THE LOST YEARS
by Soledad
INTERLUDE: THE LOST WARRIOR
Author's notes:
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see Chapter 01.
Dr. M'Benga (played by Booker Marshall) was one of Dr. McCoy's sidekicks in Star Trek – The Original Series. He only appeared in two episodes, but it's established in canon that he has worked in a Vulcan hospital for a while. Emphatic Minaran healers are an established part of Star Trek canon. Dr. Sekhet and Jewel are original characters.
Captain Kir'oss (played by Athena Demos) is another character borrowed from Richard Hatch's trailer to "BSG – The Second Coming".
The idea that Jolly, too, might be an orphan, is borrowed from Karen.
Chapter 05 – Revelations
Doctor Salik, the chief medical officer of the Galactica, was genuinely surprised when the request from Starbase 7's Starfleet medical facility reached him. It didn't happen too frequently that his colleagues from the Federation asked for his help. Not that he wasn't a good doctor – he was the best in the entire Colonial Fleet – but Federation medicine was simply yahrens upon yahrens ahead of them. All Colonial doctors had been learning frantically to catch up with their Federation counterparts ever since their arrival.
The Starfleet doctors only called for Salik when they were facing a problem specifically related to the slightly different metabolism of Colonial patients. In that, he was still the expert.
Calls like that, even if they were rare, did come in occasionally. Several hundred former Colonial refugees were currently living on Starbase 7, from Gemoni socialators through Tauron agrists to Sagittarian mechanics who were busily getting familiar with Federation technology. And quite a few poor, lost souls, too, of course, who'd vanished somewhere on the lower levels, bending in with the humanoid flotsam and jetsam that'd gotten carried there from various Federation worlds.
But those were usually simple cases. Some viruses or bacteria, relatively harmless for Colonial people but dangerous for others with no natural immunity. Some minor peculiarities in the healing process, caused by spontaneous genetic mutation, originating in the living conditions of the original Twelve Worlds. Problems that any of Salik's assistants could resolve without breaking a sweat.
This time, however, they'd asked for Salik specifically. And not only that – he'd also received a personal request from Colonel Omega to come as soon as possible… and alone. Meaning without any of his helpers, of course, as he still needed a shuttle to get over to the space station.
"I can take you in my Viper, doctor," Captain Kir'oss, he new Blue Leader, offered. "That would save you a lot of time."
Kir'oss, one of the few survivors of the Atlantia, was one of those typical Arian amazons: an almost painfully thin, olive-skinned woman with jewel-like black eyes and curly dark hair she wore in an impossibly tight bun on the top of her head. Attractive as she might be, she almost made Salik nervous – she was said to be as tough as nails and quite trigger-happy- So the doctor felt an understandable wave of relief that he could gracefully refuse her offer.
"Thank you, Captain, but I'm afraid it'll have to be a shuttle. I need to take some sensitive medical equipment with me, and those don't react well to Viper launches."
"That won't be a problem," Lt. Kalliope said. "Sergeant Jolly is scheduled to take Shuttlecraft Number Four to the Starbase for maintenance; you can go with him, doctor."
"Jolly?" Ensign Greenbean frowned. "I thought it was my turn now!"
Kalliope shrugged. "Colonel's orders, Greenie. I can't help you."
Greenbean grumbled a little – people usually liked these trips to the Federation Starbase because, honestly, what was there not to like, especially compared with the monotony of an onboard duty shift? – but accepted the inevitable. Orders were orders. His time, too, would come, sooner or later.
But Salik got nervous from this news. As a rule, Omega liked the pre-arranged schedules left untouched. He said it made his life so much easier. So, if he'd called in, just to have jolly come instead of Greenbean, something must have happened. Something he needed Jolly for.
And that was definitely bad news – not that the newbies would realize it. For them, Jolly was just a friendly, over-sized daggit with nothing but the next meal on his mind. But those who'd served aboard the Galactica during the last yahrens of the Cylon War knew better.
They knew that Jolly, despite his harmless looks and his silly name – a name that he'd gotten when found amidst the ruins of some small, insignificant colony on a remote moon, wiped out by a casual Cylon attack – was a deadly warrior. And he was loyal to the fault. Once he accepted someone as a friend or as a worthy commanding officer, there was literally nothing he wouldn't do for them. And he would succeed, too, because he feared nothing.
Because he had nothing – and no one – to lose.
He pursued his duties with the same single-minded determination as he pursued the next meal. This obsession with food was the subject of some friendly teasing at times, but Salik (and Jolly's friends) knew the fat pilot couldn't change a thing about it. He'd probably got very little food as a small child on that small colony, and orphanages used to be notoriously short on food, too. Many children had developed an unconscious fear from starving and even as adults, they devoured each meal as if it were their last one. In Jolly's case, it was just a little bit worse than the average. His excess weight never made him any less efficient than his skinnier comrades, though. The fact that he was still alive proved that,
So, if Omega, who was quite high up on Jolly's to-die-for list, needed the pilot specifically, something wrong was going on. Salik exchanged a look with Lt. Kalliope, who gave him a barely visible nod – and a warning glance in the newbies' direction. Salik understood. The lieutenant apparently had been debriefed about the situation, and the newbies, regardless of rank or position, were not to be told.
That smelled awfully like a Code Blue, and Salik was not happy. They hadn't had a Code Blue since they'd started rebuilding the Colonies, and he felt way too old to face another one right now. All he wanted was his peaceful lab in the Galactica's Life Center – and to be left alone.
But he knew Omega wouldn't call him without a reason. And old and tired though he might be, he still knew what he had to do when duty called.
"I'll be going then," he said quietly to Lt. Kalliope, and she nodded in understanding.
"Good luck, doctor."
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Truth be told, Omega had hesitated whether he should involve other people or not. He was worried that he might endanger their lives. But if they wanted absolute certainty, they needed a doctor who was familiar with Starbuck's medical condition – well, the one the pilot had been at the time when he got lost, to be more precise.
The medical records could be useful on their own, but they would be twice as useful if someone with yahrens-long familiarity about the patient interpreted them. And should Lieutenant Doe turn out to be Starbuck – which Omega still wasn't really willing to believe – Dr. Salik would be the best person to calculate the risks any possible treatment might bring with.
If he didn't choose to murder Omega first, for having Kalliope hack into medical database, that is. The old doctor wasn't very forgiving when doctor-patient confidentiality got violated. Omega only hoped he'd understand the necessity… this one time.
He and Aggie had spent the night as Athena's houseguests and now the girl was off to school, for the next round of her tests. Those were designed to reveal her special talents and eventual weaknesses, so that they might choose the school that would match her abilities best. Omega had asked Athena if she could take the girl afterwards again, excusing himself with some vague explanation about planning further cooperation between Colonial patrols and the border guard of Semiramis.
He could tell tat Athena hadn't bought his excuses, but for the time being she'd been willing to give him some breathing space. That would be temporary, though. Sooner or later she would demand to be told what this was all about, especially when she learned that Salik had been called in, too.
Omega dreaded that moment already. There had been a time when Athena and Starbuck seemed to be very much in love – he'd even asked her to Seal with him, right after the Destruction – and even though they'd broken up yahrens ago, Athena remained very protective of the blond pilot. The mere possibility that this Lieutenant Doe might be Starbuck – or what was left of him – would hit her hard. She hadn't dated anyone since their break-up. Whether that meant she still loved him, or at least grieved for him, Omega couldn't tell. But it was not going to be easy for her, that much was certain.
Or for Aurora, Omega realized. She and Starbuck had been together before the Destruction – before Starbuck got reassigned to the Galactica and met Athena, that is – and according to Apollo, for a while it had looked serious. Omega never dared to ask Aurora about that affair – she'd been through enough.
Now he wasn't sure he'd have the luxury of conscious ignorance any longer. He would have to bring up the topic, regardless of the outcome of their investigation; and the thought didn't make him happy.
The intercom unit in front of him buzzed, and the fresh and eager face of a very young yeoman appeared on the small screen.
"Colonel Omega, you're expected in sickbay, sir," she informed him.
"Thank you, Yeoman," Omega suppressed a sigh and stood. The call meant that Salik had arrived. Now they were going to achieve certainty – one way or another.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Semiramis had several hospitals in the habitat area, each specialized for the needs of the various species that inhabited the station. Sickbay, however, was the small but extremely well-equipped medical facility of the Starbase, reserved for Starfleet personnel only… save from some very special cases. It was situated within the centerpiece, right beneath Hunter's office (an arrangement from the times when the Base contained nothing else but the central tower and Operations), and it was currently run by an Earth-born physician by the name of Dr. Geoffrey M'Benga.
Omega had met the man before – and so had Salik, for that matter – as M'Benga, beside his station-bound duties, had also been selected by Starfleet Medical to supervise the creation of a large medical centre on New Libra. As an experienced xenobiologist who'd worked on various alien worlds before – including Vulcan what few humans could state about themselves – he was an expert of alien plagues and the methods of stemming quickly an outbreak of one. Which was the very reason why he'd got this temporary assignment in the first place. Colonial refugees and Federation citizens had very different natural immunities; even with the mass vaccinations among both refugees and Starbase inhabitants, an outbreak was a very real threat.
Omega was allowed into the Starfleet facility without being asked a question. Hunter had apparently given orders in advance. The CMO's office was of a pragmatic design: a small, central-lying room, with direct access to the various research labs and the Intensive Care area, the letter of which was currently not occupied.
At the moment, only two people were working there, aside from Salik and M'Benga himself: a male Vulcan of the indefinable age between fifty and a hundred and fifty (with Vulcans, it was always hard to tell) and a soft-faced young woman with wide, doe-like eyes and a serene smile. Neither of them was wearing a uniform, so they must have been civilians.
"Colonel," Dr. M'Benga rose from his seat to greet his visitor. "It's good to see you again."
He was easily as tall as Omega himself, but his slumped shoulders made him seem a great deal shorter. Too many centares spent in various labs, bent over microscopes, might have been the reason for that. His skin was darker than even Tigh's, and he had a deep, rough voice, although a friendly one. However, he didn't shake hands, probably having picked up the Vulcan reluctance of being touched unless it was absolutely necessary.
"I thought I've asked not to involve any other people," Omega said with a frown.
"You have," Dr. M'Benga agreed readily, "but you don't have to worry about my co-workers. Dr. Sekhet is a Vulcan, as you can see, and Jewel here is a Minaran empath. They don't even have vocal cords to begin with… and she's very shy of strangers."
"Which still doesn't explain why you felt the need to get them involved, without asking me about it," Omega wasn't that easy to persuade.
"Colonel," Salik intervened smoothly, "Dr. M'Benga has asked me, and it was necessary. Dr. Sekhet is one of the best geneticists of the Federation. He's been mapping the genome of our peoples since we first made contact with Starfleet. He could be a great help in this matter, especially since you don't want our people to know about it. And Miss Jewel is a mind-healer – all Minaran healers have this ability. Now, you haven't given me any details about this… this project here, save from the fact that we need to find out someone's identity – someone's with a massive memory loss. So we had to bring in the people we thought would have the best chance to help... and of whose discretion we could be certain."
"Of course," M'Benga added dryly, "it would be helpful if we knew what exactly are we looking for. Would you care to give us some more detail?"
Omega shook his head. "No, that might influence the way you look at the data."
M'Benga raised an almost Vulcan eyebrow. "You think so? Well, how do you want to get this done, then?"
"I have two very detailed medical files for you," Omega explained. "I want you to dig into them as deep as humanly… erm, as deep as possible," he corrected himself hurriedly, with an apologetic glance at the completely indifferent Vulcan, "and find out whether the people whom these files belong could be related to each other in any way."
Salik shot him a quick, suspicious look. "You already have an inkling, don't you?"
"Not really," Omega said carefully. "There is a… very slight possibility, yes, and we – that is the commodore and I – need to confirm or to rule out that possibility before we decide to make our move. In either way, it's not going to be pretty. But if we can rule out a connection without a doubt, then it's a purely Federation matter and I don't need to get involved."
"And if we can't?" Salik asked warily.
Omega sighed. "Then we have a problem. A big one."
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Lieutenant Doe had stayed in the Carillon Bar till the middle of the previous night, but the Colonial colonel never came. Well, that wasn't so surprising; they hadn't exactly made an appointment, had they? And an important person like Colonel Omega surely had important stuff to do, all the time. The executive officer of a battlestar didn't have the time to play pyramid with nameless pilots.
But why had he made the vague offer in the first place, then?
Yeah, Lieutenant Doe had managed to slip into the Operations database… with some involuntary help from a clueless yeoman. So, now he knew all that was there to know about the man – not that it would be much. How came that there were barely data about someone in his position? And the file wasn't even classified.
Sure, the man was a really big shot. Not only a colonel, but also the member of their Planetary Council. A patrician, with the line of his ancestors longer than his arm. But that didn't say anything about the kind of person he really was – and why he'd have been interested in Gabriel Doe.
For there couldn't be any doubt that for some reason, the colonel was interested. Lieutenant Doe could still feel the intense stare of those dark eyes as a physical touch. As if the man would have tried to peek directly into his soul – assuming he had one, he added with a mental snort. He was not a believer, and somehow he couldn't imagine that he'd ever have been.
As for the colonel, though… there was something about the man that wouldn't leave him alone. For some reason, he associated the dark, elegant figure with the urgent howling of alarm klaxons – a sound that most definitely didn't belong to the Starbase – and the instinct to run with all his might to some indefinite place, to jump into some sort of combat ship… he could almost physically feel the pressure on his entire body as the G-forces f the launch pressed him into his pilot's seat…
He shook his head. This was ridiculous. Tennet-5 hunters had inertial dampeners and didn't get catapulted out of launch tubes like some sort of bullet. All those tell tales about Colonial pilots seen on TriVid must have influenced his imagination.
He forced his attention back to his cards. If he wanted to win a few hundred credits off these greenhorns so that he could go to the Carillon Bar tonight, he needed to focus. The place was not cheap.
"Well, gentlemen," he said in his best, charming manner. "Is anybody willing to raise the stakes?"
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Omega was watching the doctors work with the motionless patience of a sphynx. He didn't understand much about medicine in general, and what was going on here, before his eyes, was way above the normal daily practice. The portable DNA-sequences Salik had brought with him was the peak of Colonial medical technology, but it seemed fairly primitive compared with the instruments of the Starfleet doctors. Salik still insisted to check the preserved samples of Lieutenant Doe with it – apparently, sickbay had a collection of samples from all station personnel – stating that the readings wouldn't be fully comparable otherwise.
"That's odd," the doctor murmured, after having re-done his analysis twice. Omega's ears perked up.
"Have you found something?" he asked.
"Perhaps," Salik said. "I'm not really sure. Dr. Sekhet, would you take a look at this sequence here?"
The Vulcan studied the diagram with the customary, patient thoroughness of his kind – then one of his arched eyebrows climbed up to his hairline.
"Fascinating," he said in a flat voice. "Definitely an anomaly. Have you seen something like that before?"
"Oh, yes," Salik nodded, with a bit of smug satisfaction that he could show his Federation colleagues something new. "You'll come across it, too, in the line of your genetic research, sooner or later. This is a set of recessive Leonid genes."
"What do you mean Leonid genes?" Dr. M'Benga asked. "It's been my understanding that your people all belong to the same species – the same one as our own."
"That is true," Salik said. "But due to the fact that the different tribes were exposed to very different environmental conditions, after a few thousand yahrens it came to very small, practically insignificant genetic mutations that enabled the people to adapt to the conditions of their respective homeworlds better."
"So, des this mean that Lieutenant Doe is a Leonid?" Omega asked. As much as it surprised him that the man would be one of the Colonial refugees, that definitely ruled Starbuck out. Starbuck had been a Caprican.
"Not exactly," Salik corrected. "This means that one of his parents was a Leonid. The mutated Leonid genes are recessive – if a Leonid marries someone from another tribe, all their children would show the tribal characteristics of the other parent. Take Captain Boomer, for example. He does look like a full-blooded Libran, although his mother was a Leonid."
"True enough," Omega said. "We can also say that this Lieutenant Doe is one of our people?"
"I wouldn't know," Salik replied blandly, "since you haven't told me any names. But yes, I can tell you without doubt that the man whose medical data we've been analyzed for the last couple of centares is one of us. The small discrepancies between our peoples and Earth-originated humans are clearly here, and so are the tribal characteristics. Both sets of them."
"He's half-Leonid, then," M'Benga said. "And his other half?"
"Caprican," Salik kept studying the genetic sequences. "I'd say, he's a blue-eyed blond, with a remarkable physical resilience against the common illnesses. About thirty yahrens old. Perhaps a little older."
M'Benga nodded. "That'd be about right."
"You know the man?" Salik asked.
"Only fleetingly," M'Benga shrugged. "I don't do the bi-monthly physicals for station personnel myself. That's what nurses are for. Now, Colonel, since we already know who one of our subjects is, can't you just stop playing mysterious and tell us the rest."
"Not yet," Omega answered. "Not before you've done your analysis on the other data file. Please, trust me in this; it's very important."
"I'd also have an important question, Colonel," Salik's voice turned icy cold after the first glimpse at Starbuck's file. "Would you mind to tell me how this file found its way from my classified database here?"
"I pulled rank," Omega replied, completely unperturbed.
"That wouldn't have done you any good," Salik stated angrily. "I outrank you – and everyone else in the Fleet, for that matter – in medical questions, and I haven't authorized the extraction of this particular file."
Salik's legendary wrath was a well know quality all over he Fleet, but Omega didn't back off.
"Doctor, this is a Code Blue situation, which gives me the right to do things I wouldn't be allowed to do otherwise, and you know that. I'll justify my actions by Commander Apollo if this is all over. Now, would you please make the fracking analysis?"
Salik was a little taken aback – in all the yahrens they'd served together aboard the Galactica, he'd never heard Omega swear. Or seen him lose his patience. Lords, but this must be something big!
"As you wish, sir," he replied, stiff with indignation, and returned to his work.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Flight Sergeant Jolly had delivered Shuttlecraft Number Four to maintenance, checked in with the colonel, called Athena to see whether he could be of any use for her, and when it seemed that he wouldn't be needed for a while, he was all too happy to take the rest of the morning for himself. Athena had made him promise they would have lunch together, with the additional company of the colonel's daughter, and Jolly, who liked children and had always loved Athena, agreed readily.
However, lunch was still centares ahead, and his inner unrest, that had started about forty centons earlier, was getting stronger. He needed food.
He'd accepted this peculiar sort of addiction a long time ago. Sure, it irritated him to Hades when people made fun of his constant hunger. It even hurt when his friends wire doing the teasing, But he'd come to understand that this was something he had to live with.
And besides, it wasn't so that he'd crave huge amounts of food. He just needed to know that it was available, all the time. In fact, he didn't eat any larger helpings than the others – but his body seemed to have the ingrained ability to make the most of what it got. The psychotechs said it was because he most likely had to live on very little in his first six yahrens. The human body, they said, has wondrous ways to help itself. But they couldn't help him either; they couldn't free him from his food addiction.
So he had learned to live with it. He'd developed the custom of keeping small snacks on him, to avoid the humiliating attacks of ravenous hunger that had made him the joke of his squadron in the first yahrens of duty. It was against regs, but he had a writ from the Life Center that he needed it, so his commanding officers didn't interfere. At first, it bought him more teasing and stinging jokes, but in time, his comrades got used to it. As long as he watched their backs in battle – which he did better than most – they didn't care.
It was an awkward existence sometimes, but at least it worked for him. He could have tried deep hypnosis, of course. Colonial warriors always got the best possible medical care, since were critical for the survival of the Fleet. Perhaps that could have helped with his little problem. He'd discussed the possibility with his two closest friends, but both Boomer and Starbuck found it a stupid idea.
You let them poke around in your head, you can't know what damage they might cause, Starbuck, who'd had very unpleasant memories about psychotechs, had said. After all, they couldn't help him with his trauma-induced memory blockade, either. All they could do had been make him relive the few painful memories he'd left.
Boomer and Starbuck… Jolly missed them both very much. Too many people had left or got lost. Sure, Omega was still there, and would probably be till the Galactica fell to tiny pieces of rusty metal. So was Apollo, though less frequently, as his duties as Fleet Commander often called him elsewhere. And Greenbean and Giles and Brie, yes, and a few of the original bridge officers… but that wasn't the same.
In the not-so-good old times, Blue Squadron had been something special. Not only the best squadron in the entire wing; it was also family. For him and Starbuck before all else, as they hadn't had any other family; for – Boomer who'd lost his, and, yes, even for Apollo. The four of them had been closest friends since the Academy, even though Jolly hadn't made it till graduation, switching to flight training after the second yahren and going straight to the front afterwards. As long as they were together, he hadn't felt the lack of a family so keenly.
But then Starbuck had not returned from that patrol, and as if he'd been the glue that had held their little circle together, they began to drift apart. As they had found Earth, against all hope (because honestly, who else than Commander Adama had ever seriously believed in the existence of that mythical planet?) Boomer got picked as Colonel Tigh's personal aide and left the fleet to build himself a new life on Earth's sister planet, a world named Mars.
Jolly could understand him. He'd met Boomer's future wife aboard the Enterprise – she was a lovely, intelligent, temperamental woman who made Boomer very happy. Jolly wanted his friend happy. But that didn't mean he wouldn't miss him. After Apollo's promotion to Commander, he was the only one from their close-knit group left. And that made him more than a little lonely sometimes.
It did have its advantages, of course. Since he had no dependents, he could afford to accept dangerous missions that people with families wouldn't. Not battle situation in these days – life in their new home systems had been blessedly quiet so far, save from the occasional pirate raid. Thus Omega – and even Apollo – sometimes called for his help when they needed someone observed. Nobody wasted a second look at a fat pilot who obviously had nothing but food on his mind.
He wondered what it might be this time. Omega had sounded as always: calm, aloof, matter-of-fact. But he had changed the pre-arranged schedule to get Jolly aboard the Starbase, and that was, for Omega anyway, close to calling a full battle alert. Something was very wrong.
Well, he'd learn it soon enough. First things first. He needed food – and some distraction. Fortunately, the Arcade (the shopping and entertainment deck of the Starbase) offered an amazing variety of both.
He chose one of the smaller clubs, owned by an Argelian, if the shield was any indication; in Federation terms, that meant good food and solid entertainment. He found a small table in the background, which was fine with him. He didn't want any company at the moment. He'd sit there, eat his food and watch the group of border patrol pilots and station technicians (easily identifiable by their horrid orange coveralls) play cards.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
"And you have no doubts whatsoever?" Omega asked, his voice as calm as ever, but his face chalk white. "There's no chance for an error?"
Salik shook his head. "None. These two are definitely the same person."
Omega closed his eyes for a micron. He felt sick. His first, vague instinct proved to be correct, after all. No matter how much he'd tried to back-pedal mentally in the last centares – and Lords, had he tried! – Lieutenant Doe was Starbuck. He would think about the whys and hows later. And about what they should do with this shocking revelation. Right now, he needed to gather as much information as he could.
"How is it possible that the fact of a Leonid parent hasn't come out earlier?" he asked.
Salik shrugged. "We didn't do a detailed genetic map on our pilots; we just checked if they were fit for duty. There was no need for more – except in this special case."
"So you know whose file this is?" Omega asked. Salik shot him an exasperated look.
"Colonel, I've been the chief medical officer of the Galactica as long as you've stood on her bridge! Nah," he corrected himself, "actually, you were still a snot-nosed cadet when I became head physician of the Life Center. I've created this file in the first place and have updated it regularly – you wouldn't expect me not to recognize it, would you? Besides, Starbuck was the only pilot, to my knowledge, whose genetic make-up has been checked out."
"When we thought Chameleon might be his father," Omega nodded. "Only that it turned out a mistake."
"Actually," Salik said dryly, "it wasn't a mistake at all. Chameleon was Starbuck's father,"
"What?" for the second time in yahrens, Omega actually lost his legendary calm. "Why the frack did you tell Starbuck that he wasn't, then?"
He'd chosen the wrong person to yell at, though.
"Come down off your epaulettes, Colonel, I'm not one of your frightened recruits," Salik told him coldly. "Firstly, I only learned about this when Chameleon was found dead aboard the Senior Ship. By that time, Starbuck had already been lost for sectares. Secondly, it was Chameleon's wish, at least according to Cassie. He hadn't wanted Starbuck to give up his life, his career for him. He'd thought he'd make a better friend than a father."
"Or he was just afraid of the responsibility and ran off on Starbuck like the cowardly old daggit that he was," Omega, still grieving father of four dead children, commented without sympathy. "And Cassiopeia agreed why? Out of the goodness of her heart? Or was she afraid that Starbuck would dump her, too, to be with his father, and then she'd lose all the conveniences of being the girlfriend of an ace pilot who could always win enough cubits in chancery to spoil her rotten?"
"It was very unprofessional of her," Salik agreed. "I'm sure she had Sealing Ceremony firmly before her eyes and didn't want to lose the chance. She was a skilled med tech, but I always felt that it was too mundane for her. She'd been used to money and glamour – she wanted that kind of life again."
"Is that the reason why you send her away, right before the end of our journey?" Omega asked.
"No," Salik said. "I sent her away after discovering the truth about Chameleon because I can't work with an assistant who lies to me. Who lies to a patient when it serves her personal interests."
"I can understand that," Omega said, "although in hindsight, what good would it have done to Starbuck, had he left Service to become Chameleon's junior con man?"
"Well," Salik replied with extreme dryness, "knowing what's become of him, we can say that remaining in Service hasn't done him a fat lot of good, either."
"That's very true," Omega admitted glumly.
"And what do you intend to do now that you've found out the man's identity?" Dr. M'Benga asked.
"That's a tough question," Omega answered. "At least Commodore Hunter doesn't need to worry about 'Lieutenant Doe'. The ball is back in our court, but to decide what needs to be done, I'll have to consult a few people… very discretely."
"You're not going to tell him just yet, are you?" Salik asked.
"No," Omega said. "He's safer when he doesn't know, and he's less likely to run someone who might recognize him here, on the Base."
"That," Salik remarked, having seen some of the station's records about 'Lieutenant Doe', "is highly unlikely."
"I have recognized him," Omega reminded the doctor. "Well, not exactly recognized, I admit, but I became suspicious, and so could others. As long as he doesn't remember, it's better for him to remain Gabriel Doe. I'll have to tell Commodore Hunter the truth, of course, but that's all for the moment. I don't think I need to remind you of the necessity to keep this among us for the time being."
"We're doctors," M'Benga said with a shrug. "We've all sworn the Hippocratic Oath… or the Vulcan equivalent of it. But this man of yours, whether in disguise or not, will need protection. What little I've learned about the power struggle between the remaining Colonial patricians during my work on New Libra, it didn't seem promising. It seems there's very little some people wouldn't do to extend their influence."
"You shouldn't take everything Librans tell you for face value, "Omega said with a wry smile. "They've always been a little biased. I won't say they're generally lying, but they do tend to exaggerate, especially when they feel they've been wronged. You're right, though. We need to keep an eye on Star… on Lieutenant Doe, until we find out what really happened. And what kind of game is being played in the background."
"Is that why you've called in Jolly?" Salik guessed.
Omega nodded. "He's done observation before, very successfully. And he was also a close friend of Starbuck's. I think it'll be safe to fill him in."
"But he'll have to return to the Galactica, after the shuttle maintenance is done," Salik said.
"No, he won't," Omega replied. "I need you to fake some medical condition for him to remain aboard the station. At least until I've consulted some people who actually have the power to do something."
Salik nodded. "I can do that, sure. But Colonel… there's something else here that really bothers me."
"Oh? And that would be?"
"I could swear that I've seen a very similar set of dormant Leonid genes, not so long ago."
"How that?" Omega frowned. "I thought you didn't do DNA-sequencing on our pilots?"
"We still don't," Salik answered. "But when we started settling down on the new homeworlds, we did a lot of genetic mapping on civilians. Partly for Dr. Sekhet's research project, partly because people began looking for possible lost relatives in earnest."
"Well, we do know now that Chameleon was Starbuck's father," Omega pointed out reasonably.
"No," Salik said. "You misunderstood me. Chameleon was one hundred per cent Caprican. That means, Lieutenant Starbuck must have inherited his Leonid genes from his mother – whoever she might have been."
"I see," Omega said slowly. "And since you've seen that similar set of genes lately, Starbuck must still have some blood relatives among the civilian population."
"Among the Leonids," Salik clarified. "Or, to be more accurate, a hybrid with dormant Leonid genes."
"Which leads us back to Sire Uri and his allies," Omega commented dryly. "How… surprising."
Salik seemed doubtful, though. "Somehow, I can't imagine Uri to be behind such a vicious action. He's a snake, that's true, but he doesn't have the backbone to go through something like that to the end."
"No, I don't think he'd be the orchestrator of this entire mess," Omega agreed. "I do think he's involved, up above his ears, but the mastermind behind the scheme is someone else. Someone we wouldn't even suspect, I believe."
"And that's what makes me seriously worried," Salik said. "If Starbuck was taken for a purpose, and I don't think we can doubt that after all we've found today, the people behind this probably haven't played out their capstone card yet."
"Most likely," Omega said. "This seems to be a long-winded plan, forged with much patience – and with no good intentions. Doctor, can you retract this set of genes to find out who their owner is?"
"Sure," Salik nodded. "It would take a few centares, our database is quite extensive, but I can do it. And if I find him – or her – we might have done an important step in the right direction."
"Do it then," Omega ordered, "but not from here. I've taken a bit of a risk having Starbuck's file sent here, but a quick data transfer might have come through undetected. A lengthy search from an outside comm station would not."
"You think we might have spies aboard the Galactica?" Salik asked with a frown.
"With all those newbies, who could tell?" Omega answered with an elegant shrug. "When my furlong is over, I can keep a closer eye on what they are doing. But I need to have those talks right away, as long as I can move around freely. Finding an excuse to leave the Galactica wouldn't be easy – and it would raise suspicions."
"I'll return to the Life Center with Shuttlecraft Number Four," Salik promised. "And I'll debrief you about my search results when you're back on board."
"Agreed," Omega rose. "Doctors, I'd appreciate if you could give me a detailed report on Star… on Lieutenant Doe's condition. Physical, mental, and emotional. Some suggestions how we might to remove his memory blockade would be nice, too. What the risks would be, and what kind of therapy he would need, should he regain his memory. I have to present facts when the ones with power and influence decide to make their move."
M'Benga nodded. "You can count on us, Colonel. If we can save anyone else to suffer a similar fate, we'll do our best."
TBC