Lauren glanced at the small screen, studying the message she had received on her Sat-Phone. So far, none of the "Big Five" in media were willing to touch this. Wow. Big revelation there! While she shouldn't have been surprised, she couldn't help the disgust that flooded through her that "freedom of the press" was so entirely subject to government censorship these days. People got their status-quo run-of-the-mill news on their plasmas or big screens, while simultaneously tracking their children, conversing with their friends, and playing the latest interactive game. The hardcore news, real news, as her great-Uncle Roy had once called it, was available on the Web, if one was willing to take off their rose-coloured glasses and bother to look for it. However, often that involved the wearisome task of weeding through the garbage, deciding what was fact, theory or fiction. It was a lot of extra work for the masses that had grown accustomed to being not only told what, but also how to think. No, none of the mainstream media outlets were willing to go out on a limb, and those journalists who were had been driven to "freelancing", another word for "starvation" in this climate. What was it that Napoleon Bonaparte had once said? I fear the newspapers more than a hundred thousand bayonets.Those days were gone, much like the paper form of media that the French general had been speaking of.

Checking her GPS, she realized it was time. T-boning, her tires screeched to a stop, barricading two lanes of traffic, as she threw open the door of her car, leaping out and tearing her way across the interstate bridge. It was a bit extreme, especially just before morning rush hour started, but she was desperate to get to her next contact point before the bad guys caught up with her. Again. Besides, what were the drivers around her going to do . . . actually hit her? Vehicles screamed to a stop, and horns blew in fury at the crazy woman trying to race across eight lanes of traffic after abandoning her car. Several people hurled insults at her, and for a moment she wondered if her new biggest problem would be dealing with irate drivers. Then a sharp sting sliced across the flesh of her upper arm, and she hastily changed her mind.

The bad guys were back!

Still in one piece, she vaulted over the median. She crouched low, pouring on the speed, and dodging between skidding vehicles as they tried to avoid her. God Bless America, after all! She didn't dare look back, but pressed ahead, finally reaching the opposite side, still standing upright. Without second-guessing herself, she leapt over the guardrail, knowing the drop was enough to shake her, but not break her.

"Oomph!" she grunted, as she dropped and rolled to break her fall. Then she was scrambling beneath the overpass and moving more slowly through the tall grass, looking for the telltale signs . . .

There it was!

She picked up the dirt bike, climbing astride, and inputting her access code. Lauren

grinned like a mad woman when her indicators lit up. Thanks, Rex! You always deliver!Pulling in the clutch, she hit the start button, letting out a whoop of joy when the engine roared to life.

Ping!

She cursed, as a shot zinged close, ricocheting off a rock. Not daring to waste the time looking back, she hit the throttle. A moment later she was heading for the hills, cross-country, making for her next rendezvous.

xxxxx

She'd purposely stayed at least one stride ahead of him from the time they'd left the Life Station, right up until they'd entered Gamma Bay. When he'd stepped up his pace to catch her, she'd done the same. It would have almost been amusing if they hadn't been at each other's throats the night before, and he'd spent the rest period sleeping in his duty office. Oh sure, they'd managed to keep it cordial during the latest briefing, but he hadn't missed the dark looks Lu had shot his way. At this point Starbuck was almost glad he was climbing into a cockpit for a solo mission. Almost. However, that changed as soon as she glanced back at him, her brown eyes so wide and lost looking that his simmering anger dissipated instantly, leaving him wrapped in a shroud of uncertainty.

"Lu!" he called, as she somewhat reluctantly turned away to head for her Wraith. She paused, her shoulders tensing. She didn't look back, but waited. It was better than shooting him with her laser, he supposed.

He covered the few paces between them, glad for the noise and bustle of the launch bay. Lightly, he placed a hand on her arm, and she turned to regard him, before shrugging it off. For the first time he realized that there were faint shadows under her eyes. She obviously hadn't spent a very fitful night.

Then again, at least she'd had the luxury of a bed.

"What?" she asked curtly, meeting his searching gaze for only a moment before glancing out over the bay.

"I . . .uh . . ." he mumbled, unsure of what to say to ease the tension between them, or even if that was possible, at this point. He let out a long breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Just . . . just be careful out there."

She jerked her head back in his direction, the sharp motion betraying her anger, as she lifted her eyebrows at him. "That's it?"

He instinctively raised his hands upwards in self-defence. How could a guy get in trouble with words that were so innocuous? "I, uh . . . I don't know what you want me to say . . . especially after last night . . ."

"You could start by saying you care . . ." she retorted, leaning closer to him, trying to keep her voice down.

"Of course I care . . ." he began, not really understanding how she could think otherwise.

"That we can't have a baby!" she shouted, her bitter resentment hitting him in the face like a physical blow. Heads began to turn. "You keep saying that maybe things will change, that maybe Cassie's wrong, but, Holy Mother Triquetra, Starbuck, I'm as barren as a Borellian desert!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously.

"Hey, now . . ." he tried to console her, lifting a hand to touch her. One glare, and a sudden jolt backwards from his wife made him think better of it. He dropped his hand. "Cassie said we could try those hormonal infusions, that we could do another test in six sectars . . ."

"So I'm supposed to live in hope for six sectars, only to find out for the third time that I can't have a child?" she snapped. "Stop jerking me around, Starbuck! I can't take this felgercarb! The expectation followed by the defeat!"

"Jerking you around?" he repeated incredulously. "Sagan's sake, Lu . . . I'm . . .I'm just trying to help . . ."

"You can't fix this! I know you want to, but you can't! Don't you understand?" she beseeched him.

He stared at her, and then slowly shook his head. How did this get to be about him? "Evidently not. I wish . . ."

"If wishes were Battlestars, Starbuck, the Colonials would have won the war a long time ago," she returned sadly. "I need you to stop telling me it's going to be okay. I'm a big girl; I can live with disappointment. But it would be a lot easier if we weren't living in some kind of fantasy world where you think that miraculously one day we're going to have a family . . ."

"Have a family? Hey, when the day comes that we're ready, there's an entire shipfull of orphans . . ."

She held a hand up, forestalling his words. "I know you don't want to hear this, but right now I want my own child. Not somebody else's. I know that sounds selfish, especially considering . . ."

He suspected it was the look on his face that abruptly stopped her explanation. "Stunned" couldn't begin to define what he was feeling. How many families had looked at him on the orphanage playground, only to pick another child to call their own? "Well, you're not the first person who felt that way . . ." he managed to choke out, as he turned to look at his ship. On behalf of a ship full of orphans, he was wearing her rejection like a cloak of self-reproof, and it obviously showed. His Chief Warrant Officer, Jenny, had her arms crossed, and was tapping her foot impatiently. Like a lifeline, it jerked him out of his introspection. He glanced at his chrono. "We'd better . . ."

"Frack . . . this isn't about you," Luana muttered, putting a hand on his arm. "Starbuck, my people were poised for extinction when you came across us. A male infant hadn't been born in two generations. War, and then a strange malady had killed every single man in our society, one by one. For a hundred yahrens, every pregnancy was a symbol of hope for us. Expectant mothers were revered in Empyrean society. Maybe that's why this is so important to me . . ."

He nodded slightly, at this point lost for words. One thing he knew for certain was that he wouldn't be able to change her mind. At least not now. "I guess we just . . . see things differently." It took him a moment to realize that he'd once said those same words to Athena, their relationship also a casualty of war.

"I guess we do," she replied sadly, looking at her own ship. She turned, as if to go.

"I love you, Lu," he suddenly blurted out. Instinctively he knew he couldn't just leave it like this. "I know how much you're hurting right now, and if I could do something to change that, I would . . .but I just don't know what to do . . . or how to make it better . . ." He held up his hands helplessly, imploring her to understand.

She looked back at him and smiled slightly, her eyes once again bright with unshed tears. "That, Innamorato, helped more than you can know." She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, as he pulled her into a tight embrace. "I love you, too."