THE LOST YEARS

by Soledad

PRELUDE: CROSSROADS

Disclaimer: see Introduction.

Rating: PG

Author's notes:

Here's the second part of Chapter 9, as promised. To Sulu's failed romance with Mandala Flynn: that's something established by Vonda McIntyre and addressed in at least two of her TOS-novels. The family backgrounds of Colonel Tigh and Boomer are my creation.

The name for Mars Solis – Malacandra – comes from the classic sci-fi novel "Silent Planet" by C. S. Lewis. I established in my special Trekkiverse that the inhabitants of the Mars colonies named their planet so out of respect for the author. In later stories, there will be more about the unique Marsian culture. I use the word "Marsian" instead of "Martian" consciously, to avoid unfortunate associations.

And yes, we'll learn one day with whom Lt. Masters missed that particular chance.

CHAPTER 9B – FIRST SIGHT, Part 2

There was a tense, unpleasant silence. Tigh and Boomer exchanged clueless looks. But they thought it better not to make any comments. Sulu stared ad the tabletop uncomfortably; his ever-present smile vanished without a trace, as if it had been wiped from his broad, friendly face. Only Charlene Masters didn't seem to be bothered by the tense situation: she looked at the older woman calmly, unsmiling, and as if her glance would have transferred some sort of message, Uhura mellowed considerably.

"Come on, Colonel," she said, squeezing Tigh's arm gently. "We have lunch waiting for us."

The other three looked after them thoughtfully, as they found a place in the relative intimacy of the farthest corner of the officers' mess. Tigh was wearing his decorative, midnight blue uniform with the silver adornments, as always (as far as Boomer could remember, practically nothing of the colonel's personal possessions had survived the destruction of Libra). Uhura, however, was wearing civilian clothes, as she had always done when off-duty in these days. Dressed exotically, with her hair put up, she reminded more of a princess from some far-away world than of a highly educated, talented and skilled Starfleet officer, which she, after all, was.

"There are two people who have found each other," Masters commented.

"It seems so," Boomer nodded, "and for my part, I'm happy for the colonel. He didn't know many good things in his life; it's high time for that to change."

"Do you know him well?" Sulu asked.

"I served under him as a cadet already," Boomer answered. "It wasn't… easy. He comes from a very old, although not particularly influential Libran family, and Librans are, as a rule, a rather… interesting people. They are impulsive, quick to anger, usually highly talented – all in all, very strong personalities."

"Taking a look at the colonel, I can believe that without difficulties," Sulu said. Boomer nodded.

"These character traits have cost the colonel the command chair of a Battlestar more than once, although he'd earned her command richly. But he was as ruthlessly honest in voicing his opinions as he was cautious in battle. He protested loudly against rash and overly bold actions and picked too many fights with the Quorum of Twelve about mindless risks taken when our pilots' lives were at stake."

Boomer interrupted himself, waving to the hesitatingly entering Rigel, who was still wearing the blue-and-silver uniform of the Galactica's bridge crew. Her shiny, chestnut-coloured hair fell between her shoulder blades in one thick rope. She came closer, following Boomer's wordless invitation a little shyly.

"May I…?"

Masters nodded. "Of course. We have no pre-arranged seating order here. Have a seat, Corporal."

Boomer introduced them to each other, and the young flight controller lowered herself onto one of the chairs, still half-prepared to spring up and bolt. She wasn't a particularly shy person as a rule, but she wasn't used to sit with staff officers at the same table, and the unknown environment made her a little uncertain as well.

"We've just been talking about Colonel Tigh," Boomer informed her. "You as part of the bridge crew certainly know a lot more about him than I do."

Rigel shrugged. "It depends. On the other hand, you are a Libran, too."

"Oh, no," Boomer shook his head. "My father was one. My mother was a Leo, which is a big difference. Besides, I've been born on Caprica already."

"Were there such significant differences between the Twelve Worlds, then?" asked Masters.

"Cultural differences were quite significant," Boomers replied with a shrug, "although all twelve tribes used to live on a shared homeworld once. On a planet named Kobol."

"A legend?" Sulu smiled, but Booker shook his head.

"No, Kobol does exist. During our long flight, we have found he Old World… dead and empty like a seashell washed ashore."

"What happened?" Masters asked.

"Kobol's sun was too old to support life on the planet any longer. And then came the Cylons and finished the work of destruction," Boomer sighed. "At any rate, Colonel Tigh used to be Adama's wingman, in his days as a young pilot. The two of them flew highly dangerous missions with those sluggish old machines, and they became legends already in their lifetime. Not even the Quorum was able to break the colonel… so they put him onto the bridge of the Galactica and let him rot there."

"He doesn't seem to have lost his inner fire, though," Masters commented. But Boomer made an uncertain gesture with his head and gave no answer.

"I think it was Siress Uhura who awoke him from his frozen state," Rigel said in her quiet and gentle voice. "I saw him crying openly when the Cylons came. We were still too far away, weren't able to reach our worlds in time and so had to watch the destruction on the vid-screens. Libra suffered probably the most. Stubborn as they are, the Librans resisted with bitter determination, even as the battle was completely hopeless already. Barely a few thousand of them have survived. The colonel's wife and their three little sons weren't among them.

"Did you know his family?" Masters asked after a long moment of shaken silence.

"I only met them once, when had to bring the colonel back from furlong by shuttle," Rigel murmured. "He was less than six days at home, because of this damned war, and even that only once in a yahren. That was the last time that he could see Siress Lilith and his children. They loved each other very much – it was a happy family." She lowered her voice even more, as if fearing that Tigh might hear her, despite the distance. "Siress Lilith was pregnant with their fourth child when the Cylons came. She wasn't able to give birth anymore. Colonel Tigh has never been the same ever since."

She paused, obviously trying to regain her composure. The memories seemed to weigh upon her heavily

"After the destruction, I flew him to Libra with a shuttle," she finally continued. "He was almost… obsessed with finding at least the bodies of his family; as if that would have helped anything. But all we found was a terrible black crater where once his home had stood. I'll never forget his ashen face; it was as grey as the handful of ash that he let slowly run through his fingers, not knowing if he was holding the remains of his family or those of his house. And when he stood again and turned back to me, he had this hard, empty look in his eyes… as if he, too, had died. In a way, I think, he was dead, indeed," she added sadly.

They all remained quiet for a while, paying their respects to the dead. Boomer then shivered, as if trying to shake off the sad memories of the past.

"Well, I've got nothing but respect for the colonel, and wish him from the heart that he may find happiness again."

Rigel smiled. "At least we've heard him laugh again, while Siress Uhura was visiting the Galactica," she said. "I can't remember that from the yahrens of the flight."

"I for my part am happy for Uhura in the first place," Masters said. "It's not easy for a female senior officer to find a partner. When an elderly commodore puts his tongue into the throat of an adolescent yeoman, people smile in appreciation and congratulate him for being still so youthful. But should a female officer get involved with a younger shipmate or with a fellow officer of lower rank… It's astonishing that Terra's phoney double morale still can poison the Fleet, despite the presence of so many other races."

"You're exaggerating, Charlie," Sulu said mildly.

Masters raised an eyebrow. "Am I? Why has your relationship with Mandala Flynn gone to hell, then?"

There was a hard tingle on Sulu's friendly face. "That was a low blow, Masters. It was never a problem for me that Mandala outranked me. Nor did she made one of it for herself."

"I know," Masters replied with unexpected gentleness. But other people did have a problem with it, and they harassed Mandala so long that she finally asked for a transfer."

"In the end, it was an advantage for her," Sulu murmured. "How many women do have their own command in Starfleet? Unless they are Vulcans or Andorians?"

"It broke her hear," Masters said dryly. "She loved you very much. Did you know that she tried to request you as her first officer?"

Sulu's head jerked towards her in surprise. "How could you possibly know that?"

"I met her on Memory Alpha, during my last home leave. Apparently, she went as far as to the Old Man to negotiate your transfer. But Admiral Nogura wasn't willing to take you from his wunderknabe, of course."

"And conveniently nobody ever thought of asking me about the whole thing," Sulu murmured bitterly. Masters gave him an inquiring look.

"Would you truly have accepted a transfer to the Magellan?"

Sulu hesitated for a moment; before he could give any answer, though, the intercom called him to the bridge.

"May I go with you?" Rigel asked. "I was promised a chance to look a certain Mr. Chekov over the shoulder."

"Sure, go with Sulu," Masters waved generously. "I'll take Captain Boomer under my wings."

"That's the best offer I've gotten for a very long time," Boomer laughed when they were left alone. "Does it contain gastronomic counselling, Dr. Master?"

Masters smiled, her dark, beautiful eyes warm now. "I suggest we abandon formalities," she said. "My friends call me Charlie, and I'd be honoured to count you among my friends."

"The honour is all mine," Boomer replied. "Especially since I've got the impression that this isn't an offer that'd have been made lightly."

Masters nodded. "Indeed, it is not. But how should I call you? Do you have a second name?"

"No. None of us have more than one name. At least none that hasn't been brought up in the Old Faith, which I have not. You can simply call me Boomer."

"All right… Boomer. Are you hungry?"

"Most of the time, actually," Boomer grinned. "What's on the menu today?"

"Whatever you want. Our food synthesizer can produce hundreds of dishes. What'd you like?"

"I don't know. What'll you have?"

"Don't limit yourself to my eating habits. We, Marsians, are vegetarians… well, most of the time. Feel free to eat meat in my company, though. It doesn't bother me a bit. Or would you like fish?"

"Oh, yes, please. I haven't had fish for… for longer than I care to count. Since we lost our homeworlds. The agroships weren't built for animal husbandry."

"Well, the smoked trout is said to be excellent," Masters said. "And I never heard anything bad about the salmon, either. Or would you like curryfish with fruit rice?"

Boomer laughed. "I deliver myself into your capable hands."

"It's a little early for that," Masters winked," but keep that thought for a while. He meal will be served in a minute."

She put the rests of her appetizer back into the recycler unit and returned to the table with a large plate, covered by a thermo-top. She placed the tray on the table, removed the top with a flourishing gesture and laughed at her guest.

"Behold: fruits de la mere, by the book. Freshly taken from the witch kitchen of advanced chemistry."

Boomer knew, of course, about the synthetic origins of his lunch – which didn't change its mouth-watering smell a bit. Suddenly, he realized how hungry he actually was. He shot his table neighbour a quick glance to see if she'd expect any sort of prayer or thanksgiving ritual from me. As Masters simply grabbed a fork and started to eat, however, he followed her lead. Lunch tasted as deliciously as it smelled, and as they discussed their respective careers between gangs, Boomer's admiration towards the young scientist kept on going gradually.

"You could teach at the best universities with your knowledge," he pointed out. "Why do you let yourself be pushed around by block-headed people who can't appreciate you? If I'd had the chance…"

He trailed off. The fact that he never had the chance to study had nagged on him since his childhood. Masters nodded in sympathy.

"I can understand what you mean, but… You know what? Come with me to the observations lounge, so that I can show you the answer."

On Constitution-class heavy cruisers, the observation lounge was situated directly above the rec deck. The two decks were connected by stairways and turbolifts. The four huge viewports of transparent aluminium followed the curvature of the discus-shaped primary hull and offered a spectacular view of the ship's warp nacelles and the space beyond.

"Look at it," Masters nodded towards the breath-taking panorama. "This is the only place aboard where we have a direct view at he stars, without sensors and vid-screens. Isn't the view overwhelming?"

"It certainly is," Boomer agreed. "I know only one place with an even more beautiful view: the navigation domes of the Galactica."

"Well, this is the reason why I'm here," Masters said. "I'm a scientist, a researcher. Only Starfleet makes it possible to venture so far into uncharted territories. To seek out strange worlds, unknown stars, new cosmic phenomena. Nowhere else could I be so close to the heart of the universe."

For a moment, she was quiet. Then, after a heartbeat or two, she smiled at him, laying her palm onto his chest. "Besides: how could I have ever found you, sitting in a professor's chair at some university?"

Boomer covered the warm and strong small hand resting upon his chest with his own. "Is this meeting of ours of such importance?"

"Yes, it is," Masters replied with an openness Boomer was unused to from the women serving aboard the Galactica. "For now I can see that I was right not to waste my life for worthless men. I always knew some day someone worth waiting for would cross my way." She caressed his broad chest with a playful hand and added slowly, with a particular emphasis on each individual word, "And… I believe… I've just found that someone."

Boomer smiled, a little embarrassed, and lifting her hand to his lips kissed it. "You really don't waste any time, do you? Are you always this direct?"

Masters shrugged. "Most of the time, yes. Once I hesitated too long and missed the chance to initiate a very promising relationship – I swore that I wouldn't make the same mistake again. Don't misunderstand me, though. This is not the proverbial love at first sight. I've watched you ever since your ships crawled through the singularity. I viewed all the records you transferred to our ship…"

"Including the destruction of the Twelve Worlds?"

"And your missions against the Cylons, the battles fought to protect your people, yes. I noticed you right away when the logs from the first meeting between Fleet Commander Adama and our captain came in, but I looked for you on the reception. So I had to gather information about you otherwise."

"What have you done?" asked Boomer, completely befuddled.

"Uhura gave me a hand," Masters admitted. "I asked her to find out all she could about you, and she did her best."

"She did?"

"Of course she did; she's a friend," Masters gave him an uneasy look. "Are you mad at me? I hope you don't feel cornered…"

"Should I?" Boomer carefully drew her to him and trembled, feeling her warmth and scent. "I'm afraid I'm just about to fall in love. At the proverbial first sight. And that although I know nigh to nothing about you."

Masters laughed quietly and wrapped her arms around the pilot's neck. "I'm willing to tell you everything you want to know about me."

Boomer laughed back at her. "I must admit, Charlie, that conversation isn't exactly what I have on my mind right now."

"I certainly hope so," Masters kissed him lightly. "Let's go to my quarters. We can discuss the exact program later."

"That's a good idea," Boomer smiled; for a heartbeat, he enjoyed Charlene's closeness, then he let go of her and followed her to the turbolift.

Lieutenant Masters' quarters were the same standard rooms as the ones Boomer had to his disposal, but they mirrored the complex personality of their inhabitant clearly. They were, to begin with, cool; several degrees below the average temperature aboard the Enterprise, which Boomer, used to the Galactica's low temperatures, found definitely refreshing.

The gravitation, on the other hand, matched the Mars-norm, and that made him a little light-headed first. Fortunately, it wasn't easy enough to adapt. The furniture was Starfleet-standard, too (Boomer remembered Siress Uhura calling this style Starfleet-ugly once), but the weird-looking potted plants on the chest of drawers and the wooden and ceramic knickknacks, placed on the shelves following some peculiar, perhaps even symbolic order, gave unmistakable hints of an alien world and a unique culture very different from his own… or from what little he had already learned about Earth.

The brightly coloured wall hangings reminded of abstract paintings, and the thick soft wall-to-wall carpet was rusty red like Mars' soil. There was a large holographic image embedded in one of the walls, like a window opening to the Sol system. The red planet occupied most of the picture, with the azure sickle of a raising Earth behind it.

"Malacandra," Masters gestured towards the picture. "When I look at it, I always have the feeling that I'm on my way home."

"Are you homesick sometimes?" Boomer inquired.

Masters shrugged, a little unsure. "Sometimes, yeah. I like travelling among the stars, but only Malacandra can give me the feeling to be at home. Our society and culture are very different from those on other former Earth-colonies. I'm always happy to go to home leave."

"I envy you for that feeling," Boomer said slowly. "It won't be easy for us to settle on new worlds, build new homes, even if the Federation could offer us suitable planets."

"Are you afraid of the future?" Masters asked. Boomer nodded soberly.

"A little, yes. During our flight we were under military law – that meant the rule of Commander Adama. I'm almost afraid to imagine what might happen when the civilian government wins the upper hand again."

"Really? What might happen in that case?"

"Nothing what would be good for us, I'm afraid. "There always has been a certain rivalry among the Twelve Worlds. Caprica had been the first colony to rediscover space flight, and so it was able to obtain a slightly higher status. But this rivalry can easily escalate when it comes to the dividing of the new home among the survivors. Many have fought the privileged status of Caprica during our long journey already – this could lead to bitter fight for power."

"Would it not divide your loyalties? Your parents originated from different worlds, didn't hey?"

"I'm not entirely sure whom I actually owe my loyalty," Boomer said slowly, surprised and almost frightened a little by Charlene's intuition. "I mean, I think of myself as a Caprican, of course, I am one, after all, have never lived on any other worlds. On the other hand, Colonel Tigh might be right when he reminds us of the importance of our roots – and I have no Caprican roots. My father held traditions in high esteem. Most Librans do. And though he died when I was barely thirteen, somehow he'd managed to pass on this peculiar sense of responsibility to me. Besides, Libran culture really is a terrific thing, above all the various forms of art."

"What's the problem, then?"

"Only that I inherited the calm and level Leo-nature of my mother. Sometimes I doubt that I'd be able to live among Librans in the long run. I'm probably not fierce and competitive enough for that."

"Well, there are still the Leos, aren't they?"

"Oh no, that's completely out of question. Never in my life would I voluntarily submit to Sire Uri's rule. The man is the worst plague, right after the Cylons themselves. No, I think I should support the Librans, after all. They have the lowest number of survivors from all the Twelve Worlds, and so they have been herded together on the oldest, most battered ships. They have a culture worth protecting and passing on… in case there still is anyone on those ships who could do that." He shrugged. "Strangely enough, they seem to be interested in me. Sire Togo, the Libran representative of the Quorum of Twelve has initiated a… dialogue with me recently."

"He did?" Masters asked. "What did he want from you?"

"I wish I knew… it was all very vague. Sire Togo is a broken old man, without any considerable influence in the Quorum. I had the impression that he's planning to retire."

"And what if he does?"

"He must name his successor – one that the overwhelming majority of Libran people would vote for. And I couldn't shake off the feeling that he's got his eyes on Colonel Tigh for that position. Especially as Sire Solon, too, was present."

"Is that of such importance?"

"Oh, yes. Sire Solon is the chief accuser of the colonies; therefore he cannot aspire for the seat of a senator himself. But he is a determined Libran patriot… and the colonel's late wife was his sister."

"Is that the reason why he'd want to suggest the colonel?"

"No. Libra has lost much of its importance, partially because only a handful of Librans have survived. People need a senator who'd defend their interests and wouldn't let himself be intimidated. Colonel Tigh isn't known for being easily intimidated. Besides, he's highly respected, both for his military rank and his past as a legendary combat pilot."

"You think he'd accept?" Masters inquired. The political intricacies of the Twelve Worlds began to fascinate her. Boomer thought about the question for a while.

"That's hard to tell," he finally said. "On the one hand, he has very strong sense of duty and responsibility towards his own people, like all Librans have. On the other hand, he's full of bitterness over his own treatment by the Quorum, and it's doubtful if he'd be willing to do as much as breathe the same air as the rest of the senators. I'd say, his decision would depend on Siress Uhura, though."

"The two are very obviously in love," Charlene nodded. "But if the colonel accepts the Libran seat in the Quorum, would that have any effects on your life?"

"Afraid so," Boomer sighed. "I'd have to join him; that much Sire Solon and Sire Togo have made very clear. A member of the Quorum needs his own team, preferably from his own people, at least partially; and I'm very good with all sorts of computers and other technical things, aside from being a trained warrior. After all that we've been through together, I cannot abandon him now. He's a very strict superior, but he's torn out a limb for us many times, regardless of the personal consequences."

"There's a way for you to escape this trap, though," Masters said calmly. Boomer gave her a surprised look.

"There is?"

"You could join Starfleet, after absolving the required courses. Or join another sparcefaring organization. Really good pilots are very rare and much sought after. Even by the Red Wings."

"And what in the Twelve Worlds are the Red Wings?"

"The planetary fleet of Mars. They fly shared missions with the research ships of Alpha Centauri VII," Masters gave him a friendly wink. "Usually, they don't accept off-worldlers, but I could put in a good word for you. My Uncle Gerald is one of the six staff officers."

"I don't know," Boomer murmured. "I'm not comfortable with the idea of abandoning my people."

"That's just plain xenophobia; we all suffer from that at times," Masters waved generously. " But you'll have enough time to think about it." She wrapped her arms around Boomer's shoulders and added teasingly. " And I'll do my best to make you more… perceptive to the idea."

TBC