Update 4/6/16;

I know it's been forever since I posted anything, I'm sure I've lost viewers and I'm sorry. Work is unbelievable. The job that was suppose to be an answer to my prayers has turned into something pretty miserable. It hasn't left me with time or energy to do much of anything. On the other hand, not very long ago I was injured on the job, so suddenly I have time. This is how I'm spending some of it.

I put this in last night waaaaay too late. I shouldn't have. The raw document was 31 pages and needed to be proofread. I just wanted to get something out to prove I wasn't dead.

Once again, picking up about five minutes before the last chapter ends. Hit the music.

The black man laid back, closed his eyes and managed five whole centons of affected relaxation before the claxons went off, followed by Omega's urgent voice sounding over the tannoy.

"Colonel Tigh to the bridge. Something's coming through the void."

The dark skinned man rose hurriedly from the duty bunk, throwing his blanket aside and as he strode for the bridge. "Ready point defense batteries, but don't fire without my order. Launch ready vipers." Tigh's voice was strong and sure as he strode through the hatch into the busy room. "I want to know who or what is coming through as soon as possible."

"Sir," Omega barely glanced back as the officer climbed onto the platform, "scanners show a Viper and two other small craft translating into our space. Lieutenants Jolly and Stringbean are already moving to intercept. We're starting to get audio as well as telemetry from the unknowns."

"Put it on."

Sheba's voice was firm as she spoke. "Transponder codes coming in on prime target."

Omega looked to Tigh; both men's eyes were wide with surprise. Each looked as if they were about to ask how a woman they knew to be in critical condition could be out with those new ships. The younger man looked back to his instruments.

"More ships coming through, Colonel," Omega observed. "Two...three...five now."

"I see them, Omega." The Colonel reached for the transmit button as another voice spoke.

"Prime target?" Starbuck demanded. "No, no, no. Stand down. Don't be stupid."

"By the Lords," an unknown male voice gasped. "It really is her. It really is the Galactica."

"Fast movers..." a new voice began.

"Starbuck?" Wing Sergeant Jolly voice shot back. "What in Dis is going on? You've got five microns, then we do what we have to do."

"Listen, I've got a wild story. These people are with me. Don't shoot them. Yet."

"What?"

Stringbean's voice cut them off. "I've got more than a dozen..."

"I've got five shuttles behind me and two squadrons of fighters behind that," Starbuck explained. "Patch me through to the commander." There was a momentary pause, and then Starbuck's voice came back vaguely curious. "Why haven't you guys left?"

Tigh stabbed the transmit button with his thumb. "Lieutenant Starbuck, you and your new friends will follow Wing Sergeant Jolly's instructions or you will be destroyed. Do you understand?"

"Colonel Tigh? Where's the commander?" Starbuck asked.

The black man bridled. That was Starbuck alright. For some reason the man found it impossible to take an order without saying something about it. "That's not your concern right now, lieutenant. Do you understand my instructions?"

"Yes sir," the warrior gulped. "I'll need to relay them to the others."

"No need," the one that sounded so much like Sheba replied. "We're receiving you loud and clear, Colonel."

"Very good. Lieutenant Boomer is launching immediately and will be at your location in less than a centon." There was a pause as the Colonel thought hard, weighing what he would say next. "Lieutenant, I'm depending on you to keep things from escalating. And welcome back."

There was barely a break before another transmission came through.

"Forgive the presumption, Colonel, but there may not be time for pleasantries. I'm Major Sheba of the Warstar Elysium. I am formally requesting aid from the Battlestar Galactica. My base ship is heavily engaged by at least two Dreadhulks. She has been boarded..."

Tigh's eyebrows rose. His gaze shot across the bridge. Every eye seemed to be on him and they all looked as shocked as he felt.

"Lieutenant Starbuck?"

"She's right, sir," Starbuck replied. "The Cylons there are... really, really weird. They found a way to fold space so they can travel faster than light. One of them translated right into Elysium. Neither ship exploded right away, so maybe that's good, but there's another baseship... thing closing in on her right now."

The sound of rushing boots on the decksole pulled the dark man's eyes to the bridge access hatch. Athena hurried in, tunic half tucked, hair still mussed from sleep.

"Is that Starbuck?" she asked hurriedly. "Is Apollo with him?"

Major Sheba cut off any reply. "Colonel Tigh, I hate to break in, but..."

"More ships coming through the void," Omega interjected, "from their signatures, they're shuttles."

"Those are my marines and medical staff," the woman supplied. "When your shuttle returned two days ago, we feared that lemmies had come with it. We were afraid your ship had become infected, overrun. Lemures carry sicknesses as well as being cannibalistic. We have medicines to inoculate you and treat any victims who might still live."

"They have medicine..." Athena looked up at the Colonel. "It could help Cassiopeia."

Tigh pursed his lips and quirked a disapproving brow at the young woman below. 'I have to make my decisions for everyone in the fleet, not just for friends and family. These people could be more of a threat than some outbreak..."

"We're offering our aid," the Major persisted, "in return we want yours."

"Sir, the Colonies still exist over there," Starbuck added. "The fleet could be saved if we join these people. I mean, yeah it's kind of dangerous on the other side of the hole, but if we can help and get support, then there are any number of planets we can settle on..."

"One shuttle, Major Sheba," Tigh spat. He couldn't bring himself to meet the joy in Athena's eyes. He hated the feeling of being pushed, of being rushed. Errors were made this way. Mistakes. "No marines. We'll have our staff examine your medications before we accept them."

"Sir, I'm in my Viper..." Starbuck began.

"Really? Telemetry shows that you're in Flight Lieutenant Bojay's Viper." The corner of his moth ticked upward slightly. Starbuck was too easy. "Nonetheless, you will be first in the landing pattern. I want you where I can see you when our guests land."

"Yes sir." The voice returned nervously. "Um, sir? There's another Viper I'd like to follow the shuttle, sir."

"Is that so, Lieutenant?"

"Yes sir. Believe me, it'll help you decide."

"Very well then," Tigh nodded. "Your Viper, one other and Major Sheba's shuttle. All others will remain on station near the void entrance, where our people can keep an eye on them."

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Starbuck's Viper cruised in slow and easy over the apron. Perfectly. Unhurried. The gear came down and Starbuck followed the ground crewman's directions into a parking slot. On any other day, it would have been a textbook landing.

The young pilot looked around eagerly as the canopy rose, shucked his helmet and climbed up out of the cockpit. When he stood up in his seat his joy evaporated. The people coming out of the nearby hatchway weren't the warriors he knew; they were technicians in white enviro-suits. The ones in the back were wrestling the silver canisters of isolation units through the uncooperative hatch combing.

"Good to see you, lieutenant," Doctor Salek grated semi-sincerely as he approached. He raised an awkward looking wand up towards the young man's face. "Stand still and breathe normally."

The whine of an assault shuttle's turbines caught Starbuck's ear and turning his head seemed to shake something loose. When he looked back, he took a second to look through the assembled visors...

"Where's Cass?" He pushed the chromium wand away.

"You're infected, Starbuck." Salek turned to a white clad man near his shoulder. "Get the isolation unit."

"What? No." Starbuck made to step around the group. "Where's Cassiopeia?" He shrugged and twisted away from grasping hands.

"Starbuck," Salek reached out. "STARBUCK!"

The young man froze as a pair of black clad peaceforce troopers stepped around the isolation pod, pistols drawn.

"They've got orders to fire if you try to leave the landing bay," the Doctor said. He sighed. "Cassiopeia is infected. Moreso than you, apparently." He stepped forward, laying a hand on the warrior's arm. "She's in suspension now. Her condition has been stabilized and she'll remain so until we can find a cure for this."

"That's where I come in, I believe," Sheba announced as she strode towards the group. "I'm Major Sheba of the Warstar Elysium."

"Interesting," Salek blinked. He ignored the muttering of the shocked technicians nearby and stepped forward with his wand. "I'm Doctor Salek. I'm here to..."

"Test us," Second Sheba nodded. "And to verify our medicines." She stood still as Salek waved his wand in front of her face.

"This one's infected as well..."

"False positive," the Major returned with a hurried confidence. "We've been inoculated against what you're facing. Your instrument can't tell the difference yet, so it's throwing up warnings." She reached into the pocket of her dark blue jacket and produced a pair of vials. "These are what you need to save your ship."

Salek took one.

"How many of your crew have reanimated?"

"Reanimated?" the older man held one of the vials up to the light.

"Just being around a lemmie is dangerous," Sheba began. "They don't even have to touch you to kill you and once you die, you come back. Only you're not you anymore. You're a cannibal, a monster."

Salek frowned and looked into the woman's hard eyes.

"It's rare for the Colonies to find a people who haven't been inoculated," she continued, "but it happens and it's usually disastrous. The very nature of lemmie exposure tends to kill off rescue personnel. Hospitals are overrun, then the clinics, then the disaster relief bases. If it's not caught in time, it means extinction."

"We've only had one creature rise, Major," Doctor Salek replied. "But we've had about twenty cases of virally induced insanity. Of those twenty, six are dead. The rest are in Suspension." He looked sadly at Starbuck. "Cassiopeia is one of them."

Starbuck was about to surge, break through, no matter what it took, he was... A strong hand fisted the shoulder of his jacket. He whirled.

Major Sheba locked him down with hard hazel eyes. "Stand down, Lieutenant. We've got cases of cure. If they put her in suspension, she'll live."

She looked to the doctor. "I've got enough serum to inoculate your crew, if your compliment is the same as one of our battlestars. We will submit to your examination shortly, but I need to speak to Colonel Tigh right now."

"He thought you might," Salek said. He gestured to one of his sealed techs. "He wanted me to give you this." The man gave Major Sheba and Starbuck a pair of earmics.

Sheba put hers on hurriedly. "Colonel Tigh, this is Major Sheba..."

Starbuck stopped listening as Salek took the vials from the woman's willing hand. He raised his voice over the noise of the second fighter landing in the wide bay.

"What happened to Cass?" he demanded.

"Starbuck, calm yourself. It's not as bad as it could be, especially if the Major is correct," Salek returned. He saw impatience writhe across the younger man's face. "She was doing a death analysis for the crew of the rescue shuttle. Part of the examination is resonance imaging. When the crewman was subjected to the super dense magnetic field of the machine, it rose up." He shook his head. "I still wouldn't believe it unless I'd seen the video logs. It went After Miranda first. Cass tried to save her. It bit Miranda and managed to tear a hole in Cassiopeia's environment suit. They're both in suspension right now."

A portion of Sheba's conversation broke in. "I have two squads of marines in full seal battle gear if you need them..."

"Marines?" Salek asked.

"Long story," Starbuck replied. "So when can I see her?"

"Not until I'm sure you don't represent an exposure risk." He passed the vials back to a tech. "Take these to the chemlab at once. Top priority."

"But..."

"Hi guys, are we all landing or what?" Zak asked as he strode over." He bobbed a finger at the heavyset man in the enviro-suit. "I know you. Doctor Ssssss... Something with an 'S'..."

"Salek," wonder was a stranger to the man's voice. "You're Adama's other son."

"Yes sir," Zak grinned and held his hand out. "Zak. Now a flight lieutenant. Is my... I mean, is Commander Adama available?"

"But sir, the Elysium needs aid now," Sheba all but shouted. "No sir... No sir... I recognize that..."

"So things aren't going well," Zak frowned.

"Apparently not." Salek returned his attention to the young men before him. "Commander Adama has suffered a breakdown. He's very weak. With the loss of Captain Apollo..."

"Apollo's not dead," Zak said. "Not yet anyway. He's on Elysium."

"In the brig," Starbuck said.

"For now," Zak confirmed. "He's being treated for mag sickness." He nodded towards Major Sheba. "It'll be a pretty sad place to die."

Starbuck opened his mouth to speak, but a voice from across the bay made him stop.

"Starbuck!" Athena rushed out of the open hatch. It took only a moment for her to reach the peaceforce cordon. She froze when she saw the other two. "Sheba? ZAK?"

"Hey big sis," Zak waved. "Don't come closer yet. Doc's got to make sure the inoculations work."

Athena fainted.

"Well that went well," Starbuck said.

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Tigh walked into the Commander's bedroom and sat down unceremoniously. Adama didn't move much, and when he spoke his voice was slow and clumsy.

"Tigh. Has there been any word?"

"Yes sir." He sighed unhappily, unable to bring his eyes up to his friends. "Starbuck has returned with news. Apollo, Bojay, most of the rescue team are alive. Unfortunately, they are prisoners of another Colonial fleet on the other side of the anomaly."

Adama was silent for a few long moments. When Tigh looked up he saw tear tracks on the old mans cheeks.

"He's on a warstar. Unfortunately, that ship is under attack by the equivalent of three basestars. Their commanding officer has asked for our help."

"And you fear losing the Galactica trying to save the commander's son." Adama pursed his lips. "It's understandable. What are you going to do?"

"Adama, I want to fight," Tigh stood impatiently. "I want to go over, launching Vipers and burning anything that gets in our way with main battery pulsars." He looked over at the weary old man on the bunk. "But if I do that I leave the fleet undefended. There's no guarantee that we'll win. That... that... universe doesn't work the way ours does. Our Vipers will be slow and weak; the Galactica will be slow and weak. Our sensors, our engines, everything will be functioning at well below spec. We're already on a fraying edge with all the maintenance we haven't been able to do..."

"That's what your heart says. What does your mind tell you?"

"There's a Fleet over there. There are still Colonies. They have ships, bases, equipment," Tigh replied. "Major Sheba says that their Admiral Agathon has notified their fleet that we're here. If we just wait, someone will come for us eventually." He walked over to the porthole and looked outside. One of the civilian ships was just within sight. "The Cylons on that side of the void can't come over here. The magnetic fields of our universe aren't strong enough to sustain them and we haven't seen any Cylons of our own in almost a yaren."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Fleet regulations make it a crime not to answer the call of a ship in distress," Tigh replied. "And it bothers me to sit here safely while another Colonial ship burns." He looked as his old friend. "I'm going to answer the Admiral's call for aid. Perhaps we can buy a rescue for the civilian fleet." A grim sort of peace settled on his shoulders as he stood. "I'll make arrangements for you to go to the hospital ship with the other sick and wounded."

"I'd rather you didn't," Adama returned. He smiled gently at his subordinate's frown. "I'm an old man Tigh. I know what's happening to me. If I'm to die soon, I would rather do so with a semblance of dignity, in a place I'm familiar with, with men and women I respect and love. Perhaps it's my vanity, but I would rather our people remember me as Commander of the Battlestar Galactica than see me die as a sick old man."

Tigh nodded. And stepped over, placing a hand on those of his friend. "Very well, sir." They said nothing for a moment, and then Tigh patted the old man's hands and rose. "I've got to prepare the ship."