It seemed only natural to Apollo to enlist Boomer's assistance in the search for Luana. They soon found the lieutenant in the billet, and Boomer had nodded soberly as Lia filled him in on the details of the young ensign's disappearance along with the undercover journalist's. Ama hovered close by letting Lia do the talking, too agitated by the lack of progress to say anything remotely helpful. Both warriors had realized they needed more evidence than the strong sense of an Empyrean necromancer before Security would take them seriously.

"Unless Ama wants to threaten to turn Reece into a porcine again," Boomer suggested with a faint smile, recalling Starbuck's highly amusing tale of the event.

"Just threaten?" Ama had returned. "Now, don't misunderstand me, gentlemen. I'm pleased you're assisting us with finding Luana, but what about Starbuck? It seems you're taking me about as seriously as a dawdling, demented old fool. We're wasting time here, dear hearts. And frankly, I'm beginning to lose my patience."

Boomer gave Apollo a look which clearly said, you deal with it. You're the Captain.

"Ama. As we speak, they're performing an autopsy on Starbuck . . . " Ama's sudden glare could have melted a small child. " . . . uh, the body, as well as confirming that the Viper is his ship. If you're correct, we'll know soon enough, and we'll be able to act accordingly."

"Then you will act?" Ama asked, hands upon her ample hips.

"If Starbuck is alive, I'll do everything I possibly can to find him and bring him back. I give you my word." Apollo replied, for the first time feeling a stir of hope that perhaps the necromancer was right. As Starbuck always told him, as crazy as the old crone appeared to be, she was usually right on the cubits when she made a prediction. Hades, if Starbuck believed it . . .

The first step in tracing Luana had seemed obvious. Investigate Oriana's quarters. Despite the short amount of time Apollo had been married to Serina, he knew that every journalist kept records of their data collection. Serina had a series of data crystals which he had kept, the sound of her voice had brought both pain and pleasure as he replayed them, probably a little too often, after initially losing her. He realized it had been some time now since they had crossed his mind, but he would keep them for Boxey until the boy was old enough to be responsible for their care and to treasure them as a lasting link to his mother.

Apollo had quickly acquired the location and access code, and shortly thereafter they were standing in Oriana's tiny quarters, witnesses to the complete destruction that had hit. The place had been torn apart.

Most notably, Oriana's computer lay in a crumpled heap on the opposite end of the room from the workstation. Drawers were pulled out, furniture upended, and a distinct dent in the wall where the computer had impacted against the wall, all contributed to the disarray.

"Boomer, call Security. This is all the evidence we need to prove something's going on." Apollo instructed him as he headed for the computer. Obviously someone else was after Oriana's records, probably trying to erase the data trail. Now, what he needed was someone with the necessary computer smarts to retrieve any information that had been erased.

----------

"Thank you Dr. Paye. Keep me posted." Commander Adama signed off from the command center of the bridge. The dead pilot wasn't Starbuck. Further to that, Paye now suspected the postmortem age of the corpse was at least three sectars. So the questions were, who was it, and where had he come from? Paye needed to do more research to find out.

The Pegasus. It had to be the Pegasus.

Adama smiled slightly as he felt Tigh's intent stare upon him from the lower deck. They had discussed this topic extensively, though almost always in private. What had happened to the Pegasus?

The Battlestar's disappearance had, even with the scanner data from Apollo and Starbuck's Vipers, been inconclusive. They could assume she was destroyed as she took on the three Cylon base ships single-handedly and without fighters, but Adama had learned long ago never to assume anything if Cain was involved.

He recalled Starbuck telling Sheba in the Life Station, that as far as he was concerned, Cain had headed off into deep space once again. Adama thought that was closer to the truth. Cain had destroyed the base ships protecting Baltar's position, and had then, under the cover of extensive radion and battle debris, escaped to fight another day.

It had been sectars since they had last encountered the Cylons. It felt at times as though the Fleet had a guardian angel watching over them. Tigh had suspected that angel was Cain; though Adama had trouble picturing an angel wearing gold brocade, duel pistols, and carrying a swagger stick.

Realistically, it was the one way Cain could continue to battle the Cylons, and in the meantime support his people on his own terms. Adama had relieved him of command once, and almost twice, finally giving his reluctant blessing to the man who had an amazing knack for achieving the impossible.

"Commander Adama!"

Adama turned to see Chief Warrant Officer Jenny enter the bridge on the double. In her hand she held a warped piece of metal. No doubt she was about to tell him it wasn't Starbuck's Viper they had found.

Adama nodded, beckoning her forward. "Report."

"The serial numbers don't match Lieutenant Starbuck's fighter, sir. Or any of our ships for that matter." Jenny held the metal plate before her like a prize as she approached.

"Have you run a check to find a match?" Colonel Tigh asked briskly, walking to meet her. Finally, a chance to find out conclusively if the Juggernaut had survived.

"No, Sir. I only have access to the Galactica's records." Jenny explained handing the plates over to Tigh's outstretched hand. "I wasn't certain if we still had the data to cross reference any other ships' squadrons. And I don't have the authorization codes for that anyway."

"Tigh."

The Colonel was already at the computer terminal inputting the data. "Assigned to the Battlecruiser Cygnus four yahrens ago, Commander. Rapier Squadron"

"The Cygnus?" Adama repeated, trying to recall the vessel. The Cygnus had been state of the art technology, her speed and maneuverability second to none. Her history and battle record had been exemplary, though brief. "Destroyed with the Fifth Fleet at Molecay under Commander Artemis."

"Yes, Sir." Tigh confirmed. "The Viper must have been one of those picked up by the Pegasus before their departure."

"Does the record say who was assigned that Viper, Colonel?"

"Yes," said Tigh, looking back to the screen. "Listed as assigned to an Ensign Szabo. Missing in action at Molecay, presumed dead."

"But I thought all Pegasus pilots and wounded were transferred to the Galactica, before Cain headed out to engage Baltar."

"Yes, sir. Bojay informed us there were a few who refused to leave Cain. Perhaps this Szabo was one of them."

"That fits, sir," said Jenny. "The ship looks to have been repaired more than once. The Omega C circuit assembly is an older model. Series Three. The Viper we have would have been fitted with a Four. Maybe it was not flyable at the time. Maybe that's why it remained aboard when the Pegasus shipped out."

"That sounds plausible." Adama turned to Tigh. "Inform Doctor Paye, and have him check the remains against Ensign Szabo's records."

"Yes, sir."

Adama's time with Cain had been brief. There was so much they didn't have a chance to talk about. Though Adama was certain that Cain had believed the Pegasus was the only survivor at Molecay, there was a slight possibility that the Cygnus could have endured—about that of a snowflake's chance in Hades Hole, but still a chance.

"Sir . . . " While Jenny had launched herself onto the bridge with her adrenaline flowing, knowing she had important information for command, she realized the next bit of information she offered might be misconstrued as being impertinent or even presumptuous.

Adama nodded encouragingly at her, realizing she was much more comfortable in the launch and landing bays, than before her commanding officer on the bridge. "Go ahead, Jenny."

"We've also finished the complete diagnostic on Captain Apollo's Viper. We needed to reboot the systems, but it's fully functional in all capacities. No permanent damage, Sir. Captain Bojay reported the sensor modifications we performed allowed his patrol to successfully detect two spheroids without mishap, rendering them less of a threat."

"We also have Sheba's coordinates of the base, Commander. And a preliminary scan she recorded in preparation for a possible attack." Tigh added with a flash of a smile. "A forward thinker, our lieutenant. As well as the positions of two of the spheroids not far from the base's perimeter."

Adama could feel the combined eyes of his crew looking at him expectantly. If they continued on their present course, they had the time to potentially pull off a ground assault mission against the marauder's base before they circled around the asteroid belt and were out of range. Now there was more on the line than the life of one wayward warrior acting on his own accord. There was also the potential discovery of the fate of Cain and the Battlestar Pegasus or that of the Battlecruiser Cygnus.

"Summon Captains Apollo and Bojay. There will be a meeting in the war room in twenty centons." Adama ordered. They hadn't pulled off a ground assault mission since Gomoray and even he could feel the old familiar stirring rising within as they prepared to once again go on the offensive.

----------

It was almost funny; here he was a prisoner of pirates, being forced to break his back all day to harvest the foulest food substance he had ever tasted, and he just happens to meet a group of guys from Earth. Lords, what the heck would be the odds on that one, Bucko?

Yeah, and to top it all off, he could barely communicate with them. It was almost difficult to believe these possible descendents of the Thirteenth Tribe originally hailed from Kobol and started off speaking a similar tongue. Hades, in contrast the Empyreans had easily communicated with them, but then they had settled on an unpopulated planet. Doubtless, those who had found and joined the sectarian people over the centi-yahrens had affected their language, and coincidentally, it had evolved like their own. He wondered if the Earthbound tribe's language had been bastardized and distorted by their time on Earth, influenced by the other tongues of already established tribes. And how long had these guys been here? Did this mean Earth was close by? Would he ever find out?

Oh, if he had only spent more time playing charades, and less gambling. Ugh. A shudder ran up his spine . . . and then back down again, as if playing scales on a xylophone. Granted, they weren't all that good at charades either. They had managed to introduce themselves, and even that was confusing. They had so many syllables in a name; they had finally taken pity on his look of bewilderment and had shortened the overwhelming list to Dickins, Porter and Baker. The words had sounded harsh, and Starbuck had difficulty getting his tongue around them, but after much laughter and even more effort, he thought he had mastered them. Then he had introduced himself.

Revenge was sweet.

They had almost as much trouble as he did, trying to spit out the word, only he got to enjoy the monumental attempt four times over. Then, they started laughing. "Starbuck's!" said one of them, and began to giggle madly. He picked up his cup, and waved it at the others. They laughed too. Starbuck was about to make a caustic comment, but decided he lacked the vocabulary to make it truly effective. Thankfully, that was when the other work gang arrived. Including Dorado.

"Bucko!" Dorado exclaimed, giving the lieutenant a hug that Ursus would have been proud of. "I thought that big mouth of yours got you in trouble when you didn't show up. Hades, I never thought they'd put you with the others. " He stepped back from his old friend and looked him over. "Are you all right?"

"Just great. Just tell me there's some real food around here somewhere. Please. Beg. Whine. Oh, and a large ale wouldn't go unappreciated either."

"So you've tried the Koivee?" Starbuck's grimace was his reply. "Takes a while to get used to it, but other than the odd time when we get lucky and catch the odd lizard for meat, that's pretty much our daily menu. It's a bit better roasted. Never mind all that now, where's the Galactica? Is there any chance of a rescue? Do you think Apollo will come back looking for us?"

Starbuck sighed. "The Galactica will probably cut a wide swath around the asteroid belt to keep the fleet safe, as for a rescue, I'm not
sure. I kind of went off on my own. . ."

"Against orders?" Dorado asked with a glower.

"Not exactly . . . I just didn't give the Commander a chance to say 'no'." Starbuck shrugged. "Besides, I wouldn't have found you guys if I had waited for orders."

"Maybe." Dorado replied. "Or maybe you would have had backup when you attacked their base and kicked their astrums for attacking your patrol."

"Ah . . . I can see you've been under Cain's influence." Starbuck smiled, recalling Bojay and Sheba's similar mindset when they had first been reunited on the Pegasus. "Adama's first priority is keeping the Fleet safe. He probably wouldn't risk any additional fighters for one pilot . . . "

"Especially a rogue pilot." Dorado added, his face settling into a scowl of disapproval.

"Speaking of Cain, how is he? And where in Hades have you guys been all this time?" His own face settled into a scowl.

"Watching your tails. Running interference. Keeping the fleet safe." Dorado replied defensively.

"Oh-hoh! Don't give me that felger, buddy. There are quite a few people in the Fleet that would have liked to have known you survived. Cain's daughter included."

"Don't jump down my throat, Starbuck. I just follow orders. You know Cain . . . well, maybe you don't. He likes to run his own show. He wouldn't abandon the Galactica, but he wasn't going to be in the position where he was taking orders from Adama again. Not while it still mattered."

"You mean disobeying orders from Adama." Starbuck interjected.

"Something you two have in common, apparently." Dorado returned with a smile of amusement.

"Yeah, well, the difference is, I'm not commanding a Battlestar."

"Hey, Cain's strategy worked beautifully. He destroyed those two other Cylon Base Ships and had Baltar hightailing it out of there on the run, with no place for their fighters to land and refuel when they rendezvoused. The fleet escaped and had enough fuel to get out of that quadrant."

"And the Pegasus? What were you doing aboard, Dorado?"

"I was rotating through bridge duty when it all went down. Can't tell you how much I would have rather been out there with you guys in a Viper. Anyway, two Vipers showed up out of the blue, and took out the flank missile launchers on the Base Ships just before we maneuvered in between them and blew them to Hades Hole. We sustained a lot of damage and suffered a lot of injuries and casualties, Bucko."

"Cain?" Starbuck asked suddenly. He had just assumed the old war equine was fine.

"He's tough. It was touch and go there for a few days, but he pulled through. It was a damn good thing that Dr. Eco refused to leave the Pegasus and evacuate to the Galactica with the rest of the non-essential personnel. I guess he reckoned he was essential, and he was right. Within centars of waking up, Cain turned the Life Station into a secondary command station, linking up with Tolen on the bridge. Meanwhile, the rest of us were doing what we could to put the Pegasus back together again."

"And after that?"

"It took us a couple sectars before we found your trail again, what with trying to scavenge for parts and make repairs while underway. We finally intercepted an Eastern Alliance Destroyer which had apparently escaped from the Galactica and was on her way to Lunar Seven to tell their chain of command all about the Fleet."

"You got all that out of Leiter?"

"Cain had him singing like an avian. So you know Commandant Leiter?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm well acquainted with the particular piece of steaming mong." Starbuck replied with disdain. Apparently, Cain handled his prisoners less gingerly than Adama. Something about that rather appealed to Starbuck's sensibilities. Mind you, Cain didn't have the Council of Twelve breathing down his neck. "So they never reached Lunar Seven. Interesting. Our patrol trailed them for a while. Meanwhile, the Terrans and Eastern Alliance tried to blow each other out of existence."

"And the Galactica intervened."

"Barely in time, and by then we had a pretty good idea of the Eastern Alliance's strength and forces." Starbuck shook his head at the thought of the potential loss of life. "The Commander recalled our recon patrol. You knew about Terra?"

"Our long-range sensors picked up the explosions over the ionosphere of Terra. We were tangling with a couple Cylon Base Ships about then, so there wasn't much we could do to help."

"We tangled with one of our own sectars later."

"Sorry 'bout that. She was the one that got away from us." Dorado apologized.

"Self appointed guardians of mankind, eh? Don't worry about it. Apollo and I penetrated the Base Ship's control center and took out her scanners before the Galactica destroyed her. Boosted our moral quite a bit, taking that baby down. We needed it." It was rewarding to see the respect that crossed his friend's features.

"You boarded a Cylon Base Ship and penetrated the Command Center? How in Hades did you do that?"

"With a little help from Baltar." Starbuck watched the other man's eyes get wide as a Base Ship. He couldn't help but crack a grin.

"Huh? You . . . from Baltar? How the Hades . . . "

"It's a long story, better discussed over a cold ale."

"Like all your long stories." Dorado grinned. "And I'll hold you to that ale, Bucko. Skorpian. A '93."

"Done. Though I might twist your arm and have you try the new Empyrean brews."

"Empyrean? I thought they just referred to them as Sagittarian. They did make some fine dark brews, I recall. Remember that imported honey brown that you found while we were at the Academy?"

"Are we still talking ales, buddy?" A fleeting smile crossed Starbuck's features as memories of jamocha skin; dark brown, flowing hair; eyes you could get lost in; and one of the sharpest ladies he had ever met . . . Lords, how long had it been since he thought of Imara . . . ?

"Hey, let me introduce you to everyone." Dorado clapped him on the shoulder.

"I've already met Porter, Dickins and Baker."

"Not bad, Starbuck. I'm impressed. Luckily, their Commander is a whiz with languages and after almost thirty yahrens around this place; he's caught onto Standard fairly well. Meet Commander Mark Dayton of the Space Shuttle Endeavour. Mark, this is Lieutenant Starbuck of the Battlestar Galactica."

While Rooke and the fourth man, by the name of Ryan, had slumped down on their respective bunks, this man had been standing to the side during their reunion, listening intently. Like his crew, he was dressed raggedly, and now Starbuck knew it was because he had been there for thirty yahrens. His grey hair was as dirty as the rest of him, and was pulled back into a queue. His full beard looked as though someone had recently trimmed it with a tool having all the cutting precision of a plastic spoon.

"Lieutenant Starbuck." The Commander held out a hand to grip the warrior's. While perfectly discernible, his speech was heavily accented. A strange mixture of brogue, similar to Croad or Robber's, and something else unrecognizable.

"Commander." Starbuck returned gripping the strong hand, not wanting to attempt the strange name Markdayton. "Space Shuttle . . . Endeavour?" He twisted his tongue around the name as he looked to the illustration on the wall. "From Earth?"

"From Earth." The Commander confirmed.

"Are we far from Earth?" Starbuck asked him, holding tight to the man's grip as if doing so would make Earth that much closer.

"As the friend would say, Lieutenant," he nodded at Dorado, "danged if I know." As he stood back, the Earthman looked at the new arrival and then to his crew, and with a slight grin asked him; "Lieutenant, do you like coffee?"