Daniel's position on Galactica was tenuous. This he knew. To wear a uniform out in the Fleet was a simple thing. There was not a single civilian that could recognize all, or even most, of Galactica's crew men and women. He might have even approached the President herself and not been recognized. Of course if the rumors were true, no one was approaching the president much these days, but Daniel did not care to speculate as to why.

Regardless of the liberties he took in the Fleet, his activities on Galactica had to be more… circumspect. If he had come in with any of the groups of new recruits he would have been subject to an immediate screening: one which, clearly, he would not pass. Yet it was vital to his mission than he remain on Galactica, and that he remain under cover.

Selecting his cover had been the most difficult part of the transition. Pilots were not highly visible and tended to keep to their own areas, but they were a tightly knit group of people that would immediately recognize an intruder. The same could be said of any specialty personnel onboard. But he had to be somebody. He would not gather much data hanging out on causeways and in storerooms. Worse, he would eventually be had out.

His solution turned out to be simpler than he would have expected. One could even have called it elegant. He allowed himself a casual glance at his watch as the alarm sounded, not really knowing why. Why was it people always had to look at their watches when the alarms they'd set went off? Can it not be assumed that if the alarm goes off, it is the time the alarm was set to? But he looked at it anyway, because that's what humans do, and pushed the button to stop the beeping.

"Time to go to work."

A new group of nuggets was sent from the Fleet early in the morning. Why they were always sent early in the morning Starbuck could not have said. She certainly didn't make that request. Still, she met them like she was supposed to, in the pilots' ready room, early in the fraking morning, like a good girl.

"Officer on deck!" They never got up the first time. The next part came to her almost mechanically. "That means on your feet nuggets!"

Hotdog, standing to the left and just behind the podium, smirked.

"You're entering the Colonial Fleet boys and girls," said he, "not some after school club." Starbuck shot him a look, and tried not to match the grin he wore with one of her own.

"Sit." They sat. "My name is Lieutenant Kara Thrace. Pilots call me Starbuck." They all knew her by now. The guardians of the Fleet had reached legendary status among the civvies, she had heard. Adama was practically a demi-god. "You will all be starting basic flight. Since we have no flight simulators on board you will be starting in the cockpit a little sooner than you probably planned. For the next few days you will learn protocol, sequences, and the technical layout of the Viper Mark II. So put your thinking caps on." She paused, as much for effect as to allow her words to sink in. A make shift boot camp had been set up on Pegasus, and she doubted many of the nuggets had expected to go from there to a classroom. "Before we get started, Hotdog, roll call."

Hotdog, who had become Starbuck's right hand man in pilot training, stepped forward with a clipboard in his hand and as serious an expression as he ever bore. As he read off the names, Starbuck watched the nuggets that answered back, putting the names with the faces. When the roll was read, three of the nuggets had not responded to any of the names. Hotdog read the last name, "Mick Devlin," three times with no response from any of them.

"You three. Stand up." With varying degrees of meekness, they stood. "None of you are Mick Devlin?" No response. "Name," she demanded of the first.

"Quinn Tarro."

"Quinn Tarro, what?"

"Quinn Tarro…sir?"

"Is that a question, nugget?"

"No, sir. Quinn Tarro, sir."

"Good. You."

"Jame Martin, sir."

"And you?"

"Jacob Daniels, sir."

"But no Mick Devlin."

"No sir."

"Frak." The last was said more under her breath than to them, but by the worried glances they exchanged she would have thought they expected her to gun them down on the spot.

Further investigation revealed that all three of the men had been screened, and had registered for Viper training with the recruiters that had been stationed throughout the Fleet. At least, they claimed to have been screened and registered. Without any documentation on any of them, she had only their word.

No more certain what to do with them than she was willing to give them free run of the ship when she had no idea who they were, Starbuck left Hotdog to watch them and made her way to the infirmary. The way she saw it, there were three possibilities: whoever had done the intake exams had fraked up the paperwork; whoever had delivered the files to her had fraked up the paperwork; or, Hotdog couldn't read. Whichever it was, to begin at the beginning seemed like the best plan.

"Hey doc, got a minute?"

"No."

"I've got one missing nugget and three without files."

"And hearing loss apparently."

"Come on doc. You know I hate to interrupt your smoke break."

Maj. Cottle arched a bushy brow at her and scowled. His was the eternally hunched posture of a man who had carried the weight of his duties for too long, and those duties had soured him. Still, he crushed out his cigarette and stood.

"A missing pilot?"

"And three I don't have files for."

"Start with those."

Starbuck had to glance at the clipboard again for their names, easily distinguishing her hasty scratching from the seemingly careful script of whoever had made the list out.

"Jacob Daniels, Jame Martin, Quinn Tarro."

"I remember them. And the missing man?"

"Mick Devlin."

"Hmm."

Starbuck waited by while the doctor engaged a nearby orderly in what sounded like a very gruff and aggravated discourse. The orderly hurried off, as Cottle's orderlies were wont to do, and returned minutes later red-faced and flustered.

"Here you are Lieutenant." Cottle thrust three files into her hands. "Daniels, Martin, and Tarro."

Starbuck flipped through them. "No pictures."

"Apparently not." When his answer did not satisfy her, he went on. "The materials for photography are as limited as anything else. We make due with what we have."

"And Devlin?"

"How the hell should I know? Once they leave here they're all yours." Doc Cottle lit up another cigarette. "Until they're bleeding."

Though there were no pictures in the files, Starbuck found that the doc, or one of his staff, had jotted down notes on physical description in the upper margins. When she returned to the ready room Hotdog had already rooted out Mick Devlin's file from the stack, and, with the restless nuggets looking on, they began combing through them.

According to the descriptions noted in the files (most empirical stuff, like heights and weights), Starbuck gathered that Mick Devlin was a man of medium height, medium build, red hair, and green eyes. Jacob Daniels was a tall fellow, fair, blonde and blue-eyed. Jame Martin was, in theory, shorter than both of them, and darker to boot, with dark hair and almost black eyes. Quinn Tarro was almost of a height with Devlin, but built heavier, with a dark complexion.

Right.

"Frak. Ok. You. You're Mick Devlin."

The look of startled confusion with which the young man favored her had as much to do with the finality in her tone as with the fact that his name was not, in fact, Mick Devlin, but Jacob Daniels.

"Sir?"

"Do you have red hair?"

"Yes sir."

"Green eyes?"

"Yes sir."

"Born on Sagittaron? 5'7, 175 pounds?"

"Yes sir…"

"Then you're Mick Devlin."

The color of the newly christened "Mick" rose just slightly, but he did not argue. She would have like more of a fight. Instead she was forced to resign herself to his resignation.

"Which one are you again?" she asked with a sigh.

"Mick…Devlin, sir?" She stared at him. "Jacob Daniels, sir."

"Right."

With a few decisive pen swipes she eliminated Devlin's name from the file and replaced it with Daniels'. One down. She went on to discover that Daniels was Tarro, and Tarro was Martin. That left Martin as Devlin. Fraking absurd.

"Hotdog, take this file to the master-at-arms and tell her we have an AWOL nugget somewhere on the ship."

"Yes sir."

"The rest of you fall out. You've already been billeted right?"

"Yes sir," they replied in unison. This had been a hell of a way to start their first day, watching the vaunted guardians of the Fleet chasing their fraking tails.

"Good. Report back here at 0730 tomorrow. Dismissed."

Starbuck made her report, and was pleased to discover the Commander easily as annoyed as she was. Of course he had different ways of showing it. Anyone who knew him less would have had no idea. But mistakes like this were increasing in frequency, and now a man they did not know was at liberty on their ship. He nodded, thanked her, and dismissed her. Starbuck felt almost sorry for Doc Cottle's people as she made her way back to her duty locker.

She had flown her CAP rotation early, and was not on the alert pilots call roster until later tonight. There was plenty of frustration to be burned off in the meantime; the idea of her usual game of triad did not appeal to her at all. The solution waited for her on her rack in the form of Geminon, looking like he had just had a nice long nap.

"I wish I had your troubles. Have you had your run today?" The pup blinked at her. "Well I haven't had mine."

Kara changed quickly, stripping down to her double tees, pulling on a pair of jogging short and running shoes. Gem was bounding around on rubbery springs by the time she had the laces tied, whimpering frantically. The largest pup in Seek's litter was not taking to the silence training as quickly as his siblings. At least he's not barking anymore. From her bent position, it was easy for her to reach out and grab firm hold of the pup's muzzle.

"Shh." Gem froze and stared at her. Those eyes could melt stone, she was sure of it. Still, she did not let him go until he stood quietly, making not a sound. "Good boy." She ruffled his ears. "Ready?"

After a quick stretch, Kara took off down the corridor, Geminon bounding at her heels.

Though Daniel had been sure they would be in that room forever, the initial brief had ended early enough that the nuggets could not reasonably be expected to remain in their duty locker for the rest of the day. An older officer provided them with directions to the mess, and when they all set out together it was easy for him to slip away.

It really was amazing, how little notice was taken of him. The Galactica crew had grown accustomed with unfamiliar faces, as so many new recruits were joining the service. He was sure that many of the men and women he passed in the corridors were relatively new themselves. Some were easily identifiable, and he would have made easy work of any one of them. Unfortunately, the Marines standing guard were far more seasoned. Drawing them away would not be easy.

"Umm…Excuse me, sirs…" That would get them. They were noncoms, and he would be a pilot, an officer. But he was still green, and calling them "sir." They exchanged grins and glances.

"You lost?"

"Yeah," he replied sheepishly. "First day. Can you point me to the mess?"

"Keep walking the way you're going until you're almost to the aft hanger deck."

"I don't know where that is."

"It's aft. Anyway you'll hear it before you see it. From there C-causeway is the fastest way. Someone can point you in the right direction."

"Thanks." He made as if to go, then hesitated, glancing back to see them watching him expectantly. They looked like men who knew what they were about to be asked. They were probably used to it actually. Good. "Hey. Uh… is that the cylon? In there I mean."

"What's it to you?" They're messing with me now.

"Nothing. I just heard about it. A cylon being kept on Galactica. Is it true it's pregnant with the CAG's bastard?"

The taller Marine snorted. "No. You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"You can see it if you want," volunteered the other.

That took Daniel off guard. He knew that he would have to get in to see Sharon at some point, but his plan today had only been to test his limits. He would not have expected the guards to be so open in admitting him to the prison.

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Seeing his confusion (which he had, apparently, failed to adequately mask) the other Marine explained. "Civilians aren't allowed in there without an escort or pass from the Commander or the President. It's a lot less strict with military personnel. Commander's granted pretty much unlimited access."

"Why?"

The Marines shrugged. "Not our place to ask. We're just here to make sure no one goes in there and does anything stupid."

"And that she doesn't get out," pointed out the other.

"Right."

"So… I can really go in there?" Daniel let a little nervous excitement creep into his voice.

"Yes sir." The Marine (the one Daniel had decided to call "Easy"), smirked.

"Escorted," said the one Daniel had dubbed "Grunt."

Easy opened the hatch, but it was Grunt that followed Daniel inside; the hatch was not closed after them, he noticed. Sharon looked up immediately when she heard the hatch being opened, and Daniel, with Grunt safely at his back, allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as her eyes momentarily widened at the sight of him.

"There's your cylon."

"Wow. They really do look just like us don't they?" Just like us and petrified. But Grunt didn't seem to notice.

"Hmm."

Daniel could easily get away with staring. He was supposed to be a greenhorn after all; it would be expected. If Sharon had had the bad sense to stare back at him, that might have caused some problems, or at least required some explanation. But Sharon was sharp. Though she did not recover her wits completely, she did so quickly.

"You should start selling tickets, Shields."

"I've considered it. You mind?"

Now that is interesting. Does she mind? What was more, if his tone and facial expression were any indication, he actually cared about her answer.

"No." She stepped towards the transparent wall, glancing back and forth between Daniel and his escort. "I'll even talk to him if you want. No one's been by today." She gave Daniel a gracefully predatory once-over. "You don't have to baby sit."

Grunt nodded and withdrew. The wonders never cease.

Sharon stepped almost eagerly up to the handset the instant the Marine was gone. Daniel followed suit.

"Impressive. If we all had so much power over them this war would be over."

"What are you doing here?"

"Working."

"That's what you're doing on the ship. What are you doing here?"

She was scared, he realized. Scared of him. With her right hand she clutched the handset, while her left hovered protectively over the swell of her belly. Clever girl. She knew why he was here, regardless of her questions.

"You're thinking now that I've made myself known to you, you can report me." There was laughter in his voice, the same touch to private amusement with which he always spoke. "No. If you were thinking that you would have told your Marine who I am. Why didn't you I wonder?" That was no question really. "Because you knew I would kill him."

"What do you want?"

"To see how you are." He nodded towards her belly. "To see how she is." He dropped his voice then, and leaned in a little. "The others are calling for the next phase. You should know. They'll be coming soon."

"No…"

"I've never lied to you. There are some things I have to take care of first. Loose ends. But you prepare yourself. It will all be over soon. And I wouldn't say anything to your pets. Even if you tell them, I'll be able to get to him before they get to me. That I guarantee you."

He had more to say. They were kinder words, the ones he had saved for the end of their conversation, but he didn't get the chance to speak them. From outside in the corridor he heard… he wasn't really sure what he heard. It was sort of a quadruped scrabbling sound, punctuated by a high pitched yelp and a startled curse.

"What…"

He should not have been surprised really. Or, he should not have been surprised to be met with yet another inexplicable surprise. A small, reddish colored dog charged at him, stopping only a few feet away with its gums skinned back to reveal tiny puppy teeth. All its fluff stood on end, and it practically propelled itself off the floor with its barking. Daniel took a step back in surprise, letting the handset drop. Sharon, he noticed, pressed closer to the glass.

"Gem! Geminon get back here!"

Lt. Kara Thrace, flushed and slick with sweat, jogged through the hatch with Easy and Grunt at her heels. The dog made no move to bite Starbuck as she swept him up into her arms, but struggled with furious little snarls to get down. She grabbed a fistful of the dog's puppy scruff, and the effect of his skin stretched taught on his face was amusing.

"Enough! You little… What are you doing here?"

That last part was addressed to Daniel. Easy looked sheepish, Grunt looked vindicated…and Sharon was staring wide-eyed at the little dog.

"I…uh…got lost on the way to the mess. They said I could see a cylon."

That was not an uncommon thing, as he had gathered. Starbuck seemed neither surprised, nor bothered. In fact, she seemed to find the idea pretty funny.

"You can blame Landin," Grunt said. "He likes to show off."

"Right. Ok nugget, out. Gem! Knock it off." Daniel hesitated. He would have liked to know why Sharon was staying so close to him now, tight against the glass. He would have liked to know why there was a dog onboard. "That means now, nugget."

"Yes sir." With a fleeting glance to Sharon, easily disguised as grudging curiosity, he headed for the hatch.

Starbuck watched him leave. Geminon was still snarling, and would have been fighting her if her grip on him had not been so tight. When her eyes met Sharon's, she could not help but grin.

"Good boy," she murmured, releasing his scruff to scratch behind his ears. "That's the stuff."

Under other circumstances, she might have asked Sharon why she looked so shaken up. She might have asked her what she and the nugget had talked about. She might have asked her any of a number of questions that Sharon would not have been able to answer. But there was a rule. The pups were not allowed near Sharon during the training process, and Geminon was upset enough already. So all Starbuck did was nod, before turning and jogging away.