Okay, this is it, everyone. This is the last chapter of my story. I've put a lot of work into this one, and I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks to everyone who has offered such supportive comments. This story was great fun to write, and I just hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing.

All the best.

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Chapter 22 – A new beginning

For a couple of seconds, Rick did nothing except stare at the speakers overhead, frozen in shock and amazement. Then, realizing Galactica's commander was waiting for a reply, he picked up the phone.

"This is Colonial Dreadnought Endurance," he said.

There was a pause. "Did you say Dreadnought?"

Rick grinned, by now used to the surprise their ship elicited. "Yes, sir. We're transmitting recognition codes now." He pointed at Greene, indicating for him to transmit the codes. "I'd be obliged if you could do likewise."

There was another pause as the codes were authenticated. A few moments later, Greene nodded to confirm they were good. Galactica's commander came back on the line, sounding a little less guarded this time. "Welcome back, Endurance. This is Admiral Adama. Who's the CO over there?"

"That would be me, sir. Richard O'Neil, acting Commander."

For several seconds, Adama said nothing, and Rick could guess why. He was trying to work out if this was the same Richard O'Neil that was responsible for the death of his son. "And how did you find your way out here, Mr O'Neil?"

"I could ask you the same question, sir. We've been out of the loop for a long time."

"Then we have a lot to talk about," Adama decided. "I suggest you come over here for debriefing. How soon can you be here?"

"Give us ten minutes, sir."

*****

A short time later, the Raptor left Endurance with Rick, Starke and Samantha aboard. Ahead of them, orbiting high above the blue planet, was a fleet of civilian ships. He hadn't seen such a ramshackle collection of vessels since leaving the Tauron Shipyards. There were passenger liners, ore carries, transport ships of all shapes and sizes, and even a tylium processing vessel.

And in the centre of it all, huge and squat and imposing, sat Galactica. If he'd thought Endurance was in bad shape, the old Battlestar was, if possible, even worse. Her hull was covered in scorch marks, burns, shell holes and structural failures. The entire starboard hangar pod was a mess of twisted steel and exposed beams, looking like it had been blasted out by some internal explosion. Most worrying of all, the ship appeared to be listing at an odd angle, as if her keel was twisted somehow.

"My Gods," Starke gasped, surveying the damage in amazement. "I can't believe she's still flying."

"Look," Samantha said, pointing off to starboard.

Rick followed her gaze, and felt his heart leap when he spotted the distinctive shape of a Cylon Baseship. For a moment, he was actually tempted to put in evasive maneuvers and get them out of there, but to his surprise, the Baseship appeared to be friendly. Civilian ships cruised right past as if there was nothing out of the ordinary to have a Cylon capital ship nearby.

"I can't wait to hear this one," Rick said as he lined up with Galactica's port landing bay.

*****

A few minutes later, the three occupants of the Raptor took a deep breath as the external hatch opened up to reveal Galactica's port hangar. A couple of old Mark II Vipers had been stripped down for repairs, and another Raptor sat further away. All were dented and scarred from many battles.

A Marine detail were standing at attention to receive them, along with what he presumed were the ship's senior officers, technicians and other crewmembers, all looking tired and strung out, but also relieved and proud. And in the centre stood Adama, his back straight, his craggy old face set like stone. He was flanked by a frail looking woman on his left. She was clearly ill, and unsteady on her feet. Her arm was linked with his, and he suspected she needed it just to stand.

On his right stood someone he'd never expected to see again, someone he had long ago written off as dead.

"Kara," he gasped, jumping down from the Raptor's wing. It was the first time he had seen her in nearly four years. Nothing could have prepared him for it.

The young woman's eyes met his, and he could see her struggling with similar emotions.

Remembering his official duty, Rick walked stiffly towards Adama and saluted. "Commander O'Neil requesting permission to come aboard, sir."

He had no idea what Adama's reaction would be, and the old man was keeping his cards close to his chest. The last time they'd seen each other had been at his Rick's court martial, and even then they hadn't spoken. But Rick remembered the look in the older man's cold blue eyes.

Adama returned the salute. "Permission granted," he said. Then, to Rick's surprise, he held out his hand. "Welcome aboard Galactica, Commander."

Rick took his hand and shook it. "It's an honour, sir."

Adama held his gaze for a moment longer, then broke off the handshake and gestured to the woman beside him. "This is Laura Roslin, President of the Colonial Fleet."

Rick's eyes opened wider. He had no idea the fleet had formed its own civilian government. "Madam President," he said, shaking her hand.

Her grip was surprisingly strong despite her obvious frailty. He wondered what was wrong with her, but knew this wasn't the time to ask. "Good to meet you, Commander," she said, her dark eyes flashing with warmth. "By the sounds of things, you've had quite an adventure."

"You don't know the half it, ma'am," he replied, unable to hide a smile. There was something immediately endearing about Roslin. He felt at ease around her as soon as they started talking.

"I presume you know Lieutenant Thrace already," Adama added with a raised eyebrow.

Rick turned to look at her. He'd focussed on Adama until now, trying not to let his emotions get in the way, but there was no holding back.

Her eyes shining with tears, Starbuck managed a smile and held out her hand. It was trembling. "Rick."

He reached out to take her hand, then hesitated. Frak it, he thought as he grabbed her and pulled her close. The woman returned the gesture in equal measure, hugging him with fierce intensity. His injured ribs protested, but he didn't care.

"I thought you were gone," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion.

"No such luck," he said, trying to lighten the mood, though he was struggling to keep his composure.

He pulled back a little to look at her. She was older than he remembered, not just in body but in spirit. She'd grown her hair longer, too. But it was more than that. Her clear blue eyes were filled with joy at seeing him again, but what lay behind them had changed somehow. It was impossible to say for sure, but on some level he sensed this wasn't the same Kara Thrace he'd once known.

"How the frak did you end up here?" she asked, still staring at him in amazement.

Before Rick could reply, Adama raised his voice to interrupt. "I think we should discuss that in private, Commander." He gestured to a corridor leading deeper into the ship. "Please, come with me."

*****

An hour later, in the Admiral quarters, Rick had at last finished his debriefing with Adama and Tigh. There hadn't been time to compose an official report, so his tale was fragmented and at times incomplete, but he'd at least been able to get across the important details.

"So that's what happened," he concluded. "We were moving in to investigate the planet when we found you."

His report complete, he glanced around, allowing himself to properly take in his surroundings. The room had been stripped of virtually everything that wasn't fixed down. Adama had already explained that Galactica was to have been abandoned, and any serviceable equipment transferred to the Baseship. Instead, it had been taken on a near-suicide mission to rescue Hera from the Cylon Colony – a mission it had only barely survived because of Starbuck.

His suspicions about the ship's condition had proven all too true. She had been jumped in the heat of battle with her flight pods still extended - a move which was expressly forbidden for Battlestars. This, combined with metal fatigue, battle damage and sheer old age, had finally broken the old ship's back. She would never jump again.

Privately he wondered how long it would be before Endurance suffered the same fate.

For a few moments, silence descended on the room as the two older men mulled over everything they had heard.

"It's a frakker of a story, Bill," Tigh remarked in typical blunt fashion, taking a gulp of whisky. "Hard to believe a mothballed old tub like that could survive for three years."

"You did," Rick pointed out. If Tigh was out to insult Endurance, he could frak right off. That ship had carried them through everything the Cylons had thrown at them, had done everything asked of her and never once let them down.

Tigh glared at him for a moment with his one remaining eye, none too pleased at the implication that Galactica was an 'old tub'. Still, he said nothing further on the matter.

Adama took a drink himself, a more measured sip, as he looked thoughtfully at Rick. "About your XO," he began. "Did he tell you anything else about himself before he died?"

Rick shook his head. "Only what I told you already – that he was one of eight human Cylon models, and that Cavil tried to destroy all the copies of him." He sighed. "I guess in the end he succeeded."

He took a drink himself. It had been a long time since he'd tasted whisky. "There was one other thing. Just before he jumped the ship, he said he was taking us home. I have no idea how he knew to find this planet, but it couldn't just be a coincidence."

"Maybe," Adama agreed, his expression pensive. "We're sending scout teams down to survey the planet… assess whether it's suitable for colonisation."

At that moment, a faint shudder passed through the ship. The beams around them groaned as the metal flexed ever so slightly. Rick looked up, half expecting a hole to open up in the walls around them, but Adama and Tigh barely reacted to it. Maybe they were used to such things.

Still, it was clear that Galactica was a dying ship.

"Saul, why don't you go relieve Helo in the CIC," Adama suggested.

The XO shot Adama a meaningful look, the kind only shared by people who have known each other a long time, then drained the last of his drink and stood up.

He looked at Rick and, in a rare expression of emotion, said. "However the frak you ended up here, I'm glad someone else made it out. I only wish we'd had you with us when this all started."

With that, he turned and left, closing the hatch behind him.

Alone with the Admiral, Rick was starting to feel uncomfortable. "I'd better get back to Endurance, sir. See how the repairs are going," he said, setting his drink down and standing up.

"Wait," Adama said. It was somewhere between an order and a request. Rick turned to look at him. "There's something I need to say to you." He sighed. "I know you and I have a history."

Shit. He'd known this was going to come up sooner or later, but that didn't mean he had to like it. In fact, after everything they'd been through, he was in no mood to reopen old wounds now. "Sir, I don't…" he began.

Adama held his hand up to silence him. He rose to his feet, looking Rick straight in the eye. "I always blamed you for my son's death. I couldn't see past it, I was blinded by it. When I was sitting that court room four years ago, I'd have given everything I had to see you executed." He swallowed, and for the first time, Rick saw a glimmer of emotion in that craggy old face. "They were going to acquit you; the board of Admirals. They said there was no real evidence of negligence on your part, but I… couldn't let it go. I knew most of them personally, so I saw to it that you were found guilty."

Rick stared at him in shock. He'd never known they were going to clear him of all charges.

"The truth is, I was wrong about you," the old man went on. "What happened to Zac wasn't your fault. I know that now. You were a good officer with a promising career, and you didn't deserve what happened to you."

"How… how did you know?" he asked, barely able to get the words out.

"You sure you want to ask that question? You might not like the answer," Adama warned.

"Try me."

Adama raised his glass and took a deep pull on the whisky. "Starbuck. She told me the truth. She was Zac's instructor in flight school. She had her doubts about him, but she couldn't bring herself to wash him out, so she passed him." He sighed. "He wasn't qualified to fly a Viper. That's why he crashed that day."

Rick could hardly believe what he was hearing. Out of everyone, he would have trusted Starbuck with his life. He had taken responsibility for Zac's death, had sacrificed his career, had lived with the guilt of it for years...

"I know what you must be feeling right now. I'd ask you to let it go, but I guess that's your call. As for myself… I can only ask you to forgive me," Adama said.

Of all the things he'd expected William Adama to say, it hadn't been this. He should have felt angry at the old man for abusing his power and influence. And yet, no such emotion stirred in him. What could he be angry for? A grieving father wanting to take revenge for his son's death? In some part of his mind, he knew he'd have done the same thing in that situation.

"I wouldn't be here now if you hadn't done what you did," he said at last. "I don't forgive you, because there's nothing to forgive. Whatever happened in our old lives… it's over now."

Adama nodded slowly. "Thank you."

As Rick grabbed the hatch lever to open it, Adama spoke up again. "There's one more thing. Your XO... Daniel. There's someone I think will want to talk to you about him."

*****

Taking a deep breath, Rick pulled back the blanket that covered Daniel Munro's body. Like so many of their dead, they had laid him in one of Endurance's empty storage bays, ready for burial.

As soon as Ellen Tigh caught sight of the young man lying cold and pale on the floor, she bowed her head, silent tears rolling down her cheeks to fall on his body.

Rick stood by, unsure whether to comfort her or let her deal with it in her own way.

"He was my son," she said, then reached out and gently stroked his cheek. "My son."

"I know this must be hard for you," he said, his own voice husky with grief. "I understand the two of you were close."

She swallowed and nodded. "He wasn't like my other children. They were all special in their own way, but... I made Daniel capable of so much more. I gave him an understanding, a perception of things that no one else could sense. Out of all of them, he was the only one who truly accepted me." She shook her head in grief. "We could have done so much together."

Rick sighed and leaned a little closer. "I'll give you some time alone," he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Take as long as you need."

"No," she said, lifting her tear-streaked face up to face him. "Tell me about him. Tell me what kind of man he was. I want to know. Please."

Rick glanced away for a moment, trying to compose his thoughts. "He was... He was optimistic, funny..." He smiled, thinking about the man, the Cylon, that he had called a friend. "Always making bad jokes at the wrong time. He was reliable, and honourable. He was my friend." He looked at her, his own eyes shining with tears. "And three hundred and ninety-two people are alive today because of Daniel."

Fresh tears started to well up. She leaned forward and kissed her son gently on the forehead. "I'm proud of you, Daniel."

*****

Rick sighed, closed his eyes and turned his face towards the clear blue sky, just revelling in the sheer joy of feeling sun and wind on his skin, and solid earth under his feet. It had been so long since he had set foot on a habitable planet, the notion was almost unfamiliar.

This planet had been everything they had hoped for and more. Its oceans were teeming with fish, its continents rich in wildlife and vegetation, its climate warm and forgiving. It was all they could ask for in a new home.

But more than that, they had discovered that they weren't the only humans here. Their scouting parties had discovered scattered tribes of primitive people. They were hunter-gatherers, probably with no more than the rudimentary beginnings of spoken language, or so Doctor Baltar asserted. But they were human.

What were the odds of finding another human civilisation a hundred thousand light years from the Colonies?

His thoughts were interrupted by Admiral Adama's call. "Commander O'Neil!"

Rick opened his eyes, the mood broken for the time being, and walked over to join him. He and Lee had been off walking together, and by the sound of things, they had reached some kind of decision. "Yeah?"

"Walk with me," Adama said.

Rick did as suggested. Their path followed the course of a small river, taking them away from the small cluster of tents that had served as their base camp since making planet-fall.

It was a while before the old man spoke, but Rick didn't press him. Adama was a man who liked to approach things in his own time.

"We've decided to start colonising," he said at last. "We won't find a better place than this."

Rick nodded. "Couldn't agree more. I was talking with Romo Lampkin earlier. He thinks we can have the beginnings of a city laid out within a few weeks. Endurance has seen better days, but I guess she can still patrol this system until we build more ships..."

At this, the old man shook his head. "There won't be any cities, Rick. Or ships. Not this time. This time it's going to be different."

Rick frowned. "What do you mean?"

Adama sighed wearily. "Every time humans settle a new planet, the same thing happens. Technology gets the better of us... we keep rushing ahead without seeing where we're going, and the cycle keeps repeating itself. We can't let that happen again." He glanced around at the river and the lush grassland beyond. "I think we deserve a fresh start. All of us."

"But technology is what our whole civilisation is built on," Rick protested. "If we abandon it, everything we've accomplished in the last thousand years will mean nothing. We'll be right back at the bottom of the pile again, struggling just to survive. We'll have to start over."

"We've been struggling to survive for three years. And as for starting over..." Adama turned to look at him. "Isn't that the way it should be?"

Rick swallowed. "What about Endurance? And Galactica?"

The old man sighed, and Rick saw real grief in his eyes. "They're warships without a war. There's nothing left for them. They've earned their rest."

*****

In Galactica's sickbay, Rick found himself staring at the curtain surrounding Roslin's bed. It was open just a little, allowing him a glimpse of one slender arm with IV lines snaking into it.

"You need something?" Doctor Cottle asked, framing it more as a challenge than a question.

Rick nodded towards the bed. "How long does she have?"

The old doctor shrugged as if it was of no consequence, but Rick could sense the grief in him. "Days… A week, maybe. We're giving her medication for the pain, but it's just a matter of time."

"Can I talk to her?"

"You can't stay too long," Cottle warned him gruffly. "She gets tired quickly, so don't overtax her."

Rick nodded, and Cottle walked towards the bed to let her know she had a visitor. When he returned a minute later, he did nothing but point towards the bed.

He couldn't tell if she had been sleeping, but she looked deathly tired. Still, she managed to smile in greeting as he approached and sat down.

"Commander O'Neil."

"Madam President," he said, taking a seat by the bed. "You asked to see me."

She smiled patiently, like a teacher dealing with a dim student. "You can call me Laura."

"Laura," he repeated. "Can I get you anything? Is there something you need?"

She shook her head. "I have everything I need."

Rick said nothing. He was confused as to why she had called him here, but he sensed she would broach the subject in her own time. The woman was dying – he was prepared to humour her.

"Let me ask you something. Did you have any brothers or sisters?" she said at last.

He frowned, bemused by the question, but shook his head. "No."

"I did. Two sisters." She coughed before going on. "They were killed in a car crash before the attacks on the Colonies. And do you know my biggest regret? I never got a chance to say goodbye to them. It's the things we don't say that we regret most."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Again that patient smile. "Bill told me what happened between you and Kara. I can see why you'd be angry, and why you feel betrayed, but don't end up like me. Don't leave things unsaid, Rick."

He swallowed hard. "It's not that easy."

She reached out and gripped his arm. "It is if you want it to be."

*****

Once again, Rick found himself in the exercise room on Endurance, circling around the heavy punching bag without throwing a punch. He had returned to Galactica after his meeting with Roslin, not really knowing what he was planning to do now.

The repairs were proceeding well, for what it was worth. The worst of the hull breaches had been sealed up, and the Chief Engineer was fairly sure they would have the main reactor back online within a day or two. Rick hadn't had the heart to tell them of Adama's intentions.

He'd spent so long imagining what it would be like to find a new home, but he'd never really given much thought to what would happen to Endurance when he did. As hard as it was to admit it, part of him didn't want to leave her. He felt like he was losing an old friend.

"Frak!" he snapped, throwing a hard right hook. The bag shuddered and swayed under the impact.

"Getting rusty," a woman's voice chided him.

Rick felt himself tense up. "I'm busy," he said without turning around.

"You want a sparring partner?"

"I train alone."

"You seem to do everything alone."

He spat on the floor. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Starbuck moved forward into his line of sight. "It means you've been avoiding me," she said, staring at him searchingly. "I want to know why."

He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. "You don't want to know."

"Yeah, Rick, I do."

Only then did he turn his eyes on her. They were burning with hurt and anger. As hard as he'd tried, he just couldn't get past what Adama had told him about her. "Is it true? What the old man told me?"

She swallowed, the muscles in her throat moving up and down. She said nothing. She didn't have to.

"Then we've got nothing to say to each other," he said, turning around and laying into the bag with lefts and rights, each punch delivered with more anger than the one before.

"Rick, I didn't..."

Suddenly he rounded on her, muscles burning with tension. "Leave, Kara. You picked the wrong guy, and the wrong day. I'm not going to say it again."

The woman opened her mouth to protest, then seemed to think better of it. Without saying another word, she unbuttoned her tunic, slipped it off and dumped it on the floor, then strode over to an equipment locker and returned with a pair of boxing gloves.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"You won't talk to me? Fine," she said through gritted teeth as she slipped the gloves on. "But you're frakking well gonna listen. We have unfinished business, you and me."

"Are you -"

He never got a chance to finish. Kara's right hand swept around and caught him square on the jaw, snapping his head sideways and almost knocking him off his feet. He staggered a few feet to the right before regaining his balance. He turned to see her glaring at him, her muscles taut and ready for fighting.

"You owe me one more round, Rick," she said. "I want it. Now!"

"Forget it. I'm done with this," he said, using every ounce of his willpower to hold his anger in check.

In response, she swung again, catching him with a left hook that opened a small cut over his eye. "Fight me, you frakking coward!" she yelled, her eyes burning with rage. "Are you afraid? Afraid you might hurt me? Or afraid I might beat you?"

That was it for him. In that instant, something snapped inside him, and he went straight at her. There was no thought of dodging and weaving, looking for openings to exploit. He charged at her, drew back his fist and slammed it into her with such ferocity that she was knocked backward, falling to her knees.

"It was my fault," he said at last. "I never should have taken him in with me. He was green."

Starbuck sat on the opposite side of the room. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were wet and red. "He was trained for this. He should have known what to do."

He shook his head. "It was my call." He looked at her. "I'm so sorry."

Starbuck said nothing.

"Why, Kara?" he yelled. "Gods damn you! Of all people, I trusted you! You ruined my life!"

Gritting her teeth, Kara pulled herself to her feet and came at him. He blocked a left hook, but a right cross sailed in over his guard and caught his left cheek a glancing blow. She followed up with a punch to his injured ribs that doubled him over in agony.

"Is that it? Is that all you have?" she demanded, standing over him, willing him to get up. "Get up, Gods damn it!"

"However, we must also take into account your service record, which has been impeccable up to this point. Therefore, it is with some regret that this court hereby passes sentence. You are to be demoted to the rank of Lieutenant, and your status as a Viper pilot revoked until further notice. This incident will be entered into your service record. Dismissed."

O'Neil felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He saluted the board of three admirals, then turned towards the rest of the court. Starbuck was there, her face tight with carefully repressed emotion. Only her eyes shone with sadness and regret.

Ignoring the pain, Rick pulled himself to his feet again. Once more the two fighters closed in on each other and attacked, lashing out with wild punches, barely even trying to protect themselves. This was a slugging match, and it was just a question of who could take more punishment.

Breathing hard, covered in sweat, he swung a clumsy right that almost put her down again. But slowed by fatgue, he couldn't block her counter. White light exploded through his brain and stars danced across his vision as her left fist hit him on the temple. His legs threatened to give way beneath him, but somehow he found the strength to draw back his arm one last time and land a cross to her jaw.

She fell to her knees, and he went down a moment later. His vision was blurred by sweat, or tears - he didn't know. She was struggling to get up, using one arm to support herself.

"Why?" he finally managed to ask. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She spat, leaving bloody phlegm on the floor. "I was... afraid."

"Afraid of being court martialled?"

"No." She shook her head, still gasping for breath. "Afraid of you. Afraid of Adama. He was..." Her voice broke, and he could see tears in her eyes. "He was the closest thing I ever had to a father. I couldn't do it to him. I couldn't live with it, knowing he hated me. So let you take the rap for me." She looked at him, bruised and bloodied, eyes filled with grief. "I'm sorry, Rick. For everything."

Hesitating just a moment, he pulled off his glove and held his hand out to her. She did likewise and clasped it tight. They said nothing, because there was no need. They understood each other, they accepted each other, they forgave each other, and in that moment it was enough.

*****

All eyes turned to Rick when he walked into the CIC some time later. It wasn't so much that they were expecting some big announcement, but it was obvious from the expression on his face and the set of his jaw that he had something important to say.

With his back held stiff, he walked over to the command console and lifted the phone, keying in One MC to address the entire ship.

"Crew of the Endurance, may I have your attention," he began, using the same address he had used to many times before. But this wasn't to be a rallying cry for battle. This was going to be something very different. "We've had a long journey together. It's been a hard journey at times, and more than once it felt like there was no end in sight. But our days of wandering are over. We've found a new home for our people now, and we're going to do what we can to make it a good one."

He glanced at Samantha, who had moved over to stand next to him. She gave him a smile, tentative, but reassuring.

"Endurance has brought us this far. She's carried us safely through more battles than I can remember, but her journey too is over. She's earned her rest, so effective immediately, we're stopping all repairs on the ship. Crew and provisions will begin transferring down to the surface tomorrow morning. Once everyone's off, Endurance will be set to automatic control along with the rest of the fleet, and piloted into the sun."

He heard more than a few gasps of shock and surprise around the room.

He sighed and looked down for a moment. "I know this isn't an easy thing to face up to. Endurance has been more than just a ship for us. She's been our home, our guardian and protector for three years, but now it's time to lay her to rest. That is all."

Half an hour later, Rick was in his quarters. He looked around the familiar room that had been his home for three years. He had once viewed this place as a prison where he would languish for the remainder of his career. Not any more.

His eyes rested on the bottle of whisky on the table before him. He hadn't drunk any of it yet.

He glanced up when his door opened and Starke walked into the room. "You asked to see me, sir?"

"Take a seat, Lieutenant," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite.

Starke did as he asked. When she'd sat down, he reached into his pocket, produced a small plastic box like one might use to hold a wedding ring, and slid it across the table to her.

"This is for you," he said.

Frowning in surprise, the woman reached out and opened it. Inside was the gold insignia of a colonel.

"I need a new XO," Rick said as he poured two glasses of whisky. "I can't think of anyone better than you, Danielle."

She closed her eyes for a moment, her grip tightening on the box. He could see tears glistening between her blonde lashes.

"I know it doesn't mean much now, but…"

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "It does to me."

Rick nodded, then handed one of the glasses over to her. "This is my last bottle. I was saving it for a special occasion, and I can't think of anything more appropriate than this. Congratulations, Colonel Starke," he said, raising his glass in a toast. They both took a drink, then a silence descended between them.

"Hard to believe we're really going to do this," Danielle said at last. "Abandoning ship. It almost feels like we're losing part of ourselves."

Rick took another gulp of whisky, inexplicably reminded of a day that felt like a lifetime ago. "When this all started, I said that Endurance deserved better than rotting away in a scrap yard. She deserved to go out on her feet, proud and defiant." He sighed. "She got what she deserved."

Starke nodded thoughtfully, then raised her glass. "To Endurance."

"To Endurance," Rick said, holding his own glass up. "Best frakking ship I ever served on."

With that, they paid their last respects to the old ship.

*****

Dreadnought Endurance

Ship's Log – Final Entry

Richard O'Neil commanding

Vessel secured and preparing to leave orbit for the last time. All personnel have been transferred to the surface of the planet we are now calling Earth.

In time we will forget the name Endurance. We will forget what she did, and the people who served, fought and died aboard her. But perhaps through us, and our future generations, some part of her legacy will live on.

This ship and her crew have performed in keeping with the highest traditions of the Colonial Fleet. She has lived up to her name and more. It has been my honour to command her.

Richard O'Neil, Commander.

With his last entry made, Rick closed the ship's log book and rose from his desk. Casting one last glance around his now empty room, he walked slowly through the hatch before closing and securing it behind him.

The walk to the CIC was a familiar one, and he took his time. There was no rush now.

All of the command crew had since departed. The only ones who remained behind were Samantha, Starke, Greene and Harper.

"Automatic pilot is set, sir," Starke said. There was no need for such formalities now, but she felt the need to do things properly. "Computers are tied into Galactica's systems. Sub-light engines standing by."

"Very well, XO," he replied.

"Requesting permission to leave the ship, sir," she said, though her voice wavered a little as she spoke.

Rick exhaled slowly, glancing around the now quiet and darkened CIC for the last time. With nobody left to man them, most of the consoles had been powered down. "Permission granted," he said at last. "Let's go home."

As the others filed out, he stopped for a moment by the bulkhead, reached out and touched the metal frame. "Thank you."

*****

Rick halted for a moment, staring out across the great plains stretching from horizon to horizon, at the endless blue sky above. Small groups of people were walking across the grassland, making for the hills in the distance where they would found a settlement. They had been his crew in another life, his responsibility to lead and command, but now they were just people – nothing more, nothing less.

He had already said his goodbyes to Adama, Roslin and Kara. They had settled a few hundred miles to the north, but somehow he sensed he wouldn't be seeing them again. He had made his peace with Kara Thrace, and that was enough for him.

"I guess this is where we go our separate ways, sir," Starke said.

Rick smiled and turned to face her. "Danielle, I'm not an officer any more. And neither are you."

The woman blushed and grinned. "Old habits die hard." She glanced away for a moment. "You sure I can't persuade you to come with us? They might need a leader, and you've done an okay job so far."

"Okay, huh?" he said with a grin, then shook his head. "No, I'm done with leading people. They'll do just fine without me."

"Where will you go?"

"I'll find a place. Maybe near the sea. I grew up next to the ocean on Caprica… used to fall asleep to the sound of the waves at night." He smiled at the memory. "That doesn't sound like a bad way to live, does it?"

"No. Not too bad at all."

"Will you be okay?" he asked.

Unconsciously Starke glanced over at Harper, who was standing not far away. Rick could see the bond that was developing between them, and he didn't doubt that it would soon turn into something more. "I'll be okay."

He reached out and hugged her tight. "Good look, Danielle."

"And you," she said, blinking back tears. "Goodbye."

With that, they parted ways at last, and Rick walked over to join Samantha. She had waited patiently while he said his goodbyes.

She smiled as he approached. "Are you ready?"

His hand found hers, and together they turned east towards the rising sun. "I'm ready."