Celebrate life.  Death comes for you soon enough.  King Bradley Kobol, Twenty-seventh Lord of Kobol.

"Where should I put this one, Chief Brendan?"  At Jennifer's elbow, one of Deuch's crewman -- he called them his galley slaves -- held up a thank-you banner from the five or so that remained on the nearest banquet table.  With less than a half hour to go, Jennifer's crew hadn't finished decorating Hangar C.  Chief Deuch had lent her as many warm bodies as he could, but Deuch was in a serious time crunch too.

"Anywhere you can find a space."  She turned to look down the long, table-filled bay, trying to see the far side of the dance floor.  "How about down there?  Looks like there's a hole."

"That's the starboard hatch."

"Oh well, just try to find a space.  Even up on the podium's fine, if you can find room behind the twelve flags."

If two weeks ago someone had told Jennifer she'd be setting up a presidential banquet, she would have laughed until she cried.  Since then she'd been doing a lot of crying, and not about banquets.  The Galactica was all she had left in the universe.

Deuch had the menu under control.  Their showpiece, a whole spitted steer from the farmer folks on the Gravity Well would be rolled in soon, but they would be short on greens and vegetables.  For dessert Deuch had made white cake with Picon moonfruit sauce from Galactica's stores.  An auto-bar from Colonial One stood just inside the port hatch, and Jennifer and Deuch had figured out that there'd be three drinks a person before it went dry, that is, if all one hundred and thirty partygoers showed up and everyone drank.  There were sure to be a few teetotalers in the crowd to balance out the lushes like Colonel Tigh.

It had been the unexpected gifts that had slowed Jennifer down.  All the wrapped presents were arranged on a table, and the alcohol had been loaded in the auto-bar.  But the three people she'd detailed to hang up banners had been at it all afternoon.  As for the flowers, it had taken Jennifer an hour just to run down enough suitable containers, not to mention filling them with water and making the arrangements.  It had been worth it.  The flowers had turned Hangar C into a banquet hall, their scent evoking the lost colonies and their petals hope for tomorrow.

There would be a tomorrow.  Commander Adama had promised them that.  Jennifer walked down the bulkhead until she reached the smallest banner.  Contributed by the Star Chaser, it had been hung behind the table of presents.  The blown-up photograph of a scratched and dented piece of space flotsam had a legend and explanation lettered in at the bottom.  Like all the rest of the workers in Hangar C, Jennifer had drifted over several times just to look at it.

Earth, they were going to Earth, and the Cylons would never find them there.

Captain Kelly stood in the shower for five minutes letting the warm water wash through his close-cropped hair and bounce off his beefy shoulders.  His mind played over and over again the interrogation, the girl's sudden movement and Commander Adama's shocked reaction.  Kelly blamed himself.  He'd been there to prevent it and he hadn't done his job.  He always did his job.

Kelly had a placid, even temperament that sometimes bent but never broke, and although his official title was Landing Deck Officer, he pulled a lot of dirty jobs, everything from mortician to military police.  He did whatever he was asked to do and trusted the rest to Commander Adama and the Holy Lords.

Stepping out of the shower and quickly drying off, Kelly spent far less time putting on his dress uniform, even though he and Lee Adama kept getting in each other's way.  Their shared compartment was too small for two men in a hurry.  Kelly nearly punched his roommate twice, and that wouldn't have made Lee look too good for that date with Starbuck.

Starbuck going on a date, and with the CAG no less, now who would have believed that just two weeks ago?  Not to mention escorting Sharon Valerii himself.  Downright weird.  Everything was weird anymore.  Kelly was supposed to be on Sagittarius this week in the middle of a three-week furlough.  He'd planned to go skiing.  He'd never been skiing.

"Why don't you call it?" Lee suggested.  He had Kelly's gold twenty-cubit piece resting on top of a cocked thumb.  "Faces or waves?"

"Faces," Kelly said.  Everyone chooses faces.  Why be different?

Lee flipped the coin, snatched it out of the air and slapped it down on his other hand.  "Sorry, old man, waves."  He clapped Kelly on a thick arm.  "Better luck next time.  You have a place to bunk tonight?"

"Sure, plenty of empty spots in pilots' quarters.  May the Lords protect you though.  Starbuck's more than I could handle."

Lee laughed.  "I'll be saying my prayers.  Next time the place is yours."

Kelly turned from adjusting the belt across his chest.  "I should be so lucky.  Sharon's got that Boxey kid and she's so hung up on Tyrol, he's all she ever talks about.  I probably won't even make first base.  But she asked me, so I just figured what the heck, why not?  It's the end of the world, anything goes."

Lee looked at him.  "Yeah, right, anything goes."  He didn't seem too sure, and Kelly didn't really believe it either.  After pulling open their hatch, with a flourish Lee invited Kelly through.

It had been an experience, parading into the party on Hush's arm like they were some grand review, then there'd been the receiving line and shaking hands with more than a hundred total strangers.

And the flowers -- the flowers from the shuttle were everywhere.  The bare utilitarian hangar had been turned into a garden.

"It's all pomp and circumstance," Hush had said.  "Don't let it go to your head."  She'd tried, but standing next to Hush, Maya was only four places down from the head of the line -- President Roslin and her date, a distinguished-looking heavy-set bureaucrat, then Hush then her.  Even the Galactica's executive officer Colonel Tigh and his date Mother Elosha were below, not to mention the famous Doctor Baltar and a whole load of government officials.  Heady stuff for a girl who two weeks ago had been pinching every cubit and struggling to make ends meet.

Quite a few people had asked as they shook Maya's hand about the picture she'd contributed, hanging over on the bulkhead.  She'd told them briefly about Garner Graham and his obsession.  "We spent two months looking for that thing, but it drove the poor man crazy in the end."

Most had gone on to say, "But you have the whole piece on your ship now?  I'd like to see it sometime."

"I'm going to unload it on the Galactica," she'd told each one of them.  "Maybe the Commander will set up an exhibit."

The reception line party had moved to the raised head table and sat down in front of a hundred pairs of watching eyes.  While the food had been served, Maya had heard Hush and the President in a low-voiced argument.  Well, actually, it hadn't been all that low because the compartment's hard walls made the crowd noise reverberate into a dull roar.

"I talked to the Tall Doll's commander," Hush had said.  "He's going to think about it."

"Just remember, Commander, only volunteers.  I will not authorize conscripting."

Hush had looked pissed.  When Maya had asked him, he'd said, "We need a gunship, an FTL-capable gunship.  The Vipers don't jump and the Raptors have minimal armament.  We need something to protect our foragers."

"Oh.  And you want a twenty?"  The Tall Doll twenty-gunner was more than twice as big as the Star Chaser twelve.

"I'll take whatever I can get.  We only have three spare cannons."  Hush had jerked his chin in the direction of a portly man at a nearby table.  "Smith's tanker doesn't have gun platforms and I don't think he's got a gunship attitude either.  In an attack he'd think first and shoot later.  I need someone a little more quick-tempered."  He'd smiled at her.  "Like you."  Then right up there on the platform in front of the President and everybody he'd given her a quick kiss.  A girl could get used to that.

"Just show me the trigger," she'd said.  He'd laughed.

Maya hadn't known tomorrow, but she'd known tonight, and at that moment, she had realized what she would do.

After a while when the good food was all eaten and the dirty dishes went away, President Roslin had handed out medals to those who'd conducted the refugee convoy to Ragnar -- Apollo, Boomer and a few others.  With great ceremony she'd awarded the Colonies' highest military honor, the Circle of Twelve, to the Galactica as a whole, and Hush had accepted it.  During the thunderous clapping he'd looked pleased and proud.  After that, the President had made a long speech about the future, government, laws and peace.

Then Hush had squeezed Maya's hand, put on his glasses, and stepped up to the podium to talk about war.

He was still talking about it now.  "While we are on our way to Earth, your ships will be our real estate, the lives you carry our future.  But the Galactica can't protect you all alone.  We need you as much as you need us."  He took off his glasses to look out into the crowd.  "We are looking for a ship willing to put on Colonial colors and carry Colonial guns."

That was Maya's opening.  She stood up at her dining table and shouted so everyone could hear, "If one's all you want, you can have my Star Chaser.  She's an old twelve-gunner and I think she'd love to chase Cylons."

Instantly, out in the crowd a man stood and shouted, "How about two ships?  My twenty wants some tin-heads!"

Further away a woman was on her feet.  "Three's a good number!  My twelve's hot for some target practice!"  There were more.

Hush's hands gripped the podium.  He looked stunned.  In a husky voice he whispered into the microphone, "Thank you.  If you could come forward, I'd like to meet with you all for a few minutes and get your names and ships."

Picking up his papers, he returned to Maya's side.  He whispered for her ears only, "If you do something like that again without warning me, I'll have you thrown in the brig."

Ooh, a dare.  Maya was up for that.  "You can't make that stick unless I'm a Colonial."

"You don't think I so?  Watch me."  Hush wasn't smiling.

This relationship was going to present some interesting challenges.  Hush hadn't become a battlestar commander with his sweet personality.  "Don't worry, I'll be watching you all the time.  Now, you said something about a meeting?"

"Aren't they just adorable?" Kara whispered in Lee's ear.

"I'm not sure 'adorable' is the word I'd use," Lee answered more loudly.  His father and Commander Godden – Maya, he reminded himself – were leading off the first dance on the empty expanse of deck designated as the dance floor.

On the far side of the floor, the famous Geminon chanteuse Frothel Edelman sang a dreamy a cappella version of the old standard "Forever Loving You."  Frothel had been on the Sunrise Edition traveling to a Caprica City gig.  Like everyone else, she was grateful to be alive even though her fame meant nothing anymore.  To be idolized by billions means nothing when the billions are dead.

Somehow one of Tyrol's crew had rigged Hangar C with spotlights and figured a way to dim the overheads, but the spots weren't really needed.  Everyone's eyes followed Commander Adama and Maya around the floor until a few couples joined them, breaking the spell.  "Striking maybe," Lee finally admitted.

"They're in love.  Look at 'em.  They can't take their eyes off each other."  Kara sighed, put down her drink and leaned her head on Lee's shoulder, for her an unusually demonstrative gesture.

The small medal and ribbon the President had pinned on Lee an hour ago shifted from Kara's motion and threatened to fall off.  He'd been embarrassed about the medal.  Everyone in this compartment deserved a medal, for that matter everyone on all fifty ships.  When so many had died, being alive qualified as an act of heroism.  Moreover, President Roslin hadn't given his father an admiral's double rocket.  He liked Laura Roslin, but he didn't like the political one-upmanship games she played.

Lee willed himself not to think about politics anymore.  This was a party.  Gently he kissed Kara's forehead and she didn't pull away.  He could get used to this affectionate version of his usually forbiddingly tough friend.  Perhaps she felt the same as he did tonight -- that life was short and only apt to get shorter.  "You're sure they're in love, are you?  Could be lust."

Kara raised her head to look at him, and gently punched his arm to remonstrate.  Aha! That was more like the Kara he knew and loved.  "Lee!  That's your father we're talking about!"

"You don't think he's a man?"  Actually, Lee hadn't seen his father so affectionate with a woman in years.  There'd been women friends before, but not for a very long time.  It felt odd to watch him now, and it made Lee ache for his dead mother.

With a mental jerk, Lee once again pulled himself back to party mode.

Kara had been acting very strangely since Lee had picked her up at her quarters.  She'd quietly taken the arm he'd offered and held it, walking grandly down the passageway like it was Caprica City's Canal Boulevard on the day of the Spring Solstice Parade.  Totally un-Kara-like.  Must be the dress.  Every few minutes someone came over to tell her how stunning she looked.  She preened in pleasure each time.  She'd had an extra drink or two besides, but that wasn't beyond her capacity.  Once he and Kara had polished off a whole bottle of ambrosia between them and played a game of handball afterwards.  Of course, that had been almost five years ago.  So long?  Time moves fast and then everything is gone.

Kara really did look wonderful.  Although Lee had already told her that several times, once more wouldn't hurt.  "You are so beautiful tonight."  He was rewarded with a squeeze on his arm and a quick peck on his cheek.  He resisted the temptation to kiss her lips.  One step at a time was the best way to go.

Kell had suggested they flip for the compartment tonight.  Winning the toss hadn't really mattered to Lee, but he and Kara would have privacy if they chose to use it.  There was no reason for the whole ship to know the intimate details of their relationship … or lack thereof.  Lee still hadn't told Kara how he felt.

There had always been a lot of issues between Kara and Lee -- her fighting and fondness for breaking the rules, Lee's own command ambitions, everything his father the Commander said and did, and her dead fiancé Zak who'd been Lee's brother.  But everything had changed.  Whatever used to be -- all of it had been left behind and burned up on Caprica.  Lee wasn't going to let anything stand in his and Kara's way again, not now, not after the end of the world.

There seemed to be a lot of that sentiment going around.  Out on the dance floor and in dark corners all over the compartment men and women clung to each other, hugging and kissing.  There were going to be a lot of new babies in nine months.

"And who is this?"  Lee had seen Colonel Tigh with Mother Elosha on his arm circling the dance floor looking for a place to sit, but he hadn't realized they'd come so close.

Kara stood up.  "Good evening, sir."  Her rigid and overly correct stance added a silent, You asshole, sir.  Lee stayed where he was sitting at the table.  It was a frakking party after all, and he still hadn't forgiven Tigh for commandeering the Viper during his father's rescue.  Lee acknowledged the Colonel with a nod.

Tigh gave Kara a quick up and down scan and his eyes went wide.  Looking at the woman on his arm, he said, "Elosha, tell me that you didn't …"  The good mother's concerned answering gaze spoke volumes.  "You did.  I see."

Lee had a bad feeling.  If Colonel Tigh were the source of Kara's mysterious dress, she'd be stripping herself naked in a minute or two.  He'd better drop some sensor decoys to distract her.  Standing up behind Kara, he put his hands on her shoulders and whispered in her ear, "Would you like to dance?"

Kara turned her head slightly to look at him.  A deep frown had replaced her sweet smile.  "Maybe.  In a few minutes."  Her eyes immediately snapped back to Colonel Tigh, like a cat watching an intruding dog or a Viper pilot watching a Cylon raider.

But Colonel Tigh hadn't been preparing an attack.  Mother Elosha was whispering to him.  He nodded and sighed.  Looking at the Mother he said, "If that's what you want, of course."  He turned back to Kara, drew himself up into a very formal, upright posture and said, "Lieutenant Thrace, I'm sure you've heard this many times already, but you are very beautiful tonight."

"Thank you, sir."  That confused Kara.  She softened her stance, and one of her hands swept across the beaded top of her evening dress.  "Isn't it just gorgeous?"

"Not as lovely as you, Lieutenant."

Mother Elosha smiled approval up at her tall escort.  "You know, Paul, I haven't seen your quarters yet."

That brought a surprised, pleased grin to Tigh's face.  "I'd be happy to show you.  This way."  He waved an arm in invitation, and they strolled off in the direction of the hatch, their eyes only for each other.

"Whoa, did you see that?" Kara exclaimed as she turned back to Lee.  "The lucky son!  A Kobol priest, I can't believe it!  Some people have all the luck."

Lee hoped his face didn't reveal his relief.  That had been a narrow escape.  "Yes, he is.  But he's not as lucky as I am."  Their eyes locked together for a long moment.

"You're lucky?  Why?"  Kara's eyes searched Lee's, looking for something: passion, love, reassurance -- one of those or all of them.

"I'm here with the most beautiful woman in the room, and …" he stepped closer because the truth was only for Kara to hear "… I love her."  He waited breathlessly for what she'd say.

The other women pilots had warned Kara.  They'd told her that the designer dress would dazzle every male at the party and they'd be all over her.  She only cared about one, Lee Adama.  That's why she'd asked for his help figuring out how to put it on.  She'd wanted to be perfect for him tonight, a fabulously beautiful decoration on his arm because that's what Lee needed tonight -- an ornament, not a buddy.  He needed to look good.

Unlike Zak, Lee had always had high hopes for his military career, to somehow and in some way outshine his father.  He would have made it too.  Lee had what it takes -- intelligence, talent and daring.  The Cylons had destroyed any likelihood of a stellar military career, but Lee still deserved to succeed.  He was still one of their best and brightest, and Kara wanted to help.

For one hellish day two weeks ago she'd thought him dead, now she couldn't imagine a future that didn't have Lee in it.  She didn't want to.  If she could do nothing else, she'd keep Lee alive.  She'd lost Zak, but she wasn't going to lose Lee.  She'd rather die herself.  When the Galactica had recalled the Vipers at Ragnar, she'd stayed behind to protect his disabled ship and hadn't returned until she found a way to bring him home too.

All of them needed a reason to live, Lee was Kara's.

And now Lee was standing so close to her that she could feel his body heat.  His eyes held on to hers.  She couldn't look away.  She'd heard the "I love you" words before.  Zak, of course, and any number of ill-informed and ambitious lotharios.

But this time it had been Lee.  He loved her.  The words seemed to hang in the air for her to capture like a butterfly and hold in her heart.

Did he mean it?  Would it matter if he didn't?

Kara tried to breathe, it took a lot of work.  She tried to think, nothing came.  She opened her mouth to speak, not even sure herself of what would come out.

Kelly watched Starbuck and Lee Adama on the dance floor.  They danced like they flew together, as one -- two halves knitted into one seamless whole.  As Landing Deck Officer, Kelly saw them fly like that almost every day.  Lee would be using their quarters tonight, Kelly was sure of that.  Lee and Kara held each other so close they made a single profile.

Sharon stirred restlessly at his side.  "Did you want to dance after all?" Kelly asked.  He'd almost given up on her.  A few minutes ago, when almost everyone arose to dance, Sharon had seen Tyrol with Specialist Cally sitting a few tables away talking earnestly, heads bent together, faces more than a little tight.  Ever since she'd been watching them like a zenora hawk watches chickens.

Kelly had grown up on a far Canceron cattle ranch and images like that came to him all the time, but even so there was something of the hawk about Sharon, some hidden tension always threatening to break out.  Could be from flying that Raptor or from something more private.  When she'd lost Helo and picked up the Boxey kid and Doctor Baltar, Sharon had seen the destruction of Caprica up close and personal.  Yesterday Kelly had seen her scream at a technician one minute and burst out crying the next.  Her emotions soared and plunged like a bird flying an unstable updraft.  It was probably the reason why she and Tyrol were on the outs.

Sharon ignored his question and said, "You know, Kell, I think I'll just go ask Rollie why he's here.  I'll be right back."

Yeah, sure, Kelly thought, so much for my date.

Sharon stood up and moved away, her black dress and high-piled dark hair standing out among the gray and blue uniforms and bright-colored party wear.  Oh yeah, a hawk.  Kelly wondered which way she'd strike.  Not wanting to watch the bloodshed, he arose and went to the auto-bar.  Kelly had already seen enough bleeding today.

"Chief, I think you should go talk to her," Cally said for the third time.

"Would you stop calling me chief, Cal?  This is a party and we're off duty.  Call me Tyrol or Rollie, okay?"  Tyrol eyes wanted to stray in Sharon's direction, but he kept them on Cally.  With make-up and curled hair, she didn't look like the same mousy specialist.

"Yes, sir.  But you still have to talk to her."  Tyrol sighed.  Maybe they should try to dance, not that he was much good at dancing.  Coming to this party had been a mistake.  Raising his eyes again, he saw Cally looking past his shoulder, a pleased and surprised expression on her face.  Sharon must be behind him.  Tyrol could almost feel her nearness.

He was right.  Sharon was close.  "Cally, Rollie, fancy meeting you here."  Her voice was hard for Tyrol to interpret.  Choked and tight, she sounded strangled.

Cally nodded and smiled a greeting.  Tyrol turned to look.  As always, Sharon took his breath away, but he found it in time to speak.  "Commander Adama invited me."  He stuck out his chin.  "Sir."

Oblivious to Tyrol and Sharon's tense byplay, Cally popped up, her fluffy skirt ballooning out with the sudden movement.  "I'm going to get another drink.  Anyone else want one?"  Tyrol simply stared at her.  Sharon shook her head.  Cally bounced away to the long line at the auto-bar.  She'd be there awhile which is probably what she intended.

Not waiting for an invitation to sit, Sharon scooted a chair close to Tyrol and  her proximity tingled his skin.  "Haven't seen much of you for a few days, Rollie."  Sharon looked on edge, unsure of herself.  Tyrol identified the note in her voice -- it was controlled fear.  He clenched his hands in his lap.

"I've been busy, sir."

"Are you well?"  Her hand reached out and two of her fingers touched his thumb.  "You look sick."

Frozen by his conflicted feelings -- the yearning to touch Sharon one more time fighting the fear of renewed pain -- Tyrol didn't move away and the hand stayed on his.  The tenuous connection burned like fire.  "What do you want, Sharon?  I thought you were here with Kelly."

Sharon was silent for a minute then she said, "Let's dance," and nodded toward the crowded dance floor.  Gaither, one of Tyrol's more inventive electricians, had rigged a sparkling random lighting effect that played over the dancers.  Frothel was singing another slow song, something about starlight through the porthole and love in the heart.

"You know I don't dance."

"Would you try, for me?"

I'd do anything for you, just ask me, Tyrol thought, but he only stood up and offered her his arm.  He hadn't danced in years, and out on the dance floor he felt out of place, like a misaligned Viper part.  The couples around them held each other so very close.  Tyrol put his arms around Sharon and tried not to do the same, but it was hard not to pull her to him.  Feeling her eyes on his face, he tried to look somewhere else, but there wasn't much to see around them except people in love with one another.

Sharon spoke softly as they moved.  "Rollie, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.  I'm sorry that I made a mistake.  And I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Tyrol pulled her closer.

"You were the most wonderful man in the universe and I was so lucky."

Sharon was talking about them in the past tense.  That hurt.  But when she was so warm and close to him, she was irresistible.  Pulling her closer still, Tyrol could hear her rapid breathing.  "I'm sorry too," he murmured in her ear, his lips brushing her skin almost like a kiss.  "I miss you like hell."  They danced for a few minutes, her closeness bringing back the familiar ache.  He might as well tell her.  She'd eventually hear about it anyway.  "The Commander's offered me a commission, but without you, it's nothing.  I'm going to tell him no."

Sharon stopped dancing and pulled back.  She looked angry.  "Oh no, you're not!  You do have me.  You'll always have me.  I'm not that easy to get rid of."

For a long second Tyrol's heart stopped beating.  He gave it a kick-start with a deep, shaking breath.  He and Sharon were going to make it after all.  Tyrol felt like fluff and in danger of floating away.  Only Sharon held him to the deck so he wrapped his arms around her and held on for dear life.

"Hey, the dance floor is for dancers.  You wanna make out, go find yourself a room."  One of the other dancing couples had run into Tyrol from behind, making him and Sharon both stagger.  With an embarrassed apology, Tyrol pulled Sharon off the dance floor.

Sharon wore a beaming smile like a halogen lamp.  She said, "You just have to promise me one thing:  If I hurt you again, you shoot me.  Okay?"

"Shoot you?  No way."  Putting an arm around Sharon's shoulders, Tyrol pulled her close enough to kiss.

"Promise me or the deal's off, Rollie."  Her lips were millimeters away from his.  That's my Sharon, Tyrol thought, always picking an argument, trying to get her own way, but why not promise?  He'd never actually have to do it.

"You got it, babe," he breathed.  Their lips met and he said no more.

"You are the luckiest son of a bitch in the universe, Hush.  Maybe I should just rub your arm and see if I can get some of it to come off on me."  Adama looked at President Roslin in surprise.  That had been an odd thing for her to say.  He and Maya had been touring the bulkheads looking at the thank-you banners and scaring lovers out of dark corners when they'd met Madam President and Jerry Whatever-His-Name-Was standing by the table of presents.  She was leaning on the arm of her companion and admiring one of the smaller hangings.

The President glowed tonight, probably from a combination of skillful make-up and the excitement of the evening.  It was, after all, her first real opportunity to meet her citizenry.  But she'll pay tomorrow, Adama thought.  The cancer will come back re-doubled and she'll feel like hell.  He put an arm around Maya's shoulders and drew her close.  Human life is so fragile.  Maya looked up at him and smiled encouragingly, almost as if she could read his mind.

Billy Keikeya and Dualla had opened all the presents right before the party had begun, and the contents were displayed for everyone to appreciate -- an intricate wood carving of the Galactica, a large handful of priceless iridescent Phoenix feathers from Leonid, several paintings and drawings including two Adama recognized from museum exhibitions, and money, lots of money.  It looked like hundreds of thousands of cubits.

However, Adama didn't think Madame President was referring to any of that.  Maybe she'd been referring to Maya.  If so, he'd have to agree with her, but he asked, "What do you mean, Laura?"

President Roslin wasn't looking at him, she was looking at Maya.  "No wonder G.G. was so desperate to get back to the Colonies.  The picture's legend says he found only the one scrap, with no other pieces around.  Is that right?"

Maya nodded.  "In the middle of the outer asteroid belt between Caprica and Geminon.  Graham had been tracking asteroid miner legends about an ancient wreck.  There were probably more hunks of it, but once we found this one, it was enough for him."  She looked up at Adama.  "After your first broadcast, when you told us that we were going to Earth, Graham just began to fall apart.  He couldn't stand it that someone had actually known about Earth all along."

Adama did not like feeling on the outside of a conversation.  "Would you two care to tell me what you're talking about?"

President Roslin smiled at him.  "You haven't seen it, Hush?"

"Seen what?"  That had come out sharper than he'd intended.

"What Maya has in Star Chaser's hold.  There's a picture of it over there.  You should go look.  I think you'll, uh, really enjoy it."  President Roslin nodded toward the small banner on the bulkhead.  She was smiling broadly, grinning really.

"Come on, I'll show you," Maya said tugging his hand.  "Over here."

Doctor Baltar and Lieutenant Gaeta were standing together in front of the picture.  They moved aside so Adama and Maya could see too.  The large picture showed a piece of space flotsam with some faded and scratched Colonial block lettering.  Adama pulled out his glasses and slipped them on.  He had to study it a moment before the picture came into focus.  There were three lines.

From the first line he slowly spelled out, K, O, B, A.  The next several letters had been made illegible by a long gouge, probably an asteroid impact.  Then there was an M, two more illegible letters, I, N, and what might be a G.  "Kobal Mining?" he ventured.

Maya nodded.  "That's what Doctor Rainier thought.  He said that some of the most ancient legends talk about the first Lords being miners."  Adama smiled at her.  When she turned back to look at the picture, he wrapped his arms around Maya's shoulders and pulled her against his chest.  Lords, it was good to have someone to hold on to.

He read the next line, which was only a string of numbers, 8, 1, 3, 5, 5, 8, and maybe some more, but a large hole had ripped them away forever.  "Her registry."  Maya's head brushed another nod against his chest.

The third line was in smaller letters.  The first letter was mostly illegible except for an upside-down bowl shape at the top, possibly a B, P, R or even an O or Q.  Then more clearly but still badly scratched, L, A, N, a completely scratched away letter, then a T, either some space or a missing letter, E, A, a missing letter, a T, and finally an H.

Adama's arms squeezed Maya's shoulders until she moaned a protest.  "Oh sweet Lords," he said.  "Planet Earth."

And with that, I am sad to say the dating service has closed up shop.