It was a little bit alarming for a girl who had written off about ninety percent of what was in her religious training as total felgercarb and the rest as highly suspect.

Luana could feel a strange energy flowing through her, almost as though her limbs had fallen asleep from lack of circulation and the sensation was now returning . . . only thankfully it was not as painful. Her nerve endings tingled, especially where she held hands with Ama and Lia, and both women were looking upward, but obviously inward, as the ceiling of the Life Station seemed to hold little in the way of answers as to what was really happening.

Lu gritted her teeth, fighting back the rising panic that made her want to snatch back her hands and break their connection. She focused on her godmother, seeing the same reverence on Ama's face that she had seen ever since she was a small girl. It was strangely comforting. Still, she suspected that if she was to start screaming in the necromancer's ear, she would not be heard. Ama seemed to be in her sacred place where she was one with all of creation, and if the awe stricken look on Lia's face was any indication, Ama had taken her sister along for the ride.

A fleeting jolt of jealousy passed through her. She could remember as a child wanting nothing more than to go to this magical place that her godmother spoke of, as if it was a secret garden full of wonderful, indescribable things. She spent centars imagining what it must be like to finally pass through the gateway, pushing it aside to behold the beauty.

Ama finally explained that the beauty, the wonder and the reward were all to be discovered within her. And that the journey of discovery would last a lifetime.

It was a bit abstract for the young girl who wanted to find the mystical wonderland. And after enough yahrens of her father's careful training and guidance, teaching her to question everything that didn't make sense and second guess the things that did, as he prepared her to support her older sister, the next Empyrean Emperor, Luana was as skeptical as they came. Her parents weren't quite prepared when she also questioned Empyrean spirituality and tradition.

Yet somehow Luana knew that whatever Ama was doing now transcended mere prayer. Her people had known all along that the Empyrean Necromancer had a special gift. Her powers surpassed any necromancer before her as she communed with the spirits, practiced her magic, and lead their people, both in divinity and as their regent after the death of the Emperor.

And now every disbelieving bone in Luana's body was shaking as she stared at Ama, trying to lend some strength, though truthfully wondering why it was her agnostic piece of flesh that the old crone would choose to grasp those centons ago. Must be the dang Talisman, Lu. The power of the trinity. And it became clear to her then that all she really had to do was hold firm, and let Ama do whatever it was that Ama was doing. At this moment her faith in Ama was absolute.

----------

It took Boomer nearly a full centon before he realized that his burning lungs could be related to the failing Life Support systems as he raced back towards the Control Room. He pulled his life mask in place, sweat pouring down his face, his boots feeling as though they were filled with condensed tylium, and his legs aching from a lack of oxygen as he pumped his arms harder to drive himself onward.

It was like living out his worst nightmare. He seemed to be moving in slow motion as he tore through the corridors, trying to get every bit of energy out of his oxygen deprived muscles. But instead of accelerating, he seemed to be slowing down, as well as the world around him. The surface, the walls, even the very light seemed somehow to be slowing down, as if the universe was staggering to a cataclysmic halt.. He wasn't sure if the environmental settings of the asteroid base was now effected resulting in a loss of gravity, or he was simply perceiving it that way.

Either way, if he didn't get to Apollo in time, they'd be dead. Hopefully, the Galactica could pull away in time, saving her crew. Saving his surrogate family. For a micron, it baffled him that he couldn't recall how long it took to turn the leviathan around and get her moving. Honestly, she'd been sitting still defending the Fleet like a mother defends it young for so long . . .

Lords, if I set foot on her decks again, I'm going to kiss the first person I see, and damn the consequences!

He felt his mouth open, his lungs like turbos in a launch tube, as a noise reached his ears. His own voice . . .

"Apollooooooooooooooooooooooo..."

----------

Starbuck had felt like jumping ship right then and there when the Battlestar had started to pull away from the pirate base. Lords of Kobol, if there was any way he could have made it to Alpha Bay and launched, he would have. Just the thought of leaving Apollo and Boomer behind made it feel like his guts were being ripped out with an Obediator chaser. Adama had somehow known, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder in the exact milli-centon as he teetered on the brink of indecision, telling him clearly, "there just isn't time, Starbuck."

And truthfully, he had known it.

Still, he felt so useless just standing there on the Bridge awaiting an outcome. It was too damn nerve wracking. Hades Hole, he was a Viper pilot! Viper pilots didn't stand around on the Bridge when his Strike Captain and best wingman had their heads in the leon's mouth. The weird part was it hadn't occurred to him to be concerned for the Galactica. He had this irrational belief—the same one that made him climb in a cockpit and soar through the stars with the utmost confidence in his abilities, rarely sparing a thought for the possibility of sudden death—that they would all survive. No, it was Apollo and Boomer that were on his mind. Solely.

Otherwise, he'd be racing to the Life Station to see Lu one last time . . .

"Starbuck . . ."

He had perched himself behind Athena's left shoulder, studying her monitor and watching for any sign of an explosion from the asteroid base as the Galactica swung around and headed away from disaster. Apparently, he was getting on her nerves. He let out a sigh, knowing this had to be twice as tough on her since it was her brother out there, and her father was her CO. But Athena, ever the consummate officer, was trying to remain professionally detached as she monitored her station. However, knowing Athena as he did, just below the carefully controlled surface façade of calmness was her turbulent reality.

"I just . . . " he started.

"I know," she cut him off, more sharply than she had intended. It was difficult enough trying to do her job when her father had just given the order that dictated they would leave behind her only living sibling, possibly to his death. No bloody way was she going to break down, like she had when Zac had died. But in addition, having Starbuck right behind her, rigid with tension and suppressed apprehension, was taking her to the point where she would either scream or hurt someone. Probably Starbuck. "Just give me some room to breathe, all right?" she glanced behind her, regretting her words as she took in the battered face that stared back at her.

"Yeah." He muttered, leaning back . . . marginally, and removing his hand from the back of her chair. He turned to scan the bridge, suddenly feeling a slight tug on his sleeve.

"Sorry," Athena breathed, before turning back to her station.

"Don't be," he returned, leaning down and planting a kiss on her head, not caring about the look the Colonel was giving him. "He's Apollo. He'll make it."

Athena nodded sharply, wondering if he felt half as confident as he sounded.

Starbuck turned and scanned the Bridge, keeping half an eye on Dayton only metrons away. It suddenly occurred to him, "Where are the others, Dayton?"

Dayton's lips tightened in a grimace, realizing Ryan, Baker and Porter wouldn't have a clue what he was up to. They'd be waiting for it all to play out. Would there even be so much as a split second of awareness if the blast enveloped the Battlestar? Awareness that he had failed his men and destroyed the remains of a civilization of Humans that could be distantly related to his own people. They wouldn't even know he had made an effort to turn it all around. If you can hear me, angel, John, whatever your name is . . . I hope to God you know what you're doing. To Starbuck he muttered, "Officer's Club."

Starbuck nodded once again uncertain of the Earthman's culpability and that of his crew. How in Hades was he going to deal with this? He couldn't ruin the man's reputation and standing with the Commander on a hunch. And what kind of impact would it make on the Fleet if they announced that the Earthmen they had discovered had conspired to murder them all within centars of rescue? It wouldn't exactly be the cheery news they had all hoped would improve the morale of their people. And now, at the top of the centar, breaking news on the IFB. Men from Earth discovered! We take you now to Cell Block 2010 of the Prison Barge for an up close and personal interview with Commander Mark Dayton of the Space Shuttle Endeavour . . . But what was the alternative? Withholding possibly crucial information from his Commanding Officer?

Adama paced back and forth across the Command Level, his face tight with tension, the survival of the Battlestar, and consequently the entire Fleet, uppermost in his mind. Still, he was reminded of another time, and his eyes moved quickly to Athena—Starbuck seemingly standing guard over her—when he had stood by helplessly on the Bridge, waiting as Zac fought and died just beyond the protection of his base ship . . . and his father. "Colonel?"

"Based on rough estimates, we should be safely clear of the blast radius in one point three centons, Commander." Tigh replied, his voice seeming to boom across the oddly quiet Bridge.

"Continue on present heading." Adama looked down at his daughter for a moment, then spoke. "Athena?"

"N…nothing, Commander." She cleared the sudden lump in her throat before adding, "Scanners clear on all wavelons." A hand settled on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. Athena took a deep breath, this time feeling Starbuck's support rather than his anxiety. He was being there for her, as she had for him when he had arrived in the landing bay half conscious. Nothing more, and nothing less, and strangely enough, it felt good. She spared him a look before returning her full attention to her scanners.

"Forty microns and counting."

----------

Apollo couldn't get Boxey out of his head. Little snippets of time replayed through his mind featuring his son. High points of his young life—meeting Muffit for the first time; the engagement party at Adama's; the wedding; his last natal day celebration; his first day of school on the Galactica; his first sleep over.

Twenty, nineteen, eighteen . . .

And the low points—the withdrawn young boy Apollo had first met on the Rising Star; Serina's horrible death, thanks to his own . . . carelessness; the stark relief and then resounding love and confidence in his son's eyes after Apollo had returned, having been temporarily marooned on Equellus; shivering in misery on Death Point Plateau on Arcta; almost losing Adama after the Cylon suicide attack on the Bridge, and subsequent fire on the Galactica; almost losing Boxey and Athena in the same attack.

Twelve, eleven, ten . . .

Boxey had a strength of spirit that Apollo couldn't begin to explain. Each time that he had gone away on a mission, his son would be waiting for him, resolutely determined that his father would return. Victorious.

Six, five, four . . .

His faith in his father was absolute. Apollo was proud of that, but also a little intimidated by it. How would the youngster cope if he didn't return?

How had he, when Adama had gone away, so many times when he was Boxey's age? And you hadn't seen the same degree of loss. You weren't as aware of the fragility of life.

One . . .

He leaned forward to push the button.