Apollo stared at the woman, heart frozen in his chest. Had she really just...

She had. And she was serious, too. Serina wanted to get sealed right now. Now, when Starbuck was missing and probably dead. Now, when the fleet was stuck in the vast blackness of a void, due to his own father's orders.

Have you no sense of timing, woman? he wanted to shout.

But he didn't. He allowed her to persuade him to do it- today, no more waiting and delay. Do it now, before it was too late...

Before Starbuck returned to raise more doubts in his heart.

Apollo allowed himself to be shoved into the wedding preparations. Even with a last-centon wedding like this one, some time was required to set everything up, to assemble friends and family, to deal with the gloating smirk both his father and his bride-to-be wore...

To replay, over and over and over again, his last night out with Starbuck, and convince himself that he really was doing the right thing.

So he went along with what he was told to do, making no argument, lost in his thoughts. He retraced that night in memory, repeatedly. He was vaguely aware when Boomer showed up, chattering at him excitedly.

It hadn't been all that much of a surprise, now that he thought about it. He'd always known that he found the other man incredibly attractive. He'd just thought he had such evil thoughts and urges under control. Because it was evil, no denying that, and so he wouldn't give in.

Until Starbuck, not exactly blind drunk but definitely past the point of better judgment, had turned to him in the hallway outside his quarters. His arm had been slung companionably about his Captain's shoulders since they left the OC, but that wasn't the unusual thing.

Oh no, what was unusual was when Starbuck turned to him and said, "Love you, Pol- you know that, dontcha?"

"Of course I do, Starbuck," he'd replied, oh-so-unsuspectingly. "Now let's get you to bed-" and he coded open the locked door.

Only to find he couldn't enter it, because his arms were full of Starbuck. Lips burned into his with a passionate intensity that nearly bowled him over. He staggered, off balance, and somehow the two of them made it into Starbuck's quarters.

"Where did you hide your dress uniform, anyway?" Boomer's voice jolted him out of his reverie.

"What?" Apollo had trouble focusing on the present moment, on his friend, who was pawing through his closet.

"Dress uniform, Captain. Remember? You're getting sealed?"

"Oh- other cabinet." Apollo opened the door, located the uniform, suffered Boomer's good-natured bullying while he changed. But his mind kept going back...

It was good. It was incredibly good. It was better than the best sex with Serina ever had been, and this was just a kiss. He pressed closer to Starbuck, licking and nibbling, hands frantic on the other man's uniform, trying to get through to the warm skin beneath-

-and then breaking away in utter panic when he realized what he was doing.

Evil! Evil! Unclean! his mind shouted, even while his body clamored for more. Starbuck blinked startled eyes at him, reaching out a hand.

"Apollo? What's wrong? Why'd you stop?"

It was too much for him. "I- I- I can't!" he choked out, and bolted for the sanctuary of his quarters. His private quarters, not the ones he'd been sharing with Serina, where he could crawl under the covers and shake without having to explain his shame to anyone...

It's better this way, he told himself, as Boomer stuffed him into his dress uniform- a job that should have been Starbuck's. He's gone. Even if he survives, even if he comes back somehow, this is still better. Because what you did was wrong.

Now if only he could believe that...

The ceremony, although thrown together in haste, must have been adequate. He wasn't all that sure of the details, only that both Serina and his father were beaming joyously. But he was paying more attention to the smiling blue eyes in his memory, trying not to think of how his getting sealed like this was going to hurt his best friend ever.

His true love?

No.

Apollo made an effort to pay attention, made all the proper responses, kissed his new bride for the first time since he'd kissed Starbuck...

"Look!" A cry rose about them. Startled, Apollo broke away from Serina and looked up.

Overhead, through the viewport, a single star pulsed red in the blackness of the void. Serina smiled up at him, the red star visible directly over her head, vivid and intense. Apollo felt an odd chill at the sight, then shook it off.

Just then, Adama's commlink bleeped.

"Yes? What is it?" he snapped, not even bothering to conceal his irritation at the distraction.

"Sir, you're needed on the bridge. Now, sir."

Adama glared at the commlink. "On my way." He turned to Apollo. "Son-"

"No need to apologize, Father. I heard." Apollo smiled. "Go."

"Congratulations, son," Adama said, with a proud smile. Then he left.

* * * * * * * *

"Sir, we're receiving a transmission," Lieutenant Kalla, the Communications Officer, announced when Adama reached the bridge. "Fragmented, quality poor, but it appears to be an antiquated form of Kobolian."

Adama felt a brief surge of excitement. "Let's hear it, Lieutenant."

"Relaying to bridge speakers now, sir." Kalla flipped a few switches, then the crackling and broken up transmission was audible.

... daemonus... interdict... world...

... daemonus... interdict... world...

... daemonus...

Adama felt a chill race down his spine. Daemonus- a name from legend. A servant of Diabolis, immortal and inhumanly cruel... he shivered, then dismissed the fear as irrational. Whatever was producing that signal had nothing to do with Colonial legends. History, definitely- real, factual history. But not legends.

"Where does the signal originate?" he asked, scanning the viewscreen. The red star which had led them from the void gleamed balefully ahead, providing a fiery beacon. The message continued to repeat in the background, conjuring up images from childhood nightmares. But this was reality, and that beacon out there was possibly an artifact of the long gone Kobolian society. He had no reason to believe it referred to the immortal being of legend, the one bent on the destruction of all humanity. Such fears were groundless, as they were based on apocryphal legends, not proven fact.

But what if it was true? whispered a niggling little doubt in the back of his head. He silenced it firmly, concentrating instead on the job at hand.

"The primary ahead has one planet. The source of the signal would appear to be in orbit around the planet."

"Has anyone performed a long range scan?"

"Aye, sir." The navigator spoke up, gesturing for Adama to come view his terminal. It showed a basic analysis of the planet, indicating that while severe, the environment was capable of sustaining human life. Adama gazed at the readout, searching for a particular piece of information.

"There," he said, pointing at a string of numbers. "What's that?"

"It would appear to be a satellite, sir, in a circumpolar orbit, effecting one transit every thirteen point six two centons. The molecular composition indicates that it was manufactured."

"Thank you. Helm, bring us in as close as you can- I want details on this device."

The details were unsatisfying. The satellite was small and fast, powered by a solar sail, and with a decay rate likely to send it spiraling to the planet's surface within a few yahrens. The computer analysis was inconclusive, indicating that the satellite could have held a stable orbit for an indefinite length of time before something, perhaps a mere grain of spacedust, had knocked it off course and into a decaying orbit. The current rate of decay suggested that the impact had knocked it off course nearly a thousand yahrens ago. The satellite was in a low orbit now, nearly to the point of no return. Its framework indicated a long-disintegrated solar sail, which would account for its incredible rate of speed.

The reassuringly solid facts about the satellite did nothing to dispel Adama's unease. Irritably, he ordered the playback of the message stopped, noting that he wasn't the only one who sighed with relief.

"What are you going to do with this, Commander?" Tigh asked, from his seat overlooking the bridge.

"Take it to the Council, of course," Adama replied heavily. "After all, the Council knows best. Right?"

"Whatever you say, Adama. Whatever you say."

* * * * * * * *

The Council pounced on the notion of contact with some remnant of their heritage like a starving daggit on a marrow-bone. Adama urged caution, with little effect.

"But Adama," Sire Uri said, his silken tone in contrast to the gruff old warrior, "of course we must investigate! This beacon, this message- they are a part of our heritage."

"You don't know that-" Adama began, only to be interrupted again.

"My dear Commander, how can you doubt it? The artifact is undeniably similar to our technology. It is clearly more primitive. Why do you persist in doubting it is a piece of our heritage?"

"That's where you're wrong, Sire Uri." Adama rose to pace restlessly across the front of the council chamber. "I do not doubt it is a piece of our heritage, as you put it. What I doubt is the wisdom of investigating a planet which has a beacon orbiting above it containing the word 'interdict.'" He paused, then turned to face Uri so abruptly that the councilor was startled. "Or don't you care about the welfare of our troops?"

"Oh no, no," Uri protested hastily. He had garnered much support in military quarters in his quest for the councilor's robe, promising a sympathetic voice on the Council if he were elected. "No, it's not that at all. I merely think-"

"Adama has raised a point which I find valid," Sire Anton interrupted. He nodded an apology at Uri, but continued speaking. "There is the matter of our troops to consider. I'm not entirely certain a mission of this importance should be left in military hands."

"What?" Adama dropped into his chair in shock. "Anton, you can't possibly mean that! You would send civilians, untrained and unprotected, into a potentially dangerous and hostile world?"

"Rest easy, old friend," Anton said, with a gentle smile. "I didn't say that. I merely think that the possibility of a first contact with people on the surface of that world merits the presence of someone with more, shall we say, diplomatic skills than your Warriors possess."

Much to Adama's dismay, the idea caught on strongly with the other councilors. Adama found his position changed from opposing the mission in general, to arguing for as much military presence as the Council would allow. It was determined that Sire Uri would go. In the event of first contact, he would act as ambassador to the new people.

The only concession Adama was able to win was that the shuttle carrying Uri would carry two of his Warriors, as well as the Council security men. He seethed and swore within, but was unable to convince the stubborn old men that such a mission was doomed from the start. In his head, he kept hearing the fragmentary message replay, over and over again: daemonus... interdict... world...

* * * * * * * *

The team was assembled promptly, despite Adama's still-vigorous protests, and Apollo's loud complaints. Four Councilors, six Council Security, two Colonial Warriors- and one passenger.

"Everyone secure?" Apollo called into the passenger compartment, with a concerned glance at his new wife, who was adjusting their son's safety harness.

"We're good to go, Captain," Reese called.

"Okay then. Serina, come on, I need you up here now."

"Here I am, Apollo," she said, sliding into position. She smiled at him, excited.

"Good. Now get our clearance, would you?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him, with a look that promised tonight would be no ordinary wedding night. Then she switched on the comm and briskly requested clearance for takeoff. It was granted promptly, and then they were underway, weaving a path through the ships of the fleet to drop into the atmosphere of the red planet below.

It was a routine flight, at first, with nothing out of the ordinary. But when the shuttle dropped from the stratosphere, it entered a sudden energy storm, which seemed to have roots in the soil below.

"What the frack?" Apollo muttered. He fought to stay on course as the shuttle was buffeted by increasingly strong bursts of energy. He looked at the instrument panel- all his gauges were going haywire. Knowing it was futile, he tapped on some of them anyway, trying to get some kind of reading. Then the storm increased in intensity.

"What is that, Apollo?" Serina's wide and frightened eyes looked at him from the copilot's seat.

The shuttle shuddered in the grip of the strange energy emanating from the planet. Weird fluctuations in the surrounding light made the cockpit shift from yellow to white to sickly orange and red.

"If I knew that, I would have been able to override that damned Council order," Apollo groused. He struggled to keep control of the helm. The shuttle bucked and kicked like an untamed equus. "They wouldn't send their precious Councilors into this kind of danger willingly."

"Apollo, I'm scared," Serina whimpered, lower lip trembling.

"Not now, Serina. I'm kind of busy." The shuttle dropped five hundred metrons with a sickening lurch. Why had he ever thought it would be a good idea to bring her along? No matter what his father said about her making a good wingman for him, she was more a liability than an asset in this situation.

"But Apollo-"

Serina broke off her complaint to scream when a bolt of wild energy struck the nose of the shuttlecraft. The instrument panel sparked and exploded. Apollo was peripherally aware of shouts of protest from the passenger compartment before he realized that the shuttle was going down and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Boxey!" Serina shrieked. Apollo turned, in time to see Serina make a lunge for the boy. He'd undone his safety harness and come forward to the pilot's compartment.

"Get down!" Apollo yelled, and then it was too late. The shuttle, traveling faster than it had been designed to go even under the best of circumstances, plowed into the surface of the planet.

Mixed in with the shriek and wrench of tortured metal, Apollo could hear panic-stricken cries from the passenger compartment. The wreck seemed to last forever- first they hit the surface, at a very bad angle. Then the shuttle skidded along the surface, creating a sound worse than the screams of tortured souls from the lowest hell. Apollo had enough time to think that the worst was over before they slammed into something utterly immobile, causing the shuttle nose to crumple in on itself like a squeezebox.

After a moment of stillness that felt like an eternity, Apollo raised his head cautiously from where it had come to rest against the steering yoke. The first thing he saw was Serina- or rather, what was left of Serina.

She was dead. There was no mistaking it- she was undeniably dead. And so was her son.

Apollo stared numbly at his new wife and son. His mind refused to accept the horror of what he was seeing, because there wasn't much left intact of either of them. When the shuttle had hit, the two must have been thrown forward, through the viewscreen, and then trapped between the crumpled form of the shuttle and the rock outcropping it had come to rest against.

At least it was quick...

Then something worked its way through the numbness. Now Starbuck can't be mad at me for getting sealed...

Instant disgust lanced through him. What was wrong with him, anyway? The woman he'd loved was dead. So was the son he'd taken for his own. And all he could think of was that now his best friend wouldn't be mad at him? Truly disgusting.

He turned away from the remains of his family and took stock of the situation. The shuttle was hopeless. Even if the instrument panel hadn't gone up in a spectacular fountain of sparks, there was nothing that could possibly be salvaged from the crumpled nose section. Even safely strapped in, Apollo had nearly been trapped against the rock himself.

In the passenger compartment, Sire Uri was picking himself out of the wreckage. Around him, the other passengers were beginning to move as well- six Councilors, four Council Security, and all were turning shocky eyes towards him for leadership.

"All right, people," he said. His voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again, telling the tightness to go away. Time enough for mourning later- you're in a survival situation here. Get these people up and out of here, before something else blows up.

Blowing up did indeed seem to be a danger. The temperature in the nose of the shuttle was uncomfortably high, higher than could be accounted for by the small fires still crackling in what was left of the instrument panel. He resolutely avoided looking at the bodies as he pried himself loose from his seat.

"Everybody out," he ordered. With a combination of tact and authority, he managed to get the Council members and Security team alike in motion. When they exited the shuttle, Apollo swore in stunned disbelief.

Well, at least I know why it was so hot in there, he thought inanely. The rock of the outcropping they had plowed into was burning.

* * * * * * * *

"Sire Uri, stay away from the rock, please," one of the Security men admonished.

"Nonsense, boy- what harm can come from a rock?"

The Sire flipped his hand at the rock, a gesture of disdain, which caused his sleeve to billow impressively... which caused a shift in air currents over the rock, that some had already dubbed brimstone. Whump! The rock ignited.

Apollo felt a distant sense of amusement as he watched the Sire dance around frantically, beating the flames out of the side of his robe. But the amusement was brief and short-lived. Apollo waved his hand over a rock, testing for flammability, then sat on it. Sharp and uncomfortable, yes, but better than the unpleasantly yielding surface of this hellacious planet.

Boxey was gone. So was Serina. What was he supposed to do now?

His mind refused to cope with the concept, focusing instead on the current situation. Easier by far to think about ways to survive until some form of rescue came from the Galactica.

No, dammit- he wouldn't allow himself to avoid the issue. It was too important. Serina and Boxey had been his life. A poor substitute for Starbuck, whispered his traitorous heart.

But he didn't want to think about that- the missing Colonial Warrior who had been his best friend ever, who had kissed him with such passion... No.

And he also didn't want to think about his dead wife and child, who had been his for such a brief moment in time- who could have given him the life of normalcy he craved.

Who could never replace Starbuck, in his life or his heart...

Who disturbs my rest?

The voice intruded upon Apollo's private grief, insinuating itself into his mind with a faint tickle and an undefinable sense of malice.

"What? Who spoke?" He looked around, but nothing had changed: Uri was still moaning about the ruin of his fine robe, the Council Security team was still attempting--unsuccessfully--to round up the other dignitaries, rather like herder daggits with a flock of ovines. The planet still flamed around them all with its hellish glare.

Apollo caught sight of another rock igniting in a wayward breeze with a dull whump. Truly a hostile environment- even the rocks were set against them.

"Did anyone say anything?"

"No, sir," one of the Security men said, with an odd look.

"Huh. I thought I heard- never mind." Apollo shook his head. He would have sworn-

Who disturbs my rest?

The voice was louder this time.

"There!" Apollo felt vindicated. "There it is again. Did you hear it?"

The Security man's odd look got odder as he shook his head. His thoughts were plain- is the Captain losing it?

"I heard something," Reese spoke up, in a totally unexpected show of support. "It sounded... angry."

"Yes, and-"

WHO DISTURBS MY REST?

The roar was unmistakable. All heard it, clapping hands over their ears in a futile attempt to block a sound that came from within their own minds. Some instinct made the strayed ovines return to the fold all in a rush. Apollo found himself standing at the head of a frightened crowd as the Councilors and Security alike clustered together.

The landscape began igniting with an unnatural fury. The wordless roar went on and on. A gout of fire shot straight up out of a large boulder, surging in time with the rising and falling of the sound. Two points of brilliance coalesced into a piercing glare. Apollo shrank back from the sheer fury of what looked suspiciously like eyes.

WHO DISTURBS MY REST?

This time, after the mental bellow, a shape became visible, formed of fire. The daemonus rose from the fiery backdrop of the hellish planet, comprised entirely of the stuff of nightmares.

Somebody, do something! Apollo thought, then realized with a shiver of terror that nobody was going to do anything.

"We come in peace and mean you no harm," he said, using every trick he'd learned in his career as a Warrior to keep his voice steady and free of fear.

You have awakened me, puny mortals. Long has it been since I have feasted upon the tormented souls of your kind. Now reap the rewards of awakening the Watcher.

The creature advanced, striking fire where its feet fell. Apollo heard a panicky bleat behind him, then glanced over his shoulder to see the entire landing party in a hasty retreat. A quick look at the daemonus convinced him that he'd better join them.

"Reese," he called, jogging to catch his fellow humans. "Please say you got off that mayday to the Galactica?"

"I can hope, Apollo." Reese's face was grim. "Over there, do you think? So we can discuss the situation?"

He indicated an outcropping of the kind of rock they'd discovered did not ignite with atmospheric change. Apollo nodded, then caught Sire Ettis by the arm when the frail old man stumbled.

They all reached the rock outcropping safely, and hid behind it. Apollo was vaguely aware of frantic voices praying for deliverance as he peered over the rock. The daemonus-and there was no doubt in his mind that was what it was, as it matched every description he'd ever heard of the immortal minion of Hell-was progressing at a leisurely pace, its fiery eyes locked on the outcropping which sheltered the humans. Apollo shivered at that, because its very lack of urgency indicated that it knew they had no way to escape it.

"Now what?" he asked Reese, who was staring open-mouthed beside him.

Reese closed his mouth with a snap and swallowed hard. "Now we just need to survive until the Galactica sends someone to pick us up."

"And hope that they don't encounter the same electrical surge as we did, and that that thing doesn't have any friends."

Reese shot a look at him from wide, frightened eyes. Apollo was rather sorry he'd mentioned the possibility- one of the things was bad enough. He didn't even want to think about two of them.

"There's only one," a voice contributed from his other side. Startled, Apollo turned to find Siress Alva peering at the advancing daemonus with avid curiosity.

"Pardon?"

"There is only one Daemonus, he that is Watcher at the Gates of Hell and serves as right hand to Diabolis. Proud he is of his place in the hierarchy of Hell, and enthusiastic in pursuit of his duties."

Apollo wondered at the rapt look the woman wore, almost as if she was having an epiphany. Perhaps she was- for if the Kobolian teachings of Hell were true and factual, then it would follow that the other side was equally factual. Apollo made a mental note to consider renewing his faith if he survived this.

"How do you know about this thing?" Reese asked, not taking his eyes from the advancing daemonus. It was close enough now that Apollo was getting very nervous.

"And what do you know?" he added to Reese's question.

"I know about it because I have been a scholar of the Kobolian Way for nearly a hundred yahrens," Alva smiled. "As to what I know- well, it can't harm the righteous soul, nor can it destroy those who are unwilling to grant it dominion."

"Is it, then, bound by the same laws as Diabolis?" Apollo asked, feeling a tiny thread of relief.

Laws? What care I for laws?

The thing was close enough now that its thoughts were clearly audible.

I care not for laws. This is my world, and only my laws apply. And I shall feed again, feed gloriously, for all of you have come of your own free will, seeking me...

The voice trailed off into maniacal laughter. Part of Apollo noted that the daemonus showed no inclination to approach the rock outcropping. He wondered why, then noticed that the ground around the sheltering stone was a different color and texture than that where the daemonus stood. Hmm...

It has been too long since last I fed. The daemonus looked directly at Apollo, fiery eyes piercing his very soul. Pah. No good. Tainted by the foul light, you are no use to me. But I feel among your number one with whom I am intimately familiar... Sire Uri. Come to me.

Tainted by the foul light... Apollo had time to wonder at that for a split second before he realized Uri was actually heeding the call of the daemonus.

"Uri! Stay back!"

But the Councilor ignored him. "Must go when he calls," he muttered thickly, eyes glazed with fear. He shuffled forward a few steps. "Must go... he knows your name, there is no escape-"

"Uri, no!"

Reese interposed himself between the Sire and the daemonus. "Don't do this, Uri. Think, man! Do you want to die in torment?"

Reese tugged at the man's arm, trying to get him back to the dubious safety of the rock. But Uri continued his slow advance towards his own doom.

Fool mortal, you are not the one I called. Begone.

With a casual flick of one taloned finger, the daemonus incinerated Reese. Undeterred, Uri continued forward, until he was within reach of the claws.

Siress Alva began saying a prayer for the dead. Apollo couldn't take his eyes off the pitifully small pile of ashes that had once been Reese.

Yes, Uri, come to me, the daemonus crooned. You have been marked as mine for long now. Come away from the vile contamination, come to me...

Apollo shut out both Uri's tortured screams and the frantic prayers all around him to contemplate the words of the daemonus.

Vile contamination... And earlier, before that- contaminated by the foul light. What contamination could possibly be vile to a being of utter evil?

...good?

The thought presented itself almost timidly. Could it be that the daemonus was objecting to something good?

"Siress Alva," he said urgently, breaking into her prayers.

"What is it, Captain?" She blinked at him, mildly reproving.

"Do you know of any reason, any reason at all, why this ground might be contaminated with good?"

"What?" Alva was startled.

"The way the daemonus was talking about a contaminant- what could possibly be offensive to a thoroughly evil being? Something good!"

"You have a point there, Captain." She rubbed her chin, already deep in thought. "There was once an assault on Hell itself, led by the Seventh Lord of Kobol while he was still alive. He passed on to Godhead during the battle with... the Daemonus."

The idea struck both of them simultaneously.

"But if this is truly Hell, then where are all the tortured souls?" Apollo winced at a particularly loud shriek from Uri.

"On another plane," Alva replied distractedly. She was looking at the ground surrounding their rock outcropping. "If this is truly where the Lord ascended into Godhead, it would be utterly consecrated ground that no foulness could defile." She bent quickly and scooped up a handful of the bleached-out gravel underfoot. "Do something for me? You're younger and quicker than I am."

"What do you need?" Apollo asked warily. Some instinct warned him that he might not like her idea.

She held out her hand. Apollo extended his own hand and she spilled some of the gravel into it. "Take this, and get closer to the daemonus. Throw it at the creature, then run like... well, like a chiropteran out of Hell."

They shared a grim smile, then Apollo nodded. He took a deep breath, looking at the daemonus. It was wearing an expression of unholy glee while it sucked the life out of Uri. He shuddered, then set off.

It was pathetically easy to approach the daemonus, absorbed as it was in torturing Uri. He got as close as he dared, then flung his handful of gravel.

The response was immediate and dramatic. The daemonus dropped Uri and threw his head back with a roar. Apollo turned and ran for the safety of the rocks, ducking back behind the outcropping in time to see the world explode in a fury of fire.

Vile mortal, suffering shall be yours for daring to besmirch my hide with such foulness!

Apollo noticed something, even while he was cringing back from the flames of the daemonus' furious attack- the flames couldn't reach all the way to the rock which sheltered the humans. They extended into the ring of white gravel, true, but couldn't quite reach the outcropping. And the daemonus still made no attempt to cross the boundary of the white gravel, despite the evident pain it was experiencing. It seemed the pebbles Apollo had thrown had left smoking wounds on the creature.

"Just like I suspected," Alva said. She smiled, with a hint of real pleasure. "We are safe here. It cannot touch us. This is truly sacred ground, where one of the Lords stood and fought a doomed battle."

"Great," Apollo muttered. Part of him noted that what remained of Uri had been burned to a crisp in the flames. "But how long can we stay here? No food, no water- and if any one of us sets foot away from this rock, he's dead."

"But he, or she, can go to death knowing that it will free their soul from Hell." Alva smiled gently.

Fat lot of good that'll do, Apollo thought, but didn't say anything in light of the lady's shining faith.

The howls of the daemonus reached a new pitch, and Apollo looked up. His jaw dropped in utter disbelief as he saw a shuttle dropping neatly through the ring of fire to land behind the outcropping.

The Galacticans didn't even pause to cheer. They just scrambled in a compact mass to reach the safety of the shuttle.

Apollo was last in. He moved forward to the pilot's compartment, enduring a brief flash of the crumpled ruin he'd left behind. But there were no bodies here, smeared between a crumpled shuttle and a burning pile of brimstone. No ruins of his life... only Boomer.

"Well, Captain, I think this is taking pulling your ass out of the fire a bit too far," Boomer said, as he lifted the shuttle carefully from the flames.

"Boomer, I have never been more glad to see anyone in my life!" Apollo said. He dropped into the copilot's seat with a sigh, not sorry to see the planet's surface dwindle behind them. "What took so long?"

"Had a bit of trouble with some Cylons, after we received your distress call. Sorry about that. We'll try to schedule the attacks after the rescue efforts from now on."

"Cylons? Here? I thought sure we'd lost them in the Void." Apollo sighed.

"No, it would seem not." Boomer glanced at him briefly. "I noticed there are some people missing?"

"Yes." Apollo felt the tangle of emotions rise up and claw at his throat. Regret, sadness, grief... relief. "Sire Uri. Security Captain Reese. Serina. Boxey."

"Oh no..." Boomer reached out awkwardly and patted Apollo's leg. "I'm sorry..."

"They never stood a chance," Apollo said, feeling oddly distant still despite the tightness of his throat. "Thrown forward through the viewscreen, smashed between the shuttle and the brimstone..."

"Brimstone?" Boomer seized on the word gladly, a welcome distraction from the deaths.

"What else would you call the rock in Hell? It bursts into flame with the movement of air."

"Hell?"

"Yes, Hell. It was truly Hell down there. Complete with daemonus."

"Daemonus?"

"Is there an echo in here?" Apollo snapped irritably. He knew it was a bit hard to accept, but Boomer's disbelief provided a convenient outlet for his confused emotions. "Yes. It was Hell. There was brimstone, and a daemonus. It killed Reese and Uri. Anything unclear about that?"

"Easy, Apollo- I was just-" Boomer groped for words that wouldn't set Apollo off even worse. "It's a hard concept to accept."

"Well, accept it," Apollo growled. He settled into a silence that Boomer didn't want to break. It lasted until the shuttle docked safely in Beta Dock.

Apollo made his way to the bridge. This was one report that was not going to be fun.

* * * * * * * *

"Infernus," Adama said experimentally, trying out the sound of it.

"There's no other place it could be," Apollo said wearily. He thought, maybe, that Adama believed him. "Hell, Infernus- whatever you wish to call it, I believe that the planet behind us is the original place of torment."

"Based on your report, I'm inclined to believe you," Adama said thoughtfully. "No matter how unlikely it would seem on the surface. And you said Siress Alva believes the place you were found to be the location of the deification of the Seventh Lord of Kobol? Amazing. Simply... amazing."

"If there's nothing more...?" Apollo said, preparing to rise from his chair, with a significant glance at his father.

"Oh! No. Nothing more." Adama looked at him, worry plain in his eyes. "Get some rest, son. And try not to think too much about what happened, okay?"

"Whatever you say." Apollo left his father's office, making his way through the crowded corridors to the Officer's Club. Right now, there was nothing he wanted more than peace, solitude, and a bottle of damn good ambrosa.

A few minutes later, he had two of the three items- solitude and ambrosa. Now if only he could find peace... He settled in the seating unit of what would have been his family's new home, with the bottle and a glass for company. He looked around, trying to find something that would stir some sort of response within him, but found nothing. The room was devoid of any presence, even his own. They hadn't had time to move anything into the new quarters yet. No hint of Serina, no hint of Boxey... no hint of Starbuck. That last thought brought a wrench of pain in his chest. Savagely, he twisted open the bottle of ambrosa, pouring a glass and knocking it back so fast its fiery kick would have put him on the ground if he hadn't already been sitting. He poured another and drank it down more circumspectly, although still faster than he usually did.

Starbuck... old friend, why did you have to leave me here all alone? He felt tears prickle behind his eyes, and told himself they were for Serina and Boxey. But with the comforting fire of the ambrosa melting the hard knot of emotion within him, he was finally able to feel again. Pain. He felt pain.

It was good, though, good to feel pain over his loss. Because he'd lost his entire life today- Serina was gone, Boxey was gone. Even without the loss of Starbuck, he would have been hurting.

"You said you loved me," he whispered aloud. "Why did you have to leave me alone?"

He tried to convince himself it was Serina he was thinking of, but it was Starbuck his heart cried out for.

Unfeeling monster, chided his conscience. You lost your wife and child today, because you allowed them to go into a position of danger. And all you can think of is your best friend? That's not just unfeeling, it's sick.

Apollo tried to ignore the voice, tried to drown it out. But there wasn't enough ambrosa in the entire fleet to allow him escape from himself.

* * * * * * * *

The next day found Apollo with a wretched hangover and a whole lot of unresolved issues. He woke in a foul mood, which didn't improve when he found that his father had sent them back into the Void in an attempt to elude the Cylons. However, there was nothing he could do about the situation, so he gave himself and his entire squadron official leave time until the fleet should clear the Void. Then he went back to bed.

The second time Apollo woke, the Galactica was in a state of excited chaos. Duty prodded him out of his bed and into his uniform, and his conscience reminded him that he'd been an idiot last night. What had he been thinking, drinking while he knew full good and well he'd have to stand duty the next day?

"Hello, Captain," Boomer said warily when Apollo walked into the ready room.

"Boomer." Apollo nodded. He had a faint and uncomfortable memory of tearing into Boomer over nothing earlier in the day. He hoped his friend was in a forgiving mood. "What's going on?"

"The fleet has left the Void," Boomer replied. Evidently he was willing to ignore the incident of the morning. "There's a planet ahead, with a yellow primary. We're heading for it."

"Great," Apollo grimaced. "After the last planet, I'm surprised anyone wants anything to do with this one. Estimated time of arrival?"

"Within the centare, Captain. You missed the yellow alert."

Frack.

Apollo swore at himself with great creativity and fervor. If one of his men had missed an alert from a hangover, he'd have the fellow hauled over the coals so fast he wouldn't know what hit him... and yet, here he was, Apollo the great Warrior, hungover and sleeping through duty. Not good. Not good at all.

"All right, then, if there's a planet ahead they're going to want to explore it." Apollo ran a hand through his hair, still feeling guilt over missing the alert... among other things. "And this time, Council or no Council, I want a Viper escort for whoever goes. Not that it would do much good against another electrical storm, but there may be more Cylons."

"Yes, sir." Boomer nodded. "Already on alert. The bridge sent down orders just a few minutes before you arrived."

"Frack." The word burst free before he could stop it.

"Apollo," Boomer said, dark eyes concerned. "It's all right, man. Don't be too hard on yourself, okay? You've had a rough time of it the last couple days."

"Starbuck's gone, Boomer," Apollo heard himself say. He swallowed hard. "And Boxey. And Serina." He wished those names hadn't sounded like an afterthought.

"I know, Apollo, and it's hard. But you're still here."

"Right." He took a deep, steadying breath. "And I have a job to do. I know this. So I'd better get on with it."

He turned and left the ready room, making his way to his office. There, he tried to lose himself in catching up the never-ending paperwork, but was interrupted by the call for the Vipers to escort two shuttles to the surface.

* * * * * * * *

Kobol.

The word flew around the comms channels before the pilots had even reached the surface. Kobol. Where else would one find such pyramids, exactly as depicted in the ancient historical texts? If Infernus was real, if Hell existed just across the Void, then surely Heaven could too.

Or, if not Heaven, then at least the physical dwelling place of those who had gone on to become gods... Kobol.

They landed near the biggest array of pyramids, exploring the arid world eagerly. Stately columns, covered with ancient Kobolian hieratic script, lined the way to the largest of the pyramids. Exploring the gentler side of his heritage, Apollo found himself utterly fascinated. Several times, he even turned to point something interesting out to Starbuck, but the blond pilot wasn't there.

Adama decided to allow a campout on the deserted planet. Apollo flew escort for one of the shuttles when it went back to the Galactica for camping gear, then appropriated a tent for his own. He didn't repeat his mistake of the night before and bring a bottle with him, but he did turn in rather early. He lay there in his solitary tent, listening to the sounds of people talking and laughing around the campfires. Idly, he wondered where they had found fuel for fire on this barren world, then decided he didn't want to know.

He was half-dozing when a commotion outside roused him. Excited voices, shouts, calls of welcome... what under the stars? He rolled to his feet and peered out of his tent. Over there- by the Vipers. There was a crowd of people, laughing, shouting, and all trying to talk at once. Somewhere near the center he caught sight of a blond head.

Apollo's breath caught. It couldn't be... Then the crowd parted for a moment, allowing him a clear glimpse of the face of the man at the center of the jubilation. Starbuck!

"Starbuck!" Apollo was on his feet and out of the tent in a flash, hurling himself across the intervening space without a thought for anyone who might be in his way. "Starbuck! You're back!"

And then he was there. Apollo caught Starbuck up in a tight hug, holding him close without thought of anything beyond relief that the other man was alive.

"Easy, Apollo- I like to breathe!" Starbuck laughed, but didn't break free. He clung to Apollo for a long moment, equally seeking reassurance that the other was alive and well.

"Thought you were dead," Apollo said, finally pulling away when he realized they weren't alone.

"Takes more than a lousy baseship to kill me," Starbuck laughed, but Apollo could see tension in the crinkles around his eyes.

"A baseship? There's a baseship?"

"Yeah. Baltar claims they want peace, but I ain't buying it."

"Baltar? The Great Betrayer himself, eh? Well, we'll see-"

That was all Apollo got out before the first wave of Raiders swept down on the camp, creating instant chaos.

In a way, Apollo was glad of the attack. In the Viper, he was sure of himself, sure of what needed to be done. Fly. Watch the instruments. Kill Cylons. He didn't have to worry about his overly emotional reaction to Starbuck's arrival.

But part of him was singing carols of joy when Starbuck appeared by his side, having bullied one of the novice pilots out of her Viper and taken to the sky.

The Vipers grouped together to provide escort for the shuttle, which bolted for the safety of the Galactica. Amazingly enough, the Raiders lost interest in them once they were away from Kobol. They continued their attack on the planet's surface, laying waste to millenia of Kobolian heritage. Shuttle and escort reached the Galactica relatively unmolested.

"Now what the hell was that all about?" Apollo wondered aloud as he climbed down from his Viper.

"My guess would be a revolt against Baltar," Starbuck replied, joining Apollo as they headed for the ready room.

"What?" Apollo was startled.

"Baltar has command of this baseship, but that doesn't mean the tinheads like him. There's one really snarky one, name of Lucifer, that might possibly have had enough initiative to stage a revolt. I'd bet he took this opportunity to make sure there is no more Baltar."

"And we all know you won't bet unless it's a sure thing." Apollo reached out and messed up his friend's hair. Starbuck laughed and swatted his hand away.

"So what did I miss?" Starbuck found a seat in the ready room, sprawling comfortably.

"You know, you don't have to be here," Apollo replied, evading the question. He found a seat close to Starbuck, aware of the rest of his squadron returning as well but paying them no mind. Red was on first alert, he could afford focusing his attention on Starbuck until the call came through that Blue was needed. "You could go have a turbowash, eat something, go to bed..."

"Smell that bad, do I?" Starbuck wrinkled his nose, then grinned. "No use, Apollo, you ain't getting rid of me that easily. I want to know all the juicy details. What happened while I was gone?"

"Not much," Apollo dodged. He was incredibly reluctant to spoil the reunion. He'd rather just look at his friend, at the way the light bounced off his eyes, or his hair... at the physical reality that Starbuck was here. "It was only a couple days, after all."

"But a lot can happen in a couple days. How's Serina? Did you run off and get sealed already?"

The words hit him like a blow to the gut. "Actually, yes," he said, as offhandedly as he could manage. Then, before the sudden pain in Starbuck's eyes turned into words, he added, "but they're dead. Serina and Boxey both. Within a few centares of the ceremony."

"What? What happened? Tell me!"

So he did, leaving out the parts where Apollo had realized he was missing Starbuck far more than his supposed loved ones. The horror in Starbuck's eyes faded into a stunned disbelief, with an underlying gleam of pure relief. Sometimes Apollo wished he couldn't read the man so well, because at times like these, some things were painfully clear. Like the thing he didn't really want to see- Starbuck's awareness that his rivals were gone, and his renewed hope.

"Apollo," Starbuck said, low and quiet. "About the night before-"

He was interrupted by the all-clear whistle, signaling a return to green status. Relieved pilots made their way out of the ready room and to their quarters, to resume the sleep shift which had been interrupted by the Cylon attack.

"Later, Starbuck," Apollo said, then managed to get free of his friend and reach the privacy of his quarters.

But his thoughts weren't as easy to evade. They followed him into his quarters, snapping at his heels with all the ferocity of attack daggits.

You're pathetic, you know that? Couldn't care less that your wife and son are dead, horribly dead, because your best friend isn't. The man you wanted to-

Apollo cut that thought off before it could go any further. He flung himself on his bed, still fully clothed but not caring. That way lay madness. What he had wanted to do with Starbuck was disgusting, it was evil, it was unclean-

His thoughts were brought up short by a sudden flash of memory. The daemonus, a vile thread of pure evil crawling through his heart and soul- No good. Tainted by the foul light, you are no use to me.

Now that had been evil. No mistaking it, the daemonus had been evil. Kissing Starbuck had absolutely nothing in common with that evil.

Apollo groaned. Why did things have to be so complicated? Because not only had kissing Starbuck not felt evil, he'd almost be willing to swear that the daemonus had been talking about Apollo's soul. Tainted by the light, huh? Meaning he wasn't as black with sin as he'd always believed. He groaned again and rolled out of bed.

"I need advice," he said aloud, rubbing his aching forehead. But where to go?

An idea struck him. Alva. Perhaps she'd know where to send him, since the questions tormenting him were of a somewhat spiritual nature.

Quickly, before he could change his mind, he looked up her commcode in the Galactica's registry. He punched it in, nervous but determined.

"Yes?"

Alva's voice sounded in his cabin. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then spoke.

"Siress Alva. It's Captain Apollo. I was wondering if I might ask a favor of you?"

"Certainly, Captain. What is it you need?"

"It's- a rather personal matter." His hands clenched, fingers digging into the palms. "I find that, since the encounter with the daemonus, I've been questioning certain aspects of faith... and of myself, as well. Could you recommend someone for me to talk to, who might lay my questions to rest?"

"Certainly, Captain. Would you be uncomfortable talking to me? I find myself at loose ends tonight, and would welcome the company."

"If- if it wouldn't be a bother," Apollo said hesitantly. He wasn't certain he wanted to admit all of his problems to Alva, but perhaps if he was careful she could advise him without knowing all the details...

"No bother at all, Captain," and the smile was plainly audible in her voice. "Meet me in the Starlight Lounge?"

"Certainly, Siress," he replied. "I'll be there in a few centons."

He closed the comm channel and rubbed his forehead. Part of him wanted to call her right back and cancel the whole thing, but the burning need to talk to somebody won out. He had to sort out what he was feeling, and determine exactly what was evil and what wasn't, before he went raving mad.

He made his way to the Starlight Lounge through corridors that he seldom used. There wasn't much call for a lowly warrior to enter the territory of the Council elite. But he knew the way, like he knew nearly everything about the battlestar, and reached the lounge quickly. The head waiter showed him to a private nook, where Siress Alva smiled kindly at him.

"Hello, Apollo, it's good to see you again."

Apollo smiled and sat down. "Yes, it's good to see you as well, under better circumstances. Were you able to reach the surface of Kobol? I confess, I'm not entirely certain who was on those shuttles."

"Yes, I was able to go," she replied. She looked away, into the distance, with a light in her eyes and a faint smile. "It was incredible, to walk where the Lords of Kobol originated, to see their very dwelling places and touch the carvings which told of their deeds... proof. Absolute, incontestable proof, that it was all real. First the trip to Infernus, meeting the daemonus in the flesh... then the utter opposite, the trip to Kobol itself. More legends made real. What an experience..." Then the distant look left her eyes, and she focused on Apollo. "But that's not what you're here to talk about, or at least not all of it. What were your questions, son?"

Apollo sighed and toyed with the napkin, arranged in precise folds on the table. "I've been questioning the nature of evil," he said, not looking at the Siress. "And also our-meaning humans in general, as well as Kobolians-perceptions of it. What I mean is, is," he paused for a moment, groping for the words. He glanced at Alva, who leaned forward, politely attentive. "I mean that some people talk of sin, and evil, but what they condemn is nothing next to the daemonus." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Ah, hell, I'm not expressing this well."

"May I hazard a guess?"

Apollo nodded, curious.

"I think what you are trying to say has something to do with the words of the daemonus." Alva smiled.

"Yes," Apollo breathed. "Yes. It does indeed. Particularly what it said to me, about the 'taint,' the 'foul light.'" He raised an eyebrow with a wry grin. "Pardon my bluntness, but that's not the first time I've been called tainted. Perhaps you can perceive my difficulty?"

"Indeed I can, young Captain." Alva stirred her tea and had a sip. "Pardon me, I didn't think- did you want something?" She beckoned for service, and Apollo placed an order for a mild caffeine drink. He'd had more than enough ambrosa to last him a while last night.

When the waiter had gone, Alva turned her attention back to Apollo. "So... confronted with true evil, you have discovered that human definitions of evil do not match up. And while humans accuse you of being tainted, the true evil one found your soul too pure to touch. And this dichotomy has led you to question the right of fellow humans to judge your soul."

"That sums it up nicely, I'd say." Apollo accepted his drink from the waiter, marveling at the speed of service here in rich people's territory. "After all, wouldn't the judgment of an immortal being, one which plays a prominent part in the mythology associated with the Kobolian religion, bear more weight than that of a mere human? And yet, to turn to an evil being, one whose evil is so unmistakable, for judgment..."

"I see your difficulty, as I said. Might I inquire into the nature of the problem?" Alva said delicately.

"Well..." Apollo sipped at his drink, then carefully selected his words. "I have certain... beliefs, certain thoughts, and ideas about the way life should be lived, that have never found favor with the strict followers of the Kobolian faith. I broke from the Church long ago, about the time I entered the Academy. And recently... recently, there have been... things happen. Things which all Kobolian teachings condemn as utter evil. Things that happened before the daemonus judged my soul too tainted to bother with... tainted with foul light. Foul to the daemonus being pure to us..."

"And now you seek to resolve the conflict within you." Alva drank more of her tea. "Without knowing more of the details--and no, please, don't feel pressured to tell me your secrets, Captain-I'd be inclined to say that you have nothing to worry about, no matter what official Kobolian doctrine may find to condemn about your life. Your soul was judged against a standard beyond that of a mere mortal. I'd be willing to lay a bet that were the judge one of the Lords of Kobol themselves, your soul would have been found lacking... in evil. Whatever your inner demons, I think you can safely lay them to rest."

"Thank you, Siress," Apollo said softly. "That helps. But there's one other aspect. Even allowing that my soul isn't as black as I've been told is, what of the lack of remorse I feel over the loss of my family?"

"Now, that is a much easier problem to solve," Alva said.

"Yes? I'm glad somebody thinks so."

"It's actually a common reaction to sudden loss. Surely you don't expect yourself to be more than human?"

"I beg your pardon?" Apollo was surprised.

"A few sectons ago, all of us suffered absolutely horrific losses. You lost family then, didn't you?"

Apollo's throat clenched at the unexpected reminder of the Destruction. "My mother and brother," he said quietly. "All my planetside friends. My extended family..."

"Yes," Alva said sympathetically. She reached out and patted his hand. "It happened to all of us. Is it any wonder you've become numb, not quite ready yet to accept any further loss?"

"Perhaps." Apollo was willing to grant that point, but he knew there was more to it than that. "And if... the reason has to do with..." Did he really want to say this? "One of the things Kobolians consider evil," he said, all in a rush.

Alva gave him a long, considering look. "As we've already determined that humans are not necessarily the best judge of evil, that may not be a bad thing."

Apollo wanted to believe her, wanted it desperately. But somehow that seemed too easy. Oh, the daemonus thinks you're too good to touch, so obviously you're not evil... nice thought, but was it really true? Possibly...

He mulled the notion over in the back of his head, while the conversation moved on to other things, such as how the experiences of the last few days had affected Alva's faith. It seemed she had a few complaints with Kobolian doctrine as well, but her faith was stronger than ever.

Eventually, Apollo drifted back to his quarters, well aware that he was going to regret not sleeping when the shift changed in another few centares. But he felt better inside. He was finally beginning to come to terms with the feelings inside of him.

When his door slid open, Apollo felt a sudden surge of weariness. All the frantic activity of the last few days was finally catching up to him. He stepped inside and activated a small light, to ensure he didn't run into anything in the unfamiliar apartment. But halfway across the main living area, he froze and stared at his couch in stunned amazement.

Starbuck was curled up against the arm of the seating unit, raising his head from his arm and blinking sleepily.

"Apollo? Where've you been?"

"Uh..." Apollo blinked, rubbed his eyes, looked again. Starbuck was still there. "I couldn't sleep. What are you doing here?"

Starbuck yawned and stretched. "They filled my bunk with some green recruit. Figured you wouldn't mind if I crashed here. And besides, there's that little matter of the other night- you can't run from me forever."

"Uh. Well. Of course you're welcome to stay here." Apollo examined his inner turmoil carefully. What was he feeling? Confusion, joy at seeing Starbuck, a warm tingly happiness, fear of... what? Fear of evil? Or fear of love? He sat down cautiously on the seating unit, eyes never leaving Starbuck's face. Remember, you're not evil, he reminded himself. Maybe not socially acceptable, but not evil.

"I missed you, Apollo," Starbuck said softly.

Apollo shivered. Deep, dark, and scary waters here... "I missed you too. Badly."

"So badly that you ran right out and got sealed?" There was that old insouciant grin, but this time it was masking pain.

"I told you, that's all over with. They're dead."

"Yeah, but if they hadn't died, you'd still be sealed and lost to me forever."

"Starbuck..."

"What's wrong with you, Apollo? You kissed me like... like I've never been kissed before, and then you ran from me like a chiropteran out of hell. What's going on in that messed-up head of yours?"

Apollo had to look away, but couldn't. Even in the dim light, Starbuck's eyes caught and held his with an intensity that couldn't be denied, compelling an honest response. "I was scared," he whispered.

Starbuck reached for him, but let his hand fall short of contact. "There's nothing to be scared of, Apollo- it's just me. Is it really that bad to hear me say I love you?"

Apollo smiled. "There's worse things to hear, I suppose."

"And you love me, too. Don't even try to deny it. I've known for a long time, now. But you've never done anything about it."

Apollo finally managed to break his eyes away and looked down, away from the man he... loved. "Maybe I couldn't handle it."

"Maybe you still can't handle it? Should I go away?"

Startled, Apollo looked up again quickly. "No! No, don't go."

Starbuck smiled slowly. "Good. Glad to hear you say that. Because I wouldn't have gone anyway."

This time when Starbuck reached out, he didn't stop. He put a hand on Apollo's arm and pulled gently. With a shiver, Apollo gave in to Starbuck and settled into the other man's embrace. It felt good. It felt right. It felt more right than cuddling with Serina ever had.

"Starbuck, I have to warn you- I'm still confused as hell."

"That's okay," Starbuck replied, lips buried in Apollo's hair. "It's my normal state of being, after all. You're also tired. Why don't you get some rest?"

"Don't want to move," Apollo mumbled. Somehow, being held by Starbuck was making all the uncertainty go away. So what if Starbuck was a man? Mortal humans were the ones who judged loving another of the same gender as evil. Love is ever-pleasing to the gods, a saying which now had proof, of a sort... love was disgusting to a demon.

"Come on, now, you're all but asleep, and you have to go on duty in two and a half centares. You'll feel better if you get at least a nap, first."

So Apollo allowed himself to be persuaded into his bed, but he refused to let go of Starbuck. Maybe he still had to work out exactly what was happening here, but that could wait for tomorrow. For now... for now, he wanted Starbuck in his arms, right where he should have been all along.

 

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