Winter Wonderland
by Minna Toivonen (mikrito@hotmail.com)

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. No profit is being made 
from this story.

Prologue

The planet wasn't Earth but it was a hell of a lot alike. Any earthling 
would have been confused.

Far, far away across the galaxy from us, beyond the Nova of Caedria, 
behind the passage of Deiatra and hidden by the two suns of Diama, 
there was another world just like our solar system. A parallel universe 
called Cayadr. A twin planet to Earth.

Although not in all ways identical, the twin planet was disturbingly 
similar to our beloved home. It differed only in three little details. 
It was considerably smaller. There were no animals. There were no 
humans either. Not until six sectars ago.

Cadria, the third planet from the sun in the system Cayadr, also known 
as the blue planet in distant parts of the Daiar galaxy, had for 
millenniums been inhabited only by microscopic protozoan. Self-
sufficient life forms that had slowly developed from XFK moisture 
bacteria (found only in the Cadrian aerospace) having photosynthesized 
with sunlight and x-excel-d atoms during the early centuries of time.

All that changed six sectars ago when a ragged fleet of 220 colonial 
ships dived through the narrow passage of Deiatria. Suddenly, a world 
that had never before provided for human life although it had always 
had the accessories for it, witnessed a whole new culture being 
established on the planet's five continents.

A new culture. Hmmm...

Dozens of cities popping up like mushrooms. Concrete suburbia's 
spreading more and more into the previously untouched wilderness, 
destroying rare flora and fauna. Thick smog cascading over city streets 
endlessly swarming with polluting hover-vehicles and solium street 
shuttles. Huge ugly-as-hell skyscrapers reaching up towards the sun, 
their tops forever smog-covered.

The vast unrefined fields of Naornia processed and agriculturally 
modified for gene-manipulated farming such as growing cybercorn and 
over-sized farsa roots. The majestic waterfalls of Silica mountains in 
Suarnea harnessed for electricity as well as the rare titan rivers of 
Cumultania. Twenty gigantic solium power plants beautifying the Cadrian 
landscape in no time as the human civilization continues its conquest? 
Hell no! What do you think this is? Forbidden Planet meets The Love 
Boat?

We are talking about a community of intelligent, technically advanced 
space-humans who always know what they're doing. The original 
environment of the planet was very much taken into consideration as the 
circumstantial situations were being altered and 'improved' to support 
human - and animal - life.

In less than two sectars from the arrival date of the fleet, Cadria 
became a paradise for hundreds of thousands of eco-conscious, peace-
loving colonials who truly believed they had finally found a proper 
home with enough room, food and circus entertainment's for everyone, 
not to mention a garden of Eden for thousands of extremely happy wild 
animals who had finally been released from the livestock ship.

This was indeed a very happy beginning. 

During the sectars to come, the twelve colonial tribes of humans who 
had only narrowly escaped the destruction of their own kind, spread all 
over planet to establish lives on its five vast continents. Unlike 
previously though, the tribes were no longer of one human breed or 
nationality only.

The long journey through space had mixed races and nationalities 
together in a way that segregation was now totally out of the question. 
On planet Cadria, Aerians established lives together with scorpions and 
Capricorns, Sagittarians bred with Taurus's and the Gemini, Aquarians 
wanted to mix with Virgos, Leos and Libras... It was only the Pisceans 
that remained within their own hermetic group.

The five continents of planet Cadria were christened and the vast 
oceans that separated the continents from one another named.

Old colonial sayings such as 'turbowash' or 'felgercarb', measurements 
of time and distance etc. fell into a contested process of being 
officially replaced by modern, fashionable words such as 'bathroom' and 
'shit'. Words that were found in a handbook that had been discovered on 
a deserted planet in the Silica System about eight sectars ago. A 
handbook left behind by the ancestors of the thirteenth tribe.

However. Not all colonials were willing, or even that skillful in 
learning new things.
Old words such as 'frack' and 'Sagan' were still widely heard, 
especially amongst the representatives of the political conservative 
party or the highly schooled, who kept noisily protesting against the 
lingual modernizing of the new world. Frequent demonstrations were 
held.

Three failed attempts to steal the book and burn it in a funeral pyre 
had got the government fearing that this whole thing might be turning 
into a witch-hunt.

* * *

New words weren't the only controversial things that the old handbook 
was teaching though. In fact, the handbook contained an endless amount 
of sketches, thoughts and plans of almost everything that ever came to 
take place on planet Earth from then on: Art, politics, 
entertainment...

For example, many colonial architects and interior designers now 
creating this new world, found the book containing many meaningful 
architectural details about the history of the thirteenth tribe, from 
the early days on planet Kobol to the point of the voyage when the book 
had been lost.

There were blueprinted floor plans to many important old buildings that 
had been the White House of Kobol or the Frackingham Palace of King 
Kobol the third. New detailed sketches for what later on Earth became 
the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben or the Sydney Opera, plus drawings and dreamy 
scribblings about a new wonderful place were colonial dreams would come 
true. A place called Hollywood.

And so with all this new fascinating information available during this 
on-going colonization of a new planet, it was no wonder that numerous, 
hired construction workers and ridiculously rich people with no taste 
everywhere, were inspired by those old layouts of the thirteenth tribe.

In frighteningly many cases, this new and modern, old-school 13th-ism 
as it was now called, was shamelessly mixed with the more familiar, 12-
colony-style architecture.

* * *

Adama's position as the head commander was never questioned, nor did 
the council of the twelve fail to keep its unchallenged authority. 
However. Five new autonomic colonies were declared, their leaders 
carefully considered, chosen and appointed.

Laws and old colonial rules were renewed to suit the new circumstances, 
and a new translation of the holy book of Kobol was in bookstores 
throughout the planet in no time.

So was another biblical Genesis once again joyously re-experienced as 
hundreds of thousands of people and animals continued to colonize this 
new world. Many people chose to wonder to the direction of sunrise. 
Others found their homes by the steep mountainsides of the northern 
territory or the lush forests of Nordeia, while some ended up settling 
in the subtropical paradise of the southern continent.

Most people however, believed that they would find their Kobolian dream 
if they traveled towards the setting sun. Towards a western world that 
later became known as the land of freedom and endless possibilities. 

That is where Adama too led his family and friends.

To Armourica.

* * *

A period of six sectars has now passed. According to the new Cadrian 
calendar, the end of the first half of Yahren 1 is closing to an end. A 
celebration with fireworks is being planned to take place outside the 
Council House next secton. Tickets are being sold by CouncilTic.

There has been no signs of enemy approaches of any kind during these 
six sectars. Even cylons are believed to have finally lost track of the 
humans. New hippie communities are emerging everywhere. Peace and 
flower power parades are being organized all over the planet. According 
to commander Adama, circumstances for settling down have never been 
more favourable.

The Academy of Military Skills and Training (AMST) is suffering from 
the lack of new applicants and funding. Spokesman Henry Williams claims 
that the problems are only temporary. The time of peace will not last 
forever.

The protozoan are in threat to become extinct. The Euphirian Union 
(opponents of propaganda, pornography and fattening food) has announced 
that it will be launching its new campaign to save the protozoan in the 
next two sectars. The Euphirian Union too has a little bit of trouble 
with the funding.

Vipers and viper helmets, Galactican uniforms and military turbo 
pistols that were widely black-marketed at street corners and 
underground clubs for bargain in the early days of the colonization, 
have disappeared 99.9 % as the distributors and Mafia dealers were 
found, caught and publicly executed.

Belief in the new era of peace and love between galaxies keeps taking 
more and more wing.

Signs of global warming and the thinning of the ozone layer during 
these past six sectars has been noticed by the Colonial Space 
Observation Unit. Commander Adama assures the public that the problem 
is only temporary.

Negotiations about arranging new presidential elections faced 
interruption as two of the candidates were subjected to an 
assassination attempt by a new vicious underground anti-republic 
activist group called the New Age Communists.

Heavy Metal music has been banned from at least thirty-four national 
Armourican radio stations due to the name carrying frightening 
resemblance to cylons. WKRF spokesman Mike Stingly assures that the 
problem is only temporary.

The most perceptive university- and army raiders have in the last two 
days targeted what surprisingly seems to be a new moon slowly 
approaching Cadria. So far, the discovery has been kept from the 
knowledge of the public. The CSOU and the ministry of outer space 
affairs and safety are hoping that the problem will go away by 
itself...

* * *

Chapter 1

The blazing sun was a little lower now and the rush centar was 
noticeably turning into a mild non-polluting street-shuttle evening 
traffic. In the distance, the Cariberian ocean was glimmering 
strikingly turquoise, its endless beaches now deserted as the 
sunbathers had left. The sunbathers and the surfers. It was almost 
19,00 centars.

Starbuck wiped the back of his neck with his hand. Damn it was still 
too hot!

A couple of microscopically tiny spots that couldn't have been anything 
else but boats or small ships, were disappearing into the glaring 
horizon. The sun looked heavy and yearning to drop into the ocean. The 
world seemed thirsty and tired, impatient for darkness.

Sudden cheerful chatter and vague laughter carried from somewhere 
outside. Starbuck recognized the sound of some nearby restaurant staff 
starting to prepare the terraces and bars for the evening.

For a moment Starbuck listened to those sounds, warm wind blowing 
through the open window playing with his hair. The jingling of bottles 
and glasses, the thumps and creaks as tables and chairs were taken 
down, their surfaces wiped clean...

A car horn honked somewhere.

Starbuck's gaze lingered on the panorama of the city for a while 
longer, then he turned to face his un-inspiring, sparsely furnished, 
eco-friendly downtown flat.

How long had he lived there? Two sectars? Four? Thousands?... Ever 
since the military had ceased to be the priority in Starbuck's life, 
every day had become alike. Time had turned unnoticeable. And the heat 
made the aimlessness worse. How could one be motivated to find 
excitement in life when it was too damn hot to even be bothered to get 
out of bed in the morning.

Starbuck's eyes searched for the air cooler in the corner by the 
window. The green light had gone out. The bloody thing was broken. 
Again!

Cursing to himself, Starbuck reached out and tried the switch, forcing 
it to the left, then to the right. Apart from a muffled hissing sound 
nothing happened. Annoyed as frack 
Starbuck hit his fist on the damn thing and a little cloud of eco-
friendly smoke puffed out from the apparatus' ventilation system. The 
muffled noise died.

Frack this apartment.

Frack this heat.

Letting out a deep resigned sigh Starbuck walked across the room to the 
kitchenette, held the fridge door open for far too long enjoying the 
cold air that flowed out, then grabbed the last, almost finished bottle 
of mineral water from the top shelf.

Another deep sigh. Going to the grocery store would be totally out of 
the question until the sun had set.

Starbuck closed his eyes and drank thirstily. For a moment the water 
tasted like finest ambrosa, then the moment was over, the bottle empty.

Frustrated, still thirsty, Starbuck tossed the plastic bottle into the 
sink and dragged himself back across the room to the bed, sprawling 
onto it, not bothering to take his sandals off.

The fan on the ceiling was making little crackling noises. The curtains 
were flowing a little because of the open window, creating dancing 
spots of sunlight on the walls. Subdued Sounds of traffic were carrying 
from the street below.

Starbuck's mind wondered to what used to be his... family...

Apollo.

Apollo the bookworm slash scientist-to-be.

God, Starbuck still had a hard time internalizing it...

* * *

The first time Starbuck had heard that Apollo had applied for the 
Darwood university in Saskachoona, he had laughed his ass off. The 
wildly vivid image of his courageous, born-to-be-a-hero friend sitting 
alone in a college library late at night, surrounded by test tubes and 
brick-thick, molding books had been too much for Bucky boy to handle.

It hadn't been until Apollo had began his second semester in 
Saskachoona that it had become reality to Starbuck.

Not only was Appy beginning to be spending more and more time at the 
university, taking courses in alienthopology, behavioural sciences and 
ancient Kreek (An old, now extinct language once spoken in the Keirian 
galaxy in the early millenniums of time), he had begun to act 
differently too. The warm, honest and straightforward captain had 
turned into a taciturn, unsociable and reserved scholar, sinking deeper 
and deeper into a newly-discovered world that was totally alien to 
Starbuck.

Sometimes Starbuck would catch glimpses of Apollo when the guy would 
visit home. Glimpses of him sitting on park benches, alone, reading a 
book in a weird language, not paying any attention to the world around 
him. Apollo was always, always dressed in old-fashioned, dark suits. 
Often wearing glasses too, although Starbuck knew for sure Apollo 
didn't need them.

Even the hair was different. Parted on the right like most men had in 
old photographs. A couple of escaped locks sometimes falling over the 
left eye when Apollo bent forward, to carefully study something in his 
book. Starbuck had a vision of Apollo brushing back those escaped 
locks, completely oblivious to everything surrounding him. This wasn't 
Apollo. This was something from a history book.

And Boomer then! Jeeez! How much more could a poor Starbuck take!

* * *

Boomer, the always sensible, forever responsible, delightfully cynical 
viper pilot had developed into this endlessly-surfing, constantly pot-
smoking slacker, spending all his time hanging down at the beach or 
some hip techno club with his other always-surfing, constantly pot-
smoking slacker buddies.

Starbuck had to shake his head to all this. What the hell had gotten 
into these people. Why couldn't things have stayed the way they had 
been? Why did it all have to be so different?

Starbuck himself didn't really care about the beach. Too hot. Too much 
sand.  Too many well-shaped, smoothly-tanned, easy-behaving people with 
perfect white teeth and the perfect hair.

Of course, out of respect and love for his old friend, Starbuck did 
occasionally consent to special 'beach days', but after them he just 
felt even more estranged from Boomer's world of waves and babes and 
good vibrations than ever before.

Besides, after a day on the beach, Starbuck always felt that not only 
was every hole in his body filled with sand for at least the next two 
sectons, but whatever had been left of his self esteem had vanished.

* * *

A knock on the door awoke Starbuck from his thoughts.

Resignedly, he crawled off the bed and headed towards the door to open 
it for a long-haired, annoyingly grinning Jolly, Starbuck's room-mate 
for four-sectars now, who had once again forgotten his keys or was too 
hot and lazy to be bothered to dig them out of his pocket.

"I should've left you standing there..." Starbuck mumbled with a frown 
and hardly glanced at his roommie before stammering back to the bed. He 
noticed Jolly striding his way towards the fridge.

"We're out of water by the way..." Starbuck mumbled to him.

"Shit." Jolly halted and frowned "Why didn't you go and get any then? 
You're the one with all the time in your hands for Chrissakes! Jobless 
and..."

"Shut up and let me suffer..." Starbuck sat on the side of the bed, 
trying to decide whether to lie down or not. He decided it was too hot 
to do neither.

"I can't fracking believe you've been sitting in here all day?" Jolly 
shook his head totally amazed by his friends weird behavior. "Just... 
Hell, just look at yourself! Six sectars in this gorgeous place and 
you're still white as a ghost..."

"I'm not in the mood to roast myself in the heat. I hate the heat. Just 
leave it be will you..."

"But..."

"Leave it!" Starbuck gave Jolly a glare of warning.

"Okay, whatever," Jolly shrugged and, with one hand, pulled off his 
orange-and-violet-coloured psychedelic shirt, then bent over to take 
off his tight, black shorts. He wasn't wearing any underwear.

"I don't understand you Starbuck!" Jolly's naked figure was a 
silhouette against the yellow curtains as he was standing in front of 
the window, stretching with a yawn, then starting to scratch the hair 
on his chest. "I mean... Hell, you don't wanna have fun? You don't 
wanna work? What do you want buddy??..."

"Get rid of this goddamn heat." Starbuck's eyes were blankly staring at 
the lightly-moving yellow curtains. "This heat wave from hell doesn't 
allow you to think straight..."

"Hey, this big heat wave hasn't been around that long...."

"Two bloody sectons is quite enough for me!" Starbuck let out a pained 
sigh, his gaze now lingering aimlessly in the room. "Besides, it's not 
the heat wave. It's the fact that it's always warm in this damn state! 
Even when it's cloudy it's warm! Even when it rains it's bloody 
warm..."

"Well, what did you expect?" Jolly smirked. "The state was officially 
named 'Warm Place'. I don't quite believe someone was leading you 
on..."

"Can we not talk about this." Starbuck lifted his hand and wiped off 
the perspiration from the back of his neck. "Can we not talk about 
anything..."

"Whatever." Jolly shrugged again, taking a look down as he started 
buttoning up the black polyester shirt he had just put on. There was a 
moment's quietude, filled only with the occasional distant city sounds. 
Someone ran down the stairs outside Starbuck's and Jolly's apartment.

"How's Boomer by the way?..." Starbuck studied Jolly's long-haired 
appearance. "You were with him today, right?"

"Sure." Jolly glanced up from the buttons with a grin. "Where else 
would I have been. The surf was up..."

Starbuck's eyes followed Jolly walking to a horrible brown dresser, 
taking a brush and starting to brush his hair, then tying his hair into 
a ponytail.

"You've lost weight." Starbuck raised one eyebrow, kinda surprised to 
notice this. "Not much but still..."

"I know." Jolly beamed, still tampering with his hair. "This place 
really suits me. I look fracking great don't I..."

"Your modesty just kills me Jol," Starbuck rolled his eyes. "How did 
you ever manage to not get involved with the modeling business..."

Jolly chuckled. Then there was a pause.

"You know Bucky..." Jolly finished with the ponytail, then let his arms 
drop to his sides, eyeing Starbuck via the mirror. "...When we were all 
still living on the Galactica, I could never be like you and Apollo. I 
was always the one left in the shadows. The one that looked ridiculous 
in the tight uniform..."

"Cut the felgercarb Jol!..." Starbuck laughed. "We were all heroes. All 
of us..."

"No no no no no..." Jolly smiled with an impatient frown. "You, Apollo, 
Boomer... You were the heroes. I was one of the extras... the fat 
stuntman who was to do all the shitty stuff you heroes wouldn't or 
weren't allowed to do..."

"Yeah right," Starbuck frowned. "That time of the sectar huh?"

"I'm serious Starbuck. Dead serious..." Jolly's eyes never left 
Starbuck. "...But you know, now, here in this place, I can finally be 
something that I wanna be. Here in Warm Place I'm noticed and 
considered a vital part of something. A part of the hip club scene, a 
party animal everyone knows. I'm a fracking great guy you know..."

"Great," Starbuck arched his eyebrows. "So all you need to become hip 
is have cubits to buy chic clothes, a taste for drugs and an ability to 
wiggle your butt on club dance floors without feeling self-conscious."

"...And don't forget the surf board," Jolly grinned, shrugging away the 
bad memories of the past. The past didn't matter any more. Life was 
great. "Groove is in the heart man," Jolly beamed. "Always in the 
heart..."

Starbuck rolled his eyes. "Well, ain't that just fracking great..."

"How does this look?" Jolly's eyes returned to the reflection of 
himself and he finished tampering with the ponytail. "Not too much gel 
is there...?"

No answer. Jolly turned his head.

"Starbuck??"

Silence. Starbuck was very thoughtfully staring at a blank spot on the 
wall somewhere between the air cooler and the refrigerator.

"Hey!!?..."

"Huh?" Starbuck looked up and his eyes met Jolly's.

"Gel?" Jolly posed with impatience. "Too much of it?"

"Jolly, I'm thinking of going to college." Starbuck kept his eyes on 
Jolly, wary of his reaction-to-be.

"What? Jolly's jaw dropped.

"Saskachoona. I know it's not that difficult to get in..."

"Hold on hold on hold on here!... What the... Hey, wait a centon!..." 
Jolly stared at Starbuck as if the man had gone mad. "just wait..."

"What?" Starbuck raised one eyebrow impatiently.

"Starbuck! You're 34! I think it's a little late for you to..."

"Darwood's for people over 26..."

"But..." Jolly just couldn't believe this. "You, for Sagan's sake!!...I 
don't quite see you as..."

"Why couldn't I apply there just as well as anyone else," Starbuck was 
starting to get annoyed. "I'm just as fracking good a choice as any 
other applicant..."

"What the hell were you thinking of majoring in, big boy?" Jolly just 
had to sit down. He reached for a chair nearby and pulled it over. 
Starbuck watched him do so.

"I don't know," the blond man shrugged. "I'll find out..."

"...And you really, genuinely believe you're student material..."

"I'm starting to get a distinctive feeling that you might think I'm 
stupid or something..."

"Of course I don't!" Jolly frowned. "But..."

"Well, to make you feel better..." Starbuck's voice was bitter. 
"...Darwood accepts all applicants so I guess even idiots like me have 
a chance. Great, isn't it..."

"But... ummm..." Jolly was speechless. "Is that what you really want to 
do?"

"So you do think I'm an idiot!?..."

"Of course I don't!" Jolly frowned with devotion. "I'm just... Are you 
absolutely, and I mean really really sure you want a life of a poor 
college student?"

"I don't know," Starbuck shrugged with honesty. "I'll find out. All I 
know I have to do something..."

"Erm..." Jolly couldn't possibly have been more surprised even if the 
cylons had chosen this very moment to attack. "...And when exactly did 
you decide this Bucko? Have you really given this grand idea any 
serious consideration?"

Starbuck shrugged again, his eyes now lingering on the walls. "As I 
said. All I know is that I need to get out of this damn place. I can't 
deal with any more of you surfers..."

Jolly laughed. Then he thought of something and paused to study 
Starbuck knowingly.

"Oh, right!" Boomer's left eyebrow arose rather entertained. "So that's 
it! You've fallen out with Boomer..."

"What?" Starbuck stared at the chubbier man.

"Come on Starbuck!" Jolly frowned with a smirk. "I know you two used to 
be friends and now you hardly ever see each other... and that little 
thing of yours in the past..."

"What thing??"

"Well... that thing you two had..."

Starbuck's eyes were two narrow lines. "What the hell has Boomer been 
feeding you with?..."

"No, it's not the drugs, man..."

"No, what I meant was, what the hell has Boomer been telling you!? What 
thing??"

"That little fling of yours..." Jolly smirked. "You know, the night of 
passion and all that corny shit..."

Starbuck's jaw dropped all the way to the floor. "WHAT??"

"I know you two slept together," Jolly's expression was at the same 
time impatient as it was extremely amused. "So what's the big deal..."

"We didn't sleep together, Jol," Starbuck couldn't believe what he was 
hearing. "Did Boomer say we've slept together??"

"Well... kind of..."

"What do you mean 'kind of'??"

"He's never actually said it happened but he keeps implying to it a 
lot," Jolly's smirk widened, causing Starbuck to frown with even more 
devotion. "...So if that's the reason, why the hell go to college?" 
Jolly continued. "Why not just..."

"First of all Jolly," Starbuck would've laughed at the ridicule of all 
of this if he hadn't been so pissed off. "I've never, and I mean Never, 
had sex with Boomer."

"Come on, man..."

"Secondly, we are still friends." Starbuck's face turned sarcastic as 
he said this. "Well, kind of anyway. Me, Boomie and the beach... At 
least we were, until you opened that big mouth of yours..."

"What? I didn't do anything..."

"Has Boomer actually implied that it was me he had sex with?..." 
Starbuck's annoyed-as-frack gaze studied the chubbier man. "I'm gonna 
kick his arse..."

"Um..." Jolly coughed. "Well, he hasn't really mentioned your name 
but... well, you know. You guys always having spent every waking micron 
together on the Galactica, I just... You know... And he did imply it 
was someone he's been very close to for a long time now. A friend..."

"So, he never told you it was me...?"

"No, not really..."

"So it's your arse I'm gonna have to kick..."

"Give me a break man..." Jolly rolled his eyes. He got up from the 
chair and walked back to the mirror.

"So you're going out tonight then?" Starbuck's eyes swept over Jolly's 
freshly-ironed shirt and hair dipped in a gel. "With Boomer?"

"Yeah. And the others. There's a really happening new place not far 
from Xenice. And I can get us in for free..."

"Great!" Starbuck smirked darkly. "I'm coming with you!"

"Oh no, you're not serious are you," Jolly turned to look at Starbuck 
with a frown. "You don't even like clubbing. You're just gonna sit 
there looking bored and take the fun out of all grooviness..."

"Is that how you see me Jol?" Starbuck raised one eyebrow. "As a boring 
fracker..."

"You know that you've never enjoyed yourself with us..."

"I'm coming with you anyway," Starbuck had made up his mind. He wanted 
to talk to Boomer about something. "Start getting ready Jol. The sooner 
we leave the better..."

"There's no point leaving before the sun has set," Jolly sighed and 
dragged his suddenly reluctant body to a chair from where he picked up 
a pair of black leather pants that had been tossed there and started to 
pull those pants on.

Jolly honestly didn't want Starbuck to come along. The guy was so 
fracking different nowadays. He'd spoil the whole evening...

Jolly eyes lingered on Starbuck's outfit. "Okay, but you better not 
leave the apartment in that T-shirt man. I've got a reputation to 
protect..."

"What fracking reputation?..."

"And I'm not going to let you wear those shoes sandals either..."

"Whatever," Starbuck rolled his eyes. "But you better not expect me to 
dress in a wet-suit or take my surf board..."

"Just as long as you wear something even distinctively fashionable..." 
Jolly buttoned up the leather pants and started turning and prancing 
back and forth in front of the mirror like a Barbie doll, studying his 
figure.

"Starbuck..." Jolly hesitated.

"What?"

"Does my bum look big in these?..."

"For Sagan's sake..."

"Does it?" Jolly's eyes lingered to Starbuck, expecting a reply. "And 
be honest..."

"No darling." Starbuck's sarcastic smile was from one ear to the other. 
"Your perfect little butt looks just delicious..."

Jolly turned back to admire the reflection of his behind in the mirror 
appreciatingly, a proud smile  on his face.

"Yeah, you're right man. That's exactly what I was thinking too," Jolly 
beamed. "It's perfect. It's round and firm and luscious, and not a 
trace of cellulite. I love my butt! I love my whole body..."

"Great. I love your butt too," Starbuck rolled his eyes. This was going 
to be another long night.

Starbuck's gaze lingered to a paintless little spot on the ceiling...

* * *

Someone in the next table was laughing too loud. It topped the music 
carrying from inside the club. Not that the music was that loud really. 
An uninteresting monotonous dance track. Probably something in the 
charts. Starbuck would've preferred something more imaginative, like 
Gay Serotonin Shaker for example.

Starbuck dug into the pockets of the black, seventies-like corduroy 
trousers Jolly had forced him to wear, pulled out a packet of 
fumarellos, took one, put it between his lips and lit it.

He watched the smoke curling upwards.

The sky was a painting of red and pale purple and the sun was a 
hovering red ball in the horizon. The wind from the ocean had picked 
up, yet it was still warm and something 
that most people would consider pleasant, caressing the skin softly, 
playing with the hair.
To Starbuck it was still too warm.

The terrace of 'The Cardinal Club' was packed. All tables were 
occupied, and everywhere one looked there were people crowding the 
place, standing alone, in pairs or in groups, chatting and seemingly 
enjoying themselves and the lukewarm evening.

Near the doorway there were a bunch of shamelessly fashionable people 
dancing, showing themselves off, enjoying the fresh air and not wanting 
to get poked and stumbled on the packed dance floor inside.

Even with the music all around, the sound of the nearby ocean waves 
rolling onto the sand could be heard to the terrace if one paused to 
listen. Palm trees were swaying mildly in the wind, the leaves 
rustling. The sky turning more and more purple every micron. There was 
a vague scent of suntan oil and perfume in the air. That and the 
constant chirping of grasshoppers.

Boomer was high, Starbuck could tell. He studied the grinning, deeply 
tanned face of his friend. The eyes were too bright, the expression in 
them hazy. Yeah, Starbuck recognized the signs. He had seen them in his 
friend too often nowadays.

Boomer was vividly describing something to a guy with bleached, shaggy 
hair and a hip necklace made of wooden pearls, sitting, or rather: 
slouching next to him. Starbuck couldn't make out what they were 
talking about but the truth to be told he wasn't too interested anyway.

The bleached-haired guy had his hand on Boomer's shoulder and he was 
leaning against him in a way that looked too friendly to Starbuck. 
Bleach seemed drunk. And stupid.

Starbuck looked away and saw Jolly fighting his way through the crown 
in the terrace, carrying three huge plastic mugs full of beer.

"Yo! Guys! The widely grinning Jolly waved, spilling from his drinks 
but not giving a damn about it. "Three orders on the way!!"

The bloke with the bleached hair looked up stoned and gave Jolly a 
conspirator's wave.

"Beer!" He announced pompously. "The drink of Sagan's..."

"The best drink in the universe!" Boomer chimed in, beaming and loaded.

Another guy at the table, a dark-haired one with a ponytail was 
irritatingly obviously posing, elegantly smoking his cigarette. 
Starbuck hated him for being so damn good-looking.

That dark-haired guy gave Jolly a dashing grin, then returned to the 
usual look-at-me-I'm-here presence.

Somehow Jolly made it to the table without spilling any more beer than 
he already had and put the drinks down. Bleach and Boomer grabbed 
theirs hungrily.

One of Boomer's surfer buddies, a guy named Francis Lindo, had passed 
out on the table and was snoring lightly. A cigarette was still burning 
in between his fingers. The two others were inside somewhere, probably 
hanging by the bar showing themselves off, or dancing. Starbuck was 
glad they were out of sight. Two centars of that meaningless, 
superficial and stoned babble about skinny but curvy beach chicks, good 
hash and QX board wax had been quite enough thank you very much. And 
those guys so clearly considered themselves a part of the club elite. 
You know, the good-looking fashionable people. Starbuck hated them all.

Jolly, who was too high on some kind of amphetamine-esque thing to be 
able to remain still, was back to making his way back inside the club. 
Starbuck's eyes followed him for a moment, then lingered to the moving 
ethereal figures that were the people on the dance floor inside, behind 
the decorated glass wall. Psychedelic butterflies without form, 
multicoloured lights reflecting on them and responding to every 
movement they made.

Starbuck's eyes returned to Boomer.

"You have a sec?"

Both, the dark man and the bleached mop looked up, interrupted.

"A what?" Boomer raised one eyebrow.

"A micron." Starbuck smiled, being actually glad that he knew more 
fashionable words than Boomer who considered himself so bloody hip. "I 
wanna talk to you..."

Starbuck glanced at mister bleach. "...in private."

"What is it?" Boomer's too bright, drug-hazed eyes were curious.

"In private." Starbuck was still darting mister bleach with his very 
best 'get the hell out of here'-look and to his utter surprise, the guy 
actually got the hint.

Bleach poked Francis Lindo to wake the bloke up and both guys started 
tottering their way across the terrace to the turboflush.

Boomer watched for a centon as his apparently very dear friends were 
making their way throughout he crowd, then turned to Starbuck who had 
remained silent so far, waiting for Boomer's total concentration to 
focus on him.

"Ssssooo... Whassup?" Boomer grinned.

"Speak Caprican Boomer." Starbuck snarled.

"Oh, spare me!" Boomer rolled his eyes. "What's with you?..."

"Who's the guy you slept with on the Galactica?" Oh shit. This wasn't 
what 
Starbuck had intended to say. It had just popped out of his mouth. "I 
mean..."

"None of your business pal," Boomer smirked. Starbuck hated that smirk.

"Jolly thought it was me..."

"Well, that's Jolly's problem isn't it."

"Not as long as people get the fracking impression that it was us!..."

"Is it such a horrible thought," Boomer's smirk widened, probably to 
annoy Starbuck more. "The idea of sleeping with me?..."

Bloody hell. Bloody hell... "Cut the crab Boomer," Starbuck snarled. "I 
don't care who the guy was. In fact, this isn't at all what I really 
wanted to talk to you about..."

"Oh..." Boomer didn't stop smirking. God it infuriated the frack out of 
Starbuck. For a moment he thought about leaving, then...

"I'm planning to apply for Darwood..." Starbuck blasted out without 
thinking 
about it further. "You know, the university..."

"Good for you buddy." Boomer patted Starbuck on the shoulder, grinning 
drunkenly. "College life is rumoured to be wild! I've heard some pretty 
amazing..."

"...and I want you to come with me..."

"What?" Boomer eyebrows shot up.

"I... I want things to be the way there were." Starbuck swallowed. 
Hesitantly, he reached over the table to take Boomer's hand. "I want us 
to be those close friends we used to be in the military..."

"We are friends buddy." There was immense hilarity in Boomer's voice. 
Something malicious too, but it was tried to be carefully hidden.  
"What's with you? You have a crush on me or something?"

Starbuck pulled his hand back, affronted. "No, you conceited bastard. I 
just feel that..." Starbuck wanted so much to explain the way he felt 
but now that he had the chance for it, he didn't find the words at all. 
Boomer felt like a stranger. "...Don't you think that things have 
changed since we came to Cadria? Us having changed as people and... 
drifted apart?"

"Things change, buddy." Boomer's eyebrows were amusedly arched. "This 
place is far out, man. This place rules..."

"Maybe..." Starbuck smiled sadly. "But I'm lonely." I miss you. And I 
miss Apollo..."

"...And you want us all to go to college so we can be 'tight' again, 
like in the military." Boomer laughed. "I think that's kinda far-
fetched. Please grow up Starbuck!"

Starbuck's hurt gaze studied Boomer. He truly regretted having opened 
up to the guy. They weren't friends any more, he realized that now. 
What the hell had he been thinking...

"I don't know what I want..."Starbuck withdrew back into his shell. And 
he sure didn't want to be with Boomer any more. "I just... don't want 
to feel like I'm going nowhere... And I really miss my friends..."

"Starbuck," Boomer's face was still amused. Didn't he see how much that 
amused in particular hurt the other man. "I like my life here. I'm not 
in need of any altering. And there's no way in hell you're gonna talk 
me over into going to some college like a freakin' teenager..."

"Saskachoona's for people over 26..." Starbuck replied like a robot 
although he didn't want to talk about this any more. God, he was sorry 
he had ever even started the fracking parody of conversation.

"...I'm a surfer Starbuck. This is what I wanna be. This is..." Boomer 
paused to take a sip from his beer mug. Starbuck noticed Jolly's figure 
through the decorated glass, inside the club and by the bar, talking to 
one of Boomer's brain dead friends. Maybe he should join them to get 
away from Boomer...

"Oh!! I get it..." Boomer suddenly started smirking like crazy. 
Starbuck's wary eyes drifted back to him.

"What is it now??..."

"You've heard from Apollo, is that it?" Boomer didn't realize there was 
beer foam in the corner of his mouth. "Is that why you're babbling 
about college? Apollo asked you to apply, and now you're running to do 
what he says like a hungry daggit...Like you always did..."

"I haven't heard from Apollo in two sectons." Starbuck replied blankly, 
hating Boomer at the very moment.

An image of a new strange version of Apollo the bookworm slash 
scientist-to-be appeared before Starbuck's eyes, then formed into a 
bleach mop of hair and a thin body underneath sitting down between 
Boomer and Starbuck.

"Yo." bleach grinned. "Whassappenin'?"

"Bucky here's planning to go to college Mikey." Boomer smirked, putting 
his hand around bleach's shoulders but keeping his amused eyes on 
Starbuck. "Who would've thought we have another academician in the 
family..."

"Good for you!" bleach drummed the table with his fingers, grinning 
widely at Starbuck. "Marvard, is it?"

"Darwood." Starbuck's eyes didn't leave Boomer's.

"That's cool man. That's cool," bleach kept on drumming, his head was 
popping up and down with the rhythm of the music coming from inside. 
Starbuck couldn't take it any more.

"Excuse me..." Starbuck pushed his chair back and got up from the 
table, almost knocking over his drink. "I believe I have some college 
applications to fill..."

"Apollo asked you to do them tonight eh?" Boomer smiled. "Boy, isn't he 
impatient..."

Starbuck didn't stay there to hear their malicious laughter.

Without saying anything more, he walked away from Boomer and bleach, 
not knowing, or giving a damn even if he would have known, that 
Boomer's gaze followed him as he was making his way through the crowded 
terrace, passing the doorman who looked like a bulldozer and 
disappearing into the twilit parking lot.

"Hey Boomie," a low voice lingered into Boomer's awareness, awaking him 
from his thoughts. Boomer turned, although his mind was still on 
Starbuck. "Yeah?"

"Francis got a call from both Squirrel and Otter earlier," bleach's 
pale blue eyes were studying the darker man. The drumming of his 
fingers had stopped.

"Really?" Boomer eyed bleach, feeling a wave of sudden excitement in 
his stomach. "We're ready to proceed then?..."

"No," bleach frowned, pausing to take a wary glance around, then 
lowering his voice. "There's some fracking delay..."

* * *

Chapter 2

Darwood, Saskachoona.

Starbuck still had difficulty believing he was actually there, changing 
his life. He eyed the student dormitory building in the distance ahead.

The building must had been deliberately made to look old and 
depressing, and Starbuck had no doubt it was something straight out of 
the handbook of the thirteenth tribe.

With its small curtainless windows, plain gray granite walls and paint 
falling off the doors and window sills, the student dormitory looked 
like nobody had lived their for years. Like nobody had wanted to.

The asphalt path that was leading from the much-better-looking beige 
faculty building to the main door for the dormitory was deteriorating 
everywhere, and the lawn surrounding it was unkempt and beaten, not to 
mention littered with paper, empty lunch boxes and cigarette stubs. 
Disgusting.

Starbuck noticed a crumpled ball of paper on the path and kicked it, 
following an elderly professor who was taking him towards the dormitory 
building. A few other students passed them on the way, nobody paying 
them any attention.

The main doorway of the building opened into a brown-coloured atrium. 
Starbuck thought it was damn ugly. The professor took a couple of 
centons dealing with an overly-willing-to-help student attendant on-
duty to get the keys to Starbuck's residence, then turned to gesture to 
Starbuck to follow him into a brown-carpeted stairway at the end of the 
atrium. Starbuck picked up his bags hoping that the older man would 
have the sense and the manners to volunteered to help. The professor 
was already halfway up the stairs.

There were four floors in the building all in all, each flight of 
stairs opening into two hallways leading to opposite directions and 
containing 20 student rooms and three public toilets each.

Some of the rooms, the professor informed while striding ahead of 
Starbuck, had private bathrooms and Starbuck crossed his fingers.

All the student social premises of the building were on the first 
floor. The kitchen and the large shower rooms right next to the student 
attendant's office.

Starbuck's residence was on the third floor. An unwelcoming little pad 
with a narrow bed, above which hung a poster probably taken from some 
old rock magazine. A group of pissed-off-looking guys with larger-than-
life hairstyles and frightening leather pants glared down at Starbuck 
from the wall and Starbuck knew that taking down the poster would be 
the very first thing he'd do after the professor had left.

Battered vanilla-coloured walls. A white table, a matching chair and a 
computer were placed by the window. A descent-sized wooden wardrobe 
looming near the door, one of it's two doorknobs about to fall off. A 
worn out rug the colour of fading beige was on the floor beside the bed 
and a small beige door next to the wardrobe led to an ascetic, tiny 
bathroom. Starbuck thanked the Sagans for getting a toilet all for 
himself.

"Well, here we are." Professor Niels, the headmaster of the Darwood 
university, was a small man with a potato nose and a high forehead. His 
grayish dark, thinning hair was combed frontward and he had an 
unignorable way of sniffing as he spoke.

"Not quite Frackingham Palace," the man continued, smiling wryly, "but 
I'm sure you'll make yourself comfortable."

"Yeah..." Starbuck smiled back, not quite registering professor Niels' 
words but hearing them anyway. His concentration was completely on the 
other side of the window, on the campus yard spreading before him in 
the form of a few large gloomy buildings, narrow campus roads and a 
parking lot.

There was a large lawn with few spruce trees and birches clustered here 
and there. Clusters that turned more dense, forest-like, in the 
distance on the edge of the campus. A statue that resembled nothing was 
looming on the lawn next to a big yellow-ish building that could've or 
could've not been the student social center.

The student dormitories were a row of five gray buildings, facing the 
parking lot.
There was constant traffic in the campus yard, always someone coming or 
going, hurrying someplace or loafing down a lane, deep in thoughts, 
probably going over a lesson or a recent conversation with a professor, 
maybe thinking about a presentation or an essay he had just handed in. 
Many were riding bicycles. A handy way of getting quickly from one 
place to another. Starbuck decided to buy a second-hand bicycle as soon 
as possible.

From the corner of his eye, Starbuck noted headmaster Niels blowing his 
nose into a napkin, then folding the napkin tidily and putting it back 
into the pocket of his black gabardine. The man looked up at Starbuck.

"Do I understand correctly that you have all the important matters with 
your counselor, the student faculty and the financial department 
arranged?" Professor Niels inclined his head to one side as he spoke.

Starbuck nodded, his eyes still looking out the window.

"Good," the man smiled. "The classes with mister Perieś will start at 
nine tomorrow morning. I presume you haven't changed your mind about 
your major..."

"Mmmpfh" Starbuck wasn't at all certain about having chosen 
dephtorology and protosophic animal studies as his prime subject.

"As you are one of the receivers of the scholarship, you will receive a 
sectarly check of 500 cubits that is not only supposed to cover all 
your studying expenses but your living expenses as well..."

A group of five men, all dressed in black, cut across the lawn carrying 
on a vivid conversation with each other. One of the men looked so much 
like Apollo...

"Don't forget you have a scheduled meeting with the university 
facultative instructor tomorrow at noon," the professor carried on, 
getting another hmmmmpfh for response. Starbuck had already forgotten 
about his appointment. His mind had been lingering on Apollo most of 
the time ever since he had arrived to Saskachoona last night and now 
seeing this guy in the yard...

"...With the instructor, you will go through the extra work you will 
have to complete due to having started your studies in the middle of 
the term..." Professor Niels paused to give another one of his wryly 
smiles and to make sure the younger man was listening. "...I do hope 
you are considering to take your studies here at Darwood seriously..."

The four young men disappeared behind the corner of yet another gloomy 
building that the campus yard was so full of. Starbuck mumbled his 
affirmative answers and reluctantly turned back to face the room and 
the professor. What a funny little man, Starbuck thought. And annoying 
too.

"Well..." professor Niels decided it was time for him to go and turned 
towards the door, his eyes still on Starbuck. "I think all the matters 
of the highest priority have been said. The rest can undoubtedly wait 
until tomorrow. Welcome to Darwood."

"Thanks." Starbuck leant a little forward to reply to the held-out 
hand. 

"Thanks for having me here."

"Always a pleasure..."

A firm handshake. Then the professor left, closing the door behind him. 
Starbuck turned back to face the yard.

How different Saskachoona was compared to Warm Place although they 
weren't that far away from each other. Only about an 18 to 20 centar 
trip. Easily traveled by a train or a car or a bus...

A public shuttle would have made the journey in four centars. A fighter 
viper would have dived from Warm Place to Saskachoona in less than one. 
Starbuck missed flying. He missed his babe.

* * *

Now that it was officially peace-time and there hadn't been any sign of 
enemy threat for ages, all vipers and fighter shuttles had been 
withdrawn from what was called any 'unnecessary' use. A decision made 
by the council of the twelve.

No one considered it even a little bit ridiculous that the students of 
AMST were now trained in simulators while the army and the Academy kept 
the real vipers locked in a warehouse somewhere. Even the C.O.R.A and 
the other three special VIX units had been hoarded up to rust.

And it wasn't only the vipers. Any military equipment that had been 
openly used and considered as a part of everyday life on the Galactica, 
had been confiscated after the landing on Cadria and was now considered 
to be private army property only.

Any man to be found in possession of any military property would be 
harshly punished. Possibly even executed.

* * *

It looked like it had started to rain a little outside. There were tiny 
water drops on the glass of the window, obscuring the view. Umbrellas 
were being opened here and there, college books or newspapers held 
above heads as people were rushing to get back inside.
Everything looked gray.

Starbuck liked it.

He turned away from the window and eyed his room, considering of 
unpacking his bags, then perhaps heading to the yellow building to get 
something to eat. It was already past 18.00 and he hadn't had anything 
since this morning, in down town Saskachoona.

* * *

Starbuck had arrived to the town center late yesterday evening and 
spent the night in a ragged Holiday Inn near the railway station.

After a lousy breakfast and two cups of coffee that had tasted like 
formaldehyde, Starbuck had spent a centar and half looking for a taxi 
station. He had ended up walking ten kilometrons of a country road to 
the university campus, carrying his two bags. None of the passing pick-
up trucks with their grumpy farmers inside had stopped to give him a 
lift. So much for the countryside hospitality.

Twice Starbuck had gotten sidetracked. The first time being when he had 
turned from the main road following a sign that had promised 'Old 
Darwood' and ending up in a large field with a couple of dozens cows 
chewing their breakfast, the second time having understandably missed 
the turn to 'Edgew Hills' and having to have stopped at a gas station 
two kilometrons later to ask directions.

The pump boy had stared at Starbuck with furrowed eyebrows and asked if 
he was one of those people looking for the Denier mansion. Having had 
no fracking idea what the kid was babbling about, Starbuck had 
explained that he was on his way to Darwood and the boy had furrowed 
his brows even more.

"What?" The boy had scratched his chin. "The grazing field?"

It had demanded a lot more patient explaining from Starbuck's part to 
make the boy understand that Starbuck hadn't meant 'Old Darwood' the 
town-turned-cow-field but the university of Darwood (Oh, Edgew Hills! 
Then why didn't you say so in the first place!) and half a centar later 
Starbuck had been back pacing his way back to where he had come from.

Three and a half centars later, a very exhausted Starbuck had dragged 
his what was left of his body into the office of professor Niels, 
anxious to get to his room to rub his blistered feet.

* * *

Now in his room, Starbuck walked to the bed where he had placed his 
bags and pulled open the zipper on the first one.

Humming to himself, ignoring his grumbling stomach, Starbuck spent a 
relaxing half a centar making his new quarters look like he actually 
lived there.

First he ripped down the poster with the larger-than-life hairstyled 
rock gods and replaced it with a one with a fighter viper in it. Then 
he started to hang his few clothes into the wardrobe, putting his socks 
in the top drawer and the boxers and briefs in the one below.

The bathroom was smaller than it had seemed at first. Starbuck placed 
his shampoo bottle and the hair conditioner on the side of the tub, his 
toothbrush, the cup and a bottle of 'Gentle Face Wash' on the side of 
the sink, then tossed his shaving gear, hair brush, hair gel and all 
that other needful felgercarb on the dirty glass shelf under the 
stained little mirror above the sink.

* * *

The computer on the desk in front of the window seemed to be one of the 
older Caprican models. Starbuck switched it on and the screen flashed 
frighteningly green and orange. Changing the desktop wallpaper would 
obviously be amongst the most urgent things to do.

Starbuck smiled when he noticed the meganet icon on the left hand 
corner of the screen.
So, if it ever did get hellishly boring here in this university, 
Starbuck could always go and print pictures from Viper.com or find a 
random partner in some chat room and brag to know commander Adama 
personally.

Starbuck's stomach made itself noticed again and Starbuck glanced at 
his timepiece. The student canteen would be open for another half a 
centar but Bucky didn't have his student ID card yet so a Wimpy would 
have to do. The professor had mentioned that there would be one found 
in the yellow building.

Starbuck put on his black leather jacket and checked that the key was 
still in the pocket, then left the room dark, closing the door behind 
him and heading down the hallway to the flight of stairs. Two loudly 
chatting girls in fashionable pig tails passed him in the stairway, 
both giving him the eye, but Starbuck hardly even noticed it.

Lively conversations were carrying from the downstairs social areas but 
Starbuck didn't see anyone in the atrium itself except the student 
attendant who was reading a Stephen King novel, her legs up on the 
office desk.

It was noticeably colder outside now that it had been earlier and 
Starbuck wrapped the jacket tighter around him. He felt the trickle of 
rain on his face as he walked.

The yellow building did indeed turn out to be the social center of the 
campus, and the fluorescent lights of Wimpy weren't the only signs of a 
junk-food-selling places in the building. Starbuck could spot at least 
three others, one of which was a Mickey Mills. Starbuck grinned at a 
warm memory.

Mickey's had been one of the biggest quick-food restaurant-chains on 
Caprica, and when Apollo and Starbuck had been wild and reckless 
teenagers, there was hardly ever a day in those days that they hadn't 
skipped the lunch centar at school to avoid Mrs. Gunnerson's 
nightmarish mashed potatoes and directed their determined stride to 
Mickey's for a decent meal.

Mickey had been the name of the owner's daggit. A brilliant mongrel who 
had lived a long, happy life and died one ridiculously fat, content 
animal. Starbuck realized he actually missed that canny old canine. And 
he missed his days of youth with Apollo.

Wondering who had the ownership of the restaurant chain now that 
Antonio Adriano was dead, Starbuck ignored the fluorescent red lights 
of Wimpy and headed for the hamburgers of MickeyMills instead.

* * *

Three cheese hamburgers, a pack of fries and a large coke later, 
Starbuck was back in the dorm, and after a couple of centons strolling 
around the room aimlessly, decided to take a proper turbowash in the 
downstairs shower rooms instead of cramping himself in the stamp-sized 
bathtub in the tiny toilet of his room, before going to bed early.

Starbuck grabbed a towel and other needful things, then trotted back 
down the stairs giving an absent smile to the student attendant on-duty 
when passing her in the atrium. The girl nodded back vaguely, hardly 
taking her eyes off the book.

All the three shower rooms were unoccupied. A miracle that would not 
take place in the delta dormitory too often as Starbuck would later 
notice.

But now they were empty indeed. Starbuck stood there in the shower 
forever, eyes closed, enjoying the flow of warm water washing over him, 
enjoying the privacy of the solitude and emptying his head from all 
thoughts. Even the thoughts of Apollo and Boomer.

Or, at least he tried to...

* * *

Back in his room Starbuck combed his wet hair in front of the stained 
toilet mirror, washed his teeth and then stripped into his boxers 
forgetting to close the curtains in the window, not that there would be 
anyone out there drooling over Starbuck's half-naked body although 
perfect as it was but...

At this point, the narrow, metallic bed looked more than inviting. 
Starbuck pushed aside the covers and climbed in, turning off the desk 
lamp beside the bed.

In the darkness of the room, hearing distant noises of other students 
from the hallway and other rooms, watching the vague lights reflecting 
from outside campus yard moving on the ceiling, Starbuck fell asleep.

...To find someone standing behind him. There hadn't been any noise, 
just a sudden feeling of not being alone.

Starbuck tried to turn but his movements were in slow motion so when he 
finally could take a look at the blackness of the hallway behind, he 
saw no one.

The shadowed stairway at the end of the hallway...Starbuck knew he 
shouldn't walk there but he did. He started towards it, hearing distant 
footsteps of his own. He knew the face would be waiting at the bottom 
of those stairs and he knew whose face it would be although it was too 
damaged to be recognized.

Starbuck took the first step down the stairway, ten steps went by. 
Starbuck felt like he was floating downwards. The huge wall-size 
paintings on the walls of the stairway were in the shadows, what they 
portrayed could not be recognized.

Another twenty steps went by without Starbuck even moving. He could see 
the end of the stairs. He could see the shadow waiting at the bottom. 
And a fucking communicator somewhere didn't stop ringing...

Starbuck woke up startled to the sound of the alarm timepiece on the 
table and for a little passing micron he had no idea where the frack he 
was. The glowing figures on the timepiece told Starbuck that it was 
08.00 centars a.m.

Raindrops were still trickling against the window as they probably had 
all night, and a gloomy morning light told Starbuck that the he had 
only centar to go before facing a mister Perieś and another 24 
enthusiastic dephtorologists.

Starbuck wanted to put the pillow over his head and let the trickle 
against the glass carry him back to sleep. He didn't. There would be 
just enough time to take a shower in the stamp-sized bath tub, get 
dressed and go grab a greasy breakfast at Mickey's or someplace. Damn 
the fact that he didn't have his student ID yet. And he wouldn't get it 
until noon from his student counselor after he had had the whatever 
talk with the facultative instructor.

* * *

The campus yard looked wet and gray as Starbuck crossed it to get to 
the student social center. A young man in his late twenties wearing a 
yellow raincoat peddled past Starbuck, and two oncoming wet-haired 
blokes with good-humoured grins on their faces passed him, chattering 
and without paying any attention to anything but each other.

For a moment Starbuck felt lonely again.

* * *

The student canteen was half full. Starbuck eyed the chattering, easy-
going students in the large canteen while walking past it, heading over 
to Mickey's to enjoy a very healthy chicken burger and a can of 
ridiculously healthy Coke.

Still fifteen centons before mister Perieś.

* * *

When Starbuck had taken his seat with his chicken burgers, fries and 
his drink, and opened the first page of the Saskachoona Morning Glory, 
he noticed a boy with black hair parted on the right, eyeglasses and an 
expensive looking black trenchcoat walking into Mickey's and stopping 
to eye the menu beside the counter.

In a couple of microns, another man, a really good-looking one with 
brown wavy hair and a lean 6'2 figure also dressed in black joined him.

Starbuck pretended to be leafing through the morning newspaper.

The first guy turned to the tall one giving him a warm smile and an 
obviously funny word or two in a hushed voice.

The other one grinned, and it didn't take more than that for Starbuck 
to notice how incredibly close those two men were, like they were 
sharing a secret no one else knew. Starbuck couldn't take his eyes off 
them.

Starbuck watched as the two men moved to the counter and exchanged a 
couple of polite sentences with the person behind it. He couldn't make 
out any of the words they were saying but he could hear the tone that 
suggested of a controlled, posh upbringing. A west Gemini accent, 
definitely upper class.

The person behind the counter with a cook's hat must had been just as 
intrigued by these two as Starbuck was, since he too kept his eyes on 
those two men as they made their way to one of the tables, chatting and 
carrying their trays and then taking their seats.

A group of three or four students passed loudly outside Mickey's and 
then a bell started ringing somewhere. Starbuck realized he would 
probably be late for mister Perieś's class.

Resignedly, definitely not wanting to leave now, Starbuck poured the 
rest of the cola down his throat and got up to put his jacket on. 
Neither of the men lifted their eyes to meet Starbuck's eyes as he 
walked out of Mickey's and it somehow made him feel disappointed.

Outside the restaurant, beside the glass window with the flashing sign, 
Starbuck stopped to buckle up his jacket which he never usually did.

He took one final discreet glance inside hoping to catch the eye of 
either one of the men.
He didn't.

With a sigh, Starbuck lifted the collar of his jacket and started down 
the hallway, passing the babble in the student canteen and exiting into 
the rain, directing his way towards the green science building. He felt 
lonelier than ever.

* * *

"You rule man!" Mitchi grinned, revealing his shockingly white teeth 
against his tanned skin. "This stuff is great! Where did you get it?"

"Good sources are never to be revealed," Francis Lindo smirked, smoking 
his joint and lying on his back on the blanket, gazing at the clouds 
above moving slowly towards the west. The sound of the waves 
accompanied the turned-low music from the car stereo nearby.

"This stuff ain't as strong as the previous felgercarb," Sascha took a 
drag, "Not that I'm complaining. I think this is better. You can 
actually enjoy the process of getting stoned..."

"Yeah," Mikey chuckled and brushed his bleached hair off his forehead 
and eyes, revealing a catchy grin. "I wish we could do this all the 
time, man... I mean... Shit, just look at us..."

Boomer was lying on his stomach on the blanket, his cheek resting on 
his arm. His back felt mildly sunburned, but the position he was lying 
in was too enjoyable to change. "Anyone heard from the Otter?"

"Not since last night," Francis Lindo mumbled, still eyeing the clouds. 
"All he said that we have to be prepared for the next level but there 
seems to be some delay..."

"What fracking delay?" Sascha whined. "Are we going or not?..."

"How the frack should I know!" Francis growled at the amazingly 
beautiful guy with black hair on a ponytail. "All Otter said was that 
Squirrel would keep us posted..."

"Hell, I think that delay shit is just perfect." Mitchi grinned. "Now 
we don't have to leave this paradise! This beach sure has become my 
life! Can someone go and change the tape in the car..."

"Getting tired of 'Gay Dad' eh?" Mikey lifted one eyebrow to the guy 
with naturally blond, shoulder-length hair and a surfer's body to die 
for. "You want som'thing else, you go and put on som'thing else. I'm 
not getting up for you, man..."

"Oh spare me Mike!..."

"Any of you guys want to get wet?" Sascha asked lazily, eyeing the 
dreamily glimmering waves.

"Hey, I'm not in any condition to surf Sash," Mitchi chuckled, loving 
the warmth of the sun on his face. "And you're not in any condition to 
rescue me if I tried..."

Sascha grinned.

Life was great.

"So, ummm... He didn't give you anything more precise?" Boomer's eyes 
were closed and he intended to stay that way for centuries.

"Who said what?" Mikey's eyes lingered to the back of Boomer's head. 

"Squirrel?"

"The Otter."

"Nothing," Francis Lindo sat up to stub the joint out. "Just as I said. 
That there might be delay and that Squirrel would fill us in on what 
was going on..."

"Heard from your friend by the way?" Mikey nudged Boomer's shoulder 
with his big toe. "The college guy..."

"Starbuck?" Boomer knew very well whom Mikey was talking about.

"Yeah. Received any heart-aching love letters yet? The guy seemed kinda 
reluctant to leave you behind..."

Mitchi and Mikey laughed dirtily as Boomer blushed and tried to hit 
Mikey. 

"Cut the felgercarb Mike!! If you're trying to make me mad you won't 
succeed!..."

Mikey's smirk grew even wider and more teasing. "No, eh?..."

"No, you won't," Boomer was already mad.

"Hey, Jolly's coming..." Sascha had noticed two approaching figures and 
shielded his eyes with his hand. "...with someone!"

The others turned to look at the direction of Sascha's gaze.

"Any idea who that bloke is?" Sascha's eyes swept over the others, then 
turned back to look the two approaching dark blurs.

"Probably just some guy," Boomer mumbled, he too shielding his gaze. "I 
can't really make out anything. The sun's behind them..."

"And of course no one remembered to bring sunglasses?..." Mitchi 
frowned. "Why do I always have to suffer because of you guys..."

* * *

The observatory of military sector of the CSOU (Colonial Space 
Observation Unit) wasn't exactly the command bridge of the Galactica, 
but Omega liked working there anyway.

With the money invested by the government, the CSOU had the means to 
proceed with any task required and Omega knew he possessed the 
qualifications to fill them. That's why he had been hired.

Not only had all those yahrens in the service of the military operating 
battlestars and other large fighter units become something of an old 
habit to Omega, but he actually really, really liked his job. And with 
all the money to play with... Omega's admiring eyes lingered to the 
brand new DX-445 steel dosifier... boy, what a beauty! And there was a 
lot more to come...

* * *

"Sir," Chief co-ordinations administrator Bubba handed Omega the 
centarly report which usually contained nothing out of the ordinary and 
was normally leafed through and filed in less than five centons.

Now however, as Omega very well knew, the approaching of the strange 
object that had come into the view of the military radar's only two 
days ago, the thing that was rather surprisingly considered to be a 
moon, made the centarly reports a headache.

All calculations showed that the object had been in a straight 
collision course with planet Cadria until the past three sectars when 
the object had started to move in an unpredictable way which suggested 
that the thing was in fact controlled, and therefore no moon at all but 
a possible enemy threat.

According to any recent calculations, the object would reach the sphere 
of Cadria in no more than two days. Probably within 24 centars.

The public had not yet been notified. The administration of the CSOU 
and the ministry of outer space affairs were still hoping that the 
problem would solve itself.

"Get me commander Adama on the communicator," Omega sighed.

* * *

There were five of them all together. All dressed in black including 
Apollo, all well-groomed and their manners subtly controlled, their 
presence consciously nonchalant to the other students in the canteen. 
Starbuck had a hard time believing that this strange dandy he was 
seeing was what used to be his... brother...

...But how strangely fascinating Apollo now was. They all were. Like a 
glimpse of a world others didn't belong in. Somehow, without even doing 
anything, those five men made an obvious point of not being part of the 
rest of the Darwood adult student crowd hanging in the canteen having 
lunch.

Their eyes had met once, Starbuck's and Apollo's, the moment Starbuck 
had entered the canteen a couple of centons ago.

A shocked expression on Apollo's face had, after a painfully long 
moment, turned into a cold smile, then the dark-haired man was already 
looking away, refusing to acknowledge Starbuck in any way after that, 
no matter how hard Starbuck had tried to catch his eye, first in the 
student line, then when walking past Apollo's table carrying his tray.

Something had kept Starbuck from saying hello.

Starbuck sighed as he sat down at a table that had just been left empty 
by a loud crowd of sophomore medical sciences students. Starbuck spread 
his napkin on his lap and eyed the stuff on the plate with immense 
suspicion. It smelled funny.

The morning had been a torturous three-centar binge of dephtorology 
with the painfully humourless mister Perieś and his 24 disciples, a 
depressing fifteen-centon-chat with an un-smiling facultative 
instructor who had made it very clear that Starbuck would not be 
getting off easy during the remains of the semester, plus an otherwise 
ordealing encounter with the student counselor to get the ID card and 
the first 500-cubit scholarship check.

Starbuck's gaze lingered to Apollo again, for the trillionth time.

Apollo seemed so actively taking part in what was obviously a light and 
casual, and definitely pleasant, conversation with his four lunch 
companions.

Light and casual, indeed, but there was this strange closeness between 
the men. It was like it was their eyes that were communicating rather 
than their mouths. The words seemed merely a decoration, an ornament to 
something much more meaningful.

The two guys from Mickey's were there with Apollo. The tall one with 
wavy brown hair sitting one leg over another, leaning a little back on 
the chair, a little receiving smile lingering on his lips as he was 
listening to Apollo speaking.

The one with black hair parted on the right and eyeglasses looked 
straight at Starbuck.

Quickly Starbuck turned away.

He pretended to start eating.

From the corner of his eye Starbuck watched how those five men got up 
from the table, a couple of microns later, taking their black trench 
coats from the backs of their chairs and putting them on, then picking 
up their plates and taking them to the dish carriage like any decent 
college student would.

Without even a glance in Starbuck's direction, Apollo followed his four 
companions out of the canteen. 

Starbuck didn't feel like eating any more.

* * *

The afternoon was another agonizing three-centar binge of dephtorology.

The hurt caused by Apollo's strange ignoring behaviour refused to leave 
the background of Starbuck's mind and mister Perieś turned out to be 
even more an ass than in the morning.

At 16.00 centars the decision was damn clear. Goodbye deph-fracking-
torology!

With smoke almost coming out of his nostrils, Starbuck strode his way 
down the hallway of the science building at the end of the class, 
determined to get to the office of his student counselor to do whatever 
it would take to change his major.

He didn't get that far.

The guy with the parted black hair, eyeglasses and the expensive black 
trench coat was waiting for him outside the main entrance to the 
science building.

* * *

"Starbuck, I presume," the man smiled somehow reservedly. "Quite a 
surprise for your friend Apollo to see you here in Darwood."

"I... I'm sure," Starbuck stammered, dumbstruck by not only this sudden 
confrontation but how frighteningly much the appearance of this strange 
man in front of him resembled that new look of Apollo's.

"Err... How do you know who I am??..." Stupid question you moron. 
Apollo must have told him...

"Your friend told me." The boy inclined his head a little as he studied 
Starbuck's face.

Starbuck was surprised that Apollo had talked about him with his new 
friends but then pretended to ignore his presence completely. What the 
frack was the matter with his former friends nowadays!? This planet 
must had been cursed...

"Looking forward to the rest of the term?" The boy asked pleasantly, 
yet in a manner that revealed that he didn't let his guard down, not 
for even a micron. "I must say, your aspiration to major in 
dephtorology is a...how should I put it... an interesting choice. I'm 
sure you must be very good in mathematics to have chosen to study the 
dilatation of depthatom synchronies..."

"Hmm," Starbuck didn't feel like correcting the boy's illusions.

"I don't think I would have taken dephtorology myself," the boy 
continued, "but then again, I'm more of a linguistic person myself..."

"Oh." Starbuck couldn't see any point in this conversation. Why had the 
boy waited for him. Had Apollo asked him to?...

A door banged open somewhere and a truckload of students rushed past 
Starbuck and the boy. Nobody paid any attention to the two men standing 
face to face on the stairs of the science building, eyeing each other.

"Ummm..." Starbuck studied the boy's face, then deciding to be blunt. 
"Okay. Is there something you want or..."

"Do you think it was a good idea to come here. To Darwood?" The boy 
inclined his head again, his brown eyes intrigued.

"As good as any," Starbuck narrowed his eyes a little, now somehow 
annoyed. 

"I don't see the point in your..."

The boy dug into the pocket of his trench coat, then pulled out 
something and held it out to Starbuck.

Starbuck eyed it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Why don't you take it and see for yourself," the boy smiled amused, 
still holding out the card in his hand.

Reluctantly Starbuck reached out and took it.

"Jean Michel Denier," Starbuck spelled, eyeing the golden letters on 
card, the whole time thinking that the name sounded vaguely familiar. 
He looked up at the boy with one eyebrow arched.

"You're giving me a calling card?" Starbuck puffed. "Planning on giving 
me a job or something?..."

Jean Michel gave a little laugh that wasn't much more than a smile 
actually.

"Hardly, Starbuck," the boy seemed genuinely amused. " but it was nice 
meeting you after all the things I've heard about you..."

"Oh?" Both of Starbuck's eyebrows were arched now. "What have you...?"

"As I said," Jean Michel cut in impatiently, holding out his hand again 
but this time waiting for Starbuck to reply to a handshake. "It was 
nice meeting you. But unfortunately I have to go now..."

A pause. The boy was smiling.

"...but I'm certain we will bump into each other again in the very near 
future..."

Without saying anything more Jean Michel Denier turned and walked away. 
Starbuck remained there, standing on the stairs of the science 
building, his hair and clothes wet from the rain, dumbstruck and 
staring after the boy until he had disappeared into a crowd of other 
students...

* * *

"You talked to him?!" Apollo's eyebrows furrowed a little. He turned 
his eyes away from Jean Michel so the guy wouldn't notice the battle 
that was going on inside his mind, then got up from the couch he'd been 
sitting on, starting to pace around the living room of this off-campus 
apartment. They were all there, the five guys in black.

"I can't believe you did that," Apollo continued, feeling an ugly knot 
in his stomach. "Were the hell was your common sense, Denier?!"

"What's the big deal?" Jean Michel rolled his eyes at Apollo, bored. 
"Stop being so paranoid!"

"Guys," the tall handsome man with wavy brown hair whom Starbuck had 
spotted at Mickey's earlier, was sprawled on a comfortable-looking 
white armchair, a wineglass casually dangling in his hand. "Nothing's 
really happened. All Jeanie did was talk to the man, and... no offense 
Apollo... but your friend doesn't really seem like a kind of guy who's 
gonna detect anything what's going on..."

"But...For Sagan's sake! Of all guys here on campus, why Starbuck, 
Jean?" Apollo ignored Denis' comment and turned back to the guy with 
black, parted hair. "You two have nothing in common!!"

"So what," Jean Michel shrugged. "I just think the guy's kinda cute. 
Big frackin' deal..."

"Really?" Apollo himself didn't notice the unintended bitterness in his 
voice. The other guys in the room on the other hand did. They exchanged 
a glance.

"Apollo," Denis eyed the man, trying not to smirk, "Why are you 
reacting like this? All Jeanie said was that he simply finds the guy 
cute. It's not the end of the world..."

"I'm just worried about him finding out about things." Apollo lied, 
avoiding Denis' eyes. "I've known Starbuck since junior instructional 
period. We've gone through some heavy felgercarb together in the army. 
Starbuck's one hell of a viper pilot and..."

Apollo paused. His eyes lingered to the wet asphalt yard behind the 
apartment window...

"All right, take it easy guys!" A young, athletically good-looking man 
with short, blond hair and blue eyes took one final sip from his half-
full wine glass before putting it on the top of a wooden drawer. "I 
really don't think your friend's such a big threat Apollo. We are 
communicating with people every day. We are in a university for Sagan's 
sake! And I don't think I'm wrong to trust us all to have learned to be 
discreet enough about everything..."

"Starbuck is not just anybody." Apollo turned to Cecil, the blond guy. 
"I know him! He'll start suspecting something sooner or later..."

"Not if we don't give him any reason to." Cecil smiled disarmingly. He 
stretched sensuously like a cat, then got up from the plush chair he'd 
been sitting on. "Anyone want a sandwich?..."

"No thanks," Denis smiled. "But I wouldn't mind having more wine if you 
don't mind bringing some..."

"Me too," Jean Michel lifted his hand without taking his gaze off the 
book he was reading.

"Okay," the blond man headed to the kitchen.

"I think Cecil is right," a soft voice lingered from the other side of 
the living room.

All eyes turned to a thin, pale man in his early thirties with night-
black hair, yet startlingly green eyes that were shadowed by long, 
thick eyelashes.

Satyr met the gaze of the others in the room.

"I don't consider your friend a threat to our experiments Apollo," the 
green-eyed man smiled. "Quite the contrary in fact..."

Apollo stared at Satyr, already realizing what the man was about to 
say. His heart grew cold.

"Maybe we should to take a chance on this Starbuck fellow," Satyr 
narrowed his eyes a little as he spoke. To Apollo he looked like a wild 
animal relishing the thought of his prey. "I think he could be an 
interesting supplement to what we've been trying to achieve. The object 
we've been talking about..."

"No," Apollo said simply, the look in his eyes suddenly stone-hard.

"But we do need someone, an outsider," Satyr continued with a smile. 
"And he's the only person on campus whom we could approach openly 
without raising too much suspicion. I mean, he is your friend Apollo, 
and trying to contact any other person  so openly at this point of the 
term..."

"No!"

"Apollo," Satyr frowned at the man's stubbornness. "You know damn well 
we need objects to gain what we're aiming for, and the college is a 
little too small a community for constant disappearances... I was 
planning to get acquainted with someone in town but..."

"Why did you let me in all this so quickly?" Apollo eyed Satyr. He 
didn't trust this green-eyed man. He never had. "I was a stranger to 
you. Were you planning to use me as you've used the others. As you're 
planning to use Starbuck..."

"Of course not," Satyr replied with a smirk, studying Apollo's face. 
"We all saw the hunger in you from the very beginning. Just like us you 
were different..."

"...And you're telling me that mutilating and killing me to gain your 
goal never crossed your mind..." Apollo didn't believe a word.

Satyr raised his hand to quiet Apollo down.

For a moment you could hear a needle drop a hundred kilometrons away.

"Apollo..."Satyr's green eyes pierced into the ones of the dark-haired 
man. "You were so alike us, even in the very beginning, it was almost 
uncanny. The first moment I laid my eyes on you..."

Satyr reached out and pulled the Apollo to him by his wrist.

"...You know what happens if you ever try to leave me, don't you..." 
Satyr smiled, forcing Apollo to kneel down in front of him. "You can 
never, not ever turn back. Not from me. Not from us... Not from our 
world..."

Apollo just couldn't look away from those green eyes he hated, and 
desired, so much. There were no words to say.

Cecil appeared into the kitchen doorway, humming and carrying a huge 
ham and cheese sandwich. He halted.

Satyr leant closer to Apollo and the two men kissed.

A passionate kiss.

A kiss of hatred.

Outside, it had started to rain harder.

In no more than a centar it would be completely dark.

* * *

Chapter 3

Boomer and the others were curiously eyeing the guy that Jolly had 
brought with him. They hadn't expected to meet the Squirrel for at 
least another day or two. Perhaps this meant that it was time to move 
ahead with the job.

The 'Squirrel' was a blond, easy-going, thin bloke all dressed in 
white. He was sitting cross-legged on the blanket, surrounded by the 
others, inhaling from a joint Mitchi had just handed to him. The wind 
from the ocean was tousling his hair and flapping the 
loose-fitting, white shirt he had on.

"Great stuff!" Squirrel grinned. "Better than Olly's shit..."

"Was this a lucky coincidence Adrian?" Francis Lindo eyed the man 
alertly. "...Or did you contact Jolly in order to organize a meeting?"

"I got a call from the source," Squirrel handed the joint back to 
Mitchi, then met the expectant eyes of the others. "There's trouble."

"Yeah we know..."

"No, I don't think you do..."

"What do you mean?" Mitchi took a drag, then stubbed the rest of the 
joint out. "What kind of trouble?"

"The Darwood thing..."

"What about it?" Francis Lindo furrowed his brows. "The last thing we 
know is that we received a confirmed message from the Otter that there 
might be some delay but we need to be prepared anyhow and you'd keep us 
posted..."

"I'm keeping you posted right now," Squirrel met Lindo's eyes. "This 
morning the place was full of snoops!"

"What!?" Boomer's eyebrows shot up.

"The university got a tip late yesterday evening."

"Frack! From one of ours?"

"It was an anonymous phone call," Squirrel replied. "I Don't know from 
who, but calm down! Let me finish. There's a possibility..."

"That's fucking it!" Mikey panicked. "We're in deep and utter 
felgercarb! We're fucking dead man! I want my lawyer..."

"What fucking lawyer?" Sascha rolled his eyes.

"Any fucking lawyer!! I don't wanna go to prison!"

"Calm down man," Squirrel was amused to see this bleached guy so 
distressed. "Let me finish! The only thing the police knows so far is 
that there's a group dealing stardust at the campus..."

"What??" Mikey halted, genuinely stunned.

"You heard me..."

"Stardust?"

"Yep."

"Nothing about the...?"

"Nothing." Squirrel smiled. "Well, not yet anyway..."

"Fuck," Mikey exclaimed relieved as hell. "That's all right then 
innit!? We ain't got nothing to do with dealing any shit..."

"Yeah, but what if they start digging," Sascha's eyebrows were still 
thoughtfully furrowed. "You know... Really digging..."

"The first thing they're gonna bump into is the Denier thing," Squirrel 
glanced at Sascha. "I think that'll stop them..."

"...Yeah, but if they do look beyond that? Oh man, we are  in 
felgercarb!"

"Calm down guys," Mitchi cut in. "A bunch of west coast surfers slash 
clubbers isn't the most obvious thing they're gonna suspect if that 
happens! We're a five-centar train-trip away for Sagan's sake!"

"Yeah, but we've been there!" Sascha didn't calm down. "More than once 
to put it mildly! And it's bloody easy to check that out..."

"I'm hungry," Jolly made his presence noticed. "Let's go get some tacos 
before the police come..."

"That's not funny Jolly," Sascha frowned annoyed.

"Come on guys," Jolly met Sascha's angry eyes lazily. "Aren't we 
getting just a little ahead of things here. The only thing the snoops 
are after is just some small-time drug ring for Sagan's sake. No one's 
mentioned anything about..."

"Yeah, but it still worries me," Sascha turned his eyes away from Jolly 
towards the ocean and its waves glimmering all the way to the horizon. 
"We all know you get a hell of a lot more than a death sentence for 
what we're doing..."

"But who says we are gonna get caught," Francis Lindo eyed the others. 
"I don't think we should start selling our favourite CDs yet. I for one 
thing have no intention to let anyone ruin my perfect little drug-
infused life..."

A smile from Mitchi and Boomer followed Francis' comment. Then a 
thoughtful silence fell amongst the seven men sprawled on the blanket.

An occasional squeal of a flock of seagulls circling the bright blue 
sky accompanied the hiss of the waves rolling monotonously onto the 
sand. The late afternoon sun was creating long shadows on the sand...

* * *

"Commander," Omega was talking into the observatory main communicator. 
"The object approaching us is no longer considered anything else than a 
space station of some strange sort, for although it is still continuing 
its approach towards planet Cadria, it's movements are happening in a 
much slower speed and there is seems to be no accuracy in the collision 
theory..."

"...But it's still coming towards us," Adama furrowed his brows on the 
other end of the line. "Straight at us...?"

"Yes," Omega replied. "And we are constantly receiving what seems to be 
a coded message from that space station."

"Has it been cleared?"

"We have never had any previous encounter with this kind of code at 
hand," Omega had to confess. "Our machine entrepreneurs are confused 
and blinking red and orange... But if you ask me, it seems likely that 
whatever life that space station might contain, they are willing to 
communicate with us rather than annihilate us."

"Well that's rather obvious isn't it," Adama frowned. "They're sending 
messages..."

"Yes. But do not forget the fraud the cylons pulled," Omega pointed 
out. "...or Baltar..."

"You're right," Adama nodded to himself. "Let's keep a close eye on the 
situation. They might be trying to distract us."

"But... You know what's funny..." Omega continued thoughtfully. "That 
space station... It still seems so much like a moon! All our scanners 
and radars point out that it's a Sagan forsaken moon but how could it 
possibly be since it appears to be controlled!"

"The most important thing to do now is to keep trying to decode the 
message," Adama furrowed his eyebrows again. "It will be the answer to 
everything. I'm sure of it..."

"Yes sir," Omega replied, then hung up the communicator.

In his luxurious commander's Brown House office, Adama turned to gaze 
out the huge window behind his desk. The object far above in the purple 
early evening sky was shimmering colourlessly, very brightly...

* * *

Fog. It was everywhere. A thick heavy layer of gray mist that covered 
the campus buildings from view. It was four centars later on the east 
coast of Armourica than on the west where Warm Place was located, and 
the dark was quickly falling. Impenetrable darkness. The kind that the 
north of the country had during its long autumn and winter nights. The 
sun was now hardly more than a hazy, blood red blob in the horizon.

Starbuck turned his head away from looking out of the window of the 
student counselor and let his eyes linger around the office. The 
counselor himself was leaning over his desk, carefully studying a piece 
of paper in front of him, now and then taking an occasional sip of 
coffee from the green, stained cup that was placed beside the paper.
Then the man looked up.

"You never went to college on Caprica?" The counselor's tone was 
surprised, perhaps a little disapproving too.

"No sir," Starbuck replied monotonically, eyeing a small white statue 
of a naked mermaid on top of one of the bookshelves. "I went to the 
AMST instead."

"The military academy," the man studied Starbuck's face. "Yes, it seems 
you have quite an impressive battle record..."

"Thank you sir..." Starbuck didn't like to talk about that hero stuff. 
It always made him feel like an impostor.

No matter how hard Apollo had tried to talk some sense into his 
friend's thick skull in the past, Starbuck had always felt that 
whatever heroic deeds he had done in battles were merely an accident... 
Which of course meant that the accident was the fact that Starbuck had 
been unlucky enough to have been present at those cursed moments...

"...But I'd like to not talk about that sir..."

"Right..." counselor Carring took his time eyeing Starbuck. 

Starbuck was fidgeting.

"So..." the counselor raised one eyebrow. "You're here to change your 
major only a day after you started..."

Starbuck decided he wasn't really asked a question and remained quiet.

"...And you were thinking of taking...?" Carring paused to wait for the 
answer with now both eyebrows raised.

Starbuck hesitated for a micron.

"Ummm, well... I was kinda thinking about the department of universal 
management..."

Carring burst out guffawing. "My dear boy! That department was full 
even before the first semester started."

"Oh..."

"Tell you what," the counselor smirked. "We have a sectar and a half 
left of this semester. For that time you'll go on taking dephtorology 
as planned. After that it will be a lot easier to move you into some 
other unit. And you'll have a lot more possibilities to choose from..."

This wasn't quite what Starbuck had had in mind but he nodded anyway, 
just to get out of the office. Counselor Carring smiled like someone 
who had just handed out a freshly-baked croissant to a person who 
didn't any money to buy food. He got to his feet behind his desk and 
held out a hand to Starbuck.

"I'll be seeing you in a sectar and a half then?" The handshake was 
just as uninterested in Starbuck's problems as the man himself. 
"Welcome to Darwood."

"Thanks," Starbuck replied monotonically, then left the office and 
found his way into the foggy evening outside.

* * *

It was completely dark now. The walkways and the biking roads between 
campus buildings were lit by sparse street lamps. The rain had stopped 
but the asphalt was wet from the mist in the air and was reflecting the 
glow from the streetlights.

Starbuck glanced his timepiece.

21.00.

There were only few people about. Faceless shadows striding down lanes 
to get inside as quickly as they could, away from the mist and the 
evening cold. Starbuck didn't mind the cold. It was a million times 
better than the stale breath that was the warm evening wind in Warm 
Place. Starbuck sure didn't miss going back there. But he missed 
Boomer...

No he didn't. He was getting very good at lying to himself. He didn't 
miss Apollo's friendship either. There would be something great on the 
IFB receiver later anyway... A movie or something...

"Starbuck..." a voice came from the dark, startling the frack out of 
Starbuck who jumped three metrons in the air.

"You better not have come to Darwood because of me, you damn daggit..."

It was Apollo who stepped out of the shadows, almost unrecognizable to 
Starbuck in his old-fashioned black suit, parted hair, and round 
eyeglasses.

Apollo wasn't smiling.

"The ever-self-centered bastard," Starbuck swallowed, surprised as 
frack to see Appy so unexpectedly. For some unexplainable reason his 
heart was racing like mad. "What makes you think I'd do anything 
because of you..."

"Why are you here Starbuck?" Apollo's glasses were reflecting the light 
from a lamp nearby so it was impossible to see his eyes.

"And why are you dressed like Halloween?" Starbuck studied this new 
version of Apollo sarcastically. "And what's all this let's-ignore-
Starbuck-and-he'll-go-away shit!?"

"You're referring to lunch..." Apollo smiled coolly, knowing very well 
what Starbuck was talking about.

"No. The yahrenly conference of farmers everywhere!" Starbuck rolled 
his eyes.  "Yes. Lunch. Warm Place. Everything! What the hell were you 
trying to do?... What... what is this whole thing with you nowadays??"

Apollo didn't answer. He didn't bother and there was no time.

"Starbuck, there's something..."

"You're telling me?" Starbuck raised one eyebrow. "There's been 
something for four fracking sectars!"

"Listen. The people I'm involved with," Apollo continued impatiently, 
refusing to hear Starbuck's babbles. "They've noticed you..."

"Well, of course they've noticed me," Starbuck frowned. "I'm gorgeous!"

"Shut up Starbuck." Apollo didn't look even slightly amused. "I'm going 
to say this only once."

"Oh really..."

"You are going to be approached, there's no avoiding that now..."

"You sound like I'm cursed or something," Starbuck stared at Apollo 
like the man had gone crazy. "What are you babbling on about?..."

Apollo met Starbuck's gaze but his eyes were constantly unseen. The 
spookiness of it gave Starbuck unpleasant cold shivers.

"For your own safety, Starbuck." Apollo continued, this time more 
quietly. He took a quick look around to make sure they were still alone 
and unnoticed. "Please don't get involved with any of it. Stay away now 
that you still can..."

"From what? Stay away from what? Are you trying to keep me from coming 
your mind-blowing fraternity parties you little devil..."

Apollo frowned.

"My god," he grunted. "I'd forgotten what an idiot you can sometimes be 
Starbuck..."

A dark figure of a student in a black rain coat appeared from the mist 
and walked past Starbuck and Apollo. Hastily Apollo cut off what he was 
saying. Silence fell. Very awkward silence.

For a passing moment those two men who used to be such heart-achingly 
close friends stood there face to face without speaking. A very quiet 
hubbub from the student dormitories in the distance was echoing in the 
yard.

Apollo realized there was nothing more he could, or wanted to do. He 
turned to go.

"Hey!" Starbuck leaped forward and took a hold of Apollo by the arm, 
forcing the man to turn back to face him. Their eyes met although 
Starbuck still couldn't see Apollo's.

"What's all this X-files act?" Starbuck was annoyed now. "Secret 
meetings in the dark, weird hints of something secret and sinister 
hanging in the air, looming over me, two people who used to be brothers 
acting like total strangers..."

Apollo didn't say anything nor was he trying to free his arm. He just 
stared at Starbuck waiting for him to continue.

Starbuck didn't. Suddenly, he just let go, turned and walked away.

Apollo remained behind, standing there surrounded by the mist and the 
dark, watching Starbuck striding angrily towards one of the gray 
buildings.

Watching him until there was nothing more to watch. Just the lamp-lit 
mist and the night.

And memories.

* * *

The delta dormitory was in full swing when the very pissed-off Starbuck 
entered.

He forced his way through a constant flow of people pacing up and down 
the stairs and hallways, hating the frack out of all the carefree 
chatter and laughter that was carrying from the kitchen, the downstairs 
social areas and from rooms behind closed doors. Why did everyone have 
to be so happy now that Starbuck himself was feeling so damn miserable.

Some inventive individuals had chosen to sit in groups in hallways, 
drinking beer or something else intoxicating, chattering loudly, 
playing cards... Just wanting to be there amongst other people rather 
than in the privacy of their own rooms, and obviously liking to be a 
nuisance to pissed-off people like Starbuck who considered hopping over 
those people a goddamn annoyance.

With a coldly polite smile on his face, one very unsociable Starbuck 
continued his climb over all those sprawled limbs and beer bottles, 
witnessing passing discussions about studies, good hairspray, bad sex-
life or some other meaningless felgercarb until, to his relief, he 
finally made it to the door of his room.

A corner of a piece of paper was sticking out from under the door.

Furrowing his brows Starbuck picked the envelope up and eyed it. There 
was nothing on it except the name 'Starbuck' written with an old-
fashioned, ink-cartridge pen.

Digging out the keys from his jacket pocket, still eyeing the envelope, 
Starbuck opened the door and stepped inside into the room. He clicked 
on the lights.

There was absolutely nothing recognizable about the curvy handwriting. 
It looked strangely old-fashioned, like something that could had been 
copied from a history book. Even the material of the paper looked like 
one of those very fine old waterprinted things people like Adama might 
still have stuffed somewhere to remind him of their youth. Starbuck 
closed the door behind him to block out the babble from the corridor 
outside, before finally ripping open the envelope.

Inside, he found a small A5 sized card and pulled it out. Already then 
Starbuck knew who it would be from...

'Starbuck,' the card began in black, beautifully formed letters. 'What 
the hell are you doing alone in your room when you could be having 
dinner with us.'

Starbuck smiled, a little puzzled. He read on.

'Unfortunately, as it is a bit late for dinner at this point, we have 
to re-arrange our undoubtedly pleasant-to-be get-together for tomorrow 
evening. Shall we say at about 18.00? Gives you a chance to get off the 
campus too, for we will be expecting you at 21 Neverend Lane, apartment 
3. Don't worry about finding it.

J-M Denier

Slowly, Starbuck reached out for the light switch to turn the room dark 
so he could think about this J-M Denier dude and his very sudden, very 
obscure interest in Starbuck's company.

In the dark, Starbuck made his way to the bed and sat down on the side, 
staring at the glimmer of street lamps from outside. How he wished he 
could have been able to see Apollo's eyes earlier.

* * *

Cecil was nicely tucked in with a wool blanket and a can of beer, 
sprawled on the couch in his off-campus apartment watching 'Dynasty III 
- Alexis Colby Makes New Friends' on the IIFB receiver, when he heard 
the front door opening and then banging shut.

Turning his attention away from Blake Carrington's latest tragedy, 
Cecil waited for someone to appear into the living room doorway. He was 
surprised to see it was Apollo.

"What are you doing here?" Cecil raised one eyebrow. "The others have 
left a centar ago..."

Apollo grinned a little at unease. He didn't really know why he had 
come back here. Maybe he was just in need of a friend. A real one... 

"Would you believe me if I said that I just happened to be in the 
neighbourhood and wanted some company?"

"No," Cecil smirked. "But it doesn't matter. Grab a can and join me and 
Blake. It's just getting interesting..."

Apollo hesitated. "You don't want to know why I'm here?..."

"It's no big deal," Cecil gave Apollo a warm grin and toasted with his 
can of beer. "Come, take a seat..."

Apollo still didn't move from the doorway.

On the IFB receiver Blake Carrington was just finding out from a 
delightfully bitchy Alexis Colby that his ex-daughter-in-law, Sammy Jo, 
had raped the Carrington mansion butler the night before and then tried 
to poison him with terratone.

For a moment Cecil and Apollo were in complete silence, just watching 
the screen.
Apollo's eyes lingered to Cecil.

"I was waiting for Starbuck tonight, by the student dorms," he began, 
warily. "And I tried to warn him..."

"It doesn't matter." Cecil took a sip of beer, chuckling at something 
on screen. Not for a moment did he take his eyes off the receiver. "I 
suspected it. Now come on! Sit down! You're missing all the action!..."

"You knew I was going to do it?" Apollo was still hesitating, then he 
finally stepped into the living room and walked over to Cecil to take a 
seat on the couch beside him.

Cecil was chuckling again and pointed towards the receiver with his 
beer can, his amused eyes turning to spark at Apollo for a micron. 
"Look at that guy! I'll bet you a million cubits he's gonna shoot 
someone in the next five centons... I love this show..."

Apollo smiled a little for response. Then silence.

"You're not mad at me?..." Apollo glanced at Cecil who was now grinning 
at Blake Carrington's distorted face expressing of rage.

"No," Cecil took another sip of beer. Blake had started banging his 
fist on a brown, wooden drawer, cursing and yelling out like a lunatic. 
"You did what made you feel better. You two were good friends once."

"I really felt I owed him that," Apollo continued quietly. "He was my 
brother for a long time..."

"Right," Cecil smiled, keeping his eyes on the receiver. Apollo was 
sure Cecil wasn't listening a word Apollo had said.

"Did you hear me?..."

"Yes," Cecil finally managed to turn his attention away from Blake 
Carrington for a micron to put his arm around Apollo's shoulders. "And 
don't worry about doing it. I understand. Weird, huh?!" The blond man 
laughed.

"Cecil..." Apollo swallowed. He glanced at the blond man sideways. "You 
know why I came to you..."

"Sure," Cecil beamed. "We're friends. More than friends! We're the same 
breed and we have the same goal. That's why we've all come together..."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Apollo hesitated. "I meant..."

"I love you too Apollo," Cecil squeezed Apollo's shoulders, grinning. 
"Now can we please watch this thing..."

"You're an IFB addict, you know that..." Apollo grinned.

"I love being an IFB addict, now shut up!"

"For Sagan's sake Cecil..." Apollo really, really liked this guy. He 
smiled. It felt warm having a friend.

On the receiver screen Alexis Colby was running out of the room to save 
herself from the Blake-gone-mad, who had grabbed a gun and started 
shooting aimlessly around the room, blinded by his immense rage. Cecil 
cheered as a larger-than-life crystal chandelier got hit and fell 
crashing on the head of a poor gardener who had rushed into the library 
to calm Blake down. Alexis Colby was screaming in the hallway.

"I won't warn Starbuck the second time." Apollo said to Cecil in a low 
tone.

"I know." The blond man smiled. "Because you're just like us..."

The poor gardener was twitching on the floor, surrounded by shattered 
crystal, fake blood gushing from his head.

"...You too want to go further. Much further. To the other side..."

"Yes..." Apollo replied, knowing that what he said was what the other 
man wanted to hear. At this point it didn't matter whether he really 
meant it. Cecil took his hand.

Blake Carrington was painfully over-acting to be shattered by the death 
of the gardener, who in fact now turned out to be his long lost 
Piscenian brother, and now, having lost all will to live on and be 
terrorized by his horrible family, Blake slowly brought the gun up to 
his temple and, after a damn five-centon phase of terrible close-ups of 
facial reactions, he fired, falling down to the floor, bleeding like 
hell, dying...

A silver-haired Krystle who had obviously had too many facial 
operations, stormed from somewhere off-screen, screaming and screaming 
and screaming with terror and trying to bring Blake back to 
consciousness. Sammy Jo, the ex-daughter-in-law who now turned out to 
be an alien, was smirking in the doorway of the study, watching Blake 
bleeding to death and holding the poor butler in handcuffs.

The butler was smirking like hell, knowing that there would soon be 
kinky sex in the agenda for him. Blake's daughter Fallon, the pretty 
little devil who was Cecil's favourite 
character, was hitting her husband Jeff Colby on the head with a 
priceless Ming vase for Jeff having grabbed the screaming Alexis Colby 
by the hair to stop her from screaming.

Silver-coloured end credits started rolling over the terrified face of 
Alexis Colby. Then the screen went black.

Cecil was still holding onto Apollo's hand...

* * *

He was in the hallway again and he could see the stairway in the 
distance, hear his own startled breathing and muffled footsteps as he 
was walking towards the stairs.

The paintings had grown bigger, the dark purple wallpaper underneath 
them hardly showing at all now. The purple carpet that covered the 
stairs was thick and soft, Starbuck felt his feet sinking into it, like 
into a swamp, every time the flowing downwards slowed down a little and 
his feet actually touched the stairs.

Everything was oppressingly obscured by heavy darkness but Starbuck 
could now make out the ending of the stairway. He saw a shadow with no 
shape standing there, waiting for him.

The face was still in shadows though. Slowly forming into what Starbuck 
knew it would.

Starbuck had to fight to be able to breathe...

He woke up.

The timepiece showed it was 05.00, but it wasn't that dark in the room. 
Gray, heavy clouds were hanging in the sky outside, the wind howling in 
the campus yard, making tree branches dance viciously. Starbuck didn't 
feel like to go back to sleep.

For a moment he lay there eyeing the ceiling and the shadows dangling 
on it, then, without turning on the light he got up from the bed and 
switched on the computer to log onto the meganet. An electric blue 
shimmer started ruling the room. (Yep. Blue. Starbuck had changed the 
desktop wallpaper.)

Eyeing the university homepage uploading before him, Starbuck reached 
out for the chair and sat down, his feet searching for the slippers 
under the table. The floor was cold.

* * *

The chat room, 'the Cave' as the locals there seemed to call it, was 
ridiculously easy to find. One of the previous inhabitants of the lair 
Starbuck now possessed had saved 'the Cave' as one of his 'favourites', 
and now it saved Starbuck from roaming the net using different search 
engines. Not that he would've minded but... what the heck. 'The Cave' 
seemed as good a place as any.

Starbuck logged on as 'Blond and Gorgeous'.

Immediately he stroke the back button and changed his name into 
'Apollo'.

Two centars went by before Starbuck even came to think of glancing at 
the timepiece.

* * *

Someone who was calling himself/herself 'Destination Unicorn' kept 
whining about how big his/her feet were and telling how he/she had had 
such a hard time in junior instructional period because of the big feet 
and how it came to affect his/her life so dramatically. Starbuck 
couldn't believe someone would actually write this shit in public.
A 'Gripper' kept whining to the 'Unicorn' how bloody interested the 
others were about his/her tragic life and big feet and how he/she would 
track  'Unicorn's whereabouts down and come there to kick his/her ass 
if she/he didn't stop the felgercarb.

'Disco Inferno' was a funny lad/lass, his/her comments bringing a 
continuous grin on Starbuck's face.

"Moonseed' was an obvious 'she' who claimed to be a college girl from 
the east coast of Armourica and kept shamelessly hitting on the 
'Gripper' and Starbuck every chance she got.

People were popping in and out, most of them staying only for a while.

A 'Pimpim' promised to show Starbuck the piercing on his/her 
bellybutton if Starbuck ever decided to find his way to the south-east 
continent of Astara. 'Membrain' kept writing romantic poems that 
everyone else hated. 'Death to All' was a quiet fella, as opposed to 
'Prince Dirty Henry' who turned out a talkative little devil, or 
'Matted Hair' who was indeed a clever conversationalist.

Then there was 'Distance'. A sarcastic male individual whose comments 
made Starbuck laugh out loud. Distance didn't like politics or stupid 
individuals. In his opinion all food 
should be completely replaced by nutriment pills to keep the population 
of Cadria from getting fat and to bring more money to the music 
entertainment business.

Distance was determined that all things in the universe were in fact 
artificial visions of a computer that were inserted into peoples' heads 
like in bad science fiction movies. He wanted to kick Dirty Henry's 
arse for claiming that he had just read too many comic books...

"Apollo," Distance's attention was quite unexpectedly caught by 
Starbuck's presence, even though Starbuck had kept a low profile for 
quite awhile now, merely following the conversation of the others. 
"Haven't we met..."

Starbuck wasn't in the least surprised by of the question. Anyone 
could've used the name he was using. Or this could've been just another 
corny opening line. What Starbuck was more surprised about was that 
Distance had noticed him.

Starbuck caught himself smiling as he typed.

"Not unless you were the dark handsome stranger who promised me a 
thousand cubits and an everlasting carefree life in my dreams last 
night."

"Then met we indeed have," Starbuck could sense Distance smiling too. 
"...because I had the exact same dream."

Starbuck laughed.

"If that's the case, you forgot to... OH SHIT!!"

"What?"

"Umm, nothing..." Starbuck realized that in less than half a centar he 
would have to be in protosophic animal studies class, still having to 
take a shower, get dressed and grab something to eat before that. Just 
when this was getting interesting. Frack.

"I'm sorry I have to go..."

Hastily, Starbuck typed his polite but quick bye-byes and other wordily 
trimmings to let the other chatters know he had enjoyed their company, 
and was just about to leave the chat room when a simple note from 
Distance made him stop.

"Apollo...."

A pause.

"18.00?"

"Sorry mate," Starbuck typed back with a grin. "I'm a wanted man 
y'know. Having dinner with friends later."

"But we'll meet again..." Distance's name vanished from the screen. 
Starbuck logged out.

Strange geezer, Starbuck thought to himself turning off the computer 
and walking into the bathroom to take a shower.

For a moment Starbuck had an unpleasant feeling that the person he had 
just talked with was in fact the same person he would be having dinner 
with later, mister J-M Denier, who would turn out to be exactly what 
Starbuck was expecting him to. A goddamn weirdo...

"Oh what the frack," Starbuck laughed to his thoughts, pushed the whole 
stupid thing out of his mind to concentrate on the pleasant warm flow 
of water.

In less than two centons he had already completely forgotten that a 
person named Distance had ever even existed.

* * *

The moment Boomer opened his eyes he quite simply knew something was 
about to happen. It wasn't a feeling that could be explained 
rationally, yet it was a very 
vivid feeling.

He got out of bed and walked through the silent, messy apartment to the 
balcony overlooking the city. The sun was hardly above the horizon but 
it was already warm, the glimmer of the ocean blinding. The morning 
traffic was still mild, the air delightfully fresh and clear like it 
always was before the day would really begin. Boomer loved the view of 
the city waking up, wiping the sleep from its eyes, gathering its 
strength to face the day ahead. The moon was still visible. Boomer 
wondered about that.

He went inside the apartment, picked up the morning paper and walked to 
the kitchen to have a look inside the refrigerator if there would be 
something eatable there. He grabbed a can of fat-free milk and a bowl 
of yesterday's chicken salad, and with both hands occupied and the 
newspaper hanging from his mouth, pushed the refrigerator door shut 
with his hips and made his way to the living room.

Using the remote control, Boomer switched on the IFB receiver to keep 
him company until something better would show up, and then wiggled his 
butt's way onto a plush chair behind him.

A rerun of last night's episode of Dynasty III was on. Boomer wasn't 
interested. He grabbed the bowl from the table where he had placed it, 
leant back in the chair and started enjoying his breakfast, eyeing the 
panorama of the city behind the window.

The sun was a little higher now, more golden. Man, it would turn out to 
be another great day. Boomer could hardly wait to get to the beach. If 
there would be a chance for that today...

The communicator rang, just like Boomer had known it would. Desperately 
trying to quickly swallow his last mouthful of chicken salad, Boomer 
placed the bowl back on the table and reached out to take Squirrel's 
call.

* * *

"We're getting something," Chief co-ordinations administrator Bubba 
moved his earphone a little and looked up at Omega who was standing 
beside him. "I think this is going to succeed..."

"I know," Omega smiled, hardly glancing at Bubba, his attention on the 
monitor. "The vibration is almost synchronized with the actual noise. 
It seems like the code the space station is sending us is very much 
alike the LKD-beta-sigma. We only need to come up with a couple of 
small brainstorms on how to bridge all this together and we have a 
fracking solution!!"

"LKD-beta sigma?..." Bubba furrowed his brow, "...But isn't that a 
colonial human code, used by our ancient forefathers before the 
Kobolian wars and the colonization of the twelve planets?...

A pause. Bubba's eyes widened.

"...Oh my god! Could this possibly be..."

The sentence remained painfully unanswered, from that moment on heavily 
hanging in the room, impossible to ignore. Too overwhelming to think.

Both men continued to stare at the screen, now in silence...

* * *

Cecil wasn't there when Apollo woke up on the couch of Cecil's 
apartment. Apollo had been too tired to go to his own last night so he 
had stayed the night here. With his friend.

With a yawn and a stretch Apollo pushed aside the blanket and sat up, 
looking around the messy living room. The figures on the timepiece 
glowed 07.30 but Apollo didn't have any lessons until noon so it didn't 
matter that he had overslept.

Cecil didn't have any classes either so where the hell was he?

Getting up and putting on Cecil's black, silk morning gown which had 
been tossed on the back of a white chair, Apollo dragged his way to the 
kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. On his way he picked up the 
Saskachoona Morning Glory that was lying under the door and opened the 
curtains in the hall. It was even cloudier than yesterday.

Three cups and two croissants later Apollo heard the front door 
opening. He looked up from the 'Spaced Out 1999' comic book he had 
started reading after having finished the Morning Glory and waited for 
Cecil to appear into the kitchen.

When he did, Apollo noticed that the guy wasn't looking exactly happy.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Apollo was genuinely surprised. Cecil was 
seldom seen without an easy grin on his face. That was, of course, only 
in private and unseen by unwanted eyes. In public, Cecil was always 
this mysterious figure, always dressed in black and forever unreachable 
to everyone who was a stranger.

"I talked to Jean Michel." Cecil sighed as he put his coat on the back 
of a chair and sat down at the table. "The investigators have 
approached him, wanting to ask some questions... In fact, they'll be 
questioning the whole beta dorm this afternoon..."

"So what's the problem?" Apollo eyed Cecil. "Jean Michel has nothing to 
do with the drugs thing..."

"It's not the police that want to do the questioning. It's the DEA..."

Apollo's eyebrows shot up. "Why's the DEA involved in a drugs 
investigation?? I don't see any..."

Then it came to him. Apollo's face turned completely white. "They found 
it, right?"

"They've found a body." Cecil smiled darkly. "Not the body."

Apollo opened his mouth to say something but then he didn't know what 
to say. He clicked his mouth shut.

"Are you sure Cecil?" Apollo finally stuttered. "How do you know? You 
haven't..."

"The police have identified the body," Cecil replied. "It's someone..." 
He paused.

"What?" Apollo held his breath.

"It's someone that I used to know very well even before the fleet came 
to Cadria..." Cecil's dark smile grew even darker. A frightening smile 
all of a sudden. "He was the person who was with me when I first 
started. He was there from the beginning, before he grew frightened..." 
Another pause. "...So I can't help having this terrifying feeling that 
this death has something to do with what we are in process with..."

"But... What about the drugs thing?" Apollo eyed Cecil startled. "How 
do you know this person, this friend of yours that you used to have, 
wasn't involved with the drugs thing that's been going on lately. Maybe 
he got killed because of some stupid quarrel with the dealers or..."

Cecil laughed. "What do you think this is Apollo? 'The Godfather'?"

"But..."

"Apollo! For Sagan's sake! We are in a considerably small university, 
in a town that's hardly on the map! The drugs thing is just some 
college kids using stuff themselves, then having a brainstorm of the 
century that dealing it might bring them a few extra cubits and a 
little excitement and KA-BOOM: they get caught because they're stupid. 
And if my friend was dumb enough to be involved with dealing stardust 
in Darwood, he would very unlikely have gotten killed because of it!"

Apollo knew Cecil was right. "But it still doesn't mean his death has 
something to do with our..."

"I know..." Cecil nodded. "...But it worries me."

A moment's silence.

"I think we better talk to the others," Cecil said.

* * *

Chapter 4

Sascha was a beautiful man with shoulder-length hair, dyed shiny black 
and usually worn on a ponytail, and a lean body with naturally 
graceful, dancer's movements.

Although of Virgon origin, Sascha had been living on the Gemini after 
the fleeing from the destructed colonies and worked for some club 
giving out fliers on secton-nights.

Boomer had never really talked to Sascha on board the ships of the 
fleet during the voyage, nor had he known any of the others either, 
although he sure as hell had spotted all of them around. The club 
elite. Always having been where the party was. Boomer smiled at the 
memory how he never thought he'd actually get to know any one of these 
guys. Or be a part of the club elite...

The acquaintance between Boomer and those other guys had started from 
all having hung out on the beach in Xenice, in Warm Place, from day to 
day.

Two sectons later they were sharing a secret that could end their 
lives.

* * *

Boomer watched now how Sascha was walking towards the terrace of the 
café where Boomer was sitting. The man looked casually around before 
crossing the street, his black hair shining in the sun and his 
movements delightful to look at.

Sascha noticed Boomer, grinned and waved his hand. Boomer saluted with 
his glass of beer and nodded

* * *

"The others are not here yet?" Sascha was a little out of breath 
reaching Boomer's table, taking a chair and sitting down. "You gonna 
tell me what's so important you wanted to meet us all here? I didn't 
have any cash for the bus so I had to fracking walk from the center..."

"Poor thing." Boomer smiled mildly.

"So? You gonna tell me what's all this about?..."

"Not yet," Boomer closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sun to 
enjoy the warmth of it. "We're gonna wait for the others to get 
here..."

* * *

Fifteen centons later it was agonizingly hot even though it wasn't even 
noon yet. Sascha and Boomer were sitting in silence, sheltered from the 
sun by a huge parasol brought by the waiter, eyeing the occasional 
passer-by.

The moon was still visible. It was starting to freak Boomer out.

"Yo man, perhaps I should cut down my drug intake," Sascha mumbled, 
putting his fingers to his temples. "My head hurts."

"It's not the drugs," Boomer smirked. "You were just trying to think, 
that's all."

"Very funny," Sascha growled, thinking of ordering a third beer, then 
spotting a bleached mop of hair entering the café terrace with Jolly.

"Mikey!" Sascha grinned. "It amazes me to see you up so early!"

"Yo guys," Mikey beamed. He was wearing a white tank top and blue Nike 
shorts, looking misleadingly sporty. "Whassup?"

"Beats me man," Sascha shrugged. "Boomer's secretive as hell..."

"Jolly," Boomer smiled at the two men. "Mike. Take a seat guys. You're 
gonna need one in a few centons... Jolly aren't you a bit hot in those 
leather pants?..."

"Naah," Jolly waved his hand casually. "My butt looks good in these..."

"Why'd you wanna meet us?" Mikey's eyes were searching for the waiter. 
"How much do you think a tequila would cost in here?..."

"Too much." It was Mitchi who answered, having appeared standing beside 
the table in a chic black outfit and a pair of black doc martens, his 
naturally blond, shoulder-length hair flowing in the wind. Jolly had a 
hard time taking his eyes off Mitchi's perfect body.

"I got your message Boomer." Mitchi eyed the dark man. "What's going 
on?"

"In a moment," Boomer took a sip of his bear and eyed around to see if 
Francis and Squirrel were in sight yet.

They weren't, and it took another ten centons for them to appear. 
Squirrel once again dressed in all white, Francis Lindo in his usual 
oversized slacks and hip hop shirts which made him look even thinner 
than what he already was. His untidily overgrown, sandy-brown hair that 
was a little bleached by the sun and the salty ocean was in bundles.

"Oh no, you're gonna grow dreadlocks man," Mikey frowned noticing the 
bundles. "I hate dreadlocks..."

"Whassup Boomer." Francis Lindo gave the man a high five. "You got 
somethin' you wanna tell us man?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" Mikey echoed. "You bought the new Chili 
Peppers CD or what?..."

"All right guys..." Boomer eyed the others, silencing them down. "Bad 
news..."

"What?" Mitchi was still standing beside the table, showing his perfect 
body off. Boomer nodded to him to take a seat.

"They've found a body," Boomer continued, not bothering to add any 
trimmings to his sentence. "...in Darwood."

"They what?"

"The drug thing has turned into a murder investigation," Squirrel 
picked up after Boomer. "And that's trouble from hell..."

"All right then," Jolly already knew what to do. "Some of us need to go 
to Saskachoona to try to find out if the body can be in any way traced 
to what we've been doing..."

"You're kidding..."

"No, I'm not..."

"Any volunteers? hands up..." Mitchi grinned, gaining glares from the 
others. "Well, I think Jolly's right. Someone has to go. Our unhealthy 
but oh so pleasant way of life depends on it..."

"Hey, don't look at me!" Mikey glared at Mitchi. "I'm not going 
anywhere!"

"Neither am I..." Jolly stated.

"What? Wasn't it you who just proposed the damn thing, man..."

"So? It doesn't mean that I'm volunteering..."

"Hey guys come on! Someone has to put his ass on the line here..."

"I think we should all go," Sascha said slowly. "The whole operation is 
in jeopardy. I think we should all go there and clear out our traces, 
just in case..."

"Can't the guys over there do it?" Mikey frowned. "Or Otter himself..."

"They don't know everything," Sascha glanced at the guy. "They're just 
middlemen. And None of us know where Otter is at the moment. My guess 
is that he's dragged his butt as far from Saskachoona as he possibly 
could..."

"But if we go... Aren't we kinda exposing ourselves too. To me this 
shit sounds like walking into an Ovion's cave. We too should drag our 
butts to a safe place. Who's Otter to put us into this kind of 
felgercarb..."

"The guy who's paying you Mike..."

"...And what if the police start putting the disappearances of the town 
folk and the body found at the university campus together, and suddenly 
a group of pothead surfers appear..."

"Be quiet Mickey. You're making me worried," Francis Lindo smirked 
while playing with Sascha's empty beer glass. He didn't look worried 
one bit. 

"It's not the police in charge of the murder investigation," Boomer 
mumbled, first glancing at Squirrel then Francis. "It's the DEA..."

"Whoa! Even a better reason not to go if you ask me..."

"Shut up Mike!"

"No, you shut up! I'm not..."

"Guys!..." Squirrel cut in. He let his eyes wonder from one worried 
face to the other. "I got a call from the Otter early this morning. No 
matter what the situation over there in Darwood is, you guys have to go 
to Saskachoona. There's no more turning back from the deal. The client 
has arrived..."

"Shit..."

"Why can't the client just go home for supper and come back when the 
situation's more suitable," Mikey frowned. "Has the Otter gone mad!?"

"It's not that simple..." Squirrel hesitated. "The thing with the trade 
has gone further..."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Yeah! Who's the client this time? Professor Niels?!"

The others chuckled at Mikey's comment.

"Naah, I bet it's the mayor of Saskachoona." Mitchi smiled. "It must be 
some big tycoon if Otter can't pull out of the deal."

"Niel's a big time tycoon," Boomer grinned. "At least he likes to think 
he is. The others laughed again. Everyone except Squirrel.

The blond man's gaze lingered to the vaguely shimmering moon above. How 
strange it was to see it there in the middle of the day...

* * *

Moonbase Alpha status report.
1058 days after breakaway.
Doctor Helena Russell reporting.


The FZC system has continued to operate perfectly. We have experienced 
no trouble at all with the  G-sector for three months now, nor has the 
beta-gravitation increased from 2,81 during the last two weeks.

It has been exactly seven months to this day, that professor Bergman's 
brilliant invention, the FZC-X thruster has been in active use and is 
enabling us to control the moon's movements and direct its course. 
There has been no mentionable failure during all that time.

Fourteen days ago, near the nova of TriBeCa, we ran into a large piece 
of metal that we found drifting in space, and sent our technical crew 
27 to examine it.

As it turned out, the piece of metal very strangely holds molecules 
found only in the outer orbit of Earth.

After further study, we discovered to our utter shock, that the piece 
of metal drifting in space in fact originates from an old Russian space 
station called MIR, which has evidently been torn apart by a powerful 
nuclear explosion.

The same horrible explosion that caused Alpha to hurl into space on 
September the 9th, 1999, 658 days ago. To think that all this time we 
have been wrong...

How strange it is to discover at this point, that in the end, it wasn't 
the nuclear waste area 2 on the surface of the moon going up that 
caused our tragedy. It was the explosion of the space station MIR, only 
four hundred kilometers away from us at the time and heading towards 
Alpha because of having had controlling difficulties.

Commander John Koenig needed three days of psychiatric help after 
hearing these news.
Professor Victor Bergman believes he's all right now. I am not all that 
convinced...

The human-like individual we rescued seven months ago from a badly 
damaged ship is starting to come out of comatose. Our computers show no 
sign of brain damage or memory loss of any kind, but so far, the only 
words he had seemed to have been able to speak to us are the basic ones 
like 'water', 'food' and 'leave me alone'.

We still have no clue where that individual originates from and what 
has happened to him but we remain hopeful..

We are finally approaching our destination, planet Cadria, and are 
presumed be able to begin landing proceedings in 17 hours. It is spooky 
how vivid resemblance to Earth this new planet bears. Just as if the 
nuclear explosion or breakaway from Earth's orbit never took place, and 
we have all woken up from a painful nightmare.

Our scheduled encounter with the Cadrian traders will be taking place 
in a small northern town in exactly 36 hours.

There is a huge possibility that the coded message we have been sending 
to our contact for the past two days, has been received by sources 
other than intended. Therefore all patrol flights leaving the base have 
been cancelled for safety reasons until further information.

Eagle four is being prepared for commander John Koenig, captain Alan 
Carter, science officer Maya, chief of security Tony Verdeschi and 
myself. Additional crew will be main mission controller Paul Morrow, 
data section coordinator Sandra Benes, assistant medical officer Robert 
Matthias and head of technical section David Kano.

Additional crew will be establishing no contact with the Cadrian locals 
at any point while the eagle is on the ground. All dealings with the 
traders and the merchandise will be handled by John, Alan, Maya, Toni 
and me. The aim is to keep our stay on the planet as unnoticed as 
possible. If an unexpected emergency is to occur, eagle four is be 
programmed to self-destruct in seventy-two hours and Alpha will receive 
a red alert signal for immediate lift-off...

* * *

There  were fifteen masked people in the room and it was damn stuffy. 
The apartment was some tiny, dirty downtown hole in Warm Place. An 
unnoticeable little squat that was the perfect place for the New Age 
Communists to meet.

The leader of the community had been chosen unanimously. He was a man 
of unbreakable will, definite opinions and clear goals. A person that 
was respected without any hesitation.

Colonel Tigh, the leader, was dressed in a navy blue commando suit and 
a blue woolen ski-mask. He was leaning against the only window in the 
room, eyeing the dumpster 
outside in the backyard. The window was so dirty one could hardly see 
through it.

The other people in the room were wearing commando suits as well, 
strolling around the place, waiting for the final instructions from the 
leader before going ahead with the plan to strike the next target.

Rigel was hot and sweating like a pig in her suit, not to mention 
impatient to get into the caves and on her way. She eyed Tigh leaning 
against the window for a centon, then walked over to him.

"I still think we should've stuck to the first plan," Rigel spoke 
quietly. "The assassination attempts against the presidential 
candidates might not have been successful, but at least they got us 
fame. Everybody knew who we were... err, well... not personally of 
course," Rigel smiled under her mask, "...I mean, they knew what we 
were fighting against. I'm not so sure this...kidnapping thing..."

Tigh turned. "We will get more than just publicity with our next step." 
The man spoke. 
"We'll get money and that's what we need at this point to be able to 
buy new weapons and new explosives to make ourselves heard."

"But what if kidnapping the Denier heir isn't enough. What if the 
government isn't interested..."

"Come on Rigel!" Tigh frowned. "The Denier family is an important part 
of the national board of the United Colonies of Armourica. The 
government is sure to back them in any emergency..."

A pause.

"Hey, what if demand from them more than money," Rigel's voice turned 
hushier, excited. "What if we actually used the kidnapping as a way to 
bring down the present regime... Do you think the Deniers might be that 
important that the government would consent to a demand of such huge 
scale..."

Tigh didn't reply right away because he was thinking about it. Then he 
came to a negative conclusion.

"I don't think so Rige," he said. "We need explosions, violence and 
dead bodies shown in the IFB news all across to country. That's the 
real way to change the system!"

"Yeah, but..." Rigel found that totally ridiculous. "Okay. To be 
honest, I'm still a little confused about our goal. What are we trying 
to do, like, exactly?..."

Tigh frowned. "How many times do I have to explain this to you Rigel. 
We are aiming to re-form a society where everyone has the equal share 
of everything as well as the equal responsibility. We do not want 
commanders, leaders and rich people having power over us, but complete 
egalitarianism where people are all exactly as powerful to make their 
decisions, together, about things in their community."

"But...what if they disagree?"

"Oh for Sagan's sake! You know very well that a small group of so-
called elite communists will be formed, and that group will make sure 
that the final decisions are suitable for the whole society..."

"Uh... What's the difference?" Rigel furrowed her brows. "We already 
are living in a republic that..."

"You're too young to understand," Tigh snorted and waved his hand, 
already wanting to concentrate on other matters. "And you're a woman. 
How could one expect a woman to internalize any of these important 
things..."

Rigel wanted to kick Tigh real hard but she fought to remain calm.

"...Besides..." Tigh continued, raising one eyebrow inside the ski-
mask. "...if you haven't understood our goal, Why for frack's sake did 
you decide to join us in the first place?"

"I want action," Rigel grinned. "Besides, I want to be doing the same 
thing you are, be where you are. That's what a sealed couple usually 
wants: to be close to one another..."

Tigh frowned. "Oh Rigel. That's what women's magazines claim they want. 
What I want is for you to stay at home to do the cooking, the cleaning 
and to take care of the babies..."

"We don't have any babies Tigh," Rigel narrowed her eyes.

"That's because you're always running around in caves with us!" Tigh 
threw his hands in the air theatrically. "You don't have time to make 
them."

"You're an idiot Tigh," Rigel clenched her teeth. "I hope you get blown 
up along with our next target..."

Rigel left Tigh standing there, just as another masked individual 
walked over to him to inform the magnificent leader about an important 
development in the situation.

"The two men we were waiting for have arrived." The man informed 
hastily. "We are all ready to proceed..."

"Thanks Jeff," Tigh patted the man's shoulder, then turned towards the 
impatient crowd, clapping his hands.

"All right comrades!" Tigh announced. "Form a line please. We are about 
to enter the underground tunnels..."

* * *

Cassiopeia liked working for the Brown House.

First of all it gave her a feeling that she was important as frack. 
Secondly, she was constantly surrounded by powerful people who all 
seemed to have the possibility to change the world with a mere gesture 
of their hands. That was a definite turn on. Cassiopeia loved powerful 
men. That's why she had seduced the commander's daughter to be able to 
get to the commander some day. Cassiopeia wanted Adama, but for the 
time being she would have to satisfy for Athena.

Three men who looked like representatives of the X-files of the FAC 
walked in, all dressed in black and waving their badges in front of 
Cassiopeia's nose like they were their crown jewels.

Cassiopeia was all pretty smiles and eagerness to help as she gestured 
to the men to follow her and led them down the golden hallway to the 
commander's office.

She knocked and waited for Adama's smoky voice to answer, then opened 
the door wiggling her butt more than usual and let the three men in, 
casting a mesmerizing smile at Adama and Omega before closing the door 
again and returning to her desk to do her nails.

* * *

Inside the commander's office, Adama stood up from behind the brown 
teak desk to greet the visitors. Omega , who had been strolling around 
beside the desk, gave the three men 
entering a polite smile the size of the Grand Canyon and started 
approached them with his arm outstretched.

Polite handshakes, a couple of exchanged banalities, then the men cut 
straight to the point, starting to rave and rant about the moon and 
what a threat it was to Cadria, until Adama managed to calm them down 
enough to shut up and hear what Omega had to say.

Patiently, and with layman's terms, Omega started explaining to the men 
that the repeating code continuously received from the approaching 
object by the CSOU had not been identified, and as much as Omega could 
tell, although the code bore amazing resemblance to the old LKD-beta-
sigma, there were just enough differences to make it undecodable.

The three men started looking like they had just eaten rotten tomatoes.

Ignoring their snarls, Omega continued his informative briefing, 
concluding with the fact that the object was now so close to the Cadria 
surface (only 700 000 kilometrons away) that it was undoubtedly 
planning on landing.

The three men freaked out.

Immediate safety procedures were immediately decided to proceed with, 
as fracking hastily as possible. Commander Adama agreed.

The three men ordered Omega that he and the observatory staff were to 
continue keeping a very close eye on the scanners and find out in good 
time the exact area where the object was heading to. The special 
annihilation sector of the army would be there waiting for it.

Omega nodded understandingly and wrote everything down...

* * *

It was 17.55 and the afternoon sun behind the thick veil of gray clouds 
was lingering low in the horizon, ready to drop from view. It amazed 
Starbuck how early it became dark in Saskachoona. And the darkness 
wasn't just... dark.

Where the vague street lamps didn't reach, the darkness became 
impenetrable blackness.
Starbuck wouldn't have gone to the woods on the edge of the campus for 
a trillion bucks.

Neverend Lane was a narrow, somehow idyllic side street with its gas-
lamp-like lights and stone fences, a fifteen-centon-walk from the 
campus.

White, four-story buildings were rising behind those stony fences, a 
narrow asphalt path leading from the street to the front doors of each 
building's staircase through a small garden. Most windows were dark. 
Starbuck wondered about that.

Number 21.

Starbuck eyed the windows above wondering which one would be the one 
where he would be either treated like a human being and accepted as a 
friend of Apollo's, or eaten by blood-thirsty, vicious cannibals. The 
second option seemed more likely. Starbuck knew he was an idiot for 
pulling open the front door and stepping into the dark hallway.
Why was he so nervous?

Apartment 3 was just up the first flight of stairs. There were two 
apartments on each floor. Nice, intimate and homely. Time to turn back.

Starbuck rang the doorbell.

* * *

A tall, handsome guy with brown wavy hair and a charmingly lopsided 
little smile opened the door. Starbuck recognized the guy from Mickey's 
and he didn't know what the hell to say to this person now in front of 
him.

"Hi," Starbuck grinned.

"You must be Starbuck," Denis smiled and held out his hand politely. 
"I'm Denis. Come on in...We're glad you could make it..."

Starbuck swallowed, then stepped into a small hallway. Damn he 
should've brought along the crucifix and the garlic after all...

As Starbuck paused to wait for Denis to close the door, he eyed the 
paintings that were hanging on the cream coloured hallway walls. Large 
paintings. A sudden déją vu of his nightmares washed over Starbuck. 
Quickly he shed them away. He was nervous enough as it was. He didn't 
need any weird mutilated faces looming in the back of his head...

Denis put his hand on Starbuck's back and politely led the man into the 
living room where eight alert eyes and four politely smiling faces 
welcomed him. They all looked like vampires.

One of those faces was Apollo's but it didn't stop Starbuck feeling 
like he had just stepped into the Ovions' cave.

"Hi!" He waved too cheerfully, his panicking grin from ear to ear. 
"How're you guys doing?..."

"Hello Starbuck," Apollo gave a little polite nod. "Nice to see you 
again."

"Yeah, you too." Starbuck smiled, unable to not stop staring at Apollo. 
The word 'uncomfortable' was the understatement of the yahren. The 
recollection of Apollo without eyes ordering Starbuck to stay away from 
his friends was very vividly in his mind.

Apollo too was looking somehow alert, as if he was horribly worried for 
Starbuck to let out something from his mouth that would blow up the 
whole of Saskachoona. Before Starbuck was quick enough to turn and run 
for his life, there was Jean Michel Denier.

"Starbuck," Denier beamed, getting up from the couch with his hand 
extended. "Our very own mathematics genius..."

Apollo's expression was worth seeing. Starbuck almost laughed out loud. 
Almost.

Jean Michel walked over to Starbuck an... to Starbuck's horror... 
instead of proceeding with the shaking of the hands thing, Jean Michel 
embraced him like a father bear, patting Starbuck's back and saying how 
delighted he was that Starbuck had made it.

"...I hope you haven't ruined your appetite with any crap before coming 
here." Jean Michel let go of Starbuck and grinned. "I absolutely 
wouldn't forgive you for not eating the four-course Geminian meal I 
have prepared specifically for you..."

Starbuck swallowed. He was sure he wouldn't be able to eat a bite.

"You're looking very handsome," Jean Michel took a step backwards and 
studied Starbuck in an overly theatrical way. "That shirt really suits 
you, you know..."

Starbuck was about to burst laughing again. He had fought some bloody 
battles with the mirror and his wardrobe before coming here. Now that 
he didn't own any military stuff any more, the few outfits that he had 
could've been mistaken for something the daggit had dragged in. Not for 
a micron did Starbuck believe that Jean Michel Denier was actually 
sincere and not evil, canny and sarcastic.

"Err...Thanks..." Starbuck replied at unease. Jean Michel's grin seemed 
to grow wider as if he was sensing exactly what Starbuck was thinking. 
Starbuck fidgeted.

"And may I introduce you to my good friends," Jean Michel turned away 
from Starbuck, but put his hand on the man's back like Denis had done a 
while ago. The second option of going to be eaten by cannibals was 
becoming more and more obvious.

In his mind Starbuck saw how he was going to be devoured by cannibal J-
M Denier who would continue making shameless passes on him all 
evening...

Jean Michel led Starbuck to a man whom Starbuck had noticed from the 
very first moment he had set his foot into the room. How could he have 
not!

An extraordinarily thin, pale man with long, night-black hair yet 
startlingly green eyes met Starbuck's mesmerized gaze with coolness and 
gave out his hand for a handshake.

"I'm intrigued to meet you Starbuck." Satyr smiled. "I'm sure this will 
be a beginning for a beautiful friendship..."

Jean Michel chuckled behind Starbuck.

"Meet Satyr." He grinned. "A man with many visions..."

Everyone in the room smiled except Starbuck.

"...and even more aspirations..." Denier smirked.

This time the men sitting around Starbuck burst out laughing. Starbuck 
wanted to be anywhere, anywhere at all, but not here! He was sure they 
were laughing at him. Satyr was eyeing Starbuck amused.

"And this is my dear friend Cecil..." Jean Michel led Starbuck to a 
blond, short-haired, athletic man who had a nice, catchy smile. "...who 
in fact happens to own this residence."

"Casa de Cecilio," Denis grinned.

"Nice to meet one of Apollo's old friends," Cecil got up, smiling 
politely, and shook hands with Starbuck. "You have an interesting 
name..."

"Hmmn," Starbuck smiled back, unsure of how to respond to the 
compliment, had it even been one.

"And don't worry about Jean's traditional Geminian meal," Cecil winked. 
"The four courses of it means an aperitif, the actual main course, 
completely burned and uneatable, a glass of wine to wash the garbage 
down with, and a smoke afterwards to hide the aftertaste... Isn't that 
right Jeanie..." Cecil put his arm around Jean Michel's shoulder, 
smirking at Starbuck. Jean poked Cecil with his elbow, pretending to be 
annoyed. How close those two men seemed. So much more than friends...

Starbuck grinned politely at Cecil's joke, just to do something, 
anything.

"Please, take a seat," Jean Michel smiled and gestured towards a chair.

Starbuck couldn't shake the horrible feeling that Jean Michel was 
studying him somehow even more carefully than others. Apollo too seemed 
to be watching Starbuck in a strange way, although he did his best 
trying not to show it.

"Do you want something to drink Starbuck?" Apollo got up and started 
towards the kitchen, smiling ever so politely at Starbuck. "The 
aperitif, as Cecil just put it..."

"Yes, please," Starbuck grinned back with all his charm and hoped to 
Sagans that the grin turned out even close to resembling warmness and 
relaxation. It obviously didn't because Apollo raised one eyebrow 
before vanishing into the kitchen.

An eternity later, Apollo returned carrying two drinks and handed one 
to Bucky.

"Here you go," He smiled.

Their eyes met, for a brief micron. Starbuck wanted desperately to grab 
Apollo by the shoulders and shake him to make him... do what? Starbuck 
didn't know. Somehow he just wanted to shake to old Apollo he loved out 
of this new strange one.

Apollo tore his eyes away and headed back to the couch. He was very 
careful not to look at Starbuck for a long time after that.

"So..." Starbuck tried to start a fairly intelligent conversation. "The 
weather's been kinda foul..."

"Yes..." Satyr replied with an amused expression on his face. The 
others nodded, they too smirking.

What the hell were those guys grinning about. Starbuck couldn't shake 
the feeling that he was  under constant observation. Why for frack's 
sake did he have to have accepted this invitation. He could be in his 
room right now, reading a good battle novel or eating his arse off at 
Mickey's or...

Starbuck eyes lingered once again to Apollo. The dark-haired man was 
intentionally looking away.

And on it went, for at least another half a centar. Meaningless 
felgercarb about Starbuck's studies and his incredible mathematic 
skills, whether or not he liked his room, had he perhaps tasted the 
broccoli in the student canteen, had he had a chance to look around 
Saskachoona, did he or did he not like the music of Jimi Hendrix...

And all the while Jean Michel was sitting disturbingly close, putting 
his arm around Starbuck's shoulders once in a while, appearing so 
bloody attentive every time Starbuck said a word, that Starbuck was 
starting to cast hopeful glances toward the door.

Then finally, finally, Cecil smiled like a saviour and said that 
perhaps they should all move into the kitchen before Jeanie's meal... 
or whatever one might want to call it... (they all laughed) gets cold. 
Starbuck was the first one to bounce up from the couch.
Jean Michel Denier was right at his tail...

* * *

"Helena," Commander John Koenig entered the research room 5 on moonbase 
Alpha. "Have you seen Alan?"

"Not in the last half an hour," Dr. Helena Russell didn't take her eyes 
off the object she was closely examining. "Why?"

"Nothing special," Koenig leant forward trying to make out over doctor 
Russell's shoulder what the green slimy thing on the operation table 
was. "Looks horrible!"

Helena Russell didn't answer.

"So, you don't know where Alan is?..."

"No."

"Okay."

"Fine."

"A pause.

"So, ummm... Any development concerning that man we rescued from that 
battered ship? I gather professor Bergman is still constantly working 
on him..."

"The man still refuses to talk, John," Helena mumbled, removing the 
slimy thing's insides, one by one and putting them on a white tray. "We 
still have no clue of his past. But other than that, he's recovering 
fantastically. His physical condition is already above 54/H-24 and 
continuing to improve."

"That's great," Koenig didn't give a shit, just acted like a caring 
commander should. "By the way. Eagle four's all prepared and is being 
transported into the launching are as we speak. I'm ready to proceed 
with the pre-mission informative meeting."

"All right. I'll be down in just a few minutes," the smile Helena gave 
to the slimy thing was intended for commander Koenig. Then she finally 
had enough patience to put down the operating scissors and turn to give 
Koenig a kiss.

Koenig smiled and returned the kiss blankly.

"How're you feeling?" Helena stroked the commander's cheek. "Any 
better?"

"Yeah, well..." Koenig ever so casually moved a little away from 
Helena. "Professor Bergman gave me some anti-depressants. He thinks my 
recent headaches might be a cause of my recent depression."

"Is that so," Helena smiled coldly. "And you believe he's right?"

"Bergman's a doctor, Helena." Koenig smiled a little at unease. "A good 
doctor. He knows his stuff..."

"I'm a doctor too, John," Helena's lips were still smiling but her eyes 
weren't. "The official one. Why didn't you come to me?"

"You know very well why, Helena!" Koenig frowned. "As a commander I 
don't think it's ethical for any leading personnel to be doctored by 
his mistress. The Alpha rules demand a neutral diagnosis..."

"You've come to me before..."

"I know darling." Koenig paused fingering some research instruments on 
a table by the library section and walked back to the extraordinarily 
beautiful, forty-year-old, blond woman to give her a kiss on the cheek. 
"But the rules..."

"Yes," Helena's smile was frozen. "Why don't you go and find Alan, 
John. I'll be joining you guys in just a few short minutes..."

"All right darling," Koenig kissed her coolly on the cheek once more, 
then turned and walked out of the research room.

Helena picked up the scissors and returned her attention to the green, 
slimy thing, starting to poke it angrily wishing that it would've been 
John instead.

Anti-depressants! She snorted with devotion. What professor Bergman 
really should've prescribed commander Koenig was Viagra! He and Helena 
hadn't slept together for two months now and it damn well wasn't 
because of some mild depression!...

Damn all men, Helena thought viciously. Especially all those humourless 
astrophysicists who were stranded on a moon blown off Earth's orbit by 
a powerful nuclear explosion! Helena would never look at another one 
again! What a bloody tragic accident that those were the only men she 
was surrounded with...

* * *

Squid!

Petrified, Starbuck stared at the traditional Geminian dinner awaiting 
him on the table. This was a sign. He should never have come here.

The others were taking their seats by the table, making jokes and 
chatting lightly about school, the weather, the food in the campus 
canteen and how they never prepared enough sea food for Jeanie's taste.

They talked about some Denier mansion 70 kilometrons up the mountains 
and how they were planning to go there one of these days and how the 
Saskachoona town council was considering of having highway 666 re-
paved.

They talked about all kinds of stuff except the things that really 
seemed to be on their minds. Starbuck had an uncomfortable feeling that 
they were holding back because of him and couldn't wait for him to 
leave.

Still, those five men seemed very careful to make sure they appeared 
very polite. There was absolutely nothing there to suggest that 
Starbuck wasn't wanted. Quite the opposite in fact. Starbuck was 
painfully aware that he was being constantly observed with immense 
intrigue. He tried to not look at anyone else other than the squid.

It was pink.

* * *

Commander John Koenig, forty-three and aging, was making his way to 
recreation area C in travel tube 24.

Apart from the two men in orange uniforms who were sitting opposite 
him, carrying on with a loud meaningless conversation, the tube was 
empty.

Commander Koenig's eyes were blankly on the blur of walls shooting past 
outside the tube windows as the vehicle was moving 80 miles an hour.

After 10 minutes the tube came to a halt. A gray-white door slid 
automatically open and revealed a red-and orange-coloured information 
area, with signs directing to different sections of the domain.

Commander Koenig carried on to corridor B7 which would take him to the 
main gym where captain Alan Carter usually exercised. Koenig was hoping 
to find the man there now too, and with a bit of a luck, with his 
shorts on.

If anyone would've had the bloody nerve the ask, commander Koenig would 
have strongly objected to the question and, with a hand on his heart, 
deeply affronted and insulted, denied having any inclination towards 
being gay. God help him! Commander John Koenig was very aware of being 
completely and comprehensively heterosexual.

Completely and comprehensively... until every time he saw captain Alan 
Carter in sparse clothing.

* * *

The main gym of recreation area C was usually half full at this time of 
day and today was no exception.

Commander Koenig's eyes searched the crowd of sweaty men and women for 
a sandy-haired, well-built, sexy man in his thirty-fours who looked 
exactly what he was, an Australian, and who was actually very handsome 
in his own, not very striking way.

Alan Carter was not that good-looking in the traditional sense, but the 
guy sure was a hell of a lot sexier than most men in Alpha. Now 
spotting him in tight biking shorts lifting weights near the exercising 
bikes, commander John Koenig knew he was in trouble. Commander John 
Koenig junior was suddenly very awake...

"Alan!" John walked to the man, a friendly smile on his face. "I had a 
feeling I might find you here."

"Hi there mate," Alan grinned in that sexy way that always made Koenig 
junior feel a little cramped in those tight white uniform slacks. "You 
here to exercise John?"

Koenig snorted. Both men knew damn well that the commander would rather 
have fought bloody battles with the Dorcons than to lift another weight 
in his life! Alan Carter eyed the commander's usually so staid and 
wooden face now lit with a little spark.

"Nice to see you in a good mood for a change John," the Australian 
grinned. "Are you here to pick me up for the meeting before the 
mission?"

"You wouldn't see me in a place like this otherwise," Koenig smiled. 
John junior was throbbing annoyingly in his cotton/polyester prison. 
"No one will ever change my mind about exercising being a goddamn pain 
in the arse."

"You don't know what you're missing John," Alan took his towel that had 
been hanging from a handle of one of the exercise bikes and wiped his 
face, then put the towel around his neck as he got up from the bench. 
"You wanna wait 'til I shower and get dressed or...?"

"Naah," Koenig smiled, or rather grimaced since John junior was now 
giving him a double hard time after having had a vision of Alan naked 
in the shower. "I think I better go and get Tony and Maya..."

"Whatever you say mate," Carter winked and started towards the gym 
dressing rooms. "See you in a few then!"

Koenig watched Alan making his way towards the back rooms, then turned 
and left the gym.

It took him ten private minutes in a toilet cubicle in one of the 
public restrooms of recreation area C to become heterosexual again.

* * *

Maya lifted her eyes away from the white mega microscope and covered 
her yawn with her hand. She noticed Tony Verdeschi leaning against a 
white metal wall of the technical center, watching her.

"What?" She raised one of her extraordinary eyebrows.

"Nothing," Tony smirked.

Tony Verdeschi, the chief of security of moonbase Alpha, was a tall, 
dark, good-looking guy in his early thirty-fours with Italian blood 
running in his veins. Tony had a huge crush on Maya, the beautiful 
human-like alien woman from planet Psychon, who had saved the lives of 
the Alphans once, and who could turn into anything she wanted: an 
animal, a lifeless object, even any one of her workmates.

As opposed to commander Koenig, who secretly considered Maya as the 
ultimate drag queen fantasy, Tony had never in his life seen a woman 
more beautiful. The very moment Tony had first laid eyes on her, he had 
fallen deeply, desperately in love. And it didn't matter that the 
object of his affection was often found metamorphosed into a lion, a 
gorilla, a rock or even a reptile hand. Tony would love her forever and 
ever.

Maya brushed her gorgeous, red hair back and eyed Tony eyeing her.

Then, with an amused smile on her face, she gracefully got up and 
walked to Tony, pressing her body against the man seductively. Tony's 
grin grew wider.

Something felt funny. Sort of... pointy!

Confused, Tony looked down and then completely freaked out seeing 
Commander Koenig's naked, aroused body leaning against him, junior 
enthusiastically rubbing itself on Tony's thigh. Letting out a 
horrified squeal, Tony jumped away from Maya and started frantically 
brushing his clothes with a grimace on his face, still feeling the 
pointy thing against his leg.

That was the very moment commander Koenig himself walked into the room.

For a passing moment Koenig thought he had accidentally had a glimpse 
of himself in a mirror. Then, with a furrow of his brows, wondered what 
the hell he was doing walking the corridors of the moonbase butt naked.

It wasn't until at this point, that Maya had finally succeeded in 
transforming herself back to herself, and there was no more obscurity 
to commander Koenig of what had been going on.

* * *

"Ehrm... We are ready to go ahead with the meeting," the expression on 
Koenig's face was, if possible, even more staid and blank than 
normally. "I'm expected to see you both there in five minutes."

Without saying anything more commander Koenig turned, and with his head 
high, walked out of the room, leaving Maya smirking at Tony, and Tony 
feeling like someone had just kicked him the balls.

Twice.

* * *

The room was a little hazy and a little pink which it really wasn't, 
but the thought of it made Starbuck chuckle anyway. Everything appeared 
to make him chuckle. Starbuck was feeling just damn fracking great.

They had finished the squid ages ago but were still sitting around the 
table sipping their drinks, smoking theirs fumarellos or cigarettes, 
chatting.

Somewhere between his second and third glass of wine Starbuck had 
somehow forgotten about his uneasiness and actually started to enjoy 
the company of these five weird men. The world had become comfortably 
soft and pleasant... and pink... Starbuck chuckled... like cotton 
candy, and it took a little sway to one side if one got up a little too 
quickly to go to the turboflush.

Starbuck had his hand on the shoulder of Jean Michel, who was sitting 
next to him, seeming to be smiling extremely amused as Starbuck was 
describing his awful sectars in Warm Place. Once or twice Starbuck 
thought he caught himself slurring but how could that be. There was no 
way he could've gotten drunk from only three glasses of wine!

Apollo had been mostly quiet during the dinner, his eyes very 
unexpectedly on Starbuck most of the time. How funny! Now thinking 
back, Starbuck couldn't remember that much about the dinner at all, 
except that that squid had been terrible, and pink, and that Apollo's 
constant stare had actually made Starbuck feel... good somehow.

The sudden thought of that totally freaked Starbuck out!

He turned his attention to Apollo, hoping to Sagans, and at the same 
time being frightened to death, that he'd catch his eyes. He didn't. 
Apollo was looking elsewhere, smiling a little as he was listening to 
that thin, black-haired dude called Satyr talking to him.

Apollo's parted hair had become a little tousled during the evening, 
and his handsome face was a little flushed, probably because of the 
warmth in the kitchen. Now looking at the beautiful man sitting 
opposite him, Starbuck felt that the old Apollo was returning, slowly 
coming out of the strange Apollo.

But there was something new too... something that made Starbuck want to 
continue staring, making it hard for him to look away.

Something that made Starbuck to want to get physically closer to the 
dark man that had been such a good friend of his. Starbuck wanted to go 
and sit closer and...

...and what?... Starbuck's hair shot up towards the ceiling as he 
realized what he was thinking!

"No freaking way!!"

"What?" five pairs of surprised eyes turned to Starbuck who, to his 
utter horror, realized he had just said the last words out loud. His 
face turned crimson.

"Oh dear," Jean Michel's face was slowly turning into a smirk. "I hope 
that is not your subtle way of turning me down..."

The crimson turned dark purple. Starbuck wanted the ground to swallow 
him. Now! Apollo's eyes from across the table were burning on his face 
like solium fire.

"Perhaps our friend wants some more wine to cool himself down," Satyr 
smiled, somehow unpleasantly. "Cecil, why don't you act like a good 
host Jean Michel never is, and pour our guest another glass..."

"No, I..." Starbuck stuttered, avoiding Apollo's eyes.

"Oh absolutely," Cecil winked, reached out to take one of the bottles 
and poured. "Such good wine shouldn't go to waste!..."

Starbuck watched helplessly from a million miles away how the red 
liquid started falling into the glass, slowly filling it. It looked 
like blood.

"Here you go Starbuck," Jean Michel's arm was around Bucky's shoulder 
and the grin on his face unbearable. "You'll feel better after this. 
Trust me..."

The unbearable grin... the pink swaying room... Starbuck grabbed the 
wine glass with both hands and let the liquid flow down his throat with 
a couple of  gulps. It tasted like aspirin.

"That's my boy," Jean Michel beamed, his face so close to Starbuck's it 
looked surreal.

Somewhere in the background was a switched-on IFB receiver and the 
familiar theme song of Dynasty III kicked in with its grandiloquent 
trumpets and high notes. The noise made Starbuck feel sick.

Feverishly, not really seeing straight, Starbuck tried to look around 
the table, hoping to find Apollo's eyes, but the last thing he saw was 
the intrigued gaze of the handsome guy from Mickey's with wavy, brown 
hair. Denis. The guy was grinning.

Starbuck's head fell onto the table.

* * *

Chapter 5

Starbuck had a vague feeling that he was in a car. He was aware that 
there were others, and that the vehicle was moving rather fast.

But every time he even tried to think of lifting his head to take a 
look around, he felt a surge of violent nausea and horrible dizziness. 
The only thing Starbuck was able to do was to try to lie as still as 
possible, try to stay alive, and listen to the hushed voices around 
him. The smell of car fuel made everything worse.

The bitter taste of aspirin was still lingering in his mouth. What the 
bloody hell kind of wine had that been?!... Starbuck felt like throwing 
up but he was too weak to move and his head hurt like frack every time 
he tried!

Starbuck closed his eyes.

The next time he opened them he was in a large brown room that was 
decorated in an elegant, old-fashioned way that screamed wealth and 
good money. The hushed voices were still around there somewhere, but 
Starbuck couldn't lift his head enough to see where they were coming 
from. But he realized he was naked.

There were huge windows everywhere, darkness behind them seeming to be 
watching Starbuck quietly, patiently. Staring into the brightly-lit 
room with it's black-hole eyes.

Lurking, waiting to be let in itself...

Starbuck drifted back into unawareness.

* * *

Rigel eyed the shining, metallic vehicle towards which they were 
heading. It was larger than she had expected, but still streamlined 
enough to promise it would be able to move through the narrow catacombs 
and caves without any difficulty.

The contact had arrived on schedule. Rigel hadn't recognized any of the 
three men who would be operating the underground shuttle. She watched 
those men now moving around the vehicle in shadows, checking that the 
thing was completely operational. The men weren't wearing ski-masks.

Nobody in the large cave was speaking aloud but the air was still 
filled with strange unquietude of anxiousness rather than just silence.

One of the three men walked over to Tigh to exchange a couple of hushed 
words with him. Tigh nodded seemingly satisfied. Then he turned to 
address the group of others that they were to swiftly continue into the 
vehicle which would be taking off in less than twenty centons. The 
masked people obliged without questions.

Rigel too followed the others into the shuttle and when inside, she 
immediately moved to her seat and buckled up. All this was happening in 
anticipated silence. The only sounds around were the soft footsteps 
echoing from the cave and shuttle walls, and the low,
smooth hum of the engine thrusters.

Tigh was the last to enter the vehicle and the doors slid shut right 
after him, activating the locks. Four bright, red warning lights 
flashed on.

Tigh took a rapid look around, spotted Rigel and strode his way to the 
next seat to her to sit down. Rigel took Tigh's hand. The sound of 
thrusters got a fraction louder and in two centons the shuttle took off 
with a violent oscillation, shooting into the blackness of the
catacombs ahead.

In seven and a half centars they would be arriving to their 
destination.

In seventy and a half centars they would all be either dead, 
imprisoned, or wildly celebrating their victory-to-be over capitalism 
with a hundred thousand cubits of ransom money...

* * *

The terrace of the Cardinal.
23.00.

"Fantastic!" Mikey lifted his glass of beer against the light and eyed 
it completely enticed. "I wonder what their secret is..."

"They buy it from the mall," Mitchi smirked. "For 2 cubitcents a can."

"Frack off Mitch!" Mikey pretended to be annoyed. "I'm discovering a 
goldmine of beer here and you're trying to ruin my moment..."

"Doing the best that I can." A huge teasing smirk that was Mitchi's 
head ducked down just in time to avoid a playful whack from the 
grinning Mike. "Mikey-baby, I just love the way you look when you're 
pissed off..."

"You're an idiot Mitch!..."

"From you darling," Mitchi winked, "that's a compliment.

"You...you..."

"...extraordinarily intelligent, perfect being." Mitchi beamed. "Thanks 
pal. It's always nice to hear someone admit that. Even you..."

Mikey kicked the leg of Mitchi's chair. Mitchi grabbed Mikey putting 
his arm around his neck and ruffled the bleached mop on the man's head.

"Don't mess my hair you moron!" Mikey was screaming, trying to fight 
himself free from Mitchi grasp. "It took a centar to fix goddammit!..."

"Cut it out guys..."

"Tell that to Mitchi!..."

"Yackety-jack..."

"You know guys..." Jolly was looking distracted on the other side of 
the table. "I'll never get used to this 'cubits and cubitcents' thing. 
Things were a hell of a lot easier when we were living on the ships. 
Before all the inflation and all this currency reform felgercarb..."

"Exactly!" Sascha quickly swallowed his beer to chime in, all for 
Jolly's point of view. "...and it's ridiculous to try to make us speak 
differently! Just imagine using words like 'shower' or 'minute' or 
'television'. Sounds like something I wouldn't eat...!"

The other chuckled.

"Hey, what time's Dynasty on tonight?" Mikey too took a sip from his 
beer. The evening wind was flapping his tie-dyed shirt and his bleached 
hair was glowing in the extraordinarily bright light of the moon. 
Boomer was going mad thinking that he saw not one but in fact two moons 
glowing in the sky, but then decided to blame it on the drink and last 
night's LSD and to forget about it.

"You guys should've seen the last episode..." Mikey was dying to share 
the plot, "...where Blake shot himself because of the death of his 
gardener who died from a chandelier dropping on his head because of 
Blake braking the wire by accident when he was shooting around the room 
like a madman..."

"Oh spare me!" Boomer frowned with devotion. "I don't wanna hear 
it!..."

"...and the ex-daughter-in-law who raped the butler turned out to be an 
alien and..."

"Don't make me kick you Mike," Boomer growled. "I said I don't want to 
hear about Dynasty!! I can't believe you really watch that felgercarb! 
What alien are you? Release Mike's body at once!"

Jolly and Mitchi laughed.

"Hey, all I asked was what time Dynasty's on tonight for Sagan's 
sake..."

Mikey frowned. "No need to start throwing insults..."

"No, you were starting to describe the events of the show with your 
eyes bulging madly out of their sockets..."

"No, I wasn't you boray," Mikey pursed his lips. "I was just thinking 
of being kind enough to fill you in..."

"We don't need filling in, thanks," Boomer patted Mike's shoulder with 
a grandfather-esque patient smile on his face. Mikey wanted to whack 
him. "All I wanted to know when..."

"Dynasty was on centars ago buddy," Francis Lindo smirked at the 
bleached haired guy. "What's the matter with you..."

"The disadvantages of beach life." Mikey pacified a little, his lips 
even turning into a tiny grin. "It makes you lose track of time 
completely. Perhaps I should get a proper job..."

"You?! A job?!... Give me a fracking break..." Jolly roared with 
laughter. "I'm in need of another beer after all this felgercarb..." He 
pushed his chair back, and stood up. "Anyone else?"

"No, thanks," Boomer waved his hand.

The terrace were they were sitting was almost empty now. The wind had 
picked up and there were dark sinister clouds, almost black, gathering 
in the night sky promising soon-to-fall rain showers, but it was still 
warm. It was always warm in Warm Place.

"What time is it?" Mikey's suspicious gaze were lingering on those 
foreboding purple clouds, hoping that it wouldn't start raining just 
yet.

"You still worried about missing Dynasty?..."

"Idiot!" Mikey gave Francis Lindo a glare.

"Why then?" Boomer raised one eyebrow. "You're never interested in the 
time, man."

"Well, just asking..." Mikey shrugged annoyed. "A man can ask can't 
he..."

Mitchi grinned. "Our Mikey here's nervous about tomorrow. He's afraid 
we're gonna miss our transportation."

Sadscha chuckled. "Yeah, he wants to be there at the shuttleport at 
least ten centars before the shuttle leaves. Just to be sure..."

"Sascha! You rule man!" Mitchi gave his new conspirator a high five. 
Francis Lindo was laughing in the background.

"Give me a fucking break," Mikey rolled his eyes. "I was just checking, 
that's all."

"Sure you were!" Mitchi and Sascha were both smirking at Mike 
infuriatingly, always ready to jump at a chance to tease their dear 
friend. Mikey was glaring back at them.

"Talking about tomorrow," Boomer cut in, turning serious. "What time is 
Squirrel picking us up...?"

"We're scheduled to meet him at DandyBurger's in the corner of Oak 
street and 25th." It was Jolly who answered. Squirrel had contacted him 
earlier about the details. "A buddy of his has promised to take us to 
the port."

"Do we know the guy? Mitchi's fingers were drumming the table. "Nope," 
Jolly shook his head, "and he doesn't know anything about our 
businesses either, so ..."

"...yeah, so mouths zipped!" Mitchi concluded with a grin. "No prob!"

"When exactly are we meeting the client then?" Sascha asked. "You know, 
I was just wondering how much stuff do I need to pack..."

"Otter hasn't given us the exact time or place yet," Francis Lindo 
replied. "I believe he'll contact us when we check into the hotel."

"If I didn't know better, I would think I was going on holiday," Boomer 
smirked. "I have to remind myself not to pack my snorkles."

The others laughed.

"Hey, come on guys. Get serious here," Mikey frowned at the others, not 
finding stepping into the Ovions cave tomorrow in the least bit 
amusing. "Am I the only completely sane one of us who's even a little 
bit worried about this? Guys, come on. Think about it... The body and 
the DEA and all... And what the hell do we know about this damn mystery 
client of Otter's? If you ask me he has to be some suicidal maniac to 
not realize what kind of a hellish situation he's cramming himself 
into... not to mention us..."

"Hmmm, now that you said it..." Francis Lindo inclined his head 
thoughtfully. "I'm beginning to be more and more convinced that the 
client is professor Niels... All those characteristics of a madman 
listed above describe him more than just darn well..."

Laughter.

"Naah, I still think it's the mayor..." Mitchi commented. "He's got 
more money."

"But what about the future president of the United States of 
Armourica."

Sascha grinned. "Don't you think a guy like that would get Otter 
running..."

"Naaah, the client's just some hot female," Jolly smirked, "or a hot 
male. The only thing that's capable of getting a guy like Otter running 
is his dick."

More laughter.

"How would you know what kind of a guy Otter is," Boomer raised one 
eyebrow at Jolly. "You've never even met the man Jol."

"Yeah, but if a guy's involved in a business like Otter's, he must be 
some tough motherfracker who..."

"...who can be only controlled by the ever-powerful Little Otter." 
Francis Lindo finished the sentence triumphantly. "Sounds like a normal 
healthy man to me..."

Laughter. Centons of it.

"You people are sick," Mikey wiped tears from his eyes, still 
chuckling. "But, you know, if I have to die, I'm glad it's gonna be 
with you guys..."

"Yeah, me too," Mitchi grinned. "Can't wait to get to heaven with you 
lot..."

"Yeah, think of all the drugs up there. And the clubs.... And all the 
babes and lads who look like angels..."

"Yo, heaven here we come..."

"Ummm... let's not get carried away..."

"You worried or something?"

"Hey, I think the trip's gonna be cool, man. The trip's gonna be cool."

"Yo? The trip to heaven?..."

"No, you moron. The trip tomorrow. To Saskachoona. I'm sure 
everything'll go just as smoothly as ever, no matter what's going on up 
there. We'll be back here surfing before we know it..."

"I bloody well hope so, man..."

"We will," Sascha grinned. "I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, me too" Boomer smiled dreamily. "This place is all the heaven we 
need..."

The first raindrops started to fall...

* * *

Pain.

Stabbing, strange and repeating.

Starbuck dreamed that he was trying to fight free from someone who was 
holding him down.

Deeper and deeper into the black he was falling.

Down the stairway of his dark sleep.

Down towards the mutilated face hiding in the shadows...

* * *

"I don't think there's more to add..." commander Koenig's eyes lingered 
on the eight participants in the meeting room 7, sitting around a 
white, metallic table looking bored as frack. "...But I do suggest that 
you'll try to get some sleep before the mission."

"Yeah, you too John!" Alan Carter winked with a grin. The others did 
their best to try to hide their smirks. Everyone knew that John Koenig 
and Helena Russell were lovers.
Koenig pretended not to notice.

"Eagle four will be taking off from flight deck B at exactly 10.00 am," 
the commander continued, avoiding looking at Helena. "I will expect you 
all to be there in time."

"Right-o mate!" Alan pushed back his chair, stood up and grabbed his 
blue uniform coat.

On his way towards the exit he glanced over his shoulder to give 
commander Koenig a sexy grin.

"Don't forget it's your turn to bring the refreshments commander..." 
Alan remarked with twinkly eyes. "Anything for the cockpit crew 
remember?"

"Yhmmmm..." An inside joke of theirs. Koenig smiled. His eyes followed 
Alan walking out of the room.

Then, to his start, Koenig found Helena standing beside him.

"Feeling like a night cap John?..." Helena purred, smiling beautifully, 
trying to read Koenig's face.

The studying gave Koenig a horrible feeling she might see something she 
shouldn't.

"...or are you perhaps suffering from one of your headaches again?"

"Helena, darling..." Koenig leaned closer to give Helena a light kiss 
on the lips. "You know I'd love to, but as a doctor, you should very 
well know how important it is that we do get our proper rest tonight. 
Who knows what kind of beings we will be dealing with tomorrow..."

"Hmmuhhuh," Helena's smile became frozen, her eyes more observing. 

Koenig turned away from her and hoped to look casual as he walked to 
the window, continuing his thinking aloud.

"...For what I know Helena, those aliens might be anything from 
bringers of wonder to vicious murderers with the killing disease. We 
don't even know what they look like..."

"...So how are supposed to recognize our trading partners then when the 
moment is at hand?" Helena hated it when John was pretending to act 
deep and philosophic.

"The contact persons will be wearing a given sign," Koenig eyed the 
surface of the moon. "We'll recognize them."

"Will we?" Helena raised one eyebrow. "And what is that given sign, may 
I ask? A flower in the chest pocket perhaps..."

Koenig turned his head to give her a glare.

"I sincerely hope you know what you're doing John," Helena continued 
coldly, "because I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to 
take this..."

"Take what darling?" John asked, turning to eye the moonscape outside 
again." The unknown worlds and all the aliens? Not being able to go 
back to Earth because we don't know where it is...?"

"No John." Helena replied calmly. "The lack of sex."

She turned and walked out of the room. Koenig heard her sharp footsteps 
fading away down the hall.

* * *

Captain Alan Carter was comfortably tired. He yawned with an enjoyable 
stretch and then started to unbutton his jacket, whistling and humming 
to himself. Boy it felt great after a good day's workout.

Alan slipped the jacket off and threw it onto a back of a white plastic 
chair, then pulled off his tight, white uniform shirt. At that point he 
heard a knock.

Cursing quietly, Carter walked to the door and pressed the green button 
to let the door slide open to a jumpy-looking commander Koenig.

"What is it mate?" Alan stared at the man in front of him, annoyed as 
hell. "I was just going to bed here..."

"Ummm, Hi Alan. I was just passing nearby on my way to technical 5 
and..." Koenig fidgeted, trying not to stare at Alan's bare chest.

"Yeah?" Alan waited.

"...And I just decided I might as well drop by and make sure that you 
know that it's flight deck B that we're..."

"Yeah, I know, I know John." Alan raised one eyebrow. "You can rest 
now. Rest assured that I won't be getting lost in the catacombs of the 
moon..."

Koenig grinned with utter uneasiness. "Just... wanted to make sure..."

"Great mate," Alan winked, already closing the door. "See you 
tomorrow."

"Sure Alan..." The door slid shut in front of Koenig's face.

Goddamn! Koenig felt like a complete jerk and wanted to kick junior's 
head in for having made him do such a stupid stunt.

He turned and started down the corridor towards the section where his 
own quarters were located, not noticing the platinum blond head that 
was spying on him from behind a corner.

* * *

550 000 kilometrons away and closing, slowly.

Omega fought back a yawn and kept his eyes on the calculations on the 
computer screen.

The object was still way too far away to send squadrons over there to 
check it out... or to destroy it.

Omega still wasn't sure if he agreed with Adama and the FAC that the 
object should be granted an opportunity to continue it's approach to 
the planet, to be given a chance to reveal its intentions. To Omega 
that was stupid and risky. He frowned.

Precautions had been taken care of course. The army annihilation sector 
was on a 24-centar-alert in case something unwanted emerged, but for 
now the object should only be observed from afar.

Omega eyed the object in the screen of the visual scanner. It was a 
moon alright. A little bigger than the one on Cadria's orbit, but still 
recognizably a moon, not a planet. There must had been some kind of a 
space station on the surface of it, or inside it, with a developed 
enough mechanism to be able to control the moon's movements. This was 
the strangest thing Omega had ever seen in all the 20 yahrens he had 
been in the military space service. It spooked him.

The computer was on a non-stop calculation mode to figure out the spot 
where on Cadria the object would land if was going to. To Omega the 
whole idea of landing had seemed ridiculous. How in the hell could a 
moon land on a planet. For starters it was WAY too big! And secondly...

Oh but what crap was he thinking about again. Of course the moon itself 
wouldn't be landing anywhere...

So that's why the FAC had wanted to emphasize letting the object 
approach in private. It wanted this project to remain in secrecy. A 
moon couldn't be so easily destroyed without alerting the public so 
they had planned to wait until a small individual vehicle or a group of 
vehicles would be launched from the base, land on a calculated spot on 
Cadria where the worst daggits of the army annihilation sector would be 
placed. Those devils would then hijack the alien vehicles, kill the 
crew, and then fly back to the enemy base without raising suspicion, 
and destroy all the people one by one.

Nice and tidy.

And simple.

Omega gave in to another yawn and decided to finally call it a night.

He switched off the screen of the computer that had been the only light 
in the room and took his coat. In the dark, Omega made his way to the 
door, locked it securely behind him
and headed to the elevators. A broken thermostat was making clicking 
noises down the hallway...

* * *

Tony and Maya reached the door to Maya's quarters where the beautiful 
alien woman turned to give her toy boy a nice little kissey-kissey good 
night.

She saw very well in Tony's eyes that the guy wanted a lot more than 
just a kiss, but just like on all previous occasions, Maya wasn't 
planning on letting the guy into her quarters this time either. She 
wasn't ready to establish a sexual relationship with Tony. Not yet 
anyway.

Although Maya looked mistakenly human, she and Tony were two utterly 
different species and Maya had yet to study the consequences of a human 
male and a Psychon female having sexual intercourse. The consequences 
might even turn out to be deadly and Maya wasn't planning on dying this 
young. Only 6752 Psychon years. Hell, sex could wait!

Tony was looking disappointed so Maya created an apologetic smile on 
her face and reached out to caress Tony's cheek, all the time gazing 
into the man's eyes in the way that she knew would make Tony do 
whatever she wanted.

"Nervous about tomorrow?" She asked gently.

"Hmmpmh" Tomorrow was the last thing on Tony's mind.

"You know Tone," Maya deliberately used her soft, loving voice that she 
had successfully used on some wounded giragges on Psychon, "we both 
really need our sleep to be in top condition tomorrow for we don't know 
what awaits us on that planet. You heard the commander..."

"MmmhnphyeahIguess..."

"I really hope it all goes according to the plan," Maya continued 
thoughtfully. "...and that we haven't made this journey for nothing."

"I think It's be all right..." Tony smiled assuringly.

"We really need that merchandise..."

"I know. We'll get it."

"We've traveled a long way for it..."

"Yes, we have..."

Both Tony and Maya fell silent for a moment, thinking about the events 
of the past  three months.

* * *

It had been exactly ninety days ago that moonbase Alpha had sent its 
request into space, needing an immediate reply from any recipient.

A month later they had been contacted by a representative of a small 
group of beings on a distant planet called Cadria. Moonbase alpha was 
promised what it wanted, if it was willing to pay the given price. The 
Alphans had agreed.

It took two months of navigating in space to find the right planet, and 
now the encounter was finally at hand.

All technical personnel of the base were aware of the fact that when 
approaching the planet, Alpha would undoubtedly be noticed in unwanted 
radars and scanners of the forecoming target, but if the approach was 
done in a specific, well-considered way, the residents of that target 
planet would not proceed with an immediate attack, and that might give 
the Alphans just enough time to land, finish the transaction, and then 
disappear before they would be forced to encounter the leadership of 
Cadria. All they needed were two days.

* * *

Maya returned to the present moment, smiled beautifully and brushed 
Tony's dark hair off the man's forehead, then leaned over to give him 
another soft kiss.

"Sorry about the Koenig thing earlier," she grinned apologetically, 
knowing that Tony would fall for it. "I know it was a bit too much..."

"All's forgiven," Tony smiled too. He knew damn well Maya wasn't sorry 
one bit but it didn't matter. Tony loved her the way she was: darn 
stubborn, unpredictable and bloody difficult. Like a normal Psychon 
woman.

"Good night Tony," Maya beamed.

She opened the door and backed into her quarters, slowly closing the 
door to Tony's face.

Tony noticed commander Koenig striding down one of the crossing 
corridors looking like he had just eaten something rotten. His usual 
facial expression so to speak. Nothing to worry about then.

Tony turned and decided to head to the pub located in entertainment 
sector L. He would definitely need a drink to cool himself down before 
he could even think of going to bed to sleep in it.

* * *

Cassiopeia couldn't believe it.

Shocked, totally horrified, she stared at the backs of the two police-
uniformed men who were talking to Adama in his office in low voices.

Not low enough though. Cassiopeia could perfectly make out all the gory 
things they were saying. Was that perhaps because she was spying behind 
the open door.

Naah...

Anyway. To Cassie's utter unpleasantness and masochistic pleasure, she 
heard about the fork marks on the neck and the chest of the victim, the 
horrible external and internal damages that the object Omega had been 
hit with had done to his head, the way he had been dragged from the 
elevators to a cleaning closet nearby leaving a trail of blood on the 
carpet of the hallway...

Cassiopeia grimaced.

How horrible...

She leaned closer to hear better.

Omega was presumed to had been dead for five centars before the 
cleaning personnel employed by the CSOU had discovered him sprawled in 
the closet in the morning. Cassiopeia wondered how in the frack could 
it be that the night watchman hadn't noticed anything with the trail of 
blood and all.

Then she heard the two men saying to Adama that the night watchman-on-
duty had confessed to having skipped his duties and was very, very 
sorry indeed. Cassiopeia wanted to kick the guy's ass. She had been 
very fond of Omega back on the Galactica and couldn't understand why 
someone had wanted to knock him dead.

Adama was frantic about if anything was missing from the military 
observatory center, or if anything was found broken. The two men kept 
assuring him that the whole place has been combed and re-combed, and 
absolutely nothing seems to have been stolen or sabotaged.

The only thing out of the ordinary was that the most recent data on the 
Sigma-hard drive of the main computer had been deleted, but that could 
easily have been a minor human- or technical error, besides, all the 
data inserted into the main computer was automatically backed-up onto 
security files of the DX-system anyway so no harm had been done.

The observatory administration, all the technical personnel and the 74 
LFO robots who had been questioned this morning, had agreed that the 
murder had no relevance whatsoever to the CSOU itself, and everything 
in the observatory seems to be in perfect order.

Cassiopeia didn't want to listen any longer. She grabbed her make-up 
purse and headed to the turbowashroom to do her hair.

* * *

Rigel woke up with a start when her head fell forward. With tiredness 
she lifted her head enough to look around the underground shuttle 
passenger area.

The lights had been dimmed and most of the people were asleep. The 
shuttle was shooting forward in the tunnels with frightening speed, the 
stone walls of the caves outside completely without form as the shuttle 
moved between them like a bullet. Tigh was reading a book in faint 
light beside her. Rigel leant closer and rested her head on the man's 
shoulder. She closed her eyes again, hoping to get some sleep before 
Saskachoona.

* * *

Chanting.

A flow of monotone words that went on and on and on.

Somewhere in the dark depths of his unconsciousness Starbuck could feel 
warm breath on his face. Stale breath, a vague scent of something... 
familiar...

Wine?

Blood.

Someone was staring at him from a very close distance. Starbuck could 
sense it.

He opened his eyes but all he could see was a dark room. Somehow it 
entwined into the hallway at the top of the stairs. A huge, endless 
living room with Persian carpets and chairs of black leather. Large 
windows opening a view of a night-time winter landscape. The moon, the 
stars, the cold sky.

Someone put a hand on Starbuck's shoulder to make him turn.

It was the reflection in a distorted mirror.

Through the cuts, the tears of the skin, the mutilation, Starbuck 
recognized himself.

And someone was still chanting...

* * *

Feeling still overly hyper and unable to relax, Boomer closed the door 
separating the building stairway from the hallway of his apartment, and 
hung his dripping wet coat up. He didn't turn on the lights.

It was still raining outside. In fact, it was raining even harder. 
Trickle against the glass on the window. Cars somewhere in the city 
skidding on wet asphalt.

It was 03.00 in the early morning.

The Cardinal had closed at 02.30.

Boomer could still hear the music, feel the bassline and the pulsating 
rhythm of the hard-core techno his heart had beaten in synchronicity 
with all night.

When it had started to rain, Boomer and the others had abandoned the 
terrace and moved inside the club to enjoy a couple of centars' 
complete, uncontrollable trance on the dance floor.

Two ecstasy pills had done the trick tonight, but Boomer knew very well 
from experience that drugs weren't necessarily needed to achieve the 
desired feeling. It was the music itself that could put you into utter 
trance. How Boomer loved clubbing. He could hardly wait to get back 
from Saskachoona.

Knowing that there was no way in frack that he would be able to sleep, 
Boomer fetched a can of beer from the kitchen fridge, then moved to the 
living room to curl up on the couch with a warm blanket and opened the 
receiver. He flicked through the 28 channels then settled on channel 14 
to watch 'How to Get Sealed to a Cubitnaire'. That would keep him 
company until it was time to leave in the morning.

*  *  *

Chapter 6

He was in hell. Starbuck was sure of it.

There were at least a couple of dozen little vicious devils hammering 
on the walls of his head and partying like animals.

The light was much too bright to be normal, and someone, probably the 
big bad guy himself, was making this painful, unbearable, spine-
chilling, hell-ish noise.

Moaning, holding his head to try to keep it in once piece, Starbuck 
forced his eyes open to kick the big bad guy's ass but instead of an 
ugly, hairy beast surrounded by hellish flames, he noticed that he was 
in his own dorm room, alone, and the horrible sound coming from hell 
was in fact the alarm of the timepiece.

Starbuck realized he was late for his dephtorology class.

Cursing out loud, Starbuck sat up on the bed to let his hurting eyes 
linger in the quarters.

A blood-freezing, terrified shriek filled the room as Starbuck saw what 
indeed was a big, hairy red-eyed beast from hell glaring at him from 
the other side of the room. From the mirror on the wall. 

His own reflection.

Frack dephtorology! Starbuck's head fell back onto the pillow. In no 
way would anyone, not even the cylons, get him to leave this bed for at 
least the next two yahrens! His arm hurt.

Narrowing his eyes again just a little, not more than absolutely 
necessary, Starbuck looked at his right arm and noticed five, neat, 
parallel cuts just above his wrist, barely missing the artery.

"What the..." Starbuck's eyes shot completely open and he stared at 
those cuts dumbstruck as frack. How in the names of all the Sagans had 
those things appeared onto his arm. And... Starbuck's eyes lingered to 
the beast in the mirror.

...How in the hell was he looking... and feeling... this horrible! It 
had been four glasses of wine he had drank last night. FOUR. There was 
no way he could be suffering from a hangover this bad from just four 
glasses of wine! Bad wine, since there was still that taste of aspirin 
turned shit in his mouth.

Starbuck's eyes lingered into the cuts on his arm. How in the hell had 
those happened?
Starbuck tried to think back, furrowing his brows. He had a vague 
recollection of a car going fast, and the smell of gasoline making him 
sick. Then a blurry vision of a nightmarish room with enormous windows 
and hushed whispers all around.

Starbuck wasn't stupid. He knew damn well that the goddamn weirdo crew 
of Apollo's had taken him somewhere in the middle of the night but...

There was nothing more he could remember. Just darkness.

Letting out a fatalistic sigh, Starbuck pushed away the blanket and got 
up from the bed, cursing out loud as the army of devils inside his head 
started going from hip hop to drum'n'bass!

Squinting to keep the most of the glaring morning light from hell out 
of his eyes, Starbuck dragged himself into the turbowashroom and washed 
his face with cool water. It made him feel even more horrible if 
possible. There was no way he would be able to make it to any class 
today so why would even try.

Something to eat would be nice though... Did the university campus have 
a pizza delivery service? Damn he should've checked that out when he 
had been still alive. After a long shower and at least two litres of 
water, Starbuck was starting to believe that he might possibly maybe 
survive.

The campus didn't deliver pizza to student quarters, so Starbuck had to 
consent to revealing a now little milder version of the beast he had 
seen in the mirror earlier, in public, and fetch a couple of burgers 
from Mickey's. When he got back, the room communicator rang.

"What?" Starbuck snarled into the receiver of com-unit while placing 
the bag of hamburgers on the desk. His eyes lingered to the turned-off 
computer screen thinking that he might as well treat himself with a 
little bit of 'viper.com' later...

"Starbuck," Jean Michel Denier's syrupy voice flooded into Starbuck's 
ear, causing Starbuck's hair to stick right up towards the ceiling.

"Denier," Starbuck frowned with devotion. "How nice to hear from you 
this early in the morning..."

"Early?" Denier laughed. "My dear friend, it's almost eleven!"

"Hmnphf."

"The reason why I called..." Denier's sunshiny voice made Starbuck want 
to crawl back to bed and never wake up again. Never. "...is to ask you 
what are you doing later."

"I have a meeting with my therapist."

Denier laughed again. "Really? Aren't you a funny lad Starbuck... 
Anyway, I was wondering... You see, the five of us are planning a 
little trip to my family's humble shack later this afternoon and..."

"Is that where we went last night?"

"That's the very shack, my friend. That's the shack." Denier grinned.

Starbuck was yearningly eyeing the packet of hamburgers on the table, 
wanting to get on with them. How much longer was this annoying com-unit 
call going to last.

"So, we were thinking... You see, there's a fancy hotel nearby and... 
well, I was kind of wondering if you would like to join us. We could 
have dinner at the mansion, then perhaps drop by at this great club at 
the hotel... It's a happenin' club I'm telling you... And we would 
bring you back early enough for you to catch your first lesson of 
dephtorology tomorrow, I promise! What do you say?" A pause.

"Did you put something in my wine last night?" Starbuck glared at the 
receiver.

"Of course not!" Denier frowned. "How can you even think that!? Well?"

"Ummm... " Starbuck couldn't believe that he didn't say 'no' straight 
away. What was the matter with him!

"Come on Starbuck," Denier beamed. "We were all having such a great 
time last night."

"We were??" So where the hell had those damn cuts on his arm come from?

"Especially you Starbuck. From where I was standing you seemed to be 
having quite a blast."

"Was I?" Starbuck couldn't remember felgercarb.

"You sure were," Denier smiled. "...and you know, your friend wants you 
to come too. He was the one who first suggested that I should call 
you."

"Apollo??" Starbuck almost dropped the receiver. "W-why??"

"I don't know," Jean Michel Denier was smirking on the other end of the 
line, calculatingly. This was too easy. Way too easy. "But he keeps 
talking about you..."

"He's... talking about me?" Starbuck coughed, trying to keep his voice 
casual, trying to understand why it was so fracking important whether 
or not Apollo had mentioned him a couple of times or not...

"All the time," Denier smirked. Boy did he know when to pull strings 
and which were the right strings to pull. "The man can't seem to stop 
thinking about you..."

The world took a quick, strange leap sideways. Starbuck felt weird 
sudden joyful dizziness that he hadn't prepared for. Apollo was 
thinking about him.

So?? What was the big deal?? They had been friends!

Apollo was thinking about him...

Everything Jean Michel Denier said after this was incomprehensible 
babble, a blur of words. It wasn't until Starbuck had hung up the com-
unit, that he realized to his horror that he had just cheerfully agreed 
to meet Jean Michel Denier and the rest of the clan tonight at 
MickeyMills, at seven.

"What the frack's the matter with you man," Starbuck frowned out loud, 
falling to the side of the bed. Somewhere inside his chest a tiny, 
beautiful voice kept singing and singing and singing...

Starbuck couldn't understand it.

* * *

"He's coming with us later," Jean Michel turned to the other men in the 
room with a smirk, still holding the receiver of the communicator. 
"We're meeting him at Mickey's at seven."

"Brilliant," Satyr smiled. "But we have to be canny. We'll have to be 
able to succeed in lulling him into a sense of security and comfort or 
we won't be able use him again. I say we let him have fun at the disco. 
Let him think that he's 'become drunk all by himself... though I doubt 
he'll be anxious to drink any more wine tonight..." A thoughtful pause.

"You're right..." Denis pondered about Satyr's words, playing with the 
remote control of the IFB receiver, changing the channels, making Cecil 
mad. "...But he won't have to. We can mix the stuff with coffee or tea. 
A little before going to the club, a hell of a lot when returning. I 
don't think Starbuck'll be able to be impolite enough to refuse a cup 
of coffee with us. I have a feeling that this Bucky boy is a nice, 
polite fella..."

"He is a nice, polite fella," Apollo said so quietly that no one heard 
him.

"You think the last night's dosage was okay?" Cecil got enough of 
Denis' annoying channel switching and snatched the damn remote control 
away from the guy. "He was definitely out of it yesterday. Got me 
worried at one point." What if..."

"He already does suspect something." Jean Michel replied. "He asked me 
on the communicator if we had put something into his drink. He's not 
stupid for a blond guy. If we're not careful he..."

"Two sectons is all we need." Satyr's eyes turned to Jean. "After that 
he can't do any damage to us any more. Starbuck will be dead."

Apollo felt a violent falling sensation in his stomach. He had to look 
away from the others to not give away his feelings.

"But what if..." Denis started thoughtfully, then paused.

"What if what?" Satyr turned his head to face the handsome, wavy-haired 
man. "Just presuming... What if it doesn't work this time either," 
Denis continued, hesitating. "What if this time ends just like all the 
previous occasions..."

"It will work," Satyr smiled. "This time, I know it will. We have 
finally come to know exactly what we need, to be able to achieve what 
we are after. No more failures. We are almost there..."

"But what if we have been wrong, all this time." Denis furrowed his 
brows. "What if what we want can't be achieved in the bitter end."

"There is no room for doubts Denis," Satyr suddenly wasn't smiling any 
more. "You cannot achieve what you don't believe in..."

"I do believe in it, but..."

"Are you really having doubts Den?" Cecil, who was studying Denis' 
face, interrupted in a quiet, concerned tone. "Because if you are, you 
can no longer be a part of this. And you have known from the very start 
that the only way you can ever go free again, is to die..."

"I know," Denis' eyes were calm. "And I have never objected to that 
rule. If it came to that, I would be ready to face whatever 
necessary..." Denis paused, eyeing the others.
"...But it hasn't come to that. Not yet. I'm still with you guys, one 
hundred percent..."

"I'm glad," Cecil smiled, putting his hand on the brown-haired man's 
shoulder. 

"...But what I am saying is that what if this Starbuck person is not 
the final one after all?!" Denis still wanted to get his point across. 
"I know that we'll achieve what we're after some day, but what if we 
have to find yet another suitable target for our ceremony and begin the 
project all over again. The longer we go on without fulfillment, the 
more we will be risking everything..."

"Not if we're careful," Satyr said with a little cold smile. "And I 
think we are."

"But..." Denis still wasn't quite assured "...what about the body?" The 
one that the DEA found..."

"They can't trail it to us because we have nothing to do with it..."

"We don't know that!" Denis determined gaze met Satyr's hard green 
eyes.

"Don't forget it's someone that used to be a part of this project in 
the very beginning..."

"Yes..." Satyr suddenly turned to Cecil, a cold, intrigued, little 
smile on his face. "Why did you let him leave? The rule..."

"There wasn't any rule back then Satyr," Cecil smiled back softly, not 
in the least bit affected by the coldness in the thin man's voice.

Apollo couldn't for the life of him understand how the others were 
never frightened of Satyr. He himself seemed constantly to be on his 
toes. There was something strange about the green-eyed man. Something 
scary, yet uncomprehendingly irresistible. Apollo kept examining 
Satyr's extraordinary face.

How he hated this man.

How he wanted him too...

"It was just friendship at first, in the beginning. Just the two of 
us..." Cecil continued softly, reminiscing, perhaps a little sad. 
"Acting on an impulse, following our intrigue... Wanting to find 
something more. There was never a purpose for this to concern anyone 
else but us. Not until you came along Satyr. And already then, Erik had 
left..."

"Yes... friendship..." Satyr's eyes turned thoughtful as his fingers 
started to explore the purple plush canvas of the chair he was sitting 
on. "...How dangerous can something like friendship turn out to be..."

Suddenly the thin man arose from the chair and walked to the window of 
the living room to gaze at the garden of stone outside.

"Apollo," Satyr said to the stone garden. "Are you really ready to kill 
your friend?"

No answer.

"Because I know how stupid people can be when they care about 
someone... So much trouble caused by a mere feeling... It's such a 
shame..."

Satyr turned, his eyes locking onto Apollo's.

"You won't do anything idiotic like warn him would you?" The green-eyed 
man inclined his head. "I don't know if I could forgive you something 
like that..."

"Of course I won't, don't be a fool." Apollo swallowed, knowing bloody 
well that he already had. Oh shit. Had Satyr found out about it 
somehow...

Worried as hell, Apollo turned his eyes to Cecil for help but the blond 
man was deliberately looking away, casually biting his nails and 
watching the IFB.

On the receiver screen, a two-minute promotion of tonight's episode of 
Dynasty III was promising breathtaking excitement and vicious scheming. 
'Will Blake survive the deadly bullet in his head? Will Steven 
Carrington succeed in trying to deny his tendencies towards 
necrophilia? Will the butler have sex tonight? This, and so many other 
incredible things revealed only on tonight's episode, starting at 
21.00!!'

"...And you promise you won't turn against us when the moment finally 
comes?" Satyr's face was so incredibly tranquil as he eyed Apollo. And 
he kept smiling. He was always smiling. It was this smile that Apollo 
feared the most. "You will continue to be one of us to take his life 
and let it enter into our beings... No regrets, no guilt..."

"Oh give me a break Satyr!" Apollo frowned, his voice quivering, just a 
little. He hoped to Sagans that Satyr didn't notice.

The others in the room were now dead silent, pretending to be watching 
the commercials on the IFB.

"I'm one of you!" Apollo assured. "Why would I was to sabotage 
something I am a part of..."

"Come here Apollo," Satyr extended his arm, his eyes drilling trough 
Apollo.

Apollo's legs trembled as he got up from the couch. He was sure he was 
going to fall.
A million endless miles he walked to the black-haired, thin man by the 
window.

Satyr took a hold of Apollo by the chin, like he always did when they 
were standing this close to one another. His green eyes pierced their 
way into Apollo's head, making him dizzy.

"Do you love me Apollo?" Satyr smiled frighteningly. "Really love me. 
Enough to give up everything else in your life for me?..."

"Y...yes," Apollo lied. He couldn't turn his eyes away. He never could 
when he was close to this man. Oh god, did Satyr really know about the 
Starbuck thing...

Or the other thing...

"...And you know that if you turn against me, or any of us, you will 
die. You know that don't you..."

Apollo nodded, not trusting his voice.

Satyr ran his fingers through Apollo's hair, brushing it back, away 
from the man's face.
"...And you won't warn your friend..."

"No... of course I won't..."

"I love you Apollo." Satyr's face was now so near Apollo could feel the 
warm breath of his words. 

He closed his eyes to pretend it was someone else who was now leaning 
forward to softly kiss him on the lips. Someone, who made his heart 
ache so unbearably...

* * *

"Good morning sir," an annoyingly cheerful voice greeted Boomer at the 
check-in counter of the Warm Place international shuttleport. "Will you 
be checking in just one bag?..."

"Yes," Boomer was fighting to get his heavy-as-frack suitcase on the 
conveyor. From the corner of his eye he saw that the others were 
already waiting for him beneath the info screens.

"Can I see your ticket please sir..." The girl twittered. "....And some 
ID..." Boomer handed them over.

"Thank you sir..."

The girl eyed the ticket and the identity card, then made the required 
marks to the tickets and inserted the essential info into the computer. 
She attached a sticker with a recognition code onto Boomer's suitcase.

"Thank you very much sir," the girl shone like the sun when giving 
Boomer back the ticket and the ID card, along with his green boarding 
pass. "Gate A26. First to the left and then down the escalator and to 
the right, past the security check. Have a great flight."

"Thank you." Boomer picked up his hand luggage and joined his friends.

"Any of you have any idea which way we should proceed?" Boomer eyed the 
signs with furrowed brows. "There should be a security check 
somewhere..."

"Security check?..." Mitchi pretended to act relieved as they started 
their way down the main hall. "What a good thing I left my machine gun 
at home. We would want to get in trouble on this journey..."

"Yeah, and you better not be hiding one of your grandmother's hand 
grenades in your underpants either," Mikey grinned. "Or you won't be 
getting any of my vodka when we get to the hotel."

"What hotel was it again?..."

"The Saskachoona Sheraton," Boomer kept tasting the words in his mouth. 
"It sounds posh as frack but I'll bet you a million cubits it's some 
awful shack in the middle of some corn field..."

"Naah." Mikey shook his head. "I don't think Otter would've placed us 
in any shack. I bet this place is a combination of a lot of rich 
people, a pissed-off hotel manager who thinks his hotel is far too good 
for us, a huge drinks cupboard and a big colour IFB receiver in every 
room." 

"Well, let's hope so," Sascha crossed his fingers. "I wouldn't mind 
living it up for a change..."

"Me too..."

"Last night was damn great!!"

"Yeah..."

"Did you guys get any sleep?"

"I did." Mikey grinned.

"Hey, there's the security check," Boomer noticed, eyeing the pissed-
off looking guards in their uniforms. "Sheeeshh, look at the 
expressions on those guys. You better have your pot well hidden 
Mike..."

"Don't worry..."

One guy after another placed his hand luggage on the conveyor belt to 
be X-rayed, and then walked through the metal detector looking casual 
as frack. Mitchi was even whistling.

Five centons later they were on their way to the gate.

The timetable info on the screens all around the shuttleport promised 
that the flight UNX 667 would be on time and Boomer crossed his 
fingers. With United Shuttle Transports you could never be quite sure. 
Every damn time Boomer remembered having taken United, there had been 
at least some kind of delay and trouble.

Gate A26.

It was still rather early and there were only a few other passengers 
scattered on the seats near the gate, reading newspapers or books, or 
just otherwise looking bored.

Boomer took his seat between Francis and Squirrel and let out a deep 
breath. Through the window he could see the gray United shuttle they 
would be taking being prepared for the flight. Luggage's were being 
transported to the shuttle by long, snake-like fork-lifts, and men with 
orange, glowing safety vests started to throw them into the cargo 
hold... The catering van was parked beside the luggage fork-lift...

Half a centar later, a man in a well-fitting shuttleport uniform 
appeared behind the control desk, eyeing the scattered-around 
passengers. Five centons later he picked up the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man smiled warmly. "...We are now ready to 
start boarding the shuttle for United flight UNX 667, and will begin 
boarding with the first class passengers, and passengers with row 
numbers from thirty to twenty five. Thank you..."

The man put down his microphone and moved to the gate of the tube 
leading to the shuttle to check and rip the boarding passes. Boomer 
shoved his book into his bag and pulled the bag zipper shut.

"Otter should've booked us in first class," Boomer frowned, enviously 
eyeing the first class people who were now boarding. "I would think 
that with all the trouble we are about to go through, we would deserve 
that, right?!"

"You seem to think that Otter is some  goddamn multimillionaire!" 
Squirrel laughed. "Get real man!"

"Well, if he's not, I'm a hell of a lot surprised," Boomer's leg was 
jiggling nervously as he was impatiently waiting their turn to board 
the shuttle. Boomer didn't like waiting. "...with the kind of deals 
he's handling, or rather: making us handle, you would think..."

"But that's just it!" Squirrel grinned. "He has all you busboys to 
feed. Most of the money from all the trades go to you and to the people 
who clean up after you. It's not like he's able to take baths in piles 
of cubits after every deal is through..."

"Then why the heck is he doing it if he doesn't get ridiculously rich?"

"I don't know," Squirrel shrugged. "He's never told me..."

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the uniformed man picked up the microphone 
again. "We will now begin boarding rows from twenty five to fifteen..."

"That's us," Francis notified.

Boomer bounced up from his seat and swung his bag over his shoulder.

"Why are you doing this then, Boomer?" Squirrel asked with curiosity as 
they were following the slowly moving line of passengers towards the 
tube, with boarding passes in their hands. "It's not like you are 
getting filthy rich either. Comfortable yes, but not rich..."

"I like my lifestyle." Boomer grinned. "I like the beach, and I like 
the fact that I only have to do a couple of gigs now and then and I can 
support my slacker's life..."

"Is that all?" Squirrel examined Boomer's face. "Why are you not just 
dealing drugs then, if it's the slacker's lifestyle you want. Or..."

"I guess I just like the excitement of taking more risks," Boomer 
shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just doing this coz my friends are doing it. 
Who the frack knows. I know I don't..."

Boomer hoped that the other man believed him. He glanced sideways at 
Squirrel who was smiling casually.

They reached the gate.

"Thank you sir," the man in the shuttleport uniform smiled like a robot 
as he handed Boomer's boarding pass back to him. "Have a nice flight."

"Cheers," Boomer winked and then proceeded into the tube with 
butterflies in his stomach. Boomer didn't like flying these damn 
passenger shuttles. They were a heck of a lot more unsafe than vipers 
or any military transportation. Not to mention...

"Welcome on board sir," a gorgeous male flight attendant was all smiles 
and eagerness to help as Boomer entered the shuttle. Mitchi was right 
behind Boomer, his tongue hanging out.

"Did you see that! Did you..." Mitchi rambled into Boomer's ear with 
shining eyes. "My god is this going to be an interesting flight..."

"Stop drooling into my ear..."

"If there are more of those on this flight I'm gonna..."

"Move it Mitch!" Sascha was poking Mitchi's back from behind with his 
boarding pass. "You're not supposed to camp in the middle of the 
aisle..."

"Very funny Sasch!"

"They better not be serving tuna," Mikey's bleached mop of hair was 
swaying somewhere behind Sascha and Jolly. "I'm allergic to that 
stuff..."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am..."

"Gentlemen, please take your seats," a stewardess with bright orange 
red lipstick and much too blue eyeshadow rushed over to politely usher 
Mitchi and the others forward. "There's a line of people waiting behind 
you..."

"How the frack do they think I'm gonna fit into that tiny space!" Jolly 
frowned as he got to15C and started to lift his hand luggage to place 
it in the storage area above.

"You're not supposed to travel in that cupboard Jol," Mitchi knew Jolly 
was referring to his seat but he couldn't resist. "It's not designed 
for people..."

Jolly rolled his eyes. "I'll pay you twenty cubitcents if you promise 
to keep your mouth shut until we land in Saskachoona."

"It's a deal," Mitchi smirked. "I promise."

"I know the catch in that one," Jolly fell onto his seat and started 
searching for the seat belt. "I've spent too much time with you to be 
fooled..."

Mitchi laughed. He was sitting between Jolly and Sascha, restlessly 
tapping his heel on the floor. "I hate flying. Did I mention that?..."

"A thousand times!" Jolly frowned. "Don't expect me to be holding your 
hand during take off..."

Boomer was sitting in the row behind, sandwiched by Squirrel and Mikey 
who was eyeing out the window.

"Are we going to meet the Otter this time?" Boomer asked Squirrel, only 
wanting to say something and not sit in silence. He was nervous about 
the flight.

"Maybe," Squirrel was investigating what was in the pocket of his front 
seat. "I'm meant to give him a call as soon as we arrive..."

"I need to go to the turboflush..."

"What?"

"I need to go to the turboflush..."

"Not now!!" Squirrel frowned. He had just sat down.

"Yes. Now!"

Letting out a fatalistic sigh, Squirrel unbuckled his seatbelt and 
stood up, giving Boomer enough room to pass him to the aisle.

Passing the curious eyes of Francis Lindo, who was sitting alone next 
to some retired couple, Boomer strode his way to the back of the 
shuttle and locked himself the turboflushroom, refusing to come back 
out until he heard a female voice from the loudspeakers urging everyone 
in the shuttle to return to their seats, buckle up their seatbelts and 
get acquainted with the safety instructions found in the pocket of blah 
blah blah...

What Boomer most hated about flying public shuttles was that there was 
always a possibility that he wouldn't be able to go to the turboflush 
again at exactly when he wanted. There could always be turbulence, 
endless queues, carriages on the aisle, shuttecrashes, horrible 
catastrophes, and there he would have to sit, suffering like hell with 
a bubble of urine growing on his forehead and not being able to do 
anything about it. Maybe he should see a psychiatrist.

With a casual-as-frack hum on his lips and a relaxed walk in his hips, 
Boomer returned to his seat and buckled up like any other passenger who 
didn't care about not being able to go to the turboflush.

"Get ready to surf the clouds dude," Boomer poked Mikey with a grin. 
"It's going to be a hell of a ride..."

"Yeah," the bleached head wasn't listening.

* * *

"Hey man, we're leaving..." David Kano, head of technical section on 
moonbase Alpha, and an unbelievable wizard when it came to handling 
computers, peeked into the launching bay waiting lounge. "Get your butt 
down into the eagle, Morrow, before Koenig gets mad."

Main mission controller Paul Morrow (31, reddish hair, seventies 
mustache, a thing for short-haired Burmese women and commander Koenig) 
yawned, put down the 'Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance' and 
rubbed his chin. "The others there then?"

"Everyone," Kano's head was still peeking through the gap in the door, 
eyeing Morrow. "Carter's already starting the eagle up..."

Kano was a handsome, black man in his early thirty-five's with a lean 
runner's body and a freshly-obtained earring dangling from his left 
earlobe. Morrow had always been jealous of Kano's position in the 
command center.

"Okay buddy," Paul Morrow stretched, put the book into the pocket of 
his jacket and got up from the bench. "I'm just not too thrilled about 
leaving Alpha. The soccer game with Beta-United versus the Alphan Hawks 
is on tonight and..."

Kano rolled his eyes, tired of hearing about football.

"Come on man." Kano sighed. "If Alan can miss that match, so can you! 
Come on. Let's go."

"Whatever..."

The bitter-sweet scent of tacinol fuel greeting Morrow as he stepped 
into the brightly lit launching area where orange-dressed bay personnel 
were finishing loading the cargo and filling the water tanks. The 
eagle's motors were running. Morrow climbed the few steps into the 
vehicle.

"Paul," Koenig smiled as Morrow's head appeared into the cockpit 
doorway. "Everything set with the VZD 558 then?"

"All taken care of sir," Morrow replied, his eyes then lingering to the 
blond-ish man sitting on the other seat of the flight deck. "Alan 
flying with you today eh?"

"That's right mate," captain Alan Carter grinned. "Why not let the best 
of 'em all do the job when he's around to do it!"

"Your modesty is breaking my heart," Morrow smiled. "You're seeming to 
forget that this is not Top Gun..."

"Get away from here Morrow, Carter grinned. Morrow turned back to 
Koenig. "Okay, see you on the ground commander."

"Sure Paul," Koenig gave the man a thumbs up and Morrow disappeared 
into the passenger section where the others already were.

Helena was sitting with Tony in the first row. Her always controlled, 
always beautiful, always cold-as-hell smile welcomed Morrow as he 
entered the sector. Morrow replied to the smile and walked to take a 
seat beside Sandra Benes, coordinator of data section and his 
girlfriend, who was chatting with Maya.

"Hey hon." Sandra realized Morrow was there, gave the guy a quick, 
hasty kiss on the cheek, then turned her attention back to the red-
haired alien woman.

Morrow leaned back in his chair and dug out the 'Zen and the art of 
motorcycle maintenance' from his jacket pocket, preparing himself 
mentally for a dull, four-hour flight.

David Kano and assistant medical officer Robert Matthias were playing 
cards at the back of the passenger area. Morrow was trying not to think 
about his stupid crush on commander Koenig.

Still he couldn't shake the damn annoying jealousy he was feeling 
knowing that it was Alan Carter flying the eagle with Koenig and not 
him.

Alan and John... Cramped together in that small cockpit...

Two cocks in a cockpit...

Morosely, Morrow put the book back in the pocket and started eyeing out 
the eagle's window.. He wasn't one bit in the mood for reading any 
more.

* * *

"Ready John?" Alan beamed, his eyes on Koenig and his hand on the eagle 
gearbox. Boy he loved flying. It was the best thing in the world.

"Yup. Let's get this thing up," Koenig smiled. "You think you can 
handle a difficult task like that...?"

"Can I handle it?..." Alan's amusedly sparkling glare met Koenig's 
teasing words. "You just watch mate. I've been flying even before I was 
born..."

Koenig turned his attention to the thruster up-setter so he could avoid 
Alan's twinkling eyes. Junior liked that twinkle. And Koenig sure as 
hell didn't like junior at that very moment...

Eagle four took off just as smoothly and gracefully as a vehicle 
looking like a metallic lizard can, and directed its course towards the 
shining blue planet ahead.

A planet that could've very well been Earth.

* * *

"Salad!" Mikey frowned, glaring at the plate the stewardess with tons 
of make-up had just handed over to him. "Is that all we're getting on 
this flight?!"

"I'm very sorry sir," the stewardess smiled apologetically. "The 
company is trying to cut the costs and..."

"You're not supposed to say that Kate," the gorgeous male flight 
attendant commented from somewhere behind, causing Mitchi's head in 
front of Boomer turning like a whirligig to spot him. Boomer tried not 
to notice.

"I thought we'd be getting at least a warm meal," Mikey kept whining. 
"After all, this is a three-and-a-half-hour flight! You wanna see me 
starve lady..."

The stewardess let out a resigned sigh, then professionally chose to 
ignore the bloke with bleached hair and gave the guy next to him his 
plate.

"Here you go sir..." the stewardess smiled.

"Thank you ma'am," Boomer took the tray. "How much longer til we land 
by the way?..."

"Two hours and twenty minutes I should think," the stewardess replied, 
handing Squirrel his tray. "But I must check with the captain. I'll get 
back to you..."

"Okay," Boomer peeled the plastic cover off his salad plate, eyeing the 
stuff the shuttle company was offering to him.

The stewardess pushed the trolley up the aisle to level with the row of 
seats in front of Boomer.

"Coffee?" A voice interrupted Boomer's nutrition examination and he 
noticed the gorgeous male flight attendant standing there, holding a 
yellow vacuum jug in his hands.

"No thanks, " Boomer smiled and tried not to see how Mitchi's head was 
'casually' craning from behind the front seat.

Jolly too was trying not to be there and had covered his face with his 
hands, slowly shaking his head. Sascha was strictly looking out of the 
window.

Funny how slowly the clouds seemed to move.

* * *

"My god! If I didn't know better..." Alan was amazed.

The stratosphere was starting to turn just a little lighter, the planet 
below ahead glowing like a blue night lamp very early in the morning. 
It was so much like Earth.

John Koenig's gaze was on the dark vague blueness outside too, but his 
mind sure wasn't. Koenig was desperately trying to think of basketball 
to keep Junior less enthusiastic.

Alan's head turned to Koenig.

"Yo, John. You think there would be a slight, even a tiny teeny weeny 
possibility that we've gotten lost at some point and returned to Earth 
by accident."

Koenig smiled. "Wishful thinking Alan, although I have to admit I wish 
it wasn't. You know, if I had even the faintest clue where Earth could 
be, I would be racing towards it with my hair flowing at the back, no 
matter what would be waiting for me there now..."

Alan chuckled. "I know that feeling mate. Wouldn't mind visiting good 
old Australia again..."

There was a moment's reminiscing silence. The dark bluish shimmer was 
getting brighter.

"You got some problems with Helena mate?" Alan asked, his question 
making Koenig uneasy as frack.

The older man tried to keep his eyes on the planet ahead.

"Err...Why?"

"Well, I just couldn't help noticing that you didn't exchange one word 
since we got down to the launching area... I just..."

"It's nothing unusual," Koenig coughed, trying feverishly to remember 
how things between Helena and himself had been at the launching area. 
All Koenig could remember was Alan in his tight pants. "She's been just 
kinda uptight lately. Probably the menopause approaching or 
something..."

Alan gave Koenig a weird look. Then turned his head away.

"What do you think is waiting for us down there?" Alan's gaze lingered 
on star-filled space outside the eagle window.

"Well, hopefully what we're expecting to..." John was still coughing. 
"The trade..."

"No, no, I mean, what do you think, what kind of planet is that. What 
kind of beings live on it. I can't help but feel a little wary after 
all that we've been through..."

"Yeah," Koenig checked the fuel meter, just to do something with his 
eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Alan. "Remember the Darians Al?..."

"Do I indeed..." Alan grinned "You know boss... I never mentioned this 
before, but I still kinda think that kid in that metal uniform, the guy 
we exposed at the altar was sorta cute... In a seventies' kinda way..."

"Alan!" Koenig almost let go of the control stick by accident. He 
turned to stare at Carter with his mouth open. "You never..."

"Never what?" Alan smiled back. "Let it show that I fancied him. Isn't 
that kinda rational, the guy being our enemy'n'all, and the 
possibilities of ever seeing him again..."

"You never told me you were gay!!" John panted. "All this time and you 
never..."

"Hey I don't consider myself exactly gay," Alan's expression was 
amused. "Just sort of... you know... appreciative and responding to the 
beauty and allure of the human form. It's not really a matter about 
sexes..."

John Koenig had to look away before his face would reveal more than he 
wanted. The planet ahead was creating a bluish shimmer inside the 
cockpit.

Alan's smiling eyes lingered on Koenig for a little longer, then they 
too turned to gaze at the planet.

"Don't worry, mate." Alan grinned. "I won't come chasing you with my 
control stick when you're asleep... I promise..."

John Koenig kept his gaze strictly on one particular spot in front of 
him, but from the corner of his eye he was very aware how Alan was 
holding onto the stick of the gearbox. A thick, black, firm stick that 
would've made other sticks unmentioned look like toothpicks.

John Koenig bit his lower lip to keep himself calm.

Junior was determinedly squirming its way upwards, fighting to push the 
annoying cotton barrier away from its way...

Alan Carter was humming casually.

* * *

Mitchi wasn't speaking to Jolly. He was pouting with his arms crossed 
on his chest and his salad half eaten.

"Come on Mitch!" Jolly rolled his eyes. "What did I do? I didn't do 
anything!"

"I'm not talking to you!" Mitchi pursed his lips, keeping his eyes 
strictly on the clouds outside. There was another thing flying further 
away. A small metallic vehicle from which the rays of the sun were 
reflecting so brightly it was impossible to tell if it was another 
shuttle or what. "You ruined everything!..."

"But I didn't do anything!" Jolly rolled his eyes again. "All I did was 
kick you in the shin to stop you from behaving like an idiot! It 
wasn't..."

"There!" Mitchi exclaimed triumphantly. "You just said you didn't do 
anything. What's that kicking thing then?!..."

"Excuse me gentlemen," the gorgeous flight attendant appeared beside 
Jolly and Mitch. Boomer couldn't watch.

"Would you like to do any duty free shopping? We have a catalogue of 
all our..."

"Yes. Yes. Indeed." Mitchi was all sugar and sunshine, pushing Jolly 
away from his way so he could have a clear view of this breathtaking 
prince. "Yes. I would like to do duty free shopp... Frack!!"

An enormous bump made the shuttle lose balance and threw the flight 
attendant flying onto Mitchi's lap. Something of Mitchi's got badly 
squeezed in between, and the pain, oh the pain... Mitchi crossed his 
eyes and covered his poor wounded body part, letting out a yell of all 
yells.

The embarrassed-as-hell flight attendant was strictly avoiding looking 
at Mitchi while allowing Jolly to help him up and back to his feet. The 
flight attendant could still feel the shape of that thing against his 
hand. The thing he had grabbed by accident, having tried to take a hold 
of something to keep him from crashing against the window.

Sascha was doubled up on his seat, almost not able to breath for he was 
laughing so hard.
Jolly had once again covered his face with his hands, his silent roar 
of laughter making his eyes water. Mikey behind wasn't even trying to 
bother to hide his sarcastic laughter.
Other passengers were doing their best to hide their smiles and keep 
their eyes away.

A crackle from the loudspeakers turned everyone's attention away from 
the embarrassed flight attendant who was standing on the aisle, 
straightening his uniform, and from the almost inaudible little squeak 
that Mitchi was now making...

"Ladies and Gentlemen..." The captain's voice filled the passenger 
cabin...

* * *

"WHAT THE HELL..." Alan's eyes were wider than the planet ahead as he 
turned to give the obviously insane commander John Koenig a glare. 
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?"

"Ooops," Koenig grinned embarrassed.

"OOOPS?" Alan glared at Koenig. "Have you gone mad!!?"

"I just let my concentration falter for just a little moment," Koenig 
tried to keep his face stony and expressionless like it always was. "I 
didn't think we'd be in that close to the planet yet to have entered 
its airspace..."

"You didn't think..."

"You're the captain Alan!" Koenig frowned, feeling like an idiot but 
rather die than let it show. "You're the captain. You're the one who's 
flying this thing! I'm just the commander..."

"With all respect just-the-commander sir," Alan Carter raised one 
eyebrow. "...and correct me if I'm wrong but... weren't we just doing 
team work here? Me - operating the systems to keep the approach steady, 
you - directing the vehicle..."

"...And look - Tarzan and Spiderman flying through the jungle!! Yes 
Alan, I know I was helping you but..."

"Helping me?..."

"What's going on?" Helena's platinum head appeared into the cockpit 
doorway. What was that swirwing?"

"Nothing darling," Koenig smiled. "Go back to your seat. We'll be 
beginning landing procedures in just a few moments."

"Really?" Helena's blond head gave Koenig a bitter glare, then 
disappeared. Alan's eyes were still on Koenig.

"Come on Alan. Let's just forget that we were just about to hit that 
other flying vehicle," Koenig felt his forehead perspiring. "It was 
just one of those things... Let's just forget about it..."

A Long pause. Carter was staring at Koenig totally stunned.

"Okay. Whatever you say John," Alan took awhile before he finally 
looked away and shrugged. "You're just-the-commander..."

"That's my boy," Koenig smirked, cursing to himself long and hard for 
having let something like this happen, and still not being able to not 
think about Alan holding that stick...

That was it. That was bloody well it! His goddamn dick had just almost 
cost them their goddamn lives! The moment he would get back to moonbase 
Alpha, Koenig would either proceed with castration or undergo brain 
surgery. That should bring him to his senses.

Koenig started to hum casually. Für Elise or something. And all the 
time, Alan was holding onto that stick...

* * *

"Thanks for the ice," Mitchi grinned at Boomer, still a little at 
unease. They were heading down the tube leading from the shuttle to the 
baggage claim of the little Saskachoona shuttleport.

"Don't thank me buddy. Thank the flight attendant," Boomer was trying 
not to smirk and so were the others. "He's the one that brought it to 
you."

"Hmn."

"I must say, the guy sure seemed to have a firm grip on things," Boomer 
couldn't stop himself yet. "Did you manage to ask him out on a date?"

Restrained chuckles. Mitchi was glaring at the floor as he walked, 
mumbling annoyed and his face was once again turned bright red.

"All right," Francis finally stepped forward and patted Mitchi on the 
shoulder. "Give the poor boy a break. I think he's suffered enough for 
one day..."

And that was it. Whooping roars of laughter burst out in the tube as 
the other guys couldn't hold it back any longer. Other passengers eyed 
the bunch of men disapprovingly.

* * *

Baggage claim.

They were all standing by the conveyor, waiting for their suitcases. 
Mikey was biting his nails, nervous about his bag possibly not showing 
up.

"I can't fracking believe it," Mikey mumbled, just to say something. 
"Of all the thousands of shuttles flying the airspace of Armourica all 
the time, we just happened to be aboard the one that almost crashed 
into another shuttle!..."

"Yeah man.," Jolly grimaced. "That's what I call bad luck! Just think 
of it. God, we could've been killed..."

"What can I say man," Francis shrugged. "Felgercarb happens..."

"Let's just be happy we're still in one piece..."

"Yeah well, they better not have lost my suitcase or there'll be hell 
of a lot more than felgercarb to pay..."

* * *

There was a small line of shivering people waiting for a taxi outside 
the shuttleport. A cold, sharp wind was blowing, dark clouds roaming 
the sky.

"All right guys, here we go," Boomer's eyes lingered on the landscape 
opening beyond the shuttleport area. "Boring as hell up here but let's 
hope that this ain't the last trip we make..."

"Let's rather hope that it is," Sascha frowned, he too eyeing the vast 
rye fields what were Saskachoona. "If I was the Otter I'd take my 
business elsewhere... This place is just as certain a place to get rich 
as the Aharia desert..."

"Umm, I was kinda talking about getting caught Sasch," Boomer coughed.

"I know what you meant," Sascha replied, tightening his jacket around 
him, the cold autumn wind twirling with his black hair. "Got any pot 
with you?"

"I think Mikey has some..."

"Yeah, in my shoe somewhere," Mikey grinned. "You want some now, huh?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say no if you offered..."

"Not until you get to the hotel you idiots," Boomer frowned. "The 
DEA..."

A bad excuse of a car pulled up beside them.

"Want a taxi yeah?" The driver leaned over the passenger seat to push 
the passenger door open. "If you do, put your stuff in the back then! 
Hurry up! I haven't got all day..."

"Well isn't he a nice fella," Boomer growled dragging his suitcase to 
the back of the car.

To Boomer's bad fortune, it was him who had to sit on the front seat 
beside the driver. He glared at the others who had crammed themselves 
nicely on the back seat and were now smirking back at Boomer.

"Sooo," the driver shifted into K-mode and slid into the driveway. 
"What are you folks doing in a wormhole like this?..."

"We're on holiday," Boomer lied his ass off with a polite smile. 
"Thought we'd go somewhere different for a change. To get away from 
things you know..."

"Yeah, I know," the driver grinned, glancing sideways at Boomer. 
"That's what I did when I moved up here. Got away from things. I'm from 
New Bork originally..."

"Oh really?..." Boomer wasn't interested one bit and he damn sure 
wasn't in the mood for this friendly conversation. His mind was on the 
encounter with the client that was supposed to take place later.

"Yeah, well... originally I'm from Sagittaria, ya know, and lived and 
worked on the Sagittarian until we came here. But, ya know, new life, 
new tricks...

Since arriving to Cadria, I've considered myself a full-blooded New 
Borker..."

"Interesting," Boomer smiled.

"Sooo, ummm... Where shall I, like, take you?"

"Oh, sorry," Boomer slapped his forehead. "The Saskachoona Sheraton 
please. It's on highway 774."

"Yeah I know where it is." The driver raised one eyebrow sarcastically. 
"It's the only decent hotel in this damn wormhole. Sometimes I wonder 
why I ever left New Bork for this damn place.... But maybe I just 
needed to get away from things...Ya know... Change my life'n'all. With 
the drugs biz and stuff... You probably wouldn't have guessed but I was 
a cab driver back in New Bork..."

"You? Naaah..."

"Yeah! You wouldn't believe all the stuff you see down there if you 
know how to look..."
"Probably not..."

"Yeah man! I remember this one guy..."

Boomer wasn't listening any more. His gaze was on the passing spruce 
trees on the side of the road, his mind trying to think of nothing.

Somewhere in the background he was vaguely registering his buddies' 
voices chattering and chuckling at he back of the vehicle. Boomer 
missed the beach.

And he was damn worried about bumping into Starbuck...

* * *

The printer beeped and the computer screen informed Starbuck that the 
printer was in need of more paper. What a damn shame Starbuck didn't 
have any. He would have to steal some from the library tomorrow 
morning. 

Starbuck's shining eyes lingered to the pile of printed pictures of all 
kinds of colonials vipers: dexatons, the C.O.R.A. system, Inbiltrators 
and Steamatons, not forgetting the most handy and the most commonly 
used one. The GHR2.

Those pics would make a nice consummation to the scrap book Starbuck 
had kept since the Galactica days. And there would be a lot more to 
print. Thruster layouts, viper laser systems, nose variations...

What a bloody misfortune it was to be out of paper at a moment like 
this.

Starbuck considered shutting off the computer and starting to nervously 
pace around the room, worrying about meeting the Denier clan later, 
then decided against it and logged himself on to 'the Cave' instead. 
Logged on as Apollo.

"...They're all over the place!" Toxic Machine Head complained 
"Everyone keeps raving about this huge drug bust that's supposed to be 
looming around the corner and people say that the cops are planning to 
search all student dorms when they get a warrant..."

"Where the hell are you lad? Los Warm Placelos?" Starbuck recognized 
Prince Dirty Henry from the previous occasion. He grinned.

"In a college somewhere in the north." Machine Head replied. "You don't 
need to know."

"Why don't you just say it, darling." Dixie grinned. "That's Darwood 
you're accommodating. It's been all over the news here in the north-
east coast. The cops found a body too didn't they?"

Starbuck almost dropped off his chair. Cops? Drugs? A body?? Here in 
Darwood?? Why for frack's sake wasn't he aware of any of this.

Yeah, well. Starbuck knew very well why. He was still an outsider, 
having been in Darwood for merely a couple of days. Not to mention 
having all that time been so caught in Apollo's strange behaviour, the 
weird mister Denier and his even weirder clan, plus his own problems 
with his choices of subjects and how to change them to have really 
noticed anything that might had been going on around him.

But a dead body, for Sagan's sake! Starbuck still had a hard time 
believing it. Somebody must had said something about it...

"It's not the cops," Machine Head pointed out to Dixie, obviously 
loving to talk about this. "It's the DEA now. They have their men 
buzzing all over the place... Feels like the damn prison barge..."

"You've been on the barge, eh?" Dirty Henry smirked. "I should've known 
I was chatting with an ex-con..."

"Cut the felgercarb!"

Starbuck yearned to know more about this drug-search-and-a-death-
probably-involved-in-it stuff and was just about to start taking part 
in the conversation, when a name Starbuck had almost forgotten about 
popped up.

"Apollo..." Distance seemed to purr. "I've been hoping you would drop 
by..."

This was obviously flirting. Starbuck was always game for a little 
harmless flirt. He grinned.

"So have I actually." Starbuck typed with a smirk on his face. "In my 
dreams last night. Waiting for you to come and fulfill what you 
promised me..."

Yuck! What horrible syrup. Starbuck grimaced.

"...Which was?" Distance was entertained, Starbuck could tell.

"Unspeakable riches and everlasting happiness. I'm quite surprised you 
forgot..."

"I didn't forget my dearest handsome dark stranger," Distance must've 
been intentionally putting in the worst corny phrases Starbuck had ever 
heard. "I just couldn't find your dream last night... Where is your 
castle, my sweet sleeping prince?"

Starbuck wanted to puke. His grin was wider than ever. "Way, way up 
north. Beyond your wildest dreams..."

"You're in a university perhaps, somewhere far, far away beyond the 
stars," Distance was purring again. "Perhaps I might be closer to you 
that you realize... If you just tell me the way to your dreams...the 
way to where you're hiding when you sleep..."

This was getting kinda spooky. Starbuck's grin narrowed a little.

"College? Naah! I'm working with pumps in a gas station somewhere. What 
about you?"

"Gas station?." Distance seemed amused. "Apollo, Apollo... always such 
a mystery. Forever so distant you're breaking my heart..."

"Ummm, I gotta go," Starbuck didn't really like this any more. "There's 
someone at the door..."

"Really?" Distance was obviously not believing it. "Tell them I said 
hi..."

"Yeah, sure..."

"And Apollo..."

Starbuck's cursor was already on top of the 'log off' button. "What?"

"I know where you are."

Starbuck gasped.

"We'll see each other again. Soon."

A pause. Starbuck stared at the screen.

"Very soon."

Distance's name disappeared.

* * *

"I can't believe this! I fucking can't believe this..." Tony Verdeschi 
couldn't believe it. "This place is just like Earth! And I don't mean 
just like Earth, I mean... shit!"

"All right Tony, cut it out. You've made your point..."

"But... my god, just look at this place!... Are you guys sure we 
haven't returned to Earth by accident!"

"We're sure Tony." David Kano gave the dark-haired, young Italian man a 
warning glance. "Now shut up. You are making me want to kick you or 
something..."

"So, this is what Earth is like," Maya smiled. "Not bad... I mean, not 
as beautiful as on Psychon of course but... not bad!"

"Stop teasing me Maya," Tony moved closer to the beautiful alien woman. 
"I know you're trying to make me defensive."

"Am I..." Maya grinned and moved away from Tony before the man had the 
chance to put his hand around her waist.

They were all standing outside eagle 4, commander Koenig, Helena, Maya, 
Tony, Alan Carter and the rest of the Alphan crew, eyeing the northern 
nature around them.

"I could live in this place," Helena realized aloud. "If only the 
beings on this planet turned out accepting and peaceful we could..."

"We have to be careful," John Koenig's hand was protectively on 
Helena's shoulder. This was the heterosexual John. "We have no idea 
what kind of creatures we're going to run into. They might turn out 
worse than..."

"Great John," Helena was getting tired of this same crap. "Always the 
sensible commander."

They all heard footsteps.

"Quickly, hide the eagle!..." Koenig was already throwing leafs and 
branches over the vehicle. They dropped right off it.

"Too late," Tony Verdeschi frowned, seeing a human man in blue 
overalls, a straw hat and rubber boots walking up the rye field towards 
where they were standing, carrying a hayfork on his shoulder. "He's 
seen us already..."

"My god!" Helena exhaled. "He's human!" 

"Or a dangerous humanoid!" Morrow pointed out. "Be careful..."

"Don't worry. You're all safe with me," Koenig moved closer to Helena, 
ready to fight for his territory.

"Howdy," the man brought two fingers up to his straw hat and saluted 
with a grin. There was a straw hanging from his mouth as well. "Nice 
transportation unit you have there fellas," the farmer nodded towards 
the eagle. "Is it a Lacura C7X or a this yahren's Mitzic? How often do 
ya change the oil?"

"Errr..." John Koenig tried to communicate like an Alphan commander.

It was Alan Carter who really found his voice first.

"Hellllo there mate!" Alan grinned. "You mind telling us which planet 
we're on..."

"Shut up Alan!" Paul Morrow hissed at the Australian through his 
clenched teeth. "If this is Earth, we have to be careful. Space travel 
is not an everyday thing for an ordinary countryside wally to come 
by..."

"For god's sake Paul!" Sandra hissed angrily. "Keep your voice down..."

The man hadn't heard. At least he didn't appear like he had. Or perhaps 
he didn't know what a 'wally' was.

"I know what you mean sexy man," the farmer beamed at Carter. "It's 
darn hard to keep track of all the planets we've encountered during the 
past yahren. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the sleep cycle and 
have no fracking clue whether I'm still on Aries or..."

"Why does he talk so funny..."

"Shut the f*** up Maya! You're gonna get us into trouble..."

"But then I remember that we are all on good old Cadria," the farmer 
grinned, revealing a row of uneven, yellow teeth. "Living the 
Armourican dream..."

"Ummm... what exactly is this 'Armourican dream?" Carter took a curious 
step closer to the farmer. "...Some local saying or..."

In the ten minutes that followed, commander Koenig and the others heard 
to their utter amazement a brief summary about the history of the human 
race from the farmer who wasn't even realizing he was telling it. He 
was merely reminiscing.

The Alphans learned about the lords of Kobol and the slow death of the 
planet Kobol, the endless void and bright shining star, the formation 
of the twelve colonies that were later destructed by horrible beings 
called cylons and how the remaining colonials had to flee to find 
another place to live. A place where they could be safe from the hands 
of their enemies.

The Alphans also heard the legend of the thirteenth tribe that had 
traveled to through galaxies to an unknown world called Earth and how 
it had been a dream of the fleeing colonials to one day find that 
mysterious planet...

"... which I don't think even exists," the farmer paused to spit out 
the straw from his mouth. "No offense y'all if you do believe in that 
stuff but, well, I think we were all damn lucky to have found this 
Cadria planet! Who knows how long we would've been hanging aboard those 
ships otherwise...Yeah, sooo, you want a lift to town then?" The farmer 
paused to eye his strange-looking guests and their shining, lizard-like 
vehicle on his rye field. "It would be no problem since I was on my way 
there anyway to get some fodder for my cows. And you might want to get 
some new clothes. Those went out of fashion yahrens ago, not that I 
follow that fashion felgercarb but... Just haven't seen clothes like 
yours since..." The farmer's eyes paused on Maya.

"Let me guess missy," the farmer beamed. You're from New Bork, right? 
Great eyebrows! They do that stuff in salons nowadays?"

"New Bork?"

"Exciting city, they say..." the farmer was flirting with Maya. Tony's 
hands were squeezed into tight fists.

"Not that I know anyone who's really been there... haha..."

Maya smiled beautifully, not having the faintest idea what the man was 
babbling about. Tony was breathing hard, sounding like a jerk to Alan 
who was standing next to him. Alan rolled his eyes. Boy he was glad he 
wasn't emotionally attached to anyone at the moment.

"Yeah. New Bork, New Bork... they made a song about it too. Wanna 
hear?"

"Not really..."

"Oh, by the way..." the farmer looked like he had only now come up with 
the question he should've had asked in the first place. "What the heck 
are you guys doing on my rye field anyway?? You got vehicle problems 
or..." A pause. 

"We... we got a little lost," commander Koenig smiled. "We were trying 
to get to a place called Saskachoona but we had a little...incident on 
the way and got a little side-tracked."

Alan Carter gave commander Koenig a quick glare, unnoticeable to 
others.

"Saskachoona?" The farmer raised one eyebrow. He was leaning against 
his hayfork, eyeing the out-of-towners with intrigue. "Well, that's 
just where I was going. Down town Saskachoona. You guys ain't that 
sidetracked after all..."

Koenig's smile widened. "You know. We'd really appreciate it if you 
gave us a ride," Koenig tried to get across his most charming 
behaviour. "we could pay you, let's say..."

"What are you folks doing in Sassy anyway?" The farmer was curious. 
"This ain't the busiest metropolis around... Don't see people like you 
roaming my rye field every day ya know..."

"We're here on holiday," Alan Carter gave the farmer yet another one of 
his sexy smiles. "You know, getting away from things..."

"Yeah I guess you city folk have to do that once in awhile," the farmer 
winked at Alan, then lifted his fork and put it on his shoulder.

"All right fellas. We'll drop by my house first. I need to get some 
cubits. Then you can follow me to my car. I'll take the scenic route to 
town if you want."

"Ummm... That's not really necessary. We..."

"Oh but I insist!" The farmer was already striding down the rye field. 
"You can't believe all the cows we have in this area! We have a museum 
and... And you really must see the water tower..."

* * *

Chapter 7

"Not bad..." Boomer eyed the gold, beige and light brown coloured lobby 
of the Saskachoona Sheraton with it's red carpets and large chandeliers 
hanging from it's dome-like ceiling. "...But perhaps a little too 
pompous for my taste. I prefer something easy, but interestingly 
modern. Something..."

"Man, I like this!" Mikey's expression was enticed. "Makes me feel like 
a princess in a fairy tale..."

"A prince you mean..."

"No, a princess. Like Sleeping Beauty. You know, fragile and immensely 
beautiful, helplessly waiting for her destiny to come and rescue 
her..." Mikey swung around with his arms outstretched. "Kiss me 
Boomer!" He grinned. "Be my prince..."

"Cut the felgercarb!" Boomer blushed. "You've been reading too many of 
your sisters books you moron."

"I don't have a sister."

"Your grandmother's then."

"I like this place too," Mitchi's gaze was appreciative. "All this 
glamour, it sort of reminds me of old Caprican war movies where 
everyone was rich and happy and optimistic..."

"War movies?" Boomer raised one eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, like 'Gone with the Aliens' or 'Rhett Butler strikes 
back' or..."

"Don't forget 'Battlestar Titatic'." Sascha reminded with a grin.

"That's not a war movie."

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not! It's just some flick about a huge battlestar crashing 
into an ice planet and..."

"Can I help you gentlemen?" A receptionist in a dark purple uniform 
with gold buttons was getting impatient behind the reception counter. 
"You have a reservation or...?

"Yes...Yes..." Boomer smiled, returning to reality. "Sorry. Yes, we do 
have a reservation by the name of..."

Boomer tried to make out what was scribbled on the piece of paper he 
was holding. Jolly and Mitchi were cracking jokes behind Boomer. The 
others were strolling nearby, waiting to get their keys so they could 
go to their rooms and empty the drinks cupboard.

The Otter was sitting further away in the lobby, unnoticed, studying 
those seven men, only one of which he trusted completely. Adrian. The 
Squirrel.

Sure, of course Otter recognized all of the others too. He'd 
communicated with them often, watched them, observed them.

The tall, dark one talking to the receptionist was Boomer. They had 
talked on the communicator many, many times, Otter and him. Otter knew 
he could always count on Boomer to do the job properly. Boomer had been 
one frack of a perfect choice. Too bad the beach seemed to be the top 
priority in Boomer's life though...

The ridiculous mop of bleached hair was Mikey, a sort of an airhead, or 
appeared to be anyway.

Otter had had his doubts about bleachy when Squirrel had first 
suggested the boy to him, but  whaddaya know. Bleachy had in fact 
become the perfect disguise. Always appearing so idiotic, so harmless. 
Who could ever doubt someone like Mikey... Otter smiled.

The blond guy with the shoulder-length hair and the lean, tanned body 
was Mitchi. A dude with a big mouth and bad habits, but an unquenchable 
thirst for adventure and money, which had made him indispensable. And 
the ladies liked the guy too, which always made them an easy target.

Sascha, the dark-haired guy, was a true beauty. Like a Greek god in old 
storybooks descending from Kobolian times. Sascha was the one with 
common sense. The only one perhaps (apart from Boomer of course) who 
actually tried to think things over before acting, and that was one of 
the reasons why Otter had been suspicious of the guy ever since he had 
come along.

Why had a guy like that wanted to exchange something that might have 
turned out a decent life for him for something that might be the end of 
everything. Squirrel had always suspected it was the money, but 
whatever the reason, it still made Otter trust Sascha the least of them 
all.

Then there was the pot-smoking hip hopper, Francis.

Apart from Squirrel, Francis was the guy Otter had had the most of his 
discussions concerning the gigs and deals with.

Francis too had seemed the perfect cover from the very beginning with 
his now-growing dreadlocks and his careless, lazy manner, but what 
really had gotten Otter really interested in the guy was the sadist 
streak that sometimes, not very often, but sometimes showed itself.

Otter had become certain it was Francis who was the one of these guys 
who actually did what he did because he enjoyed doing it. The others 
were more into the money part of the action, and the slacker life that 
the money provided.

Otter's eyes lingered to the long-haired, grinning guy in leather 
trousers who was a little heavier than the others. Not much though. 
Just a little.

Jolly was Squirrel's friend and that had made the guy good enough in 
Otter's eyes. Every true friend of Squirrel's was a friend of Otter's.

For as long as they didn't let him down.

Now watching those seven men hanging about the hotel lobby, waiting to 
be given the keys to their rooms, Otter realized that the time was 
finally at hand. 

Suddenly he felt the very familiar shiver of thrill approaching like an 
enormous tidal wave, ready to carry him higher and higher into the 
unknown that danger always was. Otter loved danger, he breathed it, he 
lived it. And the money that came with it as a side-dish didn't hurt 
either. Otter enjoyed being able to afford to live without thinking 
about it.

One day he might take the business further. Get filthy rich and then 
perhaps retire, if he wanted to. Yes, one day. But not yet. Hell, not 
yet! Not even if not yet meant that
there would never be a one day.

* * *

Otter's eyes followed Squirrel and the other men as they walked to the 
elevators, struggling with their suitcases and bags, chatting with 
easiness.

Squirrel turned his head and looked straight at Otter to gave him a 
little nod. Just a little one. Otter nodded back. Everything was set.

The elevators arrived with a ding and Squirrel ushered the others in. 
Two old ladies with awful flower-pattered travel bags hurried after 
them to cram into the same elevator. How impatient people always were.

From the distance Otter could hear Boomer's voice ask Squirrel if they 
would meet the Otter dude soon and Squirrel replying vaguely that the 
man would be present at the hotel later. The elevator doors slid shut.

A party of tourists arrived at the lobby appearing a heck of a lot out-
of-place dressed in stupid too-tight clothes that made them look like 
they'd just escaped from the mid-seventies. They were accompanied by a 
scruffy-looking man in blue overalls carrying in a hayfork. The sight 
of that made Otter smirk. Saskachoonians...

A group of three men and two women with shaved heads and fatigues 
appeared behind those weird-looking tourists, glaring forward like 
totem poles, none of the men talking, the women exchanging an 
occasional word or two.

Otter would've recognized a military person a thousand metrons away. He 
himself would rather die than get a haircut like that. What were those 
guys doing in Saskachoona. There wasn't any military base anywhere at 
least within five hundred kilometrons. Must be some guys on their long 
weekend hols or something. Who cares anyway.

Otter shrugged, then turned and started towards the hotel main exit, 
digging into his pocket for a cigarette. It was time to leave and start 
getting ready for the events to come.
The evening was going to be a damn interesting one!

In many ways...

* * *

"The Sheraton huh?!" The farmer turned his eyes away from the damn 
fine-looking man that had just passed him walking towards the hotel 
exit lighting a cigarette, and let his gaze linger around the lobby 
amazed. "You people ain't exactly broke are ya! This is the finest damn 
place in town, man! I sure wouldn't mind spending a secton or two in 
this little pad..."

"Secton?..." Alan raised one eyebrow.

"...Yeah, or a sectar. Just sit back and let the others serve you, ya 
know what I mean..."

"Ummm. I think we can manage by ourselves from now on," Koenig was 
holding his room keys in his hands. "Thank you very much for the lift."

"You folks planning on staying here long?" the farmer was obviously in 
the mood for yapping his mouth. The Alphans weren't. "I could really 
show you some interesting places around here. As I said, we have a 
museum, ya know. It's in Digger Barnes' old hay barn in Haywood, just 
outside Sassy..."

"We appreciate your kindness, mister..."

"Japher," the farmer smiled. "The name's Japher. Runs in the family 
that name does."

"...Japher," Koenig extended his hand for a handshake. "Nice to meet 
you."

"You too man," Japher beamed.

"...But we'd really like to get some rest if you don't mind..."

"Yeah, sure," Japher understood. "Being from New Bork an'all..." The 
farmer winked at Maya. 

Maya raised one of her exquisite eyebrows.

"...But I hope we'll run into each other again folks." Japher brought 
two fingers up to his hat and saluted, grinning widely. "And if you 
want to sell your means of transportation, I would go as far up as 200 
cubits..."

"I don't think so." Alan Carter smiled coolly.

"Anyway, enjoy your hols," the farmer gave one more salute, lifted the 
hayfork onto his shoulder, then turned and started his way toward the 
pick-up truck waiting outside the hotel.

Koenig turned to his crew.

"According to my latest discussion with the traders, just before we 
took off from Alpha," Koenig started, "the first encounter with the 
contact should be taking place later tonight, here at the hotel."

"The exchanging of the merchandise is going to take place here??" 
Morrow was surprised. "Isn't that a little..."

"Of course the deal isn't going to take place here," Koenig glanced at 
Morrow impatiently. "Tonight is for finalizing the plans, making sure 
that everything is in order. The contact wants to meet us in person 
before proceeding with the rest of the agreement. Could you really 
think me so foolish to proceed with such carelessness when we do have 
no knowledge at all of the ways of this planet. What we are here for 
could be considered inappropriate, even illegal and perhaps even cause 
a backlash from the locals or the government."

"But it's only..."

"Whatever the merchandise might mean to us, we cannot take for granted 
that the ways of others are equal to ours. We might be taking something 
illegal away from this planet..."

"I find that very hard to believe..."

"All in all, we have to be careful." Koenig concluded. "Remember what 
might have happened on Meta if we hadn't been warned..."

"All right John," Alan consented with a grin. "You're the boss."

"Can we go up to our rooms now?" David Kano's bag was getting heavy. He 
shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Of course," Koenig smiled. His eyes lingered on his Alphan crew. 
"There is supposed to be a kind of a 'communicator' in every room. I'll 
figure out how to use it and get back to you about the details of 
tonight. Until then, why don't you all try to get some rest."

"Aye aye commander," Alan picked up his bag, swung it over his shoulder 
and started towards the elevators. Paul Morrow did the same.

* * *

"You lucky bastard," Morrow was smirking. "You get a room all to 
yourself while we others have to share our luxury..."

"Yeah, what a tough job it is sharing a room with a woman like Sandra," 
Alan snarled back, looking sarcastic. "I'm real glad I'm not you, 
mate!"

"Ha ha ha," Paul wasn't laughing. He knew better. "Very funny..."

"Did I hear my name mentioned?" A beautiful, petite and slender British 
woman with Hungarian and Burmese heritage ruling her appearance, 
appeared beside Morrow and put her arm around the man's waist.

"Paul was just bragging how lucky he is to have you as a room mate," 
Alan smiled at Sandra, then turned to step into the elevator.

"Is that right," Sandra Benes looked up at the man beside her, then 
turned back to Alan. "All right Carter. Spit it out. What was the pig 
saying about me?"

"Always trusting me to be on my best behaviour then, eh," Paul Morrow 
pursed his lips. "What is it with women that makes them to not trust a 
man with a seventies' mustache..."

"Hey, where did that come from?" Sandra raised one eyebrow as she ran 
her fingers through her short, shiny black hair.

"Hold the elevator," Helena was dragging her Alphan suitcase towards 
Alan, Morrow and Sandra.

"I told you not to take so much stuff," Koenig was snarling behind her. 
Paul Morrow was trying not to gaze at the commander's sexy legs. "What 
the heck were you thinking of doing with all that nonsense."

"What you seem to consider nonsense commander," Helena panted annoyed, 
"happens to be very needful medical supplies."

"That's not all you're dragging in that suitcase Helena," Koenig 
smirked. "I was there the day before when you did the packing remember. 
What about all those jars and pots of cosmetic substances, or the 
clothes you absolutely couldn't leave behind... Or the damn 
hairdryer..."

"What's all that to you!?" Helena frowned. "I'm the one whose carrying 
the case. Cut the crap if you still want to share the room with me..."

"Be reasonable Helena," Koenig was angry as frack but was still trying 
to appear as charming and patient as a Koenig could. Helena didn't 
bother to answer. She lifted her suitcase into the elevator and then 
crammed herself in there too.

"I don't think you fit in John," Helena turned and eyed Koenig coolly. 
"You'll have to take the next ride up..."

She reached out and pressed a button with a funny picture on it and the 
doors started sliding shut, leaving the very pissed-off commander 
Koenig standing in the lobby with a stony expression on his stony face.

Very much at unease, Koenig turned to Maya and the others that were 
still left in the lobby.

"The weather's kinda cold in these parts of the planet," the commander 
pointed out. "I wonder if I should've taken my wool pullover..."

The others had nothing to say, they all just smiled nicely, hoping for 
the elevator to re-arrive as quickly as possible. David Kano especially 
hated scenes like the one he had just witnessed.

So, Matt..." Kano turned to chat with the other black man, the one with 
an even worse seventies mustache than Paul's, and a Shaft-like 
appearance.

"It's you and me then, eh? Sharing a room..."

"I guess so," assistant medical officer Robert Matthias smiled vaguely. 
"Better not snore pal."

"Me? Snore? Get outta here..."

"So. What are we supposed to do while you take care of the... 
business... sir?" Matthias' eyes lingered to Koenig. "I've understood 
that Paul, Sandra, Kano and I aren't supposed to have any contact with 
the dealers..."

"You've understood correctly officer," Koenig nodded approvingly. "You 
are here firstly and only to give us technical assistance with the 
eagle, assistance in transporting the merchandise, and helping with the 
medical needs if necessary. The fewer people there are handling the 
deal the better."

Ding. The elevator arrived.

"...But we are not forbidden to move around in the hotel, or in this 
town...?"

"No." Koenig smiled. "But remember that you must keep a low profile. As 
I've said a thousand times before. We do not know what kind of a place 
we're in contact with..."

"Soooo, it's okay to boogie a bit?" Matthias' eyes lingered to the 
blinking sign of the hotel discotheque. "You know, get down on it..."

"I can't stand that phrase," Koenig frowned, following Maya and Tony 
into the elevator. "Oh, and Maya..."

"Yes?" The beautiful alien woman turned.

"No metamorphosis stunts when we're on this planet." Koenig's voice was 
strict. "No turning into frogs and... stuff... Is that understood."

"Yes, commander." Maya smirked. "No frogs and... stuff."

Tony blushed.

The elevator doors closed.

* * *

One of the two army women with shaved heads who had been standing 
behind the Alphans, waiting for their turn to deal with the reception, 
turned her attention away.

Strange looking people, definitely, Athena thought to herself. Strange 
outfits...

She picked up her army rucksack and moved to the counter with the other 
of her army colleagues.

Shame about Omega, Athena kept thinking. And how strange that the data 
on the main computer Omega had usually used had been deleted. This sure 
was some weird felgercarb.

But thank god the CSOU had been able to print the back-up data from the 
security files of the DX-system and the calculations had showed that 
the object that seemed like a moon had launched a vessel towards planet 
Cadria a few centars ago. According to those calculations, it should be 
landing somewhere in Saskachoona. That's why the special army 
annihilation squadron of these three men and two women were there.

To kill everyone in that vessel.

To save the planet Cadria.

Already now Athena felt like a hero.

Athena's mind lingered to Cassiopeia, her beautiful mistress. How 
Cassie had seemed to mourn when she had been at the railway station to 
see Athena off. Oh those invisible tears that she had been elegantly 
wiping from the corners of her eyes with a tissue like in old weepy 
movies without smudging her perfect make-up...

How her blond hair had been flowing in the wind when she had been 
standing on the platform after the train had taken off, waving goodbye 
to Athie with that same white tissue, dressed in tight, pink two-piece, 
blowing kisses into the wind... How Athena yearned to get back home.

But for now, she had a job to do. To kill the intruders. No time for 
sensitivity and romance.
Athena puffed out her muscles. She was ready.

* * *

Rigel could've sworn she had seen Athena.

That bald woman in fatigues, dragging her rucksack into the hotel lobby 
elevator. The elevator doors had closed just before Rigel had had the 
chance to really see the woman's face, but must had been Athena. Rigel 
was sure of it. What the hell was the army doing here in Sassy!??

It was 12.20 in the afternoon and the participants of the secret 
anarchistic communist party on a mission to kidnap the Denier heir had 
just arrived at the Saskachoona Sheraton, the only decent hotel in town 
and were standing by the reception counter to get their room keys.

It had been anonymously decided that the earliest time to start acting 
would be tonight, so Tigh had recommended that until then, the fifteen 
or so people should lay as low as possible.

Now that none of them were wearing ski-masks for obvious reasons (the 
thought of it made Rigel chuckle every time. All of them having marched 
into the hotel lounge in their wool masks, looking like a group of 
goddamn commandos), they would have to keep behaving as unnoticeably as 
they possibly could. Any unusual behaviour might easily leave a face 
standing out of a crowd.

If not wanting to stay in their rooms, the communist activists were 
advised to act like casual tourists, and most preferably wear clothes 
that wouldn't catch the eye, gray trousers, black shirts, all that 
shit.

Rigel didn't mind spending the time in her hotel room. She was in need 
of some sleep anyway since the last time she remembered having any 
proper rest was before she got sealed to Tigh and his goddamn IFB 
receiver.

Every fucking night as far as Rigel could remember she had woken up to 
the sound of fake gunshots, women screaming bloody murder in some B-
class horror movies when some stalker attacked them in some dark 
alleyway (what the hell where those women doing in that dark alleyway 
in the first place), or a steamy sex scene of one of those neverending 
soap operas, or... sheeeshh...

One day, when Tigh had been out running errands or blowing up some 
congress building, Rigel had fetched a big hammer from the garage and 
hammered the receiver into a little piece of metallic felgercarb. That 
night, it had been Tigh who had been screaming bloody murder...

* * *

Rigel's eyes lingered on the group of tired, restless men and women.

There was Giles leaning against the reception counter, tapping his 
fingers on the fine, black granite surface, eyeing the blond, female 
receptionist.

Bojay was a few metrons away from Giles, green-haired nowadays and 
talking to a man Rigel knew from her days working on the bridge of the 
battlestar.

A couple of Sagittarian civilians were talking to a former pyramid 
dealer from the Rising Star, and the little, fat fella who used to be 
the head cook of the officer's club on the Galactica was strolling 
around the lobby, seemingly impatient to get to his room.

"Coming?" Tigh appeared beside Rigel, swaying the room key in his hand 
from a chain.

"Sure." Rigel gave her husband a smile, picked up her rucksack and 
followed Tigh to the elevators.

"You know hon," Rigel began thoughtfully. "I could swear I saw Athena 
going into an elevator a couple of centons ago, wearing her army 
rags... Are you sure that nothing of our plan has leaked out to ears 
unwanted...?"

"There's no way the government could know about this operation," Tigh 
furrowed his brows. "I've been even more careful with this project than 
with the assassination attempt..."

"But it still worries me that the army's here," Rigel's gaze followed 
the marking lights on the elevator button switching from floor to 
floor. Seven... Six... Five... "Perhaps we should delay the kidnap a 
little. You know, just until it feels safer..."

"We are not delaying a thing," It was Tigh's duty as the leader to 
stand strong and fearless. "I'm sure that Athena... if that really was 
who you saw... and her buddies are just on a vacation, or following 
some other command that has nothing to do with us. I know that I 
would've learnt something from Adama if there was. We're still friends 
Rige. Old Adama still has no clue about my businesses..."

"If you say so," Rigel consented. She just wanted to get to her room 
and sleep...

* * *

"Hello wife," Japher entered the hallway, stomping the mud off from his 
rubber boots. "I'm hooomeee..."

"Dinner's almost ready," a woman's voice lingered from the kitchen. "Go 
and wash your hands! I don't want any bacteria spreading in the 
house!..."

Japher appeared into the kitchen doorway, his hands clean and the 
rubber boots changed into comfortable but ugly slippers.

"What's for dinner love? I'm hungry as a daggit..."

"Stuffed cabbage rolls, liver casserole and freshly baked bread," Sheba 
smiled to her husband, oversized oven-proof gloves in her both hands. 
"And cloudberry cake for dessert."

"Yummy."

Sheba grinned.

"Wife, you'll never guess what happened to me today..." Japher 
remembered.

Sheba raised her eyebrows curiously. "Let me guess. You finally got the 
nutra-hay delivered?" Sheba took a little spoon and tasted the liver 
casserole, then added a little more salt.

"I bumped into some pretty goofy-looking folk on the rye field 
earlier," Japher smiled, thinking about the outfits of those people. 
"They claimed that they had gotten lost in the Cadrian airspace and 
accidentally had to land on my property... I gave them a lift to town."

"You shouldn't have Japher," Sheba frowned. "You never know what kind 
of people you might run into. They could've robbed you and leave you 
lying unconscious in the gutter somewhere. That's definitely something 
I learnt from my days in the military: You can never be too careful and 
trusting towards other people. I'm still telling you we should get a 
gun into this house."

"But we have a gun darling," Japher smiled uncomprehendingly. "The A-25 
rifle. I've shot some pretty big birds with that one."

"But that's just it honey. It's just a rifle, for guarding the rye 
field and the carrot garden. What I'm talking about is a real laser 
weapon with a GH-599 power system and a 5/HG hammer... A gun that makes 
a woman feel she's really safe."

"Honey," Japher frowned. "This is Saskachoona, not the Cylon empire."

"There are lunatics and vicious madmen everywhere," Sheba had her 
point. "I should know. I was almost seduced by one who claimed to be 
Satan."

"All right," Japher consented, wanting to get his hands on the cabbage 
rolls, "I promise I'll think about it..."

"Great," Sheba smiled, lifting the pot of liver casserole off the 
cooking apparatus. "What time's the meeting tonight?"

"I'll have to be at the Sheraton at nine," Japher sniffed the delicious 
scent of the casserole with a huge grin on his face.  Japher loved to 
eat! "We're gonna meet the buyer at ten to discuss the final 
arrangements."

"...And you're sure that you can't go any higher than 29 cubits per 
kilogram," Sheba still thought the price was too low. "You can't get 
rye like we have from every farm."

"I'm afraid the price has already been set darling." Japher smiled. 
"And if we start going higher, we might lose the deal altogether. And 
you know how much we need the money for the new tractor we've been 
planning to acquire..."

"You're right, Japher," Sheba consented with a little smile, starting 
to set the table with her white, precious grandmother's plates. "And 
I'm hoping that we might have a little extra cash to buy me that fabric 
I've been dreaming of. I really could use a new dress..."

"We'll see wife," Japher took a chair, sat down and rubbed his hands 
together, eyeing the casserole.

"Who's the buyer this time Japhie?" Sheba took a chair too. "One of the 
Saskachoonan catering trades again, or S-mart?"

"Naah, it's some folks from outta town," Japher put on his bib. "At 
least that's what Pie-Face says..."

"Don't you think you should get rid of those farmer buddies of yours 
and start a rye trading business of your own..."

"Nooow, don't start talking about things a woman knows nothing about, 
wife," Japher shook his forefinger. "A wife's job is to cook and clean 
and..."

"Yes, darling," Sheba smiled sheepishly. That's what she wanted too. 
That's why she had left all the military shit behind, gotten sealed to 
some wally from the countryside, and was now happily pregnant with 
twins.

Sheba felt totally content staying in the farm house all day every day, 
rooting up the carrot garden and the flower bench every now and then, 
feed and milk the cows, do all the cleaning and cook for her husband...

"You're not going to stay late I hope," Sheba put some casserole on her 
husband's plate and handed over to Japher. "All that sinful stuff going 
on at the hotel disco and all..."

"I'll be home as soon as I can darlin'," Japher started ladling food 
into his mouth. "This is darn good."

"And no drinking any alcohol," Sheba warned. "It's a sin God will 
punish you for, and you have to paint the barn tomorrow..."

"No worries, wife," Japher assured. "Hand over the salt will you..."

"Here you go, love..."

* * *

Cecil was just coming out of the shower when Apollo arrived.

The IFB receiver was on in the living room and there was water boiling 
on the cooking apparatus in the kitchen.

"Oh hi," Cecil grinned surprised, noticing the dark-haired friend of 
his. "I didn't know you were here already. I was just thinking of 
making myself some tea. You want some?"

"No, thanks," Apollo smiled. "You mind if I take some wine?"

"Of course not. Be my guest," Cecil took off the towel from around his 
waist before disappearing to the bedroom to get dressed. Apollo 
pretended not to have noticed. "Pour me some too won't you darlin'..."

Sure," Apollo vanished into the kitchen, only to return a centon later 
carrying a bottle and two glasses and sat down on the white couch 
opposite the IFB receiver.

There was a silver-haired news anchorwoman telling something about 
tomorrow's weather.

"Are we gonna meet the others at Mickey's then?" Apollo poured the 
wine.

"No. We'll meet the guys here first." Cecil's voice lingered from the 
bedroom. "Satyr believes that he has to perform this one particular 
ritual first..."

"What ritual?"

"Dunno really..."

A moment's silence.

Apollo took a sip from his glass and eyed the receiver screen. There 
was a map of the northern part of Armourica with attachable clouds and 
raindrops stuck all over it. The anchorwoman was smiling widely as she 
promised a good chance of rain and snow and the temperature hardly 
reaching even +5C.

"Cecil..."  Apollo hesitated.

"Yeah?"

"About this experiment of ours..."

"Yes??"

"I gather you don't believe in this stuff for real do you..."

Cecil's surprised head appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"Yes, Apollo," The blond man arched his eyebrows. "I do. Very much so." 
A pause. "It's Satyr's vision of things that I don't agree with. He's 
changed... is changing. You must have noticed how Satyr is starting to 
lose his sense of reality. All this felgercarb about starting to 
believe that he already is what we're still yearning to become..."

The news and the weather forecast ended. A colourful packet of 
Wriggley's Tweeny flakes popped up on screen and a warm, trustworthy 
voice of a warm, trustworthy-looking man started brainwashing the 
possible viewer about how good and healthy those Tweeny flakes were for 
everyone and how one could even get two packets of Tweenies for the 
price of one and a half.
Cecil's frowned at the stupid commercial and his head disappeared from 
the doorway.

"You know Cecil..." Apollo kept his eyes on the IFB receiver but he 
wasn't really watching it. "...He somehow frightens me. Satyr does. I 
don't know how to react to him any more. I don't think I ever have."

"Why did you get involved with him then," A muffled voice lingered from 
the bedroom as Cecil was pulling on a shirt. "You know what I mean. 
Romantically involved."

"There's nothing romantic about it..." Apollo blushed. "...He just 
somehow makes it impossible for me to resist him."

Cecil laughed.

"You know Apollo..." there was still an audible smirk in Cecil's voice 
as he spoke, "I know what you mean better than you think. You're not 
the first one to fall for Satyr. We've all gone through the same damn 
thing."

"Oh?" Apollo's very surprised eyes turned to the empty doorway.

"Yeah," Cecil was smiling, Apollo could hear it from his voice. "Satyr 
can be quite an enticer when he wants to, and when he wants something, 
he gets it. None of us ever had a chance."

There was a sound of hairspray being sprayed, then coughing and Cecil 
frowning. "I must be a goddamn idiot for voluntarily poisoning myself 
with this stuff."

Apollo laughed.

"Anyway... What was I saying..." The spraying and the coughing 
continued. "Oh yes. Satyr's the kind of person who wants to be in 
control, and he knows that by controlling the emotions of others he can 
be in control of the person. It's just one of those things with Satyr, 
don't think about it..."

"Don't think about it!?"

"Yeah. You'll get over it. We all have."

"I'll get over it!?" Apollo couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You 
sound like you're talking about a case of measles or something."

Cecil laughed as he appeared into the living loom looking gorgeous as 
frack. Apollo's eyes followed him walk to the table to pick up his 
glass of wine and then come to the couch to sit down beside Apollo.

"In a way, I am." Cecil smiled, taking a sip from his glass. "But 
Satyr's what he is. We just have to live with it. After all, he is part 
of us..."

"mhhmn..."

"You slept with him yet?"

"What??" Apollo's head turned to face Cecil like a whirligig.

"Just curious," Cecil chuckled. "Hey man, I want a ground shuttle like 
that..."

"What???" Apollo stared at the blond man gone insane sitting beside 
him. "What the hell are you babbling about???"

"That talking ground shuttle with the red Cylon eye," Cecil nodded 
towards the receiver. The beginning titles of 'Knight Rider 4001 were 
rolling on screen. "That's what I call a Piece Of Metal!"

"Great," Apollo rolled his eyes.

"By the way Apollo..." Cecil turned to glance at Apollo with a really 
annoying smirk. "Speaking of curiosity..."

"Yes?" Apollo waited, fearing what was to come. He already knew Cecil 
had gone mad.

"Why did you start dressing like Jean Michel after you got involved 
with us? Simple black clothes would've done the trick perfectly. There 
was no obligation to..."

Apollo blushed. He tried damn quickly to come up with what to say. 
"Well, maybe I just liked the guy's style!" Apollo realized he was 
defending himself more strongly that he had intended, feeling somehow 
caught with his pants down. "Perhaps I just had gotten bloody tired of 
looking like a hero captain of a battlestar or..."

"But why Jean's bookworm style?" Cecil was still smirking. "Why didn't 
you start dressing like me?"

"You conceited boray..."

"Just curious," Cecil shrugged.

"Because you were looking like a bloody hero captain of a university 
football team damn it."

Cecil laughed.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to start getting ready for tonight by the 
way," the blond man loved Apollo's sense of humour. "The others will be 
here shortly... you know...for Satyr's little ritual thingy," Cecil 
rolled his eyes to make his point.

Apollo's grin faded. He remembered something that Cecil had mentioned 
earlier.

"Cecil..." Apollo hesitated. "What did you mean by Satyr believing he's 
changing, or has already changed somewhat... All I know is that his 
strangeness has become... more strange somehow..."

Cecil laughed.

On screen a ridiculous-looking, impossibly curly-haired man called 
Michael, dressed all in black leather, was sitting in his fast-moving, 
shiny black ground shuttle, jumping over a barrier of dead bodies in 
pursuit of a group of pissed-off day-time office workers, who had just 
killed those hundred and five people.

"Satyr used to be a quite a normal bloke in the early days," Cecil took 
a sip of wine. "Yeah well, as normal as a control freak like him can 
be..."

"Oh?"

"...And now the jerk is starting to believe there already is some of 
the darkness from the other side of the gates in him. He really 
believes he's become... more empowered by the intake of blood. If you 
ask me the guy's started to think of himself a vampire of some sort..." 
Cecil grinned. Apollo didn't.

"You know Cecil..."Apollo's gaze lingered to the window, to the cold 
blue sky behind it promising snow. "We are vampires..."

"Oh come off it Apollo," Cecil frowned with utter devotion. "I was only 
kidding when I said that."

"But think about it Cecil..." Apollo wasn't. "We are. Strange human 
vampires who drink blood to strengthen themselves for something they 
yearn to gain."

"Vampire Cecil," the blond man chuckled. "Sounds like something from a 
children's book. I can already see a comic picture of myself with huge 
fake fangs and a black cape, looming behind some defenseless old lady."

"Vampires, huh?" An amused voice came from behind Apollo and Cecil, 
startling the fracks out of them both. Apollo was the quicker one to 
turn.

It was Satyr who was standing there in the living room doorway, all 
dressed in black, eyeing the two men staring back at him from the 
couch. "Vampires... Yeah, I kinda like the sound of that..."

This wasn't the first time Cecil cursed long and hard for having given 
his pals the keys to his apartment.

"Oh Satyr, you sneaky bastard." He grunted. "When are you gonna learn 
to ring the damn doorbell before you enter."

"I love you too arsehole. You and your big sarcastic mouth." Satyr's 
lips were smiling, his eyes weren't. "Any other interesting theories 
about me you wanna share before we leave?"

"Cut the felgercarb Satyr," Cecil frowned. "You know damn well we don't 
have time for all of those..."

Satyr laughed. His eyes lingered to the empty bottle of wine on the 
glass table. "You have any more of that`"

"In the fridge."

"Perfect," Satyr disappeared from the doorway.

On the IFB receiver the curly-haired man with the jumping ground-
vehicle was wrestling with seventeen drug dealers at the same time, 
beating the fracks out of them all and even having the energy to crack 
a sectonly joke in the end. The ground vehicle said something 
annoyingly clever and sarcastic and the ending titles started to roll.

"Vampires, huh..." An amused voice lingered from the kitchen, followed 
by a chuckle.

Apollo and Cecil exchanged a glance.

Two centons later Satyr returned with two bottles of red wine, a glass 
for himself and a grin.

Behind the living room window, the stone garden became alive with 
colours of strangeness as the early evening sun of orange and purple 
gold appeared from behind the fading clouds. So much for the 
reliability of the weather forecast...

The night was about to begin.

* * *

Chapter 8

"Think of what we learnt today, Helena..." John Koenig was lying on the 
bed of the hotel room with his hands behind his head. "...about the 
roots of the human race. Just think how we suddenly have all the 
answers and the very knowledge of everything that people on Earth have 
been searching for all their lives in religions, in philosophies... 
Think how many people would kill for what we know now..."

"You're talking about the weird Kobolian stuff the farmer fed our ears 
with earlier...?" Helena's voice lingered from the bathroom where she 
was washing the make-up off her face. "And what makes you think any of 
it holds any truth. It could just as well be just another legend of 
another civilization..."

"I have a strong feeling that it isn't," Koenig's eyes lingered on the 
hotel room ceiling. "I think we have really encountered something that 
can answer all our questions..."

"We don't have time for asking any of your questions John. We have to 
be gone from this planet as soon as possible..."

"But what if..." Koenig's expression was dreamy.

"What?" The tone of Helena's voice wasn't.

"Just like you said earlier Helena," Koenig smiled. "If this was a 
peaceful planet, like it seems to be, we could stay here..."

"Well, I wasn't very serious when I said it," Helena murmured, then 
continued. "I was nostalgic about Earth. Besides, if we did end up 
considering that possibility, we would have to run a hell of a lot of 
tests with the minds of the inhabitants of this planet before being 
even able 
consider about revealing our true way of being to them, and that could 
take months."

"Once a scientist, always a scientist," Koenig's dreamy smile faded 
into a frown. "My god Helena. You've seemed to be in a foul mood a lot 
lately. What is it? Is there something wrong?"

Helena's very sarcastic makeupless face peeked from the bathroom 
doorway. "I've told you what's bothering me John. It's the lack of sex. 
Now shut up and give me some space. If I had had any choice earlier, I 
wouldn't have shared this goddamn room with you at all."

"Helena..." Koenig gave a helpless sigh.

"I'm gonna take a bath." Helena banged the bathroom door shut.

Women, Koenig exhaled annoyed.

His mind lingered to the business meeting with the traders later, then 
to Alan Carter probably naked in the next room.

Junior popped up...

* * *

Nice place, this hotel, Alan Carter thought. A little change from the 
always clinical, always practical moonbase Alpha and it's endless white 
and orange decoration,  the travel tubes and other magical gear just 
like from bad science fiction movies.

Carter switched on the weird looking apparatus in the corner of the 
room that the hotel brochure referred excitingly to as an IFB receiver, 
and realized it was nothing more than a weird looking television.

After channel surfing for five minutes or so, Carter left on 'The Bald 
and the Restless, a soap opera about a group of nazi activists raving 
in some small southern town somewhere in a land called Armourica and 
ending up in a concentration camp where they finally learnt to become 
good citizens and community-qualified individuals just before they got 
gassed in some gas chambers. Bloody interesting.

Carter forgot about the television and stretched, eyeing the room. 
Great wallpaper. Nice bed. Damn fine Persian-like carpet. Perhaps he 
should get undressed and go lay down on the carpet naked just to get an 
idea what it feels like...

Too late. There was a knock on the door and a fidgeting commander 
Koenig outside in the hallway with a seriously disabled grin on his 
face.

"What!?" Carter blurted out bluntly, annoyed that the moment's chance 
of rolling naked on a Persian carpet had passed.

"Umm... I was just passing by on my way to grab a beer or something 
downstairs and I just thought that I might as well drop by and make 
sure that you know..." Koenig had no idea what to say next, although he 
had just practiced his lines in his room after having had this grand 
idea. "...Do you know what time it is?"

"What??" Carter's jaw dropped. "Didn't Helena's watch work?"

"She left it in the eagle," Koenig grinned. "And mine ran out of 
batteries."

"All right, hold on a minute," Carter resignedly left Koenig standing 
in the doorway, then returned a second later, carrying a reloadable 
time accumulator. "Take it mate. I have two of them."

"Err... Thanks," Koenig smiled, trying not to stare at Carter's biceps. 
"You want a beer or..."

"Naah, I don't think so mate," Carter smiled back, impatiently. "I'm 
gonna get a nap or something."

"Okay Alan," Koenig was definitely displeased. "I'll call you and the 
others later about the details and the time..."

"Great," Alan closed the door to Koenig's face.

Dragging the reloadable time accumulator the size of a portable-radio 
in his hand, Koenig started down the hall to the elevators to take him 
to the lobby pub downstairs.

Even after this devastating rejection from Alan Carter, the pub seemed 
a million times a better choice than to return to the room to the ice-
cold woman who used to be Helena...

* * *

There was an occasional person scattered here and there in the pub, and 
the place itself was done in a surprisingly British style. Koenig felt 
immediately homey although he was originally from New York.

Koenig made his way to the bar and sat down on a high stool beside it, 
intending to perhaps have a friendly word or two with the hopefully 
friendly bartender later.

Koenig ordered a pint and then allowed himself to drift into his world 
of burden and quiet desperation that was the English way.

He didn't notice Paul Morrow until the man had wiggled his butt onto 
the stool next to Koenig.

* * *

"Cheers commander," Paul Morrow saluted with a pint a beer. "What 
brings you here amongst us bored and heavyhearted?"

"Life," Koenig sighed, taking a huge gulp from his foamy drink. He 
wasn't in the mood to talk to Morrow but he didn't really mind the man 
sitting there with him, in supporting silence.

In the background, something that reminded Koenig of Pink Floyd's 
'Shine on You Crazy Diamond' was playing hazily, despairingly 
beautifully.

"Life is tough, innit?" Paul took a sip from his beer, then a deep drag 
from his cigarette, eyeing the back of the bartender who was preparing 
drinks for some other customers. "Especially now that we don't even 
have a planet to call home..."

Koenig didn't reply, just stared at the ethereal curls of smoke from 
Paul's cigarette slowly moving upwards.

"You think the meeting with the contact goes well, sir?" Paul kept 
babbling, probably just to hear his own voice. At least that's what it 
now seemed like to Koenig.

"Sure." Koenig mumbled, tapping his fingers on the dark wooden surface 
of bar. "You mind if I ask you for a cigarette?"

"Hey, no problem man," Paul grinned and offered from the package. 
Koenig took one, put it in between his lips and allowed Morrow to light 
it.

Koenig took a deep drag and then, slowly, let the smoke out of his 
mouth.

Aaah. Relaxing...

Koenig took another drag.

Something light brushed against Koenig's upper thigh. Koenig looked 
down and saw a hand moving along his thigh towards his crotch.

Paul Morrow's hand.

Morrow himself was grinning like a fox.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Commander John Koenig bounced up from 
the stool like a kangaroo, spilling the stool and half of his drink. 
Morrow's hand vanished like a lightning.

"For god's sake Paul!!" Koenig panted, staring at the red haired, red-
mustached devil that had had the nerve to feel him up. "What the hell 
were you thinking?!?"

"Don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind, John," Paul Morrow boldly 
stared at commander Koenig in the eyes. "Always putting your hand on my 
shoulder, acting so damn buddy-buddy every time we're in main 
mission..."

"That's called friendship Paul!" Koenig realized his pants were a 
little wet from the beer. Oh dear god what it might have looked like to 
Morrow. The guy didn't think Koenig had come in his pants did he... And 
what the hell would he say to Helena when he got back to the room.  
"...Companionship Paul. And that's what we've been all this time in 
Alpha. Companions. I never..."

"So you're saving yourself for Alan then," Paul's tone got harsher, his 
eyebrows were bitterly arched. "I'm not sexy enough for you, that's it 
isn't it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" This time Koenig's face blushed 
from other reasons entirely than just surprise and discomfort from 
thinking what Paul might be thinking about the wet spots in his pants. 
"Are you daring to suggest that I'm gay..."

"Yeah, I am." Paul eyed Koenig challengingly. "And I've been wondering 
for a while now how's Helena been taking it. But I guess that for one 
explains you sitting alone here in the pub..."

Helena. Oh god. Koenig felt the floor giving in. Had she too noticed 
his ridiculous crush on Alan Carter. Was that why she was acting like a 
witch nowadays...

"Be glad I won't put you on report Paul," Koenig growled like a bear 
with angrily furrowed eyebrows. "For insinuating that your superior 
is... homosexual. Insulting your goddamn commander!... You should be 
punished when we get back to Alpha..."

"Yeah, whatever," Morrow waved his hand, not wanting to hear it. He got 
up from the stool and left the bar leaving Koenig standing there in his 
wet slacks and a despaired thoughts of disgrace and humiliation.

Damn all commanders, Morrow thought.

* * *

It might have seemed to Koenig that Morrow hadn't given a damn about 
the commander's reaction to the passes, but he couldn't have been more 
mistaken.

Morrow was disappointed. Totally fucking disappointed! And angry too.

Now dragging his unwilling legs down the hallway of the seventh floor 
where his and Sandra's room was, the only thing he could think about 
was the turbo bottle of vodka that he had seen in the drink's cupboard 
earlier. Morrow had every intention of drinking every drop of it. But 
commander Koenig sure hadn't seen the last of him yet.

Morrow clenched his teeth. He never took rejection easily and that went 
for this time too. In fact, Koenig having turned him down had excited 
Morrow even more. A challenge...

Morrow rubbed his red mustache thoughtfully.

The only thing to do first was to get rid of Sandra.

But how?...

How?...

Hey, didn't they keep sleeping pills in the medical suitcase...

With a foxy smirk of sudden canny realization on his face, Morrow 
directed his steps towards the room of medical assistant Robert 
Matthias...

* * *

"Err... Hi," Matthias eyed Paul Morrow in the doorway. "What is it?"

"What? Can't a guy just drop by to visit his buddies, eh?" Morrow 
pretended to be displeased by this distrust in his bona fide 
intentions. "I was sorta hoping you might offer me a drink or 
something..."

"Uh huh?" Matthias murmured extremely suspiciously. Morrow never just 
dropped by Matthias' place for anything. "And what kind of drink did 
you have in mind?"

"Okay, to be honest, it's Sandra," Morrow leant forward and whispered 
confessionally. "She's getting on my nerves and I just had to get out 
of the room..."

"Alan wasn't in his room then?" Matthias raised one eyebrow.

"No," Morrow lied. "And I just can't go back to my room yet..."

"You aware there's a pub downstairs Paul??" Matthias was still 
annoyingly suspicious. Morrow wanted to kick him.

"Please?" Morrow created a puppy look on his face. "I could really use 
some company."

"Oh what the heck." To Morrow's relief, Matthias came to his senses. 
"Come in then, man. David's in the shower and I was just getting on 
with my second game of Nintendo..."

"Oh, by all means, just play ahead," Morrow smiled like a syrupy 
salesman. "I won't bother you.
I might as well, you know, just hang out in the kitchen by myself... 
with that drink..."

Fifteen minutes later, a very sneaky and very smirky Paul Morrow exited 
the Matthias/Kano residence and started hastily down the hallway.

Half an hour later, he was dragging the unconscious, heavily sedated 
Sandra from the floor to the bed with a huge, triumphant grin of 
victory on his face.

* * *

"Bloody weird," Matthias mumbled to Kano as the man came from the 
bathroom.

"What is?" Kano was drying his ears with a white hotel towel. The 
earring got stuck on it and Kano cursed.

"Morrow."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He was just here, man..."

"Really?"

"Yeah..." Matthias then decided to shrug the thought away. "Heard from 
the commander yet?"

"How could I have?!" Kano paused drying his ears and frowned. "I've 
been in the shower all this time..."

"Oh... yeah... Sorry." Matthias grinned. "Can I borrow your leather 
trousers tonight?"

"What? NO!! I've told you I don't want you touching those trousers..."

"You can't shoot a man for asking," Matthias spread his arms out 
surrenderingly. "Sheeeeshh! Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway. I've got 
some pretty groovy stuff packed..."

"So you're going to check out the disco later, huh?"

"Yep," Matthias beamed. "Might even bump into some interesting local 
aliens."

"Don't forget we have to be unnoticeable Matt..."

"Don't worry Dave," Matthias grinned. "When have I not known how to 
dress to the occasion... Even you wouldn't notice me..."

"mmmm..." Kano opened the drinks cupboard and took out a small bottle 
of cream liqueur, then almost dropping it because of the scare the room 
communicator gave him when it rang.

"Yo," Matthias grabbed the thing. "Commander?"

* * *

"No," It was Maya's amused voice on the other end of the line. "Well, 
that's 
to say, not yet anyway..."

Matthias smiled. He damn well liked this alien lady. They'd become good 
pals since Maya was rescued from the exploding planet. Very good pals 
indeed. But one thing Matthias couldn't understand.

Why for god's sake was this extraordinary woman wasting her time with 
an such an unexciting and boringly predictable mule like Tony when she 
could've had any man on Alpha.

Well, apart from Matthias himself, of course, who was a homosexual and 
damn proud of it!

* * *

"So how's my beautiful Psychon woman doing?" Matthias joked. "Tony 
giving you a hard time over there?"

"He's got something else on his mind," Maya smiled, eyeing the Italian 
man sitting on the floor by the window, concentrating on cutting his 
toenails. "And that's why I called really..."

"My darling Maya," Matthias grinned. "Let me guess: You're bored..."

"Tell me Matthias... You saw the sign about the disco when we arrived 
didn't you?"

"Yep." Matthias smirked. He knew what was coming.

"Great." Maya beamed. "You're taking me out to that disco tonight."

"Me?" Matthias pretended to act surprised. "What about Tony. The Latin 
loverboy..."

Maya smiled. "Loverboy's too nervous about the trade. He won't leave 
the room until he hears from Koenig."

"I thought the first interaction with the traders tonight was supposed 
be happening in that disco..."

"Tony doesn't believe so. He keeps insisting that the traders want to 
meet us somewhere more credible..."

"Like the Congress building?" Matthias rolled his eyes.

"Who are you talking to?" Tony woke up by the window and looked up. "Is 
it John??"

Maya shook her head and Tony returned to the wonderful world of cutting 
toenails.

"Tony doesn't think a disco's an appropriate place for an aspiring 
security chief," Maya continued to the communicator. "He's worried 
about the loud music deteriorating his hearing. Besides, he never wants 
to do that thing you always talk about...".

"What thing?" Matthias raised one eyebrow. "You mean 'getting down on 
it'?"

"No, the other word..."

"Boogie??"

"Yes, that's it," Maya smiled. "He says he doesn't feel like boogie-ing 
when he's on an important mission like this."

"Yeah, sounds like Tony alright," Matthias nodded. "Well sure, I'll 
take you boogie-ing darling. I've got some really groovy stuff I'm 
gonna wear..."

"Perfect," Maya purred. "I'll call you back when I hear from John."

"Sure..."

Maya put down the communicator unit and eyed Tony with a little smile 
on her face.

Tony looked up again.

"What?"

"You won't get mad if I'm going out later, will you?" Maya raised one 
of her extraordinary eyebrows. "With Matt...?"

"No, of course not darling." Tony smiled warmly. "You can always do 
whatever you want Maya. You know I trust you utterly and completely..."

"Thanks Tony," Maya gave the man a sparkling smile. What fools the 
Earth men were. A Psychon male was never that naļve. What a shame they 
all got killed in that planetary explosion...
Maya kept her warm gaze on the dark-haired Italian-English man for a 
moment longer, studying the what Matt had referred to as 'Latin 
loverboy'.

Sure. Tony was cute, there was no denying that. But hey, who was to say 
that if a cuter, more intelligent and more desirable male alien came 
along, Maya would have to stay true to anyone. It wasn't like there was 
any sex involved in any of this Tony thing anyway.

Yep. Maya realized she was actually quite intrigued about the evening 
to come. She was very interested in these aliens on this planet. She 
only hoped they wouldn't all look like that farmer...

"Yes, Tony..." Maya blew the toenail-cutting guy a kiss, knowing that 
it would 
make the man's heart flutter. "...You can always trust me..."

* * *

Athena craned her neck to make sure that Delaisa, the other woman, was 
still in the bathroom before she grabbed the receiver of the 
communicator unit and dialed home, to Cassiopeia.

"Hello?" A honey-filled voice answered.

"Cassie," Athena grinned to the communicator. "Oh it feels so good to 
hear your voice. You have no idea what a fracking wormhole this place 
is. I miss you like crazy..."

"I miss you too Athena," Cassie purred. "I'm glad you called."

"Yeah, me too..." Athena could hear noises from the background. Her 
smile faded a little, turned suspicious. "You having a party or 
something?"

"It's the IFB receiver," Cassiopeia twittered casually. "I'm not even 
watching it. I just keep it on to have the noise keep me company."

"Oh..."

"Well, how is it up there? Any good shops or cute guys?..."

"You know I don't have eyes for anyone but you Cassiopeia..." Athena 
heard someone laughing. A man..."Are you sure there's..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Hey I gotta go Athie..."Cassiopeia 's voice smiled to 
the com-unit. "I'm sorry... I'll talk to you real soon..."

Click.

Athena remained standing there with the communicator receiver in her 
hand. 

The room was suddenly very silent.

Something ugly was squirming in her stomach...

* * *

Five centons later Athena was back amongst the strong and the powerful. 
Of course Cassie wasn't cheating on her. What a completely and utterly 
ridiculous idea. Athena smirked. She dialed the number of her father's 
office in the Brown House.

"Commander Adama."

"Hello father," Athena was glad to hear the old man's voice. "Any 
recent news about the intruders?"

"In fact," Adama cleared his throat. "Yes. We have a confirmation that 
a vehicle sent from that moonbase has indeed landed where you are 
positioned right now..."

Landed?" Athena furrowed her brows. "But wasn't it supposed to not land 
until later tonight or tomorrow?"

"Well, they seemed to have more powerful turbo system that we 
anticipated in our calculations," Athena heard Adama sighing. "But they 
are there now, and I want those beings removed. The safety of our 
planet depends on you..."

"Yes commander," Athena puffed out her chest. That was what the army 
was for and that's why she had become a vital part of it. To guard and 
protect, even if it meant the most extreme acts.

"So I need you to keep your eyes open for any strange looking 
individuals until our BBRTH-2285/XXC-6 system can use their blood 
pressure and brainwave signals to track down their exact hiding 
place..."

"Yes commander," Athena saluted with the communicator. "We will be 
ready and waiting for the red alert code."

"Good." Adama smiled. "And until then, why don't you make sure that all 
of your weapons are in perfect order."

"I'll do that right now," Athena knew it was important. "Bye for now 
father. We will be standing by..."

The call ended.

With a proud chin and a lot of determination, Athena marched to her 
rucksack, dug out the seven laser guns of different models that she had 
packed in it, sat on the side of the bed and started to sweep the gun 
pipes clean, one by one, humming to herself the theme song of the Dirty 
Dozen.

* * *

In the next room, separated from Athena by only a thin wall although 
not knowing it, was Rigel, sleeping like a baby with her mouth open. A 
streak of saliva was crawling down her cheek towards the pillow.

In the middle of the room was an IFB receiver broken in half.

* * *

Tigh was pouting in the pub in the hotel lobby, watching the Nexus Inc. 
versus the Big Spooky Grunters triad match on the pub receiver.

A few men that all looked like fracking farmers were scattered here and 
there. Tigh missed good old Warm Place.

A little while ago Tigh's attention had been caught by two men in 
ridiculously tight uniform-like clothing, but now both of those men 
were gone. Tigh took another sip of his beer.

The bartender was whistling while wiping a bucketful of wine glasses 
clean with a white towel.
The Big Spooky Grunters were winning. It was 16.00 on big timepiece on 
the pub wall.

Tigh thought the beer tasted like felgercarb.

* * *

Boomer would've felgercarbed in his pants if he had known that Tigh, 
Rigel and Athena were only a few thin walls away. 

But he didn't know it, and that's why he had been enjoying his time at 
the hotel like frack: dumping the drinks cupboard down his throat, 
trying to throw the IFB receiver out of the window but hadn't succeeded 
since the windows were made of laser-proof glass, calling hot sex lines 
on the hotel communicator, complaining to the hotel management every 
chance he got, playing the stereo equipment too loud, painting the 
bathroom walls with lipstick stolen from one of the flight attendants 
on the United shuttle flight to Sassy, until passing out in the bath 
tub.

* * *

In the next room Mitchi was stuffing pizza into his mouth, reading 
Tubby the Tinman comics he had found under the bed while Sascha kept 
channel surfing the IFB receiver and talking bullshit that Mitchi 
wasn't listening.

Two doors down the hall was Mikey's room.

* * *

"Francis!" Mikey banged on the wall to get the attention of the dude 
staying next door. "You fancy taking a trip?"

"Shut your fracking yap," came the annoyed, muffled reply. "You want to 
whole hotel to know we're carrying stuff with us..."

"Sorry," Mikey hissed, this time a little more quietly. "It's just that 
I found some damn fine LSD stocked in the heel of my shoe and had 
totally forgotten about it."

"That's fracking great man," Francis Lindo grinned. "I'll be right 
over!"

"Don't forget to bring some vodka." Mikey came to think of it. "Mine's 
already gone. All of it...as well as the brandy..."

"We'll do..." Francis Lindo checked his drinks cupboard in the next 
room. "And I've got some extra pot too stuffed somewhere..."

"Yee haa!" Mikey beamed.

"Squirrel and Jolly there with you yet?"

"No. I just called their room." Mikey replied. "Jolly said they'll be 
down in about thirty centons with a packet of first class cocaine and a 
couple of ecstasy pills. He just has to get his leather pants on 
first..."

"Mikey, my friend," Francis Lindo shone like a sun. "This is a 
beautiful day..."

"Oooh, yes." Mikey confirmed. "Beautiful..."

* * *

And so it went. A perhaps not so ordinary day in an unexpectedly posh 
country hotel in a relatively small, quiet northern Armourican town 
called Saskachoona.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of that very town, a no-care-in-the-world 
kinda cook was whistling out of tune while portioning some pickled 
cucumber, vinegar and onion mixture from a glass container onto the 
side of a plate, next to a freshly grilled double hamburger, when a 
group of five men dressed in black entered the restaurant.

Quickly the cook wiped his hands onto the red apron he was wearing and 
rushed to the counter to take the orders of these customers.

* * *

"Okay, fellas." The cook grinned with easiness, showing a row of 
perfect, even teeth, all too white to be normal. "What can I get ya?"

"Do you sell wine in this place?" Jean Michel eyed the drinks menu by 
the counter, critically furrowing his brows while doing it, which 
started pissing the cook off.

"No sir," The cook mimicked the poshness in the lad's tone. "Only beer 
if it's alcohol you want. That fancy enough for you??" Damn those rich 
twits. Always showing off...

"Beer's fine," Cecil hurried to charm the cook before Jean Michel would 
get a chance to annoy to cook even more. "We'll have a beer each, 
thanks."

"Mjmmm..." The cook went away to fetch them. An old classic from the 
seventies kicked in on an old transistor radio placed on top of a gray 
spice shelf. Disco inferno.

"'Ere you go lads," The cook returned and banged the cans of beer on 
the counter. "5.75."

It was Jean Michel who dug into the pocket of his black trenchcoat for 
his wallet and paid for the beer with a fracking hundred cubit note. 
Sheeeeshh!

Feeling bloody jealous, the cook watched the five guys with hundred 
cubit notes making their way to a table near the door. Five centons 
later another geezer, a groovy-looking fella in a black leather jacket 
and tight flares showed up fidgeting nervously and joined the guys in 
black.

Why would a groovy fella like that want to spend his Friday night with 
a bunch of boring poshies like those.

Certainly beats me, the cook thought to himself, returning to the 
wonderful world of pickles and onions, jamming to the groove of 'Night 
Classics played by DJ Tony Manero'.

When he looked up again, the guys in black and the groovy looking fella 
were gone.

* * *

"How in the frack can a place without a descent wine list get a liquor 
license..."Jean Michel frowned in the back seat of the car. "One more 
centar in that crappy joint and I would've turned into a one cranky 
bitch..."

"What do you mean 'turned into' one," Denis smirked on the driver's 
seat.

The banks of highway 54, then highway 666 were flashing past in the 
light of the setting sun as Jean Michel's red Ferrari Romeo was 
speeding its way towards the snow-topped mountains rising far away in 
the distance ahead. A couple of more miles more to go to the Denier 
mansion.

Cecil, who was sitting next to Denis in the front, eyeing the passing 
landscape casually and humming to the tracks played on the car radio, 
turned to give a glance at Starbuck in the back seat, sandwiched 
between Jean Michel and Apollo.

"We're glad you decided to spend the evening with us, Starbuck," Cecil 
beamed. "It's not that often that we get a chance to get to know new 
interesting people..."

"Thanks, man," Starbuck tried to sound as normal as possible. Every 
fracking time the car took a turn following the curves of the highway, 
he felt Apollo's leg pressing onto his own. Starbuck tried not to think 
about the fact that Apollo must had noticed that too. Furtively 
Starbuck glanced at the beautiful man beside him. Apollo was looking 
out the window.

"So? What do you reckon Starbuck," Jean Michel's eyes were on the 
sandy-blond man too, "you wanna take it easy for a couple of centars 
first before we leave for the club..."

"Yeah, we could have dinner at the mansion instead of the hotel," Denis 
agreed with a nod, "Besides, the club doesn't open until 22.00. The 
thought of hanging around in the hotel restaurant until then doesn't 
really sound that enticing to me..."

"You're right Denis," Jean Michel smiled. "Why waste a good chance to 
enjoy my marvelous cooking when you don't really have to..."

"I shouldn't have said anything," Denis frowned.

And on it went. This so seemingly genuinely relaxed, carefree 
chattering that had began from the university campus and continued up 
the hillside highways and roads towards the Denier mansion.

Maybe these guys weren't so bad after all, Starbuck thought. Maybe he 
was just being ridiculously paranoid. And maybe...

Starbuck started humming a quiet melody to himself, keeping his 
carefree gaze on the passing countryside landscape behind the window. 
It was one the late sectars of the autumn and in this early evening 
sunlight the landscape was a breathtaking explosion of colours. How 
beautiful.

Once again Apollo's leg brushed lightly against Starbuck's. Starbuck 
pretended not to pay any attention to... anything. Needless to say he'd 
rather had succeeded in flying without wings.

The trees were the range of colours from bright yellow to shocking red 
and deep purple. The sky was the pale colour of cold, early autumn 
evenings. Apollo's hand was only centimetrons away. Starbuck couldn't 
think of anything else but that hand.

What if he reached out and...

What the hell was the matter with him!? Starbuck held his breath and 
took a wary glance around to make sure no one had noticed his... 
weirdness.

No. No one seemed to have. Everyone in the car were seemingly totally 
carefree and enjoying the casual chattering. Slowly, Starbuck let 
himself relax on the seat and his gaze wondered back to 
the explosion of autumn colours. A couple of more miles to the mansion. 
A couple of more miles to a possibly even a leisurely night out with a 
couple of guys perhaps not so bad after all, in a nice, posh house in 
the country.

Yeah, a lonely old college student could do worse.

But no squid for dinner, Starbuck hoped to gods.

And definitely no wine!

Apollo's hand was still only centimetrons away. Starbuck was very aware 
of it even though he was looking in a completely different direction. 
God, he wanted to kick himself for feeling so strange. For wanting to 
act so strangely... For wanting to... touch...

Starbuck didn't notice the glance Jean Michel gave to Cecil. He didn't 
know about the small, hastily-scribbled note that was secretly passed 
from one of the men to another. He didn't see Satyr's lips forming 
silent words to the two men in the front nor did he notice the 
unnoticeable little nod that Denis gave the others.

Starbuck kept looking out of the window.

* * *

Chapter 9

Yeah, it was big alright. And definitely the same house he had been 
taken to last night. Starbuck was sure of it.

A movie-star home. Or a place for a rich and corrupted Gemini 
aristocrat to stroll from one of the endless amount of rooms to 
another, wearing a silk rope and holding a glass of damn fine wine, 
looking bloody bored.

The house had been almost unseen from the road because of the dense 
trees that surrounded the premises. It hadn't been until the car had 
actually turned to drive through the enormous iron gates that Starbuck 
had really noticed that they were there. At the Denier mansion.

The huge garden in front of the house looked really well taken care of. 
Starbuck was sure there were servants living somewhere on the premises, 
but now looking at the place, there were no signs any living soul 
anywhere. The huge place looked totally deserted.

And kinda spooky...

Great. And how old were you again buddy, Starbuck frowned to himself. 
Five?...

The sun was a dying orange blob, barely above the lowest tree-tops now. 
The shadows were thin and long, and reaching towards the house. 
Starbuck tried not to think how long it would take until complete 
darkness fell.

* * *

"Coming?"

Starbuck awoke from his thoughts and noticed that Jean Michel had 
stopped to wait for him. The others were almost at the front door and 
that Satyr guy had his arm around Apollo. That was something Starbuck 
didn't want to see.

He picked up his pace to catch up with the weirdly grinning Denier.

Somewhere far away, up the hills, a solitary bird was still singing 
bravely to protect its nest from the creatures roaming the forest. The 
others must had already retired to their hideaways from the soon-to-
fall freezing, black night.

* * *

The brown hall was huge with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and 
enormous 1700-century mirrors on the walls. There were five large 
Persian carpets spread on the floor and the furniture was all brown 
antique matching with the mirrors.

All this sure made Starbuck wonder how in the frack had the Denier 
family succeeded in rescuing all that stuff from the colonial 
distruction and to have been able to get it on board of one of the 
ships without having been forced to pay hellish taxes...

Well, of course... Starbuck smiled to himself sarcastically when 
realizing it. Bribery!!

How could he have forgotten about the corrupt nature of most of the 
ship owners, sires and captains. There had probably been more sire Uris 
and Karibdises in the fleet than monkeys on the livestock ship.

"Great looking little place," Starbuck turned to Denier. "I bet the 
cylons would've given their metal arses to have gotten their greedy 
hands on these things. I wonder how your family was able to get all 
this stuff off the planet..."

Jean Michel broke off his quiet exchange of words with Denis and turned 
to charm Starbuck with one of his most beaming smiles. Hell, the guy 
was shining like the sun. And managed to be looking so damn innocent. 
Starbuck almost hated him for having everything.

"My family has many contacts Starbuck," Jean Michel replied casually, 
not even trying to cover up what Starbuck had already realized about 
the bribery stuff. "Would you like a glass of wine? I think we have..."

"Err, no thanks," Starbuck cleared his throat. "I don't think I can 
handle another morning like the last one..."

"Juice then? Or mineral water?" Jean Michel raised one eyebrow.

"Okay," Starbuck gave the guy a reluctant grin. "Juice'll be fine. As 
long as you're having some with me."

"Great!" Jean Michel beamed, then vanished from the hall to get the 
drinks.

Cecil was chatting casually with Denis and Satyr a little further away 
from Starbuck. An old grandfather's clock started chiming in one of the 
nearby rooms. It sure was weird being in an old, big place like this.

Quiet croak of an occasional Serminus Oppolotus carried from the 
outside garden every now and then, revealing that the nightfall was 
just around the corner. Starbuck couldn't stop thinking about the 
darkness.

And all this time Apollo seemed totally unaware of Starbuck's glances. 
Leaning on a window sill with his elbows, gazing obliviously out into 
the garden painted secretive by the autumn evening sun. Cold light.

Starbuck wanted to walk over to Apollo.

He didn't.

Jean Michel returned with two glasses of purpleberry juice and handed 
one to Starbuck, who knocked the drink back with one swallow. He just 
couldn't take his eyes off Apollo's back.

* * *

A centar later life was great.

No, not hazy great, or weird great, or pink great like it had been 
during dinner last night. Just normal great. You know... Nice.

Five glasses of purpleberry juice and a decent-sized slice of tasty 
roasted chicken breast. What else would a healthy Starbuck want from a 
Friday evening in a small northern town in the middle of nowhere.

If only that godawful Jean Michel Denier would stop doing that!! 
Eyeballing Starbuck like he was a fleshy package roast beef. Maybe 
Starbuck should have more juice since it seemed to affected him in such 
a pleasurable way. Yeah, what the heck. Starbuck offered his glass to 
be refilled by the blond guy Cecil and winked to say 'thanks'.

The sun had almost set and garden behind the huge dining room windows 
was swimming in enigmatic purple. The wavy-haired guy, Denis was 
telling some supposed-to-be true horror story about the unlit country 
roads that led from the highways into the forest and how an occasional, 
naļve and innocent hitch-hiker from out of town, got himself mutilated 
every now and then by a group of deranged college kids, stalking the 
forest even today...

Yeah right.

Funny though how Denis' idiotic story made the others grin like it had 
been funny or something.
The Satyr guy even saluted with his wine glass.

Starbuck was very damn aware of how his eyes kept turning to Apollo 
much too often, lingering on the guy for much too long a time per 
glance than possibly healthy, and there was no fracking thing Starbuck 
could do to control it.

What the hell was the matter with him?!

Thank god Apollo hadn't seemed to notice.

But the Satyr guy had...

Satyr, that gigolo, put his arm around Apollo's shoulders and leant 
closer to say something obviously so bloody funny into the man's ear, 
all that time those green, piercing eyes on Starbuck. Unpleasant eyes.

Apollo smiled a little, his eyes too sweeping over Starbuck, although 
not very noticeably. What the hell were those two men talking about.

"Would you like to have a tour of the house Starbuck?" Jean Michel's 
hand was squirming its way onto Starbuck's back, giving him goose 
pumps. The Denier guy's grinning face only centimetrons away.

"Yeah, ummm... why not," Starbuck smiled ill-at-ease, wanting to shove 
Jeanie's hand the frack off, but anything would be better than to keep 
witnessing that Satyr fella making passes on Apollo all the time, 
obviously just to make Starbuck jealous.

Yeah right. Like he'd succeed or something...

"Great," Jean Michel wiped the corners of his mouth with a white 
napkin, placed it on the table beside his plate and stood up, giving 
his hand to Starbuck. "We can start upstairs. You can't believe the 
amount of bedrooms we have in this house..."

"Ummm, probably not," Starbuck didn't take the hand. "You better not 
get any ideas Denier..."

"What are you talking about?" Jean Michel smiled ever so innocently, 
taking Starbuck by the arm and leading him toward the doorway. Apollo's 
eyes were unreadable as they followed them out of the dining room.

* * *

"...And this is the master bedroom," Jean Michel gestured with a spread 
of his arms, leading Starbuck through a doorway into a huge room with a 
million enormous night-themed paintings on the walls. "This is where my 
parents used to sleep when we were still living in this house..."

"It's... nice," Starbuck gave a polite smile, all the time expecting 
Jean Michel to jump on him. "A lot of space..."

Jean Michel grinned. "The bed's a genuine design of Laurent de Garnier. 
You don't find many of those nowadays."

"I'm sure..."

"And the mirror on the ceiling... Don't you just love it how it really 
compliments the atmosphere in this room..."

"mmmm..." Starbuck realized to his horror that Jean Michel's hand was 
back on his back, slowly caressing it, though very unnoticeably.

"Why don't we sit down for a centon or two." Jean Michel was smiling 
like a fox. "You wanna hear the story about how we built this house..."

"Not really..."

"You couldn't believe what trouble we went through with the 
construction company," Jean Michel's hand was now on its way upwards, 
towards the back of Starbuck's neck. "They wanted to make this a simple 
Caprican Chateau Grandiose, but father had his visions about a 
completely new, modern 13th colonialist style..."

"You know Jean Michel," Starbuck coughed, somehow managing to still 
continue smiling. "I wouldn't mind having another glass of that 
delicious purpleberry juice..."

"Great juice isn't it," Jean Michel was caressing the hair on 
Starbuck's neck. "Really fine vintage. Can't you just smell the 
vineyards bathing in the sun, the berries ripening and preparing 
themselves just for you..."

"uh..."

"...growing, getting bigger and fatter, juicier...

"Shouldn't we be getting back to the others, Jean..."

"... growing until you just can't resist the pleasures you know those 
berries are going to give you... And you just feel how much those 
berries want to fill you with their honey-like ambrosa..."

"Umm. Jean..." Starbuck cleared his throat, trying frantically to slip 
away from the reach of other man whose lips were now only centimetrons 
away. "I'm your kick you if you don't stop that..."

"Stop what?" Jean Michel's face lingered even closer.

"That!" Starbuck swallowed, preparing to strike.

"...I'm so glad you came with us tonight Starbuck... There's something 
I've been wanting to tell you since the moment I met you..."

"Really..." Starbuck glared at the huge face right in front of him, now 
preparing to run for his life. Denier's breath smelled vaguely of 
xylitol chewing gum...

"There you are!! ..." A pretentious, cheerful voice surprised both of 
them.

Starbuck and Jean Michel turned to find Apollo standing in the doorway, 
smiling somehow frozenly. "We were getting worried! The others are 
already getting ready to leave. You wouldn't want to miss out a chance 
to get aquatinted with the local disco would you Starbuck..."

Apollo gave Jean Michel a really drilling, angry glance. Starbuck 
noticed that. It puzzled the fracks out of him.

"No. No, you're right. Of course I wouldn't," Starbuck grinned, 
overjoyed and totally stunned to realize that Apollo had intently 
followed them upstairs, wanting to interrupt them. His little heart 
took a leap in a really weird way that frightened the fracks out of 
him.

Not being able to look at Apollo in the face when passing him in the 
doorway, Starbuck vaguely mumbled something about getting his jacket 
and he'd be ready to go...

With jittery legs, Starbuck rushed down the stairs.

Apollo had followed them...
Had Apollo been jealous?...
Had Apollo been...

A mad, uncontrollable grin spread on Starbuck's face...

* * *

"You goddamn idiot!" Apollo turned toward Jean Michel who was still 
eyeing in the direction Starbuck had trotted. "We didn't bring him here 
for you to play with..."

"No," Jean Michel grinned. "We brought him here for all of us to play 
with. Isn't that so darling..."

Apollo was too angry, and too hurt to reply. God, he just couldn't 
stand the idea of Starbuck and Jean Michel together...

"Why do you want to get emotionally attached to this man when you very 
well know what's gonna happen to him..."

"Hey, who said anything about emotional attachments," Jean Michel's 
grin turned even wider. "I just like the guy. I think he's cute, not to 
mention sexy as frack. I'm very aware that no serious relationship is 
being built here..."

"Go ahead, be sarcastic." Apollo wasn't smiling at all. "But..."

"Why are you so mad about this?..." Jean Michel's grin faded a little, 
and his eyes narrowed.

"I... "Apollo turned his eyes away. He couldn't bare to let those eyes 
read him the way they were. "I just don't want you to turn against us 
when the time comes just because you've gotten too involved in the 
matter personally. That's all..."

Jean Michel let out a sincere belly laugh. "Come on Apollo. Are you 
kidding me?! You know me a heck of a lot better than that."

"I'm just..."

"Admit it Apollo," Jean Michel studied Apollo's face, suddenly amused. 
"You have a crush on that Starbuck fella, don't you... My god, it 
should be me who should be worried about you..."

"But..." Apollo stared at Jean, startled. "You're wrong. I'm not..."

"No need to deny it darling," Jean Michel smirked, putting his hand on 
Apollo's shoulder. "It's me! Jeanie! Your dear friend and trusted 
partner-in-crime. Remember me?"
"Jean, I'm not..."

"Are you guys coming or not!?"

Startled, both Apollo and Jean Michel turned to find Cecil leaning 
against the door frame, watching the two other men somehow closely.

"Am I interrupting something?"

No," Apollo smiled, half relieved, half self consciously. "We were just 
about to be on our way."

"Sure you were," Cecil's smile was not as genuine as he displayed it, 
causing Jean Michel's gaze to linger on Cecil for a little too long as 
if he had noticed.

"Well let's go then," Cecil eyed the two men. "Denis has already called 
the taxi. It should take another five or ten centons for it to get here 
from town..."

"Okay," Apollo gave Cecil a warm grin, then started toward the 
stairway. Cecil's hand stopped him.

"Apollo..." the man started in a low tone, then paused realizing that 
someone was watching them.

Satyr had appeared onto the top of the stairs and was observing Cecil 
and Apollo with narrowed eyes. Cecil let Apollo go.

"The taxi's here," Satyr said.

* * *

A sniff of dextix, two and a half milligrams of betaine G, two pills of 
ecstasy, a little cocaine and amphetamine, five glasses of white wine 
and two pipefuls of pot later Boomer was ready to go clubbing.

The hotel disco had opened half a centar ago, and since there was no 
more point in hanging in the room now that Boomer had ran out of booze 
and soft drugs, tottering his way downstairs to join the others seemed 
like the perfect decision.

But were the others already there? Boomer remembered vaguely that Mikey 
had called a centar or so ago and mentioned something about dropping by 
the pub in the lobby and going to the disco from there, but Boomer had 
been so out of it after the first shot of betaine G that... Yeah. He'd 
better check it out.

Whistling to himself a merry melody and eyeing his party-clothed figure 
in the mirror extremely pleased, Boomer dialed the number to Mikey's 
room. He let the communicator ring for ages on end.

No answer.

Brilliant.

Still whistling, Boomer walked to the mirror, straightened his collar, 
ran his fingers through his hair and blew himself a kiss. Mwah!

"What a hunk!" Boomer grinned and winked to the unbelievably good-
looking guy in the mirror, then grabbed his room keys from a small 
glass table and started his way to the door.

Damn, he almost forgot the white anemone that had been delivered to him 
a while ago.

Skid. U-turn. Back to the mirror.

Humming to himself, Boomer picked up the envelope, dug out the small 
flower that was inside and attached it to the chest of his tight 
fashionable shirt with a pin that had come with the flower.

One more overly glance in the mirror.

Sexy as hell!

Grinning self-confidently, Boomer turned and re-headed to the door. He 
didn't bother to turn off the lights in the room as he stepped out into 
the corridor.

* * *

Japher entered the brightly-lit, fancy hotel lobby and took off his 
baseball cap.

He saw people loitering here and there, most of them elegantly dressed 
for a night out, a few in apparent exchange of a couple of polite words 
with acquaintances before moving on to perhaps to have dinner or go 
dancing or...

Obvious newly arrived hotel guests were struggling with their 
suitcases, quarreling by the elevators, tired from the journey. Hotel 
staff were hurrying their way back and forth, everyone in perfect-
fitting purple uniforms with gold buttons. Vague music was carrying 
from somewhere. Probably the Walrus and the Cylon, the pub near the 
reception desk.

A huge disco sign was flashing red, orange and gold, the decorations of 
the gambling arcade next to it completing the continuous explosion of 
colours.

Sinful places those, Japher disapproved. Wife was a wise woman to have 
warned Japher of places like that where there was no fearing of God. If 
it hadn't been for his determined rye-trading partners who had insisted 
that it would make a better impression on the buyer, a more...like... 
professional impression, to hold the business meeting in a place 
more...like... multicultural, Japher wouldn't have gone near these 
places.

If he had had a choice, he would've chosen to invite the client to his 
home and let Sheba prepare her best macaroni and pepperoni salad. And 
afterwards they could've gone to the church...

Japher's eyes studied the lobby.

He couldn't spot any one of his partners yet but that wasn't so 
surprising. After all, he was half a centar too early since the car had 
unexpectedly not given him any trouble this time, and he hadn't run 
into a cattle outing like he normally did on the highway 85...

Oh well, this gave him time to exploit the free newspapers of the hotel 
and plough through for example the 'Agricultural Dispatch & Courier' 
that was too expensive to subscribe home.

Japher started toward the perfectly arranged set of white leather 
couches and small elegant glass tables. Half way there someone placed a 
hand on his shoulder from behind...

"Pie-Face Weaver!" Japher turned with a grin, immediately recognizing 
the widely smiling blobby, red-faced fellow in a green and gray, worn 
flannel shirt. "Back from the big city then. Warm Place was it this 
time, huh?"

"Come here Japher," Pie Face pulled his buddy into an amiable, warm 
embrace. 

"Glad to see you my friend. Any of the others here yet?"

"Nope. I think we're the first," Japher patted the stubbier man's back 
buddily. "So, how was west coast, you damn man of the world..."

"As I've always said: it's nice to see places, but it's even nicer to 
come back home," Pie-Face let go of Japher, still patting his shoulders 
though. "And how's your lovely wife Japh?..."

"Sheba and the twins are just fine Pie," Japher beamed. "Just fine. 
We're expecting the kids to pop out somewhere around Kobolmas time..."

"You lucky daggit," Pie Face shone like a nova of Madagon. "Two baby 
Kobols on the menu then... You've thought about the names yet?"

"Well... it they're girls I know Sheba'd go for Poochie and Prissy, or 
Molly and Pippa..."

"What about you Japh?"

"I've always wanted to name one of my daughters after my mother," 
Japher smiled nostalgically. "She was such a strong, respectable woman 
of God..."

"What was her name?"

"Zooty."

"A real fancy name Japh..."

"Yeah, it is isn't it..."

"I've always like the name Buster."

"That's a boy's name Pie."

"So? The babies might turn out to be boys!"

"I though we were talking about girls."

"Every possibility has to be taken into consideration Japh. You cannot 
be ignorant when it comes to raising a family."

"Err... Soooo, how did things go on the west coast Pie? Everything 
taken care of... you know, concerning..."

"Yep. There's nothing more to worry about concerning this deal Japh. 
It's all in order now."

"I'm relieved to hear than Pie. Relieved to hear that." Japher was 
relieved to hear it. "How are we going to recognize the buyer?"

"That too is under control Japh," Pie-Face put his arm around Japher's 
shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Now let's go and get something to 
drink. I'm parched after having had to sit in a stuffy airline shuttle 
for four centars."

"You didn't drop by the farm before you came here?" Japher was 
surprised.

"Of course I did Japh," Pie frowned. "But you know Sarah. Never keeps 
any good stuff to drink in the house."

* * *

"A letter for you sir," a red-haired piccolo knocked on the door 449 
for what must had been the third time. He shifted from one foot to the 
other. Why was this taking so damn long.

"Yeah yeah," Koenig was struggling with his tie, got pissed off with 
it, tossed it away and stumbled to the door to open it to the little 
red-haired, freckle-faced lad in a purple uniform, holding a large, 
white envelope.

"A delivery for you sir," the piccolo smiled politely and held out his 
hand to receive a well-deserved pile of cubits for having to had to 
stand behind the door waiting for such a long time.

"Thanks kid," Koenig grabbed the letter and started to close the door. 
A loud and rather annoyed hrmhrmh made him halt.

"What?"

The lad was still holding out his hand. "The tip sir..."

Damn. Koenig realized he didn't have any local cash. He eyed the kid, 
thinking hard, then dug into his pocket and drew out a crumbled tofu 
chocolate bar and handed it over.

"There you go lad," Koenig beamed. "Don't eat it all at once."

The door slammed at the angry-as-hell piccolo's face.

Damn those rich hotel guests, the kid growled. Always thinking they're 
the owners of the universe... One day he'd show them all...

* * *

"Hey man," Mitchi noticed Boomer first. "We were just thinking that you 
might had passed out or something since you've taken so long..."

"I couldn't be in a better condition," Boomer stated, staggering over 
to his pals at the bar of the Walrus and the Cylon. "Top of the world, 
man! This betaine G stuff sure is some great felgercarb..."

"Is that the identification thing then?" Sascha noticed the white 
anemone attached to Boomer's shirt collar. "A little corny if you ask 
me. I would've gone for something a bit more modern than a flower, 
man."

"I kinda like it man," Francis Lindo eyed his own, stuck to the chest 
of his hippy shirt. "You know... Flower power..."

"Why is it that only you two got those flowers delivered?" Mikey was 
pouting because there was definitely some discrimination stuff going 
on. "Why didn't we all get 'em?..."

"What would've been the point," Jolly frowned. His eyes lingered to 
Squirrel who was leaning against the bar with a big glass of beer in 
his hand. "I gather the client's going to be wearing a thing like this 
too then eh?..."

"Don't know man," Squirrel replied with honesty. "All Otter said that 
one or two of us have to be wearing the given sign because another 
message with more details in it will be delivered to us later."

"You mean the flower is for the fracking delivery boy to be able to 
recognize us?" Sascha couldn't believe this felgercarb.  "That's stupid 
man. Why the hell does Otter want to make things so difficult?..."

"I've told you guys this ain't an ordinary gig..."

"When has any gig we've done been ordinary, man..." Sascha grunted. 
"What is this client? Some paranoid politician?..."

"It's not the client who wants this. It's Otter. He hasn't told me why, 
but this time there are reasons for extra precautions. And this time 
Otter himself will be here at the hotel to make sure everything'll go 
smoothly."

"So we'll meet him then?..."

"I honestly don't know Mike."

"Man..." Mikey frowned, "that Otter's starting to sound like a goddamn 
peeping 
tom..."

"Watch your words buddy," Squirrel gave bleach a glance of warning. 
"That 
peeping tom's providing for you carefree lifestyle..."

"Great..."

"Any news about the DEA and the drug investigation by the way?" 
Boomer's attention turned from Mikey to Squirrel. "or the body?"

"Nothing." Squirrel had checked the IFB news broadcasting in his room 
just before leaving for the pub. "But I think it'll all be all right. 
We'll be out of Saskachoona before anyone even notices."

"We'd damn well better be." Mitchi eyed the others. "Cos' when the news 
of a new disappearance comes out they're gonna shut down all 
shuttleports and highways and..."

"Don't worry man. We will..."

"All right guys," Francis Lindo was getting bored standing by the bar, 
eyeing a bunch of farmers in ugly flannel shirts, sipping beer. "How 
about finally making a transfer from this pub to the disco..."

"Yeah man," Mikey was all for it. "Let's do it man. I wanna dance my 
butt off tonight..."

"Me too, man." Boomer grinned. "But don't forget to keep your eyes open 
guys. We have a business transaction to take care of..."

"Yeah, keep your eyes open for the possible appearance of more of those 
white anemones," Sascha augmented. "And the next letter. Our next 
income depends on those pretty little things..."

Laughter surrounded the seven men as they finished up their beers and 
left the pub.

Bored-looking farmers in flannel shirts and worn-out slacks continued 
to stare at the pub IFB receiver with blank eyes, trying to pass the 
time thinking of nothing. Soft country music was drifting from the 
jukebox...

For a passing moment, the bartender-on-duty pondered about the thin, 
damn good-looking but stoned-as-hell young man sitting alone in the 
corner, wearing a blue anemone attached to his jacket collar. The guy 
sure looked like an out-of-towner. Probably from New Bork or somewhere. 
Nobody wore that kind of gear here in Sassy. Too fashionable.

Oh what the heck, the bartender shrugged the thoughts away and returned 
to arranging the clean glasses on the tray...

* * *

"What is it?" Helena had decided she didn't want to talk to Koenig but 
the white envelope that had just been delivered tested her curiosity. 
Koenig was turning it over and over, eyeing the surface, trying to find 
clues of the sender.

"Well??" Helena couldn't stand Koenig's idiotic studying process. "Open 
it damn it!"

Ignoring the witch with blond hair, Koenig ripped the envelope open 
neatly and peeked inside.
Then he looked up and his surprised eyes met Helena's

"Well??" Helena was getting damn impatient now. What the frack had she 
ever seen in a man like John Koenig. "What is it??"

"It's a flower," Koenig said stunned, definitely having not expected 
this. "A yellow anemone. And a piece of paper that says..."

"So, this is the highly original way that you and the local traders had 
planned to recognize each other, is it..." Helena snarled.

"I don't know," Koenig stared at the flower, furrowing his brows. "I 
mean, We didn't have any particular sign agreed on. All I was told that 
when we'd check in into this hotel, I would be receiving more 
information on how to proceed to the next level... So I guess this is 
it then. The representatives of the traders want us to wear the 
anemones, as I'm sure they will be 
wearing them also. Simple, I say..."

"And corny as hell," Helena snorted. "Well it doesn't matter to me what 
kind of gear you'll be carrying around on your shirt since I've decided 
not to leave the room tonight anyway..."

"Helena, we need you in the transaction...You..."

"Let Tony handle it." Helena zipped. "After all, he is the security 
chief. I think he'll be quite capable..."

"But Helena! You are the official doctor of Alpha. We need you there to 
examine that the merchandise is in order..."

"You're not going to exchange anything in the disco John." God that man 
could be an idiot sometimes. "It's just the first contact to organize 
the next move. To have a little chat with some other guys who wear 
yellow anemones..."

"Yeah, I guess..."

"Am I the only one who thinks that is totally ridiculous?"

"Helena," Koenig sighed with impatience at the woman's ignorance. 
"We'll have to go with the local ways, even if they seem rather strange 
to us."

"I'm really starting to think what we're buying here is something 
illegal..."

"It very well might be," Koenig agreed. "We don't know how it is on 
this planet. Even appearing naked in public could be considered 
unacceptable..."

"It's unacceptable on Earth too John."

"I better contact the others and inform them about the latest 
developments." Koenig attached the anemone to the collar of his uniform 
jacket. "Are you sure you are not coming with us Helena?"

Her cold smile was enough a reply.

Koenig raised one eyebrow, shrugged, then threw the now empty envelope 
into the litter bin and walked to the com-unit beside the bed to make 
contact with his Alphan crew.

* * *

"No Tigh." Rigel pulled the blanket a little more up and stretched 
hedonistically. "And don't even think of trying to make me leave this 
bed or you're gonna regret it for the rest of your life..."

"But... for heaven's sake. The mission..."

"Don't talk to me about the mission Tigh. Nothing's more important than 
getting some sleep. Besides, you're not going to go ahead with the 
Denier kidnapping in a crowded disco anyway for Kobol's sake. All 
you'll be there for is to find out what the guy looks like, keep an eye 
on him and follow his movements so we'll know where he'll be, and where 
to struck later, at 
night, when it's all safe and mysterious and covered by secrecy..."

"You should stop reading those Jackie Collins novels Rige..."

"Sidney Sheldon actually."

"Whatever... Jeeez..."

"...Shut up Tigh and listen," Rigel hushed. "And then, when it's 
actually time to strike, you can give me a call or come pick me up from 
the room and I'll be there to put a gag on the kid, I promise! All I 
want is to get a little more sleep while you guys destroy your hearing 
in the discotheque..."

"You are so completely unsuitable for anything meaningful and important 
Rigel," Tigh snorted. "I should never had let you join the communists! 
A woman should stay at home and..."

"Yeah, yeah... whatever," Rigel gave a yawn. "Now why don't you leave 
and give me some peace and quiet."

"Nghnghgnh..." Annoyed as frack, Tigh grabbed the room keys from a 
small table and headed to the door.

Women!

He should never have gotten sealed to one!

Merely to piss Rigel off, Tigh banged the door shut louder than 
normally, then headed his way down the hallway towards the elevators 
with a determined stride. This time he'd truly bring down the 
government!

...And a yahren from now, Rigel would damn well be a decent housewife 
and mother. Tigh wasn't going to take any more of this women's 
liberation bullshit!

No freaking way...

* * *

Chapter 10

The night club was divided to three sections: The disco, the club (that 
wouldn't be opened until 23.00 centars), and the turboflushrooms.

The disco was just the kind of tasteless, Saturday-Night-Fever kind of 
sea of lights that had reigned the kingdom of partying in the late 
seventies on Earth. Matthias couldn't have hoped a better environment 
for his Shaft/Travolta -impersonation with his half-unbuttoned, tight 
and shiny shirt which disgustingly generously revealed a bush of chest 
hair, accompanied by a thick gold chain hanging from the neck. Those 
flared trousers that were frighteningly tight around the buns area were 
the first to start stamping the light-glittering dance floor as the 
first beats of Earth, Wind & Fire's Boogie Wonderland kicked in.

Maya was leaning her back against the bar, sucking her red and purple 
drink with a straw, eyeing Matthias. The guy sure could dance. Yes, 
sir!

As soon as Maya would finish this 'Sunset Strip' or whatever other 
idiotic thing this drink was called, she would join him. And she knew 
very well that every male individual in the disco would start gaping at 
her, drooling over her, amazed and even frightened of her Psychon 
beauty, and Maya would love every second of it.

What a good thing Tony was up in their room, preparing himself for the 
next big move by pacing back and forth in the room, worried as hell how 
Koenig's encounter with the traders would go, waiting for the next call 
from the commander.

Koenig had been quite unpleased to have heard that Tony had refused to 
join them in the disco because he hadn't wanted to harm his hearing, 
but Koenig had kept his grumbles considerably unheard. Maya on the 
other hand, had been shocked to have learnt that Helena of all people 
had chosen not to take part in something this meaningful.

For as long as Maya had been aboard the Alpha, she remembered having 
witnessed Helena as the first person to always be craving for 
attention, always shoving her nose into felgercarb (a new cool word she 
had learnt having watched the so-called IFB receiver) and always, 
always wanting to come out of everything as the heroine! What an indeed 
weird thing a woman like that hadn't wanted to be a part of 
encountering a completely new race of human beings!

Maya noticed Alan Carter slouching alone in one of the plushy chairs 
away from the bar or the dance floor, sipping his green drink and 
smoking a cigarette, he too eyeing Matthias. Maya raised one of her 
extraordinary eyebrows. She had never seen Alan smoke before. Boy, this 
planet was sure bringing out the most unexpected in everyone.

Morrow was further away by the bar with Koenig, who was looking at 
unease and more like an old grumpy goat than a hero commander of a 
moonbase. Sandra wasn't anywhere to be seen and Maya wondered about 
that...

Maya noticed how Koenig moved a little further away from Morrow, and 
how the mustached man slid immediately after him like a snake, even 
putting his hand on the commander's shoulder and toasting with his 
drink. So that's why Sandra wasn't here! Maya smirked.

More people were coming in.
Maya's attention turned from Koenig and Morrow to a group of men, all 
looking like they'd had a hell of a lot more to drink than just the two 
obligatory glasses of wine over a friendly get-together. Maya realized 
she kind of liked that slacky appearance. She hadn't run into many 
people like that in the moonbase. Following Boomer's posse of surfers 
with her gaze, Maya ducked down the rest of the drink, banged the glass 
back on the bar and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was 
ready to start the boogie-ing...

* * *

"Boy, she gorgeous," Morrow pointed out as he and Koenig were eyeing 
the beautiful Psychon woman making her way into the thunderstorm of 
lights and joining the ever-groovy Matthias on the dance floor. "Tony's 
a heck of a lucky fella..."

"mmmm"

"I wouldn't mind having a piece of that cake, man. Just to have a taste 
you know..."

"Where's Sandra?"

"Oh, she's resting in her room," Morrow replied truthfully. "Tough 
day..."

"mmmm"

"You still mad at me about what happened earlier John?" Morrow gave the 
commander one of his most charming smiles. "You know I'm very sorry if 
I offended you in any way..."

"mmmm"

"Would you like to dance with me?..."

Koenig gave the slyly smirking Morrow a glance, a short but spicy 
glare. Then looked away since keeping one's calm in any tricky 
situation was the most important feature in the commanding line of 
business.

"...Just a little dance John," Morrow purred. "Just to show you that I 
didn't mean anything bad or negative..."

Koenig felt a hand on his butt, first patting a little, then squeezing 
one of his buns.

Screaming like a hyena, Koenig slapped Morrow on the cheek, deeply 
offended, then stormed away leaving the amusedly grinning Paul alone by 
the bar, already planning his next strike.

* * *

"My god!" Koenig panted to Alan Carter as he sat down on one of the 
plushy chairs next to him. "I never..."

"Hi ya mate," Carter toasted with his drink. "You look damn handsome 
with that flower on your shirt..."

"You're drunk Alan," Koenig eyed the Australian disapprovingly, drool 
almost hanging out of his mouth, wanting to grab the man's thick, juicy 
control stick and...

"What?" Alan eyed Koenig with arched eyebrows. "You say something?..."

"You shouldn't drink when we're on a mission Alan!" ...slowly, he would 
bring Alan's dick onto his awaiting lips and let it sink deeper and 
deeper...

"I've only had a couple, mate," Alan grinned. "I'm still completely 
functional..."

...sucking and licking, then taking it out of his mouth to devour it 
with his eyes...

"You're looking kinda funny John..."

"What?" ...running his hands on Alan's hairy chest, squeezing the 
nipples, Alan breathing harder..."

"John?" Carter's left eyebrow rose even more.

"mmmmmnnyes..."

"Hey, isn't that Edward Furlong," Alan turned his attention from Koenig 
to point at a skinny lad in his twenty-three's, leaning against the 
bar, looking so completely out of it.

"Where?" Koenig murmured, sucking Alan's nipples and at the same time 
rubbing the swollen, big, fat...

"HELLOOOO!"

"Huh??" Koenig eyes widened into two startled moons as he found himself 
the target Carter's impatient stare. "Ummm...What?? What did I do???"

"Edward Furlong."

"What??"

"By the bar," Alan nodded towards the lad, to point him out to Koenig. 
"Look!"

Damn. Koenig consented to turn in his chair to take a look at what Alan 
was freaking out about, although he wouldn't have cared less even if it 
had been biggest dick in the Guinness book of records. Junior was 
disturbingly alive and well and just as unnoticeable in Koenig's tight 
polyester pants as a huge sign on Hollywood Boulevard. Koenig held his 
breath, frightened to death and damn sure that Alan had noticed it.

"See him?" Alan urged.

"You see it??" Koenig panicked, thinking about Junior.

"Goddamn it John!" Alan frowned.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I see a kid drunk as an elephant who looks like Edward 
Furlong..." Koenig somehow managed to not let out a sigh of relief. "It 
doesn't mean that..."

"It is the Furlong lad!" Carter's heart raced. "I'm sure of it. That's 
him!"

"Wrong planet Alan," Koenig frowned. "We are not on Earth."

"But that's just it John!" Alan's eyes were shining with excitement. 
"Remember all those headlines in tabloids: 'Terminator 2 actor 
disappears in murky circumstances after vomiting by the bar in a hip 
New York night club', 'Aliens kidnap child star of T2', 'Edward 
Furlong, star of American History X seen vanishing amongst strange 
lights in the sky', 'Hollywood teen star, Edward Furlong reported to 
have defected to Russia', 'Michael Douglas confesses: My mother is an 
alien felon from Uranus...'

"Give me a break Alan!"

"But what if those things aren't just sensation-hungry headlines of 
trash magazines. What if there really has been an alien craft into 
which the Furlong guy had hitch-hiked or something. Don't forget all 
those UFO sightings everyone always talked about on Earth..."

"Nobody believes in those Alan..."

"...Yeah, and what have we learnt after breakaway. That there are a 
hell of a lot more creatures roaming the universe that we could have 
possibly imagined..."

"Hold on a minute Alan," John wasn't quite following. "The 
disappearance of the Furlong kid happened way after we had bounced away 
from the Earth orbit. How could you possibly."

"I read the intergalactic newspapers John. And so do you..."

"Okay," Koenig consented. "But if I remember correctly, wasn't the 
Furlong lad kidnapped by some crazy girl from Finland..."

"That turned out to be just a stupid false rumour John," Carter 
snorted. "It was Keanu Reeves she kidnapped. And only because she got 
tired of waiting for her real target, Crispian Mills outside London's 
Alexandra Palace..."

"My god..."

"Yeah, the girl truly is crazy!"

"No, I meant, you really think that could be Edward Furlong?"

Both Koenig and Carter studied the wasted-looking young man ordering 
another drink, taking a sip and then suddenly throwing up, all over the 
bar.

"Yep. That's Edward Furlong all right." Carter nodded. "I'm gonna go 
over and ask for an autograph."

"Hey Alan..."

"Yeah?" Carter's head turned.

"You think there could be more of those unexplainably vanished 
earthlings on this planet?"

"I think there's a good chance that it's possible. Why?"

"Then, you think Richey Manic could be here somewhere too?"

"Might be," Carter shrugged. "One never knows."

"And Jim Morrison?"

"He died, John."

"That could've been a lie."

"I don't think so."

"But it could have. You know, no one's ever checked the body at Pére 
Lachaise...Alan? Hey?"

Carter wasn't listening any more. Mesmerized he was staring at a man 
who had just entered. A man with golden hair... Never before had Alan 
Carter laid eyes on anything so inviting...

* * *

Goddamn it. Starbuck couldn't keep his stare away from Apollo's and 
Satyr's joined hands and entwined fingers. He couldn't bare seeing how 
those two had been holding hands ever since they 
got out of the taxi and...

"Well, what do you think?" Jean Michel beamed, catching up with 
Starbuck. "Not bad for a small town disco or what?!"

"It's... nice," Starbuck smiled back politely, once again casting a 
glare at Apollo and Satyr. He could've sworn Apollo moved a little 
further away from the thin guy. Great, now his jealous mind was 
starting to play tricks on him. "It's better than I expected..."

"What did you expect then?" Jean Michel was grinning. "A barn with hay 
forks and tractors, a couple of cows and a small transistor radio 
playing the latest chart hits?"

Starbuck forced out a laugh. He noticed there were a couple of people 
already jamming on the dance floor. A man in a totally ridiculous 
outfit and a woman who couldn't even be described with the word 
beautiful. Boy she was breathtaking. Well, except for that make up and 
those weird eyebrows...

"Want to dance later?" Jean Michel's amused smirk was lingering what 
seemed only centimetrons from Starbuck's face. Starbuck noticed that 
Apollo cast a very hasty glance behind at Starbuck 
and Denier. Starbuck's heart skipped a beat.

Cecil was by the bar with Denis, chatting with the bartender who looked 
like one of Starbuck's former cadet trainees from the Galactica, not 
that it was one but...

"Want a drink Starbuck?"

"Sure. Why not," Starbuck smiled. Sagan that Jean Michel was annoying. 
Now his hand was on Starbuck's shoulder, his fingers playing with the 
hair on the back of his neck, his eyes like two narrow slits, blinking 
hungrily... "Yeah, why don't you go and get those drinks right now."

Apollo cast Starbuck and Denier another glance, a longer one, but oh so 
casual. Satyr was exchanging something apparently funny with Cecil and 
Denis who had returned from the bar with two bright-coloured tropical 
drinks. The DJ slapped Barry Manilow's 'Copacabana' on the decks and 
more people rushed to the dance floor.

"Why don't we go and take a seat somewhere," Cecil suggested. "A little 
further away from the loudspeakers so we can hear ourselves talk..."

"Sure," Satyr replied, his fingers playing with Apollo's hair. A young, 
rather good-looking guy who could only just remain on his feet reeled 
past giving them a glance. The bartender was giving instructions to 
some bearded bloke with a  bucket and a rag cloth who had been cleaning 
the bar area further away. The bearded bloke nodded, then vanished.

"You're gonna have a lot of fun tonight Starbuck," Jean Michel 
whispered into Starbuck's ear when he returned with the drinks. "We 
still have the whole night still ahead of us."

"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Starbuck mumbled, so quietly 
that Jean Michel didn't hear it.

Some guy Starbuck had never seen before was staring from a distance. 
The guy didn't look too bad but... Starbuck wasn't interested. And he 
needed to use the turboflush.

"Excuse me," Starbuck disengaged himself from Jean Michel's claws and 
started toward the flushrooms.

As he walked, he was afraid to give in to his impulse to turn and take 
a look back. What if Apollo wasn't looking at him...

Starbuck didn't want to take the risk to be disappointed.

* * *

The moment Boomer had seen Starbuck and Apollo stepping in through the 
disco entrance, he had bounced up from his chair and his eyes had 
desperately started searching for a hiding place.
This, he hadn't expected.

Starbuck had been such a gimmick and a boring pain-in-da-butt in Warm 
Place that Boomer hadn't given any thought that a guy like that would 
want to go partying anywhere else either. That's why he hadn't been one 
bit worried about running into him in the hotel or in any clubs or 
restaurants the town might provide for fun-seeking tourists.

Starbuck wasn't the same guy that had been reigning the ambrosa-fueled 
nights on the Rising Star. And neither was Apollo it seemed. That 
horrible old-fashioned gear, that parted hair... wanting to be molding 
in some college library rather than be chilling out with his pals in a 
happening club somewhere. Boomer knew he hadn't anything in common with 
those men any more.
And to be honest, he didn't really care.

Now standing by the urinal, thinking of a way to remain unseen by Bucky 
and Appy, Boomer reminisced about the old times, feeling surprisingly 
content and satisfied that he didn't have to be there any more. Who 
would've thought that all the felgercarb they had had to go through in 
the past, the destruction of the colonies, fleeing from the cylons and 
other monsters, searching for a place that probably didn't even exist, 
would turn into something so pleasurable and exciting as the life 
Boomer was leading now.

The door swung open and a man in a green and yellow flannel shirt and 
an immense cowboy's hat entered. Whistling, he parked next to Boomer, 
zipped open his trousers and pulled out a thing that wasn't all that 
small. Not that Boomer was interested. He just happened to glance at 
it.

Side by side they stood, urinating, the man still whistling casually, 
then Starbuck stepped in.

"Oh shit!"

Completely freaking out Boomer grabbed the flanel-shirted guy's cowboy 
hat and pulled it as deep onto his own head as he possibly could. He 
struggled to tilt the hat until it completely hid half of his face, 
then put his finger to his lips and signaled to the rather surprised 
and 
pissed-off-looking farmer to remain silent.

"You can keep it," the farmer growled. "I don't wanna take the risk 
that you might have lice..."

Starbuck walked to the urinal and parked next to Boomer so that Boomie 
was now sandwiched by his worst fear and the angrily puffing farmer. 
Boomer tilted the hat even more and tried to be invisible.

Starbuck eyed himself in the mirror, grimaced so he could take a look 
at his teeth, ran his fingers through his hair, then unzipped his pants 
and took his dick out.

The farmer finished his business, zipped up and left without washing 
his hands.

Starbuck's eyes wondered on the wallpapered walls of the 
turboflushroom, lingered to the condom vending machine, returned to the 
mirror, then strayed to take a casual peek of the crown jewels of the 
man next to him.

The thing looked surprisingly familiar.

Where had he seen it before...?

"Boomer!" Starbuck beamed, remembering the many nights they had had to 
stay in the standby dorms. "I'd recognize you anywhere!! What are you 
doing in Saskachoona you old daggit?..."

Boomer almost missed the urinal. "Uh... I speak-ah no Caprican..."

"Huh?" Starbuck tried to see his friend's hat-covered face. "Boomer 
what the heck are you playing at?"

"No Boomer here. Me Janus. Me... Oh bloody hell!" Boomer tore the thing 
off his head and tossed it away. "What are you doing here Starbuck?"

"What am I doing here!?"

"Just didn't think I'd run into you that's all..." Boomer squirted the 
last drops, shook his dick, then shoved it back into his pants and 
zipped up. 

(readers, do we really need this information?)

"Shouldn't you be reading books in a college library or something..."

"We are having a little get-together with friends," Starbuck lied, 
hoping to look casual doing it. "Apollo's here too you know..."

"Yeah, I kinda gathered that much."

"What are you doing here Boomer?!?" Starbuck wanted to hug his friend 
but somehow Boomer felt too dangerously explosive for that sort of 
thing at this very moment. "I'd never think..."

"We're here on holiday." Boomer growled.

"What All of you? You and your surfer friends?"

"That's right."

"On holiday??"

"Yep!"

"In Saskachoona!??"

"What's the matter Starbuck?" Boomer snarled. "Can't a person take a 
couple of days off from work without being interrogated!?"

"You don't work Boomer."

"Doesn't mean I don't need time off occasionally."

"But Saskachoona..."

"Why not?" Boomer shrugged. "Nice countryside, a lot of fresh air, 
hospitable people, friendly cows..."

"Uh huh?" Starbuck stared at this insane man who used to be an 
extremely rational, cynical friend of his.

"You planning on staying here all night," Boomer walked to the sink and 
turned on the faucet to wash his hands.

"In the turboflush??"

Boomer's dark glance was enough a reply.

"Oh. In the disco. Err... I don't know. Apollo's friends might have 
something planned..." An uncomfortable moment of silence.

The Village People megahit Y.M.C.A. was vaguely carrying from outside 
the restrooms. A group of people must had been chatting right outside 
the door since both Boomer and Starbuck could hear their chatter and 
giggling so well.

"So, ummm..." Starbuck tried to come up with a conversation...

"I'm outta here!" Boomer dried his hands, checked his appearance in the 
mirror, then started towards the door. "See you around Buck."

"Hey..." Helplessly Starbuck tried to think of something to say. Or 
rather, how to say the million things that were hurting his heart. 
"Boomer..."

"Yeah?" Boomer turned, his hand already on the doorknob.

Silence.

"Nothing," Starbuck swallowed. He just had to turn away from Boomer and 
start fixing his hair in front of the mirror with immense 
concentration.

Starbuck heard the door swinging open, the music getting louder for a 
fraction of a micron, then the door slamming back closed again...

* * *

"Hey man, you took a long time," Mitchi grinned as Boomer returned from 
his trip to the turboflush. "Meet anyone interesting??"

"What do you mean?" Boomer was suddenly damn suspicious. How did Mitchi 
know about Starbuck. Had someone been spying on him.

"Hey it wouldn't be the first time someone had sex with a hot stranger 
in a turboflush..." Mikey paused to take a closer look on Boomer's 
strange facial expression. "What's the matter with you man?"

"Oh... Nothing." Boomer felt like an idiot for having let his weird 
suspicions afloat like that. "I'm just nervous about tonight I guess."

"Yeah," Sascha nodded. "I know what you mean. I too have ran out of all 
my pot and have no fracking clue where to get some more in this strange 
little town."

"You can have some of mine man," Mitchi was feeling uncharasterically 
generous. "I still have some stuffed somewhere."

"I love you man," Sascha beamed.

"I need a drink," Boomer got up.

Hey, Boomer," Jolly noticed something alarmingly familiar standing 
amongst a group of men further away, almost unrecognizable because it 
was so dark in the disco. "Did you know that Starbuck's here!"

"Unfortunately," Boomer mumbled, trying not to think of the encounter 
in the turboflush. "And Apollo too..."

"Shit," Jolly's frown was serious. "I didn't think we'd really bump 
into those guys while here. You know how both of them are nowadays."

"What's the big deal?" Sascha glanced at the direction Boomer was 
staring. "Your buddies'll just think that we're here on holiday or 
something."

"Those guys are not stupid Sasch. They were the heroes of the show. The 
moment any disturbing news come out, they'll start figuring it all 
out."

"Not necessarily," Francis Lindo pointed out. "There's already so much 
shit going on around the campus that they'll just probably add it all 
to that."

"I hope you're right man," Jolly mumbled. "But I still don't like 
this..."

"Frack!" Denis blasted out, causing the others to turn their attention 
to him. "The Denier guy's with them! Your friends are gonna spoil so 
whole thing!"

A moment of serious thinking. The Mikey spoke.

"Hey guys, those men are not glued together dude. And we won't be doing 
anything until later anyway. I'm sure Otter has everything planned out 
perfectly. The guy's a genius. Let's just not worry about anything 
until we get further instructions.

"Yeah. So you better not lose that flower, Boomer," Mitchi smirked. 
"Our financial future depends on it."

"I'm gonna get a drink now..." Boomer really needed one. "Hold my seat 
for me will ya."

"Sure man." Jolly eyed Boomer striding towards the bar.

Half his way there someone bumped into him, almost knocking him over.

Before Boomer managed to regain his balance, the guy had already 
growled his hasty apologies and vanished into thin air. Boomer hadn't 
even had a chance to see the guy's face.

"Frack!" Boomer murmured annoyed. "Don't you farmers have eyes, man..."

He picked up the white anemone that had dropped off his shirt, re-
attached it and continued his stride towards the bar...

* * *

The man in the concierge uniform watched rather entertained as this 
dark-skinned bloke in a too-tight Adidas track suit stumbled out of the 
disco looking frantic as frack, noticed the concierge desk and started 
running towards it like a cheetah, skidding to a halt only few 
centimetrons before bumping into it.

"I need a wig," Tigh was out of breath and kept looking back to make 
sure Boomer wasn't following. "Quickly!"

"Certainly sir," the concierge smiled.

"And a mustache!"

"No problem sir. What colour would you like it to be sir? We have red, 
brown, dark brown, hazel brown, beige, light blond, natural auburn..."

"Red'll be fine," Tigh panted, not giving a damn about any colour, 
still eyeing the disco exit.

"And I presume you want to wig to match the mustache sir... Yes, just a 
moment, I'll check the hotel database for available products."

"Hurry up for Sagan's sake!" Tigh snarled, jiggling his leg. Now this 
if what was bad luck.

What the hell was Boomer doing in an unimportant little town like this. 
Wasn't he supposed to be leading some meaningless surfer's life in some 
meaningless surfer's paradise.

Damn, Tigh knew he should've taken into consideration the possibility 
that someday they might very well bump into someone familiar when on a 
mission but... Why now?!!

"Is it gonna take much longer??"

"No sir," the concierge beamed. "The computer shows that we do in fact 
have a couple of matches available. Red 24/5 'Sunset Horizon' and Red 
19/7 'Passion Apple'...

"I'll take the first one."

"One Sunset Horizon coming up, sir," the man wrote it down. "And what 
size would you want sir? We have a very large scale ranging from..."

"Size doesn't matter," Tigh blasted out. "Just go and get the goddamn 
wig!"

"And the mustache," the concierge reminded loveably. "You sure about 
the size thing sir?"

"Yes!" Tigh's face was turning red from held-back anger. To his horror 
he noticed two, no, three people coming out of the disco but none of 
them turned out to be Boomer. Thank god.
Tigh let out the breath he had been holding.

Keeping his perfect posture (he knew he looked damn good in that 
uniform) the concierge vanished into the back room, leaving Tigh 
squirming nervously at the desk.

"...That's what they all say," the concierge mumbled grumpily as he 
made his way to the closet where the so-called miscellaneous weird 
stuff was kept. He reached for the box where there was a word 'Wixx' 
scribbled with a felt-tip pen and pulled it out. "...And who's gonna be 
there when the complaining starts. Me! Ich! Jag! Moi! Every time it's 
the same felgercarb! This wig is too tight sir. This mustache is 
slipping sir. This fringe is tickling my eyes sir, can't you do 
anything! jackety-jak..."

"Hurry up!! An annoyed growl carried into the staff room.

"Coming sir..." yackety-jak

* * *

Whoa! Edward Furlong almost dropped his drink as he saw the thing 
entering the disco. Yeah, okay, admittedly he was seeing it through a 
drunken haze but still... That hair!! Oh man... Red, thick, luscious 
locks falling almost to the shoulders. What beautiful colour, what 
shine and lure. How the locks were waving a little in the disco air-
conditioning... And that anarchistically red mustache, how it created 
such a dissonantly irresistible contrast to the strangely angelic 
masculinity. This was the closest thing to a sex god Edward Furlong had 
ever 
seen.

Edward Furlong simply adored long-haired men. Especially long haired 
men who were anorexicly thin, sickly pale, fashionably dressed, 
suicidally lonely or just suicidal, psychotic, mysterious, virginal, 
artistic, eloquent, musically talented, wasted, and on their way to the 
bottom...

Furlong continued devouring his newly discovered object of internal 
desire, and although this particular individual didn't carry any of the 
features mentioned above, except for the hair part, it didn't decrease 
Eddie's fascination in the least. Quite the opposite in fact, which was 
rather strange and unexpected.

Whooooo, the man turned and looked straight at him. Eddie gave the guy 
an irresistible, sensuous drunken wink and toasted with his vodka 
glass. The man turned away but Eddie knew he had made an impression. 
And he wouldn't be leaving the disco alone tonight...

* * *

What the hell was that kid staring at?! Tigh hated the youngsters. They 
didn't know anything about anything important and were a constant pain 
in the butt. And just like women, they should be kept home and off the 
streets where all they did was damage...

Kids should be raised in special prisons where they would become decent 
adults and would be released only after they turned twenty-five. And 
they definitely shouldn't be allowed to drink like that one, Tigh felt 
his skin crawl. Although he had to admit that kid did look kind of 
handsome. Well, except for that blue anemone on his shirt and the fact 
that he was a kid. And drunk.

The wig was tickly as hell!

Where was Boomer?! Would he recognize Tigh even in this disguise?!

Tigh cast a secretive glance at one of the mirrors on the walls. Jeeez 
he looked terrible. Worse than Jerry Garcia... No... Worse that Jerry 
Garcia after death. All that was missing was a tie-dye shirt, a string 
of beads and bare feet.

And what the hell did that Denier lad look like?! Damn they should have 
brought a decent photograph. One glance at a picture in a newspaper 
hadn't done much good had it. Denier could've been any one of these 
youngsters in the disco...

For all that is Kobolian! Isn't that Starbuck standing over there with 
a guy who looks like he's been reading too much Shakespeare!? Tigh 
couldn't believe his bad luck. Had every being on the Galactica decided 
to gather into this forsaken town just when they were least wanted 
here! What was this crap...

All right man, Tigh reminded himself. The most important of all 
anarchistic rules: regain calmness. To bring down the government you 
need to be in complete control over your behaviour...

Tigh closed his eyes and slowly let out a deep breath. There. He felt 
calmer already.

Second: stroll around and look innocent. Crash an occasional party and 
try to find out more about the Denier lad. Be careful not to raise 
suspicion. Pretend to be interested in the Denier stuff like it's 
showbiz or something. 

Act like a tourist.

Right.

Stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his Adidas pants, Tigh knew 
he now looked casual and carefree enough to start roaming the arena.

Tigh truly prayed he would continue to be lucky enough to remain 
unrecognized by all his former military subordinates...

Naah, he had nothing to worry about. The wig was doing the trick like a 
dream. If only it wouldn't tickle so damn much...

* * *

Starbuck was very surprised that Apollo had moved away from Satyr and 
the others and specifically joined him and Denier by the bar, even 
though he wasn't planning on buying a drink or anything. Starbuck 
couldn't stop his heart from racing like mad. And he couldn't help 
himself suddenly feeling uncomfortable and ill-at-ease. Nothing he 
tried to say came out right. Suddenly he couldn't speak to Apollo. 
Apollo of all people!! And all the time Jean Michel's hand was moving 
up and down Starbuck's back.

In fact, now that Starbuck looked more carefully, Apollo wasn't 
speaking much either. It was Jean Michel who was constantly babbling, 
meaningless felgercarb that neither Starbuck nor Apollo seemed to be 
listening.

Starbuck's heart missed a beat when his obviously nowadays distorted 
mind came to think of asking Apollo for a dance. Would he really have 
the courage to do it... Would Apollo kick his head in...

Starbuck swallowed, then took a deep breath. "Apollo," he started 
nervously as frack. "Would you..."

He didn't finish the sentence. Apollo's face had turned pale as snow 
and the look of his face was like one of a statue made of marble. 
Completely unreadable.

His eyes, on the other hand, were dilated , unblinking and... Starbuck 
could've sworn... frightened to death. Both Starbuck and Jean Michel 
turned to follow the direction of Apollo's 
frozen stare.

All the people Starbuck could see over there was a drunk-out-of-his-
head kid in his early twenties with a blue anemone on his chest, and 
professor Niels. The old man was looking straight at Apollo, smiling, 
just a little, and gave a nod hardly noticeable.

For those few microns that the professor kept staring at Apollo, 
Starbuck was sure the man would walk right over, but instead, professor 
Niels put on his dark Stetson that the cloakroom attendant had just 
handed to him, and left the disco. 

Starbuck had had no idea that the old man had been there in the first 
place.

He shrugged, quite surprised, then turned to Apollo to try to re-gather 
enough courage to pick up where he had left off.

Apollo was gone.

* * *

Chapter 11

Pinky was the kind of person who wanted to be burdened with the least 
possible responsibility in the world. Even being a piccolo often 
demanded too much because of those often annoying, always unsatisfied 
hotel guests, the irritable boss that probably never got laid, those 
early mornings when you had to get up at seven a.m. and smile all day, 
and the very fact that every screw up was immediately blamed on you, 
the bellboy, regardless of who had been the real cause of the damage or 
difficulty.

If Pinky had been God and the world had been created by him, he 
would've made damn sure that Mr. and Mrs. Kobol had never been kicked 
out of paradise.

...And the constant stinginess of people then. Jeeez. Just thinking 
about that old lady in room 666 for example. Demanding and demanding 
attention for 24 centars a day and never giving a cubit dime to show 
appreciation.

Even when Pinky had gone through all that trouble acquiring turquoise 
cashmere socks and matching gloves, the lady hadn't even said thanks. 
Just complained about the time it had taken to get them.

And what about that guy in 449, who looked like a grumpy old goat... 
Pinky the piccolo shook his head amazed. The guy had had the nerve to 
give him a goddamn half-melted chocolate bar for crying out loud!

What the hell was wrong with all these people. Where was the good old 
empathy, endless generosity and those good manners that always seemed 
to come so clearly across in old Caprican war movies...

"Pssssssst!"

Huh? Pinky's head span to the left, then to the right.

"Here!" A hand reached out from the wallside shadows. A hand that was 
holding a white envelope.
Pinky stared at that hand.

"Take them goddamn it!" The hand hissed.

Pinky's eyes followed the hand turning into an arm, then to a shoulder 
and a neck, from there into a shadowy face that didn't look that bad.

Hmmm.

Definitely not too bad at all. Pinky wouldn't have kicked a man like 
that out of his bed if he had had a choice.

...And why wouldn't he have a choice. He was just a gorgeous and sexy-
as-hell as the next guy!

"Hi there," Pinky smiled. "You live around here or?..."

The man cast a nervous glance around to make sure no one was looking, 
then focused on the piccolo again, studying the lad with impatience.

"I want you to deliver this for me," the man spoke in even a hushier 
tone. "To a guy with a white anemone stuck to his shirt... Are you 
following me?"

"Please, call me Pink," the piccolo beamed. "Or Spunky..."

The man with the envelope didn't even bother to smile.

"You'll find him in the disco. Probably with a bunch of other guys..."

"What are you... kinda... doing later? I have a big bottle of..."

"Here," a hundred cubit note was hastily shoved into the piccolo's 
hand.

Pinky stared at it with his jaw dropping all the way to the floor. He'd 
never seen a note for that big an amount before. Perhaps Pinky should 
ask him for more than a hundred. A tempting pause... 

Oh what the hell, Pinky gave up on the idea. Better not push his luck. 
The 
man might start reconsidering taking back the hundred he'd already 
given.

Okay," Pinky grabbed the envelope and looked at it. There was nothing 
marked 
on either side. No name. Nothing. "What is this? A love letter?"

"Make sure you don't mess things up laddie," the man narrowed his eyes 
a little. "Remember, a guy with a white anemone..."

"Yeah yeah," Pinky already knew that litany. "Something else you want 
me to do? I've got a big bottle of..."

"Just make sure you get that envelope delivered." The man replied, then 
left without giving Pinky another glance.

Pinky watched the guy going. Nice butt. Shame about the humourlessness. 
They could've spent an intriguing evening together...

Oh well, Pinky shrugged. What could he do if a guy didn't notice the 
quality stuff when he had a chance to get it. Pinky eyed the blank 
envelope for a micron, then started towards the disco 
entrance. Perhaps he might be able to bum a drink or two from the new 
bartender...

"...The looooooveeee boooaaat..." Pinky was humming to himself as he 
walked. "...promiseees something for eeeveryooneee... Set a course for 
adventure, your mind on a neeew romaaaaaanceee... And loooooveeeee...."

"Hey there Pink," another piccolo passed him in the lounge, saluting 
the other unfortunate fellow worker by bringing his forefinger to his 
cap. Pinky nodded back without even pausing the humming.

A concierge walked past looking very much in agony trying to carry 
three suitcases at once. Behind him was an elderly lady, trying to keep 
up, walking a white toy poodle who looked unmistakably like wanting to 
wet the carpet... More customers were coming in.

"...promiseees something for everyoooneeeeee... la la laaaa..." Catchy 
song. Probably he should have it re-made...Techno style. Pinky and the 
Wild Ones...

"Pssssssst!"

"What the frack?" Pinky looked around wildly. He saw a hand reaching 
out from the wallside shadows, holding a white envelope.

"Oh no!" Pinky frowned with dedication. "Not you again! Give me a 
fracking break..."

He followed the arm turning into a shoulder, the shoulder into a neck, 
the neck into a...

...Nothing. Pinky couldn't see shit. The person was wearing a stupid 
Mexican sombrero that succeeded in hiding his face completely.

It wasn't the same guy though. The clothes were different. Jeeez! Just 
look at flannel shirt and those nightmarish patches on the elbows of 
the jacket sleeve. Not to mention that green, knitted tie and the smell 
of cow felgercarb...

"What do you want??" Pinky snarled.

"I want you to deliver this letter to a guy with an anemone stuck to 
his shirt. You'll probably find him in the disco..."

"What's the matter with you people..." What was this? A 'be thoughtful 
to your loverboy' -day?

"Okay, what colour?"

"What??" the hat under the Mexican hat inclined a little.

"Nothing," Pinky sighed. "All right, give me that damn thing..."

He grabbed the white envelope that had absolutely nothing scribbled on 
it and stuffed it into his chest pocket with the first one.

Damn these tourists and their weird ways. Once again Pinky directed his 
walk toward the disco entrance. This time he wasn't humming though.

"Psssssst!" A hand reached out from the wallside shadows and knocked 
Pinky on the shoulder. "I forgot to give you this..."

A white envelope without anything written on it was hastily shoved onto 
Pinky's palm. Pinky glared at it.

"I want you to take it to a man with an anemone on his shirt, but not 
the same guy you're going to deliver the first one to. Do you 
understand..."

"Ummm..." How many guys were there exactly with flowers on their chests 
for Sagan's sake?!... "Mmm, Sure, okay..."

"Just make sure the second guy is different than the first one. There 
won't be many choices to choose from. This ain't the gathering of 
gardeners everywhere..."

"Mmmm..."

"And do not get those letters mixed up!" the voice in the shadows 
warned. "Whatever you do, make damn sure you deliver them to the right 
people! This is important!"

"Yes Sir," Pinky brought his fore- and middle finger to his cap and 
clicked the heels of his shoes together like they did in the boy scouts 
or something. He wasn't even wanting to figure this weird felgercarb 
out any more so what the heck...

Pinky stuffed the envelope into his chest pocket with the others, then 
turned and left the crazy guy with an obvious fetish to flowers and 
envelopes standing there, probably already hunting for the next guy to 
toss an envelope to.

Jeeez!

Pinky walked to the red blinking sign where the disco entrance was, 
exchanged a couple of jokes with the bouncer who looked like a dinosaur 
and vanished through a pair of glittering doors into a tumult of 
flashing lights and beating music.

Otter watched him go, waited for a moment longer, then followed him 
inside.

* * *

Moonbase Alpha Status Report.
1060 days after breakaway.
Professor Victor Bergman reporting.
~
The encounter with the new alien race has so far gone without any 
complications. I'm glad to say that commander Koenig and his crew have 
without any difficulty managed to assimilate with this alien community 
and are proceeding with the second part of the trading encounter as we 
speak.

Very unpredictably, that alien race living on planet Cadria has turned 
out to be human, and needless to say, our previous philosophical and 
religious theories will now have to be completely re-evaluated and this 
has of course caused quite a stir amongst the inhabitants of Alpha.

Important informative seminars and discussion groups about Kobolianism 
and it's future effect on the community will be held in lecture room 7, 
8 and 12 when doctor Helena Russel returns from her mission.
~
Our mysterious guest whom we rescued from a destroyed ship seven moths 
ago is continuing to show marvelous recovery. He has been moved from 
the patient observatory premises to the F sector of Alpha accommodation 
area 3 and given his own private quarters where he will remain until we 
have a chance of learning more about him, his past and his origin.

The guest shows absolutely no hostility or aggression toward the 
Alphans who are in frequent contact with him, but he still refuses to 
speak more than the most necessary sentences.
Assistant psychologist extremist Henry Molkovich has handed in several 
requests to be given permission to put him under hypnosis or drug him 
to talk, but so far the board of committees in the medical sector have 
not agreed to that kind of an approach...

* * *

How the hell was he going to find a white anemone in this tumult of 
people. It would be easier finding a human-friendly Cylon in a goddamn 
Cylon base star...

Okay, no choice. Pinky sure didn't want to be contacted by the envelope 
man again (or the other guy either for that matter) which would 
undoubtedly happen if he just threw these damn letters away.

Pinky's eyes lingered around the disco. All right. Where would be the 
best place to start...
The bartender! Grinning because he was so damn clever, Pinky made his 
way to the bar and tapped the guy with curly hair and a bartender's 
apron on the shoulder. The guy turned.

"No." He smiled at Pink with his eyebrows sarcastically arched.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Pink's jaw dropped. Was everyone going nuts in 
this hotel. Or could this guy read his mind?

"No, I'm not going to give you a free drink man," the bartender 
continued. "Don't even try it."

"What? Do I look like some parasite or something," Pinky rolled his 
eyes. "All I want is to know if you've happened to see a guy with a 
white a white flower roaming somewhere."

"A white flower?" The bartender raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah, stuck to his chest or something..."

The bartender thought for it for a centon. "Sure. Yeah, I've seen a guy 
like 
that but not here in the disco."

"Really?" Great, this weird job would be soon done and over with. 
"Where?"

"In the hotel lobby. Near the souvenir shops."

"Thanks man." Pinky was already on his way out.

* * *

Okay, where was it? Pinky's eyes searched the lobby, trying to spot the 
flower-guy.

The only thing resembling the description were the two blokes putting 
three baskets of white delphiniums on display on the counter of his 
flower stall.

As far that Pinky could see, the guy wasn't wearing an anemone on his 
chest but what proof was that of anything?! The thing could've fallen 
off or something. Pinky directed his course towards the flower stalls.

"Evening, buddy!" Pinky greeted with a broad smile that did not come 
from the inside. It never did when he had to deal with people he didn't 
know. "I have a delivery for you."

The florist turned. A painfully thin bloke with a red mess of hair and 
a little dab of mold on his chin. To Pinky he looked an amazingly lot 
like Beaker from the Muppet Show.

"Really? For me?" The guy smiled like a surprised horse and took the 
letter Pinky handed over.

Another guy was arranging the flowers in one of the baskets a metron or 
two away. He dropped his little hoe, cursed, picked it up and continued 
without paying any attention to Pink or the florist.

"Yeah," Pink smiled. "I was kinda told to give it to a man with white 
flowers so I guess it has to be you,"

"White flowers?"

"Yeah," Pinky continued. "Ring a bell?"

"Well I do have a bunch of them right here..."

"Then it's you," Pinky deducted, already starting to leave, then came 
to think of something. "Oh, by the way. You don't happen to know any 
men who have flowers that are not so white?"

"Oh, yeah man, sure..." the florist replied grinning widely, putting 
his hand on the shoulder of the other florist fiddling with the 
baskets, gaining his attention. The second florist turned. "...my 
brother." The first florist continued. "He sells red daffodils. For 
bargain if you'd like some..."

"These must be for you then," Pinky tossed the two envelopes left onto 
the palm of the second guy who eyed them a little suspiciously. "Have a 
great night folks," Pinky saluted bringing his fore- and middle finger 
to the visor of his cap and left the two florists staring after him.

"What do ya reckon about his Mosey?" the first florist glanced at the 
other, scratched his head, then returned to gaping after the bellboy. 
"You think the McMullen brothers are playing tricks on us again?

* * *

"All right guys," Squirrel returned to the table where the others were. 
"Otter's says we should've gotten the envelope by now."

"Shit. Then where is it?"

"Jeeez Mike! Why don't you go and ask the guy who's supposed to have 
delivered it..."

"Why couldn't Otter deliver it? What's the big deal?!"

"The guy's a wimp!"

"Shut up Jolly!"

"If you want my opinion I think the letter idea was stupid to begin 
with," Sascha murmured. "Why couldn't we have just gone and talk to the 
guy whoever he is. If he's wearing a flower..."

"Okay, that's it," Boomer pushed his chair back.

The other eyes turned to him.

"What is what?"

"I'm going flower hunting."

"You really think the other party's really wearing a flower?"

"I don't know but I'm gonna find out. There's no way I'm gonna sit back 
and wait any longer. I'd rather gape at other people's chests than go 
on sitting here tapping my foot to the floor..."

Sascha's eyes followed Boomer going for a centon, then turned to the 
others. "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Relax Sasch," Mitchi grinned. "Boomer's a trouper. He knows what he's 
doing."

"Yeah. Famous last words."

"I think Sascha's right," Mike was starting to look worried. "What if 
he finds the other flowerman, what's he gonna say? Excuse me sir but 
are you the one who ordered a single, white, healthy male individual 
with good teeth and a decent family background for all kinds of 
household purposes...?"

Chuckles.

"... Well whatever he does, I do hope he does mention the price..." 
Francis Lindo furrowed his brows. "I don't want to get under-paid just 
because Otter screws things up..."

Laugher.

"Otter didn't screw things up Fran," Squirrel commented. It was the guy 
who got a hundred cubits..."

"What guy?"

"Some guy who was supposed to bring us the letter."

"You can't trust these Saskachoonians." Mitchi frowned. "Always trying 
to rip you off whenever you turn your back..."

"And how would you know Mitch? You've never known a single 
Saskachoonian in your life..."

"They haven't always been Saskachoonians. Once upon a time were all 
proud colonials, then refugees on 220 ships. I might have known more of 
them than I realize..."

"All right, all right, we all got your point..."

"Guys... What if Boomer opens his mouth to a completely wrong 
person..."

"Boomer's a trouper, man. I know he'll check the guy out before he 
opens his mouth."

"I say this is getting too risky for my sanity."

"Yeah," Mitchi frowned. "The slave trade business isn't like it used to 
be. When my grandfather was a pirate, kidnapping people and selling 
them to some monstrous bastards for a cubit or two sure used to be a 
relaxing hobby..."

More laughter.

"...But a human trade deal's a human trade deal. Not much else we can 
really do but go with the flow..."

"You can't argue that logic," Francis Lindo chuckled. "What are you 
man, a philopher?"

"No," Mitchi grinned. "But my mother was."

"Guys, I really hope that Boomer finds that flowerguy." Mikey frowned 
out loud. "I just want to get this over with. Kidnap the Denier guy, 
sell him to the big mystery client and get the frack out of here.

"Relax Mike," Mitchi put his hand on the bleached guy's shoulder. 
"We'll be back surfing in no time..."

* * *

Where the hell was Apollo? Starbuck couldn't come up with any logical 
explanation why the guy had just so suddenly vanished.

And not just vanished from Starbuck's and Jean Michel's company, but 
vanished. Starbuck couldn't find him anywhere now although he'd circled 
the place at least three times now. And that annoying Jean Michel was 
still hanging onto his boxer straps. Following him around like a daggit 
in heat.

"I need to use the turboflush," Starbuck smiled and left before Jeanie 
had a chance to say something like 'hey, I'll come along'.

Watching Starbuck walking away, Jean Michel shrugged and went to the 
bar to get another drink.
A guy with red hair that looked like a wig from planet weird gave 
Jeanie an indifferent glance, then moved away. Jean Michel signaled to 
the bartender.

* * *

No. That couldn't possibly be it. Boomer looked away.

Then he turned back to take another look and even narrowed his eyes to 
see more clearly. He hadn't been mistaken. It really was an anemone.

Furrowing his brows, Boomer let his gaze linger upwards to the guy's 
face and halted there. He had never before seen a man who'd resemble 
more of an old goat in stomach pains than this guy.
Could this possibly be...

Boomer's gaze descended along the stern nose to a thin set of lips, 
sweeping downwards along the chin and to the neck and from there to the 
chest. Yellow anemone. Taking a deep breath first, Boomer then started 
towards the goatman, trying to come up with something decent to say 
when he'd get there. The DJ was playing Disco Inferno. Boomer couldn't 
wait until the club would 
open.

The goat turned his eyes to Boomer as he noticed the guy approaching. 
Boomer swallowed. "Hi there," he grinned. "Nice place innit... You here 
on holiday or..."

"Are you trying to hit on me?" Koenig's furrowed brows were almost 
sweeping the floor, he really looked that pissed off. Koenig had just 
barely won the third battle against Paul Morrow's annoying, endless 
passes and definitely wasn't in the mood for any more.

"No, in fact..." Now what? What should he say? Are you the guy who 
ordered a white, healthy male man with good teeth and a decent family 
background for all kinds of household purposes... "Ummm. You're the guy 
with the flower."

Koenig glanced at his own chest, then Boomer's chest and then realized 
what this hippy was talking about.

"Oh," Koenig smiled like Santa Clause. "Nice planet you got here! 
You're here to give me an envelope or..."

"Umm, no. I'm actually the one who's supposed to be providing you with 
the merchandise..."

Now this was finally what Koenig had wanted to hear the whole evening. 
He glanced around to make sure no one was watching or listening, then 
leant closer to Boomer like a conspirator.

"You got the merchandise packed and ready to go?"

"We will by midnight," Boomer coughed. "We'll just have one more detail 
to care of, then the desired object will be all yours for 
transportation and whatever you want to do with it after that."

"Brilliant," Koenig wanted to rub his hands together but he didn't in 
case someone would notice. Being a commander meant being cool in all 
situations. And heterosexual. Koenig glanced at Alan talking to some 
bloke by the dance floor. The guy's butt looked much too big. He 
wouldn't stand a chance with Alan.

"Should we set a time for the exchange then?" Koenig's eyes wondered 
back to Boomer. "I will have all my crew prepared and ready for..."

Boomer's thoughts raced feverishly for a micron. His brain went through 
the stalking of the Denier guy from the disco to the mansion where 
Otter had said they'd be tonight, the creeping into the object's 
bedroom, the putting on the gag containing chloroform, the dragging the 
unconscious object into the back yard of the Denier mansion where 
Otter's car would be waiting, the driving down the black-covered forest 
roads...

But didn't the Denier posse have some weird cult of their own. 
Something that made them run in the woods at night, drink blood, kill 
people. At least that's what Otter had claimed to have found out and 
had told Boomer and the others.

So what if those the Denier guy and his pals went waggling into the 
woods after leaving the disco. Then there wouldn't be any sneaking into 
the object's bedroom until early in the morning and then it would be 
too goddamn late... Conclusion: Boomer and the others would have to 
strike in the woods...

"Do you know where the Digger Barnes' old museum is?" Boomer's eyes 
lingered to the goatman. "It's quite near the Denier mansion if you 
know where that is..."

"Not really," Koenig's mind lingered to Japher the farmer. "But don't 
worry. I know someone who can give me a lift."

"Great," Boomer leant closer. "Meet us by that museum at exactly 02.00. 
May I suggest you'll bring a flash light. It's damn dark in the woods 
this time of yahren..."

"What's a yahren?"

"...And make sure you will not be followed. Especially by the DEA. The 
circumstances in this town are a bit awkward at the moment..."

"What's the DEA??"

...And just in case," Boomer glanced at the anemone, "don't take that 
flower off, just in case... You know... Sure, I recognize you..." How 
the hell could he not "...but there will be others involved who... 
well... Just wear the flower okay?!"

"Sure." Koenig smiled. "Anything else?"

"Just one thing..." Boomer put his hand on the goatman's shoulder and 
squeezed confidentially. 
There was a reassuring smile on his face. "... Trust us to deliver you 
premium quality. I promise you won't be disappointed..."

One more squeeze and a businessman's wink, then Boomer left, tossing 
away the white anemone as he walked, completely unaware that he was 
being watched by one very suspicious Otter, who had just closely 
studied the exchange of words between Boomer and a man with a stony 
face.

The business deal. Otter was convinced that was what they had been 
talking about. He had always been good at interpreting the looks on 
people faces. And Boomer seemed quite satisfied now walking away... 
But...

Why for frack's sake was he having this nagging feeling that that stone 
face person was a completely wrong guy...

Sure, he was wearing a flower, the agreed sign, but so were a billion 
others Otter had noticed with horrified disbelief. Half the farmers had 
flowers on their chests, the trashed kid pinching everyone's butts, the 
hotel manager, one of the transvestites dancing on the podium...
So what the hell was going on?!?

And what the hell had happened to the letters?! If only Otter had 
bothered to find out what the client... or rather: the client's 
representative... looked like, he wouldn't have had to consent to all 
this 'letter' felgercarb.

Otter furrowed his brows. He turned his attention away from Boomer to 
study stone-face...

* * *

Koenig was trying not to notice Paul Morrow who was standing by the 
loudspeakers, leaning against one in a way that made his trousers 
tighter and his dick more visible, eyeing Koenig like a hungry vulture.

Morrow noticed that Koenig was doing his damnedest trying to pretend 
that he wasn't noticing him, gave the commander a wink and smiled 
revealing a row of white teeth.

Oh god, Koenig rolled his eyes. What had he ever done to deserve this?! 
His eyes lingered to Alan talking with the fat-ass...

* * *

A little bit to the left from Koenig, resting his butt against the side 
of the bar was a red-haired man, rubbing his red mustache looking 
extremely satisfied.

Denier.
Near the Denier mansion.
Those magic words.

All Tigh would have to do now was to wait until either Boomer or the 
goat-face unknowingly led him to the whereabouts of the Denier mansion 
in the woods and the Denier heir would finally be in his claws.

Tigh decided it would be better to follow goat-face since Boomer had 
been one of the fleet heroes and was quite a perceptive fellow.

Heil the new government!

* * *

A little further down the bar, about a metron or so from Tigh was a 
very drunk, very slyly smirking Edward Furlong who had come up with the 
perfect scoring plan that would spare him from trying to hit on the sex 
god all evening.

All he would have to do was to follow the masculine angel with red hair 
home and the guy would undoubtedly lead him to his bedroom. Eddie knew 
that nobody could resist an innocently smiling Edward Furlong when he 
was standing on their doorstep with that dirty-sweet expression on his 
face...

Edward Furlong signaled to the bartender and ordered another drink. He 
noticed how the kinda good-looking guy standing beside him was frozenly 
staring at someone or something moving across the disco towards the 
clump of plush chairs and glass tables next to the dance floor.

"You want one?" Furlong said to the guy, nodding towards the bartender 
who was pouring scotch and soda into a huge green glass.

"No thanks," Otter hardly glanced at the lad. He had more important 
things to think about...

Damn, otter sighed with frustration. If only he'd known what the 
representative of the client looked like...

* * *

"Well?" Mitchi eyed Boomer as he sat took a seat.

"Well what?"

"Any luck with the flower power thing?"

"Yeah, I found the guy," Boomer nodded smiling. "We'll hand the Denier 
guy over to him by the Digger Barnes' old museum at 02.00. We didn't 
discuss the money but I guess it's going to be done in the usual way, 
you know, the client paying to Otter, Otter giving us our shares..."

"Good," Sascha was relieved now that things were starting to go 
somewhere. "All we have to do now is the kidnapping. Piece of mushies."

"Hey, don't take your pants off quite yet my man," Mitchi smirked. 
"There's always the possibility we'll have to get rid of an accidental 
witness like in the couple of previous occasions."

"I hate that," Francis Lindo frowned. "I don't mind kidnapping and 
selling people but when it comes to killing them, that sucks. I can't 
stand it when I get blood all over my baggy pants."

"I'll doubt there'll be any witnesses this time Fran," Mitchi 
reassured. "After all, the Denier mansion is located in the darkest 
periphery of the Saskachoona area. I don't think we'll find any town 
folk taking their nice little night-time strolls quite that far away 
from the center of all civilization."

"I hate the way you're always exaggerating things Mitch..."

"Has anyone heard anything new about the dead body on campus? I'm still 
afraid that it's one those unlucky fellows we had to get rid of just 
because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time..."

"...Or in the wrong place at the right time..."

"What about in the right place at the wrong time?"

"Cut it out guys! A dead person is nothing to joke about!"

"But a person being sold to a mad bastard for life-long slavery is?"

"That's completely different!"

"Sure it is Sasch..."

Chuckles.

"Boy I hate this disco music felgercarb," Boomer complained. "I can't 
wait to get into the club where they'll play techno, man. Real music!"

"Oh yeah, man." Jolly agreed. "I can already imagine it: the smoke-
filled darkness where you can hardly see the figure of the person next 
to you, the bitter-sweet scent of the smoke machine, the monotone 
thumping of the bass that simply coerces your heart into synchrony with 
it, the feverish rhythmic invitation to trance where you will go higher 
and higher into a completely different level where you can't stop 
dancing any more. You become a machine, 
living solely for the pleasure of movement and the deafening music. You 
are in complete harmony with yourself and you love the world. And 
that's all before you take the drugs, man..."

"You're a poet Jol," Francis Lindo said dreamily. "That's just how 
Oscar Wilde would've put it."

"Yeah, and don't forget the really trendily dressed people who all look 
stark raving mad on the dance floor. That's crowd spirit, man..."

"Yeah man..."

"How much longer until the club open Boomer?" Mikey asked, almost 
drooling now. "I want some action before all the action later!"

"Ten centons." Boomer glanced at his timepiece.

"Yay!!"

The music stopped.

"YO YO YO YO YO YO!" It was the DJ wagging his chin to a microphone in 
his glass booth. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO DOESN'T 
FIT INTO THAT CATEGORY..."

"Great. The DJ went crazy," Boomer mumbled with a frown.

"I HAVE SOME BAD NEWS, OR GOOD NEWS FOR YOU, DEPENDING ON WHETHER YOU 
ARE ONE OF THE BUTT-WIGGLERS IN TIGHT FLARES ON THE DANCEFLOOR OR THOSE 
GRUMPY-LOOKING WHINERS WHO DON'T LIKE THE BOOGIE..."

"Shit," Mikey murmured.

"DUE TO TECHNICAL PROBLEMS WITH THE SOUND REPRODUCTION EQUIPMENT..."

"That lost cow still in there?"

"Unfortunately, sir..."

"Well, get rid of it damn it!!"

"We cant. It's giving birth..."

"...THE CLUB WILL REMAIN CLOSED TONIGHT. SORRRRYYYY! BUT HEY, TO TAKE 
AWAY THAT FROWN THAT DOESN'T SUIT ANYONE, HERE'S THE TRAMPPS AND 'DISCO 
INFERNO!!! GET DOWN ON IT!!"

"Fuck," Jolly was damn disappointed.

"YAY!" Matthias cheered.

From the start of the evening, Matthias had been truly, utterly 
surprised that all his favourite old disco hits from Earth had found 
their way to this planet too. This, if anything, was universal 
unification.

What of course he didn't know was that everything about everything, in 
this case: the complete instructions on how to compose the perfect 
disco inferno, had been once written down as plans in the handbook of 
the thirteenth tribe, which, as previously mentioned, had later been 
discovered by the fleeing colonials on some desolate planet.

But what the hell. Matthias closed his eyes and let his body get into 
the groooove...

* * *

Koenig yawned and started thinking of going back up to his hotel room 
to take a nap before the transaction later. Morrow kept eyeing him from 
a distance like a predator, planning and 
fine-tuning his next strike.

He already knew what to do...

* * *

Tigh noticed a small white flower on the floor on his way back from the 
turboflushrooms, picked it up and attached it to the collar of his 
Adidas track suit jacket.

Cute.

Tigh returned to the bar.

* * *

Edward Furlong continued to drink like a decent Hollywood star on the 
brink of self-destruction should. Too bad he wasn't in Hollywood any 
more.

* * *

In one of the guest quarters in the F sector of Alpha accommodation 
area 3, a man preferring his solitude arose from the side of the bed 
and walked to the window.

He remained there, standing rigidly in the phosphoric light of the 
moonscape outside that was painting him colourless. Staring at the 
planet below.

Soon, the man thought. Soon.

* * *

Chapter 12

Alan Carter noticed the damn gorgeous creature with sandy hair and 
juicy breast muscles making his way towards the restrooms. Alone.

"Hey! Where are you going??" The big butt who had been unsuccessfully 
trying to hit on Alan for the last hour or so, tried to grab his sleeve 
and make him stop.

He missed. Alan was already out of his reach, striding his way after 
the most ravishing sex god he had ever seen.

Starbuck, on the other hand, was desperately trying to spot Apollo. He 
couldn't see the man anywhere...

As Starbuck reached the turboflushroom, the door swung wide open and 
two guys, both laughing drunkenly like lunatics, came out. It was 
Starbuck who had to do the dodging or else those blokes would've bumped 
straight into him.

Casting an angry glance after them, Starbuck held the door open as he 
went inside the restroom.
The first impression was that it was empty.

Nice decor, Starbuck smiled to himself. Big urinals, large mirrors, 
nice wallpaper, even a drinking fountain and sinks with gold-plated 
faucets. And a pair of black shoes visible in one of the cubicles 
reserved for feldercarbing.

Apollo shoes.

"Apollo?" Starbuck knocked warily, shyly. "Are you in there?"

No answer.

"Apollo?!" Starbuck tried again. He pressed his ear against the door of 
the cubicle and listened.

The turboflushroom door swung open and a guy in a beige, uniform-like 
clothes stepped in, eyeing Starbuck rather amused. Quickly Starbuck 
jumped away from the cubicle door

"Ummm, just making sure the person in there's all right," Starbuck 
muttered, his face now as red as boiled crab. "Whatever you were 
thinking..."

"I wasn't thinking anything mate," Alan Carter smiled. Starbuck wasn't 
that convinced.

"Hey, listen," Carter started, taking a step closer to Starbuck. "I've 
kinda noticed you out there and..."

Oh for frack's sake, Starbuck frowned. Now now!! He really, really, 
despairingly wanted to be left alone to be able to talk Apollo. He had 
to talk to Apollo! Now. Not only about his strange disappearing act 
but... oh god, even the thought of revealing his crush on Appy made 
Starbuck want to be swallowed by the ground...

But Starbuck had to talk to him...

"... and, well, I must admit I find you incredibly attractive, and..." 
Carter moved even closer, taking support on the door of the toilet 
cubicle door with his hand and imprisoning Starbuck in between him and 
the cubicle. Starbuck felt like a goddamn caged animal. He glared at 
this intruder.

"So...ummm..." Carter chuckled, now a little nervously. "I guess this 
is just my extremely clumsy but extremely charming way of trying to 
come up with a polite way to ask you if you'd like to dance with me..."

Carter put his hand on Starbuck shoulder persuasively. "... So what do 
you say mate?..."

Jesus, Starbuck thought. But before he had a chance to say anything, 
the door of the cubicle right next to them banged open and Apollo dived 
out, avoiding Starbuck's stunned stare.

Starbuck was more than shocked to clearly notice that Apollo had been 
crying.

"Apollo," Starbuck dashed after him and took a hold of his arm. "For 
Sagan's sake! What's the matter?!"

Apollo turned. His eyes were stone cold.

Without saying a word, he waited rigidly until Starbuck understood to 
let go of his arm, then looked up at the blond man in the eyes. Such a 
cold glare.

"Leave me alone Starbuck."

Blindly, Apollo stumbled out of the turboflushroom.

* * *

Apart from having passed out in the toilet a couple of times and not 
really being able to walk in a straight line, Edward Furlong was having 
the time of his life.

Knowing that he'd get the red-haired sex god later, Eddie had been 
trying to score from Maya, Starbuck, the guy checking the IDs at the 
door, Cecil, Sascha, a gay couple who had been snogging in the corner 
where the couches were, Denis, the bartender, Satyr, Mitchi, Boomer, a 
girl who had been dancing on one of the glass tables without her top 
on, Paul Morrow, the 
unemployed artist who had come to Saskachoona for inspiration, Matthias 
and guy he had been dancing with, Francis Lindo, the DJ, the guy coming 
in occasionally to clean the toilets, Apollo, Alan Carter, a group of 
gorgeous transvestites who all looked even better than Maya, Mikey, the 
bloke in a blue uniform who came in  to repair a broken lamp... the 
list could've gone on forever...

Edward Furlong was one of those people who shouldn't be allowed to 
drink. Every time his blood alcohol level rose above 5.8 he wanted to 
have sex with everything that might possibly have a pulse.

Only Jolly and his tight leather pants, commander Koenig who probably 
hadn't smiled all evening, and the other bouncer who looked like a 
dinosaur, had been enough of a turn-off to not be pestered by this now 
infamous club-stalking kid pinching everyone's butts.

Time for a break, Furlong thought. He returned to the bar where the 
red-haired-sex-god-turned-into-three-of-them was still loitering. Was 
that really a white flower on the guy's jacket collar or one of those 
spicy 'Ginger Dingers' too much. Furlong narrowed his eyes and tried to 
blend those three sex gods into one.

Holy shit, he exclaimed when he saw it clearly. That really was a white 
flower. An anemone.

A moment of very intense thinking. If only the walls and the floor and 
the bar would just stop spinning for a second...

Coffee!

"Waiter!" Edward Furlong called out and gave a signal with his hand. 
The bartender gave him a glance and then decided to ignore him 
completely.

"Excuse me!" Furlong growled. "Can I have some service here!!..."

"What do you want?"

Furlong glared at the bartender. "Don't you know who I am!"

"No." the bartender raised one eyebrow. "Should I?"

Idiot. Furlong wanted to kick the bartender's teeth in. "Give me an 
espresso. I need to clear my head fast."

The bartender's eyebrow rose even higher "You're kidding me, right?"

"Give me the goddamn espresso," Furlong snarled, grinding his teeth. 
"Now."

The bartender left shaking his head amused.

* * *

Five minutes later, the walls, the floor and the bar weren't spinning 
quite that much and Eddie Furlong was beginning to believe that he 
might perhaps be in the condition to negotiate some business. He turned 
to face the sex god in red hair.

"Hi," Edward smiled, prolonging the word in a way that he thought 
immensely charming.

Tigh turned. He stared at the lad with immense suspicion and repulsion.

"What?"

"I couldn't help noticing you have a flower on your chest..."

"So?"

"... And I have a flower on my chest..."

"Yeah, I can see that now that you mentioned it." What the hell did 
this kid want?

"I'd say we two have something in common. Wouldn't you..."

"If you're trying to get me into bed, kiddo..."

"It's not time for that talk yet, sugar," Furlong purred. "There's some 
business we have to discuss first. You see, I never got the letter."

"What fracking letter?" Calm down man, Tigh took a deep breath. Easy! 
You're an underground anarchist. A blue-blooded communist for Sagan's 
sake. Don't blow you cover...

"The letter where I was supposed to be told the place and the time of 
the meeting," Edward leant closer to Tigh, "you know, for the exchange 
of the... merchandise..."

"What???"

"Oh come on!" Now it was Edward Furlong who was getting impatient. No 
matter how sexy that red bush of hair that man had, if there was 
nothing going on underneath it , then... "The Denier kid, whoever he 
is. Aren't you the guy who's supposed be kidnapping him?"

How in the hell had that brat found that out?!! Tigh was shocked! "I 
have no idea what you're talking about." He stuttered.

"Okay. Let's cut the bullshit, shall we?" Furlong frowned. "It's me. 
The one you're supposed to sell that Denier guy to."

"What is this felgercarb!?" This time Tigh genuinely lost the track.

A pause as Furlong was thinking, eyeing the sex god. Trying to make up 
his mind whether this man actually had any brain activity or not...

"All right. Come here..." Furlong signaled with his forefinger for Tigh 
to lean closer.

Tigh did.

"Okay. This is what we'll do..."

* * *

Ten centons later everything in Tigh's life was clear as the blue 
summer sky.

To hell with trying to bring down the government with gentle political 
coercion by using the kidnapping of a son of an important political 
character as the tool. It was the money that talked.

By selling the Denier lad to this Furlong fella, or rather: the mystery 
guy the Fulong fella was representing, Tigh could get enough hard cash 
to buy tankers, bombers, fighter shuttles, hand grenades, CX-berettas 
and other powerful laserguns, atomic submarines with detachable toxic-
255-XX annihilators, biological warfare weapons... whoaaahhh, Tigh 
could already picture those giant automatic sledgehammers rolling 
towards the Brown House, firing at everything that got in the way...

Okay. Sure. He might have gotten a few cubitbucks as ransom money for 
the Denier lad but... to hell with that! The Furlong laddie had just 
mentioned that the mystery guy he was representing might be willing to 
go up to even 700 000 if necessary, which in this case it would 
definitely be. Tigh would make sure of that.

700 000 cubits.

Tigh was smirking like mad.

Whoaaarrrrhh!

* * *

Tigh decided it would be better for now if he didn't mention anything 
about this new plan to the other communists. Not quite yet anyway. 
Tigh'd have a better chance of being unnoticed by Boomer without the 
fifteen others hassling about. Especially Rigel who was a woman and 
therefore incapable of anything demanding action.

Besides, once Tigh would show up with the filthily huge pile of cubits 
and his wonderful plan to buy all those weapons and tankers, the others 
would surely forgive him for having gone solo for this gig.

That was, of course, if Tigh would decide to come back and re-join 
forces after the others after he'd gotten all the money from the 
Furlong kid. He might just want to bring down the government all by 
himself and take all the credit for it...

"You have a deal Furlong," Tigh beamed.

* * *

Alan Carter was definitely displeased. This was what he called 'damn 
bad luck'!

Just as soon as he'd finally gotten into a talking distance with the 
guy with juicy breast muscles, the guy had ran after another guy who 
was an obvious psychopath, sitting in a toilet cubicle weeping, then 
suddenly dashing out and fiving the finger to everyone around. At least 
that's what it had seemed like to Carter.

Were those two lovers? Could things really be that bad?

Carter frowned. Damn he would've wanted a chance with Breast Muscle.

Carter's eyes lingered back to that gorgeous muscle guy, standing there 
in a crowd of fairly decent looking individuals: A blond guy who looked 
like a footballer, a dark one who was probably anorectic but looked 
damn fine anyway, a wavy-haired one who had a catchy smile, and a guy 
who looked like a rich bookworm. Then there of course was that 
psychopath.

Breast Muscle and Psycho weren't talking but Carter noticed that Muscle 
kept casting glances at the psycho guy. Secretive glances.

Okay. But whatever the situation between the Psycho and the Breast 
Muscle, Carter wasn't willing to give up.

The Alphans wouldn't be spending too much time on this planet anyway, 
so would it be so horribly wrong if Alan wanted to enjoy those sparse 
moments of the visit as long as there would be a chance. A while ago 
Carter had found out from Koenig that the rye deal was proceeding 
splendidly and Carter was all prepared to go ahead with the actions 
needed from now on. No prob.

But how in the heck would he get Breast Muscle into bed before that, 
Carter narrowed his eyes thinking hard.

There had to be a way...

* * *

"Haven't you had enough to drink Japher," the man in a blue flannel 
shirt, a baseball cap and a pair of red Wellington's sitting next to 
him disapproved. Dexter Dinker was a God's man and he sure didn't like 
watching his business partners in the rye trade wallowing in sin.

"Sheba's not going to be very happy when you get home... And neither 
will God!"

"It's only orange juice Dex," Japher could hardly see straight.

"Sure it is..."

"Let the poor guy be," Pie-Face Weaver patted Dexter on the shoulder 
disarmingly. "He's had a hard time since one of his cows got the plague 
last sectar... God will understand..."

"Guys, look!!" Pester McGrindell, yet another participant in the rye 
farmers quilt gasped. "There he is!!"

"What? What??"

"The buyer! Look! He's got the flower!"

"Thank god!" Pie-Face exclaimed. "He did get the letter after all and 
is finally coming to talk to us!"

"Yeah, and thank god he has that flower. We wouldn't have been able to 
recognize him otherwise. We've only communicated with him and his ship 
crew in coded messages..."

"Sort of weird now seeing him in person," Erlie Humminghill, a farmer 
with batty ears and a freckled face said thoughtfully. "He looks a heck 
of a lot younger than I anticipated..."

"Don't say 'heck' Erlie," Dexter disapproved. "It's a sinful word. 
God'll punish you."

"I can't see anything," Japher was looking at a completely opposite 
direction. "Where is he??"

"All right fellows," Pie-Face straightened his back and lifted his 
chin. "Try to look professional..."

All the five farmers sitting around the glass table, anticipating to 
soon cut the rye-dealing deal of their lives, created a business-like 
expression on their faces and took their positions to greet the buyer 
heartily just as soon as he'd get to them.

Edward Furlong walked straight past the table.

"What the hell..." Pie-Face's jaw dropped.

"Don't say hell Pie-Face." Dexter pouted. "God will punish you."

"Did you... Did you just see that?" Pie-Face turned to the others, eyes 
wide. "He walked right past us! Just like that!"

"Maybe he hasn't gotten the letter after all..."

"Or maybe he can't read Caprican..."

"Relax guys." Pester McGrindell reassured. "I'm sure he just didn't 
notice the anemones we're wearing. It is kinda dark in here..."

"Better go after him then," Pie-Face bounced up. "We can't let all that 
rye go to waste..."

Determinedly striding after Edward Furlong, Pie-Face caught up with the 
boy, took a hold of him by the sleeve of his shirt and made him turn.

* * *

Edward Furlong didn't really react when he saw the farmer guy. He had 
gotten used to these crazed fans and people always wanting autographs.

"Hi," Furlie gave a vague, uninterested smile. "Whassup."

"You didn't get the letter then?" Pie-Face cut through the felgercarb. 
"or didn't you just notice us?"

"Huh?" Furlong raised one eyebrow. What did this wally want?

"Did you or did you not get the letter?!"

"What letter?"

"Well what do you think," Pie-Face frowned. "The business letter."

A pause.

Furlong stared at the man defiantly, now realizing what the wally was 
talking about.

"No, I didn't." he replied coldly, narrowing his eyes. "But what the 
frack does that have to do with you?!"

"Okay, okay. Hold on here. Let's get things straight first," Pie-Face 
held his hands up, his palms outwards as a sign of peaceful intentions. 
"You are here to buy premium quality, first class merchandise?"

"Sure," Furlong inclined his head. How did this wally know about the 
kidnapping deal? Had some arsehole been yapping his mouth. That deal 
was supposed to have been seriously secret...

"And you want it delivered in neat packages, most preferably 
tonight...?"

"Uh... what the hell do you mean packages?!" Furlong was appalled. "My 
boss wants the merchandise unharmed, not that it has anything to do 
with you... I already have the deal I came here for set. And a good 
deal it is too. So if you have nothing else to offer me that might 
catch my interest, like drugs or something, then leave it alone pal..."

"You had another offer??!..." Pie-Face was horrified.

"I made the deal I came here for," Furlong yawned. "Now get out of my 
way. I need to go to the toilet..."

* * *

Horrified, absolutely horrified, Pie-Face Weaver stood aside and 
watched the rye deal they had been planning for sectars just slipping 
through his fingers, along with the thousands of cubits that could've 
helped him and Japher start a company of their own.

Defeated and slouching he returned to the other farmers.

* * *

"We lost," Pie-Face's voice was merely a hoarse whisper. "Everything 
has been a waste of time. Everything..."

"What are you saying Pie?..."

"The word about the deal..." Pie sighed. "Apparently it got out. We 
lost the deal. Most probably to the McMullen brothers..."

"Frack!" Japher buried his face into his hands. "Sheba's going to kill 
me..."

"She was going to kill you anyway," Dexter murmured. "For being drunk."

"And just think of all the trouble I went through to travel to Warm 
Place," Pie-Face frowned, "risk my life to sneak into the priority 
observation area of the CSOU to kill the person in charge, delete all 
the database of the approaching space station of the customer... And 
all because I wanted to make sure that nothing would stand in the way 
of finally being able to buy that new tractor..."

"Don't worry Pie," Pester sniffed, patting his partners back 
reassuringly. "You'll get another chance."

"...And Japher and I were going to start a business of our own..."

"What?" Pester was suddenly alarmed. "You've never told me anything 
about a thing like that."

"...All this lost just because of the goddamn McMullen brothers getting 
to the fishing ground first! I hate them fracking borays..."

"What do you mean a business of your own," Pester felt pestered. "Were 
you going to start competing with us? Your buddies?..."

"Our business wouldn't have been that big..."

"What do you mean 'not that big' Japher awoke. "I've got the best 
quality rye in the county. My firm would've been the biggest in 
Sassy..."

"Too late now," Pie-Face murmured bitterly. "The McMullens got there 
first..."

"Gentlemen," Dexter Dinker got an idea. "It might not be too late..."

"What are you saying Dex?" Erlie Humminghill looked up, suddenly 
interested.

"What if we sneaked to the McMullen cabin, knocked them unconscious, 
tied them up and locked them into the cellar. Then we could take their 
clothes, dress up in them to impersonate that we're the McMullens and 
wait for the client they stole from us to show up..."

"Sounds a bit like the Goldielocks and three bears story to me..."

"How about kidnapping the client here in the disco, take him to a 
desolate farmhouse and then, when he comes to, try to blackmail him 
into doing the deal with us."

"And what were you thinking of blackmailing him with Japh?"

"We could take his wallet..."

"Or threaten to kill him if he refuses to co-operate...."

"But what if he really does refuse? Who's gonna do the killing?"

A pause. All eyes turned to Pie-Face.

"You're all right," Pie-Face solemnly met the anxious gaze of the 
others. "I've killed once and I can do it again. No biggy."

"That's the spirit!" Japher encouraged. "Yeah! We can follow the buyer 
to wherever he's going to meet the McMullens and do them all in at the 
same time!"

"...And we can take all of their money!" Erlie smiled.

A ceremonious moment. Pie-Face raised his glass of beer, keeping his 
solemn gaze on the others.

"To rye!" He toasted with pride.

"To business! Japher chimed in.

"Here here!..."

* * *

Tony was annoyed. Why for frack's sake did Maya always have to be so 
difficult. Just like tonight damn it.

They could've spent an immensely romantic evening up in this room, 
alone together. Candles all over the place, soft music, probably Chopin 
or Erik Satie (Tony had noticed the hotel broadcasting unit had both 
options), good wine and perhaps strawberries if this hotel or this 
planet had any...

Tony was sure that without the darn disco downstairs, he would finally 
had gotten to base three with Maya.

And then there was always that Matthias interfering... Okay, the guy 
was gay and all that, but he was still always around to lure Maya into 
something inappropriate. Tony definitely didn't like that. The sound of 
Tony's fingers tapping the bedsight table. Hard thinking...

All right. That was it. No more felgercarb!

Tony bounced off the bed, fetched his jacket from the wardrobe and 
headed out of the room...

* * *

Apollo knew he wouldn't be able to bare those puppy glances Starbuck 
kept casting at him much longer. And he just couldn't stand seeing Jean 
Michel so all over Starbuck, groping the guy like a wolf in a little 
red riding hood's costume, casting those charming honeybunny smiles, 
endlessly touching Starbuck's body ever so bloody casually....

...And that look in Jean Michel's eyes. The look of wanting to rip all 
of Starbuck's clothes off and frack him right there on the floor like a 
beast. This was a side to Jeanie that Apollo had never before seen, and 
it annoyed the fracks out of him because it was directed to Starbuck.

Apollo's eyes lingered to Cecil and Denis who were chatting with some 
bloody gorgeous transvestite and his bloody gorgeous transvestite 
partner.

For a moment Apollo thought of joining them but then thought better of 
it. He didn't want to spoil anyone's evening, and that's exactly what 
he would've done because Apollo just couldn't stand the sight of Jean 
Michel all over Starbuck. It was spoiling his whole damn evening.

...Yeah, if there would've been something left to be spoiled, Apollo 
thought with sarcasm.

He wondered if Niels would be out there in the dark tonight, waiting 
for him... Like before...
Like when the college had started...

Apollo tried not to think of the scars he had under his shirt.

* * *

Nice quadriceps, Maya studied the third of the three guys she was 
dancing with. And that six- pack wasn't too bad either, although it 
would've been more viewable if the guy hadn't had his shirt on.

'Cuuuuba', Maya sang and boogied to the beat of the Gibson Brothers. 
'Quiero bailar la saaaalsa... SHIT!'

To her horror, she noticed a figure much too familiar to be welcome at 
this point, entering the disco. What the hell was Tony doing here?! 
Finished with cutting the toenails already, huh, you jealous moron...

Bloody hell, bloody hell, Maya eyed around the dance floor to spot a 
crack in the swaying crowd through which she could escape before Tony 
saw her with these three cavaliers.

Tony was eyeing the bar, there was still time...

Hastily Maya kissed the three guys on the cheek to say goodbye like the 
perfect lady, then swiftly vanished from the dance floor and dived 
behind the corner of the DJ booth. Too fracking bad that it was made of 
glass, but the material of the booth was anyhow decorated and therefore 
unclear enough to give Maya the cover she'd need before metamorphing 
into another being.

Feverishly she studied the people buzzing back and forth in the disco. 
Now which one of those people would be good-looking enough to be 
suitable for Maya to transform into...

Hmmm.

Definitely not the girl dancing topless on the table, not the bloke in 
that god-awful baseball cap! Jeeez....

There! Maya spotted Starbuck.

Perfect!

Quickly creating the visual image of this handsome guy in her head, she 
metamorphed into him, soon studying her new reflection reflecting from 
the DJ booth. Damn handsome! Maya pursed her lips...

And that was about all she had time to do before Alan Carter came from 
behind and pinched her butt.

"You disappeared so quickly mate," Carter was grinning. It was obvious 
that he had no idea that he was in fact flirting with Maya.

Tony was lingering toward the DJ booth, carefully eyeing the people on 
the dance floor. There wouldn't have been a worse time to metamorph 
back. Maya frowned. He decided to play along with Carter since she 
didn't have any other choice.

"Honey, I'm sorry if I did," Maya twittered, having no fracking clue 
about what Carter was babbling. "I think I just saw someone..."

"Yes, you certainly did," Carter lifted one eyebrow. "Who was that guy 
storming out of the toilet cubicle? Not your boyfriend I hope..."

"Of course not, silly," Maya tittered, keeping a close eye on Tony 
still approaching. "Whatever gave you that idea..."

"mmm, let's say it kind of looked like that when you ran after him like 
a fox," Carter smiled, feeling somehow suspicious. This guy wasn't one 
of those female transvestites was he. He somehow seemed a little 
feminine...

"erhm... " Maya noticed Tony was now only a couple of metres away. 
"What do you say we hit the dance floor. I've been wanting to dance 
with you all night!"

"What? You have??"

"Or we could go somewhere nicer and quieter... You know, like the hotel 
lobby... or your room..."

Carter wasn't quite sure he had heard right. Was this gorgeous being 
with breast muscles from heaven really suggesting that they'd go and 
spend some, hmmmm, quality time together? Alone?

"You want to go up to my room??"

"More than anything at this very moment," Maya replied with all 
honesty. She glanced at Tony.

Tony had noticed Carter, and was heading towards him. Towards Maya...

"Yes, why don't we go right now honey," Maya started dragging the 
stunned-as-frack Alan towards the disco exit. "I can't wait to get out 
of here..."

"Carter!" Tony waved.

"Wait," Carter stopped, refusing to follow Maya. "I want you to meet a 
friend of mine... Tony, what are you doing here mate. I thought you 
were worried about becoming deaf or something..."

"I came to look for Maya," Tony said, casting yet another impatient 
look around. "Have you seen her?"

"Sure," Carter smiled. "A while ago she was dancing with..." Oooops!

"With who?" Tony narrowed his eyes.

"With some girl," Carter was smiling too reassuringly. "She looked like 
someone with a decent upbringing and good background. No slut at all. I 
can assure you Maya's been in very decent company all evening."

"Mmmm..." Tony's expression wasn't quite that believing.

"Here," Carter pulled Maya closer by her wrist. "Meet... ummm..." 
Carter turned to Maya with an apologizing grin. "I'm sorry, I forgot to 
ask you your name..."

"Walter," Maya swallowed. "Walter Willowfield."

"Tony, meet Walter Willowfield."

"It's a pleasure," Tony smiled. Tony and Maya shook hands. "You live 
around here or...?"

"Sort of," Maya's smile was a frozen crack from one ear to another. 
"Carter, could we go now?"

"He sure is hot stuff," Carter winked at Tony. "I've been spending my 
whole evening worrying that I'll never get into his pants and now look 
what happens..."

"mmmm..."

"Say hi to Maya when you find her," Carter grinned, putting his arm 
around Maya's waist, starting to leave. "And tell her that Koenig's 
talked with the dealer. All is being taken care of..."

"Alan," Tony hesitated. "Why don't you stay just a little longer. Help 
me look for Maya. You've always been such a good friend and I wouldn't 
really want to be left in this place by myself, you know..."

Carter hesitated. Maya was horrified.

"All right then mate," Carter smiled. "You've always been there when 
I've needed you Tone. How could I turn my back on you in a situation 
like thismmmmhh...."

Eyes popping open wide, Carter found himself staring at the face of 
Walter Willowfield from extremely close distance.

Walter Willowfield, the horny beast, had just all of a sudden rammed 
his lips against Carter's, and was now kissing him like a maniac.

"Okay, I get the drift," Tony smirked, but rather offended. "You guys 
have fun, eh!"

"mmmm."

"Don't forget about the mission later Alan. Koenig's depending on you. 
You know that. You're his right arm..."

"Mmmyeahyeah," Carter wasn't hearing a thing.

"Nice meeting you Willow," Tony smiled. "Willie...Ummm..." What the 
hell was that name again...

"mmmyeahsurewhatever," Maya had already forgotten that a person named 
Tony Verdeschi had ever even existed. God, if she had known what a 
heavenly kisser Alan Carter really was, she would've jumped on the guy 
a hell of lot sooner.

Tony eyed the two men kissing.

"Okay. What the hell am I babbling here for anyway," He finally 
mumbled. "No one seems to be listening to me..."

Tony left to search for Koenig.

And goddamn it he wanted to find Maya!

* * *

Twenty minutes later in Carter's room, flushed and comfortably tired, 
Maya made up her mind to never ever change her form back into being 
Maya again. Carter was a goddamn sex god!

Too bad she could only hold this form for an hour at a time...

* * *

Chapter 13

Koenig didn't know whether to be extremely disappointed for not having 
had a chance to... to what? He didn't even want Carter. It was junior 
who did. Koenig himself was totally and utterly heterosexual and deeply 
in love with Helena Russell, although he did hate her quite a bit at 
this very moment...

And Koenig should've been comfortably satisfied for having finally had 
the final details of the business deal finalized, not to mention that 
that godawful beast, Paul Morrow, had finally lost track of him. Then 
why was he feeling so damn unfulfilled...

Koenig was on his way up to his room. He hoped Helena would be asleep 
so he wouldn't have to talk to her.

* * *

The corridor was quiet. Only one or two people passed Koenig on the 
way, neither of them paying any attention to him apart from giving him 
a polite nod.

One of the fancy wall-lamps in the corridor was flickering. The 
beautifully ornamented eastern carpet looked more brown in this 
lighting than red what it was supposed to be.

Somehow the whole hotel seemed to be asleep which, of course, was a 
hallucination. Most people were probably partying downstairs, getting 
out of there heads. Having fun.

Koenig missed Alpha.

And he didn't notice the big bundle of red hair spying on him from 
behind a corner further down the corridor.

* * *

Before Koenig had left the disco, he had tried to find that Japher 
farmer dude whom he'd seen around there somewhere earlier, but that has 
been unsuccessful. Guess they'd just have to manage to get to the 
Digger Barnes museum by themselves then.

But how difficult would that be anyway? A taxi for example could easily 
take them there. The locals must had known all the local places, 
right?!

When in his room, Koenig would have to contact Tony who was still 
probably in his room, nervously waiting for his call, ready to proceed 
with the mission. Tony was a man to be trusted. A normal man, and not 
like a big, fat, juicy stick of meat in an eagle cockpit which Alan 
Carter had seemed to be metamorphing into quite a lot during these past 
months...

Damn that annoyance junior!!!! Koenig was more and more starting to 
incline towards the decision of complete castration. He would 
definitely have to have a serious chat with professor Bergman...

Also before having left the disco, Koenig had made sure that Carter and 
Maya were already aware of the latest development, and would be ready 
and waiting for Koenig and Tony in the hotel lobby at 01.30. The rest 
of the Alphan crew  would remain in the disco or in their rooms 
until tomorrow morning when it would be time to KD-check the 
merchandise, and then take it to the eagle to be transported back to 
Alpha.

Koenig smiled. Soon, very soon they'd all be enjoying nice, freshly-
baked rye bread. A treat so rare in the universe of wheat, barley and 
corn, not to mention all the alien felgercarb...

* * *

Koenig reached the door to his hotel room, dug out the key and opened 
the door.

It was dark inside, and Koenig didn't want to wake Helena up quite yet 
by turning on the lights so he decided to fumble his way to the 
wardrobe and the bed in the blackness.

And of course, Koenig banged his toe against a leg of a chair or 
something. Grimacing like mad and holding the other foot, Koenig kept 
jumping up and down on one foot for centons until the pain gradually 
subsided and he was able to walk to the wardrobe to hang his jacket up. 
Koenig glanced at the glowing figures on his watch.

00.20.

Great. There'd still be a little time to get a nap before it would be 
time to proceed.
Koenig proceeded to make his way towards the double bed.

Oh yes. Call Tony.

Careful not to make a too much sound, Koenig dialed the number of 
Tony's and Maya's room.

The com-unit seemed to keep ringing for ages but there was no answer. 
After a while the call got automatically transferred to the hotel 
reception. Koenig hung up. Okay, Tony was either asleep or out 
somewhere, but Koenig had no doubt that the ever-responsible Maya would 
fill her loverboy in on everything in perfect time.

Koenig didn't bother to worry.

He took off his shoes and all other clothes including underwear (Koenig 
never slept in his underwear), set the alarm timepiece to wake him up 
at exactly 01.15, then sat on the side of the bed. He could feel the 
lump conquering the other side. Helena. Koenig smiled, but rather 
coldly.

Amiably patting the highest point of the lump which he reckoned to be 
the hips of the woman, Koenig then raised the blanket and crawled under 
it, shivering because of the cold. Apparently they weren't interested 
in paying for central heating in this hotel.

Helena's body felt warm. Koenig wiggled his way closer to it so he 
could share the warmness and put his hand around Helena's waist. For a 
moment Koenig played with the thought that it was Carter. Junior popped 
awake.

Helena moved a little.

"I'm sorry I awoke you darling," Koenig whispered into the woman's ear. 
"It wasn't my intention..."

"It's alright," the other person peeped. "I wasn't asleep anyway."

"Helena," Koenig lifted his head a little and eyed the dark lump on the 
pillow with slight concern. "Are you sure you're not getting a flu or 
something. Your voice sounds a little hoarse..."

"No John, "A naked Paul Morrow turned to face Koenig with a huge grin, 
"I'm just fine! Especially now..."

Quickly like a lightning, quicker than what Koenig's reflexes worked, 
Morrow grabbed a tight hold of junior, measuring it with his hand.

"A little smaller than I anticipated," Morrow raised one eyebrow. "But 
definitely juicy enough for me..."

By now Koenig was screaming like a foghorn, slapping everything he 
possibly could, hoping that even some of those slaps ended on Morrow.

Morrow was grinning like a madman, trying to kiss Koenig on the lips 
the same time as he was stroking the guy's dick.

"I'm surprised you were this hard, John," Morrow smirked. "There must 
had been a part of you that knew I was here waiting for you. I doubt 
Helena's that much of a turn on for you nowadays..."

"Helena! Help me!!" Koenig screamed, kicking and trying to bite 
Morrow's head off. "help!!!"

"Helena's not here, John," Morrow informed patiently with a grin. 
"We're all alone..."

"Helena!!!"

"She's not here John. Are you deaf?"

"Where is she??" Koenig was hitting Morrow with a pillow. "If you did 
something to her I'm gonna..."

"Calm down you moron," Morrow rolled his eyes. "I haven't touched her. 
All I know is when I got here, I saw Helena coming out from this room 
carrying her three suitcases, taking a nervous glance around and then 
heading to the elevators. I doubt she even saw me..."

"What? Let me go you idiot," Koenig yelled red-faced. "Get OFF me..."

Somehow Koenig found enough strength to manage to push Morrow aside, 
just enough to be able to crawl from under him like a frantic 
earthworm.

Morrow tried to grab Koenig's ankle but he was too late. Koenig had 
already dived from the bed and rushed to grab something he could use as 
a weapon. In this case a half-empty bottle of whisky.

Holding that bottle over his head, Koenig switched on the lights. 
Junior was up and pointing to the north like a compass needle.

"Stay where you are!!"

Morrow halted. His amused eyes lingered from Koenig's enraged face to 
junior, then to Koenig's chest , then back to junior.

"What the hell was that felgercarb about Helena?" Koenig growled, 
holding the bottle of whisky over his head.

"Just what I said." Morrow shrugged. "I think she's dumped you man."

"Helena?? Don't make me laugh."

"I have an idea," Morrow smirked. "Let's search this room. If she 
dumped you, I'm sure she's left a message somewhere."

Koenig thought about it. His eyes narrowed a little as he focused his 
gaze back to Morrow.

"Okay, but you better keep you damn hands off my dick or..."

"I promise," Morrow lied, raising his hands surrenderingly. "No 
dickgrabbing..."

Koenig glared at Morrow for a micron longer, thinking...

"Okay. Get you clothes on. We've got about an hour or so to find 
something before I have to leave to take care of the rye deal."

* * *

Five minutes later Morrow gave an excited yell from the bathroom and 
rushed to the main room with a piece of paper swaying in his hand.

Ten centons later Koenig was slouched on the floor, his face covered 
with his hands. The piece of paper Morrow had found in the bathroom was 
beside him, crumpled and ripped in two halves.

"I can't believe she's done this to me.." Koenig whined, lost in 
immense self-pity. "I always gave her everything, treated her like a 
queen. Held her when she was sick on that planet whatever it was 
called..."

"Calm down John," Morrow was leaning against a wall, his arms crossed 
on his chest, eyeing Koenig who was still completely naked. "I'm sure 
she wasn't thinking about you when she decided to leave..."

"Well she certainly wasn't!" Koenig growled, casting Morrow a glare. 
"And stop staring at my dick."

Morrow sighed. "It's not my fault she decided to elope with the hotel 
manager! You were there yourself when she pointed out that she could 
very well live on this planet if the natives turned out to be friendly! 
I guess the hotel manager was friendly enough..."

"Nghnghngh..." Koenig wanted to twist the hotel manager's neck.

"...And she did emphasize in the letter that it would be no use for you 
to try to find her. She would be in a place where you'd never ever 
realize to look..."

"Nghnghnghngh..."

"...and even if you did, she'd never come back to alpha, no matter 
what!"

"She's an ass!"

"mmmm"

"Do you think she had been planning this all along? Ever since we 
landed on this forsaken planet?"

"Might have," Morrow shrugged. "Who knows..."

A pause.

"Okay, well I don't give a fuck!" Koenig decided. "Let's go buy some 
rye and leave this forsaken planet before more of us decide to 
elope..." Koenig's eyes lingered to Morrow. "I want you to come to the 
woods now that Helena's gone. You and Sandra. Why don't you go and get 
her right now..."

"Ummmm..." Morrow hesitated.

"What?"

"Sandra's... sort of... dead." Morrow grinned ill-at-ease. "Too many 
sleeping pills... You know what kind of shit can happen on an alien 
planet..."

"Dead???" If Koenig hadn't already been sitting on the floor, he would 
definitely fallen on his arse.

"Yeah," Morrow continued. "I kinda dropped by my room to get some S/M 
sex toys before coming here to wait for you and I sort of found her... 
unalive..."

"Oh my god!" Koenig was horrified. "You must have been horrified..."

"Not really," Morrow swallowed. "You see, it was kinda... my fault..."

All right. This was getting out of hand. Koenig stared at Morrow. "What 
the hell are you saying Paul?..."

"I stole those pills from Matthias and Kano's room, gave the whole 
bottle to Sandra so she would sleep all night and give me all the 
privacy I'd need for chasing you around..."

"Oh my god..." Koenig buried his face into his hands.

"Yeah, and now Kano's kind of... arrested by the local police for 
attempted murder and..."

Koenig looked up. "How do you know Kano's arrested??"

"I saw the police taking him away in handcuffs when I left the disco," 
Morrow fidgeted. "Then when I got to my room and found Sandra dead I 
kinda figured..."

"Jesus!"

"Well...Kano, more likely..."

"So is Matthias in danger of being arrested too?"

"No, I don't think so," Morrow sighed. "Then again, I wouldn't know 
would I..."

"Would you have any idea where they might have taken Kano..."

"Jail, I guess," Morrow shrugged.

"Okay, that much I kinda figured, but where the heck is that jail?"

"Why do you keep asking me those questions John!? How would I know. I'm 
just as much an alien on this planet as you..."

"All right," Koenig tried to think rationally. "We'll find that out 
about that jail thing later. Kano can manage one night by himself. All 
we have to think about now is getting that deal finalized."

Morrow gave a forlorn sigh.

"What?" Koenig looked up to give the man a glare.

"It's just that when I think about Kano alone with all those murderers 
and arsonists and rapists and politicians..."

"Okay okay I got the point." Koenig rolled his eyes. "Okay. We still 
have 50 minutes. Let's find out where the jail is and free our 
friend..." Koenig started to the door.

"Hrhrmh," Morrow coughed, making Koenig turn.

"What?" Koenig was bloody impatient by now. "We don't have too much 
time..."

"Aren't you going to put any clothes on before you leave the room 
commander..." Morrow smirked. "Not that I'd mind but..."

* * *

The upbeat music had changed into some of those smootchies Starbuck 
really hated in a disco.
This was always the cursed moment when the lights were dimmed, people 
found each other, bodies entwined on the dance floor and some sugary 
song telling either a sad, sad story about a love forever lost or a 
story about how wonderful life was now that someone had finally found 
someone special started flooding from the loudspeakers.

And every time these smootchies took place, Starbuck either succeeded 
in attracting the attention of the ugliest, stupidest and absolutely 
the most horrible person in the whole disco, or remaining one of the 
fidgeting wallflowers.

Starbuck glanced at the glass cubicle. The DJ was chatting with 
someone, drinking coffee or something, taking a probably well-deserved 
break.

How unfortunate that the well-deserved break always happened to be the 
most uncomfortable quarter-a-centar for Starbuck, especially now that 
he really, really wanted to ask Apollo for a dance but didn't find the 
courage.

How different life here on Cadria was compared to the life on the 
colonies, on the Galactica and comparing to the nights on the Rising 
Star where Starbuck had been the party animal, the object of desire for 
numerous women and probably as numerous men (he just hadn't realized it 
at the time), always having been ready to take risks, always living 
life to the fullest... 

Why had all that changed?

Starbuck couldn't answer the question. But he wasn't the only one 
changed.

Starbuck's eyes lingered to Boomer and his buddies sitting together, 
wagging chins, laughing, all in all seeming to have the time of their 
lives. Starbuck felt a little sting of jealousy seeing those guys so 
seemingly happy.

But why in the names of the lords had Boomer brought his court to 
Saskachoona of all places. Starbuck knew very well that Boomer hated 
the cold, and hated being in a place where there was nothing to do. The 
guy had pointed that out so many times himself...

And why was Boomer now so obviously wanting to keep away from 
Starbuck's company all evening.
Just like Apollo had, all those months...

Apollo.

Once again did Starbuck's longing eyes linger to the man who used to be 
so dear a friend to him in the past. How much Starbuck now wanted 
Apollo to be more than a friend. Even if there would be a chance for 
more than only a few centons on the dance floor, he wanted to hold 
Apollo close. Tell him that he cared, so much...

Starbuck swallowed the painful lump in his throat. He would have to 
try. Even if it meant losing the little what was now left of the 
friendship they used to share. Starbuck would have to try.

He'd have to...

"Wanna dance Starbuck?" Jean Michel leant over with a smirk.

"No thanks," Starbuck peeped, not finding his voice. "I'm kinda 
tired..."

And the moment was gone.

* * *

"Wait here," The red-haired sex god had said before having sneaked 
after Goat-Face. "One of us has to keep an eye on the goat so we'll 
know when he's about to leave. We'll have to let him show us the way to 
the mansion or we won't be able to find the Denier lad."

"What if he's leaving right now?" Furlong had asked.

"Well if he is, then I'll come back to get you..."

"And you're sure that once we're there by the mansion, you'll know what 
the Denier heir looks like."

"How difficult could that be," the sex god had frowned. "I'm sure he's 
the wealthiest, most spoiled-looking person in the house. I'll be back 
soon..."

And the red-haired sex god had vanished.

Okay, whatever, Edward Furlong had shrugged after the guy had vanished. 
He didn't mind spending a little more time in the disco. Gave him a 
chance to buy a couple of more drinks and, if lucky, get a shag in the 
toilet...

* * *

Fifteen minutes and two tequila slammers later Furlong still hadn't 
gotten lucky yet, but who knew, maybe there would still be time before 
red-haired god came back.

Eyeing the meat at hand judgingly, Furlong let his gaze linger around 
the disco...

* * *

Boomer was thinking. A thing he didn't allow himself to do much these 
days. A thing that he had been forced to do a hell of a lot tonight.

He kept his pondering eyes on the Denier guy, trying to make his 
decision whether it would be best to leave now and wait for him at the 
mansion, or linger here in the disco until Denier and his pals would 
leave, then follow them.

Boomer still couldn't believe his bad luck having found Apollo and 
Starbuck... especially Starbuck... a part of the Denier court. If 
someone had mentioned Starbuck and Jean Michel Denier together in the 
same sentence a sectar ago, Boomer would've laughed his arse off. 
Totally. And now he was witnessing a beautiful friendship having 
started to grow between those two most unlikely characters to ever get 
together.

And what was more weird, Boomer shook his head. That thing of theirs 
didn't look like just unpredictable friendship. It looked like 
foreplay. The Denier heir appeared like he couldn't keep his paws off 
Starbuck. Starbuck on the other hand, didn't look that interested. 
Molested more like.

And Apollo was so seemingly jealous it almost made Boomer laugh. 
Casting those secretive, dark glances at Starbuck and Denier 
foreplaying, acting like he wasn't giving a damn. Boomer couldn't help 
wondering which one of those two did Apollo have his secret crush on.

* * *

"When are we going to leave?..." Sascha asked the others, mostly, 
because he was bored, but because he was a little worried about 
screwing up the kidnapping thing too. But whatever the reason, he 
disrupted Boomer from his thoughts. "...I can't stand this hanging 
about."

"Even the target hasn't left yet Sasch," Mitchi grinned. "Do you really 
want to go there into the woods prematurely and shiver your ass off 
before the Denier guy even gets there?"

"Guess you're right..."

"Yeah," Jolly agreed. "Let's hang around for a while longer. We just 
make sure that we won't forget to meet the client at the given time. 
What was it again Boomer?"

"Now?"

"No, the meeting."

"02.00..."

"Perfect," Francis Lindo grinned. "Gives me a chance to ask Squirrel 
for yet another dance or two... Squirry?? May I..."

"Okay, what the heck" Squirrel sighed and pushed his chair back. "But 
better not step on my toes this time Franny or I'll never do business 
with you again..."

"Are you sure you guys weren't sealed in another life or something..." 
Mikey chuckled.

After a while, the smootchies ended and the music turned upbeat. 
'Earth, Wind & Fire's super hit 'After the Love has Gone' changed into 
the intro of 'Kool & the Gang's Open Sesame', then 'Sophistication' by 
'the Richie Family'.

People rushed to the dance floor.

* * *

"I heard Goat-Face's plan," Tigh startled the fracks out of Edward 
Furlong by sneaking to him from behind and grabbing his arm. "They're 
going to drop by the Saskachoona county jail for some weird reason, 
then come back to pick up their mates, then head into the forest to 
make some kind of a business deal..."

Tigh paused to give Furlong a little suspicious gaze. "Are you sure you 
didn't make a deal with anyone else about this kidnapping thing as 
well? I mean, if..."

"Get real man," Furlong rolled his eyes. "You really think I would 
trust a man who'd look like that?! Besides, it was you who was wearing 
the flower, the given sign..."

"Okay," Tigh didn't understand felgercarb but it was the money that 
mattered. "Here's what we do. We'll camp into the lobby to wait for 
Goat-Face to return.  I don't think it would be a wise idea to follow 
them all the way to the jail and back first..."

"You have a point," Furlong wasn't listening.

"...then, when they get back, we'll take the car I just rented from the 
DERTHX representative in the lounge, and..."

"Okay, let's go then," Furlong was already on his way. "My boss wants 
the kidnapped guy delivered by 4 am in the morning..."

* * *

"They're leaving," Pie-Face Weaver said, keeping his close eye on the 
lad with the anemone on his chest and his red-haired friend. Red Hair 
was probably a front, hired by the McMullen brothers to fool everyone. 
The red-haired guy was wearing an anemone too. A yellow one. That had 
probably been their sign. "...We have to go."

"I'm ready!" Japher poured the rest of the drink down his throat and 
pushed his chair back. Erlie Humminghill supported him when he stood 
up.

"You sure you're in the condition to come with us Japh?" Pie-Face 
looked doubtful.

"Shhure!"

"What if they notice us," Dexter Dinker was worried. "And tip the 
McMullens..."

"Naah," Pester decided against that. "That red-haired guy doesn't look 
too observant, and the kid's definitely too drunk."

"So what are we going to do exactly when we get to their destination, 
wherever that it?"

"We're gonna shoot the McMullens and the red hair, so the kid'll have 
to buy the rye from us.
Great plan," Japher smiled.

"Okay fellas," Pie-Face glanced at the others. "Let's go. Oh, and dump 
the flowers. Somehow I think it's better if we leave those little 
things behind..."

* * *

The very nice person in the hotel reception had given Koenig and Morrow 
directions to the Saskachoona county jail. She had even volunteered to 
call a cab for them, saying how much she liked seeing tourists in this 
small town of theirs.

"Are you going to stay long?" she had asked with a beautiful smile on 
her face.

"No, ma'am,"

Well, enjoy your stay anyway..."

* * *

To Koenig's annoyance, the cab driver turned out to be a really 
talkative son-of-a-daggit, plus an out-of-towner who had moved into 
Sassy to get away from things' as were his own exact words.
God, the guy irritated the fracks out of Koenig.

But, being the fine, organized commander that Koenig very well knew he 
was, he realized that he would have to remain calm with this daggit, 
because by setting a deal with this particular taxi driver, they 
wouldn't have to go through all the trouble of finding another one when 
time to leave to explore the forested countryside.

However, the whole fifteen-minute drive to the county jail had demanded 
more self control from commander John Koenig than not pressing that 
red, inviting button that had the words 'don't press' on it.

* * *

When they pulled beside the county jail, it took Koenig and Morrow for 
at least ten more centons to talk the stubborn cab driver into waiting 
for them outside the jail, take them back to the hotel, and then, if 
paid enough cash, re-think about his recent refusal to take them 
anywhere in the woods. The cab driver couldn't emphasize enough the 
'pay enough cash' -part.

Koenig and Morrow climbed out of the car and strode their way through 
the dark parking lot towards the entrance of the Saskachoona police 
station.

There was a young-ish man sitting behind a gray desk, drawing 
meaningless circles and dots on a piece of paper looking bored. He 
looked up as Koenig and Morrow entered.

"Evening," he nodded formally. "What can I do for you?"

"Good evening," Koenig did his best to be charming, "I think a friend 
of ours was just brought in here for questioning, and we'd like to see 
him if that's possible."

"Oh, was he a witness to something?" the man eyed the papers in front 
of him, trying to find the latest markings of a brought-in.

"No..." Koenig hesitated. "He was falsely arrested for murder."

"Oh?" the young-ish man looked up.

"But I can swear to you that he's innocent!"

"Sure he is." The man had heard that a billion times before. "What's 
his name?"

"Kano," Morrow replied. "David Kano. He's a native Jamaican..."
"A what??"
"Never mind," Morrow remembered they were on a different planet.

The policeman-on-duty's wary eyes remained on Morrow and Koenig a 
little longer, then he reluctantly returned to plough through the pile 
of papers.

"Here," he found the right information and picked up a com-unit 
receiver. "Hold on a centon, I'll need to call the 4AY department..."

* * *

A bunch of fluorescent-lit hallways, a couple of thick metallic doors, 
thousands of surveillance cameras, dozens of grumpy-looking guards with 
heavy weaponry and ten centons later Koenig and Morrow were led to a 
grille of bars, behind which they found a surprisingly relaxed-looking 
David Kano, who was reading the 'Prison Entertainment Weekly'.

Interrupted, Kano looked up as he realized someone was approaching.

"Well, hello there," Kano beamed when noticed it was Koenig and Morrow 
who'd come to see him.  "How's the outside world?"

"You haven't been here that long David," Koenig frowned.

"An hour can be a year in the cage, man" Kano smiled. "You got any 
cigarettes?"

"You don't smoke David."

Kano shrugged. "I do now."

"We're here to get you out," Koenig glanced at the guard behind. "You 
don't need to worry about anything. We know you're innocent. We've..."

"Hold on a minute," Kano slowly sat up on the bunk, folding the 
newspaper. "I didn't say I wanted to be gotten out..."

"What the hell are you talking about David," Morrow stared at the 
computer genius gone insane. "They drugged you with something?"

Kano eyed the two men leasurably. "No. I'm saying that I don't want to 
leave this place. I like it here."

Kano paused for a moment to take a look around his cell. Then returned 
his attention back to Koenig and Morrow.

"You see," the dark man continued. "I finally feel like I'm home. You 
know! On a solid planet. Not having to drift endlessly everywhere 
worrying about everything. There's nothing on Alpha that I really would 
want to return to..."

"But..." Morrow's eyes were stunned wide. "What about your pet rabbit?! 
Or your three lady friends, or..."

"I'm gay," Kano shrugged. "And allergic to Tintin. I only had those 
things to find some escape from the constant fear of something terrible 
happening..."

"Kano," Koenig growled. "I know you're not thinking straight right now. 
Let us..."

"And the food's kinda good in here too," Kano grinned and pointed 
towards the empty tray with chicken bones and fresh brassica oleracia 
salad on it in the corner of his cell. "I definitely don't miss all the 
tofu stuff..."

"You're really sure about this?" Morrow didn't believe a word he was 
hearing. Kano had gone crazy.

Kano's tranquil gaze lingered to Morrow.

"I've never been so sure about anything in my life." Kano replied, his 
eyes clear and honest. "There's nothing you can do to take me back to 
Alpha. And if you try, I swear I'll really do kill someone this time, 
not just take the blame of ti like I have now, and then no one has any 
other choices than to bring me back here..."

Koenig had fallen into heavily-thinking silence. This was one of those 
back-breaking decisions a commander sometimes had to make. In this case 
it was to either force one of his crew members free from jail and take 
him back home to Alpha, or consent to respecting his wishes and let him 
become what he really wanted: a jailbird.

And who was he kidding.

Koenig already knew he had only one appropriate choice really. To think 
about what was best for his subordinate and friend, and gain the 
respect of everyone around him. (Okay, this is part where you start 
shedding tears and wiping noses like you did when having watched 
'Little House on the Prairie'. An old respectable but mean man finally 
does a good deed that everyone knows 
he should have done already in the beginning and everyone hugs each 
other and Laura Ingalls says something wise and cute which makes you 
want to weep even more.)

"Pack your stuff Kano. We're going home!"

What?!" Kano stared at Koenig. "That's not what you're supposed to 
say!"

"Maybe not, but that's the most reasonable thing to do. Now get your 
things ready..."

"Commander Koenig," David Kano pulled out a laser gun (one of the 
latest models) from under his jacket. "I am not going anywhere."

"My god Kano," Koenig exhaled. "Where did you get that?!"

"I bought it from the man next door," Kano nodded towards the next 
cell. "They have a bloody decent arms trade network inside these prison 
walls I can tell ya. Now, forget about ever taking me back to Alpha and 
get the hell out of my house!"

"Give me that gun David," Koenig tried the coolest approach. "You won't 
gain anything by hurting us or yourself..."

"Cut the crap John."

Okay. The second coolest approach.

"Surrender David, you stubborn devil, or I'll shoot your dick off!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Kano hadn't heard anything quite that hilarious for a 
while now. "Try, John, and the guards in here will demolish you into 
little pieces..."

"Oh what the hell!" Koenig through his hands in the air. "Stay wherever 
you want you moron. Even if it's jail. I don't care. Come on Paul..."

Koenig turned to go. Then he thought of something and turned. "By the 
way Kano. You know anything about Matthias? Is he in some kind of 
trouble too?"

"Not any more," Kano grinned. "The police shot him when he was trying 
to escape. He's dead as a rock."

"Oh my god!" Morrow exhaled eyes wide.  "That's terrible!"

"Not really," Kano thought about it. His eyes returned to Morrow. "You 
sure you didn't bring me any cigarettes?"

* * *

When Koenig and Morrow returned to the hotel, they found the others 
already there, hanging in the lobby, all ready and set to go rye-
hunting in the woods.

A few farmers were loitering here and there, a couple of sexily-dressed 
young ladies were making their way towards the exit giggling at 
something, and that guy with tons and tons of red hair whom Koenig had 
noticed in the disco earlier was sitting on one of the couches with his 
legs on a table, reading the Saskachoona Sheraton Weekly.

A kid in his early twenties who would've been a strikingly good-looking 
creature if only he hadn't been so drunk was trying to chat up the 
receptionist.

Tony was absolutely horrified when he heard about Matthias' and 
Sandra's deaths, Kano's plead to remain locked up in jail and Helena's 
decision to elope to live on a planet she knew nothing about with a man 
she'd only just met.

Carter, who was grinning like a satisfied alley cat, seemed so lost in 
his own pleasant thoughts that he probably didn't even hear a word 
Koenig was saying.

And Maya then. Maya was slouching on a nearby couch, reading the Men's 
World magazine, her indifference towards the events going on around her 
bothering the fracks out of Tony who still had no idea where Maya had 
been all night.

* * *

"Right," Koenig rubbed his hands together, eyeing his crew. "Shall we 
get started then. The taxi's ready..."

"Yes sir," Tony picked up his bag.

"What's that for?" Maya asked, eyeing it.

"My weapon arsenal," Tony replied, feeling important. "You never know 
what's gonna be waiting for us in that alien forest. Better be safe 
than sorry..."

Maya rolled her eyes. She'd never understand these earthlings. But she 
couldn't wait to transform herself back into Walter Willowfield...

"Paul," Koenig hesitated, then turned to Morrow. "I know that I said 
that I wanted you to come to the forest now that Helena's gone..."

"Yeah?"

"Well... Now that so much shit has happened, I want you to stay here at 
the hotel in case something else goes wrong. You and I both know that 
it is the moonbase regulations that one of the mission crew has to be 
withing the reach of Alpha command center at all times. This is just a 
precaution, it's nothing personal..." Hell it wasn't. This was Koenig's 
way of making sure 
Morrow wouldn't be there to hassle him.

"Okay, John." Morrow nodded. He hadn't wanted to go roaming in the 
bloody woods anyway. "I'll just go and grab myself a beer and wait for 
you guys to return..."

"Great," Koenig smiled turned to the others. "All right gentlemen... 
Maya... It's time to go and finish this adventure..."

"Yes sir..."

* * *

The taxi that had been waiting for them outside the hotel entrance, 
took off with a skid and started it's way towards the highways on the 
edge of the town.

No one noticed the little gray sedan, following them into unlit forest 
roads...

* * *

Chapter 14

"What...what..." Athena jumped awake, startled by some horrible loud 
sound. The roof falling probably, or a Cylon attack. It turned out to 
be the bedside communicator unit. Athena reached out and tried to find 
it in the dark.

"What?" she picked up the receiver, still half asleep.

There was no one there.

"Hello??" She murmured annoyed, then realizing she was holding the 
receiver upside down and quickly turned it around. "Hello?"

"Athena," it was Adama's hasty voice. "We've managed to digitalize the 
KHF-5T1/2 meganizer in the BBRTH-2285/XXC-6 system..."

"Oh my god," Athena was suddenly fully awake.

"...And we now have clear tracing of the alien intruders on the map. By 
tracking their blood pressure and brainwave signals we have been able 
to locate them moving towards the north on highway 666, exactly five 
and a half kilometrons from Saskachoona. It's time to proceed..."

"Immediately sir," Athena saluted to the com-unit. "I'll inform the 
others."

"There's a vehicle waiting for you outside your hotel," Adama 
continued. "A gray Bimco with a full gas tank. Our H-sector managed to 
organize it withing a five-centon notice. It should be fast enough to 
get you onto the tail of those aliens without any trouble."

"Yes sir. We'll be on our way sir."

"I think you should be told that the FCU and FAC have advised us that 
it might be in our best interest to use the most eco-friendly of your 
annihilation weapons, just in case the word gets out to the public..."

"Yes commander."

"Keep your communicator within reach at all times."

"Yes sir."

"And Athena..." Adama smiled.

"Yes father?"

"...I'm proud of you girl! Now go and wipe out those intruders!"

"Yes sir!!"

* * *

Booooring, Jean Michel thought, jiggling his leg, letting he eyes 
wonder around the disco.

He glanced at Satyr beside him, who was talking some utter felgercarb 
about something utterly feldercarbish that couldn't have been more 
felgercarb to a college buddy of theirs they had bumped into by 
accident. Falcor or something.

Apollo and Cecil were dancing to some Barry Manilow track, chatting, 
seemingly enjoying themselves. They too probably talking some 
felgercarb. Jean Michel wanted to go home.

His gaze lingered to Starbuck sitting alone at their table. Nice 
quadriceps, Jean Michel smirked. Yeah, he'd definitely peal the cream 
off the cake before the cake was destined to be vandalized.

"You look like a naughty cat Jeanie," Denis returned from the bar with 
a half-full glass of white wine. "What are you grinning about?"

"Nothing really," Jean Michel said with a shrug. "...Cream."

"Cream?"

"And cakes."

"You're nuts."

Jean Michel smiled.

* * *

Starbuck pretended  to be unaware of Jean Michel's stare. He glanced at 
his timepiece, scratched his neck, then yawned. Not because he was 
interested in the time, ticklish, or tired, but because he felt really 
uncomfortable sitting there all by himself, sipping his drink, trying 
to look like he wasn't feeling uncomfortable. Starbuck just had to do 
something. He couldn't go and join the others.

Starbuck's eyes roamed the room casually.

Satyr and Jean Michel were still chatting with some guy with blue hair. 
Starbuck had noticed that bloke in dephtorology. One of Perieu's less 
participating proteges, it had seemed. The pages of his book had always 
been full of drawings about mister Perieu hanging from his neck 
somewhere.

Denis was with them, sipping his drink, humming to the music it seemed, 
and looking like he had no care in the world. Some geezer parked beside 
him with a skid, probably trying to get Denis to the dance floor. No 
success. The guy left looking disappointed.

Apollo and Cecil were still dancing. To some godawful Barry Manilow 
classic. Starbuck couldn't remember the name. That Satyr guy kept 
casting dark glances at them all the time like some 
protective guardian.

Starbuck didn't like Satyr. There was something disturbing about the 
guy... Something...

Yeah right, Starbuck snorted to himself. Now your jealousy is starting 
to take over your head pal. Get a grip of yourself...

The song changed into something even more upbeat. More people rammed 
themselves to the dance floor. Maybe Starbuck should too...

Or maybe he should go to the turboflush. Just to do something else than 
just sit here on his own. Starbuck decided not to.

His eyes kept lingering around the disco as his fingers were tapping 
the armrest of the plush chair.

Boomer and his buddies were still around. Starbuck spotted them sitting 
near the dance floor, chattering, chuckling, probably judging the 
people dancing. Or rather bad-mouthing them.

Something Starbuck had learnt during these six sectars on Cadria was 
that Boomer could be a mean and insulting bastard if he wanted to be. A 
side to Boomer that had been completely unrealized by Starbuck, or 
anyone probably, back in the good old days on the Galactica.

Someone brushed Starbuck's sleeve as he passed. A guy with a big nose 
and a turquoise shirt which had the words 'Save the protozoans' spelled 
on it. The guy didn't even notice Starbuck. Nobody seemed to. Starbuck 
felt invisible.

Stop that self-pitying you moron. Starbuck snarled to himself silently. 
If you don't like it here then why continue to make yourself miserable. 
Why not just leave damn it. Go back to the dorm, eat pizza, watch a 
Dynasty recap on the receiver...

Starbuck knew the answer and it made him feel even more miserable.

Apollo and Cecil left the dance floor. They didn't join Jean Michel and 
Satyr which surprised Starbuck a little. It surprised the Satyr guy too 
apparently, since Starbuck could see the 
expression on his face darkening. It made Starbuck feel damn good 
somehow. Then guilty.

You malicious daggit, Starbuck thought. You never used to be like 
this...

Letting out a deep sigh, Starbuck bent forward to reach out for his 
almost empty glass on the table. He saw how Denis left the group of 
Satyr, Jean Michel and the blue-haired bloke and walked to Apollo and 
Cecil who were parked beside the DJ cubicle, talking head to head.

Both men glanced up when Denis joined them and neither of them looked 
exactly happy. Starbuck witnessed what definitely seemed like an ill-
at-ease exchange of couple of apparently meaningless words and then 
Denis left to go to the bar. The moment he was gone, Apollo's and 
Cecil's heads were back to being glued together.

Starbuck shook his head. Everything about these guys seemed so weird. 
He should never had gotten involved with any of them. And he wouldn't 
have, not if it hadn't been for Apollo...

And here it overcame again. The feeling of being so alone with these 
feelings that would never be returned. Feeling of wanting to love 
someone who would never...

Oh, stop being such a goddamn martyr and try to have some fun for a 
change...

Fun... Starbuck thought about it. Right.

With one swallow, Starbuck knocked back the rest of his drink, then 
pushed back the chair, got up, and walked to the bar to order another 
one.

He had no idea that Apollo's and Cecil's eyes were following him.

* * *

"He's not very drunk is he," Cecil studied Starbuck walking, "although 
he's been knocking back drinks all evening..."

"He's done that in too slow a pace," Apollo replied quietly. "Fast 
enough to make him feel like he's had one or two, too slowly to affect 
him in the way we'd have wanted them to. Satyr won't like that..."

"Satyr's gonna drug him the moment we get back to the mansion..."

"Satyr's a fool," Apollo snorted. "We'll never be able to make Starbuck 
trust us again."

"Well we'll just have to make sure Jean Michel or Denis get to mix the 
BS-6," Cecil smiled. "You, my dear, can keep Satyr busy in the 
meanwhile."

"I'm beginning to hate him Cecil," Apollo mumbled, his eyes lingering 
to the thin man. "Really hate him. And still I'm so drawn to him..."

"It'll pass," Cecil grinned. Yet there was something sad behind that 
grin as Cecil started to speak in a little lower tone, "Listen, 
Apollo... I..."

"...And it's not just Satyr that bugs the fracks out of me," Apollo 
continued, probably not even realizing that Cecil had started to say 
something. "It's the way Jean Michel keeps being all over Starbuck. 
I..."

"Let the guy have his fun," Cecil smirked. The smirk was everything but 
genuine. "It's just a little crush. Besides, that Starbuck guy doesn't 
seem so interested does he..."

"It bothers the hell out of me."

"Why?" Cecil eyed Apollo somehow unreadably. "Because you're worried 
that Jean Michel might try to turn against us in this Starbuck matter 
and decides to not allow us to use him as the final gate..."

"This had nothing to do with that," Apollo paused.

"Then why?" Cecil asked, staring at Apollo. "Is it Starbuck? You have 
feelings for the guy... stronger feelings than friendship..."

"Cecil," Apollo hesitated. "You're my best friend, you know that don't 
you. I don't think I've ever felt closer to anyone than you..."

"What is it Apollo," Cecil wasn't smiling at all now. His eyes were a 
little narrowed.

"It's... it's Jeanie," Apollo looked away, anguished. "I'm in love with 
him. I think... no, I know that I've been in love with him from the 
very moment I first saw him. Desperately in love..."

A moment's silence as Cecil continued to stare at Apollo. It wasn't a 
friendly stare.

"I see," Cecil finally said, his expression raven black. There it was, 
all in the open now. Everything that he had feared so much. Cecil 
realized he had never hated Jean Michel as much as he did at this very 
moment. Without saying anything more, Cecil walked away.

He needed a drink.

* * *

This was it! Finally some real action! Athena couldn't have been more 
proud of her country and the military than right at this very moment.

Swiftly as an ibex she got dressed, checked that her guns and her hand 
grenades were packed, then jumped on top of her roommate who was still 
half asleep in bed, comfortably entwined under the covers. Athena 
started slapping her all over her head.

Delaisa snarled something unprintable, trying to hit Athena to get the 
frack rid of her.

"Damn it Delaisa!" Athena growled at the sleepy woman. "This is not 
what you were trained for! You are a blue-blooded bloodhound for 
Sagan's sake. An outstanding individual ready to give her life for the 
sake of her countrymen. Best of the best..."

"Leave me alone damn it!"

"... No! You're one of the most skillful and trusted government-hired 
murderers in the universe. You should be proud of your unique 
position!"

"Get off me you lunatic," Delaisa kicked Athena angrily in the stomach 
from under the covers. "If you really think I joined the army 
annihilation unit to be able to serve and protect our country you've 
got another thing coming lady..."

"Oh, you're gonna give me a better reason," Athena was damn pissed off 
about Delaisa's surprise kick.

"I sure am," Delaisa growled to her pillow irritably. "I didn't have a 
choice. When I got caught with seven kilos of heroin and three illegal 
army vipers, they gave me three options: death row, lifetime 
imprisonment, or joining the army annihilation sector. Guess which one 
sounded the most tempting..."

"You are a disgrace to our universe," Athena grunted, horrified. "But 
whatever your reasons were in the beginning, you're one of us now so 
get you goddamn boots on!"

"Hahahaha!" This Athena was indeed a funny girl. "You keep on dreaming 
love!"

"What did you say dear?" Athena's face grew dangerously shadowed.

"I didn't come here to wipe out a bunch of aliens Athie," Delaise 
snored with amusement. "This is my free holiday, paid by the 
government, before I pack up and disappear."

"A what?!?"

"A holiday," Delaisa grinned. "You think I could really afford to stay 
in a hotel like this otherwise. Get real! This is my holiday which I'm 
gonna enjoy and then I'm gone. The Armourican government will never 
find me."

"I'm gonna call my father right now!" Athena jumped off Delaisa and 
headed to the com-unit. "You'll never get away from this Del."

"Stop - right - there! Delaisa was quick as a lupus to pull out the 
handgun she had been hiding under the blanket and pointed it straight 
at Athena. "You make a move towards that com-unit I'm gonna turn you 
into a one big hole altogether!"

Horrified, absolutely horrified, Athena gave up the plan to grab the 
communicator. She raised her hands. "You still won't get away with 
this."

"I already have," Delaisa smiled, then gestured with his gun towards 
the door. "You get going Athie. You have a bunch of aliens to chase. 
And don't worry, you won't find me in this room when you get back..."

"Doesn't it bother you that your holiday was cut this short Dellie?" 
Athena glared at the woman. "Such bad luck that the aliens were traced 
this quickly wasn't it..."

"Naaah, it doesn't really matter." Delaisa grinned. "I'm planning to 
rob the hotel safe, then I will be able to afford to have another 
holiday wherever I wish. All right, get going now or you'll screw up 
your mission."

"I'll be back for you Del," Athena snarled. "You wait and see..."

"I just told you I won't be here."

"I meant that I'll find you, some day, wherever you are. And I'm going 
to make sure your suffering will be slow and painful..."

"Yeah yeah," Delaise rolled her eyes. "Get going or I'll have to shoot 
you. Oh, and don't bother going to fetch the three guys either, 
they..."

"Don't tell me," Athena rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. They've ran 
away and joined the circus. Nothing surprises me any more."

"What do you think this is Athie," Delaisa frowned. "The Titans? Get 
real girl. It's nothing that dramatic. They've only gone out to get 
cigarettes."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

Delaisa frowned. "Okay. The truth is that they're really underground 
anarchists in a peace movement and..."

"The truth truth Dellie..."

"God you're persistent! Okay. Here goes the truth truth. The truth 
truth is that they've bought this hotel..."

"I'm leaving..."

"But it's true! I'm telling you. It's the truth truth. They sort of 
bumped into this man who was totally frantic about needing to sell his 
hotel as soon as possible because he was eloping with some hot female 
from outer space..."

"Yeah right. Now I'm really leaving..."

"Wait!! You have to hear the end of this..."

"No I don't..."

"...Listen! The guys of course laughed their asses off cos they didn't 
have any cubits. They never do, but here comes the weird part... " 
Delaisa grinned, scratching her tousled hair with the pipe of the gun. 
"The man told them to make the best offer they could, and Stone... you 
know how he is... well, he suggested that the man should sell the hotel 
to them for exactly nothing, and guess what..."

"I'm going Del," Athena picked up her rucksack and started to the door.

"... He did! He sold this damn place for those bastards for free. Can 
you believe that..."

"No."

"...And now those bastards will become billionaires, just like that. 
And I'll have to go underground cos the army's gonna be hunting for me 
for the next twenty yahrens at least..."

"Bye Del. Take my advise and really do seek some help..."

"See you in the next life Athena," Delaisa gave a little wave with her 
gun and grinned. "Don't wear yourself out chasing those aliens..."

Bam. The door slammed shut.

Athena was on her way...

* * *

"Shouldn't we be leaving," Sascha asked for what was probably the 
millionth of time.

Boomer turned his eyes away from Starbuck and met Sascha's.

"Saschy, honey," Boomer rolled his eyes. "Even the Denier guy hasn't 
left yet. What the hell's with you..."

"Don't you guys see that if we leave now, we'll be able to wait by the 
mansion and make sure where they'll be heading after they arrive. I do 
remember Otter having warned us about the fact that those boys might go 
running in the woods like some stoned nymphs or something..."

Boomer's mind lingered to Otter's descriptions about the weird, cult-
esque things that had been going on with the Denier posse. "You might 
be right Sasch..."

"I know I'm right," Sascha smirked. "I'm always right. It's in my 
genes, man..."

"HA!" Mikey exclaimed.

"Sascha really is right," Jolly furrowed his eyebrows. "We'll take a 
hell of a risk if we wait until the Denier court leaves and then follow 
them. Apollo's bound to notice us. He was the goddamn fleet hero..."

A thoughtful pause.

"...And there is a point in waiting by the house until they arrive. "In 
that way we really will be able to keep an eye on where they'll going. 
I'd hate to sneak into the mansion and find it empty, and then comb the 
forest until sunrise..."

"Okay," Boomer consented. "We'll go now." He stood up and glanced at 
his timepiece. "Let's meet in the lobby in two centons, I have to go 
and fetch my jacket..." Boomer realized what he was wearing. "Wait! 
Make it five. I'll have to change. There's no way I'll risk getting 
these trousers dirty."

"Me neither," Jolly eyed his leather pants admiringly.

"Okay guys. Five centons." Mitchi too stood up and stretched. "Then 
we'll be on our way. And it doesn't really matter either now that the 
club's closed anyway..."

"Yeah," Francis Lindo agreed. "Let's go..."

"LADIES, GENTLEMEN AND OTHER ANIMALS," the DJ grabbed the microphone 
with a huge grin on his face. "I'LL BE IMMENSELY GLAD TO TELL YOU THAT 
THE... the DJ turned to the guy who was in the cubicle with him. "What 
did I say was the matter again Johnny?" the DJ furrowed his brows.

"Problems with the sound reproduction equipment or something," Johnny, 
the guy mumbled back. "Hell, I don't remember..."

Clearing his throat the DJ returned to the microphone. The huge smile 
reappeared"...THE SMOKE MACHINE HAS BEEN REPAIRED! YES! THAT MEANS THE 
CLUB WILL BE OPENED IN JUST A FEW SHORT CENTONS!! SO THOSE WHO SUFFER 
FROM A WEAK HEART: REMEMBER TO ADJUST YOUR PACEMAKERS FOR DJ ICE-F THE 
TERMINATOR WILL SHOW N O  M E R C Y..."

"Frack," Boomer frowned from the bottom of his heat. "I can't believe 
this..."

"...Just as we were leaving," Francis Lindo threw his hands in the air 
like an overreacting martyr. "Why is this bad luck always following 
me..."

"Don't be so self-centered Fran."

"I'm not self-centered Boomer. I'm cursed."

"Bloody hell, bloody hell..." Mikey murmured. "This is the worst timing 
in the history of... the whole history!"

"Frack," was Sascha's contribution.

A moment of quietude and very intense thinking. Then Mitchi raised his 
eyes and looked at the others.

"You guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Depends on what you're thinking man."

"Or if you're thinking of anything at all man..."

"Shut up Francis!"

"Guys..." Boomer eyed the club exit longingly. It was being opened. A 
gateway to Eden... "Five centons. What do you say?"

"No more that five then?" Sascha raised one eyebrow.

"No more," Boomer swore. "I promise."

A pause.

"Fellas..." Mitchi pronounced ceremoniously, eyeing the six guys before 
him with a shiny expression. "Let's do it!..."

A sudden hurricane dash towards the club door. A breakneck dive to the 
club dance floor bathing in thick smoke.

The techno kicked in.

Lunatic, frantic dancing, eyes bulging out of their sockets, hair 
matting to the scalp, sweat flowing, ears ringing, heart synchronizing 
to the rhythm of the deafening bass, arms swaying like someone was 
drowning, clothes sticking to the skin, ecstasy taking over, demanding 
more and more, demanding to go further into the heart of the music, the 
music getting faster and faster...

Trance.

* * *

Ten centons later Boomer and his buddies were standing on the parking 
lot outside the hotel, wondering were the hell had Otter hidden the 
vehicle.

"I looked damn good when I danced," Jolly loved the fresh night-time 
air sweeping his face. "You saw all the people looking at me?"

"Jolly," Boomer frowned. "The whole place was full of smoke. You were 
hardly able to see the tip of your nose..."

"People kept staring at me anyway," Jolly refused to think otherwise. 
"And I just love those club evergreens like Night in Motion, Age of 
Love, Cübik, Joey Beltram's Energy Flash, Capricorn's 20Hz and all the 
Prodigy tracks... If I'll ever bump into that guy who lost the handbook 
of the thirteenth tribe, I'm gonna go and give him a huuuge hug!! Just 
think that without that book all we would hear would be colonial 
stuff... Sheeesshhh..."

"And have to dance with those dance sticks," Mitchi gagged. "Urgh!"

"Horrible. Absolutely horrible," Jolly agreed. "Hey Boom. Where's the 
car?"

"It's supposed to be right here!" Boomer shrugged. 

"I can't see it man."

"Neither can I," Sascha shielded his eyes even though it was dark. "All 
I can spot is that godawful beat-up pick-up truck. It's the only 
vehicle in this damn place..."

* * *

Five centons later Sascha was standing ten metrons away from the others 
and the pick-up van, his hands determinedly on his hips.

"No."

"Yes, Get your ass down here you Sasch!"

"No!"

"Don't make me come there!"

"I refuse to be seen in that horrible thing," Sascha raised his chin. 
"It's a pick-up truck for Sagan's sake!!"

"That's just the idea Sascha," Mikey frowned. "With what other vehicle 
could we possible be more unnoticed. This town's got more pick-up 
trucks than there were officers on the Galactica for heaven's sakes. 
This Otter guy's a genius..."

"I'm still not getting into that car!"

By now Boomer was starting to lose his patience.

"Get your goddamn butt down here Sascha," he hissed. "Or I'll never 
share another joint with you again for as long as I've got pot!"

"I've always got more pot than you," Sascha wasn't easily unnerved.

"Get your ass down here now!"

"No."

"For Kobol's sake," Boomer threw his hands in the air. "I can't believe 
this felgercarb..."

"Sasch," Francis Lindo started with a sly grin. "I'll give you half of 
my Crunchies bar if you get your butt in the car Sasch."

Chocolate... "I'm not that easily bought Fran."

"I'll give you two thirds..."

"What do you think I am Frannie," Sascha rolled his eyes. "A fool?"

"You can have the whole bar."

"Okay!" Sascha grinned and scampered to the car.

A centon or two later, a very intelligently disguised group of fierce 
kidnappers and merciless slave traders set their course towards the 
Denier mansion.

* * *

"You guys are damn lucky that I decided to accept your offer after all 
and drive you to the museum," the taxi driver was babbling. "I swear 
it's easier to be kidnapped by aliens or bump into a man who wants to 
sell his hotel to you for free than find a taxi who'd be willing to go 
for a ride down the forest roads at this late centar..."

"We really appreciate you doing us this huge favour," Koenig smiled, 
wanting to tape the damn drivers wagging yap shut with sellotape.

Koenig was nervous about the encounter later. Had he really been right 
to trust a man with a two-day stubble and a manner of a Californian 
surfer what Boomer had been?  And in a disco of all places!

Oh well, he didn't have any other choices now.

"Favour??" the driver guffawed. "I ain't doing this for no favours man. 
I'm doing this for a lot of cubits... No, correction: I'm doing this 
for a hell of a lot of cubits. Be prepared to dig deep into your wallet 
mister..."

"Mmmm..."

The driver glanced at Koenig. "So what are you guys doing in Sassy 
anyway? Don't mind me saying but you sure are dressed funny."

"Thanks a lot," Tony growled from the backseat.

"Hey I know," the driver had a brilliant idea. "If you'd like, I could 
show you this damn cool store a friend of mine owns. Yeah, he's from 
the same town as I am you know. We came here together... I mean, we 
didn't come exactly together 'cos I hitch-hiked here first and he came, 
like, a month a so afterwards. We're from New Bork you know..."

"Very interesting," Koenig yawned. Shut the hell up before I use my 
stun gun.

Koenig glanced at the others crammed on the back seat. Carter and Maya 
seemed both half asleep and Tony was nervously caressing the pipe of 
his favourite gun, eyeing the driver like he would've wanted to shoot 
his head off.

"Looks like it's gonna rain soon," Koenig said, tapping his fingers on 
his knee and trying to eye out of the window. Why was this drive taking 
so long?

"Rain? Yeah right." The driver laughed. "You're not from around here 
man are ya. Everyone here knows that Cumulus clouds reacting with 
hydrogenic HKD and 5,7 gamma nitrolyte in molecule form creates D/V5,F 
stability never, ever brings more than perhaps a mild evening wind..."

"Really?" Okay Tony. Shoot him!

"You didn't know that did you?" the driver glanced at Koenig with an 
amused grin. "Not very science orientated are you? You're one of those 
leave-it-to-chance guys, yeah?. Oh boy I remember back in New Bork..."

* * *

"That guy's is a lunatic," Tigh decided, watching the yellow cab 
further up the highway swerving from one lane to another. "He shouldn't 
be allowed to drive."

"Looks just normal to me," Furlong shrugged, shedding the ashes from 
his cigarette to the floor of the car. "Seen that kinda stuff in Los 
Angeles all my life."

"Hey, it's slowing down," Tigh noticed. He jammed his foot on the 
brakes. "It's turning off the highway..."

"Well go after it then," Furlong yawned. "You mind if I put on some 
music do you?"

"Whatever," Tigh was trying to spot the side road where the taxi had 
vanished. God it was dark in this northern town.

"Great!" Furlong turned on the light inside the car, opened the glove 
compartment and eyed its contents.

He saw a couple of road maps, a pair of leather gloves probably 
forgotten by some former client who had rented this car, a half uneaten 
chocolate bar and a few tapes. Eddie dug the tapes out and studied 
them.

"I didn't know you had Bon Jovi on this planet," Eddie's amazed gaze 
lingered to Tigh, then back to the tapes. "Or Led Zeppelin!!"

"It's the handbook," Tigh had noticed the turn into an unlit gravel 
road. He shifted into gear two and crawled into the forest.

"Handbook?" Furlong arched his left eyebrow.

"Don't ask." Tigh was biting his tongue as he was concentrating on 
seeing in the dark. "I'll tell you later..."

"And pearl Jam," Eddie just couldn't believe it. He burrowed into the 
pile of tapes. "Kula Shaker...Toploader...Pink Floyd...the Chili 
Peppers... And Gay Dad! Jeeeez! I can't believe you have all this 
stuff!"

More burrowing.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Furlong looked up his eyes shining. "Barry 
Manilow!!"

In ecstasy Edward Furlong tossed the other tapes back into the glove 
compartment and inserted the Barry Manilow tape into the player. The 
first notes of Could it be Magic started flooding from the car 
loudspeakers. Edward Furlong turned the volume up, leaned back and 
closed his eyes.

"That guy's a genius," Furlong mumbled in ecstasy. "Just listen to this 
chord circulation. How could there possibly be a better choice than a 
switch from A minor to a heartbreaking E minor. It breaks my heart..."

I can finally see the tail lights of the cab," Tigh sighed revealed. He 
realized he had been holding his breath. "We're back on their trail."

"Could it be maaagic... Ah, this is so intense! Listen. The guy really 
puts his soul into this song. His soul..."

"They're not going so fast on this road thank god," Tigh was bent a 
little forward, holding the steering wheel with his both hands. "The 
Denier house must be close by. How much deeper into a forest would a 
sane man with a hell of a lot of money built his home for Sagan's 
sake... uh... What are you doing??"

Tigh's eyes lingered from the hand that had appeared on his thigh to 
the boy humming along Barry Manilow with his eyes closed on the next 
seat.

"Getting into the mood," Furlong smiled, patting Tigh's thigh. "Could 
it be maaagic..."

"Take your paws off me Furlong."

"Don't be so uptight sugar," the hand was moving upwards, towards the 
crotch. "Look at the stars..."

Think about the money, Tigh took a deep breath. Think about the tankers 
and the hand grenades and the...

Tigh calmed down a little.

Tankers, hand grenades, laser guns, communism...

"Oh my god, oh my god," Edward Furlong squeezed Tigh's knee in ecstasy. 
"This is the best part. Listen!..."

Laser guns, recoilles riffles, landmines, kill Barry Manilow...

* * *

"They turned off the highway," Pie-Face cursed as the gray sedan 
disappeared from view. "Onto a side road..."

"Go after them then," Japher was playing with the flap of the ashtray.

"Just as soon as I find the goddamn side road," Pie-Face snarled. "It's 
kinda dark..."

"There it is Pie," Pester McGrindell pointed to the side of the 
highway.

They all saw a narrow gravel road curling into to woods.

"I hate gravel roads," Pie-Face frowned. "They always damage the coat 
of my pick-up truck..."

"Thank the lord this ain't a Porsche then," Dexter Dinker gave Pie a 
disapproving glance. "And be happy of what he's given you..."

"There they are," Erlie Humminghill excitedly pointed at a red glow of 
car tail lights in the distance with his finger. "We're catching up."

"...But don't get too close Pie," Pester put his hand on Pie-Face arm 
warningly. "Keep your distance. We don't want the blokes in the car 
warn the McMullens."

"Don't worry Pester," Pie-Face smiled reassuringly. "I've seen my share 
of Mission Impossible movies..."

* * *

Athena's vehicle was shooting throughout the darkness just in time to 
see the tail lights of the  pick-up truck ahead turning onto a side 
road.

It was them. The aliens.

Determinedly Athena jammed her foot down on the accelerator...

* * *

"Are you sure we're not being followed," Koenig eyed the glow in the 
distance behind. "If I didn't know better..."

"Followed?" the taxi driver guffawed. "Give me a goddamn break! Where 
do you think you are buddy? Vietnam? Cool down will you. Put some music 
on if you want."

"No thanks."

"Whatever," the driver shrugged. "Anyway, what was I saying... Oh yeah! 
You can probably imagine the traffic jam that that crazy shooter on 
Centon Square caused, man. I mean, jeeez, there were a billion taxis 
honking their horns everywhere, street shuttles and civilian cars 
trying desperately to get past and in the middle of it all, seventeen 
dead bodies and fifty 
wounded people lying all around..." the taxi driver struggled with the 
gearbox, then pressed his foot on the accelerator again.

"Yeah man, you should've seen those hundreds of pedestrians trying to 
take a peek of as much blood as possible, making it almost impossible 
for the medics and the police to get trough..."

Koenig's longing gaze lingered to the skies. To the moon that hovered 
there. Alpha, sweet Alpha, Koenig thought. How much he wished he was 
home...

"...Soooo," the driver glanced at Koenig again. "You never answered my 
question buddy. Why'd ya come to Sassy? This ain't the fanciest place 
around ya know..."

"Holiday," Koenig mumbled hardly audibly, eyeing at the moon. He 
wondered if Victor Bergman had had his evening tea yet. And how was the 
mystery guest. Had he spoken now? Revealed his identity?

These gravel roads made Koenig sick. They were getting worse by the 
micron.

They had turned from highway 666 about ten minutes ago and were now 
completely swallowed by the darkness of the forest. One couldn't see 
shit. Not even with the headlights of the car that were merely slicing 
the black. It was almost impossible to tell where the sides of the road 
were and where the trees began.

"Funny, man," the driver grinned. "Suddenly everyone wants to come to 
this forsaken place for a holiday! I've been driving up and down the 
highway between the shuttleport and the Saskachoona Sheraton the whole 
damn day..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, you geezers ain't the first ones I've been tossing around the 
area, man. I remember this afternoon, man. A group of guys, all dressed 
in a fracking cool way, being from Warm Place and all. I mean, what's 
that man?! Why would a Warm Placean want to come to a place this? 
They've got all the entertainment they need right there, man. The sun 
and the pot and the... warmth..."

"Really."

"... And those guys... yeah, they said they were on holiday too, man. 
Getting away from things and all, like I did when I left New Bork. Hey, 
did I tell you blah blah blah blah..." What the hell was the pope doing 
here!?

Koenig turned to take a look around to see where the taxi had gone but 
all he could see was a vast field full of blue anemones, softly swaying 
in the wind. That was funny. The pope brought his face closer and 
studied Koenig for ages without saying a word. He even inclined his 
head a little.

"What?" Koenig stared at the pope. There were cows in the background. 
Blue cows and one yellow giraffe. Alan Carter was running naked from 
behind one tree to another.

"Did I tell you about this shooting incident?" the pope asked, his 
curious face even closer now. Koenig wanted to push it away. "Yeah man. 
There were taxis everywhere man, and bodies..."

The sun was orange. In fact it was an orange. Hurled to the sky because 
the real sun had gone away. The pope had wings. He was ascending higher 
and higher. Koenig was worried that one of his sandals would drop off.

"...Don't work too hard John. It's the lack of sex," the pope was 
waving his hand, vanishing higher and higher up. "You'll never find me. 
You'll never find blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 
blah blah blah blah FRACK!"

"What what??" Koenig jumped fifteen kilometrons in the air.

"Frack, man!" the cab driver was grinding his teeth, hitting the 
stirring wheel with his right fist.

"What??" Koenig stared at the man eyes wide. Oh god, they were trapped 
in a car in a middle of nowhere with a psychotic lunatic.

"Oh it's nothing," the driver turned to Koenig and smiled like it was 
Christmas. "Everything's fine, man. Go back to sleep..."

Koenig wasn't sleepy any more. "How much longer until we get to the 
museum?"

"A couple of centons," the driver sparkled. "Maybe half a centar. Not 
long..."

"Really?"

"Yeah man. Everything's cool... Did I tell you about this shooting 
incident that took place on Centon Square man. There were a billion 
taxes everywhere, all honking their horns and...

* * *

Chapter 15

"Well," the driver beamed, pulling up to a curb. "This is it."

"We're there??" Koenig tried to see something in the darkness.

"Yep," the driver turned the ignition key to switch off the car. The 
noise from the motor died. "Digger Barnes' old museum."

"Where is it?" Koenig really couldn't see shit. "You sure this is the 
right place?"

"Absolutely," the driver leaned over and pushed open the door on 
Koenig's side. "You gonna sit in the car all night?"

Taking a deep breath, Koenig pushed the door wider open and placed his 
feet on the wet, muddy ground. The night air felt crisp and smelled 
like fresh spruce. An owl was howling somewhere.
Koenig climbed out of the car. Tony, Maya and Carter did the same, 
eyeing the dark forest around them.

"You coming?" Koenig glanced at the driver.

"Naah, I don't think so," the driver smiled while lighting a cigarette. 
"I'm not that fond of the wilderness, man. I think I'm gonna stay here 
and relax a bit. Yo, by the way, the name's Big T. One of the famous 
Bronx Big T's, man... I remember this one time, man...

Koenig slammed the door shut and turned to face Carter, Maya and Tony.

"What time is it?" Koenig asked.

It was cold and trees were rustling although there wasn't that much 
wind. Koenig was shivering and he wrapped his jacket tighter around 
him. They had walked a little further from the car for being able to 
talk more freely.

"01.50," Tony looked at his watch, then Koenig. "What did the contact 
say? When's he gonna be here?"

"At two," Koenig studied the woods now that his eyes were was gradually 
getting used to the darkness. "Damn stupid of us to not bring a flash 
light..."

"Listen," Carter had walked closer to Koenig and Tony. "I think I heard 
something..."

The all paused, and immediately as all human voices subsided, the 
rustle of leaves got louder. Took over in the night. Alpha was 
loitering in the sky, creating a colourless shimmer on everything 
around. The other moon was noticeably more vague.

"I don't hear anything unusual," Tony whispered. "It's just the wind 
or..."

"Listen!!" Carter heard it again. "It's like someone walking..."

"I told you not to go and see the Blair Witch Project Alan. It's..." 
Tony paused, suddenly hearing it too. "You're right," he whispered eyes 
wide. "It's just like footsteps..."

"It must be some wild animal."

"No it isn't. Listen... it's coming toward us..."

Koenig felt his hair raising towards the sky. Something eerie was 
tickling the back of his neck. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

"What are you folks doing??"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHH" Koenig screamed like a madman.

Frantically hyperventilating he span around to meet his horrible death 
face to face, but instead he found a very amusedly grinning Big T 
standing there beside him.

"Jeeez. Koenie," the cab driver smirked. "You ever considered singing 
at the opera?"

"Don't ever sneak up on people like that again," Koenig was still 
holding his chest, but gradually calming. "Dumbass!"

"You gonna shoot me man?" Bit T raised one eyebrow noticing the gun 
Alan Carter was pointing at him.

"Oh, sorry mate," Carter grinned, feeling a little stupid. "A 
subconscious reaction really. Sorry..." Quickly he shoved the gun back 
into his holster.

"No prob," Big T was horrified. Not because someone had pointed a gun 
at him, he'd gotten used to that kind of stuff in New Bork, but because 
the gun had been of much better quality and much more powerful that the 
hand gun that he kept in the glove compartment of the taxi.

"So, errr... Where's the museum?" Koenig growled roughly and full of 
testosterone so no one would remember to think about the three-octave-
high yell that he had just let out of is throat. "Are you sure this is 
the right place?"

"Oh absolutely," Big T lied. "I know Sassy better than I know the 
contents of my own pockets. We just have to go a little further down 
the path..."

"What path?"

"Errr... This path," Big T pointed at the ground. "You can't really see 
it because it's so dark but it's there all right. Tourist walk up and 
down on it every day..."

"If you say so," Koenig couldn't see any path, no matter how hard he 
tried to look. "Okay, you'll go first..."

"Oh. Okay..."

Frack. That was the only thing Big T could think about at this very 
moment. He had no idea where they were. Not even the slightest fracking 
clue. All he was aware of that he'd must have had taken a wrong turn 
from the highway but... for Sagan's sake, how could be know these damn 
forests. He was a city dweller. The only reason Big T was driving a 
taxi in this damn northern place was because he was wanted for seven 
arsons, five defalcations and three jewel store robberies in the New 
Bork state. And driving a taxi was the only way he could get away with 
behaving like a madman and no one would pay any real attention to it.

"It's very near now," Big T turned to give Koenig and the others a 
reassuring smile. "Just around the corner."

"What corner?"

"It's behind the big spruce. You can't see it yet..."

Big T felt his hands sweating. Damn, there had to be something here to 
tell him where they were. Or at least a barn or something that he could 
pass off as an old museum. These idiotically dressed tourists probably 
wouldn't be too picky whether or not there would be valuable artwork, 
historical objects or some other felgercarb inside for them to see. As 
long as they'd believe they were exploring what really was a museum, 
they would be satisfied. 
That's what tourists were like.

"Where's the damn corner T?" Carter didn't like getting his shoes wet. 
This wasn't exactly what he had expected from an intergalactic rye 
deal. Wallowing in a wet, dark forest.

"We just passed it," Big T smiled. "I know, I know. It's hard to notice 
such things in a dark forest. Just trust me will ya." Where the hell 
were they??

An owl or a bat, hard to tell in this darkness, took off from a nearby 
branch. A bush somewhere nearby ruffled.

"You don't have bears in this forest do you?" Koenig sure wasn't in the 
mood for bumping into one.

"A couple I guess," Big T shrugged. "But don't worry. They're all 
probably hibernating by now..."

"What about some other alien creatures that we should perhaps be 
prepared for?"

"I don't really know. I haven't lived on this planet long enough..."

"Great," Koenig rejoiced.

"Don't worry man," Big T grinned. "I haven't heard any animal kill a 
man in at least two sectons. Not in the Saskachoona county anyway. You 
guys have nothing to worry about."

"Good."

"I do, however, remember having read something about a group of some 
local occultists or something having killed a bunch of hitch-hikers, 
right in this area..."

"Fantastic," Koenig just loved to hear that in a dark forest in the 
middle of the night.

"But you guys have those guns," Big T nodded towards Carter's holster, 
then towards Tony's weapon arsenal, "You'll be just fine!"

"I sure hope so..."

Another bat or an owl, Koenig felt really uncomfortable not knowing 
which one it was, took off from nearby making the leaves rustle. The 
second moon that was the planets original companion was still less 
bright than moonbase Alpha. Carter felt homely pride.

"What's that?" Tony stopped.

"Alpha," Carter replied half dreamily, making plans about taking Walter 
Willowfield along when it would be time to say bye-bye to planet 
Cadria.

"No, I meant, that sound..."

"What sound?" Carter and Koenig listened. They couldn't hear anything 
unusual.

"It's the hitch-hiker-killing Satanists," Big T smirked. "They've 
smelled your blood and now they're coming after you..."

"Very entertaining Biggy," Tony gave the guy a glare. "Haha!"

"Where's the damn museum?!" Koenig was getting enough of this 
felgercarb.

"It's...errr... just around another corner. We'll be there in a centon 
or two..."

"What time is it John?" Carter asked.

"02.10." Koenig frowned. "We're late!"

"You have an appointment?" Big T arched his eyebrows. "I thought you 
just wanted to take a look at some local sights."

"You can't be serious..." Carter rolled his eyes.

"Man, that's stupid guys!" Big T shook his head. "Why couldn't you just 
have promised to meet whoever you're meeting by the town hall, or the 
church clock? Or some other recognized land mark..."

"We thought a museum was a recognized land mark, T Bone," Tony growled.

"It's Big T dumbass. And don't blame me if the local council hasn't 
reserved any money for care and maintenance of cultural corner 
stones..."

"Shit," Tony halted again. "I heard something. I'm sure this time!"

"Yeah right."

"I swear! Listen!"

Silence.

An insomniac thrush started singing somewhere further away. The wind 
picked up momentarily and made the trees rustle.

"Tony, you're paranoid."

"I swear I heard something," Tony's expression couldn't have been more 
honest. "And it wasn't any rustle or birdsong or wind or..."

"Here we go again..."

"I mean it." Tony insisted. "And it didn't sound... normal. There was 
something eerie about it."

"Of course there was," Maya let out a deep, annoyed sigh. "It was the 
Blair witch."

"Who's the Blair witch?" Big T asked curious. "If you mean that old 
lady hermit who lives with her sister, up on the Darkcloud Hills, makes 
weird potions with all kinds of sick stuff in them and drinks blood, oh 
she's not a witch. She's just..."

"You have a weird lady who drinks blood living nearby?..." Tony felt 
the hair on the back of his neck rise.

"Two weird ladies in fact," Big T grinned. "But don't worry. They're 
harmless. I hear they only kidnap children..."

"Great," Tony wanted to get the hell out of here. "Where's the gaddamn 
museum??!"

"It's just around a cor..."

Crack.

"Shit." Koenig, Carter, Tony, Maya and Big T all looked at each other, 
eyes startled wide. Carter drew his gun.

"It's just some animal," Maya was the first one to act reasonably.

"Yeah, but the question is: what kind of an animal?"

"Whatever it was, it must be gone now." Maya was already starting to 
proceed forward, towards the museum wherever it was. "We'll never get 
the merchandise if we keep on  stopping every minute."

"I guess you're right," Koenig wanted to believe Maya. He glanced at 
Big T. 

"How much longer? And I mean really!!"

"One more corner. I swear," Big T felt himself sweating. "We're almost 
there."

"That's what you said at least three corners ago," Koenig murmured. 
"Not that I noticed where the corners were but..."

Crack.

"That's it. I'm getting out of here!"

"Great Tony. You don't even know which way to proceed."

"I'll take my chances..."

Crack.

"Get off me Tony!" Carter yelled to the man that had jumped into his 
arms and was now swinging from his neck like a chimpanzee.

"No way..." Tony's teeth were clattering.

"Goddammit Tone!!"

"No way!"

CRACK.

"That's it. I'm getting out of here!"

"You already said that Tony..."

"Yeah well, this time I'm serious..."

Frantically, Tony shot towards the darkness that was the forest ahead, 
tree branches hitting on his face as he ran, one all-experienced taxi 
driver from New Bork and three other courageous Alphan heroes on his 
tail.

An owl cried somewhere in the distance.

Once, twice.

And then their was only quietude.

* * *

"Idiot!" Tigh snarled at Edward Furlong, frustrated as frack. "Now what 
do we do??"

"What do you mean what do we do?" Furlong rolled his eyes. "We'll do 
whatever we've been doing so far you moron."

"How, you dumbass? They got away from us because of you!!"

"What do you mean because of me?!" Furlong disapproved Tigh's 
accusations. "I didn't do anything."

"No," Tigh growled. "If you wouldn't have wanted to listen to Barry 
Manilow with those earphones, you would've been able to walk a hell of 
a lot more quietly."

"You're fatter than me," Furlong glared at Sex God. "Who do you think 
really made the noises trying to stalk someone in the woods as 
unnoticeably as an elephant!"

"I hate Barry Manilow," Tigh snarled.

"Come," Furlong decided he would gain a lot more by being charming 
again. "We'll catch up with them. I noticed the direction where they 
bolted. If we walk the same way we're destined to bump into them sooner 
or later."

Smiling disarmingly Edward Furlong took Sex God's hand, kissed it and 
started leading the guy towards where the Alphans had disappeared.

Resignedly Tigh followed, thinking that his wig was more itchy here in 
the forest than it had been in the disco.

What if he took it off?

* * *

"You see them?" Pester hissed to Pie-Face who was watching the red-
haired guy and the guy who should've been their client with binoculars.

"The McMullens ain't here yet," Pie-Face mumbled keeping his voice very 
low. "And there's no sign of rye either."

"What are those two guys doing? They speaking to a cellular 
communicator or anything?"

"No, I don't think so," Pie-Face studied the two men closely. "I think 
they're still on their way to the place where they are supposed to meet 
the McMullens."

"Where do you think that is?" Erlie asked quietly. "But wherever, it 
must be some pretty clever spot. The McMullens are the most canny 
bastards in the whole Northern Place State."

"We have to be very careful," Dexter Dinker agreed.

"What if it's the water tower," Japher asked. "It's somewhere around 
this area isn't it?"

"Yeah, but naah, that ain't a canny enough place. They must have 
something totally unexpected in mind..."

"Pardon me if I sound utterly stupid but don't you guys think it looks 
like they're following someone..."

"Yes, there is a possibility," Pie-Face thought about it, still eyeing 
through the binoculars. "It might be the McMullens."

"Yeah," Pester nodded grumpily. "The McMullies are leading the way to 
that canny spot."

"It must be a really canny place then."

"Give me those binoculars for a sec," Erlie reached out towards Pie-
Face. "I want to take a look."

"No, it's still my turn!"

"You've had them for five centons already..."

"Only four and a half," Pie-Face frowned displeased. "Don't be such a 
pecker...Wooooops!!"

A loose branch or something got caught in Pie-Face's foot and the man 
bounced to the ground with a loud thump!

"Frack!!" Pie-Face cursed with devotion, finding himself lying on the 
ground like an earthworm.

"That's what you get for not lending the binoculars," Erlie smirked.

And that was all he had time to say and do before he too found himself 
lengthwise on the wet ground, tightly grabbed by the back of his neck 
by a very pissed off Pie-Face.

The binoculars lay on the ground too. In seven pieces.

* * *

Athena was damn careful not to make any kind of noise.

She was laying on the ground on her stomach, using a pair of KLX 
binoculars the army liked to use, to study the group of aliens in the 
distance. She swore she had never seen anything like this in the whole 
history of having had to flee through galaxies to find a place to live.

First of all, she was absolutely horrified by the tastelessly way these 
exact types of aliens were dressed. On the other hand, they could've 
made a poor attempt to try to blend amongst 
the natives of this particular area, but... Sheeesh, even the 
Saskachoonians Athena had met (the hotel concierge, the bell boy, the 
railway guard, the waitress at the hotel restaurant) hadn't been 
dressed that badly. This was a very poor attempt to wear disguise.

Two of the aliens were lying on the ground. Athena bit her tongue to 
make her concentrate even more carefully on what was going on over 
there. To her it looked like those two were either caught in an alien 
kind of act of copulation or eating the mold from the ground.

Athena narrowed her eyes. The second optioned seemed more likely since 
one of the aliens was banging the other one's head on the ground. That 
was most probably their kind of way of feeding. For some reason it 
reminded Athena of the borays.

She kept on watching. So concentratingly that she didn't notice the 
pair of muddy rubber boots that halted right beside her...

* * *

Ten frantic centons later Carter was kneeled beside Koenig, who had 
collapsed to the ground needing immediate first aid.

Making sure he had measured the right amount of oxygenpampaphygerol 
into the syringe, Carter tapped the syringe with his thumb and finger 
to make the liquid dissolve, squirted a few drops in the air before 
injecting the needle into Koenig's arm, holding it there until all the 
liquid from the syringe had been injected into Koenig's blood 
circulation.

A centon or so more, and Koenig came to, holding his chest and 
coughing.

"What happened?" Koenig puffed, eyeing the guys gathered around him.

"Your body couldn't handle the running," Carter replied with a warm, 
nurse-like smile. "You had a heart failure and you collapsed to the 
ground. And then I saved you."

"Thanks Alan," Koenig put his hand on his friend's shoulder. There were 
little tears in the old commander's eyes. "I owe you one."

"No you don't," Carter beamed. "As long as you don't fool around 
driving the eagle again, we're even."

"What are you talking about?" Koenig furrowed his brows.

"The little incident when we almost bumped into some local flying 
vehicle, John. That's what I'm talking about."

"Oh... right..." Shit.

"What on earth was going through your head John? What made you arse 
about like that?"

"Nothing," Koenig's smile was a frozen grimace. "Absolutely nothing. 
Help me up will you..."

"Sure," Carter and Tony did as asked and Koenig got to his feet, wiping 
the dirt off his uniform. His trousers and the back of his jacket were 
soaked.

"Where are we?" Koenig tried to take a look around in the darkness. He 
spotted an ugly little barn on the verge of collapsing.

"By the museum," Carter grinned.

"That's the museum?!"

"No." Big T beamed. Luck had finally decided to be on his side after 
all. He turned to point towards a tall building the shape of a mushroom 
and smiled triumphantly.

"That's the museum!..."

* * *

Speechless and in awe, Koenig, Maya, Carter and Tony all stared at the 
mushroom-like towery building in the distance. It reached higher than 
the tree tops and looked utterly majestic hidden here in the 
wilderness, it's silhouette standing against the two moons in the sky.

"Wow," Koenig gave a respectful sigh.

"Yeah," Big T grinned. "We country folk sure know how to build 
things... Well, not that I'm from here originally but..."

"What are we waiting for?" Maya's eyes were shining with impatience. 
"Let's get our butts down there. I'm sure the dealer of the merchandise 
is already there waiting for us..."

* * *

"Where the frack are they?!" Tigh glared at the forest around them. He 
felt like they had been roaming this damn place forever, walking in 
circles, probably ending up finding themselves in the north pole...

The wig was a goddamn nightmare. I kept getting caught in tree branches 
and bushes, not to mention tickling the hell out of Tigh. And the 
mustache was half loose, wiggling with every step like jello, 
constantly making Tigh want to sneeze. Yet Tigh was unwilling to take 
his disguise off. Not quite yet anyway. Tigh knew that Boomer was 
stalking somewhere nearby and he'd rather die scratching the fracks out 
of his scalp than let Boomer recognize him.

The Furlong lad had finally gotten tired of Barry Manilow and was now 
totally devoted to pestering the fracks out of Tigh, wanting to hold 
hands like two lovers, leaning close to Tigh every now and then to 
place an occasional romantic kiss on his cheek, constantly trying to 
kiss Tigh on the lips no matter how hard Tigh was trying to make sure 
the kid damn well wouldn't succeed. The moment he touches my dick he's 
dead. Tigh ground his teeth.

* * *

"Isn't it so beautiful here," Edward Furlong sighed. "Just the two of 
us, taking a stroll in the light of two moons..."

"Where the hell is the Denier mansion," Tigh kept murmuring, trying to 
stay calm although the Furlong lad's hand was crawling it's way towards 
the wig.

"God I just loooove those incredibly sexy locks," Eddie Furlong panted, 
glancing at Tigh's hair. "I've never seen a hair like yours before. 
It's driving me totally wild, man. Totally wild..."

"We'll never find them now..." Tigh growled, continuously slapping the 
Furlong lad's hand away.

"...I want to bury my face in your hair and feel the scent of wet 
autumn leaves, tousle that irresistible orange mane so passionately 
that you'll go completely crazy..."

"That won't be too difficult," Tigh snarled.

"...Cover that tousled mane with passionate kisses while caressing that 
weird mustache of yours..."

"I really think we're lost!"

"My gorgeous, orange-haired prince," Furlong rasped in a way he thought 
extremely sexy. Tigh wanted to punch him in the nose. "...my desirable 
red apple, my..."

"Cut it out Furlong."

"...My rosy peachy bum. I think we should have a shag right here in the 
forest..."

Whack!

"Ouch!" Edward Fulong held his nose, glaring at the red-haired sex god 
angrily. "Why'd you do that for??"

"So you'd shut up for a centon," Tigh growled, eyeing the dark forest 
around him. "Because I think we're undoubtedly, seriously, lost!"

* * *

"I hate you," Pie-Face snarled, kicking a pebble.

"Well I hate you too," Erlie Cumminghill pouted. "And not only because 
you can be such an unbearable tightass sometimes, but because you broke 
those damn binoculars..."

"I didn't break them," Pie-Face growled. "They broke."

"What's the difference," Erlie pursed his lips. "We've lost the red-
haired guy and the thin, drunken dude anyway."

"Are you insinuating it's my fault Erl," Pie-Face halted, ready to 
begin a fist fight."

"Well, if you've given those binoculars to me when I asked, you 
wouldn't have had them when you fell, and those binoculars wouldn't be 
broken now would they."

"You wanna step outside Erl?" Pie-Face grunted, starting to curl up his 
jacket sleeves.

"We are outside, you moron..."

"Guys, for Sagan's sake," Dexter Dinker hurried to go between those 
two. "One alien from outer space and you start behaving like children!"

"What?" Both Erlie and Pie-Face turned.

"The guy and the other guy," Dexter eyed both Erlie and Pie. "Well, we 
all know the guy who was supposed to do business with us is from 
another planet. And I'm sure that so is the guy he's with."

"Sure, but what does that have to do with Erlie being a pain in the 
butt?"

"Nothing." Dexter hurried to explain his point. "But an alien might 
have alien capabilities. You two might have been affected with strange 
powers. It's not like you at all to start fighting like that..."

"Yeah, maybe you're right, Dex," Pie-Face scratched his head. "I've 
only killed once... I'm not born violent..."

"And that killing was only because it was necessary concerning the rye 
deal. We had to make sure that the client would have a clear chance to 
sneak onto this planet without the interference from the government..."

"You do have a point Dex..."

"Yes," Erlie agreed as well. "We're obviously affected by alien 
powers..." He turned to Pie and extended his hand. "I'm sorry. No hard 
feelings okay?"

"No hard feelings," Pie-Face and Erlie shook hands. Then Pie-Face 
turned back to Dexter with one of his eyebrows curiously arched.

"By the way Dex," Pie-Face wanted to know. "What made you think the 
other guy's from outer space too. After all, he is just a messenger of 
the McMullen brothers..."

"Well of course he from outer space," Dex smiled. "No one could 
possibly have a hair like that..."

* * *

"Hi there!"

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHH, a horrified, startled shriek escaped from 
Athena throat before she was able to bite it back. Quickly she rolled 
to her back on the ground, at the same time grabbing her laser gun from 
the holster, to face her alien enemy.

"Hey, no need to get violent lady," a sinfully stunning male individual 
was grinning sinfully stunningly and raised his hands, his eyes on 
Athena.

"Who are you?" For the first time since she had joined the army, Athena 
wished she hadn't shaved off all her hair. "And what are you doing 
sneaking in the forest at this centar?"

"The same as you probably," the man smirked, still holding his hands 
up. "Nice planet you have here. Two moons and everything."

So the guy was an alien. "Step back or I'll shoot!" Athena climbed onto 
her feet quickly as a cat, activated the trigger.

"Hey, hey, calm down!" the man panted. "I'm here just to look for my 
friend who's gone missing..."

"Your friend?"

"Yeah," the man smiled. "A kind of a really hairy one. Tall and strong. 
Some women might even find him attractive... Have you seen him? He kind 
of escaped from me."

"Really?" Athena stared at the man eyes wide. Then she thought about 
the group of aliens in flannel shirts. They had looked kinda hairy to 
her. "One of those?" she nodded towards the aliens with her head.

"No," the man glanced over. "My friend's kind of naked."

"Naked?!!"

"That's right lady," the man grinned. Athena self-consciously ran her 
fingers through her hair although she didn't have any...

"Anyway," the man continued with a smile. "I'm in a bit of a hurry so 
if you do happen to see him, tell him I'm looking for him."

"Errr... sure," Athena stared at the man. "So...errr... if he's kinda 
naked then, umm, why aren't you?"

"I don't really like to take my clothes off on the first date," the man 
smirked. "What's your name lady?"

"Ummm..." Athena tried to remember her name. "Athena."

"It was nice to have met you Athena," the man grinned again, then 
started to go. "See you around."

"Ummm... What's yours?" Athena hurried to ask.

Too late. The man had already disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

"Oh man," Tony was almost holding his breath. "It's even more amazing 
from up close."

"Yeah," Carter eyed the tower. "But it does look a bit weird to be a 
museum don't you think mate."

"It's the museum of modern art," Big T coughed, taking a little but 
hasty step sidewards to cover the sign that said 'Saskachoona Water 
Tower'.

"Where's the entrance?"

"I... I'm not really sure," Big T turned to eye the building. "I mean, 
what does one really know about modern art eh?..." Cough  "The entrance 
could be anywhere. It might be on the roof or a tunnel through the 
ground or..."

"Here it is mate," Carter had walked to a metallic door that said 
'authorized personnel only'. "Why don't we take a peek inside now that 
we're here. And since the dealer isn't here yet anyway..."

"No, ummm...I don't think it's such a good idea to go in there," Big T 
fidgeted.

"Oh, Quite the contrary, I think it's a brilliant idea Alan," Koenig 
smiled. "I'm always interested in getting acquainted with new alien 
cultures and what better place to start than a museum."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "Might even have some of that Kobolian stuff on 
display. You know, the stuff about the lords and all that. Wouldn't 
mind finding out more about those things."

"Me neither," Maya smiled. She was eyeing Carter's arse, anxious to 
metamorph back into Walter Willowfield.

"It's not locked," Carter was surprised that he was actually able to 
just pull the door open. "I didn't know you had your museums open in 
the middle of the night T Bone."

"It's Big T and I still don't think..."

"Come on mates," Carter vanished inside.

Frack, T Bone thought to himself.

* * *

"My god..." Koenig was standing in the middle of a huge hall, holding a 
little loose pipe he had picked up from the floor in this hands, his 
eyes lingering from that pipe to another couple of hundred pipes rising 
through the ceiling to another floor, and then to another floor, all 
the way to the dome of the tower where they was a huge tank full of 
water.

There were a thousand pipes crossing the halls horizontally, going from 
wall to wall. Big pipes, small pipes, medium pipes, pipes everywhere.  
And that non-stopping sound. Like water running...

"I have to say this is the weirdest museum I've ever seen in my entire 
life..." Koenig panted.

"What did I say," Big T grinned, nervously fidgeting. "Modern art. You 
never know what you get..."

"This is amazing..."

"Yeah, well..."

"Just amazing... I can't belie..." Koenig turned to Big T with his eyes 
shining excitedly. "You think they have a souvenir-selling stall 
anywhere? I wouldn't mind taking a couple of pipes back to Alpha..."

"What's Alpha?"

"Oh, it's just a place where some of us tourists come from," Koenig 
explained hastily, cursing himself for having so bloody careless. "Not 
a big deal."

"Why don't you just take the pipe you're holding, John," Alan Carter 
was running his hand along one of the pipes, testing how smooth the 
material was. "Even if this place had a souvenir stall, I don't quite 
believe it would be open in the middle of the night..."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Koenig raised one eyebrow. "the museum was!"

"You have a point..."

"No, they don't sell souvenirs in this place," Big T coughed. "And 
believe me, I know that for a fact."

"Damn," Koenig was disappointed.

"John, why don't you just take the pipe you're holding," Carter 
repeated. "What's the big deal. These guys have a thousand more..."

"But Alan," Koenig was appalled. "That would be stealing. And not just 
any stealing but stealing valuable historical artistic material. I 
couldn't possibly..."

"I don't think they'll gonna be missing that one pipe Koenie," Big T 
coughed some more. "We have a lot of pipes here in Saskachoona..."

"You might be right," Koenig eyed the pipe on his palm longingly. "And 
it certainly would be more valuable in the glass cabinet in my living 
room..."

"Take it John," Carter was getting irritated.

"Yeah, what the heck," Koenig shoved the pipe into his back pocket.

* * *

"Well, here we are," Boomer was trying to keep in constant movement 
since it was damn bloody cold. Even the breath came out vaporized. "All 
we have to do now is wait for the client to arrive, the Denier guy to 
show up so we can go and kidnap the bugger, then swap him for a 
ridiculous amount of money and drive back to town early enough to catch 
the morning flight back to Warm Place."

"A simple plan," Mitchi grinned. "That's the way I like it."

"But how can we be sure that the Denier guy really comes to the mansion 
tonight?" Sascha furrowed his brows. "Doesn't he have an apartment near 
campus or something. At least that's what I remember Otter having told 
us."

"Yeah, they all do, those friends of his," Francis Lindo nodded, then 
cast a quick smirk at Boomer. "Well, except that loverboy of yours. 
What was he called again? Starbuck? He lives on the campus."

"He's not my loverboy, jerk-o!"

"Whatever," Francis was still smirking.

"So how do we know he's gonna come here?"

"Otter has his ways of finding things out," Squirrel smiled. "Don't 
worry."

"Who's worrying?..."

"Guys," Mikey glanced around in the forest. "Shouldn't the client be 
here by now? I'm starting to have a bad feeling about this..."

"I'm sure he'll be here any micron."

"Yeah, maybe he's just having a hard time getting a cab."

"I miss surfing," Mikey sighed.

* * *

"Where the hell is that guy!?!" Koenig glanced at his watch for the 
millionth time.

02.45.

Damn! Koenig should've known better than to trust a man who looked like 
he'd never done a day's decent work in his life.

"He'll be here, I'm sure," Tony was bored and biting his nails just to 
do something. "He's probably just only late because it was so damn hard 
to get here..."

"A really funny place for a museum," Koenig expressed his opinion.

"Ummm... guys, "Carter had noticed something rather unexpected. "Why 
the hell didn't we use that perfectly drivable road that leads right 
here instead of getting all wet and pissed off wandering in the forest. 
There's even a little parking lot behind the tower..."

"What road?" Koenig turned to take a look towards the direction Carter 
was pointing at. He noticed a narrow but not-that-bad-looking gravel 
road leading straight to the tower. "Shit!" He turned to glare at Big 
T.

"Ummm..." the taxi driver fidgeted. "That road's sorta closed. Flood 
damages you see... Very bad flood damages, and awfully dangerous 
landslides..."

"Oh I see."

"Hey, what if the dealer guy can't find his way to this museum," Tony 
had a frightening thought. "What if he's from another county or 
something and..."

"Yeah. Or what if he's been caught in one of those landslides?! Didn't 
T Bone just say there were pretty bad..."

"It's B Tig, man... I mean... Big T..."

"Or maybe he's just some bloody fiddler who never had any intention to 
sell us rye in the first place!"

"But why for frack's sake would he have lured us into this damn forest? 
He could've two-timed us a hell of a lot better somewhere else. And 
gotten money for it..."

"He might be just some distorted sadist who simply gets his kicks from 
luring people into forests. There are so many crazies out there..."

"John. That doesn't make any sense."

"Crazy people don't act sensibly. They just act."

"So now you're turning into a philosopher..."

"I have an idea," Koenig let his gaze linger from one person to 
another. "I think we should split up."

"Great idea, John," Carter rolled his eyes. "Why??"

"Because if the dealer really is lost in the woods or caught in a 
landslide we'll have a better chance of finding him if we divide into 
three groups and go to different directions."

"You have a point there..."

"Great. Let's do it then," Koenig loved being so damn intelligent and 
organized. Helena would've been proud of him if she hadn't run away 
with some hotel manager. "Tony, you go with Maya. Carter, you take B 
Tone..."

"T Bone... B Tig... I mean..."

"...And I'll go by myself."

"You sure John?"

"Of course," Koenig replied self-confidently. "I'm the commander, 
aren't I. I can manage."

"If you insist," Maya murmured, not so sure about ever seeing Koenig 
again.

"What time do you want us to return John?" Carter eyed the commander.

"We'll all meet by the museum in an..." Koenig glanced at his watch. 
"...hour. But it one of you happen to run into that dealer guy before 
that, give us others a sign by shooting three times into the air. Then 
we'll all return to the museum right away."

"Right John," Carter found that reasonable. "And if any one of us runs 
into any trouble, then it four gun shots okay?"

"Four gun shots?" Maya raised an eyebrow. "Whatever attacks will be 
dead by then. There's no need for any further action."

"One hour," Koenig let his gaze linger from one person to another, 
"then I'll expect to see you all here by this very tower. Understood?"

"Perfectly sir," Tony saluted.

"Sure John," Carter grinned. He turned to the taxi driver. "All right 
then Bone Bag. Let's get going..."

"Big Bag!... I mean T Bag...I mean..."

"Oh, and John," Carter turned to wink at Koenig. "Try not to get lost 
in the woods, will you commander..."

* * *

Chapter 16

"Come on T Bag," Carter was already ten metres ahead, exploring the 
woods. "We've got a job to do..."

"I'm coming as quickly as I can," the taxi driver was cursing the hell 
out of ever having agreed to take this bunch of guys anywhere. How did 
he always manage to get in so much trouble on this planet. First in New 
Bork and now..."

"Bone Big..." Carter started, taking yet another glance behind at the 
man who was struggling his way after him. "...Or do you mind if I'm 
gonna call you just Bag?"

"Yes I fracking do!" Big T snarled, taking a leap over a fallen tree 
trunk.

"Why?" Carter asked. "It is a part of your name anyway so what's the 
big deal."

"It's not a part of my name damn it!"

"Then why did you introduce yourself Body Bag if that's not even your 
name..."

"Jesus," Bony bag rolled his eyes. "You guys are unbelievable.."

Carter eyed Baggy for a while, curious. Weird guy, he thought, then 
shrugged, turned and headed deeper into the forest to find the lost 
client, soon disappearing from Baggy T's view.

Big T realized that he had just been granted the perfect moment for a 
getaway.

His heart now thumping excitedly, he turned to take a thoughtful look 
to all directions, having read in a biology book that using his primal 
instincts he'd automatically know which way to proceed and would find 
his way out of this damn forest.

There! Towards that cluster of kinkah bushes! That direction would lead 
him away from all trouble and most likely back to highway 666.

With a sly, triumphant smirk on his face, Big T started towards those 
kinkah bushes.

* * *

Maya kept eyeing Tony's butt judgingly as they walked.

Not bad, she thought raising one eyebrow. Firm, not too big, not too 
small, moving smoothly and probably didn't even have any cellulite...

Quickly, so that Tony wouldn't notice, Maya metamorphed her neck into 
rubber and turned to take a peek at her own butt.

Absolutely brilliant," she smiled. Beautifully shaped, firm yet 
luscious, round but not big... simply a perfect Psychon butt. Something 
was missing though... This didn't seem right...

"Tony," Maya shouted to the Latin loverboy ahead. "I'm going to take a 
look behind those bushes over there. Just in case the dealer's really 
lost and lying there unconscious. You just go ahead. I'll catch up with 
a you in a second."

"Are you sure that you will be able to find me?" Tony eyed the 
beautiful but damn stubborn woman.

"I'm sure," Maya smiled her most charming smile. "And if I run into any 
trouble, I can just transform into a bird."

"Okay," Tony smiled suspiciously. "Be careful!"

"I will darling," Maya blew the man a kiss.

* * *

"Nghnghnghnghnghbloodyhellbloodyhell..." Koenig was beginning to really 
dislike this mission. Nothing they had encountered during their voyage 
through space so far had measured up to this horribleness. His shoes 
were wet, his socks were wet, his trousers were wet, his jacket and 
shirt were wet, junior was wet so his underpants would've been wet if 
he had worn any.

Koenig took a deep, resigned sigh and stumbled forward. By now he was 
beginning to be absolutely positive that the surfer had been a fraud. 
The real rye dealer was probably ripping his golf pants to pieces right 
now, cursing the day he'd gotten a rye request from a desolate moon...

Damn. Koenig shouldn't have pictured that. Now he felt even more foul.

Koenig tried to brighten his mood by whistling to himself. A merry 
melody he'd learned as a kid. He even took a couple of funny showdance 
steps to cheer himself up, but stumbled on a stone or a root or 
something and almost fell over.

Damn all forests.

Koenig stopped whistling and looked around. It was getting noticeably 
colder. Maybe he should go back to the museum. No one would know if he 
skived off his duties this one time and...

Shit! He heard footsteps...

* * *

This way. Yes. Definitely.

Feeling like that damn skillful MacGyver bloke whom Big T had seen 
performing his magic tricks on the IFB receiver, Big T trotted along in 
the darkness, the same sly smirk still on his face.

Damn, he was good!

Okay. Now where? Big T paused to take yet another professional look 
around. He'd probably been running for at least a centar and a half so 
he must had been very close to either highway 666 or freeway 782. And 
once on either of them, he could easily hitch a ride back to Sassy.

Big T noticed another cluster of kinkah bushes. Yes, of course. They 
were his guiding star. Like that baby Kobol had had. Or had it been the 
three Cylon ambassadors who had been on their way to take gifts to baby 
Kobol. Big T couldn't remember.

Determinedly, feeling invincible, Big T directed his trot towards the 
kinkah bushes.

* * *

No, he hadn't been mistaken. There really was something out there. 
Fighting to keep his alarm at bay, Koenig grabbed his gun and started 
towards the noise.

All kinds of horror visions about mutilated hitch-hikers, witchcraft, 
ugly old women, aquiline- nosed old men who were probably witches too, 
horrible hairy aliens and Helena waiting there with a butcher knife 
kept running through his head as he approached the bush, behind which 
the sound seemed to be coming from.

Slowly but swiftly like a goat hunting its prey, Koenig approached the 
bush, ready to shoot at any moment...

* * *

Now he must had been really close. Big T was positive he could already 
hear something. Probably the traffic on the highway.

Forward Ho!

Hastening his pace, Big MacGyver trotted on, through yet another set of 
kinkah bushes, towards a big spruce tree... and then he saw Alan Carter 
walking towards him.

"What the frack are you doing?" Carter stared dumbstruck as Boney was 
all of a sudden trotting towards him and not after him like he had a 
couple of centons ago...

* * *

Shhhh. Quiet now. Careful... Determinedly Koenig approached the bush 
feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his throat. Careful not 
to make a sound he reached out to push aside a branch...

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHH," Koenig screamed from the bottom of his 
lungs like a eunuch, staring horrified at the hairy beast that was 
glaring back at him.

Bigfoot!

Desperately gasping for air, trying to be able to breath, Koenig 
grabbed his chest, clenching his teeth, and fell to the ground.

The hairy creature stood there eyeing the unconscious man for a while, 
then obviously decided that Koenig was an idiot and not worth checking 
out and dived back into the dark forest.

"Bigfoot, my ass," the creature kept snarling as he made his way 
forward.

* * *

The leaves rustled as Maya pushed them a little aside to see is Tony 
was already far enough to not be able to see anything that she was 
planning to do. He was. Great.

Okay. First she'd have to find the whereabouts of Carter, and what 
better way than the always practical changing-into-a-bird method.

Creating a vision of the most unnoticeable gray bird she would think of 
in her mind, Maya metamorphed into one.

* * *

"What do you mean what am I doing," Big T frowned. "What are you doing? 
How the hell did you get here so fast?! I must be miles away from where 
I started..."

"What do you mean miles away?! Carter stared at Boney. "Where the hell 
did you go?! Or rather: where the hell did you manage to go?! It's been 
only about five centons since I last saw you..."

"What do you mean five centons?! Big T rolled his eyes. "I've been 
trotting in the woods for centars! Your timepiece is obviously just a 
piece of felgercarb. Where did you buy it..."

"What do you..."

"Stop saying 'what do you mean' or I'm gonna jump on you!"

"Okay, let's put it this way: Are you out of your mind!!?

"What's that?" Big T turned to take a quick look behind, suddenly 
startled by something. A noise.
"Probably just a bird or a frog," Carter had heard it too. He got ready 
to grab his gun.

"Shall we go and find out?..."

"What??" Carter turned to stare at Boney. "You really are out of your 
mind!! Didn't you just tell us an hour or something ago that there's a 
group of insane occultists on a killing spree. And what about the crazy 
old witch who drinks the blood of children..."

"Yeah, you're right," Big T's teeth were clattering. "Let's get the 
hell away from here!"

* * *

Softly, making sure she didn't make any sound, Maya the bird landed 
behind a huge pine tree and changed herself back into herself. She took 
a careful peek to make sure that Carter and that T Bag were still 
there. They were, but looking weirdly frantic, holding onto each other 
and staring at the direction Maya had landed. They had probably heard 
something. 

She'd have to be quick.

Okay, here we go.

Staring into the distance, Maya made herself concentrate on bringing 
back the image of the good-looking sandy-haired man she had seen in the 
disco. The vision of Walter Willowfield started appearing into her 
eyes.

A pause.

Shit, Maya couldn't remember exactly what the guy had been wearing. 
Would it matter if she dressed him in something she'd make up? Probably 
not.

Hey, but what if she didn't dress the guy up at all. That might be a 
refreshing thing to try out.  And it certainly would save time to not 
have to peel all those clothes off once she'd get to Carter. After all, 
they didn't have too much time. In less than an hour they have to be 
back by that weird museum...

Yep. Unclothed it will be.

Maya smiled.

And metamorphed into Walter Willowfield.

* * *

"You see anything?" Big T was still holding onto Carter, staring at the 
direction where the noise had come from.

"No," Carter was starting to believe there hadn't been anything in the 
first place. He let his body relax as his hand drew away from the gun 
handle.

"Phew," Big T puffed. "Got me a little worried for a centon, man. It's 
these dark forests, man. Thank Sagan it was nothi... SHIT!" Big T 
freaked out as he saw something running from behind that huge pine 
tree. "Oh my god, oh my god, it's... naked..."

Big T Realized to his utter amazement what he just said, and let go of 
Carter, then tried to see better into the darkness where the naked 
thing had disappeared.

Carter stared at Boney B who was talking absolute and utter felgercarb.

"Are you crazy!?!!" Carter panted. "Who in the names of the lords would 
be running in the forest  at 03.00 a.m., in late autumn, butt naked..."

"My grandmother comes to mind," Big T thought about it. "But she died 
in the destruction of the colonies so it couldn't have been her..."

"What distruction?"

"There it is again! Look!!"

"It's probably just a rabbit you're seeing Bono," Carter rolled his 
eyes as he turned to look at the direction Big T was pointing. "I've 
never..."

Stunned silence. Carter saw a naked man running approximately thirty 
metrons away. The man turned to grin at him. Then the man waved. It was 
Walter Willowfield.

"Well I'll be damned..." Carter could hardly get a word out.

"What the hell are you doing?" Big T turned to take a shocked look at 
Carter who had started to tear his clothes off in a hurry.

"If I'm not back in an hour," Carter smirked, "tell Koenig not to 
worry. I'll meet him back at the hotel..."

Utterly traumatized, Big T witnessed captain Alan Carter running off 
butt naked after another naked man whom he'd just happened to spot 
running in the forest in the middle of the night.

* * *

"Okay, I'm beginning to get really worried now," Boomer glanced at his 
timepiece. "Where the hell is that goat-faced guy?!"

"Maybe he's back there at the museum..." Mikey suggested.

"He wasn't there ten centons ago!"

"What if he's there now? One of us should go back and check."

"I say we should've waited for the letter," Jolly's lips were blue from 
the cold and he had his arms tightly wrapped around himself. "I told 
you there was no trusting on just any guy who carried a flower on his 
chest."

"You're right Jol," Sascha was shivering violently and his nose was 
running. 
"From now on I'll never trust a guy like that again!"

"Listen," Mitchi hushed the others. "I hear a car. The Denier court is 
coming..."

The others fell quiet, listening. There indeed was a car approaching.

"Okay folks," Francis Lindo rubbed his hands together. "Time for 
business."

"Yes indeed," Jolly grinned. "Boys, take your guns."

"We don't have guns you moron. We only have baseball bats and 
chloroform."

"Oh that's just something I read from a comic book a long time ago. it 
just popped into my head..."

"Great Jolly," Sascha rolled his eyes. "Was it the same comic book 
where there was the thing about someone having let some duck in some 
harbour to cause a million problems?"

"Same one." Jolly grinned. "I've gotten most of my quotes from that 
book."

"You're a goddamn genius Jol," Mitchi chuckled. "Other people try to 
quote talented poets, famous historians or great dictators. You choose 
to quote characters in a comic book. I must tell you I'm impressed..."

"Shhh! They're coming!"

In silence, Boomer and the others watched how a black taxi curved onto 
the private road, then heading to the main entrance of the mansion.

"Guys," Mikey furrowed his brows thoughtfully. "I just thought of 
something important."

"What?" Mitchi glanced at the bleached man. "Let me guess. You forgot 
to set the timer on your IFB-VCR for tonight's episode of Dynasty III?"

"No dumbass," Mikey slapped Mitchi in the arm. "I'm talking about the 
Denier guy. What sense is there to kidnap the bloke now that there's no 
client to pay good cubits for him?!... Shouldn't we wait for goat-face 
to get here first..."

"I'm sure Otter'll take care of everything," Francis Lindo replied, 
glancing at Squirrel. "Ain't that right Adrian?"

"Otter'll handle it," Squirrel agreed. "And he has emphasized a million 
times to me that whatever the circumstances will be, we will have to 
have that Denier heir snatched. He's said it's very important..."

"Yeah, guess it must be since he did drag us here even with the DEA 
around and all," Sascha mumbled.

"Besides," Squirrel continued. "The Digger Barnes' museum is just a 
stone's throw away. If the client isn't resourceful enough to find this 
place too, he'll be destined to notice the note we left behind, 
emphasizing that when the dirty work's been taken care of, we'd be sure 
to return to the museum with the merchandise. All the client has to do 
is wait."

"Guess you're right," Boomer sighed. "Let's just hope he doesn't get 
too impatient and decide to find his slaves elsewhere."

"Then Otter'll find another client," Squirrel reassured. "Stop worrying 
guys. When has Otter ever left us in any real trouble!?"

"Hmmm. Shall I mention the pick-up truck..."

"Shhh," Sascha hissed. "They're getting out of the car!"

* * *

"I don't know about you guys," Jean Michel was saying. "But I think the 
local disco kinda sucked tonight. Probably because the club was opened 
so late..."

"Probably," Denis shrugged, then smiled. "But the evening's still young 
isn't it?"

"It sure is," Jean Michel smiled in a way that Starbuck didn't quite 
like. That smile made him starting to have second... no, billionths of 
thoughts about ever having agreed to come back to the mansion with 
these guys. Starbuck had a nagging feeling that he should've gone back 
to the campus but...

His eyes lingered to Apollo and Satyr standing there together, 
shivering from the cold, waiting for the others to get out of the cab. 
Satyr had one arm around Apollo's shoulders possessively and in the 
other he was holding a cigarette.

Cecil paid the cab driver and the black car skidded it's way through 
the majestic gateway and down the road leading away from the Denier 
property.

Soon the sound of the motor died and there was only the night 
surrounding them with its mysterious quietude.

"Oi! What are we standing here for," Jean Michel shivered. "Let's get 
inside the house and make something warm to drink..."

"Okay," Starbuck gave a nervous grin, not noticing how Cecil's and 
Satyr's eyes swept over him ever so casually.

Apollo was already on his way up the stairs leading to the verandah.

* * *

"This is kinda good," Starbuck grinned, toasting with his third mug of 
herbal tea.

The others smiled at him in a way that to Starbuck seemed a little 
amused, but then again, how could he really tell. He had had more than 
a few drinks tonight and it seemed they were only now starting to kick 
in.

They were sitting in the main living room in the heated part of the 
mansion, chatting and enjoying their drinks. Jean had made a little 
fire in the fireplace and the spooky house seemed a whole lot cozier 
than earlier. Starbuck was rather surprised to realize he actually felt 
quite homey and comfortable sitting there with these fellows in the 
middle of nowhere. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea to have come 
here after all...

Apollo was sitting on the floor, wrapped in a violet cashmere blanket. 
For a micron Starbuck actually thought of joining him, there on the 
floor...

The Satyr guy was sprawled in a huge, Bolzac the III epochian chair, 
telling something apparently amusing to Cecil who was on the floor too, 
like Apollo, but further away, leaning his back against that chair 
Satyr was sitting in. Cecil was drinking wine.

Denis kept strolling around the room, commenting on this and that, 
picking up an object from here and there and playing with it just to do 
something with his hands.

Right now he was playing with a small crystal prism that he had picked 
up from the mantelpiece, tossing it from one hand to the other, talking 
to Satyr and Cecil at the same time. To Starbuck that prism looked 
totally out of place in this house that was otherwise decorated solely 
with genuine antique.

Jean Michel's attention had turned to that small prism as well. "If you 
drop that Denis you're gonna..."

"Don't worry, Jeanie," Denis grinned. "I won't drop it." The wavy-
haired man's eyes turned to Starbuck.

"Enjoying yourself my friend?" he asked warmly.

"Yes, thank you," Starbuck smiled back. He found himself actually 
liking this Denis bloke. He seemed the most genuinely friendly and 
hospitable of all these five men.

"What some more tea?"

"Yes please, if you don't mind..."

"Not at all," Denis' amiable smile widened a little before the turned 
to put the prism back onto the mantelpiece and disappeared from the 
living room to make more tea...

Starbuck's eyes lingered once again to Apollo who had been strangely 
quiet since they had arrived at the house.

In the disco he had been strangely irritable and now he kept silent. 
Present but still far far away across the galaxy on a not-so-nice 
another planet. Listening to every word spoken in the room but not 
really participating in any of the conversations. And Starbuck could 
see there was so much anxiety in Apollo's eyes. And he didn't 
understand why... Unless...

Suddenly Starbuck couldn't take his gaze off Apollo at all. A totally 
idiotic, damn stupid, utterly and completely imbecile idea had just 
popped into the obviously deteriorating brain of his.

What if Apollo really had feelings for Starbuck after all. What if he 
was feeling the same kind of desperation as Starbuck was because he was 
so afraid to let them show.

A sudden sensation of falling very quickly and from very high grasped 
Starbuck's stomach. He let out an unintended, muffled, little noise.

"What?" Jean Michel eyed Starbuck a little strangely.

"What what?" Starbuck swallowed. He still couldn't take his eyes off 
Apollo who had turned to study him.

Their eyes had met.

"Is everything okay? You looked a little funny there for a moment..."

"Did I?" Starbuck wasn't hearing a word since he was caught in an un-
ending moment of beauty yet fear, staring into the world of miracles 
and the unknown that were Apollo's eyes. Starbuck didn't even realize 
that Jean Michel took his hand.

Apollo's gaze darkened. He looked away. Starbuck panicked.

"Starbuck," Jean Michel was purring like a goddamn gigolo. "Would you 
like to little tour around the house?"

"Didn't I already get one." Starbuck was still staring at Apollo, 
desperate to get the other man to look back.

"That was the most unimpressive, the most common part of the mansion," 
Jean Michel lifted Starbuck's hand to his lips and kissed it. "This 
time I'm talking about the part that's never usually used. The 
mysterious, beautiful part. What do you say?"

"Just you and me?" cough

"Yes Starbuck," Jean Michel smiled. "It'd give us a little chance to 
try to get to know each other a little better..."

That was exactly what Starbuck was afraid of. "Ummm... I don't think 
so..."

"What's wrong Starbuck?" Jean Michel grinned. "You want a chaperone? 
Then let's take a chaperone... Cecil..." Jean Michel turned to smile at 
the blond, athletic man. "Fancy a tour of the house my friend?"

"Yeah why not," smirked the man who knew the house just as well as he 
knew Jean Michel or the pockets of his own trousers. "You know how I'm 
always intrigued by the previously unexperiences..."

"Great," Jean Michel stood up from the couch, holding his hand out to 
Starbuck. "Let's start the adventure then."

Frack, thought Starbuck who didn't come up with an other excuse and got 
up reluctantly to let the excitedly smirking Jean Michel start leading 
him toward the livingroom doorway.

"Wait," Apollo shed the cashmere blanket he had had on around his 
shoulders and hastily climbed to his feet. "I'm coming with you."

Another sensation of falling fast and from very high. For a micron 
Starbuck feared his legs might fail him. He fought to keep his facial 
expression unchanged.

Satyr's face darkened as his eyes followed Apollo walking to Jean.

Cecil cast a weird glance at the thin, green-eyed man sitting in that 
big antique chair, then turned and started to lead the group of men out 
of the living room, babbling with apparent easiness. Starbuck could've 
sworn he sensed something false under than casualness. Something very 
cold.

Jean Michel put his hand on Starbuck shoulder.

* * *

"I can't feel my arse any more," Jolly frowned. "What the hell are they 
doing in that house?! They should be either acting weird by now or be 
asleep. Not chatting beside the fireplace like a group of old friends."

"I told you should have worn something else than those leather pants," 
Mitchi tried to hide his smirk. "Those are known to not be the warmest 
piece of clothing in the world."

"Looking good means having to suffer occasionally," Jolly replied 
knowingly. "And you of all people should know how important goods looks 
are at all times, being Warm Place club elite and all..."

"You still should've worn something warmer." Mitchi smiled. "This is 
not quite a hip Warm Place techno club we're at this very moment."

"Yeah, but still..." Jolly was sure of his thing. "You never know when 
you might bump into someone that you wouldn't want seeing you in some 
bloody awful gown or without make up..."

"Whatever," Mitchi gave in. He dug a cigarette out of his jacket pocket 
and lit it.

"Boomer," Jolly remembered something and his suddenly very intrigued 
eyes lingered to the darker man. "By the way, buddy. Who was the guy 
you slept with on the Galactica. The one I thought was Starbuck. We 
never got to finish that conversation you know."

"Jesus Jolly," Boomer rolled his eyes. "What the hell made you think of 
that now?! This is hardly the time or place for a stimulating 
conversation about my past sex life..."

"It just popped into my mind," Jolly shrugged. "Well??"

"Well what?"

"Who was it? And don't tell me he was someone I don't know because..."

"Oh he's someone you know very well my friend," Boomer smirked. "But 
I'm not gonna tell you his name, so better just put the whole thing out 
of your mind and concentrate on these more important things such as 
this stake out we're involved in right now..."

"Was it Apollo?"

"I told you I'm gonna answer that question," Boomer frowned. "So shut 
up!"

"I'm gonna get that info out of you yet pal," Jolly smirked, eyeing 
Boomer very curious. "Just wait dear. We'll have the whole night ahead 
of us..."

"Oh frack," Boomer frowned, taking a cigarette from Mitchi and putting 
it in between his lips, then leaning forward for Mitchi to light it. 
"Guys. I'm afraid this is going to be a long night..."

* * *

This was indeed a part of the mansion Starbuck hadn't seen. With it's 
very tall, majestic rooms, priceless works of art that were the 
enormous paintings and drawings, the statues, the gorgeous Ming vases 
and the gold-plated faucets, sinks, doorframes... My god, it was all 
breathtaking. Starbuck hadn't even thought people this rich could 
possibly still exist after the colonial destruction.

With his jaw dragging the floor, Starbuck followed Jean Michel and the 
others from room to room until they came to a purple carpeted hallway, 
which led to a stairway twenty or so metrons away.

Starbuck gasped. An unsettling feeling that he had been here before 
overcame him.

Those paintings...

Like in his nightmares, Starbuck started to walk closer towards the 
stairway, not being able to stop staring at the huge paintings hanging 
from dark-purple papered walls. Paintings so huge they almost hid the 
walls from view. They scared the living daylights out of him.

Starbuck heard a distant voice lingering from behind him but the words 
remained incomprehensible babble and so many galaxies away that 
Starbuck didn't find it necessary to react to it at all. He kept on 
walking closer towards the stairway.

Somehow, some way he had been here before. Except that he hadn't...

"Starbuck!" Jean Michel grabbed Starbuck's arm, making him turn, 
awaking him from that weird dark trance. "Where are you going? We're 
not going that way!... Come!"

Pulling Starbuck by the arm to the direction away from the stairway, 
Jean Michel was chattering about something completely meaningless about 
how many billion cubits the mortgage would be if the Deniers hadn't 
happened to be owning the house completely, and how he yet wanted 
Starbuck to see his two other bedrooms and the turbowashroom that was 
completely covered in crystal. 
Starbuck wasn't listening.

"What's down there?" Starbuck asked, taking a glance at the stairway 
behind. Even a hasty sight of it made him feel anxious.

"Nothing in particular," Jean Michel wasn't interested. "Just some of 
the quarters that belong to my father. You wouldn't want to see that 
boring felgercarb..."

Again, Starbuck just had to take a look behind. Everything back there 
frightened him. "Your father?"

"Yeah," Jean Michel grinned vaguely. "It's where he likes to stay when 
he's working on something and doesn't want to be disturbed. Only 
specified personnel is allowed to go to those quarters..."

"Really??" Starbuck felt another wave of unexplainable horror. Cold 
sweat appeared onto his forehead. "Have you ever been in that part of 
the house?"

"Sure," Jean Michel replied, bored of the subject. "As I said, it's 
nothing you'd be interested in. Come, I want to show you my two other 
bedrooms..."

* * *

"This really sucks," Sascha grunted. "What the hell are they doing 
there? I suggest that we sneak in right now and get this felgercarb 
over with."

"Brilliant Sasch," Francis Lindo clapped his hands. "And you mind give 
us more details about how we should be able to manage that with all the 
others hanging about. Especially those former hero friends of Boomer's. 
Those guys'll shoot us the moment they spot us barging into the house 
with our baseball bats..."

"Then tell me how in the names of the lords will we be able to remain 
alive in this damn cold then," Sascha growled.

"Here," Boomer handed over a bottle. "Have some whisky. It'll warm you 
up."

"Cheers, man..."

* * *

"...And here it is," Jean Michel was holding onto Starbuck's hand as he 
led him and the other two men into a bedroom that looked like something 
out of the Waldorf-Astoria. "My favourite bedroom. Too bad it's really 
hard to keep warm in the winter since this part of the mansion has no 
central heating."

"How many bedrooms do you have exactly?" Starbuck didn't feel too happy 
witnessing how some people could be this rich while there were others 
had to work their fingers to the bone and still get nothing.

"Three," Jean Michel replied after a little thinking. "I mean: three 
actual bedrooms. The other two are just rooms I like to spend time in 
when I'm in a mood to be alone. All these rooms are for my private use. 
Then there are all kinds of studies and..."

"I think we all got the picture Jean," Cecil had noticed the look on 
Starbuck's face. "I have an idea. Don't you have a bar or something in 
this room?"

"Sure," Jeanie glanced at Cecil. They shared a look.

"Great!" Cecil grinned. "Why don't we have a glass of champagne. To 
warm us all up. It is kind of cold in this room..."

"Good idea," Jean Michel smiled strangely and went to fetch a bottle of 
Dom Perignon from a little, almost unnoticeable cupboard he had in the 
wall. "...You want strawberries with the champagne?"

"No, not really," Cecil smirked. "Thanks."

Starbuck's eyes were lingering in the room. The strange, acutely 
terrifying sense of deja-vu had passed. This room was bringing no 
connection to his dark dreams. This was just another place with too 
many damn expensive things and a ridiculously pompous canopied bed.

Starbuck wanted to go back to the hallway. He wanted to run the hell 
away from this house. And he desperately wanted to talk to Apollo.

"Why don't your parents live in this mansion?" Starbuck tried so hard 
to push his thoughts of Apollo aside and forced his attention to Jean 
Michel who was returning with the Dom Perignon bottle and four tall 
glasses, handing one glass to each man and starting to pour the 
champagne.
"This place had space for at least a battalion. I think it's a little 
unthinkable to leave it empty like this..."

"My parents come here for holidays," Jean Michel grinned. "When they 
work, they have to commute between Dashington and Warm Place. They 
don't have time for Sassy."

"What about your grandparents?" Starbuck watched how Jean Michel filled 
his glass. How he needed to talk to Apollo.

"Oh, they live in the south. In Bloody Warm Place. They don't like the 
winters here in the north..."

"Really," Starbuck didn't give a damn. So hard he tried not to look at 
Apollo.

Jean Michel raised his glass.

"To things yet unexperienced," he announced with a smirk.

"To things yet unexperienced," Cecil repeated, clinking his glass 
against Cecil's and then taking the first sip.

"Nice," he smiled, being careful not the give away the man who had 
appeared into the doorway. "I just love the 1957 vintage. Don't you?"

Apollo kept his eyes downcast.

Starbuck gave a distant smile and toasted with his glass. How the hell 
was he going to get Apollo alone with him. There had to be a way...

Something hit him from behind. Hard. The last thing Starbuck saw was 
the floor plunging toward him. Then there was only blackness.

"It's time," Satyr smiled darkly, holding a paper weight.

* * *

Chapter 17

"Well, hello there," Carter waved at Tony and Maya, who too were 
returning to the museum at the given time. "Any luck?"

"No," Tony was pissed off for having had to roam the forest for 
nothing. "We didn't come across anything that would've told us what has 
happened to the dealer. You?"

"Nada," Carter's grin was from one ear to another.

"What the hell are you grinning about then?" Tony lost track. "You look 
like a mischievous Santa Claus..."

"Oh nothing much," Carter twinkled like the Christmas tree. "I just 
happened to run into an acquaintance of mine, that's all."

"You what?" Tony's jaw dropped. "Here? In the forest? At THIS hour?!"

"That's right mate," Carter beamed. "You remember that damn sexy guy I 
introduced to you in the disco... Well, He just kind of ran past me all 
of sudden, completely naked. What a co-incidence, eh?!"

"I'd say!" Tony's jaw had dropped all the way to the ground by now.

"...Yeah, and so I thought: what the heck, ripped all my clothes off 
and ran after the guy. We ended up having quite a shag in one of those 
kinkah bushes mate. I hope I'm not going to get any rash..."

"Really?" Tony clicked his mouth shut, staring at Carter. "And what the 
hell was that guy doing in the forest in the middle of the goddamn 
night?!"

"Yeah well, that kind of occurred to me too so I asked him," Carter 
replied confessionally. "After that third shag under a really big pine 
tree."

"Well?" Tony gaped at Carter.

"Well what?"

"What did he say you moron?!!"

"Oh that. Well, he said that he was jogging and just happened to be in 
this area," Carter shrugged indifferently. "Who cares why. What really 
matters is that he really was here and I could get those five shags."

"Five!" Tony panted. "You just said three!"

"No." Carter sighed impatiently. "What I said was: 'after the third 
one'. I didn't say how many shags we ended up having altogether..."

"You had five shags in an hour!!" Tony raised one eyebrow. A little 
smirk appeared on his face. "Are you saying that you're one of those 
one-minute wonders my friend...."

"No," Carter rolled his eyes. "What I'm saying is that I'm one of those 
very rare guys that don't have to take a break at all between shags. I 
could go on endlessly if I wanted to."

"You're kidding me!"

"Nope," Carter smiled. "But I have to admit that I do get tired 
sometimes and have to drink a Coca-Cola, but otherwise..."

Maya was smirking like a lunatic in the background, trying to act like 
she wasn't in the least bit interested in what Tony and Carter were 
talking about but not doing a very convincing job at it.

Five times in an hour, Maya just had to shake her head. By the eyebrows 
of Mentor, even the Psychon incommunicados that had been insulated from 
the community to be given hormonal treatment for research purposes, 
hadn't been able to handle a pace like that. Maya could hardly wait for 
another episode of 'Walter Willowfield'.

"You're lying," Tony stared at Carter, his emotions ranging from 
definite disbelief to nightblack envy to reluctant respect. "There's no 
way..."

Then he realized it.

Well of course, Tony grinned. Brainstorming that if he himself had ever 
been granted an opportunity to perform such a task, he wouldn't just be 
able to get it up five time an hour. He do a hell of a lot better. Tony 
smiled. He knew what a superman he was. Now if only he could get Maya 
to bed...

* * *

"Where's T Bone by the way?" Tony asked like a superman he now knew he 
was, eyeing around the parking lot of the towery museum of many pipes.

"I'm here," Boney grunted unwillingly. Carter had dragged him back here 
even though T Bone had made it very clear he wanted to take his 
businesses elsewhere. The damn Australian had been relentless about 
needing Biggy to drive them back to Saskachoona.

Great. Now all Biggy had to do was find the damn taxi. The problem was 
that he had no feldercarbing clue about its whereabouts. Perhaps he 
should've mentioned that to the Australian...

"Has anyone seen John return yet?" Carter too eyed around the parking 
lot. "The appointed time passed more than ten minutes ago..."

"Don't' worry Alan," Tony reassured. "Koenig's a natural born 
commander. I'm sure he'll be here any minute." He's destined to be all 
right."

"Tony's right," Maya was thinking about the five times in an hour. 
"Koenig's destined to be all right. Otherwise he wouldn't have lived 
through all our previous adventures. That goat face isn't exactly the 
best attraction to bring 'Carlton' more viewers..."

"Damn, it's freezing out here!" Carter puffed into his hands, then 
rubbed the hands together.

One more glance around the dark parking lot, then Carter made up his 
mind.

"Okay," he announced. "I'll give Koenig another ten minutes. But if 
he's not back by then I'm going back to the hotel..."

* * *

"Bloodyhellbloodyhellbloodyhell," Koenig was utterly and totally lost. 
Why for fuck's sake hadn't the highly acclaimed method of navigating 
one's way using the position of stars succeeded. Koenig had done 
everything exactly like it was printed in the Hitch-hikers' Guide to 
the Galaxy. Why was he lost?

Okay. Maybe it was time to sit down and think about what had happened 
so far.

Koenig eyed around and spotted a suitable rock. He walked to it to take 
a seat, dug out a pipe he seldom used from the breast pocket of his 
jacket and lit it, letting his gaze linger towards the stars and two 
moons above.

Recap: After Koenig had regained consciousness, he had spent a while 
trying to remember who he was and why the hell was he alone out here in 
this cold, damp place without Helena to take care of him. Then Koenig 
had remembered having seen Bigfoot, and the horrifying recollection of 
that had almost caused Koenig to pass out for the second time.

A few disgraceful moments later, Koenig had finally managed to convince 
himself that he was in fact a commander of a very respected moonbase 
Alpha, and had come to this darn planet to buy rye so they wouldn't 
have to continue eating solely wheat, barley, oats and tofu and other 
felgercarb for the rest of their lives. (Yes, Koenig was a glorified 
rye-bread addict. 
Horrible withdrawal symptoms, man. Horrible.) Then Koenig remembered 
how the goddamn rye dealer had never shown up and how the museum had 
been full of pipes. A million pipes everywhere.

Having held a hand on the small of his back, Koenig had climbed to his 
feet and courageously proceeded his way, lurching towards the direction 
where he kinda remembered the museum had been.

Just in case he would run into Bigfoot again, Koenig had kept holding 
onto that pipe he had stolen from that museum. The bump he had gotten 
on his head from falling must had been bigger than supposed, since 
Koenig had totally forgotten about the existence of his gun.

* * *

Ten minutes later Koenig had been sure he was seeing the lights of the 
museum's parking space and hearing the hushed voices of the others who 
had obviously already returned from their search missions.

Fifteen minutes later Koenig had realized he was hopelessly lost.

* * *

Now sitting on the rock, smoking his pipe and eyeing the stars, Koenig 
thought he was hearing the same hushed voices again.

He turned to take a wary look behind but there was nothing to see. Just 
the pale forest bathing in silvery moonlight. Somehow the night seemed 
lighter now than it had a moment ago. Perhaps it 
was because it was getting closer to morning.

No more sounds. Just the wind. Koenig must had been mistaken.

He was about to re-turn his gaze to the stars but something else caught 
his attention.

Making sure he didn't lose the sight of the little shiny object on the 
ground a few metres away from him, Koenig got up from the rock and 
walked to the shiny thingy to pick it up.

Weird, Koenig held it up against moonlight. It looked like a small coat 
of arms. A very fancy one. Really fine carvings and things that looked 
like real emeralds embedded in the picture of a dragon in the middle. 
Emeralds and rubins. Koenig held his breath. He was thinking about how 
much he would gain by selling that thing on some greedy planet.

A bunch of fancy words were carved into the bottom of the thing, 
shining in the light of the moon. Koenig didn't have to be told that 
those words were plated with white sithrill silver. Metal even more 
valuable that fiorill, or gold. Narrowing his eyes Koenig tried to make 
out what those words spelled.

O TEMPORA O MORES.
VENI, VIDI, VICI, DENIER.

Shit, Koenig thought. Sounded pompous. Too bad he had never really 
bothered to attend his Latin lessons at school but rather spent all his 
time peeping at the lads in the shower in the boys' locker room. Not 
that he was homosexual or anything...

Koenig cast a hasty glance around to make sure that neither Bigfoot nor 
anything else threatening was there to watch him, then attached the 
damn fine-looking coat of arms to the chest of his jacket and eyed it 
extremely satisfied.

Someone pulled a bag over his head.

* * *

"Where the hell is he?! " Carter frowned and paused pacing to put out 
the cigaretter he was smoking. "I should've known John wouldn't be 
capable of surviving on his own! Hell, the man can't even find his own 
slippers in the dark. What the hell was I thinking..."

"What if he's been kidnapped by the rye dealer?" Tony suggested. "Or 
someone worse. Don't you guys think we should go in search of him..."

"We wouldn't even know where to start," Carter replied, jumping up and 
down in order to try to stay warmer. "No, I have a better idea."

"What?" the others looked up at him in anticipation.

"Let's just go and find T Bag's car and get back to the hotel. There's 
nothing more we can do here. Whatever trouble John's gotten himself 
into this time, I'm sure that when the sun comes up, he'll manage to 
find some friendly farmer to help him and bring him back to the 
Saskachoona Sheraton for breakfast. Then we can all laugh about this 
felgercarb and fly back to Alpha."

"You have a very good point there Alan," Tony thought about it. "This 
county is full of farmers who'd be more than happy to assist alien 
commanders in distress..."

A pondering pause. Then:

"Yeah," Tony grinned. "Let's do it. Let's go back to the hotel. I 
really need to wash a few pairs of socks more before we return to 
Alpha."

"Marvelous," Carter beamed, putting his hand on both Tony's and Maya's 
shoulders. "I have a few socks for you to wash as well..."

"Ummm..." a teeny weeny little voice came from somewhere in the dark. 
Alan Carter glanced at a fidgeting Bit T.

"What?"

"Ummm... "

"What??"

"I have no fracking idea where the damn car is, man." Big T grinned.

* * *

"I'm still trying to make up my mind whether that was a good or an 
extremely bad idea," Jean Michel stared at the unconscious Starbuck, 
then looked up to give Satyr a glare. "Why couldn't you have waited 
just a little longer?"

"Because the guy wasn't seeming to get any more drugged than he had 
been centars ago, and since it's nearly morning," Satyr replied. "We 
have to proceed."

"Satyr is right," Cecil agreed. "But how the hell are we going to be 
able to use that Starbuck guy for the rest of the two sectons to finish 
what we're doing. There'll be no way he's ever going to agree to meet 
us again..."

"Then we'll just have to lock him up somewhere," Satyr raised one 
eyebrow. "Doesn't your father still have those cages in his lab 
Jeanie?"

"Yeah, he does," Jean Michel replied, hesitantly. "But isn't someone 
going to miss Starbuck at the university?"

"As far as I found out," Apollo started. "He wasn't making friends. I 
don't think he really got that aquainted with anyone..."

"What about his teachers? Or his student counselor?"

"I have an idea," Denis had appeared upstairs. "One of us has to go and 
place a letter in Starbuck's room where it states that unfortunately he 
had come to a conclusion that the university wasn't for him after all 
and had decided to leave. That'll explain it all..."

"Great," Satyr smiled. "Which one of us is going to take the note?"

"Tonight??" Jean Michel  coughed.

"Of course not," Satyr snarled. "You think I'm a idiot?! We have the 
other things to do... I was talking about tomorrow."

"I could do it since I live near the campus anyway," Cecil shrugged. 
"No biggy."

"Ummm," Apollo hesitated. "Don't you all think it would be best if I 
did. After all, I used to be really close to Starbuck once, and if I'm 
unfortunate enough to get caught, I can always say that I was worried 
because I hadn't heard from him for a little while and had gone looking 
for 
him. People will believe me a lot easier than you guys."

"Good point," Denis was all for it.

"It's a deal then," Satyr smiled. "Why don't we stop wasting any more 
time and go and get changed. Cecil, you help Denis carry Starbuck 
downstairs. We don't have much more time before it becomes light..."

"Yes sir," Cecil brought his hand to his forehead sarcastically. Satyr 
glanced at him darkly.

"See you all downstairs then," Satyr's cold eyes lingered on the five 
men in the room. "Don't be too long." He turned and walked out the 
door.

"Arsehole," Cecil frowned. "I really wish he'd shake that damn messiah 
act..."

"You know what I wish," Jean Michel grinned. "I wish that Satyr had 
given me a just little more time with Starbuck tonight. I had a strong 
feeling I was just about to get to base two..."

"What the felgercarb are you talking about darling," Cecil smirked. 
"You hadn't even gotten to base one yet."

"Yes I had. You just didn't know it."

"Did Starbuck know it?"

"Dimwit," Jean Michel tried to slap Cecil playfully but missed. Cecil 
studied Jean Michel for a moment with a grin, then:

"Are you really infatuated with that Starbuck or just fooling around?" 
he asked.

"I admit I am smitten with the guy," Jean Michel shrugged. "But he's 
gonna be dead in less than two sectons so..."

"So you just wanted to have as much fun before then as possible," Cecil 
smiled. "Oh, you naughty boy."

They both chuckled.

Apollo didn't.

"But you know what darling," Cecil continued with that smirk on his 
face. "Now that Starbuck will be locked in your father's lab for the 
next few days, you're going to have a hell of a good chance of getting 
to him now. You just lead him to believe that you're willing to help 
and Starbuck will give you the moon from the sky."

"That was my intention Cecil dear," Jean Michel smiled like a cat who 
had just been given a bowl of cream. "That was my intention..."

Apollo stared at the floor.

* * *

"Why didn't you just knock him unconscious, man" Edward Furlong asked. 
"He's gonna wake the whole neighbourhood!"

"We're in a forest Furlong," Tigh pointed out.

"Well, he's gonna wake the whole forest then..."

They were both eyeing the man Tigh had just captured. Gagged and mooing 
like a mad, frantic cow, swaying his head side to side trying to throw 
the damn bag off, throwing his fists in the air looking like an idiot 
since the both of his hands were tied together by the wrists, and 
trying to kick everything around him. Tigh was holding onto the man by 
a metallic chain that led to a spiky collar attached around the his 
neck.

"You really should have drugged him something..."

"...And having end up carrying him all the way through the forest?!" 
Tigh glanced at Edward impatiently. "Brilliant Furlong! Really 
brilliant..."

"Well, at least then we wouldn't have had to listen to that 
felgercarb..."

"mmmmggghhfffffnnnnmmffffggggghhhh" Koenig was on the verge of 
strangling himself on the collar trying to pull it off.

"Are you sure that's the right guy?" Edward Furlong furrowed his brows. 
"An heir to one of the richest and the most influential families on 
your planet. A true nobleman..."

"What do you think I am Furlong?!" Tigh gave the young lad a glare. "An 
idiot?? Of course I'm sure. The guy was wearing the Denier coat of 
arms, wasn't he!?! How many others wearing that same thing do you think 
could possibly be roaming the same forest at this centar?! Why do you 
ask?"

Edward Furlong watched how Koenig kept gagging and dancing around like 
a rabid goat, then banged his toe against a rock and let out a howl of 
a werewolf, starting to hop on one foot holding the other.

"...Because he doesn't look exactly noble to me," Furlong replied 
truthfully. "And you know that my boss had made a deal about getting a 
nobleman..."

"It's the money Furlong," Tigh explained knowingly. "The Deniers are 
the richest sons of daggits on Cadria and it's a well known fact that 
money makes people animals."

"Yeah, I guess..."

"And it's all the government's fault," Tigh concluded. "All money goes 
to armament."

"Really?" Furlong glanced at the red-haired sex god.

"Yeah," Tigh frowned. "Can you believe that shit, man. That's why I'm 
in on this kidnapping thing so I can get money to buy weapons and 
become a powerful entity who can destroy the present establishment, 
make this planet an Eden of equality and decency for all us children of 
the revolution..."

"Oh?" Furlong stared at Sex God. What a moron.

"Yeah," Tigh beamed. "All I need is a hell of a lot of weapons, 
tankers, hand grenades, tear- gas..."

"Can we get going now," Furlong had never heard bigger felgercarb in 
his life. "I promised my boss I'd bring the slave before 04.00..."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Tigh smiled. He turned to give a little pull at the 
chain leading to Koenig's collar. "Come on Denier," Tigh smacked his 
lips. "Off we go..."

* * *

To hell with the aliens! Athena was now totally devoted to finding the 
gorgeous man whose naked friend was roaming the forest.

No such luck yet though.

Once she had thought she had spotted him but the object had turned out 
to be a weird headless scarecrow, built from tree branches and rope and 
hanging from a tree.

On the ground, exactly under the hanging scarecrow, there had been a 
pile of apples and bananas, just like from some horrible witch movie. 
Thank Sagans Athena didn't believe in witches.

A centar later she was still stalking the forest empty-handed and 
shivering and was beginning to feel a bit frustrated. She saw a gray 
vehicle. A sedan. Parked about twenty metrons from a yellow taxi.

About another twenty metrons away from the gray sedan was an old pick-
up truck which Athena immediately recognized as the means of 
transportation's that the aliens had used, since her own super vehicle 
was parked twenty metrons away from that one.

Athena stopped to think for a moment and this is how her brilliant mind 
worked:

The gray sedan had to belong to that gorgeous man since how many other 
people could there possibly be wondering around this forest at this 
centar. The gray sedan must had followed the yellow cab, which no doubt 
had been the means of transportation for the hairy beast.

Whatever had led to this situation where a man had decided to follow 
his hairy pal into the woods didn't bother Athena because she knew it 
was none of her business, but it had anyhow provided her with a 
brilliant stalking opportunity. Athena smiled.

If she took the gray sedan and moved it from the place where it was 
now, hid it somewhere in the woods where it still would be nearby the 
yellow taxi so she could keep an eye on it, she'd spot the gorgeous man 
returning to his car, find it gone and being forced to take the yellow 
cab. Then Athena could follow the man wherever he would go and that, 
she smiled, would be the 
beginning of a beautiful new friendship.

Okay, but what if the hairy guy got to the cab first and took off. Oh 
well, then Athena would have to follow the hairy guy around until he'd 
sooner or later bump into his gorgeous friend.

Great idea! Off you go girl!

Athena fiddled with the lock of the gray sedan for a couple of microns, 
got the door open and climbed in.

Due to having been in the army so long, Athena knew all kinds of 
illegal tricks and, in this case, she knew the trick to how to get the 
motor started.

She drove the car out of sight, turned the engine off and pressed her 
body against the plushy front seat, keeping her eyes on the yellow, 
moonlit taxi. Now all she would have to do is wait.

* * *

"Did you see that," Pester whispered inside the cockpit of the moonlit 
pick-up truck. "Why did they move the car?"

"Not they, Pester," Dexter corrected, keeping his eyes on the gray 
sedan hidden in the bushes. "Her. I could swear she was a woman."

"Maybe," Pie-Face mumbled. "But you can't really tell nowadays can you. 
Besides, the person had no hair."

"Okay," Pester murmured. "But why did that person move the car?"

"What I'd like to know is why a completely new person suddenly appears 
and moves a car that doesn't belong to him?"

"Maybe he or she is part of the plan," Erlie whispered. "You never know 
with the McMullens. This might be some canny plan to throw us off the 
track. I say we keep on observing the situation and when the gray sedan 
takes off, with or without the red-haired guy or that skinny lad, we'll 
follow it. Okay?!"

"Sounds good," Japher nodded. "But what luck that we happened to be 
here when that gray sedan was moved. Otherwise we wouldn't have been 
able to spot it so easily in the darkness."

"Thank Pie-Face for that," Pester smiled. "He's the one who had this 
brilliant plan that we'd return to our truck."

"That was no big deal," Pie-Face blushed, feeling like a hero. "I just 
thought when we lost them that why wander around in the dark when we 
can have coffee from the thermos in the car and wait for them to 
return. Now we can follow them to the McMullens' cabin and shoot them 
all."

"But..." Japher furrowed his brows. "What about the rye. Who shall we 
sell our rye if we shoot the buyer too?"

"Oh, we'll find someone." Pie-Face grinned. "Here, have some coffee..."

* * *

"Thank god we ran into this yellow cab," Edward Furlong glanced at Sex 
God who was sitting beside him, all shadowy-lined, and driving the car. 
The two moons were painting the older man's face ghostly silverish and 
even the flaming red hair looked paler. "Otherwise we might still be 
there lost in the damn forest, trying to find our own car..."

"But I still don't get it. How in the hell could it just have 
disappeared like that," Tigh switched from g5 to g7 and the speed of 
the car increased a tad. "That was a rented car for Sagan's sake! This 
is gonna screw up my credit..."

"Oh I'm sure it's not that bad," Furlong wasn't interested. He eyed the 
glove compartment, thinking that perhaps he should check it out, just 
in case there were Barry Manilow tapes stocked in there like it had 
been in the other car.

"What a damn shame you broke my headphones and that Barry tape when you 
tripped over in the forest, man..." Edward Furlong frowned.

"It was an accident," Tigh smirked. "I swear."

"I'm sure..."

A vague "mmmmggggmmmgghhhh" lingered from the back seat where Koenig 
was heavily tied up and still wearing the gag and the bag over his 
head. Tigh had given the bloke a horse sedative when they had got to 
this cab they found, and Koenig's moos had become less anarchistic.

"Oh man... I just adore your hair," Furlong cast another yearning 
glance at the sex god beside him. Boy he could hardly wait until all 
this business would be over and he could finally get into bed with this 
nymph. "I still don't know your name by the way..."

"Err... Eunice," Tigh coughed.

"Well Eunice," Furlong smiled. "I think you're the most desirable man 
I've ever seen."

Oh Jesus, Tigh wanted to run for his life.

Furlong opened the glove compartment, eyeing its contents. "Look," He 
noticed something and dug it out. "A Cliff Richard compilation."

"Oh no..."

"Oh yeah man," Furlong beamed. "Now we can really get a good party 
going..." Edward inserted the tape into the stereo player and 'Devil 
Woman' flooded into the car.

"Brilliant man," Furlong started tapping his fingers against the 
dashboard, nodding his head to the rhythm. "Devil womaaan..."

"Please stop singing."

"With evil on her miiiind..."

"Ummm. Where is that ship of yours Eddie?" Tigh glanced at the lad 
annoyed. "You could be a little more helpful and give me directions on 
how to get there instead of buggering the fracks out of me with that 
whine of yours you insist on calling singing..."

"I'll give you instructions when it's time to give instructions," 
Furlong hummed. "...She's gonna get you from behiiiiiind...."

Help! Tigh grimaced.

"Oh, besides," Furlong glanced at Sex God. "It's not my ship. It's my 
boss'. Or rather: my boss' boss'."

"Really," Tigh raised one eyebrow. "And which one ordered the single 
white male?"

"The hairy one."

"Really," Tigh rolled his eyes. A car going to the opposite direction 
passed them. Tigh glanced at his timepiece.

"It's almost 04.00..."

"I'm hungry," Furlong yawned. "Stop somewhere for an ice cream will 
ya."

"But it's..."

"I think there's a GB Glace takeaway a few miles from here..."

"Hey, I though we were in a hurry to get to your boss..."

"We are," Furlong smirked. "That's why I said 'takeaway' sugar. Not 
'restaurant'."

"What's the difference," Tigh mumbled, thinking about the times when 
Rigel had dragged him to a fancy restaurant and the waiter had insisted 
on packing what they had left on their plates to take home with them. 
It was the Armourican way...

"You wanna hear the story how I came to your planet before you meet my 
boss," Furlong glanced at Tigh.

"Not really..."

"I was a famous actor in those days, man. Everybody adored me Eunice. I 
was the Best!..." Furlong stared at the moonlit road ahead dreamily. 
"Yeah, I had everything going for me, man: the looks, the career, tons 
of sex..."

"What happened?" Tigh didn't give a damn. He glanced at his timepiece 
again.

"A horrible story really," Furlong sighed. "You see, I was a party 
animal. A totally hot babe and everybody wanted me. Then I started 
seeing this girl, man. A really rich girl who was the heiress to a 
filthy rich family of famous hotel owners."

"Really."

"Yeah. A totally hot babe. Just like me at first. And a lot of money, 
man. A hell of a lot of money..."

"Oh."

"But then, after a little while I started discovering this little 
problem that she had..."

"What problem?"

"Well, she kinda had immense trouble keeping all of her clothes on in 
public places."

"Really?" This time Tigh glanced at Furlong rather intrigued. "That was 
a problem with you?"

"Yeah," Furlong let out another deep sigh. "It became real tough, man. 
Night after night seeing that naked anorectic body of hers..."

"Horrible, man," Tigh shook his head. "Horrible."

"Yeah, so in the end I just couldn't bare it any more so I started 
drinking quite heavily..."

"Ooooh. Tough, man."

"It all led to a horrible struggle with the tabloids, man. So I just 
had to get away..."

"Really?"

"So I started thinking: where should I go man? Where should I go? I'm 
known all over the place. It was driving me mad, man. Mad! Then one 
night I was walking down Fifth Avenue lost in my miserable thoughts and 
so drunk I could hardly walk straight. You see, I had just had to 
witness Paris, my girlfriend, having performed lap dance on a table in 
Tri-Be-Ca in furry 
underwear and I just kinda lost it that night. I had to go outside for 
some fresh air and somehow I ended up on Fifth Avenue..."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah." Furlong frowned. "But don't ask me how because I have no idea. 
Anyway, I was lurching down the street and suddenly I bump into this 
hairy beast from outer space..."

"Really??" Tigh stared at Furlong.

"Yeah. We kinda ended up chatting and then he suggested we'd go for a 
drink..."

"You went for a drink with that hairy beast from outer space??"

"Sure," Furlong shrugged.

"And you telling me that you weren't one bit alarmed by his 
appearance?"

"Of course not," Furlong rolled his eyes. "It was New York, man. You 
see all kinds of stuff in New York... Anyway. We went for a drink and I 
told him about my problem with an anorectic girlfriend and he offered 
to give me a lift to another planet. So I took the offer."

"Is it an everyday thing to run into aliens and leave the planet on 
Earth?" Tigh asked curious.

"Not really," Furlong replied. "But most people have no idea that all 
the UFO sightings and tabloid headlines about aliens and three-legged 
sheep are in fact true. Earth people are just living in complete 
denial."

"Poor bastards," Tigh sighed.

"Yeah," Furlong nodded. "But anyway... what was I saying... oh yes. And 
so I hitched a ride with the hairy beast, his boss and hiss boss' 
friends, and after a couple of months cruising in space we discovered 
this planet and so I ended up here."

"Quite a story," Tigh admitted. "But why didn't you stay with the hairy 
beast if you two became so buddy-buddy?"

"I thought about it," Furlong smiled. "But its one of those things 
where the one party wants something else from the 
friendship/relationship than the other one, and so we came to a 
conclusion that it would be better off if our paths parted."

"How sad," Tigh glanced at Furlong. "What did he want then?"

"Oh, nothing much," Furlong shrugged. "Just a human slave to fulfill 
all his sexual and non-sexual desires plus serve him everyday like an 
obedient harem woman."

"Horrible!"

"Not really," Furlong though of it. "But that's not really my thing you 
know. I need to be the one who's served and adored."

"Quite understandable really," Tigh recognized the same features in 
himself. "So what happened?"

"When we had found about this planet and the fact that it in fact 
contained humans, hairy beast had an idea and contacted a local slave 
salesman..."

"Aren't those supposed to be a little hard to find!"

"That's what you'd think wouldn't you," Furlong grinned. "Stuck on this 
planet and all. But you know, there's a hell of a big universe out 
there and..."

"I do know that you moron," Tigh frowned. "I've had my share of space 
travel..."

"Whatever," Furlong didn't care. "Anyway. Once we stopped for solium 
and hamburgers, beast got his hands on this recently updated phone book 
which contained the names and contact details to all murky business 
people in the southern Deoyrian part and under 'slave traders' we 
discovered your boss' name."

"My... what?? Hold on a centon." Tigh lost track. "I'm not listed in 
any murky business people's directory since I'm not a businessman. I'm 
just an innocent little anarchist who tries his darnest to better the 
world, and I don't work for anyone but myself and my dreams..."

"Why were you wearing the anemone then?" Furlong raised one eyebrow. 
"If you weren't the contact person?"

"I happened to pick it up from the floor." Tigh frowned.

"Then why for heaven's sake did you agree to this kidnapping thing??"

"Because I was going to kidnap the Denier guy anyway but you offered me 
more money so..."

"Okay, whatever." Furlong decided. "The main thing is that in the end, 
we do have the Denier heir kidnapped and soon this'll all be over and 
we can go to bed. Great isn't it?!"

"Furlong," Although this subject had had a weird twist, something Eddie 
had said had gotten Tigh curious. "What's the slave trader's name?"

"Otter."

"Never heard," Tigh kept tasting the word in his mouth.

"...But of course, that isn't the guy's real name," Furlong grinned. 
"But since I just learnt that you have nothing to do with Otter in any 
way, I couldn't possibly reveal you the guy's real identity now could 
I?"

"Dimwit," Tigh pouted.

"So, anyway..." Furlong yawned. "To finish the story. We contacted the 
Otter guy and arranged a little business deal, and the rest is history 
as they say, although it did turn out a little differently than first 
planned."

"I'd say!"

"Hey, there's the ice cream take-away stand," Furlong noticed a pink, 
fluorescent-lit shack by the side of the road.

"Pull over. And get me a Wicky Sticky will ya..."

* * *

Chapter 18

"Where the hell is that taxi?!?" Alan Carter was really starting to get 
pissed off about this adventure. "This has to be the place where we 
left it since I can still see the tire marks!"

"My car," Big T panicked. "I still hadn't paid it in full! The dealer's 
gonna sue me! The county's gonna sue me! And they're gonna find out my 
criminal record!"

"You have a criminal record?" Carter turned to glance at Boney 
suspiciously.

"Well what do you think?!" Big T frowned. "I'm from the Bronx, man."

"Hey, hold it," Maya's voice cut through the night like a whip. "That's 
narrow-minded thinking, pal. No, in fact that's social racism and 
unforgivable stupidity. You want a kick in the ass dear cos that's what 
you're gonna get if you keep talking that shit around me!!"

"Calm down lady," Big T stared at Maya eyes wide. "I was talking about 
myself!"

"Yeah, but still," Maya's hands were on her hips. "So, shut up or put 
up!"

"Sheeeessshhh," Big T rolled his eyes.

"Okay, back to the question about the car," Carter eyed the empty spot. 
"Where the hell is it?!"

"Hey, I know what must had happened," Tony's face lit up. "It was 
Koenig. He must had found his way over here, taken the cab and driven 
back to the hotel."

"If it was Koenig then why for frack's sake didn't he wait for us?"

"Maybe he thought that we'd found the dealer by then and gotten a lift 
back from him."

"I'm gonna kick Koenig's ass," Carter mumbled.

"So," Maya eyed the guys. "What do we do now?"

"We walk," Big T shrugged.

"Someone grab me before I'll strangle that guy," Carter snarled.

"But he's right about this," Maya glanced at Carter. "There's no other 
choice unless you want to sit here until one of those friendly farmers 
you suggested would rescue Koenig, will come and rescue you too."

"Sounds like a damn brilliant idea," Carter growled. Maya rolled her 
eyes.

"Why are you being so difficult, Alan," she sighed. "We've had enough 
trouble without you suddenly starting to act like Nelly Olsen..." Maya 
had a thought. "Besides, there is a certain Walter Willowfield waiting 
for you at the hotel. Wouldn't you want to get back there as quickly as 
you possibly could?"

"Of course," Alan mumbled. "But walking isn't as quickly as possible'. 
A moonrocket is."

"Sit here then," Maya shrugged. "We're going."

She started towards the direction where she noticed the tire marks of 
the yellow cab were leading. Thank Sagans it was a little lighter now 
that it was closer to morning. Those tire marks weren't that hard to 
see. The others followed her.

"Go," Carter shouted after them, pouting. "Just leave me here! Go!"

No answer.

Damn them all, Carter pouted. Won't they be sorry when they come back 
tomorrow and find me dead and eaten by vultures, cannibals, witches and 
hitch-hiker-killing occultists. Yeah, won't they be sorry then that 
they left me here alone and helpless! My ghost will forever haunt them 
to the border of insanity.

Alan Carter sighed like a martyr, preparing to give himself into the 
hands of death, watching how Tony, Maya and Big T disappeared into 
darkness.

Five microns later he ran after them.

* * *

The room was dark. There were five candles in each corner and nothing 
else to give light to what they were doing.

Starbuck was placed on the floor, all naked. There was a cross made out 
of rose petals on his chest and his arms were spread like in a 
religious painting. For a moment Apollo thought how immensely beautiful 
Starbuck actually looked.

So tranquil.

He knelt down and touched the man's face softly.

"I'm sorry," Apollo whispered.

He remained there by Starbuck's side for a while, studying the face of 
the man who had been so dear to him. A face that was now deadly calm 
and pale as snow. And so beautiful.

Apollo realized that someone walked to him and knelt down too, putting 
his hand on Apollo's shoulder. He glanced up and saw Jean Michel, 
unsmiling and quiet. Apollo's heart skipped a beat.

"I wish it wouldn't have to be your friend," Jean Michel said very 
quietly so no one else would hear them, his eyes on the unconscious 
beautiful man before them. "I know I have a tendency to talk a lot of 
felgercarb but..."

A pause.

"But what?" Apollo couldn't take his eyes off Jean Michel. How he loved 
those dark eyes. So much it hurt.

"...but I really do care about Starbuck," Jean Michel whispered. "I 
think it would be so easy to fall in love with him."

Apollo's heart died a little. He looked away from Jean.

"Maybe we should begin.," he mumbled.

"Yeah, you're right," Jean Michel sighed, his eyes still on the 
unconscious Starbuck.

Then, without saying anything more, Michel climbed to his feet and 
walked to the fireplace where Satyr, Cecil and Denis were, all wrapped 
in blood-red capes. The fire was conjuring their faces enchanted.

Apollo closed his eyes for a little moment hoping to be able to ease 
the pain. How he wished he could be someone else.

* * *

"What the hell is that?" Boomer pointed at the weird glow in one of the 
windows downstairs. All the other windows of the mansion where 
completely dark. "What are they doing?"

"Probably what Otter's been telling us about," Mitchi replied. "Killing 
people, drinking their blood, folk-dancing around the house."

"Jeeez," Mikey grimaced. "The habits of some people."

"Yeah," Francis Lindo smirked. "Thank Sagans there are still ordinary 
and decent people like us, man!"

They all chuckled.

"I have an idea," Mitchi grinned. "Let's just go and join them. I can 
promise you that it couldn't possibly be worse than staying out here 
turning into ice-sticks."

"Yeah," Jolly smirked. "And if they start acting difficulty, we can 
always use our baseball bats. Knock them all asleep, have a glass of 
gin and tonic by the fireplace, and leave with Mrs. Denier's jewels."

"Rather not," Boomer grinned. "I'll satisfy with the Denier heir and 
the money we get for him."

"You think the client's still waiting by the museum?"

"If he is, he's crazier than I thought," Boomer replied. "Anyone have 
any vodka left?"

"I have some," Jolly lifted the bottle, eyeing its contents. "But I'm 
afraid it'll only last for the next fifteen centons or so."

"Well, let's hope that the Denier court has finished its spooky 
behaviour by then," Sascha said, eyeing the glowing window. "I wonder 
whose blood they're drinking this time?"

* * *

"FÄØdhj iox“j! Teh“hź," Satyr smiled at no one, slowly forming the 
words of the mantra of death in ancient Kreek.

He raised the dagger he had in his hand so that the light from the 
candles reflected from it, making it glow brighter than anything else 
in the dark room. The others were completely silent, watching the 
dagger.

"A“j h“ushź fagiré~pHh~pir! The glow on the dagger brightened, just a 
little. "Achļ de tésDp!"

Slowly, still smiling vaguely, Satyr lifted the hood of the red cape 
over his head to cover his face and knelt down beside Starbuck who was 
lying on the floor like Christ crucified.

"ZhegØg aHayé aF a'he" The other four men mumbled, not taking their 
eyes off the dagger for even a micron.

The thick, purple velvet curtains flowed a little as a whisper of cold 
air breathed through the living room.

Two of the candles died.

The shadows in the room deepened.

The dagger was turning red, pulsating like it had a heart.

A heart that wanted death.

"Farih, asdghHt je rHioaeh," Satyr smiled insanely, "Dä£ pÄosf lahhé 
hJūs xi““adX."

The dagger turned purple. The others in the room started humming a 
strange haunting melody. A melody that in any other circumstances 
could've been beautiful.

The flames of the candles left flickered.

"X'EIX, AÜXHAISH FO^K!!" Satyr screamed like crazy, holding the dagger 
above his head with both hands, then brought it down like a guillotine 
and slashed Starbuck in the chest.

* * *

Moonbase Alpha status report.
1060 days after breakaway.
Professor Victor Bergman reporting.
~ ~
This is the second report in 24 hours.

There still has been no message from commander John Koenig. The Main 
Mission control has repeatedly been trying to establish contact with 
Koenig and his crew, but so far we have gotten no reply whatsoever.

Our orders are to wait for another 12 hours. If they still haven't 
contacted the moonbase by then, another eagle will be sent down to 
check things out.

I have decided that I will be on that eagle when it departs, although I 
am trying not to let my personal fears interfere with my thinking and 
actions as the acting commander.
~ ~
Our mystery guest has continued his polite silence. I have come to a 
conclusion, that when doctor Helena Russell returns… if she returns... 
I will present her with my and some of my colleagues' opinions about 
starting the usage of truth serum X55.

Victor Bergman switched off the recorder lost in his worried thoughts, 
eyeing the glimmering blue planet outside.

* * *

Athena eyed the yellow car ahead, clicking on its blinker and pulling 
away from the front of the ice-cream stand on the side of the highway.

Athena turned on her headlights, switched to g5, and took off, 
carefully making sure that she held her perfect distance from the taxi.

The car radio was on but turned low. Quiet country music. Athena 
wondered if she should perhaps change the channel or something. She 
kept her eyes on the yellow car, going faster now, about 90 kilometrons 
a centar. Where the frack was it going?

At first Athena had been puzzled having noticed that neither the 
gorgeous man nor any hairy naked beast returned to the car, but a guy 
with a hell of a lot of red hair, a skinny kid who was acting like a 
movie star, and a person with a bag over his head instead. The she had 
slapped her forehead realizing that the man with a hell of a lot of red 
hair and a wiggling mustache had to be the hairy beast who had just 
probably gotten dressed at some point.

Humming along to the country music Athena switched from g5 to g7 to be 
able to keep up with the vehicle ahead.

Vague headlights of another car glowed from a distance from behind. 
Probably the milk man or the morning paper delivery boy. Or some 
concerned farmer taking his sick cow to the vet. Empathetically Athena 
wished that it wouldn't turn out to be mad cow's disease.

"I'm a poor lonesome cooowboooy and a long, long waaay frooom 
hoooomeee..."

* * *

"Where the hell is she going," Pie-Face furrowed his brows. "This ain't 
the way to the McMullens' house."

"Oh it's probably just another means of trying to throw us off track," 
Dexter knew. "Those McMullens would do everything they could to keep us 
away."

"Vicious bastards," Japher pouted.

"So we'll just keep on following her then?" Pie-Face wanted to make 
sure, glancing at the others.

"Or him," Erlie reminded. "Yes. Because sooner or later that person's 
gonna lead us to the secret meeting place whether he wants it or not. 
And then we're gonna shoot them all..."

* * *

The man in one of guest quarters in moonbase Alpha accommodation area 3 
wasn't sleeping.

Quiet sounds lingered from the corridors outside and the man kept 
listening to them, thinking how much they sounded like the sounds he 
had gotten used to, and how different.

The blue planet was still looming there outside the window, casting its 
vague glimmer into the man's room where all the lights were turned off.

The man had only vague recollections of the accident. Flashes of 
everything around him burning, horrified screams of death filling the 
world, piercing and even more piercing pain becoming the only thing 
left in the universe until complete darkness of silence. But he 
remembered everything that had happened before it all. 

And he remembered all those faces...

The man wondered if he'd ever be able to sleep again.

* * *

"Hey, we're almost there now," Furlong smiled, licking his ice cream 
and eyeing the road ahead. "You better slow down Eunice. We'll have to 
turn onto another road pretty soon."

"Great," Tigh was tired of driving. He was tired of Furlong, and 
definitely tired of having to wear the wig. The sooner he'd be able to 
put all this felgercarb behind him, the better. And tomorrow, he'd go 
tanker shopping.

"There," Furlong pointed at the little sign ahead. 

Tigh jammed his foot on the brakes and studied the side of the highway 
to spot the turn.

* * *

He drank.

And it brought him closer to immortality.

Blood of life. Sweet ambrosa of vitality. Satyr's eyes were closed as 
he brought his hands to his lips and smudged the blood that had 
remained there. Smudged it all over his face and neck.

When he opened his eyes they were completely black.

* * *

"For Kobol's sake," Tigh stared at the spaceship with his mouth open. 
During all the sectars that he had been forced to travel in space with 
the fleet, he had never seen a ship quite like this. What enticing 
curves, what splendid grace. Suddenly Tigh realized he was damn 
jealous.

"Coming?" Furlong eyed the sex god impatiently, waiting for him to 
follow.

The sex god was holding onto the metal chain leading to the spiky 
collar around the neck of the Denier guy, who was under heavy sedation 
and still wearing the bag over his head. For a moment Furlong tried to 
remember what the guy had actually looked like, not that he cared 
really.

"Yeah, sure," Tigh mumbled distractedly, having to force his gaze off 
the masterpiece of a spaceship. Why the hell was it that all kinds of 
hairy beasts had all kinds of wonderful things in this universe when 
the others who would have deserved them more, hardly had a tanker to 
call their own. This really was unfair.

Pulling the kidnapped bloke along by the metal chain, Tigh followed the 
Furlong kid to an entrance which to Tigh looked like a gateway to Eden.

Furlong inserted some code into a complex, hand-sized computer on the 
wall, and the main door of the vehicle slid open.

Tigh held his breath.

* * *

The room was freezing cold. All the candles had died.

Apollo knelt beside Starbuck's unconscious body. It was his turn.

He was the last one.

In total silence Apollo took the dagger Cecil handed to him and dipped 
in the cut on Starbuck's chest.

"aźjh'che," he whispered to the lords of darkness. A prayer to open the 
gates of the dividing. The gates of death and immortality.

Satyr watched him and smiled.

* * *

Tigh couldn't stop being amazed by all this technology that he was 
surrounded with as they walked along the corridor leading to the main 
cabin of the spaceship. Extremely advanced technology that the colonial 
culture had never even heard of. Damn, Tigh wished he had brought a 
camera.

Another door, already half open. Tigh could see bright lights cascading 
into the hallway from the room on the other side. 

"Eunice..." Furlong smiled, standing aside and letting Tigh enter the 
room first. "Meet my boss."

The door opened.

"Oh my god," Tigh panted traumatized as he saw the horrible, three-
metron-tall, hairy beast who stood there like a hair-covered Empire 
State Building, staring at Tigh from under his furrowed eyebrows like a 
god of destruction.

"Err... Hi," Tigh swallowed and waved. "How're ya doin'?"

(Author's quick note:
In order to avoid any complications and misunderstandings, the wookie 
growl will be from now on translated into simple Caprican language, so 
even those who aren't so skillful in interpreting universal alien 
languages can follow the storyline with easiness and pleasure.)

"Is this the Otter guy," Chewbacca glanced at Furlong, nodding towards 
Tigh, and looking extremely suspicious.

"Err...Not really," Furlong grinned. "But he's a very good substitute."

"A substitute??"

"Hey, no need to start growling here Chewie," Furlong hurried to calm 
the wookie down. "All I'm saying is that the guy who was supposed be 
the one to deliver the merchandise never showed up, so I picked up this 
guy who seemed just as skillful in kidnapping people as anyone."

"Uh huh," Chewie glared at this horrible red-haired beast. Tigh felt an 
irresistible urge to wave again.

"And this is the slave your brought for my use," Chewbacca's suspicious 
gaze lingered to the man with the spiky collar and the bag over his 
head. "He looks a little... bagged up."

"That's because he is bagged up," Furlong grinned. "Go on, take the bag 
off Eunice."

"All right."

Tigh walked over to Koenig and pulled the bag and the gag away.

"Ouch," Koenig murmured extremely annoyed and held his hand over his 
mouth where the gag and the tape had been. He was sure half of his skin 
had come off with the tape.

If he hadn't been so drugged out of his head that he could hardly stand 
on his own two feet, Koenig swore he would definitely have attacked 
these molesters of his like a vicious tiger.

Arseholes! All of them!

Rubbing his chin and opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Koenig 
noticed a weird tower of hair starting to form in the corner of his eye 
and turned to take a look at what it was.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" A horrible shriek filled the 
main cabin of the Millennium Falcon as Koenig realized he was in the 
same room with the beast of his worst nightmares. "BIGFOOOOOOOOOT!!!"

"Fuck off," Chewbacca snarled.

"AAAAAAARRRGGGGHHHH;" Koenig grasped his chest and fell to the floor, a 
growl of absolute horror lingering from his throat, then dying on his 
lips as he drifted into unawareness.

"What happened?" Edward Furlong stared at the lump on the floor. "Is he
dead?"

"No," Tigh eyed the unconscious Koenig. "Just taking a nap."

"Oh good," Furlong sighed with relief. He turned to Chewbacca.

"So. Whadda ya say boss? Hot stuff isn't it?! A true nobleman. Rich and 
powerful. Related to all the Cadrian blue-bloodeds."

Chewbacca had never seen anything more repulsive in his whole wookie 
life. "You've got to be kidding me..."

"No, no," Furlong hurried to correct. "This guy really is an 
aristocrat. An heir to the famous Denier family who probably owns 
9/10th of all industry on the planet. Not to mention that they are 
really influential frontmen in all political action. Their son, this 
Denier lad here, has been prophesied to become the president of the 
United Sates of Armourica one day."

"Their son?" Chewbacca eyed the old goat on the floor.

"Yeah," Furlong furrowed his brows too. "Well, I guess they live a lot 
longer on this planet than other humans do anywhere else. Maybe this 
guy is metaphorically merely in his early twenties."

Chewbacca eyed the goat-faced man on the floor, trying to make up his 
mind whether to believe one word of the felgercarb the Fulong kid was 
letting out of his mouth about this geezer being an aristocrat and rich 
as frack or not. This was the same idiot Chewie had ran across in the 
forest earlier.

"I don't know..." Chewbacca mumbled. "I do remember mentioning a few 
demands to the Otter guy concerning the physical appearance of the 
merchandise when I placed the order. This bloke meets none of them!"

"Maybe it's the same with the looks thing as it is with the age thing, 
you know," Furlong studied Denier. "Maybe on this planet this guy's a 
real Rock Hudson. Maybe..."

"I don't find Rock Hudson particularly handsome," Chewbacca pointed 
out.

"Brad Pitt?"

"Hell no!"

"Keanu Reeves?"

"So and so..."

"Ewan McGregor?"

"Only with the blond wig on."

"Jared Leto?"

"Naah. Too cute."

"Jude Law?"

"He's married. That doesn't count."

"So is Brad Pitt."

"Brad Pitt does nothing to me. So that's completely different."

"Oh okay then. What about Stuart Townsend?"

"Hmmm, I'll think about it. Any other?"

"Tom Cruise?"

"Give me break!"

"Not even with a blond wig on?"

"Hmmm," Chewbacca thought about it. "Yeah, maybe with that vampire 
wig..."

"Steven MacKintosh?"

"Who's Steven MacKintosh?"

"Jonathan Rhys-Meyers?"

"Yeah," Chewbacca's face lit up. "Yeah, sure. That's good. Jonathan's 
hot stuff."

"Okay then," Furlong continued. "So let's say that on this planet this 
Denier guy is something like Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and..."

They all paused to study the man on the floor.

"Oh come on Furlong!" Chewbacca snorted. "That guy couldn't possibly be 
anything more than a Steve Buscemi or a Gene Hackman."

"Hey, hey, don't underestimate the guy Chewie," Furlong raised his 
hands disarmingly, walked to the Denier dude, knelt down beside him and 
opened the guy's mouth. He lifted his eyes at Chewie.

"Just take a look at his teeth for example man." Furlong smiled. "Good 
material. Not too yellow, not too many fallen off yet. I'd say you 
could have quite a catch in your hands boss. And who knows what 
incredible sexual tricks this guy can perform."

"Hmmm," Chewbacca rubbed his chin thoughtfully, considering his 
options. "And how much would that red-haired trader want for him?"

"How about approximately 700 000 cubits," Tigh grinned, rubbing his 
hands together. "Such a bargain price for such a guy with so many 
hidden qualities."

"How do I know that those hidden qualities are really there?" Chewbacca 
furrowed his brows.

"Just look at him man," Tigh nodded towards Koenig. "There are no 
obvious qualities visible therefore they must all be hidden."

"Since when?"

"Come on boss," Furlong beamed. "Look at that red hair of the dealer. 
Think of Einstein. It's a symbol of intelligence. How could Eunice 
possibly be wrong then it comes to deep and philosophical 
conclusions..."

"That hair sucks."

"But it's a sign of inhuman intelligence."

"Hmmm...I don't know..." Chewbacca glared at Tigh's orange wig, rubbing 
his chin and weighing his options. His eyes lingered to the unconscious 
aristocrat...

"All right guys!" A vicious-looking bald woman bounced up from behind a 
bleebing robot called R2D2, holding a huge laser pistol and aiming it 
at Chewie and the others. "Where is he!?!"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHH," Tigh screamed from horror seeing Adama's daughter 
suddenly there. The mustache almost dropped off.

"Where's who?" Chewbacca glared at this intruder irritated. Why for 
frack's sake were all people suddenly wanting to barge onto the 
Millennium Falcon. This was a private ship for Sagan's sake. Not a 
public turbowashroom.

"The gorgeous guy," Athena grunted impatiently, looking around the 
room. "Where is he?! I wanna see him!"

"What gorgeous guy?" Furlong's intrigued eyes lingered from one person 
to another. This was getting rather interesting. "What's going on?"

"Your friend you moron," Athena directed her words to the naked hairy 
beast. "The gorgeous guy whom I met in the forest earlier when he was 
looking for you."

"Han was in the forest looking for me?" Chewbacca raised one eyebrow, 
then frowned. "That son of a daggit. Always wanting to interfere in 
everything I do..."

"So where is he?" Athena ushered with the gun. "I don't have all night 
for felgercarb!"

"HAN," Chewie turned and growled towards the cockpit entrance. "THERE'S 
A LADY HERE TO SEE YOU."

Tigh was trying to be as small as possible, hiding behind a houseplant 
and continuously brushing as many of those red locks over his face as 
possible.

Furlong noticed what Tigh was doing with his hair and thought that that 
looked kinda sexy. Less face, more hair. The troll look. Very nice. A 
definite thing to do in bed later.

"HAN!!" Chewie growled again.

"What?!" came an annoyed reply and the man Athena had seen in the 
forest appeared into the main cabin doorway, dressed in a green apron 
and drying a plate with a pink towel. Chewie smirked. Leia had 
obviously made the hero do the dishes.

"You've got a visitor." Chewbacca grinned.

"Really?" Han Solo let his eyes sweep from one person in the room to 
another. "What the hell are all these people doing here at this hour?! 
Oh Chewie, don't tell me you're really going to go through with that 
utterly idiotic plan of yours to buy a human slave. How many times do I 
have to tell you that I will not approve of slavery in any form here on 
the Millennium Falcon."

"So that's why you were in the forest looking for me," Chewie grunted. 
"To prevent me from making this deal. Well too late, Han my friend. I 
already bought a very stunning, very racy individual for 700 000 
cubits."

"Oh it's a deal then?" Tigh's surprised voice lingered from a corner. 
"I didn't know we agreed on it! Oh, but it's definitely fine by me, 
man."

"Oh no, please don't tell me it's that red-haired hippy," Han Solo 
frowned, noting Tigh. "God, you have no taste Chewie!"

"Of course it's not the hippy," Chewie grunted. "It's the guy on the 
floor."

All eyes turned to the Denier aristocrat.

"A damn rich fellow with genuine blue blood running in his veins." 
Chewie bragged. "A true  nobleman."

On the floor Koenig had come to and sat up moaning and rubbing the back 
of his head. Where the hell was he?! Koenig eyed around and saw a bunch 
of dumb-looking people gaping at him. A hippy with way too much red 
hair, a thin, smirking lad, a good-looking man in a green apron drying 
a plate, a bald woman in fatigues, a bleebing robot... And Bigfoot. 
Koenig had a vague recollection of having seen Bigfoot earlier but he 
couldn't remember where... His head hurt.

"Where am I?" Koenig glared at the others.

"On the Millennium Falcon," Han Solo replied with utter pride. "The 
raciest ship in the whole universe. A true babe!"

Tigh murmured to himself annoyed. He was still damn jealous that he 
wasn't the one owning a ship like this.

"Really?" Koenig eyed around the cabin. It looked kinda neat but... How 
in the hell had he gotten here. "What happened?"

"You saw Chewie here and fainted," Furlong grinned, nodding towards 
Bigfoot.

"Shit," Koenig eyed the tower of hair truly puzzled. "Okay, but why is 
Bigfoot in the same room with me? What's going on?"

"This hairy beast just bought you, man," Tigh felt courageous enough to 
come out from behind the houseplant. Obviously Athena wasn't able to 
recognize him because of the wig.

"You're kidding me," Koenig's eyes lingered back to Bigfoot.

"Nope," Furlong smiled. "Eunice here kidnapped you like a champ and 
Chewie bought you for 700 000 cubits. You are his slave now, man."

"Who's Eunice?" Koenig asked.

"The gorgeous red hair," Furlong grinned.

Silence.

"Well, I'll be damned," Koenig finally panted, staring at all these 
guys totally dumbstruck. "How is it that I can't remember any of this?"

"You must had bumped your head when you fainted," Furlong had the 
answer. "But don't worry. You're still alive aren't you."

"Shit," Koenig was still finding this utterly amazing. "Why was I 
kidnapped??"

"Because you are one of richest sons of a daggit on Cadria," Tigh 
replied. "An aristocrat. The Denier heir. Hairy beast here wanted a 
nobleman."

"I am?" Koenig coughed. It took a moment to sink in. "Wow!" he puffed.

"Great isn't it," Furlong beamed.

"Yeah," Koenig eyed the other men. "What did you say my name was 
again?" 

"Jean Michel Denier."

"Denier," Koenig tasted that word in his mouth. "Yeah, I kinda like 
that. And you said that I was bought, right?"

"Yep," Chewie grunted. "You're my slave from now on. And better believe 
me, I want total dedication for having paid so much for you."

"Ummm... Your slave?"

"That's right," Chewbacca smirked.

"But... You're naked!"

"So?" Chewie raised one eyebrow.

Koenig studied Bigfoot for a long time, hesitating. Then he noticed the 
immense log hanging in between the hairy monster's legs. Junior woke 
up.

"Is that real?" Koenig eyed the thing suspiciously.

"A normal wookie dick," Chewbacca replied bored. "Why?"

"And you said that as your slave I'll have to obey every one of your 
commands?"

"Every one," Chewie nodded. "You'll have to worship me. Devote yourself 
to me both mentally and physically."

A moment of very intense thinking. Koenig stared at the log. Then 
Junior won.

"Okay," Koenig grinned. "You have a deal."

"Great," Chewbacca grunted extremely pleased and handed out a black 
leather/rubber harness. "Put this on..."

* * *

Chapter 19

John Koenig returned from the back room in his brand new leather/rubber 
harness with a huge, satisfied grin on his face.

"It fits me," Koenig beamed. "For a moment I thought it might be too 
small but..." Koenig pirouetted with his arms outstretched. "Look. It's 
perfect."

"Very nice," Chewie studied this Denier guy. He did turn out to look 
better in rubber than Chewie had anticipated. And he definitely did 
look better now than he had in his own clothes.

Tigh noticed that the Denier dude was still wearing the spiky collar. 
"You can keep that if you want," he smirked.

"Oh thanks," Koenig sparkled.

Han Solo had stood there all this time, shaking his head, watching the 
on-going felgercarb with extreme disbelief.

"Congratulations Chewie," he smiled with his eyebrows sarcastically 
arched. "You really did manage to act like a total imbecile this time."

"No more than you in those Star Wars films Han," Chewie grunted. "Never 
paying your debts, getting carbon freezed and taken to Jabba's palace 
to act as a wall rug, always putting your head into things that don't 
really belong to you and ending in deep shit, falling love with a 
stubborn princess who makes you do the dishes in the middle of the 
night when you could've had 
Luke..."

"Luke didn't want me," Han pointed out.

"And how would you know?"

"I asked."

"Really?" Chewie's facial expression brightened a little. "Not all 
stupid are you then..."

"What the hell am I doing here now Chewie," Han interrupted. "You said 
I had a visitor. Well where is he? All I can see are..."

"Oh you gorgeous inhuman sex god," Athena couldn't control herself any 
longer. She threw herself at Han Solo's feet, starting to kiss his toes 
and mumbling something unprintable.

"Who the hell is she?" Disgustedly Han stared at the woman licking his 
toes.

"Someone who claims she ran into you in the Saskachoona forest when you 
were looking for me you damn moron," Chewie explained. Han Solo's face 
lit up.

"Well of course," he remembered, eyeing the back of Athena's bald head. 
"Ummm... Will you stop doing that please!"

"I can't," Athena panted. "You nymph, you streamlined sex machine, 
you..."

"CUT IT OUT DAMN IT," Han Solo screamed red faced.

And that was the moment when Leia entered the cabin wearing her hair in 
those two famous buns.

"What the hell's going on here?! I'm trying to sleep..." Leia noticed a 
bold woman licking her husband's toes.

"Han?" Her enraged eyes of fire lingered to Solo.

"Nothing's going on, Leia, honey," Han's smile spread from ear to ear. 
"This is just some girl I ran into in the forest when I was on a 
mission to kick Chewie's arse for wanting to buy a human slave. That's 
all."

"Oh, Leia studied Han. "Did you fuck her?"

"Of course not!"

"What's she doing here licking your toes then? Huh? Damn you Han. I've 
heard all your excuses before but this the most pathetic..."

"Leia, I told you it's nothing..."

"I want a divorce," the furious Leia disappeared from the cabin doorway 
like a hurricane. "And don't try to change my mind or I'll fly over to 
Hollywood to pay Jar Jar Binks to pester you for all eternity..."

"Jesus!" Han Solo grimaced.

"Who's Jar Jar Binks?" Tigh asked curious.

"Believe me, you don't want to know," Tigh panted.

"Ummm..." Furlong was getting a feeling that it was time to go. Leave 
the stage. Besides, he wanted to get into bed with red-haired sex god. 
"I think it's time for us to..."

"What?" Chewie turned surprised. "You don't want to spend the rest of 
the night here? It's only a couple of hours..."

"I don't know," Furlong was visibly unwilling. "With all this family 
stuff going on and..."

"Oh, that's nothing," Chewie waved his hand. "They fight all the time. 
You should know that."

"That's exactly why I want to get out of here," Furlong shuddered. "I 
don't want to witness another occasion with the chainsaw and the 
stuffed pig..."

"I understand," Chewie growled empathetically. "Neither would I if I 
had a choice..."

"Where's Luke by the way," Edward Furlong glanced at the cabin doorway. 
"I must say I'm a bit disappointed that I didn't get a chance to see 
him."

"Luke's in his sleeping quarters fine-tuning his Jedi skills with the 
hologram of his father." Chewie replied, smirking since he knew what a 
weakness the Furlong lad had for Lukie-baby. "The hologram's started 
wearing the Darth Vader gear again, you know."

"Oh, that's good," Furlong smiled. "I've always considered the black 
outfit looking more charismatic on him than the gape not unlike the one 
the hologram of Obi-Wan's always wearing."

"Yeah, me too," Chewie agreed. "Obi-Wan's got no taste."

"It's a Jedi thing," Han pointed out. "Don't you remember that Luke 
started dressing like that too when he was going through his heavy-
hearted period."

"Luke's back to being the innocent farmboy again?" Edward Furlong's 
surprised gaze lingered to Han. "Damn. Now I really wished I had had a 
chance to see him."

"I'm sure you will," Han smiled. "Some other time. The universe is full 
of happy surprises."

"Yes," Furlong smiled dreamily. "And maybe it is better this way since 
I do have another fish in the hook for now." Furlong's adoring gaze 
wondered to Tigh's wig. Tigh noticed.

"Hey, keep your paws off me pal," he shuddered.

"I don't think I can." Furlong replied in all honesty. "I've never seen 
hair like that before. It's driving me crazy. It's like I'm 
bewitched..."

"For Sagan's sake," Tigh stared at the lad horrified.

"I know," Furlong sighed. "I'm fixated. I'm cursed. Let me touch it..."

"No way!" Tigh freaked.

"Please!!"

"But... It's just a wig for Sagan's sake!!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha," Furlong had never heard anything so hilarious. 
"You're a funny guy Eunice!"

"I'm serious!"

"So am I! Let me touch it!"

"Oh, for crying out load," Tigh rolled his eyes. "It's a wig damn it! 
See!" He tore the mustache and wig off his head.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH," Furlong's hands flew 
to his throat as he tried to struggle for air. He had never in his life 
seen a monster more horrible than this one, standing there totally egg-
headed, his short, short hair glued to his scalp and shining under the 
fluorescent lamps of the Millennium Falcon main cabin as a ball of 
grease.

Absolutely, utterly traumatized, Furlong took a deadly dive over to the 
wookie who'd still be definite to have some hair left and from behind 
that wookie, he stared at the beast straight out of the book of 
revelations that had been Eunice.

"You lied to me," Furlong peeped, on the verge of tears. "You heartless 
beast. You... you lied to me..."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Tigh exclaimed. "You are all insane! Every one 
of you! Give me the damn money so I can  get out of here!"

"You... lied..." Furlong sniffed, staring at the wig in Tigh's hand. 
How devastatingly divine it still looked, and how... fake...

Heartbroken, Furlong covered his face with his hands and ran out of the 
main cabin. Away, into the woods and into the darkness, as far away as 
he possibly could from the Millennium Falcon where his dreams had all 
so cruelly been crushed.

"Shit," Tigh stared after him.

"Don't worry Eunice," Koenig walked over to him and placed his hand on 
the egg-head's shoulder. "You'll find someone who'll love you for 
yourself, not what you wear on your head."

"Great," Tigh snarled. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

Disturbed by all this yelling and hassle Athena lifted her head from 
between Han Solo's toes and eyed around the room hazily. "What's all 
this noise?"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," She shrieked as she spotted Tigh.

"Hi honey," Tigh waved, wanting to be a million miles away.

"TIGH! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!!!" Athena was screaming her 
lungs out. "YOU ASSHOLE! YOU TRIED TO MURDER MY PRESIDENTIAL 
CANDIDATE!! I'M 
GONNA..."

"Oh cut the felgercarb Athena," Tigh was getting up to his neck about 
all this felgercarb. "You never used to be such a whino..."

"Don't tell me you're still believing in that communist crap," Athena 
frowned, glaring at the poor man who used to have brains back on the 
Galactica days. "You should be locked up for Sagan's sake. All that 
felgercarb about a world of peace and egalitarianism..."

"It's possible Athena..."

"Felgercarb," Athena exclaimed. "What the world needs is military 
government. We need weapons and tankers and..."

"But..." Tigh swallowed, surprised. "Those are exactly the things I've 
dedicated my whole life for. Gathering as much weapons and tankers and 
hand grenades and... stuff... so one day I'll be able to bring down 
this horrible government who believes in anti-armament and create a new 
world of peace and love where we can all still be safe..."

"That's not communism Tigh," Athena stared at the man.

"I don't really care," Tigh confessed. "Communism just kind of sounded 
good when I was planning on forming my new underground anarchists- 
group so I went with the name. My main goal from the start has simply 
been to create a world where I can be happy. And I need guns to achieve 
it."

"You like weapons then?" Athena raised one eyebrow.

"I'm insanely fixated on them," Tigh admitted. "That's why I've been so 
screwed up since the Galactica never had to fight any more when we got 
on this planet."

"Sooo..." Athena eyed Tigh thoughtfully, chewing on what she had just 
heard. "Our visions about a brave, new, revolutionary world are not so 
much different, are they..."

"Nope," Tigh thought about it too.

"Maybe we should get together..."

"Athena," Tigh disapproved. "I'm sealed."

"Dimwit! I meant 'get together' as in trying to achieve the world we 
both want. Combine our forces."

Tigh studied Athena for a while. "And we're gonna do it all with a hell 
of a lot of weapons?"

"If needed, then yes," Athena nodded. "What do you say?"

Tigh thought about it. His lingered on Athena's the whole time he 
pondered. Finally he gave Adama's beautiful daughter a grin of 
agreement.

"You have a deal partner," Tigh gave out his hand.

"Hey old man, you can do better than that," Athena smirked and pulled 
Tigh into a hug.

"You're all crazy," Han Solo rolled his eyes.

A bunch of farmers all holding rifles barged in.

* * *

"Okay. This is definitely the worst adventure I've ever been involved 
in," Carter growled. "We have no idea where we are. It's 04.30 in the 
morning and just as dark and freezing as in the north pole for god's 
sake. My foot hurts. My clothes are all damp and frosty. I'm 
dangerously famished, not to mention parched and exhausted. I hate you 
all and I have a goddamn headache."

"Stop whining Carter," Maya was getting pissed off. "You're starting to 
sound like Tony."

"Oi," Tony cast Maya a glare.

Then, for a moment, they all walked in annoyed silence.

"Shit..." Tony suddenly whispered, narrowing his eyes and gazing into 
the pale darkness ahead. "I think I saw something..."

"What?" Maya halted and tried to spot something in the direction Tony 
was staring at. "Where? What is it?"

"I don't know... I think it was just behind those big trees over 
there," Tony lowered his voice even more, pointing at a cluster of 
three or four giant pine trees.

"I don't see anything," Carter craned his neck. "Let's get out of 
here."

"No, I think we should check it out," Maya said thoughtfully, "whatever 
it is..."

"Are you crazy?" Carter tapped his head with his forefinger. "What 
happened to the famous Psychon common sense..."

"Guys, I think it's some kind of a shack," Maya hissed as she was 
creeping closer to the cluster of trees and the shadow behind them. 
"No, it's a house..."

"Here?!" Tony lifted an eyebrow. "In the middle of nothing!?"

"It looks deserted," Maya was still creeping closer, keeping her eyes 
on the object. "But maybe we should check it out anyway. Just in case 
there is someone who can help us find out way out of these damn woods."

"You really think that if there is someone living there, it's a 
completely sane and rational person," Carter tapped his head again. 
"Maya, have you gone completely stark raving mad!?"

"Cut the crap Alan," Maya frowned. "Come on guys. Let's check it out."

"You're crazy..."

In fearful silence, they all started creeping towards the white-painted 
house built of wood that was looming there in the darkness.

There seemed to be a garden of some sort surrounding it. All overgrown 
and weed-ridden. Definitely not taken care of for a long time. A 
deteriorating red gate that looked like something straight out of 'the 
Wizard of Oz' circled the garden, and a derelict flagstone path led 
from the little gate that was open to the front door of the house.

"Oh frack," Big T halted, suddenly staring at the house all white-
faced. "I know that place. At least I think I do..."

"Really?" Carter glanced at Biggy.

"Yeah," Big T's teeth were clattering. "It's the house of the weird old 
lady hermit and her just as weird sister."

"What weird old lady hermit?" Maya furrowed her brows.

"The one I told you about earlier," Big T replied ominously, not being 
able to take his frightened eyes off the house. "The old woman who 
kidnaps and eats children..."

"Really," Tony hesitated. "Eats children?"

"Yeah," Big T hissed eyes wide. "Like, totally..."

"Well, we've got nothing to worry about then, do we," Maya turned and 
started towards the house. "Come on you cowards."

* * *

"Oh god! Now what?" Han Solo glared at the five farmers who had just 
barged in with rifles.

"The McMullens," Pie-Face snarled, letting his freezing Mafia boss' 
gaze he had practiced in the truck on the way here, linger from one man 
in the room to another. "We want the McMullens. Where are they?!"

"What goddamn McMullens??" Han Solo frowned.

"As if you didn't know," Pester McGrindell grinded his teeth and turned 
to point his rifle at Solo. "Tell them to come out in the open right 
now or I'll shoot your head off. I swear..."

"I'm telling you we have no McMullens on this ship," Han Solo glared at 
this lunatic. "Have you tried the guys next door..."

"Very funny," Pester grimaced. "You get them here right now!"

"Yeah, you get them," Japher chimed in. His gaze studied the cabin. 
"Where are the two others?"

"What others?"

"The alien with orange hair and the thin, drunk dude," Japher replied 
with his eyes narrowed. "Where are they."

"We... err... we don't know what you're talking about," Tigh quickly 
tossed the wig behind a houseplant.

"This is crazy," Han Solo rolled his eyes. "Will you please get off my 
ship!"

"Not until we get to talk to those McMullens and the two other guys," 
Dexter Dinker held his chin up and his rifle steady. He furrowed his 
brows. "What are you guys doing here anyway?"

"What are we doing here?!" Han Solo's jaw dropped.

"You buying rye from the McMullens too or what??"

"What???"

"Or are you working for those McMullen bastards instead.," Dexter's 
glare was piercing. He too had practiced in the car. "The I think we 
better shoot you anyway. Erlie..." Dex turned to the farmer with red 
hair. "Shoot 'em!"

"No, you shoot 'em! I have a sick cow, I can't go to prison!"

"But, you have to shoot 'em Erlie!" Dexter hissed. "I don't have any 
bullets!"

"Ahem..." A soft voice lingered from the cabin doorway. All eyes 
turned.

"What's going on here?" Luke Skywalker eyed the people in the room.

* * *

The gate was wide open and creaking a little in the wind. All windows 
of the house were dark and dead.

Tony halted.

"Guys," he swallowed. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

"You have a bad feeling about everything," Maya snorted. "Don't be such 
a chicken."

"Shit!" Carter gasped, staring at the house like he had just seen a 
ghost. "Did you see that?? Did you..."

"See what?" Maya glanced at Alan.

"There was someone upstairs. I swear I saw a figure of a silver-haired 
woman in one of the windows..."

"That's it! I'm getting out of here," Big T turned but Maya got a hold 
of him by his jacket collar before he managed to slip away.

"Hold it guys!" Maya was irritated. "What's the matter with you all!? 
Of course there's someone in there! It's a house isn't it!? Kinda 
logical don't you think..."

"It's not just a house lady," Big T's teeth clattered. "It's the house 
of the Saskachoona witch. And that woman Alan saw was the witch 
herself..."

"What the hell's all this witch stuff al of a sudden," Maya studied 
Biggy, trying to figure him out. "Just say a few hours ago you said 
that this wasn't any witch but a normal weird old lady hermit living 
alone with her sister and probably kidnapping and eating children once 
in a while. Perfectly understandable. And now you're suddenly freaking 
out..." Maya frowned as she realized it. "Oh no, don't tell me you've 
been listening to Tony..."

"Wise man," Big T pointed out. "Knows about the Blair Witch and all..."

"It's a movie for crying out loud," Maya rolled her eyes. "It's all 
fiction damn it... I can't believe you..."

"eeeeeeeehhhh, Carter whimpered frantically and pointed his trembling 
forefinger at one of the upstairs windows, not being able to get a word 
out of his mouth. The others turned to look at that direction.

"Frack!" Tony almost felgercarbed himself. Big T was peeping like a 
mouse, trying to struggle himself free from Maya's grasp.

Maya's jaw dropped as she saw the expressionless face of an old woman 
in the window, ghostly pale against the darkness of room behind.

"Oh my god," she gasped.

"It's the Saskachoona witch," Carter croaked horrified. "And she's 
gonna eat us all..."

* * *

"Who's that?" Erlie Humminghill stared at the boy in the doorway but 
aimed his words at Han.

"Ummm..." Han was trying to come up with the most frightening, most 
pompously occultistic reply he could think off so he could scare these 
damn bastards away.

"My name is Luke," The young boy smiled peacefully. "What's going on 
here Han?"

"What's going on..." Solo snarled, "is that all of a sudden, without 
any warning, these five arseholes in flannel shirts just barged into my 
ship and started threatening our lives. That's was going on!!"

"I see you really did go ahead and buy that human slave," Luke noticed 
Koenig in the leather/rubber harness. "You know that I very deeply 
disapprove don't you."

"Growl," Chewie pretended not to speak Caprican.

"And who are these?" Luke's eyes lingered to Tigh and Athena, standing 
side by side.

"Oh, them," Han Solo rolled his eyes. "The bald woman's a toe 
fetishist, and the guy who looks like an egg-head is someone who sold 
Chewie that slave but ended up traumatizing his boyfriend for taking 
off his red wig..."

"Excuse me! That wasn't my boyfriend..."

"And now they all want us dead! They keep talking about weapons and 
tankers and hand grenades and..."

"Shut up Han," Luke was laughing.

The farmers stared at him with absolute distrust.

"Where are the McMullens," Erlie growled.

"Who?" Luke's eyes turned to the red-haired farmer.

"Don't just stand there like an idiot Luke," Han Solo was panting red-
faced. "Do something! Use the force! Strangle them!"

"Oh Han," Luke sighed. "You should had learned by now that I absolutely 
detest all kind of violence. If the force is used for goals of 
selfishness and..."

"Yeah, yeah," Han snorted. "We all know everything about that Jedi 
philosophy felgercarb. But this isn't an ordinary situation like in the 
Star Wars trilogy. This time we are being pestered by crazy farmers 
and..."

"What's going on here?" A man-sized hologram of Darth Vader appeared 
behind Luke. "Son, who are all these people.

"Friends, father," Luke smiled. "At least that's what they will be when 
I've explained them the wonderful mysteries of the force and instructed 
them to..."

"Oh, why bother," Darth Vader grunted. "Take the easy way out. Use the 
force to force peace and love into their hearts and they'll all go home 
happy. And do it quickly. We have a game of chess to finish."

"But father..."

"Do it Luke," the hologram of Darth turned and vanished into a 
corridor.

"You should listen to your father Luke," Han advised with a smirk. "A 
wise man..."

"But..."

"What the heck, Luke," Chewie was on Han's and Vader's hologram's side. 
"It's not the worst of ideas. Besides, I would like to get to he end of 
this so I can take my freshly-acquired new slave into my bedroom and 
have tons of sex. Is that too much to ask..."

Luke gazed into Chewie's eyes. Then Han's. The expression on the young 
Jedi boy's face turned forlorn.

"If I do that I will have to leave you," Luke spoke quietly. "I will 
have to leave the Millennium Falcon because I could never be able to 
face you again for having asked me to turn against my own self...

"Cut the felgercarb Luke," Han frowned. "For once take things a little 
more lightly will you! It's just a matter of forcing a little peace and 
love into a couple of hearts. What's the big deal..."

"Don't you see Han. I might turn into the dark side and not even know 
it since it's a matter of peace and love!"

"I think we might be able to handle that won't we Chewie," Han smirked. 
"Come on Luke..."

A moment's heavy silence. Luke didn't take his forlorn eyes off Han's.

"...And now that Leia's divorcing me," Han continued, "we could finally 
have that shag I once talked to you about..."

"Okay. I'll do it," Luke finally replied. So quietly. So 
heartbreakingly.

"What?" Han's jaw dropped. "The shag thing?"

"No, the peace and love thing," Luke smiled. "I'll do what you guys 
want, but after that, I'm gone. I will leave you like I said."

"But..." Han as sure as hell didn't want Luke to leave. "Where would 
you go?"

"I think I'll just probably camp in the forest for a while and explore 
the force in me," Luke smiled softly. "And then, when I'm ready to 
leave, I'll hitch a ride to some other galaxy..."

"But..." Han fought not to show his emotions.

"Don't worry Han," Luke put his hand on his dear friend's shoulder. 
"I'll be all right. Besides, I won't be alone. The silhouettes of Ben 
and Yoda and my father will be there with me..."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," A distant voice of Darth Vader's 
lingered from one of the bedrooms down the corridor.

"Please, don't go Luke," Han asked hoarsely, fighting back whatever was 
burning behind his eyes.

"I have to Han. It's the force that forces me to."

"But...Will I ever see you again?"

"You will," Luke smiled. "Some day, when this moment of doubt and 
search is over, I will come to you again. I promise.

"But... What if you turn into the dark side," Han swallowed, staring 
deep into Luke blue eyes.

"Then it's a damn good thing that I am not anywhere near you if that 
ever happens, isn't it," Luke grinned. "Always look at the bright side 
of life Han..."

"That's not a star Wars quote," Han frowned. "It's from Monty 
Python..."

"Where the saying is from doesn't really matter does it Han, since the 
force is in everything. What matters is that you always do look at the 
bright side of life..."

"Excuse me!" Koenig coughed and took a step forward. "Since I'm a rich 
and powerful aristocrat in the Denier family, may I say something..."

"Oh no," Chewie frowned.

"Oh yes," Koenig continued poshly but determinedly. "I think this whole 
story is turning into a one bloody farce, so pull yourselves together 
will you. There are still so many things that have to be concluded in 
dignity..."

A moment of respectful silence.

"You're right," Tigh agreed. "It's time that Athena and I left and 
returned to our normal life trying to bring down the government and 
form a new one..."

"With weapons," Athena reminded.

"With weapons," Tigh nodded. "And a lot of love since Luke is going to 
force it into our hearts soon..."

"Not you," Chewie hissed. "Only the farmers with rifles..."

"Oh."

"I love you Han," Luke pulled his dear companion into a tight embrace 
full of emotion.

Two men that had been so much closer than brothers for such a long 
time, stood there in silence, lost in their own little world for a 
transient eternity.

When Han finally let go, his eyes were blinded by tears. Through them, 
Luke was looking more beautiful than ever.

"Until we meet again," Han's voice faltered.

"One day," Luke closed his eyes, taking Hans hand and bringing it to 
his cheek. "And then the stars will be brighter..."

"Booo hoooo," Tigh was shedding tears like a watering can. Athena took 
his hand and patted it compassionately.

"Easy, big boy," she sniffed. "Easy..."

"Okay." Pester McGrindell was tapping his foot to the floor. "Would 
someone mind telling us what going on!?..."

* * *

"What the hell are you doing there crouching in the dark," the old 
witch opened the window, glaring at the intruders in her garden. "Get 
away from the flower bench before I go and get my rifle..."

"Please don't eat us," Big T pleaded, his voice trembling. "I'll do 
anything you want. Just please don't..."

"What the frack are you doing you idiot??" Maya hissed at the frantic 
taxi driver. "Are you planning to embarrass us all..."

"The witch..." Biggy croaked, pointing at the window.

"Stop calling me a witch you dimwit if you don't want to end up digging 
buckshots from your arse," the old woman upstairs frowned. "That's 
what's the problem with you youngsters of today. You never have any 
respect for old people..."

"I know what old people look like," Big T clattered. "And you sure 
ain't one of them!"

"Why?" the old woman raised one eyebrow. "Because I happen to be 
wearing a lot of make up, backcomb my hair and love to dress in 
theatrical clothes?! Sagan you people can be narrow- minded 
sometimes..."

"Excuse me lady," Maya smiled her most charming smile. "But we're in a 
bit of a trouble here and..."

"And you want to use my communicator," the lady eyed Maya. "Girl! 
you're an interesting looking individual. You have that delightful 
touch of alien drag queen drama that I've always wanted to try myself. 
Please, please, come in! I'll put the kettle on...."

The old woman vanished from the window. Maya turned to the others.

"Great," she smiled satisfied. "Shall we?"

"I don't know..." Carter eyed the house suspiciously. "I haven't 
forgotten the story about those two kids whatever they were called, who 
started to eat a house made of cookies and ended up in a witches 
caldron."

"Nor the story about the Little Red Riding Hood," Tony agreed. "That 
might very well be some horrible blood-thirsty space monster dressed in 
a kind grandmothers clothes."

"Those were hardly a kind grandmother's clothes," Big T rolled his 
eyes. "Don't tell me that Alexis Colby feather pillbox hat didn't alarm 
you a little."

"I'm trying not to be narrow-minded," Carter grinned. "Besides, I 
wouldn't mind a hot cup of coffee and a biscuit even if it had been 
baked by a witch, after having suffered in the forest for so long. I'll 
say we take a chance and go in..."

"Yeah me too," Maya was already on her way. "Besides, if things get 
tough, I can always metamorph myself into something useful and save us 
all..."

"Now that you said it," Tony's horrified eyes of realization turned to 
Maya. "Why on earth haven't you??! Oh my god, just to think that all 
this time you had a chance to turn yourself into a helicopter or even 
one of the Alphan eagles I can't believe you didn't!"

"My skills are occasionally limited," Maya lied. "I can't use them on 
this planet as much as everywhere else. I think it's the carbon content 
of the atmosphere or something..."

"Sure it is," Tony murmured annoyed. Maya smirked to herself.

Gullible fool, she thought malevolently. The truth was that Maya had 
wanted to save all her metamorphing strength for all the forecoming 
episodes of being Walter Willowfield...

"Look," Carter eyed around enthralled. "It's starting to snow..."

* * *

They didn't feel cold at all. Just pure and soft, washing away the 
blood from his face. Satyr raised his hands to feel them on his palms. 
And he opened his eyes.

Snowflakes. How beautiful they were in the light of the two moons. 
Enchanted and everlasting although so momentary. Satyr remained 
completely still, gazing at those snowflakes as they were 
slowly cascading all around him, on him. Landing on his face and 
eyelashes, painting him in white silver...

Satyr kept his arms outstretched and his eyes up-cast and wide open as 
he pirouetted, alone in this enchanted forest. He could feel the new 
life taking over inside him, making him stronger, 
eternal.

Starbuck's blood.

Apollo's love.

Satyr was alone out here because he knew he couldn't have handled 
anyone else. He was much too alive. Any noise, any movement of another 
individual would have broken the spell.

He could feel the gates of the everlasting were opening. All he would 
have to do was to step into that golden light of death, the blindingly 
bright side of darkness, and he would live forever.

* * *

"What the hell is he doing," Boomer hissed, staring at that thin man 
prancing around with his arms outstretched.

"Look at his face," Mitchi was pale. "And his mouth. That guy's a 
goddamn vampire..."

"Shit," Mikey gasped. "This is some weird shit, man..."

"Should we go in now?" Jolly glanced at the others. "Whatever spooky 
felgercarb they were doing, it seems to be over..."

"Yeah but they're all still up," Boomer replied, eyeing the dark 
windows. The mansion was now hardly visible through the thickening 
snowfall. "I think it's better if we still wait."

"But we have to go closer to the house," Sascha pointed out, noticing 
the same thing that Boomer had. That it was hardly visible, "just in 
case they all of a sudden decide to pack up and leave or something. We 
can't take no chances..."

"Sascha is right," Jolly nodded. "Although I think it'd be more than 
insane to take the car to the highways in this weather..."

"You're talking about insane?" Francis Lindo smirked, nodding towards 
the thin man prancing in the distance. "How much more insane do you 
think these people could be? I must say I almost feel sorry for the guy 
who bought the Denier lad. Who knows what that crazy rich heir will 
decide to get up to..."

Chuckles.

"Okay, let's move closer to the mansion," Squirrel climbed to his knees 
but made sure that he remained hidden, "...but quietly for Sagan's 
sake. We wouldn't want that vampire guy to notice us would we..."

"Ahem..." A wary, very hesitant voice lingered from somewhere behind, 
startling the fracks out of Boomer and the others.

Frantically they all bounced around like whirligigs, holding their 
baseball bats ready, but instead of an army of something horrible like 
vampires, they found two nervously fidgeting men, one of which looked 
misleadingly like Beaker from the Muppet Show.

"Hi there," the Beaker lookalike grinned, bringing his fore- and middle 
finger to his florists' hat. "How are you folks this evening?"

Boomer and the others could do nothing but stare.

"So..." the other bloke spread out his arms disarmingly and smiled. 
"Here we are!"

Absolutely stunned silence, then:

"Ummm... Yeah, we can kinda see that but..." Sascha finally managed to 
mumble, dumbstruck. "The question is: Why?? And who the hell are you 
guys?..."

"Oh, we're the Dunnister brothers," the beaker lookalike beamed. "I'm 
Doney-Fartham, with a hyphen, and this is my brother Mosey..."

"Nice to meet ya folks," the less beakerish bloke saluted with a 
sparkling grin. "Yeah, we received your note."

"What fracking note??"

"What do you mean what note?" Mosey raised one eyebrow rather 
surprised. "Well of course the one that told us to meet you folks 
somewhere around here for you have some kind of a special delivery for 
us..."

* * *

Chapter 20

If Boomer hadn't already been sitting down, he would definitely have 
fallen on his arse right now.

"What fracking note??"

"Oh, you are one of those poor bastards who's a little hard on hearing, 
huh?," Mosey eyed the dark man compassionately. "Yeah, I have a 
cousin's cousin who's almost deaf too. Such a shame..."

Hey, Boomer..." Mikey had a brilliant thought. "Maybe you made a 
mistake about the goat-face. Maybe these guys here are the right 
client."

"Hmmm," Boomer eyed the beaker lookalike and his less beakerish 
companion. These didn't look anything like prospective ludicrously 
important people Otter might have chosen to risk his whole human trade 
business for. But then again, neither had the goat-faced man so...

"Mikey has a point," Boomer furrowed his brows.

"Mikey has a good point," Francis Lindo replied. "In fact, I think he's 
right..."

"Yeah, me too," Jolly raised his hand.

"So what do we do?" Mitchi asked, eyeing his buddies-in-crime. "Sell 
the merchandise to goat- face or to these two blokes. What's it gonna 
be?"

"I think we should sell to these two here since they are the ones that 
received a note in the first place," Sascha reasoned. "Besides, the 
goat-face might not even be there by the museum any more. It's almost 
morning..."

"Maybe we should try heads or tails..."

"No," Boomer made up his mind. "That won't be necessary..."

Boomer climbed to his feet, feeling secure enough that the snowfall 
would give him enough cover so the thin, blood-faced vampire dude 
wouldn't be able to spot him, and walked to the two florists. The 
florists eyed him extremely suspiciously.

"You gentlemen have a deal," Boomer smiled, putting his arms on both of 
the men's shoulders.

"Uh... What deal exactly," Doney-Fartham glanced at the dark man.

"The deal you were promised in that note," Boomer grinned. "The deal 
that should had been made with you in the first place."

"Did you McMullens put you up to this?" Mosey furrowed his brow. "Are 
they hiding behind the bushes and laughing malevolently or 
something..."

"I told you. You got the deal because you were meant to get in the 
first place."

"Uh... What's the merchandise?"

"Exactly what you asked for," Boomer beamed like a salesman. "First 
class material. Completely unharmed and in one piece like promised. And 
definitely unique. All you have to do is give us a little more time so 
we can carry it out of the house."

"What house?"

"The Denier house."

"Oh, it must be some pretty classy stuff then," Mosey eyed Boomer, 
rather intrigued now. "Expensive and all that I presume."

"Very," Boomer nodded. "But that's what you and Otter agreed on, isn't 
it. And don't tell me Otter didn't offer you a bloody good bargain cos' 
I happen to know that he did..."

Mosey had no idea what this bloke here in front of him was talking 
about, but since he was so insistently insisting on giving him a 
reduced price for something so extremely valuable, then, what the 
heck...

Mosey glanced at Doney-Fartham.

Doney nodded.

"Okay," Mosey agreed and scratched his head. "How much time do you 
need, like, exactly...?"

"A centar, max," Boomer made a couple of quick calculations. "And I 
think we can all agree on the plus-sides of you not staying here while 
we perform the... necessary task, so may I suggest that you went to the 
Digger Barnes' museum and waited for us there. We'll be joining you 
with the merchandise as soon as possible..."

"But Boomer," Mitchi leant closer to the dark man to whisper in his 
ear. "What if the goat-face is still there?"

"You're right," Boomer hissed, then turned back to the Dunnisters. "I 
have a better idea. Why don't you... ummm... where exactly are you 
staying here in Saskachoona?"

"We live here," Doney-Fartham replied. "Near the Mudholland Falls."

"Okay," Boomer smiled. "Why don't you guys give us your communicator 
number, go home and wait for us there. We'll give you a call 
immediately when the job's done..."

"Do we have to be afraid of the police or something?" Mosey asked, 
suddenly suspicious. "Are you guys totally legitimate..."

"We're pure as snow," Boomer grinned. "Well, as pure as you can 
possibly get in this line of work but..."

"Okay," Mosey let out a sigh. "I guess we'll wait for you back at our 
house then."

"Good choice," Boomer beamed. "Very good choice. Don't forget to give 
us your communicator number..."

"Can I ask you one thing though," Doney-Fartham narrowed his eyes as he 
tried to read Boomer. "This merchandise..."

"Yes?" Boomer inclined his head, waiting.

"...Does it have something to do with flowers?"

"Very perceptive my man," Boomer smirked, remembering the secret code 
of the anemones. "And I can sincerely promise you that when you get the 
merchandise, you'll see that it's one of most refined breeds on our 
planet!"

"That's nice to hear," Doney-Fartham took Boomer's hand and shook it, 
very pleased indeed. "We'll be waiting to hear from you very soon 
then... Please be careful with that... flower!"

"You can count on it," Boomer promised with a grin.

* * *

"Hello wife," Japher chimed cheerfully as he stepped into the hallway. 
"You awake?"

"No," came a grumpy reply from somewhere in the house. "Where the frack 
have you been all this time??"

"It's a long story," Japher appeared into the doorway of the living 
room where Sheba was cuddled up on a couch with a blanket.

"Have you been drinking Japh?" Sheba looked up and narrowed her eyes 
dangerously.

"No..." Japher fidgeted.

"You have, haven't you," Sheba frowned. "You have been drinking you 
asshole!!" A pillow few angrily from the couch to where Japher was 
standing. "And go and take those damn boots off you imbecile before 
that snow starts to melt all over the living room floor..."

Japher did as he was told and stamped back to the verandah to take his 
boots off. Then he returned to the living room doorway, leaning against 
its frame like he considered himself Mel Gibson or something.

"I love you wife," Japher grinned.

"What??" Sheba glared at her obviously drunk-as-frack, soon-to-be ex-
husband! "For god's sake, did Pie-Face make you drink moonshine again? 
I can't belie..."

"I'm not that drunk Sheba," Japher hummed. He danced over to the couch 
where Sheba was, took her hands and pulled her up and into the twirls 
of a waltz. "I'm full of love, my love," Japher sang. "My emotions are 
so full of everything beautiful and positive that I'm about to 
burst..."

"I'm gonna call doctor Phyllis," Sheba tried to free herself from her 
crazy husbands embrace.

"Cut the crap wife and listen," Japher's eyes shone like two suns. 
"Something so wonderful happened to me tonight that I just have to 
share it with you. No, in fact I think I have to share it with the 
whole world..." Japher let go of Sheba all of a sudden and dashed to 
the Verandah like a rocket.

"I LOOOOVEEEEE EEVEEEERYYYYYBOOOOODYYYYYYYYYY," Japher yodeled into the 
night. " I LOOOOOOVEEEEEEEEE YOOOOUUUUUU AAAAAAAAALLLL KLONK "Ouch!" 
Japher fell to the verandah floor.

Murmuring to herself annoyed, Sheba tossed away the pruning clippers 
and took a hold of Japher by the ankles, then starting to pull her 
obviously insane husband back inside the house before the neighbors 
would have a chance report to the police.

* * *

Back in the living room Sheba put a cold, wet towel on Japher's 
forehead, then when it didn't seemed to work, she slapped the guy on 
both cheeks to wake the bugger up.

"Wife," Japher beamed as the first thing he saw was his beloved better 
half.

"All right mister, Sheba glared at that annoyingly peacefully grinning 
face. "What the hell's going on..."

"Love," Japher smiled like an innocent child. For a moment Sheba 
seriously thought of fetching back the pruning clippers.

"Okay," Sheba forced to calm herself down. "First things first. The rye 
deal. How did it go?"

"It didn't," Japher chuckled. "There was no rye deal. The damn 
McMullens got everything!"

"Frack!" Sheba exclaimed. "Why didn't you go and do something about it 
then instead of drinking you arse off with those pie-faced friends of 
yours..."

"But I did darling," Japher smiled. "We did go after the McMullens, 
very much intending to shoot them both, as well as all those 
accomplices of theirs..."

"You shot them?"

"Well, not really," Japher confessed. "We ended up following those 
accomplices to a really weird-looking spaceship where all they did was 
talk about love and peace..."

"Oh my god," Sheba stared at Japher horrified. "So did you shoot the 
accomplices?"

"No," Japher frowned. "When we got there, the orange-haired hippy and 
the thin, drunk dude had completely disappeared, and neither was there 
any sign of the McMullens..."

"Then what happened?"

"A rather good-looking kid with strange powers and a hologram of some 
geezer in a black armour came in and filled us all with love. The next 
thing I remember is the five of us: Pie-Face, Pester, Dexter, Erlie and 
me sitting in Pie's pick-up truck on our way back to Sassy and singing 
Barry Manilow songs..."

Sheba was speechless from horror. "Barry Manilow?"

"Yeah, we found a couple of tapes in Pie's glove compartment. I even 
brought one home with me..."

"Okay, now I'm really going to call doctor Phyllis..."

"Sit down wife and listen," Japher forced Sheba back on the couch. 
"Tonight, happened something that is going to change my whole life..."

"Really," Sheba raised one eyebrow.

"Yes dear." Japher was determined. "Tonight, complete and unselfish 
love was forced into my heart."

"Oh?" Sheba had never heard a bigger lie about having spent a night in 
a pub with friends. A simple 'yes dear, I drank a little' would've done 
just perfectly. "And what forced it there may I ask."

"The force."

The... force!???!

"The force," Japher beamed. "The biggest life force in the universe. 
The force. The force forced love into me, The force is in everything 
and all I have to do is to find the perfect synchronicity between the 
force in me and the force in everything else to feel it."

"Oh? Is that all?" What was doctor Phyllis' number again...

"Yes. And on our way back in the car, Pie-Face, Pester and all of us, 
we finally realized that happiness is in our reach, all we have to do 
is reach out..."

"Japher I'm going to bed," Sheba tried to stand up.

"Sheba," Japher gazed deep into his wife's eyes. "Pie-Face and the rest 
of us are going to move in together, into this huge hippy community 
where we can make that love grow by nourishing it in every way we can. 
Together. No more rye. No more business. Just love. Doesn't that sound 
wonderful dear..."

"Just brilliant," Sheba growled. "I'm moving back to Warm Place."

"Wait," Japher beamed. "I have a surprise for you..."

"Really? And what could you possibly do or say to... 
EEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHH," Sheba saw the gun of her dreams. A genuine triple-
powered Trix-7 with a GH-599 power system and a 5/HG hammer. "Oh my 
god, Japher!" Sheba dived to embrace her darling husband. "Where did 
you get this?"

"Well, I kinda remembered you having talked about this kind of thing a 
lot," Japher grinned, "So on our way to Sassy I sort of figured..."

"Oh, I love you so much Butterbuttocks," Sheba was shedding tears of 
joy, squeezing Japher so hard the poor man was about to choke."

"Oh darling," Japher patted Sheba's back. "I love you too. And from now 
on we can all feel safe in our future hippy community. Our children 
will have a chance to grow up to be happy and content..."

"I love you Japher," Sheba sniffed.

* * *

"Brilliant," Boomer beamed. "The client thing's sorted out then. Now we 
don't have to worry about goat-face any more, right?"

"Right," Mitchi smirked.

"But what if the goat-face was the real client?"

"No he wasn't," Sascha was sure of it. "And if he was, well... Shit 
happens, man."

"Yeah. But just in case, let's just hope that goat-face isn't going to 
turn out to be a violent and vengeful individual..."

"That guy," Francis Lindo laughed. "Give me a break!"

"Hey, the vampire dude's gone," Mikey realized all of a sudden, eyeing 
the pale-ing forest. "I think he's gone back to the mansion."

"Or the snowfall's just making it impossible for us to spot him..."

"No, I really think he's gone back inside the house."

"You think he noticed us," Sascha furrowed his eyebrows.

"No." Mitchi didn't.

"This is it then," Boomer eyed the silhouette of the huge mansion in 
the distance. "I think it's finally time to proceed."

"Thank god," Jolly sighed with relief. "I was just beginning to turn 
into a snowman. I'm positive that..."

"Shhhhhhhhhh," Sascha suddenly hissed, signaling for silence by putting 
his finger to his lips. "I think I heard something."

Silence.

"I don't hear anything," Jolly mumbled. "Are you sure..."

"Shhhhh...."

A vague but soaring hum of an approaching car.

"Get down!" Boomer dived onto the ground behind a rock.

In the distance they could see a taxi speeding down the main gravel 
road, slowing down as it reached the main gate of the mansion, then 
taking a turn onto the Denier driveway. A couple of microns later the 
car pulled up by the front door of the house.

"Let's get closer," Boomer hissed, already on his way.

The others followed keeping their heads down.

* * *

"Why do you insist on doing this tonight?" Boomer could hear from the 
thin vampire guy's voice that the bloke wasn't pleased. "It's almost 
morning for Sagan's sake. Why don't you sleep for a couple centars and 
then take the note. What the hell's the matter with you?"

The figure who was standing on the side of the taxi, already holding 
the back door of the car half open, turned to say something to the thin 
vampire bloke. Boomer realized the figure was Apollo.

"What's going on?" Mitchi whispered.

"Shhhhh!"

Apollo climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. The thin vampire 
bloke shook his head, standing there with his hands on his hips, 
glaring at the taxi.

Tires skidding because of the snow that was by now starting to gather 
onto the ground, forming a delicate white carpet of completely purity, 
the taxi took off and started heading to the gate. The thin vampire 
bloke stamped the snow off his feet as he went inside looking rather 
pissed off. Boomer wondered what had been going on between those two.

And he tried not to think of the very likely possibility that Apollo 
had drunk someone's blood too tonight.

* * *

"Goddamn..." Satyr entered the living room with his eyebrows grumpily 
furrowed and tossed his red cape on the back of a chair. "That stubborn 
son of a daggit... What the hell was the big hurry with that damn 
letter, huh? Why couldn't it have waited until tomorrow for Sagan's 
sake...."

The thin man took his unfinished glass of grog and fell onto the couch, 
putting his legs up on the glass table. "I must say I'm getting up to 
my neck about this..."

"Maybe Apollo just needed some time for himself," Jean Michel replied 
feeling rather indifferent towards Satyr's grumpiness. "Or maybe he 
didn't didn't feel like watching his former friend being soon locked 
into one of the lab cages..."

"I don't think so," Satyr snorted, taking a sip of his drink. "Apollo 
doesn't care that much about this Starbuck fellow. If he did, believe 
me, I would've noticed..."

"I'm sure you would have," Cecil's tone was very sarcastic. Denis left 
the living room to fetch himself another drink.

Starbuck's naked body was still on the floor, covered with a red silk 
cloth, which was darkened by a gradually enlarging stain of blood. 
Satyr stared into the fireplace, thinking.

The glow of the fire made the green-eyed man's black hair glimmer 
golden and deepened the shadows on his cheeks, making his face look 
even thinner.

"I don't know why Apollo has been so strangely distant recently..." 
Satyr mumbled to himself rather than to anyone else. In fact, he didn't 
even seem to be aware there were others in the room. "Very 
withdrawn..."

A damp spot in one of the logs made the fire crackle. For a micron the 
flames reached higher, reflecting from Satyr's green eyes. Cecil 
noticed that the man was vaguely smiling.

"Whatever it is..." the then man continued staring into the fire. "I'm 
going to find out..."

* * *

Apollo's eyes were on the pale, snow-glowing darkness outside the side 
window of the taxi but his mind was back there, cuddled up by the 
living room fireplace of that old Denier mansion, watching how Jean 
Michel kept chuckling at Cecil's jokes, looking like an angel in the 
glow of the flames that painted him unreal. Apollo's heart was broken.

The taxi slowed down as they came to the highway crossing. Everything, 
the whole world, seemed deserted. White and cold and beautiful, and so 
completely without any living creature.

Apollo had never felt this alone.

"The University, right?" the taxi driver glanced at Apollo via the 
rearview mirror.

Apollo nodded.

The taxi rolled onto the highway.

It was over, Apollo knew that now. He would never win Jean Michel's 
heart. It would always find someone else to belong to.

Although it was Starbuck now. Starbuck who would be dead in less than 
two sectons. It didn't make any difference. It never would. Tomorrow, 
next secton it would be someone else. A yahren from now a person 
perhaps even more special. And all that time to come, Apollo would have 
to withdraw aside. Stand in the shadows and watch.

No more hope.

Apollo stared into the silvery night and said goodbye to love. For he 
know he would never love anyone else.

* * *

"He looks sort of pretty there," Jean Michel paused leafing some gossip 
magazine and glanced at the unconscious Starbuck still lying there on 
the floor. "Somehow decorational... I think it's the red silk..."

"No, it's the red stains on the red silk," Denis grinned.

"You're sick you know that," Jean Michel shook his head but smiled, 
still eyeing Starbuck. "I have an idea. Why don't we just leave him 
there all night. I honestly must say I don't mind watching him 
sleeping. The guy's beautiful..."

"Are you insane?" Satyr gave Jean Michel a glare.

"Jeeeez, I was only kidding Satyr," Jean Michel rolled his eyes at the 
thin, green-eyed party pooper. "What's the matter with you?!"

"No, what's the matter with you guys?!" Satyr let his un-smiling eyes 
sweep over the others in the room. A king casting a disapproving look 
at his subservients. "That bloke is going to wake up any moment. Why 
for frack's sake haven't we taken him to be locked up in the cages yet? 
What the fuck is all this mindless loitering about?!"

"A simple explanation dear," Cecil yawned enjoyably. "I don't think I'm 
awake enough to get up from this chair..."

"Drink a cup of coffee," Satyr's expressionless eyes turned to him. 
"It'll help."

"Sheeeshh, you really have lost all your sense of humour," Cecil 
frowned. "All right then," He bounced up from the chair. "Let's get 
dear Starbuck dressed and to the lab..."

* * *

"Hurry up," Boomer hissed, eyeing Francis Lindo tampering with the 
lock. "What the hell's taking so long?"

"Hey, this ain't any diary lock, man," Francis hissed back annoyed. 
"These Denier guys have really spent money on getting quality stuff. I 
doubt even the Brown House has locks this fancy..."

"Oh, you've broken into the Brown House?"

"Not yet..." Francis smirked. They all heard a tiny click . "Hey, this 
is it...." Quickly Francis pulled the door ajar, cast a  wary glance 
around the yard, then turned to meet the gaze of the other guys. "In we 
go..."

Smoothly and without making any sound, Boomer, Francis and the others 
slipped into the dark, seemingly sleeping house...

* * *

The white deadness of the world outside had seemed to reach the 
university campus too. Everything was covered in pure white snow, all 
windows were dark, the parking lot almost deserted since it was the 
weekend and most students had families to go to. No sign nor sound of 
life anywhere.

"Where do you want me to drop you off?" the taxi driver glanced at the 
rearview mirror again as the car pulled up to the parking lot.

"It'll be fine right here," Apollo smiled vaguely, eyeing the dark, 
gray dormitory buildings through the falling snow.

"Whatever you say," the driver shrugged thinking Apollo was nuts. He 
snapped off the meter and switched on the lights inside the car. 
"2.60."

"Keep the change," Apollo shoved a fiver onto the palm of the guy and 
opened the door to step out into the dead night. The snow made a crisp 
sound as his feet touched it and the wind greeted him with tousling his 
hair. The wind felt freezing against his face. There were no other 
footprints anywhere.

"Thanks," Apollo slammed the door shut.

For a moment he stood there watching as the yellow car made it's way 
slowly and warily through the campus parking lot and the ever-
thickening snowfall, reaching the road taking a turn left and vanishing 
from view. The wind was the only sound now.

Apollo turned and eyed the dorms. He knew which was Starbuck's, just as 
well as he knew the number of his room. It would be so easy to sneak 
into that room using the key they had taken from Starbuck when the guy 
had been unconscious, place the letter on the desk and then sneak out 
without anyone noticing. No one would ever come to suspect anything. No 
one would care.

Apollo knew he wouldn't go back to the Denier mansion tonight. He 
wouldn't go there ever again. And he knew that he would leave the 
university.

All this had started because of Jean Michel, and all this would end 
because of him too.

No more 'gates of darkness and light' nonsense. No more immortality 
felgercarb. Apollo didn't believe in any of that shit. He never had. 
All he had wanted was to have gotten a chance to try to get close to 
Jean Michel and he would have gone through the fire if needed. From the 
first moment Apollo had laid his eyes on Jeanie, he had known that 
he would never love anyone else.

The snow was gathering on Apollo's shoulders and hair as he stood 
there.

* * *

"Phew," Denis puffed and wiped his forehead like a drama queen. "We 
shouldn't had fed him with all that stuff earlier. This guy must weigh 
a ton. I don't think my back can handle this..."

"Cut the felgercarb Denis," Cecil smirked. "This guy's as fit as they 
get. It's you who should probably get more exercise."

"I'll be powerful enough when I'm inhuman and alive forever," Denis 
smirked. "...That is if I'll ever live long enough to reach that state 
for having been forced to drag this guy around for the next two 
sectons..."

"A few more metrons darling," Cecil grinned. "You'll survive..."

The stairway.

In complete silence now, Cecil, Denis, Jean Michel and Satyr continued 
half carrying, half dragging Starbuck's unconscious body down those 
steps, into a narrow, purple-carpeted hallway that led to a thick metal 
door which stood a little ajar.

"My father would kill me if he knew I was using his lab," Jean Michel 
grimaced. "Thank god he's in Dashington or Bloody Warm Place or 
somewhere..."

"I hate going in there," Denis confessed, thinking about the lab. 
"Every time... Although I have no fracking clue what your father's been 
doing with all that creepy stuff in that creepy room, it just freaks me 
out..."

"The rooms bewitched Denis," Cecil whispered spookily, his eyes 
twinkling amused. "It's full of demons who are already prepared to 
attack you from the shadows when you step in..."

"Great Cecil," Denis poked the blond guy. "You should write a book."

"Okay, can you guys manage yourselves for a micron," Jean Michel warned 
before letting go of Starbuck for he needed his both hands pulling the 
metal door open.

"Frack," Jean Michel cursed as he realized the light switch in the room 
beside the door wasn't working. "Hold on a centon..."

Quickly he strode through the dark room, fumbled for the desk lamp he 
knew would be placed on one of the metal, triangle-shaped tables and 
switched it on. The room lit up in cold, all-revealing fluorescent 
light.

There were four triangle-shaped desks, all messily covered in piles of 
papers full of scribbled notes, diagrams, formulae, paradigms... To 
Denis those scribbles all could've been some weird alien language. The 
desks themselves seemed the only normal, understandable thing in this 
huge room of a mad professor. The desks, the computers, but definitely 
not the cages...

Seven of them all together. Huge cages with bars the size of Denis' 
wrists. Placed side by side like in a zoo. A deliberate gap of two 
metrons had been left between each of those 
monstrous cages in order to prevent from whatever was put into one of 
them to be able to reach for the one in the next.

Denis let his eyes sweep the giant laboratory. God, he didn't even want 
to know what all this horrible equipment was for.

"Okay, let's shove him into the first one," Denis ushered the others, 
wanting to get out of this place. "Someone hold that cage door open so 
we can get his legs in first..."

Jean Michel rushed to open the cage.

"Easy," he instructed the others, watching their actions carefully. "We 
don't want that chest wound to open..."

"Don't worry," Cecil smirked. "We've done this before, remember..."

Ten centons later the still unconscious Starbuck was alone in the 
laboratory. Cuddled up in his cage. The fluorescent lamp on the desk 
had been left on. It hid nothing of the nightmares that surrounded him.

* * *

"This house is fracking huuuuge," Jolly's voice whispered in the 
darkness. "We'll never find the Denier bedroom..."

"Yes we will. Be quiet."

"I am quiet."

"Shhhhh!!"

"Where are we??"

"Inside the Denier mansion you moron."

"We'll never find the right bedroom..."

"Yes we will. Shut up!"

Five microns of silence.

"Damn, I wish we still had our flashlight," Francis Lindo wasn't happy 
about the fact that it had run out of batteries half a centar ago. "No 
one told you to play with it you moron," Sascha's voice came from right 
behind Francis, startling the guy a little. "It's your own fault..."

"All right, cut it out," Boomer whispered from somewhere. "It would be 
really foolish to try to use a flashlight in here anyway. A light's a 
light, right?!"

"You can't argue that logic," Mitchi smirked.

"Oh god," Jolly murmured. "I just wish we knew in which part of the 
house we were right now. It would kinda help us to beeline to where the 
bedrooms actually were. This place looks more like a deserted museum to 
me..."

"How can you tell?" Mitchi pointed out. "You can hardly see anything in 
this darkness."

"It's never that dark," Jolly replied knowingly. "It's a physical fact. 
Besides, how can you miss those statues and enormous paintings and 
pompous furniture. I say a person must be really insane to want to live 
in a place like this..."

"Money makes people insane."

"I would never become this insane even if I had a trillion cubits!"

"You wouldn't have to Jolly," Mitchi smirked. "You already are."

"What the hell does that mean you arsehole?! I'm not the one collecting 
horrible naked statues and ugly furniture like I want to live in a 
tomb..."

"No, but you're always wearing those same leather pants. It's almost 
the same thing..."

"Ha ha ha," Jolly tried to slap the guy in the darkness. "Very funny. 
You're forgetting that these happen to look damn good on me..."

"Can you two little boys be quiet," Francis Lindo growled. "You're 
gonna wake up not just the whole damn house but those damn statues as 
well..."

"Okay, okay, keep cool..."

Another five microns of silence. Then Jolly sighed.

Oh boy," he murmured.

"What now?" Francis Lindo beside him asked, annoyed.

"I think we're lost..."

"No we're not."

"Oh yes we are." Jolly replied knowingly. "This is the third fracking 
time we've passed that same bloody statue of a naked astronaut..."

* * *

Alone.

But it didn't really matter any more.

Apollo didn't know how long he had stood there in the parking lot, in 
the snowfall. He probably looked like a snowman by now. And his feet 
were cold. He was shivering.

With a sigh Apollo dug out the letter he intended to take into 
Starbuck's room and eyed it. His hands were numb from the cold. For a 
passing moment Apollo thought of just throwing the letter away.

He couldn't. Jean Michel was standing there behind the curtain of 
snowflakes, beautiful and unreal like an angel. So veiled it was hard 
to see. Apollo shoved the letter back into his pocket.

He turned and started towards Starbuck's dorm. Walking slowly and 
unwillingly, every now and then turning to take an occasional look back 
to see how his footprints were following him in the snow. A trail of 
prints. Apollo wished he could still be the child he had once been.

He raised his face toward the sky and closed his eyes, to spend a 
moment for only to concentrate on the snowflakes falling onto his face, 
his lips and eyelashes, his cheeks and forehead... They could've been 
falling stars.

Shooting stars.

Maybe if he made a wish...

Apollo opened his eyes again and when saw that old man standing there 
in the darkness, waiting for him, it didn't really come as a surprise.

"Professor Niels," Apollo whispered with a choked voice.

And it all came back to him.

The horror.

* * *

Chapter 21

Yes, it all came back now. Suddenly projecting on the veil of 
snowflakes like a movie on a silverscreen. In silence Apollo watched as 
those nightmares from his past became living 
pictures in front of his eyes. And behind them all, was the vague 
figure of the old man who had destroyed him time after time.

"Apollo," Niels smiled, somehow grotesquely. "Isn't it a funny 
coincidence to bump into each other like this, on a night like this."

"You followed me here," Apollo's face was completely expressionless, 
frozen. "You're never going to let me go, are you..."

"Why should I," professor Niels smirked. "You're my little treasure. 
Have you any idea how much joy you bring me when you try to fight..."

"I hate you," Apollo whispered.

"I know," Niels grinned. "And you know what. It turns me on love. It 
turns me on when you're afraid..."

"It's not fear Niels," Apollo replied blankly. "Only hate. Endless 
hatred. Nothing else."

"Oh I like it when you lie," Niels smirked. "It makes you so goddamn 
weak..."

For a little moment, the old man fell silent, studying Apollo somehow 
pleased. And all that time there was that grotesque smile on his face. 
Oh how many times Apollo had seen that smile before. And that look in 
those sarcastic, sick eyes that had narrowed into slits.

Apollo didn't turn his gaze away no matter how much he wanted to.

"Oh, by the way Apollo," Niels continued with a smirk. "You shouldn't 
trust you friends so easily. One of them told me I'd find you here..."

Apollo didn't answer. Not an expression flashed on his face.

"...But of course I won't tell you which one it was, now would I," 
Niels chuckled. "It would completely ruin your excitement. I would be a 
total arsehole to want to see that happen..."

"I'm so tired of you Niels," Apollo sighed. "But you know what. I don't 
care what happens to me any more. I don't think you can ever really 
hurt me again. I've suffered all the hurt possible, now there'll be 
only nothingness left. Nothingness and endless hatred. So why don't you 
just get it all over with and leave me alone..."

Apollo turned away from Niels. And he spread his broken angel wings and 
flew back, way back into the beginning of the first semester at the 
university. The first days.

Very early autumn, or very late summer, it could've been either. But 
which ever the case, it had been so beautiful. Because it had been a 
new beginning...

"Why?" Apollo whispered into the pale-ing night, his back to Niels.

"Because I like it," Niels shrugged with a smirk. "I guess I'm just a 
sick motherfucker who likes to rape innocent school boys. Or maybe I am 
a god. Powerful and misunderstood. Whatever I am, I like myself. Spread 
your legs."

"No," Apollo's whisper was hardly audible.

"Don't make me hurt you Apollo..." Niels felt the first violent shiver 
of pleasure. His throat was suddenly dry.

Apollo didn't reply. And he didn't turn to look at the old man. All he 
saw were the stars. Above, all around. Apollo was already far away, 
amongst them. The snow had gathered on his head and shoulders. White 
and pure. The hem of his black trench coat was wet and his hands were a 
little blue from the cold.

Apollo smiled.

The stars were beautiful.

"Okay Apollo," Niels smiled calmly. "Whatever you want..."

* * *

"Okay. This is it. I'm getting worried..."

Jean Michel slapped his hands down on the handrests of the plush chair 
and got up, starting to pace around the bedroom where they all had 
gathered after having taken Starbuck to the lab, waiting for Apollo to 
return. "...He should've been back by now. It doesn't take that long to 
drive to the university, drop the letter and drive back. Something must 
have happened..."

"Calm down Jeanie," Denis' tired eyes lingered to the guy. "He'll be 
here."

"Yo, I think we should all go to sleep," Satyr yawned. "Whatever the 
situation with Apollo, there'd be nothing we could do before the 
morning anyway..."

Jean Michel gave the thin man a weird glance. Something was wrong...

"Stupid idea Satyr," Cecil was playing with a pack of matches. "I don't 
think any of us would really be able to sleep before Apollo returns..."

"Hey guys, why don't I fetch the Black Jack cards," Denis suggested. 
"Or the monopoly board game..."

"Have you done something Satyr," Jean Michel's narrowed eyes lingered 
the thin, green-eyed man. "Something that we should perhaps know 
about..."

"You're getting paranoid with age my dear," Satyr met Jean Michel's 
stare indifferently. "I sincerely hope that you'll chance when the time 
comes..."

* * *

"I can't believe we got lost in a house for Sagan's sake," Jolly 
frowned. "Of all the adventures I've been a part of, this is definitely 
the worst..."

"Who says we're lost," Mitchi just had to point out. "Maybe there are 
more of those naked astronaut statues lying around than just one. Maybe 
it's some Denier fetish or something."

"Yeah, and I'm a flying pig," Jolly murmured annoyed. "You think I'm 
completely brain dead do you?! That I don't know when we are lost and 
when we aren't..."

"Can you guys please keep it down," Boomer hissed. "I don't think the 
neighbors in the next county have quite woken up yet..."

"Okay okay," Jolly lowered his voice. "But I'm telling you. We are 
lost. I don't..."

"Well then we'll just have to find a way to become un-lost won't we. 
And soon. It's nearly morning..."

"Otter's gonna be really pissed off if we screw this up, man..."

"Yeah, and so will those two blokes, Mosey and Dosey or something..."

"Guys, we won't screw anything up," Boomer assured. "Let's just 
concentrate on finding our way out of this house and everything'll be 
just brilliant..."

"Why 'out of the house' Boomer?" Francis Lindo asked. "Because then 
we'd have to come back 'into the house' and then we'd probably get lost 
all over again. I say we try to find our way to the 'part of the house' 
where the Denier guy is first, then find our way out of the house.."

"Fran, you have a point," Mikey thought of it. "Maybe you should go 
first instead of Boomer. I don't think I can face another naked 
astronaut statue without going frantic..."

"Shut up. Just, shut the frack up," Boomer was losing it now. "We'll 
find our way to wherever we are going, okay! Just shut up and let me 
concentrate..."

"Whatever you say Boom," Mikey shrugged.

"Yeah, at least we ain't lost in a forest," Jolly agreed. "Let's keep 
on moving..."

* * *

"You knock," Carter took a step backwards.

"No," Tony refused, he too backing. "You do it."

"It's open," a croaky voice lingered from inside. "You want doughnuts 
with you tea or just salami sandwiches?"

"You still think that's a witch," Maya gave the two pathetic heroic 
buddies of hers a glare and pushed the wooden door open. It creaked 
loudly. "Come on. Let's go inside. Now we have a chance to ask for 
directions out of this damn forest."

"You mind if I wait outside," Big T hesitated, eyeing the dark hallway 
behind the open door. "You can bring me my doughnuts here if you 
want..."

"You three cowards get your butts in the house," Maya growled. "Or you 
really are going to see someone around here turn into a vicious 
witch..."

"Okay, okay," Tony murmured annoyed. "No need to start getting feminine 
here..."

* * *

The corridor. A sudden feeling that someone was standing there right 
behind him. In silence. Waiting. There hadn't been any noise, just 
silent horror.

Starbuck tried to turn but he was paralyzed. He could feel the thing 
behind him breathing down his neck. He couldn't turn.

The shadowed stairway at the end of the hallway. Starbuck started 
towards it, hearing those silent, hesitant footsteps of his own sinking 
into the carpet.

Closer.

And that's exactly where he had just ran away from. The real nightmare.

He knew the face would be waiting at the bottom of those stairs and he 
knew whose face it would be although it was too damaged to be 
recognized. Mutilated, and grimacing from pain and terror. And he could 
do nothing to run from it for it was his own face. It was him himself.

All those huge paintings on the walls of the stairway. Covered in 
shadows so what they portrayed could not be recognized. Starbuck knew 
what they were anyway. He had seen them when he had tried to escape. 
And when they had brought him here.

Another twenty steps went by without Starbuck even moving. He could see 
the end of the stairs. He could see the shadow waiting at the bottom. 
And the door. The door to hell...

"I'm glad you decided to return Starbuck," the man in the white 
doctor's clothing smiled. Gray hair, gray face. "I think we can handle 
it from here..." 

Gray eyes, gray hands, gray pain, gray turning whiter pain, horrible, 
repeating, pounding white pain, pain, pain pain pain pain pain pain 
pain pain pain pain...

"Ouch," Starbuck grimaced and brought his hand to his head. He tried to 
open his eyes but it took him a while to actually succeed.

When he did, a lightning of pain flashed through his head and he had to 
close his eyes again to remain alive. The second time was a little 
easier. This time the world started having blurry shapes. Starbuck had 
no idea where he was.

He lifted his head and stared at the slowly forming objects all around 
him, trying to focus. The pounding pain in his head turned into 
pounding discomfort. But more bearable, definitely.

What the hell had happened? Starbuck furrowed his brows and tried to 
think. The last thing he seemed to remember was when he had been having 
dinner with both Cassiopeia and Athena on the Rising Star...

"Ouch," Starbuck had tried to sit up but a piercing pain hit him on the 
chest. Like he had just been stabbed. Nauseous because his head didn't 
stop spinning, Starbuck glanced down at his chest but there was nothing 
that would've alarmed him. His shirt looked 
completely unharmed.

"Great pal," Starbuck frowned to himself. "You're getting a heart 
attack. And you always swore that your way to go wouldn't be in a 
cage..."

A...Cage??

A very puzzled pause indeed. Starbuck furrowed his brows and tried to 
think. Then he had to take another look around before he freaked.

A Cage! He was in a goddamn CAGE!!! And would somebody mind telling him 
what the frack was he doing there?..."

Completely frantic, Starbuck started pounding the bars as hard as he 
could. Pounding and hitting them like mad and trying to make them 
disappear at the same time.

"HELP!!" He shrieked from the bottom of his lungs. "SOMEBODY HELP ME 
FOR SAGAN'S SAKE!!! I'VE BEEN CAGED!!!"

* * *

"Oh my god! Guys, I think I heard something," Jolly paused to listen.

They all did.

"Yeah, me too," Mikey replied, puzzled by the vague thumping. "What the 
heck is that?"

"Probably just the heating system of the house acting weird," Boomer 
listened. "You all know these old houses. Having their 
eccentricities..."

"This house can't be that old Boomer," Sascha smirked. "We've only been 
on this planet for about six sectars."

"Yeah, but this house has been built old, therefore it's old. Maybe 
this is an exact copy of some really old house on Gemini. Or even 
Kobol..."

"Whatever it is I don't think that thumping really goes with the 
territory," Mitchi pondered. "I think it's coming from behind that 
metal door..."

"It looks real thick," Mikey pointed out. "Like the door of some bomb 
shelter or something."

"Maybe that is the bomb shelter of this mansion," Jolly took a wild 
guess. "A Cylon shelter. Rich people have all kinds of things 
nowadays..."

"Shhhhh! Listen..." Sascha put his finger to his lips.

They all fell silent.

Thump. Thump. Thump. A pause. Thumpthumpthump. Thump. CRASH!

"This is fracking weird," Boomer spoke, eyeing the metal door 
suspiciously. 

"I say we get out of here..."

"Yeah, let's," Jolly agreed. "Come, there's a stairway. Follow me..."

* * *

"Frack!" Starbuck kicked the bars once more, totally frustrated. This 
was no fracking use. All he was breaking were his own knuckles and 
toes. He'd have to figure another way to get out of this damn place. 
And he would. After all, he had been the hero of the fleet at some 
point. So, now what...

Starbuck let his eyes linger around the huge room outside the cage. He 
saw those triangle tables and those computers... Something horrible hit 
him in the chest, hard.

"It won't hurt much longer Starbuck. Just hold still..." And time after 
time they came, those electric shocks. Each one more violent than the 
one before.

"Don't you like seeing him there Starbuck.. Look. Look closely. He's 
just like you The only difference is that he really is you..."

Starbuck covered his ears with his hands and started screaming as hard 
as he could. The voices didn't go away.

That gray face. Those gray eyes... Piercing into him. Studying him. And 
that cage next to his own...

"Do you feel it," the man in the white gown turned to him and grinned, 
revealing his teeth. And all the while he was slashing cuts on that 
face of the man in the next cage with a blade, not giving a damn 
although the man was screaming out loud from immense pain...

"Do you feel the pain Starbuck." The man in white smiled. "The same 
pain as he does? Do you feel anything?"

Starbuck was crying now, cuddled up on the floor, trying to hold 
himself so tight that this immense pain of finally having remembered it 
all wouldn't be able to claw him, tear him apart like this, any more.

"He's dying Starbuck," the man grinned feverishly, trying to read him. 
Those gray eyes never let him be. "It's you dying Starbuck. It's 
you...Do you feel it? Your own life slipping away from you? Do you feel 
anything?"

And he hadn't felt a thing.

Starbuck remembered it all...

* * *

"I'd give my leather pants for knowing where the hell we are," Jolly 
felt like they had roamed around the mansion forever.

"Shhhh," Boomer put his hand on Jolly's shoulder to quickly silence 
him. 

"Listen..." They all halted hastily.

"Oh no, not again," Jolly frowned. "This thumping..."

"It's not thumping Jolly," Boomer hissed. "Look..."

To their utter amazement they all saw the Denier heir, approaching them 
in the corridor, his silk robe flowing with every step. Boomer wasn't 
the only one who noticed that the guy was looking worried.

"What's going on?" Sascha murmured.

"Shhhhh..."

Jean Michel Denier passed the seven men hiding in the shadows only 
centimetrons away, then hurried his way towards the doorway of a room 
that had a light on. The only one in the hallway.

"Why for frack's sake didn't we knock him unconscious and kidnap him," 
Jolly frowned. "He was only centimetrons away..."

"Because his buddies are all in that lit room," Boomer hissed. "They 
are too near. If the Denier lad had even puffed, we wouldn't have had a 
chance of escaping..."

"You're a coward Boomer," Jolly sighed. "Now we're still gonna have to 
stay in this house for god know how long..."

"I'm only being rational Jol," Boomer eyed the doorway where the light 
was shining out. "Come on, let's get a little closer..."

"Why?"

"I want to hear what they're talking about."

"Why?"

"Hell, don't tell me you don't want to find out why that guy was 
looking like he had a bad case of ulcer," Boomer whispered. "Besides, 
if we stay close to those guys, there won't be a chance we could get 
lost in this damn house again..."

"Sounds rational," Jolly agreed after a little thinking.

The figure of the Denier lad disappeared into the lit room.

"Come on, let's get closer," Boomer signaled to the others...

* * *

"He doesn't answer his communicator," Jean Michel eyed the others as he 
stepped into the bedroom. "Something's definitely wrong..."

"Maybe it's the weather," Satyr sighed bored, casting a little annoyed 
glare at the Denier lad. "Snowfall this intense can easily cause 
interference with any communicator connection. Why can't you just leave 
this be Jean..."

Slowly, Jean Michel's eyes of horrible realization turned to the thin 
man. "All right Satyr. Spit it out. What have you done?"

"Nothing really," Satyr shrugged. "Nothing that Apollo wouldn't 
deserve...Just a little lesson for having behaved rather unwantedly for 
the past few days..."

Denier stared at Satyr with both disbelief and disgust. "What the hell 
are you talking about?! Where is he?"

"I gave professor Niels a call," Satyr smirked. "I think those two are 
having a little party at this very moment..."

"You g o d d a m n idiot," it was Cecil who gasped. "You of all people 
should know perfectly well what that bastard has done to Apollo..."

"That's exactly why I called him," Satyr smiled like a cat. "I really 
think Apollo deserves a lesson..."

"Fuck you Satyr! I'm going to the university," Jean Michel wasn't 
listening to this sick felgercarb any more. He threw his silk morning 
gown onto the bed, grabbed his pants and started 
pulling them on.

Satyr bounced up from the chair and grabbed Jean Michel's wrists.

"You can't," the thin man's eyes were dangerous slits.

"The frack I can't," Jean Michel glared back. "Give me one good reason 
why I shouldn't beat the felgercarb out of you for..."

"Calm down Jeanie," Cecil walked over to Denier and put his hand on the 
lad's shoulder. "The guy's not worth it. The sooner we leave, the 
quicker we'll get to the campus..."

"Are you saying you're coming with me," Jean Michel turned.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Cecil smiled. "Get your clothes on 
and let's go."

"Wait," Denis climbed up from the floor, eyeing the others. "We can't 
take the car."

"Mind telling us why??"

"Because we are drunk you moron. The moment we go driving in that 
weather we'll end up slipping off the highway and dying. Not my idea of 
a perfect rescue mission..."

"I'll call the cab..." Cecil was already heading out of the bedroom.

* * *

"They're going back to the campus," Boomer turned hastily towards the 
others. "Quick. Let's get to the car..."

"But... what if we get lost in the house again?"

"You have a point," Boomer nodded. "Quick. Hide in the shadows until 
they're gone. Then we can follow them to the front door and then get 
the car..."

* * *

Starbuck didn't feel the coldness of the cage floor. He didn't feel the 
throbbing pain in his chest where Satyr had cut him and where the 
others had drank his blood. Nor did he hear the sobs of his broken 
heart or feel the tears on his cheeks for he belonged to this place.

To this cage.

This was where he had been born.

Exactly six sectars ago...

Starbuck stared at the wall. He remembered it all, even though most of 
the memories weren't even his own. He remembered how he had disappeared 
right after the fleet had arrived on 
Cadria.

Disappeared.

And then taken to some army research institute like so many others.

The government, which at the time had consisted of the council of the 
twelve, nine high-ranked representatives of the army, Commander Adama, 
plus seven civilian lords which had included not only Patrick Michel 
Denier but also his wife, had needed test animals for a new important, 
and very secret, project that had been in process. 

The test animals were never even asked. They were kidnapped.

No one had asked questions when most of them had reappeared, a couple 
of days later, safely brainwashed.

No harm done.

Then there had been those five others that had not returned. The five 
others 
who never would.

Starbuck had been one of them.

These five people had been taken to secret locations to undergo further 
experiments. The kind even the government didn't want to acknowledge 
even though it still kept funding it all.

Five people, all of whom had been cloned, then reduced to two sectons 
of frequent and violent electric shocks, mindless torture, both 
psychological and physical, and endless physical mutilation until they 
had become too malformed to be recognized. Then they had been killed.

And all that mindless terror and insanity only to find out whether it 
would be safe for the government to start mass-cloning people in order 
to fill the most underpaid jobs. The donkey work.

The government failed.

Four of those five clones died.

All four, except Starbuck and his clone who, without the governments 
permission, had been transferred into the Denier mansion to be studied 
in complete privacy of Patrick Michel Denier who had had his own view 
about things.

And methods that even the government hadn't accepted.

Because of them Starbuck's clone had never died.

But that was when the real horror had started.

The night the real Starbuck had died, the clone had escaped.

He managed to make it to the corridor upstairs before two of professor 
Denier's gorillas had captured him and dragged him back.

The two days that followed were a haze of pain.

Nothing but pain.

Three days later he was living with Jolly in Warm Place. Apollo had 
gone to the university.
Boomer had become a pot head. Nothing else out of the ordinary had 
happened. Starbuck had never even been away.

* * *

This man who now looked so much like Starbuck, tightened his arms 
around himself and pressed his face against his knees to prevent 
himself from crying any more.

He had no right to cry.

He didn't exist.

* * *

The first thing Jean Michel Denier saw as he ran to the deserted 
parking lot was Apollo lying limply on the ground. The old man beside 
him was bent down, wiping his hands in the snow. Trying to get all the 
blood away. Professor Niels.

"APOLLO!" Jean Michel shrieked in shock.

The old man looked up, and he smiled. Jean Michel could see the blood-
stained knife in the snow beside him.

"AAAPOOOLLLOOOOOO!!" it was utter desperation. Not a scream.

The others were running after Denier. Cecil panting right on his tail 
and Denis following not far from Cecil. Cecil was crying.

* * *

Only one single figure of a man had remained by the taxi while the 
others had dashed off in panic. A dark figure who had his hands deep in 
the pockets of his black trench coat, his face completely 
expressionless as he stared at the lump in the snow.

The figure turned as he realized that another car, a pick-up truck 
crawled to the back of parking lot in silence. It just might had 
remained unnoticed if Satyr had not stayed by the taxi...

* * *

"What the hell is going on here," Mikey stared at the havoc in the 
parking lot, a nasty feeling in his stomach.

Boomer didn't answer. He had recognized the lump.

"Wait," Mikey shouted in shock as he saw how Boomer started to run 
towards the lump like a roe deer.

"What is he doing for Sagan's sake," Mitchi appeared there beside 
Mikey, he too eyeing Boomer's extremely stupid stunt puzzled. "He's 
gonna give us all away..."

"I think they've already noticed us anyway," Sascha murmured from 
behind, glancing at the weird thin man by the cab, staring at them like 
they were intruders. "This kidnapping thing is going more difficult by 
the centon..."

"You're right," Francis Lindo frowned. "I think we should go back to 
Warm Place while it's still possible..."

"Oh my god," Jolly gasped as he noticed the lump as well. "I know that 
guy..."

"Apollo," Boomer whispered chokedly as he ran. "What the hell have you 
done this time you old fool... Don't you ever learn for Sagan's 
sake..."

Boomer saw how the Denier guy dived to Apollo, completely frantic and 
trying to get Apollo to say something. Then Boomer realized that the 
old man beside those two started reaching for 
the knife...

"Get the hell away from there you idiots," Boomer screamed, to his 
horror witnessing how the old professor imperceptibly grasped the 
knife, how his fingers wrapped tightly around it... how he lifted it...

"How is he?" Cecil panted hysterically as he dropped onto his knees 
beside Jean, studying Apollo with worriedly furrowed eyebrows. 

"He's alive," Jean Michel whispered, closing his eyes for a moment to 
say a silent thank you. "Niels has cut him up pretty bad but it's 
doesn't seem to be lethal. He'll make it... I hope..."

"Jeanie..." Apollo opened his eyes and smiled, so wearily. That little 
smile broke Cecil's heart into millions of pieces. Because Apollo had 
whispered out Jean Michel's name.

"How can anyone do something like this," Cecil's voice was hardly 
audible. He gazed at the pale, tranquil face of Apollo and realized he 
had never loved this man more than at this very moment.

And he hated Apollo so much for loving someone else...

"Jean," Apollo whispered again, trying to lift his hand to be able to 
touch Jean Michel's face. "Jeanie..."

"Don't try to move Apollo," Jean Michel sobbed, taking Apollo's hand. 
"It's gonna be all right. Just hang in there. You're gonna be fine... 
Call the fracking ambulance!!" Jean Michel gave a hasty glare at Cecil, 
then up at Denis who was standing a little further behind, pointing a 
gun at professor Niels who was smiling.

"You bastard," Denis wanted to spit on the fucker. Hurt him like he had 
hurt Apollo.

"Please let Apollo be all right," Denis whispered to the gods.

They weren't listening.

What happened next, seemed to happen in slow motion.

Boomer felt he couldn't run fast enough. He could hear his hard, 
claustrophobic breathing a million times louder than it was. He 
screamed but his screams were un-understandable prolonged felgercarb. 
No one seemed to be hearing anything. He saw those five men, all 
gathered there together. One lying on the ground, smiling hazily. A 
beautiful smile, Apollo had always had a beautiful smile. The three 
others around him, like praying,  completely oblivious to the fifth man 
who slowly lifted his knife. Smirking.

"HE'S GOT A KNIFE FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Boomer screamed, but too late. Niels 
struck the knife into Apollo's chest. They could all see how blood 
burst out.

With a desperate shriek, Jean Michel Denier attacked Niels, trying to 
force the knife away from the fucker. Frantically he started hitting, 
kicking and biting the man, an insane look on his face. Wanting to tear 
the bastard apart. Niels didn't stop smirking.

He struck the knife into the chest of Jean Michel, who yelled out from 
pain.

Cecil dived over to help Jean but Niels managed to kick him in the chin 
and Cecil got thrown backwards, slipped and fell to the ground, crying 
out from pain as his arm got caught under his body. Niels struck Jean 
Michel again, and again, and again, a lunatic grin on his face. There 
seemed to be blood everywhere.

Jean Michel collapsed to the ground, but still Niels kept hitting him 
with the knife, again and again, like he was possessed.

Two loud gunshots shrieked in the air and blood burst out from 
professor Niels' neck and chest.
The man's eyes turned in their sockets and the knife fell onto the 
blood-red snow.

Professor Niels was dead even before his body hit the ground.

But he was still smiling.

* * *

"Apollo!!" a very frantic Denis dropped the gun and fell onto his knees 
beside Apollo. "Please don't die..."

"I'm all right," Apollo whispered with his eyes closed, his lips and 
his face pale as the snow that was falling all over him.

"Let me see Jean... I...need... Where's Jean..."

"Shhhh," Denis sobbed. "Don't try to talk..."

"Jean..."

The snow puffed as Boomer skidded beside Cecil who was holding his arm, 
a grimace of pain on his face.

"How... how is he?" Boomer's whisper was hardly audible. Despaired, he 
stared at the friend he once had had, lying there wounded.

"Jeanie..." Apollo forced his eyes open. He had to see Jean Michel. He 
had to...

Grimacing from pain, Apollo forced himself to the man lying a little 
further away, his black trenchcoat all ripped and covered in blood, his 
eyeglasses shattered on the ground beside him.
Jean Michel wasn't moving.

"Jeanie," Apollo was weeping. He took the man's face in between his 
hands and tried to lift his head, tried to keep him alive. "Jean, my 
love... my love..."

"Starbuck..." Jean Michel's colourless lips formed. His eyes were 
closed and his face paler than death. Apollo stared at that fragile 
face with desperation.

"Jeanie," he cried, pressing his head onto the man's chest, then 
looking up at that face again because he couldn't bare without seeing 
it.

"Please stay with me... I can't let you go... I can't..." the rest of 
it was drowned it hysterical sobs.

"Apollo," Jean Michel's lips moved. His eyes narrowed wearily, just a 
little, as he tried to focus on Apollo's despaired face.

Apollo tried not to cry so desperately but he couldn't help it. He took 
both of Jean Michel's hands and squeezed them so hard it must had hurt 
the boy.

"I love you so much," Apollo sobbed, trying to smile through tears. 
"Please don't go..."

"Don't kill Starbuck," Jean Michel's lips formed as his eyes slowly 
closed again. "I don't want you to..."

Jean Michel started coughing. Endlessly. Then blood spurted out of his 
mouth and the coughing ceased. His eyes opened.

"Please let Starbuck go," Jean Michel whispered. "I couldn't bare to 
see him being hurt any more..."

"Jeanie," Apollo closed his eyes and weeped. "Can't you see I love 
you... Can't you..."

"Please..." Jean Michel's word was a mere sigh. "I..."

The boy's head fell limply to his side.

Wide open, Jean Michel's blind eyes continued staring into the white, 
snow-covered distance while the beauty of him was already amongst all 
the stars and the dancing snowflakes.

Eternally.

Apollo's world had lost all meaning.

* * *

Chapter 22

In silence they all stood there, trying to understand the death of 
their beautiful friend.
Apollo's head was pressed on Jean Michel's chest but he had run out of 
tears. He too kept staring into the distance, just like Jean Michel. 
The only difference was that in Apollo's eyes, there was so much pain.

Satyr stared at Apollo. He couldn't cry, no matter how much he really 
wanted to at that very moment. He couldn't feel anything.

Denis had his hand on Cecil's shoulder but there just weren't words to 
be found to comfort him. There was absolutely nothing to say. Cecil's 
eyes were closed, The look on his face totally unreadable.

Boomer, Squirrel, and the others silently joined these bereaving men, 
Boomer and Jolly not being able to take their horrified eyes off Apollo 
and Jean Michel, both men lying there in complete tranquillity.

"I hate him," Jolly whispered, not bothering to particularize which of 
these men lying on the ground he was talking about. Maybe he didn't 
have to.

"Niels deserved to die," Mitchi's gaze lingered to the old man lying a 
little further away, smiling at the stars. "For what he did."

"I can't even bare to think how many others he destroyed like that..." 

Squirrel whispered, hardly louder than the wind. "...Choosing a victim, 
stalking him and then repeatedly battering and raping him or her until 
the victim ended either in a mental hospital or the graveyard..."

"What the hell are you talking about," Satyr glanced at this geezer 
dressed all in white. "It was Apollo that he was obsessed in..."

"Yes, it was Apollo now," Squirrel smiled so sadly. "But it had been 
some other person before that. And before him, yet another unfortunate 
individual. Our dear friend professor Niels was a goddamn serial 
rapist. He was stalking people even back on Aries where he was the 
headmaster of 
'UPI'..."

"How do you know this," Boomer's surprised eyes turned to the man in 
white. "And why the hell haven't you told us if you knew?..."

"Who are you guys?" Satyr eyed them extremely suspiciously. "And what 
the hell are you doing here?"

"I only heard it earlier tonight..." Squirrel ignored Satyr, " ...in 
the news. Before we left to go to the mansion and all this kidnapping 
farce started. Since then I've hardly had a suitable moment to tell 
you, not to mention that the damn thing hadn't even crossed my mind 
until now..."

"Kidnapping?" Denis was sure he had heard wrong. Slowly he turned to 
stare at this bloke in white. "What fracking kidnapping. What people 
are you?"

No one answered him.

"And that's not all," Squirrel continued. "The body they found on 
campus the other day... The one that brought the DEA here and all... 
That was one of Niels' poor victims who had killed himself because he 
could no longer bare what the bastard was doing to him."

"Oh for Sagan's sake..." Boomer closed his eyes horrified.

"That was on the news too?" Denis studied the man in white.

"Yes," Squirrel replied.

"But..." Denis furrowed his brows. "How did they know it was a suicide. 
Maybe it was Niels who killed him..."

"The DEA got a warrant to search professor Niels' quarters after they 
had concluded him as a suspect, and they found the note that the guy 
had left behind. A suicide note..."

"What the hell was it doing in Niels' quarters?"

"Niels had known the guy wrote one, sneaked into the bloke's room and 
stole it. An arrogant bastard..."

"Oh, come on." Denis frowned. "Niels could've easily written that note 
himself. Just to put the DEA off track..."

"The DEA isn't that easily put off track, dear," Squirrel eyed the wavy 
haired guy. "They got a fingerprint match. The letter was definitely 
written by the dead guy..."

A thoughtful silence as everyone was trying to internalize this new 
plot revelation. Then Boomer realized something.

"Oh shit," he exclaimed, his eyes back on Apollo and the dead Jean 
Michel Denier. "Otter's gonna freak..."

"Why?" Jolly didn't catch on immediately. His mind was still on the 
suicide note.

"Come on Jolly. We just lost the merchandise..."

"Oh shit," Jolly realized it too now. "You're right!"

"I think the guy'll understand," Mitchi comforted. "Otter has always 
seemed like a reasonable fellow..."

"Seemed, yeah," Mikey pointed out. "But how do we really what kind of a 
maniac he is! None of us has ever seen him, except Squirrel. Hell, the 
guy just might freak..."

"What the hell are you people talking about?" Satyr started.

"Shut up thin man," Boomer was getting tired of Satyr and these others. 
"It's none of your business so leave it be."

"The hell it isn't."

"He said shut up thin man," Jolly backed Boomer, always grabbing every 
chance to feel in command.

"Shut up Jolly," Sascha nudged the guy angrily.

"Shut up yourself," Jolly started pouting.

"You all shut up!" Boomer screamed. "We'll have to think..."

A moment's puzzled silence. Snow was covering Apollo almost completely 
now but still he wouldn't move away from Jeanie. The stains of blood 
all around were gradually disappearing under this pure, undisturbed 
whiteness, almost like they had never been there.

"Okay, we've done the thinking. Now what?" Boomer asked Squirrel, 
eyeing the dead merchandise.

"I don't know what," Squirrel replied quietly, he too staring at the 
dead man. The morning was breaking. The sky was slowly turning pale, 
the stars were disappearing. Everything was so pure and silent it 
could've all been immensely beautiful if only the circumstances had 
been different.

"Perhaps we should contact the Otter guy," Boomer mumbled.

"Yeah, maybe we should," Squirrel nodded and turned to the person 
standing only a couple of centimetrons away.

"You have a suggestion my friend?" he asked. "What we should do 
now...?"

"Nothing," Cecil's eyes didn't even flinch from Apollo and Jean Michel 
as he spoke. "It's
over..."

The blond man smiled.

* * *

Starbuck lifted his eyes and let his gaze sweep over the laboratory.

How clearly he now remembered it all. And how empty all those memories 
made him feel even though these ones were his very own, not the ones 
that had been planted.

How horribly empty...

Now eyeing this place where Starbuck knew everything normal and even 
remotely beautiful had ended and all the darkness and emptiness had 
begun, only one thing was beginning to form into clarity. Starbuck knew 
he would have to get away from this laboratory.

Wherever he would go from there, or would he even want to keep himself 
alive was still all undecided. The only thing that was even remotely 
meaningless was to escape from this place of horror.

But how?

Starbuck's studying gaze lingered to the thick metal door. He 
remembered he had somehow managed to get it open once before, the night 
when the real Starbuck had died. Therefore he could do it again.

But how? How??... Think you moron!...

Nothing, Starbuck frowned. Why for frack's sake did he remember 
everything else horrible but when it came to the only important 
thing... Hold on a centon... Starbuck's face brightened as it hit him. 
The goddamn door... It had been open for heaven's sake...

The joy of remembering disappeared the moment it had appeared. Great, 
Starbuck's face turned into a frown once more. So there hadn't been any 
devious escapade plan after all. Just a hell lot of luck. How the hell 
was he going to get out of here now? The door would hardly be open this 
time...

Oh what the hell. Anything's worth a try.

Starbuck climbed to his feet and then another devastating realization 
struck him. How the hell was he supposed to get out from the cage 
first...

"Frack!" Starbuck fell back to the floor. So this was the end of it 
then. He would end up dying in the place where he had been born to 
darkness. The one place he hated most in the whole wide world.

"Cut the crap will you," Starbuck mumbled to himself. "Who's talking 
about dying?! The stark raving Denier kid's just playing some twisted 
trick on you and is probably peeping you through a hole in the wall 
somewhere. Why would a son be any more sane than the father..."

Then came the hysteria. Starbuck just couldn't stand one more moment in 
this place where everything had been distorted. The place where he had 
witnessed himself dying...

Frantically, hysterically, Starbuck started hitting and kicking the 
bars, screaming like a madman out from sheer terror. Screaming, 
screaming screaming until nothing more than a rasp was coming out of 
his throat. The he suddenly fell silent. Very silent.

Remaining there by the bars like a statue, staring into the distance, 
Starbuck realized that a strange, dark feeling of something having 
happened to Apollo had overcome him. A very vivid feeling...

"Apollo," he whispered.

"I don't think he's here right now," a voice, a pleasant one, came from 
somewhere, startling the fracks out of Starbuck. "But perhaps I can 
help?"

"What??"

"You heard me."

"Wh... Who are you?" Starbuck mumbled blankly, feeling like an idiot 
since he saw no one. The room remained empty. Great, Starbuck frowned 
to himself. This was it, he was finally going over 
the edge. He had started hearing voices.

"Who am I?" the voice pondered. "Let's just call me your guardian angel 
for now. I think that's fairly appropriate considering the situation 
you're in..."

"What??" Starbuck almost laughed, taking yet another glance around the 
room to see someone, anyone. The place remained empty. "If that's you 
Denier playing weird tricks on me I'm gonna kick your arse..."

"You don't believe in me, do you," the voice sounded disappointed. 
"It's okay. I understand. I wouldn't believe in me either if I were 
you."

"Am I drugged?" Starbuck furrowed his brows.

"Not really," the voice replied after a little hesitation. "Not any 
more I think. But even if you were, this isn't any hallucination. I 
really am something that you might consider your guardian angel."

"I'm asleep aren't I," Starbuck realized. "First all this locked in a 
cage stuff and now you. This couldn't possibly be happening if I was 
awake could it? Or have I really gone insane? Is that it?"

"Starbuck, please," the voice sighed impatiently. "I haven't got all 
night. So can we please get back to finding a way to get you out of 
that cage shall we. Banging those bars ain't gonna be much help I can 
tell you..."

"Is the clone stuff a nightmare too?" Starbuck asked, now curious to 
see where his ridiculous dream would lead next. "And is Apollo really 
in college ro are we all still on the Galactica?"

"The clone stuff unfortunately is very real," the voice replied. "But 
since you suddenly seem positively co-operative, I will let you go on 
believing whatever you want."

"I want to see you," Starbuck said to the voice of the dream, eyeing 
around the empty room. "I want to see what my so-called guardian angel 
looks like..."

"Okay, whatever you want," the voice sighed again. "Close your eyes and 
count to three."

"Why?"

"Just do it will you."

"Okay," Starbuck covered his face with his palms and counted to three. 
Then, when he took another look around the room he saw this... thing... 
standing outside his cage.

"Oh my god," Starbuck gasped. "You look like... Baltar..."

"I do, huh?" the fairy took a glance down at himself.

"Yeah," Starbuck furrowed his brows. "Except that you're a hell of a 
lot smaller and you have this shiny... aura... around you..."

"I'm very normal sized for a fairy," the fairy corrected rather 
insulted. "And whatever comes to me reminding that friend of yours..."

"Errr... he's not exactly a friend..."

"... that's just a coincidence. This is such a funny universe. One 
never knows what might happen next..."

"You're quite right about that," Starbuck agreed.

"...But I must conclude the subject saying that your friend must be 
quite a dashing stud," the fairy grinned. "If he reminds me..."

"I thought fairies were modest," Starbuck stared at the conceited 
daggit.

"What in heaven's could have given you that idea," the fairy puffed. 
"Why should we be modest when we know perfectly well that we are 
perfect... But let that be the end of that. I'm in a bit of a hurry so 
let's get you out from that cage and this room shall we so you can get 
on with whatever plans you had for your future as a clone of Starbuck."

"So this isn't a nightmare after all," Starbuck's heart sank.

"What made you realize that so suddenly?" the fairy got curious.

"It was just the way you said those last words. Like you know that I'm 
planning on killing myself..."

"We fairies are very good on reading facial expressions and adding two 
plus two together. But can we please now get to business..."

"Sure..."

PUFF

Starbuck realized he was sitting legs outstretched in the snow, the 
wintry forest all around him. The sky was turning pale blue and only a 
few of the stars were visible now. The two moons looked a little faded 
but where still there ruling the landscape.

"What the hell?" Starbuck took another look around. Just a moment ago 
he had been locked in a cage having a stupid conversation with a fairy 
and now...

"That's what us fairies do..." the fairy was leaning against a tree 
trunk, smoking a fumarello and eyeing Starbuck. "...magic tricks."

"Really?"

"I hope you don't mind me having snitched a ciggy from you when I did 
the molecule transformation trick," the fairy smiled. "I thought I 
needed some reward for saving your arse."

"My arse is buried in the snow, freezing into numbness," Starbuck 
frowned. "I wouldn't quite call that saving it."

"Well I got you out of the mad scientist's lab didn't I," the fairy 
blew smoke rings into the air. Then he dropped the cigarette stub into 
the snow and stepped on it. "But anyway, I guess I have to be going 
now. I still have a couple of other unfortunate souls to save before 
the morning..."

"Is it Kobolmas or something?" Starbuck furrowed his brows. "I remember 
seeing this film..."

"No, this is just a normal day on Cadria," the fairy replied a little 
bored. "Why do you all keep asking me that stupid question. I'm just a 
normal bloke who happens to be a fairy and help others. Big deal, it's 
my job."

"So, are you saying that you really are more like a guardian angel than 
a fairy..."

"No, I'm a fairy." The fairy frowned. "Angel's are a completely 
different race. And they don't go around saving people."

"What about God then," Starbuck eyed the little shiny fairy-Baltar 
curious. "Is he...?"

"You'll find out soon enough when you die," the fairy replied with a 
hasty grin. "Well, off I go now. Cheerio! And don't you worry about 
your clone-hood too much. Things have a tendency to work out... 
Byyyeeee...."

"Wait!" Starbuck yelled after the little guy. "If you got me out of the 
cage and the house, why can't you get me out of this forest too?..."

"Some things are meant for you people to do yourselves," the fairy 
shouted from already far away. "Otherwise you might start taking this 
fairy thing for granted. Byeeeee..."

Starbuck watched the little shiny thing disappear into the woods and 
felt like an idiot.

* * *

"Why aren't they calling damn it," Doney-Fartham (with a hyphen) 
Dunnister was pacing around the kitchen frustrated. "The morning's 
already breaking and we still haven't heard from those flower dealers 
we met in the forest. What the frack is going on?"

"You know Doney," Doney's brother Mosey, who was sitting at the table, 
eyeing the painfully thin, red-haired other man pacing back forth, 
furrowed his brows. "I'm beginning to think they've double-crossed us. 
They're probably stealing the flower to themselves, having planned to 
use us as clients as a possible excuse if they happened to be unlucky 
to enough to get caught... The secret letters and all. All carefully 
planned..."

"What if they really have gotten caught?"

"Those canny daggits?" Mosey frowned. "Hardly, dear. We just have to 
swallow our pride and face this simple, cold fact of truth that we've 
been double-crossed. And I'm bloody pissed off. Maybe we should call 
the police..."

"You're right Mosey," Doney's face started reminding that of an 
irritated donkey. "You do the calling and I'll do the mental 
supporting..."

"You always do the mental supporting, damn it," Mosey didn't like it. 
"I want to get to be the one to do that once in awhile. I don't want to 
be the Sagan forsaken active guy in everything..."

"This last time," Doney pursed his lips persuasively. "I promise..."

"Oh what the hell," Mosey strode over to the communicator and picked up 
the receiver. "The police headquarters please..." he listened for a 
while.

"What are they saying?" Doney-Fartham kept fidgeting and staring at his 
brother as the man was speaking to the com-unit.

"...Ummm, yes." Mosey cleared his throat. "This is an anonymous call to 
tell you that the greenhouse on the Denier estate in Saskachoona county 
is being robbed and a very valuable, rather priceless breed of..."

A pause.

"What?? What??" Doney shoved his face next to Mosey's to hear something 
through the receiver.

"...They what??" Mosey's face paled.

"What's going on?? Doney's leg was jiggling nervously. "What are they 
saying??"

"Okay sir. Thanks for you information," Mosey hung up the com-unit 
receiver and turned to look at his brother.

"What??" Doney stared at Mosey, trying to read his expression. "What??"

"Those flower-stealing crooks," Mosey started ominously...

"Yeah? What? What??"

"I don't know exactly what has happened but the Denier heir is dead. He 
was brutally killed a little while ago..."

"Jesus!" Doney gasped. "They did catch the crooks I hope..."

"The police have no reason to doubt that the killer was someone else 
than an aging professor from the Darwood University who also died 
during the incident. The professor has a long history of some pretty 
ugly crimes and they were going to arrest him anyway later today..."

"I don't believe a word of that," Doney frowned. "This is just another 
part of that darn scheme of those bloody crooks. They're probably out 
of the county by now, carrying a priceless Cumulus Faritus Delingus 
Orchid or something in their briefcase..."

"You know what I think," Mosey eyed his brother. "It's the McMullens 
again. I'm absolutely sure it's been the McMullens from the start. 
Those guys we met in the forest were just pawns in that power game. The 
McMullens have struck again..."

"Damn, I hate those bastards," Doney-Fartham frowned devotingly. "They 
always get away from everything! One day I'm gonna...

"Yeah, me too," Mosey snarled.

"Come on brother," Doney-Fartham put his arm around his brother's 
shoulder. "There's nothing more we can do tonight. Let's go to bed..."

* * *

"Would you like another cup of tea dear?" the old witch who had spotted 
Carter, Tony, Maya and Big T from the upstairs window of the lonely 
spooky shack of a house in the forest, lifted the ancient silvery pot 
from the table and offered it to Maya. "I must say I really envy your 
ability to look so... dramatic..."

"Thanks for the compliment," Maya smiled, already totally bored to hear 
that same thing over and over again. "And no thanks to the tea offer. I 
think I've drank more liquid in an hour than I had in the past two 
weeks..."

"Anyone else?" the old woman's eyes lingered on the others sitting 
around the table in this cozy little witch's kitchen as she was holding 
up the kettle.

Tony and Big T shook their heads politely. Big T still couldn't shake 
the thought that the woman looked like a witch...

"What about you sexy man," the old woman turned her head to wink at 
Carter.

"Umm, no thanks," Carter coughed ill-at-ease. "I must say I agree with 
Maya. This has been more than generous of you..."

"Oh don't mention it," the granny smirked, pretending to act meek and 
unselfish and revealing the only three teeth she had left. "We're just 
very glad to have had some unexpected visitors after such a long 
time..."

"Indeed," the other old woman sitting beside her sister agreed. "It 
ain't easy being a transvestite and living in a desolate house in a 
forest. People start talking. And when they talk they start coming up 
with all kinds of weird stories. Especially if you're not that young 
and handsome any more..."

"You two are transvestites?" Tony almost choked on his doughnut.

"Almost transsexuals actually," the first granny smiled. "At one point 
I was seriously thinking about having the operation but then when I 
borrowed some instructional books from the library ship I started 
having to second thoughts..."

"Yes," the second granny smirked. "Pimpinella here's not too keen on 
the pain thing. She doesn't like the idea of people actually hurting 
her..."

"Exactly," Pimpinella nodded. "That's why I never go to the dentist for 
example. I can't stand the agony..."

"So, errr... you've been living in the forest for a long time then?" 
Carter coughed, trying not to pay attention to those three teeth.

"All these six sectars we've been on this planet," Pimpinella replied, 
taking a sip from her little tea cup. "And before that, we used to have 
a little farm on the Agroship 9. We were the only people living 
there..."

"The Agroship 9?"

"Yes. A nice luscious place with many, many plants and a lot of privacy 
when it didn't happen to be the harvest season... But enough about us," 
Pimpinella beamed. "Let us hear something about you. What brings you to 
our desolate cabin in the forest?"

"Oh Pimpinella, the other granny suddenly exclaimed. "We have totally 
forgotten our manners..."

"What are you talking about you old witch," Pimpinella hissed. "I've 
been shoving these guys more tea, doughnuts and salami sandwiches than 
they can handle..."

"But my dear, we haven't actually introduced ourselves..."

"Oh, Marge! You're so right! Please forgive us our thoughtlessness..." 
Quickly Pimpinella pushed her chair back, stood up and cleared her 
throat, beaming at the guest like a decent hostess should. She put her 
hands on her sister's shoulder.

"My dears, please let me introduce to you my brother, Bouregard..."

"Please call me Marge," Bouregard winked.

"And I, my friends, I'm Tom. But be advised that I will not answer 
unless addressed as Pimpinella..."

"Yes," Marge was sparkling, "We're the McMullen brothers. Welcome to 
our home..."

"Very nice to meet you all. Now, would you like another cup of tea 
darling?" Pimpinella lifted the kettle again and grinned...

* * *

Paul Morrow put the book down again and took another glance over the 
fence of the verandah of his hotel room. The morning was breaking and 
there had still been no sign of Koenig and the 
others returning. Should he perhaps start to get worried or 
something...

Paul slammed the book to the verandah floor, poured the rest of the 
whisky into his throat and let his feet drop off from the fence. Time 
to try to contact Koenig via the communicator again.

Morrow was just about to stand up to leave the verandah when he noticed 
two... no, three men slouching in a bush nearby. Morrow narrowed his 
eyes to try to see better, and he indeed noticed that one of those men 
was holding a pair of binoculars.

Shit. An ambush.

Knowing what to do since he was a trained astronaut, main mission 
controller and a damn clever fella in general, Morrow hastily slipped 
inside him hotel room and rushed to turn off the lights.Then he lay 
there low, watching as those three men were indeed observing the 
windows of the hotel.

Two other men appeared by the bush to exchange something with the 
former three. Morrow saw that those men were dressed in army fatigues. 
His alarm bells started ringing instantly. Quietly, very carefully to 
not be noticed, he pushed the verandah door a little wider open and 
crept to the verandah, cuddling up behind the fence, listening. He 
could easily hear those men talking.

* * *

"Are you sure you received the code absolutely correctly sir," one of 
the men said. "We can't afford to make any mistakes. Once the hotel 
blows up, there can be no excuses..."

"Shit," Morrow almost fell to him bum. "Blow up the hotel!? Well, I'll 
be damned..." Carefully, he continued to eavesdrop.

"The order from the commander was received without any difficulty and 
the message is very clear Stanley. Now that special lieutenant Athena 
has been reported to have failed to track down the aliens, we have been 
ordered to act.

"But... why the hotel..."

"Stanley. How many times do I have to tell you that the BBRTH-2285/XXC-
6 system is showing that there is still one alien accommodated right 
here, and before we go after the others, it's common sense get rid of 
this one first..."

* * *

"Another salami sandwich?" Pimpinella offered the plate.

"Lady please," Carter was holding his stomach. "I couldn't possibly eat 
another bite..."

"Why is she trying to push all that food to us," Big T whispered to 
Tony, furrowing his eyebrows. "It's as if she's trying to make us gain 
weight or something..."

"You're right Boney," Tony hissed back, feeling alarmed. "This is more 
and more starting to remind that story about those two kids who ate a 
house made of biscuits..."

"Did you say something dear?" Pimpinella turned her beaming face to 
Tony.

"Errr... No..." Tony blushed.

RRRRIIINNNNGGGGGG, the communicator rang in another room.

"I'll get it," Marge wiped her mouth and got up from the table.

Pimpinella used that moment when Marge was away from the kitchen to 
pour her another cupful.
Marge didn't even notice when she got back.

"Who was it dear?" Pimpinella smiled, eyeing her transvestite brother 
sit down.

"Oh nothing," Marge took a sip from the freshly filled-up cup. "Just 
another bomb scare..."

"Oh, okay," Pimpinella shrugged and reached out for another doughnut. 
Carter stared at those two transvestites stunned.

"A bomb scare??"

"Yeah," Pimpinella mumbled with her mouth full. "We get those almost 
everyday..."

"...amongst other things," Marge completed, sipping her tea. "We've 
kind of gotten used to all that by now."

"All what??"

"All that molesting and hassling," Marge replied. "People here in 
Saskachoona have somehow gotten to their heads that we are a pair of 
really bad vicious bastards, always shoving our noses to everything 
that's not even our business."

"Exactly," Pimpinella confirmed, still chewing her doughnut. "And it's 
getting worse and worse it seems. Every time something goes wrong 
people say: Oh, it's those damn McMullen brothers again. If a cow dies 
people say: Oh it's the McMullens. They poisoned it to get more grazing 
field for their own herd. Whenever the local shop runs out of butter 
people think: Oh it's 
those McMullens trying to pester us just because it's in their nature 
to try to do as much bad as they possibly can. It's..."

"But..." Carter stared at the two old transvestites with his mouth 
open. "How can that be. I mean, people can't just..."

"Well, it was sort of our own fault at first," Marge confessed 
reluctantly. "We accidentally burned down farmer Jefferson's hay barn 
when we first moved here, and the poor bastard ended up losing his 
whole harvest for that semester..."

"Yeah, but as Marge said. It was an accident. We only meant to burn 
down half of the hay barn to level the competition..."

"You see. We were farmers in those early days," Marge pointed out. "Rye 
farmers. But when that hay barn burned down, we kind of figured out 
that it would be nicer to live somewhere where people wouldn't be 
throwing stones at our windows all the time."

"It was a total witch-hunt," Pimpinella shook her head appalled. "But I 
guess everything ended up ending just fine didn't it. I don't think we 
would've made it in that field of business anyway. It was a tough job 
being a transvestite farmer in those early days of colonization..."

"I'm sure it was," Carter coughed, not noticing that Maya's eyes had 
been lingering on him for quite a while now.

"Excuse me," Maya pushed her chair back. "I need to use the 
bathroom..."

"Certainly dear," Marge beamed. "Into the corridor and then left. You 
can't miss it."

"Thank you," Maya vanished from the kitchen.

Two minutes later the doorbell rang.

* * *

Very very quietly Morrow continued sneaking towards the four uniformed 
men that were standing in the hotel parking lot. One of them was 
wearing captain's badges, the three others were obviously lieutenants.

Having eavesdropped the guys in the bush had taught Morrow two indeed 
very important things. One being that the hotel was going to blow up in 
a few centons, so a very wise thing would be to get the hell out of 
there as soon as possible.

The other important thing was that the captain dude here was the one in 
posses of one very dangerous apparatus that could be used for tracking 
down the aliens the identity to whom had become very clear to Morrow. 
He would definitely have to snitch that damn thing and then go in 
search of Koenig and the others before it would be too late to get away 
from this planet.

Careful... Morrow kept his head low, taking cover in the shadows as he 
moved...

* * *

"Captain," someone shouted from the hotel entrance.

Morrow halted.

"We've received the latest codes from commander Adama. It's time to 
proceed..."

"Can you idiots please keep your voices down," the captain dude 
growled, furious that he had been assigned to this very important 
mission with the bunch of these idiots. "Hold on, I'll be right 
there..."

The captain and the two lieutenant proceeded towards the hotel 
entrance. Morrow cursed. How the hell was he going to get his hands on 
that apparatus now...

"Perhaps I can help," a voice came from behind startling the fracks out 
of Morrow.

Quickly he jumped around like a whirligig to face his enemy, but he saw 
no one.

"I'm going crazy," Morrow mumbled to himself, trying to get his 
breathing to calm down.

"No you're not," the voice smirked. "Have a little faith in yourself 
will ya..."

A tiny but very bright glow of yellow, green and gold started forming 
in front of Morrow. Morrow closed his eyes and opened them again. The 
light didn't go away. It formed into a little smirking man.

A little fairy.

"I thought you'd like to have this," the fairy handed over something 
that looked ridiculously immense compared to his size. "It's the 
tracking device you were thinking of stealing. Do whatever you want 
with it. I'm off now. Byeeeeeee....."

The little fairy disappeared into the breaking morning.

Morrow stared at the thing he was suddenly holding, completely 
dumbstruck.

* * *

Maya was fidgeting as she was standing outside the door, naked, and 
waiting for someone to come and answer it.

She had wanted to experience another session of being Walter 
Willowfield, but when she had gotten into the bathroom to do the magic 
trick, she had realized that she couldn't quite remember what the guy 
in the disco had actually looked like. Many details had vanished into 
obscurity.

Damn, Maya had frowned, trying her best to remember the guy's details, 
but finally she had given up and metamorphed into the best copy she 
could. And now that copy was standing outside that door, nervous about 
whether Carter would notice the minor differences or not.

"Yes dear?" it was Marge who answered the door, eyeing at this handsome 
naked man standing on her portal with immense intrigue.

"Ummm, I would like to talk to Alan Carter please," Maya coughed.

* * *

"It's for you," Marge returned to the kitchen and smiled at Carter.

"For... me??" Carter's jaw dropped.

"Yes dear. It's a very handsome man who wishes to speak to you..."

Puzzled, Carter left the kitchen and returned fifteen minutes later 
with a grin on his face.

"Who was it?" Tony asked, eyeing Carter suspiciously.

"Walter Willowfield," Carter replied with a smirk.

"Oh please, don't tell me he was jogging again!"

"Yes, in fact he was," Carter sat down and took a salami sandwich.

"Was he naked?"

"Yep," Carter took a bite. Good doughnuts. Why for frack's sake was he 
having this nagging feeling that the Walter guy had looked a little 
different this time. The penis part for one thing...

Naah! Carter must had been imagining things!

Maya returned from the bathroom...

* * *

Chapter 23

"Good doughnuts," Carter mumbled again with his mouth full because he 
couldn't think of anything else intelligent to say.

"Shouldn't we be heading back to the hotel," Tony was up to his neck of 
this felgercarb by now. "I'm sure Koenig is already extremely worried 
about us not having showed up..."

"In a moment Tone," Carter mumbled. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to 
walk quite yet. "Let me finish this doughnut first..."

"I think I need to use the bathroom," Maya pushed her chair back.

"Again dear?" Pimpinella looked up.

"Too much tea..." Maya coughed and vanished from the kitchen.

* * *

Two minutes later the doorbell rang.

Tony furrowed his brows.

* * *

"It's for you dear," Marge returned to the kitchen and smiled at 
Carter. "It's the same naked fellow whom you seem to know quite well 
indeed."

"Thanks," Carter stuffed the rest of the doughnut into his mouth and 
left the kitchen to hurry to the front door.

* * *

"Hi there stud," Walter Willowfield waved.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Ummm... aren't you supposed to be a little thinner," Carter furrowed 
his brows, studying the man standing there naked on the portal steps 
and smirking. Carter didn't quite seem to recall seeing those love-
handles before.

"I stopped to eat something while I was jogging," Walter Willowfield 
fidgeted. "I puff up easy. That's why I jog like a lunatic, you 
know..."

"But..." Carter stared at this man who suddenly wasn't looking anything 
like the man he had been a while ago. "I remember you being quite a lot 
taller, and that hair of yours..."

"What about it?" Walter coughed.

"I'm quite sure it wasn't... gray!"

"Oh bloody hell," Maya threw in the towel and in seconds she returned 
to her normal form. "Damn you men! Why can't you be satisfied in what 
you're getting instead of always demanding the world!!"

"Maya!!" Carter's jaw banged to the floor. "What the frack..."

"It's too long a story to be told right now," Maya frowned, definitely 
displeased by the sudden turn of things. "Let's just say that I wanted 
to hide from Tony and ended up finding out what a fantastic loverboy 
you are. And now you're spoiling everything by expecting me to be 
perfect..."

"Perfect?!" Carter panted. "Maya, for god's sake! I thought I was 
getting involved with a normal guy!"

"Yeah right," Maya snorted. "That's what you all say. You want a normal 
guy who'd end up looking exactly the same every morning and then you 
get fed up and go searching for someone new..."

Sniff.

"...Why for frack's sake couldn't you be happy with all the wonderful 
surprises that I could've given you... I could've been a new guy every 
morning..."

"Maya, you're crazy!"

"I'm going back inside," Maya pushed past Carter like a thundering 
typhoon and returned to the kitchen where the others were sitting in 
complete silence, having listened to the arguing at the front door. 
Tony was looking like he had just eaten something rotten.

"Oh cut that crap Tony," Maya snorted when she saw the look on the 
guy's face. "You're never gonna have sex with me and that's the end of 
it. Now where's the communicator. I want to get away from this damn 
place..."

* * *

Tigh left the taxi hastily parked in the parking lot and started his 
strode towards the hotel entrance, yawning and scratching his head. God 
he hoped that damn wig hadn't had any fleas or anything...

Someone bumped into him.

"Frack!" Tigh cursed, noticing a guy with a seventies' mustache, 
carrying some weird apparatus. "Watch it will you..."

"You have to get away from the hotel!" Morrow hissed frantically. 
"Now!!"

"What the...??"

"Now!" Morrow snarled. "Run, goddamn it! The thing's gonna blow any 
second..."

"What...??"

"Oh for god's sake!..." Morrow didn't have any more time to waste. He 
pushed his way past Tigh and continued his frantic run towards the 
highway in the distance.

For a moment Tigh watched this madman running, then shrugged and 
continued his stride towards the hotel...

WLAM!!

"OH MY GOD! RIIIGEEEEEEELLL! NOOOOOOOOO!!" Tigh shrieked as he darted 
backwards like a cannonball, doing his best to try to cover his face 
from the bits and pieces of metal and glass that were catapulting 
everywhere.

The hotel itself was in hellish flames the size of ten skyscrapers. 
Despaired screams of dilacerated people burning to death soon silenced 
under the roam of the fire devouring the skies.

"Rigel... My god! Please god, no...No..." Tigh weeped into the pale-ing 
morning and into the roaming fire, watching in utter desperation as the 
only woman he had ever loved was being torn away from him...

* * *

They all heard the explosion immediately after the taxi had arrived. 
The sky flashed, then turned into flames. The whole forest seemed be 
bathing in fire for a moment.

"What the hell was that??" Tony eyed the orange sky dumbstruck. "Is 
this planet destroying itself or something..."

"Turn on the taxi radio," Carter ushered. "Quick!"

"...the Saskachoona Sheraton early this morning. The DEA has been 
called upon the premises and have been confirmed to be on its way. The 
police are doing the best they can at this doomed moment, but 
considering the strength of that horrible explosion, there is no way 
anyone could possibly go nearer than a hundred metrons to that towering 
inferno without getting harmed. The speculations are streaming wild but 
so far the only plausible explanation for this sudden devastation is a 
bomb strike from the much feared and vicious group of anti-republic 
activists called the New Age Communists who tried to assassinate two of 
the presidential candidates 
earlier this sectar...

"Oh my god," Maya covered her mouth with her hand horrified. "Oh my 
god... the hotel... Koenig..."

A moment of complete silence cascaded as this horrible truth hit them 
all. Commander John Koenig must had been killed in this terrible 
terrorist hit.

"Oh my god! I can't believe he's gone," Tony was sobbing. "he meant 
everything to me. He was my father and my mother and my grandfather..."

"Pull yourself together you idiot and get into the cab," Maya couldn't 
believe she had actually wasted so many months on this cry-baby. 
Besides, she was still pissed off with Carter so she wasn't in the mood 
for any whining.

"We have to get away from this planet as quickly as possible. I am 
absolutely certain that that bomb explosion wasn't any terrorist act. 
It was directed towards us. The government is obviously aware of us 
being on this planet..."

"That's hardly a secret, mate" Carter murmured. "Since we arrived on a 
moon that's still lingering up there..."

"But Maya's right," Tony was already sticking his head into the taxi. 
"We have to get back to Alpha..."

"Are you nice gentlemen leaving already," Pimpinella lamented.

"Yes, ma'am," Carter turned to shake hands with those two lovable 
transvestites. "I must say it's been very interesting meeting you and 
perhaps one day if you decide to go on a space cruise or something, we 
might bump into each other again..."

"We certainly hope so," Marge squeezed Carter's hand and wiped a tear 
from the corner of her eye. "And give us a call if you ever happen to 
be in the neighbourhood again. I have a few pairs of woolen socks I've 
always wanted to give to someone as a Kobolmas present..."

"Why don't you go and get them right now dear," Pimpinella ushered 
Marge. "I'm sure they'd love to have them. I have a feeling those 
moonbased space stations are rather cold and unpleasant..."

"I'm very sorry but we really are in a bit of a hurry," Carter fought 
to sound patient and polite. "We'll be happy to have those socks some 
other time..."

"Not even a packet of doughnuts to eat in the taxi?" Pimpinella asked 
frantically. "We can't possibly let you go empty handed..."

Carter grabbed Pimpinella and smacked a loud kiss on her cheek, then 
squeezing the old transvestite by her arms and grinned.

"There. Now we aren't leaving empty handed."

"You little devil," Pimpinella chuckled. "All right, get going you 
daggits. And don't forget to give us a call..."

"We won't," Tony waved from the taxi just before Carter slammed the 
passenger side door shut and the car skidded away from the little 
driveway.

The snowing ceased.

"Nice boys, those," Pimpinella put her arm around her brother's 
shoulder as they melancholically watched the taxi disappearing down the 
forest road into the pale-ing morning light.

"Very nice boys, Tom," Marge sniffed. "I'm going to miss them."

"You know Marge..." Pimpinella thought of it. "Maybe we should adopt a 
child. A little boy or a girl. I know we'd be wonderful parents..."

"They'd never give a child to the McMullen brothers in this county," 
Marge replied, eyeing the now empty forest.

"Yeah, you're right," Pimpinella sighed. "And we wouldn't want to move 
away from here anyway so maybe it was just a stupid thought..."

"No, I think it was a very nice thought Tom," Marge smiled. "A very 
nice thought..."

A moment of elegiac silence. Then Pimpinella squeezed her brother's 
shoulder and the two elderly transvestites turned and started slowly 
towards the little house.

"Oh, and Marge..." Pimpinella frowned. "Don't ever call me 'Tom' again 
will you..."

* * *

"Oh great," Starbuck grunted to himself, eyeing the white forest around 
him. Where the hell was he? God damn the little sadist fairy for not 
having beamed Starbuck out of this forsaken forest while there had been 
a chance for it. Starbuck was beginning to seriously believe that the 
striking resemblance to Baltar had not been a coincidence after all.

"Damn all Baltars," Starbuck murmured. And he continued dragging his 
feet through the snow.

Fifteen centons later he was in exactly the same place he had been 
fifteen centons ago. No mistake. He saw his own goddamn footprints.

"I can't believe this," Starbuck sighed devastated. "First I get locked 
in a cage and remember actually being a clone of the real me. Then a 
fairy who looks exactly like Baltar comes and rescues me, but still 
decides to leave me stranded in the forest to manage on my own. And 
then I get fracking lost..."

Okay, but why would he care. Just as he said it himself, he was just a 
clone. He was nobody.

Starbuck covered his face with his hands and wanted so much to give in 
to all the storm that was raging inside him. He couldn't. The tears 
were locked up somewhere. He couldn't feel a thing now except that 
nagging frustration and anger for being lost. Maybe he should sit down.

Starbuck took a glance around to spot a stone or some other thing to 
sit on that wouldn't be all that snow-covered, then realized to his 
immense horror that he wasn't alone.

A rather cute, young man with sandy hair and an amused smile on his 
face was leaning against a tree trunk, watching Starbuck with his arms 
folded.

Oh for Sagan's sake, Starbuck gave a serious frown. Please, not another 
fairy...

* * *

"Hello there," Luke Skywalker grinned. "I've been watching you for 
awhile now and I've gotten a vague sensation that you might be lost..."

"You think so," Starbuck rolled his eyes.

"I'm Luke," Luke smiled. "And you're... Starbuck, right?"

"How do you know?" Starbuck's jaw dropped.

"I used to watch re-runs of your show like a hawk on the Millennium 
Falcon all over and over again..." Luke sparkled. "...Until Han 
confiscated those video tapes. Then I started watching the X-Files."

"Really?"

"So, what are you doing lost in the forest Starbuck," Luke unfolded his 
arms and brought them on to his hips. "I don't recall any adventures of 
yours quite like this..."

"This isn't an adventure," Starbuck snarled. "This is being cursed. 
Besides, I'm not really Starbuck. I'm his clone..."

"I'm so sorry," Luke sighed, then his face lit up. "...But perhaps I 
can help. I'm a Jedi master you see, and I have a special deal with the 
force..."

"The force?" Starbuck furrowed his brows. "I have a vague recollection 
of having heard that word somewhere before..."

"Yes, the force is the most powerful thing in the universe for it is in 
everything," Luke beamed. "And you know what! I think that by using 
that force I just might be able to turn you from being a clone into 
being the real Starbuck again..."

"Yeah right..."

"I think it'll be worth the try anyway," Luke smiled. "What have you 
got to lose. Nothing, and yet you have everything to gain since right 
now you're nobody..."

"Thanks a frack for reminding me..." Starbuck snarled.

"But it's the cold truth isn't it. The truth is always hard on the 
ears. But let me try to use the force to make you a person with an 
identity again. Let me make you Starbuck."

"I'm beginning to have a very unpleasant feeling that you think you are 
god or something..."

"Of course not," Luke laughed. "I'm simply a Jedi knight. Homeless and 
in search of the what is to come after I disobeyed my feelings and 
forced love into some violent farmers' hearts. That's why I'm here in 
the forest alone because I had to leave my friends behind to protect 
them. I might be turning into the dark side of the force."

"And you don't think that turning me into Starbuck will turn you over 
into the dark side?"

"I don't know," Luke shrugged. "But what do I have to lose. Besides, I 
feel that this is a good thing so what the heck..."

"Okay, let's go ahead with it then," For the millionth time tonight, 
Starbuck felt like an idiot. But as the boy had said, it would be worth 
the try...

"Brilliant," Luke beamed. "Close your eyes. Try to feel me..."

"You wish!" Starbuck rolled his eyes.

"No, I mean, try to feel the spiritual me. Try to connect your feelings 
with mine..."

Silence. Starbuck really tried. Honestly. He really did. Then he opened 
his hopeful eyes. "Well??"

"Nothing," Luke frowned disappointed. "It didn't work. I guess the 
force is just too..."

"What?" Starbuck stared at the kid.

"You just can't use the force for things like this," Luke now realized. 
"You can't change a person into another person. That's the cold fact of 
nature."

"But... I'm not even a person," Starbuck stuttered.

"Yes you are," Luke smiled. "Even though you're a clone of someone 
else, you still have your own self in you too. You too have experienced 
things. Your mind is your own. You too are an individual..."

For a moment Starbuck stood there in silence, thinking about Luke's 
words. Suddenly, he felt warmer.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"No, thank you for letting me help you," Luke put his hand on 
Starbuck's shoulder. "May the force be with you forever."

"May the force help me to get out of this damn forest first," Starbuck 
murmured, realizing he was still in the same feldercarbish situation he 
had been half a centar ago.

"But it will," Luke replied softly, studying the man before him, "if 
you let it..."

"How?" Starbuck wasn't so sure of it. So far the force had merely kept 
him walking circles. "Can't you just beam me out of this place or 
something..."

"I am not a fairy Starbuck," Luke smiled a little amused. "Nor Scotty 
or anything... But you will find your own way out if you just trust you 
feelings..."

"I thought I had..."

"Close your eyes Starbuck," Luke whispered gently. "Allow yourself to 
connect with the universe itself..."

"Oh come on," Starbuck rolled his eyes. "I'm not in the mood for this 
felgercarb. I'm cold and hungry and sad and..."

"Just... Close your eyes," Luke smiled. "Feel the force Starbuck. Let 
yourself feel it..."

Starbuck did close his eyes, and when he opened them a couple of 
microns later, Luke Skywalker was gone.

"Frack," Starbuck shrugged and reluctantly turned and proceeded his 
frustrated search to get out of the woods. This time however, he had a 
strange, unexplainable feeling that things just 
might work out after all...

* * *

Athena was beaming as she put down the rucksack and dug into the pocket 
of her army pants for the key. The shuttle flight from Saskachoona back 
to Warm Place had taken less than two centars for the army still had 
the permission to use some of the more powerful equipment most of which 
were now stored into the volts of the military warehouses all over the 
planet.

After having left the Millennium Falcon, Athena had hurried to catch 
the flight back to Warm Place  on the shuttle in which the army 
annihilation sector Beta had arrived. She just couldn't have waited 
another extra micron to get to Cassiopeia's arms. And she so much 
wanted to tell her all about the new wonderful plans she and Tigh had 
made. Those wonderful plans for a beginning of a completely new era of 
equality and hope.

Athena inserted the key into the lock, pulled the door open to step 
inside and picked up her rucksack. The hallway was dark so she turned 
on the lights.

"Cassie?" Athena called out into what seemed like and empty apartment.

She listened.

Nothing. Where the frack could that woman be at this early centar.

Athena put down her rucksack again and walked to the living room door 
which was a little ajar.
The living room looked just as deserted as the rest of the apartment.

"Shit," Athena returned to hang her army jacket up and then started 
dragging her rucksack towards the bedroom. She might had as well 
started unpacking now because there would be no way 
she would be able to sleep until she knew where Cassie was.

A vague light was shimmering from under the closed bedroom door. Athena 
noticed it and smiled.
So Cassie was home after all. Then why hadn't she answered when Athie 
had called out. Oh she just probably hadn't heard or was asleep. Her 
heart thumping excitedly, so glad to be back home Athena pushed the 
bedroom door open.

In the doorway she froze.

* * *

They didn't notice her at first, Cassiopeia and Adama. They were too 
caught in making love to each other, so at ease in each other's 
company.

Something kicked Athena in the stomach, so hard that for a moment she 
thought that she would die from sheer pain right there and then. Still 
she didn't say a word. She realized there was nothing she could have 
said.

It was Cassiopeia who saw her first.

For a moment the blond woman stared at Athena, startled. Perhaps even a 
little sorry, Athena couldn't be sure. Then Adama turned. That was when 
Athena turned and left the doorway.

She didn't cry when she made her way to her study, still dragging the 
rucksack. She didn't cry when she placed the rucksack on the floor and 
sat beside the dresser, staring into the mirror, into her disillusioned 
eyes.

"It's because you're ugly," she whispered to her reflection. And she 
knew she would have to leave this apartment as soon as possible.

Still not being able to cry, Athena pulled the rucksack closer to where 
she was sitting, to start packing in a hurry. Then she noticed it. The 
red wig she had picked up from the floor of the main cabin of he 
Millennium Falcon. The wig Tigh had been wearing.

Carefully, Athena pulled it out of the bag, then turned her gaze at 
herself in the mirror as she slowly placed the wig into her head. And 
she became someone else.

For a passing moment, Athena thought she saw herself smiling a little. 
A very faint, sad smile but it made her realize something that 
mattered. Something that she had longed for all this time on planet 
Cadria.

"At least now you have hair," she whispered to herself. And she reached 
out towards the little stereo equipment next to the dresser and put on 
Eros Ramazotti.

* * *

Another end. Tigh had nowhere to go now.

He had no aim left.

Forlorn and lost, he remained standing there as the flames of the 
burning hotel were creating a glow of death on his face. He didn't feel 
the immense heat from those flames or the thick smoke that made it 
almost impossible to breath. Tigh was in those flames of hell himself, 
burning to death with Rigel.

Forever and ever and ever.

Where else would he possibly go.

* * *

"What's taking so damn long?" Squirrel cast another annoyed glare at 
the flight information board that had just had the word 'delayed' 
popped up on it next to the number of their shuttle flight.

"Every fracking time it's the same thing! I'm so bloody tired of 
waiting..."

"Calm down Adrian," Boomer was sitting next to Squirrel, blank-faced 
eyeing the few planes outside the huge shuttleport window. "What's the 
hurry anyway. Everything's over."

"Yeah, but only until the next gig," Squirrel took a deep impatient 
sigh. "Until the next time a new client comes along. And a new 
victim..."

"Do you really think the Otter guy will want to go on the same way," 
Mikey was thinking aloud on the other side of Squirrel. "Even though we 
now know who he is..."

"Well he did say that he'd give us a call the moment a new deal would 
come up didn't he," Jolly was lighting a fumarello, not giving a damn 
about the regulations of not being allowed to smoke in the Saskachoona 
shuttleport. "Maybe the only thing that's really changed after all this 
is that he's realized he can trust on us more..."

"Maybe..." Mikey thought about it. "Maybe..."

"There's one thing I still don't understand, no matter how hard I try," 
Boomer didn't take his eyes off the planes and the snow-covered runways 
as he spoke. "Why for Sagan's sake did that Otter guy want so 
determinedly to get rid of someone he must had cared about? Sell 
someone who must had been his friend?"

"You still don't get it do you," Squirrel smiled a little sadly. "Otter 
was, is, deeply, desperately in love with Apollo. And he knew that as 
long as Jean Michel Denier would be standing in the way."

"Apollo was in love with the Denier dude?" Jolly raised one eyebrow. 
"Shit, man. You know, I wouldn't have guessed. The Denier guy seemed 
nothing like Apollo..."

"But hadn't you notice how Apollo had gradually changed," Boomer 
commented. "All that new image and stuff. Maybe he was somehow trying 
to earn Jean Michel's love..."

"A really dumb way I say," Sascha needed to point out. "I didn't know 
your friend personally but I have a strong feeling that that Apollo 
dude is a terrific guy the way he is. He wouldn't have had to try to be 
someone else to be loved..."

"This conversation is getting too deep for my taste," Francis Lindo had 
bummed a fumarello from Jolly and was enjoyably smoking it now, blowing 
smoke rings into the air and watching them as they slowly faded away. 
"Hand me a magazine or a newspaper or something will ya. I might as 
well use this spare time to find out what's been on in our beloved Warm 
Place."

A peaceful, relaxed quietude fell amongst these seven men as they were 
now sitting there, waiting to be let aboard the shuttle so they could 
finally be on their way back home. Some of the guys were reading mags, 
others lost in their casual thoughts. Squirrel was biting his nails 
because he had forgotten the bring along nail-scissors. Boomer turned 
to him.

"You know... Adrian," Boomer started, turning to face the man beside 
him. "You remember when you once asked me why I was involved in all 
this human slave trade thing, and I gave you an answer that I didn't 
know, that perhaps it was just because I liked the ultimate excitement 
or something..."

"Yeah," Squirrel glanced at Boomer, then continued the nail-biting.

"Well... half of it was sort of true but...  I still think I lied..."

Boomer paused.

Squirrel looked up again, and this time his eyes remained on Boomer's, 
waiting, trying to read him.

"You see Adrian," Boomer smiled a little melancholically. "The real 
reason why I'm living like this is because I consider every day my last 
day alive..."

"Why?" Squirrel stared at this dark man.

"Because I'm sick Adrian," Boomer's sad smile never faded as he 
continued. "When we arrived on planet Cadria I found out that I was HIV 
positive..."

"Oh my god," Squirrel reached out for Boomer's hand.

"And now it's finally developing into AIDS..." Boomer allowed Squirrel 
to take his hand and squeeze it. "...I don't know how long I will be 
able to stay healthy..."

A pause.

"...But as long as I am, I'm determined to live my life to the fullest. 
It's the only way that I know how to deal with this..."

"Boomer, I'm so sorry," Squirrel was in shock. God, he wanted to say so 
much, to comfort his friend but he didn't know how...

"But you know what Adrian," Boomer's eyes were on the other man's. 
Peaceful eyes. "I think I'm happy..."

"Boomer, I... I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anything Adrian," Boomer squeezed the blond 
man's hand. "I really am all right..."

"Boomer..." Squirrel gazed into the dark man's eyes with immense 
compassion. "Who did you get the virus from? You just said that you 
found out you had it when the fleet arrived on Cadria and I know there 
was some guy on the Galactica..."

"It was commander Adama," Boomer replied softly. "He was the guy I 
slept with. The only lover I have ever had..."

* * *

"Frack," Edward Furlong cursed out loud, sitting on a tree trunk with 
his elbows taking support on his knees and his knuckles supporting his 
head. "Frackfrackfrackfrackfrack..."

Furlong let out a deep frustrated sigh.

Liars, all of them. Dishonest daggits! Edward Furlong would never let 
himself look at another guy with a lot of hair ever again. Or any guy 
for that matter. Not even the most horrible, bald one with acne, a beer 
belly the size of Mount Everest and a pair of woman's tits. Not ever 
again.

Furlong heard footsteps crunching in the snow and looked up.

"Luke?" Furlong's jaw dropped as he realized who the person was. "Luke 
Skywalker?!"

"Eddie," Luke halted, surprised indeed. Pleasantly surprised. "What are 
you doing in the forest. I thought..."

"Whatever you thought it was wrong," Furlong grinned. Suddenly he 
wasn't feeling in the least bit sad or betrayed. Only happy for having 
bumped into this man. "Oh Luke. I never seem to have any luck in love. 
First it was the horrible anorectic girlfriend whose appearance just 
drove me away from Earth and now I was so stupid to fall for a guy who 
turned out nothing like he had 
pretended to be..."

"I'm sorry," Luke said softly, eyeing Furlong. "But I'm sure the one 
for you is still out there somewhere and you'll be destined to find 
him..."

"Yeah me too," Furlong didn't give a frack about finding some bloke now 
that he realized that what he really wanted was standing right there in 
front of him.

Furlong wanted Luke.

Even without the hair.

"What are you doing in the forest Luke?" Furlong wondered. "I thought 
the Millennium Falcon would've been on it's way by now..."

"It is," Luke replied. "But our paths have parted. Han's and mine. I 
had to leave to... Oh, it's such a long and complicated thing to 
explain all over again and I'm hungry. A little cold even. I was 
thinking of camping here and making a little campfire where I can 
prepare myself breakfast but..." Luke paused to eye Furlong. "Why don't 
you join me now that you're here. I've 
always enjoyed your company."

"I'd more than love to," Furlong smirked. "In fact, I was just about to 
suggest that you'd let me stay with you and follow you wherever you're 
going..."

"But..." Luke furrowed his eyebrows.

"I know that you don't have a hell of a lot of hair and you're not that 
kind of sex god that Eunice was but..."

"Eunice?"

"The guy who betrayed me."

"Oh."

"... But... oh frack it. I might as well reveal all of it." Furlong 
grinned. "I've had a huge crush on you ever since we left Earth. I've 
just always been kinda afraid to let it show since you're a Jedi knight 
and all but..." Furlong paused to kneel down in the snow in front of 
Luke Skywalker. "Will you marry me?!"

"No!" Luke stared at Edward Furlong appalled. "What's the matter with 
you?!"

"Please let me stay with you anyway," Furlong created that puppy dog 
look on his face he knew always worked and grasped Luke by the ankles 
and pleaded. "Please. I want to learn the ways of the force..."

"Do you really," Luke raised one eyebrow indeed suspiciously.

"Yes!" Furlong lied.

"Hmmmm..." Luke rubbed his chin, eyeing the lad. A glimmering 
silhouette appeared beside Luke. The ugliest thing Furlong had ever 
seen.

* * *

"Too impatient this young boy is," the silhouette of Yoda disapproved. 
"Trust him I do not..."

"That's what you said about me when we started," Luke turned to give 
the ugly thing a warm, amused smile. "And look how that all turned 
out..."

"Your choice this is to make," the ugly thing preached. To Furlong it 
seemed the little guy was having a god complex or something. "But 
carefully choose you must..."

Luke turned his eyes to Furlong to study him and so did the ugly little 
devil. Both men were rubbing their chins. Furlong was starting to feel 
uncomfortable.

"You are certain that you will be willing to accept the training I 
choose best for you," Luke asked Furlong, still a little suspicious. "

"Yes," Furlong lied with shining eyes. He knew he'd get Luke into bed 
sooner or later. A couple of yoga practices every now and then in the 
meanwhile couldn't hurt that much could they.

"Lying, the little lad, he is," Yoda grunted. "But your choice to make 
it is. My breakfast getting cold it is..."

The vision of Yoda vanished and Edward Furlong sighed with relief. He'd 
definitely have to come up with a plan to get rid of that little 
annoying bugger. His influence on Luke would depend on that...

"The first thing you will have to do is stop drinking," Luke continued, 
still trying to make up his mind. Something was telling him that this 
Furlong lad wasn't quite Jedi material. "Booze is bad for the force."

"I promise," Furlong smirked. An occasional sip or two behind a spruce 
tree wouldn't be that easily noticed. Not even by a Jedi. "So, what do 
you say Lukie? partners in force?"

A moment's pondering silence, then:

"Edward," Luke smiled, knowing that Yoda would felgercarb in his tiny 
pants. "Train you I will. Now let's get the tent up..."

* * *

Starbuck could hardly believe his own eyes when he saw the highway. 
Damn, maybe there really was some truth to that force felgercarb. 
Starbuck would have to drop in the library some time to find out 
more...

Starbuck saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle and he just 
couldn't believe his luck.

Hastily he ran onto the middle of the highway and started waving his 
arms like a drowning man.

* * *

"Pull over! Pull over!!" Carter grabbed the taxi driver by the arm as 
he saw the crazy guy in the middle of the road. "STOP!!"

"No! Don't stop!" Tony's head dived from the back seat. "Don't you see 
that that guy might be some trick of the government..."

"What do you want me to do then?" the taxi driver growled. "Drive over 
him?!"

"No, just go around him or something..."

"No you idiots! STOP goddamn it!" Carter screamed. "I know that man!! 
It's Walter Wil... It's... It's that sexy guy from the disco..."

"Oh you mean that guy who's been running naked in the woods all night," 
Tony frowned. "Are we never going to get rid of him..."

"No, that was Maya," Carter snorted. "This is the real guy! Pull 
over!!!!"

The taxi skidded towards Starbuck and came to a halt approximately ten 
centimetrons away from his toes. White-faced, Starbuck stared at the 
car who had almost killed him.

"Quick! Get in the car! Carter jumped out and started ushering Starbuck 
towards the taxi. "Hurry!!"

"What??" Starbuck stared at the frantic man. Had he seen that guy 
somewhere before.

"Get in the car damn it! The government is after us!..."

How much weirder could this possibly get any more. Starbuck shook his 
head with disbelieve and let the frantic guy push him onto the front 
seat, he himself climbing in right after him.

"Okay, step on it," Carter ordered the man driving the taxi.

The car took off like a bullet.

Big T was starting to feel sick.

* * *

"Uh... Would someone mind telling me what's going on," Starbuck's eyes 
lingered from one person in the car to another.

"We'll tell you everything once we get back to Alpha," Carter replied 
in a hurry, constantly turning to take a glance behind to see if they 
were being followed.

"Alpha?" Starbuck furrowed his eyebrows.

"Our space station on the moon. We got blown off from Earth's orbit by 
a powerful nuclear explosion and now, after we figured out a way to 
direct the moon's course, we're traveling around in space trying to 
find our way back..."

"Hmm, why does that sound familiar..."

"It does???" Carter raised one eyebrow.

"What are you doing on this planet then?" Starbuck eyed these people. 
Funny clothes. Rather good-looking woman. "Why aren't you going 
straight back to Earth?"

"We don't know where it is," Carter grinned, a little embarrassed. "But 
I'll tell you everything when we get to Alpha..."

"Hey hey hey hey, Hold on a centon right there!" Starbuck felt alarmed. 
"What do you mean 'we' get to Alpha. I'm not going anywhere with you 
guys. I have my own life right here, even though it just started..."

"I was afraid you'd make me do this," Carter sighed.

"Do what?" Starbuck's eyes were two round planets.

"Beg. You see... from the first moment I laid eyes on you in the disco, 
I knew that I had never seen an individual so perfect before. I just 
completely fell head over heels with you... You simply must be the most 
beautiful man on this planet... or in the whole wide universe..."

"Really?" Starbuck stared at this guy mouth wide open. He felt at the 
same time embarrassed, intimidated and flattered.

Tony and Maya were both frowning in the back seat, embarrassed as hell 
for Alan making a complete fool of himself. Maya was jealous as hell.

Big T wasn't listening. He had realized he had a crush on the taxi 
driver.

"...So I'm begging you that you'll at least consider leaving this 
planet behind and join us in our search for Earth. I can promise you 
that I won't expect anything of you, just the pleasure of your 
company..."

Starbuck couldn't believe his ears.

For a long time he continued to study the face of this mad guy who was 
asking him to come along to the unknown, his mind overloaded with the 
what had happened in these last couple of centars, thinking about 
whatever there might be lying ahead...

Starbuck's eyes lingered to the wintry landscape shooting past the car 
windows. What would he really leave behind on this planet. He was a 
completely new person, he didn't really know where to aim for. Apollo 
and Boomer both had their new circles of friends and Apollo had even 
locked him into a cage for Sagan's sake, the reason for which was still 
completely incomprehensible to Starbuck. What would he possibly have 
here that he couldn't have anywhere else?

"All right," Starbuck turned to smile at Carter. "I'm coming with you. 
But no promises of anything intimate, remember. My life will form to be 
my very own..."

"Absolutely, mate," Carter beamed. "You know, it just occurred to me 
that we haven't yet been officially introduced..."

Great, Maya frowned on the backseat. She started looking out of the 
window so she wouldn't have to watch Carter drooling over that new guy.

"My name's Alan. Alan Carter," Carter grinned, giving his hand for a 
handshake. "I'm one of the eagle captains on Alpha..."

"Nice to meet you Alan Carter," Starbuck shook the captain's hand. "And 
I'm..." a sudden pause.

"What is it?" Carter tried to read Starbuck's face.

"Nothing," Starbuck had suddenly realized that this indeed was a new 
beginning. He wasn't Starbuck. He had never been. He was his own 
person. A new individual. And just like that Jedi knight had said in 
the forest, he did have an identity.

"My name is John." Starbuck smiled. "John Star. Pleased the meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine John," Carter flirted. And then he was 
already flying towards the windshield as the taxi driver jammed on the 
breaks and the car skidded to a violent halt.

* * *

"Ouch," Carter rubbed his head, turning to give the driver a glare he 
would remember the rest of his miserable life.

"I'm sorry," the driver apologized. "But there was someone standing in 
the middle of the road. I swear..."

"Oh no. Not again," Tony frowned. "I'm beginning to wonder if we ever 
get back to Alpha..."

* * *

A back door of the car was snatched open and a pair of grinning eyes 
were staring straight into the paled faces of Tony Maya and Big T.

"Yo, what's up," Morrow smirked, eyeing inside the taxi. "You guys 
definitely took a long time to get here!"

"Paul!!" Carter was gasping for air on the front seat, staring at the 
mustached man like he was a ghost. "You're alive..."

"Yeah, well. Just barely," Morrow frowned. "I was damn lucky to get out 
of the hotel in time. You guys have probably heard it blew up..."

"Yes, we did," Carter panted. "How did you?... How?..."

"I just sort of happened to spot a couple of those army guys by 
accident and on it went from there..."

"God, what a lucky coincidence that you happened to be on this 
particular highway at this very moment,"  Carter exclaimed. "We were 
just on our way to the eagle because we really thought you had died in 
the explosion..."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Morrow smirked and lifted the weird 
apparatus he was holding. "All gratitude must go to this army tracking 
device which a kind fairy stole for me and..."

"Cut it out Paul!" Carter frowned. "How much have you been drinking?"

Starbuck didn't say anything. He remembered the damn fairy only too 
well.

"No, it really was a fairy," Morrow grinned. "And it gave me this thing 
which the army was planning on using to track you guys down and...well, 
here I 
am!"

"Get in the damn car then," Carter ushered. "Let's go..."

* * *

Morrow slipped into the taxi, slammed the door shut, and the car took 
off once again with an anarchistic skid. The driver kept his eyes 
strictly on the white road ahead. The sooner he'd 
get these lunatics where they were going and out of his cab the better. 
The driver didn't even want to know what was going on...

* * *

Twenty centons later they were standing on the same rye field they had 
started from, eyeing around the white landscape trying to spot the damn 
eagle.

They didn't. Either it was all snow-covered or stolen. And Tony was 
starting to feel enraged enough to kill anybody who might be passing 
by.

"Why for frack's sake do these things keep happening to us," he 
growled, clenching his teeth. "Why can't things go smoothly just for 
one for god's sake..."

"Guys! I found it," Maya yelled from about hundred metrons away, waving 
her hands. "It's here, and in once piece too. All we have to do now is 
to wipe the snow away and we'll be ready to leave."

"Thank god!" Tony puffed. "Let's get to work then..."

"O-hoy there!!" a voice coming from the farmhouse far away freaked them 
all out. Both Tony and Carter drew out their guns. "Leaving this planet 
already are you?!"

"Shit. It's the farmer," Maya exclaimed relieved. "Ignore him! Get back 
to work! Hurry!"

"Who made you the boss?" Tony snarled, glaring at the alien woman who 
had made him a complete fool by cheating on him amongst millions of 
other things.

"Me," Maya grunted. "Now get to work damn it. The farmer's walking this 
way."

* * *

"Howdy," Japher was grinning widely as he approached. He even took off 
his wool hat and saluted with it. "You folks leaving then?"

Yep," Tony snarled, all covered in powdery snow from having tried to 
wipe clean the eagle, not to mention angry as hell.

"Then I'm glad I caught you fellas before you the chance to go," Japher 
beamed, "because I really wanted to say that it was very interesting to 
meet you and I certainly hope that we'll run into each other again some 
day..."

"Yes, me too," Tony hissed. "Bye."

"...And in addition I kinda thought that I might ask you if you folks 
would like to have the rye I have stocked in the heated barn... You 
see... Me and my partners, well, we sorta had a deal that got all 
messed up so now I have no use for all that stuff since I'm quitting 
the business and moving into a hippy community to spread peace and 
love."

"Rye, you said?" Carter looked up suddenly interested.

"First class too," Japher beamed. "Really decent stuff. I could almost 
promise you that you wouldn't be able to find rye quite that good 
anywhere in this galaxy for the next hundred yahrens."

"How much would you want from the rye Japher?" Carter eyed the farmer. 
"We can't afford to give you too much..."

"Oh, you'll get it all for free," Japher grinned. "As I said, I have no 
use for it so what the heck. It's all about love anyway isn't it..."

"My... god..." Carter couldn't get a word out. "Thanks, mate!!..."

"Yeah," Japher smirked. "So, what do you say we get that vehicle of 
yours into flying condition and get the rye in nice and laden..."

"I don't know how to thank you enough," Carter was absolutely amazed by 
this. "Are you sure you don't want any cubits?"

"I'm sure," Japher smiled. "Because I love you man. Now let's get to 
work..."

* * *

"Shit," Ten centons later Japher was frantically running back from the 
house. Back towards the Alphans and Starbuck who were loading the boxes 
of rye into the trunks of the eagle. "I've got some pretty bad news! My 
buddy Pie-Face just told me that the DEA are on our way to this 
direction, aiming to search every farmhouse in the area. They are 
positive that you folks are 
hiding somewhere around here..."

"Oh frack," Carter cursed, trying to start loading the boxes more 
hastily. God he was already exhausted. "Hurry up guys!!"

"How many more?" Tony glanced at pile.

"Seventeen," Big T replied, standing aside and watching as the others 
were doing the hard work. "Don't worry guys. You'll make it..."

Tony gave Boney a murderous glare.

* * *

"Oh frack!!!" Carter shouted frantically, his eyes on the driveway of 
the farmhouse. "They're here damn it! The police are here!!"

"The DEA actually," Japher coughed.

"Whatever," Carter didn't have time for nit-picking. "How many boxes 
left??"

"Three," Big T counted, smoking a cigarette.

"Well, that's not bad then," Carter was relieved as hell. "Throw them 
in and let's get going."

"Ummm... there's a little problem," Tony informed. "One of the boxes is 
frozen onto the ground. I can't get the damn thing up."

"Idiot," Carter rolled his eyes. "Leave it there then and toss me the 
two others."

"Aye aye captain..."

"And cut the felgercarb will you..."

The seven representatives of the DEA who all looked more or less like 
Fox Mulder or James Bond had gotten out of the cars and were already 
running towards the eagle, drawing out their weapons and shouting 
instructions to each other. A couple of shots had already been fired.

"Hurry!" Carter screamed from the bottom of his lungs, pushing the last 
one of the boxes into the full-as-frack eagle trunk and then starting 
to slam the hatches closed. "Get inside the ship. We're leaving..."

Pushing and shoving each other like school-children, Maya, Carter, 
Morrow and Starbuck dashed towards the passenger area door, managing to 
get inside just before a cluster of bullets grazed by, only a 
millimetron or two from where their heads would've been.

Carter kept frantically slamming the rest of the hatches shut and then 
dived towards the cockpit door, taking cover from the bullets using the 
various overhangs that the eagle had.

"Coming?" he turned to yell at Big T who was still standing there in 
all tranquillity, leaning on the deteriorating wooden fence smoking a 
cigarette.

"Naaah," Big T replied, blowing out smoke. "Your life is definitely too 
fast and hazardous for my taste. I kinda like the peace and quiet of 
this sleepy little Saskachoona community..."

A bullet grazed over Boney's head.

"But it's been an adventure meeting you guys anyway," Big T grinned. 
"Take care and don't get yourselves killed or I'll come looking for you 
and kick you arses!"

"You take care of yourself too Bone," Carter smiled. "You ain't that 
bad for a taxi driver from New Bork after all..."

Carter's eyes turned to Japher, who was standing there in the doorway 
with him, sheltered from the bullets.

"Come with us. Please."

"Are you crazy!!" Japher eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he 
rolled them so wildly at this totally idiotic plea. "My life is here. I 
have a wife, a couple of cows, two children on the way, and a hippy 
community being planned... I could never ask to be happier than I am 
now. I love my life..."

"Well, take care of yourself then loverboy," Carter smiled, eyeing this 
courageous farmer for a centon. "And your wife and kids too."

"You can count on that mister," Japher saluted. "But off you go now 
before those DEA daggits get here."

"Bye Japher," Carter smiled.

He watched as the farmer jumped off the little platform of the doorway. 
Five bullets penetrated Japher's chest as he jumped, then two more hit 
him in the thigh. Japher yelled out from pain and collapsed to the 
ground.

Carter screamed in shock and was just about to jump off the platform to 
pull Japher into safety when Maya grabbed a hold of is shirt collar and 
yanked him inside the vehicle almost choking him. Maya slammed her hand 
on one of the red buttons and the door slid shut. Bullets were bouncing 
off the eagle's surface.

"Quick, get into the cockpit," Maya ordered. "Tony's already in there, 
ready to act as your co-pilot."

"Thanks Maya," Carter was already on his way. But his legs were 
trembling...

"Asshole," Maya murmured, still affronted about the Walter Willowfield 
incident. She turned and returned to the passenger area, choosing a 
seat as far away from John Star as possible.

* * *

Japher was only half conscious now as he was lying in the snow, 
bleeding and watching how the strange vehicle was rising into the air.

He had to narrow his eyes for all he could see now was a blur. A 
glimmering blue blur that was becoming smaller and smaller, 
disappearing into the skies.

Vaguely Japher realized there were people standing around him, voices 
everywhere but the blur of the shimmering vehicle was too beautiful to 
look away from to see what all this other hassle around him was.

Besides, the hassle was fading away anyway. Japher knew that soon there 
wouldn't be anything left to disturb the beauty of sheer quietude. And 
the quietude was what Japher wanted. He was so tired.

The shimmer was more like a star now. Slowly it disappeared from view 
as Japher closed his eyes to drift away into the quietude he so 
yearned.

"I love you Sheba," Japher smiled the moment before he followed the 
shiny blur into the morning sky and became one of the trillions and 
trillions of faintly glimmering stars...

* * *

Epilogue

Moonbase Alpha status report.
3 days after returning to base.
The newly appointed commander Maya reporting.
~ ~
The first two days after our return were difficult as Moonbase Alpha 
was under a continuous attack by the Cadrian government and its 
military vipers.

All that time however, Main mission personnel worked overtime to come 
to terms with the Cadrian government, and finally, yesterday evening, 
the emergency negotiations led to an agreement.

The Cadrian fighters were withdrawn and it was agreed on that we are to 
leave the planet's political sphere in the next seven hours. We have 
already proceeded.

We did suffer a few losses, but luckily they were all minor ones. All 
technical equipment on the base are still completely operational..
~ ~
Commander John Koenig has been declared deceased.

Although Controller Morrow still does claim that he did not see the 
commander returning to the hotel, and though this statement of his has 
caused some severe speculation amongst the Alphans, there is no 
evidence of the commander being alive so we cannot remain hopeful.

The official mourning period will last for the next four days and then 
there will be a symbolic memorial service held in G sector 5.
~ ~
Things are not much different here in the moonbase now, even though a 
few of our friends are gone. New people have been appointed to new 
positions, many of those people currently undergoing a quick training 
period.

Professor Victor Bergman has taken over the duties of doctor Helena 
Russell until we have another person trained enough to possess the 
demanding qualifications of a chief medical officer.

Other mentionable appointments are as follows:

Fargo Jackson for the position of David Kano as head of technical 
section. 
Henry Pittford for the position of Robert Matthias as assistant medical 
officer. 
Kristina Sui for the position of Sandra Benes as coordinator of data 
section.

I myself have been chosen to take over the commanding duties.

The emergency referendum that was held two days ago brought me 92 per 
cent of all Alphan votes, so the decision was clear and easy.
~ ~
There is a new addition to our Alphan community.

When captain Alan Carter, chief of security Tony Verdeschi, main 
mission controller Paul Morrow and myself returned from our mission 
from Planet Cadria, we brought along with us a human individual. A man 
called John Star.

I personally do not wish to comment on the matter.
~ ~
Our other mystery guest has continued his silence. Professor Bergman 
and I, amongst some other scientists, have discussed the use of truth 
serum GAY-225.

I do not yet know where my position stands...

* * *

Moonbase Alpha.

It wasn't anything what Starbuck had imagined it to be.

No roughness of a battlestar, no graceness and promises of pleasures 
and riches like the Rising Star always gave. Would this start feeling 
like a home?

Starbuck was very aware that these memories of the ships of the fleet 
and his life on them were merely data that had been inserted into his 
head. They didn't belong to John.

But still those memories were so real that the clone of Starbuck knew 
he would need time to adjust to this new culture. To John Star's 
culture.

Starbuck's sleepy eyes lingered to Alan Carter who was lying there 
beside him, staring at the ceiling and humming a haunting melody 
Starbuck had never heard before.

Carter noticed that the other man was watching him and turned his head 
to meet his gaze.

"What are you thinking about Alan?" Starbuck smiled nervously, still 
feeling a bit shy in the company of his new lover. But warily, wanting 
to touch him anyway, he reached out to caress the 
Australian's naked, hairy chest. How strange it felt. How strange this 
all was, but how intriguing too. Alan Carter was the first man Starbuck 
had ever slept with.

Starbuck did his best not to admit to himself how much he would've have 
wanted was this man to be Apollo...

"You having second thoughts about bringing me here?"

"Of course not," Alan Carter gave Starbuck a very, very vague smile and 
lightly brushed the man's cheek. Then looked away, indifferently.

"What is it?" Starbuck felt a sudden ugly little knot in his stomach. 
"Did I do something to disappoint you Alan. If I did I'm sorry..."

"You've done nothing wrong John," Alan Carter said softly, but from a 
million miles away. His thoughtful eyes were on the ceiling, on the 
faint stripes of light cast by faraway stars.

"It's... me..."

A pause.

Starbuck waited, being so afraid that the man would actually continue.

Centons, an eternity passed. And the ugly little knot was still there.

"John," Carter took a deep breath and sat up a little, taking support 
on his elbows. He turned to meet Starbuck's eyes. "John. There is no 
easy was to say what I want to say so I'm just going to say it. Okay?"

"Okay," Starbuck swallowed, already realizing that he was being dumped.

"This is really weird," Alan studied Starbuck's face. How handsome it 
was. And how totally boring. "I honestly thought it was you I was this 
enticed with... But..."

Starbuck waited. He felt like an idiot for having gone to bed with 
Carter and the ugly knot was forming into an unpleasant feeling of 
bitter disillusionment and disappointment.

"But what?"

"But... Well...," Damn it was hard to explain something this weird but 
Carter wanted to say it anyway. He wanted to be honest. "...In between 
seeing you in the disco and meeting you again on the highway I had an 
affair with a person I thought was you..."

"Oh?" Starbuck stared at this Australian.

"And of course, as we all know, it turned out that he wasn't you. He 
was Maya all along, but impersonating a sub-form of you called Walter 
Willowfield..."

Don't ask.

"...And now that we had this... moment... together," Carter coughed. 
"...I've realized it's not you at all that I have a crush on. It's a 
Walter..."

Silence. Stunned silence.

Carter's eyes were studying Starbuck, trying to read him.

"Are you hurt?" the Australian asked warily, wanting to touch 
Starbuck's arm but somehow it didn't seem appropriate.

"No," Starbuck's eyes lingered away, to the stars behind the window.

"I know I must sound like a heartless, selfish asshole," the Australian 
continued, a little ashamed perhaps, but he didn't turn his away from 
Starbuck. "But... how could I possibly not love Walter Willowfield now 
that I've realized that he is actually my wildest dream come true. He 
has the ability to surprise me every time I see him. It's... It's like 
monogamously going to bed with the same person you really adore but who 
at the same time is continuously something totally new and refreshing. 
Oh John, how could I possibly explain it to you..."

"You don't have to," Starbuck turned back to take a look at this man, 
this sudden stranger beside him. "It doesn't really matter."

"But I am sorry," Carter felt the urge to touch Starbuck's cheek again. 
"I hope you know that I really am..."

"Please just go," Starbuck wanted to be alone.

"I honestly didn't mean things to turn out this way" Carter finally 
found the courage to take Starbuck's hand. Starbuck pulled it away.

"I'm sure you didn't," Starbuck replied with a fake, indifferent smile, 
and then he realized that he really wasn't hurt. He wasn't feeling 
anything. "Please just go..."

Starbuck didn't even look at Carter as the man got out of the bed, got 
dressed and walked to the door where he seemed to remain for ages, 
trying to come up with something to say.

"Leave me," Starbuck whispered.

Carter did.

As the door slid shut, blocking all the light from the corridor 
outside, John Star climbed off the bed and walked to the window. He 
gazed at the blue planet below, thinking about his life there. Thinking 
about all the people he used to know.

He and Starbuck.

And in silence, he said goodbye to them all...

* * *

In Dashington, a group of approximately twenty men and women were 
gathered in a deteriorating, cheap, and deserted suburban apartment in 
a gray, uninteresting building. The kind that always goes unnoticed 
until a murder or some other violent incident has taken place there and 
hit the headlines of local newspapers.

Then, after that incident, the building and the apartment suddenly 
become some sort of a famous local landmarks. Places to tell horror 
stories of at scout camps or pajama parties, scare your mates when 
you're walking home from somewhere late at night. Places to be avoided 
when alone.

Places where you can summon together in complete secrecy.

This apartment was exactly that kind of a place where tonight's meeting 
for Tigh and his new group of underground anarchists was being held.

* * *

Paint was peeling off the walls, the carpet torn and dirty. A couple of 
cockroaches were lazily moving across the living room otherwise 
furniture-less except for those couple of dozen wooden chairs that had 
been brought and clustered there for this occasion only.

Tigh himself was dressed in a black suit and leaning against a 
deteriorating fireplace, watching in silence as the people in the room 
where taking their seats.

Rigel was dead, and Tigh knew he would now have to move on.

He also knew the exact way to do it.

* * *

Tigh glanced at the timepiece, then cleared his throat and clapped his 
hands together. It was time to begin. Gradually, the hubbub in the room 
died.

A forlorn-looking woman in a bright orange wig was sitting in a corner, 
her eyes glued on Tigh, her gaze constantly following him around, 
especially now as the man was taking his position in the front of the 
room.

For a passing moment their eyes met, Tigh's and Athena's, and Tigh gave 
the girl a quick, reassuring smile. Then the lights dimmed. The room 
silenced completely.

Tigh switched on an overhead projector and an image of the Brown House 
was reflected on the wall. A photograph.

"Friends... Cadrians... countrymen..." Tigh tried to be cheeky and 
quoted Shakespeare, studying the individual faces of the people in the 
audience in the faint glow of the OHP. "I thank you for coming here 
tonight. As we all know, we have a lot of work ahead of us if we want 
to gain our goal..."

Knowing nods, agreeing mumbles.

"...And I know all of you are more than willing to work with me on this 
new project. You wouldn't be here otherwise..."

Chuckles. Tigh knew he had managed to say something funny and charming 
and his grin widened.
Then he lifted his hand to silence everyone down. He had a point to 
make.

"As most of you already know," Tigh continued. "I have a long, rather 
respectable, although secret history of having tried to change our 
beloved community into the direction that we all would want it to be. A 
community of equality..."

Nods, knowing expressions. Athena kept her blank stare on Tigh. She was 
thinking about Cassiopeia.

"...And as you all know, I always had, and still have, clear views on 
how to achieve those honorable goals of mine..."

Oh, yes they did. And that was exactly the reason why they had now 
gathered here to support Tigh with this new endeavor of his. To run for 
president of the United States of Armourica.

"I truly believe," Tigh took a couple of steps closer to the audience 
to form a bond like a good speaker should, "...that with weapons, the 
world can be changed for the better. I feel no shame in having tried to 
carry out what I honestly have thought as being for the benefit for the 
Cadrian community..."

Approving mumbles. The picture reflected onto the wall by the OHP was 
switched into another one. A photograph of one the finest LKH-446/8 
tankers on Cadria.

Hands clapping.

"...And as you all know," Tigh smiled, letting his gaze linger from one 
person to another. "One of those deeds did indeed prove rather 
successful for us in the end, bringing us 700 000 cubits..."

Cheers, lots of cheers and more handclapping. Tigh grinned, then raised 
his hands again to plead for silence.

"Yes, 700 000 cubits to continue our effort to better the world," Tigh 
beamed. "But there was something I realized when I was scanning through 
those immensely illegal, absolutely fascinating black market weapons 
catalogues I had been able to get my hands on. I realized that those 
guns, tankers and stuff were bloody expensive because they were 
illegal. With 700 000 I might be able to buy a few, yes, and probably 
be able to blow up the brown house and destroy a couple of poorer and 
less developed countries, but why for frack's sake would I want to do 
that when I could use the 700 000 cubits for a bloody good campaign to 
run for president, get elected and make all those weapons legal again 
so I could get them all for free, and then use them to bring out my 
point!!!"

Lots of cheers, people standing up and stamping their feet on the 
floor. 

Tigh was smirking like David Duchovny.

Athena was smiling only vaguely.

The pregnant woman who was sitting next to her took her hand and 
squeezed it in a comforting manner. Sheba would always be there for her 
friend from now on.

"All right people," A stubby man with a Tigh badge on his shirt collar 
stood up and raised his hands. "We all know what a wonderful candidate 
our man is, so let's give it to him one more time and then let's get to 
work shall we. We have a presidential campaign to plan..."

* * *

In Warm Place, the night was only beginning.

Boomer was sitting alone at the table while the others had gone 
dancing. He had chosen to, wanting to spend a couple of centons just by 
himself. Thinking about his life, his future.
Thinking about the fact that he was in fact happy.

The terrace of the Cardinal was once again packed, full of hip people 
and good atmosphere. Boomer was damn glad he was back where he 
belonged. Amongst all these party-goers and surfers and beachers. 
People like him. Fashionable people who didn't want to let their lives 
slide through their fingers without grasping the best of it first.

Boomer took a sip of his 'Electric orange' and let his gaze linger to 
Jolly, Mike, Mitchi and the others dancing inside, the images of their 
figures entwining with the lights, everything distorted by the 
decorated glass.

Life was good.

Boomer was smiling but he didn't know it.

His eyes lingered to the night-time sky to admire the stars.

The moon, the strange other one, was fading. Boomer had a feeling it 
was slowly distancing itself from planet Cadria.

Why had it ever come here? Boomer didn't know. Not that he really cared 
anyway.

Just like he didn't really care how much longer he would go on living. 
It didn't matter because he was happy now...

"Are you all right?" Jolly had appeared next to Boomer, put his hand on 
the darker man's shoulder and eyeing him, a little concerned. "If 
you're thinking about Apollo...

"I'm fine Jol," Boomer replied distantly, still, smiling, still keeping 
his eyes on that moon, thinking that it looked beautiful.

"Coming then?" Jolly asked. "The party's really getting hot in there. 
The others are waiting for you..."

Slowly Boomer turned his gaze away from the vaguely glowing sky to meet 
Jolly's.

As their eyes met, Boomer placed his own hand on top of Jolly's.

"Sure... " Boomer replied with warmth.

With one gulp, he knocked back the rest of his Electric Orange, then 
pushed his chair back and got up. Boomer was ready to join his best 
friends on the dancefloor...

* * *

In Saskachoona, it was already close to midnight. The temperature had 
dropped ten centigrade below zero and the snow on the deserted narrow 
road in front of Apollo's apartment building was glistening white and 
silverish.

Apollo turned his gaze away from the window, back to the receiver set.

The ending credits of another episode of Dynasty III had started 
rolling over prince Michael of Moldavia's petrified face.

Another fun-filled episode where Blake Carrington had so bloody 
unexpectedly survived his own suicide attempt and was now planning to 
make a movie with the Charlie's Angels to show the world what a virile 
man he still was.

Krystle Carrington had come to a decision to divorce Blake and marry 
the butler, who had in fact turned out to be one of the mighty morphin' 
power rangers.

Alexis Colby, who was planning on having a transsexual operation, had 
started a new business breeding rabbits and was in the middle of 
writing a book about how boring sex could be at its worst.

Steven Carrington had married Bon Jovi and had three test-tube babies. 
Jeff and Fallon Colby were having a sadomasochistic menage-a-trois with 
the new gardener who had been hired to replace the dead gardener, and 
Adam Carrington, who desperately wanted to cut everyone else except 
himself out of Blake's will, had secretly videotaped those three guys 
whipping each 
other and sticking tooth picks into each others' ears and was now 
threatening to show the tape to Blake who was in fact secretly in love 
with the new gardener.

Dex Dexter had just found out that his dick had been enlarged by his 
mother when he had been two and a half sectars old and was now 
enragedly searching for an answer why, and the alien Sammy Jo was 
kidnapped by other aliens.

Amanda had just revealed to her hubby prince Michael of Moldavia that 
she could never have children. The face of the petrified Michael. The 
future of the monarchy was in danger.

End credits.

Apollo arose from the chair and walked over to switch the receiver off.

There he stood in the darkness and silence of his off-campus apartment 
for a moment, his hand still on the on/off button of the receiver set. 
The two moons were casting a pale glimmer through the window in which 
the bleak room bathed. Apollo couldn't help thinking that the other 
moon was fading. Just like everything meaningful and beautiful in his 
life had faded along 
the death of Jean Michel.

Still not putting on the lights, Apollo walked to the window and gazed 
at that obviously distancing moon. Whatever had brought it here was now 
leading it away.

For a moment Apollo had a terrible, unexplainable feeling that along 
that pretty, but fading glimmer in the sky, he was actually losing 
something precious. Something, that could've been beautiful.

But it was just a feeling. It too would fade.

In time...

Apollo didn't react when the communicator started ringing. Again. Just 
like it had just ten centons ago. And the ten centons before that. 
Echoing in the room so endlessly and so damn demandingly.

Apollo knew it was Cecil calling. It was always Cecil.

For five centons Apollo listened to that monotonous noise in the dark. 
And when it finally ended, he got up, walked to the outlet and pulled 
the plug of the com-unit off the wall...

* * *

A few blocks away from Apollo's apartment, on the premises of the 
Darwood University campus, a young college freshman was glued to his 
computer.

He was chatting in 'the Cave'. And he had just ran into 'Distance'.

Nathan found himself grinning as he typed.

"...I'm sure you can," Nathan teased. "but not so convinced that you'll 
get a chance to prove it..."

"But my dear Rock 'n' Roll Rebel," Distance was amused by the corny 
name the of the other party. "How can you possibly underestimate my 
power of seduction. I know that I've already put a spell on you. You 
couldn't possibly resist me if I appeared behind your door..."

"You keep on dreaming pal," Nathan smirked. "I have standards you 
know... Big, huge standards! You couldn't possibly stand a chance."

"Well, why don't we find out," Distance typed. "Give me twenty centons 
to get there. I'll knock three times..."

"Great, pal," Nathan laughed. "In twenty centons you're gonna find out 
where I live, huh? Quite a stunt you're gonna pull there dear since I 
ain't giving you any clue..."

"I don't need any clues from you honey," Distance's black, arial 
letters were forming one by one onto Nathan's computer screen. "I 
already know where you are. I know e x a c t l y where you are."

Frack! What was this stupid felgercarb. Nathan didn't find this funny 
in the least.

"You've been watching too much 'Scream', buddy," Nathan yawned. "That 
stuff not spooky any more. Been there, done that. Seen that a trillion 
times..."

"I'm sure you have Nathan," Distance typed. "But this isn't Scream."

Nathan!!?!

"How in the hell do you know my name?!!" Nathan swallowed, staring at 
the screen. Who the hell was this person.

"You're reacting in just the way Drew Barrymore would," Distance 
smirked. "it pleases me..." 

A pause.

"But this, however, isn't any movie dear. I really do know where you 
are. And I'll be knocking on your door in exactly twenty centons..."

"Fuck off you sick bastard!" Nathan cursed out loud as he logged off 
from the Cave.

Damn fracker, he kept thinking as he got up and fetched a salami 
sandwich from the little fridge he had had installed in his room. It 
took a moment for Nathan to get the sick daggit out of his system.

For a micron Nathan considered perhaps joining some of his buddies in 
the downstairs social areas, then thought better of it. No, he'd have 
to finish the chapter about Dephtorology first, or mister Perieś would 
kick his arse on Monday.

With a resigned sigh, Nathan dug out the book and started reading...

* * *

Slowly, Satyr reached out for the power button of his computer and 
switched it off.

Immediately, both the screen of the computer, and the screen of 
tracking device used for keeping an eye on the student use of the 
meganet on the university premises, an apparatus that Satyr had stolen 
from the office of the university staff building a few sectars ago, 
went blank. Darkness fell into the room and everything became and 
fascinating. 

Satyr smiled.

In twenty centons he would have another victim in his hands.

Yet another means to take him closer to immortality.

Him and Cecil...

Reluctantly Satyr turned on the desktop lamp to kill the fascinating 
darkness and pushed back his chair to get up.

He would have to start getting ready...

* * *

Starbuck sighed and turned away from the window.

For a moment he felt immensely sad.

John Star closed his eyes and brought a picture of Apollo's face in 
front of him. The way that Starbuck had remembered him. Beautiful 
friend. Forever lost.

A faint noise from somewhere made Starbuck open his eyes again and they 
lingered in the room that was to be John Star's home from now on. 
Starbuck realized the noise had come from the room next to his.

Starbuck remembered Alan Carter having mentioned that there was another 
rescued individual staying there. A mysterious guest that had been 
almost dead when he had been brought aboard the moonbase, but 
recovered, yet al this time continued to remain in his own chosen 
solitude. Remaining an anonymity.

Starbuck's pondering gaze lingered to the wall that was parting him 
from this other lost soul and he thought that maybe he might find a 
friend. Maybe just another meaningless acquaintance. But whatever the 
result, it would be worth to give it a try all the same. Because right 
now, John Star didn't want to remain in this room that had become full 
of memories.

He'd return here later. Much later when the room would once again be 
empty and silent.

And safe.

* * *

Starbuck pulled on his trousers, buttoned up his shirt and put on his 
shoes. All without turning on the lights. Then he walked to the door, 
pressed the opening button and stepped into the bright corridor.

Room 17, right next to his. Starbuck walked to it and knocked. A vague 
voice of a man replied, giving a permission to enter.

Starbuck found the opening button and pressed it.

The door of room 17 slid open and revealed a room, faintly lit, not 
very much different from Starbuck's. A man in shadows, dressed in white 
Alphan guest clothes, was standing by the window, his back to the door.

"Come in," the man spoke to the stars. And then, he turned.

* * *

"Starbuck," Baltar's smile was more amused rather than surprised to see 
his old enemy suddenly here. "I should've known you'd never stop 
following me around!..."

"Baltar!" Starbuck puffed, staring at this ghost by the window. "But... 
You were dead! I was there myself... I mean, Starbuck was there himself 
when your ship got shot into stardust. I can't..."

Baltar smiled.

"Dear Starbuck. I was dead when these nice, hospitable people found me 
and brought me here. Dead in many ways. But I became alive again after 
a while. I realized that it wasn't time for me to go quite yet..."

"How the hell did you?..."

"Manage to survive that blow?" Baltar smirked. "Maybe I'm superhuman. 
Maybe the Sagan's are on my side you pathetic little daggit. Perhaps me 
being alive is somehow more meaningful in this unexplainable universe 
that any life of yours, you sad miserable twats..."

"When are you going to realize it's over Baltar," Starbuck eyed this 
smirking man, now realizing he felt more sorry for him than hatred. 
"Everything has changed. And to everyone but yourself, you are in fact 
dead. It's over."

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA," Baltar guffawed, bending forward and 
holding his stomach. "I see you're still the same hilarious son of a 
daggit that I've always found so damn amusing..."

Baltar paused to wipe tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. 
Then his gaze focused back on Starbuck.

"Aren't you ever going to learn my dear little boy," Baltar smirked, 
"that I am much too clever and canny for you to ever win..."

"We already have won Baltar," Starbuck replied. "It's over. Even the 
cylons think you are dead. You're alone now. Completely alone..."

"Oh, please don't make me laugh again Bucky boy," Baltar pretended to 
frown like a drama queen, doing a damn good job of it too. "I don't 
think my stomach could handle it. I'm not a young man any more you 
know..."

Starbuck didn't reply.

Baltar studied the young man's face for a while. Still smirking.

"...Because, you know what Bucky boy," Baltar continued, his roman 
emperor's grin from ear to ear. "You are so complete wrong. The cylons 
are very aware that I'm alive and well. And how happy they were indeed 
when they found out. I could swear Lucifer was shedding tears..."

"Cut the felgercarb Baltar," Starbuck turned to go. "I don't want to 
hear it."

"Oh, but I'm quite sure you do my dear," Baltar grinned. "Because when 
those machine friends of mine found out I was alive, they also found 
out where you and your precious colonies were now located..."

"What?" Starbuck turned horrified.

"You see, I told them," Baltar narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice 
to whisper like a conspirator, still playing the drama queen. "I told 
them when I contacted them. The very moment I found out myself. They 
are already on their way here...."

"Oh my god," Starbuck stared at Baltar, speechless. His heart skipped 
at least three beats. In his mind he saw it all over again, the 
horrible distruction of the twelve colonies...

"Yes, Starbuck," Baltar smiled like a satisfied cat. "Those colonies of 
yours will be once again destroyed. And this time, the destruction will 
finally be complete. This, my dear, will finally be the end..."

"You despicable fracker," Starbuck snarled. "There's no way in 
felgercarb that I'm gonna let you get away with this..."

Not wasting one more micron, Starbuck dived towards the door like a 
hurricane, slamming his hand on the opening button. He was too late. 
Something hit him from behind.

Baltar stood there watching as Starbuck fell to the floor, holding his 
head and trying to remain conscious.

"Did you really think I'd be stupid enough to let you out of here so 
you could go and contact those dimwit friends of yours to warn them," 
Baltar smirked, holding an iron candlestick in his hand.

Starbuck was moaning on the floor. Blood was dripping from his head. 
For a while Baltar watched him.

Then he raised that candlestick again and down it came, on Starbuck's 
head.

Once.

Twice.

Darkness.

* * *

"Fools," Baltar smiled, thinking about his old buddy Adama. "Did you 
really think you could get away with any of it..."

For a moment longer, Baltar remained standing there, eyeing the lump on 
the floor that was Starbuck. Then he walked to the beside table and 
gently put the blood-stained 
candlestick back onto it.

"Time for late dinner," Baltar smirked.

Turning off the bedside lamp, Baltar walked out of the dark room.

* * *

Fleeing from the whatever evil there is in the universe, the one and 
only Moonbase Alpha continues its lonely quest -  back for a shining 
planet, known as Earth...

* * *