Disclaimers in Part One. Remember: REVIEWS equals MORE FANFIC!

For those still wondering:

English dialogue is in " ".

Colonial dialogue is bolded.

Italicized dialogue indicates voices coming over the wireless.

A Few Notes Before We Continue:

Yes yes yes yes, I know. Its taken forever to get it this far. Can't apologize enough for the delays.

This all takes place two years after Crossroads Part 2, and will deal with all (yes, ALL) the many revelations, plot points, and audio-visual visions presented therein. And yes, that includes a quartet of supposed 'sleepers' and a newly-minted Mark II Viper on Apollo's wing.

A couple people have written in questioning why the Terrans and Colonials use the same Class Names for their ships and fighters (Battlestars and Vipers specifically). I counsel patience and to allow the story to answer those questions in turn. Believe it or not, there is a master plan behind all this.

An enormous (Basestar-sized) thanks to The Sidhe, who gave me one of the ideas appearing below. Check out "The Consequences of Not Being Polite" to see why.

Thanks also to everyone who has written in so far; you're what keeps this story going!

THE LONG ROAD HOME

Book I: Promised Land

Part Eight

"Exactly how did you manage to appear to Apollo in the Ionian Nebula two years ago?" Tigh repeated calmly.

"I…what?" was all Starbuck could stammer again, decidedly less calmly.

Admiral Rice's reaction wasn't much more coherent. "How...she did...what?" He quickly shook his head and tried again. "I'm sorry, Commander. Could you repeat that?"

"I asked Colonel Thrace exactly how she managed to appear to one of our pilots some 4,000 light years from here."

"When?"

Tigh turned to Athena. "About, what, 700 or so days ago?"

"733, Sir."

Rice turned to Starbuck. "That works out to about two years ago exactly, right?"

"Um," was her only immediate response, for she was too stunned to say anything else.

"Colonel!"

"Eh? Oh, uh, yes. I mean, no, Sir. Closer to 735 days." She frowned at Tigh and asked, "He said he saw…me?"

"Commander," Rice insisted, "Colonel Thrace was under medical quarantine at the time in question. Additionally she had no way off-planet and wasn't even conscious."

Starbuck, still in a bit of a daze, asked again, "Lee said he saw…me?"

"Are you absolutely certain..." the Admiral tried again, only to have Starbuck's increasingly hysterical voice override him.

"Lee said he saw me?" Everyone in the room visibly winced, her voice having taken on a decided edge most of them had not heard before. Rice had, but only twice; once after she'd just awakened inside quarantine at Nellis not knowing a word of English. And the other...well...

Nothing since then, not even her ambush by the trio of washouts or that brawl in the canteen with Panther had dragged her this close to complete meltdown. He knew he had to move quickly to keep her from exploding. Unfortunately, Commander Tigh responded before he could think of how to accomplish that little miracle.

"Yes, Admiral, I'm damned sure of the time frame," the Colonial Commander stated flatly. His voice noticeably picked up as then addressed his other subject. "And yes, Colonel, Apollo was damned convinced he saw you at his wing. So much so he broke formation in front of four Basestars and refused to re-up..."

Only the Admiral's hand on her shoulder kept Starbuck in her seat right then. She looked ready to flip the table completely over and literally go for Tigh's throat. "As I just stated, Colonel Thrace was not capable at the time in question of flying out to meet anyone. Certainly not over 4,000 light years away."

"So you say," Commander Tigh agreed after a moment, then turned to gaze again at Starbuck. "I'd like to hear it from her."

Starbuck seethed for several seconds before straightening herself. She gave the Admiral a small nod to indicate she was calmer and replied, "For the record, I was not anywhere near the Ionian Nebula two years or two moons or two hours ago. I have been on-planet continually for the past 720 standard days."

"And we're just supposed to take your word on this, Colonel?" Tigh looked like he was about to start laughing at the thought. Any possible merriment died at Starbuck's next action, which was to stand and pull out her sidearm. Slowly and making sure the barrel was pointed away from all present, she clearly disengaged the safety and pulled the slide back. She then placed the weapon on the table and gave it a gentle shove so it slid across to Tigh.

"There's a live round in that," she stated by way of explanation. "If my word is so worthless to you, one of you go ahead,pick that weapon up, and shoot me."

Tigh paled a bit at this, looking as if he'd just swallowed something poisonous. Athena was the only one able to vocalize coherently through her obvious confusion. "What's…"

Thrace cut off all protest by slamming both fists into the table top, knuckles first. The result was a dull 'thud' that nevertheless cut through the room like a cannon. "I said shoot, not talk." Her next words were addressed directly to the Commander. "Wus' the matter? No guts? Don't got a pair?" She leaned forward, both fists planted on the table, nostrils flaring.

Ishnay looked like he wanted to quit the room entirely and Athena actually began looking uncomfortable at the mood of the room. Tigh simply stared at the gun before him, face as blank as a professional card sharp.

"Hands on the table, Major," the Admiral murmured. Taylor, equally blank-faced as Tigh, complied with the order.

"You're a frakkin' coward," Starbuck added flatly, no conviction or condemnation behind it. She might as well have been reading a line from a script. "I've got enough things to...to worry over without some one-eyed drunk thinking he can sit in judgment over me, questioning my frakkin' word."

Tigh suddenly shot to his feet, eye still on the weapon before him. He picked it up in one hand, careful to keep it pointed well away from anyone and his finger off the trigger. He made no other move for several long beats.

"Well?" Starbuck prompted.

The Commander waited another moment, then pulled the slide back and ejected the round from the chamber. He then managed to eject the magazine and let it clatter to the table. Only then, did he lay the pistol back down and slide it back to its owner. Meeting her eyes once more, Tigh growled, "Just so you know, I've been dry for two years now. The next time you draw a weapon on my officers or me, Colonel, you'd be damned ready to fire it. Understand me?" He slid the magazine over with a slightly more vicious shove. Starbuck caught it before it slid completely off the edge.

"Perfectly. Sir." She slid the clip back into the casing and reset the safety, then settled it back into its holster. "You're still a bastard, Sir."

"And you're still a professional frak-up." There was a vague smile behind this. "But damn it is...good to see you again, Captain."

"Likewise," Starbuck replied with her trademark grin. She added as an afterthought, "Colonel."

This caused Tigh's smile to widen another hair, only for him to quickly sober. "Tell me it wasn't you out there."

"It wasn't me. I swear before the Lords of Kobol, Sir, it wasn't me."

"Okay. I believe you." Tigh retook his seat; Starbuck following suit. The rest of the room immediately breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Admiral Rice sat forward. "If that's all settled, perhaps we can get back to discussing more immediate issues? Anyone have any objections?"

1830 Hours GMT

Owl 71

Parked in Hanger Deck One

Sergeant Guarland kept his hand on his sidearm as he responded to the pounding on the hatch. "Who goes there?"

"Me, Sarge," Lewis's voice drifted past the metal.

"Arnhem along the Rhine," Guarland challenged again.

"Vicksburg along the Mississippi."

Guarland let out a relieved breath and unlocked the hatch, pushing it open to admit his fellow Marine. He wasn't altogether surprised to see three Colonial Marines with him, two of them carrying elements of the DNA scanner. "Hey, Sarge," Lewis greeted.

"Corporal. New orders?"

"Just that I relieve you down here so you can get cleaned and changed." Guarland stepped aside to allow Lewis in. The Colonials made no move to follow. They set down the equipment they carried within easy reach of the shuttle's hatch, and then stepped back. Guarland took the hint and grabbed up the two pieces, lifting each in turn to Lewis. Once both were stowed away, he climbed back into the shuttle and rejoined his fellow inside.

"Payload package still secure?" Lewis asked.

"Everything's green." Guarland handed over a small slip of metal, then grabbed up his own travel pack and turned back to the hatchway, pausing at the sight of a female Marine standing there with an odd look on her face. "Ma'am?"

"Anything we need to move, Sir?"

"No, nothing. I just need an escort to the head."

"If you'll follow us?"

The Colonial stepped out of sight and Guarland quickly turned to his subordinate. "Lock the hatch down and keep the key ready," he ordered quietly.

"Aye-aye," Lewis replied equally quietly. Guarland didn't speak another word as he allowed the Colonials to escort him off. Lewis simply shut the hatch and re-engaged the locks. He rechecked both his sidearm and HK-MP12 semiautomatic, ensuring the magazines were charged up and that the weapon was within easy reach. These chores done, he settled down to what was likely to be a boring and cramped sentry duty.

He'd just sat down when the comms board began to flash and ejected a small slip of hardcopy. Lewis tore it free, disciplining himself to read only the topmost line. It was nearly enough to send him running from his assigned post and make a beeline for the Admiral. Fortunately, his training was equally quick to reassert itself, keeping him in his chair and moving his free hand to open an internal channel to the Admiral and Colonel. "Admiral Rice, Corporal Lewis."

"Cairo along the Nile."

"Manhattan on the Hudson."

"Yes, Corporal?" the Admiral responded a second later.

"Sir, we've received a priority message from Olympus Actual."

"Eyes Only?"

"No, Sir. It's in the clear but is case-coded."

"One moment. Colonel Thrace?"

"I'm on," Starbuck's voice chimed in.

"Very well. Corporal Lewis, read the message."

"Aye, Sir. Message begins, 'Case amendment M on desk. Reduction of current stance to follow this message. Level the playing field until arrival of Doc Franklin. Only proviso: Mustang must return to the barn.' Message ends there, Sir."

"Understood. Where's Sergeant Guarland?"

"The Colonial Marines who assisted me transporting the equipment were escorting him to the head. I have the payload key and the shuttle is secure."

"You are to stand by for further instructions. Rice clear."

Lewis returned to his original seat nearer the back, again making sure his semiautomatic was in easy reach and that the arming key for the payload was in his right breast pocket. He made a further point not to look behind him at precisely what that key fit into and armed.

He sat there, guarding the unthinkable against the unimaginable.

Conference Beta

"Perfect timing," the Admiral muttered to himself as he removed his earpiece. The look he exchanged with Colonel Thrace was equal parts resignation and relief, with just a smidgen of barely concealed excitement.

"Admiral?" Tigh called over, sounding audibly aggrieved at their discussion being suddenly interrupted.

"My apologies, Commander. We were just notified of a transmission from our…home base, as it were."

"Anything you can share?"

Rice gave another glance toward Starbuck, who simply stared straight ahead. 'Oh, joy,' was the Admiral's only thought. Aloud he said, "I…we have been informed a senior diplomatic team is en route. We are to prepare for their arrival."

"Meaning what precisely?"

The phone mounted on the wall behind them chimed softly. Athena was up and answering it before the second chime could finish.

"Do I have your word you harbor no aggressive intentions against us?"

Before Tigh could answer, Athena calmly stepped over to him and whispered something into his ear. Tigh showed no visible reaction to whatever it was, beyond a short nod and microsecond glance towards them. He then leaned forward and asked, "Do I have your word that you aren't going to detonate the nuclear weapon you have aboard your shuttle?"

By rights, Rice and Thrace both should have felt at least mildly worried that the payload had been detected, never mind actually being addressed so directly. Yet, their only reaction was a shared and audible sigh of relief. At a quick nod from the Admiral, Starbuck uncrossed her arms and pulled a small tubelike object from her sleeve.

Athena's eyebrows climbed, while Tigh simply looked even more irritated. "You gave her the trigger to a nuclear weapon?" he sputtered.

The Admiral shrugged. "She knows your people better than we do," he stated without a hint of apology. "How did you, er, detect it?"

"Uh, one of my Marines overheard your men talking. We may not get your native language, yet, but she could make out something with a nuke symbol painted on it." Tigh smirked a bit. "Plus our internal sensor sweep picked up a low-grade radiation signature on your ship. Didn't think anything of it until Sergeant Matthias reported what she saw."

"Hope we haven't offended."

"I'd be more offended if you weren't taking precautions." His face hardened to his familiar scowl. "But with all due respect, Admiral. You gave the trigger to...her?" His voice wasn't so much irritation or disbelief or even anger but some odd combination of that and more. He could almost detect a smidgen of actual pride in there as well.

"As I said she knows your people better than we do." It was his turn to smirk now. "Plus, she claimed Blood Rites on any toasters who jumped into this system. I don't need to elaborate, do I?"

"No. Not at all." Tigh went quiet for a few moments.

"So, Admiral, where do you suggest we go from here?"

"I have a couple suggestions, if you'd be amenable that is," Rice replied after a quiet moment's thought of his own.

Starbuck's exclamation echoed two corridors down.

"You want to do...what!"

1705 Hours GMT

Olympus CIC

The tension on the bridge had receded to an omnipresent anxiety some hours back. The periodic check-ins from Owl 71 by either Guarland or Lewis didn't reassure anyone. The complete lack of recent communication from either Rice or Thrace since the former's rather ambiguous communiqué about changing the Alert Case over an hour ago didn't help either.

Richard Avery-Hunter had a reputation for being a man of seemingly infinite patience and unbreakable discipline. This was not without basis and both qualities had served him well over the last twenty years. He'd long since tuned out the background noise of the bridge, giving all his attention to the many bits of information on the main AEGIS display, though in truth he consciously absorbed very little of it.

Right then it was taking all his concentration to keep from throwing his coffee mug into the main display board and curse until the air was a deep shade of blue.

"Commander?" Lieutenant Samson's voice cut through his preoccupation. "Sir?"

"What is it?"

"Incoming transmission from Owl 71, Commander. Colonel Thrace requesting to speak to you specifically," Lieutenant Samson reported.

The CO resisted the sudden urge to sigh in relief. He'd welcome bad news at this point. "Pipe it through to my handset."

"Done, Sir." Both the Commander and Colonel Callisto (who had just returned from 'stepping up deck' and was waved over to the Planning Desk by the Commander) picked up their respective handsets.

"Actual, Starbuck," Thrace's almost ghostly voice stated.

"Starbuck, Actual. Cairo on the Nile."

"Paris on the Seine."

Now Avery-Hunter did sigh in relief, which was echoed by Callisto. "Okay, go ahead, Colonel."

"I am finishing preflight and will be departing Nemesis. You should be seeing us any second." Both Terrans looked back to the AEGIS board, seeing a new contact pull away from the more menacing form of Basestar.

"Stand by, Colonel." They lowered their handsets and Avery-Hunter called over, "Sorrenson, confirm who that is."

"Yes, Sir," the Specialist quickly nodded. "AEGIS confirms it matches Owl 71's silhouette. Beeping our transponder as well."

"Samson, direct Red Wing to escort the Owl back to the Barn." The CO didn't wait for confirmation, instead raising his handset and stating, "We have you on the Board, Colonel. Let me speak to the Admiral."

"He's...not with us, Commander."

"Excuse me?"

"Admiral Rice has elected to remain aboard the Nemesis."

Avery-Hunter could see Callisto's jaw suddenly tightening against what was sure to be a colorful outburst. He'd had to bite down quickly on some bad words of his own.Aloud he said, "Let me get this straight, Colonel; Admiral Rice is still aboard the Basestar, by choice. This is what you are telling me?"

"Affirmative. For the record, I protested this decision."

"I'll bet," Callisto muttered aloud.

"What was that, Actual?"

"Nothing, Colonel. Nothing at all." The CO took a second to gather his wits and wonder how he hadn't seen this little scenario coming. He'd seen the last communiqué from the Secretary General and had known what she was ordering Rice to accomplish. Quite honestly, he'd been more focused on the last line of it at the time than the rest of it. Still, the fact his superior had effectively just surrendered himself as a diplomatic hostage irked him mightily right then. All the more so because he knew this was exactly the sort of move Theodore Lysander Rice would pull in these circumstances. He'd served with the man long enough to know.

Recriminations, both justified and otherwise, would have to wait. He knew the Admiral wouldn't have taken this step lightly. "Who else is there with him?"

"Guarland and Lewis are there as well. As is the party favor."

Callisto grinned wickedly at this news while Avery-Hunter kept his poker face. "Are they aware of it?"

"Affirmative, Commander. It was detected and we confirmed as per instructions."

"Okay, so they've got three of ours. Who are they sending in exchange?"

"Their third in command and acting CAG, Captain Sharon Agathon. Plus a Mr. Jonah Carroq, a civilian engineer from Canceron."

"That's it?" Callisto asked directly.

"That's it, Colonel. Athena is sitting shotgun with me right now."

"Okay, fine. You've got Red Wing escorting you in. We're prepping Bay Two for you now." The CO snapped his fingers at Callisto, who quickly nodded in understanding as she reset the channel on her handset. More quietly, he asked, "Assessment?"

"Ninety-nine percent convinced, Sir."

"Still holding out?"

"Until I see the Bucket itself jump into sight and talk to the Old Man, that's as high as I'm willing to go."

"Understood. Olympus Actual, clear."

Owl 71, en route

"Starbuck, clear." Thrace tapped the earpiece of her headset, switching from the external to internal channel. "You catch all that?" she asked of her temporary co-pilot.

"Yeah, not that I understood a word of it."

"Right," Starbuck drawled.

"Okay, okay. I heard my name, Carroq's name, and Nemesis a few times. The rest of it sounded like brain-damaged grunting. I'm trusting there are actual Colonial speakers on your ship."

"A couple. Hey, eyes left." Athena turned in her chair, eyes widening as the Mark IV Vipers of Red Wing approached and took up escorting positions around and before them.

"Whoa, sleek," she whistled appreciatively.

"Yeah, that they are. Not bad considering they've had Vipers in production for just over a year and a half."

"Oh, really?"

"Well, a little over that. They only had the wreckage of the plane I landed in to work from."

"Really?"

"Really. Hold on now, kids. We're going into the 'Belt."

With deft hands, Starbuck guided the shuttle into the dusty body of the Asteroid Belt, its escorts mirroring its course and speed perfectly. The smaller ships were quickly gone from sight, as if swallowed whole by the celestial fog. The Owl had a lean fuselage like the Vipers, allowing it to cut through the 'Belt as if it were nothing but empty space. Their passage through it wasn't without its occasional bump or sudden shift of course, but clearly, Starbuck's skills behind the stick were sharp as ever.

Athena took the time to study her surroundings, the layout of the controls before her, check behind her to ensure Carroq was still with them; anything and everything to avoid looking at her former shipmate. She feared she wouldn't be able to look away. Fortunately, the trip proved far shorter than she'd anticipated, with the Owl quickly clearing the asteroids and the Vipers on its metaphorical heels.

Starbuck spoke into her headset, lapsing into English. "Olympus Flight Control, Owl 71. Come back?"

What was waiting for them there – one thousand, two hundred and five feet of metal hanging there like some massive predator lying in wait in the void - had no difficulty in holding Athena's attention as they approached.

1927 Hours GMT

If either Athena or the lanky Mr. Carroq were in any way disappointed at or worried by the reception they experienced, neither showed it. Given that the whole of Landing Bay Two was sealed in several layers of plastic sheeting, beyond which several bulky and vaguely menacing figures moved back and forth, their restraint was admirable. Even more so given the brusque manner in which several Terrans in Hazmat suits had drawn still more blood from them all. After which the four of them were left to sit at the small tables that had been set up for them.

Even the unflappable Major Taylor seemed a tad put out by such treatment. He quickly shook it off and engaged Carroq in a game of Triad, proceeding to show off his skills as a cardsharp. Carroq was apparently no novice at the game either and it soon became a contest between which of them had the blanker 'game face'.

Starbuck found herself taken back to memories of her first time waking up planet side. Despite the best efforts of the medical staff at Nellis, it hadn't been smooth or pretty for anyone. She quickly moved to damp down the memories by physically moving to take the chair opposite Athena, who had declined to join in the game.

"So," she began, straddling the chair and folding her arms on the back.

"So," Athena echoed, not meeting her eyes just yet.

"I think we've got some unfinished business to discuss."

This drew Athena's entire attention to her. "Really?" she asked, sounding skeptical.

"Really." Starbuck put her long practiced 'don't-think-of-frakking-with-me' expression on and leaned forward. Voice dropping a few octaves, she added, "So, how about we can the shit, and you tell me what the real story is."

TBC...