"Captain, I'm picking up some odd readings out here."

"What is it, Boomer?"

"Beats the frack out of me, sir. Seems like some kind of energy signature. Wait a minute, I think I—"

Boomer's voice abruptly cut off, to be replaced by a howl of primal terror.

"Boomer! Boomer, answer me!"

No response.

"Jolly, Starbuck, form on Boomer and see if you can find out what happened."

"We're on it, boss," Starbuck said. There was a brief pause.

"There's some kind of energy crackling over the outside of his ship," Jolly reported. "What the frack, now it's gone!"

"Boomer? You there?" Apollo tried to raise him again. Still no response. Then, very faint, a groan.

"What the hell was that?"

"We don't know yet, Boomer. Let's head back in now, okay guys?"

The four Vipers turned around and headed back for the Galactica, recon mission forgotten. Boomer flew badly, barely able to control his Viper. The others kept talking to him, encouraging him, until they had made a safe landing. Apollo notified Core Command to have a med team there on the double.

The three unaffected pilots clustered together on the floor of the landing bay.

"Did you see anything that might have caused the energy?" Apollo ran a hand through his hair.

"Not a thing," Starbuck said. He glanced at Boomer's Viper. "There was all this blue stuff flickering all over it, throwing up sparks, but not a hint of where it came from, or anything."

"Let's get out of here," Apollo suggested as the med team helped Boomer out of his Viper. "Get the report out of the way, then we can check up on Boomer."

"Yeah. Poor Boom-boom."

They made their way to Apollo's office and took care of the reports quickly. Really, there wasn't much to report—just a routine recon mission, interrupted by a peculiar energy flare, origin unknown.

Boomer recovered rapidly. By the time Apollo, Starbuck, and Jolly reached the Life Center, he was in full control of himself again. But he had no memory of the incident in the Viper, none at all.

"That's not unusual with energy overload," Dr. Salik said gruffly. "Take it easy for the next twenty four centares, then light duty only for the following forty eight. Got that?"

"Got it, Doctor," Apollo said. "Boomer, you officially have the next twenty four centares as leave time. I suggest you get back to your quarters and rest."

"But Captain, I feel fine!" Boomer protested, rising vigorously from the examination table.

"That's all well and good, but you're off duty anyway. Now get yourself to your quarters!" Apollo grinned, but his eyes held that implacable look they all knew so well. Boomer sighed and gave up.

"Oh, all right then, Captain. I'll go."

"Good. I don't want to see you until this time tomorrow, got that?"

"Got it." Boomer saluted and headed towards his quarters.

The other three followed him out of the Life Center.

"I'm glad Boomer's all right," Jolly said. "Now if you'll excuse me...?"

"Yeah, Jolly, go ahead," Apollo waved at him distractedly. "Got any plans?" he asked Starbuck.

"Well, now," and the ever-ready grin spread across Starbuck's face. "I was thinking of heading over to the OC for a drink or two, maybe a little game of chance..."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Apollo fell in beside Starbuck. "I wonder if we'll ever know what that was?"

"Probably not," Starbuck responded, mind already on more important things. "Wonder who'll be playing tonight...?"

Apollo sighed and grinned ruefully. "Some things never change, do they."

"Hey! What do you mean by that?"

The two made their way to the OC to the tune of good-natured banter.


Cold.

Blackness.

Hunger.

There was nothing else to be found out here in the void of space. The entity had no concept of how long it had existed in this nothingness, only that it had been a very long time. It could only hang there in the void and hope for another host to come along, since the last host had so precipitously placed itself in this void. The entity felt a slow surge of ancient anger, but there was nothing to be done. Just hang here, in the emptiness, unable to move or eat or do anything but think.

Then there was something. A craft of some sort flew directly through the entity. It shrieked with unholy glee and integrated itself into the craft, coursing along the wiring system until it reached the host inside. Here, at last, was one to carry the entity back to the world of the living. The host was insufficient to supply its needs- beyond the first delectable burst of fear, there was nothing more. The entity needed more, much more. The brief taste was only enough to sharpen an appetite honed by an eternity of solitary hunger.

Soon, the host obliged it by returning to its home base. Here, the entity slipped out of the host and drifted into the wiring of this new home. It must find prey, and soon.


Screams woke Apollo from a sound sleep. He rose and staggered towards his son's bedroom, not really aware but desperate to reach the source of those terrified screams. He entered the room and flipped on the manual light switch to find Boxey huddled in a corner, still shrieking.

"Boxey! Boxey, it's okay, son—I'm here. Boxey!" Apollo rushed to his son's side. The terrified child at first seemed not to recognize him, then quit screaming and burrowed into Apollo's side, sobbing wildly.

Apollo held him and stroked his hair until the sobs eased a bit. "What happened, Boxey?"

"The bad man was here, Daddy." The boy hiccuped and hid his face against Apollo.

"Tell me, Boxey—what bad man, and why was he here?" While he continued to rock his son comfortingly, he scanned the room. The only sign of a disturbance was the mess on the bed, where Boxey had removed most of the bedding in his attempt to reach the corner.

"He was in my dream, and he did bad things to me. I was really scared." Boxey started shaking.

"Shh, it's okay now, I'm here." Apollo stroked the child's hair until the tremors eased. "What happened then?"

"I told him he was a bad man, and I thought I woke up—but he was here, he was right here Daddy, and he was going to do bad things to me again, and I screamed and tried to get away, but then he turned into a monster with big red eyes, and—and—" He dissolved again into hiccuping sobs. Apollo picked him up and searched the room for any sign of an intruder. Not that he thought there had been an intruder, but Boxey wasn't given to nightmares and it wouldn't hurt anything to check.

"Well, Boxey, he's not here anymore. Would you like to come sleep with me?"

The little boy wiped his eyes and nodded.

"Okay then, let's go to my room." He flipped the lights off, carried Boxey into his bedroom, and deposited him gently on the bed.

"Will you leave the lights on?" Boxey asked in a tremulous voice.

Apollo stifled a sigh. "Lights, ten percent," he instructed the computer. A dim glow filled the room. "Better?"

Boxey nodded. Apollo laid down, more than ready to resume his interrupted slumber. Boxey snuggled up beside him with complete faith in his Daddy's ability to keep away the bad man.


"What was that?" Apollo jerked his attention back onto Cassie.

"I said, there was a rash of parents this morning, reporting that their children had all experienced vivid nightmares. They wanted to know if there was something wrong with the food or some such thing."

"And was there? If so, it affected Boxey too." He leaned forward on the table, eager for her response.

Cassie sipped her ambrosa before answering. "Nothing that I know of. What was Boxey's dream?"

"He said there was a bad man doing bad things to him, and then the bad man was in his room, but he turned into a monster."

"Poor Boxey," Starbuck commented, with minimal interest.

"Poor me!" Apollo grinned. "After all, I was the one who had to wake up with him screaming his little head off."

"Poor children," Cassiopeia corrected firmly. "All of the dreams contained a common thread: something that started out familiar, like Boxey's man, then became a monster. It would be interesting to know what caused them."

"Yes, quite," Apollo agreed absently. Now that there was no danger to his son, he was willing to forget all about the nightmare.

Cassie wasn't ready to give it up yet. "What could cause so many similar dreams? And why only in the children?"

"Beats me, Cass," Starbuck said. He shifted around in his chair, bored with the talk of children and nightmares. He didn't come to the Officer's Club to talk about kids.

"Hear of anything interesting going on lately?" Apollo asked Starbuck, ignoring Cassie's worried frown. The conversation turned to more usual fare for the OC—games, gossip, anything but strange nightmares.


Apollo gave the nightmares brief consideration once more as he tucked Boxey into bed. "Will you be alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, dad! I'll be fine. I'm a big boy now, you know."

Apollo smiled. "Yes, you are. Good night then." He rose and left, leaving the lights on dim.

He was awakened again in the middle of the night by a blood-curdling shriek. He raced into his son's room to find a near-repeat of last night's situation. Boxey, still on his bed this time, was shrieking and cowering away from something only he could see. Apollo turned the lights on full force, illuminating every corner of the tiny room. There was nothing to be seen, other than a small frightened boy. But wait a minute—what was that? Apollo sat on the bed and turned Boxey's face towards him. A thin line of blood glistened on the smooth cheek, gleaming wet in the light.

"What happened, Boxey? Was it the bad man again?" He held the child tightly.

"Ye-e-e-es," Boxey wailed. "He hurted me, he hurted me and ate my blood!"

"He did what?"

"He turned into a monster again, and he hurted my face—" Boxey reached up to touch the scratch on his cheek "—then he ate the blood, right off his claw!"


Ooohhhh, sweet. Sweet blood, the intoxicating taste of fear... now this was more like it. The entity licked the last drop of precious blood off its claw and dematerialized before the little human's protector could respond to its terrified bleating.

The entity slipped itself back into the ship's wiring, where it was safe from all harm. It was already feeling stronger. Soon, the fears of the children would strengthen it to the point where it could manifest physically. Then, when it was solid enough to do some real harm, it would have all the fear it could eat. And then, once food was plentiful... perhaps it would even spawn.


The next night, Apollo didn't take any chances. He tucked Boxey into bed with him before any terrifying nightmare creatures could emerge. He settled into bed himself, pleased at the prospect of a full night's sleep.

It was always peaceful here, in the garden. Apollo smiled when he saw the tiny pink blossoms of his mother's favorite plant, the Shinderan pana. Thready vines trailed along the stone wall, covered in sprays of delicate blossoms. He touched one lightly, then drew back in horror when it began to ooze darkness. He stared in horrified fascination as it oozed darkness. The stuff pooled on the stone wall, dissolving the pana vines into goo. He backed away into the embrace of a shadow and wrenched away. Tendrils of shadow followed after him until he ripped away, then screamed in horror at the form coalescing from the pana goo. Red eyes, flaming red eyes, billowing clouds of green smoke obscuring any details of the body, other than the claws, the claws reaching for him, the claws, the bloody claws...

Apollo woke in a cold sweat. Had he really cried out aloud, or only in his dream? No matter. He ordered the lights on full strength and searched his room thoroughly, even under the bed. But he was alone, save for the still oblivious Boxey. He was safe. The thing was not here.

Was this the kind of dream others had experienced? If so, he felt doubly sorry for them. That was probably one of the nastiest nightmares he'd ever had. Shaken, he reached for the comm, then stopped. No, he would not bother Starbuck with a thing like this. He was a big boy now, didn't need to have his hand held. All the same, he couldn't bring himself to return to his bed. Instead, he dimmed the lights and made his way out to the couch and turned on the vid, to turn his mind into mush with late night IFB broadcasts.

He must have dozed off, because the morning news awakened him. The anchorman was detailing the reports of disturbances all over the Galactica.

"...unexplained phenomenon holds the Battlestar Galactica in terror," the newsman was saying. "People have complained all over the Galactica of intensely terrifying nightmares, especially children. In some cases, there has even been physical damage done." Several vidclips of minor injuries on children. "People are unsure what to make of this new threat. The theory of mass hysteria is clearly untrue, but what other explanation is there? People in this enlightened age have been taught that there are no such things as ghosts, no malignant spirit world to trouble the living. Perhaps modern science will find an explanation for this disturbing phenomenon. And now, on to sports. This year's Triad championship—"

Apollo switched the vidscreen off and sat staring at it for a moment. Ghosts. Sptirits. Things which go bump in the night. His logical mind objected strenuously to the very idea, but the evidence of his own experiences seemed to prove a paranormal explanation was valid. He sighed heavily and rose to get ready for another day. There was someone who he could consult on this matter, someone who would know exactly what to do if it was a spiritual phenomenon...


"Excuse me," Apollo said. He tried not to show his discomfort. Beside him, Starbuck felt no such compunction, and shifted from foot to foot, shoulders hunched and looking anywhere but at the crinkled old woman in front of them. "There is a problem on the Galactica, and we were advised that you may be able to help."

"So..." Sharp black eyes peered from the old face, weighing and measuring him. "It has come at last."

"Excuse me?"

"The time which I have long awaited, the time when at last you utterly scientific and analytical folk must admit that there are some things you simply cannot explain with science." A wide smile lit the old features.

"Well, yes." Apollo glanced away from that over-bright gaze. "Can you help us? We seek advice about the phenomenon which has disturbed the Galactica for the last several days."

"Not phenomenon, phantasm," the old woman corrected. "I am Raya, and you are Apollo and Starbuck, are you not? Step into my home and have some tea while we discuss this matter."

"Thank you, Raya," Apollo said. He and Starbuck passed through the doorway into an alien world. Both men stared in amazement at the outlandish surroundings while Raya bustled about, preparing tea.

Things hung from the walls that defied definition—what looked like pieces of plants hung on strings, strange and fantastical masks clustered about a mirror, what might have been crudely made musical instruments, very peculiar pictures... and then there were the shelves. Books—actual bound, printed books—fought for space with an incredible collection of crystals, rocks, and figurines. A heavy smell of incense hung in the air. Almost unconsciously, Apollo edged closer to Starbuck, an oasis of familiarity in this sea of strangeness.

"Come sit," Raya said. Both men jumped. She indicated a table swathed in black velvet, with a magnificent crystal ball as centerpiece. "I don't bite," she added with a smile.

Starbuck was the first to move. He took a chair and perched on the edge of it, fixing Raya with a steady gaze. Apollo followed.

"So, you know of this thing, this phantasm as you called it?"

"I most certainly do. It is an ancient evil, known for millennia among my people." She brought the tea and cups to the table on a tray, then placed one in front of each man. She took up her own cup and sank gracefully into her seat opposite them.

"Will you tell us of it?" Starbuck leaned forward eagerly.

"Patience, young lad," Raya chuckled. "You are too anxious to hear of this evil."

Apollo nudged him sharply. "Don't mind him, ma'am. He's always impatient."

"Impatience coupled with caution. No wonder you boys make such an effective team." She gazed silently into her tea for a long moment. "The phantasm," she said, in a sharp voice like a whipcrack, "is an ancient evil, as I said. It was banished long ago, but has now been rediscovered. It is a psychic vampire, feeding upon the fears of those it preys upon—it gets stronger as it feeds. As it is now, it can do little harm, only frighten children and those whom it can touch. Left to grow unchecked, it will destroy the very Galactica. The phantasm must be stopped."

Apollo quickly ran through what she had just said in his mind. Nothing new there. "But how? And what exactly is a psychic vampire? Reason tells us such things should not exist."

Hard black eyes focused on him. "Ask your son if such things exist, or are mere imaginings. Ask yourself if the blood on your child's face was real or imagined. Then tell me again that the realm of the psychic is but the maunderings of old women and crackpots." Raya sipped her tea, her challenging gaze never wavering from his face.

Starbuck came to his rescue, as always. "He meant no disrespect," he said, turning on the famous Starbuck charm full force. "But we are pilots, warriors—we have little to do with the realm of the mystical."

"Save your silver tongue for the ladies," she grumbled, but a small smile played about the corners of her mouth. "Or—whatever," she added, with a darting glance at Apollo. "I will tell you how to deal with the creature, but only because I have not the strength to do it myself these days. This is what you need to do..."

Apollo and Starbuck listened avidly as the old voice droned on, noting down the details of how to rid the Galactica of this menace. If either man felt that the information was a load of superstitious felgercarb, neither showed it, and they left Raya's quarters with a feeling of cautious hope.

"Do you think any of this will work?" Starbuck said, once they were safely away.

"Beats the hell out of me," Apollo admitted. "It smells nearly as badly as the shit barge, but what else can we do?"

"We really have no choice. But still, I'm going to feel like a bloody great idiot if anyone catches me doing any of this stuff."

"Amen to that... Okay. Raya said some things that are purely common sense, right? We'll spread those about first, have people stay in groups, leave lights on, things like that. If it continues to get worse..." Apollo shrugged. "That'll be soon enough to worry about telling people how to seal their auras and cleanse their quarters, don't you think?"

"Agreed," Starbuck said, with heartfelt fervor. "Can you just see, say, Colonel Tigh, waving about incense while your father chants over candles?"

Apollo laughed. "Now that is a ridiculous image..."

Starbuck caught something out of the corner of his eye, and turned to look. "Apollo!"

It was there, staring at them, in the brightly lit corridor. There was a moment of stunned inaction on all sides, then the thing took off, Apollo and Starbuck in close pursuit. Neither stopped to wonder why it was fleeing so slowly. Neither even considered why it was leading them into dim and difficult to access utility corridors. They just chased after the thing, anxious not to let it get away. Then it again did the unexpected—it vanished, only to reappear again a heartbeat later, behind them.

The monster hung there in the air, not reacting in any way. Phantasm, Raya had called it. An ancient evil, remnant from another time. Starbuck was fascinated by it, ugly thing that it was. It had a torso, with a head and withered little arms. But underneath, where its legs should have been, it was nothing but a shifting cloud. Starbuck stepped back, a niggling fear taking root inside of him. The phantasm stretched a claw towards him, a blood red claw beckoning him closer, closer...

"Starbuck!"

Apollo's voice broke into the thing's fascination. "What?"

"This hall is a dead end. How the hell did we get in here?"

"Following the damn thing, of course." Starbuck glanced over his shoulder, to see Apollo pounding futilely on a locked door. A low growl riveted his attention back on the phantasm.

It opened its jaws, exposing dripping fangs. Starbuck shivered as drool dripped off one fang, to land sizzling on the deck. Then, with a roar fit to shatter stone, the phantasm shot forward and wrapped both arms around Starbuck.

Starbuck shrieked in mortal terror. He struggled frantically, but the thing was unaffected by his blows. Snarling and snapping, it tried to bite, but was unable to cause any real damage. When he realized he was unharmed other than slight scratches, Starbuck dropped unexpectedly to the deck, wrenched away from the grasping thing, and fled for his life. Apollo held steady—not that there was anywhere he could go, backed up against a wall as he was. The phantasm snarled and advanced, eyes flaming red in the dim hallway. Starbuck crashed into Apollo and clung to him tightly.

"It touched me! It touched me!" He trembled with the terror inspired by the thing's touch.

"It has no power over you," Apollo muttered to himself. Then, louder, "It's okay, Starbuck—it can't hurt you, remember?"

"It'll kill me!" Starbuck was still shaking.

"No. It won't kill you. I'll keep you safe, Starbuck. Just don't look at it, okay?"

"Okay." Starbuck hid his face in Apollo's shoulder. Apollo sighed and faced the approaching horror, one arm around his friend.

"All right, thing. I know what you are. Your power lies in fear, and I'm not afraid of you." Liar, liar, sang a voice inside his head.

The phantasm paused in its advance. Apollo gazed at it steadily, not even blinking. It was a disgusting looking thing, all grey-green and scaly. The slanted red eyes were shaped like sideways teardrops and glowed with an unholy light.

"I deny you. You have no power over me." Apollo took a deep breath and tried not to feel foolish. "Demon, I cast thee out. I banish thee from this place. I—"

His recital of the ancient words recommended by old Raya caused a dramatic reaction from the phantasm. It halted in its advance and shrieked. The withered forearms raised in a gesture of warding, claws extended upwards. The insubstantial lower portion of the creature writhed in a billowing fury.

"I deny thee power over the living, I deny thee—"

The shriek rose to an unbearable pitch, but Apollo continued to shout the words of banishing out. He felt strong, powerful—alive. He put that strength into his voice, along with all his desire to protect Starbuck and the others aboard the Galactica.

"Be thou gone from this place, and trouble no longer the servants of light—"

With a final ear-splitting shriek, the thing vanished.

Apollo took a deep breath and leaned against Starbuck, feeling numb. This whole situation was really getting to him. Psychic vampires, magical incantations—the whole load of felgercarb just went against his entire being. He had been raised in a world where life obeyed logical, scientific rules.

Starbuck shifted against his shoulder and Apollo abruptly returned to reality. "Hey," he said, squeezing gently. "It's okay now, the thing is gone."

"It touched me," Starbuck whispered, raising still-fearful eyes. Apollo was surprised by the strong urge to protect his friend, to make that fear go away and never return. Poor man, looks real shook up still...

"It's okay now," Apollo repeated. "See, it's gone."

Starbuck peered down the dimly lit hallway. He relaxed his grip slightly when he saw there was nothing there, but still clung to Apollo. "It was awful," he whispered. "It was going to—"

"Shh, shh." Apollo stroked his friend's hair, rather like he had with Boxey. Starbuck relaxed, one muscle at a time. His hand crept upwards until it rested on Apollo's shoulder. He snuggled closer. Without thinking, Apollo pressed his lips against the blond head. "Everything is alright now."

Starbuck's hand stroked lightly across Apollo's cheek. "Thank you," he said, then raised his head and brushed Apollo's lips lightly with his own. "I'm sorry I was so scared."

"Don't be," Apollo murmured. His lips tingled. He wasn't too sure why that had happened, but he wasn't complaining... oh no, he wasn't complaining at all. He tried again, a little louder. "Don't be sorry, it's okay. That thing feeds on and amplifies your fears. You got away, that's what is important."

"Yes. I suppose so." Starbuck looked at him for a long moment, expression unreadable in the dim light, then straightened and pulled away, smoothing his uniform. "Well, now we know that what Raya said works, anyways."

"Yes, yes we do." Apollo let his arms fall from Starbuck slowly. There was a cold spot along his side where the man had been. He searched the familiar features, looking for something undefinable in the dimness, then sighed and turned his attention to the hall. "Perhaps we'd better get back now."

"That might be a good idea."

"Are you all right?" Apollo peered at Starbuck with concerrn. He was rather pale. "I mean, that thing's touch must be pretty disturbing, to say the least..."

"I'm fine." Starbuck smiled and set off, back ramrod straight. A faint whisper trailed after him. "It's not the thing's touch disturbing me now..."


Rage consumed the entity. How dare that foul creature to utter those words? It pulsed with combined terror and outrage, causing the entire electrical system of the ship to fluctuate. It had come far too close for comfort to speaking the correct formula, the words which would return the entity to the dimension from which it had sprung, milennia ago. It had thought those dangerous words lost long before. Something must be done about the being, and done soon. It was too strong and smart to damage directly, but its offspring... now there was a perfect opportunity for revenge.


The OC was quiet tonight. An uneasy silence hung over the room, occasionally broken by hushed whispers. The patrons seemed intent on consuming enough alcohol to drown out their troubles, rather than having a good time. Apollo found Starbuck in a corner booth, talking quietly with Cassie. He picked up an ale from the bar and joined them.

"What's up?" he said, as he slid into the seat next to Starbuck.

"We were just talking about the thing," Starbuck said, with a welcoming smile.

"Who isn't, these days." Apollo had a sip of his ale, then took a closer look at Cassie. Her eyes and cheeks were red and puffy, as though she'd been crying. "Cass, what's wrong?"

"I was the one who found that little boy," she said, in a voice thick with tears. "It was so terrible—right there in the doorway of his own home, hand still on the sensor plate..." She sniffled and wiped away a fresh tear.

"I'm sorry," Apollo said awkwardly. "I didn't know..."

"How could you? I told IFB not to broadcast the details, only that the thing was deadly dangerous to children." She wiped her eyes again and took a long drink of her ambrosa. "I also warned them of the increased danger to adults. Sheba's still in therapy, she may never be able to fly again."

Apollo shuddered. The incident with Sheba and the Viper had forced him to cancel all Viper patrols. The phantasm had entered the wiring of her ship and spent an entire centar feeding off her terror, as it played games inside her brain.

"It's gotten so strong..." Starbuck mused. "Boomer was incredibly lucky it wasn't up to doing any real damage when he brought the thing in."

"Next time someone encounters a space anomaly, I'm going to order them to run like hell," Apollo sighed. "What a disaster this is turning into. Can't hardly do anything, for fear of a bloody supernatural horror. Now all we need is Cylons to make the situation absolutely perfect."

"Be careful what you say, you may regret it," Starbuck said. He paused for a drink. "You know what they say about what you wish for, and belief creates reality, and all that felgercarb."

"Yeah. Can't tell anymore what's superstitious nonsense, and what masks truth."

The friends lapsed into silence for a while, as the level of their drinks continued to go down.

"Heard something the other day," Starbuck said unexpectedly. Cassie and Apollo both jumped.

"What was it?" Cassie asked. Apollo took a few deep breaths and told himself to relax and quit being so jumpy.

"Heard Bojay went and moved in with Sheba, to help her out."

"Good for him," Apollo said, with vast relief. "Maybe he'll take her mind off getting into my pants." He was instantly regretful. "Sorry, but she was driving me insane. Still, I feel badly for her—no one should have to deal with having that thing torture them for centares on end."

"Only one centar," Starbuck corrected.

"Only one centar in the Viper, sure—but it was still there afterwards, remember? It took the zap in medbay to get it out."

"Dr. Salik thinks maybe we could destroy it with a similar 'zap,' as you put it," Cassie put in.

"Maybe so," Apollo said, finishing his ale, "but first we'd have to catch the thing. I'm off now, I have to pick up Boxey and take him home. See you tomorrow?" He rose and stretched.

"I'll walk with you," Starbuck offered, standing as well. Apollo smiled.

"Cass, will you be okay here alone?"

"I'll be fine, Apollo," she replied. "Someone will walk me back home, I'm sure." She smiled, then signalled the bartender for a refill.

Apollo and Starbuck made their way out of the OC and through the nearly deserted corridors of the Galactica. The few people they encountered were very sensibly in pairs or groups. The phantasm only struck lone people, preferably far away from any others.

"Tell me something," Starbuck said abruptly, right before Apollo rang the buzzer on his father's quarters.

"What?" Apollo paused, hand over the button, to glance searchingly at his friend.

"The other day, when the thing scared the piss out of me—did you mind what happened?"

Apollo smiled. "Not at all. Why, did you?"

A relieved grin nearly split Starbuck's face in two. "Not one little bit, once I'd gotten over the initial shock. See you later!"

And with typical Starbuck insouciance, he turned and strode away, whistling a cheerful little tune. Apollo thought about calling him back, then changed his mind and pressed the buzzer instead.


"Dad!" A quavery shout emerged from Boxey's room. Apollo jumped up and was there in an instant.

"What is it, son?"

Wordlessly, Boxey pointed at his wall. Four waxy blobs were shifting and growing larger, until each was the size of Apollo's palm.

The waxy blobs fascinated Apollo horribly. He stared at the irregular shapes on the wall until his sight wavered, causing the four blobs to shift and shimmer nauseatingly. They ran together and blurred, then seperated again, forming... letters? Yes, letters. All the excess wax drained away, leaving letters clearly visible. K. I. L. L. Kill. Right there on his son's wall, the letters formed the word kill.

Deep, primal terror held Apollo motionless for a moment. Kill. The thing was going to kill his son, was going to do to Boxey what it had done to that poor child yesterday...

Then he broke free of the horror with a snarl. No, it wasn't! Not if he had any say in the matter. Boxey would not wind up dead of sheer terror, would not scream his life away while an evil monster tortured and tormented him for its own evil purposes. He had to speak to Raya again.

"Come with me," he said, voice harsh with emotion. He took Boxey's hand and led him back to his father's rooms, where he convinced the sleepy Commander to let them both stay the night. There was greater safety in numbers.


"I knew you would return," Raya said simply, when she opened her door to Apollo and Starbuck. Her sharp old eyes took in the difference in the attitude of the two warriors: where before they had been confident and unfearing, now they clung together, watching the corridor with suspicious eyes. The phantasm had affected them both deeply, at the same level where childhood fears were stored, the level which populated darkness with unthinkable monsters. Only now the monster was real, and had touched both their lives in ways which could not be denied. Raya motioned to the two to enter, then secured the warding on the door behind them. Both men felt the change as the warding took effect, straightening and looking around with puzzled expressions.

"What just happened?" Apollo asked.

"I have my home warded against all evil," she replied, leading the men to the same table they had occupied before. There was a conspicuous addition to the room—a large mirror with an intricate metal frame was propped against the wall beside the table.

"How did you know we would be back?" Starbuck asked, settling into a chair.

"You wish to destroy this evil before it can damage any others, do you not? As I am the only one with the knowledge to do so, it seemed obvious that you would return."

"You do know how to do it, then." Apollo sank into a chair with relief.

"I have been thinking of this since you boys were here before," Raya replied, producing a tea set from the kitchen and serving her guests. "The mirror there is a special one, and it will serve us well. What I have in mind is this..."


It was time. Everything was set up, according to Raya's plan. All players were in position, waiting now for the phantasm to appear. Apollo shifted his weight, trying to ease his legs. He hoped the wait would not be too long, or he'd have horrendous cramps from this crouched position.

"You know, this supernatural terror is having one good effect," Starbuck whispered into his ear. Apollo didn't even blink, just continued his observation of the corridor. The phantasm could be anywhere in the ship, but eventually it was sure to come here, sure to take the bait offered so sweetly, the only lone person on the entire Galactica. All others were awake and grouped together, awaiting the outcome of tonight's efforts.

"And what good effect is that?"

Beside him, Starbuck moved closer. "There's some interesting side effects coming from all this fighting fear business."

Apollo slipped an arm around Starbuck's shoulders. "If you mean the... rather interesting, um, physical side effects, I couldn't agree more."

Starbuck pressed closer still and kissed Apollo's cheek. "That's exactly what I meant."

For a brief moment, Apollo closed his eyes and savored the tingle brought by the kiss. "And I definitely want to explore the possibilities created by these side effects... later."

"Later?" Starbuck's breath sent shivers through Apollo.

"Later—when we're not under alert conditions, when we're not—"

"Waiting for a monster to came eat us and our children. Yes, I see your point." Starbuck kissed his neck again, then shifted away. "But don't think I'm going to forget, or not want to continue this... exploration."

"I'm counting on your good memory, old friend."

Silence fell, punctuated only by the light snores of the sleeper in the hall. Apollo's eyes burned and watered with the strain of watching for the phantasm. He rubbed at them, trying to ease the strain.

"Hey!" Starbuck nudged him sharply and Apollo refocused on the hallway.

It was there.

Floating slowly down the hallway, it entered the trap with no apparent hesitation. It showed no surprise at finding a human asleep on the floor in the hallway. It did show interest when it recognized the human as one who had fed it well previously. It emitted a soft croon, rubbing its twisted little hands in a disturbingly human gsture. Then it settled down beside the sleeping form of Sheba, ready to feed again. It glanced about warily before touching the woman.

Apollo started to move.

"Not yet!" Starbuck hissed into his ear, barely louder than a thought. The phantasm looked around once more. "Wait till it's distracted!"

Apollo held himself back with an effort. True, he didn't much like Sheba, but no one should have to put up with the touch of this thing.

Satisfied that all was well, the phantasm focused on Sheba. It plunged a hand directly into her head and cackled with hideous glee when she shrieked.

"Now!"

Together, Apollo and Starbuck attacked the thing. With children's water pistols full of consecrated water, they squirted the thing repeatedly, forcing it to retreat in a billowing, shrieking rage. Sheba, freed of its vile hand, fled down the hallway to safety.

"Don't lose it!" Apollo yelled. It dodged and twisted. The holy water sizzled when it came in contact with the thing, raising clouds of steam to billow through the hallway.

"I won't—where the hell is Raya?"

As if in response to his question, the old lady's voice rose above the pain-filled shrieks of the phantasm. She was chanting in her native tongue. When the thing was in a good position, she unveiled the mirror.

"Bring him in, boys!" she shouted with glee, then resumed her chant, this time waving a smoking censer about.

Working together, Apollo and Starbuck harried the creature into the perfect position. Then, as it hovered directly in front of the mirror, Raya cried out a single word of command.

The mirror sucked the phatasm in without hesitation, leaving behind a lingering shriek and leftover clouds of foul-smelling steam.

Raya stepped in front of the mirror, arms raised, and called out one last verse of her chant. There was a dramatic flash of light, then nothing. Her arms fell to her sides and she swayed against the mirror, exhausted.

"Is it... done?" Apollo asked hesitantly. He made his way over to the old woman, who straightened slowly.

"It is done," she confirmed. A faint shimmer of energy lingered on the surface of the mirror. "The phantasm will trouble us no more. Now if you boys would be so kind as to carry this back to my home?"

"Certainly." Starbuck took the top, Apollo took the bottom, and they followed Raya back to her quarters. Starbuck positioned the mirror wher Raya directed, while Apollo called IFB with the good news.

"Apollo?" Starbuck called, when he hung up.

"Yeah?"

"Can we go now?"

Apollo glanced at Raya, who made a shooing motion with her hands. "Go on now, you've earned your rest."

Apollo smiled and held out a hand to Starbuck, who took it with an answering smile.

"Little does she know," he murmured into Apollo's ear as they left. "Boxey's still with Adama, right?"

Apollo chuckled. "Yes, he is indeed. I take it you have some notion what to do with a bit of privacy?"

"Could be, could very well be..." With a laugh, Starbuck wrapped an arm around Apollo's shoulders, and they made their way through the now-safe corridors of the Galactica together.

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