"We stand in a place outside time, in a dimension beyond comprehension..."

The ancient words of the ritual rolled into the waiting silence, creating a bubble of alternate reality. The black velvet draperies shut out all outside light, while the continuing words of the ritual created a more esoteric barrier against sound and other outside influences. The single lit candle was joined sequentially by others, until a total of thirteen white tapers dripped wax as they burned with a clear and steady light. Incense clouded the air, weighting it down and defining the sluggish currents as they flowed.

"...to prepare the way for thee, O Great One..."

The air hummed with electric tension. Above the black draped altar, a shimmering mist began to gather.

"I call upon thee now, Great One, that thy aid may come to this faithful servant in time of need..."

The mist flared, causing a break in the steady voice. A momentary silence, then the words of the ancient ritual continued.

"I stand before thee this day, O Great One, as supplicant..."

"Who speaks?"

A new voice interrupted the litany. The original speaker froze, censer still raised, rigid with startlement. Then he turned in a swirl of heavy robes to behold-

A face. There was a face, hovering in a sickly green cloud of mist. It stared at him with soulless dispassion, composed of utterly calm features and eyes of inhuman darkness.

"Who speaks?" the face repeated. The pits of blackness bored into his human eyes.

"Tomarin, called Sire by right of conquest." The robed figure straightened his shoulders. "And you are?"

"What variety of summoner questions the identity of the Great One?" The light around the head flared with a crackle.

"One who would not be deceived. Your identity?" Tomarin was glad that his voice remained steady and hoped that the entity did not detect how hard his body was trembling.

The face contorted into a wordless, flaming roar. Out of the flare came a whispered Word, the sound of which twisted Tomarin into the depths of terror and beyond.

Then there was a shimmer of darkness, and the Word was stilled, although it burned into Tomarin's very soul like acid. "Satisfied, mortal fool?" The face reformed in the green mist, floating calm and serene, watching the human's fear with veiled satisfaction.

Tomarin was pressed up against the velvet walls, as far as he could get without breaking the containment circle. Fool, fool- pull yourself together! Remember, this is the only way- you must handle this better, or the Thing will take the wrong sacrifice... He drew a deep breath. With a quick review of his reasons for going through with this ritual, his calm and control returned. His revenge was worth any price, even this. He straightened his robe and moved away from the edge of the circle as though nothing had happened.

"Yes," Tomarin said clearly, facing the entity squarely. His fear was subdued by the burning need for vengeance, vengeance against those who had wronged him for so long. "You have proved your identity to my satisfaction. Now it is time to make the Agreement."

A snarl briefly transformed the face into howling blackness, then it was gone so quickly it might have been nothing but imagination. "What is it you ask, mortal?"

"Assistance," Tomarin said brusquely. "There is an unfinished task to accomplish, one started by others but fit to be carried on."

"And why should this interrest me, fool? What have you to offer one such as I?"

Tomarin smiled. Here, he was on sure ground. "Power," was his succinct reply.

"Of what sort?" Although the voice remained casual, those blank eyes fixed on the human with fierce regard.

"That which pleases you most- the power obtained from thousands of souls, all yours if you choose to assist me."

The face rippled with undisguised hunger. "What variety of assistance do you require?"

A snarl distorted the face of the human into something nearly as malignant as that of the demon. "A task was begun a yahren ago, on this day, by a race of machines. They failed to achieve the proper objective, and I seek to remedy that situation."

The face turned its full attention to Tomarin. Seeing that he at last had its interest, he smiled and continued.

"My race of humanity bound you into exile milennia ago, away from the rest of your kind, am I right?" The thing nodded, with a blaze of dark anger which washed over Tomarin in a bitter wave. He drank it in, the fury so similar to his own- that of the outcast, the despised, the one cast away... "There are those who hold that humans are fit only for destruction. I am of that belief as well. For their crimes, they deserve to suffer- for their arrogance and cold-hearted violations, they deserve destruction. Will you complete this task, begun by the Cylon machines a full yahren ago on this date?"

The malign presence before him flickered with indecision, then reached out a tendril of power and groped through his mind. Tomarin went to his knees with a silent scream of agony.

...pain... pain and suffering, torn to pieces torn to shreds filth clawing through his every pore and seeing into his innermost of hearts...

"And what good are you to me, son? Bastard by-blow of a forgotten father, can't even carry on the family name because you have none..."

"Jumped-up asteroid jockey, thinks he's good enough- we'll show him..."

"Wealth alone does not a Sire make..."

...burn, damn you- burn in hell for what you have done...

"Only pity him, for he is worth no other thing..."

...the worm at the heart of humanity, burrowing into the core- causing rot, sowing chaos and discord...

...worthless... worthless... worthless...

"NO!"

Tomarin clawed at his eyes, at his ears, struggling to shut away the filth which crawled through him, awakening every vile memory and forcing him to live through the bitter pain and humiliation that was his life, over and over and over again. The relentless control of the demon overwhelmed his puny efforts with ease, blinding him to the outside world. He heard a faint whisper in his mind:

ah yes, little fool- your pain is delectable, your ignorance complete. Taste then your revenge, before you vanish into oblivion...

And the entity which he had summoned to do his bidding took up the task. The final destruction of humanity, beginning first with this poor specimen, who had posessed the knowledge to summon but not to bind...

There was a flash of vivid green light. It filled the velvet-hung room for a timeless instant, then died away. The body of the human clambered to its feet. A diabolical shadow filled the eyes, echoed by an unholy grin. The ring of protection flickered and died as its caster's soul departed into screaming oblivion.

"Very good," the ancient being murmured. "Let the games begin."

 


Starbuck leaned back from the table with an overly casual stretch. "Think I'm turning in, guys," he said, laying his cards on the table face down.

Jolly looked at him sharply. "You must be losing."

Starbuck grinned. "Come now, Jolly- you should know me better than that. Remember, I'm on duty in a mere four centares- have to get my beauty rest, so I can keep up with our Captain here-" and he nudged Apollo.

There was a general laugh. Starbuck, waiting for Apollo's response, was thrown off-balance when the other man had nothing to say. He looked, to find Apollo staring at the viewscreen over the bar with a faint frown on his face.

"Apollo? What is it, buddy?"

This produced no response, so Starbuck nudged him again, harder.

"Huh?" Apollo roused from his daze with a start. He glanced at Starbuck, then returned his attention to the IFB broadcast on the screen.

"What are you looking at that's so interesting?"

"More interesting than him, he means," Jolly chimed in, with a laugh.

"Check this out, guys- there's been a series of bizarre deaths on the Alcestis."

"Really?" Starbuck wondered why that should concern him, then heard something over the broadcast that sent a flow of ice down his spine-

"... peculiar green glow seems to be a trademark of all the deaths. Scientists can't explain why the victims' eyes..."

He shivered and turned to Apollo. "You can't think-"

Apollo nodded somberly, answering the question in his eyes with calm certainty. "It's the only explanation."

 


It was a routine patrol, quiet and boring. Starbuck was discussing the relative charms of a dancing girl from the Rising Star with Boomer in a desultory, half-hearted fashion, when Apollo cut in.

"That's enough, guys- free up the comms channel. I've picked up a distress signal."

That shut them up quickly.

"Distress signal?" Starbuck said, flipping throough the frequencies on his scanner. There- faint, barely discernable, but there- it was a distress signal. "Of Colonial origin?" he said in disbelief, as the warbook returned the analysis.

Theta class distress signal, probable origin: Colonial Tiger.

"A Tiger?" Excited wonder filled Boomer's voice, overriding the chatter of the other pilots. Tigers were now an extinct class- Molechai had taken a serious toll on their number, and then the devastation of the Great Destruction had eliminated the rest of their ranks nearly a yahren ago. Once the faithful protectors of the great Battlestars, the Tigers had provided a specialized vehicle for the elite troops of the Colonial Fleet. Recovery of a derelict, lost through some unknown mishap, would be quite a coup.

"Roger that," Apollo's normal control gave way to exultation. "I have it on visual- it's a Tiger, all right."

"What the frack's she doing way out here?" Starbuck's voice cut effortlessly through the excited cheering of the rest of Blue Squadron. "We're a full yahren away from the colonies."

"As if that matters," Boomer cut in with cheerful condescension. "Remember, these babies are fast- faster than the Galactica, with far greater capabilities than Vipers-"

"We know, Boomer," Apollo cut in. "Jolly, take five and return to the Galactica. Inform them of the situation and bring back a prize crew."

A resentful mutter was quickly supressed as Jolly told off five names to accompany him. They broke off from the main body of the squadron, each knowing that this was necessary, and yet hoping to be the one to serve as guide or escort to the wrecker carrying the prize crew.

"Everyone else, form on me- I want full defensive alert. This might be a trap."

"But Captain, there hasn't been any Cylon activity-"

"Precisely," Apollo cut into Greenbean's complaint. "There hasn't been any activity in sectares, and that points to a trap. No arguments- I want the full drill."

Starbuck smiled. He flipped switches on his control panel, bringing his Viper to combat readiness in a few microns. Leave it to Apollo to follow regs, even when there was something this exciting and unusual afoot...

The fifteen remaining Vipers of Blue Squadron formed a tight three-dimensional phalanx, with Apollo at its head. They decelerated on Apollo's command to approach speed, pulling up to the derelict. All scans returned negative.

"I need confirmation- Dietra, Giles, break off and circle round behind. The rest of you, stay on alert, and continue scans. Anything unusual, report it at once."

"Aye aye, Captain!" Dietra's ever-cheerful voice acknowledged. Two Vipers accelerated into a loop around the Tiger.

Starbuck tapped rapidly at his console, configuring a systems scan. "Apollo- you said anything unusual, well I think this counts."

"Out with it, buddy."

"There's an atmosphere in the main living section."

"Yes, that definitely counts-" Apollo broke off as the two Vipers returned from their recon loop. "Anything?

"No, Captain- but we found out why it's adrift."

"Well?"

"There's a hole in the aft side, large enough to park three Vipers in," Dietra replied, sadness coloring her voice.

Starbuck sighed. Damn shame, to hole such a fine ship...

There was a brief silence, then Apollo spoke. "Okay, everyone- continue full alert, but move into defensive holding pattern beta. Keep your eyes peeled. Starbuck and I are going in."

Starbuck grinned. He knew the others woud be jealous as hell, but he didn't care- otherwise, how would he ever get to see a Tiger first hand?

They broke away from the organized scramble of Vipers moving into position and goosed the accelerators. The hole on the aft side of the sleek warship beckoned. With great delicacy and skill, Apollo and Starbuck set down their craft.

The hole had been blasted into the cargo bay, where a functioning Tiger would have housed its assault vehicles- the lightweight half-tracks, derivatives of the heavier landrams, but infinitely more versatile. Here there was nothing, only a gaping hole open to the black reaches of space, and a heavily scored deck.

"Got your suit locked down?" Apollo said over the private channel.

"Yes, mother," Starbuck said, making a face as he clicked the final seal on his helmet. The suits were only good for limited exposure to space, no more than half a centare- shouldn't be a problem, on a brief walk from cargo bay to troop deck.

"And your magnets on?"

Starbuck chuckled. "Hey- I'm not the one that lost his grip and went flying off into space, remember? I should be the one nagging you- got your magnets on? I don't feel like taking another untethered spacewalk to rescue your ass."

"Yes, mother," Apollo replied in turn. "Come on now, let's check this baby out."

They raised their canopies simultaneously and climbed out of the Vipers. Starbuck grimaced as the electromagnets in his boots engaged. He really did hate that feeling, like he was suddenly rooted to the floor...

The two warriors fell into the steady pacing rhythm of the pulse magnets. On, off- step- on, off- step- on, off...

They reached the airlock without incident. Apollo fiddled with the mechanism, muttering under his breath until he found the manual override. The airlock cycled open and they stepped through, into the main external corridor. Starbuck felt a thrill of excitement as the lock closed behind them. Actually here, on a legendary Tiger...!

They paused for a moment, while the cautious Apollo scanned for signs of danger. Starbuck held as still as possible, with his boots continuing their automaitc pulse- on, off-float a micron- on, off- float a micron-

"Main living quarters, you said?"

Apollo glanced at him. Starbuck knew him well enough to spot the telltale signs of excitement beneath the calm and businesslike exterior- the sparkling eyes, the upward quirk of the lips- oh yes, Apollo was having as much fun as he was.

"Yeah- definitely the barracks, possibly the bridge as well."

"Let's hit the bridge first and check the logs." He closed the airlock door manually.

"Gotcha."

Starbuck reached down and flipped the switches on his boots. The electromagnets ceased their operation in mid-pulse, and he cut loose from the floor with an enthusiastic shove. Here, away from the gaping hole and protected by the airlock door, he was free to indulge in the joys of freefall- until his Captain called him back to duty with a sharp reprimand.

"Sorry," Starbuck said with an unrepentant grin. He pulled out of his somersault and bounced sedately down the corridor, with an elegance born of much practice in the free-fall gym. Apollo followed, moving with an economy of motion in direct contrast to Starbuck's more flamboyant style.

The ship was dark and eerily silent. Starbuck found himself wishing for a light brighter than his helmet provided. The dim glow did little to reach the shadowy corners of the drifting derelict. It wasn't hard to imagine that this was one of the ghost ships out of legend, one of the illusory craft that caught unwary pilots under a glamour and then vanished with them into the unknown, never to be heard from again...

"Starbuck, do you see that?"

"What?" Starbuck abruptly returned to reality. Apollo was pointing at the wall near the sealed door which most likely lead to the bridge. There was a smear of green luminescence, glowing faintly.

"Ever see anything like that?" Apollo bent closer, and Starbuck felt an irrational urge to pull him away, out of danger. He shook the feeling off and moved in to inspect the smear for himself.

"No- never seen anything like it, on a spaceship anyways. It doesn't even look like one of the luminescent fungi you find in caves."

"No, it doesn't." Apollo leaned closer still, until the faceplate of his helmet was almost touching the streak. "It looks more like a dried liquid- and see, it's not-"

"No!" Starbuck yelped and knocked Apollo's hand away. "Don't touch it!"

"What the frack?" Apollo's voice, puzzled, barely registered through Starbuck's sudden panic. He took a few deep breaths and managed to calm himself.

"Sorry, Pol," he said, with a sheepish grin. "I just have the strangest feeling, like that stuff might be dangerous or something."

Apollo frowned, eyes dark with worry that was visible even in the dim light. Starbuck shivered when he saw a flash of the green overlay Apollo's eyes, reflecting off the faceplate of his helmet. "Okay, then- I won't touch it. What's wrong?"

"I- nothing. Let's just go in, okay? That's got to be the bridge in there. And if there's more green stuff, just leave it alone, okay?"

"Whatever you say, buddy." Apollo turned towards the control panel for the door. After a few moments of groping, he found the manual release catch and the door slid open, with a whoosh of escaping atmosphere. "Quick!" Apollo shouted over the roar, and jumped through the door. Starbuck followed on his heels.

It was harder to get the door closed, but Apollo managed. It resisted, fighting against the rush of air, but it eventually closed. Apollo grinned with the success and turned to face the rest of the bridge, adjusting to the presence of half-grav with unconscious grace.

What he saw stunned him. Starbuck was frozen in place, staring with undisguised horror at the scene before them.

A good Captain goes down with his ship, Apollo thought inanely. This Captain must have been good. Along with his duty officers, he sprawled dead across his post, smeared liberally with the same green substance as was on the wall.

Apollo glanced at Starbuck. He was staring, eyes wide and mouth twisting with disgust, but Apollo wasn't sure he was actually seeing anything. He shrugged. There wasn't much he could do about it- if Starbuck freaked out, well, that was too bad, but one of them had to carry on with his duty.

He moved along the gallery, where the outer ring of bridge ops had their stations: defense, tactical, comms, and engineering. All of the crewmen were laying on or near their stations. All shared other characteristics as well- the expressions of absolute horror, the lack of decay- despite the heavy, sweetish scent which permeated the air and worked its way through the suit filters and into Apollo's very bones- and the green. It was everywhere, pulsing and throbbing, patently not a mere smear of luminescence but rather some form of lumpy, malevolent life. Apollo left the gallery and moved into the inner circle. He passed the pilot, who still had his hands wrapped around the manual stick controller. Apollo raised his eyebrows and wondered what in nine hells had made the pilot switch to manual in the face of an obvious crisis. He continued on to the Captain. With a grimace of distaste, he reached out and grasped the dead man's shoulder, hauling him away from the console and the possibly still intact bridge logs. The dead man's body was unnaturally limp and... squishy. His head lolled to one side, giving Apollo a clear view of his dead eyes.

They were completely covered with a green film.

 


The passenger was a quiet and unassuming man. Captain Somers could find nothing remarkable about him, nothing at all which would justify pulling the Fleet's fastest courier vessel from her normal duties and diverting her to Brixley's Junction with all possible haste. But orders were orders, whether he liked them or not. So he'd done as told and pulled the Crowning Glory off her assigned route, attempted to mollify the Colonel they were ferrying to the new front line in the Cylon conflict, and stopped at the Junction. He was not the only one to sigh with regret as the space station's distinctive architecture dwindled on the aft viewer. One of these yahrens, he promised himself- one of these yahrens, he would indeed go sample the pleasures of the fifth level. It was said that the entire fifth ring was devoted to nothing but pleasure and the pursuits thereof... but for now, this man.

"High Command said you'd have our destination?" Somers kept his voice neutral with an effort. He disliked intensely having to make such a thorough break from proper military procedure. Really, taking a course heading from a civilian... and one unknown to Command, at that.

"Indeed." The man nodded. His brown eyes gave nothing away, his face showed no hint of emotion. "I must be conveyed to the High Temple at Olympia. It is a matter of utmost urgency and secrecy."

"Olympia!" The word broke free of the Captain's control before he could stop it. Of all the bizarre destinations... "And what guarantee that we will be allowed into the planet's orbit? Forgive me, but there has been no love lost between the military and the Fleet, since the commissioning of the first Battlestar."

The man's eyes hardened for a moment. "I am well aware of the conflict, Captain. Suffice it to say that my presence guarantees you full right to enter the Olympic system. My mission is far too important to allow for any petty differences between military and hierocracy- although I grant, the issue of the Battlestars is far from petty."

Somers nodded. He was well aware of the details of the "issue," as the passenger termed it. The priests had fought the idea of the Battlestars with bitter fervor from the moment the idea had first been proposed to the Council, rallied onwards in their fight by the High Prelate. There was no need, they argued, for a ship like a Battlestar to ever exist. No human should command the power to destroy an entire planet. The Tigers and the battle platforms were enough- properly deployed and intelligently commanded, they had served as adequate defense for nearly five hundred yahrens. What need, then, for the devastating power of a Battlestar?

The High Prelate had stubbornly refused to see the need, egging on his followers and creating a vast rift in society between the religious crowd and the military, or even those who were practical enough to admit that the new Cylon innovation of the Baseship had to be countered. The Cylon Baseships, a replacement for the vulnerable Jumpships of old, were nearly invincible. Alone and unaided, a Hades-class Baseship could devastate a planet in mere microns. Just one of these monsters hosted three hundred Raiders and carried more firepower than the Colonial Fleet amassed in its entirety. And there were nearly a dozen Baseships known to exist already, with presumably more under construction.

"Politics notwithstanding, the burden I bear must reach Olympia. Only there, in the High Temple, are there facilities sufficient to deal with it."

"And what is this dangerous burden?" Somers glanced at the innocuous grey bag the man carried.

"Were you not told no questions, Captain?" Without moving, the man suddenly assumed the air of command- that of one who is accustomed to unquestioning obedience. Somers wondered who in hells this passenger was, that he could presume to command an officer on his own bridge.

"Of course," Somers replied stiffly. "But I have a right to know if there is anything aboard this vessel which will endanger her crew."

"There is no danger, as long as I am left alone and undisturbed. Now, my rooms?"

Somers felt the hair at the back of his neck bristle with dislike. "Ensign Tashi."

"Sir!" The ensign rose and snapped to attention.

"Show our esteemed passenger to the room prepared for him."

"Yes, sir!" The ensign saluted and left his station. The passenger narrowed his eyes and frowned slightly at the Captain before picking up his bag and following Tashi from the bridge.

 


"Well, I can certainly see why there's been complaints." Lyra, Captain of the Alcestis' Guardforce, waved a hand in front of her nose and grimaced. The smell was indeed dreadful.

"Whew! Whatinell is making that reek?" Her second, Lieutenant Micranski, mimed gagging. Lyra smiled with appreciation for his theatrics, then returned to the business at hand.

"Only one way to find out, I suppose," she said, then pressed the door chime.

There was no response.

Lyra sighed and rang the bell again. Still no response. "Hello? Open up- this is the Guard! We have to ask you some questions."

Still no response.

"Well, that does it- no one's home, let's go..."

"Shh!" Lyra waved Mic silent impatiently, pressing her ear against the door. Mic shrugged and did likewise.

"Can you hear that?" Lyra whispered. Mic, eyes wide, nodded. Coming from the interior was a faint moan. Like the sound of a soul in torment, Lyra found herself thinking. She shivered, then pulled away from the door and fished her passkey out of her utility pouch.

"Hold your breath," Mic muttered, although she could detect the concern beneath the lighthearted tone.

"What the hell?"

The passkey didn't work. In fact, nothing worked, because everything was sealed seamlessly together, from the access panel to the fissures the opening door would retreat into- all was sealed tightly, as though there had never been a functional door there at all, merely a decoration painted on the wall.

 


The light flickered into existence with a happy giggle, bouncing joyously through the verdant green growth of Ila's hanging garden. Starbuck broke away from Apollo to watch the glow as it bounced from plant to plant.

"Starbuck, why'd you stop?" Apollo pulled his head back down for another kiss, and Starbuck was willing to be distracted. Shining globes had nothing on one of Apollo's kisses. Clothing melted away into glorious nudity, the two men's bodies straining eagerly against each other.

*Starbuck...*

Starbuck jerked his head up, away from his lover. The shimmering voice was in his head, but it had come from behind... He twisted around, to find the ball of light perched on his rump. "Hey!"

The light giggled and gave a bounce, over his head. It hovered, giving both men a good look at it. *Starbuck, Apollo- warriors. You are needed now.*

"What?" Apollo frowned and struggled out from under Starbuck. He rolled onto his front and raised up on his elbows, staring at the light.

"What do you mean, needed? And who are you?" Starbuck copied Apollo's pose, puzzled.

*I am your guiding light, of course!* replied the airy mental voice, with another giggle. The light bounced and spun with great energy, then settled back to hover sedately once again.

"Are you from a Ship of Light?" Apollo asked, in a tone laden with suspicion.

More giggling, and a feeling of good humor so infectious Starbuck found himself grinning like a loon. *No, silly- I have nothing to do with them, stuffy idiots that they are. I answer to a different power- similar, yet different.*

"What do you want from us?" Starbuck asked.

*There is a grave danger within the fleet,* the voice said portentously, then ruined the effect by shimmering with repressed laughter. *An ancient evil has been awakened, and seeks to have revenge against humanity for wrongs done long ago. You two have been chosen to fulfill specific destinies, because your personality types match up exactly with what is needed.*

"Felgercarb," Apollo said clearly.

*Naughty naughty, Captain!* the voice chided. It dimmed and sank lower to the ground. *I'm hurt, really I am.*

"Apollo, what's the matter with you?" Starbuck poked him in the ribs.

"I'm not buying it, Starbuck. C'mon, man- think about it- what happened the last time I listened to a ball of white light?"

Starbuck shuddered and wrapped an arm around Apollo's waist, holding him close. Even here, in this special place, he couldn't deal with the memory of that white-clad still form.

"But this is different," he insisted, with little conviction. The merest hint of any danger to his Apollo made him want to throw himself in front of the danger, to do as he had promised and give his life instead... but this was not the same. This was a bouncy, happy little light, that had the feel of something that could not be deceitful.

"Felgercarb," Apollo said again. He rose and gathered his scattered clothing with a thought. "Stay and listen if you like, Starbuck- I'm leaving." He left, vanishing from the garden without a trace.

Starbuck sighed. It was echoed by a feeling from the light, as though it had shrugged.

*Ah, well- we knew this would happen. That was why Fri didn't even come here- he knew it would be no use.*

"Free?"

*Yes, Fri is my companion- he's the one that picked out Apollo. Whereas I get stuck with you...* The light shimmered again with the now familiar giggle.

Starbuck smiled, but was still a little uneasy. "You're sure there's no danger to Apollo? Or me?"

*Oh, I never said that- all I indicated was that I pose no danger to either of you. The fight will be dangerous- it always is, when light and darkness butt heads. But I know you, and I know him and Fri- this time we ain't going down easy, despite how-ahem- unconventional this all is.*

"Unconventional, hmm? That seems to be something that follows me wherever I go. So what is it you need of me?" Starbuck cocked his head to the side and regarded the bobbing light with curiosity.

* * * * * * * *

Apollo looked up when Starbuck entered the briefing room. There was a subtle difference about him today- a lightness, an energy- the feeling that a smile or a laugh was lurking just under the surface was intensified. He sighed.

"Starbuck!"

Starbuck looked over at him and smiled, detouring to perch on Apollo's desk. "What's up, Captain?"

"You did it, didn't you? You took up his challenge."

The words hung in the air between them, nearly visible. Starbuck started to nod, with a rueful smile, then the significance of the words penetrated his cheer.

His jaw fell. "Apollo- how'd you know about my dream?"

 


"Tomarin?"

The cloaked figure halted and turned to face the source of the hesitant voice. "Yes?"

"Is there something wrong?" A female human frowned at him, head tilted to the side, paused in the middle of the corridor's light traffic.

"Nothing is wrong. Why do you ask?" The entity wearing Tomarin's body shaped the dead lips into a smile.

"No reason- it's just..." the human shrugged. "You look kind of different, that's all. And you're acting odd. Is all this strangeness getting to you, too?"

Tomarin's leftover memories provided a name and a brief description: Karya, a secretary from the days when he'd still kept office hours. "No, Karya- nothing's wrong. I was just up late last night, reading over the rare documents I purchased from that collecter a while back. Perhaps you'd like to see them?"

Karya hesitated, then nodded, with a shy smile. "I think I'd like that," she said, and resumed walking down the corridor towards Tomarin's quarters.

The smell assaulted them as they entered the hallway with Tomarin's room at the end. "Wough!" Karya nearly gagged. "What's that smell?"

"Nothing, my dear- nothing." Tomarin passed his palm over the scanner and the door opened. "Come in, now- come and see the ancient knowledge."

He stood aside, allowing Karya to pass. A sudden sensation of doom gripped her as she entered the room, a primal terror so deep that she froze in unthinking horror even before the sight of the dead bodies registered. Tomarin's hands grasped her from behind and jolted her loose from her paralysis.

When her mind registered the green-filmed stare of dozens of dead eyes, Karya began to scream.

 


The dreams had been the first symptom, Somers decided. Definitely. If he had heeded the complaints of his crew and taken steps to remove the passenger, things would never have reached this dire state.

"Have we no defense against it, then?" he asked, rubbing his forehead in a vain attempt to ease some of the strain.

"None, sir," his second replied. Kyelin also showed the signs of fatigue, brought on by nearly forty-eight centares of straight bridge duty. Her face was gaunt with strain, her hair hanging lank about her ears, instead of in its usual crisp braid. Her uniform was torn and stained from the last conflict with one of the attackers.

He refused to think about the fact that those attackers had once been his crewmen.

"It's attacking on a purely psychic level, sir." Fatigue blurred her voice, slurring her words together.

"Through the dreams."

"Yes."

They stared at each other. The dreams had started it all, the whole bloody mess. Dreams of a voice, a seeker of freedom- a quiet whisper, invading everyone's consciousness. Then, the first victim- Ensign Tashi, drawn by something she couldn't name or understand, lured to the room of the passenger. Tashi had emerged half a centare later, silent and furtive. She had reported directly to the bridge, saying she had an urgent matter to discuss with the Captain. Then she had attacked.

Somers could still see the unholy green light filming over her eyes as she rushed him, blaster drawn. Of course, she'd not even made it close to him. Security was far too good for that. But he could still hear her words, spoken in a voice not her own: if not now, then later. I will walk free again.

 


For a long moment, nothing happened. Apollo merely stared at him, jaw slack with amazement as well. Then he broke his eyes away, a hint of pink creeping across his cheekbones. "Dream?" he said carefully.

"Yes, dream," Starbuck replied, eyes still wide. His mind worked frantically. How in hells could Pol know about the light? And how much did he remember, if he had somehow been present in the dream?

"Uh..." The pink intensified. "I didn't know- I mean, I thought we- oh, bloody hell."

"Bloody hell is right." Starbuck peeled himself off the corner of Apollo's desk and sank bonelessly into the chair opposite his friend. "What, exactly, do you remember?"

"I remember meeting you in Ila's garden," Apollo said, glancing sidelong from beneath thick lashes. "Which, now that I think of it, is impossible. And I remember there was a light, a bouncing light that talked, and I got very annoyed with it and went away."

"Is that... all?" Starbuck swallowed against the dryness in his throat. He was absolutely terrified. What if Apollo remembered everything?

Then again, what if he didn't?

Apollo stared at him for a long moment, unblinking. Starbuck waited. Then he rose and went to the door, closing it and locking it. He returned to where Starbuck sat and took his hand, pulling him to his feet. "I remember doing this," he said, and pulled Starbuck close. Their lips met.

 


"Ahh, little pretty," crooned the demonic entity. Karya cowered back, back, as far as she could get from those grasping claws which had once been Tomarin's hands. "Fear not, little one- I have need of you, of your services."

Karya shrieked as a claw ran down her face, leaving behind a trail of green slime. "No!"

"Ah, yes, little one," it said, with a parody of Tomarin's smile. "I must have your help if I am to succeed."

"Never!" she panted, then slipped sideways (don't think about the dead you just brushed up against- just don't think), away from the grasping evil. How had she ever thought this thing was her old boss? The eyes- where Tomarin's brown eyes had once been there was nothing now but bottomless pits of black. Plus, now that they were out of the brightly lit corridor, a faint green glow clung to his body, a glow reminiscent of death's-head mushrooms and rotting flesh.

An evil chuckle froze the blood in her veins. "You sound as though you have a choice, pretty one," the demon said, grinning through its mask of a dead man's face.

"There is always a choice."

"Yes, yes," the demon nodded. "Good- cling to your beliefs, cling to the comfort and security of what you've been taught- that will make it all the more enjoyable to strip you of your will. And when all is done, when you crawl before me like the worm you are, perhaps I shall let you remember that there is, indeed, a choice."

 


Ridiculous, Somers thought. Absolutely ridiculous.

He was trapped on the bridge. The rest of the Glory had been taken over by his own mutinous crew. All that remained loyal to him were here with him, clinging to their posts and their sanity with iron determination. Whatever the thing was that had been brought aboard by the mysterious passenger had escaped his control and was determined to take over the ship. Somers refused to allow it.

"Helm, have you made the appropriate course corrections?"

The helmsman nodded, glancing up with bleak despair. "Aye, sir- course locked in and secured. Not even you can override it now."

"Good." Somers sighed. He had thought it would be more difficult to make a decision like that one, a decision to strand his ship and crew in an empty quadrant of barely charted space. But it had been easy. His crew had been consumed almost entirely by the evil enitiy in its quest for freedom. The survivors, his loyal bridge crew, were more than willing to make the final sacrifice to ensure that the evil did not spread to the Colonies.

And so now they hurtled into nothingness at maximum speed, which was pretty damn fast.

The door to the bridge whirred as someone tried to open it from the outside. Nothing happened. Somers had it locked down and keyed to his own fingerprint. No one else was getting that door open, short of blasting through it.

Apart from a few nervous glances, the crew ignored the noises from the door. Unnoticed by anyone on board, a tendril of sickly green mist began working its way under the door, through a slight crack at the base.

 


The communicator bleeped. "Bridge to Captain Apollo!"

Apollo broke away from Starbuck, eyes wide and startled. He took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, then pressed the respond button.

"Apollo here."

"Report to the bridge at once, sir."

"On my way. Apollo out."

He switched the device off and rested troubled eyes on Starbuck. Then, without another word, he left.

* * * * * * * *

Starbuck was in the OC, watching a Triad match on the vidscreen, when Apollo caught up to him again. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Apollo slid onto the vacant barstool beside Starbuck.

"What's up?" Starbuck kept his voice casual, most of his attention fixed on the vidscreen- which he really couldn't care less about, now that Apollo was beside him.

"Not much." Apollo ordered a drink. "Heard something interesting, about that Tiger we found."

"Didja find out what the green stuff was?" Starbuck abandoned his pretense of watching the game.

"No, but they analyzed the logs. Would you believe we found the Crowning Glory?"

Starbuck gasped, eyes widening. "The Glory! No way!"

The Glory was a favorite legend, passed down through the yahrens. It was said that she had been the fastest courier ship ever, that she had never lost a fight. The disappearance of the ship had long been speculated about. The only sure thing was that the High Prelate had disappeared along with the Glory, leading to speculations of foul play. But whatever the cause, the loss of the High Prelate had paved the way for the modern-day Fleet to be born.

"The Glory," Starbuck repeated, in a tone of wonder. "Are there any indications of what happened? Why she disappeared?"

"None that they would reveal." Apollo's drink arrived and he sipped it. "The logs did say though that Captain Somers had no knowledge of the identity of his special passenger- thereby laying to rest the old debate."

"Well, better late than never, I guess." Starbuck chuckled. "After five hundred yahrens, the Fleet is finally cleared of suspicion... bet the Kobolians won't like that."

"Bet you're right." Apollo fidgeted with his mug. "Look, Starbuck- about what happened earlier..."

Starbuck held up a hand. "Whoa, hold it right there. If you're going to apologize and say it will never happen again, I don't want to hear it."

"I- uh." Apollo blinked in consternation. "Oh, hells. What do you want to hear, then?"

"Hmmm..." Starbuck smiled and leaned back, stretching a back that was displeased with centares of hunching over the bar. "Maybe that we'll discuss the matter in private? 'Cause I intend to convince you that it's not a good idea to forget that little incident ever happened."

Apollo blinked again, then his stunned expression was replaced by a slow smile. "Okay, then- if that's the way you want it. We'll discuss the matter in private. But Lieutenant-"

"Yes?"

"You'd better be damn convincing." With that, Apollo rose and walked away, leaving Starbuck spluttering indignantly behind him.

 


Captain.

The mocking voice insinuated itself into his mind. He tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away.

Captain... I've got you now!

Somers fiddled with the arm of the command chair. Ahead of them, an asteroid storm loomed directly in their path, getting closer by the micron. He didn't care.

You are mine, Captain. I have won.

"Ridiculous!" he snapped aloud. Startled looks came from the crewmen still alert enough to notice or to care.

Look down, Captain.

Against his will, his eyes flickered briefly downward. A trail of green slime draped over his foot. He looked away, then what he had seen registered and he gazed at the slime in horror. With an inarticulate cry of disgust, he jumped up and tried to shake the slime off.

But it was no use. The slime adhered firmly. Once his initial panic had ebbed, Somers settled down and stared at the viewscreen, breathing hard. The storm was almost on them.

"Thing," he said, not caring about the strange looks he was getting from his crew. "You may think you are the winner here, but you're not. You will never leave this ship, never walk free again."

There was a thud as the first of the asteroids impacted with the shields. The helmsman clutched the manual stick, for reassurance- there was no deviation of the locked-in course. Somers was intensely glad the storm had appeared on their heading- the things were utterly unpredictable, and it was certain death to attempt to navigate one. He would far rather die in an asteroid storm than at the hands of a posessed crewman, or as a result of the green slime, which he could feel eating away at him already. Around him on the bridge, other officers were crying out and trying to rid themselves of slime, while a green mist curled across the floor.

Somers looked around him one last time, at his crew- the ones who had held together until the very last, the ones who had been with him through so much- and felt a deep regret for the loss of their lives. He felt even deeper regret for the ones outside- the ones who had been reduced to little more than ravening beasts by the foul entity, brought aboard the vessel by the mysterious passenger. How fitting that he had been the first to go.

Somers met the eyes of the defense coordinator for the last time, answering the question there with a brief nod. It was time.

"Drop shields," he said.

 


Karya stood before the assembled masses, feeling... empty. She had a vague notion that something wasn't right, that there should have been something more within her- but it wasn't. There was nothing withing her except space... and That Which Is Not Named. She knew its name, of course- her soul shivered at the thought. But it should never be named aloud.

The crowd stirred restlessly before her, and she swept her gaze over them. All here. All present and accounted for. Only crewmen necessary to the operation of the Alcestis were absent.

"People of the Alcestis," she began. The crowd quieted, focused its attention on her. "You have come here tonight to find the Truth, to be shown the Way, even as I have. So open your hearts to me, and listen well- for this day you will learn the real power in the Universe, beyond that of the Lords of Kobol and the pathetic beings of Light. Join with me now, and welcome the Great One..."

Hundreds of people, caught by the hypnotic tone of her voice, swayed in place, chanting over and over again, "Welcome, Great One. Welcome, Great One. Welcome..."

And then the Great One came.

 


Starbuck was so wrapped up in Apollo's arms that he didn't even notice Gell. The agitated little ball of light flickered and darted, trying to attract his attention. Starbuck kissed Apollo, lost in the play of lips, tonuges, teeth...

Then he jumped, as Gell zapped him in the seat of the pants.

"What the frack! Gell, this had better be good." He glared at the little globe, taking in the distraught flickers.

*Starbuck, this is no time for dilly-dallying!* Gell admonished him. *We need to go. Now. Apollo too.*

"What?" Starbuck blinked. "Go? What do you mean? And what the hell makes you think we want to go anywhere right now?"

*There's something going to happen,* the ball of light insisted. *Can't you feel it? It's coming, it's gathering strength- ahhhhhh!* Gell flickered and dropped to the floor, a barely visible spark.

Apollo reeled in Starbuck's arms. "What the frack was that?" he moaned, rubbing his head.

A newcomer floated in upon the scene- Fri, Gell's companion. *That was the Evil One, subverting hundreds of souls. Will you come with us now? Or will you leave the fight to Starbuck, myself, and my poor flickering heartmate?*

"And who the hell are you?" Apollo shook his head, trying to clear it. Starbuck looked at him, concerned, then released him and knelt on the floor beside the faint spark.

"Gell?" he said uncertainly. "Hang in there, buddy-" and he laid his hand on the spark, which flickered and grew a little brighter.

*I am Fri,* said the new-come ball of light. *And you are Apollo, and together we can defeat the Evil One, once and for all. Are you with me?*

Apollo hesitated. On the floor, Gell flickered, then resumed the healthy glow of before. It rose from Starbuck's hand to float beside its heartmate.

"Come on, Apollo," Starbuck said. "We have to go to the Alcestis." He rose, took Apollo's hand, and left, followed by the two balls of light.

"None of this makes sense," Apollo complained, following Starbuck.

"This is what they need us for- what Gell was talking about in the dream."

"Oh, come on, Starbuck- you mean you're some kind of mystical warrior of the light, in the battle against good and evil?"

Starbuck paused, grinnind. "No, Apollo- actually, I'm just the mystical warrior's sidekick."

 


The entity surveyed its handiwork, well satisfied. Hundreds of bodies lay on the floor, all with the green film over their eyes, the mark which branded them as his. He felt glutted with power, unstoppable. The pathetic fools who had tried to exile him before were going to pay!

But what was that? There was a flickering disturbance, intruding upon his consciousness. It felt... familiar. Disturbing. Almst like his old nemesis, only... divided, fractured.... No. It was impossible. The nemesis had been destroyed long ago.

The entity continued to bask in the afterglow of death.

 


"Oh, dear gods..." Apollo whispered.

Ahead of them lay the people of the Alcestis- one of the few luxury passenger liners to survive the Destruction, the Alcestis had once carried hundreds of refugees in relative comfort. Now, she carried hundreds of green-eyed corpses.

*This is what you felt, from the Galactica,* Fri said quietly. *This is the work of the Evil One.*

One lone figure still stood. One lone figure, upon a raised platform at the end of the great cargo bay, who beckoned them closer. Almost against his will, Apollo picked his way through the dead, followed closely by Starbuck.

"So you have come at last," the woman said, when they reached her. She was clad in a flowing black robe. Her eyes were nothing but darkness, bottomless pits of black. "He knows you are here- the Great One has marked your coming. And he laughs."

The woman threw back her head and began to laugh maniacally. Starbuck shuddered. That was somehow more disturbing to him than the sight of all the bodies. They were just dead- this woman, though, was insane.

"He's coming," she cackled. "He's coming, coming coming coming..."

*Psst!* Starbuck looked away from the madwoman and found Gell hovering anxiously beside him. *Will you tell your friend to quit arguing? 'Cause if he doesn't, then we're absolutely helpless, and the Thing is almost here...*

"Pol!" Starbuck said sharply. "What's the matter with you?"

Apollo broke away from his heated debate with the other lightsphere. "I just fail to see why I should do as they ask," he replied, stubborn as a rock.

"Um, Pol- maybe because of that." Starbuck pointed at the Thing advancing slowly towards them, the same way they had come. The woman quit babbling and fell to her knees, crooning wordlessly with ecstasy.

Floating a handspan above the ground, the Thing wore a body that had clearly once been human. It was draped in black, which did nothing to conceal the fact that it was rotting, decaying from within. A green mist followed it, spreading across the floor.

Starbuck gulped, and clutched Apollo's hand for comfort. Beside him, Gell shuddered, and Fri made one last attempt to break through Apollo's stubbornness.

"Fools," the Thing hissed. "You think to stand against me? I vanquished you milennia ago, when you were one- and now, you think to stand against me, pathetic and fragmented thing that you are?" It threw its head back with a hideous cackle. Rotten flesh flaked off with the force of its laughter.

"Oh, all right!" Apollo said, coughing as the charnel scent of the Thing reached him. He held out a hand in front of him, palm out.

"Stop!" he commanded. Starbuck blinked at the force of command in his voice. "Approach no further."

The Thing laughed again. "You can not stop me now, fool!" It continued to advance. It was a bare few metrons away now, close enough to show the grisly details of decay.

"I can, and I will."

Apollo gave himself over to instinct. This horrible Thing had to be stopped, no matter how the task was accomplished. He felt Fri join his strength, then he felt Gell and Starbuck join in as well. A white glow surrounded all of them.

"We stand together," the woman on the floor babbled, "in a place outside time..."

The Thing laughed again. "So... the fool wants to play!" It threw its arms up overhead, then brought them down in a sweeping gesture. Abruptly, the group was no longer on the Alcestis.

"What the frack?" Starbuck looked around. They stood on a vast, empty plain, under a leaden sky shot with red lightning.

*Otherspace,* Fri said succinctly. *Take up the sword, Warriors.*

"What sword?" Apollo wondered aloud, but moved as though he was drawing a sword. Starbuck copied his action. Both men were surprised when flaming blades of light appeared in their hands.

*Be careful here,* Gell warned. *Belief creates reality.* Then he plunged into Starbuck's blade of light. Beside him, Fri did the same, into Apollo's blade. The two exchanged glances, then shrugged and returned to the evil being before them.

"Creature, go back to the darkness from which you came!" Apollo called out, then swung his sword at the Thing. A lash of brilliant white light extended from the tip, whipping across the Thing and provoking a mighty shriek.

"Belief creates reality," Starbuck muttered, and lashed out with his own weapon. A fireball shot from the end, catching the Thing squarely in the chest. It fell back, then mustered a counterattack. The ground swirled up, around Starbuck's ankles, his knees- holding him steady, consuming him in rot...

With a cry of disgust, he hacked at the ground. It boiled furiously, then released him. He staggered sideways into Apollo, in time to catch a ball of green light on his shoulder. Immediately, his right arm went numb.

"Damn you!" Apollo cried, cutting at the Thing with his blade of light, while Starbuck struggled to regain feeling in his arm.

Belief creates... There, it was better. And he suddenly knew what to do.

"Pol!" he cried out, over the sizzling and howling of the conflict. "With me!"

He held out his hand. Apollo took it. Within them, Fri and Gell joined, until together they became an unstoppable whole. "In the Name which is above all Names," they called out together, feeling a surge of power within them, "I exorcize thee, O Demon! I lay upon thee the spell of power and holiness, that thou art bound fast as with chains. I cast thee forth into outre darkness, that thee may trouble not the Servants of the Gods!"

A wall of pure white power blasted forth from their joined selves, rolling forward and engulfing the thing. It shrieked, writhing in mortal agony. Flesh melted away, leaving nothing but a writhing green mist, which flickered and crumpled into an amorphous black blob. The scream continued.

The light grew stronger, battering away at the blackness until nothing remained beyond a faint whimper. Then it vanished, with a quiet pop.

Starbuck and Apollo reeled apart, separated so abruptly it was intensely painful. "What the frack?" Starbuck moaned, clutching his head.

Gell and Fri appeared, dancing cheerfully again. *We did it! We did it!*

Apollo groaned. "Oh, my head..."

*Quickly, now- back to the ship!*

Before Starbuck had any idea what was happening, the strange landscape vanished, leaving him and Apollo in the middle of hundreds of freshly dead bodies.

*Come with, come with- we have to get it!* Gell tugged urgently at him. Starbuck followed groggily, Apollo behind him.

*It's over here,* Fri called, from where he'd flown ahead.

"What is?" Apollo asked, recovering his wits somewhat.

*In here.* Fri ducked into a room, hung with black velvet and filled with stinking bodies.

Starbuck hung back. "Whew! I ain't going in there, it reeks!"

*Right here.* Gell bounced up and down atop a book. *This must be destroyed.*

Apollo looked at Starbuck. Starbuck looked at Apollo.

"You owe me bigtime, buddy," Apollo muttered. He took a deep breath and plunged into the room, emerging scant microns later with the ancient tome.

*Burn it! Burn it!* Gell chanted.

*Put it on the floor,* Fri commanded. Apollo did so.

"What is this thing, anyway?"

"This is the thing that was aboard the Tiger, isn't it? The book which has the instructions for summoning that... thing." Starbuck looked at it warily, but it just lay there, like any other ancient, leather-bound book.

*Right. Now, Fri? Do the honors?*

Without comment, Fri settled on the book and incandesced. There was a flash, and then the book was nothing but ash. Gell sighed happily.

*At last... our job is done. Maybe now we can have some peace. Been nice working with you!*

With a feeling of cheerful farewell, Gell vanished, followed by Fri. Starbuck and Apollo, left alone in the corridor, looked at each other.

"Now what?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Starbuck replied. "I'm still not entirely sure what just happened."

"Me either." Apollo sighed. "Guess we'd better find out if there's any survivors... and call a cleanup crew."

"Yeah. And Apollo?"

"Huh?"

"You get to explain this one to your dad."

Starbuck grinned at Apollo's indignant expression and started off down the corridor, whistling cheerfully.

 

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