The question nagged at Laura all the next day. It was just the way her grandmother said the name, with desperation, with raw loss – she'd never heard her practical, no-nonsense Gran sound like that before. Whoever this Lee was, he must have been very important to her – so why hadn't Laura heard of him before?

And yet there was something familiar about the name Lee. She had heard it somewhere, but couldn't place it. It was irritating, like a fly buzzing in the back of her mind.

Her father was in his study, working as usual, and her mother was on shift at the hospital. So Laura poured herself a glass of squash and sat on a lounger in the back garden, soaking in the sunshine and thinking.

Who is Lee?

It's not her grandfather Anders – his name was Sam.

Not Grandpa Helo either – his name is Karl, though only Gran ever calls him that.

Not the Admiral either – his name was William, because Dad was named for him, just as Laura herself was named for the Admiral's wife, who was Colonial President twice over and Dad's mentor when he first went into politics.

She had died before Laura was born, but Laura could just remember the Admiral – a gruff, burly man with sad eyes and an unexpectedly kind voice. She could remember Gran breaking down at his funeral – the Admiral had been like a father to her.

"He lost all his own family in the war," Laura's dad had explained once. "And we'd lost my father – so we filled the holes for each other. He always treated me as if I were his own grandson." Just like Grandpa Helo and me, Laura had thought.

The Admiral had even left everything to Dad in his will. This house had been his – it still said 'Adama' on the postbox because Dad had never got around to changing it…

Adama.

Laura nearly dropped her glass of squash.

That was where she had heard the name Lee before.

Lee Adama.

It was the first name in Gran's list. The sunset prayer list. The list of her dead.

Who was he?

He must have been related to the Admiral.

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She decided that her dad must be in need of a break, and invaded his study, bearing a cup of coffee as protection.

As she expected, his initial irritation at being interrupted gave way to a smile at the sight of the coffee.

"That's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart." Will Anders yawned and stretched the kinks out of his shoulders as she put it down in front of him. "I need it – some of these reports on the military defences are very worrying."

Laura couldn't help grinning at that. Dad worried about everything – it was a family joke. He fussed over details, never happy unless every single thing was orderly and perfect. Sometimes Laura found it endearing, but it drove her mad just as often. Still, that obsessive, idealistic drive had made him the youngest cabinet minister in years, one whom people were already whispering about as the next president.

Gran was fiercely proud of him, although to his face she pretended to be disappointed that he hadn't followed in her footsteps as a pilot.

"How can you not want to fly?" she would complain laughingly. "With all that pilot blood in your veins-"

Dad had just laughed back and said he had no desire to be a professional pyramid player either.

Laura could see his gaze now dipping back to his paperwork so she hurriedly seized her opportunity.

"Dad, have you ever heard the name Lee Adama?"

He nodded, still looking at his papers. "Of course. He was the Admiral's son."

"His son?" Laura was confused. "You mean the one Gran was engaged to?" He was another photo on the mantelpiece, another one of Gran's stories. "But – I thought his name was Zak?"

"It was," Dad murmured absently. "Lee was the Admiral's other son. The older one."

"And what happened to him?"

That got his attention. His bright blue eyes stared at her incredulously.

"What happened to him? Laura, are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you pay no attention at school?" Her father sighed heavily. "They must have covered it in Colonial History."

"They probably did..." Laura trailed off awkwardly. Her history teacher had an unbearably droning voice, and she usually spent the lessons drawing on her sketchpad.

"You're too much like your grandmother, that's the problem," her father said ruefully. "Only bothering to learn about the things that interest you. But I can't believe you've never heard about the sacrifice of the Pegasus. I know Mum doesn't like talking about that time, but Helo's always reminiscing about New Caprica and rescuing the colonists."

"The Pegasus?" Something stirred in Laura's brain. "You mean – the ship that was destroyed by the Cylons during the escape from New Caprica?"

Dad nodded. Laura remembered it now – of course she'd heard the story. The Pegasus had been badly damaged, its weapons useless and its FTL drive destroyed, watching helplessly as a Cylon basestar bore down on the rest of the fleet. In desperation, the commander had used the ship as a battering ram to destroy the basestar, giving the Galactica and the rest of the fleet the precious moments they needed to jump safely away. Without their sacrifice, none of the fleet would have survived, and then there would have been no Earth colony – no Laura.

"I remember now," she said. "Was Lee Adama on the Pegasus?"

Her father sighed. "He was the commander of the ship, Laura."

"But – I thought the commander's name was Apollo?" She was sure she remembered that much.

Dad had that long-suffering look on his face again. "Well, obviously Apollo wasn't his real name, Laura. It was his callsign. Like Helo. Like Starbuck."

"Oh."

Apollo. Gran had been murmuring that name yesterday. Perhaps she hadn't meant the god after all?

"Why are you asking, anyway?" her dad asked, sipping his coffee.

"When I was sitting with Gran yesterday, she mentioned his name."

"Oh." Her father went very still, and the pain in his eyes made Laura's chest ache. Dad and Gran had only had each other for so long – it was going to break a part of him when he lost her. "I suppose that makes sense. They were very close friends, I remember Helo telling me. He was her wingman, at the start of the war, and I'm told they were practically unbeatable when they flew together. They still use some of their manoeuvres in training at the new Fleet Academy. It must have been hard for her when he was killed – not that long after my father either. To lose both your husband and your best friend in a few months – she said to me once that if it hadn't been for me, she didn't think she would have survived."