THE SCHOOL OF FEAR

CHAPTER 6

Though the commanders of the three ships sent to look in on the Delphian Empire were equal in rank they differed in seniority, and thus it was Miriam who was in nominal charge of the expedition by virtue of having graduated ahead of Apollo in their class at the Command Academy. Temperamentally not inclined to grandstand like the long-lost Commander Cain or pull a cheap imitation of the late, generally unlamented Commander Kronus, before making decisions she habitually met with Starbuck and Apollo to talk things over. Apollo she trusted implicitly and Starbuck she had decided to give the benefit of the doubt until he proved otherwise. Thus, as the three warships cruised across a system from one portal to the one that would lead them to Gamoray, they gathered in her quarters aboard Victory to discuss how they should approach the planet.
“There’s no sign of Delphians here,” Starbuck reported, “and according to our records they had a major base on the outer moon of the fourth planet. Looks like it’s been abandoned for decades.”
“Any signs of damage?” Apollo asked.
“Someone bombed the pogees out of it. Cylons, I would imagine.” Triumph’s vipers had earlier reconnoitered the moon.
Apollo shifted his attention to Miriam. “Do you think we should send a ground team in to look?”
Considering that for a centon, she decided, “No. I don’t believe it’s necessary. Obviously it’s been destroyed; who did it isn’t that important unless we can’t find useful evidence on Gamoray itself. Gamoray is what concerns me. If the Delphians are still there, only more isolationist than ever because of the Cylons, they’re not going to be particularly thrilled if three capital ships pop into their system without warning. I don’t think they could do much damage to us, but I’d rather avoid any misunderstandings and potential conflict.”
I wish Serina was here, Apollo thought. Miriam’s natural caution would have done much to defuse her habitual mistrust of the military.
“Send a scout through first,” Starbuck suggested. “That’s not very threatening. and it’s fast enough to turn around and get out of the system if they try to attack it.”
“I was thinking of that.”
“It sounds like a good idea,” Apollo agreed.
“Then we’ll do it,” said Miriam.
“Which scout are you going to send?” Starbuck asked.
Miriam admitted, “I am strongly tempted to send Galactica’s. Which is why I’m going to send Columbia’s,” she told him. “We don’t need any rumors of favoritism floating around.”
“That, and we all know which crew is more competent,” Starbuck said complacently, studying his cigar.
“Says who?” retorted Apollo.
“Says everyone,” Miriam shot back. Starbuck smiled and nodded agreement.
“It’s a plot,” Apollo decided.

The two dim stars of the binary system glimmered outside the ports as Columbia Jr. moved away from the squadron and towards the warp portal that led to Gamoray and the home system of the Delphian Empire, a short jump of approximately four light yahrens. In fact, Gamoray’s sun was visible as a bright yellow star lying in the midst of a strangely-shaped constellation that reminded Rhiannon of nothing so much as an untidy scatter of jewels tossed onto black velvet.
As they slowed to make their final approach to the portal, Ares commented flatly, “I don’t like this.”
“It’s part of being in the military,” Rhiannon said, more philosophically than was her norm. “Everyone has to do the crappy jobs once in awhile.”
“Yeah, but why us? We’re not like those nitwits from the Galactica who get lost while they’re taking their fracking star photos.”
“Good lord, is that what they do?”
“You should see their camera system,” Ares confirmed.
“Well, I figure they picked us for one of two reasons. Either they think that that lot from the Galactica are a bunch of screaming incompetents, or my mother didn’t want it to look like she was playing favorites.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“We both have famous relatives,” Rhiannon explained. “We’re here; set up for the jump, Leah.”
“Working on it...any time you’re ready.”
“Ready?” she asked Ares.
“No.”
“Fine, here we go. Turn on the recorders and engage the stardrive.”
When the scout’s FTL drive disengaged, they found themselves just outside the orbit of the outermost planet of the Gamoray system and slightly below the system’s plane of the ecliptic. Sensors quickly painted the picture for them; at the system’s center a very ordinary yellow dwarf star, then, working outwards, a total of ten major planets, five of them gas giants. The fourth planet from the sun was Gamoray, a rocky, habitable world. All that information was expected, but the scanners produced other, more surprising data.
“We have a ship closing,” Ares said.
“Hell, there’s traffic all over the system,” Rhiannon said, staring at the readouts. “Put the warbook on the one coming at us.”
“Scanning....” Ares frowned at the results when they came up. “It looks like some kind of modification of a type 10 or 11 Cylon frigate, but the weapons and sensors are different and it’s a little larger. Scanners say the crew is humanoid.”
“The Delphians were humanoid, weren’t they?” Leah said.
“Pretty much...Ares, is that ship marked?”
“If it’s marked it’s on the shadow side and we can’t make it out. They’re still closing, range sixty microns. You want to raise the shields?”
“Not yet. Let’s try talking to them first.”
“Rhiannon, the sensors indicate their weapons are armed,” Ares emphasized.
“I said, let’s try talking to them,” Rhiannon replied sharply. “They’re way out of range. Put me on unicom.”
“Unicom activated.”
Rhiannon collected her thoughts, then she said, in Caprican Standard, which it was known the Delphians understood, it being nearly the basic language in areas of space where humans had penetrated, “This is Colonial Fleet warp scout COL-480, requesting permission to enter the Gamoray system. We are on a peaceful reconnaissance mission, over.”
There was no reply and the Cylonesque frigate continued to close, slowing as it did, finally hauling to a stop several thousand metrons away. Unlike equivalent Colonial ships the frigate had no docking bay and four shuttles, two large, two smaller, were attached to its outer hull well back from the nose. As they watched, one of the small shuttles dropped away from its mothership and, thruster firings glinting like sparks, turned towards them and approached.
“Shields up?” Ares suggested.
Rhiannon wanted to, but stood by her earlier decision. “No.”
The shuttle coasted in, dents and dings and sun-baked paint becoming increasingly evident. No markings were visible except for a numeral 4 painted on in faded red.
The so-far silent comm system came suddenly to life. “Prepare to be boarded. Offer no resistance,” a voice ordered.
“That’s not very hospitable,” Leah observed.
“Did that sound to you like a Scorpian accent?” Ares asked.
“Right now I have Scorpians on the brain, thanks to Apollo’s executive officer from hell...it did, but maybe that’s how the Delphians program their translators to speak Standard,” Rhiannon said.
“Mangle it, more like.”
“Sensors indicate three beings on that shuttle,” Leah said, adding, “I hope they’ve been thoroughly disinfected.”
The shuttle turned to present its side and a flexible, pleated tube extended from its airlock to cling over theirs.
“Shall we go greet them?” Rhiannon asked, hoping she didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.
“You first,” Ares said, waving Rhiannon ahead.
“Command privilege,” Leah agreed.
The first thing to greet them through the airlock was the muzzle of a laser pistol. That was far less shocking to them than the being holding the weapon; a human man, tall, blond and blue-eyed, very young, and wearing a beige and brown Colonial warrior’s uniform.
“Well,” he commented, looking the three of them over with hard eyes, gun centered on Rhiannon, “what do we have here. The glorious Colonies have finally arrived.”
Rhiannon had expected to be greeted, however cautiously, as an emissary, with diplomacy and tact, and not to have a gun pointed at her. She itched to go for her own, but knew she would never get to it before he shot her, and she somehow doubted his weapon was on a stun setting. “Who the hell might you be?” she asked.
“You, shut up,” the man ordered, stepping forward out of the airlock to make room for two more men, similarly dressed and armed. He waved them down the central corridor towards the common area. “Move it.”
“What is going on?” Ares whispered urgently to Rhiannon.
“You’ve got me.”
“Fasten it,” the man behind them ordered, reinforcing his command by prodding Rhiannon in the back with the muzzle of his gun.
In the common area they turned to face their captors again. The light was better there, and as the first man turned to address a comment to one of his companions, Rhiannon noticed the patch on the right sleeve of his flight jacket. Red background, gold winged sword....
Ares and Leah had noticed it too, and Ares whispered, “My God, the Pegasus.”
The man looked back to them. “Yeah, the Pegasus.” He stepped forward, grabbed Ares’ arm and looked at his own sleeve patch. “The Columbia,” he remarked, clearly not impressed. “Striker crew. You the commander of this ship?” he asked.
“No,” Ares said, indicating Rhiannon, “she is.”
“What kind of man are you, letting a female order you around?” one of the other intruders inquired sarcastically.
Rhiannon’s mind was working furiously. What in hades was going on? It looked as if the Pegasus had somehow survived Molecay, and come here instead of returning to the Colonies. Why? And why were these men acting as they were? Holding them at gunpoint, making comments that ill-suited a warrior...no, she realized, these men are not Colonial warriors. They’re too young to be original Pegasus crew. They’re something else, something new...something that does not belong in an honorable uniform, or an honorable service....
“Ulf,” the third man asked the first, “what you think we should do?”
“Take them back to the ship of course. In a few centons,” Ulf added. The other two smiled, and Rhiannon realized, gods, they’re going to rape us!
The same thought had occurred to Ares but before he could make the slightest move towards his laser pistol the man named Ulf reached out, yanked it out of his holster, and said, “Don’t even think about it.” He passed the weapon back to one of his comrades, then took Rhiannon’s sidearm. “Any preferences?” he asked the others.
One of the men, shorter than the others, possibly a few yahrens older but still at an age when the three Columbia warriors had been at the Academy, commented, eyes fixed on Leah, “I like blondes.”
That was too much for Rhiannon. “If you touch her I’ll tear you apart!” Ares grabbed her as she lunged forward.
“Good move,” Ulf complimented him. “I prefer them alive myself.”
So do I, Ares thought, mystified by their attitude. Alive and participating. What’s their problem?
The short man grabbed Leah, who seemed too terrified to resist, and pushed her into one of the cabins. Ulf told his remaining colleague, “This one is mouthy and obviously a pervert, but she’ll do. Me first.”
“Don’t damage her too much.”
“Deck or table?” Ulf considered, holstering his sidearm.
“Who cares, just get it over with.”
Rhiannon looked over at Ares, who was clearly watching for an opening he could exploit. His eyes lingered on a closed cabinet less than a metron away from him. Inside, Rhiannon knew, were three assault rifles, three loaded assault rifles, cocked and locked...and the rounds will go through three or four people and the pressure hull without even slowing down, she thought. Leah screamed and Rhiannon wished she could shut her mind off, but she couldn’t...she had to look for an opening too and there had to be one, there always was...good lord, she thought as Ulf fumbled ineptly at her uniform, I’m about to lose my technical virginity...never thought it would be quite like this, if ever, how awful! Frantically, she planned strategy. A knee first, that ought to hurt like hell, then I punch this bastard’s nose up into his brain and Ares can jump the other one, but fast, fast....
Suddenly there was a peculiar dull thump! and Ulf stiffened; his eyes rolled back and blood started running from his mouth and nose in a thick crimson stream down the front of his tunic. Rhiannon was so startled by that unexpected development that she didn’t even see Ares grab the man guarding him and break his neck in one brutally efficient motion. Ulf sagged forward onto her, then slumped nervelessly to the deck where he lay in a heap, so obviously dead that Rhiannon didn’t bother to check.
Leah was standing behind him, bayonet in hand. There was blood all over it, all over her hand, all over her torn uniform, turning the dark blue material black. She seemed inhumanly calm; that or shocked. She remarked conversationally, “Between terms at the Command Academy I went to the Ground Forces School on Scorpia. I don’t think he expected me to know how to use a knife.”
I wouldn’t have! Rhiannon thought. “The other one?”
“He’s dead,” Leah said matter-of-factly. Then she tossed the weapon away in revulsion, burst into hysterical tears and collapsed into Rhiannon’s arms.
Ares wrapped both of them in an embrace. “Nicely done, warrior,” he told Leah. “And I’m sorry I ever thought you were a nut.”
Drawing back reluctantly, Rhiannon said, “I am sorry to do this, friends, but we have to get the hades out of here.”
“Amen, sister,” Ares concurred.
As she refastened her uniform, she asked, “Do you think we can take that shuttle back with us?”
“I think so. It ought to fit inside our drive field.”
They quickly took their places in the cockpit. “Get a tractor on the shuttle. How far are we from the portal?”
“Five hundred metrons,” Ares replied.
Rhiannon studied the frigate hanging outside, apparently still unaware that anything was amiss aboard the scout. What I wouldn’t give to have a pair of torpedoes right now, Rhiannon thought. Its powerfully armed nose was not aimed directly at them, but the enhanced scanner picture showed several turret guns pointing their way. The scout’s shielding would be able to stand up to the less-powerful secondary armament for the few microns they would be in danger. “Stand by for full shields. Leah, get a course laid in and ready. I want to go through the portal the instant we hit it.”
“Difficult,” Leah murmured, working on the math.
“Can you do it?”
“Yes, I can do it.”
“How long will we be in their gunsights?” she asked Ares.
“About four microns. One to turn, three before we hit the gate.”
“Course laid in,” Leah said.
“All right. Shields up and execute!”

Aeneas felt incredibly old and weary. He had lost everything in the Cylon War; wife, children, even his home city on Sagitara, obliterated by a Cylon nuclear attack during the holocaust. He had hoped his warring days were over, and now a new and potentially lethal crisis had been thrust upon him, one that had the potential to create dissension and even civil war within the Colonies themselves.
Less than a secton after Galactica, Victory, and Triumph had left Columbia in orbit over Kobol, Galactica’s scout, Caprica, had come racing back into the system with news of what Columbia Jr. had encountered at Gamoray. Leaving the archaeologists temporarily stranded in their camps on the planet, Aeneas had immediately sent Caprica back to the Colonies with dispatches and had set Columbia to duplicate the smaller ship’s quick run between Kobol and the gateway system to Gamoray. Immediately upon her arrival in the system he had called the conference, and the other commanders reported aboard as soon as Columbia joined the other ships waiting around the portal that led in to the Gamoray system.
Aeneas looked up from his notes, some of the deeper lines in his face easing a little, and told Miriam, seated across from him in Columbia’s briefing room, “You did the right thing, not going back into the system.”
“I wanted to. I did consider sending a drone, to get more scans, but they’re probably ready to jump anything that comes through the gate and a drone would be completely defenseless.”
“We’re dealing with our own people,” said Starbuck. “The Pegasus survived Molecay.”
“And I for one would dearly love to know how that happened,” Miriam remarked.
“You and me both, cousin,” Aeneas agreed. They had both lost family at Molecay. “Do we have any idea what kind of force they have?”
Apollo said, “Scans from the scout show a lot of inter-system traffic, but there wasn’t time for close scans, so we can’t really tell whether it’s civilian or military.”
“Obviously we’re faced with at least one battlestar,” Commander Akamas said. “And modified Cylon ships like that frigate. Do you have any good information on that?”
“We do have excellent scans of the frigate,” said Miriam. “It’s a modification of a Cylon Type 11 frigate. But it’s clear it’s not a rebuilt or repaired Cylon ship; it’s new construction. The Delphians had a number of shipyards; evidently when the Cylons entered the system—I think the evidence is clear that the Cylons destroyed the Delphians some time before the Pegasus arrived—they must have captured at least one of the shipyards intact, converted it to producing their own designs, and the shipyard was then captured intact when the Pegasus arrived. Of course we don’t know if the Pegasus had to fight the Cylons for possession of the system.”
“How could they have?” Akamas said. “The Cylons must’ve had the equivalent of a basestar’s air wing on the ground, maybe more. That was standard procedure for them. And I don’t care what condition the Pegasus got away from Molecay in, attacking and taking out a Cylon ground base would be hard enough for a single battlestar with no damage or casualties.”
“True enough. The shuttle?” Aeneas asked.
“New construction, again adapted from a Cylon design,” said Apollo.
“The crew?”
“My chief life officer performed full autopsies on all of them,” Apollo reported. “They were human, Scorpian descent. Unusually young; he estimated their ages as ranging from sixteen to nineteen standard yahrens.”
�Cause of death?� Starbuck asked curiously.
�Two knifed; one cut throat, one stabbed in the back. One broken neck. The first two the navigator,� Apollo said with a shrug.
�That seems out of character,� Starbuck said.
�Yep. The third one your son took out.�
�Good. Sixteen to nineteen?�
“Children,” muttered Akamas
“Born after the Pegasus got here, then,” Aeneas said. “Any population estimates for the planet?”
“No,” said Starbuck. “They weren’t close enough for scans and didn’t have time. It would depend on a lot of factors, of course...how many crew on the Pegasus survived, how many survivors they might have picked up from the other ships in the Fifth Fleet...humans can multiply terrifyingly quickly in the right conditions.”
“As they found out on Kobol,” Adama spoke up for the first time.
Aeneas tapped his fingers on the table for a centon, then said, “All right. What next? Any suggestions?”
“Go in in force and invite them to make the first move,” Miriam said promptly. Starbuck and Apollo nodded, as if on cue. It was clear to Aeneas that they had discussed this before his arrival.
Turning to Adama, Aeneas asked, “Sir? Your opinion?”
“I agree with them. It seems the only course.”
“Fine,” Aeneas said, rising. “Let’s get to it, then.”
Outside, as the other officers dispersed, Miriam drew Aeneas aside. “Are you all right?”
For an instant she thought Aeneas was going to claim that he was, then he shook his head. “This situation is potentially very dangerous. Just before the holocaust there very nearly was inter-Colony war, you remember that. Some historians claim that the Cylon War itself was started to head off an inter-Colony war. Now, this. What are Sagitarans and Capricans going to say when they see three Scorpians trying to rape our scout crew?”
“It’s always hovering under the surface, all these nasty intolerances we like to claim we don’t have. The hell of it is, they must have had some survival value once...if only they’d go away now.”
“Frankly, Miriam, I have had enough blood and death to last me a lifetime.”
Miriam studied him, beginning to wonder if he was about to break down. It seemed out of character, but everyone had limits. “We all have. However, that is what we have chosen to do for a living, so the people at home don’t have to.”
“To fight other humans....”
“I forget, you were never on Borallus. It’s all the same, Aeneas, no matter who you fight. No one wants to see it come to that. It could tear the Colonies apart. The important thing is, can you handle it?”
Aeneas drew himself up a little. “Of course I can handle it.”
Then act like it, Miriam thought unkindly. But she nodded and said, “Good.” Patting him on the shoulder, she turned and left to go to her shuttle.
Aeneas remained by the briefing room door for a centon, collecting his thoughts, then he noticed Adama standing behind him in the doorway.
Adama said, “It’s true, you know. The Cylon War was started ostensibly as an attempt to save the Hasaris, but it was really an effort to avert a war between Scorpia and Aeries. A thousand yahrens of distraction...like Miriam said, you’d think after this time we’d have learned to live with one another’s differences, but we never seem to. Conflict is part of our nature, something that can’t be cured, only channeled.”
“If Cain is still alive, he has Molecay to answer for,” Aeneas said, for the first time showing some animation. “That attempted rape was nothing compared to that. A Sagitaran and a Caprican battlestar were lost at Molecay, while Cain and his ship survived. No matter how innocently that happened, it’s going to look very bad.”
“I’m afraid so,” Adama concurred
Aeneas said formally, “Sir...my lord, if you want to assume command....”
“Is this an invitation or a request?”
“An...invitation, I suppose. A formality, perhaps.”
Adama shook his head. “It’s your command, Aeneas. If I didn’t trust you I’d put the uniform back on right now, but I do. You’ll do what you have to and you’ll do it right. You and the others.”

Apollo was not particularly surprised to find Serina waiting in the hangar when his shuttle returned to the Galactica. She came forward out of the shadows and, as he made for the lifts, asked, “Do you have a centon?”
“A very brief one. I wish I had more,” he said honestly.
“Can you tell me what happened at the briefing?”
“This is for public consumption, I take it?” he asked, stopping by the lift and pressing the call button.
“Eventually.”
“All I can say is that we’ve decided to enter the Gamoray system and hope that what happened earlier was just three young idiots overreacting. Their three young idiots,” he added.
“Has the military found its war?”
“I hope not. You’re about to see the military try to prevent one.”
“The Pegasus was Cain’s ship, wasn’t it?” she asked as the left arrived and they got in.
“Yes, it was.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“Briefly, when I was young and he visited my father.” After a centon Apollo admitted, “He was my hero.”
“Cain?” Serina asked, startled.
“Yes. He was...he had something. Charisma. To a level I’ve never seen in anyone else...except maybe Starbuck. They say Hector had it too, but I don’t know.”
“Charismatic leaders can all too easily turn into dictators,” said Serina.
“I hope that hasn’t happened to Cain. I remember what you said on Carillon, how knowing too much about great men can be disillusioning. I’d rather not be disillusioned.”
“Can I be on the bridge when we go through to Gamoray?”
The lift door snapped open, revealing the short corridor that led to the bridge, and Apollo smiled and said, “Why not? You’re already here.” She followed him out, onto the bridge, and up the stairs to the command level as he ordered, “Red alert; battlestations. Navigator, set course for the warp portal and Gamoray. Await signal from the flagship before proceeding.”
“Aye, sir,” the navigator replied. “Information coming through from flagship...ahead slow. Two centons to transition.”
Serina was relieved to see that Colonel Xaviar was back in the communications station. Colonel Bryn, the Galactica’s likable second officer, was standing on the command level behind the senior flight officer and she greeted Apollo, “Here we go again. It’s funny how first place is supposed to be the position of honor. Judging from what happened to the scout, they may have a minefield waiting for us.”
“I’m going to try and be more optimistic than that. Besides, we had to go first. Standard procedure; the flagship never leads the line and the Fleet Commander wanted the battlestars to go through first because they won’t know what the battlecruisers are.”
“Hm. ‘The last shall be first,’ the Book of the Word says, and I see Triumph is bringing up the rear,” Bryn remarked, looking at the tactical display.
“Don’t tell Starbuck that. He’s hard enough to live with now.”
“One centon,” the navigator said.
“Group Commander reports all squadrons standing by,” the flight officer said.
“Main and defensive weapons are armed; shields will go up as soon as we clear the gate,” Bryn reported.
“Sound the jump warning.” Some people found the transition disorienting, and it was a matter of courtesy to warn them when a jump was forthcoming. Apollo noticed Serina grip the railing around the command platform, bracing herself a little, whether for the jump or the possibility of combat beyond he did not know.
“Five, four, three, two, one,” the flight officer counted down, and the battlestar Galactica popped into the Gamoray system.
“Shields up. There’s that frigate,” Bryn said. “Should I target them?”
“Not yet. Put me on unicom,” Apollo told the flight officer. “This is the Colonial battlestar Galactica entering the Gamoray system. We are on a mission of peaceful contact and wish to consult with your political authorities.”
“They’re approaching, slowly,” Bryn said. “Their weapons are armed, shields up. Should we give them our nose?”
“No, not yet.”
From the communication area behind the bridge proper, Xaviar reported, “Sir, they’re communicating with Gamoray on hyperchannel. We’re working on the code.” After a centon he added, “They just received a reply.”
“Put me on unicom again.”
“You’re on, sir,” the flight officer said.
“This is the battlestar Galactica. We are going to move away from the portal; we have three more ships coming through. Ahead slow, helm.”
“Ahead slow, aye.”
Checking her timepiece, Bryn said, “Columbia should be coming through in about a centon.”
“The other ship is coming to a full stop,” the flight officer reported. “Range, one hundred thousand metrons.”
“Not quite in our path,” said Bryn. “They’re turning slowly to keep their weapons on us.”
“Here comes Columbia, sir,” the flight officer said as, a few thousand metrons behind them, the other battlestar materialized in the gate. “Fleet Commander on Fleet Comline Alpha.”
“Well?” Aeneas asked succinctly as his image appeared on the top left-hand screen on the flight officer’s console.
“We’ve called them twice; no reply. They have communicated with Gamoray,” Apollo reported.
“Keep moving away from the gate; Triumph and Victory are right behind us. I’ll try talking to them. Put me on unicom, Flight Officer,” he told his own FO. Without breaking communications with the Galactica, Aeneas called, “This is Fleet Commander Aeneas, commanding the Third Colonial Fleet. We do not want to misinterpret your silence. This is a peaceful mission.”
“Frigate’s still holding position, still turning to keep her guns on us,” said Bryn.
Serina had been watching silently, fascinated and not wanting to disturb the bridge routine. She imagined that some frantic discussions must be taking place aboard the frigate and back on Gamoray. Perhaps she could contribute something. Plucking at Apollo’s sleeve for attention, she suggested quietly, “They might want to know what happened to their shuttle and its crew.”
“I heard that,” said Aeneas. “It’s a good idea. Show them, Apollo.”
“Put me on unicom...this is Commander Apollo of the Galactica. One of our scouts entered your system approximately two sectons ago. It is my duty to inform you that the crew of your boarding shuttle attacked the crew of our scout, forcing them to defend themselves. This is a regrettable incident, but one we are willing to overlook.” Sort of, he appended silently.
“Victory’s through the portal,” Bryn said. On one of the lower command level screens Miriam’s vicious-looking battlecruiser was almost invisible against the black backdrop of space except for the stars she eclipsed, the steady flashing of her running lights, and the cherry-red glow from her deployed radiators.
“More back-and-forth chitchat,” Xaviar said. “Their code is good; computers still can’t break it.”
“Put the visual recording from the scout on unicom,” Apollo ordered the flight officer.
Apollo, Bryn, and Serina watched in silence as the recording played. They’d seen it before, but Galactica’s bridge crew had not. Angry mutters could be heard from the lower levels. When Ares killed his opponent, the flight officer remarked, “Nice one, Ares. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Triumph is through the gate,” said Bryn as the recording ended.
“What now?” Serina asked Apollo in the ensuing silence.
“We wait.”

“That frigate still has her guns on the Galactica,” Athena reported. “At that range, they’d punch right through her shields. You want to target them?”
The bridge of the Victory was far more compact than that of a battlestar and laid out on two levels rather than three. Ahead of and below the command station was a semicircle of crew stations. Above them was the main viewscreen, presently showing the tactical situation.
I’d like to, Miriam thought but said, “No. Any activity in the inner system?”
“Lots of traffic between Gamoray, its moon, and the third and fifth planets. Looks mostly like transports. We need to get a lot closer for decent scans.”
“What I’d.....like to know is why they’re not answering yet,” said Noday. “Seems odd.”
“The situation is slightly awkward,” Athena suggested.
“Commander,” the flight officer reported, “a message from Gamoray coming in on Fleet Comline Alpha.”
The viewscreen display changed from the tactical situation to a blank screen, then a face appeared, a face that everyone on Victory’s bridge recognized instantly, familiar in spite of the small effects of age.
“Commander Cain,” Miriam commented softly.
Cain smiled easily. He was dressed in uniform, in warrior beige and brown instead of command blue, a known affectation of his. “Welcome to Gamoray,” he said heartily. “It’s good to see our own ships again. Proceed to Gamoray orbit, and I’ll make sure to have a reception fit for warriors ready for you. Cain out.”
“Nuclear weapons, at a guess,” Noday said.
“We shall see what we shall see,” Miriam commented neutrally.

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