From Aliana's second season: Episode 3 (a multi-part episode!)
TRANSITIONS

A Battlestar Galactica story
by Aliana

Started in March, 2000

Based on the characters created by Glen A. Larson

From the Adama Journals:

One secton from now, we will mark the first anniversary of the destruction of the Twelve Colonies by the Cylons. At that horrible moment, when we let our guard down only briefly in the vain hope for peace . . . peace after a thousand yahrens of war . . .twelve worlds, twelve civilizations, twelve cultures both unique and intricately intertwined, were reduced to a rag-tag Fleet of nearly 220 space-bound ships. My mind and my heart still go numb when I think about what we once were . . . and what is left of a race of billions of human beings. . . We must keep looking forward, onward . . .have faith that we will find our brothers of the Thirteenth Tribe. My heart and faith tell me that we can succeed. Our glimmering ray of sunlight after the horrendous, destructive tempest . . . is Earth.

It has been one and a half sectars since our victory against the lone basestar. My emphatic hope is that it will be our last encounter with the Cylons. We can only guess, but I feel that the basestar was part of a widely scattered, outer-perimeter defense. That it was purely chance that our paths crossed. That it was alone, and that we destroyed it before it could send any signals back to the Cylon Empire. Even if it did, I pray that we were so far from our old system that it would take sectons, or even sectars, for the signal to be received by anyone. We have no way of knowing for certain and can only hope that the Lords of Kobol have guided us to freedom from our enemy. For now, we must continue on and put as much distance between ourselves and the location of our last encounter with the Cylons. It is too soon to let down our guard or to become complacent.

Fuel-wise, our condition is stable, for now. We have a sufficient supply from the very successful mining expedition of the asteroid field we encountered only a secton after the defeat of the basestar. With careful conservation, we should have enough to last for at least three sectars. We are, of course, constantly searching for more resources.

Unfortunately, I fear that we face a new and dangerous foe - ourselves. We have been fleeing for nearly a yahren now - nearly a yahren of being confined to what at times seem like prison cells to us all. Nearly a yahren of living in cramped quarters, enduring food shortages and fuel crises. For most of our journey, the constant threat from the Cylons kept us united and gave us a reason to fight for our survival. But now . . . as the threat seems to grow distant, I fear our unity is starting to weaken, to crumble bit by bit.

In the past three sectons alone, we have faced an attempted mutiny, strict food rationing following a near-disaster on one of the agro ships, a riot aboard the passenger ship, Sagittarius, and an attempted mass-suicide. Both the riot and the suicide attempt were led by a mentally ill man, who, under other circumstances, would have been receiving the proper treatment and probably would not have been a threat to anyone. That he could so easily find people to join his *Il Fadim* group and so easily ignite the fears that led to the riot illustrates how desperate people are becoming and how fragile is the resolve of some. We cannot let our human frailties be our downfall. We must do all that we can to preserve our unity and the will to survive, to persevere, and to continue onward.

In light of all this, I have started an all-out campaign to strengthen our unity as a Fleet, and to let every citizen know and believe that he or she is valued and has a voice. Amazingly, the Council of Twelve, led by Siress Tinia, has for once agreed with me. We feel that the people need more than just the representation based off of the former homeworlds, that they need more opportunities to be heard. Each ship is in the process of choosing a representative to act as a spokesperson, a representative, who can bring any concerns to the attention of the Council or even myself. The goal is more open communication throughout the Fleet so that the problems that in the past were left to fester unattended will be dealt with. Of course, we have the potential for ending up with an inefficient string of bureaucracy. May the Lords of Kobol guide us away from that!

We have also doubled our efforts to help the less fortunate among the Fleet, to act as an extended family, to encourage all to give what they can. And that especially includes the efforts from all of our artisans, musicians, athletes, and other creative souls. We need them to help boost our morale, to feed our hope and nourish our spirits. As we approach the end of this latest forced-rationing, I am hoping that the upcoming triad demonstrations and clinic for the children of the orphan ship will be a first step in overcoming our latest struggles. . .

We *must* pull together. We *must* persevere . . . to have our civilization crumbled to pieces by our own hand would be far more tragic than the holocaust that we endured the previous yahren . . .

CHAPTER ONE
Lieutenant Starbuck sat on the edge of his bunk, feeling uncharacteristically pensive. His flight jacket lay across his lap and he gazed absently at the chronometer that was perched on the stand beside his bed. A sigh escaped slowly as he ran a hand through his feathered, light-brown hair. He closed his blue eyes and straightened his spine when he felt the all-too-familiar tightness building in the still-healing muscles and tissues in the middle of his back. With another extended breath, he slowly lifted his shoulders, then let them roll back and down again, feeling the tension ease. With his back still erect but relaxed, he felt the impending cramp abate, thwarted. He sat still and opened his eyes. He was alone in Blue Squadron's billet. All others were either on duty or off at morning nutrition break. He was still on medical leave, which meant too little to do and too much time to fill. And too much time to think.

Hands still resting on his knees, not yet ready to move, Starbuck absently rolled an unlit fumarello between his fingers as his mind drifted back over the recent events. For him, the past three sectons had been deeply personal. And he was not sure anymore whether the infamous "Starbuck luck" was a blessing or a curse. In the first case, he had stumbled onto a plot by the captain of the Zodia, one of the ships used for vehicle maintenance, a plot to hoard supplies so that a group of twelve dissidents could break from the Fleet to settle on an inhabitable planet. Using Captain Connly's considerable computer skills, they had altered records for the Zodia and another small ship, the Leonis, to receive almost twice the allotment of food and other supplies. Through his own curiosity and impulsiveness, Starbuck had found himself in the middle of it all, and had come within microns of a laser blast to the head. It was Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Boomer's persistence, investigative skills, and unwavering faith in their friend that had thwarted the plot. Yet he had to wonder what would have happened had he not discovered that Connly and his small group had altered the computer records before they attempted to break from the Fleet. The "Starbuck luck." His purely coincidental discovery had kept 70 civilians and crew members from being taken as hostages, essentially, had Connly and the captain of the Leonis actually succeeded in absconding aboard the Leonis. And where would they have gone? Their destination and goal had been a recently explored planet with a less-than-hospitable environment. Not anyone's idea of a dream world.

Glancing back at the chronometer, the lieutenant realized that Boomer and Apollo would probably be in the launch bay right about now, going through the pre-flight check as they prepared for the next long-range patrol. His patrol. Boomer was temporarily assigned as the captain's wingman. Starbuck curled his lip in a slight grin as he mused that even sitting for centars in a viper with the steady whine of the engines in his ears, broken only by the casual conversation with a buddy, would be greatly preferable to this. His two friends, however, he figured, were probably glad to have him immobilized and out of trouble, at least for a while. Even Starbuck was not sure how he had managed to end up in two life-threatening situations in less than a secton, in a time when the Cylons were possibly lost for good and life in the Fleet should have been settling down, tensions easing up. Spirits lifting. Should have been . . .

In the two days following the Zodia episode, Starbuck had been caught up in the ensuing tribunal and sentencing of the twelve mutineers. The three most deeply involved had been sentenced to the Prison Barge. To avoid a demoralizing effect on the Fleet, however, the remaining nine had been given strict probationary terms and reassigned to different positions in the Fleet. The overseers had tried to balance the need for stern justice with the realization that many shared some of the same feelings of weariness and frustration that had led to the plot in the first place. In the last centars of the tribunal, when Connly had been given the harshest sentence of all for attempted termination, along with all of the other charges, Starbuck had stared into the vacant eyes of a man who had once been as loyal and as devoted to the survival of the Fleet as any warrior. The look on Connly's face had been haunting, disturbing.

And then, only three days later, with the people still coming to terms with what had just happened, a critical breakdown on one of the agro ships had caused the loss of a third of its harvest. Until the crops on the other two agro ships were ready to be harvested, the Fleet had been forced to implement strict rationing of the remaining food reserves. To placate the fears and concerns of the people, Adama had sent teams of warriors to the ships to listen to all citizens, to let them vent their frustrations. Unfortunately, this had been when the "Starbuck luck" had taken a decidedly unlucky turn.

Starbuck absently chewed the unlit fumarello, fingering it, as a face invaded his thoughts. Sherok. The man was a paranoid-schizophrenic who had not received his medication for sectars and had led a fanatical group called the *Il Fadim*, Sagittaria for the "Chosen Ones," aboard the passenger ship Sagittarius. His rantings that the commander was concealing a larger disaster had incited a riot at the time Apollo, Boomer, and Starbuck were to meet with the people in the ship's landing bay. Starbuck had been caught in the middle of the chaos and had been badly injured. He had been dumped and left for dead in an internal maintenance passage of the Sagittarius. His savior had been another resident of the Sagittarius, Copernicus, a man with a neurological disability. This strange man who lived mainly in his own world and felt overwhelmed by others had rescued him not once, but twice. First, Copernicus had found the him lying unconscious in the corridor, had taken him into the shelter that passed as a home for the man, and had gone for help. Then, when Sherok and his followers had discovered Starbuck before help could arrive and had decided to include him in their twisted plan to commit mass suicide, Copernicus had saved him yet again.

That had been just over a ten days ago. Starbuck stood slowly, gripped the fumarello with his teeth to free his hands, and carefully slipped on his flight jacket, easing it over his shoulders with slow, cautious movements. He had suffered a moderate concussion and a severe back injury and had spent three days confined to the lifestation. While most of the damage had been repaired, and special enzyme and biomedical therapy had accelerated the healing process, his muscles were still quite sensitive and prone to cramping with sudden movements. Doctor Salik had said that it would take three to five sectons for everything to heal, and probably longer, even with the physical therapy, before he felt as strong as before. A secton after being released from the lifestation, slow, steady movements had become a habit.

Starbuck ran the hand through his hair again and stifled the yawn he felt. Most of the time, barring sudden movements, he felt little pain, but sleeping had become difficult, and not only because of the effort of finding a comfortable position. Almost every night since the ordeal on the Sagittarius, it seemed, he had experienced nightmares. The dreams were always variations of being trapped and totally helpless, unable to move, paralyzed in the face of imminent death. A complete loss of control. Sometimes Sherok was a part of the dreams, sometimes not. The frustrating part was that, when awake, the episode truly did not bother him that much; after all, he had been in life-and-death situations more times that he cared to count. He had been captured twice by the Cylons, had been in innumerable battles, and had even walked right into the heart of a Cylon basestar. As a Colonial warrior, facing death came with the territory. He was more troubled by the fact that he was having the dreams, not by the dreams themselves, he told himself. For some reason, his subconscious did not seem to want to let go of that one moment ten days ago. After experiencing the dreams while still in the lifestation, Doctor Salik had offered medication to help him sleep, but Starbuck did not want to rely on chemicals to resolve his problems. Even with the pain, he used the analgesics and muscle relaxants only when absolutely necessary. He did not need more drugs to put his mind at peace.

And since it seemed so illogical to him that he would be having these dreams at all, he did not talk about them, once he had been released from the lifestation. Not even to Cassiopeia. They were a tiresome annoyance, that was all, since combined with sore muscles, they made getting a good night's sleep a challenge. Starbuck's fingers, in a subconscious habit, searched for his holster as he recalled a conversation with Cassie, when she had asked why he was so tired. With no laser needed since he was on leave, Starbuck instead gripped the bottom of his flight jacket, fingering the bottom fastener to busy his hands as he remembered. . .

. . .Cassie disappeared into the tiny room that served as a kitchen/pantry area for her roommate and her, saying, "Sit tight! I'll be right back!"

Assuming the most comfortable position for sitting, Starbuck sat straight against the back of the chair that Cassie had pulled away from the small, shared desk. Once more, he noted briefly how small the room was for two people: two areas, a "kitchen" with barely enough space for one person, and the main area with bunk beds, desk, a couple of shelves, two narrow closets, a compact, handmade armchair with an end table, and a dining table that was barely larger than the desk, along with two more chairs. Fortunately for Cassie and her roommate, a med tech also, they worked opposing shifts, so they did not spend much time jostling around each other in the tiny space. Very few individuals, usually only commanders and the captains of other ships, were afforded the luxury of private, single accommodations. Occasionally, the privacy offered to married couples sent tempting thoughts through Starbuck's mind . . . if Cassie were less straightforward, having her shift switched to where they had no time alone might even be enough . . . Starbuck quickly banished that errant thought. . .

"Hey, hotshot," Cassie's voice broke the silence. "You can't go to sleep without sampling our evening feast."

Starbuck ran a hand over his face, realizing that he had indeed drifted off. He groaned at the thought of yet another meal of rations - carbohydrate bars, protein cubes, and high-nutrient discs - as if varying the shape made the mud-colored, bland emergency-issued provisions any more palatable. Starbuck opened his eyes finally to see Cassie standing in front of him holding a plate with a double portion of the rations. His gaze, however, slid past the meal to the delicate, pale blue fabric behind it, a sleeveless, flowing nightgown that wrapped around her body, accentuating the barely concealed curves beneath, ending midthigh to reveal scrumptiously posed legs. As his gaze flowed down to the perfectly etched ankles and slender feet, Starbuck whispered, "I'm awake now!"

With the grace of a dancer, Cassie moved around and behind the lieutenant, caressing his neck with her free hand. Leaning close, she draped her arms around his shoulders, plate in one hand, the other teasing his hair. She ran a finger down his cheek, then plucked a protein cube from the plate. Nestling her lips near his earlobe, she offered him the ration.

Despite everything, Starbuck could not stop the yawn that crept out as he took the ration. Cassie moved around to look him in the eyes. "Hey," she said gently, "are you still having that much trouble sleeping?"

Starbuck shifted his gaze as he answered, "you know - every time I roll over in the middle of the night I hear from a million sore little muscles that I never knew I had. And not to mention how hard and lumpy those Fleet-issued mattresses are!"

He looked back to see her bite her upper lip in thought. "Look," she said quietly, "why don't I ask Dr. Salik for a sleep-aid - just to get you a couple good nights of sleep. You look so tired."

Before he could stop himself, Starbuck snapped, "I don't need any of that felgercarb to help me sleep! I'm fine!"

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "Listen to yourself," she said softly.
Starbuck took a deep breath. "Cass . . . I'm sorry. You're right. I've not been sleeping well. But I'm just not ready to rely on chemicals . . . it must be the ingrained warrior instincts for always being alert. The thought of being basically knocked out . . . I'm not ready for that." He gave her a steady look this time.

Cassie chewed for a moment on her lip, looking as if she were about to say something else, but she did not. Instead, she put the plate down and gently grasped his hands, guiding him carefully up and out of the chair. She led him the short distance to the beds and eased him down onto the edge of her lower bunk. Still angry with himself for the outburst, Starbuck said nothing, but managed a weak smile as she lightly kissed his nose, then helped him to lie on his side with his back to her. Adding pillows for support, she sat on the edge and began a slow, soothing, circular massage at the base of his skull, gradually working her way down his neck to his shoulders. Even through the uniform, the gentle but firm kneading was so calming, so relaxing . . .

Starbuck brought his mind back to the present. A glance at the chronometer showed him that he still had about ten centons before he needed to leave. He was meeting someone . . . He smiled at the memory of that night as he sat back down on his bunk. For the first time in a while, he had awaken the next morning without remembering any dreams. And since then, Cassie had not pressed the issue. Instead, she had shown him how to use pillows and blankets for support and had taught him a couple of deep-breathing, relaxation techniques that seemed to help. Not for the first time, Starbuck felt a deep affection for, and maybe even connection with, the intelligent, fair-haired Gemonese who had entered his life during the turmoil of those first days after the holocaust. She was the first woman he had known who gave him his space and very seldom pressured him to do anything. Occasionally, lately, he had let his mind consider something more permanent. . .

Ten centons had nearly passed, and Starbuck stood slowly again. Almost time to meet with Tarnia and Copernicus. It would be their second meeting; three days ago, he had gone to the Sagittarius. Since his memories of the actual incident there had been shrouded by being semiconscious and in pain much of the time, he had hoped that returning to the ship to traverse the dark corridors of the nightmares and to meet with Copernicus would help vanquish the dreams. He had gone alone for several reasons, mainly because too many people visiting Copernicus would have been stressful for the man, but also because he wanted to face the setting of his ordeal on his own terms. Before meeting with Copernicus' friend and aide, Tarnia, Starbuck had visited the location of his confrontation with Sherok, spending at least thirty centons gazing at the walls and floor of the dark, deserted maintenance area and letting his mind freely relive and explore all of the memories. So far, three days later, the dreams continued.

Ah, well, Starbuck sighed. It was time to go, and he had had enough reflection for now; he needed to shake off the pensive mood. After all, Apollo was supposed to be the serious one. Give it more time, Bucko, just a little more time . . .

Discarding the now well-chewed fumarello, Starbuck decided that it was time to head out for his meeting with Copernicus, who was supposed to have transferred the previous day to the Galactica. This was part of a plan to repay the man for all that he had done. Starbuck had learned from Tarnia that Copernicus was a genius with electronics and gadgets, that he had an incredible mind for mathematics, science, and computers. Living with a neurological disorder that scrambled his ability to process all of the sensory input his brain received had prevented him from developing or fully utilizing his capabilities. He had difficulties communicating, understanding social intricacies, and could be very obsessive with everything from his daily routines to his interests. To deal with the overload of stimuli that bombarded his senses, he often withdrew into his own internal world. To be comfortable and able to deal with the outside world, he needed stability, structure, and familiarity. To an uninformed person he might seem eccentric, mentally deficient, or just downright weird.

Starbuck, after learning how much Copernicus had done for him, had had several long talks with Tarnia, who was Copernicus' lifeline, his support, and his fervent advocate. He had also done some of his own research in the Galactica's library files about Copernicus' condition. Armed with his new knowledge and understanding, and impressed with Tarnia's own abilities as a caregiver and counselor, Starbuck had gone to the commander.

Standing erect more for comfort than as a formal pose, Starbuck had stood in front of Adama's desk after handing him the data pad and stated, "Sir, I'd like for you to consider transferring Copernicus and Tarnia here to the Galactica." He then described his reasoning in detail, including everything he had listed on the data pad, and more: how Tarnia could be an invaluable addition to the lifestation team, and Copernicus . . . well, he deserved the chance to learn how to realize his potential. Working in Dr. Wilker's research lab seemed to Starbuck to be the perfect place for him. By the end, his voice had taken on a passionate tone that, as he finished, he realized may not have been the appropriate way of addressing the commander. Fidgeting slightly, he added, "Uh, that's all, Sir."

Adama, impassive as always when in the role of decision maker, read through the pad silently, giving no indications of his thoughts one way or the other. Finally, Adama had looked up at the lieutenant, a raised eyebrow his only reaction, and said, "I assume you have discussed this with both Tarnia and Copernicus?"

Starbuck nodded, nervous despite the familiarity he that knew existed between them. Even with his own children, Athena and Apollo, Adama assumed the role of commander and impartial leader when on duty or when necessary. Even though he regarded the lieutenant as almost an adopted son, he would never let emotions color any decision that affected the functioning of the Galactica.

Adama said, "We'll have to request a position for Tarnia in the lifestation."

"Already arranged," Starbuck said, adding, "assuming that you approve it, sir."

Adama continued, giving the lieutenant another impassive look, "And what about Copernicus?"

"Sir, I've spoken with Dr. Wilker. He said that he is always willing to add to his team. Apparently, he's having trouble with a project, so he seemed open to adding a fresh perspective."

Adama let one corner of his mouth creep up a milimetron. "And what about living quarters?"

Starbuck shifted slightly. "Well, actually . . . I'm working on that."

Adama had stood to come around from behind his desk, closing the distance between them and had put a hand on his shoulder, putting the commander role for aside a moment. "Starbuck, I can see that this is very important to you, and you've already put a lot of thought and effort into this. . ."

To his delight, the commander had approved an immediate transfer for Copernicus and Tarnia, dependent upon the availability of living quarters. With nothing else to do, Starbuck had used his creative talents to locate a place for Tarnia and a suitable location for Copernicus. Tarnia would share a room with two med techs, and Copernicus would be permitted to convert a storage room that was conveniently situated close to Dr. Wilker's lab. Starbuck figured that, with Boomer's help with some of the details, they could easily modify the small room to be a habitation, since he knew that Copernicus required little in the way of personal furnishings. In his sparse "residence" on the Sagittarius, he had had only a makeshift bed, a crate, and an extensive supply of electronics and equipment.

Thus, Tarnia and Copernicus had been scheduled to make the transfer from the Sagittarius to the Galactica just the previous day. Due to a physical therapy appointment and a mandatory briefing, Starbuck had not been able to see either or to assist with the move, as he had hoped. Starbuck had seriously considered missing the therapy appointment, but he had already "forgotten" two others previously. And Cassie had given him an ultimatum: be there, or she would have Dr. Salik confine him to the Life Station for one day to complete all of his missed sessions. "Remember," she had told him, serious, brows creased, "if you don't follow through on these sessions, you can't be cleared to return to duty." Starbuck had given his word that he would be there; he knew that Cassie was not bluffing.

This morning, though, he had arranged to help get the two settled, work on Copernicus' quarters, and familiarize them both with the workings of the Galactica. Starbuck knew that this was a huge step for Copernicus and not an easy one. For this to work, the man would need his support, as well, and he was ready to offer all that he could. He owed him that much. Starbuck still had two days, at least, on medical leave, and then he would be returned to light duty only; thus, he had the time to offer to Tarnia and Copernicus.

Starbuck was deep in these thoughts when he pressed the release to the squadron's exit. The door swooshed open. He crossed the threshold, his mind elsewhere, and nearly collided with Dr. Wilker. Starbuck froze, taking a deep breath to remain steady and not trigger any cramps. The scientist took a quick step backwards, pointed an accusing finger at him, and said, "I want a word with you, Lieutenant."

Starbuck instantly noted Dr. Wilker's furrowed brow and tight, thin lips. "Sure," he said calmly. "What can I do for you, Doctor?" He knew, however, what the scientist wanted, and he knew why. In his eagerness to help Copernicus, Starbuck had glossed over the details when first speaking with Dr. Wilker. In a flash of clarity, he realized that he had gone into his "persuasive mode" without thinking ahead and had simply represented Copernicus as a near-genius at electronics and inventing, leaving out some very important information. Obviously, Tarnia and Copernicus had visited Dr. Wilker during the previous day, and the scientist had seen a vastly different image than the one Starbuck had presented.

"Just what are you trying to pull, Lieutenant?" the scientist asked, stressing every other word as he spoke and jabbing the air with his hands. The only other time Starbuck had seen the doctor this flustered was when his lab was destroyed by the Cylons in their last encounter with the lone basestar.

Starbuck kept his face calm and puzzled. "I don't follow you, Doctor. Could you please explain?"

"You told me that that new man, Copernicus, was an electronics whiz!" Wilker paused to catch his breath. "You can't be serious! He came by the lab yesterday - he's - he's - he's a nut!"

Starbuck had enough experience now with Copernicus to imagine how the encounter must have gone. In a new environment, he would have totally tuned out Dr. Wilker, needing instead to focus his energy on making sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. Starbuck could picture Copernicus rambling on to himself and wandering aimlessly through the lab as the scientist followed him around asking a multitude of unanswered questions. It was apparent that either Tarnia had not had time to explain the situation, or that Wilker had not understood her. Probably a little of both.

The lieutenant met Dr. Wilker's gaze and stated evenly, "He's different. And, no, I wasn't completely honest with you. But he _is_ a genius." When the scientist looked ready to argue, Starbuck held up a hand and said, 'Wait. Let me show you something, and _you_ can decide for yourself." He motioned for Dr. Wilker to follow him back into the squadron's billet.

In spite of everything, the doctor was curious. Putting aside the list of arguments that he had formulated in his anger on his way to find the lieutenant, Wilker nodded, and said, "All right. Just what is it you want to show me?"

Starbuck led him back into the quarters to his bunk. Moving slowly and cautiously, he knelt and opened his footlocker, pulling out a device and handing it to Dr. Wilker after maneuvering back to his feet. The object was about the size of his hand, was roughly cubical, and was obviously hand-crafted. It had a slot for inserting several data discs, four small speakers, and numerous function buttons. Wilker examined it, turning it around, and finally asked, "So what does it do?"

Starbuck pushed a button, and the crystal-clear sounds of a Sagittarian orchestral piece began playing. He explained, "It's a digital device that records, copies, and plays music files. You can also program variations of files, or even original pieces, using the data it has stored!" Starbuck found the device fascinating.

His enthusiasm was contagious, because Wilker held the device, slowly turning it, examining it, his anger fading rapidly. He explored the function buttons, quickly figuring out the programming sequences. Finally, he looked at Starbuck a bit skeptically, and asked, "Are you saying that Copernicus created this? How?"

Starbuck grinned, knowing that he had almost hooked the doctor, and said, "He collects and hordes discarded electronics. He created this out of all the spare parts he had!"

He watched in silence as the scientist played with the device, quickly becoming absorbed in altering the musical variations. After about five centons, the doctor seemed to remember the reason why he had originally come in search of Starbuck. The frown returned. "Look, assuming that Copernicus did create this, how is he supposed to function in my laboratory? He wouldn't listen to me or even look at me!"

Starbuck let out a long breath. "His friend, Tarnia, will help him adjust, and I want to help, too. He just needs time. I'm not sure how long it will take, but if you can be patient with him, I'm sure we can figure out something that will work for both of you." Starbuck let the smile fade and looked Dr. Wilker squarely in the eyes. "I owe my life to him. And he deserves this chance. Tarnia can explain it much better, but he has a wealth of potential that's just going to waste. Up to now, all he's been doing is repairing broken equipment for people and tinkering with the spare parts. And if he can do this with simple hand tools . . ." He nodded to the device and let his voice trail off, leaving the rest to the scientist's imagination.

Dr. Wilker slowly handed the device back to Starbuck, considering everything. Eventually, he said, "All right. All right. I'll talk with his friend, and I'll give him some time. The Lords know I could use some creative help in the lab. I've got a big project, but we're getting nowhere."

Starbuck could not hold back a big grin as he escorted the doctor out into the corridor once more. The relief he felt was almost palpable, and it ignited the optimism that the events of the past several sectons had dampened. Normally able to find the positive side to any situation, lately Starbuck had caught himself slipping into the pensive moods more and more, and the forced inactivity, coupled with the annoying dreams, had only exacerbated his somber feelings. Now, he had a focus, a goal, and he intended to give his full effort to repaying this mysterious, brilliant man who had saved a total stranger. Starbuck, still grinning, shook his head as he watched Dr. Wilker disappeared down the corridor. It was time to find Copernicus.

*****
The converted storage room to anyone else would have seemed cramped, but to Copernicus, it was comforting, an enclosed space, a safe cocoon. Already he appeared to be adapting and seemed to be at ease in his new home. Starbuck, leaning back against the wall, watched as the tall, thin and wiry man sat amid a scattering of equipment, spare pieces and tools, intently working. Although only in his forties, he looked older; he had scraggly, unkempt hair and a beard, both mostly grey, but sprinkled with streaks of jet black, and he wore a faded and tattered brown tunic and pants. In the far corner sat his old mattress, blankets, and a crate: his furnishings from the _Sagittarius_ . He also had a large storage locker, which Tarnia said that she had kept for him, that held clothing and the rest of his personal items. He did not own much, for he spent almost all of his waking hours repairing, tinkering with, and creating gadgets and electronic devices.

Tarnia also stood watching the silent Copernicus. She was close to Copernicus in age, probably a bit younger. She had short, dark hair and clear blue eyes. She was about the same height as Starbuck and she wore a simple blouse and skirt over her strong, stocky frame. While not petite, she has definitely not overweight, and her build gave her a look of strength. Starbuck could imagine Tarnia using it to her full advantage when needed.

Starbuck's gaze drifted back to Copernicus, who was totally involved in his work, apparently oblivious of his guests, humming softly to himself. Starbuck was struck suddenly by how content the man seemed. During his visit with Copernicus and Tarnia on the _Sagittarius_ , he had first noticed how involved and excited Copernicus could become. If not lost in concentration, Copernicus would talk in an eager, loud voice about his current project. He seemed to radiate a simple, unadulterated contentment. Glancing at Tarnia, Starbuck caught her eye and knew that she had been watching, studying him. He flashed her a grin and asked, "Is he always this happy?"

She sighed, a bit wistfully, and answered, "He lives mostly in the present, in the moment. He can experience the full range of emotions, from anger and despair to great joy, but it usually will be based off of what is happening right then and there. He has a superb memory, but I think because of his neural-processing problems, he doesn't view past events with the same emotionality that we do - he knows what happened and can describe things in great detail, but in a detached manner, like reading a textbook."

"Really?" Starbuck said. A number of comments came to mind, but, instead, he said nothing further. Aware that Tarnia was still observing him, he shifted a bit, pulling away from the wall and keeping his expression neutral. He tried to sort out what he was feeling as he considered Copernicus. It seemed so incongruous. Most of the time, he appeared withdrawn, separate from the reality everyone else had to face, alone but content in his own internal world; yet he had reached out to help a complete stranger. Why? Why bother? Tarnia had said that he was aware of far more than it seemed, and that he could surprise even her, at times, with the clarity of his thoughts and perceptions. "Incredible" was a word that kept coming to his mind. Starbuck gave up trying to figure it out as he let his gaze drift back over the tiny room. Sitting on one of the selves, along with a stack of discs, he noticed a music device, similar to the one Copernicus had given him, and he moved over to examine it.

Keeping her attention on the lieutenant, Tarnia said, "He listens to music - specific orchestral pieces - when it's time to sleep and when he needs to rest or calm himself down. And he'll listen to them over and over. It seems to refocus him."

Starbuck nodded, watching as Copernicus quickly and intently worked on what appeared to be a small, hand-held computer. An uneasy feeling nudged at the him as his encounter with Dr. Wilker replayed briefly in his mind. Starbuck had been so focused on the idea of helping the man that, even to himself, he had ignored some of the realities of Copernicus' condition. To be able to function in the lab, he would have to be able to follow certain procedures and be able to cooperate with Dr. Wilker and his other assistants. Good intentions were not going to be enough; this was going to take hard work and persistence from everyone. And even then they might not be successful. But - Starbuck refocused his own thoughts - they had to at least try.

Turning to back Tarnia, Starbuck asked quietly, "Do you think the, ah, facilities will work out okay for him?" This part had been the weakest point of the arrangement, since storage closets did not come equipped with turbowashes, and such.

Tarnia chuckled briefly. "It should be fine. As you know, one of the sanitation facilities for Dr. Wilker's lab is right across the hall. It has everything, including a turbowash and medical supplies, even, since as a laboratory, they need to be prepared for accidents and emergencies." Tarnia looked at the lieutenant with an amused smile. "He'll spend very little time there. I mean, if I didn't schedule it into his routine, he'd probably never take a shower!"

Starbuck gave her a puzzled, look. "You schedule even that?" In the course of their discussions, she had explained that they used schedules to create a consistent and predictable routine for him, but she had never gone into the specifics.

Tarnia pulled a data pad from the shelf near the musical device and handed it to him. It showed a daily schedule. Tarnia said, "We've gone over this numerous times so he'll remember to do it. Today and for the next secton or so, I'll be here to walk him through it - it takes about that long for a routine to become habit for him." Tarnia's lip curled as Starbuck read through the list. She watched as he stared at a couple of the items. "Yes. We even schedule "relief" breaks. I mean, he gets so involved in his creations and work that he doesn't listen to his body's signals. Without a strict schedule, he might not even eat sometimes." Starbuck handed the pad back to her, still a bit amazed. Tarnia added, "Of course, our biggest concern for today will be talking with Dr. Wilker so I can elaborate on that part of the schedule; we need to decide what he'll start out doing in the lab."

She stopped suddenly and gave Starbuck a pointed look. "We are counting on your assistance with this, Lieutenant. It's very noble of you to help us, and all, but it's not going to be easy. I wouldn't have agreed, though, if I didn't think that he were capable of succeeding . . . he's just never had the chance before. . ." Tarnia turned her attention quickly back to Copernicus, still working intently on the floor, still seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

Starbuck, however, had caught the glistening in her eye and the catch in her voice. He moved closer and lightly touched her shoulder. She shifted her gaze back to him. "Look," he said, "I've learned enough to know that I can trust your instincts with him, and I want you to know that I'll do everything possible to make this work. I don't know what you may have heard about me," Starbuck's mind flashed back to all of the stories that had been on the Interfleet Broadcasting Network, or simply IFB, after the incident on the Zodia. Somehow, he had become their prime subject lately, and even he did not recognize some of the gossip they had dredged up about him and his reputation. He continued, "but my friends will tell you that I am stubborn and determined when I want something. And you can count on me." He gave her a steady look, tempered with a slight smile to ease the her tension.

Tarnia nodded, her doubts shielded once more by her own determination. "I'm a pretty good judge of character, Lieutenant. And I know you're being honest with me. And I'm very grateful for what you're doing. Not many people ever bother to make the effort to really get to know Copernicus. Your misfortune has been our gain."

Starbuck looked at her and asked hesitantly, "How did you meet Copernicus. I mean, why . . .?"

Tarnia finished the question, "Why do I care for him? Why is he so important to me?" Starbuck nodded, hoping that he was not overstepping any boundaries. Tarnia did not seem upset by the question, though. She answered, "I had a brother a long time ago. He was three yahrens older than me and very much like Copernicus. In fact, that's how I first got to know Copernicus. They had the same teachers and assistants in school. We lived in a small town not far from the Sagittarian capital. Anyway, when I was fourteen and my brother was seventeen, our town was blasted by the Cylons. Our school took a direct hit. My class was on the far side and was damaged the least, but the older kids . . . I went to find my brother in the confusion afterwards . . . Only Copernicus and a couple of others survived. Ironically, Copernicus lost his parents in that raid - the town was pretty much destroyed. . . So he's my adopted brother, really, even though we never made it official. My family decided to find something positive to do in light of the tragedy, so we took him in. And even before the raid I had decided that I would focus my life and my career on helping my brother and others like him."

"Wow." A brief coldness had stabbed at the pit of his stomach. A vision of parents lost . . . Starbuck quickly shook it off. Looking at Tarnia, he felt a growing respect for her strength and dedication. He knew that she had supported and protected Copernicus both before and after the Holocaust. And he knew that, after surviving the initial escape from Sagittarius, she had fought fiercely on his behalf to insure that he would survive. Now he knew why. He also had the distinct impression that after yahrens of deciphering Copernicus, she could see through just about anyone . . . Starbuck shifted restlessly.

Tarnia decided it was time to change the subject and proceed with their current goal. "Anyway, Lieutenant, it's time to tackle Dr. Wilker!" As she continued, she gave him a grin that he would even call mischievous as she outlined for him what they needed to do over the next couple of centars in Dr. Wilker's lab. He was also getting the feeling that she enjoyed a good challenge, such as the one that awaited them. Even under peaceful conditions, protecting and guiding Copernicus would have been a difficult task, yet she seemed confident and satisfied with her role. When Starbuck considered how many additional challenges the endless, ruthless war must have presented, he felt a sense of awe.

And her enthusiasm was contagious. Starbuck shook his head and grinned, "You know, maybe we should get you into a viper. I don't think the Cylons would stand a chance with you around!"

Tarnia returned the grin. "Well, you're my 'wingman' today, so we'd better get moving."