1. Dusk


All this has happened before.

#

Lee listened to the rumble of waves against the cliff. He pulled the patchwork fur and polyester closer. He was hungry, cold, and tired – too tired to restart the fire, too tired to jump. A coughing fit shook him. Cottle, when he was still around, had diagnosed pneumonia. How many moons had it been? Even then he no longer had the supplies to treat it. Lee derived little comfort from knowing his killer. Others had fallen to unknown native germs – gods knew what manner of plague they had visited upon their hosts in return.

The men who had played at gods were now again vulnerable to nature, and even to the local savages. It was a humbling experience – they could die of this much humility. The capture of Hera during a raid had been a hard blow. She was not the first nor the last to be taken, but she had come to embody all the hope that had been betrayed in New Caprica, and the first Earth, and now the second. The children of Kobol lay scattered across the planet, dying of evils they had vanquished centuries before.

Native archeologists might one day ask what terrible accident had led to population collapse, and why there was so little material evidence. Bards might sing the heroism of starting anew, historians might point to fanatical leadership. Had years of persecution left the fleet that sheepish, so ready to follow their shepherds to slaughter? Or had they earnestly shared in the destructive urge for penance? He was unsure which he would rather believe.

Lee suddenly looked around, focusing directly on her: "Kara?"

Could he really see her?

#

"Kara!"

Starbuck jumped, then took in the familiar halls of Galactica around her.

"Good to have you with us," Lee continued.

"Sorry, I must've…"

"Initial surveillance of that planet of yours just came in. The old man wants us in the CIC, 0800h – guess we won't be using New Caprica time much longer." He couldn't keep from smiling.

They started walking. The ship seemed unreal to her. "Are they really sheep, Lee?"

"What?"

"The civvies."

His smile was gone. "Is this about the attack on the Cylon Colony? We've been over this…"

"It is, Lee. And about bringing Pegasus back on New Caprica, and every other time we risked those people's lives for what we decided was prophecy."

"Prophecy wasn't the reason I took Pegasus back."

"I know, Lee. But the Colony operation was near suicidal – what would have happened to the fleet without a thousand of its best? Admiral Hoshi, President Lampkin? Become nomads, then die out?"

"We took out the Colony, it was also a strategic victory."

"Eye for an eye. I wonder how the basestar crews feel about it. Are we blind yet?"

"Don't. Don't give me your Cylon pity. It was your prophecy!"

"Maybe Cassandra had it right, maybe oracles shouldn't be believed. That way it won't be on their heads when they turn out to be wrong, or play into that poetic irony the gods love so much."

"Well, sorry not to indulge your guilt trip, princess, but here's what I choose to believe: I believe that frakkin' planet out there is our best chance for survival since the fall of the colonies. And regardless of whether finding it is a blessing, a curse, or pure dumb luck, I intend to take it."

"Lee…"

Lee exhaled. "It's just that we've all worked so hard for a new beginning. Don't you wish sometimes you could just leave it all behind, all the baggage, get a fresh start?"

"Don't say that, that's not even funny."

The marine guard opened the hatch at their approach.

Adama looked up: "glad you could find the time."

#

President Roslin and the Cylon Ellen had joined Colonel Tigh at the chart table. The CIC buzzed around them.

"As I was saying," Adama continued, "gravity, atmosphere and radiation readings are well within norms. You found us a hell of a piece of real-estate, Starbuck." He smiled. "Pending further investigation, Madam President, I would recommend colonization."

Roslin's voice betrayed none of the frailty that hampered her motions. "Is it inhabited, Admiral?"

"There is wildlife, Madam President," said Tigh, "but no intelligent life was detected."

They might say the same thing about us, thought Starbuck.

"How soon?" asked Ellen. "How soon can we…"

"Sir!" Lieutenant Hoshi interrupted. "We are picking up a signal planetside."

"Cylon?" barked Tigh.

"No, sir, it's… The signal is Colonial, sir. But all our birds are accounted for."

"Open a channel," said Adama.

"No response, sir."

"I need eyes, get a Raptor out there."

"Guess someone's home after all," said Tigh.

Minutes dragged by.

"Admiral," said Hoshi, "I've been rechecking the signal..."

"Is it a fake?" asked Adama.

"No, sir, it's authentic. But it's also…"

"Old?" said Tigh, throwing surveillance pictures on the chart table. "The Raptor data just came in. Look familiar, Bill?"

"My gods," said Adama, "it must be 30 years since I saw one of those."

"Takes you back, doesn't it? That corvette line was discontinued after the Cylon War."

"Starbuck, assemble a ground team."

"Me, sir?"

"It's your planet, you deal with the locals. There's a chance that whatever brought you here brought them too."

"Yes, sir."

"Admiral," said Ellen, "I request permission to join the team."

Adama exchanged looks with Tigh. "Granted."

"Madam President," said Lee, "if they establish contact, a civilian representative should be there."

"This is still a military mission, Mr. Vice-President," said Adama. "Civilians will be welcome once the location is secure."

"With all due respect, Admiral, I'm not just another civilian…"

"No you're not, Lee," said Roslin, "you're the VP of an ailing Presidency. I need you alive."

Lee glanced at Adama. "Yes, Madam President."