There was an indefinable, yet detectable difference in the man before Adama as Dayton discussed his time on the pirate base, the appearance by the Being he referred to as 'John', and then went on to share his experience as a child in Chicago when that same Being had intervened, thereby saving his life.

"John said that your people were meant to find Earth, Commander. That if anything happened to your Fleet, that the people on Earth could suffer as a result. To say that he was vague and cryptic is an understatement." Dayton sighed. "Also, that we were meant to act as envoys of some sort when you finally arrived there." Dayton told him, still shaking his head at the mystical experience. "But you already knew that."

Adama smiled in bemusement at the Earthman's assumption. Some conclusive information from the Ship of Lights, perhaps the first, and a clear sign that divine intervention was at work. Not just a strong feeling based on their unbelievable good fortune. "I've felt from the beginning that Earth was manifestly our ordained destination . . . and our destiny." He smiled slightly. "As I've told you and your men, there are many reasons for that, but my faith overshadows them all. I'm afraid I have not been as blessed as to have had a discussion with these Beings who seem rather vague for the most part about the role which they are playing."

"I admire your convictions, Commander Adama. I mean that sincerely." He was silent for a micron or two. "I seem to have lost some of my faith in the Almighty." Dayton replied quietly. "I just didn't realize it until now."

Adama sat back, quietly giving the man the opportunity to elaborate, but instead a strained silence ensued. Until, "I would think that what you have endured would test any man's faith, Commander Dayton. No matter the specifics of his beliefs."

"Perhaps." He paused, not really wanting to change it into a philosophical discussion—he'd had enough of those with Paddy to last him until, well, the Crack of Doom—and instead tried to remember more of what he had been told. "He also spoke of . . . well, a being that we most often refer to as the devil, and a battle between good and evil which we had been drawn into."

"Iblis."

"Sorry?" Dayton asked, seemingly unfamiliar with this name.

Adama sighed. "A Being we encountered some sectars back. A creature of incredible charisma and bizarre powers. Powers beyond what any Human could ever possess. One who I believe would have destroyed us all given the opportunity."

"How did you manage to stop him?"

"I don't believe it was anything that we did, Commander." Adama admitted.

"John's bunch?"

Adama smiled at the simplification of the celestial beings being referred to simply as 'John's bunch'. "I wish I knew for certain. Those involved in Iblis' final encounter have a . . . fleeting recollection of all of the events. Almost as if they weren't meant to remember exactly what transpired."

"John inferred that he considers us . . . well, a bit thick," Dayton murmured, wrinkling his brow. "Primitive is the word he used."

"I recall Count Iblis saying something similar." Adama nodded. "He contemptuously called us 'primitive children'. And this intervention by . . . John. Was he. . . forestalling an act of evil? Or informing you of an honest mistake?"

"I wish . . . I understood that one completely myself." Dayton said reluctantly. "John told me that . . . I was, at least partly, under the influence of . . . evil." He looked up at the Commander, seeing the other man's eyes search his features. He shook his head. "I take full responsibility for what almost happened, Commander. I never meant to harm your people."

Adama nodded after a moment. "I appreciate your candor, Commander Dayton. I admit, I did wonder. I know that you were reluctant to have my people find Earth, knowing that the Cylon Empire is still pursuing us. I will admit that it is understandable, given the state of Earth technology at the time you left."

"Perhaps, if destiny is truly our guide, then it is my role to ensure you do something about them before you reach Earth?" Dayton suggested. "Something that'll bust their chops for good?"

"Perhaps, Commander." replied Adama, certain that the Languatron's rendering, "Apply a woman's bosom to their steaks" was not what the other had meant to say. But in any case, I'm satisfied to know that from this point forward we go on towards Earth as brothers." He held out his hand to the other.

Dayton gripped it firmly. "Brothers."

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have to . . . debrief Lieutenant Starbuck."

"I understand, Commander," replied Dayton, with a slight chuckle. "I have to say, young officers are a bit less restrained in your military. In my day, I would have been cleaning latrines with a toothbrush if I'd stepped out of line like that . . . Then again, I suppose my behavior wasn't any better, and I do apologize for that."

Adama could feel himself bristling at the comment, but took a deep breath, and called on yahrens of diplomatic skills to cover his reaction. "Your . . . . behavior was likely the cumulative result of all you have been through over thirty yahrens " smiled Adama wanly. "I expect more of my officers, and Lieutenant Starbuck is about to be informed of that." He turned to go, then turned back at a gasping sound from Dayton. "Commander?"

"Wait a sec . . . did you say this guy, the devil, called himself Iblis?" Dayton's eyes were intense as he gazed at the Languatron.

"Why, yes. Count Iblis was the name he used. Why?"

"That name! I must be getting senile in my old age. Do you have a picture of him?"

"Yes," replied Adama, and went to the terminal. After a few microns, the computer coughed up a tape of the diabolical Count, taken in the Galactica's Council Chamber, during and after the sentencing of Baltar. Iblis was speaking.

". . . just as it has led you to surrender to their justice . . ."

"Dear God!" breathed Dayton. "I . . . I have seen that man." He asked Adama to freeze the image, and Dayton stared at the likeness of the handsome, malignant Count. "Bloody hell!"

"When?" asked Adama.

"On Earth. That same day I nearly got flattened by traffic." Dayton began to pace. "The hockey card I followed out into the street . . ." He pointed to Iblis. "I remember seeing him just before the wind whipped it out of my hand."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah! Those eyes . . . and this way he was looking at me . . . I can't explain it really . . . And he had this presence about him . . . " He closed his eyes thinking back to the moment. "I remember . . . trying to figure out how I knew him. I thought that maybe he was someone quasi-famous, like a local newscaster. I'm sure of it. No way it could have been anyone else, Commander." His eyes flew open. "And . . . that name. . ."

"His name? He told you his name?" Adama asked uncertainly.

"No." Dayton turned back to Adama. "My father was an academic. Knew a whole load of stuff about ancient cultures and mythologies. In one of the cultures on my world, a people known as the Arabs, part of their ancient folklore speaks of a class of beings, spirits actually, called jinn. There are good ones, and evil ones. And the ruler of the evil jinn is called Iblis!"

Adama stared at him mutely in wonder.

----------

"Be careful." Boomer reminded Apollo as they approached the first 'inert' Dynamo.

"Starbuck did it." Apollo returned, a light note to his voice, but his eyes on his scanners.

"And that, of course, makes me feel so much better?" Boomer drolled, keeping a close eye on his wing leader. "I mean, hey! If Starbuck did it . . ."

"Something like that," Apollo replied as he lined up his first shot visually, the target too small to be sighted by the attack computer. "Here goes . . ."

The single shot hit the target dead on, and in a single, unspectacular flash of light, the spheroid was gone.

"Nice shot," Boomer told him.

"Thanks. That was relatively . . ."

"Disappointing?" Boomer asked with a small laugh.

"Yeah." Really not worth the fuss that Sheba would probably make of it when they finally set down. He sighed. "Let's split up. You take the first five, I'll take the others."

"Sounds good, Captain."

"Let's go."

----------

Debriefing Starbuck was reminiscent of talking to Commander Dayton in the War Room. Far too reminiscent. Though the young man answered all Adama's questions without hesitation, the Commander couldn't help but feel as though there was something that Starbuck was leaving out. However, having also questioned Dayton more specifically regarding their time together on the asteroid, he was reasonably certain that the lieutenant was upfront with him regarding his horrid experiences on the pirate base and all the events leading up to them.

Sadistic beatings by pirates; manual labour; some device of torture called an "Obediator"; abdominal surgery with home-made hooch for an antiseptic, and no anaesthesia; and finally escape. Information that Adama had to drag out of the warrior bit by grueling bit. It was no wonder Starbuck looked like several shades of Hades Hole. The right side of his face was a blend of yellow and purple, and the puffy eyelid bespoke the fact that it was likely swollen shut before he had received any treatment in the Life Station.

Adama had known that Starbuck had blacked out in his Viper which had necessitated a remote landing. Athena had rushed to the landing bay, not only to find out the condition of her friend, and one time lover, but to avail him of Ensign Luana's condition. Upon her return to the Bridge, she had reported that Starbuck would be fine and was on his way to the Life Station for treatment. However, the way the warrior was now standing and his obvious lack of endurance indicated the rest of his body was in a similar condition to his battered face.

Yet the fact remained, Starbuck had gone against protocol, ignored regulations and had even mislead his Strike Captain regarding his physical condition when he climbed back into a fighter to expedite his trip back home. And then after being released from the Life Station for his debriefing, he was found brawling in the War Room. Add to that his little ploy to try and maneuver himself closer to the accused murderers Borka and Kaden . . .

Adama paced behind the younger man. It was an old but time-hallowed technique. Hades, it had been used on Cadet Adama a few times, long ago. It left the subject in no doubt that if the water got any hotter, he would be served for dinner. He could see the subtle signs that Starbuck was tiring—his back a little less straight, his chin drooping wearily, his breathing faster and more shallow—after almost fifty centons of standing alert and impassively responding to rapid fire questions that were more reflective of an interrogation than a debriefing. But Adama refused to revert to the more familiar and casual command setting usually accorded the lieutenant, so furious was he with the younger man's blatant misconduct

"Stand alert, Lieutenant," Adama reminded him quietly, yet assertively, watching the back snap ramrod straight, the head come up. He knew Starbuck's eyes would be focused on something ahead of him, trying to maintain his waning focus. "You've left me with little recourse, Starbuck." Adama circled around him, again noting the burnt shoulder of the flight jacket from yet another skirmish before the lieutenant even reached the Bridge. He squared his jaw, refusing to give in to sympathy, keeping the younger man off balance, Commander Dayton's recent words about Starbuck's 'unrestrained' behavior still ringing in his ears.

"As I said in the War Room, this kind of conduct warrants a full secton in the brig." He raised an eyebrow as the lieutenant's face remained carefully expressionless, but blue eyes closed briefly for a moment before again shooting open and returning to a spot over Adama's left shoulder. "The problem is that every cell is filled with pirates from the asteroid base."

"And as disappointed and offended as I am by your behavior, both as your Commanding Officer, and as a friend . . ." A definite reaction this time as a shadow of pain crossed Starbuck's features, whether it was psychological or physical the Commander was uncertain, nor did he intend to find out. ". . . I have to counterbalance that against the fact that had it not been for your impulsive and thoughtless decision to seek revenge for the attack on Captain Apollo without consulting Command . . ." Adama paused, changing tack and he raised his chin a bit, his gaze boring into Starbuck, as his voice raised with his ire, "Or perhaps more precisely I should say that you deliberately removed yourself from communications range knowing that I would never give you permission to abandon your wing leader . . . my son . . . " Starbuck's eyes locked on his momentarily, before returning to that same spot. " . . .and you then proceeded into unknown enemy territory without backup." He took a long breath, then slowly let it out, lowering his tone once again. "Still, the fact remains that we would not have discovered the existence of Earthmen, nor the survival of the Pegasus and Commander Cain unless you had done so."

Adama paused as he waited for the warrior to deny it. Or explain it. He watched as Starbuck opened his mouth and then abruptly closed it again, either having no defense or offering none. "And so I find myself in a position whereby I have to discipline you for your lack of thought and your blatant disregard for regulations, while the rest of the Fleet will probably expect me to decorate you for your . . . courage and intuition." He said as if the very thought was ludicrous "Do you see my dilemma?" His words were biting.

"Yes, Sir," rasped Starbuck.

"Yes, Sir, " repeated Adama, in a low tone. "Well, Lieutenant. What do you think I should do, hmm?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "As someone who likes to follow his own flight path, and ignore procedure, perhaps you have a different perspective on things. Please, do tell me."

"I . . ." Starbuck opened his mouth, sparing Adama a fleeting glance, then returned his gaze forward. "I don't know, sir."

"I don't know, sir," rumbled Adama slowly, clearly not pleased. For a moment, he mentally reviewed all the various punishments, hideous and otherwise, to which he could assign the young man. While his fury was scarcely abated, he knew that he could not let emotion dictate his actions. And, until Starbuck was fully cleared medically, anything arduous was out of the question. He . . .

Ah!

"Lieutenant Starbuck," he said, voice skewering the Viper pilot like a Drill Instructor out for blood. "You will report to Life Station, where you will remain until Doctor Salik is satisfied that you are medically fit for duty." He saw Starbuck wince, opening his mouth once again, and sucking air like a oxygen deprived fish before apparently changing his mind. Clearly he had no liking for that. Good. "Then, upon receipt of that clearance, you will report to the livestock vessel Hegal, where you will spend a full secton as part of the ship's security detail."

"But . . ."

"Yes, I know. The Hegal has no security detail." He watched the various emotions cross Starbuck's face, but the Viper pilot remained silent. Wisely so. "You will rectify that, Lieutenant." He waited a beat. "Along with any and all assistance that might be required in . . . other areas."

"Permission to speak, Sir?" Starbuck began hesitantly, reminding Adama for a moment of a punctured balloon.

"Yes?" his voice again clipped, perhaps more so than he had intended.

"Doctor Paye discharged me from the Life Station because it's overflowing with refugees from the asteroid base. . . much like the brig . . . Sir." His tone was somewhat contrite, but a glimmer of amusement lurked in his eyes at the apparent irony.

Adama stared at him for a moment, the fires of his anger stoked anew with the lieutenant's persistent inclination for finding amusement where there was indeed none. "You presently have . . . medical clearance for duty?"

Starbuck squirmed for an instant, a bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face, before straightening his posture once again. "No, Sir. I'm reporting back for further treatments twice daily."

Adama paused and then crossed briskly to his desk. Surely enough there was a medical report waiting for him on his monitor clearly outlining the extent of Starbuck's injuries, his subsequent treatment regimen, and his expected duration of out-patient therapy, most of which Adama was unaware of, having been too busy dealing with the translocation of refugees and pirates, and overseeing the destruction of the asteroid base and Dynamos. "I see. Well, obviously you are fit enough to be brawling in the War Room, despite your lack of medical clearance. Wouldn't you say, Lieutenant?" he growled, though he looked at his officer with new understanding, and reined in his annoyance.

Starbuck bit his lip. "Yes, Sir."

Adama let out another short breath, as a sudden thought occurred to him. "According to Dr. Paye's report, he expects you to be well enough to return to active duty in about a secton. In the meantime, you will be assigned to light duty, being personally responsible for ensuring that Commander Dayton and his men have a smooth transition into Fleet life. As of tomorrow morning, you will be their official liaison officer."

The shock on Starbuck's face was worthy of a holo-vid. "Sir . . ."

"I'm well aware you and Commander Dayton don't exactly see eye to eye, Starbuck. As is anyone present who was present on the Bridge just over a centar ago, not to mention a couple Security Officers." He said pointedly, glowering at the pilot. "Since neither of you has chosen to enlighten me as to why, I've decided to make you his official watch-daggit." Adama smiled. Somehow, he had an idea that Starbuck was already planning to keep an eye on the NASA Commander, and perhaps it would be ironically appropriate for the young officer to take on a role involving skills of a more bureaucratic nature. And despite the fact that Adama was reasonably certain that Dayton's mistake wasn't premeditated or malevolent after speaking with him in the War Room, the man still bore watching. Strangely enough, Starbuck didn't look amused this time around.

The sound that left the Colonial Warrior's lips was more indicative of a painful moan than anything that could be considered a reply. Again, he fidgeted on the spot, instinctively wiping at the trail of sweat that now ran off his brow and down his temples, before guiltily glancing at his commander and returning sloppily to attention.

"Sit down, Starbuck." Adama told him, letting a sigh escape. He was now painfully aware that the other had undergone abdominal surgery only centars ago while in Life Station. He shook his head at the pervicacious nature of his officer, and his apparent refusal to admit to his compromised health, especially in view of the fact that Starbuck had just been berated for doing exactly the same thing while in action, which had resulted in his Viper being brought in remotely. But then, Adama realized, he was the one who had set the tone for this encounter.

Starbuck made his way to the nearest chair, lowering himself slowly into it. He again wiped at his face, before looking up wearily at his commanding officer. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"When I'm cleared for active duty, will I be off the . . ." A flicker of regret at his choice of words. " . . . excused from acting as liaison for Dayton and the others? I mean, unless they're coming to the Hegal with me . . .?" A glimmer of a smile crossed his lips at the unlikelihood of that happening.

"Commander Dayton, Lieutenant. You will treat the man with the respect due his rank." Starbuck's jaw clenched, and it was evident to Adama that once again the lieutenant was holding something back. "Something you wanted to mention, Lieutenant?"

"No, Sir." He held his Commander's gaze reluctantly.

Adama hesitated knowing that one assignment did logically preclude the other. "I . . . might reconsider your assignment on the Hegal. Delay it perhaps. I'll let you know."

"Yes, Sir," his voice soft as his weary eyes half closed and he began to study a fascinating place somewhere near his boots. His lips moved silently, as if praying for it to end . . . or silently cursing the day he had crossed his CO.

In many ways, the uncharacteristically dispirited man in front of him was the direct result of the strict military approach Adama had chosen, so furious was he at Starbuck's misconduct culminating in front of—and involving—a man of significant rank and position from Earth, assuming the status of their Earth Commanders was similar to the Colonies. Adama had wanted to see some remorse and self-condemnation on the part of his officer. Well, here it was. However, actually seeing his ambition realized, now made Adama think twice. He realized he had based his judgment of Starbuck for the most part, not withstanding all that had happened on the long patrol, on the apparently out-of-control and confrontational young man he had observed in the War Room, and had then reacted based on those observations. And of late he had considered on more than one occasion that he had become a bit lax with the discipline of those officers that he had included in his circle of friends. Well, this officer anyhow. And it was well known that if you gave Starbuck a centimetron, he would take a metron. Perhaps he had overreacted a bit based on that. You're a bit long in the tooth to not look at all the facts, Adama. Even under these circumstances.

"Starbuck . . ." his voice was low as he once again engaged the pilot, this time his tone softer and less officious.

The lieutenant's eyes rose reluctantly. "Sir?"

"Keeping regulations and protocol in mind, tell me, what should you have done instead?"

Starbuck paused, studying his CO, feeling a bit like a first-yahren cadet instead of a decorated lieutenant with almost a deca-yahren of active duty behind him. He shook his head uncertainly. "Commander?"

"I'm sure you've given it some thought by now." Adama suggested wearily. He watched the younger man searching his features, perhaps wondering what lay behind the question, wondering how honest or more likely how 'by the book' to be in his reply. It occurred to Adama that no matter how important it was to him to see his subordinate officer taking responsibility for his decisions and displaying some sense of remorse for his actions, that the lieutenant at this point was likely exhausted beyond the point of caring anymore. He probably just wanted the 'debriefing' to end and would respond appropriately with that in mind. Blessed Lords of Kobol, please let it be so.

A faint shrug. A slight smile. A shake of his head. "At this point, does it really matter?"

"I believe so," Adama returned, his anger finally extinguished and his own weariness enveloping him. "Humour me, and we'll end this."

Starbuck studied the Commander for a few microns, perhaps weighing the pros and cons of his response, or looking beyond the Fleet Officer for a glimpse of the man he had come to care for like a surrogate father, before replying, "You can't live life in retrospect, Commander."

"Meaning?"

"I can't change what's already done."

"I realize that."

"Then what difference does it make? I can't go back . . . "

"And if you could?"

Starbuck swallowed visibly before replying, "Then I would have never have gone on that damn patrol, Commander. The thing that I regret most—the only thing that I really regret—is that Luana almost ended up . . ." He dropped his commander's gaze, clearing a suddenly thick throat and shaking his head knowing he had disappointed the man who he had held in the utmost respect for so many yahrens by his self-indulgent reply. But he had spoken the truth. Every decision he had made after launching on patrol he would make again, no matter that his commanding officers hadn't particularly agreed with him. He just didn't see himself doing it any other way. Classic text book just wasn't his style, and while it might prevent him from ever reaching the rank of captain—not that they were handing out a lot of promotions these days anyways—at the end of each day, he was damn proud of his contributions to the war effort. "Sorry, Sir. . . I know that's not what you . . . wanted to hear." He absently pushed his hair out of his eyes, shaking his head slightly as if he no longer cared.

Adama closed his eyes for a micron and slowly shook his head as he sat on the edge of his desk. "I'm ashamed . . . to admit that you're right. The young man again dropped his eyes, suddenly unable to meet his commander's gaze, apparently still affected by his CO's opinion. Adama hastily added, "It's on my own behalf that I'm ashamed, not yours, Starbuck. And now that you've reminded me that your betrothed is lying in Life Station, I realize that I should have asked you almost a centar ago how she is. How is Luana?"

Starbuck sucked a deep breath in, his gaze settling somewhere around his Commander's throat before replying, "Better." He blinked a couple more times and cleared his throat before continuing, this time his eyes reaching Adama's. "She doesn't remember much about what happened . . . but . . . she's recovering. I guess that's more than I had hoped for when they told me she might not even wake up." He squared his shoulders and then shook his head, once again surveying his boots as he drew in a shuddering breath. "Sorry, Sir . . ." he muttered, struggling to maintain his self-control.

Adama reached forward hesitantly, before squeezing the young man's shoulder. "I understand she's a strong young woman whose stubborn streak is only surpassed by your own." He leaned forward, lending his strength to the younger man.

Starbuck smiled slightly, nodding in agreement, before looking up at the Commander, seeing only compassion and understanding looking back at him. "Who told you that?"

"I believe it was Ama, some time ago." Adama smiled, as he leaned back. "I'll look forward to finding out for myself at our next family gathering."

Starbuck just stared at Adama for a moment, appreciative, yet a bit surprised, at the older man ending on a final note of support, after putting him through the paces so severely. He cleared his throat once again and whispered, "Thank you, Sir."

----------

"Here's looking at you, kid." Ryan raised his glass and smiled at Lieutenant Dietra, who gazed back at him in. . . amusement. . . toleration. . . forbearance. . . confusion . . .

"I take it, you're enjoying our ale, Dr. Ryan?" Dee chuckled, shaking her head at the man's continued antics. The Earthman certainly did like to enjoy himself.

"It surely beats Asteroid Whiskey, me darling, and call me Paddy," Ryan drawled in an accent more appropriate to his ancestors, than to himself. "You truly are a vision of loveliness, Lieutenant Dietra. Yea, verily, the stars themselves borrow their glow from the radiance of thy face!"

"Are all the men so charming on Earth?" Dietra smiled at the older man. "And call me Dee."

Ryan winked at her, "Oh, no, only in Canada, Dee." He caught sight of Dayton being escorted in by two security guards. The Commander left his escort at the door, making a beeline for their table. "Well, look what the cat dragged in! Now, here's an offensive lout from Chicago right on cue to demonstrate the differences."

Dietra raised her eyebrows at that. "Is Chicago very far from . . . Canada? You look so similar in appearance, I would have thought you hailed from the same tribe?"

Dayton smiled as he heard her words, pulling out a chair and joining them. "Actually, that's very observant of you, Dee. Interestingly enough, our people both emigrated from a country call Ireland."

"Land of shamrocks, Leprechauns, and famous potatoes!" said Paddy, pouring on the Barry Fitzgerald accent in spades.

"I thought that was Idaho," deadpanned Dayton.

"Vicious propaganda," said Ryan, and took another pull on his mug.

"Well, I tried," shrugged Dayton.

"Not very hard." Ryan added, studying his Commander, his eyes narrowing. "You look . . . alive."

"As do you," Dayton returned, seeing Dietra's curious glance. "At our age, that's the most we can hope for, I suppose."

"Well . . . at your age, perhaps." Ryan countered, signaling to the barkeep for a drink. He leaned closer to Dietra. "I'm much younger."

"Yeah, you look it." Dayton drawled, shaking his head at the long, grey hair that flowed over his friend's shoulders.

"What?" Ryan asked innocently, well aware that Dayton would be looking for a barber at the first opportunity.

"If it wasn't for the teeth," Dayton commented, "you'd be the spitting image of Ama." He chuckled at the sour look on his friend's face. "Did you see the base explode?"

"No." Ryan took a deep gulp from his glass. "It's gone then?"

"Yeah. I . . . spoke to Commander Adama about that . . . miscalculation you pointed out. " He locked eyes with his old friend, and all that needed to be said was said in silence. For now. "They overloaded that old Stanley Steamer of a reactor, and blew the base to Kingdom Come. They're going to blow the Dynamos individually with their fighters."

Ryan nodded soberly. "Good riddance." He pushed a fresh glass of ale across to his friend. "Try it. It's good."

Dayton peered at it, then sniffed it, and looked up at Ryan. "Beer?"

"Empyrean ale." Ryan replied, before adding mischievously. "Remember? Ama's people are Der Brau Meisters of outer space . . . not that you'd know much about good beer being from the States."

"Well, at least we don't strain it through moose kidneys first." Dayton replied, taking a tentative sip, his face lighting up. "Ahh . . . that is good."

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave you two gentlemen to your debate, " Dietra smiled, startled to see them both jump to their feet as she stood. "I go on duty in ten centons."

"Thanks for taking the time to make an Earthling more comfortable in a new environment." Ryan smiled at her, pulling her chair back.

"My pleasure, Paddy," Dee replied, seeing Dayton's wince and looking at him curiously.

"Never mind," Dayton shook his head at the use of 'Earthling'. If Ryan had his way, they'd all be known as 'Earthlings' by the end of the day. Sometimes it just wasn't worth the fight. "Hopefully, we'll see you later, Dee."

"I'd like that, Commander Dayton."

"Mark. Call me Mark."

"You Earthlings certainly have a lot of names." Dietra pointed out.

"I blame Mom and Dad."

"Excuse me?"

"Our Christian names—we have Christian names, middle names and surnames—are a form of . . . familiarity that we use with friends and family." Dayton explained, squeezing her hand gently.

Dietra nodded, holding his gaze and his hand as she turned to go. "I like that. It's . . . endearing."

"I was hoping you'd see it that way," Dayton told her with a smile.

"Hmm." Ryan inserted.

"Oh, and Paddy?" Dietra added with a grin. "I have to say that people from Chicago seem to be just as charming as those from Canada."

"Ah well, occasionally he has his moments." Ryan shrugged. "And it helps, Chicago being so close to the border. He's almost civilized. I'll warn you though, " he offered her with a wink, "those moments don't come often. And I speak from experience."

Her ensuing light laughter put a smile on both their faces as they watched her go.

"You're smitten." Dayton accused his friend.

"I prefer to think of it as basking in the warmth of some female companionship." Ryan replied, taking another drink and edging his chair closer, switching to English. "What happened?"

"I . . . came to my senses, you could say." Dayton admitted, wondering about John's comment to him about already having visited Ryan in his lifetime.

"And?"

"Let's just say . . . well, you were right."

"Of course I was. But that's not what I meant. How did Adama take the news? How did you leave it?" Ryan lowered his voice.

"I told him it was a mistake."

"He believed you?"

"I was convincing. Hell, I even convinced myself." Dayton assured him, then looked around the Officer's Club. "Where are Porter and Baker?"

"We ran into Dorado. He took them to the Life Station to check on Dickins and Rooke. They didn't want Dickins to be alone if . . . " he shrugged, trailing off.

"Anything new, on his condition?"

"Nothing. They said they would call, if there was."

Dayton nodded his understanding. "And you?"

Ryan shrugged, "I was waiting for you."

"You knew I'd change my mind, didn't you?" Dayton asked, a little awed by his friend's confidence in him.

"Don't go all sappy and sentimental on me. I just hoped like hell you would." Ryan responded, "That's all."

"Hmm. You haven't met anyone by the name of 'John' lately, have you?"

Ryan blew out a snort of amusement. "John? I'd love to meet a 'John'. I've met all sorts of people, not one 'John' among them. Gods, constellations, mythological heroes, vegetables, emotions, Queen-of's . . . not a 'John' among them. Who the hell's John?"

"I think I'll tell you when you've had a few less ales." Dayton replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, then I guess it will have to wait for tomorrow." Ryan replied with a lazy grin raising his hand to the barkeep one more time. "Right now, I feel like singing."

"God spare us!" muttered Dayton, watching his friend grin in reply before:

"Her eyes they shone like the diamonds. You'd think she was queen of the land.
And her hair hung over her shoulder. Tied up with a black velvet band!"

----------

Demons first, deadbeats last. A necromancer's work is never done.

Ama smiled pleasantly, mouth closed, at the Security Officer that she had at one time threatened to turn into the 'squealing porcine that he had likely evolved from, however slightly'. "Did Starbuck tell you I'd be by, Officer Reece?"

Reece nodded from behind his desk, deciding to stay there for the moment, though he barely recognized the woman before him dressed in a Colonial styled gown, her hair carefully groomed, and her features strangely composed. She looked almost . . . regal. "Yeah, but I still don't see how . . ."

"Do you doubt my abilities?" Ama asked, touching her usually wild hair now respectably tied back with a beautiful auric clasp.

"Uh . . . well . . . even Starbuck wasn't sure that you could . . . help." Reece replied carefully. He hadn't liked the Colonial Warrior's suggestion at all. It was outlandish to say the least. Still, though Reece's rational mind argued that this wasn't possible, there was something about this woman that defied logic.

"Where is he?" Ama asked, looking down the corridor.

"Borka?" Reece asked.

"Of course, Borka."

"Follow me." Reece told her as he rose, but he sighed as the woman preceded him to the secured area which housed the holding cells, pausing at the locked door. The additional feature was added after one Lieutenant Starbuck had managed to escape his cell in the brig, exposing the glaring insufficiency in their security features many sectars ago . . . and making them look like idiots.

"You slipped the tincture into his nutrients?" Ama asked quietly.

"Of course." He responded quietly. "He said his head is pounding like a tambour."

"Perfect." Ama stood back as Reece punched in a security code and pulled open the heavy door.

"This way . . . " Reece began, gritting his teeth as Ama again swept past him and walked directly to Borka's cell.

Borka lay on his bunk, his arm flung over his eyes, looking up briefly, wincing at the intruding light as he curiously assessed the older woman entering his cell. His gaze flickered to Reece as the cell door slid open. "Are you the Gemonese Therapist?"

"Of course," Ama agreed. It took all the control she possessed to not just blast him with one of her favourite spells, or perhaps the Empyrean Curse . . . Instead, she smiled slightly and approached him slowly. "I can see and feel your pain, Borka. Take a few deep breaths and relax. It will not take long for me to ease your suffering."

"The painkillers didn't work, " Borka told her. He had to be alert for the hearing with Sire Memnon, and that was only a centar away. "Are you sure you can?"

"I am." Ama replied, motioning for the burly man to sit up. "You may go now, Officer Reece."

"Uh . . . Maam, I not sure it's a good idea to leave you along with this man . . ." Reece glowered at the two-bit thug, though Borka hardly looked menacing with his head clenched between his hands. Starbuck would kill him if something happened to the old woman.

"I assure you, Officer, it's a very good idea. Besides, I'm not planning to harm the man . . ." her voice was light. Teasing. She smiled in satisfaction as Borka looked up in surprise and laughed at the seemingly ridiculous statement. "There. You see. Borka isn't concerned about us being alone. I believe I have his trust."

"That wasn't what I meant, Maam," Reece pointed out, but quietly conceded her point. The woman had taken care of herself, and her people, for eighty yahrens.

"I wouldn't hurt her, Reece," Borka claimed. "She's here to help, after all."

"Yes, she is," Reece agreed, wondering if it was truly possible that Ama could help them. "All right, but I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Borka nodded, for a moment oddly unsure if the officer was speaking to him, or the therapist. Then he looked up into her grey eyes, felt her wizened hands grasp his own, and a strange sense of comfort began to overcome him. It was almost like being in the safety of his mother's arm once again.

"Take a deep breath, Borka, and relax . . ." After her metaphysical encounter with the evil presence that now seemed to have disappeared as mysteriously as it had descended upon them, this would be child's play.