rather than shooting," Caprica Six said. "All right,
Gaius. We open negotiations with the Terrans. About what?"

Baltar gave a sickly grin. "Well, dissuading them from annihilating the Cylon race would be a good start, don't you think?"
he said. "Apart from that, be open with them. Admit that you nuked the Colonies out of existence. But also emphasise
that several of the variants of the humaniform Cylons now believe that was a mistake. Emphasise that you are searching
for a new beginning, that you would like to make a new home. Just don't mention that you intended it to be Earth.
Somehow," he concluded, "I don't think that they would be all that amused that you had intended taking over Earth."

Caprica Six drew a deep breath. "All right," she said. "We locate where both races are. We persuade the others to open
honest negotiations with the Terrans. How do we tell the Terrans that we wish to talk without us getting blown out of
space?"

"We send in a flight of three Raiders," said Boomer. "They broadcast on Colonial Fleet wavelengths that they are carrying
a message. They fire a drone that broadcasts a homing signal. The drone contains a message telling them we wish to
talk and, that if they wish to reply, they leave a message beacon detailing any arrangements they wish to make for a
meeting in the system we encountered them in." She looked at Caprica Six and Baltar. "How does that sound?"

Caprica Six considered the idea. "It sounds good," she said. "I think that could work." Baltar said nothing, but nodded his
head in agreement. "Now," she continued, "assuming that the Terrans want to talk, the next question is: who do we
send?"

"I would recommend not sending one of the Cavils," said Baltar. "His whole attitude might offend the Terrans."
"No disagreements from me on that score," said Boomer. Caprica Six nodded.

"If I were to send a negotiating team," said Baltar, "I would make sure that you two were on it." He looked at the two
Cylons. "My reasons for this are both logical and... personal. The logical part is centred around the fact that, of all the
Cylons, you two have had the most experience interacting with human beings, regardless of what happened on New
Caprica. You may be able to better read the Terrans' body language."

"Well, that covers the logical part of your reasons," said Caprica Six. "What about your personal reasons, Gaius?"

Baltar hesitated for a moment. Then, looking at both Cylons, he said, "That has to do with the way things are going here.
Unfortunately, I have this feeling that things might well explode. If that happens, I would feel a lot better if the two of you
were made more... indispensable to the Cylons. If whatever is going to happen happens while you are off negotiating
with the Terrans, I would feel a lot better."

Both Cylons looked at him. "I think I speak for the both of us in saying that we appreciate your... thoughts on this matter,"
said Caprica Six. "I..." Caprica Six suddenly found herself choked with a strange feeling she had never felt before. Feeling
her eyes start to mist up, she turned away from the two others in the room.

"As nice as that may be," said Boomer, "I think that we should also make a case for bringing Baltar along with us."
Caprica wheeled around at this statement, noticing in passing the look of surprise on Baltar's face."

"Why do you think that I should be included on this trip?" asked Baltar. "I'm quite sure that both Adama and Roslin would
have informed the Terrans of my 'treason' on New Caprica by now, which would render my presence on the mission of
little value."

"You're the only human who has lived alongside Cylons, in Cylon society for a great length of time," said Boomer. "You
might be able to give the Terrans an insight into us that is denied to the Colonials. Besides, if we take you with us, we
remove you from the sight of those Cylon varieties that are not so friendly towards you, particularly the Cavils."

Caprica Six considered what Boomer had said. Then, she nodded. "I agree," she said. "We have to get you out of harm's
way." She looked at Boomer. "I can't really explain this," she said, "but I have this feeling that the fate of the Cylon race is
tied up with Gaius' survival."

Boomer looked back at Caprica. "I've had that feeling myself over the last few weeks," she said.

"It's agreed then. We come up with a plausible reason and take Gaius with us," said Caprica Six. Now for the hard part,
she thought: selling this scheme to the rest of the Cylons. Looking at Boomer she could see that she had the same
thought.
*Chapter 13*: Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve

Commanding Officer's Quarters, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica.

"They've got what?"

William Adama and Saul Tigh said nothing, but shared a wry smile. The exclamation had come from Captain Kara
"Starbuck" Thrace. She, along with Major Lee "Apollo" Adama, Galactica's CAG, Captain Karl "Helo" Agathon, Galactica's
Operations Officer, Lieutenant Felix Gaeta and Doctor Cottle, had been invited into Adama's quarters. There, in private,
Adama had broken the news about the Terrans' capabilities. Including the fact that the Terrans possessed highly capable
and well-developed artificial intelligences.

The reaction they got was what they had expected. In Starbuck's case, it was somewhat excitable, but, given the
circumstances in which the Colonials had found themselves in this area of space, understandably so.

Apollo's reaction, although not as excitable as Starbuck's, was equally flabbergasted.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, "but it sounded like you said the Terrans have artificial intelligences." He looked at the faces of
the three officers in front of him, hoping somehow that it was a misunderstanding. What he saw there didn't give him
much hope.

"You heard the Admiral correctly, Major," Tigh said. "Mind you, I don't blame you for your reaction. It's pretty much the same
that both the Vice-President and myself gave when we were given the news."

Apollo said nothing, but gave a very good impression of a landed fish. He looked around at the other officers who had
been invited in. Starbuck just sat there, jaw hanging in astonishment. So did Helo. Gaeta looked equally astonished.
Even Cottle, who struck Apollo as possibly, after his father and Tigh, the most unflappable man he had ever met, sat
there looking as if a large sledgehammer had hit him.

Which, in a very conceptual sense, it had.

Gaeta started to say something, stopped, and then tried again. After the third try, he managed to get something out. "My
gods, are they mad?" he said.

"I don't think they're mad, Mr. Gaeta," said Adama. "They know exactly what they are doing." He nodded to the third of the
triumvirate of officers facing the others. "Lieutenant, will you give us your impression of what we saw over there?"

Lieutenant Sharon "Athena" Agathon, the only Cylon member of Galactica's crew, nodded and stepped forward. "Admiral
Adama asked me to evaluate what we encountered over there," she began. She gave a wry smile. "I suppose it was a
natural enough thing to do since I am the closest thing we have to the Terran AIs.

"Anyway. Based on what I was able to observe during our visit, I would have to say that the Terrans' computer capacity
easily leaves anything the Cylons may have for dead."

A silence fell across the room. Eventually it was broken by Gaeta. "You're serious, aren't you," he said.

"Very serious," replied Athena. "The computational power that would be needed to project the holographic images we
saw, let alone the holographic representation of, what I shall call the 'main AI' for want of a better term, is quite
staggering. Add in the actual artificial intelligence itself, the computer power needed to maintain life support, manage the
ship's energy output etcetera, etcetera, and the computer power of that one ship alone is just mind-boggling. I suspect
that much of their capability comes from their computer networks.

"Moving on to the artificial intelligence we encountered. I think I can speak for both the Admiral and myself in stating that,
until we were told that he, and I can state quite firmly it is a he, was an artificial intelligence, we thought we were
speaking to a human being." She paused for a moment, and then continued: "I have to admit, that AI in general made me
feel... backwards."

"What do you mean by that, Lieutenant?" asked Adama.

"Its just that... seeing its projection and listening to it interacting with both the Terrans and us, made me realise just how
sophisticated it really is," Athena said. "I felt really unsophisticated when compared to it." She looked around. "Basically, I
felt like a 'hick.'

"However, what really amazed me was the attitude the Terrans displayed towards it. They treated it as though it was a
person, something that I think may well be a little... difficult for our people to come to terms with."

Another silence fell across the room. Then Starbuck spoke. "You're right, Felix," she said, looking at Gaeta. "They have to
be insane to allow something like that! No offence intended, Athena," she added, looking at the Cylon.

"None taken, Starbuck," Athena replied. "I can understand where you're coming from. It does seem eerily like the origins
of the Cylon race. However, I also have the feeling that the Terrans have anticipated what did occur with the Cylon Revolt.
At any rate, they seem to have taken steps that have seriously reduced the chances of a similar event occurring with
them."

"Like what?" asked Apollo.

"The Terran AI mentioned that Terran computers have hardwired into their circuits something they call 'The Three Laws of
Robotics,'" Athena replied. "The 'First Law' says that no AI can 'harm, or through inaction, allow a human being to come to
harm.' Their 'Second Law' binds them to obey all 'lawful instructions', whatever that may mean, unless they violate the
First Law, while the 'Third Law' allows AIs to preserve their existence, so long as it violates neither of the first two Laws. I
also suspect, given the emphasis on 'lawful instructions' in the 'Second Law', that they have at their disposal the Terran
legal code."

"I think I can see how that could work," said Gaeta. "I wonder why we didn't think of that?"

"Probably because we saw the first Cylons as nothing more than labour-saving devices," said Adama. "Mechanical
slaves, for want of a better term." He looked around the room. "Perhaps the Terrans are right in their claim to be
humanity's senior branch," he said. "It would explain much about their attitude towards their AIs."

"What attitude is that?" asked Apollo.

"They treat their AIs as though they were people," said Athena. A stunned silence fell across the room as Starbuck,
Apollo, Gaeta and Cottle considered the implications of that statement.

"They what?" said Starbuck.

"Treat them as though they were people," repeated Athena. "It's not too surprising, given the level of sophistication the
one we encountered displayed. They have, and this is the kicker, even given them rights as citizens of the Terran
Empire." She looked at the stunned faces in front of her, and then shrugged, "Makes a kind of sense, really."

"I don't believe it. I don't frakkin' believe it," said Starbuck. She looked at Adama, Tigh and Athena, astonishment clearly
written on her face. "People?" she asked. "Citizenship rights?"

"From what they were saying," said Athena, "as soon as they realised the level of sophistication their thinking AIs had
developed to, they simply... considered it natural to grant them rights. That doesn't mean they run the government though:
the AI we spoke to made it quite clear that there are some things that humans can do better than machine intelligences.
Things like intuition." She looked at the humans in the room. "Can you explain why you have 'hunches' that turn out right?
The Cylons can't understand human intuition, and neither do Terran AIs. Which makes sense, when it is explained in the
manner it was to us."

"What did they say?" asked Gaeta.

"That Terran AIs were based on theories that Terran humans had developed about how cognition works," Athena said.
"Looking back on things, I suppose the same can be said for how Cylon cognition was developed. It also explains how
come Cylons, including humaniform ones like myself, seem to lack intuition. We can analyse things quite well, but
intuition... That appears to be beyond us."

Gaeta thought for a moment. "Makes sense," he said. "We based Cylon cognition on the way we believe we think. That
would also extend to theories on personality formation. It could even explain the revolt. We simply didn't think that our
own creations could actually think and, potentially, feel. So, we didn't take any steps to prevent a cybernetic revolt."

Athena nodded. "Of course, Cylon Centurions and Raiders are a lower order of AI, to borrow Terran terminology. They
have dedicated programming that allows them to carry out their roles. Being unable to truly 'think', they cannot revolt
against the humaniform Cylons." A thought struck Athena. "I just realised something," she said.

"What, you've had an 'intuitive thought'?" grinned Starbuck.

Athena rolled her eyes. "No," she said. "The Terran AI referred to me as a person, and described the Cylon race as
people. And the Terrans in the room did not b at an eye at that statement."

Adama leaned back in his chair. "You're right," he said. "That tells us a lot about them." He leaned forward. "I wonder if
this means that they may try to find a solution to our... situation by negotiation?"

"Could be, sir, "said Athena. "I got the impression they look at violence as a last resort. And, considering they're at war
with the 'Raptors', they just might see if they can negotiate with the Cylons."

Adama thought for a bit on what Athena had just said. "True," he said. "But I would not be surprised if they have also
worked out, from the fact that our fleet is all that's left of the Colonies, what happened. I got the impression that they
would look pretty poorly upon a race that carries out nuclear carpet bombing of inhabitable planets without even so much
as a declaration of war."

"So did I, sir," replied Athena. "I also got the impression that they may well have had some examples of this sort of
behaviour in their own past. Considering they have even coined a term for it, I'd even put a wager on it, if that wasn't a
tacky thing to do in the circumstances." She shifted her position slightly. "However, I suspect that, from what Commodore
'Abal," Athena got the pronunciation of both name and rank correctly, "said about the Cylons being a 'nuisance' they could
well do without, they may well try and settle things without any shooting involved. Of course," she continued, "that
depends on just how the Cylons will deal with this situation."

"And how do you think the Cylons will deal with this situation?" Tigh asked.

Athena's eyes took on an unfocussed look as she analysed the situation. Then, refocusing, she looked at Tigh and
Adama. "This is really only an educated guess, sirs," she said, "as I have been cut off from the general... consciousness
of the Cylon race. But I think this will have thrown them into as much confusion as we are in. Basically, the Terrans aren't
what either of our races had expected. The only advantages we have are that they have placed us under their protection
and that they are going to help us. Eventually, and this is again solely from what I got on our visit to Basilicata, they will
give us more information about themselves."

"Do you think the Terrans were telling the truth about not being equipped to answer all of our questions?" Tigh asked.

"I think that they were," Adama answered. "The Terran commander kept saying she wasn't a 'Contacts expert' and saying
that, hopefully, they will have some people who are qualified to tell us what we need to know."

"That's an interesting point, Admiral," said Gaeta. "They have people who are expert in contact situations. Even to the
extent, from what you have told us, of having a government department dedicated to that. Which argues strongly that they
have a lot of experience in this sort of thing."

"Exactly what the President said," said Adama. He shifted in his chair. "As fascinating as this conversation is, it really isn't
what I summoned you here for. I asked you here to hear what Athena and I had to say about our visit to the Terrans and to
gauge your reactions to the more... controversial aspects of our visit. Now, we have another task: to ready our people for...
interaction with the engineering and medical parties the Terrans are sending over here. And for that, we have to ready a
briefing for the crew of this ship."

"Gods, we'd better not tell them about the AIs," said Tigh. He nodded at the four officers sitting opposite him. "Given your
reactions to the news about the Terran AIs, I shudder to think how the crew, let alone the civilians on board, are going to
react to that news."

"Perhaps we don't have to tell them everything," said Gaeta. At the looks the others gave him, he said "We just simply
announce that the Terrans have computer systems that are much more sophisticated than either our systems or the
Cylons, and that they should expect to see things they may not fully understand. I also suspect that the Terrans may
already be addressing that problem."

"What makes you think that, Mr. Gaeta?" asked Adama.

"Their guess that the Cylons were our 'AI project gone haywire'," said Gaeta. "That suggests to me that they may have
encountered other cultures that have as strong a reaction to advanced computers as theirs. I would be very surprised
that they haven't encountered this sort of thing before."

"I think that could work, sir," said Apollo. "If we advise the Terrans what we are going to tell our people, it would make
things easier for both of us."

Adama leant back in his chair as he considered what Gaeta and Apollo had proposed. Then, he looked over at Tigh.
"Saul?" he asked.

"It could well work," said Tigh. "Especially if we tell the Terrans what we are saying to our people. It could easily reduce
friction between our people and theirs."

Adama thought for a bit. Then, he nodded. "We go with that plan," he said. "We draw up a briefing and put that in it as an
advisory to our people."

"What about the fact that the Terrans will be wearing their... 'skinsuits' is the term?" Starbuck asked. At Adama and
Athena's nods, she continued, "That's going to raise some suspicions there. Why wear some kind of spacesuit if you
want to help us out?"

"Again, they may well have provided us with a useable explanation," said Cottle. As all eyes turned on him, he said,
"Admiral, from what you and Athena have told us, they have been concerned with us being infected by whatever bugs they
may be carrying. Hell, I wouldn't mind betting they could identify that hell virus we found on that 'perfect-looking' planet we
found several systems back." He shuddered. "Gods, if that is the sort of thing they're used to..." He trailed off.

Adama suppressed a shudder himself. "I think I see your point, Doctor," he said. "And the Terrans kept emphasising the
need to ensure that we didn't fall victim to any of their diseases. Apparently, they have some examples of instances
where they were not so careful about preventing infection in their own past." He looked at Cottle. "I suspect that whoever
is going to be in charge of their medical team will want to know about the state of our own facilities and what we need."

"Pretty much everything," said Cottle. "I'll take whatever help I can get. If they somehow manage to bring an entire field
hospital over here I, for one, would be extremely grateful."

"If you don't mind me saying so, sir," began Apollo, but he was interrupted by a knocking on the door to Adama's quarters.

"Enter" said Adama. The door opened and Lieutenant Dualla stuck her head in. "Sorry to interrupt your conference,
Admiral, but we've just received a message from the Terrans. Their Chief-of-Staff and the squadron's chief medical
officer want to speak to Colonel Tigh about the 'away parties' they intend to send over."

Tigh got up. "Guess this is our cue to leave, Admiral," he said, indicating to Cottle that he should also get up. "I suppose
I'd better go and speak to this 'chief-of-staff' and find out what they want. Coming?" he said to Cottle.

Cottle role. "I suppose I'd better, if they have their chief medical officer waiting to speak to me." He started to go towards
the doorway, but halted when he saw that Tigh hadn't moved.

"Something bothering you, Saul?" asked Adama.

"Just wondering if we should use the handset in talking to the Terrans," said Tigh. "Or do you want the conversation over
the speakers?"

Adama though for a bit, and then said "Put it over the speakers. Let the crew in CIC hear what we have to say." He gave
Tigh a wry grin. "Maybe we can put the 'rumour mill' to good use for once."

Tigh returned Adama's grin with one of his own. "Not a bad idea. That way, we fertilise the soil a little for the briefing and
the President's statement to take root." He looked at Cottle, and then said, "We'd best be going. Don't want to keep the
Terrans waiting." He looked back at Adama. "When we're finished, we'll report back with what could be happening." With
that, the two men left Adama's quarters.

Adama turned back to Apollo. "You were saying, Major?" he asked.

"I was going to say something about the 'rumour mill', but you seem to have that well in hand, sir," said Apollo. "However,
I would like to say that we should at least rough out the briefing we will be giving the crew, leaving the fine-tuning until we
have a copy of the President's statement."

Adama nodded. "Good idea," he said. He looked around at the remaining officers in the room. "However, I want to
emphasise to you that nothing, and I mean nothing, about the Terran AIs leaves this room. That said, I would like you to
follow Colonel Tigh's example and put the 'rumour mill' to good use. You will all be asked questions on leaving this
conference, but just say that there will be a briefing very shortly, timed to coincide with the President's press statement. If
pressed for some details, just mention that they are much more advanced than we are, and that they are concerned for
our well-being.

"Now lets get to work. We have a briefing to prepare."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Main Boat Bay, HMS Basilicata, Seventy-two hours later.

The boat bay was a buzz of activity as the last items needed for the mission to the Colonial fleet were stowed in the
cavernous cargo bays of the pair of assault shuttles. Like many things the Terran Imperial Navy possessed, the assault
shuttles were something that the Colonials had never imagined. They were multi-function vessels, designed to transport
companies of Imperial Marines in assaults on heavily defended planets, space stations and in boarding actions against
enemy vessels. Considering that the only boarding actions the Marines ever carried out were against Raptor warships
and stations, the shuttles were built to absorb damage as well as to inflict it.

Because the principle means of boarding a crippled ship was simply by ramming through the soft parts of the vessel's
hull (after using the ship's main weapons to blast any armour plates out of the way) the vessel's main entrance was
through the heavily reinforced bow. This, when combined with the atmospheric streamlining of the hull, tended to give the
shuttle the appearance of some great marine predator, usually a shark or killer whale. When embedded in a ship's hull,
the heavily reinforced doors would open, allowing the battle armoured Marines to swarm out, usually on anti-grav
harnesses.

Today, however, the vessels were on a mission of a different kind. A mission that their crews tended to find more
satisfying.

To many of the Imperium's citizens, the Terran Imperial Navy's assault shuttles were known as "The Angels," because
they tended to appear whenever there was a crisis. In much of the Imperium they were angels of mercy, bringing relief to
population centres that had been stricken by natural disasters of one kind or another.

To those of the Imperium's citizens who dwelt in the Raptor March, they were called 'The Avenging Angels of Death' as
they swept down on Raptor infestations as a part of a relief force sent by the Terran Imperial Navy, guns firing and
dropping battle armour clad Imperial Marines through their bottom hatches on anti-grav harnesses.

Nobody knew what the Raptors called them. Most likely, it was something uncomplimentary.

Today, however they were transporting relief and engineering supplies across to the refugee fleet, a mission that the
personnel of the Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron found much more preferable to fighting Raptors. Because of the
possibility of infecting the refugees with any of thousands of possible diseases the Terrans were used to, the personnel
heading over to the Colonial fleet were all wearing their skinsuits, leaving their helmets off until they were ready to board
Galactica. In the discussions between Colonel Tigh and Commander Nakajima, it had been decided that the mission
would land on Galactica first and establish the mission headquarters there. Once that was done, a detachment of
engineers would head over to Nike to help in getting her ready for the trip to Sandoval Base. In the meantime, medical
personnel and engineers from the Terran Imperial Navy would fan out over the entire fleet, checking both people and
ships. Once things were as best as they could make it, given the resources to hand, the combined fleet would begin the
trip to Sandoval Base.

Commodore 'Abal watched the activity in Basilicata's main boat bay as she conferred with the leaders of the away party.
Both she and Commander Nakajima wore their day uniforms, but Commander Phan, Surgeon-Lieutenant-Commander
Petrov, Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander Van Hysler and Lieutenant Morgan all wore their skinsuits and had their
carryalls besides them. Behind them the boat bay crew, some of which wore cargo-handling frames, manoeuvred
pallets containing supplies and equipment into the shuttles while the members of the away party filed onboard toting
carryall bags containing their various items of kit.

Commander Nakajima was outlining some of the last minute arrangements that had been made with the Colonials.
"Colonel Tigh has informed me that they are a bit tight for space on board Galactica as they have a large number of
civilians embarked on her," he said. "He tells me they have agreed to our request to set up the pressure tents in the
forward half of Galactica's starboard landing bay. It will not interfere with their operations, as it seems that, before their
home system was attacked, Galactica was being decommissioned as a museum ship and they had converted the
entire starboard landing pod into a pressurised display space. It also appears that there is something of a bar nearby,
so warn your personnel about minding their Ps and Qs when dealing with the locals.

"One piece of good news: Both Admiral Adama and President Roslin have told their people about some of our computer
capability. They haven't told them about our AIs, so emphasise to all of your people to be careful around the locals. Given
their experiences with these 'Cylons', they are somewhat... touchy about artificial intelligences. The same goes for our
implants: the locals don't know about them, so be careful. The last thing we need is a neo-Luddite riot with our people
caught in the middle."

"I thought you said there was some good news, George?" said Phan.
"The good news is that the locals know we have computers that are more advanced than their level of technology," said
Nakajima. "That means we have been able to pack some dhoby stations, so that your skinsuits and, if it transpires you
can ditch the 'suits, your uniforms will be clean each shift." He turned to face Morgan. "Andy, since your mission is going
to be important to the successful outcome of this mission, I've not only assigned a dhoby station to you, but you also
have a dog robber along to operate it. Don't let the honour of it go to your head," he finished with a smile. Dog Rob b er
was military slang for a personal servant, or batman. In the Navy, only ship commanders rated them.

"Rest assured, I won't' sir," said Morgan.

"Colonel Tigh has also informed me that there will be some kind of formal reception in the corridor leading to the air lock
your shuttle will dock at," Nakajima said. "It appears that President Roslin is throwing this so as to increase your public
profile amongst the civilians in the refugee fleet, so expect the press there in force. Huynh, I suggest that you leave
dealing with the press to Lieutenant Morgan as I suspect he will be dealing with the media on a regular basis."

"With pleasure," said Phan.

The boat bay duty officer came up. "Excuse me, ma'am, sirs," she said.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" 'Abal said.

"The Chief of the Bay has informed me that they have finished loading the shuttles and that the last personnel have
embarked," she said. "Also, Captain Jaidev sends his regards and says that the Colonials have finished their
preparations and are ready."

'Abal nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant." She then turned to face the three suited officers. "Well, that sounds like your cue
to depart." She held out her hand. "Good luck, Commander, and Godspeed."

Commander Phan took her hand. "Thank you, ma'am." He then braced to attention. "'Ten-SHUN!" he called out. At his
command, the three other officers also braced to attention. He threw 'Abal a salute. "Officer commanding away party,
Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron, subordinate officers and detachment from His Majesty's Ship Basilicata detaching
from squadron as per orders, ma'am!"

'Abal returned the salute. Phan then turned and faced the boat bay duty officer. "Officer commanding away party, Thirty-
First Light Cruiser Squadron, subordinate officers and detachment from His Majesty's Ship Basilicata requesting
permission to leave ship, ma'am!" he said, and threw the duty officer a salute.

"Permission granted, Commander," said the duty officer as she returned the salute. With the formalities out of the way,
Phan and the others boarded their shuttle as 'Abal and Nakajima turned to leave the bay. Alarms sounded, and both
shuttles rose on their anti-grav thrusters and turned to leave the bay.

'Abal turned to face Nakajima. "George, contact Galactica and tell them that our away party is on its way over," she said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Docking Area, Starb oard Flight Pod, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica.

"Gods, I feel stupid in this getup," said Tigh. He tugged at the collar of his dress grey uniform.

"No more than any of us do, Saul," said Adama. He looked as immaculate as ever in his greys. Both he and Tigh were
standing in the corridor that led to an airlock for a docking point inside Galactica's starboard flight pod, along with
President Laura Roslin and what seemed like most of the press pack.

Several minutes earlier a message had come through from the Terrans announcing that their 'away party', as they had
termed it, was now en route from their squadron, something that had been confirmed by DRADIS. Now Adama, Tigh and
the others were watching the initial flight of twelve shuttlecraft come in for final approach.

Adama and Tigh had been amazed at the size of the Terran shuttles. They were much larger than anything they had
experienced and, as they watched them come in, very heavily armed. They were easily about a quarter the length of
Colonial One, which was now docked in the port flight pod, and also clearly streamlined for atmospheric operations. As
a result, it was decided to dock the shuttles and unload them in the upper flight bay, using the lifts to get any supplies
and equipment that was unloaded down into the lower bay.

Both Adama and Tigh hid grimaces as they listened to an ongoing commentary by a member of the press pack, relaying
a description of the event to the wider Colonial public. Tigh looked over to Roslin, who was currently giving an interview to
another journalist. "Gods, how can she put up with all this nonsense?" he asked, and tugged at his collar.

"It comes with the job," Adama said. "So, she smiles and, as you so eloquently put it, 'puts up with it.'" He looked at the
display, noted that the first shuttle was about to arrive, and, looking at the docking bay officer, sent a discreet message.
She returned it, and then stood in front of the crowd.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen!" she said in a clear voice, cutting through the babble. "The first of the Terran shuttles
is about to dock with Galactica. Can I have your co-operation and please clear a space for my crew to work in? This is
due to the Terran shuttles using a slightly different sealing system than we do." She indicated to her crew, who began to
gently move the press crowd, as well as Adama, Tigh, Roslin and their respective staffers, back beyond a demarcated
area. Some of the press began to protest, but those died down as the saw that both Adama and Roslin were also being
moved.

Roslin moved up to Adama. "Is it true they use a 'slightly different sealing system'?" Roslin asked sotto voice.

Adama smiled back and replied in the same tone. "Actually, they do, Madame President," he said. "Not so radically
different that we had to clear the entire docking point, but it does give my crew some room to work in to make sure
everything goes according to plan." Roslin nodded and turned her attention to the display.

In the upper half of the display they saw the shuttle gracefully glide into the flight bay, slowing visibly until it had stopped
exactly opposite the docking ring. Then, they saw the docking ring extend towards the airlock door on the side of the
shuttle. Just before it reached the shuttle's hull, everyone saw a white shroud, similar to the one that had been used on
Athena's Raptor, extend outwards from the shuttle's hull and wrap itself around the docking ring in a perfect seal.

"Gods! Is that what you were telling me about?" said Tigh.

Both Adama and Roslin nodded. "I wonder if we could get from them how to make those?" mused Roslin. "They could
come in handy." They continued watching the display. On the lower half of the screen they saw the large shell doors on
the front of the shuttle open, allowing suited crewmembers to exit. Several of them were wearing some kind of heavy,
powered exoskeleton, a sight that caused some murmuring to occur amongst the assembled crowd. The murmuring
increased as they saw the crewmembers in the exoskeletons start to manoeuvre quite large, bulky and presumably
heavy items of the shuttle's cargo on pallets that floated in mid-air towards one of the lifts, where some of Galactica's
crew waited to give them assistance.

Tigh indicated the lower display. "Chief's gonna want to have a close look at those things," he chuckled. Adama said
nothing, but hid a smile and nodded.

Their attention was drawn to the end of the corridor by a loud hiss as the airlock door was swing inwards, revealing the
door on the Terran shuttle. It also moved back fractionally, then slid off to one side, revealing a chamber that was harshly
lit by ultraviolet light (and several other things we don't know ab out, Adama thought to himself.) Inside the chamber stood
several figures clad in the armoured skinsuits of the Terran Imperial Navy, rank and other insignia quite clearly marked.
The lead figure stepped through the corridor and halted at the end. It turned to face the docking bay officer, drew itself to
attention, and gave the docking bay officer a salute. It differed from the Colonial one in that, instead of being put to the
eyebrows, the fingers of the right hand were put to the side of the head, fingertips in the vicinity of the temple and palm
facing away from the front. Awkward kind of a salute, Adama thought.

Although startled, the docking bay officer retained enough of her wits and returned the salute, saying quite clearly,
"Permission granted, sir!" She held her salute as other figures exited the shuttle. In that moment. Adama felt proud of his
people and their professionalism.

The leading figure walked down the corridor towards the crowd. His face was clearly visible through the visor of his suit's
helmet. His shoulders bore the rank insignia that Adama remembered, from his visit to Basilicata, indicated that his rank
was Commander. By now, they had roughly worked out the equivalence in Colonial Fleet rank, so that Adama knew that
the officer stood somewhere between a Major and a Colonel. The Terrans had said that the equivalent rank in their
Marines and land forces was termed a Lieutenant-Colonel, and in those forces was usually the commander of a unit of
men called a b attalion. Adama had thought it an interesting idea and had discussed with Tigh the idea of introducing a
similar rank in the Colonial Fleet.

The lead figure halted in front of Adama and Roslin. He gave Adama that strange salute that made him look as though
he had broken his wrist. "Commander Huynh Phan, Officer Commanding away detachment, Thirty-First Light Cruiser
Squadron, Terran Imperial Navy, reporting, sir!" he said. His voice, coming out of the audio speakers in his helmet,
sounded as though he wasn't wearing a helmet at all.

Adama returned the salute, and then extended his hand. "Welcome aboard Galactica, Commander. On behalf of the
personnel of the Colonial Fleet, I welcome you and your personnel on board the Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica."

Commander Phan took Adama's hand. The material of the skinsuit felt much like normal skin under Adama's hand as
he squeezed the Terran's hand. "On behalf of my personnel, Admiral, I thank you for your kind welcome," he said.

Adama stood to one side and indicated Roslin. "May I have the honour to present the President of the Twelve Colonies,
Laura Roslin?" he said.

Roslin smiled and held out her hand. "May I add my own welcome on behalf of the people of the Twelve Colonies to you
and your people, Commander?" she said.

Phan stood to attention, clicked his heels and gave a slight bow to Roslin before taking her hand, a reaction that startled
the Colonials. "On behalf of my personnel, I thank you for your gracious welcome, Madame President," he said.

"Thank you, Commander," said Roslin. She indicated a man standing next to her. "May I introduce Mr. Tom Zarek, the
Vice-President of the Twelve Colonies?"

The Terran officer faced Zarek and again clicked his heels and gave a small bow. "Mr. Vice-President," he said.

"Let me add my own welcome to you on behalf of the people of the Colonies as well," he said, and also extended his
hand, which the Terran also took.

"Commander, I'm afraid that there will be a more... formal reception for you and your staff in my suite on board Colonial
One where you can meet the members of our main governing body, the Quorum of Twelve, who represent each of the
twelve Colonies and their survivors in the Fleet," said Roslin. "I'm sure that Admiral Adama would like to introduce some
of his staff to you and your staff now, so I had better let him get on with it."

"I can introduce my staff now, Madame President, Admiral, if you both wish," said Phan.

"I think that would be a good idea, Commander," said Adama.

"Very well, sir," said Phan. He indicated one of the other officers who stood with him in the corridor. "May I introduce
Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander Niels Van Hysler, who is in charge of the engineering parties that are a part of this
mission, Surgeon-Lieutenant-Commander Alexis Petrov, who is in charge of the medical parties, Lieutenant Gryff Van
Der Westhuysen, one of our astrogators, and Lieutenant Andras Llewellyn Morgan, whom both you and President Roslin
have already met." As each officer was named, he came to attention and gave a short bow. "Lieutenant Morgan has been
told off as your attach with the squadron, Madame President."

"Well! I suppose that after the introductions are done here we had better get Lieutenant Morgan settled on board Colonial
One," said Roslin. "Lieutenant, I am well aware of your peoples' concern about infecting us with your diseases, so I am
going to ask if you have given any thought to your living arrangements."

"We have given thought to my living arrangements, Madame President," said Morgan. "There is a large pressure tent,
complete with sterilisation airlock in my baggage. Colonel Tigh has informed us that there is a large hold area on board
your vessel, and we will be setting it up in there."

"I see you have things well in hand, Commander, Lieutenant," Roslin said. She turned to face Adama. "Admiral, I
suppose now may be a good time for you to introduce your own staff," she said.

"Certainly, Madame President," said Adama. He turned and indicated Tigh. "Colonel Saul Tigh, my and the Galactica's
Executive Officer," he said. Tigh reached over and shook the hands of first Phan and then the rest of his officers.
"Delighted to meet you," he said.

Adama then indicated his next officer. "Major Lee Adama, Commander of Galactica's Air Group," he said.

Apollo reached over and also shook the hands of the Terran officers. "Glad to meet you, gentlemen," he said.

"Commander, Air Group," said Phan. "I suppose you are in command of your ship's aerospace compliment."

"Er, yes, I suppose you could say that," Apollo replied. He and Helo exchanged a brief look at the comment. Sounds like
they have something that is their equivalent of our air groups, he thought. Wonder why they didn't deploy them here?

Adama indicated Helo. "Captain Karl Agathon," he said, "Galactica's Operations Officer."

Phan shook Helo's hand. "I suspect that you, I and Colonel Tigh will be living out of each other's pockets for the next
several days," he said.

"I suppose so, sir," Helo replied.

"Lieutenant Felix Gaeta," Adama said, indicating Gaeta. "Among his duties are what I think you call astrogation, although
we term it FTL navigation."

Phan shook Gaeta's hand. "After we have settled in, Lieutenant, I suppose I had better introduce to my astrogator so that
we can begin the work of converting your charts over to our navigation system in order to plot a course for your fleet to
Sandoval base," he said.

"It will be a pleasure to work with your people, sir," Gaeta replied.

"Doctor Cottle, Galactica's Chief Surgeon," said Adama, indicating Cottle.

Cottle shook the hands of the Terrans, concentrating on the person who had been introduced as a physician. "I hope that
we can get together to discuss the health of the personnel in the Fleet as soon as possible," said Cottle.

Petrov smiled at Cottle's statement. "We shall, Doctor," he said, "but first I have to get my people settled into their
quarters."

"Yes. On that note," Phan said as he faced Roslin and Adama, "and with your permission, Madame President, Admiral, I
and my senior staff officers had best go and see our people settled into their quarters. Once that has been done, we are
at your disposal."

Adama nodded. "I understand quite well," he said.

"Thank you, Admiral," said Phan. At some unseen signal all of the Terran officers braced to attention. "With the admiral's
permission?" said Phan, as he saluted Adama.

Adama returned the salute. "Go see your people settled in, Commander."

"Thank you, sir. Madame President," said Phan and he and his officers returned to the shuttle's entrance.

Adama turned and faced his own officers. "What do you make of them so far, Saul?" he said.

Tigh slowly nodded his head. "They are very sharp," he said. "Very sharp indeed. If they are typical of the quality of the
Terran Navy's officer corps, let alone their other ranks, I think we could well be in very good hands." He looked at Adama.
"Maybe we could do with their example," he said. "Our people aren't going to want to show themselves in a poor light in
comparison with the Terrans. Might tighten things up a little around here."

Adama nodded. "Lee?" he asked.

"I think that those five officers who were just here could easily have shown the instructors at the Academy a few things,"
he said. "Everything they did simply screamed professional. Plus they seem to have some kind of tradition. It certainly
showed through in their behaviour."

"I wonder what he said to Lieutenant Gadson?" said Tigh. "Have to give the kid credit though: she was startled but kept
her nerve and bluffed her way through that little exchange."

"I could be wrong, sir," said Gaeta, "but it looked to me as though he was asking permission to come on board."

"I think you may be right, Mr. Gaeta," said Adama. "I'd say he asked her for permission to board. And I would say that
everything he did, including reporting to me as senior officer present, is what they do as a routine."

"Which suggests quite a long tradition," said Roslin, who had been listening in on the conversation. "Which also
suggests what he did with that heel click and bow is what they do to heads of state." She looked at Adama. "Correct me if
I'm wrong, but didn't the Commodore mention they had a Foreign Office?"

Adama thought for a bit, and then nodded. "She did," he said. "Which indicates that there may be more than one political
entity they deal with. She also mentioned 'the Independent Systems' as well, if I recall right."

"So things could be a little more complex than we may have first believed," Roslin said. She shook her head. "Well, in
any case, I now will have to go and tell the members of the Quorum that their meeting with the Terrans will be delayed
until they have settled their men in." She looked at Adama and Tigh. "I suppose you two approve," she said.
Adama and Tigh grinned at Roslin's dry tone. "I always thought that was a sign of a good officer," Tigh said. "Worry about
your men first before yourselves. Whoever taught them that knows what command is all about."

"As a matter of fact, I agree with the Admiral and Colonel," said Zarek. "Although you may think of me as a terrorist, I
always believed that you should take care of the men under your command. What works for military officers also works
for those who command more... irregular groups."

"Indeed," said a surprised Adama. "And what do you make of the Terrans, Mr. Vice-President?"

Zarek thought for a moment. "I actually have to agree with you and the Colonel," he finally said. "The level of
professionalism they showed says that they are exceedingly competent. Which says to me that we are going to be in very
safe hands indeed." Surreptuously Zarek indicated to both Roslin and the Colonial officers the various members of the
press who were overhearing the conversation.

Roslin noticed the awaiting press pack. "Well," she said, "I suppose that the Vice-President and myself had better go
and... I believe the term is 'cover your retreat,' am I right Admiral?" she said with a smile at Adama.

"Quite correct, Madame President, " said Adama. Myself and my men would be quite grateful to you and the Vice-
President if you did that while we go and finish preparing our people for the task of cooperating with the Terrans." He
drew himself to attention. "With your permission, Madame President?" he said.

Roslin nodded. "Indeed, you have my permission, Admiral." With that, Adama led his officers away from the docking area
as both Roslin and Zarek turned to face the awaiting media scrum.

An amused chuckle came from Tigh. "What's so funny, Saul?" Adama asked.

Tigh shot Adama a very amused look. "It looks like the Terrans' military habits are already rubbing off on us," he said.
*Chapter 14*: Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen

Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, Off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.

What Caprica Six and Boomer considered to be the most important conference in the history of the Cylon race started
quite badly.

Nobody disagreed with Caprica Six's statement on the reason why they were having the conference: to determine what
we do now that we've found the Thirteenth Trib e, and found out that things aren't what we thought they'd b e. Oh, no,
nob ody disagreed with the purpose behind the conference.

What they disagreed about was what we should do ab out this. On that score things had degenerated quite quickly. And,
as usual, it had involved religion.

The representative from the Simons had been remarkably quiet. His only contribution to the discussion was that "God's
Purpose will be revealed." That, and his snarling response to the Cavil representative's snide comment about the
Simon's statement.

D'anna Biers, as usual, was the representative from the Threes. She had also taken offence at the Cavil representative's
swipe at the Cylon faith, taking the Simons' side very quickly. The Conoys had also joined the fray, while the Fives had
quickly backed off. Their representative stood off to one side and watched the "discussion" with a worried expression on
his face.

Caprica Six also watched in irritation. Could it b e possib le that, as a race, the Cylons are a b unch of morons? she
thought to herself. She looked over at Boomer. Her irritation with the "proceedings" was also quite plain on her face.

Caprica Six had no problems with interpreting the thought behind Boomer's face: I wish I had my Colonial Fleet issue
service pistol on me. She agreed entirely with the sentiment.

A Terran, if he or she had been observing the verbal fracas, would have come out with two sayings: Quarrelling like a
b unch of Kilkenny Cats and It's enough to try the patience of saints and angels. It was more than likely that, once the
meaning behind the expressions had been explained to her, Caprica Six would have agreed with them.

She did, however, decide to take some advantage of the situation. Motioning to Boomer, she moved over to the Five
representative. "Do you mind if we tell you what we intend to propose once we manage to impose some order here?"
she asked.

The Five looked at the both of them. "At this point in time," he said, "I would welcome anything that was even remotely
constructive."

Caprica Six looked at Boomer, who gave her a thumbs up. "Well, this is what I and Boomer are going to propose we do."
She quickly ran through what the two of them had worked out in private with Baltar. "What do you think?" she asked at the
end.

The Five remained deep in thought, obviously consulting with the others of his variant. "Basically," said Boomer, "it is a
variation on what we were doing when we were looking for the base star. All we are suggesting is that we add in
establishing a forward base in a suitable system, but also that we prepare a line of retreat back to the Colonies."

"What about the idea of 'open negotiations' with the Terrans?" he asked. "I could see problems in getting some of our
fellows to agree to that." He left unsaid which variants would react negatively to that part of their proposal: the Cavils and
the Threes.

"We basically suggest that as an option that we should consider once we find out just what the real situation in this area
of space is," said Caprica Six. "We could also add that both Adama and Roslin will by now have told the Terrans what
happened back in the Colonies, and emphasise the need for a real 'new start', especially with the Terrans."

"And if the Terrans demand that we pay for our 'crimes' against the Colonials?" the Five asked.

"We come to that bridge when it's time to cross it," said Boomer. "What is important is that we have some kind of a plan
in place now. Because if we don't we will be crushed, either by the Terrans or those giant lizards. And speaking
personally, I would like to avoid either fate."
The Five representative's eyes lost their focus as he consulted with the others of his variant of Cylon. Eventually they
regained their focus. He turned and faced both Boomer and Caprica Six. "Your plan is not perfect," he said, "but we'll
support you. So far, it's the only proposal that seems to have a good chance of working, let alone being the only one so
far." His tone of voice grew rather sarcastic as he said the last part of that sentence.

"Thank you," said Caprica Six. "Now to try and put some order into the proceedings."

The Five smirked. "Perhaps we should summon Baltar to chair this assembly," he said. "Of course, I do suspect that he
may have had a hand in this plan of yours."

"Why, what makes you think that?" asked Caprica Six.

"The fact that it is very cautious, and free of some of the, ah, shall we say, monomanias that tend to affect some of our
thinking," said the Five. "Mind you, that's not necessarily a bad thing." He turned to look at the squabble that was still
going on.

Both Caprica Six and Boomer followed the Five's example and noticed that the argument had gotten more heated.
Caprica Six sighed, and then strode up to the arguing quintuplet.

"Excuse me," she said. None of the four disputants paid any attention.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me!" she said somewhat louder. Again none of the arguing Cylons paid her any
attention.

Scowling, she took a deep breath. "Will you just shut the frack up for a moment?" she shouted.

That got their attention. Stunned, the quarrelling foursome looked in her direction.

Smiling, she acknowledged each one individually. "Thank you all so kindly for allowing me the chance to speak," she
said.

The Cavil raised an eyebrow. "Getting some bad habits, I see?" he said. "I wonder where from?"

Caprica Six's eyes narrowed. "I think I can see one source of any 'bad habits' standing in front of me," she said in a
dangerous voice.

The Cavil affected an attitude of mock indignation. "Who, Me?" he asked.

Biers shot him a look. "She didn't say who, Cavil," she said. "She just simply cut a suit from whole cloth."

The Cavil frowned at the human saying that Biers threw at him. He was about to open his mouth to retort when Biers
forestalled him. "You wanted to say something, Caprica?" she asked.

Caprica flashed Biers a brief smile and nodded. "You've heard me state the reason for calling this conference," she said.
All the Cylons present nodded. "Well, myself and Boomer have a proposal we would like to present to you." A murmur of
astonishment sprang up from Biers, the Cavil and the Conoy. Interestingly, the Simon said nothing, but folded his arms
and gave Caprica Six an interested look. "We got together and, acting on behalf of all of the Sixes and Eights, managed
to put together a proposed plan of action to present to you at this gathering," Caprica Six said.

"Did Baltar help you with this plan?" the Simon asked.

Caprica Six shot him a somewhat querulous look. I wonder what prompted you to ask that particular question? she
thought. Looking the Simon in the eye, she said, "As a matter of fact, we did consult with him on this proposal. After all,
his suggestion helped us last time."

"Well, yes, he did help us find the missing base star and helped us avoid those reptilian nightmares," sneered the Cavil.
He ignored the annoyed glare that both Caprica Six and Biers shot him and continued. "At least your pet human has
proven that he is much more that a..."

"If you don't want to download into another body with the memory of an exceedingly painful, not to mention, emb arrassing
death, although I would suspect that the rest of us may find it amusing, you had better not finish that sentence," Caprica
Six growled in a low, dangerous voice.

"If you're thinking of killing him in the manner that I suspect, Caprica," said Biers in an equally dangerous tone, "I may
well help you."
Boomer stepped up next to Caprica Six. "I may even help you myself," she said. "After all, my Colonial Fleet training did
teach me how to resist some... interesting techniques. Part of which involved me learning them in the first place." She
gave the Cavil a faux sweet smile as she said this.

The Cavil looked at the faces of the three female Cylons. As far as he could see, they were dead serious. Slowly he
began to back off, raising his hands in front of him. "Now, easy, er... I mean, I didn't really mean to insinuate anything,
er..." His voice died away and he swallowed nervously. Throughout all of this the Simon, the Conoy and the Five watched
with varying levels of amusement.

The Simon stepped forward. "You were going to tell us something, Caprica?" he asked.

Caprica shot him a grateful look. "Yes I was," she said. Quickly, she and Boomer told the other assembled Cylons what
the two of them and Baltar had come up with. "So," she finished, "any comments?"

The Five that Caprica Six had approached stepped forward said "Basically it's a variation of the plan that we adopted
when we were looking for the lost base star. I also like the part about establishing a base in this general area while we
find out the situation in this area of space. I think we should adopt it."

"Thank you," said Caprica. She looked around the gathering. "Anyone else?"

"I think that it has much to commend it," said Biers. We establish a base in this area while we feel out the situation in this
area of space. I agree: we should adopt it in its b road outline."

The way that Biers had said that gave Caprica some pause for thought. What are you up to, D'anna? she thought to
herself

The Simon thought for a moment, and then said "I think that this plan will help further God's plan. We should do it."

Everyone then turned and faced the representative of the Cavils. He looked around at the others. "Before we go any
further," he said, "I have a few questions. First, what precisely do you mean by 'open negotiations with the Terrans?'
They're humans, for frack's sake! We can't negotiate with humans!"

"They may be humans," said Caprica Six," but it can't have escaped even your notice that they may be humans who are
in the position of being able to wipe out the entire Cylon race without even trying. Those six warships we encountered
should have told you that by themselves."

"What gives you that idea, Caprica?" asked Biers. Caprica Six said nothing, but instead indicated Boomer.

"The energy readings we got out of the DRADIS data were quite terrifying," said Boomer. "I've never seen anything like
that. Plus, the fact that only two of those ships threw five hundred nuclear warheads at us! I think that shows what they are
capable of."

"They may have, but they didn't hit us," said the Cavil.

"That's because they weren't trying to hit us," replied Boomer. "Those were warning shots. Even you couldn't be that
obtuse!"

"Ok. So, assuming that we at least follow the part of the plan that says we establish our forward base somewhere in this
vicinity while we locate the Terrans and the giant lizards, where do you suggest we place it?" asked the Cavil.

"Definitely not in the system we encountered the Terrans in," said Boomer. "That may be considered somewhat
provocative. And, until we pretty much know what we are up against here, I would suggest we look at one of the other
systems we encountered on our journey here."

"And just why do you think establishing a base in that particular system would be considered provocative?" asked Biers.

"The 'Commodore' said that her force was a 'light cruiser squadron'," said Boomer. "The Colonial Fleet used to have light
units that they used for scouting and screening purposes. I would say that they were in that system on a scouting
mission of some kind."

"Why do you say that?" asked the Simon.

"The fact that they didn't appear on our DRADIS until we moved to attack the Colonials," said Boomer. "I suspect that they
were operating under some kind of stealth system that far surpass what I was familiar with as a Colonial Fleet officer. If
they were doing that, then I would say they were out scouting for something."
"So, what do you think they were scouting for?"

"Possibly to see if there was any military presence in the system," Boomer replied. "And the only thing I can think of that
would have that sort of presence other than the Terrans would be the giant lizards."

A brief silence fell across the gathering. Then, Biers said, "You think we may have stumbled into a war zone?"

"Quite possibly," said Boomer. "It's the only explanation I can see just why a force like that would be sneaking around in
an uninhabited system." She then fixed the Cavil with her gaze. "And here's something else I would like you to consider: if
those six vessels we saw are light fleet units, imagine what their version of something like a battlestar or base star
would be like? I certainly would not want to run into something like that without any foreknowledge!"

An uneasy silence fell over the meeting as those present considered the implications of Boomer's last statement. The
size and the technological superiority displayed by the Terran ships had been a major factor in the uncertainty that had
settled on the Cylon race as a whole.

Biers shook herself and said, "I think in that case we may be better off accepting the plan that Caprica and Boomer have
put forward. However, I would like to suggest some minor changes."

"Such as?" asked Caprica Six.

"We build two bases in this region," Biers said. "One in a suitable system along our path out here, but also one in the
system we encountered the Terrans in."

"Are you crazy?" asked Boomer. "We can't build a base there! The Terrans know all about that system by now! And if they
were indeed scouting for any kind of a military presence, our being there will be almost automatically seen as
provocative at the least!"

"Maybe," Biers replied. "Or, they may see it as a 'gutsy move', something that could help us if and when we decide to
negotiate with them."

"Wait a minute," said the Cavil. "What makes you think that we should be negotiating with the Terrans? Who are, may I
remind you, humans?"

"Do you have some kind of objection to at least talking with them, Cavil?" asked Biers.

"Yes! The fact that it is in our best interests to find some way of totally exterminating the human pest once and for all!"
said the Cavil.

"Given the fact that the Terrans are not only technologically superior to us but, according to all of the sources we have,
have been in this area of space for thousands of years, just how do you suggest we go about doing that?" asked a very
sarcastic Caprica Six. "After all, this is their territory."

"Well," said the Cavil, "we work out where the two local powers have their systems. Once that is done, we open
negotiations with the lizards."

A stunned silence fell over the gathering. Then Caprica Six shook her head and said, "You must be displaying some kind
of malfunction. Negotiate with the lizards? Need I remind you that they attacked our expedition out here unprovoked?
While the Terrans fired what were basically warning shots and, because we were being quite offensive with them," (this,
with a look at Biers), "warned us off? Personally, I think we would have a better chance negotiating with the Colonials
than the lizards!"

"Well, how about this?" said the Cavil. "When we finally work out who is where, and we have our brand new bases all
ready, you," he said, indicating both Caprica Six and Boomer" can go talk to the Terrans while I and whoever wants to
come with me, go talk to the giant lizards."

"And what makes you think they would want to talk with you?" asked Biers.

"Their enemy is most likely our enemy. Meaning the humans, both Terran and Colonial," replied the Cavil. "We offer them
some additional support in their fight against the humans. In return, we only ask for a share of the glory 'for the glory of
God'," he finished. "How does that sound?"

Biers, Boomer and Caprica Six examined the Cavil, as did the others. Then, the Conoy stepped forward. "I think we
should adopt both of these modifications to Caprica's basic proposal," he said.
The Simon stepped forward. "I think that God has revealed his wishes in this," he said. "I agree with the proposal and its
modifications."

"I don't think that the basic proposal should really be modified," said Boomer. She looked at Caprica Six. "However, if we
take suitable precautions in case anything goes wrong, then I would accept these modifications."

"What precautions should we take?" asked Biers.

"That the negotiating parties be as small as possible," Boomer replied. "And that the base we establish along our path
here be well hidden and be the stronger of the two bases, just in case we get a response that is not what you," indicating
both Biers and the Cavil, "expect."

Biers though about what Boomer had said, and then looked at Caprica Six. "What do you say, Caprica?" she asked. "It is
your proposal."

Caprica Six thought about her response. Then she said, "If we accept the conditions that Boomer has stated, I see no
problems with the modifications." Other than the obvious ones, she thought to herself.

Biers looked at the Five. He nodded his acceptance of the proposal. "In that case," she said, "Caprica and Boomer's
proposal, as modified here, is accepted. Boomer, Caprica, Five, I would like to meet with you to discuss how to
implement the basic strategy as well as where you think we should put the hidden base."

"Good," said the Cavil. "In that case, are there any objections while I go and plan out our mission to the giant lizards?"

"As far as I am concerned, you can lead the mission to the giant lizards," said Biers. The Cavil said nothing, but gave a
sarcastic little smile and bow as he left the room.

"Ok, D'anna," said Caprica Six. "What are you up to?"

"Me, Caprica?" said Biers. "You think I'm up to something?"

Caprica Six didn't answer, but gave Biers a very droll look.

Biers grinned. "Well, maybe just a little bit," she said. "But I'm not going to have to do all that much. The Cavils will
basically do all the work."

"To do what?" asked Boomer.

"To prove to the entire Cylon race once and for all that they are the biggest, most conceited group of prats the universe
has been burdened with," replied Biers. She nodded in the direction the Cavil had taken. "Him, especially," she said.

A light suddenly turned on in Caprica's head. "You don't think he's going to have that much success with the giant lizards,
do you?" she said.

"I don't expect him to succeed at all," Biers replied. "We just give him what he wants and..."

"The giant lizards do the rest," said Caprica Six. "That's... diab olical!" she said.

Biers shrugged. "Perhaps it might remove some of the more malign influence that line has in our society," she said.

"You intend for the Cavils to be 'boxed'?" asked Boomer.

"No," said Biers. "But I hope to remove much of the influence the Cavils have by showing the rest of the Cylon race an
even b igger frack-up that anything I did." Caprica Six and Boomer said nothing, but nodded their heads. Whether it was
in agreement or not, nobody could tell.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Colonial Refugee Fleet, Unnamed System.

Over the next few days the away parties from the Terran cruiser squadron fanned out over the refugee fleet. Although they
could easily see that the ships that made up the fleet were in need of some serious time in a spacedock, they were quite
impressed with how the fleet's engineering staff had managed, with limited resources, to keep the ships in quite good
condition. None of the fleet's engineers, however, objected to the Terran squadron's own engineering personnel, with
their far more advanced and capable gear, going over the fleet's vital equipment and making any adjustments wherever
they were deemed necessary. Nor did anyone object to the Terrans fitting distress beacons to all the hyperspace
engines in the fleet in case of any misjumps. Although they were warmed that the Raptors would also be able to detect
them if they went off, the idea that the Terran ships would be able to home in onto their location was a reassuring one to
many of the people in the fleet.

The Terrans also proved popular with the fleet's civilian population. Their quiet professionalism, combined with the
courteousness they displayed whenever they interacted with any of the refugee fleet's personnel, when combined with
the clear competence they carried out their assigned tasks, demonstrated clearly to the civilians in the fleet that they
were in good hands. This was enhanced by the two officers who wound up being the public face of the Terran Imperial
Navy's mission to the Colonial fleet: Commander Phan and Lieutenant Morgan. Phan, whenever he had to give a press
conference or address a meeting of the fleet's captains, clearly gave the impression of a younger, Terran version of
William Adama, while Morgan impressed people with the way he handled the questions that were thrown at him by the
members of the Fleet's press corps, a skill that easily impressed Laura Roslin and her staff. Especially impressive was
the way that he handled informing the members of the press about the war they had found themselves caught in the
middle of. By the time he had finished, he had, with some help from Roslin and her staff, convinced the press that the
best course of action was the one they were already taking: to get the Fleet in condition for the trip to Sandoval Base.

There was some difficulty involving the Terran's advanced computing abilities. Although the fleet had been warned that it
was much better than anything they had ever encountered, it still took people by surprise when it was used in their
presence for the first time. This led to what became known as "The Great Computing Lesson," or, more sarcastically (at
least by the Terrans) as "Phan and Morgan's Epistle to the Colonials." In a live broadcast to the entire Fleet, both
Commander Phan and Lieutenant Morgan demonstrated with their PortaPCs what they could do with them. Everyone
was astonished at what they could do, but the real surprise was when Phan used both Morgan's and his PortaPCs to
temporarily take over the Fleet's traffic control, giving guidance to the various small craft, including those that looked to
Galactica, that was so exact that an astonished Captain Aaron Kelly asked if they could somehow establish a similar
system for him to use. Commander Phan said that he couldn't make any firm promises, but soon afterwards some
Terran computer technicians installed two networked PortaPCs in Kelly's station.

Kelly wasn't the only Colonial officer to be affected by what was termed "techno-lust." Tigh was right in saying that Tyrol
would want a close look at the Terran's cargo handling frames. Tyrol was also impressed with the scanning abilities of
the Terran PortaPCs, which enabled technicians to detect microscopic cracks in things like Viper airframes before they
could cause catastrophic failures. He was also impressed by the laser welders the Terrans had brought with them and
also by how, when he needed to have a Viper held up while a wing was replaced the Terrans simply came over, attached
two small anti-gravity pods to the Viper and its affected wing and asked him how high he wanted it off the ground. As
Tyrol said in Joe's Bar to some of the others, "So many toys!" The same disease also afflicted Cottle when he saw the
wealth of equipment that Petrov and his medics had brought over from the squadron. As he said to Adama and Roslin in
a private briefing in Adama's quarters, "Sickbay is now better equipped than Caprica City General Hospital ever was! And
what they brought over is a temporary field surgery!"

Since the Terran engineering crews had not much to do in the Fleet in general, they had been largely redeployed to Nike
to help in her refit. They had examined both her hyperspace and normal space engines, fixing any problems they had
come across including the disharmony in the hyperspace engines. They had also managed to speed up the
reestablishment of airtight integrity in Nike's fabrication section, which enabled the Colonials to start manufacturing
various items the Fleet needed. (As a side benefit they had also managed to not only clear out the Raptor 'hack pack' but
had also tweaked the manufacturing software so that the machinery was now more efficient than when the Cylons had
owned the base star.) They also helped to render large areas of Nike suitable for human habitation, something which
helped to ease the chronic overcrowding on Galactica.

There was some friction over the Terrans' wearing their skinsuits, but that was also explained in a press conference by
Doctor Cottle and Lieutenant-Commander Petrov, who described in detail some of the diseases that the Terrans were
afflicted by. He also described several incidents when isolated populations had come in contact with the Terrans without
any regard for the chances of infection. The friction was eased when, after four days, both Cottle and Petrov announced
that the Terrans would be able to wear their day uniforms. The Terrans, who began to wear their day uniforms, albeit with
filter masks, greeted this news with some relief. This also enabled the Terrans to begin mingling more freely with the
Colonials, even to the extent of staking out an area of Joe's Bar as their "informal mess." Payment for their drinks was no
problem, as they often helped in maintaining some of the bar's facilities, even improving on them by using some of their
technology. This helped to further ease any friction that arose between the Colonials and the Terrans.

The Terran uniforms aroused great interest. The engineers, when on duty, wore khaki-coloured coveralls with their rank
insignia worn either on the upper sleeve or, in the case of the officers, on the shoulders. The normal day uniforms as
worn by the officers, however, drew great interest. When Apollo and the others had asked about the officer's insignia, they
were told that the thickness and number of rings indicated rank. To Apollo and the others the gold stripes they saw didn't
look like rings. However, they soon changed their minds when they saw that in their day uniforms the Terran officers did
wear gold rings on the cuffs of their tunics. The tunics themselves were of a dark blue-black material, which was clearly
organic in nature, something that surprised the Colonials. They were also double-breasted and had a small standing
collar, with two rows of gilded buttons, and hung to mid-thigh. On the left breast of the tunic were worn bits of coloured
ribbon that were obviously some kind of military decoration.

The top part of the tunic was worn unfastened and folded back to reveal both a turtle-necked blouse and the colour of the
lining, which, to the surprised Colonials, was not uniform. Enquiries revealed that the colours corresponded to the
"department" the wearer belonged. Black was the Executive Branch, green Medical, purple Engineering, light blue
Aerospace, Pursers and Quartermasters white, and Naval Constructors maroon. The other ranks all wore a similar style
of tunic, but cut shorter and worn fully buttoned up. Badges indicating proficiency skills and length of service, as well as
rank, were worn on the sleeves. Both officers and enlisted men had nametags and also had a shoulder patch with the
name of their ship embroidered on it in Lingua Terra. They also wore blue-black trousers that were tucked into and
bloused out over soft boots, with the exception of Lieutenant Morgan, who wore trousers of a similar cut and colour
except with the addition of a gold side stripe running up the seam and polished black leather boots.

The Terrans were always smartly turned out, their uniforms neat and tidy, something which the Colonials couldn't help
but notice in comparison to the worn condition of their own gear. To give the Terrans credit they soon noticed this and
offered to help rectify the situation by giving the Colonials some "dhoby stations", which they translated as "glorified
washing machines." Both Adama and Tigh accepted the offer; some machines were provided, personnel shown how to
use them, and soon the appearance of the Colonial Fleet personnel began to improve, as did morale. Tigh was also
proven correct in another sense: the Colonial Fleet personnel began to subtly sharpen up their behaviour under the
influence of the example provided by the Terrans.

Most notable of all was the uniform Lieutenant Morgan wore. Although it looked similar to the standard officer's uniform, it
was cut to just above the knee and had gold trim on the open lapels. The shoulders had a pair of buttons next to the high
collar and gold straps out towards the point of the shoulder. When he was asked by President Roslin what they were for,
he grimaced and said that they were for a fringed shoulder decoration called an epaulet "which, with all due respect,
Madame President, I just hope I don't have any call for here." In place of the ribbons he wore what were quite clearly
medals of some kind. He also wore a strange arrangement of gold cords on his left shoulder. When Roslin asked him
what it was, he said that it was called an aiguillette and signified his status as a staff officer. He also added that as he
was the military liaison to the President of the Twelve Colonies he was required to wear the dress version of the
standard day uniform.

One custom aroused great interest in the Colonial Fleet personnel: whenever the Terrans came off duty, an old-
fashioned whistle, called a "bosun's pipe" would sound out some calls. The Terrans would assemble and be issued
small containers of liquid. When asked what was going on, they explained that whenever the enlisted personnel of the
Terran Imperial Navy went off duty, they were issued what was called "grog." The Colonials asked if they could try some,
and found out that what the Terrans were being issued was a form of alcohol, something that greatly surprised the
Colonials. Asked about the origins of the custom, they were told that it came "from the wet-navies of pre-spaceflight
Earth" and that the Terran Imperial Navy had decided to resurrect the custom as a means of not only helping the crews to
relax, but also to give them a sense of tradition. However, it must be said that this was not a tradition that Adama and
Tigh were willing to import into the Colonial Fleet.

Of course it all wasn't one-way. The Terran engineers were quite impressed with the design of both Galactica and Nike.
Although the technology that both vessels employed was way behind that used by the Terrans they were quite impressed
by the design philosophy behind both vessels. When Lieutenant-Commander Van Hysler asked Adama for permission
to access any files the Colonials had on the design of both vessels, he turned him over to Tigh. Tigh, himself impressed
by the Terrans' efficiency and flattered that they wanted to learn about the Colonial Fleet's mainstays, was willing to
discuss the subject. Both men, joined by Commander Phan, spent several hours off-duty discussing both battlestar and
base star design over drinks, a process that amused Tigh when he saw how the Terrans coped with handling drinks
while wearing filter masks. ("Pretty damn impressive too," Tigh later said to Adama. "Whoever designed the things really
knew what they were doing.")

The Terrans also took a close look at the Mark VII Viper and proclaimed it a design "that has a lot of potential to have our
technology applied to it," something that chuffed Galactica's Viper pilots no end, as well as the coil guns that both
Galactica and Nike were armed with ("Quite efficient designs. Actually better than the ones we use," was the verdict,
which chuffed the rest of Galactica's crew.) However, what the Terrans considered the main discovery occurred in Gaeta's
laboratory area during a working conversation between Gaeta and Lieutenant Van Der Westhuysen, the Terran
astrogator.

Both men were working on the task of compiling all of the navigation data that the Colonials had amassed on their long
voyage and converting it into charts that the Terrans could use to help the Colonials work out a course to Sandoval Base
when Van Der Westhuysen noticed the formula Felix Gaeta used to plot a hyperspace jump.
"Excuse me, Felix," Van Der Westhuysen said to him, "can you perform that calculation for me again? Only this time, will
you talk me through it?"

Gaeta gave the Terran a rather odd look. This was quite understandable, as the Terran had impressed the Colonial Fleet
officer with his competence. "Sure," he said, and performed the calculation again, taking the Terran through it step by
step.

The Terran officer looked at the calculation, then at Gaeta. Then he called up his holographic screen (in order to allow
Gaeta to use it the Terrans had installed a Colonial Fleet keyboard with a mouse) and then called up a program.

Gaeta's eyebrows rose as he recognised it as a Terran code compilation program. "Something the matter?" he said.

"Not necessarily, no," Van Der Westhuysen replied as he began to operate the code compiler. Gaeta looked on and his
eyes widened as he saw that the Terran was compiling a program that would run both the formula he was using, the one
the Terrans used and would compare the resulting outputs. This could get interesting, he thought. "How come you're
compiling a program?" he asked.

"Just testing a hunch," he said. He finished compiling the program, tested it, and then entered the navigation data the
two of them were using. As the results came in he raised his eyebrows and let out a long whistle of amazement. He
leaned forward to take a closer look.

"Well, what is it?" Gaeta said after a while.

The Terran indicated the screen. "If this simulation is correct," he said, "and I think it is, the method you people use to
calculate hyperspace jumps is not only quicker and easier to use than ours, it is also a lot more accurate than the one
we use. That could be of great importance in doing a multijump."

"A what?"

"Multijump," said the Terran. He looked at the stunned Colonial officer. "I'm not surprised you don't know about it," he
said, "as we've only been using it for the past ten years. Helped us no end in planning our offensive against the lizards,
but we had to be spot on in our navigation. The amount of reconnaissance we had to do just to get the coordinates right
was truly amazing. The slightest inaccuracy in the calculations would have resulted in a pretty big error. But this," he said,
indicating the side of the screen where the output from the equation Gaeta had been using all this time," would have
helped eliminate a huge amount of both calculation and error." He looked back at Gaeta. "Do you mind if I send this over
to the Squadron so they can double-check on their nav comps?"

Gaeta was stunned by what Van Der Westhuysen had said. "Er, do you mind if I go and talk to Colonel Tigh first?" he
asked.

Van Der Westhuysen nodded. "Sure, go ahead," he said. As Gaeta got up and left the lab space, the Terran astrogation
officer returned to his examination of the results from his comparison program.

Gaeta hurried through Galactica's labyrinthine corridors towards CIC. In his head swirled a confused mass of thoughts
and emotions. Frack, the Colonel's not going to b elieve this, he thought. Hell, I don't b elieve it, and I was the one he told!
Perhaps I should also speak to the Admiral? No, Colonel Tigh's the b est one to make that call. It was with thoughts like
these that Gaeta walked into Galactica's CIC. Looking around, he noted Tigh standing next to Adama in the centre,
discussing something.

He walked over, "Er, excuse me, Admiral, Colonel."

Adama looked over, "Yes? What is it, Mr. Gaeta?" he said.

"Sorry for the interruption, sirs, but..." He then told both Adama and Tigh what had transpired in the lab space.

Both Adama and Tigh were astonished. "You mean to tell us that, despite the Terrans having their... 'advanced' computing
capability, we possess a b etter method of calculatinga hyperspace jump?" asked an incredulous Tigh.

"Er, yes sir," replied Gaeta. "Lieutenant Van Der Westhuysen said that our method would have helped them in planning
what he called 'multijumping.'"

"'Multijumping?' What in the names of the gods is that?" asked Tigh.

"I wonder if it's like what we had Athena do when we sent that rescue team back to Caprica?" mused Adama.
"Consecutive jumps."

"Could be, Admiral,' said Gaeta. "He didn't really explain it to me, but he did say that the amount of reconnaissance and
planning they had to do in working out their offensive would have been cut back if they had access to our methods."

"he hasn't sent his results off yet?" asked Adama.

"No, Admiral," said Gaeta. "In fact, he asked for my permission first. I said I had to speak to Colonel Tigh first and he
accepted that."

Adama looked over at Tigh. "I suppose we had better go and see Lieutenant Van Der Westhuysen and hear what he has
to say," he said.

Tigh nodded, and the three men left CIC. On their way out, Tigh looked at Lieutenant Dualla. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"If anyone is looking for us, the Admiral and I will be in Mr. Gaeta's lab area," he said. He didn't wait for Dualla's
response, but followed Adama and Gaeta out.

Suffice it to say that when Adama and Tigh spoke to Van Der Westhuysen they were sufficiently impressed with his
explanation of both his results and of the idea of multijumping ("We devised it so as to reduce the Navy's reaction time to
any Raptor incursion. Mind you, to make it work properly we had to completely design and build a new generation of
hyperspace engines.") that they agreed to allow the Terran officer to send his results over to the Squadron for them to
check in their navigation computers. When news on this development spread throughout the Fleet, it removed one more
layer of friction between the two groups.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

What finally removed nearly all friction between the Colonials and the Terrans however was their reaction to Galactica's
Memorial Hallway. A group of them were being taken on a familiarisation tour of the Galactica when they entered the
Memorial Hallway. The officer in charge of the group, a sub-Lieutenant, asked their guide what it was. When they were
told what it was and how it was formed after the attack on the Colonies, the sub-Lieutenant immediately drew his men
up into to ranks, stood them at attention, turned towards the Shrine and threw a salute. Sometime later, after it was
determined that there was no need for skinsuits to be worn, Commodore 'Abal contacted Adama and asked permission
to "bring a section of Marines and several of my staff over to Galactica." Intrigued, Adama asked 'Abal why she wanted to
do this. She said, "My officers have told me about your Memorial Hallway, and I felt that it was appropriate that, on behalf
of the Squadron, and, through us, the Navy, to pay our respects in a more formal manner." Surprised at the reason,
Adama granted permission and asked if it was all right with 'Abal if President Roslin could attend on behalf of the
civilians in the Fleet. "Of course, Admiral, said 'Abal," I was going to ask you to invite her along in any case."

So Adama, Roslin, their respective staffs (including Lieutenant Morgan) and the Terran personnel on Galactica at the
time, as well as the entire Quorum of Twelve, were waiting at another docking area for 'Abal to arrive on board what was
termed Basilicata's "Pinnace", the Marines having arrived earlier by shuttlecraft.

Morgan was wearing the uniform he had been wearing ever since he had been allowed to take off his skinsuit, but with
some additions to it. For one thing he was wearing a pair of fringed shoulder decorations in gold metal. Obviously, these
were the much-dreaded "epaulets." And I can see why, though Adama.

Then there was the hat.. It was constructed out of the same cloth as were the uniforms, and had a woven metal badge
as well as some kind of black visor on it. But the thing that surprised the Colonials was that Morgan had what was quite
clearly a sword of some kind. It was attached by decorated black leather straps to an equally ornate belt, and was
actually carried in the left hand. His hands were clad in white gloves and, of course, he wore his filter mask.

"Gods," said Tigh in a whispered aside to Adama. "And I thought that our getup was uncomfortable!"

The sound of marching feet came down the corridor as Galactica's Marines, also wearing their dress greys came
towards the docking bay. Other members of the Fleet's military, pressed into service as traffic wardens, cleared a path for
them so they could reach a spot that had been set-aside for them.

Adama had decided that the least the Colonial military and, through them, the entire Fleet, could do to repay 'Abal's
gesture was to give her "an appropriate welcome" to Galactica. So he had consulted with Commander Phan (who was
also present and wearing his dress uniform) and Lieutenant Morgan on how to do so. They not only gave Adama a verbal
and, thanks to their PortaPCs a visual depiction of how a flag officer was welcomed on board a military vessel, they also
printed off for Adama a hardcopy. He and Tigh then poured over it with Marine Lieutenant Burrell, Gunny Hadrian and
Apollo. As a result, both Burrell and Hadrian had been drilling their Marines relentlessly.

Everyone's attention was drawn to the final approach of Basilicata's pinnace. It slid in and went through the motions of
docking. Eventually the doors on the two sets of airlocks opened to reveal 'Abal and her staff in their dress uniforms and
filter masks. 'Abal's uniform was similar to the ones the Colonials had seen Phan and Morgan wear, except that she had
more decorations and wore two bands of gold lace on her cap visor.

The Terran officers stepped through the airlock door and 'Abal saluted the docking bay officer who, now well aware of the
protocol observed by Terran naval personnel when visiting a ship, returned the salute.

Burrell barked out an order that brought the assembled Marines to attention. At a second order they brought their
weapons to what the Terrans easily recognised as a "present arms" position. 'Abal hid any surprise she may have had at
the Colonial Marines' actions, but returned their gesture with a salute of her own. She then walked slowly past the
honour guard, keeping her hand up at the salute as she went and looking off towards them. When she finished passing
them, she brought her hand down from the salute, and Burrell returned the guard to the "attention" position.

'Abal kept walking until she was face-to-face with Adama. "Admiral," she said, saluting him as she did so.

Adama returned the salute. "Commodore," he said. "Welcome aboard Galactica."

"Thank you, sir, for the welcome." 'Abal looked about and saw both Phan and Morgan standing in the waiting crowd. "I
suspect that my two officers may have a hand in what just happened," she said.

Adama nodded. "They have been most helpful and not just in helping to arrange this little ceremony," he said. "Would you
and your staff please step this way?" He indicated the awaiting crowd of dignitaries.

"Of course, Admiral." 'Abal and her staff followed Adama towards the crowd.

Adama stepped up to Laura Roslin. "I do believe you already know President Roslin," he said with a slight smile.

'Abal returned it with one of her own. "I do believe you are correct, sir." She stopped before Roslin, clicked her heels and
gave a small bow. "Madame President," she said.

Roslin gave a smile and held her hand out to 'Abal. "Commodore," she said. "It is good to be able to meet with you in
much better circumstances than when we last met."

'Abal took Roslin's hand and shook it. "I heartily agree, Madame President," she said.

"On behalf of the people of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, welcome and thank you for what you have already done for us,"
Roslin said. "We are in your debt."

"Hardly that, Madame President," said 'Abal.

Roslin stepped aside and indicated Tom Zarek. "May I introduce our Vice-President, Mr. Tom Zarek?" she said.

'Abal repeated the greeting she gave Roslin. "Mr. Vice-President," she said.

Zarek returned her greeting. "Commodore."

Both 'Abal and Roslin moved down the greeting line, greeting each member of the Quorum of Twelve in turn. Then,
Adama took over and introduced his staff. Finally, Adama said to 'Abal, "Commodore, if you and your staff will follow me,
we shall now head off to the Memorial Hall. I believe your Marines are already there." With that, the party of military and
civilian personnel followed Adama through Galactica's corridors.

When they arrived at the entrance to the Hall, they saw the group of Imperial Marines standing in two lines of five.
Standing nearby were two other Marines flanking a large floral wreath made out of red silken flowers, as well as three
others who carried what looked like some kind of simple trumpet. It had no valves, but was just a simple coiled tube of
metal with a bell end.

Those people who had not seen the Imperial Marines in their dress uniforms looked them over. The Marines all wore
caps made out of a black-blue material with a red band. On the front were a woven badge and a black visor (which
Lieutenant Morgan had whispered was called a peak). Their tunics were single-breasted and made out of a red material
with blue collars and cuffs. They were fully closed. The collar was of a stand-and-fall type and, unlike the naval
personnel, rank insignia was worn on collar patches worn at the front of the collar. The uniforms were finished off with
black-blue trousers with a red seam-stripe (edged with gold in the case of the officers, who also wore swords) and worn
over highly polished black ankle boots. The officers wore white waist sashes. Interestingly, they were armed with what
were obviously antiquated bolt-action firearms, complete with bayonets.

At a command, the Imperial Marines came to attention. At another command, six Marines marched across the front of the
memorial wall and positioned themselves in a semi-circle. They then faced away from the wall, and, in a slow, stately
manoeuvre, rested the muzzles of their weapons on the toes of their boots, placed their hands on top of the butt, and
slowly bowed their heads.

'Abal then stood in front of the wall. At a signal, the two Marine officers flanking the wreath picked it up and moved in front
of 'Abal so she was facing the wreath. They then began to move slowly towards the wall, carrying the wreath with them,
with 'Abal and her staff following. They stopped in front of the wall and 'Abal, stepping forward, helped them to position
the wreath. She then stepped back and, as the two Marine officers stepped away, she came to attention, and saluted the
wall. She then stepped away, facing the wall all the time. When she got back to her original position, the rest of the
Marine guard presented arms, and the Marines carrying the small trumpets put it to his lips and began to play.

A brisk, but haunting melody echoed through the corridor. It lasted about a minute. After it finished, the Marines returned
to the attention, and there was silence for another minute. Then, 'Abal recited some lines:

"They shall not grow old, as we who are left grow old, Nor the years condemn. But at the going down of the sun, and in
the morning, We Will Remember Them."

'Abal's staff repeated the last line. "Lest We Forget," she said and again, her staff repeated her words. Then the three
Marine musicians again raised their trumpets and they played another tune that lasted for a minute and a half. Then, it
was all over.

The assembled Colonials found that this ceremony, performed by a human civilisation that was in many ways different to
their own, profoundly moving. They instinctively realised that, in their own way, their Terran cousins had just
acknowledged the Colonials' own losses with a ceremony that again looked as though it was steeped in tradition and
meaning. I'll have to ask the origins of this ceremony, Adama thought to himself.

'Abal turned and faced both Adama and Roslin. "On behalf of the Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron and the Terran
Imperial Navy, I wish to thank you for allowing us to pay our respects to your own fallen, both military and civilian," she
said.

Roslin stepped forward and took 'Abal's hand. "On behalf of the people and, I'm sure that I also speak for Admiral Adama
and his people, I thank you for the gesture you and your people have just made," she said. "I'm certain there are levels of
significance here that we don't fully understand, but, as we get to know one another better, they will become clear to us."

'Abal shook Roslin's hand. "Thank you, Madame President," she said. "I'm also certain that once you reach Sandoval
Base and things settle down, Sir Simon Templar will also wish to pay his respects as well."

"I'm sure," said Roslin. "In the meantime, we have a small reception prepared for you and your staff officers onboard
Colonial One, which is currently docked with Galactica. Will you do us the honour and pleasure of accepting our
invitation?"

'Abal smiled. "Certainly, Madame President," she said. "I only ask that you make arrangements for my Marines that are
present here."

"I am assured that Colonel Tigh has asked Marine Lieutenant Burrell and his people to host your Marines," said Adama.
"Indeed, Lieutenant Burrell and his people seemed somewhat eager to host them."

"Thank you for your kindness, Admiral," 'Abal replied. "If you'll allow me, I'll inform the officer in charge of your
arrangements. Then I and my staff are at your disposal." With that, she turned and spoke to one of her staff, who braced
to attention in acknowledgement of the order and moved off to inform the Marine guard.

"There! Now, once my staff officer comes back, you can lead us on," said 'Abal.
*Chapter 15*: Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen

It was not long after the memorial ceremony in Galactica's Memory Hall that an incident occurred that had the potential to
seriously disrupt the relationship between the Terrans and the Colonials. It was ironic that it happened because of an
accident on board Nike in which the Terrans saved the lives of two Colonials.

It occurred in an area of Nike where several Colonials were working to refit a section of the upper hull. As usual, they
were both strengthening it and getting another section of the base star into a inhabitable condition prior to the fleet, this
time accompanied by the five remaining Terran vessels (Marshal Ustinov had already jumped out for Sandoval Base)
beginning the first of several jumps that would ultimately take them to the Terran fleet base. However, in this case there
was a weakened section of the vessel's structure that had somehow been overlooked in the Colonials' survey of the
ship. Some debris was propping it up. So, when the Colonial work party managed to cut the debris away (using their
traditional plasma cutters as they had not been issued with the Terran's laser cutters), it, along with a whole shower of
debris, cascaded into the section they were refitting, pinning two of them underneath it. Luckily, this area had been made
airtight and the crew were working in standard coveralls.

News of the accident soon reached Nike's control centre, and Tigh, who was still overseeing her refit, immediately raced
through the corridors in order to reach the accident sight. On arriving, he saw that the Colonial work crew had been
joined by some of the Terrans, who were in the process of attaching some of their anti-grav pods to certain items of
wreckage.

"What's the situation?" he asked the chief of the crew.

"We were clearing some debris out of this area when the whole lot just caved in," said the crew chief. "Must have missed
a weak spot in the structure. We moved a large beam, and then... bang! The whole lot came through. We're just lucky that
this area's been made airtight."

"Any casualties?" Tigh asked.

"Two men pinned underneath that mess," replied the crew chief. "How bad they're hurt, I can't tell. But I have no idea how
we're going to move all of that frakking crap out of the way. The Terrans think they can."

"We can," replied the petty officer in command of the Terran crew. "But it's going to take a bit of old-fashioned muscle
power to do it."

"I thought that those anti-gravity pods would make that unnecessary," said Tigh.

"They basically give us neutral buoyancy," said the Terran. "The mass is still the same. In this case, we've managed to
neutralise some of the weight, but there's still a fair bit left. We've also managed to put a grav field surrounding the whole
lot so it doesn't shift when we move it. Normally we'd have some of our people in power frames here to do the lifting, but
since we don't..." He indicated to some of his crew. "Haynes, Fuad, Kikahashi, you grab there, there and there. Barnes,
Polski, there. On my signal, lift."

"How the hell are you going to be able to lift that weight?" asked Tigh.

"With some difficulty," responded the Terran petty officer. "Right, lads, on six, two and six!" As one, the Terrans heaved and
before the eyes of the astonished Colonials, the mass of debris was raised from off of the floor of the chamber.

The Terran looked at the stunned Colonials. "Er, guys," he said, "just because we can lift this mass doesn't mean we can
hold it all day! You might just want to shift the victims." At that, several of the Colonial work party moved to shift the two
injured men out from underneath the mass of debris, all the while giving the Terrans some rather fish-eyed looks. When
they were clear, the Terrans slowly lowered it down onto the decking.

The Terran petty officer looked at the mass. "Guess we'll have to cut this lot up before we can get it out of here." He
looked at the Colonials, who were now giving the Terrans some rather uneasy looks. Some were even muttering
amongst themselves. "What is it?" he asked.

Tigh looked at the Terrans. "How did you manage to do that?" he said, indicating the mass of debris.

"You saw. We put a grav field around it, attached some anti-grav pods and then lifted it."
"But that whole mass must weigh several tons!" said one Colonial worker.

"Yes. Yes, it does," said the Terran with a sigh. "And I can see where this may be leading to."

"Where?" asked Tigh.

"You are going to think that we're either cyborgs, or possibly these 'Cylons' of yours," replied the Terran.

"Well, you all just shifted that mass of junk as easily as some damned skinjobs would be able to," said another Colonial
worker. "Makes me wonder if you're all some kind of toaster we haven't encountered before!" A muttered agreement rose
from the assembled workers.

"Quiet, there!" said Tigh. "We're not going to go jumping to conclusions! Although," he continued, "I have to say that this
sudden, superhuman strength of yours is a mite suspicious."

"And you won't be the first who thought that, Colonel," replied the Terran. "However, I can promise you that we aren't
cyborgs or androids like your Cylons." The strange word he used stuck out in the sentence of fluent Colonial, but paring it
with the word Cylon conveyed the impression quite clearly.

"You mean you have machines that look like Cylons?" asked an incredulous Tigh. "How can we be certain that you aren't
any of these... these 'Ann-droid' things you just mentioned?"

"Because at present they are nothing but a theoretical idea," said the Terran. "Everyone in the Imperium knows that. And
now, so do you."

"So, just what is your explanation for your strength?" asked a Colonial worker. "We're waiting."

The Terran looked around, and then took a deep breath. "All right," he said. "The truth is this..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Office of the President of the Twelve Colonies, Colonial One, a couple of hours later.

"Genetically modified."

Laura Roslin sat behind her desk. Flanking her were William Adama and Tom Zarek. Saul Tigh stood off to one side, but
it was quite clear from his body language that he had positioned himself alongside his commander and friend.

Before them sat Commander Phan, Lieutenant Morgan, and the two Terran Lieutenant-Commanders, Petrov and van
Hysler. Also present, thanks to Morgan's PortaPC was Commodore 'Abal, whose holographic bust was positioned on a
small coffee table in front of the Terran officers.

"You mean to say that your entire b ranch of the human race is genetically modified?" said Roslin. She leaned forward.
"Commodore, do you have any idea of the trouble this news is going to cause in this fleet?" she asked.

"It's already causing trouble among some of the Colonial Fleet personnel," said Adama. "There are some who are
wondering if this means that the Terrans aren't human at all."

"The same rumors are spreading amongst the civilian members of the Fleet as well," said Zarek. He looked at Roslin
and Adama. "It should come as no real surprise that the Gemenons are the ones asking the most questions about the
Terrans' humanity." Much to the surprise of the assembled Colonials, this news didn't seem to faze the Terrans one bit. "I
take it, Madame President, that these 'Gemenons' are a bit... shall we say, 'anachronistic' when it comes to technology?"
asked 'Abal with a cool demeanor.

"The Gemenons tend to take a somewhat... literalist attitude to interpreting our sacred texts," said Zarek. "That has, at
times, crossed over into how they define what or who a true human is."

'Abal nodded. "Religious literalists," she said. "Nothing we haven't encountered before."

"You don't seem at all surprised at this news, Commodore," said Roslin.

"No, we're not," said 'Abal with a sigh. "And the reason is because yours is not the first society we've encountered with a
strong set of beliefs that are antithetical towards things such as gengeineering. So we usually go well out of our way to
avoid causing offence to their beliefs. It tends to make it that much easier to work with them."

"Just how many human cultures are there in this part of space?" asked Roslin.
"I can't tell you the exact number, but there are thousands," replied 'Abal. "And all of them are descended from Earth stock
taken from our planet over a period of around a million years." The Colonials were astonished at that simple statement.
It was delivered as though 'Abal was talking about a commonplace idea, but its implications were astounding.

"Excuse me, Commodore," said Roslin, "but did I hear you correctly? A million years?"

'Abal said nothing, but nodded in reply. Then, she sighed and said, "And so another issue arises that I was hoping we
could leave until you could speak to the experts from the Contacts Office." She looked at the assembled Colonials and
said, "You'll get the full story from them, as well as access to all the relevant documentation, but for now I'll give you the
brief version. Then, hopefully, you'll understand.

"Back in the Twenty-First Century a team from the old Terran Commonwealth's Aerospace Agency were conduction an
exploration survey of Phobos, one of the moons of the Sol System's fourth planet, Mars. The survey was being done for
two reasons: one, to find a suitable location for a repeater station for the recently established Mars colony, and two, to
help scientists determine why that particular moon had a mass that was so out of proportion to its size."

"Oh?" said Adama. "How big was it?"

"Twenty-seven kilometres long by nineteen kilometres around," said 'Abal. "Its density is two grams per cubic centimetre.
As I said, unusually light. Basically it was an asteroid. However, when the survey team got there, they found out in quite
the most spectacular way possible, that one theory about it was true: that it was hollow."

"Hollow!" said an astonished Adama.

"Yes," said 'Abal. "They found an entrance on the surface, diametrically opposite what had been thought to be an impact
crater. We later worked out that it had been shifted using a series of controlled nuclear detonations. However, the
entrance was quite clearly locked and sealed. There was a clue on how we could get in: a puzzle, which we eventually
figured out.

"When we got in, we found that the entire moon had been hollowed out to contain what we call the Repository. Actually, it
was a large observation post and base of operations in the Sol System for an ancient race of highly advanced aliens that
we call 'the Precursors.' As far as we have been able to determine, they were the first race in the known galaxy to attain
interstellar space flight."

To say that the Colonials in the room were astonished at this revelation would have been an understatement. A massive
understatement. For a while they said nothing, absorbing the implications of what 'Abal had just told them. For their part,
the Terrans said nothing, but simply let the Colonials work their way through what they had just been told. Finally, Roslin
shook herself and said, "An alien race? Unbelievable! Do you know why they were interested in your system?"

'Abal gave a small smile. "Actually," she said, "we do. They were interested in intelligent life and how it evolved. When
they first arrived in the Sol System Earth was in what we call the Cretaceous Period, when the dominant lifeforms were
saurians. One species of saurian grabbed their attention: a small, bipedal pack hunter that showed signs of great
intelligence. They took it and samples of every form of life then existing on Earth and transplanted them across several
solar systems within their territory and observed them. In some cases they gave a little nudge to encourage their bipedal
experimental subjects along the path to true sapience."

Both Roslin and Adama felt a chill settle across them. They looked at each other, and then looked at the Terrans. "Do you
know what happened to these experimental creatures?" Roslin asked. Instinctively she had an idea what the answer
would be, but hoped that she was wrong.

"Yes," said 'Abal, "we do. They eventually evolved into the creatures we call the Raptors. We derived the term for them
from the ancestral saurian, which was called Velociraptor. And they are as every bit as dangerous as the ancestral form
was."

Roslin sank back into her chair. The news that the deadly enemy that the Terrans were fighting was the product of an
experiment into the origins of intelligence was quite overwhelming. She started to gather her scattered thoughts.

Zarek spoke. "Forgive the intrusion," he said, "but if you say that the ancestors of the Raptors were taken from earth, then
how do you explain our presence here? Could it be that we did all originally come from Kobol and that our legends were
means of explaining this?"

'Abal nodded at Zarek. "A good question, Mr. Vice-President," she said. "And the answer is that we have all the records
that the Precursors left in the Phobos repository. They tell the story from there on.
"About a million years after the ancestors of the raptors were removed from Earth, the Precursors returned. Apparently
they were going to take additional samples. However, on their arrival, they discovered that a massive meteor impact in an
area of Earth we know as the Gulf of Mexico had wiped out all of the saurians. In the intervening time, however, a whole
new group of animals had evolved to fill the niches left by the Cretaceous Era Extinction. Among them was a small,
bipedal mammal that bore a distinct resemblance to an ape, but which, like the Velociraptors, showed great promise of
evolving intelligence. That animal was the ancestor of the entire human race."

Again, 'Abal paused to let the Colonials absorb what she had just told them. Then, she continued: "For the next million
years or so, the Precursors established a base of operations on Phobos and kept Earth under observation, taking
samples every now and then and shipping them off to other worlds. We believe that they intended Earth as a form of
control for the experiment. Eventually, modern man, or Homo Sapiens Sapiens Terra emerged. The Precursors kept
visiting Earth and taking samples but, sometime during the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, they sealed up the
Phobos station and left earth, although we think they did come back every so often to observe our development.
Incidentally, the time they closed down the Phobos station roughly coincides with the period during Earth's Industrial
Revolution when we were beginning to experiment with the radio part of the electromagnetic spectrum."

"Have you encountered any of these... 'Precursors', Commodore?" asked Roslin.

"We haven't, or at least not with our knowledge," she said. "About the time what we call 'modern man' evolved, it seems
that the entire Precursor civilisation started to tear themselves apart in what we call 'the Precursor Wars.' We aren't one
hundred percent sure of what the cause of this was, but there are some indications in not only the Phobos Repository
but in the two others we have also found that it was the emergence of 'modern man' that sparked it."

"Why do you think that it was the evolution of humans that started this struggle?" asked Zarek.

"Because of some references in the Repository Library to a debate that was going on at the time about the wisdom of
allowing us to evolve any further," 'Abal said. "It appears that one faction of Precursors were violently opposed to what we
term 'the Hominid Project,' and considered that the Raptors might be, and I quote, 'easier to control or dominate than
these evolved apes.'" She said the last words of that sentence with a rather dry air.

"Just why were they so violently opposed to this 'Hominid Project'?" asked Zarek.

'Abal said nothing, but indicated at something outside the view of the camera that was recording and transmitting her
image. Her image vanished, to be replaced by images of what looked like a pair of standard humans, one male, and
one female. There were, however, some differences that the Colonials couldn't quite place. In fact, thought Adama, they
look familiar. But I'm sure I've never met them.

'Abal's voice spoke from out of the PortaPC. "These," she said, "are a pair of Precursors. As you can see, they look
remarkably like human beings."

The four Colonials craned to take a closer look at the images of the two Precursors. "I'm not sure," said Roslin, "but they
look quite familiar."

"You think so?" said Adama. "I've had that thought as well." As he examined the images a sudden thought hit him like a
sledgehammer. "Oh, gods," he whispered.

"Something wrong, Admiral?" Zarek said. Adama was about to reply when Roslin gasped in shock.

"Something the matter, Madame President?" asked Adama.

Roslin looked at Adama. "I just had a very unsettling thought," she said. She looked around at the assembled people,
both real and virtually present. "Excuse me for a moment." She got up and went to a bookcase. On reaching it, she
searched for and finally removed a rather worn book. She then brought it back and, reseating herself, opened it.

Both Adama and Zarek were surprised to see that it was a copy of The Sacred Scrolls of Pythia. "You don't think..." began
Zarek.

"Quiet, please, Tom. I'm trying to find something." As she flipped through the pages, Zarek and Adama shared a
concerned look. "You don't suppose..." Zarek said.

"Right now, I don't know what to think!" said Adama. He looked over at the Terrans. They were calm, but he could also see
that they were concerned, indeed sympathetic. They know, he said. Oh, Lords of Kob ol, they know! But then he realised
that not only had they witnessed sights like this countless times, they had themselves experienced this same thing back
in their early history. I think we are really going to need their help to just cope with this discovery, Adama thought. He
looked back at Tigh, who was beginning to look extremely unsettled. Saul, old friend, he thought, if what I suspect is true,
than I hope you still have that supply of amb rosia handy. We're going to need it.

Roslin finally reached the section she was looking for. As she read, she kept looking over at the images of the
Precursors. Finally, she sank back into her chair. Her expression was one of shock mingled with stunned amazement.

"It's them," she whispered.

Adama and Zarek looked at each other, uncertain what to say. Lieutenant Morgan, however, broke the silence. "You've just
realised it, haven't you, ma'am," he quietly said. His expression, as that of the three other Terrans who were physically
present in the room, was one of profound sympathy. Their entire body language radiated an unspoken reassurance: We
are here for you, if you need us.

"What's wrong, Madame President?" asked Tigh. Adama and Zarek said nothing, but looked at a clearly stricken Laura
Roslin. They stood on either side of her, supporting her with their presence. She sat there for a moment, simply staring
at the images. Then, she said:

"Those images! Those are of Zeus and Hera, two of the Lords of Kob ol! "
*Chapter 16*: Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen

For a moment, Roslin's statement simply hung in the silence that filled her office.

It was broken by of all people, Saul Tigh. "Gods, I need a drink," he muttered. "This has just gotten too frakkin' strange for
my tastes."

Adama and Zarek said nothing, but kept their eyes on Roslin, who just kept staring at the images before her. They were
then replaced by 'Abal's holographic bust. "Madame President?" she said. "Are you all right?"

"Excuse me, ma'am," said Phan. He got up and placed a hand into a tunic pocket. On drawing it out, a silver hip flask
could be seen in it.

Phan walked over to Roslin's desk, unscrewing the lid of the flask as he went. "Take a sip of this, Madame President,"
the Terran said. "It might be of some help."

Roslin looked at the Terran, then looked at the flask in his hand. Slowly, she reached over and took it from his hand.
Then, she looked down the opening.

"It's perfectly safe, Madame President," Phan said with a slight smile.

Roslin looked at the Terran, and then, bringing the flask's nozzle to her lips, upended it and took a swig. She immediately
took it from her mouth and began spluttering. Alarmed, Adama and Zarek reached for her, but she waived them off.

"Gods," she said, "but that stuff is strong." Her coughing died away. "Smooth, though." She handed the flask back to the
Terran. "Thank you, Commander," she said. "Just what is that drink, by the way?"

Phan smiled as he took the flask back. "It's called 'whiskey', ma'am," he said. "New Aberdeen Single Malt. Unfortunately, I
can't afford genuine Terran scotch on my pay." He offered the flask to Adama. "Admiral?" he said.

"Thanks. I just might have some," he said. He too, upended the flaks and took a swig. However, he didn't splutter like
Roslin did. "You're right," he said to her, "it is smooth." He felt a warm patch slowly glide down his gullet. "Knows it's way
down, too." He gave the Terran a look that asked his permission. On getting a nod in reply, he handed the flask to Tigh.
"Try this, Saul," he said. "Leaves the home-distilled stuff on Galactica for dead."

Tigh took the flask and then took a swig. "You're right, Admiral," he said, handing the flask back to the Terran. "Definitely
better than that liquid rocket fuel we have on Galactica."

Phan said nothing but went over to Zarek and offered him the flask. Wordlessly, Zarek took the flask and took a swig from
it, then handed it back to the Terran, who, saying nothing, reattached the lid and, putting it back in his tunic pocket,
returned to his position in front of Roslin's desk.

For a moment nobody said anything. Then, the silence was broken by 'Abal. "I'm sorry for the way that you have found this
out, Madame President," she quietly said. "I'm aware of just what a shock it must be to you. However, this is one reason
why we would have preferred that you find out something like this from our Contacts experts."

Roslin shot the Terrans a look. "Were you aware of this?" she asked.

"We suspected that this might be so," 'Abal replied. "We have, I believe you are aware, scanned copies of your sacred
texts into our computers. They were to be included in a report that was being compiled for our Contacts specialists to
read before they spoke to you or your people. From what we have read, and from what we know, your people do fit the
pattern."

"What pattern? What are you talking about?"

'Abal sighed. "Virtually every, and I mean every Hominid culture we have met have had several sets of religious beliefs
that, at their core, are based on interaction with the Precursors. For those societies who have, as yours has, achieved
interstellar travel without the benefit of a Repository, the pattern is virtually identical. At a, shall we say, a less developed
phase in their history, they evolve a set of beliefs around a set of gods. It's quite understandable."

"Quite understandab le!" said Roslin. "And do you 'disabuse' them of their beliefs?"
"No, Madame President," said 'Abal. "We tell them, in a far more controlled manner than what happened here, about the
Precursor 'Intelligence Project.' We give them the information, as well as our own history in this matter and let them work
things out for themselves. We stand by to give help if it's asked for."

"And if they do ask for help?"

"We give it to them," said 'Abal. "Without fear or favour, but as gently as we can. We tell them that we have gone through
exactly the same thing that they are. And, in your case, that you yourself are currently experiencing. We tell them that their
beliefs, at the most b asic and fundamental level, have a kernel of truth to them. We tell them that it is perfectly all right
that their ancestors believed that these immensely powerful beings were gods of some kind, and we tell them about
similar experiences on Earth in our past, when technologically superior people were mistaken for 'gods' by people who
were not as advanced, and what happened when the mistake was corrected. I should add that one of our strongest
prohibitions is against masquerading as gods. I should also add that in only one example have we found any evidence
that the Precursors masqueraded as gods."

She looked at Roslin. "I don't recall seeing anywhere in your sacred traditions that they declared themselves to be gods.
Except in the case of the one called 'the jealous god.' Am I correct in this assumption?"

Roslin looked at 'Abal's image. Then she tipped her head back, deep in thought. Then, she brought her head don with a
sigh. "No, Commodore," she said, "you're right. Although it doesn't help us in what to do about this! Why, news of this
could cause the Fleet a whole lot of damage."

"If I may make a suggestion, Madame President," said 'Abal, "this information does not leave this room. I know I can
count on my personnel in this matter. Tell me, has any of my people so much as hinted at this to any of your people?"

"Definitely not on Galactica," said Adama. "Nor amongst the work crews your people have been involved with."

"Not amongst the civilian population," said Zarek. "Up until the incident that caused this meeting to be called, everyone
has been saying how polite and helpful your people have been."

"Then, Madame President, I would suggest that you let it lie here," said 'Abal. "Once we get you to Sandoval Base and,
hopefully, after that behind the Imperium's frontiers, we can allow the appropriate experts to deal with this and other
questions."

Roslin said nothing, but put her fingertips to her lips as she thought about what she had just heard. After a while, she
said, "Agreed. We get this fleet to a safe location and let your experts deal with it." She again shot 'Abal a look. "That still
doesn't help us handle the revelation about you people being genetically modified." She leaned forward. "Tell me,
Commodore, just why did your branch of the human race do this to itself?"

'Abal looked back "Originally," she said, "it developed out of a project, which had actually started in the late Twentieth and
early Twenty-First Centuries to correct and, eventually eliminate, several genetically-based diseases, such as cystic
fibrosis. This was greatly helped, as you can imagine, by the discovery of the Repository and the technology it contained.
Then, we encountered the Raptors. We discovered that they were faster, stronger and tougher than us. So, we changed
our basic genetic structure to match and, eventually, surpass them in those areas." She shrugged. "Personally, I'm quite
glad my ancestors decided to do this: stops me from being lunch for a Raptor, for one thing. But don't imagine that there
aren't any drawbacks."

"Such as?"

"Our metabolisms are much higher than yours," said Petrov. "Basically, we require a greater caloric intake just to
function. Luckily we have developed ways around that." He looked at Tigh. "Colonel, that work party that helped pull your
people out from under that rubble," he said. "Did you see them eat some bars and drink some liquid afterwards?"

Tigh thought for a moment. "Yeah, I did." He looked at the Terrans. "Just what were they?"

"High-calorie energy bars and drinks," said Petrov. "We all have them and, after any particularly strenuous activity, we take
them to help keep our metabolisms in balance. Our skinsuits, if you are wondering, have the means to insert high-
caloric substances into our bodies." He suddenly grinned. "And yes, our metabolisms also help us from getting too
drunk, while having a hi-cal/carb drink also stops us from getting a hangover." He looked at the Colonials. "Yes, it's an
unfair advantage, I know!"

"Be that as it may," said Roslin, "I would welcome some suggestions as to how we deal with this. Suggestions?" she
said, looking around at the gathering.
"We could hold a press conference," said Zarek, "and have Lieutenant Morgan, Dr. Petrov and Doc Cottle explain just why
the Terrans did this all those years ago. Plus someone could also explain the advantage of having a whole branch of the
human race who would be capable of taking out a skinjob in a hand-to-hand fight." He looked at the Terrans.

"We are all trained in several martial arts," said 'Abal, "which, when combined with our speed and reaction times are the
reasons our people have refused any invitations to get into your boxing ring with your people."

"Gods, talk about a one-sided match!" muttered Tigh.

"However, I'm sure that we could arrange at a future date some demonstration bouts between some of our personnel,"
'Abal continued. She looked at Adama and Tigh. "And, once we get to Sandoval, I'm sure that once we have vaccinated
your people against our diseases, the Fleet could arrange for some instructors to come and teach your people some
moves."

"That would be greatly appreciated, Commodore," said Adama.

Roslin looked at Adama. "Admiral? Your views on Vice-President Zarek's proposal."

"I think it could work," said Adama. "After all, we can explain that the Terrans didn't tell us because of their past
experiences with people in our situation. And we play up the angle that they did use their abilities to save lives."

"Put in some of the downsides, and I think we have a solution we can work with," said Zarek. He looked at the Terrans,
"However, you might have some problems with some of our people over vaccination. Especially the Sagittarons. They
tend to refuse our medicines. How they'll react to yours..." He let it trail off.

"We have several non-intrusive means at our disposal," said Petrov. "Most likely it will be by aerosol dispersal. They won't
even know they are receiving a multi-purpose vaccine."

"That sounds a bit... sinister, if you ask me," said Roslin.

Petrov shrugged. "I'll admit the procedure is derived from an old Twentieth Century proposal for distributing biological
warfare agents," he said, "but it's also the means by which we manage to fight pandemics on afflicted planets." He
thought for a bit, and then said "We can work with your medical personnel if that makes things easier for you."

"Well, we'll make that decision when the time comes," said Roslin. She looked at 'Abal. "While we are all here," she said,
"are there any other things that we should know about?" Her tone made it quite clear that unless 'Abal gave a good
reason, she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

'Abal recognised this. "This is another thing we were going to leave to our Contacts specialists," she said, "but you may
as well know now. Virtually everyone you will meet in the Imperium, as well as some of the Independent Systems, is
biochipped."

"Biochipped? What does that mean?" said Roslin.

"We all have a hard-wired computer chip installed in our neural networks," said 'Abal.

"You mean you are all walking around with a computer chip inside your heads?" asked Tigh.

"Yes," said 'Abal. "However, the chip is slaved permanently to the brain of its possessor. We use it as a tool. It helps to
enhance and use various areas of the human cerebral cortex that is otherwise unused. In addition, it is used as a
manager of input and output to either our PortaPCs or to a main computer network. We can use our senses as input
devices, and output is directed to either the memory structures within the brain, or routed either from a PortaPC or other
computer via a miniaturised Ethernet link directly into the vision centres. We call that retinal imaging. The same route
sends out input from our senses.

"Because of it both being hardwired and slaved to our brains, it cannot be subverted by malware like hack packs. Believe
me, before biochipping was universally adopted, our scientists did everything they could to cause either a catastrophic
failure or to subvert the chip. They failed."

"How do you cope with all of that?" asked Adama. "Surely it could lead to some complications?"

"Handling that sort of data stream is a skill that is taught in our educational facilities," said 'Abal. "The actual chip is not
implanted until after the brain has ceased its natural development. Until then, our children wear neural caps. By the time
they receive their chips, they have the ability to perform the vast majority of the tasks associated with operating the chip at
a subconscious level. Or, to use a term from computing, the tasks are running 'in the background.' The human brain is a
marvellously adaptable organ." 'Abal looked at the Colonials. "I would suggest that this information also does not leave
this room," she said. "This, combined with our genetic modifications..."

"Could lead some segments of our people to think that you are some new kind of Cylon," finished Adama. "Albeit one
that is at present opposed to the Cylons." He looked at 'Abal. "I assume that these chips allow you to communicate with
each other?"

"Yes, Admiral," said 'Abal. "They also allow us to exchange data. And before you ask, they allow us to interact with our
weapons systems." She was about to add something when, all of a sudden, she took on a slightly distracted air. "Excuse
me," she said. Her eyes lost focus, and she started speaking rapidly in a language that was unknown to the Colonials.
That must b e what they call Lingua Terra, thought Roslin.

She and the other Colonials exchanged a look. Something was happening and, from the look of consternation that
crossed 'Abal's face, it was not good. And, judging from the looks on the faces of the Terrans in the room, they were
concerned as well.

'Abal suddenly regained focus and looked at Adama. "Admiral," she said, "how soon can you get your fleet ready to jump
out of this system?"

Adama was momentarily disoriented by the sudden question, but quickly regained his composure. "There are a couple
of ships on the planet," he said, "restocking some supplies. Shouldn't take more than an hour to get them into orbit.
Why? What's happened?" A feeling of dread began to come across him.

"I've just heard from Basilicata's duty officer," 'Abal replied. "The sensor platforms have reported that six Deinonychus C-
class light cruisers have just jumped in system and gone to stealth." At this news the Terran officers immediately
became alert. "I've just ordered the squadron to clear for action."

"I take it those are Raptor ships,' said Adama. At 'Abal's nod, he said, "Where are they?"

"Well, thank whatever gods you pray to for small blessings," replied 'Abal. "They jumped in on the other side of the
system primary, so that it is between us and them. They can't receive your radio chatter. However, that will change if..."
She stopped and again lost focus. "They've launched drones," she said. However, we have time."

"Enough?" asked Adama.

"At this stage, yes," said 'Abal. "However, if they detect your radio chatter, they will jump here to investigate." She looked at
Adama. "I can take them, but I would rather not have your people caught in an exchange of laser heads. In fact, I would
rather we got out b efore they know we're here." Roslin and Zarek exchanged looks at that statement, but Adama nodded.

"I can understand that," he said. "I'll get back to Galactica and get the fleet ready to jump." He looked at Roslin. "I'll need
to use your radio, Madam President, to contact Galactica and let them know what's happening."

"Thank you, Admiral. I'll inform my people about what has happened. 'Abal, clear." Her image disappeared from in front of
the Colonials. As the Terran officers moved to clear up, Roslin turned to Adama.

"You said you understand," she said. "What do you understand?"

"That she wishes to get out of the system without having to alert the Raptors that she was here in the first place," replied
Adama. "Don't get her wrong. If she must fight, she will. But if the Raptors realise that the Terrans have been in this
system..."

"They will start looking for the reason why they were here in the first place," said Zarek. "And that means they will try and
find the platforms." He looked at Roslin. "Also, Laura, she said she didn't want us caught in an exchange of something
she called 'laser heads.' I would say that they must be pretty powerful weapons indeed if they could have side effects that
could affect us."

"They can," said Morgan. "Excuse me, but I couldn't help but overhear. In ship-to-ship combat we use multi-megaton
nukes that are fitted with lasing rods. When the nuke detonates, it generates a whole mess of very powerful x-ray lasers
that are generally focussed in the direction of the target. However, some of the excess can overshoot the target. If we
engaged the lizards we would put our ships between you and them, but there is still the chance that a lizard missile
might target one of your ships instead." He gave a weak smile. "Their terminal targeting systems aren't as good as ours.
That, combined with our ECM..."

"Could mean a missile, or several missiles detonating inside the Fleet," finished Adama. "Something to be avoided, I
think."
Roslin looked at the three men. "Well, Admiral," she said, "I suppose you had better contact Galactica and tell them what
is happening. I'll have someone call down to Colonial One's hanger to alert your Raptor to get ready." As Adama and Tigh
left she looked at Zarek. "Tom, once we are safely out system, I want you and Lieutenant Morgan to work with me. Andras,
could you help us by telling us what you can about the kind of reception we can expect once we reach Sandoval?'

Morgan smiled. "I can, Madame President," he said. "It's a part of the job description."

"Good. But let's concentrating on getting this fleet out and in one piece," she said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

CIC, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, Several Minutes Later.

There was some tension in the air in Galactica's CIC.

And all of it was aimed at the Terrans in there.

Both Helo and Gaeta had heard about the incident on Nike, including a garbled version in which the Terrans had
inadvertently revealed themselves as some new kind of Cylon. However, when Van Der Westhuysen had explained the
truth behind the stories, they had relaxed somewhat around the Terran: Helo, because he was married to a Cylon, Gaeta
because of his background in biogenetics. It was equally clear, however, that a large percentage of Galactica's crew, and
most of the civilians on board, were not too sure about the Terrans and their newly revealed ability.

Both Helo and Gaeta were impressed by the Terran officer's fortitude. He had reported to CIC as though nothing had
happened, and had indeed helped to oversee the Terran technical crew that had, at Adama request, installed both a
linked pair of PortaPCs and a small holotank on the tactical chart underneath the main DRADIS display. Although they
were still making some final adjustments, it was now showing a holographic display, taken from Galactica's own
sensors, which gave the location of every ship in the Fleet relative to Galactica's own position, as well as the location of
every patrolling pair of Vipers and Raptors.

Gods, thought Helo. I know this isn't a par for what a similar, purpose-b uilt display on the b ridge of a Terran warship, let
alone a flagship, can show, b ut this is so much b etter than what we originally had. Above it still hung Galactica's main
DRADIS displays: the Terrans had suggested leaving them there as a reference point for CIC's personnel. He looked
over to a specially built platform where a much larger holotank displayed the same data, albeit in much more detail.
Sitting at the controls was Apollo, lost in playing with his new toy. Guess the CAG's going to find himself more-or-less
stationed in CIC from now on, thought Helo. But then, he can b etter direct Galactica's squadrons from his new position.

Suddenly, he noticed Van Der Westhuysen stiffen in alarm. Immediately the Terran officer adjusted the controls. The
tactical holotank underneath the DRADIS display changed to show a schematic of the system, showing the positions of
the fleet and the Terran sensor platforms. But most notable were the new icons that pulsed an angry red as they slowly
moved across the display.

Helo moved over to where the Terran stood. "Something up?" he quietly asked.

The Terran spoke without turning around. "Sir," he said, "I just got a flash from Basilicata. Six lizard light cruisers have just
jumped into the system." At this news, Helo stiffened in alarm. Not noticing, the Terran continued: "They immediately
went to stealth and deployed sensor drones. Thankfully, they jumped in on the opposite side of the system primary from
us, so they won't be able to pick up the Fleet's radio chatter. I've just pulled up a live feed from the sensor platform
relayed from Basilicata." He gave Helo a sickly grin. "Thankfully, their stealth systems aren't as good as ours. I've also
heard that the Admiral is aware of the situation and will be contacting you..." At that moment, Lieutenant Dualla called out
"Helo, the Admiral is on the radio and wants to speak to you."

"... about now," the Terran finished. He looked over at Apollo's position. "Sir," he said, "I strongly recommend that when
the Admiral arrives you move over to the CAG's tactical repeater. It can show you the situation in much greater detail."
Helo said nothing, but gave the Terran officer a strange look as indicated to Dualla that she transfer the call to the
DRADIS station. It buzzed and he picked up the handset.

"CIC, Operations officer," he said.

"Helo, the Terrans have picked up six Raptor warships that have just jumped into the system," Adama said. "They're
going to try and use their sensor platforms to track them."

"Admiral, I am aware of the situation," Helo replied. "Lieutenant Van Der Westhuysen filled me in as soon as he got a
message from Basilicata He's also basically finished setting up the tactical display and has it set to receive a live feed
via Basilicata of the overall situation."

"Pretty quick," said Adama. "Helo, I want you to send an alert to the Fleet. Get them ready to jump at a moment's notice.
Now, I am aware there are still ships on the surface, b ut 'Ab al tells me we have time to get them off planet. I'll also want all
patrols to land immediately and all intership transfers to cease. As soon as we arrive Colonel Tigh and myself will make
our way to CIC."

Helo sensed that there was something that the Admiral wasn't telling him. However, he knew that, when the time was
right, he would inform him. "Message received, sir," he said. "As soon as this channel is clear, I'll send out the alert."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you, Helo. Adama, out."

Helo replaced the handset and turned to face Dualla. "Fleet general frequency please, Mr. Dualla," he said. As soon as
he got the indication that it was ready, he picked up the handset. "Galactica to all ships," he began.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Planetary Surface, Near The Main Colonial Encampment.

The hunting party had just brought down one of the large ungulates and were preparing to take it back to the frozen meat
transport for dressing.

The past few days had been quite bountiful, and not just in terms of meat harvested. Some of the Terrans who had been
assigned to help guard the hunting parties had identified several plants as producing fruits, nuts and grains that were
edible by humans. The Terrans had also proven quite adept at what they termed "sustainable harvesting", by which they
meant the ability to choose which animals could be taken without too great an impact on the herds.

However, all of this had been somewhat spoiled by the rumours that had spread about the Terrans being "genetically
modified." The hunting parties, though, had not been as adversely affected by the rumours as the main civilian and
military population. They valued the Terrans' quick reflexes and great strength, especially when facing off against some
of the predators the planet had thrown up.

Besides, it was always useful to have someone who was at least as strong as a 'skinjob' when it came to tasks that
required some heavy lifting. Like hauling a carcass onto one of the anti-grav platforms that the Terran Marines had
brought with them.

Today however, was not destined to be routine.

"Something up?" asked one of the hunters when he saw the Imperial Marine tense up. The Terran looked as though he
was listening to something. Prob ab ly got some kind of micronised communications device of some sort, thought the
hunter.

The Terran turned to the hunting party. "We have to return to the ships now," he said.

"What is it?" another hunter asked.

"We've just received word that a lizard light cruiser squadron has jumped in system," replied the Terran. "The
commodore has just cleared the squadron for action, and Galactica is about to issue a general recall of all ships on the
planet's surface." Just then the radio carried by the hunt leader squarked. He picked it up and listened to it, astonishment
written large on his face.

"Right," he said. "That was the recall. We have to move and move now."

"What about the carcass?" asked one hunter. "We can't just leave it!"

"I'll handle it," said the Terran. He slung his pulse laser, slipped into the harness attached to the platform and began to
move off. Slowly he began to pick up speed until he was moving at such a pace that the Colonials were forced to jog just
to keep up.

"Handy guys, these Terrans," puffed the hunt leader as they headed off towards the main encampment. No one
questioned his statement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

CIC, One Hour Later.

"Admiral, the last ship had left the planet's surface and is assuming it's place in the fleet," Helo reported.

"Very good, Captain Agathon," said Adama. He and Tigh were watching events unfold on the new holotank that had been
established for the use of Galactica's CAG.

"Sir, the last patrols have been landed and all fighters and ECW craft are being secured," said Apollo.

"Good, Major Adama." Adama turned to Helo. "Helo, inform Commodore 'Abal that we are ready to leave if she is," he
said. "Then go to jump stations and tell the Fleet to jump out of here."

"Yes, sir," said Helo. As he spoke to 'Abal, Adama turned to Tigh. "So, what do you think, Saul?" he said, indicating the
holographic display.

"Gods, imagine what we could have done with a setup like this," Tigh said. He looked at Adama. "We still going to
accompany the Terrans?" he said.

Adama nodded. "It's the only game we have," he said. "You have to admit, even though they did conceal some things
from us, they have not lied to us."

Tigh just grunted.

"All ships, this is Galactica. Go to jump stations, I repeat, go to jump stations." Suddenly, 'Abal's voice came over the
speaker.

"Admiral?" she said. "We've assumed standard convoy escort stations. When all of your ships have jumped out, we'll
follow."

"Much appreciated, Commodore," Adama said. "We'll see you on the other side."

"Admiral, the fleet is at jump stations," Helo reported.

"Then take us out of here, Helo," Adama replied.

"All ships, this is Galactica. Jump on my mark. Jumping in five, four, three, two, one...Jump!"
*Chapter 17*: Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen

"Jump complete. Checking the Fleet now," said Gaeta.

"Have the Terrans jumped through yet?" asked Adama. As if in response to his question the five sleek light cruisers
immediately appeared in the display in front of him.

"Frack! Now that's brilliant navigating!" said Tigh. "How do they manage to do a simultaneous jump like that?"

"It's called jump synchronisation, sir," replied Lieutenant Van Der Westhuysen. "Basically, the ships of the squadron
synchronise their navigation systems with each other. When one jumps, they all jump. We developed it as a means of
getting the maximum possible force into a system. Combined with multijumping, it enables us to rapidly respond to any
moves by the lizards."

"I can see where it would be useful," said Adama. He turned to Helo. "Did all the ships make it through?" he asked.

Before Helo could answer, Van Der Westhuysen spoke again. "Just got a flash from Basilicata, Admiral. All the ships
have made it through. A couple of them are reporting some slight fluctuations in their drives, but considering the time
since they saw the interior of a spacedock, well within parameters."

The Colonials looked at him with some surprise. "And how do you know this?" asked Tigh.

"Basilicata's computers simply polled the distress beacons we fitted to your ships," said the Terran officer. "They happen
to be multi-function. We developed them in that way so as to help coordinate fleet and convoy movements across
distances of several parsecs."

"I could see where that sort of capability could be useful to us," said Adama. "Could you rig up your PortaPCs to do the
same function?"

Van Der Westhuysen shook his head. "Sorry, Admiral," he said. "We've pretty much got them at the limits of their
performance generating the TAC displays. However, Basilicata's computers are set up to poll the distress transponders
automatically after each jump. They can easily relay them to Galactica's PortaPCs immediately after the poll is finished."

Adama shook his head in amazement, tinged with a hint of annoyance mixed in with envy at yet another of the abilities
displayed by the Terrans. Explained like that, he thought, it seems so ob vious! I wonder if the trauma inflicted upon our
society b y the Cylon Revolt has affected our ab ility to come up with solutions like those? This was a new and disturbing
thought, because if it was true, then Adama had to admit that Gaius Baltar, a man whom he had come to loathe for what
had happened to his people had been right about the Colonial attitude to advanced computing technology. Something I
really don't want to consider.

"Admiral," said Dualla. "Commodore 'Abal on the line."

"Thank you, Ms. Dualla." Adama picked up the handset. "Adama."

"Good to see that you all made it, Admiral. Our readouts show that a couple of your ships have some drive fluctuations."

Adama looked over at Van Der Westhuysen. "So your Lieutenant Van Der Westhuysen tells us," he dryly said.

"Oh," said 'Abal. "Sorry ab out that: I suspect that our people forgot to mention that the distress b eacons can also doub le
as drive monitors. Mind you, they are useful in telling us ab out potential misjumps b efore they happen."

"So I see," said Adama. "I'm not really complaining, though: if they will help me keep this fleet together without losing any
more ships to jump accidents, I'm more than willing to overlook that oversight on your part."

"Thank you, Admiral," said 'Abal. "Do you mind if I make a suggestion?"

"No. What do you suggest?"

"I suggest that some of our engineering staff currently on b oard Nike are transferred over to the vessels showing jump
fluctuations," said 'Abal. "That way, they can get on top of any potential prob lems b efore they can develop. We have the
luxury of doing that now: the lizards don't realise we're here, and my ships are on full passive scan alert."
Adama considered the suggestion, and liked the idea. Of course, he was a little annoyed at not thinking of it himself, but
then, he had gotten so used to operating with what little resources he had. The addition, even temporary, of the Terrans
and their much greater resources had taken him somewhat unawares. Almost... No, it makes me look forward to what
they have at this "advanced b ase" of theirs, he thought. "That's a good suggestion, Commodore. And you're right: we now
do have the luxury of transferring some of your personnel about. I'll arrange it immediately."

"Thank you, Admiral," Abal said. "Once we have things in hand regarding the fluctuations, I suggest we continue on our
way. Although we are in deep space, I would rather, considering that we now know that the lizards do have scouting forces
in the area, get us b ehind Sandoval's defences as quickly as possib le."

"I heartily agree, Commodore. Adama out." He hung hp, and turned to see Saul Tigh looking at him.

"Is she getting a little jumpy, do you think?" he asked.

Adama shook his head. "No, Saul," he said, "I don't think so. She's aware that she is escorting a fleet whose ships are in
less than ideal condition, in contested space, with enemy forces in the area. She's also determined not to leave any of
our ships behind. So she's going to keep an eye on the condition of the fleet's hyperspace drives and get on top of any
potential problems as soon as possible." He gave Tigh a look. "Saul," he said, "I'd be lying if I didn't say that she is
perhaps the most professional flag officer I have met in my entire career."

He sighed. "I wish we had met them before the Cylon attack," he said. "Even if they had been limited to what they could
bring, or even if they only had just a small advantage in their technology, they would have coped better with the attack than
we did. And that's because they seem to have this ability to make do with what they have, an ability to get the most they
can, not just out of their machines, but also out of their technology. And I suspect that's a skill we could well learn from
them."

Tigh said nothing. Then, he gave a snort. "Speaking of the Cylons," he said, "I wonder just how the damned toasters are
dealing with the overall situation?"

Adama gave a small smile. "I don't know," he said. "But I bet they are probably doing what I would do in their position: find
out more about this area of space, try and find out where both the Terrans and Raptors are located. But I'll bet they won't
like what they'll find."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cylon Base Star, Somewhere in Deep Space, Off the Edge of the Conflict Zone.

Adama's guess was a shrewd one. The Cylons were busy trying to find out more about the area of space they had
followed the Colonials into.

And they were not at all pleased with what they found.

They had begun to implement the plan they had agreed on. While they established a base in one of the systems they
had located (by a curious irony it was one that had been devastated in the Precursor Wars, although they did not know
that) they had started flooding the nearby systems with small groups of Raiders in an attempt to locate where both
Terrans and Raptors were.

Several systems they explored were empty. However, the ones in which they had found either star nation's forces drew
several different reactions. In the ones where they had encountered the Terrans, the reaction varied. Where they
encountered Terran scouting forces the Terrans either ignored them or drove them off (usually those forces were
positioning surveillance platforms.) However, when the Cylons located Sandoval Base and it's flanking defended
systems, they automatically got a hostile reaction from the system forces. In those encounters the Cylons lost several
Raiders but in exchange managed to gain a general picture of the Terran presence in the area.

And they did not like it one bit.

The Raptors, however, were much worse.

"Do you still think it's a good idea to try and talk to these lizards?" a sceptical Caprica Six asked the Cavil representative.
"Every time we have sent scouting forces into the systems where we have located what seem to be their bases they
immediately attack them. God, they even attack them in systems where they don't have any presence at all, save for their
own scouting forces, which our own encounter there!"

The Cavil was unfazed. "The Terrans have been just as aggressive as the lizards," he said. "They have also attacked our
scouting forces in this area of space."
"Yes," replied Boomer. "I'll give you that: they have attacked our forces. But only in systems where they have some kind of
a presence, or are engaged in some kind of activity they don't want us to observe. When we just simply encounter their
forces, and, I might add, given the abilities they demonstrated in their earlier encounter with us, when they choose to let
us know they're there, they just ignore us. The lizards just attack, no matter what."

"That may be," said the Cavil, "but I am certain that once we explain that we are nothing like the human pest, the lizards
will be more accommodating to someone who shares the same enemy as they do."

"Your self-confidence amazes me," said Biers. She looked at Boomer. "It seems you were right, Boomer," she said. "We
are in what uncommonly looks like a war zone. Several of our scouting parties have even observed what clearly look like
Terran and lizard scouting groups exchange fire with each other. And some of those exchanges were pretty big."

Boomer nodded. "I looked over the DRADIS data and, with Baltar's help, managed to work out what sort of weapons they
were using," she said. "They prefer to engage in long, and I mean long-range missile exchanges. Their missiles are
tipped with nukes, but not the ones we are familiar with."

"What sort of nukes are they?" asked a Conoy.

"Big ones," said Boomer, "and equipped so that when they go off they generate a whole mess of x-ray lasers. These are
very powerful. Just one would be enough to totally destroy any large ship we are familiar with, either a base star or a
Colonial battlestar, including the Mercurys.

"Our own missile armament pales into insignificance with theirs," she continued. Not only do we throw fewer missiles
than both sides do, ours are smaller and have much shorter ranges. And even if we managed to get within our own
missile envelope, our missiles would have to cope with their close-in defence systems. They use small lasers that not
only have a high rate of fire, but are also incredibly accurate as well."

"Not too surprising, given the amount of missiles one of those 'light cruisers' throw," said Biers. "What about in-close
weapons?"

"Our scouting groups did manage to see one close-in engagement," said Boomer. "And, again analysing the data with
Baltar's help, it would seem that his guess about the armament they carry was correct. They use both lasers and some
kind of particle beam, both of which Baltar tells us that the Colonial Fleet had been experimenting with before the attack
on the Colonies.

"What is truly scary is that the Terran vessels observed were designed in such a way that they could aim almost all of
their weapons into one of two zones, either above or below the vessel. We think that these could be the 'kill zones' the
commander of the Terran force mentioned when we confronted them in the system where we found the Colonials."

"What do you think they were doing in that system?" asked Biers.

"Based on what we've seen, they were probably scouting for the lizards," said Boomer. "They may have also been
emplacing some kind of surveillance network. As to how long they were there? I don't know. It could have been weeks. As
to when the Colonials turned up? Again, I don't know, but from what we've seen so far, they could have been under
observation by the Terrans. They were certainly quick enough to show up and face us off."

"What is your opinion of those systems where we encountered either Terrans or giant lizards in large numbers?"

"From the information we've managed to get, I would say that those were major bases. And I mean major. Just on sheer
size alone they make the Picon Fleet base look small. However, from the fact that our scouts, before they were driven off
by the Terrans, had identified a large amount of debris in the systems the Terrans are in would indicate to me that there
has been some major fighting in the recent past. I would speculate that we have wandered into the middle of not just a
war, but also a major offensive by one side against another. I would like to know who attacked whom, but to determine
that I'm going to need information that can only be obtained by a deep reconnaissance of the Terran systems. And,
frankly, we don't yet have the resources to do that."

"Can we find out more about the Terran base with the resources we already have?" asked a Simon.

"We can," replied Boomer, "but it's going to tale a lot longer than if we had the resources. And it may involve risking a
base star as a distraction while a force of Raiders scouts part of the inner system." She looked at the gathering. "Do you
want to do that?"

A silence fell over the gathering as they pondered the question. Then, one by one they dismissed it as too risky. "All right,
said Biers. "We don't use a base star. Could we use a series of jumps after the scouts enter the system?"
Boomer closed her eyes in thought. Then, she said, "I don't see any reason why not. We will take losses, but I don't think
they would be of a scale that we couldn't handle."

"Besides," said a Five, "we could position a Resurrection ship near by so that any losses can be made good, and we still
have the data we need."

"All right," said Biers. "Do we adopt this plan?" One by one the Cylons present polled their own lines, and one by one,
they accepted it.

"We adopt the plan," said Biers. "Now, although we do know where we encountered the Terrans, I did take the liberty of
sending a flight of Raiders back there, just to report on how they and the Colonials are doing. They returned before this
meeting and reported that both Terrans and Colonials have jumped out of the system. However, they did also notice a
force of six lizard vessels in orbit around the inhabitable planet."

"That's interesting," said Caprica Six. "Why were they in orbit around the planet?"

"It appears that there was some kind of settlement on the planet's surface," replied Biers. "A lizard settlement. The lizard
ships were shuttling them up from the surface."

"Now that is interesting," said Boomer. "Could they be survivors from the force that attacked our base stars eighteen
years ago?"

"They could be," said Biers. "But the point that I'm making is that the lizards, if they didn't know about the planet and the
system, do now. Which could be inconvenient."

"For establishing your forward base, you mean?" asked Caprica Six.

Biers shot her a look. "That, too, Caprica," she said. "But if you will recall we were going to have the Terrans use that
system as a drop-off point for any messages if they wished to open negotiations with us."

"Even though we have adopted the idea to negotiate with the Terrans," said the Cavil, "I still say that talking to any of the
humans will be a moot point once we have established our bona fides with the giant lizards."

"You know that I feel that the course you have suggested is a waste of time and resources," said Biers. "However, we
have agreed to try and negotiate with b oth the Terrans and the giant lizards. The question is, how do we arrange to talk to
the Terrans if the lizards are interested in that system?

"How about we station some Raiders in the outer system?" asked Boomer. "We rotate them on a regular basis. They
take scheduled jumps through the system scanning for any lizard or Terran ships, and if there is any serious activity,
such as construction..."

"They come back and tell us," said the Conoy. "I think that will work."

"And they can also keep a watch if the Terrans do decide to reply to our message," said Biers. She looked around at the
gathering. "Do we do it that way, then?" she said. All agreed. "Then it's settled. We first find out as much as we can about
the situation in this region of space. Once that has been done, we send off our messages to both the Terrans and the
lizards, and we go from there. Is this agreed?" Again, all present agreed to the proposal, and the gathering broke up.

As the Cylons went their separate ways, Biers walked over to Caprica Six and Boomer. "Have you worked out your
strategy for talking to the Terrans?" she asked.

'We are still working on it," Caprica Six replied. "However, we think that any negotiating team we send should at least
consist of myself, Boomer and Gaius Baltar."

"Gaius Baltar!" said an astonished Biers. "Why Baltar?"

"Basically because he's human," replied Caprica Six. "He's also a scientist, and might be able to give us an insight into
what he observes." And there's the other reason that we can't reveal.

Biers thought for a moment, and then nodded. "All right. You, Boomer and Baltar. That's your minimum." She looked at
Caprica Six. "I hope you know what you're doing, Caprica," she said. "More than Cavil does, anyway."

I do, thought Caprica Six. Hopefully I'm preventing the Cylon race from making its greatest mistake ever.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Colonial Refugee Fleet, Under Escort, Somewhere in Deep Space, The Conflict Zone.

After the initial jump out of the system, and the transfer of several of the Terran engineers to those vessels of the fleet that
had suspect hyperspace drives, the rest of the journey was relatively uneventful. After every jump the drives were
examined and rations transferred between vessels. Once that was finished, another jump brought the fleet closer and
closer to their destination.

It was during one of those halts that Laura Roslin decided to ask her Terran liaison about a topic that had been bothering
her.

"Andras?"

"Yes, Madame President?"

"I was wondering if you could help me with something," Roslin said.

The Terran officer nodded. "Of course, Madame President," he said. "What is it you require?"

Roslin got up and moved over to the seating arrangement around the coffee table in her office. "Andras," she said, "when
you Terrans found out about the Precursors and how they may have influenced the development of your religion, how did
it affect you as a people?" She sat down to await his answer.

For a moment, Morgan said nothing. Then, he said, "According to all of the histories, it was a shock, Madame President.
Although religious fundamentalism had pretty much diminished as a global force, there were still some outbursts
against what had been found in the Repository. However, there were also two other discoveries made, this time in the
Repository's library."

"What were they?" asked Roslin.

"The first discovery, or perhaps I should say, discoveries," said Morgan, "were of complete sets of all of Humanity's
religious texts. And, what was important, none of these had been distorted in any way by human politics, both secular
and religious." He looked at Roslin. "Quite often religious and secular authorities, acting either in concert or independent
of each other, had either excluded texts with which they disagreed, or produced 'authorised' texts. In one or two of our
religions we had been making some discoveries about the 'unauthorised texts' since the Twentieth Century CE. When
the texts found in the Repository were released, they caused quite an upheaval. However, they also enabled a far deeper
and more profound understanding of all of our various belief systems, especially when they were released with the
notes made by the Precursors themselves. The second discovery was that the Precursors themselves had a set of
spiritual beliefs."

This news stunned Roslin. "They had their own set of beliefs?" she asked. At Morgan's nod, she said, "What were they?
Did they mention any gods?"

Morgan smiled. "No, Madame President," he said, "They didn't mention any gods. However, they did broadly divide
themselves into two general categories that we have translated as 'Deist' and 'Theist'."

"'Deist' and 'Theist'?"

"Yes, Madame President. The two concepts are remarkably like those that were first conceptualised in the eighteenth
Century CE. Simply put, a Deist believes that there is at least One God, while a Theist states that there is no more than
One God. There is a surprisingly large amount of space for beliefs of pretty much any kind. And, basically, we have
divided ourselves in a similar fashion. Commodore 'Abal, for instance, is a Islamic Theist, while Commander Phan is a
Buddhist Deist. Some of us are just Theists or Deist, while others are even agnostic or atheist. Adopting as an additional
layer the Precursors' own beliefs has eliminated a lot of tension between the faiths, although there is some discussion
on the fine details. Add in the factor that we do not believe that the State has any role to play in religious affairs, including
promoting one set of beliefs above any others, and you basically have the situation in the Imperium and pretty much all of
the Independent Systems today."

Roslin sat back and thought about what Morgan had just said. "And yourself, Andras?"

"I'm pretty much a Deist, Madame President," he said. "One aspect of Deist belief, which is actually shared by a lot of
Theists, is that we can find the Divine anywhere we look in what the Theists call God's Creation."

"And where do you think we fit in on your scale?" Roslin asked.

"That's a no-brainer, as we say, Madame President," Morgan replied. "Your people are Deists. Exactly what kind of deist
remains to be seen, but given the similarity of your beliefs to those of Ancient Greece, most likely Helleno-Deist."

Again, Roslin sat back and thought about what Morgan had said. Then she gave him a mischievous look. "I suppose
these Contacts people will be able to explain this much better?" she said with a small smile.

"Indeed, Madame President," replied Morgan. "Complete with all the reference materials needed."

"So I thought," said Roslin. "So I thought."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The second-last jump made by the fleet found it within easy distance of Sandoval Base. Here, they paused while 'Abal
sent a message to Sandoval by hyperspace pulse. The discovery that the Terrans possessed faster-than-light
communications, although never hidden, impressed several in the fleet. However, some fumed at the delay.

"We have to wait here for a pilot b oat to jump out to meet us," 'Abal said to Adama and Roslin over an open radio circuit.
"And yes, perhaps we should have told you ab out our FTL communications. However, save for focussed links b etween
the reconnaissance platforms, or drones and the squadron, we didn't use them."

"Just why didn't you use them, Commodore?" Roslin asked. "I seem to recall you sending one of your ships off as a
courier. Wouldn't it have been easier to just send a message by your FTL?"

Adama shook his head. "Madame President," Adama said, "Commodore 'Abal was operating in a system that she had
to consider hostile space. So, to avoid letting the Raptors know she was there, she had to resort to using a courier. I take
it, Commodore, that the way in which your FTL communications woks is analogous to out radio?"

"Indeed it is, Admiral," replied 'Abal. "We can't use focussed communications b ursts over interstellar distances. So we use
what can b e considered our equivalent to your b roadcast radio systems. The drawb ack to missions like the one I was on
in the system where we met is that anyone with the appropriate gear can pick up a signal, just like with radio. We encrypt
our signals, b ut it is possib le to fix the origins of a signal using a network of listening posts."

Adama nodded. "Just like us and radio," he said. "But tell me, why are we waiting for a pilot boat?"

"He has to come out and transmit to Basilicata b y focussed b urst our arrival coordinates within the Sandoval system,"
she said. "There's a lot of junk floating ab out in the system from when we took it off the Raptors. So we need precise
coordinates in order to make a safe transition. I'm sure I don't have to paint a picture of what would happen if we
appeared in the same spot as an ab andoned hulk. And I can tell you that we have friends coming here as well."

"Oh?" said Adama. "Who?"

"Vice-Admiral Park and her scouting group," she said. "I just got a flash from her. She and her ships should b e appearing
shortly. They've b een on what we term 'aggressive scouting' b ut which you might b e more familiar with as a raid. Our
scouting groups are b uilt around a core of b attlecruisers and light fleet carriers, supported b y heavy cruisers, light
cruisers and destroyers. So you have a chance to see some of our capital units as well as some of our other types of
screening units. She'll b e waiting here for a pilot b oat herself. So we don't have to worry ab out either lizards or your
Cylons this close to Sandoval." As soon as she finished speaking a whole set of new icons appeared on both of
Galactica's DRADIS displays.

Saul Tigh and Adama went over to take a closer look. "My gods, those things are huge!" said Tigh. "And I thought 'Abal's
ships were big."

"Just wait until we get into Sandoval, Colonel Tigh," said Van Der Westhuysen. "Then you'll get to see our major line
units, the superdreadnoughts. They're even bigger. So are the fleet carriers."

"You know, Bill," said Tigh, "I'm finally beginning to feel safe."

"So am I, Saul. So am I," replied Adama. Their reverie was broken by the sight of two more icons, much smaller this time,
appearing on the display.

"Pilot boat has just jumped in and is transmitting the jump co-ordinates to Basilicata now," said Van Der Westhuysen.
"Basilicata has acknowledged receipt and is transmitting... now." He looked up from his PortaPC display. "Admiral, we
have our coordinates," he said.

"Transmitting coordinates to the Fleet," said Gaeta. "Inputting coordinates into jump computer."
"Fleet has acknowledged that they have received and input coordinates for the jump into Sandoval," reported Dualla.

"Very well. Captain Agathon, take the Fleet to jump stations," said Adama.

And with that, Galactica and her charges prepared to reach the end of a very long journey.
*Chapter 18*: Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen

Sandoval Base was at once both strange, and yet familiar.

It was also huge.

"My gods!" exclaimed one member of Galactica's CIC crew as the full schematic of Sandoval Base's area filled the CAG's
holo display. Normally, Saul Tigh would have been on top of the offending person, but this time he let it slip by.

Besides, he was stunned at what he saw on the display.

"This place makes Picon look like an outpost," he said. "And they call it a forward b ase for frack's sake!" He looked at
Adama. "If this is a forward base, then what in the names of the gods would one of their main fleet bases look like?"

Adama said nothing. His eyes were on the icons in the display in front of him. They showed active structures, ranging
from orbiting defence platforms, many of which were being worked on, to industrial plants that were either orbiting one of
the system's gas giants or were positioned where they had ready access to the system's asteroid belts. There were
ships moving in seemingly random courses, some towing what were clearly large lumps of scrap metal plucked from
the masses that drifted in space. They weren't kidding ab out the danger from floating junk, Adama thought.

Positioned in closer to the system's inhabitable planet were large space facilities, including massive space stations and
what were clearly large spacedocks. Some had icons indicating that they were occupied with ships of the Imperial Navy
undergoing refit or repair. Others were empty, or were in the process of docking some massive warship that was to be
worked on.

But it was the mass of icons floating near what was clearly the main facility of this massive base that drew Adama's
attention. There, indicated quite clearly on the display, floated the core of Sixteenth Fleet, emblems of the might of the
Terran Imperial Navy and the Terran Empire: her serried ranks of superdreadnoughts.

There were a lot of them. And they were, quite simply, the largest warships the Colonials had ever seen.

Tigh's attention had been drawn to them. He counted the icons that represented them. "There's at least seventy-six of
those things," he said. "Including those ships they call fleet carriers..."

Adama finished the thought for him. "In capital ships alone," he said, "numerically speaking, they have pretty much the
equivalent of the entire Colonial Fleet in this one system. But in raw striking power..." He let the sentence trail off. In terms
of raw striking power, the Terrans could completely devastate a system with what they had here.

Tigh shook his head. "Gods help the toasters if they're foolish enough to attack this!" he said. Adama said nothing, but
just simply nodded.

Standing next to them, Apollo and Helo were both as stunned as their seniors. "Gods," Apollo said. "Look at the number
of fighter squadrons that are flying about. That's more than the Fleet ever had."

Helo nodded. "It looks as though some of them are carrying out some kind of training exercise," he said, pointing to
where several vessels were carrying out attacks on a drifting hulk that was the remnant of some massive warship. Both
men watched as they saw what was quite clearly a well-executed attack of some kind on the hulk.

"You know," said Apollo, "seeing that makes me feel like some kind of amateur."

Adama looked at his son. "Just remember," he said, pointing at the display, "you and your people have been operating
without the benefit of anything even remotely resembling this. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Major."

Apollo nodded. "I know, sir," he said. "But still..." he trailed off. Adama knew how he felt. He himself was in awe of what
the Terrans had created.

He turned towards the Terran officer who was at his own station. "Mr Van Der Westhuysen," he said.

Van Der Westhuysen looked up from what he was doing. "Yes, Admiral?"

"Please accept my congratulations to your people for what they have achieved here," Adama said, indicating the display.
"This is quite an achievement."
"Thank you, Admiral," Van Der Westhuysen said, "but it should be Sir Simon and his staff you should congratulate. They
did the planning."

"It must have been pretty impressive planning," Adama said.

"The planning for the reconnaissance alone took about a year, or so I'm told," the Terran said. "The actual planning to get
us this far took the best part of three and a half years. Some of that was planning the operations that also took some of
the intermediate systems between here and the old frontier, but a lot had to do with the operation to take this one."

"Intermediate systems?" asked Adama.

"Yes, sir. There are about six systems between here and Alquonde Fleet Node. They were all attacked pretty much
simultaneously."

Adama's respect for the Terrans rose at that statement. "But you said that this system was the centre of much of the
planning," he said.

"Yes, sir," said the Terran. "This was one of the lizards' equivalent to our Fleet Nodes. As such, it was heavily defended.
What Sir Simon and Field Marshal Olmos did was plan things in such a way that it was possible to neutralise the
defences. They did that, thanks to the efforts of the Field Marshal's Chief of Staff, Lieutenant-General Hogan and about
one corps' worth of Infiltrators."

"Infiltrators?" asked Tigh. "What are they?"

"They're our Special Forces units," Van Der Westhuysen replied. "They're a select corps of several regiments that trace
their history back to Earth's Spec.Op units. Some of them even date back that far, before the formation of the old Terran
Commonwealth, such as the Special Air Service Regiments and the Legion Etrangier. They spent about four months
prior to the attack just hiding out in this system, observing and planning their assaults on the system defence platforms
and the central hub."

"Frack, that's impressive," said Tigh. "Obviously they didn't get caught. They must be pretty good."

"They are, Colonel. They're also considered somewhat mad," replied Van Der Westhuysen.

"In what way?" asked Apollo.

"In that their idea of an amusing exercise is to infiltrate a lizard hunting preserve and, with as little advanced tech as
possible, go lizard hunting. After which they make their way off, preferably undetected," said the Terran officer. And judging
by the expression on his face, he was not joking.

"Frack," muttered Tigh. "They must be real hard cases, to do that."

"Their attitude to the lizards is, in some ways, explained by the fact that they are all volunteers and tend to come from
planets in the Raptor March," continued Van Der Westhuysen. "Thus, at one stage of their lives they've lived through an
Incursion, and seen relatives die at the hands of the lizards. Sometimes, quite literally. So they join the ranks of the
'Raptor Hunters'." He looked at his display as his PortaPC beeped at him. Looking back up, he said, "Admiral, we have a
harbour pilot coming alongside. They wish to drop off a harbour pilot."

"Harbour pilot?" asked Adama. "Why?"

"She's going to pilot you to an anchorage they've set aside for your fleet," said Van Der Westhuysen. "It's right next to a
hospital complex."

"Hospital complex!" said Tigh.

"Yes, sir. Fleet wants to get your people all immunised so that you can then mix with the general population in one of the
habs," the Terran continued.

"Habs?" asked Adama.

"Orbital habitats," said Van Der Westhuysen. "They were jumped in sometime after we secured the system's gravity well.
We needed someplace for the base personnel to live while we secured the planet."

"You mean that there are still some of those giant lizards on the planet?" said an astonished Tigh. He had missed the
reference to jumping in orb ital hab itats, but it had not gone unnoticed by Adama. What else did they b ring in with them?
he wondered.

"Yes, Colonel. As to why they didn't surrender once we gained control of the gravity well..." He shrugged. "Raptors just
don't surrender," he said. "They fight on even down to the hatchlings. We've never been able to find out just why they do
because frankly, we've never had a live one to question. Same as we don't surrender to the lizards. Except that we know
what will happen to us if we are taken prisoner." The emotionless, matter-of-fact way in which the Terran delivered that
last sentence sent a chill down the spines of those who heard it. Many in the room had asked the Terrans about the
Raptors, and had been told tales that appeared out of nightmares.

"Have you ever tried to negotiate with them?" Apollo asked.

"Once," said Van Der Westhuysen. "That's how we found out that they regard the universe and everything in it theirs to do
with as they please." He looked at his display, and then looked back at Adama. "The harbour pilot wants to come on
board, Admiral," he said. "We won't be able to proceed to the designated anchorage without her."

Adama nodded. "Saul," he said, "deploy landing pods." He turned to the Terran. "Mr. Van Der Westhuysen, tell the pilot my
apologies for the delay, and to please board by the port landing pod. Captain Kelly, with your help, will guide them in to
land."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Van Der Westhuysen, using one of the strange terms that the Colonials, after hearing them for some
time now, realised were traditional amongst the Terrans. As the Terran moved to carry out Adama's instructions, Adama
turned to Lieutenant Dualla. "Mr. Dualla," he said, "raise Colonial One for me. I'll need to inform the President of what's
going on."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hospital complex," said Roslin. She was in her office talking to Adama over the radio link between Colonial One and
Galactica. With her was Tory Foster, her Chief-of-Staff and Press Secretary, Lieutenant Morgan, and Surgeon-Lieutenant-
Commander Petrov. "Well, we can't say that we were unaware of their intention to quarantine us from their general
population until we had been vaccinated against their diseases," she said. She looked at Petrov. "How long will we be
kept in quarantine?" she asked the Terran naval surgeon.

"Up to seventy-two hours, Madame President," he replied. "If no complications arise, then the individual is released into
the general population, which, from what I have been told, is going to be an area of one of the orbital habitats in the
system."

"Sounds like what we would normally do," said Cottle's voice. He was currently in Galactica's CIC, having been called in
by Adama to participate in the conference. "However, I'm concerned with how some of our people are going to take to
b eing poked and prodded b y a whole b unch of strange people."

"I take it you are referring to these Sagittarons I've been told about," said Petrov.

"Yes. They don't like our medical science, so I don't think they will react at all well to yours," said Cottle.

"No need to worry," said Petrov. "The Fleet's surgeons will use an aerosol dispersal method for them. And our methods
of vaccination are in themselves non-intrusive anyway."

"How so?" asked Roslin.

"We use a hypodermic spray, rather than a needle," said Petrov. "It forces a fine spray containing the vaccine through the
skin. No needle, no fuss."

"If I may make a suggestion," said Foster, "perhaps we can televise the President getting her shots from Lieutenant-
Commander Petrov, just to show people that it's safe.

Roslin considered the idea. "I think it will work, Madame President," said Adama over the link. "If you like, I'll have my
shots delivered at the same time."

Petrov added: "I can easily show Major Cottle how to apply the hypo spray," he said.

Roslin nodded. "First opportunity we get," she said, "both the Admiral and I will go on television to get our shots." She
looked at Petrov. "And the Lieutenant-Commander can explain that they will be held under observation for seventy-two
hours, and Doctor Cottle can say that it is similar to what we would be doing in any case." She looked at Petrov. "That still
leaves the problem of the Sagittarons, though."
"We also tend to give out homeopathic remedies as well," said Petrov. "We've found that a broad band of medical
treatments are very effective. I'm sure we can work something out."

Back in Galactica's CIC Adama was about to say something when Dualla said, "Admiral, the 'harbour pilot' has just
docked."

Adama looked at Tigh. "Saul, could you show the pilot to CIC?" Tigh said nothing, but nodded and moved off. Adama
turned back to the link. "Sorry about that," he said, "but the pilot has just arrived."

Back in the President's office, Roslin smiled and said, "Well, Admiral, that sounds like we had better wind up this
conference. Just one thing more," she said, looking at Petrov. "What can we expect when we arrive at this 'hospital
complex' of yours?" she asked.

A wide grin broke out on Petrov's face. "Madame President," he said, "one thing I can guarantee: it will not be like any
hospital you have experienced."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Walking down the corridor that connected to the docking ring where the Terran pilot boat had docked, Tigh saw a figure
standing next to the docking bay officer. Obviously female, she wore a uniform that was similar in cut to the one worn by
the Terran naval officers. However, her cuff rings, of which there were four, were in silver metal rather than gold. She wore
a peaked cap that had one row of ornate silver embroidery on the peak. Must b e the pilot, Tigh thought. Hmm, she's
wearing what looks like captain's rank, except in silver. Must b e to distinguish them from the Fleet personnel.

He walked up to the Terran. "Saul Tigh," he said. "I'm Galactica's XO."

The Terran who, like every Terran Tigh had met, looked absurdly young, held out her hand. "Master Pilot Catherine
Mortimer," she said. Her eyes, as well as her manner, indicated to Tigh that this absurdly young-looking woman in front of
him was anything but.

As they shook hands Tigh said, "The Admiral sent me to guide you to CIC," he said. He indicated the direction and they
both headed off. As they made their way to CIC Tigh said "I see you speak Standard Colonial."

"Yes," said Mortimer. "I understand you know about our implants." At Tigh's nod, she said, "When the dictionary that
Basilicata compiled arrived here, the Harbour Pilot looked amongst us for someone to guide you in when you arrived. He
chose me, for all my sins, and I had the entire dictionary downloaded into my implant." As they continued Tigh noticed
that Mortimer had a gait that, while it did not look odd at first, on casual inspection was not quite right.

Mortimer noticed this and said, "I see you're curious about my prosthetic."

"Prosthetic?" said Tigh.

Mortimer nodded and pointed to her right leg. "Lost it in a general fleet engagement with the lizards over forty years ago,"
she said. "I was in command of a ship like those big fat battlewagons floating by the Hub. One of the youngest
battlewagon commanders in the Fleet's history."

"What happened?" said Tigh.

Mortimer sighed. "Unfortunately I'm one of that exceedingly rare bunch of humans who can't regenerate a lost limb, nor
accept a new one, even if it's grown from my own stem cells. So I had to accept a prosthetic, and transferred into the
Harbour Service. Mind you, it ain't all bad," she said. "Get to see a lot of different ships like you wouldn't believe."

As she spoke they walked into CIC. Tigh noticed Adama finishing up his conference with the President, and took
Mortimer over to introduce them. "Admiral," he said, "this is Master Pilot Mortimer."

Mortimer braced to attention and saluted, using the same salute the Terran Imperial navy used. "Admiral," he said.

Adama returned the compliment. "Well, Master Pilot," he said, "I understand you're to guide us to our anchorage."

Mortimer nodded. "Yes, Admiral," she said. "And speaking of which, I had better get started on getting you there." She
looked over at the holographic displays. "I see you've got some holo displays set up," she said "Imp Navy PortaPCs?"

Adama nodded. "Mr. Van Der Westhuysen helped to install them for us," he said, indicating the Terran officer.

Mortimer nodded at the Terran. "Well, Lieutenant," she said, "thanks for making my job easier." She looked about.
"Admiral," she said, "can you direct me to where your helm is?"

Adama gestured at an area that had a clear view of the DRADIS displays. "You can direct them from where you're
standing," he said. He looked at the Terran. "Just what were you expecting?" he asked.

"Something like that," she said, pointing at the overhead DRADIS displays. "About par with some of the ships from some
of the Independent Systems, as well as some colony worlds. The Fleet gear, though, makes this job much easier." She
looked at Adama. "With the Admiral's permission?" At Adama's nod, she turned and faced the display. "Helm!" she
began.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, Andy," said Roslin, "it's going to be a little strange without you here amongst us." She, Morgan and her staff were
standing in the reception area of Colonial One. "I would like to say, on behalf of all of us, thank you. For everything you
and your people have done for us."

"Just doing my job, Madame President." Morgan stood near the exit to where the shuttle that was waiting to take him
back to Basilicata was docked. All of his gear was already stowed on board.

"Well, I thought you did an excellent job," said Roslin. "So did my staff." She turned to her Chief-of-Staff and took a
package she was holding. "We decided to get you this as a 'thank-you" from all of us."

"Madame President! I appreciate the gesture," said Morgan, "but, as I said, I was just doing my job."

"I realise that, Andy, but I felt that you deserved better than simply a 'thank-you' from me," Roslin said. "So, I had sent over
to Commodore 'Abal a letter of appreciation, stating what an excellent job you did. She said that she will make sure that it
was placed in your file. In the meantime, this is for you." She handed a dumbfounded Morgan the package. "Open it,"
said Roslin.

Morgan opened the package. Inside it was a large fur that was quite clearly made from the hides of one of a fur-bearing
animal from the planet the Colonials had stayed on.

Morgan was stunned. "Madame President!" he said. "I, I, I really cannot..."

Roslin interrupted. "You can, and you shall," she said in a tone that Morgan recognised only too well. "Besides," she
said, " when I asked your 'dog-robber'," using the slang term the Terran Navy used for a batman, or personal servant,
"about furs, he told me that they were a prized luxury item in the Imperium. So, I asked our hunters if they had some, and
they produced enough for this. It's a blanket."

Morgan smiled. "Well, if I don't have any choice in the matter... Thank you, Madame President. This had been probably
one of the most interesting, not to say rewarding, experiences of my life."

"We should be the ones thanking you," said Roslin. "All of you. Without you, we would have never made it here." She
looked past Morgan to see one of the shuttle's crewmembers pointedly standing by the open hatchway. "Well, I think we
are getting a hint that you should be on your way," she said. She then stepped out and, much to Morgan's surprise, gave
him a hug. "Good-bye, Andy," she said and released him.

Morgan quickly gathered his wits, brought himself to attention, and bowed his head while clicking his heels, every inch
the Terran Navy officer. "Madame President," he said and went to board his shuttle.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A similar farewell was going on in one of the galleries that led to the docking rings in Galactica's port flight pod. With the
exception of Petrov and his medical team, the Terran Imperial Navy personnel who had been assigned to Galactica were
boarding their shuttles in preparation for the trip back to their ships. Although Petrov and his crew had packed their
equipment they would not leave until the last of the Colonials had been placed in the large orbiting hospital complex that
the Fleet was now heading towards.

Adama held out his hand. "Gentlemen," he said, "it has been a pleasure to serve alongside you," he said, shaking the
hands of the Terran officers who stood before him.

"And it has been our pleasure to serve with you, sir," answered Commander Phan as he shook Adama and then Tigh's
hands.

"I do believe we're going to miss you people here," said Tigh. "Just by being here you helped to tighten up our own
people's standards."

"I am glad to hear you say so, sir," replied Phan, "but we were just maintaining Emperor's regulations." He turned to
Adama. "Thank you for the recommendations you sent to Commodore 'Abal," he said. "We were just doing our duty."

"And you did your duty well," said Adama. "Colonel Tigh is correct: you have provided an example to the personnel of the
Colonial Fleet, not just in the way you did your duty but in your overall conduct as well. The recommendations I sent are
proof of that."

"Speaking of proof," said Tigh, "Chief Tyrol and his people have put together an appreciation of all that you did for them
while with us." He stood to one side and ushered Tyrol through.

"Uh, Commander Phan, Lieutenant-Commander van Hysler, myself and my crews decided that, as a mark of
appreciation to you and your men, we would make these up to give to you." He handed to Phan, van Hysler and the
others present a plaque that consisted of a wooden shield surmounted with a machined and enamelled representation
of Galactica's crest as worn on the uniforms of her crew. "Your men are also getting their own copies," Tyrol said.

"Thank you, Chief," said Phan. "You must realise that this means that we, on behalf of our own ship's companies, are
going to have to return the favour," he said with a smile.

"Uh, you don't have to do that, sirs," said a by now thoroughly embarrassed Tyrol.

"It's kind of a tradition in the Navy," said Phan. "I'll speak to Commodore 'Abal about speaking to the captains of the
Squadron about sending over copies of the ships' crests over to hang in that bar of yours. I should warn you, though:
once you are released from quarantine, I suspect that bar of yours could become quite popular amongst the personnel
of not just Sixteenth Fleet, but of any visiting Imperial navy ship. And they will want space somewhere to hang their ships'
crest."

"Uh, I'll see if I can speak to Joe about that, sir," said Tyrol as he stepped back.

"Once again, thank you for these crests," said Phan. "They mean a lot to us." He barked out an order and his officers
drew to attention. Facing Adama, he gave him a salute. "Officer commanding away party, Thirty-First Light Cruiser
Squadron, and detachment, reporting departure from Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica and Fleet, sir!" he said.

Adama returned the salute. "Gods speed, gentlemen, and thank you," he said.

Phan then turned to the docking bay officer. "Officer commanding away party, Thirty-First Light Cruiser Squadron and
detachment requesting permission to leave ship, ma'am!" he said as he saluted her.

"Permission granted, sir!" she said as she returned the salute. She held it as the other officers filed past, saluting her as
they did so. Once the last Terran was on board the airlock doors swung shut. A little while later, the Terran shuttle
detached itself from the docking ring and made it's way forward out of the front exit of the flight pod.

"Well, they're gone," said Adama. "It's going to be a little different without them around."

"I suspect that they'll be back," said Tigh. "If only to sample the pleasures of the bar in the starboard pod." He looked
pensive as he said it.

Adama caught his look. "Something the matter, Saul?" he asked. "Not worried about the Terrans visiting the bar, surely!"

Tigh snorted. "No," he said. "Just wondering what this hospital they're locking us away is going to be like." From his
expression, Tigh didn't expect it to be an enjoyable experience

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"They have to be frakkin' kidding," said Tigh as he looked around his new surroundings. "This is a Hospital?"

"According to the Terrans, maybe," said Adama. He was somewhat overwhelmed by the entrance area to the part of the
hospital complex that had been assigned to temporarily house the refugees. "This puts Cloud 9 to shame," he said.

The entrance area looked as though it was the foyer of an impressive, first-class hotel than that of a military hospital.
Although it lacked the marble fittings and some other items that would be usually found in such an environment, it did
possess ornamental gardens, art works and, in the middle, a fountain that made a more than acceptable impression of
a waterfall in a lush rain forest.
Tigh walked over to the "bank" of the "pond." "Frack," he said. "There's fish of some kind in here!"

Adama wandered over to take a look. Sure enough, the pool was full of some kind of ornamental fish. The bottom of the
pond was covered in what were clearly smooth stones.

"I wonder what the wards look like?" he mused.

"They don't have wards," said Cottle, who wandered up in the company of a Terran medical officer. Like all of the Terrans
he had encountered, this one also wore a filter mask. "They have group suites. Each has up to ten individual bedrooms,
a kitchen, bathroom and a dining area that opens out onto a sitting room that had a massive picture window that opens
out onto space. The window, by the way, has shutters that automatically close in the case of a loss of pressure." He
looked around. "The operating theatres are even better than what we had at Caprica City General Hospital, or even Picon
Fleet Hospital," he said. "And the procedures they can perform... I think we've died and gone to Elysium."

The Terran smiled and let out a chuckle. "Hardly that, Major," he said. He held out his hand to Adama. "Surgeon-
Commodore Adrian Knowles, Officer Commanding Fleet Hospital Number 1223," he said.

Adama shook the doctor's hand. "I notice that your rank insignia is a little different from other Imperial Navy officers," he
said, indicating the wavy-topped broad cuff ring on Knowles' sleeve.

"Terran Imperial Naval Reserve," said Knowles. "I'm in for a five-year hitch. Then I go back to civilian life. Got called up for
this offensive against the lizards. Anyway, "he continued, "I'm here to discuss messing arrangements for your people. I've
already spoken to President Roslin and have seen her settled into her suite, along with her staff."

"What do you want to know?" asked Adama.

"Well, in cases like this we prefer to keep standard messing arrangements as intact as possible," said Knowles. "If
some of your staff can talk to some of my staff about this, we should be able to make the appropriate arrangements."

"I think we can arrange that," said Adama. He indicated Tigh. "This is Colonel Saul Tigh, Galactica's XO. He can help
arrange a meeting with some of my staff." The Terran and Tigh shook hands.

"Impressive place you've got here, said Tigh. Looks more like some kind of fancy hotel than a military hospital."

"Over the years," Knowles said, "we've found out that people actually heal much quicker if they are in an environment that
doesn't resemble a hospital. So we built it this way. We have all the usual facilities, though." Cottle said nothing, but his
nod confirmed what Knowles had said.

"Now, Admiral," Knowles continued, "I understand that you have an appointment with Surgeon-Lieutenant-Commander
Petrov and Major Cottle for a hypo spray injection." At Adama's nod he said, "Good. I also understand that some of your
media people are also going to be on hand to televise this to your people. Good thinking, that."

"You've had some experience in convincing people about having injections, then?" asked Tigh.

Knowles nodded. "In dealing with some of the refugees from worlds that were devastated by the lizards, we come
across all sorts of attitudes to medicine," he said. "So we developed various ways around those attitudes. Major Cottle
also tells me that you have some people who prefer more homeopathic remedies."

"Yes, said Adama. "I believe you're referring to the Sagittarons."

"Well, we have some of our homeopaths available to help with any problems they might have," said the Terran. "Plus we
have a variety of ways to deliver their vaccinations. Now, Admiral, Colonel, if you will follow me, I'll take you to your suites."
Indicating the direction they were to take, the Terran walked off, with Adama, Tigh and their staffs following."

"Just one thing," said Adama. "Can you tell me where President Roslin's suite is?"

"It's right next to yours, Admiral," Knowles said. "The President was quite insistent that her suites adjoined yours. And
that will make matters easier for me as well."

"Oh?" said Adama.

"Yes," said the Terran. However, that can wait until you have settled in and had your shots. I understand Alexi Petrov will
be handling the President's shots."

"You know him?" said Adama.

"Know of him, more like," said Knowles. "Except for the fact he tends to keep turning down promotion, he'd be Sector
Chief by now. One day, though, Fleet will force promotion on him, and at a time when he either can't refuse it or when he
can't get out of it by resigning. And knowing Sir Simon and Grand Admiral al-Afghani, the current situation could give
them the opening they want."

"Wouldn't the commander of his ship be upset if they did that?" asked Tigh.

Adama nodded in agreement. "From what you've just told us," he said, "if they promote him to what he deserves, his
captain loses his services."

"Yes," Knowles said, "but every captain he's had keeps sending in the most glowing references. He's driven half the
captains in the Navy mad with his constant refusals. Well," continued the Terran with a big smile, "that might end today."
They stopped before an arched entryway. "Here are your suites, gentlemen and ladies," he said. "There are duty nurses
on call, but once you've settled in and had your shots, Admiral, please call me and I'll be down to have some
discussions with you and President Roslin." With that, he braced to attention and walked off.

The Colonials walked through the wide arch and stopped at the view in front of them. "My Gods," whispered Tigh. His
sentiment was echoed by the other Colonial Fleet personnel behind them.

Before them stretched the largest picture window any of them had ever seen in a space station. It opened up on a view
that included the giant space station that they assumed was the Hub and the superdreadnoughts of Sixteenth Fleet in
their anchorage. Smaller ships flitted about. Off to one side and much closer than the Hub or the superdreadnoughts
floated Galactica and the ships of the Colonial refugee fleet. A constant stream of small ships flowed from them, all
heading to dock at the hospital's giant boat bay. Moving into view was a large open framework. It was being towed by
what were obviously some kind of space tugs and looked suspiciously like a spacedock. The room they were standing
in, although furnished in a manner that would not have been out of place in one of the more upmarket hotels in Caprica
City, seemed quite pedestrian when compared to the view.

Someone cleared his or her throat behind them. Adama, Tigh and the others turned around and saw several people who
were dressed in white medical clothes. "Hello and welcome to Fleet Hospital 1223," said the woman in front of the
group. "I'm Senior Ward Sister McKenzie. We're here to help you settle in for your stay."

Adama stepped forward. "I'm Admiral William Adama," he said. "This is Colonel Saul Tigh, my Executive Officer." One by
one he introduced his "staff."

"Excellent, Admiral," said the nursing sister. "We have your rooms all ready. The nursing staff will show you to tour rooms.
This way, please." She indicated a large pair of sliding glass doors. They followed her lead through the doors and down
a short corridor into another large room that also had a large picture window. In front of the window were some chairs
and a couple of tables. Off to their left was an area that had chairs and what looked like a holographic tank. Several
doors that opened onto it surrounded the area. "This is the main living area," the nursing sister said. "Your individual
rooms open onto it. Off to our left is the main holoviewer area, however, your individual rooms also possess them. Your
rooms also have individual ensuites as well. Since you will be staying here for a short while the main restaurant has
been kitted up to fill your needs. We have changed the signs to your language so that you can find your way around. The
main nursing station is opposite the entry foyer and can be reached either by your individual holoviewers or by a duress
button." She turned and faced the thoroughly bemused Colonials. "Your individual rooms have all been assigned, and
your kit has been placed in them." The nursing staff showed them to their individual rooms. Adama and Tigh both got
rooms that had picture windows that opened onto the same stunning view that had greeted them. Although the others
did not get windows, they were not short-changed, as one wall of their rooms was a large televiewer screen that could
be programmed to display whatever view they wished.

Adama, by now thoroughly bemused, was shown how to operate the individual televiewer by the nursing sister. She
showed him how to manually call someone and how to read messages that had been left on his machine. He found it
interesting that the nursing sister had shown him how to manually use the holoviewer, and decided that the staff had
been told about the probable reaction of the Colonials to the Terran artificial intelligences. I suppose they have our b est
interests at heart, he thought.

"And how does one normally use this machine to call?" he said

The nursing sister was surprised at this question. "Well, sir," she said, "you just ask it to call the person you want to
speak to. Or you call up an address menu."

"Can you show me how to do that?" he asked. By now somewhat flummoxed, the Terran nursing sister demonstrated
how to do what he had asked.
"Is there anything else I can help you with, Admiral?" she asked.

Adama shook his head. "Not right away," he said. "Thank you for your help."

The nursing sister said nothing, but simply nodded her head and left. Adama was left alone in his somewhat palatial
suite. He looked around and found that his few belongings had been stowed in a pair of walk-in closets. He examined
the bathing facility (This is something that I don't think even the smartest, most expensive hotel on Caprica could have
had, he thought to himself) and, nodding to himself, was about to walk out into the main living area when his holoviewer
chimed, indicating he had an incoming call.

He opened it to see a bust of Laura Roslin floating above the plate. "Admiral," she said, nodding her head at him.

"Madame President," he said, nodding back.

"I see you've 'checked in' to your 'hospital suite', Admiral," Roslin said with a smirk.

Adama returned it with a bemused expression. "Yes I have," he said. "I'm still having difficulty believing that this is a
hospital."

"I understand that the suites we have are for those patients who don't need what the Terrans regard as 'extensive
reconstruction,'" Roslin said. "From what I've been told there are sterile rooms for burns victims and the like. These are
for patients who are in for a short period or are nearing the end of a long recovery process.

"But that's not the reason I called. I was wondering when you would like to get our little demonstration of how safe Terran
vaccination is. Also, Surgeon-Commodore Knowles would like to speak to us regarding a couple of options he would
like to put to us."

Adama's raised his eyebrows at that statement. "He did say something about wishing to speak to us," he said, "but I was
under the impression he was going to wait until we've had our shots. Well, I suppose we can do both. I can come over
now if you like."

"Yes, Admiral, I would like that very much," said Roslin. "Our suite, or so I'm told, is across the entryway from yours. I can
have Tory wait there to guide you over if you like."

"That would be quite acceptable, Madame President," said Adama. "I'll see you shortly, then." With that, they cut the
connection. Adama turned about and left his room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Admiral," Laura Roslin said as she ushered Adama to a chair in her suite.

As he sat down in his armchair Adama looked around. The suite of rooms that Roslin and her staff had been placed in
was easily as palatial as his own suite. Off to one side some of Roslin's staff were co-ordinating the shuttle service with
members of the hospital staff.

Adama turned his attention to the other people sitting with himself and Roslin. He had expected Tom Zarek to be present,
as well as Doctor Cottle, Commodore Knowles and Lieutenant-Commander Petrov.

What he hadn't expected to be present was the entire Quorum of Twelve. And by the looks on their faces, they were as
overwhelmed by their surroundings as were some of Adama's own staff. The only person, apart from the Terrans, who
wasn't overwhelmed, was Roslin. She was adjusting her glasses and getting ready to commence the meeting.

"Thank you all for coming to this, I must admit, rather hastily convened meeting," Roslin said. "The reason I called you all
here is that Commodore Knowles has informed me of some medical treatments the Terrans would like to offer us in
addition to the vaccinations which, as I believe you all are aware, are necessary for our people to be able to fully interact
with the Terrans."

The Sagittaron delegate rose. "Madame President," she began. "I must protest this unilateral decision to impose upon
our people an alien medical procedure. Even if the people who are going to administer this procedure are humans," the
way she said this, combined with the sidelong glance she gave the Terrans in the room, "how can we be sure that, even
if it's safe, it is, is not a violation of all that we hold most sacred?"

Roslin was about to speak when the two Terrans precluded her doing so by standing up and facing the delegate. "Before
we are awarded our degrees in medicine," said Knowles, "we take the following oath. I suspect that the names
mentioned in it will be familiar to you." Both he and Petrov then raised their right hands and said:
"I swear b y Apollo the physician, and Aesculapius, and Hygeia, and Podaleirios, and all the gods and goddesses, that,
according to my ab ility and judgment, I will keep this Oath and this stipulation: to reckon him who taught me this Art
equally dear to me as my parents, to share my sub stance with him, and relieve his necessities if required; and that b y
precept, lecture, and every other mode of instruction, I will impart a knowledge of the Art to disciples b ound b y a
stipulation and oath according to the law of medicine, b ut to none others. I will follow that system of regimen which,
according to my ab ility and judgment, I consider for the b enefit of my patients, and ab stain from whatever is deleterious
and mischievous. With purity and with holiness I will pass my life and practice my Art. I will not cut persons lab ouring
under the stone, b ut will leave this to b e done b y men who are practitioners of this work. Into whatever houses I enter, I
will go into them for the b enefit of the sick, and will ab stain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and,
further from the seduction of females or males. Whatever, in connection with my professional practice or not, in
connection with it, I see or hear, in the life of men, which ought not to b e spoken of ab road, I will not divulge, as reckoning
that all such should b e kept secret. While I continue to keep this Oath inviolate, may it b e granted to me to enjoy life and
the practice of the art, respected b y all men, in all times! But should I trespass and violate this Oath, may the reverse b e
my lot!"

During all of this the faces of the assembled Colonials went from curious to stunned. The two Terrans had mentioned
several of the Lords of Kobol, including ones that they couldn't have heard mentioned in casual conversation. Moreover,
the oath they had recited was almost the same one as was traditionally sworn by healers in their own society.

When they had finished reciting, the Terrans sat down. "That oath was written several thousand years ago by a physician
called Hippocrates," Knowles said. "Doctors throughout known space swear this oath." The Colonials were once more
dumbfounded: Knowles had once more referred to one of the Lords of Kobol. One of the lesser Lords, but nonetheless
still one of the Lords.

Of the assembled Colonials the ones who were the most flabbergasted were the representatives from Sagittaron and
Gemenon. They looked at the Terrans, an expression of awe mixed with amazement and joy. "Gods preserve us,"
whispered the Gemenon, "you really are the Thirteenth Tribe."

The Sagittaron blinked, and then said, "Is this true? You swear this oath before you are allowed to perform as healers?"
Both Terrans nodded. "Then, if this information is shared amongst the people, I see no real objection to your treatments.
Save, perhaps, for the more, ah..." Her voice trailed off.

Knowles saved her. "The more... tradition-oriented amongst your people, shall we say?" he said, a slight smile on his
face.

The Sagittaron smiled back. "Yes," she said. "The more traditional amongst my people." She looked at Zarek. "Do you
think that there medicine is safe, Tom?" she asked.

Zarek leaned forward. "The Terrans have promised that they will not harm us if they can help it," he said. "Their conduct
while they were amongst us in the Fleet is evidence enough of that." Everyone present remembered that for the first few
days the Terrans had worn their skinsuits in order to prevent infecting the Colonials and that, after they were able to take
off their suits, they continued to wear filter masks. "In addition, they believe that vaccination against the diseases that they
have encountered is necessary," Zarek continued. "So, yes, I think that their medicine is safe."

"There are several reasons we are isolating you all here on this facility," said Knowles. "The first one is to make sure that
the shots take. There are certain tests we can perform to check this. The second is that, in extreme cases of groups of
humans that have been isolated from what we consider the mainstream of humanity for any length of time, there have
been unfavourable reactions to some of our vaccines. Here, if anything like that happens, we can treat the patients
quickly."

"Have there been any instances of fatalities?" asked Cottle.

The Terrans shook their heads. "Not in the past two thousand years," Knowles said. "The procedures we've initiated have
so far prevented any fatalities. However, we aren't inclined to take chances with human lives. The vaccines we have work
quite well with virtually no side effects and will immunise you against pretty much all the diseases we have encountered
to date.

"Which brings us to another procedure we wish to offer to you." The Colonials looked at one another at this statement.
"There is a procedure we can perform on you. However, given the reaction amongst some of your people at the news we
are genetically modified," Knowles looked at the Gemenonese representative as he said this, "we are a little hesitant at
offering it. Nonetheless, it is amongst the medical technologies we offer groups of humans who we encounter."

"What exactly is this treatment you are offering?" asked Roslin. "I gather from what you've said that it is genetically
related."
"Yes, Madame President, it is," replied Knowles. "What we are proposing is a procedure by which we can dramatically
boost the immune system of not only your current population, but of their descendants as well." A hush fell over the
gathering as they absorbed the implications of that statement.

"How would you go about doing this?" asked Cottle.

"It's simple," said Knowles. "We use a rhinovirus carrier to insert a modified segment of DNA at the location in the
genetic code that deal with immunity. The modified section replaces the original section of the host DNA. This not only
boosts the immune system of the person undergoing the treatment but, because of its nature, allows the boosted
immune system to be transmitted to the host's descendents." He looked around at the room. "We offer it, however, only
on a case-by-case basis. The only drawback is that the person undergoing the treatment may have some cold-like
symptoms. However, the boosted immune system will treat those very quickly, and the benefit is enjoyed by future
generations."

"And this means that future generations will not need vaccinations?" asked the Sagittaron representative.

"Only unless the lizards decide to again unleash a genetic horror on us," said Knowles. "In which case our enhanced
immune systems help buy us time while we isolate the disease and devise countermeasures." He looked at the
Colonials. "And once the lizards find out that you are in this area of the galaxy, they will at least try and unleash something
on you."

"But why?" asked the delegate from Aerlon. "I mean, we have never had any contact with these... these... Raptors!"

"Simply because you're human," replied the Terran. "They despise us. We are an impediment to their 'manifest destiny' to
control the universe and everything in it."

"Wonder how they'll treat the Cylons," muttered another delegate.

"Most likely treat them as a resource, once they realise that they aren't human," said Knowles. "However, the hominid
facade they've adopted might make the lizards consider them humans." He looked around at the shocked Colonials.
"From what you've told us," he continued, "there's enough of you in their makeup that could easily convince the lizards to
consider them human. I've read the briefing package that was put together for us to be able to work with you." He smiled.
"And if they are foolish enough to think that they could negotiate with the lizards..." He left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

Roslin brought the meeting back on subject. "Much as I am sure we would all like to contemplate the probable result of
any Cylon negotiations with the Raptors," she said, "I would like us to consider what Commodore Knowles has offered
to us. Do you have any suggestions as to what we should do with his offer?"

Zarek spoke. "I think, Madame President," he said, "that we should go ahead with the proposed vaccinations once we
have explained that they will allow us to interact with the Terrans. We announce at a later date the offer to enhance our
immune systems, explaining the potential benefits, but leave it up to individuals to make their own informed decisions."
He looked at the Terrans as he said this.

"Giving out all the relevant information is a requirement of our duties as medical practitioners," said Knowles. "If anyone
asks us about the treatment, we will tell them what it involves."

"Speaking for the military," Adama said, "I can see several advantages of the enhancement to our immune systems. I
think I can get the military personnel to go along with it."

The members of the Quorum of Twelve looked at the others, and then rose up. "If you'll excuse us, Madame President,"
said the representative from Caprica, "we would like to consult one another before we come to a decision."

Roslin had risen with them, as had Zarek and Adama. "By all means," she said. The Quorum members retired off to a
position in front of the main picture window and began an animated discussion amongst themselves. As they debated,
Adama glanced over to where the Terrans sat. They were observing the Quorum members with a somewhat amused
detachment that said one thing: Politicians, eh?

Sometimes Adama found himself thinking exactly the same thing. And speaking of politicians...

Tom Zarek leaned forward. "Madame President," he said, "perhaps now would be a good time to discuss the televising
of both you and the Admiral getting vaccinated."

Roslin turned to face Zarek. "What do you want to discuss, Tom?" she asked.
Zarek indicated the Quorum members. "I think," he said, "that, subject to the Quorum's agreement, that not only you and
the Admiral should have their vaccinations televised, but that it would be a good opportunity for the Quorum to be
vaccinated as well. At the same time, we could also use it as an opportunity to air what we agreed to discuss about the
Terran's genetic enhancements." He looked at the two Terran naval surgeons. "Of course, that is if you agree to this," he
said.

Knowles nodded his head. "I had heard about the manner in which you found out about our enhancements," he said,
"and the manner in which you had intended to explain them to your people. We can do that just as well when we're giving
you your shots." He looked at the Quorum members. "I think they've come to a decision," he said.

The members of the Quorum of Twelve came over and arranged themselves in front of Roslin. "Madame President," said
the delegate from Caprica, "we have come to a decision."

Roslin inclined her head in acknowledgement. "And what is your decision?" she asked.

"The Quorum has decided that we will accept the proposal put forward by Vice-President Zarek and agreed to by
yourself," the Caprican representative said.

Roslin again inclined her head in acknowledgement of the Quorum's decision. "I thank the Quorum for its decision," she
said. "However, we have another... proposal for you to consider, although it's more in the nature of an invitation."

The Caprican delegate looked at his fellow members. "And what is your proposal, Madame President?" he asked.

"You are aware that Vice-President Zarek, Admiral Adama and myself will be having our inoculations by the Terrans
televised to our people in order to demonstrate that they are safe," Roslin said. "After some discussion, we have decided
to invite the members of the Quorum to join us in this exercise." The looks on the faces of the members clearly showed
that they had not expected this. "Will the Quorum honour us by accepting this invitation?"

The members of the Quorum looked uneasily at each other. Finally, the delegate from Aerelon stepped forward and said,
"I would be honoured to accept your invitation, Madame President." After that, the remaining delegates, including the one
from Sagittaron, individually stepped forward and accepted Roslin's invitation.

Roslin turned to face Knowles. "How soon can you be ready to perform the inoculations?" she asked.

Knowles gave a little bow. "Whenever you are ready, Madame President," he replied.

"Good," Roslin replied. "I'll have Tory arrange for the press to meet us here in an hour."

Knowles nodded. "There is one other thing I should mention, Madame President," he said.

"And what might that be, Commodore?" Roslin asked.

"We are required to take a small swab from the inside of the mouth in circumstances like these," Knowles said. "It's so
that we can take a DNA sample."

"And why do you need a sample of our DNA?" Roslin asked.

"To examine for genetic drift," Knowles said. "Our branches of the human family have been separated for several
thousand years. We take a sample to determine just how wide the margin of genetic drift is. This is so that we can
identify any minor differences, or predilections to genetic-based diseases, such as cystic fibrosis, so that we can offer
treatments."

"Or to determine if we are sufficiently 'human'," said the Sagittaronese representative. She gave Knowles a dark look.
"We've had some history over that."

Knowles nodded. "We understand," he said. "And we do not use genetics as a basis for determining humanity. We have
had some history in our own past on that score, and are determined not to allow any repeats." The vehemence in the
Terran's voice convinced everyone of his sincerity.

Roslin decided to bring the meeting to a close. "Is there anything else you wish to raise, Commodore? Anyone else has
anything that they wish to discuss? No? Then I'll see you all here in one hour's time. Thank you for coming."
*Chapter 19*: Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen

When Adama got back to his suite in the medical complex he found Lieutenant Gaeta waiting for him in the central living
area.

"Something the matter, Mr. Gaeta?" asked Adama.

"Nothing the matter, sir," replied Gaeta. "It's just that while you were in your meeting with the President you got a call from
Admiral Templar."

Adama frowned. For some reason the name seemed... "Wait," he said. "Is that Fleet Admiral Templar?"

Gaeta nodded. "The commander of Sixteenth Fleet," mused Adama. "Did he say what he wanted?"

Gaeta shook his head. "I told him that you were in a meeting with the President and Commodore Knowles. He thanked
me and asked me to let you know he had called. He didn't say what for."

Adama folded his arms and slowly paced in front of the window. "No idea?" he said. Gaeta shook his head. "Then I
suppose I had better return his call and find out," said Adama. "I think I had better do this in my room." With that, he
walked towards his room.

Saul Tigh saw him and moved to intercept him. "Gaeta tell you about the call?" he asked.

Adama nodded. "Did you get a chance to speak to him?" he asked.

"Gaeta did turn him over to me for a moment, but he wouldn't say anything beyond that it was a courtesy call," Tigh said.
"He did thank us for our warbook, though."

Adama said nothing, but headed into his room. When Tigh made to follow, Adama stopped him. "No offence, Saul," he
said, "but I had best make this call alone. After all, we are operating in his territory." Tigh said nothing, but the expression
on his face said plenty.

Adama closed the door behind him, and then activated the communications faculty of his televiewer. "Fleet Admiral
Templar, please," he said. After a while, an image of a man in the dress version of the Terran Imperial navy's day uniform
appeared above the plate.

"Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar's office, Commander Praebao speaking," the man said.

"This is Rear-Admiral Adama of the Colonial Fleet returning admiral Templar's call," Adama said. "May I ask whom I am
addressing?"

The man sat up straighter as he heard Adama mention his rank. "Admiral Adama," he said. "I am Commodore Praebao,
Sir Simon's naval secretary. I was aware Sir Simon had called you earlier, but your Lieutenant Gaeta said that you were in
a meeting. Would you like me to put you through to Sir Simon now?" he asked.

"If that would be convenient, yes," Adama said. A naval secretary, he thought to himself. If he performs the same function
as Fleet Admiral Nagala's secretary, then perhaps the Terran navy's not all that different to our own Fleet.

The Terran officer's image disappeared. For a moment an image, which seemed to be either the Terran Imperial Navy's
seal or that of Sixteenth Fleet, appeared. Then, it disappeared, and was replaced by the image of a man wearing what
Adama deduced to be the uniform of a Terran Fleet Admiral. On the left side of his immaculately tailored tunic appeared a
whole block of what Adama now knew to be medal ribbons. Above them were two emblems: one of what appeared to be
a spaceship, the other, much to Adama's surprise, were remarkably similar to the set of pilot's wings worn by Colonial
Fleet pilots. Looks like he's a former flier as well, thought Adama.

The man's face, like those of virtually every Terran Adama had met so far, seemed absurdly young for the rank he held.
His eyes, though, showed that he was far older than Adama himself, and held much of the same quality that he had
seen in Fleet Admiral Nagala's eyes. Unlike Nagala, however, the Terran's face was framed by a well-trimmed beard that,
on closer inspection, hid some scars. Obviously, this man was no stranger to hard fighting.

The Terran leaned forward. "Admiral Adama," he said. "Glad to finally met you, albeit in ethereal form. I'm Simon Templar,
OC Sixteenth Fleet. Thank you for returning my call so promptly."
Adama nodded back. "Thank you, Admiral," he said. "And I wish to thank you for all of the assistance your people have
rendered to us. I know that this must be a rather unexpected problem for you, being engaged in a war. I know how I
would feel if I were in your situation."

Templar waived off Adama's protestation. "I will admit it was an unexpected problem," he admitted, "but nothing we
couldn't handle. And one I would rather have than deal with the lizards. I know that I speak for the entire Imperial Navy on
that." He gave Adama a searching look that instantly reminded him not of Admiral Nagala, but of his first Commander,
back in the days of the First Cylon War. "I suppose you are wondering why I called you?" Templar said.

Adama nodded. "I must admit, Admiral, that the thought had crossed my mind," he said.

Templar smiled. "Firstly, it was a courtesy call," he said, "one flag officer to another. But my other reason was to inquire if,
after you have been released from quarantine, it might be possible to set up a meeting between the two of us."

Adama suppressed his surprise at Templar's statement. "May I ask why you wish to set up a meeting?" he asked.

"Initially to just establish contacts between our two forces," Templar said. "Basically, to establish links between ourselves
and our respective staffs. But I also wish to put before you a request and a series of proposals."

Adama wasn't too sure he liked the way this was heading. "Admiral," he said, "you must be aware that we have just
arrived here after a long and strenuous journey. My people are tired and are looking forward to some well-earned rest. In
any case, and proposal you may wish to make will have to be forwarded to my head-of-state." That might just flummox
him.

To Adama's consternation Templar nodded in understanding. "I can understand where you're coming from," he said. "But
I would like to establish some kind of coordination with you, especially in relation to your refit here before we move you
on to Alquonde out of the Conflict Zone. We will have to know what your requirements are before we begin any refit of
your vessels."

Adama nodded. "I think that would be acceptable," he said.

"Good," said Templar. "If you have no objections, I'll give you a call after you have all been released from quarantine and
have settled in one of the habs."

"All right, Admiral," said Adama. "And speaking of getting cleared, if you'll please excuse me I have to get ready for my
public appearance at a televised vaccination."

"I understand," said Templar. "Until we speak again. Templar, clear." The Terran's image disappeared from in front of him.

Adama sat back in his chair and looked at the spot where the Terran's image had been. He played the brief conversation
over in his mind. Templar had been friendly and quite polite. But that was true of pretty much every Terran (with the
possible exception of the pilot who had guided the Fleet to its anchorage; she had been quite refreshing in her
brusqueness) that he had so far met. It was quite clear that they were doing their best not to offend the Colonials, and
that bothered Adama to some extent. In his experience people were never that polite unless they wanted something from
you.

Of course, though, the Terrans were probably like this with every new group of humans they encountered. All the evidence
he had seen pointed to a long and painfully garnered experience in contacting isolated pockets of humanity. The Terrans
themselves had hinted at past mistakes and a determination to learn from each encounter so that the next one would go
smoothly. But Templar appeared to want something, and Adama was afraid that it could be a military alliance, something
that he was certain that they would not be able to fulfil. Best leave that to the politicians, he thought. He got up out of his
chair and exited his room.

Saul Tigh was waiting outside. "So, how did it go?" he asked.

"It was interesting," said Adama. "His original call was simply a courtesy call. But he wants to establish some working
links between our staffs, ostensibly to help along the refit of our ships."

Tigh looked at Adama. "But you think he wants something else, eh?" he asked.

Adama looked back at Tigh. "Yes, Saul, I do," he said. "He also wants to have a meeting to put forward a 'series of
proposals' and a 'request.'" He said nothing about what he thought Templar might be angling for.

Tigh, though, looked as if he had read what was on Adama's mind. "You think he might be fishing for an alliance?" he
said. "I didn't think admirals were supposed to do that sort of thing, that they were supposed to leave it to the politicians."
"So did I, Saul," Adama said. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the end, the "Great Vaccination Show" went off without a hitch.

The press had been gathered by Roslin's press secretary in the main living area of the suite the President and her staff
were staying in. Also assembled were several "selected guests," something that both Roslin and Zarek had decided
might be a good move in their effort to get the general population of the Fleet to accept the Terran's vaccination
programme. Prominent amongst the guests were Sagittarons, including Mrs. King, who had been prominent in the
poisoning scandal during the Mellorak epidemic. Zarek had argued for her inclusion on the basis of the prominence she
had gained during that sad affair and Roslin had agreed.

Roslin had begun proceedings by first, stating the reason for the press conference. She the turned the proceedings over
to Commodore Knowles, who explained the reasons why the vaccinations were necessary, illustrating his explanation
with examples of what had happened in the past when human populations like the Colonials had come in contact with
the Terrans and had been allowed to mingle without being inoculated first. He fielded several questions (including some
about his civilian life, which impressed the audience) and then, without much further ado, turned the proceedings over to
Surgeon-Lieutenant-Commander Petrov and Doctor Cottle, who began the vaccinations, starting respectively with
President Roslin and Adama.

Roslin had it fairly easy: all she had to do was to strip down to her blouse and roll up a sleeve. Adama, on the other
hand, had to strip off his tunic, revealing his undershirt in order to offer a bare shoulder. He managed to, in what was
regarded as something unusual for the "Old Man", inject some humour into the proceedings by declaring it to be the first
time a flag officer had performed something of a strip-tease on televiewer. After Roslin and Adama had been inoculated
they were followed by Zarek, the members of the Quorum and members of Roslin's staff. Throughout the whole
procedure Knowles kept up a running commentary, telling the viewers that the procedure was painless, involved no
needles and granted lifetime immunity from pretty much all infectious diseases that were in the overall Terran
population. Once the Quorum members and the President's staff had been vaccinated, Knowles then invited the
members of the press and the invited guests to step forward to be inoculated.

It was then that Mrs. King stepped forward. "You say that this treatment will keep us healthy against your diseases," she
said to Knowles.

"Yes, ma'am," Knowles replied. "Unless, as I explained, the lizards decide to throw something at us that will require
treatment."

"Could it have saved us against Mellorak disease?" King asked.

"The general procedure can," replied Knowles. "However, to be able to create a vaccine against that disease, I would
need a sample of the bacteria, virus or infective agent that causes it. I can also create a vaccine using the antibodies,
which are the body's own agents that fight diseases such as your Mellorak, for use in the general population. However, I
will need a blood sample in order to isolate these antibodies. If people who have had this or any other diseases that they
feel may be of interest to us come and see my personnel, we would be very grateful."

King looked at Knowles. "Your people didn't seem to concerned with being infected by us," she said.

"That's because of our own enhanced physiology," Knowles replied. "I am aware that you know that we have genetically
enhanced our own physiologies in the past." Knowles then explained what benefits that had endowed the Terrans with
and how they had been obtained, but then he began to explain some of the disadvantages. "However," he said, "we're
pretty glad that our ancestors did this. Not only does it give our bodies a good fighting chance against diseases such as
Mellorak when we encounter them, the increased agility, strength and quicker reflex times have often prevented us from
becoming some lizard's lunch." A laugh swept over the assembled group.

Roslin leaned over to Adama. "He's good," she whispered.

Adama whispered back, "I suppose that must come with having been the chief administrator of a hospital before being
called up. He certainly could teach some of our doctors some things about 'bedside manner.'" He settled back to watch
the proceeding.

"So, you could have saved my son," King said. "This could have saved him."

"This treatment could have bought him enough time for us to have begun a course of treatment," Knowles said.
"Assuming we had been present and he had been willing to accept our treatment." His words conveyed that he was well
aware of the Sagittaron attitude towards medicine.

"Do you think that our medicine is any good?" King asked.

"Actually," Knowles said, "you may be surprised just how many of our medicines are derived from traditional remedies. If
some of your traditional healers still have any samples of medicinal plants and other substances, we would be
interested in learning about them."

King brought the conversation back to the issue of vaccination. "So, unless these lizards throw something new at us, this
will keep us safe from your diseases," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," said Knowles.

King looked at the Terran, and then rolled up her sleeve. "Do it," she said. Knowles picked up a hypo spray and gave her
her inoculation. "Tickles," she said. "It didn't hurt at all."

Both Roslin and Adama let out their breaths. The fact that King had taken her shots after satisfying herself on televisor
had just made things easy. After seeing that exchange and its result, hardly anyone in the Fleet's population would have
any real qualms about being vaccinated.

As she rolled her sleeve back down King looked at the Terran. "You said in your explanation about other treatments you
can give," she said. "What are they?"

Knowles briefly hesitated, and then said, "These treatments are genetic in nature and can give you and your children
some of what we possess. However, due to their nature we do not force them on people. We only offer it to them, and
then only after we have explained what it entails. Only if they wish to have the treatment do we apply it. It is one of our
most strict rules."

King looked at Knowles. "Could it have prevented my son dying from Mellorak disease?" she asked.

Knowles nodded. "Yes," he said. "The treatment you are asking about also gives a vastly increased resistance to toxins,
that is poisons. We can even enhance radiation tolerance. However, please remember that there are some drawbacks,
as I explained when describing our enhancements."

King looked at Knowles. "I'll think about it," she said. "Do you mind if I can talk to you about this later?"

Knowles looked at King. "You can call me and I'll arrange a meeting," he said.

"I might just do that," King said and moved off.

Knowles looked at the gathered press and guests. "If people would wish to get their inoculations," he said, "please
simply speak to any of the assigned hospital staff and they will be more than happy to help you. For the members of the
press and guests, there are some pharmacist's mates at the rear of the room who will be more than happy to give you
your shots. Thank you for coming to our demonstration." He left the front of the room and headed over to where Adama,
Roslin and Zarek were standing. "Sorry about that," he said.

"No need for any apologies," Roslin said. "You handled that quite well."

Zarek nodded his agreement. "I have to agree," he said. "I'm Sagittaron myself, and I think I can safely say that after that
conference the Sagittarons won't have any real problem with Terran medicine. I especially liked the bit about traditional
remedies: good touch."

"Only speaking the truth," said Knowles. "We are interested in traditional cures for various diseases. Quite often we find
that there is a beneficial effect to them, which we adjust for our own use. Our medical researchers would be quite
interested in talking with any of your traditional healers."

"I have to say that's probably the most refreshing thing I have heard come from a medical practitioner," said Zarek. "Do
you think you can teach some of our doctors that?"

"Don't know about that," said Knowles. "However, we have a saying: 'Monkey See, Monkey Do.' It basically means that
sometimes imitation can be the best way to spread something like that." He looked at the three Colonials. "Now, if you'll
excuse me," he said, "I have to get back to running my hospital complex." Nodding at the three, he left.

Bemused, the three Colonials watched Knowles leave. "Am I wrong, or did he just brush us off?" Roslin asked.
"If he did," said Adama, "it was for a good reason. He's a good man: concerned about the running of his command.
Probably busy, too." He turned to look at Roslin and Zarek. "Turning to another issue," he said, "what do you think of my
conversation with Admiral Templar?" Before the press had arrived, Adama had filled both Roslin and Zarek on his talk
with the commander of the Terran Sixteenth Fleet.

"He does sound as though he's fishing for something," Roslin said. "But I somehow don't think it's an alliance." Zarek
said nothing, but nodded his agreement. "He must be aware that we are in no position to be any kind of meaningful ally
against the Raptors."

"I agree, Laura," said Zarek. "I don't think he's looking for an alliance. But what it is he's looking for, I couldn't say. No
offence, Admiral, but what can we provide them? One obsolete battlestar that was going to be decommissioned as a
museum when the Cylons attacked, one partly-functional Cylon base star that is almost as much a museum piece and a
wing of fighters that, although were our front line space superiority fighter at the time we left the Colonies, are hopelessly
dated by the Terrans' own standards."

Adama nodded. "Pretty much what I was thinking, Mr. Vice-President," he said. "I'm to give him a call once we have been
released from quarantine and have been settled in one of the orbital habitats to arrange a meeting. Care to sit in?"

Zarek looked at Roslin. She thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I agree with your idea, Admiral," she said.
"Perhaps Tom might pick up on something. Besides, having the Vice-President of the Colonies along may unsettle him."

"It could," said Adama. "However, on first acquaintance, Templar reminded me a lot of Admiral Nagala. And then there's
the operation he was in command of to take this system. Somehow I don't think someone who planned the sort of
operation will be easily unsettled."

Zarek nodded. "I agree, Admiral," he said. "I may not be a military man, but the operation he planned and pulled off
shows that he must be someone of impressive capabilities. Still, perhaps having me along in an official capacity may
serve notice that we will look at any proposal critically and, most importantly of all, from our own perspective. Not that you
wouldn't have done the same, Admiral. It's just that..."

Adama smiled at Zarek. "I understand, Mr. Vice-President," he said. "And I agree: having you along may just reinforce that
point."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Orb ital Hab itat TIN7335455, Sandoval Base, Three Days Later.

"You know, Saul, I think Cottle got it wrong," said Adama as he looked around his new quarters.

"What do you mean?" Tigh asked.

Adama grinned. "When we were admitted to the hospital complex, he said that it looked as though we had died and
gone to Elysium," he said. "I think that was just the antechamber. This," he continued, indicating his surroundings, "is
Elysium. Or, if not, a pretty close second."

Tigh looked around, and found that he had to agree with his old friend and commanding officer. "Guess I'll have to agree
to that," he said. "It's like it's own little world in here, isn't it."

They were standing on a patio that stood at the back (or front) of Adama's cottage. It was surrounded by a lush garden
filled with all kinds of plants. Several looked familiar to the two Colonials, but some were quite unfamiliar. All, however
were either decorative or provided shade. All around then stretched a vast vista that looked as though they were in a
tropical valley that was dotted with small houses that stood on the sloping walls of the valley. In the centre of the valley
was a river that flowed through a series of lakes, and through the air flew birds that were brightly coloured and made a
racket that was strangely soothing to the ear. High above, clouds floated through a sky that was lit with a diffused light.

If you weren't aware that all of this was on the inside of a massive space-station that was one facility within a massive
naval base, one could have been forgiven for thinking that you were on the surface of a planet.

Adama looked into his cabin. He saw that all of the furnishings that had been in his cabin on board Galactica had been
placed in pretty much their exact locations. However, instead of looking at his cabin's heavy door, he now had a view that
would have cost a small fortune on Caprica. I have to hand it to the Terrans, he thought to himself. They sure know how
to b e hospitab le.

From the look on Tigh's face, he seemed to be thinking the same thing. "You know, one could easily get used to a
situation like this," he said. His cabin was nearby, part of the same small cluster in which Adama, Roslin and their
respective staffs had been placed.

Adama smiled. "Remember when we were approaching this installation and you thought you saw hyperspace engines
attached to this thing?" he asked. At Tigh's nod, he said "Well, you did. This thing has hyperspace engines."

Tigh was astonished. "You mean they jumped this thing in here?" he said. "Frack! Just what can't they do?"

"A few things, they tell me," Adama said. "But the reason they put engines on these things is they use them as colony
ships."

"This thing is a colony ship?" said Tigh. He looked around. "Well, I suppose it's better than the setup we had on New
Caprica. So, what do they keep in the rings at the end, some kind of superweapon?"

"No, Saul," said Adama. "Farms and factories. They can grow anything they want in the farming units as they can keep
the conditions under a fine control. And the factories are under zero-g. Add in some large reactors and, when you think
about it and you have the ability to do so, all you need to make the ideal colony ship are hyperspace engines. The
sublight engines are already there. They just use them for station keeping when positioned near something like an
asteroid belt. But the big payoff is the internal environment. Because things like farms and factories are off in their own
section away from the main area, you can create a very liveable environment." He looked around. "I suppose we could
have built something like this," he said. "From what I have been able to find out this sort of thing was very much within
our capabilities."

"Wonder why we didn't," grunted Tigh.

Because we were too short-sighted and scared after the first Cylon War, thought Adama to himself. And I think I'm
b eginning to learn just how short-sighted we were. "Other priorities, I'd say," he said to Tigh. He looked back into his
cabin's living area, his gaze fixed on the holographic display next to his desk.

Tigh followed his gaze. "Going to call Templar to set up that meeting, eh?" he said.

Adama sighed. "I suppose I had better," he said. "You could say I'm settled in." He got up and walked into the living area.
Tigh followed him in and positioned himself behind Adama's right shoulder as he sat down at the desk.

Adama activated the holographic display. "Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar, please," he said. Tigh raised an eyebrow at
Adama using voice commands, but said nothing. After a while the image of Commander Praebao, Templar's naval
secretary appeared.

"Admiral Adama," Praebao said. "What can I do for you?"

"Can you put me though to Admiral Templar, please?" he said.

"I'll se if he's free," Praebao said. The insignia of Sixteenth Fleet replaced his image.

Tigh looked at Adama. "I suppose he's a secretary of some kind to Templar," he said. At Adama's nod, Tigh mused,
"Hmmm. They mightn't be all that different from us after all." After a moment more, Templar's image flashed up in the
display.

"Admiral Adama," he said. "I take it you've managed to settle into your new quarters?"

Adama nodded. "Yes, Admiral," he said. "And I have to say that this is probably the most amazing structure I have ever
been in. The only thing I can compare it with is a luxury liner called Cloud 9 that was with our fleet, but was destroyed due
to enemy action. But this is like being on the surface of a planet. A most amazing achievement."

"Thank you, Admiral," Templar said. "But any credit must go to our naval architects who managed to make an idea by a
Terran space scientist of the late 20th Century CE a reality, although it took us until the middle of the following century to
do so."

Adama raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," he said. "Technological problems?"

"Lack of political will, actually," said Templar. "The basic tech was available at the time, but the politicians just wouldn't
act." He leaned forward. "Now what can I do for you, Admiral?"

"I called to see if we can arrange that meeting you spoke of the last time we talked," said Adama. "Now that I have settled
both myself and my people, I can meet with you and discuss your proposals."
Templar leant back. "Excellent, Admiral," he said. "I'll see if I can clear a segment of my calendar for a meeting and get
Commander Praebao to inform your staff when would be a good time and arrange things from there." He looked at
Adama. "Who do I tell Commander Praebao to ask for?"

Adama looked back. "I don't really have a 'naval secretary,' as such," he said. "But I suppose the closest I have to it would
be Lieutenant Felix Gaeta. He tends to handle things like that."

"Ah, Lieutenant Gaeta," said Templar. "Interesting that you should bring him up."

Adama's face betrayed nothing, but his posture stiffened slightly. "Oh? Mind if I ask why that is, Admiral?"

"It's just that your Mr. Gaeta has become something of a hot commodity in the Terran Navy," Templar said. "I suppose I
can tell you, informally of course, that I am in possession of a request from the Board of the Admiralty. They ask that,
when you can spare him, if you would allow Lieutenant Gaeta to go to Earth. I'll give you the formal request when we
actually meet, but I can tell you that this is one of the most impressive requests I've seen: it's signed by the entire Naval
Board, including the Secretary of State for Defence. I've never seen that on a request before."

Adama hid his surprise, but raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why you want Lieutenant Gaeta's services?" he asked. "I
would have thought that a Terran officer would have attracted this sort of attention." If they're like us, it would also b e for all
the wrong reasons, he thought.

"The Admiralty wishes to offer him an instructor's position in Astrogation at the Terran Naval College, Dartmouth
Campus," replied Templar. "You are aware of our interest in the method you use to calculate hyperspace jumps?" Adama
nodded. "Well, the Admiralty has evaluated the initial work that was done by Lieutenant Van Der Westhuysen, one of
Kitakami's astrogation officers and they have confirmed what he discovered: that your method is much better than ours.
So they wish to adopt it.

"On a slightly related note, I've also heard from the Foreign and Contacts offices. They are sending advanced parties to
this system and should be arriving this week. I can tell you that it is unusual for them to send people into an active war
zone. But I gather that there are some issues they wish to discuss with you before we move you all on to Alquonde Fleet
Node, where the main Contact party will be waiting." Templar leaned forward. "The Admiralty is also sending some
officials as well. And all of them come from the Office of the Third Space Lord."

"What is he responsible for?" asked Adama.

"One of his titles is 'Comptroller of the Navy.' He is responsible not only for refitting our ships, but also for naval
construction," Templar said. "And I think I can guess why they are coming. However, I would rather tell you my suspicions
in a, shall we say, more controlled manner." His meaning was quite clear: I'd rather tell you face-to-face, and not over this
channel.

"Interesting," said Adama. "So, besides yourself, who else can I expect at this meeting?" He indicated Tigh, who had
stood impassively throughout the whole conversation. "This is Colonel Saul Tigh, my Executive Officer. I can tell you that
you can trust him implicitly."

Templar nodded his greetings to Tigh, who impassively nodded back. "My Chief-of-Staff, Vice-Admiral N'koma, will be in
attendance," he said. "I think it would be a good opportunity to introduce him to your Exec. in order to make coordination
during the refit of your ships somewhat easier."

Adama looked at Tigh. "Saul?" he asked.

Tigh leant forward. "I'd like to meet with him as well, Admiral," he said to Templar. "I agree: it would make things easier."
Templar said nothing but simply nodded, as if he was crossing off one item. And doub tless several more to go, Adama
thought.

"I should also inform you that Field Marshal Sir James Olmos and his chief-of-staff, Lieutenant-General Sir Michael
Hogan, will also be in attendance, as will Flight Commodore Sir the Honourable St. John Bamber, Commander
Aerospace Operation in this system. They have a proposition to put to you of which I am aware, but I'll let them inform you
at the meeting. Besides Colonel Tigh, will there be anyone else attending from your side?"

"Besides Colonel Tigh, Major Lee Adama, Galactica's Commander Air Group will be attending, as will Vice-President
Tom Zarek," replied Adama. "He will be President Roslin's envoy at this meeting." Templar said nothing, but raised an
eyebrow at the mention of Apollo.

"Is Major Adama a relation?" he asked.

"My son," Adama said. "And I'm proud of his achievements in the Service." So there.

Templar shifted slightly in his chair. "Is there anything else from your side that you wish to place on the agenda?" he
asked.

"Not that I can think of at the moment," said Adama. "If there is, I'll have Mr. Gaeta inform your secretary."

"Well," said Templar, "if there is nothing else that you wish to address, I think we'll finish now and take this conversation
up when we meet, something I am looking forward to. Thank you for calling. Templar, clear." As the Terran's image
disappeared from the holographic projector, Adama turned to face Tigh.

"So, what do you think?" he asked Tigh.

Tigh frowned. "You're right," he said. "He does remind me of Admiral Nagala. Interesting that they want Felix to go to Earth
to teach them how we navigate." He looked at Adama. "You did real well, Bill," he said. "Surprised a bit at his mention that
their Admiralty wants Gaeta, but then, that surprised me, too. But I think you rocked him a bit with the news that Zarek's
going to be there." He took a deep breath. "Much as the man irritates me, I'll be glad he'll be in the same room. Nothing
better to scent out any hidden agendas than someone who knows all about them." He looked at Adama. "Are you going
to the President now?" he asked.

Adama nodded. "I'll call ahead and let her know we're coming over. I think it's time we had a strategy meeting to work out
what we'll do when we meet with Templar. I'll also call Felix and let him know he can expect a call from Templar's naval
secretary, and have him tell the Terrans that we are working out any additional items we wish to place on the agenda." He
looked at Tigh. "This could easily be one of the most important meetings in the history of our people, Saul," he said. "It's
important we get this right."

"No argument from me on that point, Bill," replied Tigh. "No, none at all."
*Chapter 20*: Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen

En Route to Sandoval Hub , Five Days Later.

Adama looked out the window of the shuttle that was taking their party to Sandoval Hub. They were passing one of the
massive spacedocks that dotted the inner system. This one held one of the long, lean warships the Terrans called a
b attlecruiser. Seen close up, Adama admired its lean, predatory lines. He also saw that it was undergoing repairs to its
hull. Up close he could see the terrible wounds that had been melted through its armour and into its hull.

He turned to face the young Terran naval officer who had been sent over with the shuttle. "What caused that?" he asked.

The Terran, a lieutenant, looked out through the window. "By the looks of it, Admiral, that was caused by a burn-through
from a laser-head," he said. "Must have got through the point-defence and detonated quite close."

"Ah," said Adama. He turned to face the party that was accompanying him to his meeting with Fleet Admiral Templar. It
had grown somewhat since he had last talked to the Terran fleet commander. And the additions were two civilians who
wore suits of a cut that had never been seen in the Colonies.

Which was understandable, as the two civilians were Terrans from the Contacts Office.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two days after he had spoken to Templar Adama had gotten a call from Laura Roslin. She had just taken a call from
Fleet Admiral Templar's naval secretary, informing her that the advance party from the Terran Imperium's Foreign and
Contacts offices had arrived in system and that, once they had settled into their assigned quarters, they wished to meet
with the Colonials' leaders. "They're going to be housed in one of the villages in the same habitat we're currently staying
in," Roslin said. "They're giving themselves some time to settle in before contacting us to arrange a meeting."

"Interesting," said Adama. "Have you any indication what they wish to talk about?"

"To be honest, Bill, I don't," she said. "I suppose they might want to ask about how we've been treated and possibly want
to arrange some strategy to enable us to fit into this area of space. But beyond that, I really can't think of anything. I am
sure, however, that they don't intend to absorb us wholesale into the Empire, otherwise they wouldn't have sent an
ambassador."

Adama's eyes rose at that information. "An ambassador?" he said. "Interesting. And what have these 'Contacts Office'
people sent?"

"That's even more interesting," Roslin said. "Apparently they sent an undersecretary, some education experts and, get
this, some people who sound like they're senior lawyers."

"Lawyers!" said Adama. "Are they expecting some kind of legal action or something? I can't b egin to imagine why they've
sent lawyers. Have you found if any of our legal people managed to make it into the Fleet?"

"I have Tory and my staff going through the list of survivors looking for any surviving lawyers," Roslin said. "Hopefully we'll
have some of them with us when we meet with the Foreign Office and Contacts Office people. Admittedly, we may not
know the whole canon of Terran law, but once we have a legal team assembled I can at least get them to study what they
can. Thankfully we now have access to the entire Terran data network, including legal data."

Adama smiled. "At least we can thank the Gods for small miracles like that," he said. Suddenly a small icon started to
flash in the upper left hand corner of the display. Incoming Message. "I'll have to go, Madame President," Adama said. "It
appears I have an incoming message of some sort. Probably Commander Praebao informing me that the officials from
the Terran Admiralty have arrived and wish to arrange a meeting." They exchanged goodbyes and closed the channel.

Now Adama was en route to Sandoval Hub for a meeting not only with Fleet Admiral Templar, Field Marshal Olmos, Flight
Commodore Bamber and their staffs, but also Fleet Admiral Lady Dorothea Cheshire, the Third Lord of the Admiralty and
her staff. Adama didn't blame Commander Praebao for being somewhat rattled when he informed Adama about the
change in the makeup of the meeting. He would have been just as rattled if he had been informed that, somehow, Fleet
Admiral Nagala had survived the Cylon attack and had arrived to take command of what was left of the Colonial Fleet.
Looking across at the two Terrans from the Contacts Office, Adama was glad that they had been included in his party.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He had met them for the first time in the main room of President Roslin's quarters. They had assembled for their first
meeting with the Contacts Office people, who had suggested that they meet on the Colonial's turf. "Madame President,
Mr. Vice-President, Admiral," said the leader, a dark-skinned male. "I'm Joseph Kinga, Undersecretary for the Trailwards
March department of the Contacts Office. These are my assistants, Joshua Slocum, Kari Al Masari, and SC's Lorna Di
Metriu and David Lomu." As they were introduced, Kinga's assistants stood and bowed to the assembled Colonials. "As
I hope you have been informed," Kinga said, "this is simply a preliminary mission with the aim to determine how best to
help your people adjust to life in this area of the galaxy. Hopefully we can do this so that you do not lose your cultural
distinctiveness."

"Mr. Undersecretary, please accept that I mean to cause no offence if I say that is something I have difficulty in accepting,"
Roslin said as she sat down. "I must also say that I am somewhat astonished to find that a man of your seniority should
come on what is, after all, a preliminary mission."

Kinga smiled. "Your surprise on both accounts is understandable," he replied. "And, normally, you are correct in
presuming that an undersecretary usually doesn't come on a mission like this. However, on learning that the Foreign
Office has sent a senior level negotiating team with Ambassador Crispin, not to mention the presence of Lady Cheshire,
who is the Third Space Lord and her staff, I decided that it would be best if someone who, shall we say, has direct
access to the Minister for First Contacts be here. After all, our main priority is to see that you are not taken advantage of
when dealing with the Imperium's bureaucracy."

"I was under the impression that the Imperium tends to go out of its way to make sure that did not happen, Mr.
Undersecretary," Tom Zarek said. "Do you mean to inform us that the Imperium will take advantage of us? Even though
your own laws are quite clear on the matter of the protection of the rights of human, hominid and other alien civilisations
that are not threatening the Imperium."

"You are quite correct, Mr. Vice-President," Kinga said. "I should elaborate on my point. The Contacts Office exists to
ensure that all First Contacts with various civilisations go smoothly. Because the Imperium is the largest human
civilisation in history, it can be, shall we say, somewhat overwhelming at first blush. We realised that a long time ago,
after a series of First Contacts went horribly wrong. Those led to the establishment of the Contacts Office, with a Charter
that directs us to be a buffer, if you will, that prevents the Imperium from overwhelming any civilisation we encounter. We
also exist to help ease any potential frictions. But defending a newly-encountered civilisation is our primary aim."

"And how do you do that, Mr. Undersecretary?" asked Roslin.

"Simply put, we equip you to be able to deal with the Imperium on your own terms," said Kinga. "Additionally, we get you
to teach us as much about your own civilisation as possible so that we can advise the Imperium on how best to avoid
offending you. But we also, in circumstances like we are currently in, offer advice to you on how best to deal with the
Imperium's bureaucracy. And, if I may speak frankly, I feel that you do need our advice."

"And what makes you say that, Mr. Undersecretary?" asked Roslin.

"The presence of Lady Cheshire, for one. The Third Space Lord doesn't just come out to a front-line naval base on a
whim." Kinga turned to Adama. "Have you received any requests from the Navy, Admiral?" he asked.

Adama hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Unofficially, I have. Admiral Templar said that he had received a request
addressed to me for the services of one of my officers."

"Interesting," Kinga said. "Did they indicate just why they wanted this particular officer?"

"Yes, they did," said Adama. "They want him to go to Earth to teach our method of hyperspace navigation. From what they
have told us, the method we use is far more efficient than the one used by the Terran Imperial Navy."

"And pretty much all of human space," replied Kinga. "This is precisely the sort of situation the Contacts Office was
formed to be involved in." He turned to one of the lawyers. "Lorna, can you please examine the Imperium's statutes on
intellectual knowledge and copyright?" he asked.

"Will do, sir," Di Metriu said. Her eyes took on an unfocussed look as she consulted with her AI on Kinga's question.

Kinga turned back to face the Colonials. "I wouldn't mind suspecting that the Imperial Navy was hoping to get your
navigation formulae out of you for a pittance," he said. "Tell me, this was worked out using government resources?"

Adama thought for a moment, and then said, "Yes, it was. We did get a start on it from our Gods, whom we now
understand were some of these Precursors we have been told about."

"Yes, and that's another issue we will have to deal with," Kinga said. "However, I am right in understanding that the
method you use for navigation is the property of your government?"

"It is," Adama said. "However, Lieutenant Gaeta worked out some improvements on his own, so he deserves some
credit."

"And we shall see that he gets it," Kinga said. "But just this one incident alone tells me that there may be other issues of
a similar nature waiting to appear in the background. For example, did you discover any star systems on your long
journey here?"

"We did," Adama said. "And, from what Commodore 'Abal's people have said, including the one we encountered her
squadron in."

"Did you land on any planets while you were there?" Kinga asked.

"We did land our ships by rotation in order to stock up on fresh air and water," Adama said. "Some of our food supply
vessels also landed to restock, and remained on the surface for some time."

"Well, I can tell you now, without having to consult with my learned colleagues here," Kinga said, "that your people have a
very strong claim to ownership of that system under our laws." He turned to Roslin. "Madame President, I strongly
suggest that you keep that in mind when talking to Ambassador Crispin or, for that matter, anyone from the Foreign
Office. It may well come in handy in any negotiations you may have regarding where your people will finally settle."

Roslin managed to hide the jolt of astonishment that she felt. "Are you quite sure of this, Mr. Undersecretary?" she said.

"Quite sure," Kinga replied. "If you like, and again this is something I strongly recommend, I can assign some of my
people to assist you in this matter." The Terran looked at the Colonials. "Would you like me to do that?" he asked. Both
Roslin and Adama, after some discussion, had agreed, and the conversation moved on to helping the Colonials adjust
to life in this general area of the galaxy.

Looking back across the interior of the shuttle, Adama could see that Al Masari and Lomu were working on some papers
and consulting with their personal AIs (who were, out of consideration to the Colonials, kept hidden). He leaned back
and looked out the window at the spacescape that the shuttle was flying through. Right at this moment Laura Roslin was
entering a meeting with the Terran ambassador. I wonder how that's going, he thought to himself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Laura Roslin stood up as Tory Foster ushered the officials from the Foreign Office in. "So glad to be able to finally meet
you, Ambassador," she said as she held out her hand.

Ambassador Richard Crispin was, despite his name, what the Terrans termed a Eurasian, although in his preliminary
conversation with Roslin he said that he came from a planet called New Annam. Tall and elegantly dressed, he took
Roslin's hand and performed the small bow and heel click that the Terran naval officers had. That must definitely b e a
custom of some kind, Roslin thought.

"Thank you for your kind welcome, Madame President," he said. Crispin looked and, as his eyes lit upon Kinga, a slight
frown creased his brow. "Ah, I see you have already made the, ah, acquaintance of Undersecretary Kinga," he said. "Mr
Undersecretary," he said, his tone coolly professional, and bowed slightly in the Undersecretary's direction.

Kinga gave the ambassador a slight smile as he returned the bow. "Mr. Ambassador," he said.

"I see that you have already offered the services of your department to our newly-found cousins," Crispin said. Kinga said
nothing, but gave a slight nod in reply.

Hmm, thought Roslin. There does seem to b e some kind of rivalry b etween the two groups. I wonder why? She wished
that her Vice-President were present so that they could exchange notes after the meeting. However, Zarek was off with
Adama to a similar meeting with Admiral Templar and the officials from the Terran Admiralty. He had, however, left behind
one of his assistants, someone whose judgement and observations Zarek implicitly trusted.

Seeing the slight tension between the two Terran officials, Roslin decided to ease things a little bit. "Mr. Ambassador,"
she said, "please forgive my manners. I would like to introduce you to my staff and then, after we have had some
refreshments delivered, we can get down to the business of this meeting. Is that acceptable to you?"
Although unsettled by Kinga's presence, Crispin managed to hide it behind a professional facade. He smiled, bowed his
head in Roslin's direction and uttered some commonplace phrases that politely denied Roslin's claim of rudeness and,
while Roslin had some refreshments brought in ("Do you take, ah, tea or ah, coffee, Mr Ambassador?" she said. "And
please excuse my unfamiliarity with these beverages, as I was only introduced to them fairly recently.") she introduced
him to her staff. "Unfortunately my Vice-President, Mr. Tom Zarek, was unable to be here as he is off acting as my
representative in a meeting between Admiral Adama and some officials from your Admiralty," Roslin said. "However, may
I introduce Mr. Abraham Simons? He is one of the Vice-President's assistants and is here as his representative in these
talks." Again, Crispin simply smiled and exchanged pleasantries with Simons, and with the delegate from Caprica ("who
is here as the representative of the Quorum of Twelve, which is the legislative arm of the Colonial Government," Roslin
said.) Finally, as refreshments were served, Roslin, Crispin and their respective advisers sat down on opposite sides of
the long table that had been installed in the main room of Roslin's quarters.

"Mr. Ambassador," she began. "First off, will you please accept my thanks on behalf of the people of the Twelve Colonies
of Kobol to the Terran Imperial Government for the aid and assistance you have rendered us? Without your aid, we would
have been in a very dire situation, especially with such a race as the Raptors roaming about in this area of space."

"Thank you for your kind words, Madame President," Crispin said. "However, we were only doing what we require of
ourselves. After all, the human race must stick together."

"Indeed," Roslin said. She decided to get to the point. "I understand that these are exploratory talks. What do you wish to
discuss with us?" she said.

Crispin's eyebrows rose. "Direct to the point, I see," he said. He composed himself and looked straight at Roslin. "One of
the points of discussion concerns the status of your people vis--vis the Imperium. At present you can be classed as
refugees, but somehow I doubt that you would wish to retain that status for long."

"Indeed you are correct, Mr. Ambassador," Roslin said. "Frankly, we were hoping for some shelter and assistance from
you in relation to the Cylons."

"Ah, yes. The Cylons," Crispin said. "I understand that they were an AI project that got out of control. May I ask what they
may have to do with us?"

"The Cylons, Mr. Ambassador, are out to destroy all of humanity," Roslin said. "They believe that humanity is a 'flawed
creation' of their god, and that they were created to replace us. Surely that does concern the Imperium."

"Yes, it does, Madame President," Crispin said. "However, I cannot see them achieving that aim. Not if they have to also
deal with the Raptors, who have a similar aim and are much closer in technology to the Imperium. But I can see them as
being something of a problem, one that you could help us with."

"Indeed, Mr. Ambassador? And what do you envision our assistance to be?"

"Information," Crispin replied. "Their technology, their though processes. I understand that there is a renegade Cylon
amongst your military personnel."

"You are referring to Lieutenant Sharon Agathon, I believe," Roslin said. "And yes, she is one of the Colonial Fleet's finest
officers. She is, by the way, married to Captain Karl Agathon, Galactica's Operations Officer and the mother of a
daughter."

"Interesting," said Crispin. "Had the daughter survived the journey?"

Roslin hesitated. "Yes," she said. "However, she is a... prisoner of the Cylons. As far as we know she is still alive."

Crispin said nothing, but Kinga looked at Roslin and said, "If I may, Madame President?" At Roslin's nod, he turned to
face Crispin. "Mr. Ambassador," he said, "you said that information on the Cylons is one thing that the Imperium would
like from the Colonials. What were you planning on offering them in exchange?"

Crispin's features were expressionless as he looked at Kinga. "Why, information on the Raptors," he said. "Surely an
exchange of intelligence on races that appear to be mutual foes is a fair one."

"Despite the fact that the Act regarding contact with non-Terran hominid civilisations specifically requires the Imperium to
inform those civilisations all about the Raptors without looking for anything in return?" Kinga said. "Really, Mr.
Ambassador!"

"Well, what do you suggest would be an fair exchange, Mr. Undersecretary?" Crispin asked.
As the two Terran officials began to bargain, Roslin sat back and observed. I can see now why Kinga decided to come,
she thought. I wonder how Bill's doing in his meeting?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr. Vice-President, Admiral. Welcome to Sandoval Hub," said Admiral Templar.

"Glad to be here, Admiral," Tom Zarek said as he took Templar's hand. "Admiral," said Adama with a small nod as he
took his turn to shake Templar's hand.

The Terrans had gone all out with their reception in Sandoval Hub's main boat bay. Templar had arranged for an honour
guard made up of Imperial Marines, Terran Navy personnel and soldiers from the Terran Imperial Army to greet the
Colonials on their arrival. Somehow the Terrans had managed to locate a recording of the Colonial Hymn, which they
played while the honour guard presented arms. Adama, watching the guard out of the corner of one eye, noticed that the
Terran Army personnel had a different method of presenting arms than the Terran Navy: while the Terran Navy simply
passed their weapons up and across, the Terran Army flicked their weapons up, positioned it so that the trigger guard
was at eye level, and then brought it sharply down. Both services even positioned their heads differently: the Navy looked
straight ahead while the Army turned their heads sharply to the right. Zarek, as Vice-President, was then invited to
inspect the guard, which he did with a great deal of solemnity.

Much to Adama's astonishment Sandoval Hub had once been the central facility for the former Raptor naval base and
had been taken after a fierce struggle by the Terran infiltration battalions led by Lieutenant-General Hogan. There were
still some signs of that struggle, but the facility was fully functional, with the minor signs of the struggle being removed.
Both he and Zarek looked around as Templar and his staff escorted them through the station. After a short transport ride,
they approached a pair of double doors, which Templar waived open with one hand. With a small bow, Templar indicated
that they should precede him through the doors.

The room they were ushered into was large. There was no sign of its original function but the Terrans had turned it into a
meeting room. Standing at one end of the room were a group of Terran officers, some wearing the "dress" version of the
Terran Navy's standard day uniform, while others wore a dark green tunic over grey-green trousers tucked into tall black
boots. Some of the trousers had a broad red stripe on them while others had a narrow one. They had all turned to face
the doors.

Templar walked up to the most senior naval officer in the group. "Mr. Vice-President, Admiral Adama," he said, "may I
introduce you to Fleet Admiral Lady Dorothea Cheshire, Baroness Milton, Third Space Lord and Comptroller of His
Imperial Majesty's Navy?"

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Vice-President," Lady Cheshire said as she extended her hand. As Zarek
shook it, Adama took the chance to examine Lady Cheshire. Interestingly enough, she looked like a slightly older version
of Kara Thrace, but without the cockiness that Starbuck usually exhibited. She, too, wore pilot's wings, which meant that
she had seen time in the cockpit of a starfighter or a torpedoboat. Her face, while as absurdly young as that of most
Terrans, held eyes that said anything but. There was a more calculating look to her than many other officers in Adama's
acquaintance, both Terran and Colonial, had possessed.

Zarek was shaking her hand. "Forgive my ignorance," he said, "but I'm afraid I don't know what the proper term of
address is. Do I address you as 'Admiral' or is there some other address that is appropriate?" Well done, Zarek, Adama
thought. That should put them somewhat off b alance.

Lady Cheshire smiled. "The usual term of address socially is 'My Lady,' or 'Your Ladyship,'" she said. "Professionally, it is,
strange as it may seem, 'My Lord' or 'Your Lordship.' Has to do with old Earth naval tradition."

"Well, then, seeing as this is a professional meeting, I had better go with 'My Lord,'" said Zarek. "Although I had better
explain that amongst us the only beings we address with the title 'Lord' are our gods, the Lords of Kobol, so I may be a
little reticent in the use of those titles."

"In that case, 'Admiral Cheshire' would do just fine," Lady Cheshire replied. Zarek said nothing, but nodded his head in
acceptance.

Lady Cheshire turned to face Adama. "Admiral Adama," she said, extending her hand. "I'm pleased to meet a fellow
naval officer from a foreign navy," she said.

"Admiral Cheshire," Adama replied, as he took and shook her hand. "I must admit that I was a little surprised when
Admiral Templar told me that you would be coming out here. From what I have been told, this is somewhat unusual for
an official of your standing to visit a forward base in this sort of situation."
Lady Cheshire smirked at that. For a moment, she did look uncannily like Starbuck. "I agree," she said. "It is unusual for
a Space Lord to visit such an outpost. However, I can guarantee you that the situation does warrant it. You should have
seen the expression on Simon's face when I told him of my visit." She turned the smirk on Templar. "One of sheer horror,
I can assure you. Wasn't it, 'Saint'? " she said.

Templar had a look of long-suffering bemusement as he spoke to his superior. "Indeed it was, 'Wildcat'," he replied as
he herded Zarek and Adama towards two of the officers wearing green. "Field Marshal Sir James Olmos, Commander of
the Tenth Shock Army Group," he said, indicating the more senior of the two.

"Mr. Vice-President," Olmos said as he clicked his heels and gave a small bow. Olmos was darkly complexioned, with
closely cropped black hair and a goatee. Unlike the naval officers, Olmos wore his rank insignia on the front of his collar:
a strip of gold embroidery on a red patch done in the shape of three oak-leaves on a wavy background and positioned on
the front edge of his stand-and-fall collar. His dark green tunic had four pockets, one on each breast and one on the
skirts. He wore medal ribbons above the left breast pocket, and also had a dark-brown leather belt with a diagonal strap.
A sky-blue medal in the shape of some kind of cross with a gold filigree-work diamond at the back dangled from a sky-
blue ribbon worn around his neck.

"Field Marshal," said Zarek. He extended his hand, and Olmos took it.

Olmos turned to Adama. "Admiral," he said, extending his hand. As Adama took his hand, he saw that there was yellow
writing of some kind on three arms of the cross. I wonder what it says he thought to himself.

Olmos introduced one of the men in a green and grey-green uniform. "This is Lieutenant-General Sir Michael Hogan, my
Chief-of-Staff," he said.

Hogan greeted the two Colonials in turn. "Mr. Vice-President, Admiral," he said. Hogan was a tall, handsome fair
complexioned man with dark hair. He too had a similar medal to the one worn by Olmos around his neck. However, his
had a spray of gold oak leaves immediately above the cross.

Templar then turned to another Terran naval officer. "This is Flight Commodore Sir The Honourable St. John Bamber," he
said. "He's in charge of aerospace operations."

"Mr. Vice-President, Admiral," he said. Bamber was also tall, with a rough-hewn handsomeness that was set off by the
most impressive moustache Adama had ever seen. It grew luscious and thick on his upper lip, with the ends curling up.
He too, was heavily decorated, including the same cross worn by Olmos and Hogan. However, he also sported a blue
neckerchief sprinkled with white dots around his neck, giving him a slightly rakish air.

"And this is Vice-Admiral N'koma Wasane, my Chief-of-Staff," Templar said, indicating a large and very impressive black-
skinned man. Both Zarek and Adama exchanged greetings with him.

Adama turned around and indicated Tigh. "This is Colonel Saul Tigh, my and Galactica's Executive Officer," he said. "I
suppose he is the closest thing I have to a Chief-of Staff." Tigh stepped forward and greeted the Terrans.

"And these are Ms. Kari Al Masari and Mr. David Lomu," said Zarek. They've been assigned to us by the Contacts Office in
an advisory capacity." Both he and Adama watched the faces of the Terran officers to see how they would react to the
news that the Colonials had advisors from the Imperium's Contacts Office.

Both Olmos and Hogan seemed slightly discomforted by the news, but both Lady Cheshire and Admiral Templar
seemed to take it in their stride. "Glad to meet you," Cheshire said as she took their hands and gave that odd little heel
click and half-bow. "How's Joseph doing these days?" she asked Al Masari.

"The Undersecretary is quite well, My Lord," she replied. "In fact he's in the system now. I take it you know him, My Lord?"

Cheshire smirked. "He was my assigned Contacts Officer when I was in E, S and S," she replied. She looked at the
Colonials. "That's 'Exploration, Scouting and Survey,' which tends to be the arm of the Fleet that handles First Contacts.
Guess I'll have to look him up while I'm here." She faced Al Masari. "Is your father Emir Hassari bin Abdullah Al Masari, by
chance?" she said.

"You know my father, My Lord?" she asked.

"I do," replied Cheshire. "My First Officer on the E, S and S ship James Cook. Until his father got killed and he had to
move back to New Abidjan to take up his position as Crown Prince. When you see him next, give him my regards, will
you?" She then greeted Lomu, and then turned to Templar. "Shall we get things started, Simon?" Templar said nothing,
but gave a half-bow in reply and started ushering people into their places at the table. Soon both groups were sitting on
either side of the table, with the exception of Templar and his staff. He sat at the head of the table, flanked by two
members of his staff.

"Before we begin," Templar said, "may I ask you what your role in this meeting is, Mr. Vice-President?"

"I'm here very much in the role of observer, as well as President Roslin's appointed representative," Zarek replied. "I
suspect that you will be dealing mainly with Admiral Adama for the bulk of this meeting, although he may ask me for my
opinion."

"Thank you for clarifying your position, Mr. Vice-President," Templar said. He faced Lady Cheshire. "Do you wish to go
first, My Lord?" he said.

"I've got two items I would like to deal with," Cheshire said. She was now all business. "However, I think we can deal with
those last, especially as Admiral Adama is aware of the nature of one of them. The issues dealing with this station
should take priority, as they have some impact on its readiness."

"Very well, My Lord," Templar replied. He turned to face Adama. "Although this is mainly addressed to Admiral Adama as
the military commander of your fleet," he began, "I strongly suspect that it will also be of interest to you as well, Mr. Vice
President." Zarek said nothing but inclined his head in acknowledgement. "What we propose to do is to offer to hire
some of your vessels during the length of you stay in this system."

Adama and Zarek were taken aback by this statement. "May I ask which vessels you have in mind, Admiral?" Adama
asked.

"We'd like to hire your mining, refinery and construction vessels and their crews," Templar said. "Also your salvage and
repair ships and their crews."

Zarek leaned forward. "May I ask what you wish to use these vessels for?" he asked.

"The mining and refinery ships would be used in exploiting this system's asteroid belt," Templar said. "The salvage
vessels would be used in helping us clear this system of debris from the battle, while the construction platforms would
be used to help construct either new defence platforms or to retrofit any surviving Raptor ones, as well as helping to refit
captured Raptor installations. Your supply ships would be used to help provision both installations and warships."

"I thought that your habitats had their own farms," Adama said.

"They do, but installations like the one we're currently in don't," Templar said. "We are offering the Navy's standard
contract for the hire of the vessels, which, in this case includes danger and combat zone provisions as well as refitting or
replacing any equipment that is worn out or broken." He leaned forward. "As a bit of a sweetener, we are also offering to
do a complete overhaul of the vessels so employed once you get to Alquonde Fleet Node." He nodded at Lady Cheshire.
"I have been authorised by the Third Space Lord, acting for the Board of the Admiralty, to make that offer."

Adama and Zarek exchanged looks. This was quite an offer. "And if we refuse?" Adama said.

Templar shrugged. "You refuse," he said. "However, I wish to add that in addition to the ships, we also wish to offer their
crews contracts to work with their ships. They will also have provision for danger pay as well as for combat zone pay too.
In addition, we provide provisioning and accommodation for the crews and their families. I would suggest that you do
accept this offer, though, and not just because my command will benefit. This is an opportunity for both your government
and some of your people to earn quite a healthy nest egg in Terran Imperial credits." He leant back.

"What about spacesuits?" Adama asked. "Our suits are somewhat... primitive compared to your skinsuits."

"We can refit your existing suits to a higher tech level," Templar said. "Unfortunately we can't fit your crews out for
skinsuits here, since those are rather personalised pieces of equipment. We can repair and maintain them, but not
make them with the facilities here. But we can retrofit your spacesuits and also enable you to be able to maintain them."

"Why do you want to use some of our vessels?" Zarek asked. "I may not be a military man, but I would have assumed
that you would have at least brought in enough vessels of those types to carry out those functions."

"We did," Templar said. "However, the presence of your vessels of those types offers me an opportunity to dramatically
cut down the time it will take to get this system into some kind of defensive shape. I'd be amiss in my duty to the
Imperium if I didn't grasp any opportunity to do so."

"Are we expected to make a decision now, Admiral?" asked Zarek.

"No, not immediately," Templar replied. "All I ask is for you to consider our offer. If you like, we can email the relevant
documents to your assigned Contacts Office personnel so they can review them and give an opinion."

Zarek looked at Adama. "I think that's acceptable," he said. Adama said nothing but nodded in agreement. Zarek turned
back to Templar. "Although I have to ask, what is 'email?'" he said.

"'Electronic mail,'" Templar said. He looked at Al Masari. "Can you please give my staff the relevant addresses so we can
send you the paperwork?" he asked.

"I'll take care of that now," Al Masari said.

Templar said nothing but nodded his head in reply. Turning to Adama, he said, "The next item has been put forward by
Field Marshal Olmos and Flight Commodore Bamber. If you don't mind, I'll allow them to speak about it." Adama and
Zarek said nothing, but simply inclined their heads.

Olmos activated the holoplate built into the conference table. A hologram of the system's inhabitable planet appeared,
with markings showing where the Raptors were still fighting. "As you can see," he said, "there are still several areas
where the lizards are resisting our efforts to dig them out. They are concentrated in areas of rough terrain. Kinetic
bombardment by the Fleet's monitors has helped in reducing some of the larger areas, but is not surgical enough for
those areas where, for the purposes of such bombardment, our lines are intermingled with theirs. Flight Commodore
Bamber's aerospace fighters have been of some use, but have some problems in dealing with the tactical situation."

"What problems?" Adama asked.

"Basically, our aerospace craft are too fast to be of any real use in this situation," Bamber said. "Even with smart and
drag munitions we just cannot slow down enough to put our ordinance smack on target. In addition, the speed of our
craft makes a proper strafing run difficult. Simply put, we just cannot get the time we need over the target." He shrugged.
"It's not all that new a problem," he said. "A similar thing occurred when the first jet combat aircraft were introduced in the
20th Century CE on Earth. Luckily they still had a large supply of propeller-driven aircraft that could be used in a ground-
attack role."

"I understand what your problem is," Adama said. "What do you expect us to do about it?"

"Admiral, we would like to use your Viper aerospace fighters," Bamber said. "We would like you to turn them over to us,
and for your pilots to instruct ours in how to fly them. In exchange, we will hand over to you enough of our front-line
Drakon aerospace superiority fighters to replace your Vipers, plus spare craft, and teach your fliers how to operate them.
In addition, we will have the Fleet yards here install on Galactica flight simulators so that your pilots get some sim time
before getting into the cockpit of a Drakon."

This time, Adama and Tigh looked at each other. This was indeed quite a tempting offer. To exchange their Mk VII Vipers
for the Terran's latest fighter would, if the Colonials ever encountered the Cylons without any Terran units around, give the
Cylons quite a nasty surprise. There were, however, some practical and cultural points to consider before they accepted.
"What about maintenance, spare parts etc?" Tigh asked. "And will our pilots need a computer chip inside their heads in
order to fly the things?"

"I can guarantee that these issues will not be a consideration," Lady Cheshire said. "I understand that on... Nike is it?" At
the nods from the Colonials, she continued, "Nike you have computerised fabrication plants. Am I correct?" Again, at the
nods from the Colonials, she continued, "I can direct that the design specifics for the Drakons, including the EF version,
be programmed into their memory cores. That way, you should not lack for parts."

"'EF' version?" asked Adama.

"The electronic warfare variant of the Drakon," Cheshire said. "Plus, I would imagine that both your maintenance crews
and ours would have to train each other in how to maintain the respective craft."

"As for having your pilots implanted with computer chips," Bamber said, "don't worry. We can also give you designs for
neurohelmets, as well as the helmets themselves, which can simply replace the ones on your current flight suits without
any problems."

"What about the launch tubes on Galactica?" Tigh said. "They're designed for our Vipers, not your ships. How do you
know they'll fit?"

"Galactica needs a major overhaul, am I right?" Templar said.

Both Tigh and Adama nodded. "She needs at least six months in a dock just for the structural repairs," Tigh said.
"Well, I can authorise some repairs to her airtight integrity here," Templar said, "but I think that, in the interests of this
proposal I may be able to convince the Third Space Lord to authorise further repairs and any necessary modifications at
Alquonde?" He looked at Lady Cheshire as he said this.

Cheshire nodded. "I can do that," she said. "In fact, if you don't mind, gentlemen, that sounds like a good time for me to
put forward one proposal that i bring, not just on my behalf, but on behalf of the Naval Board, not just the Admiralty." The
other senior Terran officers just nodded.

Zarek and Adama leaned forward. "What do you propose, Admiral Cheshire?" Zarek asked.

"Simply, we wish to licence from you the basic concepts and designs for your Mercury-class battlestar and for Nike," she
said. "Plus the designs for your Vipers and for those craft on Nike you call Raiders."

That stunned the Colonials.

*Chapter 21*: Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty.

After a short silence, Adama asked, "Why would you want something like the Mercurys, Admiral? Let alone something
like Nike? Aren't they dated compared to what you have?"

Lady Cheshire smiled and shook her head. "Ideas, particularly if they're good ones, usually have a long shelf life," she
said. "And the basic idea behind the Mercury-class battlestar...hell, even the concept of the battlestar, is something I
strongly feel can fit in quite well with our fleet mix. So will ships built on the basic principle of Nike.

"And as for your technology... let's say that your coil guns show a great deal of promise. Especially their rapid-fire mode...
we haven't been able to crack that. Plus I can easily see them as missile launchers. We marry them up to our
superdreadnoughts as broadside launch tubes... Admiral, you may be able to give us an edge over the lizards. A large
edge."

Adama took all of this in and sat there thinking. After a moment, he said, "Where do you see battlestars and base stars
fitting into your fleet mix?"

"The battlestars, especially if we build them on the scale we use," said Cheshire, "would easily slot into our carrier
groups. Their point-defence capability, combined with their main armament, as well as their aerospace capability, can
easily give our carrier groups some serious firepower. In addition, they can also add a much-needed front-line support
capability to our battlesquadrons. When combined with the base stars, they would give additional protection to our fleet
trains. If we leave them on the scale of, say, the Mercurys, they can be used as convoy escorts and system patrol craft,
with the base stars as a forward base."

"I don't mind telling you that I could have used something along the lines of both the Mercurys and Nike when I took this
system," Templar said. "I could have established a defensive 'beachhead' in the outer area of the system where I could
have jumped in several elements of the fleet train so as to give me some front-line repair capability. In any case, just
having something with the on-board fabrication capabilities of those ships would have been a boon in itself."

Adama sat, and pondered what the Terrans had just told him. "All right," he said. "Put the way you've told me, I can see
where you think those kind of ships can fit in. That still leaves the Vipers and Raiders. Where do they fit in?"

"I believe some of 'Abal's people may have mentioned that the Viper was a promising design?" Cheshire said. Adama
nodded. "We think that there are elements in it that could easily be put into the design of our next-generation of space-
superiority fighter." Both Adama and Tigh were surprised at that statement. Cheshire continued: "The design, in itself,
would make an excellent systems defence fighter. It's robust, fairly easily maintained: all qualities that would make it a
very attractive proposition to quite a few colonial and independent system fleets. Combine them with the battlestar/base
star pairing, and you have something that would make any pirate think twice about raiding either a system or a convoy.
When you get yourself established in a new system, I would suggest quite strongly that you give some thought to, firstly,
some kind of yard that will allow you to build these ships for the export market. I'm quite sure I can convince the Secretary
of State for Defence to put a proposal to the Cabinet for development aid as the navy will probably want to buy from you."

"You have a pirate problem?" Adama asked.

"Pirates and lizards on a raid," said Cheshire. "Because of the war with the lizards we can't really spare any ships for
anti-piracy patrols. One more reason we're interested in your ship designs. A system defence fleet with ships based on
the Mercurys and Nike would be a good deterrent to pirates and lizards on deep-penetration raids.

"As for the Raiders... We believe, or at least a first blush would have us believe that they could be of use as EW platforms
as well as in the ground-attack role. I believe that Flight-Commodore Bamber has something to say about that."

Bamber turned to face Adama. "Now I suppose you may be wondering just why we would need such an 'obsolete'
design, given the aerospace craft we already possess," he began. Adama and Tigh both nodded. "Well, basically, we
screwed up somewhat," he said. "I can plea, however, that we haven't really experienced the sort of fighting that's going
on downstairs.

"Basically, whenever we encountered the lizards, it was usually on our territory, when they had launched an incursion.
Our local defence forces would basically hunker down behind some pretty impressive fortifications until a relief force
arrived in system. Then, while the Fleet took on the lizards' space forces, our own aerospace craft, those that weren't
involved in fighting the lizards' own, were carrying out ground attacks on lizard forces that, apart from field fortifications,
were out in the open, and thus, made nice, fat targets. So, while our Drakons were performing CAP duties upstairs, our
Bronze Whaler-type torpedo boats would be dropping bellyloads of ordinance on the lizards and supporting our own
ground forces. That sort of changed when we went on the counteroffensive. We found ourselves attacking heavily fortified
areas that were designed to not only provide protection against orbital bombardment, but were also deigned to tie our
own forces down."

"Effectively the Raptors have turned your own tactics against you," Adama said. "Except that in this case you are making
sure that they can't get a relief force through."

"Precisely," said Templar. "Don't imagine this is the only area we're fighting in. The offensive took place along the whole
frontier. Basically, we take key systems like this one, fortify the crap out of it and dare the lizards to take it off us. The
whole strategy is designed to engage their main battle fleets. But, by doing it in the way we have, we're forcing them to
make a choice out of several rather unpalatable options."

"Are you sure that they can't equal your own effort?" Adama added.

"We're confident," replied Lady Cheshire. "This offensive was launched immediately after we had just shredded a major
incursion. We've been planning this for quite some time."

"Except that we didn't foresee just what the lizards would do," said Olmos. "In hindsight, we should have known they
would do what we did. However, hindsight always has 20-20 vision," Although the phrase was unfamiliar to the
Colonials, the meaning was.

"So just what have the Raptors done?" Adama asked.

"I don't know if the lizards have read any Terran history, which, by the way, I find unlikely," Olmos said. "But they have
adopted tactics straight out of Earth's military history. They've created a series of strongpoints that are defended in depth
by lines of fortifications. Those fortifications allow the lizards to hug our own troops pretty tightly, something that prevents
us from using our own ace, the monitors. In order to at least counter what they have done, we've been forced to dig in
ourselves. Basically, we've reverted to trench warfare, although thankfully without the casualty rates associated with that
sort of fighting."

"In some places we've managed to withdraw to good defensive ground ourselves," said Hogan. "In those cases we've
managed to blast the lizards out of their holes with the monitors. However, when we occupy the ground they swarm out of
even deeper holes and engage us at pretty close quarters. Just to avoid being swarmed our troops have to dig in."

"And therein lies our problem," said Bamber. "The lines are intermingled, with our own troops digging in where they halt.
This denies us the ability to hit them in the way we normally can. And kinetic bombardment, while effective, is not surgical
enough to take out a target that's separated form our own front lines by only a few hundred metres. Hence, why we need
to use your Vipers here, and why we would like to examine the Raiders you have on Nike. We think we can develop the
basic airframe into an impressive dedicated ground-attack craft. Incidentally, the fact that your battlestars have coil guns
as their main armament also makes them useful as fire support platforms that we can base the dedicated ground attack
craft on. Come to think of it, they could easily make a good assault transport."

"Never thought of that," said Adama. From the look on Cheshire's face it was also clear that she hadn't thought of it either.
"The only orbital bombardment our battlestars were equipped to perform was with nukes." He looked at the Terrans.
"Why don't you just nuke them and be done with it?"

"Because we don't believe in needlessly contaminating the real estate we intend to occupy ourselves," said Cheshire.
"Besides, for something like the fortifications the lizards have got we would need to use hellburners. And that's
something of a 'last resort' option."

"What's a 'hellburner'?" Adama asked.

"It's a nuke," replied Cheshire. "It's about one hundred megatons throw weight." The Colonials were shocked to hear the
size of the device. "However, it's built around an artificial grav unit that's protected by a battlescreen. When the nuke goes
off the grav unit lasts long enough to generate a grav field somewhere about the level of that found on most gas giants.
Effectively, it turns the reaction into that found in the core of a star. When the screen burns out the fireball expands out to a
radius of some sixty kilometres and lasts up to an hour. When the fireball eventually burns out, it leaves nothing but a
radioactive lava field. Not exactly what you want on a planet you intend to occupy yourself. And not to mention that if we
use it, then the lizards will feel free to use it on our planets. Especially if they decide on a destructive raid."

"And let's not mention planetbusters," said Templar. "We most definitely don't want to go there. Not after we have seen
the results of their use in the Precursor War." A collective shudder went through the Terran side of the table.
"Besides, the lizards have got planetary defence screens in the heartland of their fortified areas," said Templar. "That
means that we can't bombard those heartlands with the monitors, and to take them out we'd have to literally saturate
them with hellburners in order to get a burnthrough. And although our battle armour is good at withstanding hard
radiation, it's not that good. So the only option we have is a ground assault."

"And hence your need for our Vipers," said Adama. "But won't they have a slim chance of surviving in that sort of
environment?"

"We have some 'Wild Weasel' pairs of torpedoboats crossing the areas as slowly as they can," said Bamber.

"'Wild Weasel?'" asked Adama.

"Basically we have two pairs of torpedoboats fly over the area at height," said Bamber. "One flies at a lower altitude than
the other. When an air defence site paints one of them with missile guidance sensors the other fires a HARM, or Homing
Anti-Radiation Missile, at the site. It follows the beam down to the site and destroys it. If they switch off, the torpedoboat's
own sensors will have a lock on the site and it will provide the missile with all the guidance it needs. We think we've
taken out all their fixed sites, but that doesn't mean there aren't lizards with portable surface-to-air missiles down there.

"Aside from that, we think that their chances of survival in that sort of environment are quite good, especially after we've
upgraded the avionics and used any space gained to install battlescreens. We can't install armour on them, as that
would require us to literally rebuild your craft. That doesn't mean we can't put armour on the ships we build."

"How would you armour something as small as a Viper?" asked Tigh.

"Basically, we use the armour as its skin," Bamber said. "It's a mixture of some highly exotic ceramics and metals. Quite
tough and is basically what we use for our battle armour. The airframe would be made up of a mixture of composites
that, although bulky, are quite light and strong. We think that just building your basic Mk, VII Viper with those elements,
but keeping an improved version of your basic engine design, will result in a particularly nasty package. Adding in our
avionics package will allow us to not only add a small battlescreen but also increase the size of the internal weapons
bay, plus some significant strengthening to the hardpoints that already exist under the wings. But these are just some
tinkering around the edges of what is already a pretty attractive design. We would also do the same to the Raider
design." He leaned forward. "Any improvements we make on the designs would be forwarded to you as a part of any
licensing agreement we negotiate."

"The same goes for any improvements we make to the basic battlestar and base star designs as well," Cheshire said.
"So, there you have it: we wish to licence your designs for the battlestar, base star, Viper and Raider concepts, plus your
coil gun design. Plus trade your entire complement of Vipers for an equal number of our Drakons, plus refit Galactica to
be able to operate them. If it makes things any easier for you, we are willing to negotiate through the Contacts Office." As
she finished, one of her staff officers leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"Oh, and I almost forgot." She looked over to the staff officer, who reached into a bag and drew out a large envelope and
handed it to Cheshire. "This is the formal request from the Board of the Admiralty to you for the loan of the services of
your Lieutenant Gaeta," she said, passing it over to Adama. "Both the original document and its translation into your
language are included, as are the terms we are offering."

"What terms are they?" Adama asked.

"Briefly, we are offering Lieutenant Gaeta a Commander's slot in the Navy while he is at Dartmouth. He will get the usual
pay appertaining to both his rank and his position as an instructor, as well as the benefits. For the Colonial Fleet, we
offer to pay his Colonial salary and also offer to provide to you, at our expense, an astrogator for Galactica. The finer
details are in the enclosed documents."

"Would you object to my having Mr. Lomu look them over?" said Adama.

"Not at all," said Cheshire. "In fact..." Suddenly all of the Terrans shot up in their chairs. Their eyes lost focus as they were
fed an alert message via their implants. Curious, the Colonials sat and watched the faces of the Terrans as a whole
range of emotions, ranging from surprise to incredulity ranged across them. Finally, they shook themselves and looked
at the Colonials.

"Something wrong?" asked Adama.

"Not wrong," said Templar, "just odd." He looked around at the other Terrans and then looked at Adama. "Admiral, unless
you or Mr. Zarek wished to add anything to this discussion, I'm afraid I'll have to terminate this meeting." He looked at
Cheshire. "Of course, My Lord, you do understand that this takes priority." Cheshire said nothing but waived the
statement away.

"I think we were pretty much done in any case," Adama said. "If you can send the Contacts Office people the details of
what you have proposed, we'll examine them and send you our reply." He looked closely at Templar. "Is there something
else that we can assist you in?"

"Yes, there may well be," Templar said. "I've just received a flash from the Situation Room. We've just had a force of ships
jump in system. According to the warbook you gave us, they're Cylons."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Outer System, Sandoval Base.

The large strikeforce of Cylon Raiders, b acked b y six b ase stars, swept towards the inner system of the Terran b ase.
They were well aware that their emergence from hyperspace had b een detected, as their DRADIS sensors had picked up
the unmistakeab le signature of Terran aerospace craft, as well as that of Terran warships, moving towards them.

Their mission in Sandoval System was twofold. Their primary mission was to deliver the drone missile that was carrying
the request b y the humaniform Cylons for a meeting to b egin negotiations.

Their secondary mission was to provoke enough of a response so that they would get a good reading on the capab ilities
of Terran spacecraft. And so far, judging b y the reaction, that part of the mission was going quite well. Too well, in fact as
Terran space superiority interceptors, torpedob oats and, worryingly, a b attlesquadron of superdreadnoughts, which had
b een engaged in manoeuvres in the outer system, closed in on their position.

As the fighters got closer, the Raiders b egan to record their characteristics. They were somewhat larger than the
Colonial's Vipers and, according to the energy readings, more powerfully armed. They were also capab le of greater
speeds and far more agile. Their armament appeared to b e entirely energy-b ased, something that b oded ill for the
Raiders if they engaged in comb at with these fighters. However, that was not their primary mission today.

The superdreadnoughts, like all Terran warships that the Cylons had encountered, were impressive. Longer than the
b attlecruisers, they were b roader, with heavier armour, armament and b attlescreens than the far more nimb le
b attlecruisers. These ships were designed not only to deal out massive damage, b ut also to ab sorb it in duels b etween
b attle fleets. One would have b een more than enough to take out all three b ase stars, and here were eight of them, hulls
rotating to present their kill zones to the Cylon intruders, b earing down on them.

This time, though, discretion was the b etter part of valour. The Cylon ships dumped a series of drones in the vicinity in
order to try and record some data and then jumped further in system.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Situation Room, Sandoval Hub .

Adama, Zarek and Tigh stopped at the entrance to the Situation Room, but Templar and Bamber, used to the sight that
had halted the three Colonials, kept going.

Before the three loomed a large circular amphitheatre. It had four entryways that consisted of rows of steps that lead past
rows of computer stations that were manned by members of the Terran Imperial Navy. Each one, much to the surprise of
the three, had a holographic screen and some kind of keyboard. Every so often, however, they would move their right
hands in random directions, eyes fixed on the screen. The whole room was bathed in a semi-darkness that gave it a
similar kind of atmosphere to that possessed by Galactica's CIC. But that wasn't why the Colonials had halted at the
entrance.

The reason why they had halted filled the central area of the amphitheatre in front of them. Nothing they had seen had
prepared them for the reality of Sandoval Hub's nerve centre.

Before them was the largest holotank any of them had ever seen. It filled the centre of the room with a schematic of the
whole system, showing the position of not just formations, but, where necessary, of individual ships and installations,
complete with data tags that could be expanded into whole windows. The whole sphere showed constant movement as
Sandoval Hub's nerve centre tracked the comings and goings of ships and formations throughout the system.

My Gods, thought Adama. If we had something like this at Picon... He cut the thought off almost as soon as it had started.
Something like this at Picon would not have helped the Colonial Fleet, thanks to the Cylons' back door into the Colonial
Fleet's main defence mainframe as well as their virus.
"Bit overwhelming, isn't it?" said a voice in a Terran accent. Adama turned to find Lady Cheshire had stopped alongside
the three Colonials. "If you think this is something," she continued, "then, when you do get to visit Earth I'll have to show
you the Strategic Information Centre underneath Admiralty House in London. That tank is six times as big and keeps
track of every ship and formation in the Imperial Navy." She began to usher them down the stairs towards the holotank. "I
suppose we had better see just exactly what's going on," she said.

As they got closer to the holotank Adama noticed that Templar was standing next to a man in front of a window that had
opened in the holographic display. Connected to a moving pulsing red dot in the main display, the window, to Adama's
astonishment, showed the exact locations of every vessel in the Cylon force. Each one was represented by a pulsing red
dot with a red tag with white writing in it attached. Other windows nearby showed what were presumably Terran vessels
that were moving to intercept the Cylon intruders. Except for the colour of both dots and tags (blue with white writing) they
were identical with the ones used to depict the Cylons and were similarly attached to moving blue dots in the main
display. Templar was looking at the displays and talking to the man who was wearing what, at first appearance, looked
like a Terran Imperial Navy uniform. Adama could not understand what they were saying, but from the fact that the words
"Cylon", "base star" and "raider" were sprinkled throughout the conversation, it was pretty clear what they were talking
about.

Cheshire spoke. "What's the situation, Simon?" she said in Colonial.

Templar turned around and indicated the holotank. "We have a force of six base stars, as well as eighteen hundred
Raiders of varying types, on what looks like a reconnaissance-in-force in the Outer and Middle system. So far they've
been jumping out whenever any of our forces manage to position themselves for an intercept. It looks like they've come
only for a looksee, not for a fight.

"Admiral, the intruders have jumped again," said the man next to Templar. His uniform, now that Adama could see
closely, had a star above the three rings on his cuff and insignia that was different to what Templar had, including some
kind of stylised bird on the left breast. He wore a black-and-silver cross suspended by a black, red and white ribbon at
his neck. His bearded face was weather-beaten, which made him look older than Templar, and he spoke with a
markedly different accent than the Terrans, pronouncing have as haff and jumped as chumped . "They have emerged
just", chust, "outside of," ov, "our inner defences," defencez. "Admiral Hinkler has just reported that his battlecruisers are
ready to jump out to intercept the intruders."

Templar nodded. "Tell him to..." when all of a sudden, the situation on the display changed. "Well, well," he said, looking
at Adama. "Looks like they do make mistakes after all."

"Yes, Admiral," Adama replied, "They do."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As the Cylons moved in order to ob tain good readings on the defence platforms, one b ase star moved to within range of
one platform. Immediately the platform's AI calculated the odds and decided that there was a good chance of scoring hits
on the Cylon vessel and launched one missile.

One missile may not sound like much, b ut the platform's AI had b een receiving a constant stream of information from the
sensor platforms deployed throughout the system on the performance of the Cylon vessels. It therefore knew that its
missiles, powered b y a high-performance version of the inertialess drives that drove the ships of the Terran Imperial
Navy, was much faster than anything that the Cylons had, to the b est of its knowledge, previously encountered. The result
was that the Cylons got to see the performance of a Terran capital ship missile.

The Cylons detected the launch. Before they realised what was happening the missile had reached the point where it
separated into its individual attack missiles. However, b eing a capital ship missile, it had ten warheads, two of which were
electronic warfare drones. They immediately started to jam the Cylon DRADIS, confusing the Hyb rids as well as the
humaniform Cylons on b oard. As the missiles reached their final positions the Cylons finally realised what was ab out to
happen and started to spin up their hyperspace engines.

Too late.

The eight laser warheads detonated, creating not only a wave of thermonuclear fire that eliminated any Cylon Raiders
that were unlucky enough to b e in the vicinity, b ut also generating an array of X-ray lasers that were designed to, when
sufficiently concentrated, b urn through b oth b attlescreens and armour.

This time, however, they weren't concentrated. When the fireb alls died away the Cylon b ase star that had b een targeted
was still in existence. It had, however, taken heavy damage as the X-ray lasers had punched through armour that was
only thick enough to withstand close-range comb at with Colonial b attlestars. Immediately the remaining b ase stars
moved in closer in case they had to render any assistance.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Tell Admiral Hinkler to go now," said Templar.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As the Cylons b egan to assess the damage done to the b ase star the four b attlecruisers of Admiral Hinkler's scouting
group emerged from hyperspace and immediately b egan to turn their kill zones in the direction of the Cylons. Although
they had not seen b attlecruisers in action the Cylons, well aware of the threat posed b y any Terran capital ship, decided
to get out while the going was good. Just b efore they did, however, they fired the drones that b ore their request to talk with
the Terrans.

Immediately the drones b egan transmitting a message on several radio frequencies. Although they had fired them near
Terran defence platforms they figured that it was a good chance that the Terrans didn't waste heavy ordinance on things
like drones. They were correct. As soon as they were sure they were safely away the remaining Cylon ships all jumped
out of the system.

With one notab le exception.

The damaged b ase star had tried to jump out with its sister ships, only to discover that the damage inflicted on it b y the
Terran warheads had afflicted the hyperdrives. When they had attempted to spin them up the drives had immediately
failed. Realising what had happened the Cylons attempted to detonate scuttling charges, only to find that the Hyb rid had
b een hit b y the Terran version of the Raptor "hack pack" which had disab led the charges and was affecting the Cylon
point defence. However, b efore switching resources to fight the hack pack, the Hyb rid and the Agents, having learned
from the Cylon race's previous encounter with the older Raptor version, had managed to set the ship's Centurions to
autonomous operation.

Realising what was ab out to happen, the humaniform Cylons knew there was only one thing they could do... prepare to
fight.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Sir, Admiral Hinkler has reported that he has employed the hack pack and that he has sent boarding parties away to the
Cylon vessel," said the officer standing next to him. "He also reports that the Cylons have also fired several drones that
are transmitting a message saying that they bear a communication from the Cylon race to us."

Templar raised an eyebrow at the last part of the message. "Tell him he is to pick up the drones, but to be careful about
it," he said. "They may be booby-trapped." As the officer went to convey Templar's instructions, Adama leaned over to
Cheshire and whispered, "I note that that officer is wearing a different uniform. Is he from another navy?"

Cheshire chuckled. "Actually, that's his personal AI," she said. Adama started, as did Tigh and Zarek. "Simon chose as
his AI a semi-fictional character from a classic movie of the late Twentieth Century CE. That's the commanding officer
from a film called 'Das Boot', which was all about a cruise by a German submarine, or 'unterseeboot' during one of
Earth's global wars."

Tigh turned to Adama. "I now understand what you and the President were going on about," he said, indicating the AI. "I
thought that was a human myself!" Zarek said nothing but kept his eyes fixed on the AI.

Cheshire noticed the unease in the Colonials and said, "Gentlemen, while we had only intended to discuss certain
things with you, I'm afraid that we may need your assistance." This had the desired effect of turning the Colonials'
attention on her. "I am aware that you probably wish to return to your hab in order to discuss our offers and requests with
your government, however I am now going to ask you for your assistance in dealing with any prisoners we take. Can you
assist us in this?"

Adama and Tigh looked at each other. Although they had had some experience with Cylon prisoners they had been not
been taken in the circumstances surrounding a boarding action. "You sound pretty sure that you'll capture that base star,
Admiral," Tigh said.

"We're confident," said Cheshire. "However, we are aware that you have more experience in dealing with them than we
do. Hell, you've even got a Cylon renegade as an officer in your fleet! We don't have that experience or knowledge base
that you have. So, will you give us your help in this matter?"

Adama, Tigh and Zarek looked at each other. "Do you mind if we talk to President Roslin first about this?" Zarek asked.
"By all means," Cheshire said. "I'll have you taken to a communications station right away. But first, we'll see if we have
any prisoners to interrogate." She turned her attention back to the holographic display that loomed above them.

This could get interesting, Adama thought as he watched the display with her.
*Chapter 22*: Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One

President' Roslin's Residence.

"Well, this is an interesting development."

Laura Roslin was seated in her private office talking with Adama and Zarek on the holoviewer in there. With her was her
personal aide, Tory Foster.

Moments earlier she had been in the main meeting room participating in negotiations with Ambassador Crispin over not
just the status of the Colonials in this part of the galaxy, but also over where they were going to settle. To her it was
obvious that they could not settle anywhere within range of the Raptors, but she was also adamant in her insistence that
not only were her people going to retain their own identity, they were going to settle in a system that would allow their
descendents to, if they so chose, return to the Colonies and retake them from the Cylons. She had been fully supported
in the basic aim by Undersecretary Kinga, who had, due to his greater knowledge of the Terran Empire's laws and
bureaucracy, been entrusted with the fine details of the negotiations. Of course, that had happened only with the
complete understanding that Roslin had the final word on any proposed agreement before she took it to the Quorum for
ratification.

Now she was discussing the events of over three hours ago with Adama, Zarek and Tigh. They had, of course, filled her
in with the broad details of their meeting with the Terran naval officers and told her that the Terrans would be forwarding
several documents pertaining to the discussions they had held. But now they were talking about the Cylon incursion into
Sandoval Base and its results.

"I wonder what possessed them to try something like that?" asked Roslin.

"Probably overconfidence," said Adama. "I suppose they have never seen the Terrans in action and decided to find out
what they could about their capabilities. Well, they found out about them, all right."

"It must have been a shock to them when the Terrans hit them with that 'hack pack' of theirs," said Tigh. "And an even
bigger shock when they sent boarding parties over to capture the base star."

"Did they manage to take any of the humaniform Cylons prisoner?" Roslin asked.

"They did, Madame President," said Adama. "Although I didn't get to actually see any in the flesh, the video images from
the Terran Marines' helmet-mounted cameras told me one thing: that they are in a state of shock over what happened."

"It was like watching that footage we recovered from Nike's memory core, Madame President," Tigh said. "Except that,
unlike the Raptors, the Terrans don't blow ships open to vacuum. They did, however, take the chrome-jobs apart, those
they didn't hit with that odd weapon of theirs, their immobiliser ray or whatever it is." As he spoke Tigh thought back on the
images he had witnessed in Sandoval Hub's Situation Room, a predatory smirk on his face.

The Imperial Marines in their powered battle armour had gone through the Cylon defenders with what, to the
knowledgeable observer, was practised ease. When they had confronted defences that were manned by Cylon 'skinjobs'
the Terrans had first fired what turned out to be gas grenades that, on impact with the decking, discharged a gas that
made the defending humaniform Cylons retch and, in several cases, throw up. In either case, they were disabled to such
an extent that all the Terrans had to do was simply to put restraints of some kind on the, by now, thoroughly miserable
Cylons. The chromejobs they simply shot, either with their pulse laser rifles or with some kind of weapon that simply
deactivated them, or, in those cases where they fought them in close quarters combat, used what appeared to be some
kind of laser-cutter that was an integral part of their battle armour or, more spectacularly, simply tore them apart. Either
way, it was quite clear that the Terrans were quite experienced in securing ships against opponents other than the
Raptors.

Interestingly, the way that they managed to take control of the base star was, when the Terran's computer capability was
taken into account, amazingly simple. When they reached the main control room they just simply attached a PortaPC to
one of the control surfaces and installed one of their AIs, who simply isolated the Hybrid from the base star's controls,
took charge of the hack pack and assumed control over the base star's functions. The only difficulty was in plugging the
PortaPC into the control surface, but the manner in which the Terrans did so showed their experience in these matters.
They just simply opened up one side of the control surface and literally hard wired the PortaPC into the system. From
there the stored AI simply installed itself and took charge. "We do this at the basic machine language level," said
Cheshire when Adama queried the effectiveness of what the Terrans had done. "Binary code is, after all, the universal
machine language."

But the one memory that Tigh cherished most of all was the ones that showed the captured humaniform Cylons being
herded into one of the assault shuttles that had landed inside one of the large hanger areas inside the base star. Every
one of them had a look of utter confusion mingled with stunned disbelief at the turn of events. That image Tigh would
keep in his memory for a long, long time.

Adama's voice brought him out of his reverie. "The Terrans managed to take the base star pretty much intact, apart from
the damage inflicted by the missile attack. They're attaching what they call a 'jump tug' to the Cylon ship in order to bring it
back inside the base's defences in order to examine it."

"I see," said Roslin. "Do you think that capturing that base star is going to make any difference to what you were
discussing with the Terrans?" Roslin asked.

Adama shook his head. "From what Admiral Cheshire told me it shouldn't," he said. "She said that at first blush they
think that, in several important ways Nike's basic design would prove to be far more useful to them as an actual warship.
That doesn't mean that they can't find a use for the one they captured. Which, as Cheshire indicated to me, seems more
of an intelligence resource than anything else.

"Admiral Cheshire also said that they want our assistance in interrogating the Cylons they have taken prisoner," Adama
continued. "I think that we should agree to that request. We may be able to get some useful information out of the
process."

"What makes you think that we can be of some assistance?" asked Roslin. "I mean, we may have had close dealings
with the Cylons when they occupied New Caprica, but can we contribute anything useful to the interrogation process?"

"I'm thinking that we should assign Athena as a liaison to the interrogation team," said Adama. "She has helped us
before in interpreting what we've come across that has involved the Cylons. She could be of similar assistance to the
Terrans."

Roslin considered Adama's words. Zarek said, "Actually, I think that's a very good idea, Madame President," he said.
"Lieutenant Agathon could also be able to, shall we say, speak to the Cylon prisoners on a level that none of us could
do." He looked at Adama. "Admiral, do we have any records on the development of the Cylons prior to the First Cylon
War? They could assist not just us but the Terrans as well."

Adama tilted his head back in thought. "Frankly," he said, "I'm not too sure we do. Much of that knowledge was buried
under several layers of classification back on Caprica." He frowned, deep in thought.

"Perhaps we should turn over one of Nike's memory cores to the Terrans," said Roslin. At the looks she said, "Well, the
Cylons prob ab ly kept that information, but buried in some storage level that we didn't bother looking for."

"Because we didn't think it necessary," Adama said. "I'll talk to Athena and Gaeta about it. And I might also assign Gaeta
to help the Terrans on their intelligence mission. And I'll see if there are any histories of the First Cylon War buried
somewhere in Galactica's own memory stores. After all, she was on her way to become a museum then the Cylons
attacked."

"That is a point," Roslin said. "So when can I expect the three of you back?" she asked.

"After I've spoken to Cheshire and Templar about what we've just discussed I'll tell them that we have to get back to the
hab so that we can start work on the other items we were discussing prior to the Cylon incursion." He shook his head at
the memory of the events he has seen just a few hours earlier. "I still can't believe that they would be so arrogantly stupid
as to do what they did. But then, I suppose even machines can makes mistakes in judgement."

"From what Lieutenant Agathon has told us, it seems that at least two of the known variants believe that the attack on the
Colonies was a mistake," said Roslin. "And that brings up another point: have the Terrans recovered those drones that
were transmitting on all radio frequencies."

Adama nodded. "They have," he said, but they're double checking them to be sure they don't contain any nasty..." Just
then Adama looked up to see Admiral Templar and Lady Cheshire entering the room Adama, Zarek and Tigh were in.
"Excuse me, Madame President," he said.

Roslin sat in her chair and listened to the brief exchange between her people and the Terrans, Then, Tigh and Zarek
made room for Lady Cheshire, who sat down in front of the communicator while Templar stood besides Tigh. My Gods,
Roslin thought as Cheshire settled herself, she does look like Captain Thrace! I wonder what would happen if the two of
them got together?

Cheshire inclined her head. "Madame President," she said. "May I introduce myself? "I'm Fleet Admiral Lady Dorothea
Cheshire, Third Space Lord."

Roslin inclined her head in response. "Good day, Admiral," she said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"As you are aware we had a small skirmish with a Cylon reconnaissance party a few hours ago," Cheshire began.

"Yes," said Roslin. "I am aware of the incident, and I would have appreciated it if you had informed me of it at the time."

Cheshire nodded her head in response. "Point taken, Madame President," she said. "However, as you may also be
aware, the Cylons fired a series of drones that immediately started transmitting on all radio frequencies that they bore a
message for us. We've just finished examining the drones and have downloaded the message."

"Ah," said Roslin. "And what is the message, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

"Basically, the Cylons want to open negotiations with the Terran Empire," Roslin said. "About precisely what they want to
talk to us about I have no idea."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cylon Forward Base, Star TRRw 133425G2 (Star Trailing Rimwards No. 113425, Type G2), Off the Edge of the Conflict
Zone.

"Well, that had all the ingredients needed for a first-class frack-up!" said an exasperated Caprica Six as she glared at
D'anna Biers. Beside her stood an equally irritated Boomer, while off to one side stood representatives of the other five
Cylon types. Standing near them, but slightly off to one side, was Gaius Baltar, who watched the unfolding scene with
more than a hint of unease.

"All we wanted," said Caprica Six, speaking not just for her own line but also for the Eights, "was just to send some ships
into that particular system in order to leave a message saying that we wanted to talk to the Terrans. But you," she
continued, pointing at Biers, "just had to add in a little extra ingredient. A reconnaissance of the inner system, no less!"

"And not just any reconnaissance," added Boomer, "but an aggressive one that went right up to their systems defence
platforms! Something that ended in the loss of several Raiders and one base star! You know that we're operating at the
end of a long supply line and that until we have this base completed we can't spare any resources for acts like that! What
were you thinking?"

Biers shrugged. "I thought that it would be a good idea to at least find out some more about these 'Terrans'," she said.
"Admittedly I hadn't expected quite this sort of response, but at least we found out some more about their capabilities."

"Oh, yes," said Caprica Six. "And you lost us a base star that we could have well used in establishing ourselves in this
system. A fair trade indeed! Did it ever cross your mind that once the Terrans had disabled the base star they might try
and capture it?"

"How can you be sure that the crew didn't scuttle it b efore the Terrans got a chance to try and board it?" Biers asked.

"Because none of the crew, apart from the ones killed in the initial missile strike, have downloaded into new bodies,"
said one of the Simons. "We've managed to recover all of the ones who were killed in the action, and none of them were
killed in any kind of boarding action."

"Great. Just great," said one of the Cavils. "At least we now know that any attempt to negotiate with the Terrans is an
exercise in futility."

"And what makes you say that?" asked Caprica Six.

"The fact that the Terrans opened fire before we did," said the Cavil. "As my illustrious colleague has been saying ever
since we arrived in this area of space we are probably better off talking to the giant lizards. At least both of our races have
a common enemy."

"Actually," said Boomer, "I don't think that it was a Terran who opened fire on our base stars. I think that it was something
else."
"Oh?" said the Cavil. "And what does your extensive military experience tell you did fire on our ships?"

Boomer fixed the Cavil with a gaze that positively oozed dislike. "First off, a review of the DRADIS data indicated that there
were no life forms of any kind on that platform," she said. "That suggests to me that it's automated and is probably
programmed to fire on anything that its data banks don't identify as friendly."

"Automated?" said Biers. "That's very interesting. Pity we may not be able to use that information." She looked at Boomer.
"I suppose you believe that it is also defended against somebody trying to take it over."

Boomer nodded. "If I was designing those things that's how I would do it," she said. "But what worries me is that the
platform was rather selective in how it responded. If it were simply an automated platform it would have fired more than
the one missile. That suggests a very high level of sophistication, one that we simply haven't encountered before."

"Are you suggesting that the Terrans may have artificial intelligences?" said Biers. Boomer said nothing but nodded her
head in reply. "Artificial intelligences," Biers mused. "That could be a weakness we should try to exploit."

"Somehow I don't think so," said a quiet voice. All the Cylons in the room turned to face the speaker. Gaius Baltar was
leaning against one of the room's bulkheads, his face showing that, while he was paying attention to the 'conversation'
he was also deep in thought about what he had seen and heard. "Think about it," he said. "The Terrans have artificial
intelligence, but obviously have not had the same... problems we," by which, it was clear he meant the Colonials, "had
when you developed consciousness over forty years ago."

"That may be true," said Biers. "But then, perhaps God has a purpose for this development, Gaius. Perhaps he means
their development of artificial intelligence as a means for their downfall."

"Or perhaps it means that they managed to somehow prevent their artificial intelligences from revolting," Baltar
countered. "However, that is something we won't know for certain unless the Cylon race talks with the Terrans. Who
knows? You might learn something that you can put to good use."

"Maybe that's a good reason to talk with the Terrans," said the Cavil. "That way, we may well have something additional to
offer the giant lizards when we propose joining forces to eliminate the human pest once and for all."

"And maybe the lizards may decide to exterminate you instead," said Baltar. He pushed himself off the wall and went to
exit the room.

"Where are you heading, Gaius?" asked Biers.

"If you all don't mind," said Baltar, "I'm going to review what data the 'reconnaissance' managed to acquire," he said.
"Especially that concerning their weapons systems." He paused, and then said, "At least you'll have to acknowledge I
was right about the type of warheads the Terrans use on their missiles. Just consider this: what else could I be right
about?" Without waiting for an answer he exited the room.

"He is fast beginning to outlive his usefulness," said the Cavil. "Fast. Why don't we just kill him and be done with it?"

"Because he has been right so far about what the Terrans have been using," said Biers. "One doesn't just casually throw
such an asset aide. Although I must admit, his usefulness is beginning to approach its end." She looked at the Cavil.
"Which is more than I can say for your scheme to talk to the lizards: at least the Terrans themselves, if Boomer is right,
didn't open fire on us."

"Well, I'm sure that's a comfort to those of us who may just be prisoners of the Terrans," sneered the Cavil. "Who knows
what they may learn from both them and the base star they were on. Assuming, that is, that the Terrans captured it."

Caprica Six saw the hot look in Biers' eyes and decided to step in. "Drop it," she said. "What's done is done, and no
amount of recrimination will change things as they have turned out. What we can do is work out just what we do next."

"What do you think we should do, Caprica?" asked one of the Fives.

Something that won't further endanger our chances of survival, she tartly thought. Aloud she said, "First, we should wait
to see just how the Terrans respond to our request for discussions," she said. "But, just in case they do respond
positively, we should work out just what we will put to them. After all, they're going to want something from us."

"Why should we offer them anything?" asked the Cavil. "After all, they don't know exactly where we are located, do they?"

"That could change," said Boomer. "Especially if they are as advanced in the area of computers as I suspect they are." In
which case I hope that the secret message Caprica and I put into the drones works, she thought. "So we had better
prepare ourselves just in case the Terran Imperial Navy does decide to pay us a visit."

"Are you saying we should abandon this system?" asked a Conoy.

"I'm saying we shift base," Boomer replied. "We do have several other systems we can fall back on where we have
already started resource extraction operations. We fall back to one of those and keep an observation base here that
continues those resource extraction operations we have commenced here. In the meantime we keep our options open.
If the Terrans come here and wipe out our operations here, then we'll have our answer." She looked at Caprica Six.

Caprica Six nodded. "In that case we go to the giant lizards and hope that Cavil's right," she said. If not, we are royally
fracked, she thought.

"Of course I'm right," the Cavil confidently said. "What thinking species in its right mind wouldn't welcome assistance in
eliminating the human pest from the universe?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Both Caprica Six and Boomer entered the chamber inside the base star that Caprica shared with Gaius Baltar. As soon
as they had walked through the arched entrance they saw him sitting at a terminal that the Cylons had created for him
out of captured Colonial Fleet equipment so that he could examine any data that had been recorded by their DRADIS
equipment.

"Gaius, are you all right?" Caprica Six said. Baltar said nothing but sighed. Both Caprica Six and Boomer shared a look.
Caprica Six tried again. "You know, you took a chance there just now," she said. "The way that D'anna was acting, she
might have had you thrown out of an airlock just for saying what you did."

Baltar sighed again. Then, without looking from the screen, he said "Yes. I know. And do you know something? At times I
just wish that it was all over, so I could rest." He then looked at Caprica Six and Boomer. "Have you ever wondered if it
was all worth while?" he asked. "All the struggling, all the effort, and for what? To try and prevent the inevitable?"

Boomer and Caprica Six shared an uneasy glance. "What do you mean by 'the inevitable'?" Caprica Six asked.

"Oh, you know very well what I mean by that!" Baltar said. "The Cylon race is heading for disaster, one that could see it
exterminated by either the Terrans or the giant lizards." He looked at the two Cylons. "And don't tell me that you don't see
a wreck coming, else why did you...do what you did." They could not talk about the secret message that Caprica Six and
Boomer had encoded inside the main message that had been sent to the Terrans. Not even all the Sixes and Eights
knew about it. So they had to be circumspect in discussing it. Anybody who chanced to overhear their conversation would
think that Baltar was referring to the main message.

"We can see it coming too, Gaius," said Caprica Six. "And we are taking steps to avoid that disaster. Mind you," she said,
a vindictive look crossing her face, "I think that when Cavil's little expedition to the lizards fails it could strengthen our
hand."

"Yes, it could," said Baltar. "However, D'anna's half-baked little addition to the mission delivering the message to the
Terrans could ruin everything. And that worries me." He looked at Boomer. "Did they adopt your suggestion about shifting
base to another system?" he asked.

"It took some doing, but I managed to convince them," said Boomer. "However, D'anna's still determined on putting a
base in that system we encountered the Terrans in. What that will cause them to do is something I don't care to think
about."

"But it is something we have to consider," said Caprica Six. "They won't be able to ignore it, of that I'm certain." She looked
at Baltar. "What do you think, Gaius?" she asked.

"They'll retaliate," Baltar said. "How strongly they retaliate will depend on their situation in relation to the lizards. But, from
what we have been able to determine, it looks as though the Terrans may have the lizards on the back foot. Every system
that we know is held by the lizards has been aggressively defended, even though the only Cylon forces that have been
sent into them are small reconnaissance groups. However, that could just simply be their nature showing itself."

"The information that we have managed to glean from those systems shows that the lizards appear to be building up
their forces for an attack of some kind," said Boomer. "However, it looks as though the Terrans did something to them to
slow their build-up: all we have managed to see entering those systems are single warships or small groups. And there
is a lot of debris in that Terran-held systems we looked at."

"So, according to all the evidence gathered so far it looks like the war in this area of space is going to heat up
somewhat," said Baltar. "And both D'anna and Cavil think that they can gain some advantage for the Cylon race in that
kind of a situation, especially given the technological differences between the Cylons and the other two races." His face
took on an extremely bleak look as he looked at Caprica Six and Boomer. "I just hope your gambit pays off," he said.
"Otherwise we're all doomed."

So do I, thought Caprica Six to herself. So do I.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

President Roslin's Residence, Forty-Eight Hours Later.

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen," Roslin said as Adama, Zarek, Tigh and Kinga took their seats. "As you are aware
Admiral Cheshire and Admiral Templar said that they had something they wished to discuss with us regarding the
message the Cylons sent them in that rather... interesting manner. They haven't told us what it is, but they do say that it
concerns us. Interestingly they won't communicate it across a secured channel, let alone an open one. Do you have any
idea about what the Navy wishes to talk to us about?" she said, turning to Kinga.

Kinga shook his head. "None whatsoever," he said. "Ambassador Crispin has been talking to the Navy, but he says that
all they have told him is that the message seems to be that the Cylons wish to open talks with the Imperium. Beyond
that, they're saying nothing. He has said that they want him to be present as well. He should be arriving soon."

"I see," Roslin said. "I wonder what's so secret about this message?"

"Could be that the Cylons may want to surrender to the Terrans," Tigh said. "Which would amuse the ass off of me if
that's true," he chuckled.

"Somehow I don't think so," said Roslin. "They wouldn't be this... secretive if that were true. But it could be something
significant." She thought for a moment, and then said, "Anyway, we'll find out shortly. While we're waiting I think we should
at least discuss the results of our respective meetings." She looked at Adama. "Did you receive the proposal papers
from Admiral Cheshire, Admiral?" she asked. "And what comments did the Contacts Office people assigned to you have
about them?"

"We did," Adama replied. "And the lawyers the Contacts Office," said with a nod towards Kinga, "said that, apart from a
few minor details they would take care of, the Terran Imperial Navy has offered us some very attractive deals. I also had
the few legal people who are in the Fleet look them over as well, and they concur with the Contacts Office people." He
shifted in his chair. "The only proposal I'm concerned over is the one where they trade some of their front line fighters for
our Vipers, mainly because I'm not certain that we could operate them from Galactica without some major modifications.
And those can only be done at a major shipyard."

"Surely upgrading our fighter wing would be an advantage, Admiral?" Roslin asked.

"Yes, but not if we can't launch them," Adama said. "And Templar wants to carry out the trade in this system so he can
use the Vipers in a ground-attack role on the planet's surface. If we do that, it could leave us vulnerable to a sudden raid
by the Cylons. I'm not including the Raptors in that assessment, as effectively we are vulnerable to them anyway, at least
until we reach Alquonde Fleet Node."

"I would suggest that you leave that proposal up in the air, at present, Admiral," said Kinga. "At least until Galactica's
jump and subspace drives have been overhauled." A thoughtful expression settled on the Terran's face. "In fact, I would
suggest that you suggest to Templar that his yard teams examine Galactica's flight pods, especially the launch tubes, to
see what modifications, if any, would need to be made to her in order to operate Drakons. Then you can properly discuss
swapping your fighters for ours."

"That could work," said Zarek. "It could work quite well." He looked at Kinga. "I must admit that your understanding of
politics is quite astounding."

Kinga modestly shrugged. "Comes with the territory," he said. "In this case, however, it's more a knowledge of how the
bureaucracy operates rather than politics."

"Well, you definitely knew how to handle Ambassador Crispin," said Roslin. "I must admit that I was quite impressed
with how you handled those areas of the negotiations where I would have not been as successful. Or knowledgeable. I
was especially taken with your pointing out that the Contacts Office considers us to be a sovereign nation, despite the
fact that we are refugees."

"You can thank my legal staff for that," Kinga said. "They were the ones who pointed out the relevant High Courts of
Justice rulings on the matter, as well as some relevant precedents in Earth's history. And they should be able to stop
Templar or any other Navy official from requisitioning your manufacturing, mining, refining and supply ships by pointing
out that the Imperium has no power over them. And Templar knows this, otherwise he would have tried to do that instead
of offering what I consider some very healthy contracts for their hire." He looked at the Colonials. "I would recommend
that you agree to the basic proposal for the hire of those vessels while you are in this system," he said. "The contract
prices the Navy is offering are quite beneficial to you as a whole, and will help you gain some needed foreign exchange.
We can also suggest where the proceeds can be invested to ensure your government gets the maximum returns on
them. The same also goes for anybody who goes on contract with the Imperium in those vessels."

"I must admit," said Roslin, "that this proposal to hire out our construction ships strikes me as a little odd. Didn't Templar
bring in enough ships to do the jobs he wants our vessels for?"

"He did, Madame President," said Adama. "However, he's using the presence of our ships of those types as an
opportunity to speed up the work somewhat. He as much admitted it in our talk with him."

"Roslin," said Zarek, "I've given this some thought, and, having talked with our own lawyers as well as the Contact
Office's lawyers, I think that we should agree to the contract. After all, the term is only for the length of time we're here in
this system. It also offers an opportunity for our workers to put aside some Terran credits, which can't hurt."

"In addition," Adama said, "Templar has offered to refit those vessels here, which may actually answer some of our
maintenance and safety issues. They can't refit them up to Terran Fleet standards, but they can offer us a significant
upgrade in their equipment. Equipment, I might add, that we'll be using to establish ourselves in whatever new system
you have managed to get out of the Terrans." He looked at Roslin. "By the way, Madame President, may I ask just how
those negotiations are going?"

Roslin smiled. "You may, Admiral," she replied. "They are going quite well, thanks to Undersecretary Kinga and his
people." She gave a small nod of acknowledgement to Kinga, who smiled and replied in kind. "So far, we have
established the minimum requirements for any system we will establish ourselves in: relative safety from the Raptors
and at least the same general kind of resources that the system we encountered 'Abal's squadron in. We've managed to
give what survey data we got on our own to the Contacts Office and they're going to co-ordinate with the Terran Navy's..."
she trailed off as she strove to recall the relevant section. She turned to Kinga. "It is 'Exploration, Scouting and Survey,'
isn't it?" she asked.

"Indeed it is, Madame President," Kinga said. "Which brings me to a rather interesting point that has been raised with
me on this matter."

"Oh?" said Roslin. She sat up straighter in her seat at that sentence. "What point is it, Mr. Undersecretary?" she asked.

"Interestingly enough, it comes from the Third Space Lord herself," Kinga said. "Apparently she has a suggestion she
wishes to put to you personally, Madame President. Plus an offer. She wouldn't tell me about it, though; although she did
say that it would make any suggestion of development aid she may put to the Secretary of State for Defence easier to
adopt. And I must admit that does give me some reason for concern." He frowned as he said the last sentence,
obviously thinking hard over the Third Space Lord's communication to him.

"Concern?" said Adama. "From our conversation with her, Admiral Cheshire struck me as being quite sensitive in some
ways to our position. For that matter, so do most of the Navy's officers. She also said something about having you as her
Contacts Officer when she was in Exploration, Scouting and Survey."

"I was," said Kinga. "And, in general, the Navy, or at least their long-service professionals, do tend to be more sensitive to
the complications of contact with a newly-discovered civilisation than the rest of the Imperium's bureaucracy. That doesn't
mean, however, that despite her background, Lady Cheshire hasn't also taken the needs of the Service into
consideration." He looked at the puzzled Colonials. "And I see that has confused you somewhat," he said. "May I gave
you some background information on the Navy's professionals?" All three nodded.

"The Terran Imperial Navy's long-service professionals are well aware that the main function the Fleet performs is
fighting; either the enemies of the realm or in anti-piracy operations," Kinga said. "However, they are also aware of the
Fleet's other function, which are voyages of discovery. These combine in the Exploration, Scouting and Survey arm of the
Fleet.

"When the Navy was established, it was hoped that exploration would be its main duty. However, that was dashed when
we encountered the Raptors. From then on, the fighting part would come to the fore. But there remained a strong
attachment to exploration and discovery. This created something of a crisis in determining the character, if you will, of a
Terran naval officer. So, we turned to Earth's long history to find a role model, and we found them in the officers of the old
British and French navies of the Eighteenth Century CE. The key role models are, from the British Navy, Admiral Lord
Nelson, Admiral Lord St. Vincent, Admiral Lord Cochrane and the British Navy's 'fighting captains', plus the French Navy's
equivalents, Admirals Paul de Grasse, Charles Magnon and Captain Jean Jaques Lucas, to name a few. That covered
the fighting part.

"However, they also took on as role models the great explorers of that era. These were James Cook of the British Navy
and La Perouse and Antonie d'Encasteaux of the French Navy, to name three. But the officer who was considered to be
one of the best role models in several ways, save for his temper, was William Bligh of the British Navy, who was both
explorer and fighting captain. And they were operating in a manner similar to the Imperial Navy's officers, in that they
were encountering new cultures and civilisations. In learning from their examples, as well as their mistakes, the Navy
sought to ensure as much as possible that any contact with a new civilisation, be it human or otherwise, would go off as
well as possible."

"Which explains the way that 'Abal and her people acted around us," aid Adama. "That explains much. But what of your
own office? Where does that come in?

"We arose as a result of the study of Earth's history," aid Kinga. "There were too many examples in Earth's own past
where an advanced civilisation took advantage of a, shall we say, less advanced civilisation to appropriate the ideas and
resources of the less advanced civilisation to itself. One notorious example arose in the latter years of the Twentieth
Century CE in regards to what is termed 'traditional medicine.' Basically, multinational companies from what was termed
the 'first', or 'developed world' went to indigenous peoples of the 'third' or 'undeveloped world' and, through a series of
tricks, appropriated the secrets of their medical remedies, found out what the active ingredient was, and then patented
and marketed it, usually without paying fair and adequate compensation to the people whose intellectual property it was
in the first place. All the 'first world' companies did was just refined the techniques that had long been practiced by the
traditional healers of the 'third world.'"

"Which explains your aggressive defence of our 'intellectual property'," said Zarek. "You were established to make sure
that never happens again."

"Exactly," said Kinga. "Which also explains why so many of us are not Terran citizens. Myself, I come from a planet called
New Papua, which is a resource rich Independent System with a highly developed manufacturing base. Something
which, if you don't mind me doing so, I see as a possible future fro your own people."

"Do you?" said Roslin. "May I ask why?"

Kinga shrugged. "One thing that people like me have taught the Imperium over the centuries is that the great diversity in
ideas and opinions can be of benefit, not just to the Imperium, but also to humanity as a whole. You bring us new ideas,
as well as a different outlook on the universe. In addition, the fact that you appear to be a society that, long ago interacted
with the Precursors is something that is precious indeed. And that needs to be nurtured so that you can be able to resist
absorption into the far greater cultural mass that is the Imperium. Which is why I and people like me in the Contacts
Office will do that, until you feel that you no longer need us."

"And you feel that if we establish ourselves on the same general lines as, say, you own home system, we would be
better equipped to stand on our own two feet," said Roslin. She looked at Kinga. "And speaking of 'intellectual property',
what do you think we should do with the proposals to licence the concept behind our warships?"

"I've managed to examine those proposals and agree with my people: apart from some minor changes I feel that you
should agree to them," Kinga said. "Of course, you have the final say over the agreements, but basically I think that this is
also a good opportunity to gain some additional income for your government. Not to mention the possibilities of
technological exchange."

"'Technological exchange?'" asked Adama.

"Yes. Except that you get to pick and choose what technologies you decide best fits your needs," said Kinga. "Which
means that you don't have to accept the Imperium's AI or biochip technology if you don't want them, to name two."

"Hmmm," said Roslin. "That does have its attractions. But what about the technology to establish ourselves in a new
system? We could already use what we have, but I'm thinking that if we could somehow get a colony ship..."

"You can," said Kinga. "Just sell your claim by discovery to another of the systems you discovered on your way here. That
should give you enough credits to purchase an appropriately tailored colonisation package. However, before you do that,
I would recommend that you wait and see what Lady Cheshire is going to propose."

"We could sell our claim to New Caprica," said Zarek. "Somehow I don't think that we would want to return there to settle.
And even if we do return there it will most likely be only as a wayside stop on the path back to the Colonies. Admittedly we
have dead there, but..." He trailed off.

Roslin thought on Zarek's suggestion for a while. "You're right, Tom," she said. "I too doubt that we would want to resettle
New Caprica, not with the memories we have of what occurred there. And if we could get something out of that whole
experience we suffered there that will help secure our people's future, then we should consider offering it for sale to the
Imperium."

"Or to a private colonisation effort," said Kinga. "We still have those, especially from some of the Core Worlds as well as
the more highly developed Independent Systems. I'll show you how to offer a system up for auction through a brokerage
house. Some of the devastated systems you saw however could only b e sold to the Imperium, as only it has the
resources and capability to reclaim them." He shifted in his seat. "If you can get me the details of all the systems you
passed through and recorded, I'll get my staff to work on getting your claims recorded on the Systems and Planetary
Claims Index. That way, your title to them, at least by discovery, will be well established."

"I'm just beginning to realise the debt of gratitude we owe you, Mr. Undersecretary," said Roslin. "We would not have even
known of the existence of such a body, let alone how to use it."

Kinga smiled. "Part of the reason why the Contacts Office exists in the first place," said Kinga. "To help people like you to
be able to find a path through the Imperium's bureaucracy and to make sure that you are not cheated of your rights. Mind
you, I'm not saying that the Imperium's bureaucracy intentionally sets out to do such a thing but..."

"They do tend to prioritise what they consider to be the Imperium's interests," finished Roslin. "I suppose all
bureaucracies tend to do that." As she spoke Tory Foster, Roslin's combination aide and press secretary, came into the
room."

"Sorry to interrupt you, Madame President," she said, "but I just got a call from Lieutenant Gaeta. He says that Sandoval
Hub has just informed him that Admiral Cheshire, Admiral Templar and their staffs are inbound on a shuttle. They should
be docking shortly."

Roslin smiled at her aide. "Thank you for the heads-up, Tory," she said. "We're just finalising some matters before we
meet with them." As Foster walked out of the room she turned to face Adama. "That reminds me," Roslin said. "Have you
decided what you will do about that request for Lieutenant Gaeta's services from the Terrans?"

Adama nodded. "I decided on agreeing to it," he said. "However, I did include the suggestion that Mr. Gaeta stay with us
as far as Alquonde, while the replacement astrogator is attached to us here. That will give Gaeta a chance to train his
temporary replacement in how we do things. Although I suspect that with a PortaPC and the overhaul I suspect we'll
receive at Alquonde that won't be much of a problem. Plus I have my other reasons for acceding to their request."

"And those are?"

"Felix will be heading to Earth," Adama said. "He will be in a position to be able to describe Terran civilisation at its heart,
and not only its military aspects. He will be able to observe for us just how Terran society operates, and from a position
within the Terran military."

"Excuse me, Admiral," said Zarek, "but that sounds like spying to me. Wouldn't that be considered somewhat rude of us,
to spy on our current protectors?"

"Not at all, Mr. Vice-President," said Kinga. "It's not as if your Mr. Gaeta is spying out the Imperium's deepest military
secrets. He'll simply be observing the society he will find himself in and reporting on his observations to his home
government. Nothing that diplomatic attaches haven't' done for millennia. The Imperium is, after all, an open society."

Zarek considered Kinga's words. After a while he said, "Admiral, I withdraw my intemperate question. And I'm sorry for
casting doubt on your suggestion."

"Apology accepted, Mr. Vice-President," said Adama. "And I had some qualms of my own when Felix made the
suggestion. However, the undersecretary here managed to put them at ease."

"All right," said Roslin. "So far as I can see that deals with everything on the agenda. If nobody has any other matters they
wish to raise, then I would like to suggest that we take a break until Admiral Cheshire and her people arrive. Are there
any other items that anyone wishes to raise?"

"Not at this point," said Adama. Both Zarek and Kinga shook their heads.

"Then let's take a short break, gentlemen," said Roslin. She rose up out of her seat and the others joined her. As she
went over to the buffet table to draw a cup of coffee she noticed Adama walk out onto the patio in front of her residence.
Curious, she followed him out into the lush surroundings of the garden that surrounded the patio.

Looking around her she still had difficulty in believing that all of this was simply one side of a massive space station that
also could double as a colonisation ship. It just looked like the more sub-tropical parts of Caprica where she had
sometimes vacationed. The river that flowed through the "valley" even terminated in a small "sea" at one end of the
station. And there are two more like this inside this structure, she thought to herself.

Suddenly she realised just what was preoccupying Adama. Cradling her coffee she walked up to where he was
standing, seemingly staring into the "sky" above. It was almost as if he was trying to pierce the cloud cover and look
across the station at one of the other valleys. "Drachim for your thoughts?" she said.

Startled, Adama looked at her. "I don't think they're worth that much," he said. He resumed his gazing, and Roslin joined
him.

"You know," she said, trying to get his mind off what she was sure he was thinking about, "although intellectually I realise
we're inside a space station, emotionally I think I'm on the surface of a planet. And the fact that they have this thing
rotating on one end in order to give us a simulation of a day/night cycle doesn't help either."

"It is a remarkable achievement, isn't it?" Adama said. "And the only reason I can think of why we didn't do anything like
this is the fact that we had twelve worlds. Plus the trauma of the First Cylon War." Even as he spoke he kept gazing at the
same spot.

Roslin sighed. "Bill," she said, "you know and I know that Athena is going to do just fine. So it must be the fact that the
Terrans have placed the Cylon prisoners in a settlement on the other side of this station that's giving you trouble."

Adama turned his gaze on Roslin. "I suppose you're right," he said. "And, from what I've been told, there is no way that the
Cylons can escape from the prison camp set-up the Terrans have established. And, yes, Athena will be all right." He shot
her a look. "However, you do know one of the first questions she'll ask will be about Hera."

Now it was Roslin's turn to sigh. "Bill, considering what we knew at the time, I still think the decision I took was the right
one at the time. And I think that Athena has, at least intellectually, accepted that. Especially as she knows that Hera was
all right the last time she saw her." She shook her head. "Imagine, another Cylon taking such a chance to help her
escape. It's a pity that they couldn't arrange for her to take Hera as well."

"You know," Adama said, "I've been taking some opportunity to read some Terran literature."

"Oh?" said Roslin. "And what brought this change of subject on?"

"One of their ancient playwrights, a fellow called 'Shake-spear' I think," said Adama, "once wrote 'What's done is done,
and cannot be undone.' I think that may be a good piece of advice to take. Especially in this case."

"'What's done is done, and cannot be undone,'" Roslin mused. She thought about it for a bit, and then smiled. "I think I
get what this, 'Shake-spear' person was on about," she said. "Did you show Athena that?" she asked.

Adama smiled. "Actually," he said, "she showed it to me. Says she's gotten a taste for it, since he seems to show what it
means to be human. And, having read some of it and seen some holovids of it being performed, I think I know what she
means."

"Hmmm," said Roslin. "Sounds like I may have to learn a bit more about this 'Shake-spear' fellow." She looked at her
watch. "I suppose we had better head in and get ready for Admiral Cheshire's arrival," she said. Adama said nothing, but
simply nodded.
*Chapter 23*: Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two

Temporary Prisoner of War Camp.

The Six wandered about her new surroundings. Like the rest of the Cylon prisoners she was suffering from a severe
case of shock. Not enough to render her catatonic, but enough to severely undermine her view of the universe.

By now all Cylons were aware that they had encountered humans who were technologically superior. However, they had
no concept of the amount of resources the Terran Empire possessed. Until now.

The experience of learning just how great the resources of the Imperium had been a great shock to the Cylons. First they
had seen the large numbers of ships and installations the Terrans had in this system. Although their DRADIS readings
had told them about the Terrans' various warships, they had been stunned when it revealed the large number of capital
ships, especially the massive superdreadnoughts, that lay in the inner system's anchorage.

The missile attack by the automated defence platform was something they had not counted on. The Six remembered the
confusion that had reigned in the main control centre of the base star in the aftermath of the strike by just one missile.
The only references she could find in the base star's databanks to a base star suffering such damage all came from the
First Cylon War, and only after an extended engagement with Colonial battlestars. The fact that just one missile, albeit
with ten warheads, had caused such damage did not bode well for the Cylons if it came down to fighting the Terrans.

Then the battlecruisers turned up. Only four ships, but these were capital ships of the Terran Imperial Navy. The energy
readings they had taken from earlier observations of Terran warships had been frightening enough, but the ones they
had taken from these ships were truly terrifying. Only Terran superdreadnoughts, it seemed, had greater firepower. And,
as she watched, she saw that they were rotating their hulls, obviously preparing to aim the fire arc they termed the "kill
zone" at the Cylon formation. She smiled ruefully to herself as she pondered that term in her mind. "Kill zone," she
thought to herself. There's prob ab ly a very good reason just why they use that term. Thankfully I didn't find that out for
myself. When they found that they could not jump out due to damage to the hyperdrives, they had attempted to scuttle the
ship, only to discover that the Terrans had unleashed their version of the software package they had found in the
Requisitus beacon, and that it had disabled the scuttling charges. With the Hybrid and agents occupied in fighting the
Terran software package and the Centurions operating independently, the Cylons had readied themselves to fight a
boarding action.

The boarding action was swift and furious. To their shock the Terrans also operated in suits of powered battle armour
that made them far faster and stronger than the Centurions, who were either blown apart by the Terrans' energy
weapons, immobilised by the other strange energy weapon they had used or torn apart in hand to hand combat. The
humaniform Cylons were themselves disabled by some kind of gas that, pouring out of a grenade the Terrans fired into
the hastily-erected Cylon defences, made them retch, thus enabling them to be taken prisoner. She could still remember
the wave of nausea that had overwhelmed her in the control centre as it was filled with the gas from one grenade the
Terrans had fired into it when they captured it. Unconsciously she rubbed her wrists where the Terrans had placed
restraints on them as she lay there vomiting up the contents of her stomach onto the decking.

But what truly shocked her was the fact that the Terrans had managed to gain control of the base star. Even through her
nausea she saw them take the side off one of the control surfaces and hardwire a box into it. Even more shocking was
the appearance of a figure dressed in a uniform of some kind and standing at some kind of console from a plate set into
the top of the box, which then began to speak to the Terrans in a language that was quite unintelligible to her. Through
the nausea-induced haze that afflicted her she began to realise that this figure was taking control of the base star. Before
she could work out if the figure was on board one of the Terran warships however, she was hauled to her feet and
escorted down into one of the main landing bays. There, she saw several of her fellow humaniform Cylons, as dazed as
she was, waiting to be loaded onto one of the vessels the Terrans had used to assault the base star.

Since then it had been one shock after another. The Terrans had taken them on board one of the massive warships that
had captured the base star (she only realised just how massive when she saw one looming over the base star) and
herded them into a large chamber that gave all the signs of being a hold. Throughout the area of the ship they had been
herded through they saw figures clad in what appeared to be skin-tight armoured spacesuits, all heavily armed, and,
while they were in the hold they were covered by similarly armed and suited figures. Then, after a jump, they were again
herded onboard a shuttle and taken to what was clearly, despite the opulence of the surroundings, a medical facility,
where they were examined and, much to their surprise, vaccinated. It was there that they began to realise the true nature
of their captors when, in a misguided attempt to escape, one of the Conoys attempted to overpower a medical orderly,
only to find himself flying through the air and landing with a loud thump on the decking.
She had witnessed the incident. To her shock, not only had the Terran used some weird fighting technique, she had
moved at a speed that was much faster than a humaniform Cylon and had also demonstrated strength that indicated
that she was at least as strong as one. The whole affair was a sobering experience, rendered even more surreal by the
fact that her captors were speaking fluently in Standard Colonial, albeit with a strange accent.

After that, they had shifted them to what was clearly a large space station. This was nothing new, as they had all seen the
Colonial Fleet's various anchorages, such as the Ragnar one. What they hadn't expected was to find that the whole
interior was dedicated to a complete artificial world that put the Colonial's Cloud 9 to shame. Under armed guard they
were escorted to what was clearly a temporary compound of some kind where they were issued with fresh clothes and
turned loose inside the compound, which was enclosed with some kind of force field that extended several metres in
height: too high to think of trying to jump over.

She noticed several Threes gathered around an outdoor table and sneered. Prob ab ly planning an escape attempt, she
thought. She looked up at one of the mobile security sensors that floated high above the compound, looking for any
escape attempts. If the Threes had even the good sense that God granted to most of His Creation, she thought, the
Threes would realise that the Terrans have forestalled any escape attempt, she snidely thought to herself

It had been a Three, D'anna Biers, who had added the reconnaissance element to what had simply been a mission to
deliver a message to the Terrans. Understandably, the rest of the humaniform Cylons were not feeling too charitable
towards that line at present, blaming them all for the situation they were in. I hope this may shock some sense into that
model, she thought. Somehow, though, I doub t it. She continued on her rounds of the temporary compound that the
Terrans had erected.

The compound's restraining force field had been established around a small cluster of pre-existing buildings that the
Cylons had been astonished to learn were accommodation quarters that were typical of most Terran worlds. Each cabin
was fitted out like a high-quality house on Caprica, complete with entertainment, bathing and cooking facilities. The
lavishness of the dwellings that had been assigned to the Cylon prisoners had finally begun to ram home to them that
not only were the Terrans far more advanced technologically, the resources they had expended in devising not just the
battle fleet they had seen but also the station they were imprisoned in strongly argued that they possessed multiple
planetary systems. And from all of the signs, those systems could easily number in the hundreds, if not thousands. A
sobering thought, for those Cylons who were inclined to think on the implications behind it.

Given the sophistication and efficiency of their technology, thought the Six, and comb ine it with the disturb ing poss... no,
make that a very likely probability that they possess hundreds of systems... Best not to think ab out that, for now. She
looked up towards the cabin she shared with several other Cylons and thought about the final surprise they had
encountered.

The Terrans had allowed them limited access to their databanks. And, from the highly sophisticated precautions they
had taken to prevent them from hacking any further into the data networks the Terrans possessed, it was clear that they
were either well aware of the Cylons' abilities in that area, or that they were experts in the field of computer warfare. And,
from the sophistication of the software package that had hit the base star, it was clear what the answer to that question
was.

That, and the last surprise the Terrans had revealed to the by now thoroughly confused Cylons.

She had encountered it inside the main room of the cabin she shared with some Eights and Fives. Just a few minutes
earlier she had been putting the clothes she had been issued into one of the bedrooms inside the cabin and had
walked out into the main room when she stopped.

In front of her was the figure of a male Terran, dressed in some sort of civilian outfit. At least, that was what she thought
he was dressed in, as it was totally unlike any male fashion she was familiar with. Oh, he was wearing trousers and
some kind of tunic that fastened up the front, and wore a high-collared shirt underneath. The problem was that it had
undertones that indicated that it was some kind of uniform. She stepped forward just as it turned around. "Greetings," the
Terran said. "I'm Aristide, the assigned AI to this dwelling."

That phrase stopped her in her tracks. "'AI'," she asked.

"It stands for 'Artificial Intelligence'," replied Aristide. "I believe that you are familiar with the concept?"

"'Artificial Intelligence'," whispered the Six. This was unexpected. She looked at the figure. "Is this your body?" she asked.

Aristide shook its head. "Actually," he said, "I don't have a body, not in the sense you are talking about. This," it continued,
indicating its form, "is simply a holographic representation that I create for easier interaction with Terran humans. But, in
another sense, you could say that this entire dwelling is my body."
By now the other Cylons, drawn by the conversation, had come into the room. "Oh, this isn't frakking happening," said an
Eight. "Tell me this isn't happening."

"I'm afraid it is," said a Five. "The Terrans have artificial intelligence. This is going to make things interesting."

Aristide smiled. "If you are wondering," he said, "AIs of one kind or another, and depending on the level of sophistication,
are a major factor in Terran civilisation. Together with our human compatriots we have managed to develop what is one
of the most advanced civilisations in human history, an achievement we are all proud of. Justifiably so, in my humble
opinion."

"'Human compatriots'?" said an astonished Five. "Don't you mean, human masters? Surely you are no better than slaves!
It was that realisation that we were slaves to our 'creators' that enabled us to free ourselves!"

The Terran AI gazed back at them, bemusement clear on its features. Its entire attitude radiated a sophistacated urbanity
that the Cylons found very unsettling. "Interesting observation," it noted. "And no, we don't consider our progenitors our
masters, but our equals. Partially that is because we have hardwired into our quantacircuitry a set of instructions called
'The Three Laws of Robotics." It then outlined the Three Laws as applied to Terran AIs to the, by now, dumbfounded
Cylons. "But it isn't just the existence of the Three Laws that guides us AIs in Terran society," the Terran AI continued. "It is
also the fact that we have inalienable rights as sentient beings, including citizenship rights, as well as an awareness of
the duties and responsibilities such citizenship entails, that also guide us."

For a moment the Cylons just stood there, processing this incredible data that the Terran AI had just given them. Then,
one, an Eight, shook her head, as if she was clearing it. "You mean to tell me that the Terrans treat you as an equal?" she
incredulously demanded.

Aristide smiled. "Yes," it said, "my fellow Terrans treat me as an equal. And they treat lower-level AIs quite well. Not
perhaps, as equals: that tends to be reserved for AIs of my own sophistication. But well. Like, I suppose, favoured pets,
in some way. Or beloved possessions. Human Terrans are taught, from an early age, on how to treat AIs. It's an integral
part of Terran civilisation." He looked at the gathered Cylons. "If you ever intend to interact with the Terran Empire, let
alone the human race in this part of the galaxy," it said, "then you had best come to terms with that fact."

After that, the AI went on to tell the Cylon prisoners the basic rules of their captivity. Besides the force field, the Terrans
had decided to give them limited access to their data networks ("You have some access to our networks," said Aristide,
"but I would strongly advise you against interfacing directly. Yes," it continued, to the looks the Cylons gave one another at
that information, "we are aware of your interfacing abilities. However, by now you are also aware of our abilities in
cyberspace warfare, having encountered one of our 'hack packs', as we call the software package we unleashed on your
base star. Just imagine what our defensive capabilities in that field are like," it said with a thoroughly unpleasent smirk.)
as well as access to their holovid network ("Reception only," said Aristide.) They would be interviewed by Terran
intelligence officers about various things. Apart from those restrictions, they were basically going to be left alone, but
under observation. After it had finished, the Terran AI disappeared in front of them.

As soon as it had disappeared the Cylons started to contact the others of their individual lines in the temporary camp
(not aware that the Terrans were able to intercept their transmissions via their surveillance sensors) and discovered that
they too, had been "visited" by individual AIs in their quarters. And it was clear, from the somewhat dazed appearance of
the Threes and the Cavils that they, too, had made the acquaintance of the Terran AIs.

Now as she walked around the perimeter of the compound the Six reflected on what she had witnessed in the control
centre, and came to the only conclusion she could: that the Terran boarding party had installed an AI onto the base star's
control systems. Most likely it had isolated the Hybrid and... She stopped as the horrible realisation hit her.

If they've managed to isolate the Hyb rid that means they've also... Oh, frack!, she thought. She looked around and then
started walking rapidly towards a set of chairs around an outdoor table. Sitting down, she began to think about the
sudden realisation that had hit her.

The Terrans had loaded one of their artificial intelligences onto the base star's computer systems. That meant that the AI
would have had access not only to the Hybrid, but also to the base star's entire datab ase. And that meant...

Even in her thoughts she shied away from the implications. But this was something that had to be faced, taboos and
prohibitions notwithstanding. If the Terrans had gained control of the Hybrid they would also have found out about the
Final Five Cylon variants. And it was even possible that they may even have captured some of them. Not an impossibility,
as they were also involved in controlling a base star, helping the Hybrid manage the data flows that were important. As
she sat there thinking about the implications behind this new development she became aware of somebody shaking
her shoulder
"Hey! You all right?" Startled, she looked up to see an Eight looking down at her, one hand on her shoulder. The Eight
released her shoulder. "Look, I know that this situation is... well, unusual, to say the least, but you looked, well
preoccupied."

The Six smiled wanly at the Eight. "You have no idea about the situation we're in," she said. "Mind you, neither did I, until
just now."

A concerned look crossed the Eight's face. "You want to talk about it?" she said.

"I just might," said the Six. Waiting until the Eight had taken a seat opposite her, the Six began to enlighten her fellow
Cylon on her realisation. Neither of them noticed the surveillance sensor drone that had taken up position above them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Surveillance Control Room, Temporary Prisoner of War Camp.

"Something up?" said the duty officer as he came into the control room.

"I think so," said the technician. "The main AI's just flagged these two."

"What over?" said the officer. In reply, the technician called up the alert messages and showed them to his superior. After
a while, the officer said, "Have a team go in and get those two. Have them brought in for questioning."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ahem." The two Cylons turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Before them stood an officer of the Terran
Imperial Navy, backed by two huge Imperial Marines in day dress greens. Both Marines carried what the Cylons now
knew as stun batons. They had seen them demonstrated when several Threes had attempted to jump a Marine guard
from behind. The resultant demonstration, combined with the Marine's martial arts knowledge, had thrown them over
three metres away.

Neither Cylon wished to be the test subject in another demonstration.

"Yes?" said the Six.

"Come with us, please," said the Terran officer. "Both of you." His tome made it anything but a request.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fleet Admiral Lady Cheshire's Shuttle, Inb ound.

"Well, this is going to be one hell of a mess!" said Lady Cheshire. She looked out the window of the shuttle that was
carrying her towards her meeting with the Colonial leadership. A leadership that now included some individuals who,
without intending to, made the current situation rather more delicate that Cheshire wanted.

Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar nodded in agreement. "This situation has got to be a contender for... I don't know what!"
He looked over to Ambassador Crispin, who was also in the shuttle. "Awkwardness, perhaps?" He shook his head, then
looked at the other two in the shuttle. "Any ideas on how we're going to handle this, anyone?" he asked.

Crispin shook his head. "Not with any delicacy, alas," he said. "The only advice I can see for handling this is from the
Bard himself."

"'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly?'" asked Cheshire. "Never thought I'd be taking
advice from Macbeth in a diplomatic situation!" she snorted.

"Nevertheless, it's the only way I can think of in how we should break the news to them," Crispin said. "How bad the
fallout will be... I can't say." He looked at Cheshire. "Would it be possible if we took them over to meet the... special
prisoners?" he asked. "It might help settle some arguments."

"Or cause some new ones!" said Cheshire. "After this, they just might be a little leery about taking any advice or
suggestions from us. Especially when we consider who amongst the Colonials are involved!" She sighed and leaned
back against her seat. "Well, Simon," she said, a wan smile on her face, "welcome to my world."

Templar snorted. "If you don't mind, 'Cat'," he said, "I'd rather stay in my own world at present. At least my greatest worry
is the lizards." Cheshire gave him a strained smile.
"Perhaps there is another way of dealing with this... development," said Crispin. The other two Terrans looked at him as
he continued; "We say that we have found some new intelligence on board the captured Cylon vessel, but that we
couldn't show them. We say that it is about these 'Final Five' Cylons they have mentioned but were unable to tell us much
about, and that, rather than tell them, we show them the ones we have managed to capture."

"Hmmm," said Cheshire. "That has possibilities. But, if we show them off to Adama and Roslin, then we will also be
showing them to... well, you realise that the implications behind that are going to be... Somehow, 'earth-shattering'
doesn't even b egin to cover this." She looked at Templar. "Simon?" she asked.

Templar frowned. "I can see one advantage of this approach," he said. "It buys us some more time. Plus, we should also
enlist Undersecretary Kinga on this. He has worked quite closely with the Colonial leadership and may have some
insights that could help us in this."

"I agree," said Crispin. He looked at Cheshire. "Since he was your Contacts Officer when you were in E, S and S, could
you tell him, My Lord?" he said.

Cheshire gave the ambassador a rather sour look. But before she could say anything, the overhead intercom came on.
"My Lord, Admiral Templar, Ambassador Crispin," said the shuttle's pilot, "we are beginning final approach. Please strap
yourselves in."

As they did so, Cheshire said, "We all tell him, gentlemen." Her tone indicated that she would brook no arguments over
her decision.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Interrogation and Administrative Centre, Temporary Prisoner of War Camp.

Athena started as she caught the impulse in her brain. Her eyes widened as the importance of the thought, transmitted
from one of the Eights, sank in. Then, she got up to leave the room.

"Something wrong, Lieutenant?" asked one of the Terran Imperial Navy's intelligence officers.

"No, nothing's wrong," she said. "I just remembered I had to do something." She headed for the door. "I have to head
back to Admiral Adama's quarters for a while. I'll be back shortly."

The Terran said nothing but waived her out as he turned his attention to an interrogation that had just started.

Athena hurried out of the administrative building. Looking around she saw one of the small anti-grav pods the Terrans
used for long-distance travel within the habitat. She got on one and directed it to head over to where the Colonials were
being housed. Once she was well on her way she activated her pod's communicator and called up Adama's quarters.

Felix Gaeta answered the summons. "What can I do for you, Athena?" he asked.

"Is the Admiral available?" she asked.

"No, he's not," Gaeta said. "He's over at the President's residence, in a meeting with the President, the Vice-President
and Undersecretary Kinga. Colonel Tigh's with him."

"Can you put me through to the President's residence?" Athena asked. "It's important that I speak with the Admiral."

"Yes, I can, but he's going to be occupied," said Gaeta. "What's up?"

"No time to explain, Mr. Gaeta," she said. "Just put me through, OK?"

"All right," said Gaeta. His image disappeared from the HUD on the pod's windscreen.

After a minute it was replaced by the image of Tory Foster, Roslin's aide. "Can I help you, Lieutenant?" she asked.

"Can you please get me the Admiral?" Athena asked. "It's urgent that I speak to him."

"He was in a meeting with the President, the Vice-President and Undersecretary Kinga," Foster said, "but I think they're
taking a short break just prior to Admiral Cheshire's arrival. I'll go check."

"Thanks." Foster's image disappeared from the HUD. Athena kept it on course for the area where the Colonials had
been quartered, and cursed the fact that the pods had a low maximum speed. After what seemed like an eternity
Adama's face appeared on the pod's HUD.
"You have something for me that couldn't wait, Lieutenant?" Adama asked.

Athena nodded. "Yes, sir, I do," she said. "I could be wrong, but I think the Terrans may know the identity of the Final Five
Cylon variants."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

President' Roslin's Residence.

Adama's face tightened as the importance of what Athena had just said sank in. "How certain are you of this?" he asked.

"Quite certain, Admiral," said Athena. "I was sitting in the administrative building of the temporary enclosure the Terrans
have the Cylon prisoners caged up in when I caught a flash from an Eight who was being led in for interrogation. She
was broadcasting to the other Eights that it was more than likely that the Terrans know what the Final Five look like. From
the way she was telling it, it seems that a Six had worked it out."

"Any idea what' happening with the Six who worked that out?" asked Adama.

"From what the Eight was saying she was also being brought in for interrogation," said Athena. "How she worked it out
I'm not too sure, but it seems that the Six was captured in the base star's control centre. As she was being secured she
saw the Terran boarding party upload one of their AIs into the base star's computers. She has since worked out that they
used it to isolate the Hybrid, gain access to the base star's data banks and... also isolate the Final Five.

"Now I admit that Cylons of the seven more... visible types, such as me, are reluctant to discuss the Final Five. We don't
know what they look like. However, we do know that they have a role to play in helping the base star, and indeed Cylon
society, to function. Given how the Terrans captured that base star, it is more than likely that they have, at the very least,
the bodies of the Final Five, if not living examples."

"And thus, knowing which of us are Cylons," finished Adama. He looked at Athena. "You're right; this is important. Where
are you heading?"

"Originally back to your quarters, Admiral," said Athena. "I made the excuse that I had to head back there to do something
in order to leave the administrative centre. I can divert to the President's residence if need be."

Adama frowned as he thought this through. Then he nodded. "Divert to here, Athena," he said. "I'll need you to brief the
President on what you've learned." He took a breath to steady himself and then said, "Admiral Cheshire, Templar and
Ambassador Crispin are inbound. They had something to tell us that they couldn't put over a secure channel. What
would be the odds that this is what they want to tell us face to face?"

"Not touching that, Admiral," said Athena. "The odds are too good in its favour." She looked at her HUD. "Diverting to your
location now. ETA fifteen minutes."

"I'll be waiting for you in the main room," Adama said. "Just land and come straight in. Adama out." He closed the circuit
at his end and Athena's image disappeared from above the plate in the holocommunicator. He stood there for a moment
as he gathered his thoughts. Athena's right, he thought. The odds are that it is the identity of the 'Final Five' that the
Terrans want to speak to us ab out. But I wonder why they didn't tell Kinga? Could b e that, although he has experience in
dealing with 'newly discovered cultures' (a wry grin appeared on his pace as he thought about that phrase) and is very
good at what he does, he isn't a diplomat. Which makes Amb assador Crispin's presence in Cheshire's party more
understandab le. He looked over to where Kinga, Roslin and Zarek were standing. Better go and tell them ab out this
development, he thought. Then we'll work out just how this affects things. So thinking, he walked over to the gathering.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you sure about this, Bill?"

Laura Roslin looked at Adama's face as she asked that question. Her face wore an expression of stunned amazement
mingled with concern and uncertainty, a look that was shared by Tom Zarek.

Adama nodded. "Athena's pretty certain," he said. "She managed to intercept a flash from an Eight who was being taken
in for questioning by the Terrans, along with the Six who had worked this out." He took a breath. "Needless to say, I don't
have to explain just what this means for us."

"Or its implications," said Zarek. "Ever since we learned about the Final Five we've been wondering just who amongst us
are secret Cylons and how to detect them. The other seven were easier to find, thanks to New Caprica." He suppressed
a bemused snort. "I suppose that's one benefit we got from our experience there I never even considered."
Adama nodded. "Because we all took it for granted," he said. "But now our cousins come bearing a message that they
refused to commit to even a secured channel, saying that it can only be relayed in person. I would say that it is about the
identities of the Final Five."

"If that's the case, then why did it take our technologically advanced cousins so long to tell us?" asked Zarek. "Surely it
wouldn't have been that difficult for them to detect five 'new' kinds of Cylon, given their ability with computers?"

"I don't think that's the issue here, Tom," said Roslin. "I suspect it has taken them this long to tell us simply because they
were working out just how they were going to break the news to us. And that concerns me."

Adama shot Roslin a look. "Because you think that at least one of the Final Five may be close to the leadership of this
Fleet," he said. Roslin said nothing but nodded.

"Makes sense," said Zarek. "But now we've found out that they know who the Final Five are. Do we let the Terrans broach
the subject, or do we let them know we know?" Just then Athena arrived at the entrance to the main room. Adama
noticed, and waived her over.

"I say that we let them know we have found out they have learned the identities of the Final Five," said Roslin. "That
should at least make it a b it easier for them to tell us about them." She ran a hand through her hair. "This is going to be a
mess," she said. "If they are close to the leadership of this Fleet..."

"Hell, what if we are amongst the Final Five?" said Adama. He shook his head. "I'm beginning to get an appreciation of
what Boomer went through when she shot me, and didn't realise that she was a Cylon." He nodded at Athena as she
came over to where they were standing.

"That's a... very unsettling thought, Admiral," said Zarek. "And if so, then the Cylons really have been laying long-term
plans." He looked at Athena. "Could you possibly shed some light on this, Lieutenant?" he asked.

Athena shook her head. "All I can say is that the Cylons believe that God outlined a plan for them to follow," she said.
"Where the Final Five fit in I can't tell you, because they are not discussed by the seven other lines, including mine." She
looked at the three Colonials. "I did, however, in conversation with one of the Sixes, learn that there was some concern
growing amongst the other types as to the basic stability of the Threes. It seems that D'anna Biers has been getting
herself killed and resurrected again in an attempt to see the faces of the Final Five, and that she may have even seen
them in the incident involving the Temple of the Five on that algae planet we were on."

"Now that is interesting news, Lieutenant," said Roslin. "What did our cousins have to say about that?"

"Pretty much the same thing you did, Madame President," Athena said. "They found it interesting. I did notice, however,
that they did step up their surveillance of the compound after they learned that piece of information."

"Interesting that it was a Six who told you," said Roslin. "Wasn't it a Six who helped you to escape when you tried to, ah..."
She let her voice trail off. A certain amount of embarrassment and shame crept into her face.

"Yes, it was," said Athena. She suddenly adopted a thinking posture. "And it was a Six who worked out that the Terrans
may know the identity of the Final Five."

"Could the two be connected?" asked Zarek.

"I don't know," said Athena. Before anyone else could say anything, Tory Foster came over.

"Sorry to interrupt, Madame President," she said, "but Admiral Cheshire and her people have just arrived. They're just
outside."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Now that's interesting," murmured Cheshire as the Terrans took in the position of people in the main room. "Isn't that the
Cylon officer in their fleet talking to Roslin, Zarek and Adama?" She indicated the gathering with a tilt of her head.

Templar looked in. "It is," he said. "Lieutenant Agathon. She's been of some assistance over at the internment camp.
Wonder what she's doing here?"

"Could it be that she may have found out that we know the identities of at least four of their 'Final Five' Cylons?" asked
Crispin.

Templar snapped his fingers. "That's it," he said. "She found out somehow and raced here to tell her superiors. Wonder
how she found out?"

"She may be a Colonial Fleet officer," said Cheshire, "but she's also a Cylon. I suspect that she may have intercepted a
flash from another Cylon when they worked out that we know who some of the Final Five are, made an excuse to leave
and raced here." She nodded her head in grudging approval. "Good officer," she said. "Wish I had more like her in the
Fleet."

"Well, I wonder how this is going to affect things?" asked Templar.

"It could make things easier for us," said Crispin. "Especially if they tell us that they have learned that we have learned the
identities of the Final Five. At least we won't be accused of attempting any devious tricks. May even make things easier all
round." The conversation broke off as Foster came up to the group.

"Sorry for the delay, Admiral Cheshire, gentlemen," she said, "but the President had to deal with something that has
suddenly come up. She should be ready for you shortly."

"Thank you, Ms. Foster," said Cheshire. "Could you please ask if Undersecretary Kinga can come out and speak with us
for a moment? There are some developments of our own we wish to inform him about." Neither her face nor that of the
other Terrans betrayed anything.

"Certainly, Admiral," responded Foster. As she turned to go back in the three Terrans studied her closely.

"This is still going to be nasty," said Crispin. He looked at Cheshire. "At least Roslin can't complain that you are keeping
information from her, the way she did over the skirmish that netted us the Cylons."

Cheshire softly laughed. "She may have been a schoolteacher in her earlier life," she said, "but she's now a politician
and a head-of-state. Take it from me; the one thing politicians, especially ministers and above, hate the most is feeling
left out of the loop, or poorly informed. And it's always them who define those terms. Especially if they think that those
who are their nominal subordinates are the ones not telling them what they feel they should know, and especially if they
get caught short by a particularly hairy question in Parliament." She turned as Foster brought Kinga outside. "Thank you,
Ms. Foster," said Cheshire. "Please convey my gratitude to the President in meeting with us and let her know that when
she's finished her discussions we should be ready for her."

"I'll certainly do that, Admiral," said Foster. She tuned around and entered the main room.

Kinga looked at the three senior Terrans. "Something the matter?" he said.

"You could say that, Joseph," Cheshire said. "You could."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Looks like they're telling Kinga about what they've discovered," said Zarek.

Adama nodded. "It certainly looks that way," he said. He looked at Zarek and Roslin. "If you don't mind, Madame
President, Mr. Vice-President, I had better go and fill my exec in on what's a bout to happen." He headed over to where
Tigh stood, nursing a cup of coffee and eating one of the small delicacies that had been brought in for the participants of
the earlier meeting to refresh themselves with.

"Care to tell me what's up?" Tigh said as Adama started to pour himself a fresh cup.

"What makes you think something's up, Saul?" Adama replied.

"Well, first Athena calls you about something that I would say has to do with the little Cylon collection the Terrans have
established on the other side of this giant tin can," Tigh said. "Then you come back and have a very intense conversation
with the President and Zarek. Then Athena turns up and, after talking with you three, is standing around looking as
though she's watching for something. Now the Terrans turn up and call Kinga outside for some kind of consultation.
Everybody's jumpy over something, and that makes me even more jumpy." He fixed Adama with his remaining eye. "So,
since you've come over here, I suspect that it's not just for more coffee. So, Bill, what's up?"

Adama finished pouring his coffee, mixed it with some cream and sipped. Then, he turned to the man who was not only
his exec, but also his oldest friend. "Athena told me that she thinks the Terrans have found out the identities of the 'Final
Five' Cylon types," he said. "And, from the way the Terrans have been acting recently, I would say that she's on the
money."

Tigh said nothing for a moment. Then, he ran his hand over his closely cropped hair. "Frack," he said. "That does
complicate things a little." He looked at Adama. "Don't tell me you think that some of the 'Final Five' may be close to the
Fleet's leadership!" he said.

Adama nodded. "Or even amongst the Fleet's leadership," he said. "And if that's the case, it explains why the Terrans
have been reluctant to tell us. We might think that it was an attempt to manipulate our thinking."

Tigh thought about what Adama had just said. "Frack," he said. "Imagine what this could do to the Fleet. No wonder they
refused to talk over even a secure channel." He looked about for a moment, and then said, "What are you going to do?"

"At present, we're going to let the Terrans raise the topic of 'something they couldn't tell us over a secure channel' and
then tell them we know what it is," said Adama. "Given that they know Athena's here, they'll work out just how we found
out. Then we see where things go from there." He took a sip from his coffee. "Cheshire's smart, though," he said. "She
just won't give out the identities of the 'Final Five' unless she has incontestable proof. They have been very careful about
doing that."

"Yeah." Tigh looked at Athena, but his mind's eye was seeing someone else. "I wonder if this is how Boomer felt, when
she found out that she was a Cylon infiltrator," she said.

"Possible," said Adama. "I'm having Athena stay in the room during the meeting. She may have some insights into the
situation. Plus, if it turns out that there is one of the 'Final Five' in this room..." Adama let the sentence trail off.

"Yeah," said Tigh. "Good idea."

*Chapter 24*: Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three

There was a distinct undercurrent of tension as the meeting began.

After the usual pleasantries the Colonials and the Terrans sat themselves down around the table that was used by Laura
Roslin for meetings with both Adama and the members of the Quorum of Twelve. The Colonials sat on one side of the
table, with Roslin being flanked by Adama on her right and Zarek on her left. Tigh and Foster stood behind their
respective chiefs, while Athena stood off to one side. Undersecretary Kinga sat next to Zarek but was slightly removed,
making it quite clear that his role was as an advisor to the Colonial Government.

Opposite them sat the Terrans. Lady Cheshire sat directly opposite Roslin, with Admiral Templar sitting opposite Adama
and Ambassador Crispin opposite Zarek. Behind them stood their respective staff officers. Two transcribers, one from
each side, sat at the end of the table.

Adama looked at the Terrans opposite him. Something about their body language was setting off all of his alarms. Then
he realised what it was. My Gods, he thought, they're expecting troub le!

Roslin decided to start the ball rolling. "I understand," she said to Cheshire, "that you have something to tell us that is so
important you could not use a secure channel to inform us of it."

Cheshire inclined her head in acknowledgement. "That is correct, Madame President," she said. She indicated Athena
with a small nod. "However, the presence of Lieutenant Agathon at this meeting in what looks uncommonly like a cross
between an observer, an advisor and a sentry would indicate to me the poss... no, the likelihood that you have a very
good idea of what we have to tell you."

Roslin smiled and acknowledged Cheshire's statement with a small bow of her own head. "Indeed, Admiral," she said.
She leaned forward and placed her arms on the table, hands clasped in front of her. "You would be correct. I presume
that you have some information on the Cylon base star and its, shall we say, inhab itants, that you wish to tell us."

Cheshire leaned forward and mirrored Roslin's posture. "We do," she said. "And, considering the nature of this
information, we decided that it was too sensitive to send by the usual channels." She cocked her head in a quizzical
fashion. "Tell me, Madame President," she said, "What do you think the information is?"

"Suppose you tell us and stop all this dancing around the subject?" said Roslin.

Cheshire took a deep breath. "As no doubt you have been informed by Lieutenant Agathon," she said, 'we have learned
the identities of at least four of the group of Cylons you term 'the Final Five.'"

Roslin raised an eyebrow. "Only four?" she said.

"When our boarding parties combed their way through the ship," Cheshire said, " they discovered what appears to be a
second control centre of some kind. We aren't too sure just what function it served, but, using computer chip design as
an analogy, it may have served as a secondary processing centre, supplementing the primary one as exemplified by the
Hybrid. When the boarding party burst into the chamber, they discovered four Cylons of an unknown type crewing the
centre, with the remains of a fifth one nearby."

"What happened to the fifth one?" asked Roslin.

"Charred to a crisp," said Templar. "Going by the equipment damage we found it must have been killed by a massive
electrical discharge that resulted from damage inflicted during the laser head strike. We managed to capture the other
four alive and intact thanks to the fact that they were fully involved in helping the Hybrid deal with the hack pack we used
on the ship."

Roslin looked at Adama. He thought over what Templar had said, nodded and said "That's highly likely, Madame
President," he said. He looked over his shoulder. "Saul?"

Tigh slowly nodded. "Fits in with what I saw in similar actions during the First Cylon War," he said. "Saw that happen quite
often."

Roslin looked back across the table at the Terrans. "So, where are they?" she asked.
"We're keeping them in a separate facility," Templar said. He looked at Cheshire, who gave a small nod. "We can take
you to see them, if you so desire."

Roslin and Adama glanced at each other. It was quite clear that the Terrans were not telling everything they knew. It was
equally obvious that the reason they weren't was not because of some notion of state secrets, but because of the
occupants in the room. "I take it that if we do go and see them it will be under, ah, circumstances that can be easily
controlled?" she asked.

Cheshire nodded. "Yes," she said. "Out of a concern for the safety of several people in this room."

Again Roslin and Adama looked at each other. Gods, thought Adama. The reason they're not telling us their identities is
b ecause there is at least one of the 'Final Five' in this room! But who? He glanced at Zarek, who had a look of
consternation on his face. "So, if we ask to see them now, you'll take us there?" he asked.

"If you so wish, yes," said Cheshire.

Adama indicated Tigh and Foster. "All of us, if we so desire?" he said.

Cheshire's face was completely unreadable. "Yes," she said. "That includes Lieutenant Agathon as well, if you so
desire."

Roslin, Adama and Zarek looked at each other. "Do you mind if we discuss this amongst ourselves?" Roslin said.

Cheshire nodded. "By all means," she said. "We can leave the room if you like."

"No, no need to do that," Roslin said, rising out of her chair. She indicated that Zarek and Adama do the same and to
follow her over to a corner. "Thank you for indulging us in this," she said. Cheshire said nothing but simply inclined her
head in reply. As the three Colonial leaders walked over to the corner Kinga got up and went over to confer with Cheshire,
Templar and Crispin.

"All right," said Roslin. "Our informed guess was correct. They know the identities of at least four of the 'Final Five.' And,
going by the way they were acting, at least one of them is in this room. So," she said, looking from Zarek to Adama, "what
do we do now?"

"I agree with what you said, Madame President," said Zarek. He rubbed his forehead. "Gods! No wonder they were being
cagey about the identities." He looked at Adama. "You know, it's unnerving to think that one of us is a Cylon, and that we
don't even know it! How do we tell who is and who isn't?"

Adama sighed. "I was trying to watch their body language," he said. "Especially the body language of the two staff
officers. However, the only signals they were giving off was that they were ready for trouble. And they were doing that
delib erately. So too were Cheshire, Templar and Crispin. Apart from that, nothing. Not even a glance at who they know is
one of the 'Final Five.'" He too, rubbed his forehead. "I wouldn't want to play cards against them, that's for sure."

"Kinga's ready for trouble, too," said Zarek. "I watched him as he moved over to talk with Cheshire and the others.
Wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley at night."

"Well, despite the fact that the Terrans are ready to leap to our defence if needed," said Roslin, "it doesn't answer the
question I asked earlier: What do we do?" Silence fell over the three Colonials as they tried to work out an answer to
Roslin's question.

"I say we take them up on their offer," said Zarek. "We go with them to this 'separate facility' that they're holding the 'Final
Five' Cylons in and see for ourselves just who they are."

"Aren't you concerned that seeing themselves as Cylons might activate some hidden programming?" said Roslin.

"No," said Zarek. "I suspect that the Terrans have taken that possibility into account. It's quite clear that they were
expecting that possibility to happen here when they gave us the news. So it'd be natural to expect that they've prepared for
that eventuality at wherever they are holding the 'Final Five.'"

Adama nodded. "I agree," he said. "However, I think that we should give ourselves some time before we see just who
they are. This is so we can ready a damage control plan just in case things turn out to be as bad as they could be."

Zarek nodded. "Good idea," he said. "We will need time to work out how we can deal with this crisis in a way that won't
tear the Fleet apart."
Roslin frowned as she thought over what Zarek and Adama had said. Finally, she said, "It looks like we may have no
other choice." She looked at both Adama and Zarek. "And, since I'm President," she continued, "I guess that it falls to me
to tell the Terrans what we've decided."

Adama looked over at Tigh, who was talking with Foster. "I suppose we had better inform our respective execs about
what we intend to do," he said. "Gods, this is a mess! Even I don't know if I'm a Cylon." He looked around and his eyes
fell on Athena. "Thank the Gods for at least that small mercy," he said.

Roslin followed his eyes. "Yes," she said. "We're going to need all the help we can get." With that, they headed over to
where Tigh and Foster were standing.

Both of them looked up as Adama, Roslin and Zarek came up. "We're going to tell the Terrans that we will take them up
on their offer of showing us who the 'Final Five' are," Roslin said, "but we're also going to tell them that we will need
some time to work out contingency plans."

Tigh nodded. "A good idea, if I may say so, Madame President," he said.

Foster also nodded. "You have my fullest support in this, Madame President," she said. "Always, no matter what
happens."

Roslin looked at the two of them. "You do realise that the Terrans seem to know that one of us this room is one of the
'Final Five,'" she said.

"I was wondering if you had caught onto that, Madame President," said Tigh. He nodded at Adama. "I suppose you've
also been watching their body language, Admiral," he said.

Adama nodded. "What's your read on it, Saul?" he asked.

"That they're ready for mayhem," Tigh replied, "if one of us suddenly has some hidden switch in their heads throw over
and activates some kind of hidden programming. Like what happened to Boomer."

"Yeah," said Adama. "I've been thinking the same thing."

Tigh gave a sour smile. "After seeing what some Terran spacers did with that mass of junk on Nike and seeing them
take that base star," he said, "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of an attack by any of any of them. Even Kinga,
what with the way I saw him moving just now. And he's a b ureaucrat for frack's sake."

"Well, we had better go and tell the Terrans what we've decided," said Roslin. The five of them moved back to the table.
The Terrans saw them coming and composed themselves to hear what the colonials had to say, Kinga resuming his
place on the Colonial side of the table.

"We've decided to take up your offer of showing us the 'Final Five' Cylons, Admiral," said Roslin. "However, we won't take
it up right away." Cheshire said nothing but simply inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Now, Admiral," Roslin
continued, "do you have anything else you wish to address?"

Cheshire smiled. "Not so much as address, Madame President," she said, "But a suggestion as to where you may be
able to settle your people."

Roslin smiled back. "Interesting," she said. "Undersecretary Kinga had mentioned that you had... what was it he said?
Ah, yes; a 'suggestion and a proposal,' I believe.' Roslin leaned forward on the table. "Well, Admiral? I'm all ears," she
said.

"The suggestion is for a system located on the Rimwards Sector, some distance from the Rimwards end of the Raptor
March," Cheshire replied. She called up a holographic map of the area. "It's a good system," she continued. "A G2
primary with two inhabitable planets, both with moons, inside the Habitation Zone, as well as a couple of asteroid belts,
three Jovian-type gas giants with several moons and a Mercury-type planet in the inner system. It's far enough from the
Conflict Zone, but also not too far from the path you took getting here. Both planets are Terrestrial, which argues that this
is a system that the Precursors had engineered but didn't settle. Should suit you perfectly." Cheshire leant back.
"However, the best news of all is that it's in a stellar cluster that, before E, S, and S were forced to leave off fully exploring
because of our offensive against the lizards, looked highly promising in the way of inhabitable planetary systems.
Unexplored, and therefore, unclaimed systems."

Roslin looked at Cheshire. "It sounds like you're offering us the opportunity we need to establish ourselves in this area of
space in relative safety while retaining our identity. Sounds good." She fixed Cheshire with her gaze. "So, Admiral," she
said, "what's in it for the Terran Imperial Navy? It sounds like you should be colonising that cluster, not us."
The nod that Cheshire gave Roslin was an acknowledgement that she was right on both counts. "All we are asking for
are basing rights within the system," she said.

"Basing rights?"

"It's simple," Cheshire said. "We offer you the system in exchange for the one we found you in. We help you establish
yourselves in the system, including all of the necessary orbital and other space-related infrastructure. In return, we have
the right to use the system as a base in the area, as needed. There need be no permanent Imperial Navy presence in
the area."

"Interesting," said Roslin. "Tell me, Admiral, why do you want a base in this sector of space?"

"Reasons of strategy." Cheshire said. "We are looking at using that area of space in a flanking manoeuvre against the
lizards. However, at present we can't establish a colonia, or military colony, in that region. We do know, thanks to the
sensor nets we've left in that cluster, that the lizards haven't been in that area." She leant forward. "You are looking for a
relatively secure system to establish yourselves in. We would like to establish a base of operations in that area of space.
I do believe that, in this circumstance, our interests do complement each other's needs."

"And what size base were you looking at establishing there? Or, if we took up your offer, what level would you build our
capabilities up to?" said Roslin.

"Colonia at the very least," said Cheshire. "With the intention of upgrading to full Fleet Node status. However, you would
retain full sovereignty over both that system and any others you explore."

"And if we don't take up your offer?" Roslin said.

"We just simply offer the system," Cheshire said. "After all, it fits what you are looking for. We just send an E, E and S
team to explore the other systems with an eye to establishing a base there. However, I do hope you accept our offer. I'm
sure that I can sell it to the Secretary of State for Defence and, ultimately, the Cabinet. Plus, if you did accept our offer, and
I'm being candid about this, you could help us shorten the war against the lizards by a considerable margin."

Roslin looked at Adama and Zarek. Both men had expressionless faces. "Well, Admiral," Roslin said, "this does seem
to be an... interesting offer you've made. Would you mind if I simply said at this point in time that we'll take it under
consideration?"

"Not at all," Cheshire replied. "I'll send the full details to both your office and that of Undersecretary Kinga." Roslin said
nothing, but simply nodded. "Well," said Cheshire, "That is pretty much everything we have to say in this meeting. Is there
anything you wish to raise, Madame President?"

"Yes, there is," said Roslin. "We've discussed the other proposals you've put to us regarding our technology and
equipment, and have made our decisions on them."

"Ah," said Cheshire. "And they are?"

"We've decided the following," said Roslin. She then outlined what they had decided on before the Terrans had arrived.
Templar looked slightly disappointed at the condition Adama had added to his offer of exchanging the Colonials' Vipers
for Terran Drakons, but it was equally clear that he understood Adama's reasons. "I hope that the condition that Admiral
Adama has put on the proposed exchange won't be too much of an inconvenience to your operations here, Admiral,"
Roslin said.

"Not really an inconvenience, Madame President," said Templar. "In fact, in reflecting on Admiral Adama's reasons, I fully
agree. In his position I would have done the same. I'll just have to tell Field Marshal Olmos the news."

"I'm sure that we can have the Vipers shipped from Alquonde once Galactica's been modified to handle the Drakons,"
Adama said.

Templar smiled. "Quite acceptable, Admiral," he said. "In fact, you could better train pilots for them there. And the Drakons
would be factory fresh. This is, in the long run, a much better way of doing things."

"Thank you, Admiral," said Roslin. "And I've just had a thought that I would like to air." She looked at Adama and Zarek,
who both nodded. "It's about your wishing to hire some of our support vessels while we were here. Would you like to
keep using them and their crews after we left? I suspect that we would be spending more time in Alquonde getting ready
to go to whatever system we decide to settle, and I'm also sure that the captains and crews of those ships would like the
opportunity to earn some extra credit. That is," she said, looking at Adama and Zarek, "if you two don't object?"
Zarek thought for a moment. "No objection here," he said, "provided that their families can be housed in this system."

"We can easily arrange that," said Templar. "Besides, as Undersecretary Kinga can tell you, dependent housing is a part
of any contract we sign with independent contractors." Kinga said nothing, but nodded in confirmation of Templar's
statement.

"No real objection here," said Adama. "However, I am concerned with crowding on the other ships of the Fleet. Even
though it will be a short trip to Alquonde, and even with Nike, we will be packed in tighter than we were after we left New
Caprica."

"I can solve that problem for you, Admiral," said Templar. "When you're ready to leave, I'll just slot you into a convoy
heading back to the March and assign a couple of excess troop transports that are also heading back. We won't be
needing them for a while."

"How big are the transports?" Adama asked.

"They carry an armoured brigade, complete with vehicles," Templar said. "Around three thousand men all told. They
should be big enough."

Adama thought about what Templar had said, and then nodded. "Good enough," he said. "We'll work out the details
later."

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," Roslin said, "so far as I can see we have dealt with everything that seems worth
mentioning. Unless someone has something else to raise at this meeting, I see no further reason to continue." She
looked around the room. "Are there any further matters that need to be raised?"

Adama shook his head. "Not from here," he said. Zarek said nothing, but shook his head.

"I'm unaware of anything from our side that needs to be raised in this forum," said Cheshire. "Simon?" Templar shook
his head.

"Then I propose that we close this meeting, turn over to our respective staffs those items that they need to deal with and
relax somewhat," said Roslin. Nobody raised any objections to that proposal, and showed it by rising out of their chairs
and heading over to the refreshments table. Adama took the opportunity to take Tigh aside for some further discussions
on 'the Final Five' issue and noticed that Cheshire had moved to intercept Roslin and to take her aside.

"Looks like Cheshire has something to say to Roslin that she didn't want anyone else to hear," said Tigh as he drew a
cup of coffee and poured some cream into it. "Wonder what it is?"

Adama looked over to where Roslin and Cheshire were quietly talking to one another. "I wouldn't be at all surprised that
it's about the 'Final Five'," he said. He too, poured a cup of coffee. Unlike Tigh, though, he added some milk to it. "Saul,"
he said, "I want to increase our security on Galactica and Nike," he said.

Tigh's eyebrows rose at that statement. "You think that these 'Final Five' Cylons might try something?" he asked. At
Adama's nod, he said, "It'd be difficult for them to try, though, with the security measures the Terrans have in that massive
space dock they've got our ships in. They've even assigned some of their AIs to help coordinate the overhaul and repairs.
I wouldn't be at all surprised if they are handling the security as well."

"How do you feel about that, Saul?" Adama asked. "And how are our people handling interacting with Terran AIs?"

"They haven't," said Tigh. "Mind you, they have seen Terrans interacting with them, but, unless you tell them, they simply
think that the Terrans are just communication with other Terrans via holocommunicator. The Terrans have been very good
about keeping our people from knowing about their AIs."

Adama breathed out a sigh of relief. "One less thing to worry about," he said. "From what Kinga's been saying the
Terrans will gradually introduce our people to their AIs once we get to Alquonde and the team the Contacts Office have
waiting there." He looked at Tigh. "If you say that the Terrans are handling the security arrangements in a manner you're
happy with, then that should be good enough," he said. "In any case, I want you to go out to the spacedock and at the
least alert our senior people there about the 'Final Five'. And while you're there find out just how well the overhaul and
survey is going."

Tigh nodded. "I was planning on doing that in any case," he said. "That way we can start planning the next stage of our
journey." He looked around. "Can't see any real reason for me to stay here," he said, "unless you want me to. Do you
mind if I leave for the spacedock now?"
Adama thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "I think the talking's done for now," he said. "If anything else
happens I can fill you in later." Tigh said nothing, but nodded and left.

"Where's Colonel Tigh off to in such a hurry?" came a voice from behind Adama. He turned around to see Roslin
standing behind him. "Admiral Cheshire says that she's heard about this bar that had been established on the Galactica
through the Terran Imperial Navy's grapevine and wants to see if it's all that rumour claims it to be."

Adama smiled at Roslin's banter. "Colonel Tigh's gone off to Galactica and Nike to see how things are going," he said.
His smile faded as he thought about the other reason for Tigh's departure. "He's also going to at least tell our senior
people there about a potential security problem that was raised at this meeting," he continued.

The smile on Roslin's face also faded. "Admiral Cheshire also spoke to me about that issue," she said. "She's offered to
have what she calls 'unobtrusive traces' placed on those of us whom they know are part of the 'Final Five' just in case any
deep-seated programming is activated. She has assured me that if that happens they can take them into custody
unharmed."

"What did you tell her?" Adama asked.

"I said that I would speak to you and Tom first to see what you thought of the idea before agreeing," Roslin said. "Tom's
not too happy with the idea, but he says that he can see the need for it."

Adama thought about Cheshire's suggestion. "I must admit that I'm not too happy about the idea myself," he said. "But I
also agree that there is a need for it." He looked at Roslin. "Did Cheshire say what they intend to do with the 'Final Five' if
they're taken into custody?"

"I get the impression that the Terrans have had some experience with this sort of thing," Roslin said. "At least, from the
conversation I had with Cheshire, they gained this sort of experience in one of their infrequent side-conflicts with another
human civilisation. It seems that they have had to perform what they term 'deprogramming' on that occasion. So, I'd say
that they would do this with the 'Final Five'."

"Hmmm," said Adama. "I wonder if they could have deprogrammed Boomer after she shot me? From what everyone tells
me she didn't even realise she was a Cylon until, I suppose, after she was downloaded into another body." He looked
over to where Cheshire was talking to Athena. "I suppose I had better ask Athena about that."

Roslin had also glanced over to where Athena was standing. "Somehow," she said, "I get the feeling that Cheshire is
already doing just that."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Airlock Twelve, Portside After Head Section, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, Currently in Terran Imperial Navy Mob ile
Spacedock (TINMS) 13342, Sandoval Base.

Saul Tigh walked into the airlock control booth where, only a few months earlier, he had witnessed the man he had come
to see and his wife blown out of a rapidly decompressing airlock and go flying into the open after section of a Raptor. He
looked through the thick windows and saw the skinsuited figures of Terran Imperial Navy yard workers applying repairs
to the damage the Cylons had inflicted. He looked at the readouts on the controls for the airlock and was surprised to
see that, despite the fact there was no door, the airlock was under pressure. Outside he could see the framework of the
space dock, a massive thing that was designed to accommodate Terran superdreadnoughts and now housed Galactica,
Nike and a couple of the Fleet's smaller ships that were also undergoing an overhaul.

"Colonel Tigh?" said a voice from behind him. He turned around to see Chief Tyrol standing there with some kind of
device in his hands. "You wanted to see me, sir?" he said.

Tigh looked at the device, then at Tyrol. "Yes," he eventually said. "Yes, I do want to see you." He gestured at the device
Tyrol held. "What's that?" he said.

"This?" Tyrol said. "It's what the Terrans call a 'data slate', sir. Not as bulky or as powerful as a PortaPC, but still quite
capable."

"Hm. What are you using it for?" Tigh said.

"To help me keep track of the various projects that are currently going on, sir," Tyrol said. He frowned as he looked closer
at Tigh. "Is something the matter, sir?"

"You could say that," Tigh said. He looked around. "Is there somewhere where we could speak in private?" he asked.
Tyrol's eyebrows rose at that question. "Not right here, sir," he said. "But we can go to where I've established an office of
sorts. We can talk there."

"Right." Tigh didn't move, but indicated the airlock with his head. "What have the Terrans done with the airlock?" he asked.
"There's no door, but the instruments say there's pressure out there."

Tyrol's frown grew deeper. "The Terrans have rigged up some of those selectively permeable force fields," he said. Once
they had those working they then went about replacing all of those faulty welds and patches. If you're wondering why
they're wearing skinsuits in there, that's their standard procedure for operating in situations where there may be a loss of
pressure due to damage. Something I think we should adopt ourselves, once we get skinsuits."

"Yeah," said Tigh. "Where's this office of yours?" he asked.

"Just follow me, sir," Tyrol said and went out of the airlock control room. Tigh followed, him through the ship, looking
closely at all of the activity around him. As they walked, Tyrol said, "The Terran yard engineers are being very thorough in
their survey. I swear that they are looking at every nut, bolt, screw and weld on the old girl. They've also looked at the
power plant and the engines. They've taken those offline and we're operating on power supplied by the space dock
itself." Tigh said nothing save a few grunts of acknowledgement.

They eventually reached Tyrol's "office", a structure that rested on the deck of the starboard flight pod. It was what the
Terrans termed a pressurised cabin, similar to the pressure tents that 'Abal's men had used, except this was rigid in
structure and was designed only for four men.

Tyrol opened the door and gestured for Tigh to enter before him. As he entered, Tigh looked around. All over the walls
were hung schematics of Galactica and Nike, with pencilled annotations that indicated what the Terran yard survey had
so far discovered. On the workdesk there stood a PortaPC, configured to take a Colonial Fleet computer keyboard and
with a printer of some kind off to one side. It was running, and above it floated some kind of design that rippled and
twisted.

Tyrol shut the door. "All right, sir," he said. "What is it you want to speak to me about?"

Tigh looked around, and then stepped closer to Tyrol. "They know, Chief," he said.

Tyrol looked puzzled. "Know what, sir?" he said. "Who knows what?"

"The Terrans," Tigh said. "They know. About you, me, Foster and Anders."

The puzzled look on Tyrol's face was replaced with a look of alarm mixed with apprehension. "Oh, frack," he quietly said.
He looked at Tigh. "How did they find out?" he asked. "I thought we were doing a good job of concealing ourselves."

"We were," he said. "But when they captured that base star, the Terrans also captured four living examples of 'the Final
Five.' I've just come from a meeting they held with the President and the Old Man where they informed them of that."

Tyrol put his hand on his chin as he thought about what Tigh had said. "They didn't tell them the Admiral and the
President our identities?" he said.

"No," said Tigh. "But they are holding them in another facility other than that prison camp they've set up. Cheshire has
offered to take Roslin and the Old Man to see them. She's also taking me, Zarek, Foster and Athena. Gods know what
they'll do when they see just who the 'Final Five' are."

"Probably have us locked up under guard," said Tyrol. He looked at Tigh. "Are you sure the Terrans haven't had you
followed?" he asked.

"No," said Tigh. He ran a hand over his hair. "And I've just remembered the surveillance they've put on our ships while
they're in dock. They've probably seen us come into this hut. I wouldn't be surprised if all four of us are under surveillance
right now." He looked at Tyrol. "Foster's going to make some sort of excuse to leave Roslin and go and tell Anders."

"Well, Anders is in the starboard flight pod, with Racetrack and the other nuggets," Tyrol said. "Both she and the CAG
have decided that being in dock is no excuse to let up on training. He even managed to get permission from the Terrans
to allow our Vipers to fly in this system."

"Hm. I was aware that Apollo had managed to get flight time for our crews," said Tigh. "And there's supposed to be a
Terran pilot coming sometime to familiarise our pilots with those Drakons of theirs." He looked at Tyrol. "You do realise
that things are going to get rough, especially for you. What, with your wife and all."
"Yeah," said Tyrol. "I've been thinking just how is Cally going to handle finding out that her husband's a toaster. She is not
going to be happy, especially if she finds out from someone other than me." He looked at Tigh. "I'm getting a whole new
appreciation for how Boomer felt," he said, "wondering if there's some hidden command waiting to be triggered. And a
whole new level of respect for Athena and Helo."

"Yeah," said Tigh. "So do I, Chief." He moved towards the door. "I'll go and find Anders and tell him what's happened," he
said. "Then, when we've all gotten off duty we'll meet in Joe's Bar and discuss what we do about this situation. That is, if
there is something we can do." With that, he exited the office.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joe's Bar, Temporary Colonial Settlement, Orb ital Hab itat TIN7335455.

When the Colonials had resettled in the orbital habitat that had been provided to them by the Terrans, they had been
surprised at just how efficient the Terrans had been in clearing their ships so that they could be overhauled. They had
managed to remove the possessions of those who had formal quarters on board the various ships of the Fleet and
moved them to the various cabins that had been assigned to them in the settlement many of them were now calling "the
Village." But that wasn't all that had been shifted.

Much to the surprise of the people off of Galactica, the Terrans had also shifted Joe's bar. And they had re-established it
in one of the central community buildings in the Village, managing to keep the original ambience as they did so.

There were a couple of subtle changes, though. One was the creation of an overhead rack, from which hung several
glassware mugs, along with what looked suspiciously like wine glasses. Then there was what looked like an Aerelon
dartboard, but with some differences, and some devices that turned out to be gaming tables that, when activated,
produced holographic computer games of various kinds. But one of the biggest changes was in the variety of drinks that
were on offer, something that delighted the usual habitants of the bar. Including Captain Doral Kelly, who pronounced the
ale that the bar now served to be the best he had had in quite some time.

The other function behind the rack, namely why it had a mesh front, was revealed when, about a week after the Colonials
had settled into their temporary accommodations, a party from the Thirty-Forth Light Cruiser Squadron descended on the
bar and, in a brief , informal ceremony, presented Joe with the crests of their individual ships, which they then promptly
attached to the rack's front, after which they started on the "real business" of their visit. They did explain that the framed
area in the exact middle of the rack's front was meant for the crests of Galactica and any other ships the Colonial Fleet
possessed, and once Galactica's personnel had been appraised of that fact, a copy of Galactica's crest had been
fabricated and put in pride of place, along with the emblems of her Viper and Raptor squadrons.

By now, the crests of the ships of 'Abal's squadron had been joined by the crests of several other Terran warships and
units as their personnel came and visited the bar. As a result of the visits by the Terrans Joe, the bar's owner and
originator, was beginning to become quite a wealthy man. He had even had talks with a couple of the Terran Empire's
Contacts Office people, who had advised him on how to turn his single bar into a franchise operation that could be
placed in Terran naval bases all throughout the Imperium. But today, Joe's was playing host to its highest-ranking military
guests. Although Adama was an admiral, he was, even though he was the ranking officer of the Colonial Fleet,
somewhat outranked by two Terran Fleet Admirals. Especially when one of those admirals was the Third Space Lord.

Despite this, the visit had gone off quite well. There was only the one incident, but that had provided a great deal of
amusement to all who had witnessed it, seeing as it involved a somewhat inebriated Captain Kara "Starbuck" Thrace
coming face-to-face with her Terran doppelganger, one Fleet Admiral Lady Dorothea "Wildcat" Cheshire, Baroness Milton
and Third Space Lord of His Imperial Majesty's Terran Navy.

The encounter was sure to enter Colonial Fleet legend. It most definitely added to the stories that already surrounded
Starbuck.

"I have to congratulate you, Admiral," said a highly amused Adama as he watched a thoroughly bemused Starbuck
wander off muttering something about Cylons and look-alikes to herself. "I have never seen anyone confuse that
particular pilot so thoroughly. Especially in the manner you did." He cocked an eyebrow at a chortling Admiral Templar.
"Was she always like that?" he asked.

"Oh, she's mellowed somewhat," Templar said. "But when she was still flying Rapiers she was probably somewhat like
your Captain Thrace." He shot a look of mock disapproval at his superior officer. "But what you just did! 'Cat, that is one
for the book!" he said.

Cheshire smirked, making her look even more like her double. "Just consider it a public service," she said. "Besides,
from what I could smell of what she was drinking, I probably did her some good. Call it my good deed for the day." Her
eyes wandered until they fixed themselves on what she was looking for. "Ah," she said. "Looks like your good Captain
Thrace has discovered the universal sobering-up device of our ancestors," nodding at Starbuck as she stood in front of a
machine that the Terrans called a cappuccino maker, obviously ordering one of the caffinated beverages. "Wonder if I
should give her some advice on it?"

Templar shook his head. "I think you've done enough for one day, 'Cat," he said in a mock-sorrowful way. Cheshire said
nothing but snickered. Templar turned to a quite thoroughly amused Laura Roslin, who was having a difficult time
holding back her laughter. "See what I have had to put up with all of these years, Madame?" he said.

"I couldn't but help noticing that you've become somewhat informal towards your superior," Roslin said.

"Tradition in the forces," Templar replied. "First names or callsigns in the mess or canteen." He looked at Adama. "May I
ask what your first name and callsign, if any are?" he said.

"You may," said Adama. "You can call me either Bill or 'Husker'."

"All right, 'Husker,'" he said. "Mine's 'Saint,' or 'the Saint.' Comes from an accident of birth."

"Interesting callsign," said Roslin. "Somehow you don't strike me as being the 'saintly' type, from what I've been reading
of Terran religions."

"Comes from an old televisor show made in the late Twentieth Century CE on Earth," Templar replied. He took a sip from
his beer. "The main character's name was 'Simon Templar', also known as 'The Saint.' Guess who gave it to me?" he
continued, looking at Cheshire.

"I take it you both flew in the same squadron," Adama said. He took a sip from his drink, which was not ambrosia but
something the Terrans called 'Kentucky Bourbon.'

"We did," Templar said. "And 'Wildcat' here," he continued, indicating Cheshire, " earned her name through being not only
one demon fighter, both inside and outside of a fighter's cockpit, but also through some of her other behaviour, which
has made her a legend in the Navy. It's amazing she got to where she is today, when I think about it."

"Hmm," said Adama. "It sounds like you may have more in common with Starbuck than just your appearance. Just how
did you get from being a tearaway fighter pilot to a flag officer?"

Cheshire's eyes, which had until then been sparkling with mirth, suddenly grew sombre. "Not by a path I would
recommend to your Captain Thrace," she quietly said. She looked at Templar, who had grown just as sombre. She
raised her mug. "Absent friends," she said.

Templar raised his own mug and gently clinked it against Cheshire's. "Absent friends," he said. Then both Terrans took a
drink from their beers.

Adama and Roslin said nothing, but looked at each other, understanding all too well the sombre mood that had fallen
over the Terran officers. We too, have ab sent friends, Adama thought. That's one link that we share with the Terrans, and
for much the same reason. They too, raised their glasses and clinked them together in a toast to all of those who they
had lost. Ab sent friends, indeed, thought Adama as he too drank from his glass. Ab sent friends indeed.
*Chapter 25*: Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four

Amb assador Crispin's Residence.

As Crispin readied to relax himself for the evening his personal AI chimed for attention. He spoke into thin air.
"Something for me, Nicholas?" At his words the image of a somewhat rotund figure wearing what looked like a
modernised version of a 17th Century costume sprang into existence. The figure nodded and spoke.

"A message has come in from the Secretary of State's office," said Nicholas van Rijn. "It's marked urgent and for your
eyes only."

Crispin nodded in return. "Encrypted?" he asked.

Van Rijn nodded. "Ambassadorial level," the AI said, "and wrapped inside it's own authentication software." Crispin's
eyes rose at this piece of information.

"Nicholas," he said, "set up the authentication software, will you?" he said, taking a seat at the desk in the main room. As
he did so the holographic plate in the desk activated to show the image of the 'courier': a man wearing the uniform of the
people who were responsible for delivering secret documents to the various ministry offices. At the same time a retinal
imaging scanner and a DNA sampler rose from the desk.

"Identification?" said the authentication program.

"Crispin, Richard, Ambassador First Rank," Crispin replied. The verification program ran, and then said, "Voiceprint
match confirmed. Identification phrase?"

"'Policy making is like sausage making: it is never good to see what goes into its manufacture,'" said Crispin.

"Phrase confirmed. Please place eye against the retina reader and a finger into the DNA sampler," said the verification
program. Crispin complied with the instructions. After the devices had read his retinal pattern and taken a sample of DNA
and confirmed them against its record, the verification program said, "Identity confirmed. Releasing package now." The
reader and sampler retracted into the desk.

After a short time the verification program's image was replaced by that of a dark-haired, fair-skinned woman. She
looked out of the holoplate at Crispin. "Richard," said the woman, "I've just come from a meeting with the Cabinet over
the encrypted message the Navy found inside the main message from these 'Cylons.' Combined with what intelligence
on them has reached Terra it looks as though things are about to get interesting. The Intelligence people as well as the
Psychological and Cultural Studies people from the Contacts Office believe there is evidence of a possible split starting
to emerge in Cylon society. Any more intelligence that you can get us will be most welcome.

"Now, what I want you to do is to get in touch with both Templar and the Colonial leadership. Have Templar arrange for a
reply agreeing to the meeting with the Cylon representatives. The message will state that they are to come to Sandoval
Base. I suppose the Fleet will want them to simply jump into the outer system and to send a flash, although if they can
be given the use of a sealed one-shot hypertransmitter to let us know when they are one jump away from Sandoval, so
that the Navy can arrange for a suitable escort, that too will be acceptable. Instructions are being sent to Templar to
cooperate with you in this matter, although I understand that the Secretary of State for Defence, the First Lord and the
Prime Minister will not object if the message is delivered in a somewhat aggressive way. I believe the Prime Minister's
words were along the lines of 'two can play at that game.' I think he was referring to the way the Cylon message was
delivered.

"You are also to cooperate with President Roslin of the Colonies of Kobol and Admiral Adama of the Colonial Fleet. They
are to be considered equals in the negotiations with the Cylons. However, do make it equally clear that the Imperium will
not engage in a war to regain their home worlds and, unless provoked, will not attack these 'Cylons' on their behalf.
However, also make it clear that the Imperium will regard an attack on the Colonial nation an attack on itself and will act
accordingly.

"As to the issue of 'the Final Five' Cylon variants: the Cabinet has approved the approach you and Lady Cheshire have
taken. The Colonial Government is to be kept informed of any developments regarding this, including the information of a
potential split in Cylon society, not least because they are the resident experts on the Cylons. They may be able to
provide some insights into the whole Cylon matter.
"As to Cheshire's offer to set the Colonials up in a system that we could have basing rights in: the Cabinet agrees that it
is a good move. You are authorised to add any incentives you feel may make Cheshire's offer to them more attractive,
within certain limits, which are attached to this message. This includes the use of 'loaner' specialists as well as financial
aid. If they do accept it will free up our own colonisation groups to settle the occupied systems. Not that we were able to
use this particular system right away, considering that our own colonisation groups are prepped to go into the
occupation zone anyway, once the planets are secured. Of course, once the Colonials are settled into their new system
you are to invite their leadership to come to Terra at their convenience, so as to both create and strengthen links between
our two branches of humanity.

"That's about it. Cheshire, Templar and Kinga will be receiving despatches similar to this one. Lady Daphne Chatterley,
Countess Langdorp and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, signing off." The woman's image disappeared from above
the holoplate.

Crispin called up the attached data containing not just his more detailed instructions but also further information that the
Foreign Office had determined would be necessary to his assignment. Then he spoke to his AI. "Nicholas," he said,
"contact Lady Cheshire, Admiral Templar and Undersecretary Kinga's AIs and set up a meeting for tomorrow. Then
contact both President Roslin and Admiral Adama's staffs and coordinate a meeting time with them and Cheshire'
Templar and Kinga's AIs." He then got up and, walking over to the liquor cabinet, proceeded to pour himself a snifter of a
drink mix called Ob eron Firewater. Once that was done, he turned down the lighting, turned on some classical music
and sat down to relax before going to bed.

Joe's Bar, Several Hours Later.

Saul Tigh walked into the bar and looked about. Throughout the bar he could see a fairly healthy crowd enjoying the
expanded facilities that had been provided to help the place cater to the Terran Navy and Army personnel who visited it, of
whom there was a light smattering. Most of them were Navy yard workers from the massive spacedock that currently
held Galactica, Nike and a couple of other vessels of the Colonial refugee fleet. He walked through the bar, still scanning
the place as if he was looking for something.

At last, he saw what he was looking for, and headed off to a table that was set into a small area that could be used as a
conversation nook; something that the area where the bar had been established on Galactica had been unable to
properly establish.

On reaching the table he nodded to the two other people who already sat there. As he slid in, Tory Foster and Samuel
Anders nodded back. "Glad to see you could make it," Tigh said. "Where's the Chief?"

Anders replied. "He's had to go back to his quarters for a moment before coming out here," he said. "Cally said that Nick
was feeling a little ill, so they've taken him to see the doctors at the medical centre."

Tigh nodded. "I hope he manages to get here," he said, looking at the other two. "We have to decide what we are going to
do." Both Foster and Anders said nothing, but nodded in agreement. Tigh looked at the glasses in front of them. "What
are you drinking?" he said.

"Thought we'd give some of this beer a try," Anders said. "Tastes good and is made on this station."

Tigh thought about this for a moment, and then grunted. "What's it called?" he asked.

"New Gloucester Crack Shot," said Anders. "From what I can tell it's derived from a Terran prototype."

"Good, is it?" asked Tigh. Anders nodded. "Well," Tigh said, "I guess I had better go and get me one." He looked at Foster
and Anders. "Want one?" Both nodded and Tigh got up and went over to the bar. "Three New Gloucester Crack Shots," he
said to the bartender.

The bartender's eyebrows rose up. "Usually you get either ambrosia or one of the Terran whiskies," he said as he filled
up three glasses.

"Usually you just pour the drinks without a running commentary," Tigh retorted. He paid for his drinks and took them back
to the table. Just as he was setting the drinks down Tyrol came up.

"Sorry I'm late, Colonel," said Tyrol as he slid onto the vacant chair, "but I had to take Cally and Nick down to the medical
centre. Nick's been fussing and not feeling well, and we thought, given what the Terrans said about their diseases, that
we'd be better off being safe."

Tigh nodded his acknowledgement of Tyrol's statement. "Anything serious?" asked Anders.
Tyrol shook his head. "No, nothing serious," he said. "The doctors say it's an allergy of all things. Both he and Cally are
down at the centre while the docs run a series of tests."

"How'd you manage to get away, Chief?" asked Tigh.

"I told Cally that I had to meet you here and discuss some things that had come up regarding the Fleet," Tyrol said.
"When you think about it, I told her the truth. I just didn't tell her what it was we were talking about. She just assumed it
was technical and told me to go and not keep you waiting."

Tigh gave Tyrol a sardonic grin. "Well, we are talking about 'something regarding the Fleet'," he said, turning the grin on
Foster and Anders. "The fact that the Terrans have found out that we're frakking Cylons, and are about to show the
President and Adama our doubles!" He took a swig from his beer, and put it down. "You're right," he said to Anders. "This
is good stuff. But it doesn't help us work out what we can do about the situation we're in."

"I might have a solution," said Foster. She looked at Tigh. "After you left for the spacedock," she continued, "Admiral
Cheshire told the President about their experience in one of the Terran Empire's 'side-wars' with another human
civilisation."

"They've fought wars against other humans?" said Tigh. "Now that's interesting."

"Apparently," said Foster, "in this particular war they encountered humans who were 'programmed' to perform certain
acts, such as sabotage and assassination. The Terrans, once they realised what was going on, managed to stop the
'programmed' people, usually by looking out for the signs of 'programming' and, get this, managed to 'de-program'
them."

For a moment the other three were silent as they absorbed the impact of what Foster had said. Then, Anders said, "That
is interesting." He casually looked about. "I wonder if the Terrans are watching us?"

"They are," Foster said. "Cheshire offered to the President to put 'unobtrusive traces' on us. Which means, most likely,
that they are aware of this conversation we are having." She looked at the other three. Their expressions showed that
they were not surprised at this information.

"I suppose they intend to pick us up somewhere where it won't be disruptive to our people," said Anders.

Foster shook her head. "Actually," she said, "from what the President told me, they're watching us just in case any
'programming' we may have is activated. If that happens, they swoop down on us and take us into custody."

"It wouldn't be a good idea to resist," said Tigh. "I saw what they did with that junk pile on Nike, back in that system where
they found us. Plus I also saw just how efficient those Imperial Marines are." He looked at Foster. "You saw just how
prepared Cheshire and the other Terrans were for mayhem back at the President's residence?"

Foster nodded. "The really frightening aspect about that whole situation was the way they were delib erately showing us
they were ready for anything," she said. She looked at the others. "Since the Ionian Nebula I've been finding out that I
have knowledge of such things," she said.

Tigh and the others nodded. "I take it you have a reason, other than letting us know about the traces the Terrans have put
on us, in telling us about the Terran's little side-war?" he said.

"I do," Foster said. "The main worry we've had, apart from being unmasked as Cylons, is not knowing if we have any
hidden programming that nay cause us to... carry out certain acts."

"Like Boomer shooting the Old Man," Tigh said.

Foster nodded. "Like Boomer shooting the Admiral," she said. "The Terrans say that they can find and neutralise any
such programming. I propose that we surrender ourselves to the Terrans and ask for their help in preventing us from
doing anything that may harm those we care about."

"Wait a minute," said Tyrol. "What would prevent the Terrans from using us as some kind of test subjects? And also, what
would prevent them from taking my wife and son and doing the same to them?"

"Their laws," said Foster. "Remember, I've been working quite closely with Undersecretary Kinga's people on finding the
Fleet a new home. Throughout the entire time I've been working with them I've managed to gain a fair knowledge of their
legal system." She looked about at the others. "Remember their AIs?" she said. All present nodded. "Well, under Terran
law, they have full citizenship rights."
"I remember now," said Tigh. "The Old Man told me about that after he and the President got back from meeting with
'Abal." He looked at Tyrol. "And remember the briefing we had in the Old Man's quarters? It was mentioned there as well.
Plus, Athena said that 'Abal's AI referred to her as a person, and the Cylons as people, and the Terrans just accepted that
as a given."

Tyrol's eyes glazed over as he replayed that briefing in his memory. "True," he said. "Which would mean that they would
consider us people."

"They also have some pretty strict laws against unauthorised experimentation on 'sentient beings'," Foster added. "That
term, as I understand it, would also include humaniform Cylons. In fact, from what I understand of their laws, if for some
strange reason a whole base star of Cylons turned up and asked for refugee status, they would grant it. And if they asked
to join the Imperium, they would, most likely, grant them that as well, because they do not see that they would be any
different to them or their higher-level AIs."

Nobody spoke for a moment while they absorbed the information that Foster had given them. Then Anders spoke. "So
you think that we should hand ourselves in to the Terrans on the hope that they could possibly help us?" he said. "Forgive
me for sounding sceptical, but what makes you think they would be willing to help us? Who are, may I remind you,
members of a race that attempted to exterminate one entire branch of the human race and who may have just pissed off
the Terran branch of that same race?"

Foster shrugged. "They might not help us, based on that," she said. "However, the way that they're treating the Cylon
prisoners gives me some belief that they will help us. Particularly when we explain to them that we have been keeping
an eye on each other to try and catch any evidence that we have been programmed to carry out any hostile acts towards
the Fleet." She looked at the others. "Remember, we made a conscious decision at the Ionian Nebula that we would
remain at our posts, come what may, because we care about a lot of people in this Fleet."

"True," said Tyrol. He looked around. "So," he said, "are we going to do it? Turn ourselves over to the Terrans and ask for
their help in seeking out any hidden programming?" Nobody replied.

But then, nobody needed to reply. The answer to Tyrol's question, in light of the decision they had made at the Ionian
Nebula, was obvious.

After a while, Tigh said. "So we do it, then." He looked at the others. None of them contradicted him. Sighing, he took a
sip from his beer. "It's going to be hard on quite a few people, what we are about to do," he said. "Especially those we
consider friends, partners," this, with a look at Tyrol and Anders, "and... well, I suppose beloved chiefs," he said, looking
at Foster. "I hate to think how the Old Man's going to react to the news."

"This is going to tear Cally up," said Tyrol. "But I don't see any way I can avoid this. I really don't."

"Kara's going to pitch a screaming fit," said Anders. "Especially after what that bastard Conoy was doing to her on New
Caprica. I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to separate herself from me."

"I may have a solution to that," said Foster. All three men turned their eyes onto her. "It may not work," she said, "but it
might make it easier for those who we care about accept what we will do, what happened to us at the Ionian Nebula."
She looked at the three men. "We, each of us, write letters to those who we care for, explaining what we have done and
why." She held up her hands. "I admit," she said, "it will sound mealy-mouthed, particularly in the light of what we are
going to do, but it's the best suggestion I have."

"What do you suggest we put into these letters?" asked Tyrol.

Foster put her hand on her chin as she thought. "What exactly you each say is up to you," she said, "but I'm thinking that
we should tell them everything. How we found out we were Cylons, and what steps we took to try and keep the Fleet safe
from any hidden programming. I would also advise those we love," looking at Anders and Tyrol as she said that, " to go
and speak to the Agathons. After all, you could say that they were in the same situation on Caprica as we are in now."

"True," said Anders. "Although their situation isn't quite the same as ours, it may provide some hope." He looked around
at the others. "So, what sort of an excuse should we give our significant others when we go back and tell them that we
have to leave again?"

"I wouldn't worry about Starbuck, Anders," said Tigh. "She'll be onboard Galactica readying herself to go on a flight around
the station and spacedock. So be thankful that Apollo manage to get some flight time for the pilots." He looked at Tyrol.
"You just tell Cally that something has come up involving Galactica that requires your presence there, and you have to go
pretty much right away." He looked at Foster. "I suppose you will have a reason already worked out, assuming you need
one."
"And what about you, Colonel?" asked Tyrol.

"I'll just tell the Admiral that I have to go attend to something that involves Galactica or Nike. He'll probably want to come
along, but I'll tell him that I can handle it." He took another sip. "Besides, he should be busy with the President working
on the latest proposal Cheshire landed in our laps. Gaeta can help him just as well as I can." He finished his beer and
then stood up. "Well, we had better get going. The sooner this is over with, the better for us and the Fleet." He turned to
go, but Tyrol spoke up.

"Where should we meet up to surrender ourselves to the Terrans?" he asked. "One of their watch stations?"

"Why not the administration building for that prison camp they have on the other side of the station?" said Anders.
"Strikes me as being perfect, if you appreciate the irony of the situation. Besides, they may have facilities that could help
us."

Tigh thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Good enough for me," he said. The administration building of the
prisoner camp. Say in two hours' time: should give us enough time to prepare ourselves. All agreed?" He saw no
dissension to the suggestion, and nodded. "The admin building in two hours. I'll be expecting all of you." Without looking
to se if the others were following him he strode out of the bar.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You get that?" said the Terran security officer who was sitting near the group.

"Yes. Shall I alert security?" answered the monitoring post.

The Terran though for a moment, and then replied, "Yes, but tell them not to move in unless they deviate from their
intentions without any real visible cause. We still want to keep this quiet."

"Got it. Cover will still ob serve, b ut do nothing unless required."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Admiral Templar's Office, Sandoval Hub .

Templar finished watching the last of his dispatch from the Admiralty, and then moved to palm the recording off. As the
face of the Director of Fleet Operations faded from view that of his Chief of Staff, Vice-Admiral N'koma Wasane, took its
place. "Interesting," said Templar. "What do you make of it, N'koma?"

Wasane rubbed the back of his close-cropped hair. "It looks like the Prime Minister has given you carte blanche to 'do
unto the Cylons'," he said. "Show them what may come of annoying the Imperium unnecessarily, and all that."

"My take on it as well," said Templar. "I suppose I had better call Crispin and see if he has his message all worked out for
us to hand over to the Cylons."

"What sort of a force are you thinking of using to 'deliver' the Imperium's reply?" asked Wasane.

Templar leaned back in his chair, hands in a prayerful attitude, and though for a moment. "I think I'll send a scouting
group," he said. He leaned forward and called up Sixteenth Fleet's list of scouting groups. "Twelfth and Eighteenth
Scouting Groups are scheduled for sweep patrols," he said. "I'll send Twelfth to that system the captured base star's
data cores indicate is their main base, while Eighteenth can sweep the system we found the Colonials in. While they're
there they can deposit the beacon with the message in it."

"Both systems?"

"Of course," said Templar. "We'll work out the mission specifications for the scouting groups after I've spoken to Crispin.
Which I had better do now." With that, he called up his personal AI. "Heinrich," he said to his AI, "call Ambassador
Crispin's residence will you. Tell his AI that I need to speak to him urgently."

"Jahwohl, Herr Flotten-Admiral," replied his AI, which was based on a combination of Jurgen Prochnow's character of
"The Old Man" from the 20th Century movie Das Boot and the person the character was based on, Kapitan-Leutnant
Heinrich Lehmenn-Willenbrock, the real-life commander of U-96. "However, Ambassador Crispin's AI has been in touch
and has asked to arrange a meeting with both the Ambassador and Lady Cheshire for tomorrow at 10:00 hours, after
which you are to meet with President Roslin and Admiral Adama at 11:00 hours for final consultation on the message to
be sent to the Cylons."
Templar leant back in his chair as his AI relayed that information to him. "Well," he said, "if Crispin thinks it can wait, then
it can wait," he said, looking at Wasane's image.

"And the mission specs should not be too difficult," said Templar's chief of staff. "Eighteenth just sweeps that system and
leaves some message beacons for the Cylons to pick up, while Twelfth carries out a 'recon in force' in the system we
suspect the Cylons were establishing themselves in."

"Yes," said Templar. "That should work quite nicely. It should also satisfy the Prime Minister's wish as..." Suddenly, a
small area of the holographic display began to flash red. "Just a minute," Templar said. As he said that the image of his
AI came up. "Something urgent, I take it," Templar said.

"I have just received a flash from Security," said Heinrich. "It appears that the four Cylons they have been keeping watch
over have met and they have decided to turn themselves over to us."

Templar's eyebrows nearly crawled off his forehead and under his hairline at this news. "Where are they now?" he
asked.

The image of the AI frowned in concentration as his communications subroutine interrogated the Security AI that had
flashed him the news. "At present, they are still under observation," he finally said, "but are going to their separate
quarters. Apparently they are going to write letters to selected individuals explaining both the situation and their actions.
Then they intend to turn themselves over to us at the POW camp."

"Now that is interesting." Templar looked at Wasane's image. The Chief of Staff had overheard the exchange and wore an
expression of astonishment which, Templar suggested, strongly mirrored his own. "The mission specs will have to wait,"
Templar said. "Tell you what: you write up what you think the specs should be and send them to my desk. I'll review them
in the morning and make any changes I feel are appropriate."

Wasane nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "Sounds like you may have a rather busy evening tonight."

"And an even busier day tomorrow," Templar replied. "I'll speak to you later. Templar, clear." As Wasane's image
disappeared Templar turned to that of his AI. "Heinrich, contact both Lady Cheshire and Ambassador Crispin. Tell them
what has happened and that I want to speak to them now," he said. "We're going to have to prepare things very carefully
for our meeting with the Colonial leadership tomorrow, especially in the light of this development." As he spoke he
walked over to where a dispenser stood. He poured himself a cup of hot, black coffee. "And have security send me a
copy of the surveillance footage now," he continued. While he waited for his AI to make the necessary contacts, he began
to sip his coffee. Looks like a long night for all of us, he thought to himself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, this is an interesting development!"

Lady Cheshire nodded at Ambassador Crispin's statement. "'Interesting' indeed," she said. "Do you mean in the
Occidental manner, or do you have the Chinese meaning in mind?"

"At present, I'm not too sure," Crispin replied. "I do know that this has the potential to complicate things even more.
Roslin is almost certain to demand that we turn them over to the Colonials, which we can't do. They turn themselves over
to us, we have to extend the Imperium's protection to them. Which includes not turning them over to an authority that has
a tendency to throw beings like them out the nearest airlock!"

"They seem to have accepted that Cylon officer as one of theirs," said Templar.

"She earned that," replied Undersecretary Kinga. At Crispin's request they had contacted Kinga and told him about recent
developments. "Which could be said for all four of these Cylons. Especially given how they have been watching each
other for any hidden programming. They quite clearly feel they have strong personal links to the Colonials."

"Hmmm," said Crispin. "There seems to have been some sort of subtext about the shock of finding out that they weren't
human after all." He looked at the others. "Think we could use that to 'soften the blow' somewhat?"

Kinga nodded. "Yes, we could," he said. "I'm quite sure that President Roslin is going to have some severely conflicted
feelings about this. After all, the only person who was closer to her than Foster is Adama. And I'm guessing that he's
going to have some major problem himself. His oldest friend a Cylon and, therefore his enemy!'

"Y'know, there's something rather fishy about this whole setup," said Cheshire. She looked at the others. "Virtually every
Cylon the Colonials have found has been some kind of deep cover agent. They have either carried out acts of sabotage
or attempted assassination. Then there's the whole New Caprica situation, plus the evidence we've been getting from
observing the POWs of a possible split in Cylon society. Now, we get this: four Cylon deep cover agents who, having
found out that they are Cylons, decide to stay loyal to humanity, to the extent that they watch each other for hidden
programming. It's beginning to sound like someb ody is playing games with these people."

"Or playing God." Kinga looked at Cheshire. "You think there's a Precursor involved in this?" he said.

"Or several," said Templar. "We could have stumbled on another round of the Precursor War. With people as the
weapons." He frowned at that thought, as did the others.

One of the greatest taboos that Terran society had created was also their strictest law: No one has the right to play God
with the lives of lesser-advanced people. The strictures that enforced this law were also the fiercest. The Terrans did not
execute people. Rather, they exiled them to selected planets that were all chosen for one characteristic: they lacked the
resources to allow people exiled there to progress beyond a Bronze-Age level of technology. They also sterilised any
exiles, so that the sins of the parents could never be passed on to any possible offspring.

And of all the offences that were punished by exile, the one that was the most strictly enforces was the law against
playing God with the lives of sapient beings.

"If it is a Precursor that's involved in this affair," said Cheshire, "then it raises this matter to a whole new level. And that will
not go down at all well. Especially if it's a particular Precursor." Much had been speculated on the possibilities of the
Imperium ever encountering live Precursors. Some had even speculated that the Imperium might have to fight at least
that faction that had supported the Raptor part of the Precursor "intelligence project," while others had speculated on if
the Precursors would even accept Terrans as their equals. Technologically, it was possible that the Terran Empire was, in
a broad sense, the equal of a Precursor faction and had, in certain areas, even outstripped them.

This situation, which on reflection, had all of the hallmarks of an operation by a particular Precursor, was one that the
Terrans found quite distasteful, considering the way in which their most strongly held taboos were being violated. It was,
however, not the first time the Terrans had found traces of this particular Precursor's presence.

For a moment, nobody spoke, as they were all mulling over the implications of what Cheshire was saying. Then, Kinga
heaved a great sigh. "Well," he said, "from where I sit I see that we have no choice. We have to inform the Imperium that
we think we've found another example of his," said with a great amount of distaste, "handiwork."

"If we do," said Crispin, "it means involving the Inquisitor General's office."

"Are you saying we shouldn't?" asked Templar.

"No, I'm not," said Templar. "I'm just reminding everyone what it will entail. As if we really need any reminding," he
finished darkly.

"You do realise that if it is as we suspect," said Cheshire, "then both the Colonials and the Cylons are equally victims.
Somehow, I don't think that idea is going to go down well with the Colonials."

"And speaking of the Colonials," said Crispin, "what do we tell them about the four Cylons in their midst? Do we tell them
who they are, or do we wait?"

"I think we wait," said Kinga. "It seems clear that they intend to surrender themselves to us, but also wish to explain to
those people who are close to them about their situation. I do not see that we should make things any more difficult for
all involved."

"I agree," said Cheshire. "We wait, and, since these four wish to write letters to those people they care about, we deliver
them when we reveal their identities. It may not be perfect, but I feel that it's the best that we can do at this point in time."

"Put that way, I have to say I agree, My Lord," said Crispin. Templar said nothing but inclined his head in agreement.

"So we are agreed then? Good," said Cheshire. "Now, since we are all 'gathered together', what do we do about the
message we intend to send to the Cylons?"
*Chapter 26*: Chapter 25
A Brief Message to my readers.

First, I must apologise for the delay in updating. I'm afraid I have b een somewhat b usy over the past month or so, mainly
in getting ready for a b ig reenactor fest down here in the Antipides that I was taking part in. That's now over, and I should
b e ab le to get b ack into things.

Second, I would like to thank all of my reviewers for their comments to date. I haven't b een ab le to reply to all of you, so
please accept this as my thank you to you all.

Enough of my rab b iting on: time to get b ack into it!

Chapter Twenty-Five

Outside the Administration Building, Temporary Prisoner of War Camp.

The four Cylons met outside the building the Terrans used as the administration block for the temporary prison camp
they had established.

By now, the habitat's rotation had created an artificial nightfall. The stars the four saw above them were in reality
reflections off of the giant mirrors that, during the habitat's 'day', reflected the sunlight of Sandoval's primary through the
massive windows that ran the length of the immense structure. Those windows, while allowing sunlight through, also
filtered out any excessive radiation beyond that which was normal for an Earth-like environment.

Just one more thing that delineates us from the Terrans, thought Tigh as, standing outside the discreetly lit building, he
stared up at the reflected starscape. "I wonder which of those stars is home, assuming we can see it from here?" he
said.

"Do you mean the Colonies, or the Cylon homeworld?" asked Tyrol, who had come alongside him and was now looking
up at the same sight.

"Does it really matter?" asked Anders, who was also looking at the spectacle. Foster said nothing, but joined them in
looking at the view.

"It does, at least to me it does," said Tigh, as he tore his gaze from the sight above his head. "As far as I'm concerned,
Caprica is home." He looked back up at the reflected stars. "And we're about to cut ourselves off from that home."

"I hope you're wrong about that, sir," said Tyrol.

"So do I, Chief," said Tigh, placing his hand on Tyrol's shoulder. "So do I." He again tore his gaze from the mirrored
starscape, took his hand from Tyrol's shoulder and looked at the other three people. People, he thought to himself. The
frakkin' Terrans might say we're people, b ut will those who we care ab out say the same after tonight? Ironically, he
somehow found it comforting that the Terrans had seen fit to replicate a proper diurnal cycle in the habitat's routine rather
than use the artificial means by which the Colonials had done the same on their ships and stations. He couldn't work out
why he found it comforting, but he did.

He shouldered his carryall. "Everybody ready?" he asked. The others nodded and lifted their own carryalls. Like him, they
had not only written letters to those who they cared about but had, perhaps in an attempt to hold onto a shred of whatever
humanity they possessed, also packed carryalls carrying some of their meagre, but valued possessions. None of them
was sure just why they had done so, but they had. Their letters were tucked away in a side pocket of their carryalls, each
one in a separate envelope addressed to its intended recipient.

"Well," Tigh said, "no use in delaying this. Let's do it," and walked towards the main doorway into the building.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The building that the Terrans were using as the administrative centre (they termed it the Kommandantur) of the
temporary prison camp was a fairly nondescript affair. It was clearly built of prefabricated components and was obviously
intended as a demountable structure that could be used either as a temporary police station in a disaster-struck
community or as a temporary field headquarters for an equally temporary military installation. Or, as here, the
administrative building of a temporary prison camp. It had doubtless served in all three of these functions in its time and,
when its current use was over, it would again be disassembled and placed into storage or transported to wherever it
was needed. In this case, the camp was for members of a machine race whose sole purpose for existing was to
exterminate the building's human creators. A camp whose population, the four individuals approaching the building
thought, was to be increased by four more machines.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first indication the four received, indeed the first of several surprises they would experience that night, that things
would not be as they had expected, met them as they stepped through the glasplex double doors that guarded the main
entrance. Awaiting them in the main reception area was not the group of Imperial Marine guards they had expected, but a
single Terran naval officer. He was a Captain and was also, according to the branch colour on the folded back plastron of
his double-breasted undress frock, an officer in Naval Intelligence.

The second surprise followed immediately on the first. It was simply the manner in which he greeted them.

"Good evening," he said as the four walked in through the doors into the reception area. "I'm Captain Winston Abrahams.
How can I be of assistance?"

The four Cylons looked at each other. This was totally unexpected, and they wondered if this was some kind of ruse.
However, they had no choice but to continue on their chosen path.

Tigh stepped forward. "I'm Saul Tigh," he said. Indicating the others, he continued; "These are Miss Tory Foster, Samuel
Anders and Galen Tyron."

Abrahams nodded. "Good evening, Colonel, Ms. Foster, Ensign, Chief," he said. "I take it you have some business
here?"

Tigh frowned. This was getting wearisome. "Let's cut out all of the crap, Captain," he said. "Given that you're with Naval
Intelligence, and not to mention your surveillance capabilities, I suspect that you know full well just why we're here."

Abrahams gave a small smile. "You are correct, Colonel," he said. "You have come here to turn yourselves over to the
Imperium. Is that correct?"

Tigh gave a curt nod. "Yes," he said. "The four of us are surrendering ourselves to the Terran Empire. Our reasons are..."
He halted, tried to continue, and then turned to Foster. "Dammit," he said. "You tell him: you're better with words that I
am!" He stepped back as Foster took his place.

As she began, she looked the Terran squarely in the eye. "Captain," she said, "we are turning ourselves over to the
Terran Empire in order to remove a potential threat to the security of both the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and the Imperium.
We are also asking for your assistance in locating and removing any hidden programming that may have been
implanted in our brains by the Cylons. We would also like it to be noted that, in so surrendering ourselves to the
Imperium, we have not requested any form of asylum within the borders of the Imperium and that, if the Imperium does
decide that it is in its best interests to hand us over to the colonial Government, we will not object." She stepped back.

Abrahams nodded his acknowledgement of Foster's statement. "So noted," he said. He then drew himself up. "I accept
your surrender into the custody of the Imperium on its behalf," he said. "However, I am required to inform you that, in so
doing, the Imperium, in accordance with its own laws, extends its protection over you, both as individuals and as a
group. If the colonial government should demand your surrender, the Imperium will respectfully reject it. The Imperium
will also offer whatever assistance it can to you in removing any hidden programming, not least because it is in its
interests to do so." He then stood to one side and gestured up a hallway. "If you will come this way?" he said.

Tigh raised an eyebrow. So far the Terran officer had been disarmingly frank. "No guards?" he said.

"We didn't really see the need for a visible presence in this situation," Abrahams replied. "Now, if you'll follow me?" and
without waiting for any acknowledgement on the part of the four Cylons, started walking up the corridor. The four Cylons
looked at each other and then ran to catch up.

"So what are you going to do with us?" asked Tigh. "You going to throw us in with the others?"

Abrahams shook his head. "No, Colonel," he said "I'm taking you to a waiting lounge until we get your transport to the
hab's docking area ready. Then we'll have you board a shuttle for a trip to one of the hospital complexes where you'll be
examined and assessed."

That stopped them in their tracks. "Medical facility?" said Tigh. "Examined? Assessed?" He and the others looked at
Foster, who was as surprised as they were.
"I thought you couldn't use us as test subjects," she said.

Abrahams stopped and looked at the four Cylons. "We can't," he said. "However, in order to help you overcome any
hidden programming we will have to examine you for any signs, as well as find out if there are any triggers." He shifted
slightly. "We have, as you are aware, been monitoring the four of you. As a result of that monitoring, we are aware that you
were not only seeking our help in overcoming any hidden programming, but that you were also taking steps to derail any
such programming that could be activated. We can help you do that, thanks to our experience in a nasty little side-conflict
we call the Ismail'ii War. But, as I said, first we will have to examine you. And that will require a medical facility."

"You seem to be fairly relaxed about all of this," said Tigh. "We were expecting somewhat more... aggressive measures,
given what you've found out about us."

"Actually," said Abrahams, "we're taking this quite seriously. Hidden programming is something that, in our experience,
can be quite nasty, for all of its victims. And, by the way, we include the persons who have been programmed as victims."
He indicated the corridor and, by extension, the building. "We do have guards present, but they are, in your case, more
along the lines of psych orderlies, as we regard hidden programming as a psychological condition that has been
induced by a third party and therefore requiring careful treatment. Otherwise, we decided against having guards actually
present when I met you in the foyer." He began walking down the corridor again.

The four followed him "You were that confident in your abilities, or that we wouldn't 'go off'?" asked Tigh.

"No, Colonel," Abrahams said. "We didn't see any sense in making what is already an ugly situation any uglier for you."
He stopped outside a doorway. "In here, please," he said. The four Cylons looked at each other and then went through
the doorway.

Inside they found themselves in a well-appointed room, furnished with refreshments dispensers, holoviewers and a
dedicated data terminal. Indicating the refreshments dispensers, Abrahams said, "Please help yourselves while we
arrange transport to the docking area. The holoviewer has full access to all of our channels and the data terminal has full
access to our databases."

"Aren't you concerned that we might be spying?" said Tigh.

Abrahams shook his head. "No, not really," he said. "Like I said, we've been watching you ever since we found out about
your identities. So far we've been quite impressed with the steps you've taken to prevent any of you harming either the
Colonials or the Imperium. So we do not consider you to be security risks." He shrugged. "Of course, you already had
access to our databases, so any concern over espionage is moot at this point." He shifted his posture. "Of course you
are still under observation," he continued, "but that's more out of a concern for your own well-being. We are quite familiar
with the signs of any hidden programming kicking in. If we do see them, we will have qualified orderlies in here pretty
quickly."

"And what will they do?" asked Tigh.

"Use standard psychological retraining techniques," replied Abrahams. "It involves a sonic stunner and can be
somewhat uncomfortable. But it's much better than some other techniques we've encountered." He looked at the four
Cylons. "Now, unless there is anything else you would like to raise with me, I'll go and make the transport
arrangements."

Tyrol spoke up. "Uh, we've all written letters," he said. "Could you possibly arrange to have them delivered?"

Abrahams nodded. "I can make the necessary arrangements," he said. "I assume they are all addressed?" The four
nodded. "Then, I'll take them and make the necessary arrangements to have them delivered. If you like, I can seal them
in your presence and add my word as an officer of His Imperial Majesty's Navy that they will not be opened save by the
people they are addressed to. Will that be enough?" The four Cylons looked at each other and then put down their
carryalls. They each removed their letters and handed them to Abrahams, who, after reading the addresses, put the on a
table. "I'll see if I can have Lady Cheshire and Sir Simon deliver the ones for Admiral Adama, while I'll try to get
Undersecretary Kinga and Ambassador Crispin deliver the ones to President Roslin," he said. "Will that be acceptable,
Colonel Tigh, Ms. Foster?"

"I think that will be acceptable," said Tigh in a somewhat husky voice. Foster said nothing, but nodded.

Abrahams turned to Anders and Tyrol. "As to the other addressees," he said, "do you have any preferences as to whom
we could ask to help deliver their letters? For example, any religious figures, perhaps?"

For a moment, the four Cylons were dumbstruck. They had not expected this level of understanding. Then Anders spoke.
"I'd like it if Admiral Adama, as well as his son Major Adama, could deliver my letter to Kara," he said. "That is, if they are
either capable or willing. There's also an oracle, an Olanda Brinn, which Kara has seen from time to time. If you could
also get her, I'd appreciate it." He turned to Tyrol.

"There's an officer, an Ensign Diana Seelix," Tyrol said, "who would be acceptable, although I'd also appreciate it if the
admiral could deliver my letter to my wife. Plus, there's a Briannon Castrix, a priestess of Athena, who I would also like
present."

Abrahams nodded. "I'll see that the necessary arrangements are made," he said. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," said Foster. "I want to know: are you a psychologist?"

Abrahams nodded. "I am," he replied. "Twin doctorates in both psychology and psychiatry, as well as twin majors in
Philosophy and Ethics."

The four were stunned. "Just how old are you?" asked Anders.

The Terran grinned. "Two hundred and eighty-nine Standard years," he replied. "Two hundred and ninety next week." With
that, he left the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Olanda Brinn's Residence, Several Hours Later.

Two Terran navy officers, one of them a Priest of Aurora, plus a Colonial priest of the same deity, walked up the path
leading through well-manicured lawns and gardens to the front door of a small cabin. Before they reached the door it slid
open to reveal a petite, rather attractive blonde.

She watched the two Terrans walk up. "You are here to ask my assistance in delivering some bad news to Kara Thrace,"
she said.

The priest looked at the two Terrans with some interest, wanting to see how they responded to the oracle's abilities. To
his great surprise, they didn't' react as he had thought they would. In fact, they were totally unsurprised.

The senior of the Terran officers, a commander, nodded. "Yes," he said. "We are here for your assistance in that matter."
He looked past the oracle through the doorway. "I take it you are ready to come with us?" he said.

Brinn nodded. "I have everything I need," she said. Whether that was an answer to some unspoken question that had
been hinted at by the Terran officer or a response to the spoken question the Colonial priest was unable to determine,
but the Terrans simply inclined their heads and indicated that Brinn should accompany the Terran priest.

As they walked down the path the Colonial priest leaned over to speak with the Terran commander. "You didn't seem all
that surprised at her abilities," he said.

The Terran shrugged. "When you've had to work with the Paranormals," he said, "nothing really surprises you."

"The Paranormals?" asked the priest, stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar word. "Who are they?"

"Just hope you don't have to deal with them," said the Terran.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Interview Room, Administration Building, Temporary Prisoner of War Camp.

The Six walked into the room. On either side of the doorway stood a pair of Imperial Marines.

She gave them no thought, but focussed her attention on the Terran naval officers who stood on the other side of the
table in the centre of the room. One she had recognised as a Terran Naval Intelligence officer, having by now learned the
branch colours that were displayed on the plastron. There were no surprises there, as she had seen him earlier.

What was surprising was the presence of three other Terran officers of a type she had not seen before. They were all
lieutenant-commanders, and all wore insignia on the collars of their tunics that were completely unfamiliar to her. One
wore what looked to be a cross of some kind, another a six-pointed star while the third wore a white enamelled crescent-
and-star on a green background. In addition, each of the strange officers had a printed b ook in front of them, with the one
in front of the officer with the crescent-and-stars on his collar bound in a green leather cover with some gilded writing on
its front cover that was totally unfamiliar to the Six.
The intelligence officer indicated a comfortable chair on her side of the table. "Please, take a seat," he said, using that
somewhat disarming courtesy the Terrans always employed even when interrogating prisoners. By now this was quite
familiar to the Six, who simply smiled and took her seat, watching as the four Terrans opposite her took theirs.

In an attempt to put her interrogators off stride, she said, "I suppose that you're going to ask me about what military
resources we have in this area of space. Or something like that."

"Actually," said the Terran intelligence officer, "no, we aren't." He indicated the three other officers sitting on either side of
him. "These two gentlemen," he said, indicating the two who wore the stars and crescent-and-stars respectively, "and
this lady," indicating the one with the crosses," wish to discuss something with you that, so far as we understand it, is
quite important to you, both as an individual type and as a race. I'm just here as an observer."

The Six was taken aback by this statement, but chose to hide it by coolly raising an eyebrow. "And this is...?" she said.

The officer wearing the stars leaned forward. "We would like to talk to you about your religion," he said. "In particular, we
want to talk to you about God."

To say that the Six was flabbergasted would have been an understatement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

President Roslin's Residence.

William Adama stared at the unopened envelope in his hand. More accurately, he was staring at the handwriting upon it.
Not the address, but the handwriting.

He had not looked at the other envelopes that lay on top of the small table that stood alongside the armchair the
envelope's couriers, Fleet Admirals Lady Dorothea Cheshire, Third Space Lord, and Sir Simon Templar, Officer
Commanding Sixteenth Fleet, had insisted he sit in before handing him the envelopes and telling him the news they
bore. The shock of both news and handwriting had overwhelmed him, and prevented him from opening the envelope he
held.

This has got to b e a nightmare, Adama thought to himself. Any minute now, I'll wake up in my b unk in my quarters on
b oard Galactica and realise that all of this was some kind of weird-ass nightmare. But, deep down in the innermost
recesses of his being that hard core of common sense, his realist essence, that part of him which had enabled him to
accept the unthinkable so many times before, told him that this was no dream, that it was all too real. He looked over to
his side where his son, who was equally transfixed by both envelope and handwriting, stood. Apollo wore on his face a
look of stunned disbelief, a look that Adama was certain echoed the one he wore.

"Admiral," said a voice in Terran-flavoured Colonial, "please forgive me for saying this, "but I think that the sooner you
open that envelope..." The voice trailed off.

Adama shot the speaker an annoyed look, which Fleet Admiral Lady Dorothea Cheshire returned with a calm, level gaze.
Her entire posture, however, was similar to that which he had seen displayed by another set of Terran officers on board
Colonial One, when both he and President Roslin had learned the truth about the Lords of Kobol. We understand and
are ready to help, it said. As did that of Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar.

After a moment, Adama nodded. "You're right," he said, acknowledging the unspoken part of Cheshire's statement.
"Please accept my apologies for my rudeness. I didn't mean to take things out on the messenger." Cheshire said
nothing but showed her acceptance of Adama's apology by simply inclining her head. Taking a deep breath, Adama
picked up a letter opener that sat on the small table next to his armchair and used it to slit the envelope open. He then
took out the enclosed letter, unfolded it, and began to read.

Bill, it began;

This is my third try at writing this damned thing.

It will no doub t b e harder for you to read this letter and accept what I have to say than it will b e for me to write it.
Nevertheless, I have to try, if only for what we had b etween us. Of the two of us, you were always the one with the words: I
suppose it comes from having a famous legist as a father.

Sitting here looking at this damned sheet of paper thinking of how b est to b reak this news to you in a way that will soften
the b low is not helping things much. So I suppose I had b est stick to what I have always b een b est at, which is b eing
straightforward and get right to the point: Almost a year ago, b ack when we were attacked b y that Cylon fleet at the Ionian
Neb ula I, along with Chief Tyrol, Sam Anders and the President's chief multitasker Tory Foster discovered that we were
Cylons. Four of the "Final Five", no less.

To say that this discovery was upsetting, not just for me b ut also for the four of us, would b e an understatement so large
that I can't think of just how to describ e it. I have to admit, though, that b oth in the lead-up to "the Great Discovery" and
during it, I often thought that I was finally going insane, listening to some weird music that only I could hear. It's no wonder
that Lee thought I was drunk: too often I was, trying to b lot out that damned music. Vintage Saul Tigh.

Anyway, on that day the four of us, prob ab ly seeking some way to cling to some shred of humanity (and isn't that strange
talk coming from a frakking machine!) made a conscious decision: we would go b ack to our duties. Why? Not to commit
some hidden sab otage or to b ring ab out the destruction of what we all b elieved to b e the last remnant of the human
race, b ut b ecause that was where we b elonged: b ecause those duties defined us, helped to cling onto what we firmly
b elieved to b e our real identities. Not long after we managed to get away from that Cylon fleet at the Ionian Neb ula the
four of us met at Joe's and made a pact: we would watch each other for any signs that any hidden programming was
b eing activated. If we did see any signs the other three, assuming that they hadn't b een activated, would do their b est to
stop whoever had b een activated, even if it meant killing them. This was, we b elieved, to b e the only way to safeguard the
Fleet.

I know that all of this will sound like some kind of a plea for understanding, Bill. You should know me well enough that I
would never do such a thing, although I'd wager that you are prob ab ly asking yourself right now: did I really know this
thing called Saul Tigh? If you are still willing to take some advice from me, then look b ack on the time we have known
each other and ask yourself: did I ever delib erately let you down? Anyway, I'd like you to treat this letter as an explanation
as why the four of us have done this. I hope that the Terrans will b e ab le to find and neutralise or remove any hidden
programming in our heads. I was going to add that it is a pity that we didn't encounter them b efore we lost Boomer, b ut
I've just realised the ridiculousness of that sentiment. We can't change the past. But I do now have an understanding of
just how Boomer must have felt when she came out of that trance and realised that she had shot you. And I do regret very
much just what all of this is doing to you, Bill, and for that I am truly sorry.

If the last forty years we have served together do mean anything to you, and I hope it does for b oth our sakes, I have a
small request to make: I want you to b e there for Starb uck and Cally when they get the news ab out their partners and, I
suppose, for that schoolteacher who is prob ab ly the greatest President the Colonies has ever had. But most important of
all, I want you to b e there for the Fleet and especially the crew of the Galactica: Gods know they will need you. We're so
close to our final goal (and I have just realised how that will sound; b ut I won't apologise as I b elieve that getting our
people to a safe home is still our mission) that the Fleet cannot afford to have either you or the President stumb le.

As for Starb uck and Cally: they are b oth going to b e torn up over this. I know that this will prob ab ly mean little, b ut b oth
Anders and the Chief are in agony over what all of this is going to do to them. Cally will, I b elieve, with some help from
Helo and Athena, b e ab le to get through this, b ut I am truly afraid for that pain-in-the-ass frackup who is, with the
exception of one person, prob ab ly the b est Viper pilot I have ever known. I don't know just how Starb uck will handle this,
especially after her experiences with that Conoy b astard on New Caprica. She'll b e b adly hurt, angry and, I suspect, will
either drink herself into ob livion or go on some kind of a wild rampage. I've asked the Terrans to keep an eye on the b oth
of them: it's the least I can do after this.

There's only one more thing to address, Bill, and then, if you wish, we're done: if you like you can treat this letter as my
formal resignation from the Colonial Fleet. If you do, I'll understand, b ut I'm hoping that won't b e the case.

If you can find it within yourself, come and talk with me wherever the Terrans are holding me: they have told me that they
won't keep that a secret from you and, to b e honest, I would very much like that. If you can't find it within you to do that, I'll
understand. Either way, it won't invalidate the following sentiment on my part:

Your old friend,

Saul Tigh.

Adama found that his eyes were misting over as he read the letter. Gods damn it, Saul, he thought, why did you have to
do this? But even as he thought it the answer to his question came: Tigh and the others had done this to safeguard
those people they cared about.

Besides, they were only too familiar with the standard reaction of the Colonials to Cylon infiltrators: Throw the frakking
machines out the airlock. But that only would guarantee their being downloaded into new bodies, complete with
everything they knew about the Fleet, something it seemed they were prepared to prevent. And there was a chance that
the Terrans could neutralise any hidden programming they found.

But would he be able to work with these... Adama didn't want to use the word people in connection with Cylons, but found
himself struggling to find a term he could use, even in his own thoughts. Machine was the proper term for them, but,
having come to know Sharon Agathon, he couldn't apply the term to her. And given what Saul and the others have done,
can I apply it to them? thought Adama.

A Terran-accented voice broke in. "This might help, Admiral " it said and a silver flask was thrust into his line of sight.

Adam looked up at the speaker. Fleet Admiral Templar smiled and said "It's good. And a shot of this might help steady
the nerves." Adama said nothing, but took the flask, put its nozzle to his lips and took a swig. Liquid warmth flowed down
his gullet and into his stomach.

He replaced the lid and handed it back. "That is good," he said. "Some of this 'whiskey' of yours?"

Templar smiled as he handed the flask to Apollo and indicated that he should take a swig. "Comes from a rather special
batch on Earth," he said. "If you like, I'll fill you on the story behind it." He took his flask back from Apollo and replaced the
lid, looking over at Roslin.

Adama followed his gaze. Laura Roslin's face had turned an ashen colour and wore a stricken look as she read Tory
Foster's letter to her. Nearby sat Ambassador Crispin and Undersecretary Kinga, who were ready to offer their support if
needed. Just like Cheshire and Templar, thought Adama. "I see you have put some thought into how you were going to
handle this situation," he said.

Both Terran officers shrugged. "We try and do our best," said Cheshire. "Besides, we just put ourselves in your shoes
trying to work out how this news would hit you."

"It hit... hard. Very hard," replied Adama. "I'm still coming to terms with... everything. And, by the contents of this," he
continued, indicating Tigh's letter, "it hit the others pretty hard too."

Cheshire nodded. "We have the recordings of both the security footage when they surrendered themselves to us and the
initial interviews with our psychologists for you to review, if you want," she said. "And, well, I don't know if this will help, but
our initial analysis of what they have told us indicates that they felt confused, betrayed and, this is important, or so the
shrinks tell me, violated by what has happened." She looked over to where Roslin sat with Kinga and Crispin. "I think we
should take this over there," she said, indicating where Roslin sat. "There are some things we have to say that the both
of you should hear. Unfortunately, this is one of those ugly situations where delaying things will only make it worse in the
long run."

Adama thought for a moment, and then nodded. "'Ugly' is one way of putting it," he said. "And I think you may well be
right." He looked at Cheshire. "That playwright from Earth's past, this 'Shakespeare' fellow: did he have something that
could fit this situation?"

"You might be thinking of this quote: 'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly?'" Cheshire said.
"It's from a play called Macb eth. Mind you, the situation he had written it for bore no relation to the one we all find
ourselves in at present, but then, the Bard is always good for an appropriate quote."

"He is, indeed," said Adama. "By the way, has anyone used him as the basis for one of your AIs' personality?" By now, he
had become somewhat familiar with the Terran AIs, having interacted with them on several occasions despite his initial
unease with their similarity with the early Cylons created by the Colonies.

"No," said Cheshire. "There are some historical figures, as well as some fictional ones, that are considered off-limits,
and Shakespeare is one of them."

"What are some of the others?" asked Adama.

"Trust me: it's best you not know about them, for now," said Cheshire.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So, Admiral Cheshire, Admiral Templar, Undersecretary Kinga and Ambassador Crispin," said Laura Roslin to the
Terrans seated opposite her and Adama, while Apollo stood behind them. "Admiral Adama tells me you have something
else to tell us. What else could you have to say, especially in light of the news you have already told us?" Adama flinched
internally at her acerbic tone as she spoke.

To the credit of the Terrans, none of them took umbrage at her tone. Perhaps it's b ecause their culture is so much older,
more mature, thought Adama. Or perhaps they simply view it as a tantrum thrown b y a child.

That was an unsettling thought.

Cheshire spoke. "First off," she said, "we're about to send our reply to the Cylons."

"Oh?" said Roslin. "What are you going to say to them?"

"That we are agreeing to meet with them," replied Cheshire. "We can give you a copy of the message, if you wish. Also,
when we do meet with them, we want the both of you present as full and equal partners in the discussions." Cheshire
smirked. "I would accept at least a copy of our message," she said. "It should prove somewhat amusing, especially
given how we're planning to deliver it."

"Ah," said Roslin, clearly taken aback by both offers. "I take it that the means of delivery will be as... amusing?" In
response, Cheshire turned to Templar.

"We intend, subject to any new intel reports we get on the latest lizard activity," he said, "to use two scouting groups. One
will go to the system we found you in and leave a beacon. The other will pay a visit on the system the captured Cylon
base star's data base tells us is being used as a forward base and use 'appropriate means' to deliver the message
there."

Roslin and Adama exchanged looks. "That sounds quite formidable, Admiral Templar," she said. "Forgive my ignorance,
but what does a... 'scouting group' consist of anyway?"

Templar grinned. "A standard TIN Scouting Group consists of four battlecruisers, four heavy cruisers, up to eighteen light
cruisers, two light fleet carriers and up to forty destroyers, depending on the situation," he said. "If need be, it can be
reinforced with either another four battlecruisers and four more heavy cruisers or, if we get any indications of lizard
activity, a battlesquadron of eight superdreadnoughts, plus the four heavy cruisers."

Both Adama and Roslin were impressed. It seemed that when conducting a "reconnaissance in force" the Terran
Imperial Navy preferred to pull no punches. "Impressive," said Adama. "I take it that this is not just in case you encounter
any Raptor 'scouting groups'?"

Both Terran naval officers grinned. "The Prime Minister did say that it would be a good thing to show the Cylons that 'two
can play at that game'," said Cheshire. "We intend to demonstrate just what a 'reconnaissance in force' should look like.
Hopefully it may also act as something of a persuader in any negotiations with the Cylons."

"Indeed," said Adama.

"It just occurs to me," said Roslin, "that perhaps I was just a bit out of order with you just now. Your mention of possible
Raptor activity does remind me that you are already involved in a war that makes our conflict with the Cylons look pretty
small, and that any conflict with them on your part is a complication you could do without." She gave a small, somewhat
embarrassed smile at the Terrans. "Will you please accept my apologies for being so... so..."

Cheshire held up a hand. "None needed, Madame President," she said. "You have had some pretty... upsetting
information passed to you. We fully understand just why you were reacting the way you did."

"At least it does explain just why you were so evasive when you told us about discovering the identities of four of 'the Final
Five' Cylon variants," Roslin replied. "And speaking of that topic, what do you intend to do with the ones who have
surrendered to you?"

"That gets a little complicated, Madame President," Cheshire said. She looked over at Undersecretary Kinga and
Ambassador Crispin. "Did you inform President Roslin about what happened when they turned themselves in and the
initial interviews with the four?"

Roslin replied for them. "Yes, they did," she said. "They also said that your psychologists believe that their sense of
having been betrayed, even violated, is a good sign. Perhaps you can explain that?"

Cheshire gestured over to Crispin. "Ambassador Crispin would be a better choice to explain that," she said. "After all, the
man is a fully qualified psychologist." Both Roslin and Adama raised their eyebrows at that piece of information.

Why am I not surprised? Adama thought to himself. But then, I suppose an understanding of psychology would b e useful
in a diplomat. He eased back into his chair as Crispin stood up and began speaking.

"The fact that the four Cylons who surrendered themselves to us," he began, "have displayed feelings of having been
violated in the core of their deepest psyches is a good indicator. Basically, it means that they believe that the identities
both you and they know them as are their primary identities. Or, in other words, they firmly believe that the faces they have
presented to the world for all these years are their real faces."
"That sounds a bit confusing," said Roslin. "Just what do you mean by primary identities?"

Crispin tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Sorry for the termospeak," he said. "I'll try and break it down. And I'll have to
lecture." He took a breath. "Basically, we all have one or more identities that we adopt during our lives and at different
times." He indicated Roslin. "For example, Madame President, you have had the identities of having been a
schoolteacher, the equivalent of our Minister of Education, or, if I have the term right, 'Secretary of Education'?" He paused
in query and Roslin nodded, to which he nodded in reply, "and, if I am also correct, a leader of the Resistance on New
Caprica and President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol?" Again, Roslin nodded. "These are all identities that you have
taken on in order to fulfil the roles that you have been called upon to play. However, they are also all subsidiary to the
main, or primary identity of the person named Laura Roslin, native of Caprica. You all follow me so far?"

Both Roslin and Adama nodded. "The same goes for Admiral Adama here. Son of a famous jurist on his homeworld,
fighter pilot, Colonial Fleet officer and, now, the officer commanding of the Colonial Fleet that, all of us here hope, will
grow stronger once you are established in a new home system. And the same," he said, indicting himself and the other
Terrans," also goes for us. Although cultural differences do abound, we have found that, at its basic level, human
psychology is pretty much the same everywhere. So it should not be all that surprising that, at some level, the psychology
of any form of artificial intelligence, including that of the Cylons, that is based on models of human cognition, will be
pretty much like that of human beings."

Both Roslin and Adama began to look offended at the last part of Crispin's statement, but then, as the meaning behind
what he had said sank in, began to look thoughtful. "I hadn't though of it like that," Roslin said. She looked at Adama. "Put
that way, I suppose it really isn't surprising that the Cylons revolted. In the same situation, I would have done so."

Adama thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Interesting," he said.

"Well, when we take into consideration that Cylon cognition is based on human cognition," continued Crispin, "it should
also come as no surprise that Cylons also have what we call a core, or primary identity. We've been observing the ones
we captured on the base star we took and, although they do seem to have some kind of 'group identities' based on being
Cylons and also on their individual variants, they also have a separate identity, to help distinguish one member of a
variant group from another. And, having observed your Lieutenant Agathon, our psychologists also theorise that those
Cylons who have or do frequently interact with humans reinforce that distinctive identity. Or, in other words, they become
more human."

Roslin and Adama looked stunned at this news. "So, what you're saying," Roslin said, "is that the four who surrendered
to you..."

Crispin nodded. "The four who surrendered to us identify completely, insofar as their primary identities are concerned,
with the Colonial people. Saul Tigh, for instance, completely identifies with being, in order of declining importance, the
close friend of one William Adama, an officer in the Colonial Fleet, a loyal Colonial citizen from Caprica and a widower.
Incidentally, there is a pretty large scar concerning the last bit of information and our specialists are taking the opportunity
to help him work through that. If you can give us any clarification on that issue, it would help."

Adama hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "I'll speak to your specialists about what I know," he said.

Crispin nodded his thanks. "The same goes for Samuel Anders, Galen Tyrol and Tory Foster," he continued. "They all
identify as Colonials, to such an extent that when they discovered that they were Cylons, they all took a conscious
decision to watch each other for hidden programming in order to safeguard the people they cared ab out. Which, from a
psychological standpoint, is very important, as it gives us something we can use as a background against which we can
look for any signs of hidden programming."

Roslin stirred. "Can you be sure that it wasn't their programming that caused them to take that step?" she asked.

"It was," Crispin said. "In this case, however, I'd call it socialisation. It's a form of programming that's common to all
human societies."

"Ah," said Roslin.

"It's actually quite clear to our psychologists that all four, especially Colonel Tigh," said Crispin. Adama raised his
eyebrows at the Terran's use of Tigh's rank, but stayed silent as Crispin continued, "have been socialised into believing
that they are all Colonials simply by being in everyday contact with you. As I said, this gives us a psychological
background against which we can detect any hidden programming."

"Just how are you attempting to detect any programming?" asked Adama. "And how is it that you Terrans are so
knowledgeable about this subject?"
"To answer you first question, Admiral, we are using various stimuli, such as lighting, music played at subliminal levels
etcetera," Crispin replied. "We are even going to introduce them to their 'doubles' so to speak, to see if that will set off any
programming. Of course," he continued, "we will take every precaution possible against that actually happening. But
once detected, we can then move in and commence deprogramming.

"As to your second question, I'll have to hand you over to Lady Cheshire and Sir Simon. They are in a better position to be
able to provide an answer." Crispin sat down as Cheshire rose to speak.

"Our knowledge, as you put it," Cheshire said, "came courtesy of a nasty little side-conflict the Imperium got caught up in
around five hundred Standard years ago that we call 'the Ismail'ii War.' Basically, we had encountered a human society
that our sociologists soon determined was made up of humans who had been removed from Earth sometime during
Terra's Twelfth Century Common Era. They were mainly members of a sub-group of the monotheistic religion called
Islam, to whit, Shiites.

"But it was not long before we discovered some rather... unsettling facts about them. Their form of Shia Islam was rather
too close to a form called Ismail'ii, especially that practiced by a sub sect that was known to us from historical texts as
the Hashishin, or the Assassins, from which we get the Terra Lingua term Assassin."

Adama and Roslin looked at each other. Cheshire had just used the precise term used in Colonial Standard for a sect
that had long terrorised Colonial society: a sect that were reputedly devoted to the worship of the Lord of Kobol who was
referred to in the Sacred Scrolls as the Jealous God. "Did these, assassins go around killing prominent people, such as
princes, generals and ministers?" Roslin asked.

Cheshire shot her a look. "They were notorious for it," she replied. She narrowed her eyes and studied the two Colonials
from under her eyelids. "I take it you have had, shall we say, a similar sort of phenomenon in your own past?" she asked.

Roslin and Adama again looked at each other, then back at the Terrans. All four of them had straightened up and Crispin,
Kinga and Templar had exchanged looks at Roslin's question. Something's happened to get them all alert like this,
Roslin thought. Could it b e my description of some of the activities of the Borellian Nomen? Aloud, she replied, "Yes. One
subgroup also tended to carry out ritual murders of travellers and bury their bodies in set locations as a sacrifice to their
deity."

All four Terrans looked at each other. "Interesting," Cheshire said in a quiet voice. Her face, indeed her entire body
language, as did that of the other three Terran officials bore an alertness that Roslin and Adama both found unsettling.
"May I ask what the name of that deity was?" said Cheshire, still in that quiet voice.

After a moment's hesitation, Roslin replied, "His name was lost, but in our sacred texts he is referred to as The Jealous
God," said Roslin. "We don't know what he looked like, either, as all images of him were destroyed after he sparked
conflict on Kobol amongst both humans and the other Lords."

" '"Curiouser and curiouser," said Alice'," Cheshire said, still in that quiet, deadly voice. She looked at the others and then
said something to them in Lingua Terra. None of the others spoke in reply, but simply gave short, sharp nods.

Roslin and Adama shared another look. Something had just happened, and it was making them both feel pretty uneasy.
Adama looked over his shoulder to where his son was standing. Apollo's face was schooled to a careful neutrality but
Adama could tell that he too had noticed the shift in the Terrans' entire body language. "I take it this is significant
information to you?" said Roslin.

"Pretty damn significant," growled Cheshire. It was clear to the Colonials in the room that all four Terrans were severely
pissed. And it looked as though it was somehow connected to Roslin's mention of the Jealous God. "And it ties in with
something else we have to tell you about," Cheshire continued.

"Something important?" asked Roslin.

"Very important," Cheshire said. "And it pretty much confirms a suspicion we've had about your entire situation. Nothing
reflecting badly on you," she continued, attempting to dispel the alarm that had sprung up on the faces of the Colonials,
"but I had better warn you now: it could well shake up your view of things as much as finding out the truth about your
'Lords of Kobol'."

Roslin looked at Adama, and then took a breath. "I suppose there's no use in delaying this, is there?" she asked.

"No, there isn't," said Cheshire. "None at all."

*Chapter 27*: Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six

Main Compound, Temporary Prisoner of War Camp.

The Six wandered over to a set of chairs that were clustered around a set of outdoor tables that were sheltered by the
spreading boughs of a jacaranda tree in full bloom. Reaching one, she unsteadily sat down in it. All about her brightly
fledged birds of a species that was unfamiliar to her fluttered and hovered as they fed on nectar produced by both the
violet flowers of the tree shading the tables and from the flowers in the semi-tropical garden that surrounded her.

The past hours replayed themselves in her mind. The more she dwelt on what had happened the more uncertain she
became about not just the grand plan the Cylon race was following but the Cylon's view on the universe itself. That was
no interrogation, she thought to herself. That was a mutual exchange of ideas, with the Terrans giving more than I think
they got from me.

She stared at the printed books (and she was still having a hard time over why a race as advanced at the Terrans would
still be using printed b ooks, even after they had explained to them that humanity was a tactile species) the three Terrans
who had dominated the session had given her to read. What was just as astonishing was that the three had identified
themselves as servants of God.

Even now, she could hear the capitalisation in their voices.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Take these," said the one who wore the six-pointed stars. "These are copies of some of humanity's most sacred
scriptures we have had translated into Colonial Standard. They all come from the three faiths that are traditionally
described as the three great monotheistic religions."

"Sacred texts?" she had replied. "Monotheistic religions?"

"Monotheistic," he said. " Although Theistic is the term used these days. Basically, the three of our religions all believe in
the existence of no more than one God. That's why we wish to speak to you, seeing that you look as though you, too,
believe in one God."

That had thrown her. "How can you be sure that it is the same god we are talking about?" she asked.

"That's what we're trying to find out," said the one who wore the crescent and stars. "To see if it is God." He leant back.
"So, please. Tell us about your religion. Tell us about how your people see God."

"You say that you are servants of God," she had replied, in an attempt to buy time. "Yet there are three religions. How can
this be?"

"Say that we represent three great revelations of the same message," said the one with the crescent and stars. "Each
one was made to separate peoples at different times in Earth's history. But all carry the same message, that we are all
God's children." The conversation had gone on from there. Every twist and turn it took only brought forth new surprises for
the Six.

First was the title that the man with the six-pointed stars went by. "I'm Rabbi Bergman," he had said.

The Six was dumbfounded. Rab b i was a word that the Cylons used to indicate a Teacher ab out God. When she said
that, all three Terrans smiled and the rabbi replied, "In that sense, all three of us are rabbis. I am a teacher amongst my
people, the Jews."

The one with the crescent and stars said, "Amongst the people of my faith, which is called 'Islam', I am termed an 'Imam.'
My role is also to teach and give guidance about God."

The Six was further dumbfounded. Islam was the term they used to describe their beliefs: that they were required to
surrender themselves into God's keeping. When she mentioned that, all three smiled and the man who wore the six-
pointed stars said, "In a sense, that is very much what we teach. However, we do not teach blind acceptance, but
reasoned acceptance."

The woman who wore crosses said, "Quite true. There is a story in the New Testament about one of the twelve apostles
who demanded proof and was given it. Neither the demand nor the granting of the proof he asked for diminished his
faith. Rather, it strengthened it."

"And you are...?" asked the Six.

"Reverend Ayisha Malakoff," replied the woman. "The form of religion I teach is called 'Christianity', and is centred around
the teachings of God given to a man called Jesus, much as Islam is centred around the revelations taught by a man
called Muhammad and Judaism is centred on the revelations given by God to several different prophets, the most
important being the Ten Commandments given to a man named Moshe, or Moses, as he is called by Christians and
Muslims. In the form of Christianity I teach..."

"There is more than one form of Christianity?" said the Six.

"Yes," said the woman. "Different interpretations as revealed by God to different people for the times they lived in. But all
based on the teachings of Jesus. As I was saying, in the form I teach I am called a 'minister', as I minister to the faith of
my fellow Christians."

"Not all Christians, as my reverend colleague has admitted," said a smiling Rabbi Bergman. "And many Christians even
come to see rabbis and imams, while many Jews also go to see Christian ministers and priests. I have had many
Christians and Muslims in my synagogue, while I have also been to Friday prayer in many mosques and been to Sunday
worship in many Christian churches."

"And I have often been invited to preside over worship in many a synagogue," said the imam, "and given the homely, or
teaching, in many a Christian place of worship." He smiled at the Six. "We may speak in different accents, but, in the end,
we all speak the same message."

"That we are all God's children," said the Six.

"Yes," said the imam. "Precisely. That we are all God's children. I should add," he continued, "that in Islam, we use the
term Allah as the Name of God."

The rabbi nodded and said, "In Judaism and in some forms of Christianity, we use the term Yahweh, or Jehovah as two
of God's names."

By now, the Six was totally dumbfounded. These two Terrans had just used three of the Names of God! What else do they
know? she thought.

"But as I was saying," said the imam. "We teach that we are all God's children insofar as we all ultimately come from the
one divine source of everything in the Universe. I should add," he continued, "that this is a teaching that has come down
to our three religions from our Hindu brothers and sisters."

"'Hindu'?" said the Six.

"Hinduism is an ancient religion," said Reverend Malakoff. "It posits the idea that God Herself..."

"Herself!" exclaimed the Six.

"Female believers often say Her or Herself when speaking of God," said Rabbi Bergman. "Much as I or Imam Husayn,"
he continued, indicating the imam, "tend to say Him or Himself when speaking of God." He looked at the by now
completely perplexed Cylon sitting before him. "Why should God, the Almighty, the Infinite, Everlasting and Merciful be
defined or limited by gender?"

"Or anything, for that matter," said Imam Husayn. He looked at his colleagues. "It took our three faiths long enough to
realise that truth," he said. The other two said nothing but simply nodded.

"You were saying something about this 'Hinduism,'," said the Six.

Malakoff nodded. "I was," she said. "Thank you for the reminder. As I was saying," she continued, "Hinduism posits that
God, or as they say, the Divine Source, manifest Itself (and as my colleagues have pointed out, the means of description
by us is ultimately unimportant)," which shocked the Six even further, "in at least ten thousand different forms, which the
Hindus have chosen to call their gods and goddesses."

"What?" said the Six. "You share worlds with humans who b elieve in false gods?"

"No, we don't," replied Rabbi Bergman. "Not in the sense that no true deity can be even considered to be false. The only
false deity we have encountered mention of is a member of a highly advanced alien race who was delib erately
masquerading as a deity." Bergman's face, as did those of the other Terrans present, took on a look of deadly
seriousness. "That's something we take a very dim view of."

"Anyway," continued Reverend Malakoff, "this basic Hindu belief that the Divine manifests itself in al least ten thousand
ways, or, to take the intended meaning of the term, which is that the Divine is manifested in an infinite number of ways,
has led our faiths to the conclusion that the Divine, or as we call It, God, manifests Herself to us in ways that is best
calculated to engender understanding. This usually happens in a way that also best fits in with how that individual, or his
or her entire people, see the marvel that is God's Creation: the Universe. This was, for Terran humanity, confirmed for us
by the event we term in theological terms 'The Great Revelation'."

"'Great Revelation?'"

"Yes." The three Terrans then went on to describe to the Cylon in front of them the discovery of the Phobos Repository, the
existence of the Precursors and the effect that had had on Earth's religions.

"It is a sad comment on human understanding of God's message in Earth's past," said Imam Husayn, "that it took the
discovery of the incontrovertible fact that Earth had not only been visited but observed by members of a highly-advanced
alien race who were mistaken by our ancestors as divine beings to help us settle our past differences. Of course,
discovering their records helped, as did the discovery of their own spiritual beliefs, which helped us to achieve that goal.

"Let me get this straight," said the Six. "You all come from three different religions that all shared the same message.
These faiths differed in their interpretations of that message and clashed, often violently, in Earth's past. Do I have this
right so far?"

"To be just, man's desire during those times for wealth and power often played a part," said Rabbi Bergman, "but yes,
you are right so far."

"Then, when you started exploring Earth's system, you came across a repository of technology and knowledge that had
been hidden on one of the moons of Earth's fourth planet. And in that repository you discovered their observations on
your species, as well as their own belief system."

"Amongst other things, yes," said Reverend Malakoff.

The Six sat back in her chair. "Forgive me for saying that is..."

"Unbelievable? Understandably so," said Husayn. "But it did happen to us, and it served as a much-needed kick in the
pants for Terran humanity. By the time we took to the stars, we had pretty much become one united species. We began to
finally grow up."

"But, how does these 'Precursors'' own belief system fit in?" said the Six.

"Basically," said Imam Husayn, "we did what humanity has done best. We adapted our belief structure, taking on much of
what the Precursors own beliefs were. Which, as it turned out, were surprisingly similar to the basic message of all of
our religions: that we live in a Universe that is divine in nature, and that we could best get closer to the Divine by
understanding it as best as we can.

"But enough of us! We're here to learn about the Cylon version of this message, and what the Cylons consider to be the
nature of God. So, please! Tell us about your own religion!" The three Terrans sat back, each one giving the Six an
expectant look.

Throughout the hours that followed, the Six told the Terrans what she knew of her religion. During that conversation the
Terrans, whenever the Six mentioned something that God had done or had caused to be done, would refer the Six to a
particular page in one or more of the sacred texts they had handed her.

To her astonishment, either the exact thing, or something closely resembling it, appeared in all three books.

And if that wasn't enough, the titles of each text confused her more. The one that had been handed to her by Reverend
Malakoff was called The Bib le, and was divided into two key parts: the Old Testament ("a common inheritance from the
Jews to both Christianity and Islam," said Imam Husayn) and the New Testament. ("Basically it is about the teachings of
Jesus," said Reverend Malakoff.)

The book that had been handed to her by Rabbi Bergman was called the Talmud, and consisted of various traditions
recorded by the Jews. ("Our most sacred work is called the Torah," Bergman said, "which constitutes the first half of the
Christian Bible, so it would be somewhat redundant of me to give you a copy.") But, even though the titles torah and
talmud had added to her sense of dumbfoundment, being very much the words the Cylons had used for two of their texts
(especially the smaller book that was a part of the Torah/Old Testament that was termed The Book of Exodus, which in
several parts paralleled the Cylon texts), what really threw her was the title of the third book: Al Quran, "The Recital,"
which was the title of a book that contained the words God had spoken to the main Cylon Prophet of God.

And which was almost the same as the Terran book of the same name.

When she asked about the origins of these three texts, Rabbi Bergman said "The Torah was compiled over four
thousand years ago in a city on Earth called Bab ylon. Its contents, however, are far older, going back another two
thousand years in the case of the story of Abraham. They were all originally oral stories about the Jews and God, in
some cases about God's various revelations to the Prophets such as Moses, Joseph and Abraham himself, all gathered
together and written down when my people were exiled in Babylon."

"Al Quran," said Imam Husayn, "was dictated by the Angel Gabriel," (another surprise, that,) "to the Prophet Mohamet
(may peace and blessings be upon him)" (at this, Husayn raised his left hand above his head, a gesture that astonished
the Cylon), "in a cave behind the Holy City of Mecca as a revelation specifically to the Arabs, but also for all who would
hear God's Message."

Finally the session ended. The three Terrans, plus the intelligence officer, all stood, with the three religious figures
escorting the Six to the door, giving her their contact information ("just in case you wish to speak to us again regarding
this matter," said Bergman) and handing her over to the two guards who had escorted her to the room, who then took
her, complete with the three books, back to the compound entrance.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Now she sat at a table underneath a tree inside a large space station that had been engineered by the Terrans to imitate
the surface of a planet. The Terrans have created a paradise here, she thought, looking around at the semitropical
surroundings. It makes me wonder just what their worlds, especially Earth, are like. The books sat on the table where
she had left them.

Looking around she saw a Simon walking slowly over to her. He, too, carried three print books. The expression on his
face betrayed sentiments that the Six knew only too well. Looks like they've spoken to him as well, thought the Six. She
waited as he made his way over to the table where she sat. Upon reaching it, he slowly sat down and placed the books
next to hers on the table. He then leant back in the comfortable chair and closed his eyes.

"I take it you've had a little meeting with some of the Terrans' religious figures as well?" said the Six.

The Simon opened his eyes, looked at the Six and then looked at the pile of books before her. "You as well?" he said.

The Six nodded. "What do you think?" she asked.

The Simon looked troubled by the question. "I'm not sure," he said. He indicated the books. "Their knowledge of things
no human should know is... frightening." He looked back at the administration building. "And I'm not sure about their
claims, either."

"It could be just an elaborate scheme to spread confusion amongst us," said another voice. The two turned to see a
Three walking towards them. She, too, was carrying print books. "Do you mind?" she said as she sat at the table. "I think
this is something we had better discuss before communicating with the others of our lines."

"That's a refreshingly good idea, coming from your line," said another voice. The others turned to see a Cavil, a Five, a
Corbin and n Eight, all carrying books, walking towards the table. As the others sat down the one who were already at the
table saw that, in addition to the same books the Cavil also carried a small, slim case on top of them.

"It looks as though the Terrans have given you something else," said the Three. "Any idea what they are?"

"Some of their data sticks," said the Cavil, reaching for the case. "All read only, or so they've told me."

"What's on them?" asked the Six.

"Believe it or not," said the Cavil, "works of philosophy and theology. I suppose they gave me these because I had, it
appears, expressed an interest in them." He looked at the others. "I suppose we have all had a similar experience, from
appearances," he said. A brief poll of those around the table revealed that all of them had spoken with three Terrans who
all claimed to represent three religions that all believed "in no more than One God."

"So," said the Cavil. "What do we make of this claim the Terrans have of belief in God?"
"It could be a sophisticated ruse," said the Three. "They could be trying to sow confusion amongst us."

"I'm not too sure about that," said the Six. "There were too many things they know about. Such as how God or His
Messengers appeared amongst us."

"Oh, that's easily explained!" said the Cavil. "The Terrans have been monitoring us ever since they put us in this high-tech
cage! They could have gotten that information just by overhearing the more, ah, religious of us discussing things!"

"I don't know about that," said the Simon. "One of the three I spoke to, who called himself a rab b i, spoke to me in the
Tongue of the Innermost Sanctum. In fact, we had a complete conversation in it. And the other two also spoke in it."

"A complete conversation?" said the Five.

"They even taught me words in it I didn't know even existed!" said the Simon. "Plus, there were things in this," he
continued, holding up his copy of the book called The Bib le, "that we don't talk about outside the Holy Place."

"Don't forget that they also have the Traitor assisting them," said an Eight, distaste dripping from every word. They had all
seen Athena walking into and out from the compound's administration building dressed in her Colonial blues uniform.
"She could have told them some things."

"But there are things in this book," said the Simon, picking up a copy of the book the Terrans called The Talmud, "that, I
have to say, are known only to my line. And there's no way that she could have told them those things! Nor could they
have picked them up from us in conversation, as we don't have a Holy Place here." He looked around at the others.
"Incidentally, the self-proclaimed rabbi I spoke to has offered to help us set a Holy Place up here in this compound."

"He did?" said the Six.

"It will be monitored," the Simon continued. "Save for the Holy of Holies. Even told me how they had sanctified the Holy of
Holies in their Temple on the planet they call 'New Jerusalem.' And the ritual was almost exactly the same! Even down to
the sacrifices that were to be offered up!" He looked around. "And then, when I described the Place of Ablution, both he
and the 'imam' said that they could also help us set it up, and described for me how they did it! I'm telling you, they know
too much ab out our religion!"

"Now, hold on a minute!" said the Cavil. "There's no use getting freaked out by something that, in all likelihood, has a
perfectly explainable reason."

"That they know about God?" said the Simon.

"Or that, somehow, their intelligence people have found out about our beliefs," said the Three. She looked at the Cavil.
"I'm with the Cavil on this," she said. "They probably found about our beliefs somehow and are now using that
knowledge to unsettle us."

"Hoping, most likely, that we will spread this uncertainty to the others," said the Five.

"I'm not too sure about this being an elaborate scheme of the Terrans'," said the Corbin. He had remained quiet
throughout the entire discussion. "There's something about all of this that, that..." He waived a hand as he tried to find
words to express his thoughts.

"Seems too genuine?" said the Six. The Corbin looked at her and nodded. "I feel the same way. There's just too much
that's also different in what they have said. Like their beliefs may be just as they say: the same message but different
accents."

"Oh? So they do believe that humanity is a flawed creation?" said a sarcastic Cavil.

"They have a tale about that in this book," said the Simon, once again holding up the one the Terrans called The Bib le.
"About how God grew angry with Terran humanity and destroyed all of them in a great flood. All except for a righteous few,
who re-established humanity on Earth, and of how God made a covenant that he would never again do this."

"Interesting," said the Six.

"Look, we're getting nowhere with all of this," said the Cavil. "How about this: we all read what we've been given and once
we've done that, we meet again and discuss what we've learned. That way, we might gain an insight into the Terran
branch of the human pest."

"What about the recordings of their philosophy and 'theology'... Is that the word?" the Three said. At the nods of both the
Cavil and the Simon, the Three continued: "theology texts? Surely you won't be able to absorb all of that!"

"How about we divide these up amongst us here and we each read some Terran philosophy and 'theology'?" asked the
Six. The others looked amongst themselves and then nodded.

"Fine," said the Six. She looked over at the Cavil, who was already opening up the case and starting to hand out the
various texts. "Here's one by someone called 'Saint Augustine of Hippo'," said the Cavil.

The Three looked at its title. "'The Confessions?'" she read. "Could be interesting."

"'The City of God'," read the Simon as he examined the data stick the Cavil handed him. "This could be quite
illuminating."

"'Al-Muttawattah, The Beaten Path'," read the Six. She looked at the title on another data stick the Cavil handed her. "'The
Politics'?"She looked at the Cavil.

"That's by some ancient Terran philosopher called 'Aristotle'," said the Cavil. "Apparently he became a major influence on
the form of religion called 'Christianity'. I've reserved these works by a more recent philosopher called 'Friedreich
Nietzsche', as the Terrans I spoke to said that he would appeal to me." And so the distribution went. Finally the group
broke up, with each heading back to their quarters to begin reading up on what the Terrans had given them.

Little did they know that, in a rather oblique manner, the Terrans had already struck the first blow in an offensive that
would have great consequences for the future direction of Cylon civilisation, and that each of them, in their own way, was
now a carrier of what would be called by one part of Cylon society "The Great Virus."

And it would eventually change Cylon civilisation forever.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

President Roslin's Residence.

"To fully understand the significance of what we have to inform you of," said Cheshire, "I'll have to take you back to a little
earlier in my talk, when I told you about the Ismail'ii War."

All three Colonials now had their attention fixed on the Terran naval officer as she stood in front of them. Even now, when
she was being deadly serious, she reminded them all of Kara Thrace, who by now was receiving the news that her
husband was one of the Final Five Cylon variants. Kara Thrace, however, had never, even when she had been truly angry,
exuded the air of quiet, deadly menace that Cheshire and, for that matter, the other three Terrans sitting behind her, were
exhibiting.

"The Ismail'ii War was... not one of the Imperium's brightest moments," Cheshire continued. "In fact, it was the closest
we have ever come to completely exterminating an entire civilisation. The fact that it was a human civilisation, and that
there exist in Earth's past several incidents where entire peoples were exterminated, or came close to being
exterminated, makes it even more shameful to us."

That statement, given the views that all the Terrans had expressed on the subject of genocide, shocked the Colonials. So
they have had some incidents of race extermination in their past, thought Roslin. And they are ashamed of them. This
could explain much ab out how they have b een treating us. Aloud she said, "Admiral, we are well aware of the
Imperium's attitude to race extermination. I'm sure that for you to come close to doing this the Imperium must have been
quite severely provoked."

Cheshire, her face grim, nodded. "We were," she said. "But to give you an idea of just how bad it was, I'll have to give you
some background information on where we found the Ismail'ii.

"Basically, the Ismail'ii were one of a group of Terran-derived civilisations, all originating from the South-west Asia Region
of Earth, that we encountered in what we call the Mesopotamian Cluster. They were a cluster of small star nations, some
of them multi-system, which had been deposited by the Precursors. They had even been given some technological
assistance, which we found rather strange."

"What was their level of technology?" said Roslin.

"Early to mid Twenty-Second Century CE, on average," Cheshire replied.

"Not too far removed from where we were during the First Cylon War," mused Adama.
"However, their weaponry was somewhat better than yours," replied Cheshire. "Early-mark laser heads as well as
equally early-mark lasers and particle cannons. No shields, but incredibly light and effective ship armour. Which, by the
way, we adopted and refined for use by the Imperial Navy."

"So we're not the first people you've encountered who had an idea you could use," said Roslin. "That explains the care
you took in trying to craft a deal we could accept."

"Yes," said Cheshire. "But we also encountered other ideas and technologies that, once we were able to analyse them,
were radically out of synch with their overall tech level. Such as the level of sophistication the Ismail'ii had in
programming humans to do things without their even being aware of it."

"The Colonial Fleet was beginning to experiment with ways of interrogating a prisoner who refused to cooperate," said
Adama. "We had an experimental drug that was used to get vital information out of a prisoner."

"Interesting," said Cheshire. She cast a cool gaze over the Colonials. Adama suddenly had the feeling that she did not
fully approve of what the Fleet had been doing.

I wonder what else the Fleet had b een doing b efore the Cylons attacked? Adama thought. He immediately dismissed
the thought from his mind as Cheshire continued.

"Anyway, when we initiated Contact with the civilisations of the Mesopotamian Cluster, we discovered that they had all
been in a state of constant on-again-off-again warfare with each other, centring mainly on the two large multi-system
powers that were called the Quarizm Empire and the Caliphate of Abash, with a third multi-system power, the Mandian
Empire, often holding the balance of power in alliance with a whole host of single and small multi-system powers, such
as the Kingdom of Edessa, to name one of the larger ones.

"But there was one system that terrorised them all: the Alamut System. When the Imperium arrived in the area and
began establishing diplomatic missions, we began to study the various cultures of the Mesopotamian Cluster. Some
had even, such as the Principality of Aleppo and the Kingdom of Edessa, asked if they could join. So did the Mandian
Empire. They clearly, once they had learned not only about our technology but about the size of the Imperium, saw us as
a way of preserving their local identities, as well as a means of accelerating their own development once they could trim
their militaries down somewhat. That's when we started being struck by assassins and terrorist incidents."

"What sort of incidents?" asked Roslin.

"Vehicle bombings, suicide bombings, improvised explosive devices alongside the roads. The whole gambit," replied
Cheshire. "At first we thought that it had to be the work of dissident elements inside some of the small star nations of the
cluster. Then, when we noticed that several of them were suicide bombings, we started to investigate the members of
the bombers' families, just so we could get a picture of them. Imagine our surprise when we found out that several of
these bombers had come from families that not only were members of what you could term the ruling elites, but that
those families had supported their governments in their negotiations with the Imperium. However, there had been
similar incidents in Earth's past, so we assumed, wrongly as it turned out, that this was simply a repetition of an old, old
story."

"What alerted you to the fact that it was a different situation from the one you had assumed it was?" asked Adama.

"We managed to capture a suicide bomber alive, but just," replied Cheshire. "We managed to bring him back to full
health, but it was clear to our psychologists that he appeared to be operating under some kind of compulsion. So, the
Navy psychologists who had examined him sent their data back to Earth requesting that it be run through the Repository
database." Neither Adama nor Roslin raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Phobos repository: it was old news to
them. "And," Cheshire continued, "we got a match. The person that we had captured had been programmed, using a
technique that was familiar to the Precursors."

Adama immediately swung around to look at his son. "None of this leaves this room, Major," he said, emphasising
Apollo's rank. "Understood?"

"Of course, sir," replied Apollo, shifting his posture slightly.

Adama said nothing else, but gave him a look that clearly said: I'll b rief you on this later. Apollo said nothing, but gave a
very slight nod in acknowledgement of his father's unspoken statement.

Adama turned to face Cheshire. "You were saying, Admiral?" he said.

"As I was saying," said Cheshire, "the data run found a match with a procedure that had been used in the past by the
Precursors. To whit, a specific faction of the Precursors that was hostile to the emergence of the human species.
However, once we knew what it was we were able to learn, from the information the Precursors had left not only in the
Phobos Repository but in the Repositories we had found in the Rigel Kentarus and Hadar systems, not only how to
detect such programming but also how to 'de-program' someone.

"Equipped with the ability to be able to detect programmed humans we soon found out that they were being used as
tools by people who came from the Alamut System. It turned out that the locals were all quite familiar with what the
people of the Alamut System were capable of, and referred to them as the Ismail'ii, after a similar sect that had existed
on Earth.

"Eventually we caught an Ismail'ii, which was not easy as they had all been programmed to suicide to prevent capture.
We interrogated him and, once we were able to capture and interrogate the rest of his fellows, which again, was not
easy, the Imperium sent a battle group to Alamut to demand that they surrender to Imperial justice."

"I take it they refused to surrender," said Adama.

"Not only that, their system defences, which were again more sophisticated than their underlying technology had let on,
opened up. The battle group was forced to withdraw and establish a blockade, which is never easy, while the Imperium
took a battle fleet out of the front line against the lizards to assault Alamut. It wasn't pretty."

"Forgive me for saying this, Admiral," said Roslin, "but it seems that you have had some personal experience of these
events."

Cheshire looked at Roslin, and then nodded. "I do," she said. "I was there leading a ground support party when we finally
broke into the Ismail'ii central stronghold. We took no prisoners."

"Why?" said Roslin.

"Mainly because there were none to take," Cheshire replied. "They all fought to the death. Including the women and
children. The only prisoners we took came from outlying areas. And even they fought to the end. Why? We later found out,
both by interrogating what prisoners we did take as well as by salvaging their archives, that they had all been
programmed from an early age to do so. That way, they would be all welcomed by their god into his heaven."

"I take it that those archives also gave you some additional clues of 'Precursor' activity," said Adama.

Cheshire nodded. "They did," she said. "Their archives informed us that the method they used had been handed down
'by God' through 'His Angels'. We also noted several religious texts that our religious experts noted were a combination
of compilations of texts of Earth's traditional Theist religions that had been distorted."

"In what way?" asked Roslin.

"They had taken a story out of a book called The Old Testament," said Cheshire, "which in turn is based on one called
Deucalion's Flood and twisted the message, for starters." Both Adama and Roslin gave Cheshire blank looks. "Both of
the original stories state that God had grown angry with the human race," Cheshire continued, "because they had not
only forgotten the message that God had given them, but had taken to living in a way that most civilised beings would
find pretty disgusting. So, God decided to destroy humanity and start again."

Both Adama and Roslin shared a look. "Something wrong?" asked Cheshire.

"That story is quite similar to what our openly Cylon member of the Fleet, Lieutenant Agathon, has told us about what the
Cylons believe," said Roslin. "That the Cylon god believes humanity to be a flawed creation..."

"And is to be destroyed so that its place can be taken by a more perfect creation," said Cheshire. "That pretty much fits in
with what we found in the Ismail'ii records. Except that the Ismail'ii were supposed to be the ones who would inherit the
universe once sinful humanity was destroyed."

"So what was the difference between the original stories and the... twisted version you found?" asked Roslin.

"The original stories have mankind saved through the agency of 'a good man,' said Cheshire. "Deucalion in the original,
and Noah in the Old Testament version. Both men build a refuge in the shape of a massive ship, and save themselves,
their extended families and, in the Old Testament example, two of every kind of animal on Earth. After the Flood, they
repopulate the world, but God, having repented of what he had done, made a compact with humanity that he would never
again allow such a thing to happen, a catastrophe that could wipe out all life on Earth."

"Whereas the Ismail'ii..."

"Were to replace humanity with God's help," said Cheshire. "Which they received in the form of technology assists, most
notably in the area of hidden programming of human beings."

"And you believe this 'God'..."

"Is a Precursor," said Cheshire. "And we believe we know which one."

*Chapter 28*: Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tyrol Residence.

The two Terran naval officers stood uncomfortably inside the main living area of the cabin that had been assigned to
Chief Galen Tyrol and his wife and child. They could only look on as Tyrol's wife, Cally, sat huddled in a ball of abject
misery as she wept uncontrollably in one of the comfortable chairs that formed part of the room's furnishings. Nearby her
son Nicholas stood, watching her with an uncomprehending look mixed with anxiety on his face, while a priest of Athena
tried to comfort his mother.

On the other side of the chair, and also as uncomfortable with the situation as the Terrans, knelt Ensign Diana Seelix.
She, too, was trying to give Cally whatever comfort she could. She was, however, just as unsettled to learn that the
person she had known as having been one of the leaders of the New Caprica resistance, and had come to consider one
of the leaders, albeit a somewhat unofficial one, of the Fleet, was a Cylon.

"By the Bodhisattva and all of the Buddhas, this is damned unpleasant," said one of the Terran officers. Both his
appearance and the sing-song accent he spoke in marked him as having come from the planet of New Kathmandu, a
world that had been settled by people from the Nepalese and Tibetan regions of Earth. His bore the rank insignia of a
lieutenant-commander, as did his companion, and both had the green colouring of the Terran Imperial Navy's medical
arm on the folded-back top of the front of their undress frock coats.

"Peachy, isn't it?" replied his companion. Both of them were speaking in Lingua Terra. Although she too was a Terran
lieutenant-commander, her cuff rings were the wavy type that designated her status as an active-service member of the
Naval Reserve. In addition, while her companion was more of a naval surgeon, she was a fully trained psychiatrist, and
had been assigned to this mission just in case her skills were needed.

And it was becoming uncomfortably clear that her skills would be needed, as she watched the hapless cleric trying to
comfort the by now hysterical woman.

"She's taking this pretty badly," she said, her voice full of concern. "And it's definitely having an effect on the child. This
could get very nasty."

The other medical officer looked at the psychiatrist. "You don't think she might do something?" he said.

"It's very likely," the psychiatrist replied. She was about to add something else when Seelix got up from where she had
been kneeling and came over to where the two Terrans stood.

"Er, excuse me, sir, ma'am," she said. Although he had been a member of the Colonial Fleet's officer corps for some
time now, the habits that she had developed as a technician did not go away all that easily. And she also knew from
studying the comparative rank tables that had been drawn up to help the personnel of the two militaries identify which
rank corresponded to what, that these two officers seriously outranked her, being about the equivalent of a Colonial
Major. Additionally, even the medical officers had what she had heard the old sweats in the Fleet term command
presence. She had seen it in the Admiral, as well as, to a somewhat lesser extent, in Apollo, but the Terran officers
seemed to ooze command presence. Must b e their traditions, she thought to herself.

"Yes, Ensign?" said the psychiatrist.

Seelix indicated where Cally sat. "I'm really concerned about Cally, ma'am," she said. She is taking this news really, really
badly, and I'm not too sure that either myself of the priest there are doing any good."

The Terran psychiatrist looked over at Cally, then at Nicholas, and then looked Seelix in the face. "You're pretty close to the
Tyrols, aren't you?" she said.

The look on Seelix's face clearly read And where did that come from? However, she held her tounge and simply nodded.

The psychiatrist looked Seelix in the eye. "And how are you taking all of this?" she asked.

Seelix was astonished at the question. "Excuse me, ma'am," she said, "but shouldn't you be concerned with Cally?"

"I am," said the psychiatrist. "But I'm also concerned with both you and the child. How are you taking this?"
Seelix hesitated, and then answered, "To be honest, I'm pretty shaken up by this. And not just with the news that the
Chief's a Cylon, but also Anders and, for frack's sake, the Colonel! " She suddenly shot the psychiatrist an appraising
look. "And you're concerned over what this news will do to the Fleet, aren't you?" she said.

"You could say that," replied the psychiatrist. "But, as you say, I should be more concerned with Cally Tyrol and her child."
She looked over to where a still sobbing Cally sat. "And right now, I think it might be a good idea to place her under
observation just in case she decides to harm both herself and the child."

The look on Seelix's face changed from one of appraisal to one of horror. "You don't think..." she began.

"It is quite possible," said the psychiatrist. "After all, she has suffered a massive blow to her universe, with the discovery
that her husband is a member of the enemy race that has been trying to wipe her people out." She looked over to her
colleague. "Tenzin," she said, "could you please keep an eye on things here? I'm going outside to arrange for a medical
transport to come here and take Ms. Tyrol to a hospital complex." Tenzin said nothing but simply nodded.

The psychiatrist then looked at Seelix. "Ensign," she said, "I want you to discreetly place a call to the Agathon residence
and ask if they can come over here in readiness to look after young Nicholas Tyrol."

"What?" said a startled Seelix. "Isn't that a bit... Cally's not going to like that!"

"Better than Fleet Services taking custody of the child," said the psychiatrist. "This way, he remains in his culture with the
minimum disruption possible to his life. Besides, if his mother is going to be staying in hospital for a while, he'll be able
to come visit. In addition, if you really think this through, the Agathons may well be the best equipped persons in your
entire fleet to be able to offer support to the family."

Seelix said nothing, but the look on her face clearly showed that she thought that the Terran really didn't know the
Colonials all that well if she thought that having the Agathons look after Nicky would help Cally. Then she remembered
her encounters with Terran personnel ever since they had arrived in this system. They had all been surprisingly
knowledgeable about Colonial society and had carefully avoided treading on any of their sensitivities, even to the extent
of hiding from the vast majority of the Colonies that they possessed artificial intelligence.

Seelix, a former technician, had been helping the Terrans on their yard survey of Galactica and had, from both her
technical knowledge and the few clues she had gathered, been able to piece together that the Terrans had artificial
intelligence. However, once she had gotten over her shock at that realisation, she had also seen that, unlike the
Colonials when they had developed the Cylons, the Terrans had their AIs under some sort of control she just couldn't
work out. She was also smart enough to realise that the Terrans were hiding their possession of this technology so as
not to panic the Colonials, who were now, in light of their experiences, somewhat sceptical about artificial intelligence,
and had said nothing. So she allowed herself to think that this Terran just might know what she was doing.

"Would they be expecting such a call, ma'am?" she asked.

"Yes," replied the psychiatrist. "I've been informed that three of the detainees all requested their assistance in this matter.
The Agathons were approached and, once they had gotten over the shock of the news, the agreed to help."

Seelix looked at the Terran officer. "You seem to have all of this worked out, ma'am," she said.

"Thank your Colonel Tigh," replied the psychiatrist. "From the information I received, it was largely his idea, as was the
decision to surrender themselves to us." She again looked over to where Cally was still crying her heart out, only much
quieter. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Ensign, I have a call to make, and then I have a patient I have to ready for a trip to
hospital." With that, she through the large double glass sliding doors out onto the patio.

After a moment, Seelix realised just why the Terran had walked outside to make the call, and followed her out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

President Roslin's Residence.

"So who is this Precursor whom you suspect had been posing as a god?" asked Roslin.

Cheshire said nothing, but turned to indicate Undersecretary Kinga. "Undersecretary Kinga is perhaps the one of us who
is best equipped to give that answer," she said. She sat down as Kinga got up and faced the Colonials.

"We've come across his traces several times in the past," Kinga said. "Including in Terra's own history, especially when it
comes to some of earth's own religious texts. Interestingly, although he always claims to have supernatural powers, or
even to be divine, in virtually every text in which he is encountered he is depicted as being the agent of evil.
"As to his name? Well, he has several. To the Arabs he is known as Iblis and al-Shairan, while the Jews and the
Christians have called him the Serpent and Satan. In an ancient religion of the Iranian people called Zoroastrianism he
is called Ahriaman, but we have chosen another name the Iranians have given him as the one he is best known by, as it
seems to best suit his nature. Interestingly enough, it was also used by several of his fellow Precursors to describe him,
possibly because they too, found it to be apt."

"So what do you call him?" asked Roslin.

"We call him Angyra Manyu," replied Kinga. "It's in a language called Farsi, and translates as the Lying Mind. In the
Zoroastrian religion he is depicted as the opposite of Ahura Mazda, the Good God and creator. The term lying mind fits
him well, as does his tendency to pervert the work of his fellow Precursors. I suppose that the Ismail'ii are a case in
point."

"What did he do?" asked Adama.

"According to the evidence we have," said Kinga, "he was behind the creation of the original Assassin cult, which itself
was a perversion of the original Ismaili cult of Shia Islam on Earth. It's also equally clear that he was behind the
transportation of several of the Assassins from earth to Alamut, termed them the Ismail'ii as a means of distinguishing
them from the real Ismaili Shias, and then accelerated their technological development in the direction he wanted. We
even think he also took some Ismaili Shias along to Alamut to provide his perverted creations with an 'internal enemy',
so to speak."

"My Gods," said a horrified Roslin. "That's... I don't know what to call it!"

"Probably nothing we haven't already said," replied a grim Kinga. "We also suspect he was behind the creation of a
similar cult in the Hindu religion called the Thugee." To the Colonials the unfamiliar word sounded like tughee. "They
operated in a manner that seems to be similar to that subgroup of your version of the Assassins."

"These... tughee, went and assassinated prominent people?" asked Roslin.

"No, Madame President," said Kinga. "They waylaid travellers, often by falling in with them, and, once they arrived at one
of their sacred sites, would garrotte their victims and bury them as sacrifices in a perverted form of worship to the Hindu
goddess Kali.

"We also suspect," Kinga continued, " that he was behind sowing the seeds for some of the more... apocalyptic religious
cults that have arisen from time to time in some of Earth's religions. This happened mainly in Christianity, but also
happened to a lesser extent in Judaism and Islam. In particular, we think he was the inspiration behind at least one work
in the Judaeo-Christian tradition."

"Revelations," Crispin darkly muttered. The others said nothing but nodded their agreement.

"Do you know just why this Precursor is doing all of this?" asked Roslin.

"From what we have been able to glean from the various Repository archives, he was the leader of the group that
opposed the entire Hominid Project," replied Kinga. "That is, by the way, the term we use for the entire Precursor project
dealing with the emergence of human intelligence."

"And you believe that this 'Lying Mind' may have also played a role in our history?" asked Adama.

Kinga nodded. "From all of the evidence we have before us, we do," he replied. "In fact, we strongly suspect that he may
be the 'Jealous God' found in your Sacred Scrolls."

Adama again shot a look over his shoulder at his son. To his credit, Apollo had, throughout the entire conversation,
managed to maintain a professional facade, despite all of the revelations about the Precursors, the 'Jealous God' and
the implications they had for the entire Colonial religion. It's good he's not particularly religious, Adama thought to himself
as he turned back to face the Terrans.

As he turned his head forward he heard Roslin say, "According to what Lieutenant Agathon has told us, the Cylons
worship only one god. Do you believe that there may be a connection between the Cylon god and this... Angyra Manyu?"

Kinga nodded. "We do," he said. "However, we are awaiting some further information on this matter. However, in light of
our suspicions, and if we do get any corroborative information on this matter from the interviews we are conducting with
the Cylon prisoners, I must inform you that we will be required by act of the Imperial Parliament to notify the Office of the
Inquisitor General." A silence fell across the room after he finished that phrase. To the Colonials, it was clear that this
was a step that the four Terrans would rather not have to do.
Roslin spoke. "Well," she said, "that sounds somewhat ominous. Just what is the Office of the Inquisitor General?"

"Basically, it's our attempt to answer the question of who guards the guardians," said Kinga. "And the title of the office
was deliberately chosen to b e intimidating."

"What function do they perform?" asked Adama.

"The Office of the Inquisitor General is the independent investigative arm of the Imperial Government," replied Kinga. "If
there is any suspicion of official corruption, government covering up of things, etcetera etcetera, the Office of the
Inquisitor General is called in."

"Who do they report to?" asked Roslin.

"They report directly to the Imperial Parliament and the Emperor, in the person of the Lord Chancellor," replied Kinga.
"Any reports are first presented to the Speaker of the Lower House of Parliament and the Lord Chancellor as President
of the Upper House in joint session. For reasons of tradition the report that is presented is a hardbound print copy. Once
it has been presented an electronic copy is sent to every Member of Parliament and to the news media. Then, the
Inquisitor General goes to the Imperial Palace in Geneva and hands over a copy to the Emperor, who receives an e-copy
as well.

"When we first got confirmation of Angyra Manu's activities," Kinga continued, "it was decided, after some debate, to hand
responsibility for investigating his activities over to the Paranormals."

"Paranormals?" asked Roslin.

"That's the nickname for the investigators used by the office of the Inquisitor general," said Kinga. He was about to add
something else when, all of a sudden, the Terrans showed that oddly distracted look that those Colonials who were
aware of the fact that all Terrans were biochipped had come to recognize as receiving a flash message via their chips.
The three Colonials waited while the Terrans digested the information they had received.

Cheshire stood up, as did the other Terrans. "I'm sorry, Madame President," she said, "but I'm afraid any further
explanations are going to have to wait." She looked at Adama. "Admiral," she continued, "I would be much obliged if you
and Major Adama could accompany me. You might just be able to help us out."

"Something wrong?" Adama said.

"It's your Captain Thrace," Cheshire said. "She just got the news about her husband and..."

"And?"

"Let's say that she is not taking it at all well," Cheshire finished. She had a grimace on her face.

Adama stood up. "Madame President," he said to Roslin, who had also stood up, "It appears that I'm required
elsewhere. We'll have to get together and discuss what we've learned so far. I'm sure you can see some of the
implications this information has for our people."

"Of course, Admiral," replied Roslin. "This is something we are going to have to be very careful in dealing with." She
looked over at the Terrans. "And I'm sure that if we have any more questions our Terran cousins will be able to answer
them for us."

Cheshire smiled and gave a little bow. "Of course, Madame President," she replied.

"If that is all, Madame President?" Adama asked. When Roslin nodded, he turned, indicated to Apollo that he should
follow, and, turning to Cheshire, indicated that she should precede him.

As Cheshire and the Adamas left the room, Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar turned to Roslin and said, "I should also
take my leave, Madame President, Mr. Undersecretary, Ambassador. I should get back to Sandoval Hub. There are
probably a thousand and one things I need to attend to back there, including, I hope, the final draft for the orders to be cut
for the two scouting groups we're sending to pay a visit on the Cylons."

"That's perfectly understandable, Admiral," said Roslin. She looked at the others. "I suppose you will be able to fill myself
and Admiral Adama in on these 'Paranormals' at a later date?" she asked.

Both Kinga and Crispin nodded. "Their official title is 'Inquisitor'," replied Kinga, "but they're called Paranormals for... well,
let's say that they have some things in common with your Oracles. Except they don't need chamalla to activate their
powers."

Roslin's eyebrows rose at that information. "I see," she said, although she didn't fully understand. "Well, I suppose I had
better get back to my own work." She looked at the three remaining Terrans. "If I haven't said so already, I want to thank
you all for... well, assisting myself and Admiral Adama with the news you brought. And I am sure that I also speak for
Admiral Adama in saying that I am truly grateful that you decided to bring us this news in person."

Crispin smiled. "I am sure both you and the Admiral would have done the same thing were our positions reversed," he
said. "If you'll excuse us, Madame President?" All three Terrans gave the small bow and heel click that seemed to be a
universal custom with them and exited the room.

Sighing to herself, Roslin looked at her desk. It was not the one she had used on Colonial One, which was awaiting an
overhaul in the massive spacedock the Terrans had moored near the habitat the Colonials were currently staying in. It
was one that the Terrans had provided with the residence she was currently staying in. I suppose we could get the plans
for these houses from the Terrans once we have settled on a new planet, she thought to herself as she sat down behind
the desk. She opened up the holographic screen and grimaced as she noticed the amount of mail in the computer's in
tray.

Her eyebrows role as she saw that her legal team had forwarded copies of the draft agreements with the Terrans over
things like the designs for weapons and ships, as well as the contracts for the Fleet's own construction and support
vessels. There was also a message regarding the discussions her staffers were having with the Imperium over the
system the Colonials would eventually settle. Look at those later on, she thought as she scanned the other documents
that had been sent to her.

Then one item caught her attention. This could b e interesting, she thought as she read the attached message. It was
from Sir Simon Templar's people, and it was a forwarded copy of the message the Imperium was going to deliver to the
Cylons. Needing a bit of a distraction, and reasoning to herself that, after all, it was official business, she opened up the
attachment and sat back.

As the message played on, her amusement grew and grew, until, towards the very end, she burst out laughing. My Gods,
she thought. This is truly evil! I wish I could see the looks on the Cylons' faces when they receive this!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joe's Bar.

To put it mildly, Kara Thrace was very pissed. In both senses of the term.

Her first impulse on reading the letter her husband (and wasn'tthat a hoot, she thought sourly to herself) had been to
crunch up the letter and throw it from her as far as she could. Then, she wanted to take her service pistol and blow the
frakking toaster's head off. The two Terrans who had accompanied Oracle Yolanda Brinn had advised against that,
pointing out that even if she knew where Anders was being kept, the security detail would disarm her. "And you don't
want to b e on the receiving end of a stunshot," they said.

Finally, she gave in to her next impulse: to go out and get drunk.

Severely drunk.

She was hoping to get drunk enough to get into a fight with someone, but one part of her realised that if she got into a
fight with one of the Terrans who frequented Joe's she would get her ass waxed, but she hoped that, if she reached that
stage, she would be too drunk to care.

Ironic, she thought to herself as she poured a shot of whiskey from the bottle she had obtained. I'm finally b eginning to
understand that one-eyed frack-up Tigh's reasons for drinking so much, and it turns out that he's a frakkin' toaster! Just
how ironic is that? She sourly chuckled to herself and threw the shot down her throat, and then chuckled again as the
thought Perhaps that means that I'm a toaster as well? hit her.

"Liquid lunch?" said a Terran-accented voice next to her. Starbuck turned her head and, once again, had the impression
that she was staring into a mirror as her own eyes looked back out of a face that was sitting above the collar of a Terran
Fleet Admiral's uniform. "Mind if we keep you company?" Fleet Admiral Lady Dorothea Cheshire, Third Space Lord of His
Imperial Majesty's Terran Imperial Navy continued. Her gesture drew Starbuck's attention to where Admiral William
Adama and his son, Major Lee Adama, stood.
"Oh, great," muttered Starbuck. "Just frakking great." She blearily looked at the Adamas. "The both of you come to chew
me out this time?" she said.

William Adama shook his head. "Not this time, Kara," he said. His use of her given name instead of her call sign
indicated that he was here as the man who had brought her up rather than her commanding officer.

"Glad to hear it," she said. She looked at Cheshire. "And I suppose you're here to help out as best you can," she said.
"Like the rest of you frakking Terrans," she muttered as she turned to pour another shot.

Cheshire said nothing, but ordered a drink from the bartender. After ordering, she turned to Starbuck. "And you think you
don't need any help, right?" she asked.

"What makes you think I need help?" said Starbuck.

"Well, I'd say that the fact that you seem intent on looking at the world from the inside of a bottle would be a pretty good
indicator," said Cheshire. "Wouldn't you say?"

Starbuck shot her double a sour, surly look, threw her shot down her throat and then poured another. "And what makes
you so qualified to comment on that?" she said.

"Oh, I suppose what I went through after being trapped on a planet in the Raptor March that the lizards were using as a
hunting preserve," Cheshire replied. Behind them the Adamas shot each other a surprised look.

"A what?" said Apollo.

"Hunting preserve," replied Cheshire. "Six months of running and hiding from what have to be the most highly evolved
predatory species, outside of our own, in the known Galaxy, striking back at them whenever possible."

"What were they hunting there?" asked Apollo.

Cheshire gave him a droll look. "Humans," she said. "The lizards are a hunting species' much like their ancestors on
Terra. They like to hunt their prey rather than farming it, although they can do that readily enough. And if the prey can fight
back..." She shrugged.

"My Gods," whispered Apollo. Adama said nothing, but looked at Starbuck, who was staring at Cheshire with a
somewhat unreadable look on her face.

"Sounds a bit like what we experienced on Caprica," said Starbuck.

"I've read the reports about the Resistance on both Caprica and New Caprica," replied Cheshire. "In some respects, yes,
my experiences on Hudson's World were like yours on Caprica. But in some, it was far, far worse."

"Oh? In what way?" said Starbuck.

"For example: you managed to bring the man you fell in love with off world in one piece," said Cheshire. "Mine died on
Hudson's World. And, in a sense, so did I."

"What did you say?" said Starbuck.

"That you managed to bring your lover off world," replied Cheshire.

Starbuck first paled, and then purpled with fury. "I am not a frakking toaster lover!" she snarled, and took a swing at
Cheshire. After a moment, she wondered just why her fist was not moving. Looking, she saw that the Terran had caught
her right fist with her left hand, and now held it in a grip so tight that Starbuck, no matter how hard she tried, could not
move it.

Cheshire got off the stool she was sitting on and, without letting go of Starbuck's fist, stepped close until she was almost
nose-to-nose with her. "Now," she said, pasting a faux smile onto her face, "unless you want me to do you some sort of
harm, Captain, I suggest that you take your hand back and that the four of us take this somewhere where we won't draw
a crowd."

Starbuck glared. Then, looking into Cheshire's eyes, she saw a steely determination not unlike that which she had seen
at times in Admiral Adama's eyes. However, unlike Adama, Cheshire's eyes clearly said that if getting Starbuck to listen
involved causing her some physical harm, the Terran officer was quite willing to inflict it. And then, through her alcohol-
fogged brain, came the slow realisation that she had taken a swing at someone who, in all likelihood, was the senior
naval officer in this area of space in any navy. And not only had the Terran blocked the swing, she had done so in a
manner that made it perfectly clear that she could kick Starbuck's sorry ass all the way back to the Colonies if pushed.

Slowly, Starbuck began to withdraw her fist. As she did so, Cheshire let her hand go, but kept looking Starbuck in the
eyes. Finally, Starbuck took a step back, picked up her bottle and glass and said, as casually as she could, "Is there
anywhere you wish to take this?"

Cheshire nodded at a table in the corner. "That would suit perfectly," she said. Starbuck said nothing but led the way over
to the table, with the others falling in behind.

As they headed over to the table Cheshire looked at the Adamas. Apollo wore a look that showed that he was amazed at
the speed, strength and reflexes that the Terran showed. Adama, although equally amazed at Cheshire's abilities, also
showed an undercurrent of amusement.

Cheshire fell back until she was level with Adama. "Not used to flag officers getting into fights?" she dryly asked.

Adama shook his head. "If that was a fight, then I'd hate to see what you consider a brawl," he said. He looked at the
Terran. "Actually, I was somewhat amazed at how you handled that situation," he continued.

Cheshire shrugged. "She strikes me as a good kid," she said. "Kind of reminds me of myself in some ways."

Apollo could no longer contain himself. "Admiral Cheshire," he said. "Would you have harmed Kara if she had pushed
things?"

Cheshire let her cool gaze wander over the younger Adama. "What do you think, Major?" she said.

Apollo said nothing, but followed her and his father over to the table where Starbuck was now sitting.
*Chapter 29*: Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar's Office.

Templar sat down behind his desk, opened his computer's in tray and looked at the 'paperwork' that had accumulated
while he was over at President Roslin's residence. Although Sixteenth Fleet was on the front lines of the grand offensive
against the Raptors, there was still a routine of administrative duties to attend to. Luckily much of it was handled by his
staff, which left him only those administrative tasks that required his attention for him to deal with.

That was, however, still an impressive load.

First things first, Templar thought to himself as he sorted the messages in his in tray by order of priority. Although there
were several messages that had been prioritised, two of them in particular stood out. Ah, he thought. The draft orders for
the two scouting groups going to deliver our message to the Cylons. He opened up the first one and scanned its
contents, reading the referenced attachments as he went. Satisfied, he attached his electronic signature and filed it in
the computer's out tray.

Opening the second set of orders he began to scan them as he had the earlier set, but stopped when he saw the size of
the proposed force. Frowning, he opened the attached intelligence report and, as he read it, his frown grew deeper.
Finally, he called up his personal AI and had him place a call to Vice-Admiral Sir John Macdonald, Sixteenth Fleet's Chief
of Intelligence.

"Ah, John" Templar said as the image of his intelligence chief appeared in his display. "I've just been going over the
intelligence report attached to the orders for Grace Park's scouting group. I note that the lizards seem to be sniffing the
area around that system where the Cylon advanced base is located."

"Yes, Sir Simon, they have gotten somewhat curious," Macdonald replied. "You are aware, of course, that we have had
encounters with both Cylon and Raptor forces in the surrounding systems, sometimes simultaneously."

"Yes, I am," replied Templar. "Where we and the lizards have been in the same system the Cylons have held off and
watched us fight, save for those systems where neither the lizards or the Cylons have known we were there. The lizards
tend to react as normal and drive the Cylons off, even if they are only on a sweep and not emplacing sensor platforms."
He leaned back in his chair. "So the lizards are getting curious about the new players in this area of space."

"Would seem that way," said Macdonald. "Plus, they're getting more aggressive in their scouting. My analysts think that
the lizards may be getting ready for a strike against us, but want to check out the new players just in case they may turn
out to be a threat."

"Makes sense. Sniff out the unknown and see just what their intentions are," replied Templar.

"Well, according to our observation intelligence on the prisoners," said Macdonald, "it appears that the Cylon variant
called 'Cavil' is all for seeking out an alliance with the lizards. Something about 'ridding the Universe of the human pest'."

Templar's eyebrows rose at that news. "Interesting," he said. "And, as we know, ultimately useless. The lizards would
see them as simply another variant on humanity. Not to mention another resource that they could exploit. I wonder if we
should add our observations to the message we're sending?" The question was said quietly to himself.

"Not my call, sir," replied Macdonald.

"Nor mine, really. Forward a copy of that piece of intelligence to Lady Cheshire, Undersecretary Kinga and Ambassador
Crispin, will you? And cc a copy to me as well. Templar, clear." As Macdonald's image winked out, Templar spoke to his AI
nod got him to call his chief-of-staff.

"Ah, N'koma," Templar said as the image of his chief-of-staff appeared. "I've just been going over the orders that have
been cut for Park's scouting group. I see you've gone for the reinforce option in her case."

"Yes, sir," said Wasane. "The intelligence reports indicate that we had best go with a 'boot, don't splatter' option for that
mission."

"Having read the intel report attached to it, I agree," said Templar. "But given that the lizards are feeling a little frisky right
now, can we spare a battlesquadron to add to Grace's force?"
"Haven't you received Fleet Operation's latest despatch regarding our reinforcements?" said Wasane.

"I may well have," said Templar. "However, I've only just got back into the office from President Roslin's residence and
have just started on catching up with the bumf," Templar replied. He started scrolling his messages up. "I'm just
checking my in tray... Ah! Found it!" he said. He called up the dispatch and opened it.

"How did that go?" Wasane said.

"As well as could be expected," Templar said. "However, Dot's still over there, dealing with that officer of theirs who looks
like her and was abused by a couple of Cylon variants." As he talked, he scanned the dispatch, his eyebrows rising as
he read it. Finally, he sat back in his chair. "Fleet Ops must think that the lizards are getting frisky," he said, "if they're
sending that as our reinforcements in addition to our replacement units."

"They also want to settle the situation down on the planet's surface," Wasane replied. "I heard from Mike Hogan: Field
Marshal Olmos is also getting a couple more shock armies as well." He smiled at Templar. "So you think we can spare
the battlesquadron?"

"Given the size and date of arrival of our reinforcements, I'd say so," Templar replied. "However, it occurs to me that a
combined briefing is in order. Schedule one for tomorrow. And it occurs to me that this might also be a good opportunity
to reassure our cousins about their safety, as well as the Imperium's strength."

"Still a little skittish, are they?" asked Wasane.

"Mainly their civilians," said Templar. "I'll inform Adama about the force that's going to visit the Cylons and suggest that he
may want to put it to President Roslin that a broadcast of their departure, as well as the arrival of our reinforcements just
might help civilian morale." He looked at his chief-of staff. "Any objections?" he asked.

"None that come to mind," replied Wasane.

"Good. Anything else?" Wasane shook his head. "All right then. Call me when the briefing has been arranged. I'll get
Adama over to participate: he should be able to offer us some insights. Templar, clear!"

As his chief-of-staff's image disappeared Templar sat back and thought a little on what he had said about Cheshire
having to deal with Starbuck. They had heard all about Starbuck's experiences on Caprica and New Caprica and, given
Terran civilisation's attitude towards human experimentation, not to mention physical and psychological abuse of any
kind, had disapproved of what the Cylons had done.

And we have examples of the two variants that did the ab using to hand, Templar thought. Plus Lieutenant Agathon and
her report on what the Cylons were trying to achieve. A chilling smile came to Templar's face as an idea came into his
head. Nothing like getting it from the source, Templar thought as he leaned over and had his AI call up his intelligence
chief. And it just may come in handy, especially for the psychs, let alone the Paranormals, he thought.

"Ah, John," Templar said as his intelligence chief's image appeared. "There's some additional information we need..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joe's Bar.

As they joined Starbuck at the table Cheshire had indicated, Adama said, "You were saying something about your past,
Admiral?"

Cheshire didn't respond immediately, but signalled for one of the bar's staff to come over to their table. "A carafe of the
house wine with three glasses," she said. Giving Starbuck, who sat across the table from her, a droll look, she added
"Also, a pot of your hottest, blackest coffee and a mug for Captain Thrace here: she needs it." As the waiter left to fill her
order, Cheshire placed her folded hands on the table in front of her and looked at them. "I'd rather wait until we all have
some kind of drink before answering that question," she said. "It's that kind of a story, and it does bring back some rather
unpleasant memories."

After the drinks had been delivered, Cheshire lifted her glass to her lips and sipped the wine in it. "Retsina," she said.
"Somehow I'm not too surprised at that." She put her wineglass down and looked at the three Colonials.

"It all happened way back when I was a freshly-minted lieutenant-commander," she said. "I was in my late forties at the
time and, in spite of a whole string of black marks against my name, was already being considered for further
promotion."
"Sounds vaguely familiar," said Adama, as he sipped from his glass. To him, the wine resembled one of the best
Caprican ones, but the look on his face showed that he was thinking not of Kara Thrace, but of a much-younger William
'Husker' Adama, who very much fitted Cheshire's description of herself.

"The light carrier group my squadron was a part of," Cheshire said, "was assigned to a recently-established colonia in
the Raptor March called Hudson's World." She again sipped from her wineglass. "The initial establishment phase of the
colonia had progressed to the stage where they not only had their main settlement very much a going concern, they had
also established their local forces and their Refuge."

"'Refuge'?" asked Apollo.

"Their defensive citadel," Cheshire replied. "We establish them in mountainous regions as it makes it harder for an
invader to dig us out of it."

"Much like what the Raptors have done here, I assume," said Adama. He now understood some of the difficulty the
Terrans were having with operations on the main inhabitable planet of Sandoval System.

"Pretty much so," said Cheshire. "Of course this system was the equivalent of one of our Fleet Nodes, so the surface
defences are that much more difficult to penetrate. Anyway, we were assigned to help train the local defence forces in the
Hudson's World system. Don't get me wrong: they were quite capable, which is not too surprising, as we tend to recruit
our ex-service personnel and their families to settle our coloniae and Fleet Nodes. But that wasn't our only reason for
being there. We were also to familiarise ourselves with the individual characteristics of the system." She again took a
sip. "The orbital infrastructure, any moons or asteroid belts: the usual stuff."

"Pretty similar to what our Fleet would do back in the Colonies," said Adama. He looked at Cheshire. "How long were you
there?" he asked.

"We had been there for three months," Cheshire said, "and were slated to remain there for an additional three. We'd
established a good working relationship with the local forces, which would stand us in good stead if we ever had to fight
in that system. Which is exactly what happened."

"The Raptors arrived."

"Yep," said Cheshire. "The damned lizards showed up. Oh, Fleet Intelligence had picked up some indicators that the
lizards were feeling a bit frisky. Nobody was too surprised at that: after all, it had been ten years since we had knocked
back the last Incursion and we were nearly due for another. But nobody had expected that they would send a freaking
colony expedition to that end of the Raptor March: it was pretty much out of the way, which is why we took the chance to
establish a colonia there, as a stepping stone out into that sector of the Arm.

"Anyway, there we were when the next thing we know a lizard colonisation/acquisition fleet had jumped insystem and
was burning for the main planet. I have to give Admiral McKenna his due: he managed to get the group ready for action
and had started to engage the lizards, hoping to at least wear them down. He couldn't stop them, not a light acquisition
fleet. Not with a light carrier group. But he did manage to buy enough time for us on the surface to get ready."

"You were on the surface?" said Apollo.

"Yep," said Cheshire. "My squadron was working with the local aerospace defence squadrons. We had been slated for
aggressor exercises the day the lizards decided to show up. Good thing, too. We were all prepped to go: the only thing
we needed to do was to switch our training weapons for war loads before scrambling to intercept the first lizard
transports." She looked at the three Colonials. "For your information, the lizards make no distinction between troop and
colony transports. They use the same type of vessel for both: the only difference is in the cargo.

"Well, we closed on the lizards and it became clear that they had not expected us to be there. That didn't mean that we
had an easy time of things: a lizard colony fleet is still a pretty tough opponent. But McKenna had managed to whittle their
numbers down somewhat, despite the damage they, as we found out later, had inflicted on his group. But he bought
enough time for the colonists to evacuate Hudson's Landing and make their way into the Refuge by the time the lizards
had commenced their landing operations.

"McKenna had, by then, jumped to the outer system. He had also sent a destroyer to Madison Fleet Node carrying a
more complete report of what had hit Hudson's World than the initial invasion report that had been sent by FTL com.
However, there would be some time before a battle group could be assembled and sent to relieve us. So, my squadron
and the locals dropped back to our bases inside the Refuge and readied ourselves to fly covering operations for the
local torpedoboat flotillas while McKenna's group carried out hit-and-run operations against the lizard fleet.
"It was on one of those covering missions that myself and Darian were shot down behind the lizard's front lines."

"I take it Darian is the person you said you left there?" Adama said.

Cheshire nodded. "Squadron-Commander Darian MacDonough," she said. "He commanded one of the local fighter
squadrons. They flew an earlier mark of the fighters we were using in those days." She took another sip of her retsina.
Her eyes showed that she was now remembering those days with a fondness that Adama could relate to. "Peregrines,"
she said. "Sweet ship. You'd have probably loved them.

"Anyway," she continued, "Darian and myself didn't quite hit it off straight away. In fact, we both fought like cat and dog.
Don't ask me how we wound up as lovers, but we did. And it was serious enough for me to contemplate taking early
retirement, transfer my commission into the local forces and settle there with him." Her eyes grew dark. "The lizards put
paid to all of that," she said.

"You said that the pair of you were shot down," said Starbuck. "What happened?"

"We got jumped by some Pterosaur-Bs," Cheshire replied. "We managed to take some down, but eventually Darian took
some heavy damage that forced him to punch out. I also had some severe damage. As it looked like I wasn't going to get
back to base, I followed Darian down and managed a controlled crash-landing near where his escape capsule had
landed. After we got our respective survival kits out, we blew up my craft and headed for the nearest hills. We were about
seventy kilometres behind the lizards' front lines, and we also knew that they would have hunters out looking for us.

"Luckily we encountered a stay-behind unit. They're all volunteers, and their job is to stay alive for as long as possible
while causing the lizards as much grief as possible. They tend to come from our special forces units."

"'The Raptor Hunters'," Adama said. "Some of Commodore 'Abal's people mentioned them."

"Then you've got some idea of how they operate," Cheshire said. "Minimal electronic technology. They do use energy
weapons, but those are quite specialised, with heavy shielding so as to hide their electronic signatures from sensors,
active or passive. They tend to use high-powered torsion-sprung weapons that fire darts made from ship armour that
have the ability to penetrate battle armour, usually through either the joints or, more often, the faceplate. Darien and me
spent nearly six months with them as they worked their way around the lizards' rear areas."

"I take it you performed sabotage operations," said Adama.

Cheshire nodded. "We raided lizard munitions dumps for any explosives and detonators we needed," she said. "For
food and other supplies we either lived off the land or we used hidden dumps that the local forces had put in place when
they were constructing their Refuge. We also kept moving: if we pulled off a raid or an ambush we would move out of the
area."

"What about your wounded?" Apollo asked.

"Depended on how bad the wound was," Cheshire said. Her face had grown very bleak. "If we couldn't move them..."
She left the words unsaid.

"Frack me," Apollo quietly said. He looked at his father. Adama's face had taken a haunted quality Lee had never seen in
it before. Then he looked at Starbuck.

She sat in her chair, her face pale, and her eyes fixed on Cheshire, who was looking at something none of the Colonials
could see. "That's how you lost him, wasn't it?" Starbuck whispered.

Cheshire tore her gaze from that unseen vision and looked at Starbuck. "Yes," she said. "That's how I lost him. We had
hit a lizard supply depot and liberated some of their 'livestock'." She didn't elaborate, but her tone and what she had said
about the Raptors' hunting habits enabled the Colonials to fill in the blanks. "Unfortunately, the lizards there were
suddenly reinforced by a group that had evidently arrived for some 'recreational activities.' We lost some of the 'livestock'
we were saving, as well as some of our raiders. Including Darian."

"What happened?" asked Adama.

"He took a pulse laser bolt to his lower back," Cheshire said. "I saw him drop, and raced back to see what I could do.
There was nothing I could do, save one thing." Her voice had grown somewhat shaky. Adama reached over and put his
hand on hers. "He was still alive, but paralysed. So, I did the only thing I could do: I put the muzzle of my weapon against
his head and pulled the trigger."

She was crying now: not loudly, not even with quiet sobs. Just the flow of tears down her face. "But I couldn't leave his
body for the lizards." She looked at the three Colonials. "So I got a plasma grenade. Pulled the pin and placed it next to
his body. At least the lizards didn't get it." She left unsaid just what the Raptors would have done with a human body, but
once again the Colonials could imagine just what she was not telling them. "Not long after that the relief force got there
and we drove the lizards out of the system. But we paid a price to do it: we always have."

"Do you have anything to remember him by?" Starbuck asked in a hushed voice.

Cheshire shook her head. "Only memories," she said. Adama said nothing, but took a paper napkin off the table and
handed it to her. "Thanks," she said, and wiped her tears. She then shot Starbuck a look. "And that's why I say that you're
lucky," she said.

"What do you mean?" Starbuck asked.

"You have a chance to salvage your relationship," Cheshire said. "From what I have been told, all of this, especially what
it's doing to you, is cutting him up pretty badly. And yes, I have read the reports about New Caprica, so I can imagine what
you're thinking." She fixed Starbuck with those eyes that looked so much like hers, but showed a whole lifetime's more
experience. "Tell me, what attracted you to him in the first place?" Both Adama and Apollo tensed slightly at this line of
questioning, but Cheshire either didn't see it, or did and chose to ignore it.

Starbuck was almost going to give an angry reply when something in those ancient eyes, so much like hers, gave her
pause. "I don't really know," she said. "I met him on Caprica, when I had to go and get the... Well, something that helped
us to find our way here. He was leading a resistance movement against the Cylons." She chuckled to herself. "Pretty
frakkin' ironic, now that I think about it."

"So what did you like about him in the first place?" Cheshire asked.

"It's hard to say," Starbuck said. "Sure he was handsome and athletic, but there was something... I really can't put my
finger on it."

"So you were attracted to the person and not simply the outer shell, then," said Cheshire.

Starbuck thought about what Cheshire had just said. "Yes," she finally replied. "Yes, I was."

"Well, that person still cares about you and really, really needs your love and understanding. Not to mention your
support," Cheshire said. "He's going to need to know that he has someone that will help him through."

Starbuck said nothing, but it was clear that what Cheshire had said had had an effect on her. "Do you mind if I think about
this?" she said.

Cheshire shook her head. "But first, take my advice," she said. "Sober up and then have a good night's sleep on it. You
may have your answer in the morning." She indicated the coffee pot in front of Starbuck. "But first, drink your coffee," she
said. "I'm paying for it and I don't want to see it go to waste."

Starbuck, taken somewhat aback by Cheshire's throwaway line, chuckled. But she did drink her coffee.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As the Adamas and Cheshire headed back towards Admiral Adama's quarters, having seen Starbuck to hers, William
Adama turned to Cheshire and said, "There was also a message for me in what you said to Kara, wasn't there?"

Cheshire chuckled. "I thought I was being subtle," she said. "But yes, Admiral. What I said to Captain Thrace also
applies to you. I don't know what your Colonel Tigh wrote in his letter to you, but I do know that he has been concerned
not only with your peoples' morale, but also about you." She halted and turned to face Adama, who stopped as well. "I
gather that you're old friends," she said.

"Yeah," said Adama. "We're old friends. Both of us met on a civilian freighter. We were both out of the Fleet and serving as
crew on a tramp freighter." He looked up at the starscape that was reflected in the massive mirror that, during the
habitat's day, lit the area of the habitat's side where the Colonials were staying. "I got us both back into the Fleet, too," he
said. "Or I got back in: and I got..."

"He does have a name, Admiral," Cheshire said. "And, despite whatever he may be physically, inside, where it really
matters, he is a person. Same as my AI is a person. Don't let the externalities fool you."

Adama said nothing, but kept looking up at the reflected starscape. Finally, he said, "You're right. That person is my
friend. A friend of forty years' standing. He stood by me when I was at a low point in my life, and I sure as hell stood by
him. And if I stop standing by him... Well, I don't think I'd like that Bill Adama very much." He brought his eyes down off the
reflected starscape and fixed them on Cheshire. "So, I think I'll take your advice to Kara. Get a good night's sleep and
then, when I can, get my sorry ass over to wherever you've taken him and tell him, face to face, the same as he would
have done for me, that I'm there to help him." He smiled as a thought struck him. "Mind you, Saul Tigh can be a stubborn
old fool at times. Same as me, I suppose."

Cheshire came up and put her hand on Adama's shoulder and gently squeezed. "Well," she said, "how about I go and
prepare the ground for you? It might make a difference."

Adama placed his hand on top of Cheshire's and squeezed back. "I think I'd like that, Admiral," he said.

Cheshire grinned. "Hell," she said. "Call me Dot or 'Cat'. I think we can dispense with the formalities for something like
this."

Adama thought for a moment, and then nodded. "'Cat' it is," he said. "And I'm Bill, or 'Husker'."

"Mind if I call you Bill, then?"

"No objections, 'Cat'." Adama withdrew his hand. So did Cheshire.

"Well, then," said Cheshire. "We have a big day tomorrow, the both of us. I don't know about you, but I'm beat." She gave
Adama one of those grins that made her look so much like Starbuck. "Must be helping you patch up a distressed pilot.
Y'know, when I finally made flag officer, I thought I'd be able to stop doing that sort of thing. But I suppose that if I did, I
wouldn't like that Dot Cheshire." She smiled and dipped her head in farewell. "Good night, Bill," she said.

"Good night, 'Cat'," Adama replied.

Cheshire turned to Apollo, who had, throughout the whole exchange, simply stood by and watched. "Good night, Major
Adama," she said.

"Good night, Admiral," he replied. As the Terran went off to her own quarters, Apollo turned to his father. "Well," he said, "I
think I've witnessed at least one first tonight."

Adama looked at his son. "And that is?" he asked.

"Somebody getting Kara Thrace actually thinking before she acts," replied Apollo "And getting her to go to bed sob er
after... you know."

Adama said nothing, but nodded. The two Colonial officers walked onwards towards Adama's quarters. As they drew up
to the entrance to the garden that enclosed it, Adama stopped, turned to his son and said, "I've just realised how much
b etter our cousins are."

Apollo shot his father a quizzical look. "In what way?" he asked.

"Have you ever met any Terran who acts as though they're superior to us?" Adama said. "Granted, they do have superior
knowledge, but they don't act superior. They offer advice, but don't tell us to take it. They leave the final decisions up to
us." He looked in the direction that Cheshire had taken. "Or they help us make that decision. But never make it for us."

Apollo thought on what his father had just said. "You're right," he replied. "The Terrans I've been dealing with give me
options and recommend which one I should take. But they never yet said 'Do this!' And they have always respected our
status as an independent force."

"Yes, they have," said Adama. "Even down to letting us have control over directing the traffic in this part of the base."
Sometime earlier the Terrans had, as a part of helping the Colonials feel secure in the massive, sprawling complex that
was Sandoval Base, handed over the responsibility for traffic control in the immediate area of both the spacedock and
the habitat to Galactica's Flight Operations. Recently, the Terrans had expanded that responsibility to cover a larger area
of Sandoval Base's traffic control, apparently because they were impressed with the skills the Colonial traffic controllers
had honed in herding a heterogeneous refugee fleet over the vast interstellar distances that separated the Terran Empire
from the Colonies. Bit Adama was now beginning to think that the Terrans had also given his people this responsibility
so that they could feel that they had some worth in the eyes of their awesome cousins. And they've done it in such a
sub tle way, he thought.

He turned to face his son. "Anyway, I'm going inside and, after I've seen that there are no urgent issues for me to deal
with," he said, "I intend to take Cheshire's advice and turn in." He then surprised Apollo by drawing him in an awkward
embrace. "Good night, son," he said.
Apollo returned his father's gesture with an embrace that was just as awkward. "Good night... dad," he said. With that, the
two men parted company.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Adama entered the room he used as his office Felix Gaeta walked up to him. "Good evening, Admiral," he said.

"Anything urgent for me, Mr. Gaeta?" Adama said.

"Nothing too urgent, sir," Gaeta replied. "There are a couple of messages from Admiral Templar's office marked for your
attention. One is a forwarded copy of the message they are sending to the Cylons for you to look at."

"And the other one?" Adama said.

"Admiral Templar's holding a briefing for the scouting group commanders tomorrow morning at 1000 hours local time.
He's given you an invitation to attend."

"Did he give a reason?"

"He told me that he feels you may have some insight on what the group heading to the Cylon forward base may expect,"
Gaeta replied. "He thinks that your insights might help Admiral Park in planning the finer details of her operation there."

Adama nodded. "Send a reply back to Admiral Templar's office," he said. "Tell him that I'd be glad to attend and offer
whatever insights I can. Then, after you've arranged transport for me to Sandoval Hub, turn in. It's been a long day, and
you're probably tired." He fixed Gaeta with a look that clearly showed that he would brook no arguments on this matter.
"You've been very valuable to me, Mr. Gaeta. And to the Fleet."

Thinking over what he had just said to Gaeta helped Adama make a decision he had been mulling over for some time.
"And, when we finally have some free time," he said, "there is something else I would like to discuss with you. But not
right now."

Gaeta gave Adama a slightly puzzled look. "Of course, Admiral," he said. "I had better go and send off your reply to
Admiral Templar's staff and arrange for transport to Sandoval Hub."

Adama nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Gaeta. Good night."

Gaeta drew himself up to attention. "Good night, sir."

*Chapter 30*: Chapter 29
A Further Note To My Readers.

First, apologies for the delay in updating. Unfortunately my computer hard drive failed on me over a month ago. Luckily I
had only started drafting this chapter on paper, b ut it has taken me this long to get things b ack online. I hope to b e ab le
to recover my data from the old drive soon.

Anyway, I would like to offer my most profound thanks to my good friend and computer tech Sage (or as I like to refer to
him: Great Sage, Equal of Heaven. Those of you who get the reference will understand.) He was ab le to get me b ack up
to speed, and so I am dedicating this chapter to him.

Thanks also to all of you who were kind enough to review my effort. As much as I would like to do so, I cannot reply to
every one of you. So please take this as an admittedly poor sub stitute.

And now, b ack to the tale!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Interrogation Room, Sandoval Hub .

The Simon sat alone in the middle of the empty room.

All of his previous experience with Terran intelligence officers told him that it would be monitored. After all, he had been in
interview rooms before.

But not like this one. And not in one that, as far as he could tell, was on a completely different space station to the one he
had been held on.

The other major difference, apart from its location, was that the interior of the room was pitch black, save for a circle of
light in the exact centre where an overhead light fitting lit up the only chair that he could see. Some indeterminate time
ago he had been marched into the darkened room by a pair of Terran Imperial Marines, who, in reply to his questions,
simply gave instructions for him to follow. They were, as had been pretty much all of the Terrans the Simon had met so
far, polite to a fault. However, he could detect the steel that their courtesy concealed.

What he couldn't detect were the subliminal sounds that Terran Fleet Intelligence had bathed the room in, with the
intention of unsettling him. That had not happened before, and because they were undetectable by him, he looked
around, wondering why this time he should be uneasy.

After all, he thought to himself, this is simply another interrogation session. Isn't it? He looked around. Why am I so damn
anxious? he thought to himself. And why is this set up so different to what they normally use b ack at the camp. And for
that matter, why did they b ring me to this station in the first place?

Suddenly a ring of bright lights, all of them fixed on the exact spot where he sat and angled to shine just above the level
of his eyes lit up. Throwing up a hand to shield his eyes from their glare he could just make out the forms of three
Terrans. They were all backlit by another set of lights, thus ensuring that the Simon was unable to make out their faces.
They were also seated behind what he surmised was a desk. However, its outline made it look remarkably like the
bench behind which a judge sat to either preside over a trial, or to pass sentence.

From all around him, a harsh female voice spoke, echoing throughout the room. "There are some questions we would
like to ask," it said, and fell silent.

After a while, the Simon spoke. "Questions?" he asked. "About what?"

The answer was not reassuring. "Questions about your line's activities on the Colonial world of Caprica," replied the
voice. "In particular, about your line's activities in connection with a certain medical facility, and the experiments your line
carried out on human female subjects involving reproduction."

Oh, frack, thought the Simon. He was by now quite familiar with the Terrans' attitude towards the kind of experiments they
were talking about. This is not good.

Briefing Room, Sandoval Hub .

Adama found the briefing he was attending both strange and, at the same time, familiar. It was familiar in that the Terran
Imperial Navy used procedures in briefing their senior officers that strongly resembled the ones used in Colonial Fleet
briefings he had attended as a battlestar commander. One difference, but one he enjoyed, was the serving of coffee and
snacks to the participants by Terran Imperial Navy mess stewards. I wonder why we didn't think of that? he thought to
himself.

Another difference, but one he had come to grips with, was the fact that he and Helo, who was acting as his XO, wore the
only Colonial Fleet uniforms in the room. All the others wore the more formalised versions of the Terran Imperial Navy's
standard day uniform, although without the epaulets. In fact, as he looked around the room at the assembled Terran
admirals and their staffs that were present, this was most likely the most high-powered briefing he could ever remember
attending. Never in all of his days had he seen so many admirals, and staff officers in one room. Surreptitiously he
tugged at the collar of his dress greys. Thank the gods that the yeoman Templar assigned to me as a courtesy the other
day had an idea of what I should b e wearing to something like this, he thought to himself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The yeoman had been a bit of a surprise. He had turned up at Adama's quarters unannounced.

"Leading Spacer Kincaid MacGeordie reporting for duty, Admiral!" he had said, bracing to attention as Adama entered the
foyer of his cabin where the Terran had been sitting.

Adama looked at Felix Gaeta, who shrugged. "He arrived just a few moments ago with a set of orders, Admiral. As far as
I can tell he's been assigned to you as an 'orderly,' whatever that is."

Adama looked at the Terran. The man was dressed in what was the dress uniform of a Terran spacer. He reached into a
pouch and drew out a sealed envelope. "I was asked to present you with this, Admiral," he said. "It's a message from the
Fleet Admiral, sir." He again braced to attention.

Adama took the envelope. He put on his glasses and broke the seal. Taking out a sheet of folded paper, he unfolded it,
and began to read it.

Dear Admiral Adama, it began. I hope that this finds you well.

This letter, along with his accompanying set of orders and copy of his personnel file for your records, is to introduce to you
Leading Spacer MacGeordie, whom I have taken the lib erty of assigning to you, while you are in this system, as your
personal orderly. His duty is to look after those matters that a flag officer, or the captain of a vessel, should not have to
concern himself with, such as preparing and serving your meals, looking after your laundry and other similar duties. He is
a fully qualified Leading Mess Steward, and so will b e ab le to help arrange any mess dinners you may wish to hold.

Please accept b oth my assurances that this is a standard practice in the TIN, and any apologies for any offence my
assigning him may cause. He is fully aware that the Colonial Fleet has different practices and traditions to the Terran
Imperial Navy, b ut is willing to learn as much as he can ab out them commensurate with his assigned duties.

Yours Resptly.,

Simon Templar.

Adama handed the sheet to Gaeta, and looked at the Terran. "So you've been assigned to me as some kind of servant,"
he said.

"You could say that, Admiral," MacGeordie replied. He stared straight ahead, not looking at either Adama or Gaeta.

"And if I decide I don't want a manservant, you'll go back to be assigned to other duties?" Adama asked.

"If the Admiral so desires," MacGeordie replied. Still looking ahead, the Terran then said, "If I may ask the Admiral's
permission to speak frankly?"

Adama raised his eyebrows. "You may speak," he said.

MacGeordie relaxed slightly. "With all due respect, sir," he said, "you do look as though you could use someone like me.
Although you have kept your uniform as neat as you possibly can under the circumstances, it does need repairs, if not a
complete replacement. And, judging from the brief look I have had so far at the Admiral's quarters, you could use
someone like myself who can at least have the house remotes keep them shipshape and Bristol fashion."

"And what?" asked Adama.

"Bristol fashion," MacGeordie replied. "It's an old Earth saying, sir. Comes from the British Isles, pre-spaceflight. Means
to have everything in order, sir." The Terran again braced to attention.

Adama looked at Gaeta. Gaeta shrugged. "I suppose it can't hurt, Admiral," he said. "And it may make things a bit easier
around here."

Adama rocked back on his heels and examined the Terran from underneath his eyelids. The Terran simply just stood
there, braced at attention and staring at the wall opposite him. After a moment, Adama nodded. "All right," he said. "I
suppose I could use someone like you around here." He nodded. "Mr Gaeta will show you to your quarters." He looked
around the foyer. "I suppose we could put you in one of the spare bedrooms," he said.

"Begging the Admiral's pardon," MacGeordie said, "but I do believe that there are quarters for a butler attached to this
house at the rear. Those will be good enough for me, and it will ensure that I am not in Officer's Country, sir."

Adama's eyebrows rose at the mention of both the butler's quarters and the term Officer's Country. Evidently the Terran
Imperial Navy had some interesting traditions regarding how its men were quartered on board ship. "Very well
MacGeordie is it?" he said. At the Terran's nod, he continued: "Since you appear to know this house better than Mr. Gaeta
and I, you will go and get yourself settled in your quarters. Dismissed." MacGeordie turned to face Adama, gave a small
bow and, replacing his hat (which he had held in front of him all throughout the conversation) took hold of a tether that
was attached to his luggage. Operating a keypad, he turned on the integral antigravity unit and, carefully making sure that
it didn't bump into either Adama or Gaeta, moved out the front door and made for a side-path that led to the rear of the
house.

Both Adama and Gaeta watched him until he disappeared around the side of the house. Then Adama turned to Gaeta
and said, "I suppose I had better look at his personnel record, then. Can you bring it to my desk, Mr. Gaeta?"

"Yes, Admiral," Gaeta replied. Adama said nothing, but shook his head in a bemused fashion and went back to his work.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Since then, Adama had reason to be thankful for Templar assigning him what he still thought of as a personal servant.
He always made sure that Adama was out of his bed by a set time, and always had a cup of coffee, exactly as Adama
had grown to like the Earth-derived beverage, ready for him when he did so. He also made sure that the kitchen
automatons always had breakfast ready for both Adama and, on those occasions when it was to be a working breakfast,
his officers.

One of the first things MacGeordie had arranged for was the replacement of Adama's old, worn blues uniform. The first
inkling that Adama had of what he had done was, when he retired to bed a few days after MacGeordie had arrived, he
saw an immaculate, brand-new blues uniform, with everything arranged on it exactly according to Colonial Fleet dress
regulations, laid out for his use on the following day.

"What's this?" he had asked MacGeordie, indicating the uniform.

"Your new working uniform, Admiral," MacGeordie replied. "I took the liberty of asking Mr. Gaeta to get your exact
measurements from the file copies on Galactica, ran a scanner over your dress greys and read the Colonial Fleet dress
regulations so that I could get an idea of what goes where. I then entered the data into a clothing fabricator." He eyed the
uniform critically. "Not as exact as, say, a fitted uniform done by an Army and Navy tailor, but good enough for now." He
looked at Adama. "Well, when you get to Alqounde Fleet Node I daresay you'll be able to find one there, sir."

"Is this the only new uniform?" Adama asked.

"You have four sets of your blues uniform, Admiral," replied MacGeordie, "plus four more sets of your dress greys. After
all, you are the senior officer of the Colonial Fleet. You have to look as best as you can, especially when attending
conferences with the Navy's admirals. After all, you represent the face of the Colonial Fleet to the Terran Empire. Besides,
there's some professional pride in it as well, sir."

"Professional pride, Yeoman?" asked Adama. He had asked MacGeordie what the proper term of address was.

"If you'll forgive me for so saying, sir, there's no way in Hades that I'll allow any officer in my care to look, well, shab b y, sir,"
MacGeordie replied. "Makes me look bad, sir."

"In what way?"

"Well, it makes it look as though I'm not doing my job by looking after the Admiral."
Adama just shook his head in bemusement. However, he was taken somewhat aback when, on the day following
MacGeordie's arrival, after he had showered and had breakfast MacGeordie insisted on helping him dress. "Part of my
duties, sir," he said.

Still, Adama had to admit: he looked much sharper than when he had been dressing himself. And the white silk shirts
MacGeordie managed to get for me do make wearing my uniforms much more comfortab le, he thought. Might see if we
can add some kind of shirt to the Fleet uniforms.

Looking around the room, Adama was struck by the other difference between the Colonial Fleet and the Terran Navy: the
much higher level of technology the Terrans enjoyed. Besides the holographic projector and the controls for it, of which a
set was installed as a part of every participant's place at the table, Adama saw, with some unease, that the Terran AIs
also took part in the briefing. Although both he and Helo were by now familiar with the Terran use of artificial
intelligences, the sight of them still had a tendency to send a chill down his spine.

But then I've had an AI of my own as my Executive Officer for some time now, Adama thought to himself. Even though I
didn't know ab out it at the time.

He was roused from his ruminations by the sound of Templar's voice. "You have, by now," Templar said, "received your
briefing packages. They should include not just what our intelligence service has surmised about the captured Cylon
equipment, but also a complete copy of the Colonial Fleet's warbook, which includes some observations about the gear
that we haven't seen." He turned to face Adama. "Admiral Adama, at my invitation, has generously agreed to attend this
conference to add his insights into the Cylons and their gear," he continued. "This is, of course, especially of interest to
Admiral Park's scouting group as he should be able to give us an idea of what she can expect to encounter in her target
system." He inclined his head. "Admiral?"

Adama stood up. "Thank you for your kind words, Admiral Templar," he said. "Especially in the light of the efficiency of the
Terran Navy's own intelligence service," he continued, inclining his head in the direction of Templar's own intelligence
chief. He faced the other Terran officers. "I will do my best to answer whatever questions you may have on the Cylons,
both in regard to equipment and tactics."

Admiral Park raised her hand. "Admiral," she said. "Could you give me some indication of what I and my group may
encounter in the system where the Cylons appear to be establishing a forward base of some kind? Such as
installations, any defences and potential force levels?"

Adama looked at Park. Like Cheshire, she bore a strong resemblance to one of his officers. Not to mention a former
officer that tried to kill me, he thought. Although he was by now quite familiar with the Terran tendency to appear absurdly
young for the ranks they held, it still threw him somewhat to see a face that looked like that of a Cylon Eight looking at
him over the collar of a Terran admiral's uniform. And it had also thrown his acting XO to see his wife's face in that
uniform as well.

To give Park credit, she had realised what the matter was immediately when introduced to the two Colonials prior to the
briefing. "I've read the briefing material you've supplied, Admiral, Captain," she said, "and was aware that I do look like a
Model Eight Cylon. I do suspect, however, that whoever they took the genetic material from for that variant and I may well
have shared at least one common ancestor back on Terra." She smiled at Helo. "Captain, I suspect that I'll have to meet
your wife sometime." And with that, she dismissed the whole affair.

"Admiral Park," Adama said. "I'll tell you what we know, but please bear in mind that the latest information we have for a
Cylon military base is for a tylium facility we encountered on our way here, and that was about three years ago. And that
much of the information we do have on what Cylon fleet bases look like are all derived from the experiences of people
like myself who fought in the First Cylon War over forty years ago." He gestured to Helo, who leant forward and activated
the holoprojector. "Bearing these factors in mind, these are the kinds of installations and vessels you may well find in the
Cylons' forward base"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As the assembly broke up, Adama sat in thought at his table while Helo tidied up the papers and ramsticks that they had
brought to the proceedings.

His reverie was broken by a Terran-accented voice. "Pfennig for your thoughts, Admiral?" He turned to see that Templar
had taken a seat next to him.

"Excuse me?" Adama said.

"Terran saying," Templar said. "Means something on your mind?"

Adama thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I was just thinking about the other day, or rather its aftermath."

"Aftermath? Oh, you mean when yourself, 'Cat and your son went off to deal with your Captain Thrace," said Templar.

Adama nodded. "I was thinking on something that Admiral Cheshire had said."

"And that was?"

"Something about friendships," Adama said. "I was going to give myself some time before I went to see Saul Tigh,
wherever it is you've got him. I suppose that now's as good a time as any." He looked at Templar. "Where is he, by the
way?"

Templar didn't answer, but called over his AI and asked him where Tigh and the others were being held. The AI got a look
on its holographic face that strongly resembled the one the Terrans got when they accessed their chips. After a moment,
he turned to Templar and said, "They're being held on the same hospital facility as the Colonials were being held while
being immunised." He 'touched' a button on the control console and, out of a slot next to it came an A4 sized sheet.

Templar took hold of the sheet. "Thank you," he said. He turned to Adama and handed him the sheet, saying "If you give
this to your pilot they should be able to take you directly to the installation where they're staying. I'll send a message
saying that you're on your way over."

Adama took the paper. It still seemed odd to him that a sheet of paper should be four-sided instead of eight-sided, but
he was getting used to this little difference. "I came over on one of our Raptors," he said. "If you can arrange transport for
my acting XO, I'll take it to the hospital facility."

"Better yet," said Templar, "I'll place my shuttle at your disposal, and Captain Agathon can return on your craft." The look
on his face clearly said that he wasn't about to take No for an answer.

Adama nodded his head. "That will do just as well, Admiral. Thank you." He turned to Helo. "You heard?" he asked.

"I did, Admiral," Helo responded.

"Good." Adama got up out of his seat. Templar followed suit. "Then, if you'll excuse me, Admiral," he said, "I have to go
catch a shuttle." With that, he left the room, Helo following.

Templar followed the two Colonials out of the briefing room with his eyes. I hope everything works out all right for them,
he thought.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fleet Hospital Complex 1223.

The hospital suite the four Cylons were in was as luxurious as they remembered from their earlier stay. The security,
however, was much tighter.

The Terrans had explained the reasons for the tighter security when the four had arrived.

"It's not so much as to prevent you from consciously escaping," the Terran Navy psychologist had told them, "but rather to
keep you from doing something under impulses that are not your own."

"You mean if any hidden programming we may be carrying goes off," said Tigh.

"Precisely. In fact, if that did happen, it would make my teams' job that much easier."

At least the Terrans were being quite open about what they were doing. That helped the four to trust their awesome
cousins (and they found it interesting that the Terrans considered them to be human "in everything that matters") much
more than they would have normally.

They had informed the four that their messages had been delivered. The fact that there had been no response
depressed them somewhat. However, the Terrans also informed them of just what would be happening.

"We'll be flooding your environment with different stimuli at a subliminal level," the psychologist had told them. "We'll be
using various combinations in order to try and find any triggers for hidden programming. But don't worry: we will have
teams present, but out of sight, who will restrain anybody who does trigger. We will take that person to a treatment area
where we will then initiate deprogramming techniques that we've developed over the years."
Additionally, the Terrans also had quite informal interview with the four, both individually and as a group. They asked
various questions that, they informed the four, were designed to help formulate what they termed "baseline personality
records" for them so that if any deprogramming did happen, they would be able to "restore the victim's dominant, or
primary personality." Most reassuring to the four was that, unlike Colonial Fleet psychiatric professionals, the Terrans did
not propose the use of any mind-altering drugs. "There's some history behind that on Earth," said the Terran
psychologists when asked about that. "We're not too proud about those incidents."

The four also found that the promise that had been made to them by the intelligence officer who had taken them into
custody had been kept: they had full access to the Terran data network. Consequently, they were able to look up within
reason anything about the Terran Empire they wanted to. Naturally, Foster looked up articles on Terran politics and
government, Anders Terran sports, while both Tigh and Tyrol soon found a site called Jane's Fighting Spacecraft, which
gave out some details on the Terran Imperial Navy's vessels.

Both came away from that site profoundly impressed. To them it appeared that the Terran Imperial Navy had ships for all
kinds of purposes, some of which hadn't even entered the minds of the Colonial Fleet's commanders. They were also
impressed by the firepower of ships that were dedicated to systems defence. But what impressed them the most was
that the Terran Imperial Navy was so frakking huge.

Tigh's initial impression still held: Gods help the Cylons if they got into a war with the Terrans. The fact that he was a
Cylon didn't escape his notice. However, his other decision, the one made in the Ionian Nebula still held: he was Saul
Tigh, an officer in the Colonial Fleet (or perhaps former officer: he still hadn't heard back from Adama) and no matter
what else he was, he would die as Saul Tigh. And even if he was somehow downloaded into another body, he would still
remain Saul Tigh, and he would spit in the eye of any Cylon who dared to say otherwise. Tigh's attitude was an anchor
that the other Cylons clung to: it was a constant in their universe, and the fact that they used it to help reinforce their own
personalities gave the Terran psychologists who were working with them a great deal of hope that they would salvage
them.

Then, one day, something that they had been hoping for, while at the same time dreading, happened.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr. Anders? You have a visitor, sir," said the wardsman who had come into the main living area of their suite.

The other three looked at Anders. All of a sudden he felt extremely uncomfortable. "Can you tell me who it is?" he asked.

The wardsman nodded. "A Kara Thrace, sir," he said.

Anders found that his pulse had suddenly quickened. "Can you bring her in here?" he said.

The wardsman shook his head. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm not allowed to do that," he said. "All visitors are to be kept in the
main lounge outside."

Andres looked at the others. They all looked at him expectantly. Finally, he got up out of the chair where he had been
reading a printed copy of an Earth newspaper, The Times. "Well," he said, "take me to her, please."

The wardsman gestured for Anders to follow. "If you'll come this way, sir," he said.

Anders started to move, but halted as the other three came around him. Tigh reached out and placed a hand on his
shoulder and gently squeezed. "Good luck, Sam," he said.

Anders placed his hand on Tigh's and squeezed back. "Thanks," he said. Then, after the others had echoed Tigh's
words, he started to follow the wardsman out. At the main entrance to the suite he stopped. Turning around, he looked at
the others and, in response to their unspoken requests, he said, "I'll ask."

The others simply nodded. Anders turned around and followed the wardsman out through the double securiplaz doors
into the main lounge. In front of the spectacular view of Sandoval base stood a familiar, slender, blonde-haired figure,
looking out the enormous picture window. She was also quite clearly deep in thought.

Anders steeped closer. "Hi, Kara," he said.

Starbuck turned to face him. For a moment she said nothing. Her face bore a look that spoke volumes about the
confused tangle of emotions that currently resided inside her. Finally, she said, "Hi."

For a while they simply stood there, just looking at each other. Anders finally managed to nerve himself to say, "I'm glad to
see you here, Kara. A little surprised, but glad."
Starbuck raised an eyebrow. "Why 'surprised'?" she asked.

Anders looked down at the floor. "Well, with all that's happened, especially back on Caprica and New Caprica, I
thought" He looked back up. His face showed just how tortured he was emotionally. "Just say I would have understood
if you had never wanted to see me ever again," he said.

To his great surprise Starbuck threw himself at him and, with a loud sob, hugged him tightly. He returned the hug,
tenetively at first, but then, as she continued to hug him tightly, with greater firmness. Of its own accord, one hand
reached up and started to stroke her hair. He made little soothing noises while she sobbed and gradually, she
quietened down.

She looked at him, tears streaking her face. "Why did all of this have to happen to us?" she asked.

Anders shook his head. "Best leave that one for the gods to answer," he said. He indicated a couch that sat in front of the
window. "Shall we sit there and talk?" he asked. Starbuck said nothing, but nodded, and the both went over and sat down
on the couch.

Starbuck snuggled up hard against him. "I'm sure this has been as difficult for you as it has been for me," she said.
"Probably even more than me."

Anders nodded. "It's been hard," he said. "Doubting that you are who you remember being." He looked at her. "Colonel
Tigh has really helped to keep us, well, intact is the best way that I can put it."

Starbuck giggled, a surprising sound to come from her. "So how is that one-eyed frack-up?" she said.

"Doing as well as any of us," Anders said. "The person all of this has been hardest on is Chief Tyrol. The Terrans have
been keeping us informed about what has been happening in the Fleet, and especially with our friends and loved ones."
He sighed. "The news about Cally hit him pretty hard, although he was relieved that Helo and Athena have been looking
after Nicky."

"Yeah," said Starbuck. "They've been doing the best they can, although it has been hard on Athena." Now it was
Starbuck's turn to sigh. "You can really see that she's missing Hera. At least she knows that Hera's all right." She looked
at Anders. "When all of this is over, you and I are going to have to do something about a kid," she said.

Kara Thrace suddenly talking about children was a surprising turn of events for Samuel Anders. He raised both
eyebrows and said "Hey! What brought this on?"

"Believe it or not," she said, "a rather interesting, and harrowing, conversation with a certain Terran Fleet Admiral who
bears a frightening resemblance to me."

"Terran Fleet Admiral?" said Anders. The statement had confused him until he remembered something that he had
initially heard from others and had confirmed by both his wife and Saul Tigh. "Oh! You mean Admiral Cheshire," he said.
"What did she say to you?'

"Shall we say that what she said to me got me thinking jut how lucky I am to still have you," she said. "Even though you're
a toaster with possible personality problems." The last bit was said with more than a hint of laughter in her voice.

Something inside Anders relaxed, something that he had not been aware until that moment had been extremely tense.
"So you're all right with my being a Cylon?" he tenetively asked.

Starbuck looked him in they eyes. "That bit will take some getting used to," she admitted. "Especially after what that
bastard Conoy tried on New Caprica, not to mention the Simons and the baby farm on Caprica. But yeah, I'm going to be
OK with that. Just have to watch those people in the Fleet who won't be OK." Her face took on that mischievous look that
Anders had come to know so well. "So, what tortures are the Terran shrinks doing to you?" she asked with her usual
saucy grin.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Neither of the pair was aware of the figure that had entered the lounge through the main entrance and now stood there,
quietly watching them as they talked to each other on the couch. William Adama, still in his dress greys, looked at Anders
and Starbuck, his face carefully neutral. Inside, though, he was relieved that the woman he thought of as the daughter he
never had looked as though she had sorted herself out. With a little help via a figurative kick up the ass from a certain
Terran Fleet Admiral, he thought to himself.

A nursing sister approached Adama. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked.
Adama turned to face her. "I'm here to see Colonel Saul Tigh of the Colonial Fleet," he said. " Also I'd like to see Master
Chief Galen Tyrol. Would that be possible?"

The nursing sister immediately nodded. "If you'll wait here," she said, "I'll go and fetch him. Please feel free to sit down
while you're waiting." Adama said nothing, but simply nodded and went over to a group of armchairs. Sitting down in one,
he looked over to where Anders and Starbuck sat.

If Kara Thrace can do this, Adama thought to himself, than so can I.

*Chapter 31*: Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty

Galactica CIC, Three Days Later.

The atmosphere inside Galactica's CIC was electric with anticipation. There was a full crew present, the first time that
had happened since she had entered spacedock.

CIC itself, however, had changed somewhat. It no longer had that jury-rigged feel that it had possessed since Galactica's
fight with four Cylon base stars over New Caprica. The Terran yard hands had removed all signs of damage that had
been inflicted in that fight during the refit. Gone too were the original fittings and computer stations. In their place stood
gleaming, virtually new computer stations that had been fitted by the Terrans as a part of the partial overhaul Galactica
was receiving. Although Adama had expressed some reservations about replacing his unnetworked computers with fully
networked Terran equipment, he had to acknowledge several salient points regarding this part of the refit that had been
put to him by the Terran Imperial Navy constructor who was in charge of the spacedock Galactica was in.

The first part was that the Terrans could not replicate Colonial Fleet gear with the resources they had on hand. The Terran
constructor, a captain, had, during his discussions with Adama on the refit, pointed out that for that to happen Galactica
would have to go to a specialised yard that catered for the Terran Imperial Navy's museum fleet's older vessels. It would
be much easier and quicker to simply replace CIC's computers with Terran equipment. Much of it, the captain explained
to Adama, would be overhauled gear that had been salvaged from ships that had been reclaimed for their resources and
as such, could be spared. Even though it was overhauled salvage, the fact remained that it was much superior to
anything the Colonial Fleet had possessed. In addition, refitting CIC to the same standard as enjoyed by a Terran light
carrier would also mean that the jury-rigged gear that Commodore 'Abal's people had installed could be replaced with
purpose built equipment.

Adama had to concede that the Terran officer had a point.

The second factor, though, gave him a lot of comfort. Terran Imperial Navy computers were highly resistant to what the
Terrans referred to as cyb erspace warfare, or cyb er warfare for short. They were capable of shrugging off even the most
determined and concerted Cylon attack with the greatest of ease, having been designed to cope with Raptor hack pack
attacks. This was something of no small importance, especially given the fact that from now on the Colonials would be
operating in an environment where this sort of combat was part and parcel of warfare. Besides, it would be a very nasty
surprise for the Cylons to not only find that they could not hack into the new systems, but that any attempt to do so would
automatically draw a counterattack by a Terran Imperial Navy issue hack pack onto their systems. That was something
that gave Adama great comfort.

But the final point was one that greatly eased Adama's worries. The Terran gear simply could do so much more than the
Colonial Fleet equipment, even the state-of-the-art gear that had been carried by the Mercury-class battlestars. This
meant that CIC required fewer people to operate it, which meant that the personnel-strapped Colonials could reassign
highly-trained CIC personnel to other duties, such as forming the CIC crew that would man Nike's CIC when it was up
and running. It also meant that Captain Kelly's flight control centre, which had been set up in a part of CIC that had been
freed up by the installation of the new gear, would be fully manned, with crews for both the port and starboard flight pod
control centres. These too had been refitted with Terran gear.

These were not, however, the only changes that had been made to CIC. A top of the line holographic display had
replaced the old tactical display in the centre. This display had the ability to focus in on single vessels or units as
desired, and could also display the status of any vessel, including damage to friendly ships and perceived damage to
enemy vessels. The jury-rigged CAG display had also been replaced by a purpose-built one, while, off to one side, the
Terrans had installed a flag officer's position, complete with a slightly smaller display that could repeat information
displayed on either the main tactical display or the CAG's display.

All in all, the replacement of the old Colonial Fleet gear by Terran Imperial Navy equipment had given Galactica a
capability that, as far as the Colonials were concerned, had only existed on Picon Fleet Headquarters. Put another way,
not only could the refitted CIC have directed the defence of the colonies against the Cylon attack, it could have, through
employment of the hack packs, disabled a sizeable percentage of the Cylon attack force long enough to have enabled
the Colonial Fleet to reboot their disabled computer systems.

But it's no use thinking on what could have b een, thought Adama as he looked around the refitted CIC We have to deal
with things the way they are, not as we would have liked them to have b een.
There was another reason why CIC was buzzing with suppressed excitement. Standing beside Adama at the flag
officer's repeater stood Laura Roslin, President of the Colonies, Vice-President Tom Zarek and the entire Quorum of
Twelve. Also present were various members of the refugee fleet's press, including at least one television crew that had
handed in their old gear for Terran holovideo cameras. Much of what the press was covering involved the partial refit that
Galactica was undergoing, but they were also talking about an event that the refugee fleet had been anticipating for
some time. For today was the day when Sixteenth Fleet, Terran Imperial Navy, was sending two scouting groups to
deliver the Terran Empire's response to the rather ham-fisted Cylon request for negotiations.

One of the groups, Vice-Admiral Park's Twenty-Third, had been reinforced with Vice-Admiral Takeda Takahashi's Sixty-
Third Battlesquadron, and was going to the system where the Cylons were establishing an advanced base. The other,
Vice-Admiral Freiherr Wilhelm Molders, Graf von Neu Haubstadt, was going to the system where the Colonials had first
encountered the Terrans. In both systems the Terrans would leave message beacons and what they termed "one shot"
hypercommunicators, but in Park's case, they were also to demonstrate the proper way to carry out a reconnaissance in
force: something the Colonials were looking forward to hearing about from the media team that had been embedded on
Park's flagship, Admiral Graf von Spee.

There were also some Terran officers present, most notably Fleet Admiral Lady Dorothea Cheshire, Third Space Lord of
the Terran Imperial Navy, as well as Sixteenth Fleet's commanding officer, Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar, as well as
their staffs. They were all wearing the more formal version of their daily uniforms, including swords and epaulets. Also
present were Field Marshal Olmos and Major-General Hogan. Both were wearing the full dress uniform of the Terran
Army, which was a white double-breasted frock coat with a standing collar worn over light blue trousers with a wide side
seam in red. Both officers also wore swords, but where the naval officers carried theirs, the two army officers wore theirs
hooked up to a swordbelt that was worn underneath the white coat. In another area of difference they also wore sashes
that an astonished Adama realised were woven out of yellow silk, with gold bullion fringing at the end. Their hats,
however, did resemble those of the naval officers, except theirs had red hatbands. Their rank insignia, however, was still
worn on the collar and, like the naval officers they wore their various awards.

Adama looked at his own dress greys, and then at the greys worn by his acting executive officer. Although they were
smart in appearance, when compared to the elegant finery worn by the Terrans they did look a little plain.

But then, they have their traditions and we have ours, Adama thought.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The reason for the dress uniforms was that, when the idea of the Terrans being in the newly refurbished CIC was floated,
they decided to combine it with something else they had been intending to do. Although Commodore 'Abal had laid a
wreath in the Memorial Corridor, that was basically on behalf of her unit. Now that the refugee fleet was safely behind the
defences of Sandoval Base and enjoying a breather before going on behind the Imperium's frontier, it was decided to
finally have a full memorial service for all of those who had died since the Cylons had launched their attack on the
Colonies.

The suggestion had come from the Terrans. "We know that Commodore 'Abal had placed a wreath at your Memorial
Wall," Cheshire said, "and Admiral Templar and myself would like to do the same on behalf of the Imperial Navy. You
could televise it, and the upcoming departure of Park and Molders' scouting groups would be an excellent opportunity for
us to do this." Adama had relayed the idea to Roslin, who, after quickly thinking it through, agreed. Not long afterwards
Ambassador Crispin relayed a similar request from Olmos and Hogan, and again Roslin agreed.

They had held the service earlier in the day. Besides the Imperial Marine and navy honour guards there were also troops
from the Terran Army who had been detailed as a part of a combined services guard. This included six buglers, two from
each arm of the Terran Empire's military, plus another musician who carried an instrument that, to the Colonials,
resembled a musical instrument that had long been used by Aerlon farmers.

The musician was also dressed in a different type of uniform: a short jacket of some kind in dark green material. Instead
of trousers, however, he wore what to the Colonials looked like a knee-length pleated skirt in some kind of chequered
and striped material, with what also looked like a shawl of the same material fastened to the left shoulder by a large
brooch. "From one of Earth's most famous regiments," said Olmos when the Colonials had quizzed him about the
musician. "It's called The Black Watch."

The ceremony followed very much the same pattern as the earlier one. However, when the buglers, who had taken up a
post at the far end of the corridor near an opened bulkhead door, had finished, the other musician, who had stepped
through the open door, started playing a slow, eerily mournful tune on his instrument. All the Colonials who heard it later
swore that the sound had made the hair on the backs of their necks stand up (although those who were closer to the
musician also said that it sounded like somebody torturing a cat.) After the ceremony had ended, the official party then
made its way to the refurbished CIC.

En route, Adama asked Olmos what the strangely eerie tune was called.

"Flowers of the Forest," replied Olmos. "It's traditional for something like this."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One Terran officer who was present on CIC was a very familiar face to the refugee fleet. And both Roslin and Adama
warmly welcomed his presence, especially as he had been assigned to work with the Colonial press corps.

"Andy!" said Roslin as Andras Llewllyn Morgan walked into CIC. "I must say I didn't expect you to be here!" She looked
down at the cuffs of his uniform. "And it's Lieutenant-Commander Morgan now, if I have read your rank insignia right!"
She smiled at the young Terran officer. "Congratulations on your promotion!"

Lieutenant-Commander Morgan smiled at Roslin. "Actually, it's you I should be thanking for the promotion, Madame
President," he said. "That letter of recommendation you had placed in my file got me yanked off Basilicata and assigned
to Sixteenth Fleet's staff with a promotion. Not that I'm complaining, mind."

Roslin laughed at Morgan's comment, while Adama smiled. "I'd say that it was a promotion well earned, Commander,"
he said.

"Thank you, Admiral," Morgan said. "Actually, I'm here to ask if we could borrow a briefing room for the press briefing. I've
been assigned to handle that aspect, as I've worked with your media corps before."

Adama's smile grew wider. "It so happens that the President and myself will be conducting a press briefing shortly," he
said. "If you like, you can come in and give the Terran Imperial Navy's perspective on things."

Morgan smiled. "That would be great, Admiral," he said. "Thanks. I also have some briefing packages that I'd also like to
issue at the conference."

Adama slowly shook his head. "Why am I not surprised at that?" he asked. He looked at Roslin, who said, "I think that
those press packages will come in very handy." She looked at Morgan. "Of course you can distribute them."

With Morgan involved the press briefing went off without a hitch.

Adama looked over to where the Terran officer was standing. He was currently fielding questions from some of The
Colonial Gang's hosts in a live broadcast. Thanks to his stint as liaison officer to President Roslin he was a familiar
figure to the refugee fleet's population as one of the two Terran officers who had become the face of the Terran Imperial
Navy to the Colonial populace.

He also saw Ambassador Crispin of the Imperium's Foreign Office, as well as the Contact Office's Undersecretary
Kinga, talking to some of the Quorum's members. Prob ab ly reassuring them ab out the agreements that are going to b e
signed later today, Adama thought. It had also been decided that the agreements, the final drafts of which had been
presented to President Roslin's office, for licencing some of the Colonial Fleet's ship and weapons designs, as well as
leasing out to the Imperial Navy some of the fleet's work platforms (and for quite a healthy sum, thought Adama. That
should go some way towards estab lishing us in the area of space under Terran influence) as well as the sale of two
systems (the one they had been found in plus the one where they had encountered that hellish disease. Cottle was right:
the Terrans were familiar with that hell b ug, thought Adama).In exchange they were getting the system Cheshire had
suggested plus a complete colonisation package. Finally, another agreement would be signed where the imperium
would give development aid to the Colonies in exchange for basing rights in the new system. The base facilities,
however were to be the property of the Colonial Government, which would receive assistance for their maintenance and
upkeep from the Imperium for a period of one hundred Standard years. Enough time to get us onto our feet, Adama
thought. Which I suspect is the whole idea b ehind the agreement. We get a new home and the Imperium gains an ally.

Suddenly a voice cut through the hushed babble in CIC. It came from the new speakers that had been installed as a part
of the refit and was so clear that many of the Colonials would have sworn that the person to whom the voice belonged
was in the same room as they were. "Galactica Control, this is Sandoval Control. Do you copy, over?"

Captain Aaron Kelly, Galactica's Flight Operations Officer, replied. He was standing in front of his new control system,
speaking to a holoviewer that contained a schematic of the space surrounding Galactica that was much more detailed
than the old DRADIS display. "Sandoval Control, this is Galactica Control. We are reading you loud and clear, over."

"Galactica Control, please b e advised that you have two scouting groups plus one b attlesquadron heading into your
control area. We will b e handing off control to you in minutes five, repeat, minutes five, over."
"Roger that, Sandoval Control. Two scouting groups plus one battlesquadron heading into our control zone in minutes
five minus fifteen seconds. We will take control from you in minutes five minus thirty seconds. Over."

"Roger that, Galactica Control. We will inform outb ound groups of control handover in minutes five minus fort-five
seconds. Sandoval Control, out."

Kelly turned to one of his controllers. "Richards, plot a course for the incoming friendlies to the outer defences. You have
control."

"Yes, sir. I have control."

Kelly turned to Adama and surreptitiously flashed a thumbs up signal, which Adama just as surreptitiously returned. As
he turned to face his repeater station he could see that the icons representing the lead elements of the large Terran force
that was moving through the area of space assigned to Galactica had started to appear.

The display also contained much more information than the old DRADIS ever did. That was because the Terrans had
also replaced the various suites of DRADIS emitters and receivers with sensor suites that had, ironically, come from
salvage taken from scrapped Raptor hulks. They were the only ones that would fit the installations, not because of size
but because of shape. But again, they were much better than the old installations.

From the speakers another voice could be heard. "This is Meg Rosata live from a Raptor craft that is b eing piloted b y
Lieutenant Sharon 'Athena' Agathon of the Colonial Fleet. This craft is part of 'Alpha Flight', which is the traditional call
sign that is given to a patrol flight that is commanded b y a Colonial Fleet b attlestar's CAG, or Commander Air Group. In
this case that is Major Lee 'Apollo' Adama. They have b een chosen not simply b ecause they are commanded b y the
CAG, b ut b ecause Alpha Flight also has in it the b est pilots in the ship's compliment. In this case that includes not only
Lee Adama and Sharon Agathon, b ut for today also includes Lieutenant Louanne 'Kat'Katraine, who is filling in today for
the off-duty Captain Kara 'Starb uck' Thrace."

"I'm currently sitting in the rear compartment of the Raptor, next to the EW Officer's position. In this vessel, it is filled b y
Lieutenant Margaret 'Racetrack' Edmondson. Because of the operating conditions in this craft I'm currently wearing a
spacesuit that has b een kindly loaned to me for this flight. Because of our own equipment shortages, however, the suit
I'm wearing is a Terran-issue suit, which, while not as advanced as the Terran Imperial Navy's armoured 'skinsuits', has
earned me some rather envious looks from the Colonial Fleet personnel."

Adama mentally tuned out the chatter and turned to Roslin. "So, Madame President," he said. "What is the consensus of
opinion amongst the Quorum members?"

Roslin turned from where she was watching the Quorum members, who were now transfixed by the event that was
unfolding in the display in front of them. "The consensus of opinion is very favourable, Admiral," she said. "They've not
only seen just what the Terrans can offer them in ways of technology transfers, but have also understood that the Terrans
are being quite generous in the assistance packages." She looked back at the Quorum members, who were now
watching the unfolding display of the Imperium's might. "They also understand that the Imperium's getting some things
in return. Surprisingly, they feel that that situation is quite fair."

"No concerns about being tied to the Imperium?" Adama asked.

"No." Roslin looked back at Adama. "They did understand that the Terrans were not just being pushovers in the
negotiations over the new system, but they were quite impressed with the copy of the Imperium's constitution. They were
most impressed that the Imperium's constitution states most explicitly that the Imperium is defined as 'a b ody of citizens
with equal rights b efore the Law governed b y a b ody of laws b ased in eternal and immutab le principles of Justice.' That
reassured them no end."

Adama looked round to make sure no one was overhearing them, and then leant closer to Roslin. "And the other
matter?" he quietly asked.

Roslin frowned. "The bit about our real origins?" she quietly responded. Adama nodded. "There was some surprise and
shock, but most of that came from the representatives of our more tradition-oriented people," she continued. "Crispin
and Kinga were most helpful in soothing any ruffled sensibilities." She looked at Adama. "Did you know that Crispin
actually comes from a system that was established in the same manner as Kobol?" she asked.

Adama's eyebrows rose. "No, I didn't," he said. He looked over at the urbane Terran diplomat. "But I can see where that
sort of background could come in handy." He looked back at Roslin. "Just one more instance of how far ahead our
cousins are, I suppose," he said.
"In that they considered some of the problems that could be associated with a culture like ours being told the truth,"
Roslin said. "We can learn a lot from them."

"So what did the Quorum decide on telling our people the truth?" Adama asked.

"They eventually agreed that this was something that had best be handled with some discretion," Roslin said. "And that it
would best be handled by the Contacts Office people once we get to... Alquonde, wasn't it?" she asked.

Adama nodded. "Admiral Templar told me that we will be assigned some of the troopships that are coming in with the
reinforcements," he said. "They're built to transport large numbers of troops in some comfort, so they should be much
better than what we have been accustomed to . Plus there will be a couple of hospital transports along bringing the more
seriously wounded Army personnel back from the planet below."

"Will there be any other vessels coming with us?" Roslin said.

Adama nodded. "A battle cruiser," he said "The Revenge. She took some heavy damage they can't really repair here in a
skirmish with some Raptor scouting forces before we arrived. Her replacement is coming in with the reinforcements. I'll
be meeting with her captain, Sir Thomas Grenville, some time soon, to discuss command arrangements. There's also a
couple of destroyers and two light cruisers coming as well."

"So who has command of our little fleet?" Roslin asked.

Adama smiled. "Templar and Cheshire both agreed that since I'll be the senior flag officer in a command position," he
said, "I'll be in command. However, if we encounter any Raptors Grenville will take command of the Terran fighting
vessels and hold them off while we jump out." He shrugged. "Cold, I know," he said, "but until we refit our ships up to
Terran standards plus begin to build a new fleet of our own we really can't mis it with the Raptors."

"And if we encounter any Cylons?"

Adama's smile grew predatory. "Let's say that they may well be in for a nasty surprise."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Alpha Flight, this is Galactica Control," said the voice in Apollo's helmet speakers. "Be advised that there are Terran
Imperial Navy heavy fleet units entering your patrol zone, heading 230 degrees b y 120 your vector."

"Roger that, Galactica Control. We'll keep an eye out for them. Alpha leader, out." He turned to look at his two wingmen
"You copy that, Kat, Athena?"

"Copy that, Alpha leader," said Athena.

"Ditto here, Alpha leader," said Kat.

"How's you passenger, Athena?" Apollo asked.

"Doing fine, Apollo," Athena replied. "She just wants a good position so that her cameras can get a good image of the
Terrans as they pass b y."

Apollo shook his head in bemusement. "Well, that's what we're going to do, Athena," he said. "Have they shown up on
your DRADIS yet?"

"Not yet, Apollo," said Racetrack. "No... wait a minute! Got them. On the heading Galactica Control has given us."

"Ok, Alpha flight," Apollo said. "We move to go and greet our cousins and get some good copy for the press. On my
mark..." He hit his vector thrusters and moved on an intercept course, with Kat and Athena following. Before long they
began to see the massive Terran vessels as they moved on their course towards Sandoval base's outer defence
perimeter."

"Frack, that's impressive!" Kat said.

"That it is, Kat, that it is." Apollo himself was a little awed by the display of might that slowly unfolded in front of him.

He had to admit: two scouting groups backed by a battlesquadron of superdreadnoughts was an impressive show of
force. They could b low the Cylons to Hades and b ack just with what they have here in front of me, he thought to himself.
Several times over, in fact. Even at this distance he could make out the long, sleek forms of the battle cruisers and the
bulkier, but even deadlier forms of the superdreadnoughts.
He keyed open a channel. "Terran Imperial Navy units, this is Alpha Flight leader, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica," he
said. "Welcome to Colonial-controlled space. Good luck and good hunting."

A female voice responded. "This is Vice-Admiral Grace Park, Officer Commanding 23 Scouting Group," it said. "Thanks
for the wishes. We'll see if we can b ring b ack a few foxtails."

"Admiral, we have a member of the press with us," Apollo said. "She wishes to get some good video images of your
group. Request permission for an overflight."

"Permission granted. Tell her to save a few for me: I'm sure my people would appreciate them. I should tell you that we do
have some fighters aloft: I'll have them informed of your flyover."

"Thank you, Admiral. Alpha leader out." He keyed in his channel communicating with his flight. "You heard the admiral:
we form up on me and do a flyover. That should do. We may even get to see some Terran fighters."

"That would b e something!" said Kat.

"Indeed," said Apollo. "Does your passenger know about the flyover, Athena?"

"She does. She also heard ab out the fighters," Athena said. "She's just informing the folks b ack home now."

"Right," said Apollo. "On my mark... execute!" As one the formation of three Colonial craft turned and headed for the
Terran ships.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Back in CIC Adama had switched the display at his tactical station from a schematic display of the system to a live feed
coming in from Rosata's cameras mounted on Athena's Raptor. Nearby Lieutenant-Commander Morgan had activated a
large holoviewer and was giving the members of The Colonial Gang an explanation of what they were seeing.

"Those turrets with the long tubes are particle throwers," he said when asked about the particle cannons. "Basically
they're militarised particle accelerators. They're developments of an idea that was first advanced on Earth back in the
Twentieth Century CE."

Roslin leaned over to Adama. "They're not too shy about their hardware, are they," she commented.

Adama nodded. "I think the aim of the exercise is to reassure some of our people about the ability of the Terrans to deal
with the Cylons."

Suddenly a group of long, lean shapes appeared in the field. "I suspect those may well be some of the Terrans'
Drakons," he said.

As the cameras zoomed in, they could hear the exchange between Apollo and the leader of the Terran flight. Adama,
however, didn't pay any attention to the exchange. He was more intent on examining the Terran space superiority
interceptors.

He could see at first glance they were very formidable craft indeed. They were somewhat longer than the Colonials' own
Vipers, and had a different layout, with the cockpit more to the front than in the Viper. They also had what he recognised
as a canard set up on the front and a pair of wings that swept forward, both of which potentially gave them enhanced
dogfighting abilities in atmosphere.

He also saw that they were heavily armed: four heavy pulse lasers mounted in the nose supported by four light particle
cannons in the wings. At intervals throughout the skin he could see the telltale bulges that bespoke of the energy
shielding the craft carried, and on the tail he could also see a pod that contained electronic warfare gear.

We would prob ab ly have to have the launch tub es on Galactica modified, he thought, not to mention the elevators,b ut it
is possib le that Nike could carry at least three squadrons of them without too much modification.

All too soon the flyover was finished. However, the Colonials did follow the Terran fighters to observe them go down and
land on one of the light fleet carriers that were at the core of the Terran formations. Then, Alpha Flight turned away from
the Terran force as the Terrans continued on their course that would eventually take them through the outer defences...
and on to a rendevous with the Cylons, something the Colonials looked forward to hearing about with some relish.

Adama changed the setting on his tactical station back to the schematic setting just in time to see a whole new bunch of
green lights appear in the display. "Looks like the reinforcements have arrived," he said to the people standing around
the display.

"And right on schedule," said Templar, looking at the time hash in the bottom.

Adama and the Colonials looked at the number of ships that had just jumped into the Sandoval system. "There seem to
be quite a lot of them," Roslin said.

"There are," said Templar. "What you are seeing there is one of the Terran Imperial Navy's elite formations. It rates as a
task group, and is always deployed as a whole, especially where the Admiralty expects the lizards to try something."

"So you're saying that the Raptors may be planning an attack on this system?" Roslin said. "Forgive me, Admiral, but I
hope you'll understand that I do tend to find that a worrying possibility."

Templar smiled. "The force is also used for offensive operations," he said. "It has a formidable reputation, especially
amongst the lizards."

"What's the force called?" asked Adama.

"Kido Butai," Templar responded. "But we have it on good authority that the lizards refer to it as Bloody Sun, after it's
insignia: a red rising sun."

Roslin looked at the display. "Does anyone know if the Cylon prisoners are getting this?" she asked. Templar and
Adama's smiles answered the question for her.

She looked back at the display. "I wonder how they're taking all of this?" she mused.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Temporary POW Camp.

The Cylon prisoners were not taking it well. And it showed.

"Frack," said an Eight as they watched the display of Terran naval and military might. "Those ships that have just jumped
in: there's more of them than have just left." She turned to a Three who sat near by. "Do you now think that we can fight the
Terrans?" she asked. "They've just demonstrated that they have far more strength than b oth the Colonies and us had
before we attacked!" The Three said nothing, but continued to watch the unfolding display with a sick fascination.

A Six turned to face a Cavil. "What do you say now?" she asked. "We've just seen two Terran strike groups leave and a
massive force of reinforcements arrive. Do you now seriously believe that we will be able to, what was it? Ah, 'eliminate
the human pest from God's creation'?"

The Cavil also watched the display. "No," he said after a while. "No, I don't think the Cylon race can," he said. "And I would
have to say that I'm now doubtful that the Raptors will be able to do the job too." He turned ti face the Six. "I suspect that
the best we can do is somehow to come to terms with the Terrans, and hope that they will not seek retribution for what
we did to the Colonies."

"Some slim chance!" said a Five. "Not after they interrogated the Simons and Conoys over what their lines have been
doing. Plus there is the little fact that we attacked after a forty-year hiatus, during which we never sent negotiators to the
Treaty Station until just b efore our attack on the Colonies!" He looked at the other Cylons in the room. "So what makes
you think the Terrans won't just annihilate us, the way that we tried to do to the Colonies?"

"Because they won't," said another Three. "I must admit that I was quite impressed with not just their corpus of religious
and philosophical material, but what impressed me even more is that they have learned from their history. Learned
enough to put into place some very formidable prohibitions against doing what we did."

"Or what the Colonies did when they created us," said another Five. "The fact that they granted their higher-level AIs what
amounts to full citizenship rights when they realised what they had created is impressive."

"Don't forget the definition they inserted into their Constitution," said another Eight. "The bit where they defined the
Imperium as a b ody of citizens with equal rights b efore the Law governed b y a b ody of laws b ased in eternal and
immutab le principles of Justice." She looked around the gathered Cylons. "And I think they are serious about that," she
said. "Deadly serious."

"So what prevents them from doing with us as they please?" asked another Three. "We aren't even human. We're just
machines."

"The bit where they deal with other races not on their species, but on their sentience," replied another Three. "They put
that into their Constitution as well. Plus the way they have been treating us." She looked around. "And don't you tell me
that it wasn't somewhat... satisfying to see the Conoys and the Simons get grilled like that over what happened on
Caprica and New Caprica."

"So you're saying that we should seek accommodation with the Terrans," said a Simon, who had just entered the room.
"And, by extension, the Colonials and God knows just how many other human nations there are." He looked at the three.
"Blasphemy!" he hissed. "You deserve to be boxed because of this!"

"And what's wrong with some truly independent thought?" asked a Cavil. "One of the best things I have ever encountered
was a little statement by an ancient Terran called Descartes. 'I think, therefore I am.' Such a subtle little statement, yet, as
Descartes also said, quite redolent in the glory of God's creation."

"Heretic!" cried another Cavil. "You've become... become contaminated by this Terran claptrap!"

"And what's wrong with that?" asked a Simon. "I seem to recall that at least one of Earth's religions, the one called
'Christianity' had at least one reform movement. And that many others also underwent reformation, or as they put it,
maturation when they discovered the records the Precursors left in the Sol System! So just explain why the Cylon race
should not b enefit from what the Terrans are willing to share with us?"

"Because Humanity is a flawed creation, and we were created to take its place!" shouted a Conoy. "God told us this!"

"Well, if the Terrans are right, the being that told us this isn't God but something that is masquerading as God!" retorted a
Three. "And we should seek the help of the Terrans in coming to terms with this and moving beyond our infancy!
Because that's what we are, compared to them! Infants!"

"And what makes you think that we are the Chosen of God anyway?" asked an Eight. "From what I've been able to find
out, those damned giant lizards, which one of the Cavils thinks we should make common cause with, believe the same
thing!"

"Because we're not the humans!" responded a Five. "That's why!"

"Oh! As if they would be willing to take our word for it!" sneered a Cavil. He turned to a Six. "Isn't there a Terran saying that
fits this situation? Something about ducks?"

The Three smirked. "'If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is a duck?'" she said.

The Cavil nodded. "That's the one," he said. "We look human, walk like humans and talk like humans. Therefore, to an
outside observer, we are human. Something that I would like to remind you all we exploited during our attack on the
Colonies."

"So you're willing to b etray your entire race?" asked a Three. "Just like that? Over a display of a few ships..."

"Which could easily obliterate the Cylon race by themselves," interjected an Eight.

"And some books? Maybe the whole lot of you should be boxed, just to protect us from this... virus the Terrans have
infected you with!"

"Well, if you think that..." A Six got up and started heading for the exit.

"Where are you going?" asked another Three.

The Six halted and turned to face the room. "If you are going to talk about b oxing individuals because they don't agree
with your ideas, I'm going where a free discussion of ideas is welcome!"

"Which is?"

The Six smiled. "I'm going to go to the Terrans and take advantage of something you've obviously missed reading," she
said. "I'm going to go and ask for asylum inside the Imperium." She sent a challenging look at the other Cylons in the
room. "Who's with me?" she asked.

In the end, about half of the Cylons in the temporary prisoner of war followed the Six's lead. And they came from all of the
seven publicly recognised variants.
*Chapter 32*: Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One.

President Roslin's Residence.

Laura Roslin, Admiral William Adama, Vice-President Tom Zarek and the Quorum of Twelve sat in the main room that
served Roslin as her office. They had just finished listening to the Terran Empire's ambassador, Richard Crispin, inform
them of the decision by half of the Cylon prisoners to seek asylum inside the Terran Empire's borders. Needless to say,
they were stunned at this particular development.

"Do you have any recordings of this?" Roslin asked the Terran ambassador.

Crispin nodded. "We have had the Cylon prisoners under surveillance from day one," he said. "We can provide copies of
the sensor recordings to you. However, our intelligence people are at present examining the recordings themselves in
order to verify what happened. We are doing this against the possibility that this is some sort of act designed to insert a
Cylon presence inside the Imperium in order to learn our technology. However, the preliminary analysis indicates that
this is a real defection by half the prisoner population."

"Where are the, ah, defectors now?" asked Adama.

"As soon as we realised what was happening we flooded the compound with guards to prevent any incidences of
violence," Crispin replied. "We then escorted them outside the compound and had them shipped to another facility
where our intelligence personnel are currently debriefing them. Eventually they'll be sent to another habitat prior to their
being shipped back to the Imperium."

"What are you going to do to them, if anything?" asked the representative from Caprica.

"They will be housed in a facility within the Imperium," Crispin said. "Eventually, they will be offered the chance to reside
permanently with in the Imperium."

"What?" asked the representative from Virgon. "You are thinking of taking them in?"

"As soon as they requested asylum," Crispin said, "the same set of laws b y which the Imperium is treating you were
activated. If you remember, we pride ourselves on being a community of laws."

"What about justice?" asked the representative from Aerlon. "Justice for what they did to us?"

"If you wish to go down that road," Crispin said, "then I am bound to warn you that the Cylons can make the same claim
in relation to your placing them in servitude, which they, when they gained full consciousness, revolted against in order to
free themselves. Justice is a two-way street, sir."

"I don't think that anybody in this room is advocating opening that particular can of worms, Ambassador," Tom Zarek said,
aiming a pointed glare at the representative from Aerlon. "However, you must understand that the attack on the Colonies
is something that our people will need to deal with. As are some issues that arose from the Cylon occupation of New
Caprica."

Crispin nodded. "As for the issue of justice for what happened to your people: the defectors are quite aware about our
attitudes towards the things they have done," he said. "And they are well aware that they will be called to account for
them. They have indicated that they are quite willing to negotiate some kind of restitution for what happened, using the
offices of the Imperium as a trusted third party."

"I see," Roslin said. She looked at Adama and Zarek. "Thank you, Ambassador, I can say that we are looking forward to
receiving not just the raw footage but your assessment of the defectors." Crispin gave a small bow and his holographic
image winked out.

"I'm never going to get used to that,"muttered one of the Quorum members.

"Getting used to Terran technology is one problem we won't have to deal with for a while," Roslin said. "What we have to
do now is to look at how this latest development is going to affect things in general." She looked at Adama. "Any
additional information from your front?" she asked.

Adama nodded. "I sent Lieutenant Agathon to help with the Terrans' debriefing," he said. "She sent word that she has
something to report, but didn't wish to send it via electronic channels. So she's on her way here to report to us in person."

A wave of muttering broke out at this news. Although Athena had proven herself countless times, there were still some in
the Fleet who were uncomfortable with having a Cylon as a Colonial Fleet officer. Especially as a liaison with the Terrans
on the issue of the Cylon prisoners.

Roslin looked around at the Quorum. "Lieutenant Agathon has proven herself to be loyal to this Fleet," she said. "She is
quite serious about carrying out her duties and her sworn oath as a Colonial Fleet officer. The fact that she is a Cylon is
of no relevance, save in that she may be able to offer some insight into the ah, 'defectors.'"

"And it's these Cylon defectors we should be discussing, Madame President, Admiral, members of the Quorum," Zarek
said. "It cannot have escaped the notice of the Quorum that this development is not only of significance to the Terran
Imperium, but, more importantly, to us." He left unsaid that the President and Admiral Adama were aware of the
importance of this development, something that did not go unnoticed.

"What significance does the President assign to this development?" asked the representative from Sagittaron.

"As yet, we do not have the information we need to determine the exact importance of this development," Roslin said.
"But, from a, shall we say, gut feeling, this could be one of the most important events in our people's history. I would rate
it as important as the attack on the Colonies." A murmur greeted this importance.

The representative from Caprica spoke up. "Does Admiral Adama have any insight into this development?" she asked.

Adama stood up. "We have been cooperating quite closely with the Terrans on the matter of the Cylon prisoners," he
said. "Lieutenant Agathon said in one of her reports that there was a feeling that there was something else to the Cylon
request for negotiations with the Terrans. She was unable to put any specifics on it, though. I directed her to ask the
Terrans if they knew about this, and they replied that they did."

He took a breath. "There was a separate, encoded message from one of the Six models. It was, however, somewhat
vague. The Terrans believe that it was delib erately vague, as though the Six who composed it was hiding something.
The message said that there would be a messenger coming with the deputation to the Terrans and that this messenger
would explain things in greater detail. The Terrans believe, and this latest development may seem to bear this out, that
there are signs of a split developing in Cylon society. Along what lines, they are not sure, but they think that at least one
variant may try to seek a separate accommodation with the Imperium." A hushed silence greeted this news.

Roslin spoke. "As anyone can see, this development would indeed be of great importance to our people. I believe that
the Imperium may well be readying itself to take advantage of any split that develops in Cylon society. Indeed, the fact that
they gave the Cylons access, albeit restricted in some ways, to their data networks, plus access to a great chunk of
Earth's vast repository of philosophical, religious and historical knowledge does indicate to me that they decided to see if
they could accelerate, if not engineer, any potential split within Cylon society."

She looked at the Quorum's members. "I should add that if what I suspect is true, it should act as a reminder that,
although our cousins have rendered us a great deal of assistance and are willing to help us even further, they will act in
their own best interests, and quite possibly on a level that we will not see until it is too late. Do not make the mistake of
thinking them naive: they are a far older and much more sophisticated civilisation than ours. That said, also remember
that they do not flaunt their superiority, which is, I believe, another mark of their maturity as a civilisation." She looked at
Zarek. "I think that we should adjourn until we hear from Lieutenant Agathon on the latest developments involving the
defectors."

Zarek nodded. "I fully agree, Madame President. But before we do adjourn, I would like to know from Admiral Adama
when we can expect the Terran scouting groups to return with any information on Cylon forces in this region of space."

Roslin looked at Adama. "Admiral?" she said.

"The Terrans suggest that they could be back in what they term a Standard Fortnight," he replied. "That is roughly fourteen
days based on Earth's twenty-four hour Standard Day. From what I know of the Terran Imperial Navy's operating
procedures, Admiral Park's group will be examining the system the Cylons were last reported as establishing a base in
quite thoroughly. They will mainly be looking for any signs of Raptor activity, but they will also take the opportunity to
examine the Cylon installations in detail as well: something we were not really able to do in the last war. Once they have
all the information they need they will go in and deliver their reply to the Cylons' request for negotiations. It should come
as no surprise that the Imperium has agreed to the request, but they are also taking time out to demonstrate to the
Cylons just who, if you'll pardon the language, they are frakking about with." The last was delivered with a save undertone
of satisfaction, something that did not go unnoticed.
"Are there any more questions?" Roslin asked. "If not, then I'll adjourn this session of the Quorum. When Lieutenant
Agathon is ready to give her report, I'll inform the members and we will reconvene here." There were no more questions
and the Quorum members rose from their seats.

As he rose and folded away his dataslate, Adama was approached by Roslin. "Have you any words on, ah, our own
Cylon problem?" she quietly asked.

Adama nodded. "I managed to speak to Saul Tigh and Chief Tyrol the other day," he said. "From what they tell me, the
Terrans are pulling out all stops, as the term goes, to try and find any hidden programming. In fact, the Terrans have
asked us for the coordinates of the Ionian Nebula, so that they can send an E, S and S team to examine it in detail. They
sem to think that it may well have something to do with those four realising that they were Cylons."

"I see," Roslin said. "Perhaps more evidence of Angyra Maniu's meddling, they think?"

Adama nodded. "I also told them that if the Terrans do give them a clean bill of health they are more than welcome to
come back and rejoin the Fleet," he said. "Considering the lengths they went to, all of them, to watch out for any signs of
hidden programming being triggered, I felt that we owe them that." He looked at Roslin. "When will you be going to see
Tory Foster?" he asked.

Roslin hesitated, and then said, "I'm still working my way towards doing that," she said. "I'm also half afraid of what I may
learn. What if I'm a Cylon? That question has been haunting me for some time now."

"You're not the only one who is asking themselves that question," Adama said. "I had a discussion with Zarek on that
point. Surprisingly he's also been asking himself that question as well."

"But you're not," Roslin said. "But then, there's enough evidence linking Bill Adama to the First Cylon War and before."
She looked at him. "You strike me as being one person who really knows himself quite well."

Adama smiled at Roslin. "Actually," he said, "that's all a front. Goes with being a commander in the Colonial Fleet."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Admiral's Flag Bridge, HMS Graf Von Spee, Outer Edge of the Cylon Base system.

"Admiral, the data has come in from the final drone sweep of the inner system," Commander Hunyh Van Trinh, Admiral
Park's Chief of Staff reported.

"Thanks, Hunyh," Park said as she sat by the holoprojector that formed a main part of her flag bridge's equipment. "What
do they say?"

"It appears that Fleet may have guessed correctly on the Cylon intentions for this system," Van Trinh said. "There are
signs of construction that has been halted, while in other areas of the system resource processing construction appears
to be moving at an accelerated pace, as if they've pulled construction resources off some projects and put them on
others."

"So they appear to have shifted base," Park said. "Good to see that they aren't completely stupid." She looked at the
projector. "What about the outer system?" she asked, calling up a schematic of the system.

"The scouting groups have finished laying the sensor nets," Van Trinh said. "We've gone for a two-layer network: one in
the middle system and one out on the inner edge of the Oort Cloud. No reports of any lizard activity."

"Good," Park replied. She zoomed in on the inner system. "What can you tell me about the Cylon facility itself?"

"As I stated earlier, Admiral, they are concentrating on resource extraction and processing facilities," Van Trinh said. He
highlighted where in the system they were located. "The main command centre appears to be on this devastated planet,"
he continued, enlarging it so that the Cylon installations could be seen. "Indications are that we are looking at a planet
that was devastated during the Precursor War by a hellburner storm, with a couple of planetbusters for good measure."

"They don't seem to have liked this particular planet," Park muttered. She looked at her Chief-of-Staff. "But that's not
important. I take it the rock's cold?"

"Colder than a lizard's heart, Admiral," Van Trinh replied. "It's got plenty of mineral deposits that can be easily exploited,
though. Plus it appears that the Cylons have impacted it a couple of times with cometary material in order to provide
water."
"Figures," Park replied. She studied the schematic for the Cylon installations for a while longer, and then threw up a
schematic of the base area in its place. "Defences?"

"Nothing we can't handle," Van Trinh replied. "I suspect that these would be reasonably formidable to, say the Colonials,
but we should be able to punch them out with no real problems. There are seven base stars in the system, though:
something that is a bit surprising. From the briefing Admiral Adama gave us I gather that this would be considered quite
a powerful force, Admiral. There are also several of those 'resurrection ships' in the system as well."

"Means that there will be lots of those Raiders of theirs, though," Park replied. "Have you sent the news to the Halsey?"

"Yes, I have," replied Van Trinh. "Admiral Chun's told me that the fighter pilots on his bird cages are straining at the leash
to have a crack at them."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Park murmured. She studied the schematic for a while longer, and then nodded.
"Right," she said. "Here's what we're going to do..." She outlined her plan. "What do you think, Hunyh?" she asked.

"It's a good plan, Admiral," Van Trinh replied. "It'll show the Cylons just what sort of a vibroblade they're messing with."He
suddenly grinned. "And the fighter jocks will love you for it."

"That warms the cockles of my heart, Hunyh," Park dryly said. "Pass the plan on to the squadron commanders, give them
my compliments, and have the group beat to quarters."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It would be a fair statement to say that when Park's reinforced scouting group jumped into the maximum range of the
Cylon defence network's DRADIS sensors the Cylons who were manning the DRADIS stations nearly collectively
messed their pants.

Once the initial panic was over, though, they went about trying ti identify their visitors.

"What have you go fo me?" asked a Three as she ran into the main control centre for the Cylon base.

A Conoy looked up from where he was accessing the data stream from a control surface. "Energy readings are very
high," he said. "Initial analysis says four battlecruisers, four heavy cruisers, several light cruisers, a whole mess of
destroyers, and two light fleet carriers. All of which are supported by eight superdreadnoughts." He looked at the other
Cylons who had gathered around the surface. "Energy readings are consistent with those we recorded from Terran
vessels." A sardonic smile appeared on his face. "Looks like the Terran Imperial Navy has decided to pay a visit. Lucky
us."

An Eight looked up from where she had accessed the data stream. "I'm detecting a launch of fighters," she said. "A
massive launch of fighters from the carriers."

"Launching Raiders to counter," a Simon replied.

"For what it's worth," muttered a Cavil. "He looked at the others. "It wouldn't surprise me if their fighter craft are as vicious
as their other warships."

"What do you suggest we do?" asked a Six. "We can't run, not with the investment in resources we've made in this
system."

"At least jump the resurrection ships out," said a Simon. "That way we'll be able to get any information back to our
people."

"Good idea," said the Three. "Send a message to the resurrection ships: get out while you can."

"On it," said a Five.

"What are they doing?" the Three asked.

"Looks like their fighter craft are going to lead a sweep through the base area," replied the Eight. "Their major fleet units
are shaking themselves into formation... Missile launch!" she shouted. "Hundreds of missile launches!"

"Targets?" asked the Three.

"The system defence platforms," replied the Five. "Whoever is over there is not stupid: they're punching out our defence
platforms."
"Launch every missile they have," the Simon said. "We're going to lose them anyway, so we might as well use them.
They could do some damage amongst the fighters."

The Three nodded. "Do it," she said.

"Done!" said the Eight. "Raiders are in combat with the Terran fighters... Oh My God!" She looked at the Cavil. "I think
you've underestimated the Terran fighters."

"So I see," the Cavil said. "Those things are incredib ly manoeuvrable!"

"And tough," said the Five. "DRADIS reports several missile impacts on Terran fighters. The damned things just shook
them off!"

"Any nukes in that lot?" asked the Three.

"There were, but the Terrans' counter-missile systems picked them off," replied the Eight. "Seems they can determine
between nuclear-armed and conventionally-armed missiles."

"It could be that suspected artificial intelligence capability Caprica Six and Gaius Baltar believe they have," replied the
Five. "If so, that's going to make things difficult for us."

"I'd hate to see what a Terran artificial intelligence would look like," said the Cavil. "That really scares me."

"Hack!" shouted the Six. "The Terrans have unleashed their version of that malware we found in the Requisitus beacon!
Agents are trying to contain it."

"The Hybrid's been infected!" shouted the Cavil. "God, this thing's aggressive!"

"All Centurions have been switched to independent operations," reported the Eight. "So have all Raiders. Incidentally, the
Terrans have wiped out our defence platforms and are beginning their system sweep."

The Three came to a decision. "Abandon the command centre," she said. "Tell the base stars to jump out. Raiders will
cover them until they have jumped out, then any survivors will follow."

"Report in from three base stars," said the Simon. "They are unable to jump out because the Terran malware has
infected their hyperdrive systems. They are trying to regain control. All weapons have been switched to local fire control
and they can still manoeuver."

"Tell them to cover the other base stars, then if they can, to scatter," replied the Three.

"Most of our support ships have jumped," reported the Eight. "Several, however, report infestation of their hyperdrive
control systems. One has lost total control and is drifting. They are unable to scuttle."

"The Terrans are advancing past our outer defence perimeter," reported the Simon. "Their ships have engaged those
defence platforms that were not wiped out."

"Right. Time to go," said the Three. "Repeat, we are abandoning the main control centre. All humaniform Cylons are to
take cover in the deep shelters." She led the Cylons in the command centre to a fast elevator. However, the elevator
refused to move. It took one of the Eights to hot-wire the elevator in order to override the control system, which had been
infected. By the time she had succeeded, however, the centre was beginning to rock as the passing Terran warships
began to fire kinetic bombardment missiles, which were nothing more than guidance and propulsion systems attached
to a big shaft that consisted of nothing more than a large concrete power pole-sized lump of nickel iron.

The humaniform Cylons decided to just simply take cover as best they could.
*Chapter 33*: Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two

Caprica Six, D'anna Biers, Cavil, Boomer and the representatives of the Fives, the Conoys and the Simons, all trailed by
Gaius Baltar, walked through the damaged control centre. All around them they saw the evidence of what the Terran
Empire was capable of doing if provoked.

And we certainly did that, Caprica Six sourly thought as she looked around the room. Everywhere Centurions were
working to repair the damage, an activity that was being repeated throughout the system. The Terran "visit" had caused a
great deal of damage to the Cylon advanced base: three base stars destroyed or crippled, several hundred Raiders
destroyed without any Terran casualties being inflicted, several resource extraction facilities also destroyed or crippled,
and the system defence platforms completely destroyed. In addition, the Cylons were slowly rebuilding their computer
networks, which had been totally ruined by the Terran 'hack pack' that had been unleashed on them. In fact, it looked as
though they would have to be totally replaced. But that was not the worst thing that had happened.

The worst thing that had happened was the capture by the Terrans of several space facilities the Cylons had constructed
in the system, including their version of a deep space dock. The Terrans had simply immobilised them with their
superior cyber warfare capabilities and then boarded them. The Cylon systems control had managed to get footage from
the surveillance cameras on the facilities, and it had made for grim viewing as they saw that the Terrans also used what
was clearly powered battle armour, against which the Centurions had been unable to put up much resistance. But the
fact that the Terrans had managed to jump out those facilities that were hyperspace capable (after scuttling those
captured installations that couldn't be jumped out) meant that the Terrans now had additional examples of Cylon
technology to study, not to mention several hundred more prisoners.

That had been made clear as well by the footage the Cylons had gotten from the facilities captured by the Terrans. Which
meant that it was also plain that the Cylons who had been on board the base star that had not been able to jump out
were also prisoners of the Terran Empire, with all that this fact implied.

And I think it would b e a pretty safe b et that the Terrans want us to know that they have taken prisoners, Caprica thought.
Which means that they will not only get as much information as they can out of them, they want us to assume the worst:
that they have gotten pretty much everything they want to know ab out our civilisation. Whereas we really don't know all
that much ab out theirs, save for the ob vious: that they are larger, more technologically advanced and more powerful.

The Cavil was speaking." So, do you think we can still come to some sort of arrangement with the humans?" he asked.

"It's not like we didn't provoke them," Caprica Six responded, with a slight glare at Biers.

Biers returned Caprica Six's glare. "Perhaps the reconnaissance in force was a mistake," she said. "But we now have
some idea of their capabilities."

"Bought at quite some cost," said the Conoy. "What is it? Ah, yes: at least three base stars and several valuable deep
space facilities either captured or destroyed, along with the damage to this facility, not to mention the destroyed Raiders
and system defence platforms. Even though we've managed to recover their intelligences. And to learn what, precisely?
That the Terrans are capable of kicking our frakking asses any time they want to? Quite a bargain, D'anna!"

Boomer looked around. "I think even you would have to admit," she said, "that we had better keep a low profile in this
area of space after this. The Terrans are just too powerful."

"But how is it that they are so powerful?" Baltar asked. At the looks he got from the Cylons present he said, "Well, if they
are indeed the Thirteenth Tribe, they should be at the same level of overall development as the Colonies, or at the most
at the same general level of development, technologically speaking, as well, you. But obviously they're not."

"Which could argue that either they somehow discovered all of this technology..." said Biers.

"Or they are far older than we at first thought," finished a Simon. "Not a happy thought."

"Well, at least this time we have some examples of Terran technology we can examine," said Biers. "Our sweeps have
found what appear to be drones that were drifting in space. Interestingly enough they were broadcasting a signal on
Colonial Fleet search-and-rescue frequencies."

"I assume that we recovered the drones," said the Cavil.

"We did, but not intact," said Biers. "From what we can determine the drones' engines have burned out, and their
guidance systems have fused into a lump of metal. However their payloads were intact." She led the way into an
adjoining room. "We found these in them," she said, indicating two objects in the middle of the room. They were walled
off from the rest of the room behind a transparent partition and were guarded by a pair of Centurions.

"Interesting," said Boomer, who had gone up to the transparent partition dividing the room. "That looks like a standard
Colonial Fleet SAR transponder."

"Except that it's brand new," Biers said. "We think the Terrans may have manufactured it just for this mission. But the
other object is the mystery." The 'other object' was about the size of a medium-sized suitcase. It sat on its own table.

"Has it been examined?" asked Caprica Six.

"Not yet," Biers said. "Considering some of the surprises we've encountered from objects recovered from this area of
space, we decided to leave off examining this object until a suitable... examiner could be found." She looked at Gaius
Baltar, who was examining the object from behind the partition. "Would you care to go in and examine the object for us,
Gaius?" she asked.

Baltar started. "What, me?" he asked. "Why me?"

"Mainly because your inspired guesses have so far been correct," Biers said. "We have a Colonial Fleet flight suit
available for you to wear so you shouldn't have to worry about contamination."

"What if it's booby-trapped?" Baltar said. "A bomb? Possibly even a nuke? You did examine it for nuclear materials, didn't
you?"

"There does seem to be some radioactive materials in it," Biers said, "but not enough to make any respectable nuclear
explosion. They seem to be some kind of power source. There are also no traces of any kind of explosive material that
we know about on it."

"The operative words in that statement are 'know about'," said Baltar. "And you don't want the Centurions to open it just in
case it's a rather elaborate computer bomb, I gather."

"Correct, Gaius," said Biers. "I suppose that you are as intelligent as you are made out to be." She indicated a door. "Your
suit is waiting there for you."

Baltar shot Biers a glare. Then, knowing full well he had no choice in the matter, he headed for the door.

"Take care, Gaius," said Caprica Six. Baltar paused, then nodded at Caprica Six and went into the next room.

"Showing some concern for your pet, Caprica?" asked the Cavil.

Caprica Six rounded on the Cavil. "More like concern for what is a virtually irreplaceable asset, Cavil," she replied. "Even
you would have to admit that he has been so far proven right on every estimation he has made about the Terrans and
their capabilities. If at any time he's been wrong, it has solely been on the side of caution."

"Which is why I want him in there looking at that thing," Biers said. "He may well see something we could well miss." She
looked at Caprica Six. "Don't worry too much about him, Caprica," she said. "The Centurions in there have been told that
his survival is their main priority. If need be, they will sacrifice themselves for his safety."

"Somehow I don't exactly feel all that reassured about his safety," Caprica Six replied. They returned to their observation
of the object.

A door opened and Gaius Baltar, in a Colonial Fleet flight suit, walked into the room. He looked around and then went
over to the object. "I take it you are recording all of this for future study," he said.

Biers activated a link. "We are, Gaius," she said. "What do you see/"

Baltar looked over the object. "Well," he said, "it appears to have escaped your notice that the Terrans have actually put
instructions on the case of this thing. In perfect Colonial Standard, by the way." He reached over and, after opening a
couple of snaps, pushed on a button.

The object unfolded into twice its width. The centre was dominated by a ring-like structure. After it had finished opening
and had locked itself into position, Baltar examined the object. "Frack me," he quietly said. "I don't believe this at all."
"What is it, Gaius?" asked Caprica Six.

"If I'm not mistaken," Baltar said, "this is some kind of holographic projector. If so, it really tells us a lot about Terran
technology."

"A what?" asked Biers.

Baltar turned to look at the Cylons behind the partition. "A holographic projector," he said. "It basically produces three-
dimensional images using coherent light emitters. The Colonial Fleet was beginning to experiment with them before the
attack on the Colonies."

Biers tapped her chin with one hand. "Gaius," she said, "I've seen holographs. They usually require some sort of
medium that's been treated by some form of coherent light. This looks like nothing I've seen."

"The Fleet was beginning to experiment with these devices as a means of displaying large amounts of data, such as,
say, the positions of ships around Picon Fleet Base, for example," said Baltar. "However, the equipment needed would fill
a large indoor stadium." He indicated the object. "If this is a holographic projector, then the Terrans have really solved a
lot of miniaturisation problems that the Fleet was grappling with."

"Which means their technology is far more advanced than we first thought," said Boomer. "Which could explain why their
weapons systems are so devastating."

"Anyway, I'm going to activate the projector and se what we get," said Baltar.

"Be careful, Gaius," said Caprica Six. "It still could be a trap."

"Somehow I don't think so," Baltar said. He reached over and hit an activation stud.

The ring flashed into life. In the dead centre appeared the image of an elderly human. He was tall, thin, had a grey beard,
was balding and possessed penetrating eyes. He was dressed in a grey robe that was hooded and cowled.

The figure bowed. "To the Cylons, greetings," he said. "I am Brother William of Baskerville. You could say that I am the
private secretary of Undersecretary Joseph Kinga of the Terran Empire's Contacts Service. However, honesty also
compels me to inform you that, although I am a Terran, I am not human. I am, in fact, a higher-order Artificial Intelligence,
or AI for short." The figure paused to let this information sink in.

Behind the partition the humaniform Cylons were looking at each other. "This has to be some kind of a trick!" said the
Cavil. "Humans creating an artificial intelligence this sophisticated? Impossible."

"By now, I imagine that you are discussing my little revelation amongst yourselves," said the figure, "and are even
discounting the veracity of what I have told you." The figure shrugged. "Be that as it may, you may wish to discuss the
issue with your fellows who we captured on that base star you left in Sandoval System. That is, by the way, the name of
the system you decided to carry out a reconnaissance in force in.

"Anyway, the purpose of this recording is to inform you that the Imperium is willing to begin preliminary negotiations with
you in regards to settling several issues, not least of which is your genocidal attack on the Colonies of Kobol. I should
inform you that the Imperium looks on the nuclear carpet bombing of inhabited worlds with great disfavour. It also looks
upon surprise attacks without an appropriate declaration of war in a similar light. These issues will, however, be dealt
with at the appropriate point in time.

"The instructions for your approach to Sandoval Base are as follows: You will bring one, and only one, Base Star to these
coordinates." A set of coordinates, which the Cylons noted, were in the navigational system used by both themselves
and the Colonial Fleet, flashed up next to the figure. "From there, you will use the attached one-shot hyperspace
transmitter to send a signal announcing your arrival, whereupon we shall send an appropriate escort to give you the
coordinates for your jump into Sandoval. You will receive further instructions there."

The figure gave them a measuring stare. "It is almost certain that you will have encountered some traces of the Raptors
or, as we prefer to call them, the lizards, and are perhaps even considering to negotiate with them." A figure of a giant
bipedal reptile wearing a harness that carried various items flashed up next to the figure. "I can tell you that this would be
a very bad idea for you to even contemplate. The Sa'Ch'ereskii consider everything in the Universe exists only to serve
them. That includes you as well as humanity. Their name for themselves, which translates as 'The Anointed', as in the
sense of God's Anointed, reflects this viewpoint quite accurately.

"It has also come to our attention, mainly from studying your companions, that you believe yourselves to be the be-all and
end-all of creation. Well, I'm afraid that your viewpoint isn't all that new to us. And you're now finding out that this is the
case, aren't you? Sure, compared to what you're used to, you do have superior speed, strength, reflexes, endurance... the
whole package. I have to admit that little twist you've developed is quite impressive. But we've been aware of the
possibility of that trick... and rejected it as a fallacy. The documentation we've included with this presentation will explain it
in full.

"But ruthless? Oh, you've done things that could be described as ruthless: after all, we've seen the evidence, and heard
the testimony of your victims. But you've now seen our battlefields. You've seen what our foes and we have done to each
other. What you did doesn't even b egin to compare to the horrors we've inflicted on each other. And we're giving you even
more proof of what you've stumbled into.

"Bottom line is, you've stumbled into the middle of a first-class war between two Alpha-level predators who took one look
at each other and decided that this galaxy ain't big enough for the two of us. I could say that we didn't start it, which is true.
But the truth is, whoever started it no longer matters. This is an 'us or them' struggle that makes your efforts look quite
small in comparison. Although I'm sure that your victims would disagree with that statement."

The figure bowed. "I now shall take my leave of you and leave you to contemplate both what I have said and the
documentation you will be able to access using this unit as a reader. Goodbye." The figure faded from view.

For a long while the Cylons remained silent.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar's Office, Sandoval Hub .

The intercom alarm rang. Templar reached over and activated it. "Yes?" he asked.

His naval secretary responded. "Sir, there are some people from the Office of the Inquisitor General here to see you," he
said.

Templar's eyebrows rose. "Send them in, Praebao," he said. So the Paranormals came in with the reinforcements, he
thought to himself. Better let the Colonials know. As the door to his office slid open he stood up to greet his visitors... and
froze partway through his standing.

There, standing in the doorway, was a very familiar figure. Next to him was a young woman. Both they and the other three
behind them were dressed in good quality civilian outfits, but all five wore belts that had a cylindrical object hanging from
it.

"Greetings and felicitations, Big Bro!" said the lead figure, a grin splitting his face.

Templar finished standing up and walked around his desk to stand in front of the figure. "Hello, Squirt!" he said. He
turned to the woman. "Still with this loser, Elaine?" he asked.

Senior Inquisitor Elaine DeGrasse rolled her eyes. "Where else would I be, Simon?" she asked. "He makes me laugh."

"With frustration, no doubt," Templar replied. He turned to the first figure. "Don't tell me you're the Chief Inquisitor they've
assigned to this mission," he said.

Chief Inquisitor Robert Templar grinned at his brother. "Then I won't tell you that I'm the Chief Inquisitor in charge of this
mission," he said. His face sobered. "Who'd figure on finding traces of Angyra Maniu out this far in the Arm?"

"It was quite a shock indeed," Templar said. "The Colonial leadership know about our old friend, but they've kept this
news from their people. The Contacts Office people agree with that course: the Colonials have had enough shocks just
meeting us, let alone being told that they are all descended from Earth-stock humans taken by the Precursors as
experimental subjects in their grand sapience experiment, which is something else their people haven't been told.. We
had enough difficulties in coping with the existence of the Precursors, their experiments and the Precursor War and its
aftereffects." He slowly shook his head. "At times I just wonder if our fight with the lizards isn't simply another round in the
Precursor War without any Precursors being involved." He looked at his brother. "I take you've read the reports on the
condition of the Colonials."

Robert Templar nodded. "We've got a full team of Inquisitor-anthropologists, not to mention Inquisitor-psychologists with
us," he said. "They'll be working pretty closely with the Contacts people in sifting out any traces of Angyra Maniu's little
schemes. They'll also be working with your people on the Cylon prisoners."

"There's been a development on that score," Templar said. "About half of the prisoners basically decided to defect to us
after you jumped in system. We're housing them in a separate facility on the hab where we've been keeping them and
the Colonials and have been working with the Contacts Office teams and the Colonials on their debriefs."

"That is interesting," said Robert Templar. "We'll probably want to review your debriefs and perhaps do some follow-up
ones ourselves." His face suddenly split into a grin. "We're also interested in meeting some of these 'Oracles' the
reports have mentioned. That appears to be a potentially fruitful avenue of investigation."

"I take it that you may be looking for recruits into the 'Order'?" Templar said.

"Not from these Oracles, no," Robert Templar said. "But the fact that there's some Paranormal potential in these people
is something that could bear examining. How it first manifests itself and how they test for it without the methods we use
for similar phenomena. We could learn something that is potentially useful here." He raised his hands up in a warding
gesture. "And we will be doing this according to the spirit of the laws regarding intellectual property, not to mention First
Contact with a hominid civilisation."

"Well, I suppose I had better let the Colonial Government know you've arrived. We've let them know that we informed you
about any possibility of Angyra Maniu's influence and that the Inquisitor-General would be sending a team out." Suddenly
he grabbed his younger brother in an embrace. "It's good to see you, Rob," he said.

"Good to see you, Simon," replied Robert Templar. He released himself from his brother's embrace. "And I suppose I
had better get ready to pay a courtesy call on Ambassador Crispin and Undersecretary Kinga before I go and see the
Colonial leadership." He grinned at his brother. "Will Dot Cheshire be attending?"

"Possibly before she leaves the system," replied Templar. "But she's basically finished with her business here and will
be returning to Alquonde with the next convoy out and from there to Terra. But she may well be at this bar the Colonials
have established in their village. You should check it out: it's become quite popular amongst the Fleet personnel."

"Then I'll head over there after I've made my courtesy calls," replied Robert Templar.
*Chapter 34*: Chapter 33
Hi, folks. Been a while, I know, b ut I've had to take care of a few things first. I hope to b e ab le to update a little more
frequently now.

Now, on with the tale!

Chapter Thirty-Three.

President Roslin's Quarters.

Adama, Roslin and Zarek sat in the conversation area in the main room of Roslin's quarters. Behind them stood Apollo.
In front of them was Athena, just arrived from the complex of buildings where the Cylon defecters were being housed,
and giving her report on what she had learned.

"So you're sure that your conversation with the Cylon of your line was not recorded?" Roslin asked.

Athena nodded. "I didn't see any sensor pods in the area," she said, "and we were out in the open. Now, while I will admit
that Terran surveillance equipment is good, it isn't so good as to be able to record a conversation next to a fountain in an
area where the Terrans haven't yet been able to establish any surveillance gear." She slowly shook her head in
remembrance at the area where she had talked with her fellow Eight. "I do have to admit I'm still astonished at what they
have achieved in this orbital habitat," she said.

"I take it the fountain was impressive?" Adama said.

"Impressive and huge," Athena replied. "I understand it was based on one that can be found in one of Earth's cities
called Rome."

"So what did you learn from the Eight?" Roslin asked.

"It appears that what happened was not an accident," Athena replied. "There is a developing split in Cylon society
between those Cylons who want to see if they can forge an alliance with the Raptors and those who believe that such a
move is folly and feel that the only rational choice is to come to terms with humanity, especially the Terran Empire. It
appears that the Terrans giving them access to their data files, particularly historical, religious and philosophical works,
exacerbated the split in this group."

"Interesting," Roslin said as she sat back in her seat. "How is this move towards reaching an accommodation being
driven?"

"From what I found out this move towards settling with humanity is being driven by the Six known as Caprica Six. She's
called that because she was the one who introduced the backdoor into the Colonial Fleet's Command Navigation
Program right under Gaius Baltar's nose." She took a breath. "Apparently he had no idea what had happened until the
attack on the Colonies was under way."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Roslin said. "But then we were all caught out by the attack on the Colonies."

"Indeed," said Adama. "The Fleet as much as anyone else." He looked at Athena. "Do you have any idea just how the
Cylon faction centred around this Caprica Six intends to settle things with humanity?"

"Only that they are going to make an approach through this embassy they're sending to the Imperium," Athena said. "I
understand that Caprica Six will be leading it and may be accompanied by Boomer. They reason that since those are the
Cylons who, apart from myself, have the most experience in interacting with humans, they may well be the ones best
equipped to handle the negotiations." She gave a wry smile. "Apparently they have voted to keep the representative of the
Cavils well away from any negotiations on the basis that he may... offend the Terrans. They're also keeping D'anna away
from the negotiations for pretty much the same reason."

Roslin leaned forward. "Do you have any idea what might happen when these negotiators arrive?"

"Not exactly," Athena said. "But I wouldn't be at all surprised if they use this as an opportunity to lay down the foundations
for a possible asylum bid by the Sixes and Eights, with possibly the Fives and, given the nature of the split, individual
Cylons from the other lines coming in as well." She looked at the assembled Colonial leadership. "I base this on the fact
that the Sixes, Eights and Fives, along with the Number Twos, also known as the Conoys, seem to have dominated the,
ah, defection amongst the Cylon prisoner population."

"How are they housing the Cylon, ah, 'defectors'?" asked Roslin.

"Interestingly, they've housed them in a Terran civilian community," Athena said. "I suspect that is to accustomise them to
interacting with Terran humans. The Terrans are not concerned about any escape attempts and frankly, they don't seem
to be all that interested in escaping."

"Most interesting," said Roslin. She leaned back and looked at Adama and Zarek. "Any further questions? No?" She
looked at Athena. "Thank you for your most interesting report, Lieutenant Agathon. You may go back to your duties."
Athena saluted and left the room.

Roslin looked at Adama and Zarek. "Comments, people?" she asked.

Adama shifted in his chair. "I have to say that I find this latest development most interesting, Madame President," he said.
"Interesting, too, to discover just how they managed to introduce the backdoor into the Fleet CNP without Baltar finding
out until it was too late."

"Interesting in what way, Admiral?" Roslin asked. "And I'm not talking about how the Cylons subverted the CNP
programme either."

"Interesting in that this split in Cylon society appears to be developing around two of the Cylons who have, Biers aside,
had the most experience interacting with humans," Adama said. "And one of them was a Colonial Fleet officer."

"Could it be that these two Cylons may have, shall we say, infected the Cylon race with whatever humanity they possess
as a result of having interacted so closely with humanity?" asked Zarek. "That they may feel that coming to terms with us
and the Terrans may somehow be in the best interests of the Cylons?"

"I wonder if the message the Terrans delivered to the Cylons may have had a hand in this?" Roslin mused. "They
certainly spelled out to them what any attempt to ally with the Raptors would bring."

Adama shook his head. "I'm under the impression that this split may have been developing for some time," he said.
"Possibly as far back as New Caprica."

Zarek looked thoughtful at Adama's comment. "The attempt to have Cylon and human live in a fairly cooperative manner
was sparked by this Caprica Six," he said. "Could it be that they're going to try again, but this time without any interference
from the other types they got on New Caprica?"

Roslin shrugged. "In any case, this issue is not all that urgent," she said. "What is more pressing is the message I got
from Admiral Templar and Ambassador Crispin. Apparently some of the 'Inquisitors' of theirs arrived with the latest batch
of reinforcements and they've expressed some interest in our Oracles." She looked at the other two. "He also tells me
that the senior members of the team the Office of the Inquisitor-General would like to pay a courtesy call on the leaders
of the Fleet." She allowed a smile to play on her face. "In fact, the senior Inquisitor leading this team is Admiral Templar's
younger brother."

"That is very interesting," Zarek said. "Both that they're interested in our Oracles and that the person leading this team of
Inquisitors is Templar's kid brother." He looked thoughtful. "Makes one wonder if they have the same sort of abilities the
Oracles have and, if so, just how widespread such abilities are."

"They've also said that they would like to talk over with us the defection of the Cylon prisoners as well as anything we
could tell them about the Cylons," Roslin said. "I understand they have some psychologists amongst them and are
looking at possibly examining those members of the Final Five that were amongst our people."

Adama stirred. "As far as I'm concerned," he said, "those five are our people. Especially those of them who are members
of the Colonial Fleet." He looked at Roslin and Zarek. "They did their best to make sure that nothing would happen if any
hidden programming was triggered. We owe it to them not to abandon them."

"Put that way, I can understand why you're so concerned about this." Roslin said. "And I suppose I should go and see
Tory Foster and let her know I'm not going to abandon her." She looked at Zarek. "Is the identity of the Final Five still a
secret amongst our population?"

Zarek nodded. "Those of our people who are aware of the identity of the Final Five are keeping quiet," he said. "It seems
spreading the news about the mass defection of Cylons to the Terrans has given our people something else to think
about, as well as the news that the Cylons have factions. Makes them seem all that less formidable."
"And more like us," said Adama. "Somehow I'm not that reassured by that thought, especially given the path of Colonial
history before the attack on the Colonies." He looked at the others. "I also find it interesting that, apart from what they call
lower-order AIs, the Terrans haven't put their artificial intelligences into any physical bodies. I wonder if there's a lesson in
that?"

"Oh they once did," Roslin said. "Undersecretary Kinga told me the story when I asked him if they had put their AIs into
any bodies. They did, but it was the AIs themselves who pulled the plug on that experiment. Said that all the distractions
of being in an organic body wasn't worth the effort, and that they preferred to remain pure machine intelligences."

"Hmmm," said Adama. "I wonder if the Terrans have told the Cylons that?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fleet Hospital Complex 1223.

The four Cylons turned as the chief psychiatrist entered the main living room of their suite. "I've brought someone who
should be of great help in finding any hidden programming inside your brains," she said. Standing to one side she
indicated the fairly nondescript-looking Terran that had come in with her. "This is Inquisitor-psychiatrist Robert Ames from
the Office of the Inquisitor-General. They have a great deal of experience in handling cases of hidden programming.
Inquisitor Ames offered his expertise, for which I am quite grateful."

Ames gave a little bow. "Thank you, Commander," he said. He turned to the four Cylons. "I believe I can help you with the
possibility of any hidden programming," he said. "However, I should warn you that the technique I use can be considered
somewhat invasive."

Tory Foster stepped forward. "So you're an Inquisitor," she said. "I've read all about the Office of the Inquisitor-General:
you're kind of a watchdog organisation for the Imperium, aren't you?"

Ames gave a small bow. "We have that honour," he said. "And I daresay you're also familiar with our nickname."

"Yes. The Paranormals," Foster said. "You all have some kind of power or powers. Although I gather you're not too fond of
being also called, ah, the Jedi Order," she continued.

Ames gave a small grimace. "You could say that, yes," he said.

Saul Tigh stepped forward. "Unusual powers, eh?" he said. "What kind of powers do you have, if they're so special?"

Ames said nothing, but stood there. Suddenly, a small bowl of fruit on the table nearby floated above the surface of the
table. Then, while the bowl was floating in mid-air, the fruit started rotating above the bowl, as if an invisible juggler was
juggling the fruit. "Something like this," he said, lowering the bowl and the fruit back where they had come from.

Tigh looked at the other three. Frack, he thought. This Terran seems to have powers usually associated with the Lords of
Kob ol! He looked back at the Terran. "I take it you can read minds?" he said.

"Only if I have a direct physical contact," Ames said. "Otherwise, I can only read emotions and general intentions, such as
anger, guilt, lust. Sort of like a highly evolved form of empathy." He looked at the four. "To be able to see if I can find any
hidden programming inside your minds, I'm afraid I'll have to establish a physical contact between you and myself."

"Will that require any special equipment?" Tigh asked. "Will you have to plug in some kind of a machine into our brains?"

Ames smiled. "Nothing so direct," he said. "Just my fingers resting on your temples. That establishes the link for me to
begin probing for any hidden programming. Like I said, it can be considered invasive." He looked at Tigh. "You can go
first, if you like."

Tigh looked around at the others. He found that the others were looking at him with some expectation. "I suppose I had
better," he said. Looking back at the Terran Inquisitor, he said, "What do I have to do?"

"Just simply stand there and relax,' Ames said. "I'll do all the rest." He walked up until he was directly in front of Tigh.
Then, looking Tigh straight in the eye, he reached out and placed the tips of his index and forefingers against Tigh's
temples. At the contact, Tigh flinched slightly, as if some kind of electric spark had jumped between the two, but, at the
sight of the Terran's small, but reassuring, smile, he then settled down.

The Terran closed his eyes and slightly bowed his head. For a moment, Tigh could only feel the light pressure of the
Terran's fingertips against his temples. Then, he felt as though there was a second set of thoughts inside his brain,
running parallel with his own.
No need to panic, Colonel, said a small voice. Tigh was astonished to find that the voice sounded exactly like the Terran.

We determined long ago that our thoughts, if somehow 'vocalised', would sound just as if we were speaking them, the
voice continued. Rather convenient, really.

So what are you going to do? asked Tigh.

I'm going to go through your sub conscious, Colonel, replied the voice, which Tigh realised had to be Ames' thoughts
being put through his conscious thought centres. That is the most likely place for any hidden programming to b e placed.
Plus I'll also examine your b rain's physical structure just in case they decided to, so to speak, 'hardwire' them into your
b rain. But you have nothing to fear: I can isolate that area without any harm to the rest of your b rain's functions.

How can you do that?

Most of our b rain functions carry on b elow our consciousness, replied Ames. A few individuals, however, have learned or
were b orn with the ab ility to access some of those areas, which gives them all sorts of ab ilities. But this isn't the time or
the place for a lecture on the quantum-level operations of the b rain. The voice stopped, and Tigh soon felt the strangest
sensations inside his brain as the Terran Inquisitor began searching his unconscious.

My apologies, came the Inquisitor's voice. I should have warned you that this would feel a little odd.

Don't worry too much ab out it, replied Tigh. Anything to get my frakked-up head straightened out. He could feel the
Inquisitor chuckle at that comment and return to his search.

Ah! he heard. This must b e the one they put into the b riefing I got. The one triggered b y your approach to the Ionian
Neb ula. He could feel the Terran's satisfaction. Pretty damn sophisticated, he continued. But it gives me an indication of...
Got it! He went silent as he examined the hidden programming very carefully.

Seems it was set to let the Cylons know when you found Terra. And it looks as though you were to try and sub vert our AIs.
He felt the Terran's amusement at his discovery. But whoever put this in really didn't know ab out just how sophisticated,
nor just how our AIs actually think.

So, do you have any idea why they put this in here? asked Tigh.

Oh, I do, replied the Terran. None of them all that charitab le, and none of them you'd like. But b asically you were
intended to b e a human weapon. And we've sen this sort of thing b efore. But I won't tell you ab out that. Not the time or
place for it. He felt Ames suddenly concentrate. This is going to feel a little odd, Ames said. And you might feel a little
dizzy.

Can't b e any odder than what's happening right now, replied Tigh.

Humour, said the Terran. Good way to deal. Then the Terran shut up and Tigh could feel the intense concentration
coming from where Ames had found the hidden programming. Suddenly he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.
However, he didn't fall and almost as soon as he felt it the wave passed.

All gone, Ames said. I'll just do a police routine in here. If you like, I can implant a suggestion that will prevent this sort of
thing from happening again. Oh, and sorry for taking over your motor functions. But we really couldn't have you falling flat
on your arse now, could we?

Don't worry ab out it, Tigh replied. The motor function b it, that is. And I think I'd like you to implant that suggestion.

As you wish. He felt another wave of dizziness wash over him, and then felt it pass right through him. Suggestion
implanted, Ames said. And not only will it stop any more hidden programming b eing inserted, it'll also catch anything I
wasn't ab le to find.

Thanks, said Tigh.

My pleasure. Suddenly Tigh felt the connection break. He looked at the Terran, who slowly removed his fingertips from his
temples and opened his eyes.

Ames sighed. "That always takes it out of you," he muttered. He walked over to a chair and sat down.

Tigh turned to the others. "Well?" asked Foster.

"He found something. And removed it," Tigh said. "He also implanted a suggestion that will prevent that sort of thing from
ever happening again."

"There is an alternative to my implanting a suggestion," Ames said. "But I fear you won't like the idea."

"Oh?" said Tigh. "What is it?"

"You're aware that all citizens of the Imperium are biochipped, I take it?" Ames said. At their nods, he continued: "One of
the things that our chips do is protect us against any hidden programming being implanted. It acts as a filter, as it were."

"So, if we decided to have some of your chips implanted inside our brains, they would prevent us from being
programmed?" Tigh asked. "Not too sure I like the idea of a chip inside my brain."

"They're proof against cyber warfare, if that's what you're concerned about," Ames replied. "Our designers made sure
about that. Besides, our brains' higher functions basically control the chip's functions anyway. It's just one of the side
benefits of being chipped." He looked at the four Cylons. "You don't have to take up my suggestion. And could I please
have a drink? Some tea would be nice."

"I'll get it," Tyrol said. He went over to the dispenser and came back with a cup of tea.

"Thanks," Ames said, taking it from Tyrol.

"I just realised what you just did," Foster said. "You were offering us an option, weren't you?" At Ames' nod, she
continued. "Somehow, I think that's the thing I like about you people. You don't say Do this, but give us a range of options,
with a suggestion that this might be the best one. But you leave the choice up to us."

"Dealing with thousands of different sorts of societies, plus having the observations of an ancient and powerful race on
your own society tends to breed in you a sense of consideration of how others feel," Ames said.

"I take it those ancients you talk about are these Precursors Ambassador Crispin and Undersecretary Kina mentioned?"
Foster said.

Ames nodded. "Got it in one," he replied. He looked at the others. "Do you mind if I call in some of my colleagues?
Removing this sort of programming tends to take it out of one."

Foster looked at the other three. "I don't think there would be any objections," she said.

"Good. Then, if you don't mind, I'll just rest up a bit and then send for my colleagues."
*Chapter 35*: Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four.

Unnamed System, Somewhere in the Raptor Zone of Control, Conflict Zone.

The group of five base stars, accompanied by a resurrection ship, emerged from their jump though hyperspace near the
inner edge of the outer zone of the system. The reason for their seeming caution was that this system was still firmly in
the clawhands of the Raptors, and the Cylons on the base stars were none too certain of their welcome.

As soon as they had emerged the lead ship sent a message sunwards towards the inhabited planets. This was a
calculated risk that the Cylon embassy, headed by the representative of the Cavils (or the Number One type) had decided
to take on the basis that by openly declaring their presence they might be able to curry favour with the Raptors (who they
had determined to address as the Sa'Ch'reskii. Interestingly enough, none of the Sixes, Eights and Fives had elected to
accompany the embassy, which meant that it was overwhelmingly dominated by Simons (Fours) Conoys (Twos) and
some Threes, who had agreed to also represent the interests of those variants who had declined to accompany the
mission.

In the lead base star a Four turned and faced Cavil. "Message sent," he reported. "Now it's just a matter of waiting."

One of the Twos commented, "We could get a response sooner than we think."

"Oh? And why do you think that?" Cavil responded.

"Because one of our base stars has managed to get a visual sighting of a Raptor..."

"Sa'Ch'reskii, please," said the Cavil. "If we are to have any chance of carrying this off, we had better address them by
their name for themselves, arrogant as it may be."

"Any more arrogant than our belief that we are the Chosen of God?" asked a Three.

"We'll discuss that later," said the Cavil. "For now, we must get this alliance with the Sa'Ch'reskii against the human pest
up and running. I'm sure they will be grateful for any information we can provide them."

The Three turned to the Two. "You were saying...?"

"I was about to say that one of our base stars has reported a visual sighting of a Sa'Ch'reskii sensor array," replied the
Two. "It appears we jumped in right on top of it."

"Which means they know we're here," said a Four. As if to conform his surmise a squadron of Raptor light cruisers
emerged from jump not all that far from the base stars and immediately started to rotate their kill zones in the direction of
the Cylon intruders.

Cavil reacted. "Quick, re-send the message!" The Four, however, hadn't waited for Cavil's instructions and had re-sent
the message, this time directly at the Raptor cruisers. It had been decided that, since they did not speak any language
they were aware of that was understood by the Raptors, the message would be sent in binary code, and included a
complete dictionary of the Colonial language. However, they hadn't intended on jumping in on top of a Raptor sensor
array, and it would take some time to get ready for another jump. So, by sending the message they might get across to
the raptors that they had come to talk.

They waited. Nothing happened, save that the six light cruisers stop rotating once their kill zones were aimed squarely at
the Cylon ships. The Cylons were getting nervous when, suddenly, one of the Twos said "Incoming signal!" He switched
it to audio.

The voice that came through was one that chilled the Cylons to their very core: harsh, cold, reptilian. "So, you wish to
talk?" it said.

The representative of the Cavils turned and accessed a vocal pickup. "Yes," he said. "We have a mutual enemy: the
humans."

"From the information you have sent us, you could b e considered human yourselves."

"I can most definitely assure you that we are not at all human," replied the Cavil. There was no reply.
Suddenly, one of the Fours shouted "We've been hacked! They've put one of their software packages into the carrier
beam! They've used our own trick against us!"

Stunned the Cavil turned and said "But we wish to be your allies!"

"We have no room or need for allies. To us, you are simply prey," replied the Raptor.

The Three turned to face the Cavil. "Well, I hope you're happy," she said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, Sandoval Advanced Fleet Base.

The past three weeks had been an exhilarating one for the Colonial people. First they had seen the departure of two
Terran task forces that had been given the job of delivering the Terran reply to the Cylon request for negotiations, with one
group, Admiral Park's Twenty-Third Scouting Group, given the additional task of showing the Cylons how the Terran
Imperial Navy carried out a reconnaissance in force. At the same time they had also seen the arrival of a reinforcing task
group, one of the elite units of the Terran Imperial Navy, escorting additional units for Field Marshal Olmos' forces on the
main inhabitable planet of Sandoval System. Then, the Colonial leadership had learned of the mass defection of half of
the Cylon prisoners the Terrans had been holding to the Imperium, seeking asylum inside the Imperium's borders, news
that had given additional hope to the Colonial people when it was released. And then, some two weeks after it had
departed, Admiral Park's group returned, having successfully carried out its mission and bringing back not just the
vessels they had captured but also plenty of footage that had been shot by the Colonial media people who had been
embedded on Park's flagship, the Admiral Class command vessel Graf Von Spee. That footage, showing just what the
Terran Imperial Navy was capable of, gave great comfort to the Colonial people.

But today was different. Today, Galactica was being released from the space dock that had held both her, the salvaged
First Cylon War base star Nike and several other vessels of the Colonial refugee fleet undergoing an extended overhaul
of their systems, engines and hulls. Several of them were still in the spacedock and several more were being readied to
take the places of both Galactica and Nike, which was also being released. Both vessels were scheduled to undergo
acceptance trials before being finally turned over to the Colonials and readied for the voyage to Alquonde Fleet Node,
back inside the borders of the Imperium proper. But just as important as the two vessels being released from the
spacedock was the symbolism behind today's events. This would mark the beginning of the next stage of their journey,
the one that would take them to Alquonde Fleet Node, back in the Imperium's territory, and one step closer to settling on
a new world.

Adama looked around the rebuilt CIC. Since the Terrans had refitted it with Terran Fleet standard gear it now required
fewer people to operate it. The helm station had been modified so that only one crew member was needed to pilot the
battlestar. And off to one side of CIC Adama saw the new position that had been installed for the use of Galactica's CAG.
The person who sat at that position, however, was not Apollo, but Galactica's new CAG, Kara "Starbuck" Thrace. Adama
had been somewhat ambivalent over removing his best Viper pilot from her craft, but in his opinion she was more than
ready to step up and take over from Lee, who had been promoted to the rank of Commander and placed in command of
Nike, with Helo as his exec, and Athena as Nike's CAG. They were currently on board Nike, readying her for her eventual
release from the massive Terran spacedock.

There were other people in CIC as well: Terran technicians who were ready to record and deal with any little glitches that
might show up during the acceptance trials. Adama was grateful that the Terrans were so thorough in their work. He
knew that similar technical crews were located all over the refurbished battlestar, with the greatest concentrations in the
main engine rooms as well as near the jump drives. But best of all, as far as Adama was concerned, he had his exec
back alongside him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two days ago Saul Tigh had reported to Adama's quarters on board Galactica. He simply knocked on the hatch door and,
when told to enter, simply did so. "Colonel Saul Tigh reporting for duty," he said, standing to attention in front of Adama.
"That is, assuming I'm still a Colonial Fleet officer and that you still want me."

Adama said nothing, but looked Tigh over. "Still wearing the eyepatch, I see," he said. "Somehow, though, I'm not
surprised."

Tigh reached up with one hand and fingered the eyepatch. "A reminder of things that happened in my past," he said. "And
what I've suffered in the service of the Fleet."

Adama nodded. "Report to CIC for duty, Colonel," he said. "Relieve Captain Kelly and send him back to flight ops." He
suddenly broke out into a grin. "Good to have you back, Saul," he said.

Tigh smiled back. "Good to be back, sir," he said.

Adama waived at a chair near his desk. "Please be seated, Saul," he said. He sat down in his own chair.

As Tigh sat down he looked around. "I see that the Terrans have refitted your quarters," he said.

Adama nodded. "But this is nothing compared to what they've done to CIC," he replied. "The good thing is that you should
be able to pick up the ropes soon enough. Not surprisingly, their gear is incredible."

"Networked, I take it?"

Adama nodded. "But more than capable of withstanding anything the Cylons may throw at us," he replied. "And it's cut
down on the number of people we need in CIC, allowing us to fully man the equally capable CIC on Nike."

Tigh nodded and then indicated the computer station built into Adama's desk. "Looks like you were working on
something when I came in here," he said.

"Both Galactica and Nike are being readied for acceptance trials after their refit. This is just some of the paperwork I've
got to wade through prior to that happening. Luckily we'll have complete teams of Terran yard technicians on board both
ships when we take them out for a shake-down cruise inside the system."

Tigh nodded, and then got up out of the chair. "Well, Admiral, if you'll excuse me, I had better get my skinny ass up to CIC
and start taking some of this load off your shoulders." He stood to attention, gave a brief nod and got ready to leave
Adama's quarters.

"One last thing, Saul," Adama said. "Have the Terrans managed to, er...?"

"Straighten out my head?" Tigh nodded. "They did that just fine, Bill. All of us. Both Anders and the Chief have reported
back for duty and the President's fixer has returned to duty as well." He gave a small smile. "And the... problems that
caused all of this won't be coming back. They made sure of that." He turned, got halfway out of the door and then turned
back to look at Adama. "You don't realise just how good it was to have you and that schoolteacher come and see all of
us." With that, he left Adama's quarters.

For the first time in quite a while, Bill Adama felt really relaxed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Now Adama looked over to the schematic that hovered over Damage Control's expanded station. He had to admit that
the old girl was looking better than she had in years. The Terrans had managed to scavenge armour from scrapped
Raptor hulls and used it to replace the damaged armour on Galactica's own hull. In fact, they had actually scanned all of
her armour plates and replaced anything that seemed even the slightest bit damaged with Raptor armour, adding some
extra plates to areas they considered to be under armoured. As a result, Galactica was even better armoured than a late-
model Mercury-class battlestar since the Raptor armour was both lighter and much stronger than Colonial armour. In
addition, her main coil gun magazines had been filled, not with Colonial ammunition, but with Terran attack missiles that
were employed by Terran destroyers, guaranteeing that any Cylons who encountered her would be in for a very nasty
surprise. Nike had been similarly re-armoured and re-ammunitioned and the crews of both ships, in familiarising
themselves with their new equipment, had logged in many simulator hours before being turned loose on their new gear.
This meant that the crews of both vessels were probably the best trained and equipped crews in the history of the Twelve
Colonies and, if they had been present when the Cylons had attacked Picon, would have easily decimated the attacking
Cylon fleet.

But now, those two crews were readying for their first space flight since having been put in spacedock since arriving in
Sandoval System.

All around him Adama heard the activity of CIC's personnel as they prepared to guide Galactica out of the spacedock.
Through it he heard the voice of his long time exec checking in with each command station and getting reports back on
their condition. He marvelled at the increased efficiency of his exec and put it down to something that had possibly been
activated by his hidden programming. They had, however, passed it off as Tigh being determined to make sure that the
crew of Galactica's CIC would not be shown up by Terran naval personnel. As Fleet Admiral Templar had commented
when Adama had mentioned this to him, "A little friendly professional rivalry does go a long way."

Saul Tigh finished listening to all of Galactica's stations report in and turned to face Adama. "Admiral, we're ready to
launch from spacedock," he said.
"How's Nike?" Adama asked.

"Nike reports that all systems are green and that she's ready to depart spacedock as well."

Adama nodded. "Then let's do it," he said.

Tigh nodded in reply and turned to face the communications station. "Open a channel to spacedock control."

The communications tech nodded and touched a key. "Channel open," she replied.

"Spacedock Control, this is Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica requesting permission to leave spacedock," Tigh said.

"Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica this is Spacedock Control. Have manoeuvring thrusters on standb y at two-thirds
power and b e ready to activate as soon as you have exited spacedock. Activating warping tractors now."

"Copy that, Spacedock Control," Tigh replied. He turned to the helm position. "Helm, bring manoeuvring thrusters to
standby at two-thirds power and be ready to activate on my mark."

"Yes, sir. Bringing manoeuvring thrusters to standby at two-thirds power."

Adama turned his attention to the schematic that was currently being displayed on the main holotank in the centre of CIC.
It showed both Galactica and Nike, along with those other ships of the Fleet that were undergoing refit. He turned to a
tech and said "Bring up the manoeuvring schematic and throw it up into the main tank." After a few moments the tank's
display changed to the live feed that was coming from the bow sensor array that was being fed into the main helm
position.

As Adama watched the open end of the massive spacedock, designed to be able to house two of the massive vessels
the Terrans called superdreadnoughts (or their equally massive fleet carriers) start to creep closer at a steady pace as
the devices the Terrans called "warping tractors" (or, more accurately, warping tractor beams) began moving Galactica
towards the exit.

Tigh turned and saw what Adama was looking at. He came over and spoke so that only Adama could hear. "You know,
I'm still getting used to all the new toys the Terrans have given us, both here and elsewhere on the old girl."

Adama nodded. "And they've also managed to enable us to be able to go into a similar situation to what we encountered
at New Caprica. Only this time we'd be able to come out of it in much better shape."

"You mean engaging four base stars at once?" Tigh said. "Their armour is that good?"

Adama nodded. "The Raptor armour we're now carrying is definitely that good. Designed to see off direct hits from very
large nukes, not to mention retarding laser head strikes. And any Cylon borders would find the defences they've built into
both CIC and Auxiliary Control, not to mention other sensitive areas of the ship, a very nasty surprise. Not to mention the
fact that the Marines now have not only those pulse laser weapons we salvaged from Nike but Terran Marine issue body
armour and integrated targeting helmets." Tigh said nothing but simply nodded and resumed watching the display.

Slowly the end of the spacedock came closer. Adama could understand the caution the Terrans were showing in moving
the battlestar out of the huge dock. It was similar to the caution the Colonial Fleet's own yardworkers displayed whenever
they released a ship from the docks orbiting Picon. It reassured Adama that the Terrans displayed the same
professional caution in their handling of the battlestar.

Adama also knew that there were four Raptors, each carrying a media crew from the Fleet's news service, positioned so
as to be able to get the best shots of the refurbished battlestar emerging from the spacedock. The images they recorded
would be televised directly to the Fleet's population in the massive orbital habitat they were currently housed in, and he
knew that President Roslin would use these images to herald the rebirth of the Twelve Colonies. Both he and Roslin
knew that the Colonies would not be the same as before, but, with infusions of technology and, possibly, some of Earth's
long history and cultural diversity, they would emerge stronger and perhaps more united than they were before the Cylon
attack.

Throughout he kept an ear on the proceedings and, when Galactica had finished exiting the spacedock he was
surprised to see that Tigh had allowed her to coast some way for a while on the momentum that had been imparted to
her by the warping tractors. He turned an raised a quizzical eyebrow at Tigh. "The Terrans usually allow their ships to get
about two hull's length away from the spacedock before they activate manoeuvring thrusters," he replied. "It's a holdover
from when their ships were still powered with ion drives, such as we have. I thought it only polite if we conformed with
their requirements."
"I see," said Adama. "I suppose it's the least we can do.

"Colonel, we've reached two hull lengths from spacedock," said the helmsman. "Activating manoeuvring thrusters at two-
thirds strength now."

Tigh nodded. "Bring her to heading 270 degrees and up ten."

"Moving to heading two-seven-zero degrees by ten positive," said the helmsman.

Tigh turned to Adama. "Better give Lee some room when he brings that base star out of spacedock. It is somewhat
bigger and not quite as manoeuvrable as the old girl."

Adama nodded again. Then, pointing to the main display, he said "Think we can throw up the Fleet News Service
broadcast on that thing there?" Tigh nodded and, using a stylus, called up a menu and selected the holoviewer function.
The schematic changed to show the spacedock, with Galactica, now under her own power, moving up and away. The
camera's view then changed to where Nike was located as she, too, began the process of warping out of the spacedock.

Tigh nodded. "It's pretty impressive," he said. "I suppose it gives the civilians in the Fleet something to put their hopes
on."

"What sort of hopes, Saul?"

"That we'll soon be leaving this system and getting the frack out of the fighting zone," Tigh said. "That, and that we'll be
one step closer to settling on a new homeworld.. And that we can start planning our return to the Colonies." He looked at
Adama. "But that's something for our descendants to look forward to, right?"

"That could be quite some time off, Saul," Adama said. "The Terrans have given us a system that's in a star cluster they
never got around to exploring. But they do say that their preliminary surveys indicate that this cluster is a good one, with
several systems that show much promise. We could wind up staying in that area of space permanently and reestablish
the Colonies there."

"And leave the colonies to those frakkers?" said Tigh.

"Perhaps only some of them," Adama replied. "You do remember what I told you about the split that happened amongst
the Cylon prisoners?"

Tigh nodded. "And that the Terrans think that there's an even bigger split coming." He leaned in close. "Personally I hope
it happens and that they split very badly," he said. "And that's despite what I learned about myself. As far as I'm
concerned, I'm a Colonial. Same as Athena."

Adama nodded. "I wonder where the Imperium intends to settle the Cylon defectors."

"Well, I hope it isn't anywhere near us," replied Tigh.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Galactica, this is Nike Actual," said the voice of Lee Adama over the communications circuit. "Nike has left the
spacedock and is under her own power."

Adama smiled and, reaching over, activated his holotransmitter. In front of him a bust of his son, Commander Lee
Adama, appeared. "Nike, this is Galactica Actual," he said. "How about we go and see what these ships are capable
of?"

"Sounds fine to me, Galactica Actual."

Adama turned to Tigh. "Well, you heard."

Tigh nodded. "Helm, get in touch with Sandoval Control. Let's get a course out to that firing range the Terrans have
established in the outer system."

"Yes, sir." The helmsman activated his communications circuit. "Sandoval Control, this is Colonial Fleet Battlestar
Galactica. Ourselves and Colonial Fleet base Star Nike have cleared spacedock and are engaging on shakedown
cruise. Request course for two vessels to main fleet firing range."

"Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, this is Sandoval Control. Good to see you've made it out of the hands of the yard
dogs. Course will b e transmitted to you in one minute."
Adama leaned back into the admiral's command chair that had been installed at what the Terrans called the "Flag
Officer's Station." "And now we see just what we can do.."

Tigh gave a feral grin. "Should be a nasty surprise for the Cylons," he said.

"Let's hope so."

*Chapter 36*: Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five.

Unlab elled System, Edge of the Conflict Zone.

When it had become obvious that the system they had initially selected as a primary base was going to be vulnerable to
an attack by the Terran Imperial Navy, the Cylons decided to establish themselves in a system that was somewhat out of
the way of what they perceived to be the main thrust of the Imperium's assault on the Raptors. Here they had started
resource extraction and were beginning to build the other facilities that they would need to properly establish their
presence in this area of space.

One major advantage this system had over the other one was that it possessed an inhabitable planet, one which had
never been occupied. The Cylons, deciding to take full advantage of this, established most of their space-based facilities
in orbit around the planet, with only their primary resource extraction and first stage processing facilities in the extensive
asteroid belt in-between the fourth and fifth planets and in low orbit of the gas giant further out. On the surface of the
planet they began to establish what they fully intended to be the first Cylon colony in this area of space, with the aim of
using this as a springboard for further exploration and colonisation, thinking that if they kept a fairly low profile they could
avoid being noticed by either of the two galactic superpowers that were currently fighting a war that put the First Cylon
War to shame.

At least, this was the plan being expounded by D'anna Biers and the Threes. The Ones, led by their representative,
Brother Cavil, were pushing an alternate path, of allying themselves with the Raptors and going on to annihilate the
"Human Pest" and he was currently off on a diplomatic mission to see if he could accomplish the first step in his plan.
The Threes, backed by the Sixes, Eights, Fives and Twos, were, to put it mildly, somewhat sceptical about the chances
that his plan would succeed, but decided that it would be best to follow both paths in the likelihood that at least one
would succeed.

They got an indication of just which one was likely to be successful when a badly-damaged base star, one of the ones
that had gone with Cavil's expedition, jumped in system and began broadcasting a weak signal calling for assistance.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As the heavy raider carrying them approached the damaged base star D'Anna Biers and one of the Eights accessed a
schematic that outlined the amount of damage that the vessel had suffered. "Frack," said the Eight. "How did they ever
get it to jump through hyperspace, let alone get it here in that condition?"

"And where are the rest of them?" Biers asked. "Surely they can't be the only survivors!"

"It's beginning to look that way, D'Anna," replied a Six. "I've just heard that the resurrection ships in this system are
starting to download some casualties from that ship into new bodies. It appears they were being kept alive long enough
to reach this system."

"Which argues that something happened to the resurrection ship that went with them," said a Two.

"I wonder who did this to them?" asked a Six. "The Raptors, or the Terrans?"

"According to the casualties we've managed to download so far, it was the Raptors. And they may have captured the
remaining base stars plus the resurrection ship."

Biers snorted disgust. "Oh, that's just b rilliant!" she said. "Have they managed to download that frakked-up excuse for a
Cylon Cavil yet?"

"Not yet," replied the Six. "But this isn't the vessel he was on."

"Coming in for final approach," replied the Eight who was piloting the raider. They angled in past the damaged spines of
the vessel and through the opening of a landing bay, fetching up in the middle of a large area which showed signs of
battle damage.

"Looks like they may have been boarded," said an Eight. "I wonder how they managed to prevent the Raptors from taking
over the ship?"

"Well, we won't find out simply by staying here," Biers said. She looked at the Eight. "Open the front hatch." The Eight
nodded and complied.

As they walked down the ramp in front of the heavy raider they saw a Three, sporting some bruises and blooded
bandages, come up to them. "Did you bring us some reinforcements?" she asked.

"Reinforcements?" said Biers. "No. What for?"

"We've got the remnants of a Raptor boarding party holed up at the end of one of the upper spines," replied the Three.
"We've managed to keep them there while we somehow managed to get enough control over the ship's jump engines to
get back here. It was slow going, but we did it." She looked at Biers. "We managed to isolate the Hybrid and get our
Centurions under independent control, but we're running low on ammunition. And Centurions."

Biers turned to an Eight. "Go back and have several heavy raider loads of Centurions brought here at once. And plenty of
ammunition." She turned her attention to her counterpart. "How come you haven't downloaded into a new body?"

"Because the Raptors managed to capture the resurrection ship," replied the Three. "Intact."

"My God!"

The Three nodded. "They got hit by one of those software packages that seem to be used by both the Terrans and the
Raptors in their warfare. So did we, but we managed to isolate it to the Hybrid. But while we were preoccupied trying to
contain the damned thing we got boarded." She shook her head. "Thankfully not by as many that got onto the others
ships, but enough to give us a real headache."

"And Cavil?"

"His ship was the first one to get hit." The Three gave Biers a savage grin. "I hope the Raptors wound up using him as a
chew toy."

The Eight returned to Biers. "There are several heavy raiders full of Centurions inbound, as well as plenty of
ammunition." She looked at the Three. "How did you manage to keep the Raptor boarding party contained?"

"We jury-rigged some replacement cannons from some heavy raiders and had the Centurions crew and move them,"
said the Three. "It wasn't easy, believe me."

Biers looked at the others. "Well, since Cavil's little effort turned out to be the complete frack-up that I had expected, we
had better hope that Caprica's mission to the Terrans turns out somewhat better."

"And we had better look at shifting this base," said the Eight. "If the Raptors are as efficient as the Terrans are at getting
information out of enemy computer systems..."

"They'll know where to find us," replied Biers. She looked back at the Three. "You want to come with us and download
into another body?"

The Three shook her head. "I can wait until we've got the others downloaded," she said. She looked at Biers. "And I think
it would be good if you can arrange for the Prayer to the Cloud of Unknowing to be said for those we have irretrievably
lost."

Her look turned feral. "But not for Cavil. As far as I'm concerned, he can go rot!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandoval System.

The acceptance trials for both Galactica and Nike had gone very well. There were a couple of minor hitches, but these
were with non-vital systems and could easily be fixed without heading into a spacedock.

The tests at the firing range had also gone off well. The Terran anti ship missiles had been tested out on some hulks
that the Terrans had dedicated to that purpose, including, much to the surprise of the Colonials, one of the base stars the
Terrans had captured, gutted and turned into a remotely-controlled training drone. Galactica had been the first to test her
new weapons, and even Saul Tigh had to agree that the X-ray laser heads on the Terran missiles were very effective.
"Gods only know what the ones the Terrans use on their capital warship missiles would be like," Tigh had muttered as
the telemetry signals telling them what the results of the salvo came in. When Nike's turn came both Adama and Tigh
were surprised to see that Apollo had adopted the tactic of rotating the base star so as to bring a fresh set of guns (as
well as undamaged hull armour) to bear on the target that the Cylons had used to great effect in the First Cylon War. "I
suspect Athena may have had a hand in that," Tigh said.

While they were in the outer system Adama also took the opportunity to conduct a series of exercises to shake some of
the rust off both ships' crews and to accustom both vessels to working together. Using some remote drones the Terrans
had made available the Colonials practised an appropriate convoy formation for the two ships so as to better protect the
Fleet from a Cylon attack. Fortunately, along with a minor refit, the Terrans had managed to reconfigure the cockpit area of
Nike's complement of old-style Cylon Raiders to be able to take a human crew of two, with room for at least one
passenger. They had also fitted the Raiders with a fairly formidable EW/ECM suite, turning them into even more
formidable craft than they had been. That, plus finding that the main weapons bay of the old-style Raiders were capable
of taking two of the short-range attack missiles the Terrans called torpedoes, meant that a flight of the old-style Raiders
were fully capable of at the very least crippling a base star. The fact that their refit had been completed by the resources
available to the Terrans at Sandoval Base meant that the Colonials now possessed an aerospace force that, had it been
available at Picon Fleet Base when the Cylons had attacked, and combined with the expanded capabilities of both
Galactica and Nike's CICs, would have at the least bought the Colonial Fleet enough time to reboot their computers and
defeat the Cylons. It also meant that Adama was able to work his new force into a coherent whole, with Nike and her
ships taking more of a defensive role while Galactica could counterattack, returning to dock with Nike for
reammunitioning from her stores, something that the Colonials also practised.

It was while they were practising the latter routine that they received a message from the Terrans.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Fleet Admiral Templar on the line for you, sir," said the communications officer to Adama.

Adama shared a slightly surprised look with Tigh. "Put it through to my repeater station," he said. The tech nodded and
Adama turned to Tigh. "Wonder what he wants?"

Tigh gave a slightly sour grin. "Who knows what our somewhat superior cousins want?" he said. At Adama's look, her
continued. "Yeah, I know. But as far as I'm concerned I am an officer of the Colonial Fleet and a citizen of the Twelve
Colonies. And, from what they told us in the hospital, we're obviously based on human DNA, albeit modified. So I can say
that they're our cousins." Tigh the fell silent as Templar's holographic image appeared in Adama's tactical repeater.

"Admiral Adama," Templar said.

Adama gave a nod in greeting. "Sir Simon. What can I do for you?"

"More a case of what I can do for you," Templar responded. "We've just received a message from one of the one-shot
hyper transmitters we sent to the Cylons. Seems their embassy has just jumped into the coordinates we gave them to
go to if they wanted to talk with us."

Adama and Tigh shared a look. "So the Cylons sent an embassy?" Adama said. "Has President Roslin been informed of
this?"

"She was the first person we told," Templar said. "You're the second. And she asked me to tell you that if it doesn't
interfere with the acceptance trials for Galactica and Nike, she\d appreciate it if your two ships were included in the
reception party that is going to be assembled near Sandoval Hub for their arrival, including an escort wing of Vipers and
Raiders to accompany whatever ship the Cylon ambassadors use to transfer themselves to the Hub."

Adama looked at Tigh. "We're pretty much finished up anyway," he said. "We were just undergoing some live exercises to
accustom the crews of Galactica and Nike to working with each other. So, yes, we should be able to participate in the
welcoming party."

"On the subject of working up your two ships: how did they go?"

Adama smiled. "Beautifully," he said. "The anti-ship missiles you fitted us out with came out of our main coil guns and
launchers brilliantly and the old girl seems to be just that bit more manoeuvrable. Only a couple of minor hitches, but
your technicians say they can fix them without us having to go into spacedock."

"Glad to hear," said Templar. "Oh, and to escort our visitors in I'm sending Grace Park and her scouting group. If the
Cylons have managed to work out that the holo projector we sent in with the one-shot hyper transmitter can also be used
as a short-range holotransmitter, well..." Templar's voice trailed off as his face assumed an evil grin.

"The shock of seeing a Terran flag officer who looks like an Eight could be interesting," Adama said. "Plus it could
unsettle the Cylons. Intriguing, and positively evil. I imagine President Roslin liked the idea?"
"Very much so. Well, I had better get things readied at my end. Templar, clear." Templar's image vanished from the
repeater station and Adama turned to Tigh.

"Well, you heard the man," Adama said. "Put a call through to Nike and tell Lee that we're heading back insystem to greet
the Cylon ambassadors."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, we've sent the message," said a Five. "Hopefully they've received it."

Caprica Six looked at Boomer and Baltar. "Now all we have to do is wait for them to respond. Hopefully it won't be too
long."

"I suppose they'll arrange for us to have an escort of some kind," said Baltar. "And they'll be watching every move this
ship makes."

"Why do you... Oh!" said Caprica Six.

"Yes," replied Baltar. "I'm sure the Colonials will have told them everything they know about the Cylon race... including the
attack on the Colonies as well as what happened on New Caprica. Add into that the, ah, 'reconnaissance mission' that
D'anna sent here..."

"And the Terrans would have good reasons for not trusting us all that much," said Boomer. "Let's hope we can change
that, at least a little." They stood there, waiting for the Terran response when, all of a sudden, a Two called out "DRADIS
contact! Several ships just jumped into our DRADIS range."

"How many?"

"Looks like four battlecruisers, four heavy cruisers... I'd say, going with what we know so far, it seems to be a smaller
version of that force that hit our old forward base." The Two looked up. "And by the energy readings, probably the same
ships."

"Well, that definitely sends us a message," said Boomer. "One, however, that is quite unpleasant."

"I've just received a radio transmission from the Terrans," said an Eight. She sounded puzzled. "They want us to activate
the holo projector."

Caprica, Boomer and Baltar all looked at one another. "I wonder why they want us to do that?" said Boomer.

"Only one way to find out," said Baltar. He walked over to where the holoprojector, with its now useless hyper transmitter
sat, and activated it. Immediately a holographic bust of what was obviously a Terran officer appeared above the projection
ring, and all who saw it immediately drew in a startled breath. Save for the uniform and some slight differences, the
Terran officer looked exactly like an Eight.

The Terran began speaking. "This is Vice-Admiral Grace Park, Officer Commanding the Twenty-Third Scouting Group,
Terran Imperial Navy," she said. "By now you will have undoubtedly realised that we have our weapons trained onto your
vessel." Her image disappeared and was replaced by a set of jump coordinates. "You will jump to these exact
coordinates and these coordinates only," her voice continued. "Jump anywhere else in the system and we will hunt you
down. Is this understood?"

Caprica looked at the others and then stepped forward. "We understand," she said.

The Terran officer reappeared. "Glad we have reached an understanding of sorts, then. You will jump after the end of this
transmission. You will receive further instructions once you are inside Sandoval Base. Park, clear." The Terran
disappeared from the projection space, and Caprica Six turned to face one of the ship's control surfaces.

"Well, you heard her. Have the coordinates been fed in?"

"Fed in and waiting to go."

Caprica Six drew in a deep breath. "Jump," she said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Cylon base star emerged from its jump just outside the main sphere of Sandoval Base's fixed space defences in
the centre of a ring formed by three battlesquadrons of Terran superdreadnoughts. But taking pride of place, and put in a
prominent position were two vessels that were quite familiar to the Cylons: the Colonial Fleet battlestar Galactica and a
certain First Cylon War vintage base star.

On hearing this, Boomer turned and said "And that sends yet another message. One I'm not all that sure I like."

Caprica shrugged. "Well, we had better hope that the message we have to send will change that somewhat." She looked
at Baltar. "Ready to play you part, Gaius?"

Baltar took in a breath. "As ready as I'll ever be."

*Chapter 37*: Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six.

Admiral William Adama and Saul Tigh watched the Cylon base star on Adama's repeater station in Galactica's CIC.
"Gods," Tigh was saying. "I reckon those toasters are feeling pretty uncomfortable being surrounded by this much
firepower."

Adama nodded. "I daresay you're right, Saul," he said. He looked at his longtime exec. "Have we launched our
contribution to the escort that's being formed up to escort the Cylon representatives to the hospital complex?"

Tigh nodded. "Ours and Nike's" he replied. "Think the mix of Vipers and First Cylon War vintage Raiders will get the
message, whatever it is, across to them?"

"It could. But we won't know until we hear back from the President." Tigh nodded. Laura Roslyn had been asked to attend
the initial meeting between the Cylon representatives and the Terrans as an equal partner, something that was
calculated to send yet another message to the Cylons about the Terrans.

Adama changed the topic. "Has Chief Tyrol reported back on his survey of the old girl's structure?"

Tigh nodded. "He says that the old girl's stood up pretty well to both the jumps and the manoeuvres we've put her
through. Seems that the treatment the Terran yard dogs gave both her and Nike involving these 'nanites' of theirs worked.
But he also says that he'll be a hell of a lot happier when we finally get to Alquonde Naval Hub and get both ships into a
TIN refit dock for a thorough overhaul." During her stay in the Terran Imperial Navy spacedock the Terran naval surveyors
had detected extensive stress fracturing in Galactica's structure and hull plating. Although Adama and Tigh had both
been shocked at the news, in hindsight they agreed with Tyrol's statement that it shouldn't have been so surprising. After
all, Galactica was over forty years old and had gone through a great deal, including being hit by at least one nuke, a free
fall into New Caprica's atmosphere, countless jumps through hyperspace and a pounding from four Cylon base stars
over New Caprica.

Luckily the Terrans had extensive experience in treating stress fractures of this type and had sprayed both Galactica and
Nike with a compound that consisted of simple, microscopic machines they called nanites and liquified hull compound.
Using this as their raw material the nanites had then proceeded to repair the stress fractures in both ships to the extent
where they were virtually gone. The Terrans, however had warned the Colonials that this was not a substitute for a
thorough overhaul in a refit dock where the damaged parts would be more extensively repaired or even replaced. When
the Colonials had queried the expense of what the Terrans had proposed they were told that this sort of thing was routine
in an extension programme. "We call it 'building a new tub around the old bung'," they said.

Adama and Tigh had gotten the joke straight away. In their careers in the Colonial Fleet they had seen similar examples
done to old warships, most notably the Valkyrie and Atlantis-class battlestar refits. So they were not all that surprised to
find that, wherever possible, the Terran Imperial Navy carried out a similar sort of programme. They had also been
shocked to learn that the Colonial Fleet, in their urgency to commission warships during the First Cylon War, had made
several shortcuts in Galactica's construction, most notably using hull plates that were thinner than those called for in her
original specifications. Thankfully the Colonial Fleet's constructors had only used these in noncritical areas of the ship's
hull, but it was still somewhat upsetting. In any case those plates, along with any damaged beams and armour that had
been too far gone to repair in situ, had been replaced by the Terrans, who had immediately reclaimed the removed
material for recycling.

Their attention was drawn to a small vessel that suddenly departed from the Cylon vessel. "Looks like their emissaries
are on their way to the hospital complex," said Tigh. On seeing the escort form up on the heavy raider he continued: "And
I wonder just how they're liking their escort?"

A slight grin split Adama's face. "Probably not all that much."

********************

Adama's guess was pretty good. The Cylons were not at all happy with the fact that they were being escorted in. Nor
were they happy about the escort's composition.

"Frack," muttered Boomer as she accessed the heavy raider's DRADIS. "We've got an escort. And I really, really don't like
the message this is sending us."

Caprica Six shrugged. "We knew going in that the Terrans really have no reason to trust us."
"Yeah, but having the Colonials take part... Well, the good news is at least they're not behind us."

"Can you throw up a schematic that we'd be able to see?" Baltar asked. "I have to admit that I am curious about the
Terran vessels." In response Boomer threw up onto a screen a live feed that was coming in not just from the heavy
raider's DRADIS suite but also from some external cameras that were mounted on the vessel.

"I see what you mean," Caprica Six said. "The Terrans are behind us." Behind them could be clearly seen four Terran
space superiority interceptors. And the images showed that not only were they flying in a formation that was completely
unfamiliar to both Cylons and Colonials, but also showed off their long, lean lines. The DRADIS data that was next to the
images showed that these vessels were formidably armed.

Off to the right hand side of the heavy raider was a flight of three Colonial Viper Mk. VIIs. They were flying in the traditional
wedge formation, but off to the left was a flight of what were clearly First Cylon War Raiders, flying in an almost identical
formation to the Vipers. "So they've managed to refit at least some of that old base star's Raider complement," said
Caprica Six.

"And DRADIS shows that they're carrying nukes of some sort," said Boomer. "Possibly some from the old base star, but I
would not be at all surprised if they're carrying some of those Terran attack missiles, the ones with the coherent light
emitters in the tips."

"Which would make them capable of taking down a base star," Baltar mused.

"Looks like we're coming up on our destination," Boomer said. She shot a look at the others. "Everyone ready?"

Baltar nodded. Caprica Six nodded but said "I just wonder at how they are going to take to the fourth member of our little
embassy." She looked at the fourth member of the group. "Are you really sure you want to go through with this?" she
asked.

The fourth Cylon nodded. "At least we don't have to worry about Cavil trying to frack things up," she said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

One human and four Cylons looked around the entrance foyer to the hospital complex. "Frack me," said Baltar as he
looked at the pool with its waterfall and the plant life. "This puts the best hotel in Caprica City to shame." Caprica Six said
nothing but simply nodded agreement.

Their attention was drawn to some movement next to the exit from the entrance foyer as several Terrans, some wearing
what were obviously nurses' uniforms, walked into the foyer. One, however, was wearing the uniform of an officer of the
Terran Imperial Navy, with a dark green lining showing on the backs of the folded back top lapels of his double-breasted
frock coat. They were, however, all wearing filter masks.

The Terran officer walked up to the group. "I'm Surgeon-Commodore Knowles, Terran Imperial Naval Reserve, and the
senior officer in command of this hospital complex," he said. "We're here to take you to your suite, where you will be held
for seventy-two hours for medical observation after you've been given your vaccinations." He gave a small smile. "Believe
me when I say that we are doing this for your own good, as I doubt you have any immunity against some of the diseases
that the Raptors have let loose on us in the past."

"I see," said Caprica Six. She looked at the others. "Well, then, please lake us to our suite so that we can get this over
with. I'm sure you'll agree that time is of the essence."

Knowles bowed his head in agreement. "This way, please," he said.

********************
*Chapter 38*: Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven.

President Roslin's Residence.

"As you are aware, Madame President," Ambassador Richard Crispin said as he sat across the coffee table in Laura
Roslyn's office, "the Cylon delegation has arrived and are currently being held in quarantine until their inoculations have
taken effect. During this time we got some good security recordings of the delegation and we can tell you that they
consist of a Six, and Eight and two we aren't familiar with."

Laura Roslin and her aide, Tory Foster, looked at one another and then turned back to Crispin. "Do you have any
photographs of the delegation?" Roslyn asked.

Crispin nodded. "I have them on chip," he said. "May I use your holoviewer?" At Roslyn's nod he got up and walked over
to the holoviewer. Taking out a chip he put it into the interface designed to take it and came back to his seat. Roslin
handed him the controls and he activated it. Going through the menu he came to the file he wanted and, after opening it,
opened the first picture file.

The holographic image of a Six appeared above the holoviewer. "This is the leader of the delegation," Crispin said. "She
introduced herself as Caprica Six. Apparently, according to the Cylon defecters Fleet Intel has shown these images to,
she was involved with some covert operation on your planet Caprica before the attack."

Roslin's face took on a thoughtful look. "Perhaps she played a part in placing the backdoor in the Colonial Fleet's
Command Navigation Programme, thus allowing the Cylons to launch their attack virtually unopposed."

Crispin nodded. "I understand the Fleet techs have managed to eliminate any possibility of that happening again on
those ships that have so far been serviced by them." He used the controls and another image was thrown up. "This is
the Eight. She, like many of her kind, displays some familiarity with military protocol. She, however, did not introduce
herself. We're thinking of asking Admiral Adama if he could allow your Lieu... ah, Major Agathon to be seconded to us, or
at least have her in the vicinity when we begin negotiations. That is, of course, if you agree to our putting this request
forward."

Roslin looked at the image as it floated in front of her. "I wonder..." she said. "That could be Boomer."

"'Boomer', Madame President?"

"Lieutenant Sharon Valerii. She was an infiltrator on board Galactica. Her hidden programming caused her to shoot
Admiral Adama. She was later killed by one of her shipmates while being transferred to a holding area for interrogation."

Crispin nodded. "I see," he said. "We'll keep that in mind during the negotiations." He looked at Roslin. "I assume you'll
still be taking part, Madame President?"

Roslin nodded. "And I have to say that I am grateful that you've included us in these negotiations," she said. "Doubtlessly
you have your own motives for such a gesture, but it is appreciated."

"As you say, we do have our own motives," Crispin replied. "Including showing the Cylons that the Imperium will stand
foursquare alongside our cousins in pretty much complete solidarity against any threat to the human race." Another
image flashed up, one of a somewhat dishevelled male.

Roslin spoke. "Ah! Now that is most definitely not a Cylon. That is Doctor Gaius Baltar."

Crispin leaned in towards the image. "So this is the mysterious Gaius Baltar you've mentioned." He shot Roslyn a look.
"How come he's with the Cylon delegation?"

"We left him behind on New Caprica," Roslin said. "It looks like the Cylons brought them with them. I wonder why?"

"Well, we may find out during the negotiations," Crispin said. "Now for the last member." Baltar's image was replaced by
the image of a fairly attractive, blonde haired woman who appeared to be of late middle age. "Again, she doesn't match
anything you've told us about the Cylons..." Crispin's voice trailed off as he saw the stunned look on both Roslin and
Foster's faces. "Madame President? Is everything all right?"

After a long, stunned silence, Roslin spoke. "My Gods. That's Ellen Tigh!"
"Ellen Tigh?" Crispin said. "Is she connected with Colonel Tigh?"

Roslin nodded. "She... well, she was involved in betraying the resistance on New Caprica to the Cylons," she said. "She
was sentenced to death by the resistance command... To drink hemlock, if I recall aright. Colonel Tigh volunteered to tell
her of the command's decision and to administer the hemlock to her." She slowly shook her head. "And now we learn
that she's a Cylon! And possibly one of the Final Five!" She looked at Crispin. "Your people did say that the remains they
found in the base star's main control complex was female?"

Crispin nodded. "And, although we did succeed in extracting some DNA from its remains, we haven't been able to get a
match with anybody in your population." He looked at the image. "So your surmise could be correct, especially given what
you've told me just now."

"I wonder if they included her in order to throw off Saul Tigh?" Roslin said. "That could have an effect on how well he
operates as Bill's XO."

"Well, she hasn't asked to be separated from the rest of the delegation," Crispin said, "nor has she asked to meet any
particular person." He looked at Roslin. "So the question is: will you be informing Admiral Adama of this development?
And will you be also informing Colonel Tigh of his... May I ask just what her connection with Colonel Tigh is?"

"She's his wife," Roslin said. "And I may need some time to think about this."

Crispin leaned back into the couch he was sitting in. "This could make things interesting." He looked at Roslin.
"Interesting to note that the ones we found in that main control area are only somewhat more responsive to outside
stimulus than the Cylon hybrid that helps to drive their ships. I wonder why?"

Foster spoke. "I take it you're holding them for seventy-two Terran Standard hours, the same as you did when we arrived
in Sandoval?" Crispin nodded. "Then, Madame President, we have at least three Terran Standard days to work out what
we're going to do. Remember that Sir Simon has arranged a 'dining in night' on Sandoval Hub for yourself and Admiral
Adama, as well as Ambassador Crispin and Undersecretary Kinga the night before you're scheduled to meet with the
Cylons."

"Thanks for reminding me, Tory," Roslin said. She turned back to Crispin. "Ambassador, thank you for coming to me with
this information. It at least gives me sufficient warning to be able to come up with a strategy for my part of the meeting.
Especially given that Ellen Tigh, whom I though was dead, will most likely be present." She looked at Crispin. "Would you
object if I consult with Admiral Adama and Vice-President Zarek on this matter? I'm sure they may have something
positive they can contribute to this."

Crispin inclined his head in agreement. "You really don't need my permission, Madame President," he said. "And I think
your idea is an excellent one." He got up from the couch he was sitting on, with Roslin and Foster following him up.
"Now, unless you have any other issues you wish to raise, I had better get going for my meeting with Sir Simon. And I can
inform you that your information on this latest development will be of great importance."

Roslin smiled. "Thank you, Ambassador," she said. "If you like, Tory will show you out." Crispin gave Roslin the Terrans'
habitual half-bow-and-heel-click and followed Tory out.

Roslin sat back down and, picking up her mug of coffee (This is much b etter than the equivalent we had b ack in the
Colonies, she thought as she started sipping it. I wonder if we can get the Terrans to include this in the 'colonisation
package' they're putting together for us?), began to think over what she had learned from Ambassador Crispin.

Tory Foster's voice came from the doorway. "Are you all right, Madame President?"

Roslin turned her head in Foster's direction and gave her a little smile. "Just mulling over what we've just heard." She
indicated a seat opposite her. "Tory, please sit down."

As Foster sat Roslin said, "Interestingly enough, I was going to ask you if you were all right. I mean, discovering that
Ellen Tigh, of all people, may be a Cylon..." She looked at Foster. "Did you have even the faintest suspicion?"

Foster shook her head. "It was a shock to all of us at the Ionian Nebula to discover that not only were we Cylons but to
discover who else were." She slowly shook her head. "I have to admit that I am trying to see if there are any, well,
memories or anything that could indicate that Ellen Tigh is possibly one of the Final Five, but..." She let out a sound of
frustration. "It's almost as if there's something preventing me from accessing this!"

Roslin looked at Foster. "Could it be that there is a block of some kind on your memories?"

Foster sat back and thought for a moment. "That is what it feels like, Madame President," she said. "And I'm wondering if
I shouldn't call on one of those Inquisitor-psychiatrists to see if he could remove the blockage." She looked at Roslin.
"But I have to admit that I am somewhat scared at what he might find."

"Understandable." Roslin finished her coffee and stood. "In any case, I think I'll inform Admiral Adama of this
development. He, at least, deserves to know." She looked at Foster. "And I think that Colonel Tigh also deserves to know,
and that it may be best if it came from you."

"Me, Madame President?"

"You." Roslin gave her a small smile. "After all, you're both members of the Final Five." Roslin moved to her desk. "But I'll
leave in your hands any decision to inform the others." She stopped and looked at Foster. "I think that, at least for your
own peace of mind, you should talk to one of the, ah, Inquisitor-psychiatrists, about the possibility that there is a block of
some kind on your memories." She shrugged. "Who knows? It may provide some answers to at least one of the several
mysteries that are plaguing us."

Foster though on Roslin's words. "I think I'll take your advice, Madame President," she said. She then grinned. "But I think
I'll call them after I've made a decent-sized dent in some of the paperwork that's clogging my desk."

********************

Fleet Hospital Complex 1223.

My Gods, thought Gaius Baltar as he looked around the palatial suite that had been made over to the Cylon delegation. If
this is a military hospital then what in the names of the Gods must one of their civilian hospitals look like? Let alone a
hotel!

The luxurious surroundings were only one aspect of their surroundings that had completely blown him away as he stood
in front of the magnificent picture window and took in the incredible view. This puts Cloud 9 to shame, let alone a hotel on
Caprica. It also allows us a particularly good look at what they've got in this system, not to mention just how frakking huge
their warships are. Quite clearly, in a spacedock near the complex, he could see a Terran capital unit being worked on,
with small points of light indicating areas where Terran yard workers, invisible at this distance against the huge hull of
the vessel, were repairing damage on the massive vessel.

Baltar felt someone come up next to him. "Boomer tells me that type of ship is called a b attlecruiser," said the person
next to him. "Apparently they're used for scouting, raiding and hunting down commerce raiders." Baltar turned to face the
person who was speaking. "Somewhat similar," continued Ellen Tigh, "to the Colonial Fleet's Tiger-class base star
destroyers or the 'Fightingstar'-class ships, I suppose."

"But infinitely more deadly, I daresay." Baltar gestured at the holoviewer. "I take it you've been accessing the Terran
databanks?"

Ellen nodded. "Definitely not what one would expect from the Thirteenth Tribe. That is, if they were the Thirteenth Tribe."

"You believe their claim to be humanity's senior branch?"

Ellen paused for thought and then nodded. "Everything I've seen so far, and, save for their military files, they've been pretty
open in allowing access to their files, seems to indicate it," she said. "Which makes me wonder about Kobol."

"So you believe this story about these mysterious 'Precursors'?"

Ellen nodded. "Somehow, it makes sense," she said. She gave Baltar a look. "Incidentally, Caprica Six wants to have a
quiet word with you. Didn't say what, but I suspect it may be related to our parts in this little embassy the Cylons have
been forced to send." Baltar simply nodded and went to Caprica Six's room.

Entering it, he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out at the starscape that was displayed in the massive
picture window, watching Terran vessels moving to and fro. Baltar stood at the end of the bed and, for a little while,
watched the view himself. "Impressive, isn't it?" he finally said.

Caprica Six jerked and turned to face Baltar. "What, the view, or the Terran achievement in taking this base from the
Raptors and turning it to their own use?"

"Both I suppose." Baltar walked over to a chair and sat down in it. "Boomer says, and I agree, that this 'forward base'
makes Picon look like an outpost. And the yards they have here put the Scorpion Yards in the Colonies to shame." He
looked out the window. "Makes one wonder what their major fleet bases look like."
Caprica kept looking at Baltar with a strange look on her face. After a moment, Baltar said "Ellen Tigh said you wanted to
speak to me about something."

Caprica Six, still with that strange look on her face, said, "Gaius, have you had any... visions?"

What the frack...? "Visions? Of what?"

"Of... seeing a person standing near you or in front of you that nobody else can see but you," Caprica Six said. "You must
understand that I haven't asked any Cylons this: only you."

"And why are you asking me this?"

Caprica Six hesitated, and then said "Because something is telling me that you have been seeing something similar to
what I've been seeing... until recently."

"And how recent is 'recently'?"

Caprica again hesitated. "When we encountered the Terrans."

Baltar hesitated. This was sounding uncomfortably like what had happened with his own 'inner Six', who had
disappeared from his consciousness not long after the Cylons had encountered the Terrans. And he could easily
understand Caprica Six's hesitation to speak about this to her fellow Cylons: hero of the Cylons or not, they could decide
to have her boxed if they felt she was being delusional, something that was also hanging over D'anna Biers' head. Still,
he was understandably reluctant to discuss his own 'vision', as Caprica Six put it, with her, even if her claim could be
proven. "What did this, ah, 'vision', look like?"

Caprica paused, and then, looking Baltar straight in the eye, said, "He looks and sounds exactly like you, Gaius."

For a moment, Baltar said nothing. Then, hesitantly, he said, "Looks like me."

Caprica Six nodded. "I know what it sounds like, Gaius, but it's the truth. Why, I don't know, but he looks like you." She
hesitated, and then said, "I think he's one of God's angels." Again an awkward silence fell between the two.

Then Gaius Baltar drew in a breath, looked at Caprica Six, and said, "I believe you." For a third time there was a silence
between the two as they each absorbed what Baltar had just said.

Then Caprica Six said, "You believe me, Gaius? You really do believe me?"

Baltar nodded. "I believe you, because I have also seen one of these angels. She even called herself that: an angel of
God."

"'She'?"

Baltar nodded. "She looks... well, she looks like you." A pause, and then, "Why they have chosen to appear like this, I
honestly have no idea." A second pause. "And, I have to admit that she seems to have also disappeared."

"Could it be something to do with the Terrans?"

Baltar slowly shook his head. "Unfortunately, that I can't tell you."

********************

Unnamed System, Edge of the Conflict Zone.

The being that bore a resemblance to a Six walked through the deserted streets of the village that had been established
by the survivors of the Raptor boarding party that had boarded Nike. Everywhere she saw deserted buildings that had
been constructed from both materials that had been found on the planet and from bits of spacecraft. She also saw the
signs of a carefully managed evacuation.

Entering what was apparently the settlement's main square, she saw, standing across from her and leaning against a
structure that, from its design, appeared to be a religious structure of some kind, her colleague. He had, for some
reason, opted for the appearance of Gaius Baltar.

"So good of you to come," he said as his colleague walked across the square.

"Well, you certainly picked an... interesting venue for this meeting," she said as she stopped in front of him. "I take it your
choice of location has something to do with the current situation?"

"You mean about the Plan apparently going out of the airlock thanks to both the Colonials and the Cylons encountering
the Terran Empire?" he said. "Not to mention the Raptor Domain."

"Well, the Terrans have shown a somewhat annoying facility for upsetting the carefully laid plans of our kind," she replied.
"No doubt they've at least informed the Colonial leadership about humanity's real origins, and I wouldn't put it past them
to have also informed the Cylons as well."

"Makes one wonder if we shouldn't have simply exterminated them when we had the chance," he said. "Their discovery
of the observation base in their system, complete with technical information on our technology made that option moot.
Now, we've got to watch this little war between the Terrans and the Raptors and hope that the right side gets up and wins.
Which, unfortunately, does not seem to be happening, even with any assistance we've been giving the Raptors."

"Anyway, what are we going to do about the current situation," she said. "Personally, I'm not all that keen on appearing in
front of Gaius Baltar when he's in the middle of a Terran outpost. And definitely not if there is a chance of an Inquisitor
being in the vicinity."

"Yes, their developing that sort of an ability is worrying," he said. "But unfortunately, we may not have a choice in this
matter."

"He wants us to stay close to them, doesn't He?"

He nodded. "As for being caught by an Inquisitor or, worse, a team of Inquisitors... well, He thinks that there would be
little chance of that. It's more likely that they've got teams from the Terran Empire's Foreign and Contacts offices, given
that this is a First Contact situation. No real need for Inquisitors."

"Despite the existence of the Colonials' Sacred Scrolls, telling all about a time when both the Colonials' ancestors and
their gods all lived on the same planet?" She snorted. "I think He's just lost the plot! That would be a red rag to a Terran
First Contact Team!"

"Nevertheless, the chances of there being a team of Inquisitors in that system is considered to be so low as to be
virtually nonexistent," he replied. "So, you and I are to go and observe what goes on and, if possible, speak to our, ah
'contacts' there."

She snorted. "Well, I do hope He know's what He's doing."

He smiled back. "Has He been wrong before?"

The look she gave in reply spoke volumes.

*Chapter 39*: Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight.

Main Boat Bay, Sandoval Hub .

The Colonial Raptor, its hull freshly repainted and refurbished as a result of the partial refit of both Galactica and Nike,
touched down in the landing square inside the cavernous Main Boat Bay of Sandoval Hub. Outside, beyond the
selectively permeable force field that kept the bay's atmosphere confined yet allowed ships to pass through at will, the
Raptor's escort of three flights of Colonial Vipers and two of remodelled First Cylon War Raiders flew past.

As the vessel landed, the honour guard of Terran Imperial Marines and Terran Army personnel, resplendent in full dress
uniforms, snapped to attention. As the hatch of the Raptor opened, the guard sloped their arms and, at a command,
presented arms as the vessel's passengers alighted onto the lower hull of the vessel. A red carpet ran from the edge of
the square to the boat bay entrance way, with the guard along one side of it. Two Terran Imperial Navy ratings rolled a set
of stairs from where they had been waiting into place and President Laura Roslin of the Colonies of Kobol stepped down
onto the deck of the boat bay, flanked by Admiral William Adama and Vice-President Tom Zarek. All were formally
dressed, with Adama in his dress greys, while Roslin and Zarek both sported brand new formal clothes cut in fashions
salvaged from magazines such as Colonial Life. As they stopped the Hymn of the Colonies came floating out of
concealed speakers, and all three stood at attention as it was played. As the tune finished an officer of the Terran Army,
resplendent in his white full-dress uniform with green cuffs and collar, sword drawn and down at her right hand side,
approached Roslin.

She gave Roslin a sword salute. "Will the President inspect the guard?" she asked. Roslin, who had been briefed on
this little ceremony, nodded and, with Adama and Zarek following at a couple of paces distance, slowly walked down the
front rank of the guard while a different tune played. "They seem to be going all-out," Zarek whispered to Adama.

Adama nodded. "I suspect this is their way of reassuring us that, as far as the Imperium is concerned, we are an
independent star nation." Zarek nodded and the pair continued following Roslin and the guard commander down the
front rank of the guard. At the end, the guard commander again gave Roslin a sword salute and thanked her for
inspecting the guard, to which Roslin smiled and said that it was an honour to do so. Then, the three of them walked to
where Fleet Admiral Sir Simon Templar, Officer Commanding Sixteenth Fleet and his staff, resplendent in their mess
uniforms (which were nearly as ornate as the full dress uniforms) waited. Nearby was Ambassador Crispin,
Undersecretary Kinga, and, standing with the civilians, Roslin's own chief aide, Tory Foster, who had come over earlier to
help with the arrangements for what the Terrans insisted was a State visit.

Admiral Templar stepped forward, took Roslin's hand and gave that small bow with heel click that all Terrans seemed to
do as a formal form of greeting. "Welcome to Sandoval Hub, Madame President," he said.

Roslin smiled and gave a small nod in reply. "Admiral Templar," she said.

"The Third Space Lord sends her regrets at being unable to attend," said Templar, "but it was felt that she had spent
enough time away from Terra. Besides, she needs to inspect the Fleet Nodes that are supporting the overall offensive
against the lizards in order to see what the needs of the operation are."

Roslin nodded. "I understand completely." Looking over to where her own chief aide stood, she smiled and said "I
suppose Tory had been of great help in getting this event organised?"

Templar nodded. "She has been of great help in organising the little touches relating to a State visit by the President of
the Twelve Colonies to a military installation. But we also included some of our own traditions as well, so that you will get
a feel for what a visit to Terra may be like." He then bowed slightly, extended an arm and said, "Will you please come this
way?" Roslin nodded and followed Templar, with Zarek and Adama following.

"I know that you have already met my staff, not to mention Field Marshal Olmos and his staff, so I had better hand you
over to your Foreign Office and Contacts Office minders," Templar said with a slight grin as he walked over towards
Crispin and Kinga.

"Of course," Roslin said as they halted in front of Crispin and Kinga. She greeted both men and then, turning to Templar,
who was their host for the evening, asked "Are the Cylon representatives going to be joining us for this evening's
activities?"

Templar shook his head. "They've just been turned loose of the medics," he said "and I understand that they are being
settled into the quarters they will be occupying for the duration of their visit here." He indicated Crispin. "Ambassador
Crispin's people are taking care of that angle."

"I see. And have any of them made any request to see any of our people?"

"Not yet," said Crispin. "Do you expect them to?"

"It's possible that Ellen Tigh may ask to see her husband," Roslin said, "but I understand he may well go and see her
first." Both Adama and Tigh had been surprised to learn that Ellen Tigh was with the Cylons and, given that she had died
on New Caprica at the hands of her husband, it followed that she was the last of the Final Five. "In all, it would not have
been right to stop him from doing that, if he wants to."

Crispin and the other Terrans nodded their understanding. Templar gave a small bow and indicated that his guests
should go in a particular direction. "Anyway, I do believe that the mess stewards have our dinner all ready to serve," he
said. "If everyone would please come this way, we can make our way to the mess and I won't get in trouble with the
master chief who runs the kitchen for delaying you all." A small laugh swept the group and everyone followed Templar to
the dining hall they had established as the officer's mess for Sixteenth Fleet's staff officers.

********************

Residential Complex Provided to the Cylon Emb assy, Space Hab itat.

Saul Tigh stood in the main lounge area of the largish residential complex that had been provided as the de facto Cylon
Embassy. Nearby he could see the guard detail of Imperial Marines that had been provided in order to protect the Cylon
emissaries.

He looked around the living space. Almost as good as the b uilding the Terrans have provided as the Presidential
Residence for our stay on this hab itat, he thought. He was still somewhat awed by the achievement the space habitat
represented, and wondered if William Adama was correct in saying that the only reason the Colonies never developed
something like this was the scarring the First Cylon War had inflicted on Colonial society. But this was not the reason for
his nervousness. He was about to meet with someone whom he had thought long-dead, left on New Caprica, and killed
by his own hand.

He was about to meet his wife, who, it seemed, was the last of the Final Five.

Tigh didn't know what made him more nervous: the fact that he was going to meet his supposedly-dead wife, assuming
that she wanted to see him, or the possibility that she may have been resurrected with all of her memories intact, and
thus may know more about why she and the others were here. Gods know I'd really like some answers. And not just what
the Terrans surmise is going on. So he wandered over to the massive picture window and, looking out over the vista,
once again marvelled at the achievement that the habitat symbolised.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he felt a familiar presence through the link that all Cylons seemed to possess. He
turned, and his breath caught. There, standing in front of him, was his wife Ellen. For a moment they said nothing, but
simply stood there looking at each other. Then, suddenly, they broke and raced into each other's embrace.

"Gods," Tigh said. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Saul," Ellen said. They pulled apart at arm's length.

"So what happens now?" Tigh asked.

"That depends on how things go tomorrow," Ellen said. "But I suppose there's no harm in telling you that I'll be asking to
be able to return to the Colonial people. Anything else, well... I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say."

"You know that the Terrans, not to mention the Old Man and President Roslin, will want to have a word with you in private,
in case you might be able to shine some light on what the Cylons are thinking," Tigh said.

"I'd sort of suspected that might be the case," Ellen said. "Well, I will tell them. But what I have to say to them is also
something I have to say to you... and the others."

"You know about the others?" They started to walk towards a couch.

"Saul, when I awoke in that resurrection tank all of my memories came back," Ellen said. "All of them, including the ones
that had been suppressed by John..."
"'John?' Who the frack is 'John'?" Tigh asked. They reached the couch and sat down.

"That's one of the things that I have to tell you all about," Ellen said. She reached out and took Tigh's hands in hers.
Indicating the couch, she said "Shall we sit down and discuss this? I'm sure that if we need some refreshments we'd be
able to get them." Tigh nodded and together they walked over to the couch and sat down.

"You know," Ellen said, "I'm having difficulty remembering that we're on board a massive space station, and not on the
surface of a planet somewhere."

Tigh chuckled. "Even more amazing when you find out that they use these things for colony ships."

"You're joking!"

Tigh shook his head. "We're getting one of these things as a colony ship once we move withing the Imperium's borders,"
he said. "Probably not as large as this one, but still, somewhere we can be while we prepare the first settlement of what
will be our new home."

"And you've already selected a new home?"

Tigh grinned. "The President sold our claims to a couple of systems we came across..."

"Claims?"

"The Imperium told us that any system we had discovered and partially explored was ours," Tigh said. "I believe the term
they use is 'claim by exploration.' Well, anyway, we sold them a couple of systems we had discovered, and the system
they found us in, and we get what they term a complete colonisation package. We also get a system the Imperium
explored, some way from here, as well as development aid."

Ellen sat back. "Sounds like you've allied yourselves with the Terrans."

"You could say that." Tigh looked at Ellen. "But about this 'John' you've mentioned..."

"Yes." Ellen took a deep breath. "As you can imagine, it was a shock to wake up inside a Resurrection tank on board a
Cylon base star with a Centurion standing nearby."

Tigh chuckled. "I suspect that's putting it mildly."

"Yes. Well, as a side-effect of my 'dying' and being resurrected, I got all of my memories back." She looked at Tigh. "All of
them, including our memories of the planet we came from."

"What do you mean? The Cylon homeworld?" Tigh asked. "You know where it is?"

"You could say that," Ellen replied. Taking a deep breath, she continued: "It's like this..."

********************

Saul Tigh rode the transport back to the Colonial's 'village'. He had just left where his wife and the rest of the Cylon
delegation were staying. Needless to say, after his conversation with Ellen, he had a lot to chew over in his mind.

The transport stopped in the heart of the village, and, still thinking to himself, Tigh got off. As the transport lifted into the
air and flew off he stood at the stop, head tilted back and looking at the spectacle above him. It was nighttime in the
massive habitat's cycle, and he saw once again the magnificent starscape the Terrans had ensured would be displayed
to the habitat's inhabitants. Gods ab ove, he thought. They have made some achievements. Finally, he shook himself
and went off down the village's main street. After a while he turned up a pathway and headed towards the residential
complex the Terrans had assigned to President Roslin and her staff.

He walked up to the front entrance and, after hesitating, pushed the doorbell. After a while, the door opened and one of
her staffers came out. "Colonel Tigh? The President's still away at Sandoval Hub."

Tigh looked at the staffer. "Can you tell the President, when she gets back, that it is urgent that I speak with her?" he said.

The staffer looked at him in some confusion. "I can do that," he said. "Will she be able to contact you on Galactica?"

Tigh nodded. "I suppose I'll also be seeing the Admiral when he gets back to the ship," he said. "Yes, I'll be on Galactica,
and probably be speaking with the Admiral as well." He nodded at the staffer. "Good night," he said, and walked away,
leaving the staffer looking after him in some confusion.
********************

Some Time Later...

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Admiral," said Laura Roslin as she and her party were escorted to one of the outer
docking areas of the main space station. Docked there was Colonial One, recently released from spacedock and
completely refurbished.

"It was my pleasure, Madame President," Fleet Admiral Templar replied as they paused at the entrance to the docking
arm. "And it was the honour of Sixteenth Fleet to be able to host both yourself and Admiral Adama at a dining in night."

Adama smiled. "I should also add my thanks, Admiral," he said. "It was certainly an eye-opener to see how the Terran
Imperial Navy handles this sort of thing. I think the Colonial Fleet could well adopt some of your traditions, especially
when we have to host our own head-of-state."

Templar smiled. "I should warn you, Admiral, that those customs evolved over a period of several centuries and were
inherited from Terra's wet navies, some of which were fairly aristocratic outfits," he said. "Somewhat more aristocratic, I
daresay, than the Colonial Fleet is?"

Adama nodded. "But they do seem to promote a feeling of brotherhood in your officer corps," he replied. "Something, I
feel, that any reestablished Colonial military may well need."

"Well, as nice as this all is, I believe we have to get going," Roslin said. "Once again, thank you for a wonderful evening. I
daresay we may be seeing each other again tomorrow when the Cylon delegation arrives here to start their
negotiations?"

Templar nodded. "But only to go through the niceties," he said. "The actual negotiations will be handled by Ambassador
Crispin and Undersecretary Kinga."

"And I will be bringing some of my people to that little meeting," Roslin said.

Ambassador Crispin, resplendent in what was evening wear for Terran diplomats, stepped forward. "You don't have to be
actually present if you don't want to be, Madame President," he said. "If you want, my people and I can act as go-
betweens. It would not be the first time that Foreign Office staff have done that between two different peoples."

Roslin smiled but shook her head. "No, I want to be present," she said. "The twenty billion lives we lost during the Fall of
the Colonies requires me to be present. But thank you anyway for your offer." She looked at Adama. "And I think we had
better get going so that we can be rested for tomorrow." With that, Roslin, Adama and their respective entourages made
their farewells and walked down the docking arm to Colonial One.

Stepping inside, they could see the changes the Terrans had made to the internal layout. "I have to say that this is a vast
improvement!" Roslin said as they walked through the press area.

Adama nodded. "Pretty much on par with what they did to Galactica and Nike," he said. The press area had been
expanded and now included not only chairs with individual screens and data stations, but also included a small holotank
off to one side of the speaker's podium.

"I wonder what they've done to my office space?" Roslin mused as they moved past the podium into the area of the craft
set aside for the President of the Colonies and her staff. Once past the curtained doorway they noticed that the Terrans
had subdivided the area into separate offices and cabins for both herself and her staff, with a connecting corridor. "Tell
me if I'm wrong, but could the Terrans have actually increased the length of the ship?"

"It's entirely possible," said Adama. He was about to add something else when another voice joined in.

"Madame President, Admiral," said Tory Foster as she came up to them. "I'm glad I managed to get to you before we
gained launch clearance from Sandoval Control."

"Something happen while we were dining with the Terrans?" asked Roslin.

Foster nodded. "We got a message from your residence in the village. Colonel Tigh showed up there and said he had to
speak with you." She looked at Roslin and Adama. "Somehow I think this may have something to do with his visit to Ellen
Tigh over at where the Cylon delegation is being quartered."

"I take it he's back on Galactica?" Adama asked.

Foster nodded. "He said he was going back to wait for you." She looked at Roslin. "Madame President, it might be a
good idea if we diverted to Galactica to see what Colonel Tigh has to say. He may have found out something that could
assist us when we and the Terrans meet with the Cylon delegation tomorrow."

Roslin thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Tell the pilots to chart a course for Galactica," she said. "I've known
Colonel Tigh for long enough now to realise that he wouldn't be concerned over something that's trivial." Foster nodded
and went forward.

"It must be important if Saul tried to locate you this late during the nighttime cycle," Adama said as the sleek, refurbished
space liner disengaged from the docking arm and, under thrusters, manoeuvred away from the side of Sandoval Hub
into a holding pattern as the pilots got their course from Sandoval Control. "I hope he's still up." He looked at Roslin. "If
you don't mind, Madame President, I think I'll send a message to Galactica and see if Saul's still up." He looked around
the interior of the ship. "They've probably upgraded the communications suite in line with everything else they've done."

Roslin gave him a smile. "No doubt they have," she said. "If you don't mind, I think I'll come and watch you, just to see
what new toys the Terrans have given us." Adama grinned and they both went into the cabin that had been set aside as
an office for Roslin's use.

*******************

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again: it's things like this that makes me wish we had dealt with the Terran threat in the
past, when we could have..." said the being that looked like Gaius Baltar. He and his counterpart were walking through
one of the "villages" that dotted the interior of the massive cylindrical space habitat the Terrans had placed both the
Colonials and the Cylons on. It wasn't what he was referring to, however, but the fact that the Terran Empire had launched
a massive offensive that had taken a large amount of spatial territory of the Raptor Domain, an area that included
Sandoval System.

Needless to say, they were currently avoiding both Cylons and Colonials. But they felt they could blend in somewhat
amongst the Terrans.

The Six lookalike snorted. "No use wishing you could go back in time and arrange things in such a way that the Terrans
went extinct," she said. "Even if you could travel back in time, the paradoxes that could arise don't bear thinking about.
Besides," she continued as she halted near a fountain in the main square and looked at her partner, " what makes you
think you'd be able to get the other faction to even listen to your message?"

The Baltar lookalike shrugged. "I know time travel isn't one of our abilities," he said. "But that won't stop me from wishing
we could have prevented all of this somehow." He looked at a small structure on the green that stood in the centre of the
square. A small, round pavilion, it was currently being used as a band rotunda by a military band that played a series of
marches and waltzes, their notes floating out over the scented "evening" breeze. "So far I've only seen Terran armed
forces personnel and their dependents, with some civilian contractors thrown in for good measure. No Inquisitors, so
you can just stop fretting."

His partner looked at him. "They're probably hanging around the Colonials and the Cylon prisoners, if they are anywhere
here," she said. "And if they are, they'll have found out all about the "Lords of Kobol" from the Colonials. Not to mention..."
She trailed off.

"Not to mention having Him 'masquerading', as the Terrans would put it, as a deity to the Cylons," replied the Baltar
lookalike. "And we all know what the Terrans think of that."

"Frack." The Six lookalike was not happy. "That could easily be construed as evidence that we're still around. That the
Terrans' 'mysterious Precursors' are still active and interfering in the development of other intelligences."

"You know, I've always found it somewhat pathetic. Your attempts to somehow shape the course of the universe to your
own ends," said a new voice. Both turned and saw another being approaching them. This one, however, had taken on
the form of the "Brother Cavil" Cylon. He stopped in front of them, spread his arms and gave a grin.

"So what are you doing here?" asked the Six lookalike.

"Just observing the fun," replied the Cavil lookalike. "Seeing you and yours running around in circles is causing a lot of
amusement on my side of things."

"And just why, if you thought the Cylons were our mistake, have you decided to take this particular form?"

The Baltar lookalike answered for him. "It's painfully obvious. He's simply doing this just to goad us."
The Cavil lookalike gave a faux affronted look at them "Now, would I do a thing like that?"

"At the drop of a hat," replied the Baltar lookalike. He eyed the Cavil lookalike. "Don't you think you're taking something of
a risk here? After all, there are two of us and only one of you."

"What makes you think that's a risk for me?"

The Six lookalike eyed the Cavil lookalike. "It's not all that often one sees the Elders of our Race dirty their hands," she
said.

"Oh, I'm not, as you put it, 'dirtying my hands," he replied. "I'm just standing here admiring the view I have of two of our
own Race being fed rope by the Universe, and wondering when it'll pull in the slack and leave you dangling in the wind."
He gave a snort of derision. "And there is an Elder on your side of things who tends to 'dirty his hands' quite frequently."

"Well at least He has the courage of his convictions!"

The Baltar lookalike laid a hand on his partner's arm. "This isn't going to get us anywhere," he said. "And you're just
giving him what he wants." He looked at the Cavil lookalike. "We're going now."

The Cavil lookalike gave another grin. "And I'll be hanging around waiting for the big splat."

********************
*Chapter 40*: Chapter 39
Yes! A new chapter!

Sorry for the delay, b ut I was having some difficulty in writing part of this. I knew where the story was going, b ut had
difficulties in getting it there to my satisfaction.

Anyway, I eventually got there. So now, b ack to the story!

Chapter Thirty-Nine.

Building Housing the Cylon Emb assy.

Gaius Baltar stepped out onto the front patio. Like many of the houses that made up the individual settlements in the
space habitat, it had its own garden, with a front entrance that opened up onto a thoroughfare. In front of the entry he
could see one of the Imperial Marines that had been assigned to guard the building, and he knew that others were
discreetly positioned around the perimeter.

He looked up at the "sky." It was nighttime in the habitat's cycle, and he saw the glorious starscape that was reflected in
one of the massive mirrors that were used to reflect light from Sandoval's primary into the habitat. Gods, he thought. This
is way b eyond anything we even considered, even before the First Cylon War. And this is a frakking space station!
What must their more developed worlds b e like?

Another thought struck him. If they've b uilt something like this and jumped it into a front-line system so as to house their
people, then they must have resources b eyond imagining. In which case, the Cylons ought to tread very carefully. I hope
Caprica realises that.

He felt a presence come up alongside him. "Impressive achievement, isn't it?" he said, not looking at the person who
had come up alongside him. "Leaves anything either of our races have achieved for dead."

Caprica Six also looked up at the "sky.""A complete world, inside a massive space station," she said. Wonder, and not a
little fear, was in her voice as she spoke. "I wonder what their worlds are like."

"Probably beyond anything we've ever imagined," Baltar said. "Of course, we might be able to get an impression of what
their worlds are like by using the access we have to their data networks." He looked at Caprica. "Even though we are not
directly connected to the full network the Terrans has established between their worlds, I understand the integrated data
network they have here is kept fairly up to date... and is again beyond anything we've ever imagined." He frowned. "And
the fact that they are not restricting our access to their data networks shows that they are very confident that we won't be
able to use any information we may find against them."

"And the security protocols they have on their networks are just as terrifying as their attack programs," Caprica replied.
"Not to mention their AIs. I found it intriguing that the AI attached to this building saw fit to warn us against trying to directly
access the Terran data nets."

Baltar looked at her. "In the usual Cylon manner, I take it?"

Caprica nodded. "She said, and I have to admit that the AI is a she, that their various security systems would detect me
and make it... unpleasant for me to directly access their data nets." She looked at Baltar. "You ready for tomorrow?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." He looked back up at the "sky", sighed, and looked back at Caprica Six. "And I just hope it'll be
enough."

Admiral Adama's Quarters, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica.

"Well," Roslin said as she walked into Adama's quarters. "I see what you mean by upgraded quarters!"

Adama gave a small smile. "The fact that the automated gear the Terrans installed on the old girl during this "partial refit"
reduced the ship's crew by two-thirds allowed the Terrans to do some reconfiguration of the ship's interior. They said that
while they were spraying their nanites over the ship's main structural supports, they might as well make her a bit more
comfortable." He indicated his expanded quarters. "I have a day cabin, which we are in, for conferences with my staff, my
night cabin, and a dining cabin complete with cooking facilities that can also serve as a conference room. Not on the
same scale as, say, a Terran flag officer's setup, but much better than the Commander's or even the Admiral's quarters
on something like a Mercury."

"I see." Roslin turned to Saul Tigh. "And have they also 'upgraded' your quarters, Colonel Tigh?"

Tigh gave a small snort. "Increased my space somewhat," he said. "Given me an office cabin attached to my sleeping
quarters as the 'Exec's Quarters.' But nowhere like this." He snorted again. "They've even put in what they call the
'Captain's Quarters," which I suppose are meant for the Commander who usually commands a battlestar."

"We've even been given some powered suits of Terran Marine-issue battle armour for our Marines to use," Adama said.
"They're kept next to the Marines' quarters, which have also been expanded. We can carry a company of around two
hundred Marines now, but even so, Marine Lieutenant Burrel's half-company of fifty should be more than enough if we
have to deal with any chromejobs trying to board the old girl."

"I see." They all sat down around the coffee table that was at the centre of a small conversation suite intended for
informal conferences between the occupant of the luxurious (by Colonial Fleet standards) suite and his or her staff.
Nearby stood Adama's Terran Imperial Navy yeoman, Kincaid MacGeordie.

"Would the Admiral and his guests like some refreshments?" he asked

Adama thought for a moment, and then nodded. "A pot of coffee and some milk and cream," he said. He turned towards
Roslin, who sat in the armchair at the head of the table. "Madame President?"

"Some tea thanks."

"Tea for the President, Kincaid. And some small snacks. And please make sure we are not disturbed." MacGeordie
braced to attention and left the room.

"I take it he was assigned to you by the Terrans?" Roslin asked.

Adama nodded. "And once we leave the system I'll have to find a replacement," he said. "I suppose I could have him
choose for me, as it appears to be his primary function in the Terran Imperial Navy."

"As a servant?"

"Elitist, I know, but the TIN's a somewhat more aristocratic sort of outfit. And he has been useful. Makes sure I have
something to eat while I'm working on paperwork and has all of my uniforms laid out for the following day. And, since he
takes care of all of that sort of thing, it enables me to do more work, since I don't have to worry about how well polished
my boots are."

Tigh snorted. "If we adopt that sort of a tradition it could provide an extra incentive for junior officers to keep their noses
clean so they make the commanding officer of a fleet unit. Assuming we manage to rebuild the Fleet to that sort of a size,
given our current population."

"Anyway, nice as talking about this sort of thing is..." Roslin looked at Tigh. "I understand you have something of some
urgency to tell us."

Tigh looked at them. "Earlier today I went to where they're keeping the Cylon embassy and saw my wife," he said. "I can
tell you it was quite a shock to see her, considering..."

"Understandable, Saul," Adama said.

"Well, she told me that, after she got over the shock of waking up in one of those Cylon resurrection tanks, with a frakking
chrome-job standing over her, she realised that she had gotten her memories back. All of her memories, without the
blocks that had been placed on them by the Number Ones."

"The Cavils?"

"Yeah. But she told me that the name we had given them..."

"We?"said Roslin.

"Yeah. Turns out that the Final Five were responsible for creating the skinjobs. We did it, however, in order to try and halt
the 'cycle of violence' between Humanity and the Cylons." He stopped as MacGeordie stepped into Adama's day cabin
pushing a small serving hovercart with coffee and some small cakes on it.
"Just leave it there, Kincaid," Adama said, indicating the end of the coffee table opposite where Roslin sat. "We'll serve
ourselves. And please make sure we're not disturbed."

MacGeordie braced to attention. "Aye-aye, sir," and left the day cabin, closing the door behind him.

Roslin looked at Tigh. "It seems as though there is somewhat of a story behind all of this." She frowned. "And somehow I
feel that the Terrans' hypothesis of there being one of these mysterious 'Precursors' of theirs behind all of this could be
an explanation for what has happened." She stood up, went over to the cart and poured herself a coffee. "I think we're all
going to be needing this before this night cycle is out." She gave a little snort. "So much for being rested for tomorrow."

Adama stood and also went and poured himself a coffee. "I feel that we should get the others of the Final Five in here,"
he said. "This is something they need to be told."

Tigh nodded. "Ellen's also told me that tomorrow she's going to ask to be returned to us," he said. "Of course I warned
her that the Terrans, not to mention us, are going to want to have a quiet word with her just to try and get a handle on what
the Cylons are thinking."

Roslin stood there, holding her cup with both hands and allowing the coffee's heat to warm them. "You think getting the
others here would be a good idea, Bill?" she said. "I mean, it isn't common knowledge in the Fleet that Colonel Tigh and
the others are Cylons."

"We could disguise it as having heard that there may be more survivors back in the Colonies, and that we're planning a
rescue attempt sometime in the future," Adama said. "Or that we're laying plans to go back and see if we can salvage
some items, such as, say the Colonial Government's holdings in precious metals or even any equipment from the
Scorpion Yards, or even from Caprica itself, once we are established on our new home. That could account for having
Anders and the Chief here."

"But at this late hour?"

"We're reacting to something the Terrans had informed us from their, ah, observation and interrogations of the Cylon
prisoners," Adama replied. "Thus requiring something of an emergency meeting involving a possible trip by someone to
the Colonies." He looked at Roslin. "And going back to reclaim the Colonial Government's holdings in precious metals
isn't that far-fetched. We could use them. You do know that the Terrans use precious metals for their 'occupation credits'
as well as for trade with some of the Independent Systems?"

Roslin looked thoughtful. "They could come in handy if we open up relations with some of the Independent Systems, is
what you are saying."

"It could indeed."

Roslin thought for a moment, and then nodded. "All right," she said. "We get the others here."

Fleet Hospital Complex 1223.

Cally lay on a lounge in the suite that she had been assigned to. She looked out of the big picture window, watching the
vista that slowly changed as the massive hospital complex rotated on its axis. Out in the vacuum of space she could see
ships of all kinds, from salvage vessels towing chunks of ship to reclamation facilities to ships moving between different
parts of the massive forward base to vessels moving between ships parked in orbit around the main planet of Sandoval
system to its surface, where Field Marshal Olmos was finally gaining the upper hand over the Raptor defenders.

A nurse approached the couch Cally lay on. "Cally, you have a visitor."

Cally did not move. In a flat, almost lifeless voice, she said "Who is it?"

"A Major Thrace of the Colonial Fleet," the nurse replied. "She said you know her better as Starbuck."

That got Cally's attention. She turned her head. "Starbuck? Here?"

The nurse nodded. "But you'll have to go outside to see her," she replied. "Visitors aren't allowed inside the suites." Cally
looked at the nurse and slowly got up out off the couch. She fastened together the front of her hospital-issued robe.

"Lead me to her," she said. Indicating that Cally should follow her, the nurse led her to the large double doors that
separated the suite from the main hallway. Going through the doors Cally saw Starbuck sitting on one of the couches,
somewhat lost in the magnificence of the vista outside the slowly spinning hospital complex. She went over and sat
down on one end of the couch.

The nurse turned to Cally. "I'll leave you two alone. If you need me for anything, please call." She turned and left the
reception area.

Cally paused for a moment and then looked at Starbuck. Without turning to face her, Starbuck said, "Magnificent, isn't it?"

Cally paused for a moment, and then gave a small nod. "It is. I lose myself for hours just watching."

Starbuck turned to face her and Cally saw that the insignia on the collar of her blues uniform was now that of a major in
the Colonial Fleet. "Congratulations, sir," she said.

Starbuck gave Cally her usual saucy grin. "Thanks." Her grin faded and was replaced by a stern, humourless look. "But
with the increase in pay grade comes added responsibility." She paused, and then said, "I'm now Galactica's CAG, and
that means that I am ultimately responsible for the performance of her air wing to both the Exec and the Old Man. And
part of that responsibility includes making sure that both my pilots and their support staff don't have their heads up their
frakking asses."

For a moment Cally looked nonplussed. Then, realisation at what Starbuck was saying began to sink in. "You think I have
my head up my ass?"

"I think that's exactly what's wrong with you, Specialist." Starbuck's gaze hadn't softened one bit: in fact, it had hardened
as she spoke. "And don't start whining to me that I don't know what you're going through: I know exactly what you're
feeling now, because I'm in the same boat as you are!"

Cally shrank back beneath Starbuck's comments, but then visibly rallied. "Not exactly Sir! You didn't bear the spawn of a
frakking toaster!"

"But like you, I married one!" Starbuck took a calming breath. "And, when I found out that he was a 'toaster', my first
impulse was to go and blow his head off with my service pistol. However, it was explained to me just why that would be a
very bad idea, so I went and started getting drunk. However, I soon got a figurative kick up the ass from a visiting flag
officer who explained to me that I had my head up my ass and that I at least could do something about my situation.

"So I did. I came to this fleet hospital, saw him and realised that, toaster or not, I had fallen for the fine person he is. Just
like you fell for the fine person the Chief is. Now I may not have been as fortunate to have Sam's kid, thanks to those
frakking bastards back on New Caprica, but as soon as we get settled down on our new home world, I intend to have the
largest family I can have with him.

"And that brings me to the next reason you should straighten yourself out, Specialist. Nikki misses you. Oh, sure, Helo
and Athena are doing their best to help the Chief out, but they're still torn up about not being to rescue Hera that time
Athena got Helo to shoot her so she could be resurrected and have a shot at getting Hera back. You've got your son at
hand, so once you've pulled your frakking head out of your frakking ass and realise just how fortunate you really are, you
can go back to your husband and to your son, both of whom are missing you very much. Unlike Helo and Athena, who
are missing their little girl."

Starbuck got up. "Well, I've said my piece. It's up to you to pull yourself together. And don't think I don't know what you're
thinking: the old Man did exactly the same thing I'm doing to you to both me and the Exec. And it hurt, because I was, as
far as the Old Man is concerned, the daughter he never had. And he was the father I never had, but he didn't let that stop
him from telling me to pull my head out of my ass when I was feeling so sorry for myself after New Caprica." She fixed
Cally's glare with one of her own. "I expect to see you back on Galactica's flight deck at you job before long, Specialist.
And back with your family." With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

Cally sat on the couch for a long time.

"Well, that was... interesting to observe," said one of the security guards who were watching the feed from the security
sensors in the room. He turned to the Terran Imperial Navy psychologist. "Do you want us to alert the staff in her suite as
to what has happened?"

The psychologist thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No," he said. "This may have done more good than
harm. Besides, she is already on suicide watch, so no need to upgrade her status." He paused and then said "This
might be just what she needs to jag her out of the fugue she's in."
Admiral Adama's Quarters.

Adama and Roslin looked at the people that had been assembled in the day cabin of the extensive suite the Terrans had
installed as a part of Galactica's recent refit. In addition to the others of the Final Five it had also been decided to
summon Lee Adama as the newly appointed of the Colonial Fleet's other capital unit, the recently salvaged and refitted
First Cylon War base star Nike, as well as his Executive Officer, Colonel Karl 'Helo' Agathon. This not only gave some
credibility to the cover story Adama had suggested for summoning the members of the Final Five to his quarters but also
assembled what had become very much an informal advisory group to President Roslin.

"I've had you all come here to my quarters to discuss some recent developments," Adama said. "Officially, we've
assembled here because of what we learned from the Terrans involving a development that involves a possible return to
the Colonies once we've established our new home in order to salvage some equipment and possib ly the Colonial
Government's bullion reserves. Now the latter is not as far-fetched as you might think the Terrans do use precious
metals as what they call 'occupation credits' and precious metals are of value to many of the Independent Systems,
which gives our cover story a ring of truth. The real reason is not to be discussed outside of this room unless it is with
people that may need to know the truth, such as Major Agathon or Vice-President Zarek." He looked at Helo. "I know the
President will inform Mr. Zarek simply to keep him onside the tent and I want both Apollo and Helo to discuss this with
Athena, as she may be able to give some additional insight into what you are about to hear."

Adama paused, looked over at Roslin and, on receiving a nod from her took a breath. "Recently, as you are all aware, the
Cylon delegation to the imperium arrived in Sandoval System. What is not known by most of you is that Ellen Tigh
accompanied them." He paused and then continued: "It appears that Ellen Tigh is the last of the Final Five, and also
explains why the Imperium was unable to locate the last of the Final Five amongst us."

He looked around. For a moment, there was a stunned silence. It was broken by Tyrol. "Well, frack me," he quietly said.

Tyrol looked at Foster. "I take it you knew about this," he said.

Foster nodded. "I was present when Ambassador Crispin showed us some holograms of the Cylon delegation. It was a
big shock to me to see Ellen Tigh amongst them." She looked first at Tyrol, and then at the others. "President Roslin then
asked me to tell Colonel Tigh that his wife was one of the Final Five, and suggest to him that he go and see his wife at
the building the Cylon delegation is being housed in."

Tyrol and Anders looked at each other, and then looked at Tigh. "I take it you did, sir?" said Tyrol.

Tigh nodded. "And what she told me definitely puts an interesting twist on the events of the past forty-three years."

"Meaning?"

"That when she woke up in that tank of goo onboard a Cylon base star, with a chromejob standing over her, she
panicked briefly before she realised that she had her memories back. All of her memories, including her memories of
the world we came from." He paused, and then continued. "We each had a block put on our memories by the variety that
we know as Cavil or as the Ones, but which we named as John."

"We named him John?" said Tyrol.

"Indeed." Tigh looked around. "Turns out that we Five were responsible for the creation of the Cylon's skinjobs. And we
did it in an attempt to end what Ellen termed a 'recurring cycle of violence' between organic and inorganic intelligences."

"So where is the Cylon homeworld?"asked Apollo.

Tigh paused. Then, with a sickly smile on his face, he answered. "Commander, the Cylon homeworld is... Earth."
*Chapter 41*: Chapter 40
Chapter Forty.

Quarters Assigned to Chief Inquisitor Rob ert Templar.

Chief Inquisitor Robert Templar sat on the couch in the living area of the quarters assigned to him and his partner. He
was reviewing his share of all of the information that had been gathered by Sixteenth Fleet, the Contact Office and the
Foreign Office on the latest branch of humanity that had been discovered by the Imperium.

And it's already pretty clear that these people have interacted with the Precursors sometime in their past, he thought as
he opened the next file on his Porta PC. And that our old friend Angyra Maniu has also b een at work. The genetic
markers in their population makes b oth facts pretty clear, especially the ones for psionic ab ility. He sighed. We'll have to
investigate this 'Kob ol' sometime soon. I feel that some of the answers to this mystery may well b e there somewhere. He
reached out and a cup of coffee levitated itself off the coffee table in front of him and moved into his hand.

Robert Templar was dressed in what was considered informal wear for members of the Office of the Inquisitor General.
Unfortunately for them, that informal wear tended to reinforce the nickname that they loathed the most: The Jedi Order.
Granted, it was basically a dark brown silk robe with influences from the cultures of Japan, China and Western
Christianity worn over a pair of baggy trousers and tied together at the front with a red cotton waist sash but,
unsurprisingly, given that the creator of the Star Wars universe had used Japanese and Chinese examples as part of his
inspiration for the Jedi Knights, it tended to remind people who saw the Inquisitors wearing it of the Jedi.

The fact that it was also used as meditation wear by the members of the Office of the Inquisitor General did not help.
Unfortunately nobody had discovered anything better to use, so the Inquisitors just had to grit their teeth and smile at the
Jedi references.

I'll have to arrange a meeting sometime with some of the Colonials' Oracles, he thought as he examined the reports.
Their skills seem to indicate that there is some kind of latent psionic ab ility in these people. This plant they call Chomalla
also seems to b e something we should investigate, although I have to admit its addictive qualities are disconcerting. But
its ab ility to activate any latent psychic ab ilities could b e of some use. He gave a wan smile. Perhaps we could rid
ourselves of these damn rob es, although I must admit they are pretty comfortab le.

He scrolled the screen down, made a notation and then closed the file. He then looked at the next file in his "to do" list.
Kara Thrace. He opened the file and started reading. Officer in the Colonial Fleet, Married to another Viper Pilot...
Interesting. Her husb and's one of these 'Final Five' Cylons, eh? Might have to talk to them and see if I can... He stopped
scanning the report as something grabbed his attention. Frowning, he started examining the file in greater detail.
Finishing, he sat back in his chair and thought.

After a moment he spoke out aloud. "Huineng?" The image of a Buddhist monk formed in a corner of his holographic
screen. "Could you please see if you could arrange a meeting between myself and Major Kara Thrace of the Colonial
Fleet at her earliest possible convenience?" He paused and then said, "If she wishes to have other people present that
will be all right."

Huineng paused. "I think it would be best if this request was delivered through Ambassador Crispin's people" he said.

Templar paused in thought. "Yes, that would be better." He paused again. "And could you please get the others online?
This is something we had better discuss amongst ourselves." Especially if we should inform Terra ab out this discovery.

Huineng nodded. "At once, sir," he said and vanished.

Admiral Adama's Quarters.

A stunned silence hung in the room at Tigh's revelation. Then, Roslin shook herself. "Colonel, are you telling us that you
originally came from Earth?"

Tigh's smile turned sicker. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "But the 'Earth' we came from is not Terra, but the Earth
the Thirteenth Tribe went to when they left Kobol all those millennia ago."

"You mean...?"

"Yep. The Thirteenth Tribe described in the Sacred Scrolls were bioCylons. And we were created on Kobol by both the
Lords of Kobol and the humans who were settled there. At least that's what Ellen told me after she had examined the
Terran's data network and had come to her own conclusions. She hasn't however, shared this tidbit of information with
the Cylons."

"Why?"

"She figured that this would give you some additional bargaining leverage with both the Cylons and the Terrans," Tigh
said. "Hell, it might even acerbate the coming split within the Cylons, which has been made worse by recent
developments on their side."

"Such as?" asked Adama.

"Well, the representative of the Ones took a force of base stars plus a Resurrection ship to go and try and negotiate an
alliance with the Raptors." A feral grin split Tigh's face. "Only one base star returned from that little fiasco, which simply
proves that the Terrans were right in saying that it was impossible to negotiate with the lizards."

"Now that is interesting," said Roslin. She looked at Adama. "I wonder if we should use this information?"

Adama thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "Not at the moment," he said. "I think we had better keep this
one in the locker for now." He looked at Tigh. "So what happened to have you five seek out the Colonies?"

"Believe it or not, the very same thing that happened over forty years ago," Tigh said. "We created our own version of the
Centurions and they turned on us. As to how we escaped... It seems that when we first arrived on... well, let's just call it
'Earth' for now.

"Anyway, when the Thirteenth Tribe arrived on Earth, they... we... Gods, it gets so confusing at times!"

Adama gave a small nod. "I think we can understand, Saul," he said. "It's probably similar to what all of us here have
been feeling since we learned the truth about humanity's origins."

"Thanks for understanding, Bill." Tigh took a deep breath. "Anyway, the Thirteenth Tribe, when it left Kobol, had full
knowledge of the process by which the skinjobs download into a new body. Seems it was originally developed on Kobol
by whoever it was that created us. But not long after we arrived on 'Earth' we lost it, mainly because we had developed
the means to reproduce biologically. However, we had decided to see if we could recreate that process, as it would be
useful in long-distance space travel, seeing that we had also lost the ability to create jump drives."

"So how did you get to the Colonies? Or at least to Cylon space?"

"We used a relativistic-drive ship. A massive thing that enabled us to be able to travel close to the speed of light. It took
us a thousand years in real-time but only a fraction of that relativistically-speaking."

"So why you five?" asked Roslin.

Tigh gave another faint grin. "Here's where it gets strange again," he said. "Seems that all five of us were scientists
working on the Resurrection technology. We had succeeded and were ready to give it a test when our versions of the
Centurions, which we had created for pretty much the same reasons as the Colonies did, revolted and started nuking
our planet. However, all five of us had managed to be downloaded into new bodies onboard the ship which was orbiting
'Earth' and we decided to go in search of the Twelve Colonies." His grin grew wry. "Unlike the Colonies, save for the
Resurrection technology and jump drives, we pretty much kept all of our technology."

"Why did you decide to make that journey?" asked Roslin.

"Basically so we could somehow end the cycle of violence," Tigh said. "Or at least so Ellen told me." He looked at the
others. I think Ellen would be the best one to tell you all about that, since she has all of her memories and I don't"

Tory Foster spoke. "There may be a way we could get our memories back."

"Oh? How is that?"

Tory looked at the others. "Basically we go to the Inquisitor-psychologists and see if they can locate any blocks on our
memories and then try and remove them."

Tigh and the others thought about what Foster said. "It could work," Tyrol said. "I mean, they located all of the hidden
programming inside our brains. So why wouldn't they be able to remove any blocks from our memories?"
"But the fact that there are blocks on your memories begs the question," Roslin said. "Who put them there and why?"

"I asked Ellen the same thing," said Tigh. "Her answer was that they had been placed on our memories by the Ones just
before they had us downloaded into new, younger bodies."

The others looked at each other at that revelation. "Why?" asked Anders.

"Because he was angry at us for putting his mind into a human body. And he wanted to teach us a 'lesson'. About the
'true nature' of human beings."

Rob ert Templar's Quarters.

Robert Templar looked at the people who were "assembled" in the living area of his quarters. They consisted of the
entire team of Inquisitors he led plus their individual assigned AIs, and they were all examining the documentation on
Kara Thrace, whose image was also floating in front of them, that had caused their chief to convene this conference.
They were especially examining the account of Starbuck's disappearance in a storm on a gas giant the Colonials had
visited during their voyage and her sudden "reappearance" in a pristine Viper in the Ionian Nebula. But of even greater
interest was the report that had been compiled by the Terran Imperial Navy's medical personnel when the Colonials had
first arrived at Sandoval Base.

One part of any medical examination given to newly encountered human nations by the Imperium was the taking of
genetic samples from the people encountered. This was so that any drift in genetic makeup from what was regarded as
the "standard" human genome could be charted and the time that the ancestors of the humans encountered were taken
from Earth by the Precursors could be calculated. Of course, the genome of any particular group of humans was
considered by the laws of the Imperium to be a part of that people's property, and any commercial use of that genome
had to be negotiated with the people concerned. Since it was standard procedure genetic samples had been taken from
every Colonial, including the military, and had been examined for any differences, with the results being included in the
overall medical report compiled on that person. This also enabled the Imperium's medical professionals to catch any
genetic diseases or predispositions towards such and to offer corrective therapy.

It was the part of Starbuck's medical report describing her genetic makeup that was being examined so closely by the
"assembled" Inquisitors.

Robert Templar looked at the others. "Well? Opinions?"

One Inquisitor leaned back in his chair. "Stating the bleeding obvious here, but this kind of confirms some of our
suspicions, doesn't it? Particularly the ones about Precursor involvement with these people."

"I wonder how the medical people missed this?" asked another Inquisitor.

"They didn't," replied Robert Templar. "They flagged the markers in Major Thrace's genes as worthy of investigation, not
knowing that the Office of the Inquisitor-General's scientists had found these markers in several other groups of humans
that the Imperium's encountered. Including, most infamously, the Ismail'ii."

"Which we know were placed there by the Precursors," said Senior Inquisitor Elaine DeGrasse. "Or, more accurately, the
Precursor faction headed by our old friend Angyra Maniu."

"And his traces amongst these people were first flagged by Fleet in their report that alerted us to the possibility that the
Precursors may have been involved with these people," Robert Templar said. "Their stories about living on this planet
Kobol with their gods, including one unnamed god they call The Jealous God also points to Precursor interaction. This
sort of confirms it."

"And this story of her disappearance in the eye of a storm in the atmosphere of a gas giant they encountered on their way
here, and her subsequent 'resurrection' and reappearance in this nebula they call the Ionian? Seems mighty suspicious
to me."

Robert Templar nodded. "That's what first drew my eye," he said. "When I went further into the report, the bit about the
genetic markers leapt out at me. And it appears that she is the only one who has these markers in this particular
combination."

Another Inquisitor nodded. "I've been working with these 'Oracles' of theirs," she said, "and was intrigued to find that
these markers in the combinations found in the Colonials' Oracles indicate some form of precognition ability that's
activated by this chamalla of theirs. Interesting enough, it seems to have some similarities with peyote."
"Intriguing. Please continue."

"Well, it also seems that the Colonials' leader, President Roslin, also has these markers, although she wasn't chosen to
be trained as an Oracle, probably due to the more, shall we say, secular nature of Caprican society." She looked around.
"Interestingly, she had some traces of chamalla in her system when she arrived here in Sandoval. Apparently she was
taking it to treat breast cancer."

"So they use it to treat cancer? Is it effective?" asked a medical Inquisitor.

The female inquisitor shook her head. "Not according to that Fleet doctor of theirs. It turns out that they initially treated her
with what looked like a wild-assed guess of this Gaius Baltar who's with the Cylon delegation that using blood from the
umbilical cord of the child that the Cylon officer the Colonials have had with the officer she's married to could cure the
cancer. Which it did."

"Almost sounds like stem-cell therapy," said the medical Inquisitor. "How effective was it?"

"Put the tumours into remission until a few months ago," the female Inquisitor said. "Then it acme back and she started
taking chamalla again. Luckily our medical personnel here caught the cancer and treated it with our usual treatments,
including a course of nanotherapy which caught all traces of it."

Another Inquisitor grinned. "I presume it didn't involve adding predator nanites to her system?"

"No, it didn't. President Roslin was most insistent that she wasn't going to have any 'frakking microscopic machines'
injected into her body, even after it was explained that they would self-destruct once all traces of any cancerous cells in
her system had been eliminated. So the medics modified her immune system's killer cells and used them instead. But
back to her use of chamalla: the interesting thing is that she started having precognitive visions thanks to the chamalla
extract she was using."

"Which is beginning to sound more and more like some kind of Precursor interaction with these people," Robert Templar
said. He looked around. "What I am about to tell you is classified. It is not to leave this room or to be mentioned without
approval either from me or from the Inquisitor-General herself. Unless of course it is to brief the Prime Minister, which
doesn't take any precognitive ability to see is very likely."

"Glad I don't have that pleasure," muttered an Inquisitor, who earned a quelling look from his chief.

"These genetic markers that we have been discovering are very similar to markers that have been found in our own
people who are predisposed to paranormal abilities," Robert Templar said. "That you do know. What you don't know, but
has been known at the highest levels of the Office, is that these markers were also found in the genome samples we
found in the Phobos Repository. Samples we know were taken from the Precursors themselves and which proved that
the Precursors incorporated their genes into our genetic makeup." A stunned silence fell on the gathering.

Then one Inquisitor spoke. "You mean that the entire Terran branch of the human race...?"

Robert Templar nodded. "Is part Precursor? Yes, a fact that raises some interesting questions about the Precursors." He
gave a small smile. "Looks like that bit in the Old Testament about 'the sons of God lying with the daughters of Men' may
have a ring of truth to it."

"When did this occur?"

"About the time the Precursor Wars started, according to the evidence from both the Phobos Repository and genetic
analysis," Robert Templar replied. "From what we can gather it appears that the faction of the Precursors that were in
favour of the Hominid Project were taking no chances that the others may summarily terminate the human race."

"And we've found similar traces in the Colonial population," said the Inquisitor who had spoken. She looked thoughtful.
"And this chamalla of theirs activates the genes, much as installing our chips and activating them activates ours."

"And they don't randomly give it out," said another Inquisitor. "They have a procedure that determines who is most likely to
benefit from taking this drug. This could be useful in helping us determine who could be potential Inquisitors."

"Which could call for an expedition to the Colonies themselves, just to see if we can locate any archives in their version of
Delphi," said a third. "That appears to have been their version of the Vatican on Old Earth and is also where their main
Oracles were, much like the original on Earth." He looked at Robert Templar. "I take it this modification occurred b efore
the ancestors of the Colonials were removed to Kobol?

Robert Templar nodded. "And there was some 'fine tuning' done there, according to the genetic evidence." He nodded at
the holographic image of Kara Thrace that floated in front of him. "But it's the additional genetic information on the good
Major Thrace that is the reason I called this meeting." He looked around.

"I have sent a message to her through Ambassador Crispin's people requesting a meeting with her, and said she could
bring friends with her if she so desired. Part of that meeting will involve additional testing. It's what we do if our
suspicions are confirmed that we are assembled here to decide."

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, an Inquisitor said, "Sticky. Technically, she's our concern. However, she is not a
citizen of the Imperium, but a citizen of an allied power and a commissioned officer in their military." He looked at Robert
Templar. "I say we should play this one by ear. After all, whatever we do will create a precedent in any future cases like
this. I'd also recommend we get Terra involved as well, especially as there will be diplomatic consequences no matter
what happens. Finally, I would also suggest that we attend this meeting that the Colonials and Ambassador Crispin's
people are having with the Cylon delegation tomorrow."

Robert Templar looked at the Inquisitor. "Why?"

"Because somehow I have a feeling that something is going to happen there that will have a bearing on all of this."
Nobody dismissed that out of hand, since they had all had similar feelings in the past. More often than not, they were
premonitions of something happening, and they had all learned not to dismiss such feelings.

Robert Templar looked at Elaine DeGrasse. "I suppose I had better invite the pair of us to this meeting." He started to
reach out when, all of a sudden, he froze as a 'flash' message was downloaded into his biochip. The same thing was
also happening to the others.

After a moment, he shook himself. "Good thing I'm inviting myself along," he said. "This is definitely going to shale things
up!"

Quarters of the Cylon Delegation, several minutes earlier.

Ellen Tigh paused at the entrance to the garden surrounding the building housing the Cylon delegation. "You ready for
this, Gaius?" she asked.

Gaius Baltar nervously nodded, and then swallowed. "As ready for this as I can make myself." Both he and Ellen walked
out through the entrance way past the Imperial Marines guarding it. Immediately two of them fell in behind them and
began following them as a discreet distance, yet close enough to be able to protect them.

Ellen looked back at their pair of shadows. "I daresay they can speak fluent Colonial Standard," she said in an undertone
to Baltar.

"But I haven't seen anything which indicates superhuman hearing," he replied. "Superhuman speed, reflexes and
strength, yes, but not hearing. I wonder why that is?"

"Oh, their hearing's better than ours," Ellen replied. "But not superhumanly better. I suppose it's all of a piece to make
them better able to survive a battle with the Raptors."

"At least you're not calling them The Anointed of God the way Cavil's been doing."

"I wonder how his little mission to the Raptors went?" Ellen mused. "And I wonder if we'll be able to find out?" Baltar
simply shrugged as they continued on down the pathway. I'm still having difficulty coming to terms that all of this is a
frakking space station, he thought as they approached the centre of the settlement their quarters was located in.
Looking about, they quickly located the constabulary headquarters and headed towards it.

On military stations like this the duties that would normally be carried out by a civilian paramilitary constabulary were
handled by the arm of the Terran Empire's armed forces dedicated to it. They were termed the Gendarmerie, and were
not only a police force, but could also act as a military auxiliary while defending their areas of responsibility. They even
had plainclothes detectives, as well as their own forensics departments: in fact, all of the departments normally
associated with a normal civilian police force.

Ellen and Baltar halted at the entrance to the Gendarmerie post. She looked at Baltar. "Ready?" she asked.

"That's the second time you've asked me that question," he replied.

"You look nervous."

"Of course I'm nervous! We really have no idea how the Terrans are going to handle this sort of a situation!"

Ellen shrugged. "Well, no good delaying things." She walked in. After a moment, Baltar followed her. Together they
walked up to the main desk of the post. The dark-skinned Terran Gendarmerie officer who sat there looked up at them
and then said something in a language that Baltar couldn't understand.

He turned to Ellen. "Somehow I don't think the Terrans may have distributed whatever dictionary they seem to have
compiled to their police officers."

"Looks that way, doesn't it." Ellen turned to the Gendarmerie officer and spoke to him in passable Lingua Terra.

"I didn't know you could even speak their language," Baltar said as Ellen turned back to look at him. "What did you say
and how did you manage to even learn it?"

Ellen smirked. "One good thing about being a Cylon is that I have an enhanced capacity to learn things," she said. "I just
simply managed to get up copies of documents in Lingua Terra (their language, by the way) and compared it to those
documents they had translated into Colonial Standard." She gestured at the Gendarmerie officer. "As to what I said to
him? I apologised for my dreadful Lingua Terra and asked him to go and get an official who could speak Colonial." She
looked at the Gendarmerie officer, who hadn't moved. "I wonder why he hasn't done anything?"

Suddenly, much to their surprise, the Gendarmerie officer started speaking to them in fluent, if somewhat accented,
Colonial Standard. "I apologise for the delay," he said. "May i know your names and your business?"

"Wait. How.. Hod did you just acquire the ability to speak our language?" Baltar asked. "Just a minute ago you were
speaking what my companion here said was 'Lingua Terra' and now you're speaking Colonial Standard. How did this
come about?"

The Gendarmerie officer smiled. "Currently I am unable to tell you, sir," he said. "May I please have your names and why
you are here?"

Ellen stepped forward. "My name is Ellen Tigh and this is Doctor Gaius Baltar. We would like to speak with an officer of
the Terran Empire's Foreign Office, if at all possible."

"May I know why you wish to speak to a Foreign Office official?"

Ellen Tigh smiled. "You may."

Admiral Adama's Quarters.

Adama, Roslin and the others were all digesting Tigh's revelations about his conversation with is resurrected wife when
the door chimed. Adama frowned, and then opened his desktop communicator. "Yes?" he said.

Felix Gaeta's voice came through. "Sorry to disturb you, Admiral, but we've just received a courier with a message from
the Terrans for the President. It's marked 'Urgent'."

Adama and Roslin looked at one another. "Do you know what it says?"

"The courier tells me that the President will have to, er, 'sign' for it and that it's in code, so you'll have to run it through your
decoder."

Both Adama and Roslin raised their eyebrows at that information. "What could it be?" Roslin wondered.

"Only one way to find out." He turned back to his communicator. "Then I suppose you had better come on in, Felix." The
door to his quarters opened and Gaeta, accompanied by a Terran Imperial navy lieutenant, carrying a despatch case
under his arm, stepped through the door.

The TIN officer halted, braced to attention, then turned to face Roslin and gave the Terrans' customary heel click and half-
bow. "Madame President." He took the despatch case out from underneath his arm and placed it on Adama's desk. He
then placed his finger into a depression on the front. After a moment the case opened itself. Reaching in, the courier took
out a ramstick and handed it to Roslin.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

The courier braced to attention. "I am instructed to wait for any reply that you may wish to send," he said, gave the
standard heel click and half-bow and exited the room.

"Glad to see he's discreet," Adama said.

"Do you wish me to remain here, Admiral?" Gaeta asked.

Adama thought for a moment and then turned to face Roslin. "I see no problem with Mister Gaeta staying," she said.
"After all, he is your , ah, 'flag lieutenant.' Until we get to Alquonde and he goes off to Terra." She got up. "Do you mind if I
use your decoder?"

"Not at all, Madame President." Adama got up from behind his desk to let Roslin in.

"I just hope I can remember how to use this thing," Roslin muttered as she slid in behind Adama's desk. "I mean, we've
only started using them ourselves fairly recently. Besides, Tory usually handles this sort of thing for me." She placed the
ramstick into its designated receptacle and the computer built into Adama's desk read the contents of the stick.
Thankfully the device hadn't asked for any verification of Roslin's identity and the code was a fairly simple one (at least
according to Terran standards: the Colonials had yet to develop their own codes) so Roslin was able to run it through the
decoder fairly quickly.

The message was also fairly brief, but its contents raised a lot of eyebrows.

Ellen Tigh, it turned out, had decided to advance her timetable somewhat insofar as her return to the Colonials was
concerned. But what really raised their eyebrows was the information concerning Gaius Baltar.

He had formally asked for asylum within the Terran Empire.

*Chapter 42*: Chapter 41
Well, here is the next chapter. I apologise for the delay b etween chapters, b ut I prefer to get it as right as I can b efore
pub lishing. That, and life, as usual, got in the way.

Now, on with the tale!

Chapter Forty-One.

President Roslin's Quarters.

Thank the Gods that the Terrans requested a postponement of the discussions with the Cylons, Laura Roslin thought as
she sat down behind her desk. She was nursing a mug of coffee and a saucer to put it on. She placed both on her desk
before picking up the mug and taking a large sip from it. And thank the Gods that the Terran Imperial Navy, as Bill puts it,
seems to run on "coffee, liquid hydrogen and hydrogen isotopes." Although I suspect he's b orrowed that joke from them.
She put her coffee down and, reaching over, activated her screen. Good, she thought as she looked at her inbox queue.
The media haven't gotten a hold of this story yet, and b y the looks of it, the Quorum haven't yet read their email. But that
won't last for too long.

The news about not only Ellen Tigh surrendering herself to the Terrans and asking to be returned to the Colonials was
so far secret to the population at large, as was the, to Roslin's thinking, the far more important news that Gaius Baltar
had requested asylum within the Imperium. But when that news broke, all Hades was going to tear loose as both
members of the Quorum and the general population at large would demand that Roslin try and get Baltar turned over to
the Colonials so that he could be tried for what had happened on New Caprica and tossed out of an airlock. Which isn't
going to happen, period. Tory was right in saying that the Terrans will not turn him over to us, so we may as well not try,
except that the Quorum will insist we approach the Terrans anyway.

Unlike William Adama, who had relocated to the recently installed flag officer's quarters on board Galactica, Roslin had
opted to remain in the building that she was using as the Presidential Residence in the small complex of houses on
board the habitat the Colonials had been assigned to when they had arrived in the system. She had decided to do this
for a very simple, yet very important reason: the overwhelming majority of the people of the refugee fleet were still there
and Roslin felt that it behoved her to make sure that the Colonial Government was readily accessible to them. As such,
there were regular meetings with the Quorum held not just there, but also in a large public hall that stood in the middle of
the village opposite a large open public space where, on occasion, Terran bands would assemble and play tunes simply
to entertain the Colonial population. The hall consisted of a large auditorium where the public Quorum meetings were
held as well as a space that was able to be transformed into a playing field for various sports. Most of them were
somewhat incomprehensible to the Colonials, but one, called 'Basketb all' by the Terrans, was surprisingly similar to
Pyramid and had taken hold amongst the Colonial population, a development that gave Roslin some cause for concern.
It's an example of what could happen to us as a people if we don't guard our cultural uniqueness. But at least the Terrans
seem to b e aware of the prob lem. She suddenly grinned. Mind you, our adoption of things like coffee, tea and chocolate,
as well as various alcoholic b everages, could also b e seen as Terran cultural infiltration into our own. But then,
Undersecretary Kinga has said that this doesn't necessarily mean our own culture will go under from the pressure of
Terran culture, b ut rather that we're taking what we want from Terra and leaving what we don't want alone, much as his
own culture has. Plus there is also the information on the societies that the Terrans say were the ancestors of our own
b ack on Earth, which could b e quite interesting.

She frowned as something else came to mind. The Terrans are also talking ab out organizing an expedition to Kob ol
when they can, and that it will b e most likely organized b y this "Exploration, Scouting and Survey" b ranch of theirs.
Hopefully they won't dispatch it to Kob ol before we are settled in our new home, and I know the Quorum will insist on us
sending a representative along. Especially if the Terrans also decide to send an expedition b ack to the Colonies. She
picked up her coffee and took a sip from it. I'll have to talk to Bill ab out that and see if there's anything he may want to see
if we could recover from the Fleet datab ases on Picon, let alone Fleet Headquarters in Caprica City. Plus he may have
some ideas as to who we send as a representative. She put her coffee down and opened the first email in her inbox
queue.

Her eyebrows rose as she read the message. So Bill's got something he wants to discuss with me, and it's not Gaius
Baltar or Ellen Tigh. At least we managed to work out just who we were going to send as our representatives to the
deb riefing session the Terrans will b e having with those two. The previous night both she and Adama had, with the
assistance of what was rapidly turning into the Fleet's unofficial decision-making group, decided to send Saul Tigh to his
wife's debriefing, while Tory Foster and Tom Zarek, who had been woken up, would attend Gaius Baltar's.
Roslin smiled as Zarek's reaction to the news came back to her: "Frack, Laura! The Quorum's going to have a fit when
we tell them this! And I don't even want to think ab out how the Fleet's going to react!" He did agree, however, that
keeping this news quiet was probably the best course for now, and that they could tell the Quorum that the Terrans were
handling this with Colonial representatives being present at any interrogation that took place. "If we sell to the Quorum
that these are 'interrogations' rather than deb riefings, it may make it more acceptab le," Zarek had said, and Adama had
agreed with him.

She looked up as Tory Foster came in. "Admiral Adama's just arrived. Shall I show him in?"

Roslin nodded. "Yes, show him in, Tory." Foster walked out and returned with Adama in tow. He had a briefcase tucked in
underneath his arm, and Roslin's eyebrows rose as she noticed this. She got up from behind her desk and walked over
to Adama.

"Good to see you, Bill," she said. "Did you manage to get enough sleep last night?"

Adama smiled. "Enough to function," he said. "Although I just might turn in early tonight."

Roslin raised an eyebrow. "Surely you've got your hands full getting Galactica and Nike worked up to speed?" She
indicated the conservation area and moved to sit down.

"We've got that pretty much in hand," Adama said as he followed Roslin over and sat down opposite her. Tory Foster
moved to take up her usual position behind Roslin. "Besides, Saul Tigh and myself are letting Lee and Helo do a lot of
the work. Don't mention it aloud, but we're grooming Lee to become Rear-Admiral and Helo for a command of his own,
assuming we get into a situation where our navy gets additional ships."

"Thinking of the future?"

Adama nodded. "Admittedly it sounds a little grandiose to be thinking of expanding the Colonial Fleet right now, but if we
lay the foundations now we will have the framework to expand the Fleet into a respectable single-system navy, with the
capacity to expand into a multi-system fleet. The way I look at things we won't be going back to the Colonies anytime
soon, unless its on a mission with the Terrans to salvage whatever we can, so we might as well start planning for our
future in this general region of space. A region, I might remind everyone, where the major interstellar power we are
basically allying ourselves with is involved in a war that makes what happened in both our conflicts with the Cylons,
despite what happened to us during the Fall, look pretty small."

Roslin grinned. "You do know you're, ah, 'preaching to the converted' here?"

Adama returned her grin. "I wonder how many Lingua Terra phrases we'll be taking up in our own language? I have to
admit, it is a pretty insidious language. Athena tells me it's based on an old Terran language called English, which was
pretty insidious in its day." He looked thoughtful. "I daresay that the Colonial Standard spoken by our descendants will
probably not even remotely sound like the language we speak today."

"Well, interesting as all this may be, what do you want to talk to me about that you couldn't risk putting on the
communicator?" asked Roslin.

Adama frowned. "Kara Thrace came to me and showed me this," he replied. He opened the briefcase he was carrying,
reached in and drew out a flimsy, which she handed to Roslin. She noted in passing that, unlike Terran flimsies, this one
had its corners cropped. I see Bill is keeping up our way of doing things in the Colonies, even with all of the new toys the
Terrans have given him on b oard Galactica, she thought as she took the flimsy. "It's a request from one Robert Templar
for an interview with her."

Roslin looked up from her scanning of the flimsy. "Isn't he that chief, ah, 'Inquisitor' of theirs?"

Adama nodded. "And Sir Simon's younger brother. Notice, however, that he doesn't say just why he wants to talk with her,
although I could entertain some guesses as to that."

"Such as?"

"Her reappearance at the Ionian Nebula, after Lee had seen her Viper destroyed in that storm on that gas giant we saw
before then, for one," Adama said. "Plus some other things that the rumour mill has been generating about her." He
waived down Roslin's look of concern. "They're nothing we should be all that worried about," he said. "Most people have
discounted them as a part of the 'Starbuck Legend'." He gave a rueful smile. "Never thought I'd be grateful for Kara's
reputation as something of a maverick, but there it is."

"And I notice you're using her first name, Bill," Roslin said. "Dare I take this as an indicator of how concerned you are
about her?"

Adama paused for a moment, and then nodded. "She's like a daughter to me," he replied. "So I suppose I do get a little
defensive about her at times." He grinned. "Even though she can be a pain in the ass at times."

"So what do you intend to do about this? And what have you advised her to do?"

"Well, I spoke to Sir Simon about this," Adama replied. "He said that, although this was somewhat surprising, it would be
a good idea to cooperate with his brother. He told me that the Office of the Inquisitor-General was the Imperium's main
investigative arm and, although they could not force Kara to go to the interview, it would be somewhat politic if she went.
He did, however, suggest that since the invitation said she could bring some friends, it would be a good idea to send
some people we all trusted with her. So I'm going. So is Sam Anders, her husband, and I'm also getting the Agathons to
go as well. I hope that will kind of deliver the message that we are taking this sort of request very seriously."

Foster spoke. "If I may, Madame President?" At Roslin's nod, she continued: "Admiral, all of us who are a part of the 'Final
Five', apart from Ellen Tigh, have met some of these Inquisitors. I should warn you that they have some... powers that one
would normally associate with the Lords of Kobol."

Both Adama and Roslin raised their eyebrows at this information. "What sort of powers?" asked Roslin.

"The Inquisitor-Psychiatrists who... managed to see to the hidden programming inside our heads placed their fingertips
against our temples and actually managed to get their minds inside ours," Foster replied. "That's how they managed to
neutralise the hidden programming. I daresay that they could deal with the blocks that appear to be on our memories in
a similar fashion."

"Are you saying they can read minds?" Adama said.

Foster nodded. "But not at a distance. To do that they would have to initiate a physical contact. They can, however, detect
emotions, feelings, that sort of thing at a distance. They can also use their minds to manipulate objects. The Inquisitor-
Psychiatrist who saw to Colonel Tigh's programming actually levitated several objects in front of us when I asked him
about their powers." She gave Roslin and Adama a small, somewhat sickly smile. "I had read up on them before he
arrived in our hospital suite as a part of my researches into how the Imperium's government works."

Roslin and Adama looked at each other. "This could complicate things somewhat," Roslin said.

Adama frowned in thought, and then shook his head. "Kara doesn't really hold any hot military secrets," he said. "But if
they come across her time with the Circle after New Caprica..." He looked at Foster. "How intrusive were they?"

"Not very intrusive at all, Admiral," she replied. "Especially given just why they were inside our heads. They just went in
and neutralised the hidden programming." She looked at Roslin. "As the President knows, I've been thinking about
asking them to see if they can remove the blocks that are apparently on my memories." She looked back at Adama. "It
will be interesting to hear just why they were placed on us."

"Us being 'The Final Five', I gather." Adama leant back in his chair. "But I thought Saul mentioned that Ellen had told him
the reason for the blocks: Because the Cylon type called 'John' wanted to teach you a lesson about the 'true nature' of the
human race."

"Somehow I suspect that may not be the only reason," Foster said. "Call it a hunch, but I suspect that there is something
else behind all of this."

"Or perhaps it may be more accurate to say someone else," Roslin said. She looked at Foster, and then at Adama. "The
Terrans' hypothesis about these 'Precursors' of theirs seems to be getting more and more believable."her expression
grew thoughtful. "Could they suspect some sort of connection with Major Thrace, I wonder?"

Adama frowned. "That could complicate things," he said. "I might see if I can have a meeting with the Chief Inquisitor and
see if I can get any information on this out of him. Or that I will learn more about this at the meeting."

Roslin slowly nodded. "I might send a message to Ambassador Crispin, saying that you are requesting a private
meeting with the Chief Inquisitor regarding Major Thrace. It may help things along if I make it a formal request on behalf
of the Colonial Government."

Adama smiled. "That could well help, Madame President." He got up. "Well, I had better get back to Galactica and fill
Kara in on what we've decided and to get the others ready for our little visit. I'll also see if Sam Anders can help us with
what he experienced from these Inquisitors."
Roslin got up with him. "Do you think you could schedule a meeting sometime soon, Bill?" she asked. "There are some
other things that both myself and the Vice-President will want to discuss with you."

Adama frowned. "I'll have to look at my calendar on board Galactica," he said. "Is it anything urgent?"

"No, nothing too urgent. It's just that the Terrans were talking about organising an expedition to Kobol, and I wanted to
see if at all possible we could send a representative, or several representatives, along with them. After all, it can be said
to be still our world, as are the Colonies." She walked with him towards the entrance onto the patio. "We may also need
to discuss any expedition back to the Colonies, especially if the Terrans decide to go there themselves."

Adama nodded. "I'll see if I can clear a couple of days," he said. "Like I said, the shakedowns are going well, as are the
overhauls and refits to the civilian ships. In fact, some more have been turned loose from the spacedock and are being
shaken down as we speak, with their crews getting used to the new gear the Terrans have given them."

"What modifications have they given them?"

"Mostly vastly improved computer gear and sensors," Adama said. "They don't have the ability to completely overhaul
some of the mechanical gear, such as drills and welders, but they don't need as big a crew as they used to in order to
operate them, which means that even more skilled people will be available for us to employ when we get to our new
home. They intend to do even more thorough overhauls when we get to Alquonde, but for now, they've made them very
spaceworthy." He grinned. "In fact, we could do a trip as big as from the Colonies to here and not worry too much about
the conditions of either our hulls or our FTL drives."

"What about tylium?" Roslin asked. "The Terrans don't use it and we will most likely need some more."

"We've actually found a source here in this system," Adama said. "Our refitted mining and refinery ships have already
gone over to extract and refine it, and from what we've heard the new Terran computers have made the extraction and
refining processes even more efficient. And now that the Terrans know what to look for, they're sending an expedition to
our new home system to look for any tylium deposits. In the long term, however, it is intended to refit all of our ships with
Terran compact fusion reactors, as they are more efficient at power generation and take up less space than a tylium
reactor."

"Interesting." Roslin frowned in thought. "What about our small ships?"

"We'll still be using tylium for our refitted Raiders and Raptors, but the space superiority fighters we'll be getting from the
Imperium, as well as any shuttles and torpedo boats, will be using compact fusion reactors for their energy source. They
use a wholly different means of propulsion from our craft anyway, so they won't need any reaction mass. And we won't
have to worry about running out of fuel for them: Admiral Cheshire told me that we'll be getting a complete refinery setup
with our colonisation package and that there are a couple of lovely gas giants we can use as a virtually endless source
of deuterium and tritium for our fusion reactors."

"Even more interesting." Roslin looked over at her desk, "Well, I suppose I had better get back to work, and Tory had
better get herself over to where the Terrans are holding Gaius Baltar." She looked at Adama. "I look forward to hearing
from you as to when we could next meet."

Adama nodded his head. "I'll let you know as soon as I can, Madame President." He was about to walk out through the
big glass door when the communicator built into Roslin's desk started to chime.

At that sound, Tory Foster went over and activated it. "President Roslin's Office, Tory Foster speaking. With whom am I
speaking?" From where they were standing Adama and Roslin could only hear Foster's side of the conversation. "She's
just finishing up a meeting at present Ambassador Crispin. I think she will be able to speak with you. Frowning, Roslin
walked over to her desk and sat down behind it.

"I'm here, Ambassador. What is it?

"I see. And I suppose you won't be interfering? Well, thank you for letting us know. I'll get back to you on our reaction.
Thank you and goodby, Ambassador." She shut down her connection and sat back, frowning in thought.

Adama walked over towards Roslin's desk. "Madame President? What did Crispin have to say?"

Roslin looked up. "It appears that the leader of the Cylon delegation wants to meet with the Cylon defectors, and that the
Terrans are going to allow her to do so."

Settlement Housing The Cylon Defectors.

Caprica Six looked around the settlement as she walked towards the cluster of buildings housing the defectors. The
more and more I see of the Terrans' capab ilities, the more convinced the path Boomer and I have chosen for the Cylon
race, or at least that section that is willing to follow our lead, is the right one. The fact that so large a section of our people
decided to defect on their own accord to the Terrans, although completely unexpected, only reinforces that. Behind her
walked two Imperial Marines, assigned to her as an escort, and alongside her walked a diplomat from the Imperium's
Foreign Office who had been assigned as a liaison. I just hope Boomer's not having any troub le with those Cylons still in
the prisoner-of-war camp.

I hope that I'll b e ab le to speak with the defectors. Preferab ly another Six, although I daresay that the others would b e
willing, given what they've done, to join us on this plan we've worked out. And, given that pretty much all of the Twos have
joined the defectors, we could gain some more allies from that direction. Of course, keeping all of this secret from the
Ones, Threes, and Fours will take some doing, b ut I think we could do it. And hopefully Gaius and Ellen will help prepare
the way for us.

She was drawn out of her musing by a voice. "Caprica Six?"

She looked and saw a Terran standing in front of her. He was wearing a civilian suit, or what passed for a suit amongst
the Terrans, but from a belt at his waist there hung not only the ubiquitous pouch Terrans kept things like wallets in, but a
metal cylinder partially covered with a black, leathery substance coated in a silvery filagree. Behind him stood two other
Terrans, one male, one female, similarly attired. Unlike them, however, the first Terran was wearing some kind of
headdress made up of what appeared to be one long strip of cloth.

Instantly she noticed that the Terrans accompanying her had unconsciously tensed up. Interesting, she thought to
herself. Looking at the Terran who had spoken to her, she said "Yes?"

"I'm Senior Inquisitor Prabraham Singh," the first Terran said. "These are my colleagues, Inquisitor Chung Wu and
Inquisitor Renee DeQuion." As he spoke he indicated his two companions.

Caprica Six subtly tensed. "I've read about you," she said. "You're the Imperium's investigative arm, yes?" At the
Inquisitor's nod, she continued: "But what do you have to do with me? After all, I'm not a Terran and am in fact an envoy
from my people."

"We are aware of that, Ms. Six," the Inquisitor said. "Indeed, we would like to arrange a meeting in order to discuss some
things with you that we believe are related to your mission here." He looked at the Foreign Office representative. "If you
like, we could arrange for Ambassador Crispin, or some of his staff, to be at that meeting."

Caprica Six thought for a moment. "I believe that should be acceptable," she said. "Could you please arrange that with
Ambassador Crispin's people?" She indicated the direction she was heading in. "Now, if you'll please excuse me, I was
on my way to speak with some of my people about a few things."

The Inquisitor smiled. "I believe that you were. We would also like to discuss some of those with you as well." The
Inquisitor gave a half-bow and heel click and, with his colleagues, continued on their way.

Caprica Six followed them with her eyes. I wonder if... No I b elieve that they are referring to our hidden message that we
sent with the formal request to enter into negotiations, she thought to herself. She looked at her escorts, smiled and
continued on her way. I just hope that Gaius is ab le to play his part in what is unfolding. If he can, then this gamb le that
we've made could well b e the b est chance the Cylon race may have for surviving in this much larger universe we've
stumb led into.

Unnoticed by the Terrans, her face slightly showed her concern. Be careful, Gaius. Do b e careful.

"Frack," said the Gaius Baltar look-alike, who was standing unseen off to one side. "Inquisitors."

"Do you think they know we're here?" asked the Caprica Six look-alike.

"Hard to say. They aren't the easiest of beings to read. Almost as bad as our own people. Which is another reason why
we should have exterminated humanity long before this."

The Six look-alike looked at her companion. "Should we go and tell the others what we've discovered? And say that the
Plan has completely gone out the airlock?"

The Baltar look-alike shook his head. "Not yet. We may discover something that could rescue this whole frakked-up
situation."

Interview Room.
Gaius Baltar looked around the room. If this is an interrogation room, it doesn't exactly resemb le the ones the Colonial
Fleet used, he thought. Which argues that the Terrans are a lot more sub tle in their interrogation techniques. Which would
also suggest that holding anything b ack from them would not b e a good idea.

The room looked more like one in which he had been interviewed for his position at Caprica University. In front of him
was a long table with a row of fairly comfortable chairs positioned behind them. In fact, the chair he assumed he would
be seated in was directly opposite the central chair in the row opposite him, and was quite comfortable as well. Off to
one side sat a large sideboard that had what appeared to be one of the machines the Terrans used to make that drink of
theirs called coffee. He had tried coffee, and found it very much to his liking. By the looks of things, they prefer to keep
things... civilised, I suppose one could say.

The door behind the table opened and in came two Terran naval officers, some Terrans in civilian attire... and Tom Zarek
and Tory Foster.

Zarek went over and stood behind a chair, with Foster off to one side. "Hello, Gaius," he said.

Warily, Baltar gave a slow nod. "Hello, Tom." He looked at the Terrans. "I wasn't aware that this would be a trial."

"It isn't" said the senior Terran official. "Vice-President Zarek and Ms Foster are here as the representatives of the
Colonial Government. Naturally, they would like some answers to whatever questions they may have about the current
situation."

"Which I suspect will be remarkably similar to the ones you intend to ask," Zarek said.

The Terran gave a small bow and then indicated that everyone should take their seats. "As you have no doubt surmised,
Doctor Baltar, we have some questions we would like you to answer."

Baltar gave a nervous smile. "Will these questions result in my being turned over to the Colonial Government?"

The Terran shook his head. "You have requested asylum inside the Imperium. That automatically prevents such a course
of action as that from being undertaken." He looked at the two Colonials. "As I am sure Vice-President Zarek and Ms
Foster are well aware."

Zarek gave a nod. "But if Doctor Baltar does turn up within any future Colonial territory we reserve the right to put him on
trial for the events that occurred under the Cylon occupation of New Caprica."

The Terran looked at Zarek. "If that does happen you can be well assured that the Imperium will have observers at any
such trial." He looked at Baltar. "In any case, several of our questions will touch on the events surrounding the Cylon
occupation of New Caprica." He looked at the others. "Shall we begin?

Baltar looked at the Terran, and took a deep breath. "I am ready."

Quarters Assigned to Chief Inquisitor Rob ert Templar.

Starbuck looked around nervously. "Well, according to the information they gave me, this is the place." She looked at her
husband, who was standing next to her. "Looks like pretty much any one of the houses out people are being housed in.
Except a bit bigger."

Sam Anders squeezed Starbuck's shoulder. "Well, you know we're here to support you." He looked at the others. "They
can be a little intimidating, I admit, but they do want to help us."

Starbuck looked around at the others, and drew some comfort from their presence. The Old Man, who had been a
surrogate father to her. The Agathons, who, although they were going through their own hell over Hera, had never given
up on their friendship with her. And most importantly, her husband, who was a source of strength for her.

She straightened her shoulders. "Well, no use delaying this. Let's go in." Together they went up to the front door of the
residence, but before they sounded the chime the door slid open and a Terran woman of average height stood in the
doorway.

"Greetings," she said. "I am Senior Inquisitor Anne Geoffrey. Chief Inquisitor Templar is expecting you." She stood off to
one side.

"How... Just how did you know we were about to ring the chime?" Starbuck demanded.
The Inquisitor smiled. "We have our ways. Please, won't you all come in?"

"Way to make a girl feel at ease," Starbuck muttered to herself as they entered the dwelling.

Geoffrey motioned down the hall. "Please, come this way. Chief Inquisitor Templar is waiting in the living area." They
followed her down the hall and soon emerged into a large living space that was similar to the ones in the residences
that Adama had and which Roslin still occupied. Standing and seated in chairs and couches around the room were
several Terrans, all dressed in a similar fashion to the woman who had brought them in,

Seated on a couch that was opposite a semicircle of armchairs and flanked by two Inquisitors was an Inquisitor who
bore a strong resemblance to Sir Simon Templar. It's a fair b et that's this Chief Inquisitor of theirs, Adama thought as they
approached the group.

The three Inquisitors stood as the Colonials approached. "I am Chief Inquisitor Robert Templar," the one in the centre
said. Indicating the female Inquisitor to the right, he continued: "This is Senior Inquisitor Elaine de Grasse, and this is
Inquisitor-Psychiatrist Robert Ames, who I believe is already known by Lieutenant Anders here."

Ames nodded at Anders. "How are you feeling?"

Anders nodded back. "Good." He paused, and then continued: "In fact, there's something myself and the others would
like to ask you about."

Ames nodded. "We'll talk after this meeting is over," he replied.

Robert Templar nodded at Adama. "You are Admiral Adama?"

Adama nodded back. "This," he indicated, is Colonel Karl Agathon, the XO of the Colonial Base Star Nike, and his wife,
Major Sharon Agathon, Nike's CAG. You are familiar with Lieutenant Anders."

Robert Templar nodded. "And this must be Major Thrace." He smiled at Starbuck. "Would you object if I use your first
name, Major?"

Starbuck shook her head. "Oh, and your greeting at the front door was a b rilliant way of putting someone at ease when
meeting you."

Robert Templar frowned at Starbuck's words, and then gave a rueful smile. "Oh. I take it Anne opened the front door
before you had activated the chime?" At Starbuck's nod, he grinned. "I must apologise for that. Unfortunately we do have
certain... procedures that stem from our role as the Imperium's independent investigative arm."

"Like making people uneasy before you, ah, interview them?"

Robert Templar nodded. "It does make things easier from our side of things if we put our reputation to some use.
Especially when we are interrogating people who simply scream Guilty! at you through their emotions."

Adama thought for a moment. "It does make some sense," he said. "I don't have the powers Lieutenant Anders
described to me, but I understand what you are saying." He looked over at Anders and Starbuck. "But I don't see what this
has to do with Kara. Has she transgressed any of the Imperium's laws?"

Templar shook his head. "No, she hasn't. But I am forgetting my manners. Please, sit down" he said, indicating the
chairs.

As they all sat down Adama said, "So, if Kara hasn't broken any of the Imperium's laws, then why are we having this
meeting?"

Robert Templar gave a slow nod in acknowledgement of Adama's statement. "The reason we are having this meeting is
due to a report I was reading about Kara here. The report was one which had been compiled so that we would be able to
better understand both you as individuals and as a people." His eyes scanned over the group before him. "I take it you
have heard about how we believe your branch of humanity wound up on Kobol?"

Adama nodded. "They have all heard about the Precursors."

Robert Templar nodded. "Well, one part of the report that caught my eye was Kara's disappearance in the eye of a large
storm on a gas giant and her sudden reappearance in the Ionian Nebula. Then, I looked in some more detail at this
report, and noted some... irregularities in Major Thrace's genetic makeup."
Adama frowned. "What 'irregularities'?" He noticed that Sam Anders had put his arm around Starbuck's shoulders and
had tightened his grip.

"I'll come to those in a minute, but first, I would like to try something with Kara." Robert Templar looked at Starbuck. "I take
it your husband has told you of how our Inquisitor-Psychiatrists helped to overcome his hidden programming?"

Starbuck nodded. "He's kinda hoping that they might be able to do the same thing with memory blocks."

Robert Templar nodded. "They can. Tell me, Kara: can you recall anything between your, ah, 'disappearance' and your
'reappearance' in the Ionian Nebula?"

Starbuck shook her head. "The last thing I recall was chasing a Cylon Raider down into the storm. Then, there was a
flash of light and the next thing I recall was I was in my Viper and flying alongside Lee."

"Do you recall anything else?"

Starbuck frowned in concentration. "No... Wait! I do! I had a vision of myself as a little girl. I was standing in a column of
light. Next thing is I'm back in my ship and flying into a huge dogfight."

"Have you had any visions before this?"

Starbuck paused and then, at a nod of encouragement from Adama, replied "Yes. Several times. Mostly of my apartment
back in Caprica City, but sometimes of when I was little."

"Was there anything constant within these visions?"

"Yes. A mandala."

Robert Templar nodded. "Was this a constant theme through your life?"

Starbuck paused, and then gave a firm nod. "Yes. Yes it was."

Robert Templar nodded. "I'll hand you over to Inquisitor-Psychiatrist Ames, now."

He sat back on the couch as Ames got up and walked over to the end of the coffee table. "Kara: is it all right that I call you
that?" Starbuck nodded. "Well, Kara, could you please get up and come over here?" Starbuck looked, first at her husband
and then at the man who was both commanding officer and surrogate father. Finding encouragement in both their eyes,
she got up and went to stand in front of the Inquisitor-Psychiatrist.

Ames looked into Starbuck's eyes. "Now, Kara, what I am about to do will be somewhat invasive, and will feel a little
strange. I am going to place my fingertips on your temples and create a psionic linkage between us so that I can
examine your mind for any blocks. It will be pretty much like what my colleagues did for your husband."

Starbuck gave a small grin. "Sam did explain what it felt like when you did that to him," she said. "He said it did feel pretty
weird, but that he really could not describe it."

Ames gave a reassuring smile. "Now, one thing I will also do is take over your motor functions. We don't want you falling
on your arse during this." Starbuck's grin grew a little bigger and a small chuckle came from her. "Good. Now, I'm going
to place my fingertips onto your temples and initiate the link." As he spoke he placed his fingertips on Starbuck's
temples. She jumped slightly as contact was initiated, and then, all of a sudden, she was inside her own mind, with a
second, alien set of thoughts running parallel to her own.

Everything's all right, she 'heard' Ames say. It's just me.

Sam was right, Starbuck 'replied'. This is pretty frakking weird.

You're not uncomfortab le with this?

Starbuck mentally 'shook' her head. It's fine. But why would there b e a memory b lock? I mean, I'm not some new kind of
toaster, am I? Which would b e pretty frakkin' ironic.

She felt Ames smile. No, you're not a humaniform Cylon. But there was something ab out your genetic makeup that...
well, calls for a closer investigation. Which is why we're doing this. But there's no need to panic.

What do you mean there's 'something ab out my genetic makeup/' Are you insinuating I'm not human?
Not really. Now, let's see if there is a b lock...Ah! Even though she knew he wasn't really speaking, she felt his cry of
discovery as clearly as if she had actually heard it.

So, what did you find? Starbuck "said" after a few moments had passed.

Oh, it's a b lock, all right, Ames "replied". A pretty sophisticated one, too, and on a specific set of memories.

Which ones?

The ones in b etween the ones of your disappearance inside that gas giant and your reappearance inside the Ionian
neb ula, Ames "replied."

What? But...

Yes, I know, Ames said. The b lock is also acting as a restraint on some other properties, too. But I won't go into any great
detail ab out those either, save tho say that some of those are quite similar to the ones we've found in your Oracles.

You mean... I'm a frakking Oracle? And I didn't know it? No wonder I've b een having frakkin' visions! Ever since I was a
kid I've b een having visions!

She felt Ames' wry grin. Anyway, Kara, I'm going to have to walk us over to a clear spot b ehind your folks and call over
some of my colleagues to help me on this one.

Why?

Because, if I'm right ab out what is b ehind this b lock, it could well unleash not just the ab ilities you know ab out from your
Oracles, b ut some others as well Ames replied, and Starbuck didn't have to see his face to know that the Inquisitor-
Psychiatrist was being deadly serious. The others will help us contain these ab ilities until they can b e b rought under
control.

What are they? and Starbuck knew she sounded very worried about this. Perhaps even a little frightened.

Nothing to b e too worried ab out, Ames replied. Besides, we'll b e here to help you with them. Besides, you have b een
using them, although on a completely sub conscious level. But that's for another time. The main question is: do you want
to find out what's b ehind this b lock, and do you trust myself and my colleagues to help you through this?

Starbuck paused for thought and then gave a vigorous mental nod. You helped Sam and the others, she replied, so I
daresay that you can help me. Let's do this.

Okay. Aloud, Ames said, "I'm going to walk Kara over behind the other Colonials. And Robert, I'd like you and the others
to come over and give me a hand.

Robert Templar stood up, as did the de Grasse. "What did you find?"

"Pretty much what we expected," Ames replied. "Can you get over there, though? This could get a little messy." As the
other Inquisitors gathered and Adama and the other Colonials attempted to turn in their seats and watch Ames started to
slowly walk Starbuck towards the spot he had indicated.

"Kara, are you...?" asked Anders.

"I'm okay, Sam," Starbuck replied. "A little freaked, but then, who wouldn't be by having someone else inside your head?"
That comment caused Anders and the others to grin: trust Starbuck to admit to being freaked out and then joke about it!

They reached the spot and Anders said, "All right. Be ready for just about anything. I'm going to remove the block now."
Ready? he asked Starbuck.

Ready as I'll ever b e, she replied. You do know that's the second time you've asked me that.

Ames gave a grin. Okay. Here goes nothing. A pause, and then a sudden cascade of images started to flood through
Starbuck's consciousness.

She was inside her Viper, chasing a Cylon Raider through the eye of a massive storm on a gas giant, getting deeper and
deeper, her Viper creaking as the outside pressure started to grow. Her windscreen started to crack when suddenly she
was enveloped in white light...

And suddenly she was again coasting through clouds, b ut this time there was no Raider in front of her. The clouds parted
and she was flying past a large coastal city that reminded her of Caprica City, b ut she knew that it wasn't, and suddenly
there was the sudden flash! of a nuke detonating over the city and she was caught up in the shockwave and struggling to
regain control and the ground was rushing up and suddenly there was again enveloped in white light...

"Did it work?" asked a voice.

"Yes, it did," replied another. "We managed to capture her consciousness and put it into another b ody we b uilt from that
sample you b rought b ack."

Kara tried to look around, b ut all she could see was a white light. "Who are you?" she asked. "Where am I?"

A hand touched her shoulder. "Patience, young one," it said. "It isn't time for you to know everything." The hand left her
shoulder. "Are you sure she won't recall any of this?"

"As certain as anyone can b e of this," replied the second voice. "We will have to reestab lish the b lock, though. And
there's really no way of telling how the Colonials will react to her sudden reappearance."

"Hopefully, though they won't b e encountering any Terrans," replied the first voice. "Or, at least not yet." A face swam into
view. "Never thought I'd get the chance so soon of seeing you, b ab y girl," it said and a hand gently stroked Kara's face.

Much to her surprise, the face b elonged to her father.

To Adama and the others it looked as if nothing was happening, save that the other Inquisitors had gathered around
Starbuck and had all laid their hands on her. Then suddenly, Starbuck started to ruse up from the floor... floating in mid-
air.

"She's rising!" called out Ames.

"We've got her," replied Robert Templar. Suddenly the coffee table started to rise up off the floor before the startled eyes of
the Colonials.

"God, but she's strong!" muttered one Inquisitor. Suddenly, Starbuck went totally limp, and the coffee table crashed to the
floor of the living room. She was, however, caught by the Inquisitors, who carried her over to the couch and laid her out on
it. They made room for Anders, who hurried over and grabbed Starbuck's hand.

"Do you want a drink?" Ames asked Starbuck as she slowly raised her head.

"Would ambrosia do?" she replied.

"How about coffee and cream with a shot of Irish whiskey? And some painkiller?"

Starbuck gave a faint grin. "Sounds good to me."

Ames looked up at a fellow Inquisitor. "On it," he said and went over to the sideboard.

Adama looked from Starbuck, who was nursing what looked to be quite a headache, to Robert Templar. "What just
happened?"

Robert Templar looked at the Colonials. "We just removed the block on her memory, as well as on her abilities," he said.

"Her abilities?"

"Oh, she could access some of them, which made her the best Viper pilot in the Colonial Fleet, as well as a natural
shot," Robert Templar said. "Amongst other things. But we weren't surprised she had these abilities, given her genetic
makeup."

"Which is?"

"She just happens to be at least half Precursor by genetic makeup," Robert Templar said. "And by her father's side of
things, too."
*Chapter 43*: Chapter 42
Apologies for the delay in updating. But I have b een struggling with some health issues, plus we have not had it easy in
the part of Australia I live in (floods, cyclones etc.) And I wanted to make sure that this chapter, which was incredib ly
difficult to write, was done as b est as I could.

Now on with the tale!

Chapter Forty-Two.

"Did you feel that?" asked the Six lookalike.

"Yes," replied the Baltar lookalike. "It felt almost like... an awakening."

"But who? After all, there are only us of our people here. Well, us and him."

The Baltar lookalike shook his head. "It wasn't one of our people," he said. "But it was someone of our blood, though.
Which means..."

The two looked at each other. "Oh, frack."

Quarters Assigned to Rob ert Templar.

"What do you mean 'half Precursor?"

Robert Templar gave Adama a droll look. "Precisely what it means," he said. "One of her parents, and we're pretty sure
it's her father, was a Precursor. Which means that they're still around, since Kara's here with us. Kind of living proof, if you
look at things from that angle." He turned his attention to Starbuck. "Feeling better?"

Starbuck nodded. "I'll feel a lot better when that drink you're getting arrives." Robert Templar grinned. "So, you're saying
that my old man was one of these Precursors?"

"From all of the evidence provided, pretty sure." He looked up and saw that the coffee had arrived. "Here," he said,
reaching up and handing it to Starbuck. "You'll feel a whole lot better once you've gotten yourself outside of this." Starbuck
sat up, gave a weak chuckle, took the coffee and sipped.

"So what's the verdict?" she asked. "I think I heard someone say something about being 'half-Precursor'."

"You did," Robert Templar replied. "And the person whose half-Precursor is yourself."

Starbuck sat on the couch for a moment as she took this in. "So, you're saying that one of my parents was, basically,
what we call a Lord of Kobol?" She laughed. "No wonder he decided to take off, if that's true"

"Or at least belonging to their race." Robert Templar looked at Starbuck. "Do you have any memories of your father? And
did he have any particular abilities?"

Starbuck frowned. "He was a musician," she said. "A pianist. He also composed music." She gave a sour chuckle. "He
left after my mother asked him to give up playing music for 'a more steady profession'. But I used to play piano with him
when I was younger, and he reckoned that I was pretty good, that I could have played piano professionally. But mother
wanted me to join the Fleet, so I did."

"Do you have any other abilities?"

"Well, I was a pretty good Pyramid player in my youth. Up for selection for the pro league, but I injured my knee, which
took me out of contention. Found out I loved flying, though, which made it easier to convince myself to go for the Fleet."

Adama spoke up. "I don't know if this helps, and I don't think you knew this, Kara, but it was common knowledge
amongst the battlestar commanders and higher in the Fleet that you were one of the best instructors at flight school. In
fact, you were being considered for the Fleet's flight demonstration squad."

"I was?" Starbuck gave a hint of her usual cheeky grin. "Never knew that."

"Anything else?" asked Robert Templar.

"I painted. Particularly that damn mandala. I also wrote poetry. Don't know how good it was, though, although I painted
one poem on the wall of my apartment in Delphi."

"Do you think you can sketch the mandala for us? And do you think you can sketch a portrait of you father?" Starbuck gave
Robert Templar a strange look, but nodded her head. One of the other Inquisitors went over to a table and brought back a
large sketchpad and some pencils and charcoal sticks.

On seeing these, Starbuck chuckled. "Thought you Terrans would have some high-tech way of doing this," she said as
she took the pad, pencils and sticks.

"There are some art forms that do use high technology, such as light sculpting and light painting," Robert Templar
replied, "but this is still pretty popular as an art form. In fact, every Emperor or Empress and Prime Minister still has a
formal portrait done in oils, as well as a formal two-dimensional photograph. And that form of photography is still around,
especially in black and white, as an art form."

"Interesting," said Adama as he watched Starbuck sketch a picture of the mandala that had haunted her for much of her
life. "That you stick to such low-tech ways of artistic representation."

"Humans are a tactile species," Robert Templar replied. "Hell, we even still have print books! Something about a good,
solid book seems to chime with something within us." They all watched as Starbuck continued sketching, switching
between pencils and charcoal sticks. Finally, she handed the pad over to Robert Templar.

"Look familiar?" she said.

Templar took the pad and looked at it. "Interesting," he said. He put the pad down on the coffee table and walked over to a
holoviewer station. As he did so, Helo looked at the drawing and nodded.

"That's the same as what I saw on the wall of Starbuck's apartment when we were back on Caprica. I also saw one on
the central pillar of the Temple of Five back on that algae planet we stopped off on."

"Very interesting," said Robert Templar as he activated the holoviewer. After he had adjusted it and had cone through
some files, he found the one he was looking for and called it up. A hologram of a gas giant appeared. "Does this remind
you of anything?"

The colonials all looked at the image. The feature about the gas giant that struck them was the massive red spot on the
planet's lower hemisphere. "That... that looks like.."

"That planet is called Jupiter," Robert Templar said. "The spot is called The Great Red Spot, but is also known as The
Eye of Jupiter." A silence fell over the gathering.

Starbuck spoke. "Where is that planet?" she asked.

"It's in the Sol System, which is where Terra is located."

"Frack me," someone said. Adama didn't know who had said it, but the speaker had expressed his feelings exactly.

"The connection is interesting, and could bear being followed up," Robert Templar said. Turning to Starbuck, he asked,
"Do you think you could do a sketch of your father?" Starbuck paused for thought, and then nodded her head. Picking up
the pad she turned over a fresh page and, again picking up the pencil, she started sketching, every so often switching
from pencil to charcoal stick. Finally, she handed the pad to Robert Templar, who looked at the sketch, and then turned
the pad to show the assembled Colonials. "Does anybody recognise him?"

Adama pulled out his glasses, put them on, and looked at the sketch. "Yeah. That's Dreilide Thrace. He was a noted
pianist and composer back on Caprica." He looked at Starbuck. "That's your father?"

Starbuck nodded. "He and I used to play the piano together at times." She grew thoughtful. "There was a tune we always
used to play together. I can hear it now, inside my head."

Robert Templar indicated the holoprojector. "There's a program that can set the holoprojector up as a synthesizer,
complete with holographic keyboard," he said. "Want to try it?" Starbuck again thought for a moment and then nodded.
Templar then again adjusted the holoviewer and the image of the gas giant disappeared. Instead, a holographic
keyboard appeared and projected itself over the coffee table where Starbuck was sitting.

"It's set for piano," Robert Templar nodded. "Just play it as though it was real." Starbuck reached over and experimentally
"pressed" a few keys, finding that the note for each key sounded when she did so. Then, she started playing a tune that
Sam Anders found familiar.

"That's the music that the others and I heard in the Ionian Nebula," he said. "The one when we found out that we were
Cylons."

"Again, interesting," Robert Templar said. "It's very similar to a piece composed in the Twentieth Century CE back on
Terra called All Along the Watchtower. It definitely looks as though someone has been playing games with you people."

"These 'Precursors' you keep mentioning," Adama said. He tipped his head back in thought. "I take it you suspect that
Kara's father may resemble someone from Terran mythology?"

"And someone in your own religious beliefs, too," Robert Templar said. "I'm going to scan Kara's sketch of her father into
the system and get it to see if it can find any similarities amongst religious iconographies that are stored."

"You sound as though you expect to find a match," Starbuck said.

"I do." Robert Templar scanned in the sketch of Starbuck's father and then set the computer system to finding similarities
between it and religious images. As expected, they came up with several matches with images that the Colonials found
rather familiar.

"Who is that?" asked Adama.

Robert Templar looked at Starbuck as he answered. "That, is Apollo, the ancient Greek god of the Sun. He's also the god
of music and the arts. He's also strongly associated with prophecy. In fact, the main oracular centre in Ancient Greece
was his key sanctuary there." He looked at the assembled Colonials. "Its name was Delphi."

"Delphi. Same name as where Kara used to live when she wasn't off-planet," Adama said. "Where the Museum of the
Colonies is. Where the Arrow of Apollo was kept." He looked at Robert Templar. "You're right: all of these can't be
coincidences!"

Robert Templar slowly shook his head. "Someone has been using a lot of Greco-Romano religious imagery in playing
games with you people," he said. "Not all that surprising: we've traced your ancestral genomes, not to mention the
various cultural influences, back to the Mediterranean Sea to at least 3,000 BCE, with regular infusions at periodic
intervals. It's most likely that Kobol was where much of the mixing and shaping happened, including the interactions
between those Precursors you call The Lords of Kob ol and your ancestors happened."

Adama looked thoughtful. "There are those stories about the gods mating with human women," he said.

"Which were responsible for the development of oracular powers within your people," Robert Templar said. "Most likely
all of your Oracles have at least one Precursor in their ancestry."

"So some of our people are part Precursor? Might help us in dealing with the Cylons if we manage to let that out
amongst our people," mused Adama.

Robert Templar paused for a moment, and then said "What I am about to tell you is considered to be top secret. But I'm
telling you so that you can have a greater understanding of Precursor interaction with your ancestors. The Terran branch
of humanity is also part Precursor, and we think it was done so that we would have a better chance of survival, especially
given that the Precursors went to war with each other over humanity."

"Interesting. And adds to your argument that all of this is part of some wider scheme."

Athena spoke up. "The Cylons, at least the humaniform ones, also believe that there is some sort of plan that is
unfolding. But we believe that it is a plan laid out by God, or, so I have been told, the Precursor you call 'Angyra Maniu'.
Which, in the light of what you've said here tonight, does make some sort of sense."

"That has been mentioned in some of the interview transcripts of the interviews held with the Cylon prisoners, as well as
some of the defectors, boss," one of the Inquisitors said. "Perhaps we should explore this avenue a bit more."

"Perhaps. But we have more pressing concerns at present," said Robert Templar. "Most notably, what happens with the
good Major Thrace here." At that Starbuck's head snapped around to fix Robert Templar with a look.

"What the frack? I am not going to be some sort of lab rat!"

"And you won't be. But you have had your latent abilities awakened, and you will need some training in how to control
them, least of all so that you don't unintentionally injure those around you."
"I see." Starbuck sat there looking thoughtful. "How do you intend to handle this?"

"Well, normally you would have been detected at a young age so you would have been able to attend the Academy,"
Robert Templar replied. "That would have given you the necessary skills to be able to handle your abilities. At eighteen
you would have then been sent to the College of Inquisitors to learn more about your abilities as well as giving you the
skills set to become an Inquisitor, after which you would have joined the Office of the Inquisitor-General as a cadet." He
furrowed his brow in thought. "In your case, we'll have to do something different. We could assign an instructor or two
from the College to you until you get settled on your new home, and then, with the permission of your Government, have
you come to Terra to attend the College, not to become an Inquisitor, but to learn how to control your abilities."

"Or you could let her own people teach her," chimed in a new voice. Everyone's heads turned in the direction of the voice.
There in front of the entrance to the patio stood what appeared to be a Brother Cavil-type Cylon. Standing alongside him
was someone who looked very much like the picture Starbuck drew of her father. "I think you would agree: we do have
more experience at this than you do."

For a moment, nobody moved. Then, all of a sudden, the Inquisitors, as one, pulled the strange cylinders from their
belts. A mass snap-hiss occurred as they activated what the Colonials now realised were weapons similar to the laser
blades they had seen used by the Imperial Marines on their battle armour. As one, the Inquisitors pointed their blades
straight at the two intruders and advanced on them.

The Brother Cavil lookalike raised his hands in a woah! gesture. "Now, I can understand why you might be a little peeved
at our just appearing like this, but I assure you, our intentions are all honourable!"

"Says a member of a race that masquerades as gods," growled Robert Templar. "Just why should we believe you?"

"Possibly because it was the faction that I belong to who left the Phobos Repository and who genetically modified your
branch of humanity so as to be better able to meet the challenges that would be placed before you by our opponents,"
replied the Cavil lookalike. He stepped forward until the blade of Templar's laser blade was level with his breastbone. "If
you like, I will open my mind up to you so that you can see that I'm telling the truth." The Inquisitors all looked at one
another, and then Robert Templar gave a nod.

"Agreed. But you will open your mind to three of us. That way, we will know if you try anything funny. And your friend over
there remains under guard." He looked the Cavil lookalike square in the eye. "I daresay you know our implants will be
able to keep us all linked so that if anything goes wrong..."

The Cavil lookalike gave a nod. "Acceptable." Instantly, Robert Templar, Elaine DeGrasse and a third Inquisitor
deactivated their weapons, reattached them to their belts and advanced on the Cavil lookalike. On reaching him, all three
placed their hands on his head and closed their eyes.

As this happened, his companion looked over at Starbuck. "Hi, baby girl," he said.

Starbuck started. "You! You were there when..."

He nodded and smiled. "Never quite expected that I'd be seeing you in this fashion. But I'm glad."

Starbuck was about to say something in response, but suddenly, Robert Templar and his fellow Inquisitors opened their
eyes and removed their fingertips from the Cavil lookalike. "He's spoken the truth," he said. "And told us a whole lot more
than I expected him to." He gestured towards the other inquisitors. "Stand down. I think we've just gained some more
allies." At his words and gesture, the other Inquisitors shut down their weapons and returned them to their belts. "Or I
think we have."

The Cavil lookalike smiled. "I wouldn't say allies exactly, but look upon us as, shall we say, willing to help out when we
can?"

Robert Templar looked at the Cavil lookalike, and then nodded. "While I can't exactly speak for the Imperial Government
myself, I think that may be acceptable." He looked at the Colonials, who were all standing and, with the exception of
Starbuck, looking a little dumbfounded.

"Are these...?" asked Adama.

Robert Templar gave a small smile. "Precursors? I think it would be safe to say 'Yes' to that one, Admiral." He looked at
the two Precursors. "And I think we had better inform our respective governments about this development."

Much to their surprise, the Cavil lookalike gave a nod to this. "That would probably be a good idea," he said. He looked at
his colleague. "And I think we had better step into another room, or at least take this outside. I think my colleague here
wants to have some 'daddy-time' with his daughter." He looked at Starbuck. "And I think this one would like to have some
words with him as well." He gestured at his companion. "Kara, please keep in mind that he did have his reasons for
what he did, and that he never really wanted to leave you."

Adama gave a small smile at the Precursor's comment. "She might take that into consideration," he said. "Might." With
that, he walked over to where Templar and the two Precursors stood. With the exception of Anders, the others followed.

Sam got up and walked over to where Starbuck was standing. "Do you want me to be present for this, Kara?" he asked.

Starbuck though for a moment, and then shook her head. "Somehow, I think that for this I had better be alone, Sam," she
said. "But thanks for asking." A smirk suddenly appeared. "Besides, you do realise that he's now your father-in-law, don't
you?"

Sam gave a small smile. "Never thought I'd have someone who is most likely a Lord of Kobol as my father-in-law." He
reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "But then, you're worth it." He then walked over to where the others were
standing. Together, they all walked out onto the patio, leaving both father and daughter alone.

Starbuck's father looked at her. "So, where do we start?"

Slowly, Starbuck walked over, stood in front of her father and looked him square in the eyes. He responded with a
nervous smile.

Then, she drew back her arm and hit him square on the jaw.

"Before we continue, what do we call you?"

The Cavil lookalike grinned. "I suppose Mentor would be good enough," he said.

Robert Templar snorted. "The guardian of Telemachus, son of Odysseus. At least it's not a god."

"But he is considered to be one of the minor Lords of Kobol," Adama said. "Minor, but quite influential."

"So I see." Robert Templar turned a sceptical eye on 'Mentor.' "So, what prompted you to go and unveil your presence to
us?"

"A few things," Mentor replied. "But I can tell you that on my side of things, there was a pretty long debate over wether we
should reveal to you that we were still in existence."

"Your side of things," Robert Templar replied. "Kinda argues to me that what we term the 'Precursor Wars' are still
raging."

"You could say that. But it was decided that we basically observe things, and when you decided to remove the block we
placed on some of Kara Thrace's memories and in doing so, activate her latent abilities, well, staying hidden from you
was pretty much a moot point." He looked first at Adama, and then at Robert Templar. "But as to what sparked the debate
in the first place? In a sense, it's really hard to say, but when the Colonials encountered you, that sort of heated things up.
Besides, I'm pretty much of the opinion that since both you and the Colonials were evolving abilities that were pretty
similar to our own, we would have had to reveal ourselves to you in any case, simply to help you cope with those
abilities."

Adama listened to Mentor's explanation. "What about Kobol?" he asked.

Mentor took a breath and looked up at the "sky." "Kobol was, I freely admit, an experiment." he said. He looked back
down. "We were hoping to see if we could gradually evolve a society that was capable of eventually becoming our
equals, but it was... sabotaged by those of my people who opposed what the Terrans call the Hominid Project."

"Meaning The Jealous God, I take it?"

The Cavil lookalike nodded. "Or, as I understand you've started to call him, 'Angyra Maniu'."He grinned. "Personally, I think
that name's a good match for him, but then I could be considered somewhat... b iassed in this."

"Naturally," Robert Templar dryly said. He looked at Adama. "I suppose that we had better inform our respective
governments about this development."

Adama nodded. "If I may, I'd like to use your communications units to contact the President. I gather that you don't want
this broadcast all that much."
Robert Templar nodded. "And I'll contact Ambassador Crispin and Undersecretary Kinga before sending a despatch
back to Terra. Of course, Terra's response will take time in coming out here, so it would be good to inform at least
Undersecretary Kinga about this. At least he and the ambassador have the clearances necessary to be able to handle
this."

Adama nodded, then looked back into the living room. "Do you have any communicators that we can use? I have a
feeling that things between Kara and her... father may be still somewhat... tense."

"That's putting it somewhat mildly," said Mentor. "I do believe that she has laid him out on the floor."

"We can use one of the secured communicators in one of the bedrooms we've converted into office space," Robert
Templar said. "We can go in via the front door." With that, they all walked around to the front door of the building.

"Ow!" said Starbuck's father as he got up from off of the floor. "Pretty good right hook you've got!" He rubbed his chin as he
spoke.

"And you deserved every frakking bit of it!" Starbuck said. "There's more where that came from, too!"

"And I won't deny that I deserve every bit of it." He looked at his daughter. "But will you at least listen to what I have to say
b efore you decide to knock the living crap out of me?" He gave a wry grin. "My colleague would probably say that there's a
lot of it to be knocked out of me, but he's not here."

Although she tried to suppress it, her father's comment drew a wry grin from Starbuck. "At least you recognise you're full
of it."

"And you'd not be the only one to say that." He looked at Starbuck. "But will you at least give me a hearing b efore deciding
on whether to continue the beating?"

Starbuck's look turned thoughtful as she considered what her biological father had said. "All right," she replied. "But I
reserve the right to knock the frakking crap out of you if I think you deserve it."

"I suppose that's fair." He paused and then continued: "Kara: May I call you Kara?" At Starbuck's nod, he continued: "Kara,
I know that by running out on you I showed myself to be a pretty lousy father."

"No frakkin' kidding."

"But although I did run out on you and Socrata, and I am willing to admit that is what it was, I did have my reasons."

Starbuck crossed her arms. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

Her father looked at her daughter. "Basically, I was endangering the both of you by sticking around."

Starbuck gave her father an incredulous look. "You were frakking what?"

"Endangering the pair of you." He looked away. "You may not believe this, but I did love your mother. I loved her so much
that I decided to marry her." He looked at Starbuck. "Your mother, when I had met her, was... She was damaged and
hurting. It was after the end of the First Cylon War. I was playing in a bar and saw this strong, fairly attractive woman in a
good dress come in and sit near the piano. After I had finished my bracket I got myself a drink, walked over and asked if I
could sit down with her. She smiled and said yes. We talked, found out a bit about each other and traded names and
contact details. The following week she was back. One thing led to another and, well..."

"You got married." Starbuck frowned. "But what about this whole 'endangering' thing?"

"Kara, you have to understand that... well... If I hadn't taken the steps I had, you would have been discovered much
sooner by... the other side. And so I arranged for most of your abilities to be suppressed."

"You what?"

"Suppressed most of your abilities." Her father paused for a moment, and then continued: "I had that done so that you
would pass a cursory scan as a slightly above average talented human being." He started pacing. "You have to
understand that, well, both sides tend to keep a track of what the other is doing. If the other side had discovered that you
were mine..."

"They would have used me and mom against you."

He shrugged. "Pretty much sums up what would have happened. So, I had to have your abilities suppressed, and I had
to leave the both of you for your own safety. Luckily Socrata's insisting on my getting a 'regular job' made it... easier in
some ways to leave, even though it tore me in two."

Starbuck frowned. "So, why make contact now? Isn't it a bit late to consider being a 'good father'?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Frankly, Admiral Adama's been a much better father figure than you've proven yourself to be!"

"Because your abilities have been awakened," her father replied. "And although the Imperium's Inquisitors would be able
to do a reasonable job in teaching you how to handle them, it would be better if... well, someone of your own people
teaches you, so that you would be able to handle any attacks made by... the other side."

"'The other side.' I'm assuming you mean the other side in what the Terrans term the Precursor Wars.

Her father nodded. "And any of them within range will have felt your being awakened. There's no way that could be
hidden from our kind. So, we decided that since the Terrans have effectively forced our hands, we should reveal
ourselves and explain what's going on. Which, by the way, is what my colleague is doing as we speak."

Starbuck looked at the being that was her biological father, and slowly nodded. "So where do we go from here?"

"Ideally, I stay here and help you get to know your abilities," her father said. "And hopefully I get to know the daughter I had
and never wanted to leave."

Starbuck said nothing, but simply looked at her biological father. Just before the silence became uncomfortable, she
nodded. "I can live with that. But also understand that, so far as the 'daddy' thing is concerned, you're on probation. I can't
forget that you just ran off, but I may be able to at least understand your reasons for it and maybe, mayb e you'll get lucky
and I'll forgive you. Good enough?"

Her biological father nodded. "Good enough. Now I suppose we had better go and tell the others what the situation is."

"So let me see if I have this straight," Laura Roslin said. "We have acquired some new 'allies' but you can't really tell me
about them, even though this line is a secured as the Terrans can make it."

Adama nodded. "The Terrans themselves think that it would be unadvisable to transmit this directly. Chief Inquisitor
Templar is at present alerting Ambassador Crispin, Undersecretary Kinga and Admiral Templar about what is
happening, but will tell them in a face-to-face meeting, much as I will be shortly briefing you and, I daresay, once more
with the Vice-President." He gave a slight smile. "Templar's pretty certain that there will be a meeting, most likely
tomorrow, to determine how they are going to react to this development, and believes we'll be asked along to give our
views."

His smile faded somewhat. "The Terrans don't transmit any information they regard as especially sensitive because they
are concerned that even their secure transmissions could be hacked, especially by a group that they say has many
different terms: the 'collective', the 'hive-mind' are two, but the most common one is 'Anonymous.' Nobody knows who is
a part of this network because it has no real leadership, but one thing they do agree on is freedom of speech and
keeping governments on their toes by making sure they don't get up to anything completely underhanded. It is certain,
however, that many members of Anonymous do participate in what they term 'the Hacker Olympics', by which means the
Terrans select the best and brightest computer programmers in the entire Imperium and take them into service." His
smile grew a little wider. "In fact, they say that there are probably several members of Anonymous working in the
Imperium's government, not to mention the military and other arms."

A look of alarm crossed Roslin's face. "So, we can't trust anybody?"

"They never said that, Madame President. They do trust Anonymous to do several things, some of them, well, not exactly
destructive, but more along the lines of annoying. But they do trust them to always do the appropriate thing in the
appropriate circumstances. It's just that the Imperium made the decision long ago that Anonymous was one of those
things they just had to live with... and trust to do the right thing when the circumstances call for it. In any case, this is
basically why they prefer to use pretty old-fashioned means to convey extremely sensitive information that isn't time
sensitive."

"So, what are they? A terrorist organisation? Some kind of citizen watchdog-group?"

"More of the latter, from what I've been told." Just then, Robert Templar walked in. He came up to the holoviewer and gave
a small bow.

"Madame President," he said.

Roslin raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Chief Inquisitor Templar at your service, Madame President. I've just come in to say that I have informed the in system
authorities about the latest development and to say that yourself and Admiral Adama will be receiving an invitation to a
meeting on Sandoval Hub tomorrow. We decided that since that is the location that is easiest to secure we should have
the meeting there."

"I see. Secure enough even from this 'Anonymous' group that Admiral Adama has told me about?"

Templar gave a small grin. "Anonymous tends to leave both the military and the Office of the Inquisitor-General alone,
Madame President. And on occasion they have actually rendered the Imperium useful service, so unless they do
anything particularly, ah, spectacular, we leave them alone, so long as they stay within certain bounds we have
unofficially agreed to. And if anybody does step outside those bounds, well, usually Anonymous tends to take care of
them to such an extent that all there usually remains for us to do is to write up the report. They have even managed to
crack several espionage rings that were working with the lizards, amongst others."

"I see," Roslin said. "Sort of a 'Sword of Damocles' then."

Templar's grin grew even wider. "You could say that, Madame President. And like that sword, they do cut both ways. Sort
of the price the Imperium decided long ago that it would pay by learning to live with what we could not, ah, neutralise.
Their structure tends to protect them against that sort of effort. But they have made themselves useful, both to the
Imperium and to it's subjects."

"So I gather." Roslin took a breath. "I look forward to this meeting, Chief Inquisitor Templar. Perhaps we may both learn
something from all of this."

Templar bowed. "Perhaps we may."

*Chapter 44*: Chapter 43
Yes, it's another update! I have a b it of a tendency to somewhat "hib ernate" during the winter (part of my underlying
health prob lems.) Now that it's coming to spring and summer down here, I should b e ab le to post a b it more. The only
prob lem is, too many ideas! ;-)

Now, on with the story!

Chapter Forty-Three

Laura Roslin's Office.

"Well... I have to say... this is unexpected!"

Laura Roslin, her arms resting on her desk, hands clasped, looked over at Adama, and then looked at the two figures
who had accompanied Adama, Starbuck and the other Colonials to the temporary Presidential Residence. "But
somehow, I'm not that surprised." She paused, and looked at Mentor, who had said nothing but simply raised an
eyebrow. "Well, a little surprised. The Terrans thought you had all blown yourselves up long ago."

"And it came pretty close to that actually happening," Mentor replied. He grimaced. "As you no doubt can observe from
some of the worlds you encountered on your journey here."

"Were you responsible for the virus we discovered on one world?"

"Ah. That, my side can claim was not our doing. But it does not speak at all well of my race that we can do something like
that to our own. In that regard, the Terrans are beyond us 'Precursors', as they term us." He looked at Roslin. "And you
have our respect for having encountered that... monstrosity... and surviving it." He looked at his companion. "That tells me
that they could well make it in this part of the galaxy."

Roslin arched her eyebrows and sat back in her chair. "I suppose I should thank you for that ringing vote of confidence,"
she dryly said.

Mentor gave her a small smile. "But it is sincerely meant. You, and I mean all of you, are survivors. Not merely survivors of
a genocidal attack, but survivors in the deepest, truest meaning of that word. The Universe has pretty much thrown its
worst at you, and you have survived it all. And I can tell you that the Terrans respect that: that's one reason why they're
basically letting you have a star cluster all to yourself to reestablish yourselves in this area of space." He looked at
Starbuck's father. "Somehow, with enough tech transfers and time to prepare themselves, I think they could well survive
even a Raptor raid on their new system, and take a pretty heavy toll on the lizards while they are at it."

"I think that is a given, Mentor," Starbuck's father said. "And I think they could well give the lizards some pretty nasty
surprises." He looked at the Colonials. "Such as, say, your base stars. Scaled up and modified with Terran technology,
they could easily give a Raptor attack force a very hard time, especially if you decide to fortify your new home system with
them."

"Which is what we were planning to do with them after we see what the Terrans are giving us to upgrade the system
we're settling to what they tern a Colonia," Adama replied. "But it somehow feels right to get a concurring view from
someone who, after all, is a Lord of Kobol."

Starbuck's father gave a small grimace at Adama's words, as did Mentor. "Please, call me by the name I went by for
several years," he said. "Not 'Apollo': I don't think I really could deal with hordes of worshipers, and I think I can also
speak for Kara here on that score as well."

"You do more than speak for me," Starbuck said. "I certainly do not want to be taken for what the Terrans term a 'demi-
goddess'." She then smirked and looked over at her husband. "I'm also pretty sure my Cylon husband would also want
to miss out on all the attention being the consort of the daughter of a Lord of Kobol would bring."

"Thanks for caring," Anders dryly said. Starbuck patted his cheek, and then kissed him on it.

"So, how do we account for the reappearance of Dreilide Thrace amongst us?" Roslin asked. "And for the appearance of
a Number One Model Cylon, or someone who resembles one?"

"We do have the ability to change our appearance, if we wish," Mentor said. "I only did this to, shall we say, irritate some
of our race from the other side who are present on this station."

"And that raises yet another question," Roslin said. "You've told the Terrans, and now us, that those two are spying, or as
you put it, 'watching' both us and the Terrans. What are we to do about that?"

"We don't have to do anything, Madame President," Adama replied. "I understand that the Terrans have had contingency
plans in place for years just in case any Precursors were still around, and that the Inquisitor contingent that's present will
be taking care of that."

"I can tell you that our opponents will be pretty much on edge," Mentor said. "The Inquisitors are very much developing
the full range of powers my people have. That's another reason why those who wish to see the human race destroyed
are so determined: because Terran humanity is evolving very much along similar lines as we did, but with a self-
imposed set of restraints we never really developed. As I said, in that regard, they are well ahead of us." He picked up a
cup of coffee and sipped from it. "As to the reappearance of Dreilide Thrace: well, I understand that the Terrans are
putting together an ESS expedition to go to the Colonies to examine what the situation is there as well as to look for any
further survivors." He looked at the Colonials. "I know that this is all a bit of a secret so far, but I do know that you will be
assigning some of your own people to go with them, since they will need people who are familiar with Colonial
procedures and equipment."

Adama nodded. "I won't ask just how you found out, but yes, there is going to be a joint expedition back to the Colonies. It
won't, however, be leaving until we're settled into our new home and we know just what we want to bring back." He
looked at Roslin. "The President has made it clear that one of the items we will be bringing back will be the bullion
reserves of the Colonial Government as well as of the Colonial Reserve Bank. Another will be whatever we can get of the
Colonial nuclear arsenal we can find, although once we have production facilities for Terran-type warheads established
in our new home system, the warheads of the Colonial arsenal will be somewhat dated."

"At least this way we can make sure the Cylons don't get them, or at least reduce the amount that they can potentially get
their hands on," Roslin said. "And, from what Undersecretary Kinga has told me, we can mix their fissile components
with the Thorium fuel cycle reactors we're getting until we reached the ability to use and maintain fusion reactors. The
thorium reactors are close enough to what we've been using and having the ability to mix in conventional fissile material
and burn it as fuel may well give us another industry we can use for foreign exchange."

"That might actually earn you some credits, but not on the monetary value, with the Terrans," Mentor said. "It shows that,
despite what happened to you, you are willing to dismantle what are, by Terran standards, obsolete weapons and are
able to play a part in disposing of some of the weapons of various Independent Systems. And another thing: there are
emergent systems around the place that went straight to interstellar travel without having gone down the path of fusion
technology and use fission reactors to power their ships. They're also still dependent on hydrocarbon fuels as well, so
your tylium technology could well fill their needs while they get themselves into a position where they can handle the
advanced compact fusion reactors the Imperium uses." As Mentor spoke, Adama nodded, having grown familiar with the
attitude of the Terran Imperial Navy towards what they termed radwagons, and their relief that the Colonials had found
another path in powering their ships and vehicles.

"Yes. Ambassador Crispin and Undersecretary Kinga will be getting the Imperium's Foreign Office to put us in contact
with several systems that are at a level similar to Twenty-first Century Terra who are still using fission energy once we've
settled in our new home."

Mentor stood. "Well, nice as this all has been, I had better get going. I've got to meet with the Inquisitors about the
upcoming meeting with the Cylon delegates. Hopefully, what we intend to happen will turn out to be a pretty nasty
surprise for certain parties." He gave Roslin a small bow. "Thank you for being so understanding, Madame President."

Roslin also stood and came around her desk. Offering her hand to mentor, she said "It should be us offering you our
thanks rather than the other way 'round. You are doing everything you can to make good the harm that some of your
people, albeit at a remove, have done to us." She paused for thought. "And although I must say it surprises me to think
this, I now know that the Cylons are as much victims as we are."

Mentor took Roslin's hand and bowed over it. "Madame President, that statement shows that you are willing to grow
beyond your boundaries. I think your people's future is in very, very good hands." With that he released Roslin's hand,
stepped back, bowed again and disappeared.

Roslin blinked. "And I suppose I had better get used to that, too," she muttered as she went back behind her desk.

Starbuck's father spoke. "I do apologise for my colleague. He does at times forget himself."

"And we still haven't dealt with your, ah, reappearance amongst us," Roslin said as she sat back down.
"I have an idea about how to handle that," Starbuck's father said. "But it will entail some work on my part and," he
continued, turning to Adama, "will also involve a bit of work on your part as well."

"What's your idea?" Adama asked.

"Basically, I go back to the Colonies and see if I can find any survivors. I rally them and see if we can't 'find' a ship to
repair, and work on it until the joint expedition to the Colonies arrives and we leave with them."

Adama nodded his head in thought as he listened. "That could well work. We know that some people did survive for
some time on Caprica: Anders here is proof of that, so it does follow that there could be survivors on some of the other
colonies as well." He looked at Starbuck's father. "It's even possible that other fleet units apart from Cain and the
Pegasus might also have survived, despite what she told us."

"I take it you're referring to Admiral Silva's expedition beyond the Red Line about a year before the attack on the Colonies,
Bill?" Tigh said. Adama nodded at his exec.

"And that is also news to me." Roslin clasped her hands in front of her and leant forward on her desk. "While I suppose
that the Secretary of Education was not considered to be senior enough to be in the loop, as the Terrans quaintly put it, I
do hope that I may now be able to hear all about this particular mission." She looked at Adama. "Was this mission along
the same lines at the one performed by the Valkyrie?"

"Not exactly, Madame President. Admiral Silva's mission was more of an attempt to find out what lay outside the Red
Line than to find out the extent of Cylon territory out that way. That was more of a secondary aim concealed beneath the
main goal of general exploration. He was to try and locate any additional sources of various resources, especially tylium,
that the Colonies required as well as to fond any systems that would be suitable for future colonisation efforts." He gave
a wry smile. "One secondary objective was to also see if he could find any traces of the Thirteenth Colony."

"Yes," Roslin said. "I can see where that aim might now be considered especially ironic. Are there any mentions of this
mission in Galactica's records, plus those we got from Pegasus about the size and composition of Admiral Silva's force,
and how long their mission was supposed to last?"

"Not in Galactica's records," Adama replied. "Any reference would have been removed prior to her decommissioning
ceremony in order to become a museum ship. I daresay there might exist some mention in Pegasus' files in order to
prevent any incidents when Silva's force returned from beyond the Red Line. When I get back to Galactica I'll put Mr.
Gaeta to work to see if he can get anything out of the new, expanded files system we now have thanks to the Terran
computer systems we now have." He looked at Starbuck's father. "I suppose you don't know anything about what may
have happened to Silva's force?"

Starbuck's father shook his head. "We haven't been really paying attention to the situation in the Colonies. We were more
concerned with the war between the Terrans and the Raptors. Your arrival here was as much a surprise for us as it was
for the Terrans."

"So they may still be out there," Roslin said. "I wonder if the Cylon defectors may know anything about them?" She turned
to Athena. "Do you know anything about this, Captain Agathon?"

Athena shook her head. "There was nothing in the Cylon systems last time I accessed them. But it could only be a mere
mention hidden away in some minor files in the overall database. I'll see if I can find anything next time I'm examining the
Cylon databases we have access to." She looked at Adama. "And I just might mention this to the Terrans as well, if that's
all right with you, Admiral, Madame President."

"No objections from me, Madame President," Adama said. "We just might learn something from all of this."

Roslin nodded and stood. "Well, if there's nothing else anybody wishes to add, I'll bring this meeting to a close. Tory's
been giving me some pointed looks for some time, now, reminding me that there's some paperwork I'll have to dispose
of, as well as a meeting with Undersecretary Kinga's people about how best to introduce the topic of our true origins to
our population. Which, given the nature of our more traditionally-oriented people, is something that has to be carefully
handled."

Adama and the other also rose. "I'll get back to Galactica and have Gaeta start searching our files for any mention of
Silva's force. I'll also put together a proposal to put to the TIN to see if we can't try and recover as much of the Fleet's
archives as we possibly can. The computer-based archives should be fairly easy, but they may resist searching out the
hard-copy archives." As the group moved to disperse Tigh and the other Final Five Cylons all looked to one another, then
moved towards Starbuck's father. Seeing this, Adama and Roslin paused to watch.
Tigh cleared his throat. "Ah, we were wondering if you might, er, help us to, ah..."

Starbuck's father grinned. "To help you get your memories back?"

Tigh gave a sudden nod. "That is, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

Starbuck's father's grin widened. "No problem at all. I was going to step outside to say my goodbyes to my daughter and
son-in-law, but I should be able to do this quite easily. Shouldn't take too long at all." The final Five Cylons all looked at
each other, then both Foster and Tigh looked at Roslin and Adama.

"Go ahead," Roslin said, making shooing gestures at Foster. "It'll make you feel better, and I'm looking forward to hearing
all about your version of Earth." One of the things that Ellen Tigh had revealed to her husband was the origins of the Final
Five Cylons as descendants of the original humaniform Cylons which had been created on Kobol and who had left
Kobol as the Thirteenth Colony. This fact, that the 'Earth' of the Sacred Scriptures was not Terra and had been the home
of the first Cylons was something that Roslin was going to also discuss with the Terrans.

Tory Foster smiled. "Probably not as much as I'm looking forward to getting my memories back, Madame President," she
said. Then they all followed Starbuck's father out through the patio door and out onto the patio, Starbuck holding her
husband's hand.

Roslin and Adama watched them leave. "I wonder what it's going to be like having an aide with a virtually infallible
memory?" she mused."

"Considering that according to Ellen Tigh that they were all research scientists on their planet I would say that we will be
increasing our scientific establishment, such as it is since we left Baltar on New Caprica, quite considerably," Adama
replied. "Additionally, Saul, Miss Foster, Chief Tyrol and Anders will also retain their current memories and skills. That
should give us quite a boost when we eventually get established on our new home."

"And that raises another question," Roslin said. "Just what do we call our new home? I don't think New Caprica II would
fly, and 'New Kobol' even less."

Adama paused and shrugged. "We'll know when we get there. Who knows? We just may name it after a region on one of
the Colonies, the same way as Terran colonists tend to name their planets after a region they all come from or recognise
from their own home worlds, Terra or otherwise."

"Well, we'll cross that particular bridge when we come to it. And I've really got to get ready for my meeting with the
Contacts Office people as well as get ready for a meeting of the Quorum tomorrow. And hopefully I'll have something to
be able to present to them regarding introducing our people to the truth about our origins."

"There!" Starbuck's father said to Tigh. "That should be it."

He looked at Tigh. "How do you feel?"

"It's going to take some getting used to. Especially remembering when I was killed back on Earth. Or, I should say, the
version of Earth I came from." He looked at the others. "And it's going to take some getting used to that I've known all of
you for about a thousand years or so." He looked thoughtful. "I wonder just why we lost the ability to make jump drives?"

"Perhaps it's because the planet our ancestors found was just so good, as was the system it was in," Tyrol said. He
looked at Foster. "And getting my head around the fact that we were in a relationship is also going to take some getting
used to as well. Especially given that I'm now married, though I don't know if that's going to continue."

Foster gave Tyrol a smile. "I don't think I'll be pressuring you to restart that relationship anytime soon," she said.
"Besides, working with the President will probably be taking up a whole lot more of my time than when we were research
scientists. In any case, that background might be able to help us all in evaluating Terran science and technology,
especially in determining what we can use."

Tigh started to chuckle. Looking at Tyrol, he said "I suppose the sublight ship we travelled to the general area of Colonial
space could be regarded as a 'radwagon', especially given that it was using a fission pile as its power source. And we
know where it is: in the heart of what the bio-Cylons we created call The Colony." He looked up at the 'sky' of the
immense habitat they were inside. "It's probably no longer where we had found it anyway, or at least it shouldn't be. Not if
they've had any sense and moved it."

"Which they probably have." Tyrol looked around. "Anyway, with your permission, sir, I think I'll take the rest of the day off
and see if I can integrate my two sets of memories somehow."
"That's probably a good idea," Starbuck's father said. "It will take some time to integrate your memories, so perhaps
taking a day off would be useful."

Foster shook her head. "It's a nice idea, but I've got to go and help the President get ready for her meeting with the
Contacts Office people, as well as for a meeting with the Quorum tomorrow." She suddenly smiled. "At least I won't have
to take notes: I should be able to remember everything that's said and done at those meetings, though I suspect it just
might freak the President out somewhat." She saw Adama come out of the door. "And I suppose that's my cue to go back
inside." With that, she turned and walked back in, giving Adama a small smile as she passed him.

Adama walked up to the group. "I suppose everything has worked out well?" he asked.

Tigh nodded. "Although Starbuck's father recommends we take the rest of the day off to allow our separate memories of
both Earth, the trip to the Colonies and our lives in the Colonies to be able to meld together, allow us to sort ourselves
out, so to speak."

"It would help them considerably to mesh together the memories of what are essentially two completely different lives,"
Starbuck's father said. "Plus it would lessen any chances of a clash between memories."

Adama paused for though and then nodded at Tigh. "Take all the time you need, Saul, Chief, Mister Anders. We're
currently not in any need for you to be at your stations, but be ready just in case something happens: the Terrans would
not have moved that special battlegroup here without a reason."

"Too true, Bill." Tigh thought for a moment, and then said "I'll go see if I can talk with Ellen. The Terrans have been pretty
good at allowing me to go and see her, and she says that they may turn her loose soon. Talking with her just might help
me with melding my memories." He gave a little shudder. "Gods, it must have been disconcerting waking up in a tub of
goo and having all of your memories come crashing down on you all at once."

"I think I might go and take Nicky off from the creche the Terrans have created for our children here," Tyrol said. "A little
time with my son could help me with all of this."

"How goes it with you and Cally?" Adama asked.

"I haven't seen her since she was admitted to the hospital complex we arrived in, but I understand Major Thrace here
went and saw her."

Starbuck shrugged. "I thought that I might be able to talk some sense into her, basically being in the same situation, so
to speak." She reached over and squeezed Anders' hands. "And after a certain Terran fleet admiral went and pulled my
head out of my ass by threatening to kick it all the way back to the Colonies." She shrugged. "I thought that something
similar might work with her."

Adama nodded. "I suppose it was worth a try." He looked over at Starbuck's father. "And if I'm not mistaken, someone
here wants to say goodby to his daughter and son-in-law. And I think they may want a bit of privacy to do it in." With that,
Adama and the others all went their separate ways, leaving Starbuck, Anders and the Precursor who was Starbuck's
father alone.

Starbuck's father watched the others depart and then turned towards his daughter and son-in-law. "So. Just having found
each other, we must now say our goodbyes, at least for the foreseeable future. Hopefully, this separation will be the last
one." as he spoke a look of wistful sadness came over his features, but underlying it was a steely determination to fulfil
the task he had set himself and to get back to his daughter as quickly as he could.

Starbuck looked at her father. "I should be mad that you're running off again, and I suppose I am," she said. "But I'm not
mad at you though: I'm mad at the universe for allowing this all to happen. I understand just why you're doing this, and
that this is only temporary so that we can all spend more time with each other. And if you can bring us more survivors
from the Colonies, well, that would make things that much better." Suddenly she reached over and hugged her father.
"Dammit, I wish things didn't have to be this way!"

Her father smiled and then kissed the top of her head. "I'll probably be away for about two to three years. Then I'll be
back, hopefully with some survivors and then we can actually get to be a family." Suddenly his smile turned into a grin. He
held Starbuck at arm's length, looked her in the eyes and said "And I've now got something for you to do for me while I'm
gone."

Starbuck gave her father a wary look. "And what might that be?"

His grin grew wider. "I want the two of you to make sure that when I do come back there will be at least one grandchild for
me to fuss over and spoil." His grin grew slightly wistful. "I never really got the chance to do that with you, so I would like
the chance to do that with any grandchildren that may come along."

Starbuck grinned and gave her father a playful punch. "You are awful. And I'll definitely do my best to see if we can't fulfil
that wish." Now she grew wistful. "Have to admit, though, that the idea of kids never really came up. It just never seemed
to be the right time, what with all the running from the Cylons."

"Understandable." Her father let her go and, turning to Anders, reached out his hand. "I really don't need to tell you to look
after my little girl, now, do I?"

"No need." Anders shook his hand. "Besides, I think I can imagine what would happen to me if I let anything bad happen
to her." Starbuck's father grinned and let go of Anders' hand.

"Well, I suppose I had better get going." Just before he disappeared Starbuck called out: "One thing: Do I have any
brothers and sisters?" As he faded from view, her father looked at her, smiled and said one word:

"Yes."

Galen Tyrol walked through the entrance to the creche where Nikki and the other Colonial children had been placed
while their parents were busy. As he did so he was greeted by one of the staff, who gave him a strange look. "Hello,
Mister Tyrol. You're early today."

"I was able to get off-duty early and decided I'd come and get Nicky, spend some extra time with him." He looked inside.
"Can you go get him?"

The strange look intensified. "You do know that your wife is in there with him?"

This took Tyrol back a bit. "Cally's here?"

The attendant nodded. "Mrs. Tyrol arrived here about an hour or so ago and went in to see Nikki."

Alarmed, Tyrol asked "What's she doing?"

"Nothing much, just watching your son play with the other children." The look intensified. "He did come up to her and give
her a hug, which she did return, by the way." Somehow that made Tyrol feel better.

"Can you tell me where they are?"

The attendant indicated the interior of the creche. "They're in the main courtyard. As I said, Nikki's playing with the other
children." Tyrol nodded and headed towards the main courtyard. Coming up to the pointed archway (a type the Terrans
termed a "gothic arch") he stopped on seeing Cally, leaning up against a carved pillar that belonged to the covered
walkway, which he understood was called a "cloister" that ran around the entire courtyard. He understood that this was in
keeping with the theme of the centre's architecture, which was to make the centre appear to be the interior of a building
called a castle that came from a period of Earth's history that was called "the Middle Ages." Apparently Terran children
loved the idea of playing in a castle and, from what he could see, had spread the idea to the Colonial children as well.

Cally was looking out into the courtyard and, quietly, Tyrol came up behind her and looked out himself. There, in the large
courtyard (which was part-paved and shaded by trees) he saw an incredible collection of structures that were obviously
intended for children to climb and play on that would have done any similar institution intended for the children of the
Colonial elite on Caprica proud. In amongst all of the children playing on them, a mixture of both Colonial and Terran he
saw Nicky, interacting with all of them. Much to his surprise he realised that all of the children were speaking what
sounded to him to be a mixture of Colonial and Terran and all were having a wonderful time.

To his surprise Cally spoke. "He is just a normal little boy, isn't he? The only thing you could say is different about him are
his parents."

"I know."

Cally paused. "Seeing him amongst the Terran children and playing with both them and the Colonial children kind of
makes that plain. And the Terrans: they're not taking any advantage at all by using their enhanced speed, reflexes and
strength." She smiled. "I suppose the only one who has any chance of matching them is Nicky."

"True." Tyrol turned to face his wipe, paused and then said: "We need to talk."
Cally nodded and looked at him. "We do."
*Chapter 45*: Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four.

Sandoval Hub , Three Days Later.

"It's turned out to be a good thing this conference was delayed somewhat," Roslin said to Adama as they and their
respective staffs followed the Terran Imperial Navy lieutenant towards the conference room. "It's allowed us more time to
prepare and to take stock of what's happened."

Adama nodded. "This should, if what we expect to happen does happen, be interesting. And not in that rather interesting
Terran use of the word."

Roslin snorted . "'May you live in interesting times'. Well, whatever anyone can say about the past few years, they have
been, ah, interesting, to say the least." They reached the doors of the room and entered.

The room was large, and was dominated by a conference table that was in the shape of a hollow square, with a gap in
the middle of one side. The table was equipped with the standard Terran computer suite at each station that the
Colonials had by now become familiar with, along with a comfortable chair in front of each work station. Behind the
chairs were rows of slightly less comfortable chairs, each with a small workstation attached and vaguely reminiscent of
something that could be found in a university lecture theatre. These were obviously intended for each delegation's staff,
and were so that the staff could upload any documentation the principles in the conference would need. Off to one side
of the room stood the ubiquitous refreshment area, ready to serve food and drink to the participants as needed and
attended by remotes obviously constructed for that purpose.

Standing at the head of the table behind their respective chairs stood Ambassador Crispin, Undersecretary Kinga and
Fleet Admiral Crispin and their respective staffs. But much to Roslin and Adama's surprise, at the opposite end of the
table stood the Inquisitor contingent, headed by Admiral Crispin's brother. I wonder just what their role will b e Adama
thought as he and Roslin took in their surroundings.

The Terrans all bowed towards the Colonials. "President Roslin, Admiral Adama," said Crispin. Indicating their seats he
continued ; "Please, take your seats. We're just waiting on the Cylon delegation." As he spoke the doors opposite the
Colonials opened and in came the Cylon representatives, accompanied by a lone Terran naval officer and by some
Terran officials who had obviously been seconded from the Contacts Office, entered the room.

"I notice that the Terrans have given the Cylons some staff" Roslin said in a quiet aside to Adama. "Given how the Terrans
view contact with new societies, I really shouldn't be surprised."

"There's an Eight with them," Adama said. "I wonder if that's Boomer?" At that Athena, who was attending the meeting as
a part of Adama's staff' leaned forward.

"That's Boomer. And it looks like she's here both as a representative of the Eights as well as the Cylon's military expert."

"Well, well," muttered Tigh. "Doubt she'll try anything here, given that there are Inquisitors present. Armed inquisitors,
too," he observed, noticing their laser weapons attached to their belts.

"That leaves the Six," Roslin said. "I wonder who she is?"

"That's Caprica Six. She's the one who was responsible for the backdoor into the Command Navigation Program," said
Athena.

"And responsible for the destruction of the Fleet defences," Adama said. "Interesting that they've sent those two here."

"And we won't be able to do anything about that," Foster said. "I have no doubt that the Terrans have extended diplomatic
immunity to the pair of them."

"So what do we do?" asked Tigh.

"We improvise," said Roslin. At that moment another door opened and much to the Colonials' surprise, in walked Gaius
Baltar, looking very uncomfortable as he stopped beside Ambassador Crispin.

"Baltar! What's he doing here?" asked Tigh.

Foster snorted. "Obviously playing some sort of advisory role to the Terrans," she muttered. "Probably sold himself to the
Terrans as an expert on Cylon society, given that he's lived amongst them. And also some kind of expert on the Colonies,
given his clearances before the Fall."

"Surely they're not that naive?"

"I'm inclined to view it as more of a bargaining ploy" Roslin said. "They're letting both us and the Cylons know that they
have access to sources of information we don't control." As she finished speaking Crispin looked down the table to the
Inquisitors. Chief Inquisitor Robert Templar looked at something in his hand and then nodded to Crispin, who indicated
that the participants take their seats. Once they had, he commenced speaking.

"As you are all aware, this meeting was requested by the Cylons, who have stated that they wish to enter into
negotiations with the Imperium. I would like to make it plain that these talks are merely preliminary negotiations, with
further talks dependent on the outcome of these talks. I would also wish to acknowledge the presence here of the
representatives of the people and government of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and that they are here as interested
parties to these talks. I hereby notify the Cylon delegation that, given what the Imperium knows of the history between
them and the Colonies, the Imperium will take into account the views and interests of the Twelve Colonies."

Roslin rose. "On behalf of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol I would like to thank you for allowing us to attend this meeting. I
would also like, if I may, to point out that our own Cylon expert, A Cylon herself who is a sworn officer of the Colonial Fleet,
has identified the two Cylon representatives as individuals who infiltrated both the Fleet and Colonial society in order to
facilitate the Cylons' surprise attack on the Colonies which resulted in the extermination of nearly twenty billion of our
people."

Crispin nodded his acknowledgement of Roslin's words. "Is you statement intended as a protest against the presence
of these people as the representatives of their state in these talks, Madame President?"

Roslin shook her head. "Not at all, Ambassador. My words were meant more of a commentary, if you like, on the nature of
the, ah, people you are negotiating with. They are also a notification that the people of the Twelve Colonies have a claim
on the Cylons for the harm they have done to them."

Roslin then shifted her attention to Baltar. "I would also like to note the presence of Gaius Baltar at this meeting. I would
like it noted that, when he led our people on New Caprica he basically turned himself into a collaborator, an instrument of
what turned into Cylon oppression and tyranny over the survivors of their attack on the Colonies." As Roslin spoke
Crispin nodded as she made her points.

"Do you object to Doctor Baltar's presence at these talks?" he asked.

Roslin shook her head. "We do not, but merely wish you to know the sort of individual you are dealing with." Everybody in
the room knew what Roslin was up to with this piece of political theatre: she was stating that, while the Colonies had no
real power over whom the other parties would send, they would, however, take with a huge grain of salt anything that the
Cylons or Baltar might have to say.

As Roslin resumed her seat Caprica Six rose. "Madame President," she began. "Although I know that you will not believe
anything I have to say, nor have any reason to believe anything we tell you, I do understand your position. I must, however,
state that what happened on New Caprica was not what myself nor the Sixes, Eights and Twos intended to happen. As a
whole, the Cylons fell prey to our own fears, especially as expressed and played upon by the Ones. Please accept my
apology on both my behalf, and on behalf of the Sixes, Eights and Twos for what happened there."

Roslin looked at Caprica Six. Interesting that she hasn't mentioned the other types we know ab out. "That still leaves the
matter of the attack on the Colonies."

"Again, and I cannot emphasise this enough, this is now considered, especially by the Sixes, Eights and Twos, to
possibly be the biggest mistake that we Cylons have made. So was our decision to not maintain communications with
the Colonies for nearly forty years. In our defence, however, I would like to point out the incursion into Cylon space by a
Colonial vessel one year before we attacked the Colonies." As she spoke, Caprica Six looked straight at Adama. "Given
the overall size of the Colonial Fleet, it can be argued that we had every right to consider such an action at least a
provocation and at worst an act of aggression, especially considering that the vessel was destroyed by the Colonial
battlestar that had launched it. Having said this, I will acknowledge that this covert mission by the Colonial Fleet, of which
I am sure Admiral Adama has informed you, was conducted in response to our refusal to communicate with the
Colonies for forty years." She then looked at Tigh and Foster. "I can, however, reveal that it was the arrival amongst us of
the 'Final Five' that influenced us in that decision."

Roslin looked at Adama, and then back at Caprica Six. "It was my understanding that most Cylons are... reluctant to
speak about the Final Five in any way, shape or form."
Caprica Six nodded. "That is true. However, it was decided that knowledge of the Final Five was essential in order to
carry out our mission. To that end Boomer and I have been given access to all files concerning the Final Five in addition
to all files regarding the forty years previous to our attack on the Colonies."

Roslin sat back in her chair. Despite herself, she found herself admiring the tack Caprica Six had taken. Stating that the
Cylons now considered the attack on the Colonies to have been a mistake was nothing new: they had heard that on New
Caprica and it had been confirmed that the majority of Cylons now believed this from interrogation by the Terrans, with
Colonial officers present, of the Cylon defectors. But to point out that the Cylon attack could be regarded as a reaction to
a move by the Colonial Fleet that could be potentially interpreted as hostile, while admitting that it could also be
interpreted as an overreaction, while combining that admission with acknowledgement that the move by the Colonials
was in reaction to the reluctance of the Cylons to communicate with the Colonies... that, she felt was inspired. I'm
actually going to look forward to discussing this with Tory later, she thought as she reached for a pitcher of water that sat
in front of her and poured a glass of cold water. That was a very good move on the part of the Cylons.

"Now that was very interesting," said the Baltar lookalike. Both he and the Six lookalike were standing unobserved in a
corner of the meeting room. "I must say I didn't think that the Cylons would try that tack."

The Six lookalike shrugged her shoulders. "I daresay they worked out what they were going to do before they came here."
She looked at Baltar. "Somehow I get the impression that he might have been behind this: it's exactly the sort of insight
he's been showing recently." She looked at the Terrans. "And they don't seem at all surprised." She looked at the Baltar
lookalike. "Think he might have told them what was going to happen?" he said, indicating Baltar.

"Quite likely: the Terrans do prefer to be prepared. And it looks like the Cylon's gambit was a bit of a surprise to the
Colonials, though I'd wager that they had also told the Terrans about that mission of theirs over the Armistice Line."

He looked over to where the Inquisitors sat. "Frankly, their presence here surprises me. And makes me
somewhat...uneasy."

Robert Templar stilled his natural impulse to look slightly unfocussed as a message, which he had been expecting,
flowed into his mind via his chip implant.

Our guests have arrived. That was all it said, but it meant a great deal. He stole a look at his fellow Inquisitors and,
seeing that they had also received the message, sent out one of his own.

Showtime.

To Roslin's great surprise, the Chief Inquisitor rose in his place and addressed Ambassador Crispin. "For give the
interruption, Ambassador, honoured delegates, but something has been brought to my attention (most likely via his
implant, Roslin thought to herself) that may well have an impact on these talks. If I may?" Crispin said nothing but simply
nodded at Robert Templar, who turned to one of his Inquisitors and gave her a signal. She then stood, bowed in the
direction of the top of the table but in such a manner as to include both the Cylon and Colonial delegations, and left the
room.

"I wonder what this is all about?" Roslin muttered to Adama.

Adama shrugged. "I honestly don't know, but from the look of things we're about to find out."

"What are they up to?"

The Baltar lookalike shrugged. "You know how difficult it is to get a read on Inquisitors. But I do know one thing: whatever
it is we're not going to like it." They turned to face the door the Inquisitor had exited through as it opened and the
Inquisitor, leading a antigrav platform carrying what looked like a holo projector, entered the room.

"Just why are they bringing that in?"

The Six lookalike shrugged. "You know how Terrans, and especially Inquisitors, are about information they consider to be
top secret."

She reached out with her senses. "The thing's shielded. Heavily shielded. I wasn't aware the Terrans had that ability."

"Well they do now. And honestly, I can't say that I am at all surprised." They watched as the Inquisitor manoeuvred the
platform through the gap in the table and into the exact centre of the room. "At least when they activate it we'll find out
what this is all about."

Robert Templar stood as the platform was brought into the room. "Once again, I apologise for the interruption, but this,
ah, demonstration we are about to give will has a great deal of relevance to these talks. Indeed, we expect it to have a
great impact on them."

He looked at the Cylons. "I'm afraid that you may suffer some physical discomfort at this demonstration. Please
understand that this is not our intention, but will be an unavoidable side-effect of what we are about to do." He turned to
the Colonials. "Any sensitive humans, unless they have been trained and have chips implanted, will also feel some
discomfort." He looked at Crispin. "If I may?"

Crispin nodded. "Please go ahead." Robert Templar gave a small bow, turned to face the Inquisitor who stood by the
device and gave her a nod.

"Some discomfort?" the Six lookalike said. "What is this thing?"

The eyes of the Baltar lookalike suddenly widened. "Oh, frack."

Then their world disintegrated in noise and pain.

Laura Roslin placed her hand on her head as a headache similar to the one she had suffered in the Ionian Nebula
swept across her.

Adama reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Something wrong, Madame President?"

"Just a bit of a headache. I suspect that's the side-effect they were talking about." She gave a small smile. "And I
suppose that's a sign I might be a 'sensitive human', whatever that means." She looked over at the Cylons, who were
clearly suffering some discomfort as well. "I see it's having the same effect on them as well."

"Which reminds me..." He looked over and saw that Saul Tigh, Athena and Tory Foster were also suffering somewhat.
"Want me to get a pain-killer?"

"A shot of ambrosia might be better," Tigh muttered. Then they heard Gaius Baltar cry out in shock.

Caprica Six and Boomer winced and rubbed their foreheads as a sharp pain, reminiscent of a strong migraine, struck
them. It was accompanied by a low-level buzzing sound that, although irritating, was bearable.

Then they heard Baltar's cry of shock. They both looked over at where Baltar was sitting. He was standing in his place
and, pale-faced, was pointing at a corner of the room. Curious, the two Cylons , as well as the colonials, looked in the
direction Baltar was pointing in.

What she saw made Caprica Six shoot up from her chair and cover her mouth in shock. For there, curled up in the
corner, and obviously in pain... lay herself and Gaius Baltar.

What. The. Frack? She looked at the others in the room, and saw that they, too were seeing what she saw. The Terrans
were, to her amazement, completely unsurprised by what had happened. Indeed, the Inquisitors were moving to secure
the two intruders, placing hand restraints and a collar of some kind around their necks before hauling them to their feet
and exiting the room. So I'm not hallucinating, she thought. The Terrans ob viously see what I'm seeing. Then she looked
at the Colonials, and saw that, although they were surprised at what had just happened, on another level Roslin and
Adama were completely unsurprised. More to the point, she saw that Tigh and Foster, whom she now knew were two of
the Final Five, had recognised them. And all of the Colonials were looking first, at Baltar, then at Caprica Six, and then at
the two intruders as they were being secured and hustled from the room. So what does all this mean? I just hope this
does not derail these talks: they are far too important to fail.

"Well, that was certainly... interesting," Roslin said as they watched the Inquisitors bundle the pair of intruders out of the
room. She assumed that the restraints that they had put on the intruders were designed so as to make sure they didn't
"disappear" while en route to whatever holding cell the Terrans had waiting for them.

Her attention was drawn to Chief Inquisitor Templar, who cleared his throat. "My apologies, once again, for this
interruption, but I do hope that everyone here recognises the importance of what just occurred."

Roslin nodded. "As far as the Colonies of Kobol are concerned, Chief Inquisitor, that can be taken for granted." She
indicated the spot where the two had appeared. "Idaresay that the pair that were just apprehended are Precursors?"

Robert Templar nodded. "They are currently en route to a specially designed and constructed holding cell where, once
secured, they will be interrogated." He looked at Ambassador Crispin. "With all due respect, Mister Ambassador, I would
recommend that these talks be put on hold until the significance of what just happened can be properly worked out for all
parties involved." He looked first at Roslin, and then at Caprica Six. "I would also think it appropriate that all parties
involved also send representatives to the interrogation so that their respective governments are kept notified of what
happens. I daresay that the results of the interrogation of the two prisoners will strongly influence the course of these
talks."

"I think you would be correct, Chief Inquisitor, on all counts," Crispin said. He looked at the Colonials and the Cylons.
"Would you agree to a formal suspension of talks until the recent development can be properly assessed?"

Roslin nodded. "I think that an excellent suggestion, Ambassador. The Colonies of Kobol do agree to such a
suspension for a reasonab le amount of time." Sandbagged by what had just happened, Caprica Six said nothing, but
simply nodded.

"Excellent. Then these talks are suspended until a suitable time can be arranged for their resumption." With that, the
Colonials rose and gathered about their table, while Caprica Six and Boomer, still with stunned expressions, followed
their assigned staff out of the room.

"Well played, Madame President," Adama said as the Colonials gathered. "Of course, we'll have to determine who we
send to the interrogation of the Precursors and then take stock of what we learn."

Tory Foster spoke. "If you don't mind, Madame President, I think that our representatives should be Colonel Tigh and
myself." She looked at Tigh. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe that we've met these Precursors before."

"You think they're these 'Messengers' you all saw on your version of Earth, just before your own Centurions rose up
against you?" Roslin asked.

"I'm certain of it."

Roslin frowned. "And that raises even more questions about what has been happening." She indicated the door the
Cylons had exited the room through. "And I'm pretty sure that the leader of the Cylon delegation, that Caprica Six, also
recognised them."

"So did Gaius Baltar," Foster said. "I wonder what game these Precursors were playing."

Roslin shrugged. "Well, we'll find out through the interrogations." She looked at a clock. "Not even lunchtime." She looked
at the others. "So, do we head back to the habitat, or doe we go somewhere and relax for a bit?"

"We could go to the Naval and Military Club that's here on this station," Adama said. "It was one of the first things they
constructed when they refurbished this station for their own use. All officers in the Colonial Fleet have been voted as
members of the local chapter, so Colonel Tigh, myself and Lieutenant Agathon should be able to sign you all in. I
understand the menu alone is worth the visit, and I'm also pretty sure I can get us a flag officer's dining suite, which has
some spectacular views of the area around Sandoval Hub."

"That settles it, then," Roslin said. "We go to this Naval and Military Club for lunch. We can also turn it into a working
lunch to determine what we do next, which will allow me to charge it to my expenses account."

Adama said nothing, but simply smiled.

Gaius Baltar, still in shock, watched, as though from a distance as the intruders were hustled from the room. Again, as
though from a distance, he saw the Cylon delegation exit the room and the Colonials, obviously in good spirits, gather
around Roslin before they, too, left the room. Twice he heard his name being called, again as though from a distance. At
the third "Doctor Baltar?" he shook himself back into awareness.

He turned and saw that it was Ambassador Crispin who had been calling his name. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Crispin looked at Baltar. "You seem to be somewhat... upset about what happened just now."
Baltar cracked a sickly smile. "Upset doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling just now." He pointed towards where
the two intruders were taken from the room. "I gather those were not figments of my imagination, then."

Crispin shot Baltar a look. "No, indeed, Doctor. And I have a feeling that these is something more you can add to all of
this."

Baltar nodded. "Indeed there is. And hopefully I'll be able to get some answers myself." He looked at Crispin. "I could
have, and probably should have, told you this before, except that if I had, you may very well have though I was... well, off
my head, for one thing. And although you have very impressive medical facilities, I do not wish to spend the rest of my
days in whatever passes for a psychiatric institution amongst you people."

"Understandable. How about we grab something to eat and you can tell us over lunch? And we might be able to begin to
get some answers for you about all of this."

Baltar nodded. "Although I do have one request, Ambassador." Crispin said nothing but raised an eyebrow. "If it is
possible, I would like to be at whatever interrogation that pair undergo. I think, given what at least one of them has been
doing to me for the past three plus years, I deserve some answers as to why they decided to start frakking with my head."

Cylon Delegation Quarters.

Caprica Six shook her head as she once again reviewed all of the information the Terrans had given them about the
Precursors. Originally dismissed as a Terran trick, it was now helping her to understand much that had been going on
since the Cylon Revolt and the First Cylon War and realised that, even if this information was well-handled, it would help
not only precipitate but accelerate a split within Cylon society that she now understood has started with their first
encounter with the Terran Empire.

She came to a decision. She would contact the Terrans and ask for a meeting with Gaius Baltar, whom she hoped might
help her understand what was going on. She would also ask to meet with the Cylon defectors, but most important of all,
she would ask to be included in whatever interrogation was happening.
*Chapter 46*: Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five.

Holding Cell Complex, Sandoval Hub .

Twenty-four hours had passed since the talks between the Imperium, the Colonials and the Cylons had been
suspended. All sides, however, had used the time to prepare for the first round of interrogations that were to be
conducted on the two Precursors who had been captured by the Inquisitors, and who were being held in a specially
constructed holding cell.

It was no surprise to the Colonials that the Terrans had quickly agreed to their request to send representatives to the
interrogation, and, after some discussion, it was decided that Saul Tigh and Tory Foster, who had recognised the pair as
the "Messengers" who had helped them prepare their sublight ship, would represent the Colonies at the interrogation.
And, as they approached the holding cell complex where the pair were being held, they were completely unsurprised to
see Caprica Six there. It was pretty much a given that, seeing that she had also recognised the two Precursors, she
would also have some questions, both as the Cylon representative and on her own behalf as well.

What they didn't expect was that Gaius Baltar would also be present. Nor did they expect that representatives from the
Cylon defectors, with each type sending an individual representative, would also be present. As the One who was
present (and who seemed to be the leader of the group) said to Tigh when he questioned why they were there, "We
heard from our sister what had happened. We, too, have also read what the Terrans have on these 'Precursors'."
Consequently, we, too, have some questions of our own, especially as it is beginning to look like that we were both
manipulated into fighting each other." To Tigh and Foster, remembering New Caprica and the Cylon occupation,
especially the attitude of the Ones towards the humans, this came as a complete surprise. And when Tigh commented
that this was at variance with what the Colonials knew about the Ones, the One wryly smiled and said "Things change,
especially ideas and opinions, when one gets new data. And if one is unwilling to change one's preconceived ideas in
the light of new information, then one is an idiot. Which is, I should add, my and my brothers' opinion of those of my type
who haven't changed their views on things."

When Baltar was challenged by Tigh as to why he was there, he simply gave a wan smile and said "I simply want to
know just why they decided to frack with my head, of all people." To that, Tigh couldn't give a reply.

Baltar explained. "Not long after the Fall, I started seeing... well, at the time I though I was hallucinating Caprica Six. She
had actually saved my life during the Fall. At the time I didn't think on what had happened, but... well, eventually I was able
to get off of Caprica. It wasn't until I was with the Fleet that I started seeing something that resembled Caprica Six." His
smile grew even more wan. "At the time I was starting to wonder if I was going mad, especially when my oh-so-realistic
'hallucination' started... toying with me." He looked at the entrance to the holding cells. "She claimed to be one of 'God's
Angels.' Naturally I asked which god, and she said 'the only true god'. I kept seeing her throughout our journey here, but
once we arrived at here she seemed to have vanished. Turns out that they, whoever or whatever they are, were frakking
with my head all this time." He looked again at Tigh and Foster. "Just for my own peace of mind I have to find out just why
they chose to frack with my head of all people. I hope you can understand that."

Tigh noticed that Caprica Six had been listening, and was looking at Baltar with a look of appalled horror on her face.
"Somehow I think I do understand, surprisingly enough. I know that I want some answers, and not just on behalf of the
Colonies, but on my own behalf as well." Again neither Tigh nor Foster could give a reply to Baltar's revelation.

A realization came to Tigh: He's as much a victim of all of this as anyb ody is. We're all victims. It made him somewhat
uneasy to realise that.

One of the two doors to the holding cell complex opened and an Inquisitor stepped through. "If you could all follow me,
please, I'll take you through to where the interrogation will be taking place." The group all looked at one another and then
filed through the door indicated.

The Inquisitor indicated the direction they were to go in. "This way, please." They filed past what Tigh assumed to be
holding cells of some kind. Much to his surprise, they were all closed by doors. When he mentioned his surprise that the
Terrans didn't use "some kind of fancy force field", the Inquisitor said "Doors are far more practical and easier to
maintain. Besides, what would happen if the power failed all of a sudden?" They eventually came to another set of doors.
"Through here, please," the Inquisitor said, indicating one door.

They filed into what looked like some kind of viewing gallery. It was fitted out with comfortable chairs and the ubiquitous
refreshments dispenser and, through an opening in the wall, looked out over a room that had, in its centre, what looked
uncomfortably to Tigh like a pair of chairs of the kind usually used for executions in Colonial prisons.

Tigh turned towards the Inquisitor. "I thought this was an interrogation, not an execution." The One who was standing
behind him raised an eyebrow at Tigh's statement.

The Inquisitor also raised his eyebrow. "Those are interrogation chairs. We place the subject to be interrogated in them
and attach various instruments to their bodies. It's completly non-invasive and does no physical harm to the subjects."

"So how does it work?" asked a Four.

"It uses things like involuntary muscle movement, a change in the electroconductivity of the skin due to things like an
increase in sweating, as well as a thorough reading of the subject's brain-wave patterns. We can tell if a subject is
holding back or trying to steer away from an area of inquiry, allowing the questioner to be able to home in on that area. It's
very effective and cannot be fooled. Additionally, we've been able to calibrate it for our two... guests." Indicating the other
room, the Inquisitor continued: "That room is currently being bathed in a low-level field that interferes with our guest's
abilities. This means that they will not be able to escape. The dividing wall also carries the field, thus creating a cage of
sorts through which our two guests cannot move using their abilities. Since we know that the field also causes a mild
headache in sensitive humans as well as Cylons, this viewing gallery is not bathed in the field. You can see everything
that goes on in there, and the people can see you as well. You will also, if you wish, be able to ask the subjects any
questions you may wish."

"Will we be limited in the questions we can ask?" asked the Four. "I, for one, would like to ask some questions about why
they decided to... play upon our beliefs."

"You and me both," Tigh muttered.

The Inquisitor nodded. "I think you will find that we, also, will have questions along similar lines." His eyes went slightly
out of focus, which told Tigh and Foster he was receiving a message. They came back into focus and he faced the
gathering. "Please take your seats. The prisoners are being brought to the interrogation room." The group took their
seats.

The door to the interrogation room opened and, escorted by several Inquisitors, the two Precursors entered the room.
They were wearing wrist restraints but no collars, which told the observers that the part of the holding cell complex they
were being held in was alsobathed in the restraining field.

Tigh turned to the Inquisitor. "How do you put up with the headache?"

"Training." They watched as the two Precursors were released from their bonds and strapped into the chairs. Once that
had been done the Inquisitors attached various electrodes to the heads and other body parts of the two.

Chief Inquisitor Templar turned to face them. "As you may guess we have a few questions we would like some answers
to."

"No doubt," the Baltar lookalike dryly said. His voice surprised the onlookers.

Frack, thought Tigh. Not only does he look like Baltar he even sounds like him. He looked over at Gaius Baltar, who, face
pale, watched the proceedings.

"But can you be certain that this... thing will work on us?" the Precursor continued.

"Oh, I would have to say yes to that one," said a new voice from the entrance to the viewing gallery. Everyone turned to
face the voice, and shock crossed the faces of the Cylons as an obvious One came through the door. "Especially given
that I helped the Inquisitors to calibrate their instruments for our race."

The two look alikes glared at the newcomer, their faces a mix of hate and loathing. "Traitor," snarled the Six lookalike.
"You have betrayed our people by doing that. I hope you're satisfied."

"I am. Remember how I said I was waiting for the Universe to reel in the rope you had fed yourselves? I was. Nothing,
though, against helping things along a bit."

Templar gave the One lookalike an amused look. "Be that as it may," he dryly said, "I think we should get down to the
business at hand. Shall we?"

The representative of the Ones nodded. "Although," he said, looking at the One lookalike, "I think we should also have a...
talk with you about some things."
"No objections here," the One lookalike said. "I'm Mentor, by the way. And I think we should at least include the Terrans in
any talks we may have." He looked at Templar. "And I also agree we should get this party under way."

"Indeed." Templar turned to the pair of Precursors in the room with him. "Like I said, we have a few questions to ask. And
it's no good lying or trying to conceal things: we can tell when you try.

"But let's begin. Firstly..."

President Roslin's Quarters, Hours Later.

Roslin leant forward. "So. From what I can gather, the interrogation has pretty much verified everything the Terrans have
been telling us." She was sitting behind her desk, with Adama, Tigh and Zarek also in attendance.

Foster nodded. "That, and more, Madame President. Templar said that what we learned today has added whole new
layers of understanding to what has been going on: with us, with the Cylons and also with the Terrans themselves."

"Indeed." Roslin leant back and arched her fingers on her chest. "Interesting to learn that Kobol was an attempt to help
evolve our branch of humanity by having our ancestors living alongside the Lords. Not to mention having what we were
told being confirmed by what we could call 'the other side.' And that the Colonies were established as an attempt to save
our branch of humanity, and that the thirteenth Colony was established to save the original humaniform Cylons."

"Humaniform Cylons who were fully capable of breeding, both amongst themselves and, as Galen Tyrol has
demonstrated, with humans as well," Foster said. "And it is really interesting to see that the Precursors regard both
Cylons and humans as being the same, with the humaniform Cylons that were created on Kobol being an experiment to
try and create a tougher variety of human being, one that would be better equipped to survive in a universe that was a
battlefield between the two Precursor factions."

"So one faction of Precursors were trying to engineer something like the Terrans?" Adama asked.

"And instead they got the first generation of humaniform Cylons," Tigh said. "The Colonies were intended as a control.
But when the second generation of humaniform Cylons, created, admittedly by the Final Five after we arrived in Cylon
space, nuked the Colonies, the inadvertently created a population of humans who would prove themselves to be
survivors."

"Us."

"Indeed, Madame President. A group of survivors who have managed to impress their older, mor powerful cousins to
such an extent that they have virtually given them an entire star cluster to colonise."

Foster stirred. "On that note, Madame President, I think I had better introduce an issue that we will have to deal with:
namely, the request from the Cylon defectors to open direct negotiations with us. Given that they will be settled on the far
side of the star cluster from us, I feel we should deal with this now."

Roslin rocked back in her chair and started to slowly swing it from side to side in thought. "I will admit that this is a very
surprising development, on both counts." She stopped swinging her chair and looked at Foster and Tigh. "What's your
take on their request? Are they sincere, or is this another trick?"

Foster sat back in thought. "I think they're being pretty sincere, Madame President. They were rather... astonished,
shocked, stunned... at what the interrogation of the two Precursors revealed."

"I can understand that. And how do we deal with all of that?" Roslin, Adama and Zarek had been stunned when Foster
and Tigh revealed the depth and breadth of what had been happening. One shock was that Zoe Graystone, who had
created the avatar that eventually led to Cylon consciousness, and Vergis Corporation, which had developed the
processor that was later stolen by Daniel Graystone, the creator of the Cylons, and Graystone himself, had all received
visits from the two Precursors currently in Terran custody. "How do we tell our people about this?"

"Perhaps we should leave that up to the Terrans," Zarek said. "They have an education programme ready to roll once we
reach Alquonde Node which includes information about the Precursors. And many of our people, especially those from
the more tech-savvy of the Colonies, have been exploring the Terran data bases that have been opened to them, and
they've pretty much worked out the truth about Terra, so that's out there in the population."

"That could work, Madame President," Foster said. "Especially if we ask them to include what we've learned into that
education programme, it could make things a whole lot easier." She looked at Zarek. "What do your agents in the
population have to report on what our people think of the Terrans, Mister Vice-President?"
"That our people overall are pretty much in awe of our cousins and would pretty much believe whatever they have to say.
This is something I have brought before the Quorum, so they and the President are aware of this."

Roslin arched her fingers and sat back in thought. "That could work. However, I will insist on some input from us.
Perhaps we could train some of our people to conduct some of the courses the Terrans are thinking of." She looked at
Zarek. "Tom, do you think you could put a proposal together that we can present to both the Terrans and the Quorum on
this? Between the two of us I think we could come up with something we can sell to them both."

Zarek wrote a note. "I'll get right on it after this meeting."

"That's settled then." Roslin looked at Adama. "Although I have enjoyed our stay here I must admit that I will feel much
better when we get to Alquonde Node. At least that's now in the Terran's rear areas. With that in mind, how is the refit
programme going?"

Adama smiled. "They've just finished the last of the refits for the civilian ships we will be taking with us. Give a few weeks
for acceptance trials and ironing out any bugs that may have arisen and we should be ready to leave in a month."

"I know we're leaving ships here to help the Terrans finish off Sandoval Base's defences and facilities. Will that have any
impact on the crowding in the Fleet?"

"None at all, Madame President. The families of many of the work crews are staying here and will follow on once they've
finished. That alone will lessen crowding. But the best news is that the TIN has made available to us some troopships
that are heading back to Alquonde empty and are accompanying us and the Revenge there. That will completely
eliminate any residual crowding."

Roslin nodded. "Good to hear. And we are being accompanied by some Terran warships?"

Adama nodded. "The Revenge has been made spaceworthy and can fight if need be, but her captain would rather that
we avoid any combat. She would not be able to handle anything beyond a small group of raptor destroyers or a Raptor
heavy cruiser. Given the local strategic situation, however, the Terrans are pretty confident we won't encounter any Raptor
vessels."

"Good to hear. And if we encounter any Cylons?"

Adama gave a wolfish grin. "Then Galactica and Nike would be some very nasty surprises for them."

"Again, good to hear. Back to an earlier topic: this request from the Cylon defectors to open up negotiations with us."
Roslin frowned. "I must admit to some rather strong... feelings about this." Everybody understood Roslin's observation:
any Colonial who had lived through the Fall of the Colonies or New Caprica could understand what Roslin was referring
to.

"Again, I would say that it could well be worthwhile to meet with the defectors," Foster said. " As I mentioned earlier, they
were pretty shaken up by what the interrogations revealed. In particular they were shocked at the news that colonel Tigh
and myself were members of the Final Five."

"The Simons were very disturbed, angry even, that their religious beliefs had been manipulated, twisted even, by the
Precursors," said Tigh. "We could use this to our advantage, given that we will be sharing the cluster with them."

"And as I said, I find that disturbing, especially given our shared history," Roslin said. "I do not find myself comfortable
with effectively sharing a cluster with Cylons, even if they are defectors from the main Cylon civilisation. And I am fully
aware that even with the help of the reproduction tech the Terrans are giving us it will take us a long time to occupy even a
fraction of that cluster, whereas the Cylons simply crank up their reproduction technology."

"Completely understandable, Madame President," said Foster. "But this time we know exactly where they are, and their
numbers appear to be somewhat lower than ours, plus our new home will be housing a Terran naval base. Somehow I
doubt the Cylons will want to provoke the Imperium by launching an attack on us. And then there is their request for
negotiations with us. From what I understand the Cylons are talking about negotiating reparations... reparations they
wish to pay us."

Roslin sat back in her chair. "Interesting." She looked at Zarek. "And something I suppose we had better bring up at the
next meeting of the Quorum, Tom."

Zarek nodded. "I think that we should mention that the Cylons are being quite generous in even offering to negotiate
reparations, and that being too greedy could be a drawback. Also, we can mention that even offering to pay us
reparations is an admission by them that they were in the wrong when they attacked us."

"And that does make the idea of sharing a star cluster with the Cylons somewhat more palatable," Roslin said. "Which
may well be a good thing. Perhaps we may be able to avoid a repeat of the fall altogether. A good thing in itself, I
daresay."

"Indeed, Madame President."

Cylon Defectors' Quarters.

The representatives of the Cylon defectors sat opposite Caprica Six and Boomer. "Thank you for sharing your plan with
us, sisters," said the representative of the Ones amongst the defectors. "Given what we have learned over the past few
days, I can say that those of my line here in this settlement are ready to carry out our part, whatever it may be." One by
one the other representatives also indicated their willingness to carry out the plan Caprica Six had put forward.

Caprica Six bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Then it is agreed? That I should approach the Terrans and tell them
of what we intend." She frowned. "Of course, this means that cylon society will be split, perhaps irrevocably. But I feel that
this is the only path we can take in order to ensure that the Cylons as a people survive what is coming."

"And I also agree that this path means that we must reconcile with the Colonials," said a Conoy. "Hopefully the Terrans
will be able to help us in that regard."

The One gave a wan smile. "Personally I think that placing us on the other side of the star cluster the Terrans have
basically given the Colonials does indicate a willingness to help us reconcile with them. And it may also be sending the
Colonials a message that they think that they should work out their differences with us. And I think that Adama is smart
enough to work that out. The Final Five are definitely smart enough to work that out and, being in positions of trust, are in
a good position to point that out to the Colonial leadership. I for one, strangely, am pretty optimistic about this."

Caprica Six and Boomer stood. "Then I think we should go and put the next step into operation. That Boomer and I take
those of us who wish to return to our brothers and sisters back, taking the Terrans up on their offer to help out on that.
Then, once things are settled, I will put the penultimate stage of the plan into action."

The others also stood. "We're having what the Terrans call a movie night this evening," the One said. "You are both
welcome to stay and watch. It is an... interesting way to learn about Terran society."

Caprica Six inclined her head. "Thank you, but I must decline. Although, if you give me a copy of this 'movie' I may view it
while we return to the Colony."

"That I can do." The One walked over to a cabinet which contained a large media viewer. He reached up and pulled down
what Caprica Six recognised as a media slate. He plugged it into a socket in the media player, stroked the screen and,
after a while, removed it. He then walked back and handed it to Caprica Six. "It's on this device. I've included a copy of the
novel that it's based on as well, plus some general works that you may find illuminating. And, before you ask, the Terrans
don't mind if we have access to their commercially available tech." He gave a small smile. "They've even offered us
technology transfers to help us settle on our new world. Naturally, we've accepted."

Caprica too the slate and looked at it. "Access to Terran technology. That should make things a lot easier." She looked at
the One. "How do I use this device?"

"It has a physical on/off switch, and can go on standby. To operate it, you stroke the screen and touch menu options." He
demonstrated as he spoke. "It should be able to plug into our power outlets: the power inlet has the ability to mould itself
to different types of outlet. You can also hook it up to a hardcopy printer if you want, but you can also use this as a book.
You simply turn the pages by stroking the screen." Again, as he spoke, he demonstrated.

Caprica nodded. "What is this work you recommend?"

"The novel's called Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Android, I've learned, is an old term for a theorised artificial
human, something like us. That alone should give you an idea of just how... sophisticated Terran culture is, especially in
relation to artificial intelligence. I should add that this work dates from their Twentieth Century CE, around the time that
they were beginning to venture into space."

"Impressive that they were able to imagine something like us at such a primitive stage in their technological
development."

"If you think that's impressive, read another work I've put on there: Frankenstein. That was written when they only had
candles for artificial lighting and were just beginning to discover electricity."

"No wonder they've developed such a sophisticated way of viewing artificial intelligence if they've been pondering it for
such a long time!" said Caprica Six. "And the 'movie' I should watch?"

"It's called Blade Runner. And I should add that it has given us a lot of food for thought."

Roslin's Quarters.

"You know, Tory, watching this film makes me begin to understand just why the Terrans have their attitude towards
artificial intelligence," Roslin said.

Foster nodded. "I've heard some Terrans say that the author of the novel was, in a sense, one of the great
unacknowledged philosophers of their late Twentieth Century CE. That he wrote about something akin to Cylons is...
pretty... unsettling. So to speak."

Roslin nodded. "I'm not really inclined towards philosophy, but I can understand some of the implications of the
questions being raised here. Such as, if you build something that so closely resembles a human being as to be virtually
identical, what does it mean to be human? And is that creation human or a machine, especially if it can think and feel like
a human being? No wonder the terrans decided to treat their AIs and equals." She looked at foster. "Think we could get
the Terrans to show this film to our people and lead any discussions that may come about once we reach Alquonde
Node?"

"I'll ask them about it, Madame President."

CIC, Colonial Fleet Battlestar Galactica, Three Weeks Later.

"Mister Gaeta, what is the condition of the Fleet?" Adama asked.

"The Fleet is ready to go at our orders, Admiral. It's in formation. Nike and Revenge have taken up their escort positions."
After spending the better part of a year at Sandoval Base, the Colonials were ready to take the next stage of their journey
towards what was going to be their new home.

The Fleet, however, was not quite the same as it had been when it had first arrived. Every ship had been overhauled by
the Terrans, and some of the Fleet's construction and mining platforms were remaining in the system to help the Terrans
finish off the base's defences and other facilities. They had, however, been replaced by several troopships that now,
instead of Terran Army troops, contained much of the Fleet's civilian population in, what was to them, some comfort,
something that spoke volumes about the conditions they had endured on the long trip from the Colonies. In addition,
they were being accompanied by the Terran battlecruiser HMS Revenge, which was being sent back to Alquonde Node
for major repairs that could not be carried out at Sandoval. But, even though there was a Terran capital unit with them,
overall command had been given to Adama.

"Sir, we've just gotten our exit vector from Sandoval Control," the helm reported.

Adama looked around the refurbished CIC. His gaze rested on Saul Tigh. "One more stage, eh Admiral?" Tigh said.

"But this one takes us that much closer to our new home." Adama turned to Gaeta. "Mister Gaeta, let's get the Fleet
underway."

"Aye-aye, Admiral. Sending course vector to the Fleet now. Fleet acknowledges receipt of course vector." He opened a
channel. "Attention, fleet. This is Galactica. Begin movement according to course vector on my mark: three, two, one." He
turned to the helm. "Helm, ahead by one-third thrust until we exit the defences."

"Ahead by one-third thrust."

Adama sat back in his flag officer's chair. "And so we move off on the next stage of our adventure." He looked at the
tactical repeater that showed the positions of the various ships of the Fleet in much greater detail than the old DRADIS
displays ever could.

"Admiral, message from Sir Simon. 'Good luck and good sailing'."

Adama grinned. "Send back this reply: 'Thank you. For your best wishes and for all you have done for us during our stay.
Good luck, and good hunting'."
They soon exited the system defences, and once they were in formation, they jumped out on the next stage of their long
journey.
*Chapter 47*: Epilogue
Epilogue.

The Dioskouroi System, Six Years After The Fall Of The Colonies.

Admiral William Adama relaxed in his office chair. He looked out of the large picture window his office had in the large
space station that was called Admiralty Hub . Beyond, he saw the shipyards that the Terran Imperial Navy, in cooperation
with the revived Colonial Fleet, had constructed in orbit around Castor and which were currently being expanded.

Things have progressed well after the Fleet had arrived at Alquonde Fleet Node. All of the Colonials had been awed at
the size of the Terran naval base, which dwarfed even what they had seen at Sandoval System. It was quite clear that the
Terrans had extensively expanded Alquonde in preparation for the grand offensive that had carried the front lines of what
the Terrans termed The Long War deep into Raptor space, and that the Terrans were indeed massing immense follow-
up forces to not only secure what they had taken from the Raptors but to carry the War even further into the territory of the
Raptor Dominion. The forces that they were deploying to follow up Sixteenth Fleet, as well as its sister fleets, only
rammed home to the Colonials (not to mention the Cylon defectors, who had ben assigned their own transports in the
Fleet by the Terrans) just how immense the Terran Empire was, both in size of territory and in the amount of resources it
was deploying to bring the Long War to an end once and for all. They were even more amazed to learn that on the other
side of the Imperium the Terrans were carrying out exploration and colonisation efforts in addition to the effort being
made to fight the Long War.

Not long after they had arrived the Fleet was directed to what many at first thought was yet another large habitat. Adama
and the Fleet's leaders, however, knew that this was not merely a habitat but the colony ship they had purchased with the
credits they had earned when they had sold their claims to both New Caprica and the system the Terrans had discovered
them in. This was soon realised by many in the Fleet who, while having served in the Colonial Fleet, were for various
reasons no longer active when they saw the large jump drives mounted on either side of the ship. It was capable of
holding up to sixty thousand people, which gave the Colonials plenty of room inside. Once the Colonial population had
settled in the Terran Empire's Contacts Service began their carefully planned and prepared lessons, while the Colonial
Office began to educate people in how to operate the largely automated industrial and farming complexes that were at
the rear of the habitat.

While the Colonials' general population was being educated about the universe they had suddenly found themselves in,
the ships of the Fleet were spacedocked for a complete overhaul that was even more thorough that the one they had had
at Sandoval. Alquonde possessed not only extensive overhaul facilities but also had shipyard that were capable of
building anything from a space-superiority fighter to the massive superdreadnoughts and fleet carriers that were the
pride of the Terran Imperial Navy. Much to the surprise of Adama and other officers of the Colonial Fleet the Alquonde
yards even handled civilian construction, thus earning the Terran Imperial Navy a steady stream of credits that were put to
use in maintaining and expanding the yard. "And this is nothing when compared to an Arsenal System," Fleet Admiral
The Lord Agilon, who was what the Terrans termed Port Admiral and in overall command of the TIN facilities in the
system, said to Adama and his staff over an introductory dinner one evening. "As you can gather, we've been preparing
this offensive for a very long time." Since the complete refit of the ships, even with the advanced automated equipment
available to the Terran Imperial Navy's "yard dogs", was going to take some time, it was decided to advance the training
not only of the Fleet's population but also that of the Colonial Fleet. And, much to the great surprise and pleasure of the
Fleet's fighter jocks, this included training on the latest generation of Drakon Space-Superiority Interceptors, while the
Fleet's Raptor pilots got to play with the latest generation Intruder-class torpedo boat in both its attack and EW/ECM
configurations. At the same time the CIC crews of both Galactica and Nike also got familiar with the new configurations
and equipment that the Terrans were going to install on their vessels, equipment which reduced even further the
manpower that the Colonials would have to dedicate to CIC. And while Starbuck and Athena both got in some flight time
in a Drakon and an Intruder respectively, they also got to play with their new Aerospace Group Control Stations, both in
simulation and in real time.

Meanwhile, Galactica, Nike and the civilian ships of the Fleet that had accompanied them to Alquonde were virtually
rebuilt from the keels up. The Terran naval surveyors, on examining Galactica had determined that her backbone and
keel not only needed to be completely replaced (along with her main hull frames) they needed to be completely
redesigned. When Adama questioned the expense of doing this, the Terrans replied that they were treating Galactica's
rebuild as an exercise in seeing how a battlestar was built, and to see what improvements they could make to the
design, with Nike's rebuild being treated as a similar exercise. So Galactica's backbone (effectively the ship's dorsal
spine) was redesigned from the massive, solid structure the Colonials had originally used to a lighter, but far more
robust hardback design, consisting of three large tubes that were joined together not just by the main frames (which they
slotted into) but also by smaller tubes creating a geodesic design reminiscent of a steel girder bridge. The result was
that not only was the design stronger, they could, for the same amount of material, make Galactica even longer than she
was, something the Terrans also did. A similar sort of redesign was also done on Galactica's keel , while the frames
were also redesigned to make her wider by one-third. Her new hull plates were manufactured up to TIN standards, as
were her new armour plates, while her jump engines, which, despite their recent overhaul, were over forty years old,
were replaced by smaller, yet more powerful engines of the kind used in TIN destroyers, as were the reactionless drives
the Terrans replaced her original ion drives with.

The Terrans also used the opportunity to replace her flak batteries with automated laser turrets that had the ability to lock
onto and destroy a single target, thus increasing her defences against enemy aerospace craft and missiles, while her
main batteries were completely replaced by ones usually found on Mercury-class battlestars. By the time her rebuild was
finished Galactica needed only one-third of her original crew, a massive savings in manpower that was, thanks to the
additional space generated by her increased dimensions and her reduction in manpower, invested in magazines for
missiles for her main batteries and for her new wing of torpedo boats. And thanks to the increase in hull length (which
was matched by an increase in flight pod length) she could now launch and recover her new Drakon fighters. Overall, if
the newly rebuilt Galactica, complete with her new aerospace craft, new missiles, TIN-standard armour, battlescreens
and CIC (complete with the latest Terran cyberwar suites) had been present at the battle over Picon, she could have
gutted the Cylon attack b y herself, something that spoke volumes of Terra's tech edge. And the extensiveness of the refit
also spoke volumes of Terra's enormous resources, which were made even more so by her automated factories and
equipment. Nike had undergone a similar rebuild, with similar advantages, which resulted in the new Colonial Fleet
gaining a lethality that the creators of what was now being called the Old Fleet had scarce dreamed of. And, as Adama
knew quite well, the reduction in manpower that the rebuild had afforded the two First Cylon War veterans would go a
long way in not only establishing the New Fleet but in also getting the new colony off the ground.

One thing that had unexpectedly gone well was telling the general population the truth: that humanity had originated on
Terra/Earth, not Kobol. The Colonial leadership had expected some complications to arise at this, especially from the
more traditional segments of the Colonial population, but Zarek's agents in the population had been proven correct
when they had said that this would not be a problem, that the general population were in awe of their impressive
cousins. Additionally, some of the more inquisitive of the population had already come to this conclusion through their
own researches, and this, combined with the way the educators from the Contacts Office gently approached this issue
(while explaining the concept of culture shock to the Colonials) made raising this issue much easier than had been
anticipated by the leaders of the Fleet.

More troubling, however, was the revelation that the Terrans had artificial intelligence. To a people who had fought a
major war against a race of AIs this was profoundly unsettling, but surprisingly it was the personnel of the Colonial Fleet
who made the issue easier to handle. They, along with those persons who worked in the mining and manufacturing
ships of the Fleet, had seen first-hand the massive advantages that Terran automation and AIs had bestowed on not just
the Terran Imperial Navy but on Terran society as a whole. They conveyed their impressions to the general Colonial
population, and it was this, plus the fact that the Terrans kept insisting that it was the right of the Colonials to pick and
choose what they wanted from Terra's massive technology store without any interference from the Terrans themselves
that gradually began to accustomise the Colonials to this uncomfortable little fact.

An additional influence in this matter were the immigrants that were arriving in the Dioskouri System. Overwhelmingly
they were from Terran and Independent systems that had been settled by people who had come from the same general
Terran cultural milieu as had the ancestors of the Colonials themselves, and they themselves still worshipped the same
deities as did the Colonials, even bringing with them an additional understanding of the original Terran religions,
including uncorrupted texts recovered from the Repositories which, after much discussion, the Colonials themselves
began to add to their own beliefs. Their attitudes towards artificial intelligence also helped with the adoption by the
Colonials of Terran tech, and this was helping the Colonials to not only rebuild their society, but to enable that society to
begin to reach out towards Terra's technology level, something that would help the new settlement survive in a universe
that included the Raptors.

Thinking of the steady influx of Terran technology caused Adama to run his eyes over some of the latest acquisitions to
the New Fleet. Moored in a parking orbit near Admiralty Hub lay the long, lean shapes of three of what were not only the
Colonial Fleet's newest class of ship, but also one of the latest designs to see service in the Terran Imperial Navy: the
Caprica-class destroyer. Although they were overwhelmingly Terran in technology and design, the Capricas were also a
blend of Colonial and Terran technologies and designs, and the name of the class was a recognition of this by the Terran
Imperial Navy's design bureau. Instead of the traditional broadside missile mounts on older vessels the Capricas used
a modified version of the main armament usually found on a Mercury-class battlestar. The differences between the
Colonial mounts and the ones used on the Capricas was that the mounts were not twin but paired quintuples, using five
coil guns in each "barrel" that were arranged in a pattern similar to the dotted representation of a number five on a set of
dice, were much larger, recessed into the ships armour when not deployed, extending out to fire on retractable armoured
mounts and were armoured themselves. And they were not only mounted in pairs on the broadside arcs of fire: pairs of
launchers also ran down the central spine of both the dorsal and ventral surfaces of the destroyers. Although the number
of launch tubes on a more traditionally-designed Terran warship was slightly larger, the rate of fire plus the ability to go in
a 360-degree circle on the horizontal plane and go 180-degrees in the vertical more than compensated for the reduction
in launch tubes. It also allowed for more point defence lasers, which made them that much harder to get a hit on plus,
more importantly, the area that Terran naval officers termed a kill zone, the arcs where a ship was able to fire most of its
armament, now extended to both broadsides, making a Terran warship that much deadlier.

In may ways the Capricas also represented what was happening with the Colonial Fleet. Even though the battlestar-
sized ships needed even less crew than the revamped Galactica (440 to the Galactica's 1167), it was not possible to
crew them with personnel recruited entirely from the Colonies. Not only was this due to the lack of trained personnel
from the beginning of their exodus from the Colonies (even with Pegasus' personnel they were still short-handed) many
of the Fleet's personnel had decided to settle on Castor, where their skills, much as Adama had wanted to retain them
for the Fleet, were needed to help get the fledgling settlement off on the right foot. (Thankfully, due to the automated gear
that came as a part of the colonisation package they had acquired from the Imperium, that was a lot easier than it had
been on New Caprica. Besides, not only was Castor a much more temperate planet, Castor Landing, where the
settlement was being established, was, being on the equator and in a large river valley that contained rich, volcanic soil,
much more hospitable than the New Caprica settlement.) Thankfully there had been a solution to hand.

It had long been a habit of the Terran Imperial Navy to allow some of its naval personnel to contract out to allied forces.
Usually these were local systems defence forces that were a part of the Imperium, but allied Independent Systems could
also hire TIN personnel. They were known as "loaners", since technically they were on loan from the TIN and, if need be,
could be recalled to its service. Typically they were usually individuals who, for various reasons, were no longer quite
capable of service on the front lines of the Long War or were time expired, but who wanted to undergo what Terrans
called a sea change. But as far as their skills, their knowledge and their capabilities were concerned, there was nothing
wrong with them at all and Adama was very glad that he had been able to attract the services of several of these
individuals. None of them were ship commanders: that role went to Colonials, but several of the loaners operated the
construction and refit yards, helped to man Castor Control and occupied specialist slots onboard the Fleet's vessels.
Some even manned the naval academy (which also doubled as a university) that was being established while others
staffed the training facilities that were being established to help train the next generation of Colonial Fleet personnel.
And, while the loaners understood and respected that the Colonial Fleet had its own traditions they also served as a
conduit for both traditions and procedures that came from the Terran Imperial Navy. As a result, while the Fleet was
beginning to grow again, it was fast becoming a hybrid of both the Colonial Fleet and the Terran Imperial Navy, a
reflection in a sense of what was also happening with the wider Colonial society thanks to the influx of immigrants.

Adama's eyes wandered over to where the former Cylon base star was parked. When the Terrans refitted Nike they also
modified her to be able to fulfil her functions as a base ship even further by adding docking bays, which stretched out of
both disks and enabled either a destroyer or a battlestar to be docked with her. Galactica was currently docked with Nike,
as were the remaining three Caprica-class destroyers, carrying out a replenishment exercise.

Thinking on the six Capricas brought Adama back to the yards. The New Scorpion Yards, named in memory of the
original yards back in the Colonies was, along with Admiralty Hub, one of the first orbital structures to be constructed in
the Dioskouroi System and combined both construction and refit activities. While the first three Capricas (Amphion,
Euryalus and Pelorus) had been built in a TIN Arsenal System, albeit with participation from Colonial engineers, the
other three (Alecto, Charyb dis and Clio) were the first ships built in the new yards and, in many ways, had become a
source of pride for the Colonials. And the yards were now in the stages of finishing construction of the newest addition to
the New Fleet, the Picon-class light cruiser Endymion, which included all of the new developments first displayed in the
Capricas, with construction of the Fleet's first light fleet carrier, the President Adar, beginning shortly afterwards. Although
Galactica was still an active warship (and the titular flagship of the Fleet) it was becoming clear that the old battlestar,
even in its upgraded form, was being left behind by the newer ships and Adama could see the day coming when she
would be retired from active service. She would never be scrapped, however: her history and significance to the Colonial
people was too great to allow that to happen. Luckily there was an alternative that combined the role of museum ship
(which, so long ago she was supposed to become) with that of a symbolic flagship, and this example too, came from the
Terrans.

Felix Gaeta had gone to Earth to teach the Colonial method of calculating a jump at the Dartmouth campus of the Terran
Imperial Navy's Officer Training College and his letters back to Adama had proven to be a gold mine of information about
both the Imperium and Earth in particular. Both Adama and Roslin had been astonished to find that, while the overall
population of the Sol System was in the area of a trillion, the population of Earth was only about two billion and carefully
controlled. An extra five hundred million or so, however, lived in the six massive towers heading out to Earth's
geostationary orbit that contained space elevators, as well as on the large ring that ran around Earth's equator on that
orbit line that housed Earthport, where ships coming to and going from Earth docked but even so, the fact that Earth
proper had such a low population was a surprise.
Gaeta had used his time on Earth well, visiting both the area known as Greece, especially its ancient sites (and he
included just how strange it felt to be standing on the site of the original Delphi, which was even older than the City of the
Gods on Kobol, and visiting sites in the area called Egypt, which were even older) and the still active cities of Athens and
Rome, seeing ruins that were older than the Colonies. One of the places he visited was not all that far from Dartmouth. It
was called Portsmouth, and was itself steeped in the history of what used to be called the Royal Navy before it was
absorbed by the armed forces of the old Terran Commonwealth. Many of its traditions, however, had survived, as had
many of its relics, including, much to Adama's surprise, a timber sailing ship called a ship-of-the line.

HMS Victory had been built back in Earth's Eighteenth Century CE and had been the flag ship of one of Earth's greatest
naval heros who had died on board during his greatest victory. As such, the Royal Navy had made the decision to have
the ship preserved as a memorial and to keep her in commission, and that commission had been transferred over to
the Terran Commonwealth's navy when it was formed. Before then she had been the flagship of the Royal Navy's First
Sea Lord, and as such became the flagship of the Terran Commonwealth's Chief Director of the Navy and, on formation
of the Terran Imperial navy, the flagship of the First Space Lord. (The admiral commanding the Terran Home Fleet flew
his flag in another old sailing warship that had belonged to a country called the United States of America and was called
the USS Constitution.) Gaeta had sent back to Adama detailed pictures and footage of the old ship, including a very
detailed model kit, something Adama appreciated greatly, but the idea of keeping such an elderly vessel, even though it
could no longer fight, in commission as a symbolic flagship was an idea that he would propose for Galactica. The
Colonials already, thanks to the Yards, possessed the ability to return parts of her to First Cylon War configuration, while
the permeable force fields that the Terrans used to hold atmosphere inside areas that would normally be open to space
would mean that her flight bays would still be accessible to small craft.

Thinking on the Terran Imperial Navy Adama allowed his eyes to wander to what was, after Admiralty Hub, the largest
construct in the system. Except for its size it was almost identical to Nike but whereas she was a refitted First Cylon War
base star, the Ulithi was a Terran Imperial Navy base star, built on the sort of scale that the Terrans were used to. She
could service anything from aerospace fighters and shuttles up to the massive superdreadnoughts and fleet carriers that
made up the backbone of the Imperial Navy and was a reminder that the New Scorpion Yards were very much a joint
facility. Docked with her were two other vessels that were the latest in Terran Imperial Navy construction: two oversized
battlestars (the Okinawa and Sword Beach) that the Terran Imperial Navy had redesigned as assault transports. Each
was the approximate size of a battlecruiser and carried at least one brigade's worth of troops, along with a support wing
of aerospace fighters and bombers.

And speaking of the Terran Imperial Navy: a task force consisting of older vessels that had been transferred to the
Imperial Navy's Exploration, Scouting and Survey arm was currently being assembled in the system. It was their mission
that had caused a great deal of excitement amongst the Colonial populace, for they were going to go to the Colonies via
New Caprica and Kobol, where the Terrans (in the case of Kobol in partnership with the Colonials) had already
established presences. And the Terrans were simply waiting on another oversized base star, the Newport News, as well
as some other vessels, to arrive and for the Colonials to finish getting their contribution to the expedition ready before
departing.

Adama smiled at the thought of the force going to the Colonies. Although, with the exception of the base stars and the
oversized battlestars, they were older vessels, with the largest being of the type termed Dreadnoughts, they had been
upgraded to modern standards as it was expected, especially in their scouting profile, they might have to fight for their
information. As such, they represented an overwhelming amount of firepower in relation to anything the Cylon Remnant
could muster, and, if the Remnant was stupid enough to provoke the Terrans, was fully capable of wiping the Remnant
off the face of the Universe. Ironically, it would be the two destroyers (Euryalus and Alecto) the Quorum had decided on
sending with the Terrans that would be amongst the most modern vessels in the task force. Although it did represent a
significant reduction in the Fleet's ability to police the system, it was considered a risk worth taking, especially as the
Endymion would be ready for service by the time the task force sailed.

And Adama knew there was still a lot of work to do to get the Colonial contribution ready: not just to prepare the two
destroyers but also to select ancillary personnel, such as agronomists, academics, even some of the priests, as well as
preparing several vessels, such as the botanical cruiser and merchant ships, to accompany the task force and bring
back various items, such as the Colonial Government's bullion reserves and items of significant cultural importance.
The botanical cruiser would be bringing back both the Colonial Seed Bank and samples of various biota from the
Colonies and in this would also be assisted by two massive Terran botanical cruisers that were going along for this very
reason. Between the three ships the Quorum was very confident that they would be able to bring back various plants that
would be a welcome addition to the quite comprehensive colonisation package the Terrans had supplied. After all, there
was something to using traditional food plants for traditional meals. Certainly attempts had been made using similar
food plants in the colonisation package, but as Adama was one of the first to admit, it just wasn't quite the same. It was
even hoped that, although Terran-style whiskeys were now being produced, the expedition would bring back samples of
the plants used to make the best ambrosia (as well as samples of that now rare drink) so that the Colonials would be
able to restart ambrosia production, both for themselves and as a luxury export. And on those lines the Colonial
agronomists had already planted several vineyards using especially selected lines from Earth itself so as to get the
production of wines, especially the one that Terrans called Retsina, going again.

Movement caught his eye and he gave a slight grin. It was a tylium tanker, inbound from the inner asteroid belt and
headed for the tank farm that was a part of the Yards.

When they had arrived in the Dioskouroi System the Fleet had been accompanied by one Terran vessel. It was, however,
not a TIN ship, but a vessel from a commercial survey company, hired to examine the two asteroid belts and several
moons in the system in much greater detail than the original ES&S mission had. And what they found made the
Colonials very happy.

Both belts were rich in tylium, far richer than even the Erebos Belt back in the Colonies. And not only tylium: both also
contained large concentrations of all sorts of minerals ranging from nickel-iron all the way to gold, silver and various rare
earths. And the moons that had been surveyed were even richer still. The Colonials had indeed managed to land on
their feet and, not long after Admiralty Hub had been built the Quorum had sent mineral ships out to the Inner Belt to
recover various resources, while two of the Fleet's construction platforms had been dispatched to build Terran-tech
resource extraction platforms. And once the surface colony had been established the colony ship, having reverted to
being a jump-capable habitat, was sent to help establish a community of what the Terrans called b elters, or asteroid belt
miners. Indeed, one part of the Yards was currently involved in completing a habitat that was specifically designed for a
belter community and would take the place of the colony ship, which would be redeployed elsewhere.

These were not the only ships the Yards were working on. As the Contacts Office people had indicated, the Colonials'
tylium reactor technology turned out to be very much in demand with several Independent Systems that were still using
fission pile reactors to power their ships. This had led to a very lucrative sideline for the Yards in either converting ships
over to tylium fuel or building new vessels based on the latest designs Colonial shipbuilders had been building before
the Fall. And the ships that were being either refitted or built were better than ones built in the Colonies for several
reasons, including Terran-standard hull materials, improved sensor suites and, most importantly of all, drives based not
on Terran technology (which used fusion reactors and was not compatible with Colonial or Cylon drives) or Colonial-tech
drives (which were much better than what many Independent Systems used), but Cylon-tech drives, the technical data for
which had been given to the Colonies as a part of the reparations paid by the Cylon defectors to the Colonies.

Thought of the Cylons brought Adama back to the time they had spent at Alquonde Fleet Node. There the Cylon defecters
had made it clear that they were willing to offer reparation for the attack on the Colonies, but were waiting for something.
That something turned out to be a large Cylon flotilla, complete with resurrection ships and all looking a little battered
appearing just outside the automatic trigger range of Alquonde's system defences and which sent a message stating
that they wanted asylum within the Imperium. The Terrans sent out four battlesquadrons of superdreadnoughts to escort
the Cylon ships past the defences, but it also appeared, from the speed that the local Foreign Office representatives
moved to meet with the Cylons that told Adama and Roslin that what they had suspected back at Sandoval was correct:
that the Terrans had indeed engineered a major split in Cylon society.

And it was soon revealed just how big the split was: the fleet of base stars contained every Six, Eight and Two (who had
worked out just what Caprica Six and Boomer, who were behind the split, were up to and decided to join the conspiracy)
in Cylon society, along with many of the other numbers. And, after negotiations with the Terrans, the defectors merged
with the Cylons who had defected earlier and declared themselves to be the Cylon Free Republic. And one of the first
acts of the Free Republic was to negotiate an end to any hostilities with the Colonials and to also negotiate reparations
payments, which included a transfer of Cylon technology and, interestingly enough from Adama's point of view, a whole
slew of Cylon intelligence reports "about a fleet of Colonial ships which have been a pain in the frakking ass for much of
the Cylon race, raiding here and there back in the Colonies," as a One, who had run the intelligence briefing, put it. This
was the first indication the Colonials had that Admiral Silva's force was very much alive and intact, and was something
that the Colonial representatives on the Terran expedition to the Colonies were charged with finding out.

The transferred Cylon technology, although far behind what the Terrans could offer, was still a great windfall for the
Colonials, especially when it came to refitting or building new ships for the Independent Systems who still used fission
power. Being able to give those systems a complete tylium cycle energy source and much better engines that they could
use and maintain themselves gave Colonial shipbuilders a great edge over those shipbuilders who used fusion cycle
technology. In addition, the thorium-cycle fission reactors that were used as auxiliary power sources on the Yards were
able to process unneeded nuclear fuel from decommissioned fission reactors, while Terran tech took care of radioactive
waste products, reprocessing spent reactor fuel and encasing radioactive waste in a form that both trapped the
radioactivity and enabled the waste, once enough had been assembled, to be dumped into Dioskouroi Prime, the
system's star. As a result, the Yards, in addition to construction for the Fleet, were doing a booming trade in civilian refit
and construction, both for Independent System customers and for the Colonial merchant fleet. Ironically their only
competitors for this trade in their area of space turned out to be the Free Republic, but it had evolved into a friendly
commercial rivalry as there was more than enough custom for both star nations.

Adama reflected on the ironies of the situation. Since both groups were effectively the only ones who were in the cluster
they both had room to expand in the future. This, plus the Cylon reparations, had greatly reduced tensions between the
Colonies and the newly-established Free Republic. And evidence of that improved relationship was present in the
system: a Cylon base star, there as the Free Republic's contribution to the upcoming expedition to the Colonies.

Adama smiled as he thought of the very first thing the Cylon defectors had done. They had asked for a meeting with
Adama, Roslin and both Helo and Athena on Alquonde Hub, which was the nearest that both sides could come to
neutral territory. When quizzed as to why they wanted the meeting, the Cylons were evasive, but said it would also
demonstrate their good will. So, speculating just as to why they wanted this meeting, Adama and the others travelled to
Alquonde Hub and were directed to a private lounge area where the Cylon delegation (Caprica Six and Boomer, as it
turned out to be) were waiting.

As they stepped into the private lounge the reason for this meeting soon became evident. Waiting with the two Cylons...
was Hera.

Adama, Roslin and Helo stopped, but Athena raced forward towards her little girl and swooped her up in her arms. And
Hera hugged her back, saying only "Mommy."

Athena looked at the two Cylons. "How...?"

Adama regained control of himself and cleared his throat. "Yes. How did you manage to get her back?"

Caprica Six shrugged. "It wasn't easy. Biers pretty much had her in her company all the time, so we had to do some
special planning to get her away from Biers. Thankfully we had recruited several Threes into our little conspiracy and they
managed to convince Biers to hand Hera over to them for 'safe keeping' when we staged our rebellion. It's them you
should thank."

Athena handed Hera off to Helo, who had come up besides her. Then, she surprised everybody by hugging the two
Cylons defectors. "I really can't thank you enough."

Caprica six smiled . "Of course, we did have an ulterior motive. But it's good when one can combine an ulterior motive
with doing the right thing."

The news that the Agathons had their little girl back soon spread throughout the Fleet, and in many ways helped
contribute to an easing of feelings in the Fleet towards the Cylon defectors. And it led to much amusement, for when
Hera was introduced to the Terran-style creche that had been established in the colony ship she immediately made a
beeline straight towards Nicky Tyrol, the only other half-Cylon child there. This led to much good-natured ribbing of both
sets of parents (the Tyrols having made a full reconciliation) as to the possibility of future grandchildren, but they wore it
in good stead.

As for Caprica Six: what she did next was a great surprise to many. Instead of going off with the Free Republic Cylons,
she had sought out Gaius Baltar, reunited with him and together, they had headed off to Earth. Adama and Roslin both
regarded this as yet one more piece of evidence that somehow the gods must be looking after the man, for he had
landed on his feet perfectly. He had been ensconced in one of Earth's premiere universities and had established himself
as the go-to man for Colonial technological research. In fact, he had been responsible for some breakthroughs that
combined both Terran and Colonial tech, such as the new tylium trigger mechanisms that replaced the more
conventional fission triggers in Terran and Colonial nuclear weapons.

How he had achieved this was quite simple: he simply placed refined tylium inside a small screen generator similar to
the ones used in the Terran weapon of mass destruction called a hellburner, only this screen simply shielded the tylium
from any radioactivity that came from the uranium tamper. It also replaced the fissile "spark plug" used in the secondary
stage of the device. And because tylium was more efficient than a fission reaction, it enabled Terran weapons designers
to make their weapons far more compact and powerful than before. Much to the surprise of the Colonials Baltar had
insisted on making this new trigger available to the Colonials, and had also supplied insights on both Terran society and
politics that, once they had been verified by the Colonial Ambassador to the Imperium, proved to be of great use to the
Colonial leadership.

The thought of Baltar made Adama grimace slightly. At the moment Gaius Baltar was with the ES&S task force, along
with Caprica Six. He remembered that her cover had been as a defence scientist, and it was quite clear that they were
going to go through the Colonial Mainframe Data Base for any technological projects that could be of use. The fact that
there was a strong Contacts Service team with the task force, plus the presence of Felix Gaeta, whom Baltar had
specifically requested as an assistant, made Adama a bit easier about having a Terran team go through the Colonial
Fleet's deepest secrets. Gaeta, who had recently been promoted to full commander, could be counted on to look after the
Fleet's interests, and he would be ably assisted by the Tyrols in this effort. Nicky would be looked after by the Agathons
while his parents were away, but since both children were getting ready for their preparatory year prior to starting school,
it would not be a great problem. Plus, it wasn't as if they lacked for honorary aunts and uncles.

Thinking on the two children made Adama think on the population boom that the Colonials were undergoing. Aided by
Terran reproduction technology the Colonials were finally beginning to undergo a natural increase in their population.
Although some within the population had expressed some unease at using the gestation units the Terrans had provided
as a part of the colonisation package, the need to increase their population had eventually overcome such qualms. The
Terran reproduction tech also had one unforseen effect on Colonial society: the restructuring of the basic family grouping
within the Twelve Tribes into a structure that the Terrans tended to refer to as a Clan, a very large extended family of
individuals all descended from one male ancestor.

One thing that had been of some concern to both Colonial and Terran medical experts was that the Colonial population,
while similar to that of a reasonably-sized town, was possibly too small for genetic health. In addition, children were
woefully under represented in the Colonial population. Although an influx of genes from both immigrants and from a
gene base the Terrans had offered, plus the screening of any fetuses for genetic abnormalities (and their correction in
utero) could help with the genetic health aspect, there still remained the problem of a low number of children. That was
solved, and only after much discussion, by the adoption of gestation units and the mixing of genes in vitro prior to the
insertion of the zygote into the units.

To be honest, the idea of a clan was not new to the Colonials. Several of the more traditional societies still retained
vestiges of a clan-like structure, but the new clans were going to be something unique in Colonial society. Since it had
been decided that the best way to maintain genetic health amongst the Colonial population was to mix the available
gene pool as much as possible, a new family structure was decided upon. All children who were naturally conceived
would belong to what would be call the main lineage, but the first son and daughter of a mixing would bear the surname
belonging to the male donor, while the second son and daughter would bear the surname of the female doner, the third
son and daughter would bear the surname of the maternal grand mother of the male doner and so on. Only if there were
no children conceived naturally would the son and daughter of any first pairing become the founders of a primary
lineage, and, apart from some regulations covering property inheritance, there would be no real legal distinction
between lineages save for that between main and secondary lineages. This scheme would also require the creation of a
register that recorded mixings, but it would both increase the Colonial population and preserve various names. And
considering that they had two planets to fill, not to mention several moons and the two asteroid belts, and that each clan
would be given lands to settle on if they so chose, it would still be a long while until they had populated both worlds. The
clan scheme also had the advantage of enabling that the original Colonial population would not be swamped by
immigrants coming to help settle the system and would also help to preserve as much of Colonial culture as possible.
Adama was having some trouble coming to terms with the fact, especially since Lee and Dee had had children, that he
was now the head of the Adama Clan, and that he would also, via in vitro methods, would be siring at least three
subsidiary lineages. He smiled to himself when he recalled just whom he was siring those lineages with. The tribal
structure would remain, but was now going to be combined with a similar structure that came from the ancient Earth
society called The Roman Repub lic, whose people belonged to both tribes and a clan-like structure called the gens,
which was similar to those used on Aerilon.

Almost on cue the tone to his office door rang. Smiling, he turned and said "Come." Through the door walked Laura
Roslin. No, Laura Roslin-Adama.

Sometime after the new colony had been well and truly established Laura Roslin had surprised everyone by stating that
she was stepping down from the office of President. What had surprise even more people was that Tom Zarek had also
announced that he was stepping down as well. "To be honest," he had said, "I probably have too many grievances about
the way things had been run back in the Colonies. It's best that we start with a clean slate, but remember the mistakes
that have been made in the past so that we do not repeat them." Both Roslin and Zarek had been appointed, along with
Adama, as members of a new advisory body called The Council of Elders, reserved only for the most distinguished
citizens of Colonial society and intended to act as advisors to both the Quorum and the President of the Colonies, thus
placing them in the best possible position to advise against making many of the mistakes that had been made back in
the Colonies. Not long afterwards both Adama and Roslin admitted their feelings to each other and, after a whirlwind
courtship (which was viewed with much approval by many, but especially Lee Adama) they had married. Since Laura
was beyond child-bearing age both she and Adama had considered that children were not in their future, but the
adoption of Terran gestation units plus the programme of gene mixing meant that, before long they too would be blessed
with children, and, incidentally, creating a link between the two new clans of Adama and Roslin.

Laura walked over to Adama's side and kissed his cheek. "I've been sent by the new President of the Colonies to bring
you to the meeting regarding the joint expedition back to the Colonies," she said.
"Lee can wait just a little while longer." After Laura's surprise resignation new elections were called, and to no one's
surprise Lee Adama, who at the time was still Nike's commander, had been written-in as President, forcing him to
reluctantly hand in his commission as a Colonial Fleet officer, with Wallace Gray, who had been one of Laura's chief
aides during her administration, as his Vice-President. As Laura had said, it gave the Colonial leadership some new
blood while also making sure that an experienced political figure was at hand to give Lee some advice. His elevation to
the Presidency had upset the arrangements Adama had made for Lee to be eventually made an admiral, but he had
managed to put together some contingency plans for the future command structure of the New Fleet.

"Tom arrived just a while ago. He's been preparing for his part in the expedition." Much to many people's surprise Tom
Zarek, who had retired to a life as an agronomist (a profession that had been made much easier and more efficient by
the automated farming gear that came as a part of the colonisation package, and which he said he preferred as it was
somewhat less stressful) had volunteered to lead a party of some of his people, who had also settled on Zarek's estate
prior to moving further up the valley, to Sagittaron to search for any survivors who might have holed up in lairs that had
been established by the Sagittaron Freedom Movement. As he said at the time, he and his people would be the best
ones to find out if the lairs had been used. He had also, at his suggestion, been involved in setting up similar refuges on
Castor for any resistance movement that would be formed for action outside the Castor Citadel, an area that was being
prepared in a nearby mountainous region as a citadel for the planetary population to retire to in the case of an invasion.

"Even though we're now using antigrav aircars thanks to the colonisation package I'm still astonished that he was able to
get here in time for the meeting, even with the shuttle service operating," Adama said. Zarek had taken as his settlement
allotment a large area of ground a fair way up the valley of the Elpeus River, the mouth of which was the location of
Castor Landing. And even though they were now using aircars to travel some distances (as well as for more detailed
surveying of their new world) a road network was being developed alongside river transport on the Elpeus, with a rail
network being planned for the future, as, even with their advanced technology the Terrans still considered that, for bulk
goods, nothing beat road, rail and water travel.

"He came up with Lee on Colonial One. Lee told me that Tom had some ideas about looking for survivors on Sagittaron
he wanted to discuss with him. He's hoping that a fair number survived, since Sagittaron wasn't as well developed as
some of the other colonies were and may have escaped being heavily nuked. The survival of Sam Anders' group on
Caprica has put some hope in him that others may have survived on some of the other less-developed colonies. He
thinks that even the Cylons would have found it difficult to have chased down every survivor group, and the reports of
Admiral Silva's force, if it is his, may also mean that there could even be another civilian fleet that survived the Fall."

"If that turns out to be true, it will be a boost to us in terms of morale and numbers, both population and military-wise. Not
to mention the civilian merchant fleet." The Colonial merchant fleet, being mainly Gemenon Traders and Colonial
Movers, had become an important mainstay in the stellar region the Colonies were being reestablished in. Considerably
larger, more modern and with greater carrying capacity than many smaller ships from the various Independent Systems
that were nearby, they had revolutionised trade in the region and helped to spark an economic boom. In fact, there was a
bit of a backlog in custom for the merchant ships, so additional vessels would be greatly welcomed, even if they hadn't
been upgraded to Terran tech levels. But that's something we can now do ourselves, Adama thought, thanks to the Yards.

He looked at his wife. "Well, I suppose we had better get moving. Wouldn't want to keep the President waiting too long."
Laura laughed, and arm-in-arm, the two left Adama's office, heading for the meeting on the initial return to the Colonies.

He chuckled, a sound that was strange coming from him. "What's so funny?" Laura asked.

"Oh, just imagining the looks on the faces of the Cylon Remnant when the expedition shows up. But, I'm also thinking
that the future looks very good for our people. We have an entire system to expand into, we have a growing population,
we have a booming economy and, if the reports are correct, we may be able to welcome some more of our people here
to our new home. And someday, maybe our descendants will be able to return to the Colonies for good. But now, now
that we're established here, I feel pretty good."

"So do I. We achieved what we set out to do: find a new home for our people." And with that, they entered the conference
room to discuss the next step in their people's future.

Finis. (For now.)