Starbuck's readouts grew more distorted the deeper into the asteroid field he flew. It was almost as if the rock formations were emitting some kind of signal that was scrambling his sensors. And, of course, any attempt to verify this theory proved unproductive as his computer continued to spit out information that just couldn't be accurate.

For instance, his latest coordinates showed that he had backtracked, and then doubled around the asteroid belt, when his sense of direction, honed over many yahrens in a cockpit, told him otherwise. He had also picked up a large, unidentified ship briefly on his scanner, which in the next micron had disappeared completely. Again, it didn't make sense.

Yeah, for all his assumptions about how much more sophisticated his scanners and engines were, he was beginning to realize that those perks weren't really advantages in this belt. In fact, all they had really achieved was to give him an elevated, and perhaps false sense of security as he surreptitiously tailed the four ships ahead of him.

Now he was getting a decided suspicion, reminiscent of not a few pyramid games he'd been in, that he was being carefully manipulated. Yeah, he'd had a bit of experience with that lately, Ama coming to mind. The whole fracking star system was out to get him after all.

He decreased power even further, letting the ships edge away from him, then instead of banking right to follow them around the immense asteroid they were closing in on, he dove below it. Immediately, he hit his turbos, following the curvature of the rock as he maneuvered himself ahead of them. He then reduced power again, drifting silently. Waiting. Suddenly, his comm channel crackled to life.

"We've lost him," said one voice. Gravelly. Apparently Human from the computer's vocal wave analysis. "I'm not reading him anymore."

"That's impossible," said another, also apparently Human. "He was directly behind us."

"Well, he's not behind you now, Torg."

"Bex, report."

Starbuck shook his head in bemusement as his instruments again responded normally. It wasn't the asteroids that were jumbling his sensors; it was the fracking ships ahead of him!

"Scanning for him now, Torg." A further voice joined in.

Starbuck powered down further. Humans. But Lords, how many of them were out there? And where had they come from? The Colonies? The Thirteenth Tribe? Terra?

"It's a fairly big ship, Bex. Surely to God, you can find her."

"Aye, she is at that. I'll find her. She's out here somewhere. I can feel it. Rovers move in, scanners on full spread, all wavebands, three hundred and sixty degrees."

Frack. Well, so much for his theory on unsophisticated scanners. Still, his instinct told him to stay put.

Once again he sat still, waiting them out. His scanner suddenly picked up four additional ships, appearing as if they had just materialized from nowhere. These ones the Warbook classified as fighters. Old fighters, museum class. Two were somewhat similar to what he'd seen Croad fly in the Proteus system, the rest he didn't recognize.

He checked his instruments. Lords, he had to be practically on top of their base. But where was it? Another blip abruptly appeared, and he confirmed the coordinates of their point of origin. Now he was up against five fighters, no two exactly alike, as well as the four smaller ships that had scrambled his scanners while they searched for him. They had either found him, or simply flushed him out, he wasn't sure which anymore.

Well, as much as he'd love to stay and play, it was really time to go home for dinner. He plotted a course towards their base, avoiding their fighters. He had come for reconnaissance, so he had better get on with.

With a flip of a few switches, he powered up again and hit his thrusters, barreling past the asteroid on a path towards their base. It was invigorating after all the skulking he had done, racing death-defiantly by rock formations and twisting through space corridors.

"Got her! She's heading for base. Repeat she's heading for base."

"Huh? How'd it get past us?"

"Hell, who knows! Intercept! Launch Voyagers and Rogues!"

Starbuck held his course, knowing that at any moment two more enemy squadrons could intercept him, but all it would take was one scan to record the necessary telemetry and then he could be out of there. So far, none of them were even touching his speed, so the odds were looking good . . .

"Gotcha." Starbuck muttered, as his scan revealed enormous power readings, an artificially created enclosure, burrowing deep into the massive asteroid he was approaching. An opening in the mouth of what looked like a huge cave seemed to be their launch bay, but despite their claims, two squadrons were not launching to challenge him.

It was a ruse.

Instead, his rear scanner picked up two ships on his tail. He checked his warbook. "No way . . ."

He pulled up sharply, noting they were slower to respond to his evasive maneuver. As tempted as he was to hit his turbos and take it home, he had to verify the data. Lords, if it was true . . .

He continued to arc, until he was looping up and over them, spiraling downward in the opposite direction. Again, they reacted sluggishly to his moves, as if they were unfamiliar with their own ships. He saw the flash of a laser go wild, as though the pilot had hit the button by mistake.

He slammed his stick forward, increasing his thrust and heading straight for them. His thumb lightly caressed the firing button as he waited until they were in range, then he dove, coming down right on top of them. He raced between them, lasers firing as he added to the data collection by again scanning the fighters for his databank. A quick visual was all he needed to confirm what he already knew in his heart. Vipers. He could clearly see the distinct markings that the Juggernaut alone had indulged in, identifying his fighters proudly as belonging to the Battlestar Pegasus.

Well, as much as he'd love to find the answer to that particular mystery, for Sheba as much as for any other reason, it was time to go home. A glance at his scanner showed the other nine ships closing in. The fighters fanned out, lasers blasting, as though attempting to impede his way by sheer luck. Apparently, they didn't realize that the star system was vast, and that there was more than one way to go . . . or perhaps their resources were limited.

Regardless, if the Fleet stayed clear of them, with their limited and archaic forces, they didn't seem to be a very big threat. And they were Human. Brothers.

But . . . really, they were more the kind of brothers that you didn't tell your girlfriend about, or kept hidden in the basement, only letting them out on holidays. Shackled. When sedated. He wasn't sure how the Commander would feel about it, but he was more than willing to write them off as black-ovines, and wish them good riddance.

Except for the Pegasus connection.

Yeah, he could just imagine Sheba and Bojay barreling through the belt with lasers firing to get to the bottom of how two Pegasus Vipers had ended up both here, and with that riffraff. And he couldn't blame them either. Frack, he'd even join them, but the numbers would have to be more even before he was willing to attack the base.

He hit his turbos, heading away from the others, knowing he could easily double back, but not until long after he had lost them. The last thing he wanted was to lead them back to the Fleet. He would have to clear the asteroid field and then make his way, so he would be certain there were no marauders lurking behind the relative shield that the rock formations created.

Then there were the spheroids. He adjusted his scanner, narrowly defining the search parameters for elevated radion readings. The little buggers could be anywhere.

The Vipers were pursuing, but again, they were sloppy. If they kept tailing him through the narrow corridors at this velocity, they might very well barrel into an asteroid. He wondered if the Pegasus pilots were still alive on the base. That might be all the impetus that Adama needed to organize a rescue . . .

A blaring alarm sounded in the cockpit. He cut his power, hitting reverse thrusters, feeling like he would snap in two as he ricocheted backwards. He cut thrust as he closed his eyes against the sudden blinding flash of light, his body jerking, and feeling as though a bolt of energy had just shot through it. The air seemed to be sucked from his lungs, and he gasped, even as he realized his ship was still fully powered up and responding. The problem was, he wasn't.

He sucked in a painful breath between his teeth and then let it out raggedly. The next one was marginally easier. And the next, even better. "Frack . . . " His hands felt wooden, and were trembling so badly, he couldn't grip the control stick. His Viper rocked hard as a laser blast shot caught him amidships.

"That's a warning shot? Lord, thundering Jesus, what the hell do you think you're doing?" a voice blared in his ear. "Enemy pilot, we have you locked on target. Surrender now, or you will be destroyed."

Sparks flew from his control panel, but most of his systems seemed to be holding. Yep, that was one lousy shot.

"No response. She has power, but she's not moving. The pilot must have been affected by the Dynamo's blast."

"Wraiths, move in and secure."

Move! But he couldn't. It was as if he was stuck in a useless husk, instead of his own body. He could feel a sharp pain traveling along every neuro-pathway, as his body continued to jerk from the jolt of energy it had absorbed.

Starbuck blinked his eyes, feeling the sweat beading on his forehead. Apollo had been out for a good twenty centons before he had left him, and then he still hadn't regained consciousness. Starbuck didn't have twenty centons!

The faint shadow of a ship crossed over him. The Wraith, no doubt. He could hear his collision alarm begin blaring, then the sound of metal on metal, as the tow line was attached.

Frack, the Commander will have your hide. If you still have a hide.

----------

As Borka slammed the door to Myrddin's workshop, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the control device in Oriana's hand. The control device that they had come to collect. In an instant his weapon was in his hand. He smirked as he watched Luana make a move to draw hers a millicenton later.

"Don't." Borka warned Lu, motioning with his compact laser as he walked towards them. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

"Yeah, right." Luana replied, her hand hovering at her side, as she took in the familiar features of the walking landram. His formerly platinum blond hair was now white as fresh fallen snow, the peculiar blue tips gone.

Kaden was at her side in an instant, grabbing her roughly by the left arm as his partner covered them. He disarmed her, weighing the blaster in his hand. "Nice. Real fire power." And then to Oriana, "Hand it over, Lady."

Oriana hesitated for a moment, tucking the device behind her and reflexively taking a step backwards towards Myrddin's quarters.

Kaden responded by wedging the Colonial blaster under the Luana's chin, still gripping her arm. "Need to think about it, Baby?" he asked the journalist.

"The safety's still on . . . Baby." Luana reminded him, holding herself erect as the cold metal pressing against her neck sent a shiver through her.

Kaden's eyes fell to the weapon's grip, just as Luana curled her fingers in tightly, bending her right hand back and striking him upwards under the nose with the heel of her palm. Kaden's head snapped back with the sharp crunch of nasal cartilage and he howled in pain, letting go of her arm and covering his face, as blood flowed between his fingers.

Abruptly, Luana ducked behind Kaden, putting him between herself and Borka, as she reached into her boot for her knife. She twisted, letting it fly at Borka, who was trying to get a bead on her. Her aim was true. A scream of pain tore from the man's throat, his weapon dropping to the floor, as he grabbed his bloody forearm. "Run!" she yelled to Oriana.

The journalist needed no further encouragement as she ran past the landram, controller tight in her hand, heading for freedom.

Pain exploded in the center of Lu's back, as Kaden's elbow connected with her. She flew through the air, crumpling into a heap against the shelves. She could see Kaden turning, aiming at Oriana with the blaster. His bloody hand hit the weapon's setting switch and he fired as she pulled desperately at the door handle. "No!" Luana yelled from across the room.

Oriana shrieked as she hit the door hard. Ever so silently her back arched, fingers clawing at the wall, before she went limp, slumping down to the floor.

"What the frack did you do?" Borka yelled at Kaden, still gripping his bloody forearm, his retrieved weapon back in his other hand. He raced to the woman's side.

"I thought it was on stun!" Kaden yelled back, his eyes wild with panic as he stood still, reluctant to go any closer, the smell of charred flesh in the air. His hand shook as he stared at the weapon in disbelief.

"Sweet Sagan . . . " Borka muttered, as he gripped Oriana by the arm, turning her over slowly. Wide eyes stared up at him . . . or through him.

Luana crawled towards Oriana, shaking her head in horror. "She's not . . . "

Borka nodded, before hesitantly reaching down and gently closing eyelids.

"Don't touch her!" Luana screamed, bolting to her feet and launching herself at Borka.

It caught her midair, her entire body going limp as a rag doll before she landed just short of Borka. He glared at Kaden, who was still pointing the blaster, this time at Luana's still form. "God help us," he murmured.