Author's note: This chapter was a weird one to write. I bought a new laptop, and the keyboard is different than the last one. Suffice it to say, the 'backspace' key was the most used one while writing. It is very challenging to keep on your mind what you were trying to write while writing like that. Because of it, even after revising the text twice, I still find it stiff somehow. Ah well, what can you do, right? Hopefully, my writing on this new laptop will improve over time.

I answered to some reviewers through private messaging, so I don't need to write to them here. However, there are a few who asked a question that may help others too. So, I'll be writing the answers here instead. Also, thank you very much to all those who wrote a review. Your support is always appreciated. It gives writers a little extra motivation to keep writing a story.

Q&A:

Ferduran: Well, I think that if Jonas were to give information about the Pyramidal ship, he would have to explain a lot more. Like, the factions there are in the galaxy, the overall state, so on and so on. Then I started thinking. Would, for example, the Colonials liked if Jonas, or the Terrans for that matter, started talking about the Colonies to those factions? I think they wouldn't. It is their choice when to let know to others about their existence. The same way, the Jaffa and other human races in the MW galaxy wouldn't be very keen on Jonas blabbing his mouth about them to a foreign power they know nothing. And if he spoke only vaguely about them, then the Colonials would bombard the man with a barrage of additional questions he wouldn't be comfortable answering. It's better to keep quiet about things that are irrelevant for their current meeting, right? Regardless of what readers want to here ;D

SicietE: Of course the Terrans have long term plans related to the Colonials. They are a race that has the highest human population in the galaxy. Such a group can't be just ignored. There is also Kobol and the legacy that was left there by the Lanteans. Still, the Terrans are currently in a state of - let's wait and see how the war with the Cylons progresses while we deal with our problems. So, nothing is definitive.

Major Simi: It was a slip. Usually, I place great care to put a line when the location changes.

Shadow Club: Well, the Terrans won't be giving any tech to the Colonies, that's a given. However, they do understand the Colonials' frustration and their difficulty in believing the Terrans when they say among other things that life, after all, did not begin on Kobol. That's the reason they are monitoring them on this journey of theirs while they realize the truth by themselves, step by step, slowly, patiently. In a way, the Terrans recognize that, since they are all humans, that they too would behave in the same or similar manner if the role were reversed. The way I'm developing the Terrans is that, in this almost two decades of working with other aliens as well as humans from different worlds, they have realized how a high dose of tolerance and patience is needed when you venture into space where you meet other races. If not, wars would probably be starting as naturally as breathing.

Guest: Currently, the Terrans are cleaning up things in the Milky Way galaxy and are preparing for the incoming Vargas invasion. This story's events will conclude at the same time as when the Terrans are fighting the battle at Eden or maybe a little after that, not sure yet. However, the Colonials will not make an appearance in the third book 'Immortal' which events start two years later.

Thanks to my beta, and I hope you'll like this chapter as well.

updated on 7/26/2019


"Why do troubles keep piling up?" Adama asked bitterly.

It's not like they didn't have their share of troubles to deal with even without the latest incident. What they received from the Langaran Jonas Quinn had a lot of data corroborating what he had told them while aboard the Langaran spaceship. Simply put, Admiral Nagala wasn't an admiral anymore; that was a certainty now. Presently, he was the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol.

He'd dethroned Adar with a quick coup that swept away the harmful elements in the government, quickly followed by a purge of all the blood-sucking cronies who had followed Adar purely out of personal interests. Then it came the time for the unconstitutional CID that, for some reason, had been allowed to seep into the government's inner workings and influence its decision-making process at various levels, usually with the intent of gaining wealth and power for a few individuals.

Then, after the storm began settling down, Nagala had found good people to fill all the critical posts. During this period of political unrest, he'd also succeeded in cleaning the Cyrannus System of the remaining Cylon infestation. All successes, with no doubts to be had on the subject. Unfortunately, though, it only happened after the toasters had laid waste to three more worlds and had performed other suicide runs on civilian targets. The nuclear bombardment had brought massive destruction to the targeted worlds. The vicious attacks had mainly focused on highly populated cities on planets in the Helios Delta System. No point in overthinking it. The operation the Cylons had performed wasn't a strategic one. They didn't intend it as a means to win the war by gaining a strategic advantage.

It was purely meant to slaughter people. The more, the better.

It was a blatant attempt at genocide. The only silver lining was that, by doing so, the Cylons had lost their one great opportunity at dealing crippling damage to their military infrastructure and movable assets. Since the Cylons had completed the plasma cannons ahead of them, it would have been terrible if they had used them to target Picon's orbital infrastructure or any of the other shipyards in orbit of other planets.

It could have been the end of the Colonies.

"I wonder if the Terrans would have acted if that had happened? Or would they have continued watching?" Adama thought.

He did not have a readily available answer. There hadn't been much time in which to react after each attack. Only by having readily available ships in the Cyrannus system could the Terrans have reached them in time before the nukes did their dirty job. For that matter, the whole thing had lasted only three days, with each operation lasting less than twenty minutes. Three days – or sixty minutes in total - in which time three worlds had suffered massive losses.

Adama sighed. Since he was now sure that the Terrans had to deal with other hostiles in the galaxy, there was no way they could keep dozens of ships ready to protect the whole Cyrannus system with its twelve habitable worlds. Although, that was only his rational mind talking. He could not but feel bitter, knowing how powerful the Terran ships were and how easily they could have swatted the Cylons if they had been there when it all went down.

Then he suddenly felt angry. Anger directed toward himself.

"When did I become so weak to expect others to solve our problems? The Cylons are our creation, and we should be the ones taking care of the problem we created. Instead, I'm sitting here and contemplating if the Terrans could have saved us somehow. If I wanted to blame someone, I should be blaming the likes of Adar and his policy of lowering the military budget, which left us vulnerable to attacks," he muttered.

There was more blame to be shared. Adama could also blame the military for provoking the Cylons by crossing the Red Line. A few admirals must have thought it was a good idea. They were probably hoping to provoke an immediate response before Adar's new budget went into effect. However, it backfired on them.

Contrary to their wishful predictions, the Cylons waited patiently for ten more years, meticulously planning the invasion before acting. They went so far as to plant a virus into their military mainframe. A virus that should have disabled all their warships, leaving them like floating coffins. He shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to the Colonies if they had succeeded.

'Would the Colonies even exist today if the Terrans didn't stop the virus?' He knew the answer to that question.

Some people were to be blamed, but the Terrans weren't among them. A handful of Colonials were the ones who'd led them to their current predicament. And among those Colonials that he blamed there was one more person. The one that besides him many others blamed as well.

It was Gaius Baltar.

A Cylon model had easily seduced the idiot. She had manipulated him into giving her unfettered access to the military mainframe. Instead of helping the military in becoming stronger, he had opened the door to the invasion. He was the individual who'd started it all.

'That idiot had a Cylon living and breathing next to him for months, and he didn't even notice!' Adama thought angrily.

The source of this shocking revelation was the data package the Terrans had delivered through the Lanagaran Jonas Quinn. Among other things, it also contained newsfeeds of the past six months that all major stations had broadcasted. Among the recordings of the interviewed people, many were asked what they thought of Gaius Baltar, the man whose authorization codes had been used to install vulnerabilities in the military network. Most of them angrily answered that they needed to lynch the bastard!

He had to admit. A lot of anger was present in the Colonies.

Adama thought Baltar would deny any involvement when asked. Instead, the man quickly admitted that his assistant turned out to be a Cylon. She'd even declared it to his face the very hour when the invasion had occurred. Although, she had also been surprised when the attack didn't go as planned. That was the moment when Baltar had quickly run away from her and kept running ever since. He knew there was a chance of people discovering his unwitting involvement. Some evidence could have survived the destruction and subsequent invasion of Caprica. Therefore, he promptly bought a costly, last-minute-no-refund ticket to board the Expeditionary Fleet slated to flee the Twelve Colonies in search for the Thirteenth one. Of course, when asked, his explanation was filled with a lot of 'it's not my fault! I couldn't have known!', but Adama knew the truth. He knew that Baltar was thinking with the wrong head at the time. He even admitted to having had a sexual relationship with the Cylon woman. At that very moment, everybody in the room had looked at Baltar with utter disgust. As if they were looking at something that had somehow been infected and unable ever to be cured. Adama was certain that Baltar knew very well with whom he was spending his nights. He also thought that the scientist didn't care. No way he could have been so close – intimately - to one of these toasters, and not know what she was!

His blood pressure was threatening to rise again; he could feel it surging. He needed to calm down. It's not like this particular problem was the most urgent one. The man was in jail and wasn't getting out any time soon. Thus, it wasn't a crisis, especially since they were keeping the information about Baltar hidden from the public and had only told a few individuals. However, a plethora of more pressing issues afflicted the fleet. A direct consequence of the data leaking to the public was increased unrest. People needed to know what was happening in the Colonies. Roslin had said that, and reluctantly, he had to admit that she was right. They didn't hide things from the people. They weren't such people.

"Will the situation calm down?" Adama asked. He was directing the question at no other than the civilian leader of the Fleet, Roslin.

She sighed. It was never a good sign. "I don't know. I didn't think they would make such a fuss about it! I mean, I get that people would start asking what it all means for us here and what we should do next. But this 'movement' that sprang out of nowhere and is asking that we return home seems to be a little too extremist. It took them less than two weeks to organize and start protests across all the civilian ships. If I, as the leader, tried to achieve the same efficiency, I'm not sure if I could have accomplished it in twice that time. It looks to me as if someone is fueling the flames of discord."

She was right. The problems they were having were not proportionate. A group of people insisted that the Fleet should go back since the received materials had clearly shown there were changes back home that should influence their mission. Firstly, the people home had chased the Cylons out of their home system, and secondly, the Terrans have already established contact with their government.

Thus, their way of thinking was – 'What are we still doing here?'

Another group was preaching the opposite. They were adamant that it still wasn't safe back home and that what happened to the Helios Delta System could very well happen again. There were even reports that the Cylons were still performing deadly attacks on their worlds, mostly by targeting places with large numbers of civilians. On the other hand, the Expeditionary Fleet - which the Cylons spared of recent attacks - seemed like a much safer place. If they went back, expectations were they would become a target again.

Adama wanted to tell these people that all their selfish reasons didn't matter one bit since he had orders to find the Terrans and he couldn't break those orders just because of people who suddenly felt homesick. However, there was a little problem with that as well. The previous government, the one that had issued those very same orders didn't exist anymore. No way he could use his initial orders as the reason for continuing. Roslin had pointed that out quite vigorously until he conceded to that point. Still, both believed the mission needed to proceed. They both thought the data wasn't a counterfeit. They couldn't believe that the Terrans would go to such lengths as to fake so much information only to fool them. The Terrans wanted them to keep going until they reached Earth. The thought of learning something valuable, as stated by the Terrans, was also very alluring. There was no way they could turn back now, giving up after going through so much trouble.

"What are we going to do with Baltar, Admiral?" Roslin asked, and by doing so, she snapped him from his thinking.

"Baltar? Not sure. We can keep him confined for the rest of the trip for all I care." There would be no mercy for the guy. That's what he'd meant by that.

"He's useful sometimes," Roslin replied. "Besides, it isn't like he did something to harm the Colonies. Not on purpose anyway."

"He gave the Cylons access to our military mainframe. In my book, that's very harmful. And treasonous!"

"As I've said, he didn't do it on purpose. The Cylon woman was his assistant during a time in which no one knew the Cylons could look human. Also, it's not like his actions helped the Cylons achieve anything."

"What?"

"What he did, I mean. In the end, it all backfired on them. The Cylons tried to use the backdoor to infiltrate our system, but since it failed, it resulted in them performing an ill-devised plan that cost them many ships. If Baltar didn't give them access, they would have probably gone for a more forceful approach, probably with double the number of ships. It would have been devastating for us if that had happened."

"Should we give him a medal?" Adama asked.

Roslin chuckled. "Don't be silly! Of course not. It's the exact opposite. Punishment is necessary, not just for committing a crime but also for stupidity. Besides, the truth will come out eventually, and people will not easily forgive him, which means that we need to keep him locked up and under guards for his protection."

He was thinking about that too. It was true that they could not free the man as if nothing had happened. He did something people wouldn't readily forgive. It was also true that his character aside, the man was good at his job. "So, your idea is to lock him up in his lab, right?"

"Exactly! He was also in favor of keeping Agathon, the Cylon woman Athena, and their child together. That combined with this new piece of information, and people will start thinking that the man is a Cylon sympathizer," Roslin explained.

They need to keep him under lock and key, didn't they? "Yeah, he's a dead man if people get their hands on him."

There was a lengthy period of silence before Roslin began speaking again. "So, we are going to proceed as planned towards Earth, no matter how long it takes."

"That's the plan, yes."

Roslin sighed again. "Now, I only need to find a way to calm people down. This unrest is the last thing I need right now."

"I have a lot of marines that don't have much to do these days. I could lend you a few; or a platoon, maybe. They can be very persuasive, you know," Adama offered. He didn't think that Roslin would take the offer, though.

"Not the way I want to convince people. If I did that, new demonstrations would start immediately after but for a different reason. And those would probably be much worse.

Adama thought that he could lend her two platoons if that happened. "Well, let's hope that no new problem arises," Adama said, really hoping his wish would come true. At that moment, he heard the knock on the door, "Enter!"

Saul stormed in, shouting, "We have a problem!"

"I know. We have lots of those. What problem are you referring to?"

"It's about the clean up on Cloud Nine," Saul responded.

Adama's right eyebrow shot upward. Not even one hour ago, a team of marines had stormed Cloud Nine - the ship where they needed to take down several criminal enterprises. It was the conclusion of a covert operation that had lasted several months, during which time they had collected a considerable amount of incriminating evidence. Enough to stop any possible dissent of military brutality from forming. The entire operation had been what the police would call done by the book. Twenty-five minutes ago, he had received the information that everything went as planned. There would be no more criminals extorting restaurants for protection money. The disruption of the supply chain of goods like alcohol and food had also ended.

"Didn't the mission finish with a success twenty minutes ago?" Adama asked, baffled.

"It did! We had confirmation, and everything seemed fine! The only thing left was to collect any additional evidence left behind after the raid."

"So, what went wrong?" Roslin butted in.

"Five minutes ago, a marine was found dead. Doc was there as support staff if someone got injured in the assault. He was able to give me some details on how the marine died. It appears that someone shot him in the back from close range."

"Close range? Who's the marine?" Adama asked. It's difficult for a criminal to come close to a marine and be able to shoot them without being noticed.

"It's Malcolm, sir."

"Ah!" It was all that he managed to say while depressingly lowering his sight. He liked the guy. "Malcolm didn't appear to be the kind of guy who'd recklessly let some lowlife shoot him in the back!"

"I thought the same thing, Bill! But there's more."

For some reason, Saul had stopped speaking. "What is it?"

"I told you that Doc's there, right? I mean, Doc's capable of understanding many things by just looking at the external wounds. He's saying that those used were military bullets, Bill."

Adama now had an idea of why Saul was fidgeting so much. He still needed more information, though. "What kind?"

"M10, type E," Saul replied.

Adama was about to explode with a barrage of follow up question, but then he noticed the puzzled look on Roslin. She certainly didn't know what that meant, so he decided to explain. "'M' means they are made exclusively for the military, and '10' stands for 10mm bullets. Those are bullets that only go in our handguns, and 'E' stands for explosive."

"Explosive? Are those the bullets that we regularly use against the Cylons?" Roslin asked.

The Cylons were a menace that wouldn't go down with regular bullets. Or rather, you'd need to empty your whole clip to take even a single toaster down. Hence, a type of ammo that would do more damage inside their metallic bodies was needed. Thus, she was right, at least in the part that they needed special bullets against Cylons. However, in this case, Roslin was on the wrong track. "No, they aren't. The types that we use against the Cylons are type AP or APE rounds, which stands for Armor Piercing and Armor Piercing-Explosive rounds respectively. They need to be able to penetrate the hard shell of a Cylon Centurion first and then. If we use the second type, they will also explode inside. However, APE bullets are not good for soft targets like the human body. Because of the armor-piercing property, those bullets would exit the human body from the other side even before detonating. That's why a different type was developed to use against softer targets."

"Why would the military develop…" Roslin began speaking but then abruptly stopped. "No, forget it! Why the military would develop bullets more capable of killing people is a stupid question. It's not like wars inside the Colonies before we invented the Cylons never happened; or couldn't happen again, right?"

She was right. The Cylons were the boogeymen to every modern Colonial. But there was a time when the Colonials killed each other instead. Interplanetary wars had happened, some so terrible that tens of millions of people were killed year after year until they would finally agree to restore peace. However, now wasn't the time to think about their troubled past. "Saul, am I wrong in assuming that there's no possibility of a civilian getting their hands on those bullets, much less on a gun that can fire them?"

"I don't think it's possible, Bill. There was no report of a stolen Cat-10, and we regularly count the bullets that we have."

"What?" Roslin asked again.

Adama sighed. "It means that the killer wasn't a criminal from Cloud Nine, but someone from the military. Someone with access to a Cat-10, the service pistol that's issued to all military personnel who may take part in active combat."

"On a ship like the Galactica, every man or woman has it. Though, they usually keep it in their bunks under lock," Saul added.

"We will have to check if by chance one's missing, but if it isn't…" Adama said while shaking his head left and right.

"If that's not the case, it means that one of ours is the killer," Saul concluded, clearly not liking that particular scenario.

"Give the order for Malcolm's body and the Doc to return to the Galactica. Also, there's a good chance that the killer has already left Cloud Nine but lock the ship down just in case. Before the Doc comes, let's go to the CIC to find who was where when it all went down,' Adama ordered. "Ah, such a waste. I liked the guy."

"Many did, Bill. Many did," Saul replied.

New troubles seemed to be pilling up inside the Fleet, and he knew more would inevitably spring forth once they reached Earth. Difficulties he was dreading almost as much as, he knew, Roslin was. The Earthers were urging them to proceed on a path of discovery. They wanted them to learn something important about their past when their people still lived on Kobol. However, how the Colonials would react to whatever revelation awaited them was an essential question. What he was sure of was that it wouldn't fit with their current doctrine, not entirely anyway. In his opinion, they'd lost too much over the centuries for their religion to be completely accurate. Hence, he was sure that what awaited them would stir further unrest.

Additional turmoil that would be difficult to quench.

Life began on Kobol - was a fantasy in which he did not believe any longer. He knew that the Terrans were telling the truth. The fact that humans had been crawling on their home planet, the Earth, much sooner than they did on Kobol. He knew that Kobol being at the center of the universe was very important to the Colonials. Their identity, from where they came and who they became, was something no Colonial would so readily discard. They will have their hands full, soon. He was sure of it.

"Madam President, we will have to deal with Baltar on a later date. I must deal with this incident first," Adama told Roslin.

"I understand, Admiral. Solving this problem must take precedence. Baltar can sit in his cell for a while longer; no problem," Roslin responded, shooing Adama and Saul to hurry out already.

They did. Now it was time to find what had transpired and who was the responsible party.


It would take some time for the Doc to contact them with results. That time wasn't being spent in vain, though. It gave Adama time to spend on the CIC. Together with Saul, they worked on finding who was on Cloud Nine when it all went down. The list of people present wasn't small. There were marines from the Galactica and Columbia who had participated in the raid, but he thought the culprit wasn't from the other ship. He thought that whoever had a grudge against Malcolm, he or she had to be from the Galactica. Still, dismissing the possibility of someone from the Columbia based on nothing more than a hunch he was having wasn't a good idea either, which meant that he and Saul had to go through the whole list of people and check them all, one by one.

They were also asking those closest to Malcolm if they knew who might have had a beef with him. Unfortunately, no one gave them any clues. The general sentiment was that everybody was getting along with him quite nicely. The only negative thing they had to say about him was that he was slightly withdrawn. He was seldom the one to initiate a conversation. However, once someone else did, the man would start conversing freely. He was often funny to listen to, with a sort of sarcasm flowing naturally out of him that made people enjoy spending time in his company. He was also an excellent card player. There were several aboard the Galactica who had lost badly. However, not them and not anyone else would ever think of that as a valid reason for shooting the man in the back. Otherwise, the Galactica would have turned into a slaughterhouse a long time ago.

One other thing was bothering him. Somebody had shot Malcolm in the back, which seemed like a pretty spineless thing to do. He didn't think a marine would kill another person that way, even in case Malcolm did something unforgivable. If nothing else, a Marine would have shot him from the front while looking him straight into his eyes. No, even that was difficult to think that it could happen. Most marines wouldn't shoot an unarmed man, regardless.

"I'm not sure a marine did it," Adama said while thinking deeply.

Saul was the only one capable of hearing him. "Is it because of the way he was killed?"

Saul was also good at picking up on his train of thought, without him having to explain everything every time. Adama confirmed by nodding.

"I can't see our marines killing people that way either. I'm also confused about the bullets, Bill."

"In what way?" Adama asked, not sure what Saul meant by that.

"What do you have loaded in your sidearm, Bill?" Saul said, his eyes squarely eyeing the gun holstered on his right side.

He didn't always carry it. However, a murderer was on the loose. So, he'd felt the need to grab it while leaving his room. He then began thinking about what Saul had asked him. "You're right. The standard load is M10 AP bullets. I, for one, am carrying the M10-APE. Everybody in the Navy is always prepared to face a Cylon. It's standard procedure to have bullets capable of piercing through tough armor. But, Saul, that doesn't mean anything. The killer knew he was going to face a human and not a Toaster."

"I'm not so sure that it matters, Bill," Saul replied while shaking his head. It was clear that something was bothering him about the whole thing. "What did the marines who participated in the raid have in their rifles? What did Malcolm have loaded in his sidearm?"

It was a good question. It was the AP bullets. All of them had the AP bullets in their guns. It was so common to have them loaded that nobody even thought of switching to a different type just for a simple raid mission against some wannabe criminals. It wasn't like the criminals wouldn't succumb to a hail of bullets just because they were of the AP type. And since the raid took place deep in the bowels of Cloud Nine, there was no possibility of breaching the ship's outer hull. Also, no Marine would use APE or E type bullets on board a vessel since they knew it could cause an accidental explosion. It could needlessly cause a fire or an explosion capable of severely damaging the ship. Instead, with the AP type bullets, the criminals wouldn't be able to hide behind some makeshift defenses like tables, boxes or whatever was on hand to use as cover, all without the same risk the APE or E type bullets would needlessly bring. "Nobody used the explosive variants on this mission. It's overkill, and it could be dangerous to use them on a ship, especially the APE variant."

"Exactly! Why use them? Those criminals couldn't survive no matter what bullets the marines chose to use. The same applies to Malcolm's case. Whoever killed him could have done it by putting a few AP bullets in his back just the same," Saul explained. There was anger in his voice. Part of it was probably because of the dead marine, but part of it was because he didn't understand why someone would use the wrong bullets.

And then it dawned on Adama. He had already said the reason why but truly understood it only now. "It's overkill."

"What?" Saul replied, looking puzzled.

"The explosive bullets were used because it is overkill!" Adama said, now angry at the whole thing.

"You mean, whoever did it choose those bullets, not because it was the best choice but because of his emotional state?" Saul asked.

"Exactly! It depicts the asshole's state of mind. Malcolm must have done something to make them furious! It's the same thing as when somebody kills someone by stubbing them twenty times with a kitchen knife, yet the poor schmuck was already done for after the second or third stab. It's overkill. How many bullets did the Doc say were fired?"

"Not sure," Saul said.

Adama glanced at the big watch stuck on one of the CIC's walls. "I think the Doc had enough time to at least have a preliminary report ready for us. What do you say we go see what the Doc has to say?"

"It's a good idea. I don't like waiting with so many unanswered questions anyway," Saul replied.

Moving quickly, the two most senior officers left the CIC. With a fast pace that told sailors to step aside even without the explicit need to say it, they made their way to the infirmary in record time. Inside, the doc was leaning on the table where Adama was presuming the dead body of the marine Malcolm was laid over. He was right. The moment he got closer, he saw him lying naked, on his back. There were no bullet holes since they were on the other side, but even on the chest, there were small wounds — a result from the shrapnel exploding outward from inside of his chest. Explosive bullets did a nasty thing to a person's insides. Still, he thought there was remarkably little blood coming out. Not from his chest, but from the back where the bullets had entered. "Doc, what do you have for us?"

His question ended up unanswered. He knew the Doc was like that sometimes, especially when embroiled in his work.

"Doc, are you there?" Saul asked, standing not even two meters behind the Doc.

"Yes, I'm here. Can't you see I'm busy?" Cottle responded, while also pulling out something from his dead patient. He was more preoccupied with whatever he was doing then with the two people that had just come in.

Adama watched as the Doc was cleaning what looked like a piece of shrapnel with a saline solution. "What do you have there, Doc? Is shrapnel so interesting?"

"Shrapnel isn't all that interesting. However, this isn't a piece of shrapnel," The Doc said as he moved from the table to some other machine.

"It isn't?" Saul butted in. "What is it then?"

"Don't know. That's why I'm putting it in this machine. Among other things, it will give me a spectrographic analysis and a good x-ray image to boot," Cottle responded while putting the small piece of metal inside the appropriate opening. He then turned to look at the two people. "Let's give the machine some time to work while I give you a report on what I know."

"Let's, Doc. Many people are eager to know who did this to one of ours. Saul and I are among those. Your report might give us a clue," Adama said hopefully.

"I already told you that the marine was shot in the back with explosive bullets. What I didn't tell you is that the killer shot him four times. I haven't had the time to open him up yet, but from the wounds caused by the shrapnel that exited from the chest, even you can understand what I'll find inside. His heart and lungs were most certainly destroyed beyond recognition. No one could have survived that. The only saving grace I can think of is that, from the shock of the four explosive bullets, he probably suffered very little. His death must have been almost instantaneous."

"Small comfort, Doc. I want the one who did this in my hands," Adama replied angrily.

"I'm working on it, Admiral. In truth, I would have already started with the autopsy if it weren't for that small piece of metal that you just saw me taking out," Cottle explained while glancing towards the machine that was analyzing whatever he had found inside the marine's body. "I made a scan of his body to see if maybe there was a bullet that didn't explode. You understand, right? No need to lose a hand while performing the autopsy. It was then that I found that thing in his neck. I first thought it was just a piece of shrapnel like many others that are inside his chest. But the position and the shape of the piece were out of my expectations. That's why I've decided to take it out first. When I did, I was certain that it couldn't be a piece of shrapnel since it was a whole piece of… well, whatever that is."

Adama didn't know what to say. He just stood there while listening intently. Every new clue that could get him closer to the perpetrator was a good thing. Still, he did have the feeling that the investigation was going in a weird direction. It was then that the machine made a 'ding!' sound.

"Oh, dinner is ready!" Cottle replied humorously while moving quickly to in front of the analyzing machine. He was now looking at the monitor that was showing some data Adama and most probably Saul as well could never understand.

Adama gave the good Doc some time to process the results the machine had spat out. However, after a while, the Doc became restless for some reason. He was punching some buttons – hard! - with the screen showing different data each time he did it. "Doc, what's going on?"

"This… this thing!" Doc said again continuing with the constant punching of buttons.

"Doc!" Adama shouted.

"I have no clue what this is. And worse even, the machine doesn't have a clue either," the Doc reported.

"Is that so strange?" Saul asked.

"This machine just performed a spectrographic analysis. It should tell us the materials used in this piece. But it doesn't seem capable of finding out the material's composition! Another test has also found that whatever material this is, it is lighter than steel, yet its tensile strength is a hundred times greater!"

Adama felt like dreaming. He wasn't a scientist or engineer but, as anyone who was into spaceships, he knew how useful a material that's lighter and many times stronger than steel could be. And what was that about a hundred times! He could only imagine the type of ship they could build with this material at their disposal. It was a material the military would salivate over, and profusely so!

"Doc, this isn't your area of expertise. Could it be that you're reading it wrong?" Adama asked.

"I'm not! And look at the x-ray scans!" Cottle shouted in righteous indignation while showing another image on the monitor.

Adama looked at it intently. The piece of metal usually looked like a small pin. However, the Doc had enlarged a tiny portion of it, a part of only a few millimeters in length and width and stretched it over the entire screen. The x-ray image was clearly showing that complex components were present inside. As if he was watching the insides of a chip. The model was incredibly complex, and there were even blackened parts, which probably meant they had been safeguarded against scanning. Perhaps they had also been shielded against EMPs. A special coating made of some different material that didn't allow even powerful x-ray or other methods of scanning to see through it. "This is a chip of some kind, isn't it?"

"Yeah, this is a chip. But not a kind that we can make. You can call that genius Baltar to test it if you don't believe me, but he'll tell you the same thing that I'm telling you now. Admiral, this shit isn't ours!"

"Cylon then?" Saul butted in.

"We've blown enough Cylon ships and haven't found a material with that kind of properties," Adama concluded.

"True," Saul admitted. "Which leaves only one other candidate that I can think of."

The phone on the wall rang, and the good doctor went to answer.

"Yeah? Okay, sure." Cottle shortly talked on the phone before turning to Adama. "Admiral, it's for you."

Adama went to the phone, listened for ten seconds, and then answered. "I'll be right there."

Adama felt dejected, muttering, "Why do things always have to get so complicated?"

"What is it, Bill?" Saul asked worriedly.

He picked up quickly on his sad mood. "A ship just appeared out of nowhere. The Terrans are demanding to speak with me. It seemed urgent."

"Oh, this is not good. Yeah, the man was probably a spy, but still, after what Cain pulled when they rescued us from that pyramidal ship, and now one of theirs is dead. No way we are going to be able to explain this!" Saul became frantic. It seemed that the encounter with the Terrans and Asgard left a lasting effect on him. Most certainly on other crewmembers as well.

Saul didn't need to mumble all that! He knew it too. It was as if he couldn't get a break when it came to aliens. It was one step forward, two steps backward. He didn't even care that the man on the table was a spy working for a foreign nation. Someone had to have been aboard one of their ships to inform the Terrans of the pyramidal ship's sudden appearance. No way the Terrans had just popped up at the right time, without having been contacted moments prior, and saved them from certain doom. Therefore, he knew there were Terrans spies on the Galactica.

As Saul had just said, how was he going to explain this to the Terrans? One thing would have been if they'd captured the spy. Another was the guy getting murdered. To make matters worse, they haven't even identified the killer.

He needed to move quickly, though. They were already here and waiting. He turned to the doctor. "Doc, stop whatever you're doing. No autopsy for now."

"Bill, the autopsy might be the only way to find out who did it," Saul added.

His concern was a valid one. However, "That may very well be true, but the problem is that his people might want their man back. Preferably delivered while still in one piece. I know I would want that if it was one of my Marines that died. Let's get back on the CIC and talk to the Terrans. They already notified the President. She's already on her way to the CIC."

Adama and Saul moved out of the infirmary, quickly running through the maze of corridors to reach their destination, the CIC. Adama was playing many scenarios in his head on what he should say or do after he entered the CIC. Was there something he should prepare in case the talks went sideways? Was there anything he could do if the negotiations didn't go well, or was it all in vain? He knew the ship the Terrans came with well enough. It was the Damocles, a disgustingly powerful monstrosity that could produce enough output to provide for the needs of an entire planet! There was no doubt in his mind that the ship could obliterate them whenever it wanted. Ah, heaven was so close right now.

In his mind, the only saving grace was that the Terrans had never shown any hostility towards the Colonies.

On the contrary, they had saved them on many occasions and didn't ask them for anything in return. It was a small hope that he was clinging onto right now. The belief that, even though one of theirs had died, the Terrans would not indiscriminately turn them into interstellar dust.

As he entered the CIC, he quickly glanced at the people inside. He immediately noticed Roslin who must have raced here the very instant she heard what had appeared in front of the Galactica. She was still trying to catch her breath. The crew was all handling their posts, yet a sense of foreboding was permeating the CIC. He could feel their fear emanating from them. Then, suddenly, he almost tripped while trying to reach his post. The reason for the distraction was because he saw an unwanted man standing in one corner. Like a hyena, he too seemed like a menace with a dubious basis for existing. A vulture that waited, patiently, for the right time to pounce and screw everything up for reasons only he knew or understood. Still, he didn't have time to get into a discussion with him right now. They were postponing it because there were more urgent talks that he and Roslin needed to have, but eventually, they will have to deal with that man somehow. Since Adar was gone and Nagala had dispanded the CID, someone could argue that even a piece of furniture had a higher authority than the, by now, ex CID agent Sylus.

He didn't have time to deal with any of it. Not right now. "Open a channel to the Terran ship."

"Channel open, Admiral."

"This is Admiral Adama speaking," Adama said calmly.

"I'm captain Pendergast of the Terran heavy cruiser Damocles," the man introduced himself. "Admiral Adama, I'll get to the point right away. Are you aware that a marine under your command died less than one hour ago?"

"I am aware, Captain," Adama replied. The problem was - how were the Terrans aware of it!?

"I am here first to inform you that the man you know by the name of Malcolm is one of ours. And second, we wish for his body to be relinquished to us," Pendergast gave his demand.

Through the man's voice, it was easy to understand that he was serious. Adama was sure that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Captain Pendergast, even if we put the fact that a Terran was impersonating a member of the military of a foreign power aside, you must understand that we are still working on discovering what happened to him."

There was a pause before the answer came. "You mean to say that you don't know who killed him?"

"Yes, we don't know. Malcolm's body was found shot aboard a civilian ship. No witnessed were present at the time. Right now our Doctor is ready to start the autopsy. It might give us clues on what happened."

"I'd prefer if you didn't!" Pendergast almost shouted the very instant Adama finished speaking.

That was some resolve, Adama thought. Well, he too wouldn't want others to desecrate the corpse of a person under his command. Earth appears to have many religions. Who knew what burial practices these people followed. Still, he also wanted to find who killed him, and getting the bullet fragments was the least they needed to trace their origin. It might not be much, but it was infinitely more than what they had at this point, which was close to having nothing. "Captain Pendergast, we want to find who did this!"

Again, there was a short pause before the answer came. "I understand. You have a murderer on board. I want to find him as much as you do. And because of it, I have a proposition."

"A proposition?" Adama was curious.

"As you know, we have technology far more advanced than yours, and I'm not talking just about military technology. I'm also referring to forensic technology. We can perform a perfectly detailed scan and extract foreign objects from a body intact and without harming it. I can promise you that we will share everything we discover, and we will also give you back any piece of evidence found inside Malcolm's body. We want our man back so that we can bury him with honors, and you will get the best forensic evidence our technology allows us to extrapolate. You should also keep in mind that that man is the one who contacted us when you were under attack, and we came to your aid. In a way, you all are indebted to him for saving you. What do you say, Admiral?"

"Give me a moment please," Admiral responded before giving the order to mute the audio. He then turned to Roslin who in the meantime, had approached him. "What do you think?"

"I'm inclined to comply with the captain's demands, Admiral. We have done already quite the damage to our relationship with the Terrans. If we deny their request right now, even if they leave, there is no point in continuing our mission. No way they would let us enter Earth's orbit after having rejected their request today. It would be a miracle if they didn't turn hostile toward the Colonies," Roslin responded.

He liked her answer. "I'm inclined to agree. If we are not prepared to give them back their dead comrade that one of ours killed, we can't expect them to help us in our war against the Cylons. I'm also curious about what kind of forensic technology they possess. They are probably capable of giving us much more detailed information than what we could get by performing an autopsy."

"Agreed!" Roslin responded.

"You can't!" Sylus' shouted while rushing closer. "He is a foreign spy! We can't hand him over. An autopsy could give us more information about the Terrans, their DNA might be different, like with the man in the shuttle we discovered. It must be our investigation!"

In Adama's eyes, Sylus' status had fallen to that of a mascot, and not a cute or funny one that people enjoyed spending time around. "Mister Sylus, we still don't know what to do with you. From where I'm standing, you, Mister Sylus, are currently unemployed since the CID doesn't exist anymore. Therefore, you have no authority on this CIC whatsoever. Not that you had much authority on my ship before."

"The rightfully elected president has been removed through illegal means! Nothing more than a coup perpetrated by the military to remove the democratically elected government and put a dictatorship in its place! Admiral Nagala is nothing more than a dictator!"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Also, you're not making any friends here, Mister Sylus," Adama said while looking around. Many were looking at Sylus like he was a bug they wanted to squash. "I suggest you leave the CIC and find some hole to crawl into."

Sylus was also looking around, not happy with what he was seeing. It was true that calling Nagala a despot while surrounded by military personnel wasn't the smartest thing he could have done, and it seemed he also realized that fact. It appeared he wasn't a total imbecile after all. Sylus turned and stormed out of the CIC.

"Open the channel," Adama ordered.

"Channel open, sir."

"Captain Pendergast, we have decided to release the body of your man."

"Thank you, Admiral. We appreciate it," Pendergast responded.

"How do you want us to deliver it to you?"

"Admiral, if I'm not mistaken, someone must have taken out a small piece of metal implanted in his neck."

"Yes, the doctor took it out. What of it?" Adama asked, not sure where this was going.

"Please instruct your doctor to place the pin on top of our man's chest."

"Why?"

"You'll understand the reason once you do it. Admiral, you'll have to trust me on this."

Adama didn't want to argue endlessly. "Dee, tell the doctor to do exactly as Captain Pendergast said and to do it without arguing."

Time slowly passed. Dee had done her job and, presumably, the doctor was doing what they asked of him. Then, suddenly, Dee's voice was heard. "Admiral! The doctor is shouting that his patient is gone!"

"What does he mean with gone?" Adama asked.

"Gone! He is saying that a light enveloped the body and then it disappeared!"

"Do not worry, Admiral," Pendergast's voice was heard. "Our man's body has safely been teleported on board my ship. Well, I must thank you, Admiral. Given more time, I'd stay and chat. However, right now, we are in a hurry. When we have something to show you, we will contact you again. Goodbye to all of you and safe sailing."

The connection ended from their end. "Admiral, their ship is gone."

"Ah, it is worse than what I even imagined," Adama spoke with a depressed voice.

"What's worse?" Roslin asked.

"You know, in my head, I was trying to find ways to prepare us to fight the Terrans in the off chance they decided to turn hostile. It would be difficult - we all saw the power they demonstrated on several occasions. However, I was still thinking of a few strategies that might give us a surviving chance. But I've just realized that it was all for nothing."

"Why is that, Admiral?" Roslin asked.

"Well, that's because they don't have to wage war the conventional way. They've just shown us, didn't they? They can teleport their person out of our infirmary through walls as if it's nothing!" Adama said.

"And what does that entail exactly?" Roslin asked.

Saul was faster to answer. "Instead of shooting at us, they can teleport a nuclear warhead inside our ships, and there's nothing we can do to prevent it. All our thick armor serves no purpose."

"Exactly!" Adama exclaimed. "If they can take a person out through meters of bulkheads and whatnot, then they can teleport something in as well, I'm certain of it!"

"But, Bill. They needed that small pin the doctor found to teleport their person. I'm sure it's a tracking device. Without it, they may not be able to do it!" Saul added. He was hoping that they couldn't merely teleport nukes whenever and wherever they wanted.

"That might be true, but the problem is that since they were able to plant their people inside our fleet, they could easily have planted the same or even more advanced tracking devices everywhere on our ships!" Adama responded.

"Frak, you're right," Saul replied. He appeared defeated.

"They are friendly! That's why we don't have to worry!" Roslin added what she was hoping.

"You're right. It's not like the Terrans can't just blast us through more conventional means," Adama added, though still sounding depressed.

"That's not the right attitude, Admiral," Roslin admonished. "Nevertheless, it is quite an accurate description of their military superiority over us."

Adama realized that after this short engagement with the Terrans, they all suddenly became tired. "I'm going back to my room. It isn't my shift anyway. Saul, the CIC is yours."

Roslin followed behind him. "Yes, I also have other things I need to deal with."

"B-But this isn't my shift either," Saul whispered just before Adama left.

Adama didn't have the strength to answer him.


TIA's special agent Brian Fitzpatrick was restlessly pacing inside Damocles' infirmary. Even though his blood pressure was alarmingly high, he by no means was here as a patient in need of care. He was here because of someone else's current conditions. He was here because of one of his subordinates.

One hour ago, the Damocles had detected an alert signal originating from Malcolm's subcutaneous implant. Unfortunately, the received message had contained the alarming information that Malcolm's heart had stopped beating. As expected, the captain had ordered an immediate course change that put the Damocles away from its current path and sped straight for the Galactica at best possible speed. Unfortunately, the Damocles had been on a mission near the Cyrannus System. It would take them nearly an hour to reach the Colonial Expeditionary Fleet and their agent in urgent need for assistance. Truthfully, if they didn't leave signal repeaters close by to boost communications, the sent signal from Malcolm's implant would never have reached them.

The voyage had been nerve-wracking, especially when around ten minutes before reaching their destination, another data-burst came in. It was a unique data package the implant only sent when taken out of the host's body. He didn't know the particulars of the situation; he couldn't say with certainty what was going on. Nonetheless, he suspected that the implant must have been discovered and subsequently extracted, probably by someone who was examining Malcolm's dead body. A possibility existed that they were collecting evidence - evidence he knew they could only obtain during an autopsy.

No matter how fast the Terran ships had become, right at this moment, Brian wanted for the Damocles to be a thousand times faster. He needed to get there, asap.

Then, the Damocles exited hyperspace near the Galactica. Captain Pendergast promptly ordered to contact the Colonial's flagship. It must have been the fourth time the captain went against his orders of only monitoring the Colonials without making contact, and went straight to openly interfering. However, he was confident that, the same way as it happened in the last three times, that this time as well the top brass wouldn't condemn his actions. The reason was, after all, because one of theirs was in peril.

A brief conversation ensued, ten more minutes of nerve-wracking waiting passed, and finally, Admiral Adama responded to the call. After that, ten more minutes passed while trying to convince them to relinquish the body, and they had finally beamed his agent inside Damocles' state-of-the-art infirmary. It was now time to speed towards the Earth at ZPM-powered speed.

The moment Brian stormed inside the infirmary, he saw the doctor putting Malcolm inside the oven. Of course, the oven was the familiar name the people aboard the Damocles used when referring to a very advanced piece of technology embedded inside one of the walls of the slick infirmary. Unfortunately, though, from the outside, it looked like a regular - maybe a little futuristic - oven one would use to prepare delicious meals. Others believed that, without the glass portion in the front, it would look exactly like those metallic closets used to staff corpses in the morgue.

It was amazing how the brain started thinking about foolish things to stop thinking about matters that caused anxiety. "Tell me again what you know, Doc. I want to know everything in detail!"

"As already mentioned, when the patient was beamed here, he was immediately put inside the oven to be treated. The initial scan showed extensive damage to the chest region caused by what I think must have been four explosive bullets entering the patient through his back and exploding inside. His heart and lungs have been destroyed," the doctor explained. He changed what the display was currently showing to the disastrous state in which Malcolm's heart and lungs were. He was right. They were difficult to recognize. "Because of the severity of the damage sustained, the nanites in his body decided that repairing those organs was not possible. At least not in the time before the patient's brain suffered irreparable damage due to lack of oxygen and other nutrients."

"So, even the medical nanites can't repair such extensive damage," Brian stated.

"No, the nanites are great, but there are limits to what they can do. They could have repaired the damage to the heart and lungs if you give them an hour or two, at least to the point where they can function adequately, but by that time Malcolm's brain would have already suffered extensive damage, and he would have turned into a vegetable at best or, more probably, braindead. That's why the nanites prioritized keeping the brain oxygenated and fed with enough glucose. This new protocol installed in the nanites should be able to keep the brain alive for hours, at least that's in theory. The word 'novel' means that the protocol has never been tested on a live human subject."

"Alright, Doc, I know there are no guarantees. So, what's the prognosis?" Brian asked impatiently.

"After the scan, the machine extracted the shrapnel in his body and injected a massive dose of nanites that began repairing his heart and lungs. It was the initial rough phase in the process of restoring Malcolm's body to full health. However, this is far from enough. Since the body was dead for more than an hour, not only the heart and lungs but other parts of his body have begun shutting down, which leads us to the current phase of the treatment. There was no other way to save him but to utilize the machine's prototype 'Sarcophagus' function. Again, this is also a new functionality developed based on both the knowledge from the Goa'uld Sarcophagus and the experience gained from the Ancients and their Healing Cube," the doctor concluded a little perplexed. There were many questionable methods involved in curing Malcolm.

Still, without these methods, the man would never open his eyes again. "So, in short, you have no clue what that machine will cook up, doc?"

"We will have to be patient," the doctor replied.

And so, they did. Brian waited until half an hour later, the machine labeled 'the oven' gave a resounding 'ding!' sound. In his opinion, only a real oven should make that specific sound. It shouldn't be coming from this one. Still, he was very excited at the prospect of seeing his colleague and long-time friend.

The machine's door opened, and Malcolm's body slid out. The Doc quickly moved next to him. "The signs are all promising. His body seems to be in good condition. What's important right now is for him to wake up. That' going to be the real test to see if everything went well."

Brian was nodding absently while looking for any sign like a twitch indicating that the man was waking up. And then it happened. First a finger, then his eyelids – finally his body was waking up. Brian hoped there was no brain damage or anything else debilitating.

Malcolm meekly opened his eyes, turned his head first left, and then right towards Brian. Then he suddenly got in a sitting position while still looking straight at him, with eyes wide open.

Then his eyes changed, becoming more narrow. "He's a dead man!"

Brian smiled from ear to ear. He was so happy to see those sharp eyes filled with murderous intent that he wanted to start jumping like a kid who had just received a dearly wished Christmas present. Those eyes that were reflecting his wish for vengeance were telling Brian what he wanted to know the most. Malcolm was lucid and was remembering everything that had happened to him. Malcolm knew who had killed him and his brain was right now working at full throttle to concoct a diabolical revenge plan - Brian was sure of it. There was no doubt in his mind that Malcolm would fully recover from this ordeal. He was back, and there was no lasting damage.

At least the day did not end in tragedy.


Thanks for reading! Any review is appreciated.