Sorry it took so long of this chapter but politics are a pain to write, I do have to think my beta who added a lot of details to the Politics to make the story work so much better. They did a lot of work with the details. Lord knows politics are not my strong suit. Still my thanks to my beta who add a lot of the Politic details.

Now I know some people have asked me or are confused by how many people were killed since the numbers are different at different points of the story. Earth lost over 250 million people worldwide during Anubis attack they bomb from orbit using the bombs that Teal'c mention in season 10 episode one when they try to ring a bomb aboard and destroy an Ori ship that way. They also target ships on the water Dams worldwide were destroy the truth of the matter is Earth will never really know how many die that day. Most of the world military was also destroy during this battle.

Now I do not know own Stargate or Battlestar if I did I would not be some poor soul and would live in a much nice place in the world. The chapter is fix now when i upload the divides was remove somehow.

Chapter 12

Politics

"Aphrodite, what did I do to deserve this?!"

During one of the rare times she'd wanted to go home, Susan broke down to check out the local coverage of the Tau'ri/Colonial Talks. While nothing the commentators said made any impression on her, she found that it helped to fill in the silence that had greeted her on previous visits. Originally the glitter of celebrity had amazed and captivated her attention. But after Joe had left, the resulting crap storm generated by Colonial Intelligence, and later the Media, had done much to tarnish that image.

There hadn't been anything said but the letter from Joe, when it did arrive, was more cryptic than clarifying in her opinion. It wasn't until the government released the introductory videos from the Tau'ri that many of the questions began to be answered. But still, a letter? A simple note? Is that all this relationship had meant to Joe? Susan felt that there had to be more to it. But when or how this was to be dealt with continued to elude her.

The same feeling applied to how the President and the Quorum had handled the official Treaty hand over. Unlike past transfers, where there had been much pomp and pageantry involved in the process, this one had been greatly subdued. Gone were the ribbons and parades. In its place was a simple 'Meet 'n Greet' where the two parties met for a show of solidarity for the Press. Although the President did his part to inform everyone that things were fine, it was clear that the Chief Councilman did not agree with that assessment. The stiff spine and forced smile on his face clearly illustrated that. A change was clearly in the wind she thought, and the biggest concern on everyone's mind was how much it would affect the 12 Colonies of Man.

Returning her attention to the television, the on-air personalities were even now offering conflicting suggestions as to how long the Quorum Enclave would take to Ratify or Veto the proposed Treaty. In the past, only one similar document had done much to stir up a similar amount of controversy. And at that time the Quorum had taken the better part of two months to see fit to accept it. It didn't matter that there was a war on or that the Colonies needed to present a unified front to the Cylon scourge. In the end, with many nit-picked amendments demanded, the Articles of Colonization had been presented and the Colonies were unified.

With the hot mug of caffinal warming her hands, Susan perched on the front of the chair while her elbows rested on the kitchen table. Her thoughts, like the talks, were still in a turmoil pondering the past, present and nebulous future. She had to but move her head or eyes and there were things that reminded her of Joe and what they had shared. From time to time she had considered exorcising his ghost from her life, but each time paused, wondering if that was what she really wanted to do. All she knew was that this wouldn't be solved overnight.

The warbling of the kitchen phone broke her pensive solitude.

"What the...? " she growled.

This was something that should never have happened. It had cost her a very pretty cubit, but ever since the debacle with the media, the phone company was made to understand that calls from a very exclusive list were the only ones to be allowed through. And since she had made sure that nothing had been left undone at the museum, there shouldn't have been any reason to interrupt her private time at home. In fact, there was no reason for any call to be coming in at all.

With a quiet 'umph', she rose from her seat, making her way to the phone. A glance at the display only caused more confusion.

'Unknown Caller'

'WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?' Susan thought to herself. 'This isn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to be free of all that harassment!'

The ringing stopped as the nearby voicemail recorder clicked into action. She heard her voice going through the usual message, but what she heard next stopped her cold.

"Susan? It's Tim. Could you please pick up? It's important."

'Tim?!,' she thought to herself.

"Please pick up the phone, Susan. I know you're there."

With a start, she quickly glanced at the various windows, confirming that they were all completely covered. 'If this IS Tim,' she began to panic, 'then how in Hades does he know I'm here?! Security assured me that no one knew I was coming home.'

"Please pick up. All I want to do is talk."

'No! This has got to be a trick! The media has somehow been able to hack the line and are now trying to lure me out for another one of their 'exposés'.'

"Alright then," came the resigned response, "if Mohamed will not come to the mountain..." The line went dead with a click. And as the voice recorder shut down, peace once again settled over the apartment. But before Susan could immerse herself back into that comfortable cocoon of peace and silence, she heard a gentle ring and chime emanate from the living room.

Confused and perplexed at the nightmare that she was now living, Susan timidly shuffled her way to the doorway. Hugging the frame for some sense of security, she peeked around the corner. And into Wonderland.

It was Tim. Really Tim. Not the civilian Joe had first introduced her to, and not the Fleet Officer she'd come to see later. No, this Tim was attired in a trim set of sharp midnight blue fatigues, a style she'd never seen before. He stood patiently, with hands resting on the back of the easy chair she'd often shared with Joe.

"Hi, Susan," Simpson quietly offered.

"Uhm, hi? " she whispered in reply.

"You've made some changes," he casually commented, taking a calm look around the room. "Looks good."

Wide-eyed, Susan simply stared back at him, her hands keeping a firm grip on the doorway.

"You're looking good," he added, feet shuffling on the floor.

The silence became almost deafening.

"Aw, hell! " Tim muttered, nervously looking down at his feet. "I was hoping that this might have a chance of working out a little better than it did with Sarah."

At the mention of Sarah's name, the conversation became a little more animated.

"You've been in contact with Sarah," she asked hesitantly.

"Oh, yeah," Simpson grinned, rubbing his cheek reflexively. "I've 'talked' with Sarah. She gave me a homecoming I won't soon forget." The smile on his face faded a little as he continued, "I'm just hoping she'll forgive me someday for what she ended up going through."

"For what WE went through, don't you mean," Susan began to growl.

"Whoa, whoa, there! " Tim yelped, his hands raised defensively. "My first visit with Sarah ended up with me waking up, counting holes in the Sick Bay ceiling tiles. I really don't want to go through that all over again."

"Really? Sick Bay? " she responded, an evil glint building in her eyes. "And did the message really get through to you?"

"Most definitely. And for what little it's worth, Joe and I are very sorry for what you and Sarah had to put up with. We figured there would be some fallout to do with the disclosure, but for the life of us we had no idea about how much of that response would be leveled specifically at the two of you."

"And in all that time you didn't once think that you could have trusted either of us?

"Susan, look around you. You've seen what's happening out there? That isn't the Colonies that we know. It's a three-ring media circus. What we wanted to do was to see and meet the real you. Understand you. Figure out how to approach you as equals. The alternative would have been learning nothing and hoping we wouldn't make a mistake that could start an interstellar conflict."

"And still you left without telling us to our faces! " she retorted. "Didn't we rate something better than that? Didn't we mean more than that?"

"We believed that if you were told nothing, that none, or at least very little, of this crap, would have happened to you. But as we sat at the campsite the day we were being extracted, we took the time to reflect on what had happened and the changes that had taken place. Looking over at the few pictures and mementos we had chosen to take with us, we came to realize how much you had become a part of us. And it tore at us how it would seem that we were abandoning you."

"You've got to understand that the group and commanding officer I worked with had one basic rule that we as a team lived by; we would never leave anyone behind. With Sean and Jennifer buried and smothered in radiation, there was no realistic chance of recovering and bringing them home. You and Sarah, though, were another twist altogether. She comes from a prominent family, and you are an established researcher at the Museum. For either of you to suddenly disappear would raise red flags all over the place. We figured the safest way would be to quietly vanish and try to make amends later. If you were willing, that is."

"And does Joe still care for me? " she quietly asked.

"Very much so. In fact, during the initial debriefing, Joe was already asking to be part of the diplomatic party coming back to the Colonies. He wanted to work things out, or at least give you the chance to tell him to go to Tartarus."

"At least THAT is comforting to know," she commented, easing into a chair opposite Tim. "But can I safely assume that this is not the only reason for your abrupt visit?"

Tim smiled. Now here was the woman that Joe had grown to love; self-confident and assured in herself and her abilities. Even now, with a thick robe wrapped closely about her, Susan presented the elegant aura of a patrician holding court.

"With the Treaty officially in the Quorum's hands," Tim started, "there should be a halt to any and all activities between the two sides."

"Of course," she replied. "Everyone knows that. Even your being here is a breach of that protocol. But what in the name of sanity do you expect to gain by such reckless behavior?"

"A clearer understanding of things in Colonial history," Tim responded. Susan's brow furled in momentary confusion.

"While he worked with you, Joe was amassing a collection of images of the various documents and artifacts the two of you were working on. It's no secret that the two of you had disagreements over translation and relevance issues. But what you may not know is that he prized your insight and analytical skills when it came to putting the pieces together. It is that reason that I would like to ask you to join another archaeologist that I have up on the Kaga to sort through some similar issues we've run into."

"I hope it's not some sort of hack that needs his mess cleaned up. You know I don't suffer fools very well."

Tim grinned.

"No, Susan, I can guarantee that Dr. Jackson is no slouch. In fact, he was the cultural liaison of the Tau'ri delegation."

"Alright. So he has some credentials. But if I agree to do this, what's in it for me? " she questioned shrewdly.

"If I have my way, a proper 15 minutes of fame and a significant increase of personal notoriety. The downside is that some of the information has the potential to cause serious ripples in your society. The president has already been informed about what we have already found, but there are still many questions that we haven't been able to work out. Most of them are due to differences we haven't been able to understand."

"And where did you find this information. Is it another cache of records that we've overlooked?"

"Iiiinnnn a manner of speaking, yes."

"That is not a grey question, Tim," Susan frowned. "It's either yes or no."

"Unfortunately that is all I can say until you decide if you're in or out. Because of the potential impact on your society, we are going to need you to keep the information secret until the time your government agrees to disclose it."

Rising, Susan crossed arms over her chest, a scowling pout darkening her features. There was a long moment of silence before she chose to speak again.

"Alright, I'm in. But I expect to be kept in the loop on all things, understand?" Taking a glance at her arms, she continued. "And as I am not fit to travel right now, I will need time to pack and prepare. Will we need to go far to meet with your transport?"

"Not really. I'll make sure things are shut down and closed up while you get yourself ready."

"Now hear this. Now here this." the tannoy boomed from overhead. "Cargo One prepare for inbound beaming. Cargo One prepare for inbound beaming. That is all."

'Inbound beaming? " a puzzled Ensign Sanchez thought to himself. "Orders are that we're not supposed to be showing any of our technology while in Colonial Orbit. So what gives?"

The familiar chime and flash of transporter activity was punctuated by an indignant screech, followed by an inordinate amount of jabbering. These days most travelers took to beaming with either a bored curiosity or a mild trepidation. Usually, their greater concerns dealt with activities at their destinations rather than the traveling itself. It was the reaction of the rare uninitiated, especially the uninformed, that was the most entertaining.

Sanchez grinned as he finished his assigned task. The outrage he'd just heard had been far tamer than others, but still an entertainment that broke up the monotony of shipboard duties.

Shelving his locked down tablet, Sanchez looked up to take a closer scrutiny of the recent arrivals. The woman, obviously a Colonial civilian, was one of striking beauty. Glasses adorned an elegant bearing that spoke of an intelligent confidence. If anything, she looked much like a female Dr. Jackson. Only, without the field experience.

Her companion, turned away from Sanchez, was obviously one of the crew members, dressed in daytime fatigues. Sanchez thought there was something familiar about him but couldn't put his finger on it until the man began to turn...

"Admiral on the deck! " he called out, quickly coming to attention.

A sudden hush fell on the deck as the entire crew stopped to respectfully face the Admiral.

The woman nervously hissed something at Simpson only to have a cautionary hand tell her to stop.

"As you were people," came Simpson's calm response. Slowly activity returned to the cargo hold as the various ratings continued their activities.

"Ensign...," Simpson paused for a moment to catch the name tag, "Sanchez. This is Miss Karahalios, a researcher from the Delphi Museum. She'll be staying for a while to assist Dr. Jackson. Could you please see that she has quarters assigned to her?"

"Tim, τι συμβαίνει; Για ποιους μιλάς;" Susan hissed in Simpson's ear.

"Aw frak! I knew I was forgetting something," Simpson muttered aloud. With the ensign and Susan looking on in bewilderment, he quickly rummaged through the multitude of pockets on his fatigues before stopping, a pleased look on his face. The small egg-shaped object seemed harmless enough, but after the beaming experience, Susan wasn't about to take anything at face value. She took a partial step back as he approached.

"What's that supposed to do? Light up whenever I need assistance? " she asked timidly, watching cautiously as he placed it on her jacket.

"Susan, this is something you will need to wear at all times while you're aboard the Kaga," Simpson intoned. "I think you will find it quite indispensable."

"Right," she grumbled as Tim took a step back.

"Will that be all, Admiral?"

Susan's head snapped toward the ensign.

"You spoke! " she gasped.

"All the time, Ma'am. Maybe a little too much if you ask my shipmates," he offered with a bemused grin.

"But I can understand you now! Ho... how is this possible?!"

"It's all to do with that decorative stone I attached to your jacket," replied Simpson, grinning. "It's supposed to allow the wearer to understand and be understood by anyone around them. I told you it would be indispensable."

"Buuuttt," he interrupted, checking the chrono over the hatchway, "unfortunately duty calls. Ensign Sanchez, here, will see to your quarters, and later on, Dr. Jackson will check in with you to bring you up to speed. At some time I will be checking in to see if everything is okay. But until then, Miss Karahalios."

"Admiral," Sanchez acknowledged with a quick salute as Simpson stepped out the cargo bay hatch. Simpson couldn't help but grin as he heard fading into the background, "Admiral?! Did I just hear you call him..."

For the extent of remembered history, the Quorum had always been a stabilizing factor in Colonial life. Whether it was inter-tribal strife, fiscal accountability of the tribal leaders, or the inevitable colonization of each of the tribal worlds, the Quorum was there to ensure that whatever issue arose was dealt with in a controlled and orderly fashion.

That is until now.

Alessa Tinia worked with an intense will and focus as she prepared the last component for use. With a practiced flick of the wrist, the present council member from Virgon ensured that everything was in place before she turned the device on. It took a couple of minutes before any reaction took place, but it wasn't long after that the first steaming drops of fragrant caffinal began collecting in the carafe below.

Of course, there was hired help to deal with these menial tasks, but Tinia had turned this into something of a superstitious routine. Whenever the Quorum faced a major issue that needed debate or discussion, Alessa would work through a small collection of mundane tasks, each easily accomplished. This was her small way of confirming that all was right with the rest of the worlds so that she could focus on the grave matter at hand.

Mind you, already this issue with the Tau'ri was proving to be a greater inconvenience. Before, council members would be allowed to take paperwork home to study in their own private offices. There, without harassment or outside interference, they would have plenty of time to peruse, analyze, and familiarize themselves with the proposition before dealing with it in council. This time, however, the Chairman himself had forbade the removal of any documents from the council hall. The only reason given was that the information contained in them would be damaging to Colonial Society if released unfiltered or unexplained.

It was with an exasperated sigh that she gingerly carried an overfull mug of brew to her place at the conference table.

Normally bathed in natural sunlight from the panels above, the curved table was illuminated by recessed lighting showing everything but leaving the outer edges cloaked in the early morning shadow and darkness. Around the table in front of the 12 comfortable chairs were multiple copies of the treaty and sundry supporting documents and pictures. The originals, provided by the president and Tau'ri representatives, remained on a desk centered in front.

"Isn't it a little early for you to be here? " a disembodied voice rumbled from the darkness.

"Zeus Almighty!," Tinia screeched, sloping some of the steaming liquid. She took a moment to shake her hands, one by one, to rid them of the hot drink. "Who the Hades..."

Chuckling, a bedraggled figure shuffled from the darkness.

"Olti?," she looked on confused. "What are YOU doing here so early? You look like Tartarus warmed over."

Olti Montrose slowly trudged to his place at the center of the table. Dropping wearily into his seat, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. Continually glancing back at the displayed materials, he responded in an exhausted slur.

"If you must know, I've been here all night pondering the mystery, enigma, or possible threat that is the Tau'ri."

"All by yourself? What were you thinking?"

"I THOUGHT that I was the Chairman of this council. And since Uri and Belloby failed to reign this debacle back in line with the Quorum's mandated view, I felt that the responsibility fell to me to take things in hand and straighten them out."

"Damn you, Olti! This is the Quorum of Twelve. Twelve individuals that were appointed from the twelve tribes of man. Each of us with a unique viewpoint. It is we, as a council, that work through the issues for the benefit for all. I'm not as hard headed as you Gemonese, but I can think of a couple of times where my Virgonese insight has aided this council in successfully resolving issues."

"And while he has his use, this really wasn't the best time to send in Uri. In the past, he has been able to filter out a lot of garbage, which in turn made the Quorum's deliberation short, sweet, and to the point. But because of the unique circumstances that are the Tau'ri, I'm starting to wonder if we should have taken more time to look into these people in the first place."

"What's to figure out," he growled. "They're human. They're just like us. They just have to realize that returning to their heritage is the best for all involved!"

"Oh cut the religious rhetoric, Montrose!," Tinia spat back. "Do you really believe that? I don't know about you but at least I'm willing to try to see things for what they are."

"What they are? Alessa, they have admitted that, as a society, they are young. Who knows what they've blundered into, and like children, what messes they have created. On the other hand, for the past 2000 years we, the 12 Tribes of Kobol, have steadfastly followed the Lords' teachings. As a result, we have a stable society with a consistent understanding of who we are and our place in the galaxy."

"Our Place?," Tinia mocked. "Until now it was assumed, as the Lords taught us, that we were the only life form in the galaxy. Any exploration that was accomplished proved that fact. But considering that our reach was to a paltry 200 light years, in any direction, I'm beginning to understand why. The Gods forgive this one bit of heresy, but the Tau'ri claim that we are in the middle of a barren patch of the galaxy, some 1500 light years across. Isn't it possible that the Gods placed us here to protect us until the one day that we would be ready?"

"Ready? " Montrose scoffed. "Ready for what?"

"Ready to leave home," Tinia replied quietly.

Montrose sternly frowned.

"Just think about it for a minute," she continued. "We've had 2000 years to perfect teachings and technology that was given to us by the Lords. The Tau'ri were 'tossed to the curb' as it were. We had everything given to us. They had to build everything from scratch. We learned by example. They learned through adversity. Whatever we have were gifts from the Lords, while everything they have was put together by sheer force of will and arms."

"So are you trying to tell me that they are that much better than we are? That we should abandon all that we are to become them?"

"Gods, No!," she pleaded. "All I'm saying is that we need to look through this with more of an open mind. Maybe there is something here we can learn."

Raising an eyebrow, Montrose gave her a questioning look.

"Hey!," she retorted. "I'm not that naive! Of course, we'll question things. All I'm asking is that we don't take on an attitude of extreme paranoia about everything that we find."

In a momentary contest of wills, the two locked gazes, almost daring the other to flinch. In the end, it was the chairman that gave the quiet nod of acceptance.

"Alright. I have to admit there is wisdom in what you have to say," he admitted grudgingly. "But in the end, when we've exhausted all that we have before us, what then?"

"I would think that would be simple," came a bemused response.

Startled, the pair turned to see a figure framed in the Chambers double doors.

"Kostas Domra," she spat. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it was rude to eavesdrop on a private conversation?"

The man chuckled as he entered the chamber, the morning rays from the overhead skylight beginning to dispel the surrounding darkness.

"A private conversation? About council business? Now there's a contradiction if I'd ever heard one. But still, Montrose, the answer to your question is quite simple."

"And that would be?"

"Ask the one who knows us so well."

"This is Carlos Hypatia with a CNN update."

"It has been ten days since the Tau'ri War Carrier Kaga entered Caprican orbit and already things are taking place at a speed that would make most Caprican businessmen green with envy. Already the Colonial/Tau'ri delegation have been able to hammer out a treaty that would allow our two societies to interact commercially and technologically."

"However, it seems that it is not all milk and honey for some people. The Stock Market has gone through several days of extremely unsettled trading amidst speculation what this treaty might involve. At the same time, several special interest groups have begun protesting in front of government buildings throughout the system, complaining that this has been nothing but one big charade. They seem to believe that the Tau'ri are simply out to expedite things with total disregard to the possible consequences they might have on Colonial society."

"In an attempt to calm the public's anxiety, the President's office released a statement outlining what had been discussed. They claim that the Treaty is an agreement, in principle, which was to lay the foundation for further interaction and cooperation between our two societies. And as we don't know or trust each other, there are to be initial limitations on information that would be shared back and forth."

"Presently the Treaty is in the hands of the Colonial Quorum for a full scrutiny and deliberations. From past experience, this part of the process can be the longest one of all. During the adoption of the Articles of Colonization, the initial drawing up and negotiations took all of three weeks. The deliberations that followed, even being on the eve of the first Cylon War, took two to three months. With all of the rumors and implications involved this time around, it would be a miracle for this Treaty to be ratified in even that amount of time."

"Beyond that, the only other question burning in everyone's mind is: 'Who and What are these Tau'ri?' While no one can say, they emphatically deny being our 13th tribe or any other relation to us. This has obviously raised opinions from a variety of sociologist and anthropologists, both certified and amateurs, with no definitive explanation in sight. Some of the wilder theories to be raised from the dusty past include Spencer's Parallel Cultural Evolution, but that had been thoroughly discounted by recognized authorities on the subject."

"And finally, in response to the deluge of requests from business and public sources, the Government states that an information package from the Tau'ri will shortly be made available to those who wish it. This package will contain basic descriptions of their homeworld as well as the various cultures that inhabit. We have been assured that the collection of videos, images, and documents it will be in a format compatible with most home systems."

"Again, this is Carlos of the Colonial News Network asking you to stay tuned as we continue to bring you updates as they unfold."

It was with a heavy sigh that Tim broke the connection with the Caprican communications network. It had been one long week since Sarah's dramatic visit and Tim felt he hadn't made any more progress in reconciliation than the day he'd started. In a way, it had been her strength of will and determination that had attracted him to her. The only thing that he hadn't counted on was how much those same attributes would work against him in a situation like this. He knew things would have gotten difficult for Sarah after he was picked up, but that only paled in comparison to the reality he found out later. But in the end, Sarah was going to have to get over it.

With what Tim had learned during his time back on Earth, 'Evil' had not been entirely vanquished. With the removal of the Goa'uld System Lords, the Lucian Alliance had begun occupying the power vacuum left behind. The Ha'taks and Tel'taks left over from the System Lords made it easy for them to assume, access, and control the various systems left in disarray. And as nature hated a vacuum, the mafia-like Alliance moved in to take over systems in a state of anarchy.

It was in the midst of this that the Tau'ri of Earth were finding that they were having to make a stand. The most obvious reason was to defend their homeworld. But being the protégé of the Asgard, they (as the Fifth Race) were being called upon to defend the planets under the Protected Planets Treaty. Normally this would have been something they could have taken in stride. But because they were still rebuilding from their encounter with Anubis they were finding that any Allies to the cause would be greatly appreciated.

The chair in which he rested creaked in protest as he tilted back to gaze at the ceiling. Reaching up to lace fingers behind his head, he quietly pondered what else had been going on.

It was probably only museum politics but as Joe surmised, Susan was proving to be a very intelligent researcher. Once the original period of disbelief had been overcome, her shrewd analytical mind was quick to take in the details that Dr. Jackson and the recovered documentation had presented. Sure, there were times when she balked at things that every Colonial had accepted as fact, but an overall picture began to take shape. It was becoming clear that she would be one of the few that would be able to quickly adapt to the inevitable changes.

Together she and Daniel were able to clear up a number of basic misconceptions that had cropped up on both sides. One of the first details that were clearly confirmed was that the ultimate fate of both Kobol and Terra had been one of armed conflict between creators and created. It had been a sobering moment for Susan when she began to realize that the mantra she and her fellow Colonials had been saying for so long was truer than they could have possibly realized. Having seen the same message presented in different ways throughout the prophecies she'd researched in the past, she began to wonder aloud how much this repeated message had really affected her society.

But for all the good that had come from the collaborated research, Murphy always seemed to throw in the wrench. No matter how well the documentation had been searched, Tim knew that sooner or later something would appear to endanger the tentative balance that he'd arranged.

And it did.

Three days into the mutual shuffling through the Terran records, Susan's behavior took on a subtle change. At first, it was a widening of the eyes and a sudden intake of breath. Initially, Daniel had dismissed it as noticing a new discovery; astounding details were literally being unearthed moment by moment. But as time progressed, Susan was noticed making more and more notes about obscure records, records that seemed totally innocuous.

It wasn't until Tim had someone to look through those records that the truth became apparent. While the glaring reports about the Galleon's preparation and departure from Terra had been removed, surrounding documents about overproduction of unnecessary supplies, requisition of basic components, and diaries of friends left behind were not. In all, it wasn't enough to say what had happened but gave clear indication that something significant had taken place during the settling of the planet. 'It was only going to be a matter of time,' Tim thought to himself, 'before Susan would finally connect the dots.'

Crew Training was an area that was finally beginning to bear fruit. From the seven squadrons of 'fighters' included in the 51st tactical wing, the core of a mobile training cadre was finally taking shape. This cadre was composed of the various pilots, be it a fighter, EW, or AWAC, that could clearly demonstrate an innate understanding of the skills that were being handed down, and at the same time pass them onto their fellow pilots. And while this meant an increased workload for these crew members, it proved to be an immeasurable lightening of Tim's responsibilities. It was hoped that soon all the Admiral would have to worry about were the Advanced Tactical classes.

As far as Tim was concerned, that time wouldn't come soon enough.

Bzzzt.

Rising from his chair, Tim moved over to thumb the communications panel.

"Simpson here."

"Admiral, I've gotten news from the surface. Because of the ongoing demand for information about the 'Tau'ri', the President's office has requested that we participate in an on-air interview with the CNN in about 12 hours. Journalist Carlos Hypatia is to conduct the interview. It was deemed the best approach anyone could see to reduce the 'wireless' chatter that has been jamming the airwaves."

"Great! And I supposed I'm to join Mr.'s Woolsey and Jackson for this little 'dog and pony' show, Lieutenant?"

"Actually, no, Sir. Along with that request was a summons for you to appear before the Colonial Quorum for questioning. It seems as if they would like your 'expertise' to clarify some of the details."

"Good evening, folks, and welcome to a special presentation of the Tau'ri/Colonial Coverage. I am your host, Carlos Hypatia."

"Faced with the huge volume of demands for information, the Adar Administration opened a dialogue with the various reporters and journalists in the system to see what the people would like to know about the Tau'ri. As you can imagine, the response was overwhelming with a flood of questions ranging from the mundane to the absolutely ridiculous. With considerable effort, that collection was quickly whittled down to this," he waved a collection of sheets in his hand. "Assuming the talks go well, the Tau'ri have promised to download a collection of Cultural and History files onto the Colonial net for all to see. For now, the Colony's journalists are hoping this will suffice."

Hypatia's image on the screen jumped for a moment as the program switched from one camera to another.

"And so, without further ado, may I introduce tonight's guests."

The image on the screen flickered for a second as two windows formed with Hypatia on the left with two men in a nondescript room on the right.

"Live from the conference room aboard the Tau'ri War Carrier 'Kaga', I would like to introduce Mr. Richard Woolsey, Tau'ri State representative, on the left," the balding man nodded in response, "and Dr. Daniel Jackson, Cultural specialist, and Linguist, on the right." Another nod from the right. "Thank you, gentlemen for joining us here."

"Thank you for having us," responded Woolsey.

"In a way, I was hoping that Admiral Simpson would be with you. His insight into both of our cultures would have made for an interesting discussion."

"Regretfully, he couldn't be here," replied Jackson. "Something about having to appear before your Quorum. So, in one way or another, I know he'll be answering questions."

"The Gods help him, is all I can say," Hypatia grinned knowingly. "So, if you gentlemen are ready, let's begin. First question: Who are the Tau'ri, and where do they come from?"

'This is absolutely ridiculous,' Simpson thought to himself. 'These people are so wrapped up in their own self-importance, they wouldn't know what to do if the Galaxy chose to land in their laps.'

Leaving nothing to chance, Admiral Simpson had taken the time to be briefed on the finer points of the treaty before leaving the Kaga. As far as he was concerned, Jackson and Woolsey had done a great job of setting things up. Like hell was he going to be the reason that everything fell apart.

The meeting with the Quorum had started the same way any meeting Simpson had had with the Brass back home. There had been the usual formalities, the pedantic rehashing of facts, and the standard moaning and groaning by the various armchair leaders. It had been so boring that Simpson had almost welcomed it when the questions started flying.

The only problem was that while the initial questions had been pointed and thought-provoking, they soon degraded to the point of repeating themselves. From there it only got worse. It had only been because both Jackson and Woolsey had advised him to 'Play Nice' that Simpson chose to patiently wait and see where this would lead.

Ultimately, though, even Job's patience would have run out with this lot. And from the looks on some of the member's faces, even they were beginning to wish they could be anywhere but here. Simpson finally decided that an intervention was needed to get things going again, 'Playing Nice' be-damned.

The Admiral waited for an appropriate pause in the proceedings before he spoke up.

"Mr. Montrose. Is there a purpose or point to all of this? I was under the impression we were trying to clear things up, not be subject to a Colonial historical recital."

Montrose stopped, stunned that anyone would have the gall to interrupt him in mid-lecture. To him, it was an important point to remind himself and others daily of the importance of their positions and the Lords' expectations of them. To have that reminder interrupted for any reason at all seemed almost blasphemous to his beliefs.

"How dare you interrupt, Admiral Simpson", growled Belloby. "I would have assumed someone of your supposed rank would have learned something of respect."

"Respect, Councilwoman, yes", Simpson replied tartly. "But to subject myself to something as base as indoctrination when I was summoned to help clarify treaty details is something else."

"Well, I never..."

"Never what, Ma'am," he snarked. "Never thought? Never considered something else rather than mindless obedience?"

Tim paused to let the point sink home. It was clear that many disapproved of his attitude and behavior, but at the same time, he could also see flickers of growing respect.

"And what is wrong with obedience?", rebuked Uri. "For us, it's helped us keep a stable society long before you learned how to work Bronze."

"And yet look where it has gotten us", answered Simpson. "We now have a truly unified world government. One where every member country has an equal say in what goes on, regardless of color, background or religion. Can you say the same for your Articles of Colonization?"

"Look," he quickly continued, "I'm not here to debate the pro's and con's of either society. We've each taken different paths to get to this point and each totally separate from the other. All you need to deal with is what's before you now; a framework treaty that would promote trade, commerce, and growth between our groups."

"But Admiral, don't you see that the 12 Colonies are mankind's best chance of making this all work? " Montrose strongly pointed out. "As Councilman Uri has already stated, we've been a coherent society far longer than you have. That has to amount to something!"

"Just because you've been around longer doesn't always mean you're better," Simpson sighed. "We've encountered and fought with one race that had been around for over 10,000 years. And in the end only proved to be bloodthirsty tyrants out to subjugate or destroy any that oppose them. Do you think that is any better?"

"No," retorted Belloby, "but anything has to be better than some juvenile group that has only just made their way to the stars."

"And at least we try to learn from our past," Simpson snarked back. "You obviously haven't."

"Of course we do! How could you think otherwise? Don't you see how far we've come?"

"Yes, I can. And I can also see how close you came to disaster."

"The war with the Cylons? A problem that should never have gotten out of hand. That fool Graystone dabbled with things he ought not to have."

"But he did. And it's not the first time this issue has come up in your past, has it?"

Looking around, Simpson could see the beginning frowns on some faces as if he was entering an area that not many cared to follow.

"What are you talking about?", Olti questioned. "The Cylons were a one-time thing in the Colonies. There was nothing like them before."

"Maybe not in the Colonies, but what about Kobol. The reason for the Great Exodus was to escape from the fallout and aftermath of a civil war between the creators and the created. Had any news reached you from Terra, your Earth, you would have found that the same thing happened there. Your religious texts even have a common saying; 'All of this has happened before and will happen again'. It's almost as if you, as a society, are out to destroy yourselves on a regular basis. The biggest problem is that none of you take the time to see it at all."

"How sure are you of this information, Admiral," Domra quietly asked.

"Very. And at the risk of causing more of a rift between us, I engaged Susan Karahalios' services to go through the records that we've recovered from both Terra and Kobol with Dr. Jackson. He is very qualified in his own right, but we were running into cultural discrepancies that left great gaping holes in our understanding of your past."

"And you didn't feel it appropriate to ask us first? " grumbled Uri.

"Hey! Look around you. I had no feeling of cooperation from this group from the very beginning. In fact, I had to remove YOU from the negotiations just so they could get anything done at all."

Kostas shook his head, a wry smile gracing his lips.

"Besides, whatever became of the Cylon remains that we passed onto Admiral Adama? I understand that Dr. Baltar was having a field day examining it."

"Those were safely placed in the Colonial Archives under lock and key. With what the public has been through lately, we," Montrose gestured around the room, "felt that they didn't need to be exposed to any more painful reminders."

"And that is exactly my point, Chairman," Simpson replied, shaking his head. "Even when your own past is dropped in your lap, you want as little to do with it as possible. And in the end, you never learn from it."

"And what could be gained from a pile of corroding metal," Belloby challenged. "So what if someone else had problems with their own versions of Cylons? We're still here, and they're not. I ask again, So Frakin' What?"

"Had you known about what had happened before, maybe, just maybe, you could have dealt with the Cylons intelligently in the first place rather than reducing them down to mechanical servants!"

"But that's all they were," snapped Belloby. "Just mechanical beasts of burden!"

"Beasts of burden who's personality matrix was based on the matrix of Graystone's own 16-year-old daughter. I have no idea what it's like to be a young woman at that age, but it can be hell to be a young man. At that age, you're sitting on a powder keg of emotions and hormones that you don't fully understand let alone try to control. To then be told to shut up and do as you're told, would be a disaster just waiting to happen."

"And is this what happened on Terra?," interrupted Domra, "Assuming the verse from the scrolls is correct."

"Pretty much," admitted Simpson with a sigh. "In the case of Terra, it was a labor dispute that got way out of hand. In the end, one side used weapons that ended up affecting both sides with very lethal efficiency. The ultimate MAD scenario if I've ever heard of one."

"Uh, MAD?"

"Mutually Assured Destruction. Sort of an 'If I can't have it, no one can' attitude."

Alessa Tinia shivered in her seat at the thought.

"That's well and good, but how does that apply to us? " growled Montrose. "Kobol, Terra. They're dead and gone, and we're still alive. That changes everything, doesn't it?"

"It changes absolutely nothing," admitted Domra, "It was only because the Tau'ri intervention that we had the chance to survive. It had nothing to do with what we did for ourselves."

"So," sulked Uri, "are you saying that the treaty is the equivalent of them saying that they now own us, or control us? Or are we to be eternally indebted to them?"

Tim just stared at the man in unabashed amazement.

"Are you listening to yourself?! Do you realize how crazy you're sounding right now? We never asked for your capitulation. We came here to meet you as equals."

"By sneaking in like common thieves?," Arista growled. "You slipped in unannounced, gather intelligence on our strengths and weaknesses, and then attempt to impress us with your greater technology and know-how? And to add insult to injury, you get promoted to Admiral for your efforts."

Simpson simply glared at Belloby in undisguised fury.

"If the Councilwoman will recall," he replied through clenched teeth, "we had no dealings with the military until AFTER we had been drafted. Any so-called intelligence we gathered would have been anything readily available to the common citizen of these Colonies. Our mission here was to learn enough to communicate with you without turning it into another interstellar catastrophe. Something that can so easily be done these days."

"And as for our 'greater know-how', it was on one of your obsolete VR Trainers we fought in," Tim's voice rang out, gaining in volume, "and Kara Thrace effectively HANDED MY ASS TO ME!"

Taking a moment to calm down, he continued.

"Now, if you don't mind, can we cut the crap and see what can I do to help you?"

Needless to say, the rest of the session ran much smoother after that. Nerves were still raw but most of the participants were willing to overlook them for the sake of progress.

By the time Admiral Simpson was escorted from the chambers, he was emotionally and physically wrung out. Only once before had he felt such fatigue. It was only because of the gentle guidance of his elderly escort that it was possible for him to make it down the long halls to the front entrance. Before opening the main doors, the elderly escort paused to look at the Admiral.

"If I might be so bold, sir, please forgive them for the way they handled the situation."

"If they hadn't been so narrow-minded," Tim offered wearily, "a lot of this could have been avoided in the long run."

"I know that, Sir. But maybe they don't have something to be grateful for like I do."

Tim looked on in a tired confusion.

"During the war, you did everything you could to ensure that many of your people survived to come home. One of them was my little girl, Tara. Tara Stammos. You would have known her as 'Fidgit'."

"My God," Tim groaned quietly. "I lost track of so many people. I'm just glad some were able to make it home."

"Well," the elder Stammos sighed, "not quite all of her. Physically she's there, but the war changed a lot that was my Tara. If you could help, sir, she could use a visit from some of her friends. The transition back has not been the easiest."

Tim offered a sad smile.

"I've heard of many who are having the same problem. Could you give her a hug from her crusty old Colonel, and I'll ask Sarah to see if she can visit Tara as soon as possible."

Simpson took a moment to look back down the hall. A wistful look on his face.

"Do you have any idea what their choice is going to be?"

"I have no idea, sir," Stammos replied. "People say that the Quorum waits on the will of the Gods themselves; that they don't know until the final vote is cast. All we can do is wait and see."

"All I can say is 'God help us all'."