TWO

"Come in!"

The knock on Sven Robbins' door was unexpected and startled him out of a sound nap. It had been a long time since he'd fallen asleep on the couch like that, but then what was "normal" around here in the last few days anyway?

The door swung open and a bottle of Highlander whiskey preceded the person who had done the knocking. It might have been Don O'Banion except that he recognized the Academy ring on one of the fingers holding the bottle.

"C'mon in, Dewayne…My pistol's still in the holster."

Dewayne Kells followed the bottle of Highlander through the door then bumped the door closed with one elbow. In the other arm was a bag that looked like groceries. "What did you do, Dewayne? Rob the chow hall?"

"Yeah, something like that. Neither one of us has had ten minutes to eat since I came in on the BeeCee and I thought we'd do some catching up. You've got a stove in this flat, don't you?"

"Over there…I never use it. It might blow up when you turn it on." Sven was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as his old friend set the bag on the counter. "Don't really have any glasses but there are some plastic cups next to the sink."

The Marine went about pulling a couple of steaks out of the bag along with some kind of canned veggies while Sven got his bearings. "Still take yours on-the-rocks?" Kells thought to ask how an electric stove might blow up, but hey, this had been the week of stranger-than-fiction things happening. No use pushing his luck just right now. He threw some salt and pepper on the steaks and slid them into the broiler.

"Sure do…Man it's been almost two decades since we last had a drink together and you remember that? Seems I remember that didn't turn out so well…for either of us!" Robbins' drew a smirk when he remembered the brawl on Harlow's World."

"You sure this is a good idea?" The irony of being on yet another small rock in deep space was almost too much.

"No problem…I'm not driving and we're not having more than a couple…Besides, I only saw two cases of this stuff in the warehouse. We're gonna have to take it easy!"

The Gunner popped the cork from the whiskey bottle and poured two fingers into each of the cups. He held the one up to Sven who took it and then tapped his against Dewayne's.

"Here's to whatever tomorrow will bring."

The Gunner returned the tap and they both slammed back the shots. Both of them took a deep gasp as the drink hit the bottom. "Sheesh, Sven, I thought that they'd give you guys some better booze out here!" grunted the Gunner with a deep breath of feigned pain.

"Hey…we're lucky we got that! Three months ago Corporate passed down the word that there'd be no more alcohol on the stations. That you found that was a miracle. No doubt someone in the kitchen made a clerical error…thank-the-Gods!" said Sven with a wink and a nod towards his old friend.

Both of the old warriors shook their heads in agreement and shared a smile. They stood there for a moment, in knowing silence, not knowing what to say next. Sometimes, it was OK to just say nothing.

Neither said a word to the other but they moved, almost simultaneously, to the small table in the room. As they sat down to the small kitchenette, they listened to the sounds of the clock ticking. It was a peaceful moment in a bad situation and they both knew it. Lord's knew that these would be few and far between now. What better way to spend it than with a friend.

After a long moment of solitude, Sven broke the silence. "So Dewayne, I appreciate you coming all the way down the hallway to see me, but I hardly imagine you were so desperate for a date tonight…What's up?"

Dewayne admired Sven's ability to read another's affect so well…he just wished he wouldn't use it on him!.

"You're right…as usual…About this recon mission, that is. I got the idea in the conference room that you have some reservations about the idea. That about right?"

Sven was impressed. He thought he'd been as stoic as possible while it was being passed around the table, but he was obviously getting rusty. "Yeah…yeah you're right." His efforts to not be the wet rag on what had been an emotional moment for the others had been noticed.

"I'm not so sure we need to do this, Dewayne. Current circumstances notwithstanding, I'm still the security honcho here and the last thing I want to have happen is to have a Cylon patrol show up…Or worse yet, a Cylon baseship. Doing some hit-and-run raiding and jumping away is one thing, but if we get found out here, that's it…the game's up."

Sven's voice had a certain tone of resignation to it. Not that he was about to curl up into a ball and quit now…no way. Sven Robbins had never quit so much as a game of checkers in his life. But maybe he'd been on one mission too many…slept in one too many fox holes too far away from home.

Home….

Home had become a series of bases, outposts, Battlestars and Star Cruisers. Afterall, he'd never owned a piece of real estate in his life. Now there was just a rental cottage on Virgon and his quarters here. Well…there was a rental cottage on Virgon.

When they got back from the Aerilon hop, Sven had been met by his daughter, Bekka. Maybe that was a wake-up call. Besides, Bekka was all that was left of his family.

Sven was ready to quit the Surveillance Teams after his second rotation. He was almost out when he decided that a continuing paycheck beat the spectre of looking for work and hunger. With the prospect of no immediate employment, he decided to re-enlist. Besides, it wasn't as if he had any responsibilities holding him in any one place, now was it?

That was when he met Bekka's mother, Ya'lea.

They'd met at the Non-Commissioned Officer's club on Colonial Forces Base 327 on Picon. It was mid-week of the Summer Solstice, and Robbins and several of his shipmates had already been partying pretty hard. The ritual was a week long observance for the faithfully religious, but for the warriors of CFB 327, it was just an excuse to party to excess. That was one tradition that Robbins and his friends didn't need any encouragement to perpetuate!

The sweltering heat of summer had pushed the revelers inside, and the fever pitch of the enthusiastic crowd only added to it. Music blasted from a dozen speakers and colored lights glittered off of thousands of shards of irregularly-placed glass throughout the dance hall. Ambrosia flowed like water, as did beer and the smoke of hundreds of half-consumed, discarded and trampled-upon cigarettes and cigars. Yet Sven Robbins and his team mates managed to hold down several tables in one corner of the club, and none of the 'regular' fleet types dared to cross the imaginary border that excluded the Special Surveillance Team warriors from the deck apes. They had long since lost track of time and moral propriety as the night grew longer and the music got louder, but that line in the sand was inviolable.

Whatever drew Sven's attention away from the back-slapping and groveling that he and his friends were embroiled in, it suddenly sent a sobering flash of lucidity to the young warrior's brain. Sven's attention was drawn to the front door of the club as he could see light from the street cast shadows across the front of the club as the new arrivals entered.

The silhouettes were decidedly female….VERY female!

Sven saw 'her' the moment she walked in. Even in his alcohol-induced buzz, Sven Robbins knew that someone special had just entered his life. Until that moment, he had absolutely no interest in anything that suggested 'relationships' or 'obligations'. In a second, that all changed, and somehow he knew it. It was if the Heaven's had opened and all of the songbirds of the world began to sing in harmony.

Bekka Ya'lea Evans was the very vision of beauty. The din in the club actually abated briefly as she entered it. She was almost tall enough to look Sven in the eye, and her deep blue eyes accented the long, mid-back length blonde locks that flowed over her shoulders like a golden waterfall. That she had a figure that any Caprican fashion model would envy didn't hurt. It was as if the goddess Aphrodite had sculpted Ya'lea by her own hand. The Gods must certainly be angry tonight as one of their angels had fallen among the mere mortals this evening.

Robbins' friends immediately caught on to his fixation and the ribbing soon began. They started teasing him into going over and asking her to dance, only to assure him that his advances would probably be rebuffed. That certainly didn't help his self-esteem issues where women were involved. Despite his willingness to go toe-to-toe with all enemies foreign and domestic, he still had zero-point-zero confidence where the opposite sex was concerned. And right now, he was choking on the difference. A woman that beautiful certainly wouldn't want to have anything to do with an enlisted grunt like him…would she?

It took more than a couple rounds of beer for Sven to even get the courage to think about how he might breach this challenge! But even Sven's friends could see the warrior's infatuation. And like any other friends do to friends in similar circumstances, they teased him unmercifully! The cajoling was incessant, and even others at the tables around them couldn't help but enjoy the circus around them.

It took more self-convincing than he thought it should, but Sven thought he'd finally gotten up the intestinal fortitude to walk over and offer to buy her a drink. He stood, straightened his shirt and ran his hand through his hair, and once he thought he was presentable, started towards her with a determined stride. But half way there, he balked. He stopped cold. He did an about face and quickly two-stepped back over to the table where his buddies were now catterwalling and jeering him for his "cowardice in the face of the enemy."

He took one more swig of the beer that one of the guys shoved into his hands and then swore he was going to carry through this time. He did yet another about face, albeit a bit wobbly this time, and again started towards his "prey." As he did, he could see one of the lovely blonde's friends stifle a snicker with her hand while obviously pointing in Sven's direction.

Ya'lea turned her head to observe Sven's approach. As their eyes met, Sven felt both the hot blood of enthusiastic manhood demanding satisfaction, now tempered with the sudden infusion of ice water into the same veins triggered by his fear of failure.

If he were killed in combat, he thought, he could go to his grave believing that he'd done his best. But if this enchanting beauty turned him down, well, that would be more than he could live with!

Again, he did an about face and made a beeline to the table where his colleagues were now standing on chairs, howling and calling him every name they could think of except the one his parents had given him. But as he approached the table, there was an abrupt and ominous silence, their eyes as wide open as if a live grenade had just landed in their collective laps.

"Wassup, you clowns? All a-sudden you got nuthin' to say?" was all the alcohol would allow Sven say. It took his clouded mind a few seconds to grasp that his friends weren't looking at him, but rather at someone behind him. Suddenly Sven realized that he might be in trouble. More than likely, there was something to be worried about coming up behind him!

Sven did a slow 180 degree turn to face what he was sure was an approaching threat. As he came about, he prepared himself for the bashing he was sure he was about to take, but the assault never came.

Quite the contrary.

Ya'lea Evans was only three steps away…

Two steps…

One…

As she came face to face with Sven she raised her hands. In her left hand was a wine glass. Great, he thought…He was about to get his throat cut by this beautiful blonde with a wine goblet…And he never laid a hand on her!

Instead, Ya'lea's hands slid gently across Sven's broad shoulders, her forearms resting on them gently. As her hands wrapped around his neck, she gently drew him close. If he had thought to resist her, that thought waned quickly. As her long fingernails gently brushed the nape of his neck, goose bumps ran up and down his arms and legs. Sven could feel her breath on his face and could almost taste the wine on her lips. Slowly, she pulled him so close that her lips almost touched his, but at the last second she slid past them, barely allowing the left side of her face to gently caress his. She was so close that Sven's whiskers moved with her passing, yet her own skin didn't touch his.

Now his heart was pounding so hard he could feel the throbbing in his throat. Despite the room's almost frigid air conditioning he was sweating small rivulets. He was sure he was radiating enough heat to cook breakfast on his forehead.

Ya'lea's lips then barely touched his left ear lobe. Now he was truly scared to death…Not that he was in danger, but rather that he was about to be seriously embarrassed if she suddenly backed up and un-masked the uncontrolled expression of testosterone he was experiencing below his beltline. Sven could feel the rapid swelling and throbbing of his manhood, but there was no way he could adjust himself, either for his comfort or his modesty, such that it was, without drawing any more unwanted attention.

Ya'lea began to say something to him, and at first it took all that he had to hear her over the din of the nightclub.

"If…you…don't…quit…fraking…around…" Her words were slow and deliberate, but now it was as if that was all he could hear in the club. Sven could have sworn that his heart had slowed to a single beat. He thought he was smothering.

"…and…ask…me…to…dance…" Another beat. Each one now an eternity of its own. The pressure in his chest was suffocating. The room was stifling.

"…I'll…find…someone…who…will…" A third beat. Suddenly he realized that the only things he could hear were her voice and the throbbing of his own heartbeat. Not the cajoling of his friends…Not the pulsing of the music…He couldn't see the flashing lights of the dance floor or smell the thin veil smoke of the cigarettes that blanketed the room or spilled beer that surrounded them…All he could sense was her!

"…and…you'll…spend…the…rest…of…your…life…" A fourth beat. Could a human heart beat so slowly and still sustain life? It must. But if his life were to end now, it would have been worth it.

"'…kicking…yourself…for…letting…me…get…away…" Her voice was like that of the golden songbird. So sweet. So alluring.

As the last words pass her lips, Ya'lea drew her cheek back across Sven's, pausing to once again tease him with another "near-miss-kiss." Sven caught himself leaning forward as to follow her lips with his, yearning for them to meld in the heat of passion.

That was more than he could stand. Sven quickly took the goblet from the beauty's hand and reached behind him to put it on the table. The problem with that was he was nowhere near the table, but that didn't matter. Had he been able to see behind him, the sight of his buddies stumbling over themselves to grab the falling glass might have amused him. At that moment, however, he couldn't care less. It was one less goblet for some kid to wash.

Sven placed his arms around the waist of the blonde-headed beauty and they glided to the center of the dance floor. Almost spontaneously, every other dancer on the floor yielded to them, and suddenly one of the spotlights was on them. Their movements were fluid, as if they'd been dancing together for years. In a bold move, he pulled the svelte beauty close to him, first pulling her arms round his neck then allowing his arms to drop to her waist. Her hands slid up behind his neck and across his shoulders, sliding down his massive, taught arms.

Ya'lea again allowed her left cheek to gently caress Sven's, again moving her lips to his left ear. "Good choice, Soldier!" This time she planted a gentle kiss on his neck. The response was instantaneous. The goose bumps that ran down his arms and legs now spread over his entire body. His knees became weak. It took all that he could muster to follow her moves on the floor. In her arms, Robbins was sure he had fallen into the arms of an angel. She no sooner spoke the words than the DJ chimed in, an old friend of Sven's, and summed it up for his old buddy: "Ladies and gentlemen, the future Specialist and Mrs. Sven Robbins!". Neither of them heard it, so invested in each other were they. The applause lasted a full minute.

One month later to the day, Bekka Ya'lea Evans was Bekka Ya'lea Robbins.

Ya'lea and Sven Robbins made three moves in two years, the last one of which was made while she was well along with child. Nonetheless, Ya'lea had taken to service life with a flourish. She loved the sense of belonging that being a Colonial Fleet dependent meant. Not that she was a stay-at-home housewife, not by a long-shot. An investment agent by profession, she kept herself busy on his deployments and always managed to find a circle of friends wherever she went.

In the last month of her pregnancy, though, things changed. She'd been amazed that she had almost no morning sickness in the beginning. Nor did she experience the wild cravings that many women do during pregnancy. But this last month was hard. Real hard. Hard to the point that she collapsed and had to be rushed to the hospital by ambulance. Something was suddenly and terrifyingly wrong.

From the emergency room she was rushed for an ultrasound of her abdomen to check on the baby. The ultrasound told the tale. Just behind the baby was a mass. A big one.

Sven remembered the message his commander handed him: "From Fleet Headquarters: Imminent Medical Emergency. Priority One travel to Scorpia via any means authorized to include FTL as necessary. Local Fleet commanders are directed to effect immediate arrival of said named member to Fleet Forces Hospital Scorpia without delay."

Those were the longest thirty-six hours in his life. As the shuttle landed, it was all the crew chief could do to keep Sven from jumping off of the ship before the gangway had been swung into place. He hailed the first taxi he could and was at the base hospital only minutes later. From the moment he got in the car, the cabbie could see that this fare was not just someone late for work or worried about an appointment, but someone who was scared witless. Sven shoved a hundred cubit note into the driver's hand even before the car came to a stop for a ride worth only a fourth of that and left the driver with a handsome tip. "Keep it, I'm in a hurry." Sven told the cabbie. Sven wasn't wasting time, even for the driver to make change.

As grateful as he was for the gratuity, even the cabbie could see the fear and anxiety in the young warrior's eyes, and he caressed the prayer talisman around his neck. "May the Lords of Kobol protect you, Son…" he said in a whispered prayer.

When Sven got to Ya'lea's side, she was being prepped for emergency surgery. There were already several IV bags above her head and monitors beeping not only with each heartbeat and breath she took, but of the baby's heartbeat. The scene was almost surreal. The young warrior was terrified.

Whatever was happening, it was life threatening. The message "imminent medical emergency" hadn't given him a clue as to how bad things were. They were bad.

"Baby…I'm here…Ya'lea…?!"

Ya'lea turned her head slowly to see where the voice came from. As she laid eyes on her husband, her color changed almost instantly from a pasty-white to some semblance of pink. The incessant monitors were now sounding furiously. "Hi Baby." Her voice was weak and her words slurred, but she smiled and reached for his hand. That was worth its weight in gold alone. "Sorry I didn't have time to put my make-up on…" She tried to force a smile and show Sven that she was bearing up, but no one in the room needed to be a physician to see she was in trouble.

From the far side of the room stepped a distinguished looking man in surgical scrubs and cap. "You must be Specialist Robbins…I'm Dr. Rupp." Sven took the man's hand but kept his eyes on Ya'lea.

"Your wife has a mass in the back of her uterus that is threatening to rupture. If it does, it could be life threatening for her and the baby. We're going to do an emergency trans-abdominal delivery to save the baby and remove the mass at the same time…"

Sven heard the doctor's words, but it was as if they were coming from a thousand light years away. His own voice became weak and uncertain. "Doc, she's had several ultrasounds and she was always OK…How'd this happen?"

The doctor took a long pause. "I'm not sure, Specialist. But it looks as though there may have been a twin. It started to develop, but then that part of the pregnancy failed. The babies are in separate sacs. The healthy baby's placenta held the failed one in the uterus. Now it's gotten so big that it's putting pressure on the failed placenta. The failed placenta has become infected and it's going to burst through the uterine wall if we don't go in and get it. She could bleed to death internally if we don't act now." The doctor didn't want to scare the young warrior any more than he already was, but they also needed to be moving, and be moving now.

The tears were rolling down Sven's face and there was no way to stop them. His grip on Ya'lea's hand was like a vise. If there were God's in the universe, why weren't they here now? Why were they allowing this to happen to her!

"It's OK, Baby!" she whispered. "Don't cry. It'll be over in an hour. See what I'll do to get you home for a few days…?!"

He couldn't believe Ya'lea. She was about to go into emergency surgery and here she was trying to comfort him! Surely the Gods wouldn't take this woman from him now.

"I know, Honey! I know…And I will be right here! I'm not going anywhere until you roll out of there!" The orderlies had started to move the bed, albeit slowly, towards the door. The IV bottles clanked against the pole and the monitors beeped reassuringly to her heart rhythm. But just like the night they'd met, all Sven could hear was her voice…That sweet, sweet voice of songbirds.

The nurses and orderlies rolled Ya'lea down the hall, all-the-while Sven held on to her hand for all his worth. As they came to the double doors of the Operating Room the lead nurse turned to Sven. "I'm sorry, Sir…You won't be able to go past here…." The nurse had been watching the Warrior's grip on his wife's hand and the look in his eyes. This man was truly in love.

"Right here, Baby…! I'll be right here! I'll be waiting for you!"

Her hand slipped out of his as the orderlies guided the bed through the double door. He watched as the doors slapped shut.

Ninety minutes later Sven had nearly worn a rut in the floor of Ya'lea's hospital room. The television was on but he couldn't hear it. He felt neither hot nor cold. He didn't feel hunger. He couldn't remember where he'd been or what he'd been doing only forty-eight hours ago. All he could feel was fear. Paralyzing, nauseating….fear. He paced the floor relentlessly, almost jumping out of his skin at the smallest intrusion around him.

He stopped only long enough to stare at the trees across the courtyard of the hospital.

As he stood there, a flock of beautiful golden songbirds suddenly took to flight. He watched as they flew off to the horizon towards the setting sun. The reflection of the setting sun against the nearly translucent plumage of the birds was mesmerizing.

Suddenly Sven re-focused his view to the reflection of people approaching behind him in the glass. He spun around to face them, recognizing the doctor. But now the physician was accompanied by a nurse and a man in uniform. The man wore the insignia of a priest of the Chaplain's Corps.

They didn't need to say a word. "She's gone, isn't she?" Sven's voice was nearly choking. He'd prayed for the last hour and a half that she would be spared, but now he knew the worst had happened. He knew when the songbirds took flight.

The doctor's answer was several seconds in coming, his tones muted and his color pale. He looked like a man that had just dodged death himself.

The doctor's voice was weak. "We did all we could, Sven, but the bleeding was too severe…"

It took Sven what seemed like an eternity but was only a few seconds to process what had just been said. He stood transfixed, staring unbelieving and without a word. His color paled in seconds and his vision blurred from the tears that welled up in his eyes. He felt as though the very air around him had been sucked out of the room and his own life was being sapped from him.

The young warrior's thought reeled. Suddenly there was no night and day…No 'here' or 'there'…There was only his beloved Ya'lea's smile…her tender touch and the sound of song birds when she spoke. There had been no life before her, as far as he was concerned, and now that she was gone, how could there be life after…?!

"Bekka…?" Sven could hardly say the words. They were weak and choked back in this throat. "My wife's first name was Bekka, after her mother and grandmother. The baby's first name will be Bekka, too…"

The nurse stepped forward. "She's fine, Mr. Robbins. Two ands a half kilos! She's beautiful!"

The doctor had regained his own composure. "The baby is fine, Specialist. But the other sac had already ruptured. The baby…Bekka… was keeping pressure on the placenta. As she started to move, the bleeding started." The doctor paused briefly. The tears welled up in his own eyes. This had been a battle hard fought, and he was not used to losing…especially when 'losing' meant his patient died.

"As soon as we took the baby your wife started hemorrhaging. We already had a surgeon ready just in case something like this happened. He tried to remove the mass and close the leak, but she bled out faster than we could put transfusions in. The wound in her uterus was significant. I am so sorry…" His voice trailed off to a whisper.

The doctor reached out and took Sven into his arms. He held him close and patted him gently on the back. "I'm sorry, Specialist…She was a wonderful woman…"

They stood, unmoving, for a moment. It was Sven who moved first, and he stood up straight. He wiped the tears from his face and offered the physician his hand and the physician took it. He thought to say something, but the words wouldn't come. And perhaps that was OK. What could be said now?

The doctor stood back at arm's length, holding Sven by each shoulder. He looked him in the eye, trying to muster a smile. "I'll be at the Nurse's station if you need me, Specialist. Just call." The doctor gave Sven one last firm grip on his shoulder's then slipped towards the door.

It was the nurse who spoke next. She was a robust woman, but even in the midst of this awful moment, she looked to Sven with a smile. "Specialist, there's someone waiting to meet you! Would you care to see her?"

At first Sven looked at her as if he were looking through her, as if she wasn't there. Then he managed a weak smile and nodded towards her. "Yes Ma'am. Let's go meet her!"

The chaplain escorted Sven and the nurse to the Nursery. There, swaddled in pink, snug in her incubator was the most precious thing Sven Robbins had ever seen in his life other than Ya'lea. Her eyes were closed and she rested comfortably, unaware of the drama that had preceded her arrival to the world. There was a thin wisp of red locks of hair protruding from the pink beanie cap that the nursery staff had placed on her.

At the foot of the cart was a pink card and the name "BABY GIRL ROBBINS" hand written in wide blue letters.

Sven was mesmerized. Next to Ya'lea, he'd never seen anything as beautiful as this precious new life. He stood with his hands clasped over his head and his nosed pressed to the window. Then, as if on cue, the baby turned her head turned towards him slightly and the Surveillance Specialist could see a twitch of her lips.

For a brief moment Bekka LeAnne Robbins smiled at her father. And in that moment, all Sven could hear was the sweet sound of the golden songbird.