Chapter One

(Fleet Headquarters – Admiral Magnus' Office – 17 Days after the Armistice, 0827)

Peter Magnus was buried in paperwork. After the Armistice had been signed, the higher ups had decided to transfer him from the Atlantia to HQ. At first, he had been extremely unhappy. But then he realized why the brass had made the call. With the war over, a lot of folks were resigning their commissions. This had a simple, yet major result….the Fleet needed to be re-organized. That part was being take off by Admirals Jones, Patterson and McAnders. But the ships that remained would often need new CO's and XO's. And that was Peter's part of the equation. A knock on the door made him look up.

"Enter."

The door opened and Crewman Victor Lazarus entered. He was carrying three boxes full of files. Just eighteen years old, Lazarus was a newbie to the fleet. In fact, he had graduated the Academy sixteen days ago. But if he was angry about the missing the war by an inch, he wasn't showing it. What had shown was that he was a terrible pilot. He had crashed the simulator – in more ways than one – three times and had been on the brink of washing out when Magnus had first met him.

But the Admiral had seen something in the young man and – on a hunch – assigned him to fixing the simulator. Lazarus had done so in record time. From that point on, he had been on an engineering track. There, he had shown three talents….paperwork, leadership and fixing things. It was a combination that spelled out that Lazarus would make a great Chief of the Deck someday. But with the post-war reorganization going on, it would probably be a while before they could pin down which Battlestar to assign him to. So for now, his was biding his time as Magnus' aide.

"Here's are the files for the Galactica, sir."

"Put them with the other boxes, please."

There was a stack of boxes in one corner of the office. With the three boxes that Lazarus had brought, the count was at twenty-seven. At the moment, Magnus was going through about a box per day. He was currently working on the crew of the Yashuman.

"Coffee, Admiral ?"

"No, thank you." He looked at Lazarus, who was looking very tired. From what he knew of the man, he had probably been working himself way to hard. "But you look like could us some." He gestured towards the chair across from him. "Have a seat, crewman."

"Yes, sir." Lazarus said as he sat down.

"How long did you sleep this night ?" Lazarus bit his lower lip and held up four fingers. (Meaning he had gotten four hours of shuteye.) Magnus shook his head. "And how long since you got a full eight hours ?"

"Two weeks, sir."

"In that cause, the office next door is empty…." The previous owner – Admiral Yates – had been killed during Battle of Tauron. (On Day 4571 of the War.) "….and has a couch, use it. That's an order, crewman."

"Yes, sir." Lazarus got up and headed for the door. Before he could got there, he stopped and turned. "Sir, do you think they are really gone ? The Cylons, I mean ?" There were some in the Fleet who believed that the Cylons had only signed the armistice to stall. They were expecting the toasters to wait a couple of months – while rebuilding their fleet and numbers – and then hit the Colonies with everything they could muster. "The rumor mill…."

"Is often wrong, crewman."

"Yes, sir." Lazarus said. "Sorry, sir. Won't happen again, sir." Lazarus headed for the door, but stopped just shy of it. He bit his lip as if pondering if the question on his mind was rude. But his mouth apparently overrode his brain, because it just popped out. "Do you believe in Earth, sir ?"

The question surprised Magnus. He frowned and looked at the crewman.

"Why do you ask ?"

"I don't know, but if there is another tribe out there…." Lazarus paused. "….Well, it would mean that even if the Cylons wipe out the twelve colonies, there would still be Humans in the universe. It's a small comfort, but it's better than nothing, sir. You know, it's a shame that we can't just build a fourteenth colony. Somewhere on some random rock, where the Cylons could never find it."

"Get some sleep, crewman."

"Yes, sir."

Lazarus left and Magnus leaned back. He pondered the crewman's suggestion and came up with a single question…..why not ? What was keeping them from building a fourteenth tribe, somewhere out there. He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down two words: Project Destiny. Then he started looking for his collection of star charts, there was work to be done.

(Research Vessel Celestra – Command Center – 25 Days after the Armistice, 0800)

Admiral Magnus looked at the DRADIS screen and studied Delta Alpha II. It was a desert world at the very edge of charted space. There was practically no plant-life and the temperatures were always extremely high. Even at night, they would not drop below forty degree centigrade. Most people considered it a 'first class hell-hole'. And that was exactly why Magnus was considering it for Project Destiny.

"What do you think, Mister Lazarus ?"

"It's distant, uncomfortable and you'd have to be insane to move here." Lazarus began. "So, I think it is perfect, sir."

"But…?"

"What makes you think there's a 'but', sir ?"

"There always is." Magnus said with a smile. "I've been around long enough to know that. And yes, it's a cliché, but it's true. Now, seriously, what are you reservations ?"

"I think we should keep looking, sir." Lazarus began. "What if we bet all our chips on this world and the charting teams can't find a good spot ? We should have a list of possible sites."

Magnus nodded. He had been thinking the same thing. But he had wanted to know what Lazarus thought of this situation. And the man had passed his little test with flying colors. He turned to the ranking marine – a Captain – and told her to prepare to send down a team. The woman nodded and set to the task. Celestra was a civilian ship, but for security reasons they were using a Colonial Fleet crew. That, and the civilian crew had worked their rear ends off during the War. They had earned some major leave time.

"We'll make a list." He said. "For now, however, let's check out this ball of sand."

"Yes, sir."

And with that, the two of them headed out.

(Delta Alpha II - 25 Days after the Armistice, 0815)

As advertised, the planet was hot and miserable. They had gone down by means of shuttle. The team consisted of Magnus, Lazarus and four Marines. The Marines were led by Captain Janice McNeill. She, Lazarus and Magnus were watching the sun set.

"So." McNeill said. "Now what do we do ?"

"We're almost there." Magnus said. "Time to get moving."

Magnus led the way to the site he had picked. It was a valley between two massive dunes. The plan was to begin digging here and create an underground complex. After all, this place was to be a secret settlement. And a surface colony would be way too vulnerable to attack. The problem was setting up adequate defenses, while not telegraphing the location of the place.

"Looks like every other valley to me. Is this…."

That was a far as McNeill got before there was a loud cracking sound and the ground swallowed her. An enormous hole formed where the Captain had been before and the rest of the party had to scramble to get far enough away. Streams of sand were pouring down the hole, threating to drag them along. Magnus cursed.

He had picked this valley because the ship's DRADIS readings had made his suspect there was a large cave underneath. It would make keeping the work secret a lot easier. But the roof has apparently been much more fragile than expected. And now McNeill was down there, while the place was filling up with sand. They had to get her out of there. Before she was buried alive. He made his way to edge of the hole.

"McNeill !" He shouted.

But there was no reply. Fortunately, they had all brought repelling gear. They quickly secured it and headed down. As they did so, it became clear why this section had collapsed. The piece was much thinner than then surrounding areas. They had secured their line there. Magnus was the first to hit the floor. He found McNeill in rough shape, but still breathing.

"Jones ! Barnes !" The two marines in question came rushing. "We need to get her back to the Celestra. Paulson, you are driving."

"Sir." Paulson began. "We can't leave the two of you alone down here."

"This is not a discussion, Mister. You three are going back to the ship and that is an order." The tone of his voice made it clear that he was not taking any further questioning on this. "Now get moving."

The three marines set to their assigned task. Only when they were back on the surface, did Magnus breathe a bit easier. There was still sand coming down, so they would have to hurry. He was packing a submachine gun, which came with an integrated flashlight under the barrel. Magnus turned it on and led the way deeper into the cave. Behind him, Lazarus also turned on his weapon's flashlight. The cave was massive and much colder then surface.

"Do you think McNeill will make it ?" Lazarus asked. "She looked bad, sir."

"Jones is a top-notch Medic. He'll keep her alive until they reach the ship. And Doctor Richards can take it from there." Doctor Victor Richards was one of the best doctors in the Fleet. He had spent five years as a civilian doctor. And then the war had started and he had enrolled. "She'll be fine."

Lazarus nodded and Magnus hoped that he was right. They headed deeper into the cave. At first, there seemed nothing special about it. But then he noticed something shiny in the distance. He readied his weapon as he approached. It was a Cylon Centurion. Lazarus immediately put three bullets into its head.

"It's already dead, crewman."

When they got there, he realized it was just a head. And it was not alone. There was a whole pile of them. He picked it up and frowned. The MCP – its brain, for lack of a better word - was missing. It was just an empty shell. He dropped it and checked several others. They were all the same. Lazarus was also examining the pile.

"Except for the one I shot, there are no bullet holes, sir." He said. "And they are all…."

"Yes, I noticed." Magnus said. "Are there any other body parts ?"

"No. Just heads, sir."

"Let's see if there is more."

They got going again. Magnus made a mental note. If the Cylon head had not been brainless, Lazarus' shots would have reduced it to pulp. He had never seen Lazarus shoot until now. It was another tic in his skill set box. (He had already added repelling to the list after seeing him come down the hole.) Fifty meters beyond the pile, they spotted something. There was a table with old and rusty tools and a huge furnace. Magnus studied the set-up. But he was no engineer. The good news was that he had one with him.

"What kind of set-up is this ?"

"Somebody wanted to melt down Cylons." Lazarus said. "And the skull is extra thick to protect the MCP." He studied the furnace. "And this is a NX-07. So you'd be fifty-seven degrees short, even at full power. And these tools…" He examined the table. "….are crude, as if…" He paused. "…what if we are not the only ones re-organizing ?"

"Cylons melting down Cylons ?"

"And stripping them down first." Lazarus gestured towards the table. "This is a Cylon version of a surgery table. Plucking out the 'organs', so to speak. And what was left…." He pointed towards the furnace.

"But why dump the heads out there ? And why not take them along ?"

Lazarus pondered that for a moment, then had an idea. "As a marker. In case they ever needed to come back here. This is not only cave on this planet. And the desert changes with time, sir."

"It's as good an idea as any, but it doesn't matter." He paused and sighed. "If the toasters have been here once, it's on their charts This planet is not suited for Project Destiny. We can't risk them coming back. We need a planet that is off the grid. So, we're going to have to risk going into uncharted space."

The two men exchanged a look. They both knew this would be a very risky proposition, but they also knew there was no other choice. This project was simply too important not do so.