Okay, last time this time around:

Dialogue in Colonial Standard is not bolded.

Dialogue in English is bolded.

Dialogue over the wireless is always in italics.

Enjoy.

BATTLESTAR GALACTICA

THE LONG ROAD HOME

Book II: The Summit of Pisgah

Part Four

The following takes place between Parts 8 and 9 in Book I

Landing Bay One

BasestarNemesis

Seven Hours and Fifteen Minutes since Contact

"I can't believe you're going along with this," Starbuck groused to Tigh as they watched Guarland and Lewis carry the simple black case out of the scout vessel. The sounds of the landing bay seemed to fade as their eyes caught sight of the unmistakable three rounded triangles stenciled on its side.

Tigh groused in return, saying, "Too much excitement for you, Captain?"

"Drunk."

"Frak-up. By rights I ought to toss your boney ass into the nearest cell and toss away the key." It was delivered with such a deadpan tone that Starbuck actually looked worried he might try such a move. Tigh decided to let her stew on it for a bit and turned to address the pair standing to the side. "You two are clear about the terms of this little exchange?"

"Yes, Sir," Athena nodded. Iolus Carroq, the civilian engineer from Little Delphi, likewise nodded but otherwise kept his peace.

Truth be told, he shared Starbuck's concern over the Admiral's proposal of 'trading' personnel until their superiors back home made some kind of decision. The idea itself had been a sound one, but Rice electing himself and the two Marines to remain aboard Nemesis was the last thing he'd expected. Taylor and Starbuck had been too shocked to immediately register how their superior also put no conditions on who would take his place. His own shock was more muted. The relief that they were keeping the nuke aboard quickly washed it out.

Tigh knew he should be disturbed by this kind of thinking, but was past caring about his private state of mind. Even the Nebula and everything that happened afterwards couldn't change that.

Lewis and Guarland hauled the container towards the bay's sole exit, with Helo and two Colonial Marines as escort. "Better start your pre-flight, Captain." The Commander nodded toward the Terran shuttle, voice as indifferent as ever. It was a performance worthy of every acting award the Colonies had ever devised; given how ab-so-frakking-lutely desperate he was to get her off his ship.

If Starbuck took offense at the apparent dismissal, she gave no sign. Instead, she gave him a two-finger salute and turned to address the Admiral. A moment later, the officer nodded and Starbuck was on her way without another glance back. Tigh knew her well enough to read the signs. He actually felt a tremble of sympathy for what his people were likely going to be going through in a few microns.

Athena had unknowingly saved him from worrying himself too much over that earlier on, just after the exchange had been agreed to. She'd quietly let part a piece of information he immediately filed away as 'Top Secret – Eyes Only – Tell No One'. He mentally attached a small note to that thought, to the effect of 'Get Starbuck off this ship immediately!'

"Keep it to yourself," was all he'd murmured in return and Athena nodded calmly in acknowledgment. After that, he was ready to agree to anything if it meant putting distance between himself and Thrace.

Making sure his own people were securely inside the Terran's shuttle, Tigh turned to address Rice. "Admiral, we'd best retire so they can get on their way."

"Agreed, Commander," the Terran Admiral nodded, then turned to follow his men out of the landing bay. The man's confidence in his safety was astounding, at least to Tigh, who felt as if he were in some surrealist's painting. Nevertheless, he gave a small wave back to the shuttle, and then quit the bay himself. It was a struggle to put one foot before the other to do so, but he managed this task.

With Starbuck out of the picture now, he was back to flying blind. It wasn't a mental state he enjoyed in the slightest.

Fortunately, Saul Tigh was very practiced at hiding his constant discomfort these days, covering for it through action...and by being an even bigger and more acerbic bastard than usual. He threw off a grunt meant as, "Follow me" and stomped blindly down the corridor; he didn't bother to look if anyone was following him.

After a few minutes and several quick turns later, he brought his temporary entourage to what been provisionally assigned as guest quarters for personnel from elsewhere in the Fleet. Tigh felt a distinct stab of anger at himself for all this. He needed hard intel on what was waiting for his...the survivors of the Colonies here. He equally recognized he was unlikely to get such intel without at least trying to look and play human.

After two years of it, plus the fifty before, you'd think it would have come easier to him.

Then again, given what had happened within all those years, it was a small miracle he was even alive anymore.

The Old Man was quick to order his resurrected pilot into containment under tight guard. The Marines who had been summoned were equally quick to lock arm and leg irons on him, keeping their weapons drawn on him at all times.

The newly-resurrected man, not so young now, offered no word or gesture of protest. He was simply too shocked to find himself whole and healed to even think of escape then.

The Old Man and the President both grappled with his survival as much as he himself did. The implications were every bit as nightmarish as how Gaius Baltar had somehow managed to vanish into the Fleet right after his trial. In the chaos that had followed since then. There simply hadn't been time or energy available for a dedicated search for the man, and even less inclination to do so.

It was nearly a week before anyone came to see him, armed or otherwise. Meals had consisted of a single ration bar, slid into his cell by some unseen hand. As no-one had thought to remove the arm and leg ions, just unwrapping the bar one-handed and bringing it to his mouth required considerable ingenuity on his part. Anyone who might have been watching would have thought he'd trained in the Colonial Olympics as opposed to the backyard Pyramid courts. He himself was often mystified at his newfound dexterity.

He similarly was surprised to intuitively know how long it had been since his sudden resurrection – six days, twenty hours, and forty-seven minutes precisely – when he received his first visitor.

Yet another surprise: it was Tigh, alone and apparently unarmed.

The first blow the older man landed was enough to leave him stunned and deaf. His forehead felt unusually damp as well. Looking up he could see Tigh's lips moving, something slender and metallic in his hand. Finding he could now lip-read, allowed him to make out the various invectives hurled his way by the Colonel. The thing in his hand – a long-discarded piece of iron pipe – came down on his head again barely a minute later. The wet-sounding "crack" that resounded with the impact robbed him completely of sight and already-treacherous balance.

Consciousness faded quickly, although he clearly felt the cell door being thrown open and vibration of many boots racing forward.

BasestarNemesis

Conference Room Alpha

Seven Hours, Twenty-six Minutes Since Contact

"We have things to discuss, Admiral."

This was all Tigh had been able to say, utterly at a loss how to proceed now that the 'party favor' was safely stowed somewhere else and they were back in Conference Alpha. Helo had evidentially requested chairs be brought in and they were sitting facing each other now; only the Terran Marine that had accompanied Rice remained standing.

Tigh felt not a little aggrieved his recently awakened mental acuity chose the worst moment to desert him right then. Rice himself was the personification of stoicism; his Marine guard didn't look inclined to tread in 'officer country'. Fortunately, his ever-reliable XO was ready to step into the breach.

"Sir? Can you give us some idea what to expect next?" Helo asked, sounding calm as the Aerelon poles. Tigh knew it was an act but appreciated it all the same.

Admiral Rice simply looked between them for several long moments before deciding to how to answer. "I'm quite honestly not sure myself, gentlemen. I wasn't being modest when I said I...we...never seriously expected to ever meet your people."

"Surely Starbuck's arrival led you to develop at least some plans, right?" Helo pressed.

Rice nodded. "Colonel Thrace's landing was...well, unexpected to say the least. It forced us to jettison some assumptions we had been holding to that point and...Yes, you're correct, Major. There are plans in place." He took a breath and pressed on. "You'll understand I'm reluctant to go into detail under the circumstances."

Tigh snorted in amusement, wondering if the Terran was reading his mind somehow. "Fully understandable, sir. And I assure you, neither my crew nor I will press on that score." He fixed his remaining eye on Rice's own. "But, I cannot have my ship simply sit here like a rock without at least some small bit of guidance."

"You haven't asked what our home planet's name is, Commander," Rice reminded him.

"Because that isn't all that relevant right now, Admiral," Tigh fired back, now easily discerning the various levels of this conversation He was both grateful and worried he felt no internal compulsion to press that one issue, and wondered what Rice himself saw in him right then. "What I'm looking for is some idea of the...terrain...waiting for us here."

"And what kind of reception might be waiting there?"

"Exactly."

"Are your people going to request to settle on our world?"

"Would such a request at least be entertained by your world's leadership?"

"I already told you the United Nations has passed a resolution to that effect."

Tigh nodded, conceding the point. "That sounds very nice, but it doesn't tell me or my officers a damned thing about what our fleet can expect."

Rice seemed to find this all at least mildly amusing, given the small grin that broke his stony mask. "Fair enough." He sobered and waged another internal debate.

After several tense moments, he stated, "The message we received from our ship indicated one of our senior civilian leadership is already en route. If they haven't arrived by now, they will haveby the time Starbuck and her party are released from quarantine after landing."

"Quarantine again? Is that necessary?" asked Helo.

Rice spared him a glance and nodded. "Very necessary, Major. If only so we're fully confident my people aren't carrying something that will threaten yours."

Tigh quickly asked, "Will this senior civilian person have authority to at least allow our fleet to enter this system?"

"Yes, as well as open preliminary discussions about your people's long-term future here."

Tigh hoped the involuntary twitch in his eye went unnoticed. "Good. Would there be the possibility of perhaps our bartering for supplies as well?"

Rice gave him an intrigued look. "Barter with what, Commander? Colonel Thrace gave us the impression your fleet was barely outfitted and virtually destitute."

Tigh schooled his expression to one of polite derision. "Well, I get the sense your people are fairly new to space, Admiral. I mean, your planes look like toy models in comparison to ours. I'm also guessing Starbuck is your only flight instructor with actual experience in extra-atmospheric combat." He leaned forward ever so slightly. "Those are things you can be sure our people can help with."

Rice leaned in himself, dropping his own tone to a low growl. "How long has it been since you've encountered the Cylons, Commander?"

"Roughly a year. And believe me; we've watching our backs very, very carefully."

"I'm...pretty sure some kind of arrangement can be made, Commander. Obviously I can't commit toor promise anything..."

"And again, I'm not asking you." Tigh turned his gaze to the tabletop between them and drummed his fingers there for a beat. Looking back up, he opened his mouth as if to ask something else, then thought better of it.

"Look, Admiral," he continued with a sigh. "I think if we try to talk about this any further we'll stray into territory we should avoid until our respective superiors are on-scene. Agreed?"

"Agreed, Commander." Rice's tone and expression went completely blank at this, giving no clue as to his thoughts or impressions.

Helo broke in suggesting, "Perhaps you'd care for a proper tour of theNemesis while we wait for word from your ship, sir?"

Rice gave a polite nod, eyes brightening for a moment. "That would be a...a good idea, Major. I confess our earlier walkthrough felt a bit too brief. Provided your CO has no objections?"

"None from me, Admiral. Major Agathon?"

"Sir?"

"Please escort the Admiral and his man wherever they wish. Within reason, of course."

"Of course, Commander. Little Delphi as well?"

"I'll contact Mr. Saron and let him know you're stopping by...something funny, Admiral?"

Rice hadn't been able to hide the chuckle that hit at hearing the name. "My apologies, Commander. That particular name..."

"What? Saron?"

"Yes, that one. It's shared by a figure from a famous work of literature on our world. It's just a surprise to hear it out here."

"I see." Tigh felt relieved at hearing this, though he couldn't immediately tell why. "Well, I hope you'll expand on that some time." He stood and tugged his dress blues back into place. "I trust you'll understand if I don't join you, Sir. I need to contact my own superiors and assure them we're still in one piece."

"May I ask what you plan to tell them, Commander?"

"Merely that we're still scouting the edges of this system and may have more to report shortly." Helo gave his CO an odd look, which was returned with a low glower. "I see no reason to raise anyone's expectations or sound alarm bells unnecessarily right now. Do you?" The question to could have been directed towards either Helo or Rice, neither of whom had a ready response to it.

"See to your orders, Major," was all Tigh said as he turned and marched out of the room. As he left, he noted how Helo had the good grace to look momentarily embarrassed by his superior's manner, though Admiral Rice looked more puzzled than offended right then. He didn't let these reactions stop him however.

He had lies to compose and plans to lay, and damned if he'd be able to do either with his XO or guests watching him!

When he next woke, a mere four hours and eighteen minutes later, it was no shock to find himself still in containment and under guard. What was shocking to find himself laid out, unrestrained, atop a cot with Doc Cottle poking his still-pounding skull with all the gentleness of a Pyramid rookie. There were also no fewer than three Marines in full gear waiting just inside.

The weak joke he answered with – one comparing the Doc's head to a Picon summer melon – resulted in the CMO nearly jumping a good arms length into the air and had all the Marines raising their weapons and unleashing a rapid hail of fire that tore through him. As he died a third time, he knew exactly which of his internal organs received how many punctures from how many explosive rounds.

His last thought was towonder how long it would take him to resurrect this time. Acold certainty closed in upon him as surely as the darkness snuffed out consciousness.

BasestarNemesis

Commander's Quarters

Eleven Hours, Thirty Minutes Since Contact

Tigh knew it was four hours and four minutes later when Helo came to see him in his cabin. He'd waited in Command until it was confirmed Helo and their visitors were occupied below decks. Then he'd left Kelly watching the Boards and spent the majority of that time sitting there, composing one possible signal to Galacticaafter another.

His trashcan was now almost full of crumpled sheets of script. He'd nearly given up hope of being able to write anything that was sufficiently nondescript that it wouldn't panic the Old Man into jumping straight into the system. It hadn't escaped his notice how their sensors had lost track of Starbuck's shuttle the second she dove into the asteroid field, never mind failed to detect even the faintest trace of her home ship.

All of which added up tomany unsettling possibilities, especially in terms of the Terrans' capabilities. How in hell he could even begin to explain any of it in any coherent way to himself, never mind distill it down to a couple sentences that didn't sound utterly out of his mind?

It took all his willpower to keep from screaming for Helo to enter when he requested admittance. He hadn't felt this level of frustration since the first time he'd walking in on Ellen with her hand down another man's pants. It was a strangely settling thought given the circumstances; he could only hope he remained as useless now as he was back then.

Helo didn't stand on ceremony beyond a quick flick of a salute. He promptly dropped into the chair opposite the Commander's simple desk, taking note of how much cleaner it looked than usual. Tigh continued to stare at the paper in his hand right then, a pencil poised uselessly near it.

The silence stretched on as it normally did between them. A familiar routine now between them both, a way to smooth over the fact neither of them were qualified for their current positions.

Tigh finally asked, "Learn anything?" He didn't dare look up just yet.

"Seems Starbuck hasn't lost her touch at telling tales." This prompted Tigh to fix his XO with a stare, only to find it reflected back at him.

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning if this is some trick of the Cylons...well, it's even more convoluted than what they pulled on me back on Caprica when they dropped Sharon on me. I mean if these people are for real, and Kara really has been living with them for years..."

"Telling tales?"

"The Admiral divided his time between putting back shots and making oblique references to stories about..." Helo paused with a small grimace.

"About?"

"You, mainly. As well a few slightly more...colorful...references to the Old Man and..."

Tigh held up a hand. "I can guess. Did you get anything useful from him?"

Helo shrugged a single shoulder. "He's damned protective of Kara."

"Really?" Tigh snorted and turned his attention back to the paper in his hand. Helo followed his eyes.

"Follow up message to Galactica?"

Tigh nodded. "Been trying to write the damned thing since I left you with our visitors. Where are they, by the way?"

"Back in their cabin. They've got one man outside their door at all times."

"Make sure to keep that corridor clear of traffic."

"Already done. Should I...?" Helo waved towards the papers on the CO's desk.

"No. I'm either the CO of this ship, or I'm not." Tigh echoed his old friend's words from years back. It had become something of a meditation for him -- a rallying point -- as it became clearer and clearer just how far out of his depth he was in this job.

He paused at that particular thought, feeling some previously unconscious weight shift within himself. It was a flash of conscious insight that was gone before he fully realized it. "Dismissed," the Commander barked needlessly. His XO knew the tone and his superior's mood well enough to know when to retreat, even if he had no idea what had set him off this time.

Rather than dwell on this latest outburst, Major Agathon stood and saluted. Tigh returned it with his pencil but did nothing else. He looked up only when he heard his cabin's door slide shut again.

The words came to him shortly thereafter. He only paused to check the wording against current code ciphers, ensuring he wasn't unintentionally declaring war against anyone.

Satisfied that he was not committing a disastrous breach, the Commander stood and quit the room, intent upon delivering it to Comms himself.

After that, he had another, slightly longer letter to write to his long-time commander. Something to explain the corpse he prayed they would find in his shower in the next few hours.
When the younger man woke again, he found himself cradled in the arms of his lover. He did not immediately question how she could be there, with him in her arms, just then. She sported a few scratches and bruises. He didn't find this surprising.

He didn't find anything surprising anymore.

He cracked a smile rather than a joke this time. She returned it.

They didn't speak. There wasn't need between them anymore.

They remained like that until his strength returned. When he could finally stand, he did so. He enfolded her in his now-unmarked arms when he could lift them.

They remained that way for a full day. They came to The Decision at the same time, in the same moment.

They needed to know.

She was the one to throw the first punch, breaking his nose and driving cartilage into his brain.

He actually laughed as he died yet again. It seemed it was all he was good at anymore.

Twelve Hours since Contact

Tigh woke on the floor of his shower stall, back aching and head completely clear. He could feel the heat of the weapon in his hand, the sticky spray of gore on his back…he could even feel Ellen's phantom fingers brushing the bare, weathered skin atop his skull.

Her fond chuckle filled his ears, as it sometimes did when he got crazy like this. Honestly, Saul. Look at this mess.

A single desperate tear leaked out of his remaining eye. Frak it, he cursed silently, wondering how easy it would be to make it to an airlock and simply flush himself out into the void.

That won't solve anything, and you know it.

"Shut up!" he roared, leaping to his feet and bringing his weapon to bear on…nothing. "Frak Frak Frak Frak Frak!" Tigh ground out between clenched teeth. The room's comm chimed at that moment, prompting him to march over and pick up the handset with thoughts of bloody murder. "What?"

He went silent and still at the message. "I'll be there in five. Have Admiral Rice there as well." It took only two minutes for him to re-engage the safety on his sidearm, toss it onto his unmade bed, and throw on his dress blues. After that, he was out the door and jogging to CIC with all the vigor of a human a quarter his age.

He struck first the next time, using every dirty move he'd learned on the Pyramid Courts in all twelve of the colonies. To fortify himself, he kept his eyes closed and imagined his target to be every two-bit player and coach who had ever crossed him.

Limbs were snapped in brutal ways and at shallow angles.

Ribs and cartilage buckled and snapped.

Internal organs were hammered, some of them rupturing.

Finally, her back was rearranged as he threw her limp form against the cell's only solid wall. Her small squeak of pain, the first she had uttered since the start, caused his eyes to snap open and all his carefully constructed fantasies come crashing down.

He spent the next two hours huddled in the furthest corner he could press into, alternatively indulging in tears and dry retching. It didnothing to drown out the sharp sounds of bones resetting themselves as if by magic. He could only wonder then if she had heard similar things when it had been him healing on the floor.

He watched as she slowly opened her clear, dark eyes. The despair that had been eating at his heart was reflected there perfectly.

BasestarNemesis

CIC

Twelve Hours, Twenty Minutes Contact

It seemed strange to see Admiral Rice without either of his men shadowing him. Yet he marched into the CIC calmly, a Junior Petty Officer as his only escort. If he was even slightly puzzled by the Commander's unexpected summons to the Bridge, he hid it well.

"Commander?" was his only question.

Tigh pointed to the handset nearest him, precisely like the one he himself was holding. "Admiral, we're receiving a transmission relayed from one of the fighters you have watching us. It's directed to you specifically."

"May I?"

"Please." Rice picked up the handset, watching Tigh carefully as he spoke into it.

"This is Admiral Rice," he said, making sure to keep to Colonial.

The slightly distorted voice on the other end replied in kind. "This is Secretary Richards, Admiral. I challenge: Vicksburg along the Mississippi."

"I respond: Rome along the Tiber."

"Okay, Admiral. Who else is listening?"

Tigh immediately said, "This is Commander Saul Tigh, commanding officer of the Colonial Basestar Nemesis."

"A pleasure and an honor, Commander."

"Likewise," Tigh drawled in a way that communicated the exact opposite. "I presume you're part of the diplomatic party we're supposed to expect?"

"I am. However, I should clarify. My position is roughly analogous to that of the Speaker of the Quorum and the Vice-President of the Colonies combined. Commander, are you empowered to enter into any manner of negotiations concerning the final disposition of your people?"

"No, Mr. Secretary. I am not. My authority extends no further than this ship and crew." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I really shouldn't even be speaking to you right now, Sir. Just so you understand."

"That's what I thought, Commander." There was a pause on the line. "Perhaps it's probably just as well you're listening in, Sir. This message is as much for your ears as Admiral Rice's."

"I see, Mr. Secretary." Tigh's acceptance was not reflected in the look he gave Rice. "Unless you object, I'd like to include my Executive Officer in this discussion."

"The more the merrier, Commander. That would be, uh, Major Agathon correct?"

"It is." Tigh nodded for his XO to step forward and pick up his own handset.

"Mr. Secretary, this is Major Karl Agathon speaking. Are you aboard ship with my wife Sharon?"

"No, Major. I'm still en route. Speaking with your people is at the top of my 'to do' list upon arrival in roughly...six hours time." Both Colonials noted how Rice glanced at his watchwith a look of mild surprise.

"You have a message, Sir," Tigh reminded them all. "May we hear it?"

"Yes, yes. I apologize. Admiral Rice, the Secretary General has directed the provisions of Case Zulu Delta be activated. I figured you already took that step, but you know how Irene is about stuff like this."

Rice grimaced, but not in outright distaste. "Indeed we do, Mr. Secretary. You can inform the SecGen I've already taken the appropriate steps on my own authority."

"Very well. You are authorized to explain this to your hosts in as much detail as you see fit. Also make them aware of Resolution 531."

Rice gritted his teeth and stated, "I, uh, did so when I terminated Stage Two Quarantine."

"On your own authority?" was asked after a short but significant pause.

"Yes, Sir. The responsibility is entirely mine."

"Jumping the gun again, are we? Never mind that now. Be aware the SecDef Alpha is presently...incapacitated. Per Zulu Delta and Chain-of-Command, I have assumed primary civilian authority here. Authentication code is Paris Versailles Berlin Munich."

"Understood, Mr. Secretary. The SecGen and remainder of the C-o-C are all secure?"

"Affirmative."

"Any special instructions you can pass on?"

"Not at this time. I will be debriefing Starbuck myself upon arrival." There was another pause as the Terran Admiral waged a brief struggle to keep composure. "And you can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face right now, Ted,"the Secretary continued in normal English. "Both Irene and Robert are positively crowing for your ass right now, mein freund."

If anything, Rice had to fight harder to remain still and serious. "Understood, Mr. Secretary," he stated in a commendably dull tone.

This was answered with a hefty sigh over the wireless. "Why do I even bother?" Another audible, if more muted sigh followed as the Secretary returned to speaking in Colonial. "Commander, I apologize for that. I give you my solemn word nothing I've just said constitutes any concern to your people."

"I'll have to take your word for that, Mr. Secretary." Tigh's tone was flat enough that it could be taken in either the affirmative or negative. Rice, who had sobered by then, looked the Commander over and was clearly unsure how to take his response himself.

"Thank you, Commander," Secretary Richards continued on, seemingly unaware of the ambiguity of the response. Rice knew better, but wasn't about to let that slip. "As I said, I will be arriving in the area within the next six of our hours. You should expect further communication from us in short order, pending my discussions with your people and Colonel Thrace. Until then, I'd ask the Nemesis remain at its current position."

"I've no objection, Sir. Will you're planes still be on guard?"

"They will, and I will be directing our ships reinforce their patrols upon arrival. I would therefore advise you to keep your own birds in the barn, Commander, just to cut down the chance of something accidental happening. At least until a final decision is made."

Helo frowned a bit, while Tigh didn't so much as blink at this. "Is that a threat, Mr. Secretary?"

"Just a piece of common sense advice, Sir. Nothing more."

"My thanks then. You'll understand when I say we'll be remaining at Condition One for the interim as well, yes?"

"Completely understandable, Commander. I must say, Iam looking forward to meeting with you and your people. Richards clear." With that, the line went dead. Rice lowered his handset to its cradle and leaned heavily against the planning table; he didn't look so much tired as simply worn down right then.

Tigh and Helo also set down their own handsets. Helo cleared his throat to ask "Admiral? What does 'Zulu Delta' refer to?"

"Eh?" Rice looked up, then quickly straightened and stood fully. "Apologies for the confusion, gentlemen. 'Zulu Delta' is a state of readiness not unlike your Condition Two."

"Vipers standing ready on deck, but not loaded in the tubes?" Helo asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Rice nodded.

Tigh shook his head. "So how does that relate to you?" Rice gave him a deadpan stare, which lead Tigh to drawl "Ah, right. The bomb." One would think the Commander had actually forgotten about it, given his uninterested tone and relaxed stance right then.

Tigh let this stretch several more moments before asking, "Would you care to elaborate on the...new measures you've undertaken in light of these new orders? Like your Secretary, I'd like to keep possible accidents to an absolute minimum where possible."

"Especially in relation to a 20 megaton yield device sitting just one deck down from here," the Admiral's agreeable-sounding tone answered.

"Precisely."

"Well you can rest assured there, Commander. You see Zulu Delta directs the trigger for the bomb be linked to a dead-man switch keyed to my personal heart rate. If I were, say, get suddenly surprised or get supremely tense…"

"I get it, Admiral," Tigh affirmed grimly, then looked up sharply when his XO asked the next obvious question.

"What if we were to attempt to…move…the device without your approval, Sir?" Tigh looked almost thunderstruck at his officer's boldness, while Rice merely nodded.

"If you were to attempt to do so, my men would manually detonate the device." He gave them both a slow, measured look. "I don't want it to come to that, though. Do either of you?"

"No, Admiral. We do not," the Colonial Commander answered for everyone present. The atmosphere between them all became still and tense. Tigh took a breath and sought to dissipate it a bit. "What can we expect to happen between now and whenever Secretary Richards contacts us next?"

"Nothing," Rice answered bluntly. "Secretary Richards won't be arriving on scene for at least the next six hours. Once he's aboard our ship, he'll have to interview Major Taylor, Colonel Thrace, and your own people. After that, it'll be consultations with the Secretary General – our equivalent to your President – and the rest of the Secretariat before even an initial decision can be reached concerning you.

"Quite honestly, if we hear back from him any time within the next twelve hours it'll be nothing short of a miracle." Rice grimaced and shrugged. "Damned if I know how we'll fill the time until then, but that's how it is."

"That's why the Lords gave us Triad, Admiral." Tigh's remark was delivered so casually, so off-handedly, it was several breaths before anyone caught it. Rice blinked at him several times, as did Helo.

The Colonial XO echoed the bubble of laughter that half-erupted from the Terran Admiral. It was barely a second later when the Comms officer across the room was giggling as well. The two Specialists who were on duty couldn't help but join in quickly thereafter, by which time both Admiral Rice was literally fighting to keep from doubling over. Helo had fought a similar battle, and had temporarily lost.

Only Tigh himself kept any real composure, frowning so severely and so deeply, he was clearly just a heartbeat away from joining the rest of them in outright laughter.

It was a fully day before he could find his voice. They had curled into each other's tight embrace the moment she'd been strong enough to move, remaining there, still as marble hewn from the quarries of Aerleon and shaped by the artisans of Leones.

They hadn't spoken in all that time, save through tears and hushed sounds of cold comfort. They could feel each other's breath on their necks and feel the other's heart beat against their chests, both coming in such perfect tandem.

The irony was not lost on either how such things merely reinforced the stone-certainty of their true origins.

Both took that time and the silence between them to process what they had learned of themselves. They took it as given that those watching them, presumably watching and studying them, were doing likewise. They both pondered why it was so very important their adopted people learn how to terminate them; some pre-programmed bit of subterfuge perhaps. Or had they exceeded their 'programming' now and gone native in the most literal sense?

They agreed after that day, silently and without questioning their respective certainty, that brute violence would no longer be attempted. Neither had the stomach to harm the other any longer, never mind how utterly pointless it had proved.

That left the question of what to try next. He had the notion that severing their spines might prove terminal enough, even going so far explore her contours there with his fingers. She clearly had similar thoughts, but had decided against that route just then, communicating this through a simple shake of her head.

Instead, she maneuvered his hands to her slender neck. The directive was clear as if she had shouted to the heavens on a silent night on New Caprica.

He accepted it calmly, but closed his eyes to ensure he did not falter at some inopportune moment.

A single, mighty twist there and she went limp in his arms once again. Her final breath rattled in his ear as his arms tightened around her. He heard her heartbeat still, his own breath stilling in anticipation.

A minute passed. Then another.

Then ten. Twenty. Forty. Sixty.

Her heartbeat remained silent, her physical form limp as rags. He dared not hope they had succeeded.

Another sixty minutes passed and she remained still.

"Lords of Kobol," he began to breath, stopping when he realized how raw his throat was from disuse. No, he decided. He would wait until he could offer them a proper prayer before speaking.

The only question before him then was how he might ensure he followed his lover. His mind worked quickly over the available options; his own hands would be a last resort, while it was unlikely he could hope to pry one of the cell's bars free. He decided on the metal cot that was the only furniture there. It was both large and solid enough to do the job.

He all but dropped her now-useless body to the floor and laid himself prone, quickly wrestling the metal frame so he held it above him as if it were an ordinary set of weights. He found it strangely gratifying his strength had faded somewhat, his arms now shaking from the strain of holding cot aloft.

"Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer," he whispered, ignoring the commotion beyond the walls. "Accept my sacrifice, and help me guard your sons and daughters..."

Whether it was distraction at hearing the bulkhead door being swung open or his strength simply faltering right at that moment, the heavy frame slipped away from him and smashed down upon his exposed throat.

Darkness was instantaneous, and total. There was no sense of slipping away from his body or self; he was simply...

...somewhere else...

...opening fresh eyes...gasping fresh air with fresh lungs...

...meeting the implacable, eternally sliding red eye of a Guardian Centurion full on, and without fear.

BasestarNemesis

CIC

Twenty-five Hours, One Minute Since Contact

"Incoming transmission, Commander," Specialist Tomlin reported.

"Pipe it through," Tigh nodded as he picked up his handset. Secretary Richard's voice filtered over the speakers, sounding far clearer than he had thirteen hours ago.

"Ahoy,Nemesis."

"Mr. Secretary," Tigh sighed, sounding world-weary.

"Good afternoon, Commander. Is Admiral Rice there?"

"I'm here, Mr. Secretary," Rice affirmed. Helo and Kelly likewise were present and listening through their own handsets.

"Excellent. I've completed my interviews and consulted with both SecDef Beta and the Secretary General. Resolution 531 is considered in force as of…1239 hours GMT. Admiral?"

Rice unconsciously braced himself. "Sir?"

"Case MOSES." Rice remained tense for another moment, clearly expecting more.

"Is that…all, Sir?"

"That's it. Colonel Thrace and I will brief the exchange party and get a sense of provisions. You and your men are to maintain Zulu Delta until instructed otherwise."

"What parameters shall I brief the Commander and his staff?"

"Your discretion, Admiral." The Secretary's voice faded for a moment then returned in English"Cornwell is still bouncing off the walls about you being there, Ted. Just figured you should know."

"Understood, Mr. Secretary," the Admiral stated woodenly, then turned to the Colonials. "Commander, I believe now would be a good moment."

Tigh nodded and address his handset. "Mr. Secretary, I formally request, um, safe harbor for my people."

"Do you and your people hope to settle here, Commander?"

"That would be up to my superiors and our people as a whole to decide."

"I see. Just how many people are we talking about?"

Tigh quickly met Helo's eyes and said, "Roughly 40,000 souls aboard 31 vessels, Sir."

There was a short, pregnant pause, one just long enough to nearly convince Tigh the request was about to be refused.

"You may inform your people they will find safe harbor here. Please direct them to jump into this region so we can ensure their security. Is that acceptable?"

"For the moment, Mr. Secretary."

"Commander? A small favor if you will?"

"Sir?"

"Please don't mention the presence of Colonel Thrace here." There were vague sounds of a scuffle on the other end, which everyone present politely ignored. "I suspect things will be…difficult enough without throwing her into the mix too quickly."

Further sounds of disorder were again ignored as Tigh said, "My thinking exactly, Mr. Secretary. With your permission, I'll send the message now. It will likely be a few more local hours before they make their final jump."

"Understood. I'll leave the matter in your hands, then. Admiral Rice?"

"Sir?"

"See to your orders. Richards clear." The connection was cut and Rice found himself the target of far too many pairs of eyes.

Helo spoke first. "'Case Moses', Sir?"

"Rules of engagement. Or in this case, non-military engagement." Rice fixed eyes on his immediate counterpart. "Case Moses gets its name from a bit of religious mythology from our world, referring to chosen leader who brought his people out of slavery and to their ancestral homeland." He smirked ever so slightly. "You can imagine the stir Thrace caused when we managed to piece together her story. I'm presuming President Roslin is still alive?"

"She is," Helo confirmed. "But her cancer has progressed…"

"We might be able to help that as well..."

Tigh had tuned them out by then, the Admiral's off-hand comment suddenly resonating deep within him. The story from myth, that one name, bounced about in his mind without hindrance and beyond control. The echo of it drowned everything else out. He knew immediately why, and felt as if he should both praise and curse the Lords at the great joke played upon him by putting him here, into this moment in time.

Particularly given his middle name, at least on what was left of his military paperwork, was "Moses".

Tigh breathed and asked "Did this leader…did he actually see the end of that journey?"

Rice didn't appear surprised at the question. He shook his head saying, "No. He only lived long enough to see his people's homeland from the top of a mountain called Pisgah."

Again, if anyone felt the Commander's question or his carefully schooled non-expression strange, there was no sign. Helo and the Admiral continued to talk, discussing logistics and needs. Tigh's own thoughts were turning in an entirely different direction, a wholly different plan forming in his mind.

"Major Agathon, you have the Bridge. Coordinate with Admiral Rice to bring in our Fleet. I'll be in my cabin if you need me." He left the Bridge without a further word or another glance back.

He had a letter to finish writing, andthen needed to scrounge up a good length of wire cord. The sharper, the better.

After all, who was he to ignore the demands of history?

It was four months and four days later when a Raptor first caught sight of the derelict basestar that the Colonials would make as their own.

They renamed it Nemesis, and wondered at this change in fortune.

Colonial Basestar Nemesis

CIC

Thirty Hours, Four Minutes Since Contact

The DRADIS boards were filled signals, the thirty Terran Vipers orbiting their position, forming a wide perimeter in space. Admiral Rice wondered which of them was Starbuck's. It helped distract himself from other concerns right then.

Major Agathon likewise kept his eyes fixed to the boards, expression far grimmer and no less distracted.

"FTL signatures," Captain Kelly reported as a host of new contacts appeared. Some 31 in total as expected.

"Captain Kelly, get me Galactica Actual on the wireless," Agathon ordered, picking up his handset. "Admiral Rice, will your ship be monitoring our wireless transmissions?"

"Very likely."

"Comforting," Agathon muttered as a new voice came over the speakers.

"Nemesis Actual, come in!"

"This is Major Agathon, sir. Nemesis Actual is...indisposed."

"Very well. We are reading over thirty small spacecraft in orbit around us, Nemesis. Please explain."

"These aircraft are a defense force native to this star system, and are on a wide patrol to ensure no threat emerges at our arrival," Helo's replied calmly. "I'll allow their representative to explain further." He nodded to Rice.

"This Admiral Theodore Rice of the Terran Defense Fleet. May I know who I am addressing?"

"This is Admiral William Adama of the Battlestar Galactica."

"My greetings, Admiral Adama."

There was a short pause, then "Admiral Rice. I trust Commander Tigh has explained our…situation…sufficiently?"

"My superiors and I are aware you are refugee fleet seeking safe haven, Sir. I should inform you a senior civilian representative is in the area. I should allow him to speak further on this." Rice paused, switching to English. "Anyone listening on this Band, clear grid-reference Bravo-nine-eleven for jump insertion." He glanced towards the DRADIS, noting the pair of Vipers pulling away from the noted reference point, which was suddenly filled with a new signature.

"New FTL signature, Sir..." Kelly began speaking, only to be overridden by a voice that boomed over the comms.

"This is Secretary of State Benjamin Richards. I am addressing the people of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol from aboard the Battlestar Olympus,which has just jumped into your vicinity. On behalf of the Secretariat of the United Nations, which I serve, and the many peoples it represents, I offer you the heartfelt greetings on behalf of our home planet...known to you as well as us ... as Earth.

"Welcome home."

The air in the CIC went utterly, oppressively still.

Colonial Battlestar Galactica

Within a tightly sealed containment cell, the woman once known as Sharon Valerii rocked gently back and forth. Were there any listening, they might have heard her muttering for the first time over a year.

"The Herald is here...the Herald is here...the Herald is here..."

Eyes wide and seeing nothing, she stumbled to her unsteady feet and leaned hard against the bars before her.

"She here!" she began screaming, the walls deaf and silent corridors beyond indifferent.

"The Herald of the Apocalypse is here! She's here!

"She's HERE!"

End of Book II

To Be Continued in Book III: Exodus Ends

Why I did what I did: Well I couldn't very well let that little bombshell from "Razor" go unmentioned, could I? In any case, there's been a regular demand that I quit messing around and get on with the fireworks. Rest assured, they will be coming. Perhaps even a few surprises as well.

For those who may be wondering, "Pisgah" is actually a Hebrew word for High Place, usually referring to the top of a mountain or similar geographical elevation. Translations of the Old Testament have perhaps erroneously interchanged Pisgah with Mount Nebo as the place where the prophet Mosheh (Hellenized Moses) finally died after seeing the Promised Land. Personally, I just think Pisgah sounds better.

Until next time...