"A commercial. It's a frackin' commercial-"

"Shh!" Apollo listened intently. The commercial ended and swung into a station identification spiel.

"Thank you for choosing Lite Rock 103.5, your only fully automated radio station-"

"Hellfires." Apollo turned the tuner knob again. "Figures it couldn't even be a good station to survive."

"Just think, the world has perished in flames, but they're still trying to get every last credit out of people with these commercials."

"Yeah, pretty ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Damned automated station, probably run out of someone's basement somewhere. Oh well, if there's still something to broadcast and power to broadcast it with..."

Apollo looked up with an excited grin. "There may be others somewhere!" He resumed his search of the airwaves with real hope this time.

In the end, though, it wasn't the communicator which led them to discover survivors, but rather a stroke of luck. Apollo's half-track crawler had survived, as it had been out in the hills with him. They took it out on a search of the area surrounding the city and startled a child who was fetching water from a stream. They followed the fleeing figure to discover an encampment of perhaps twenty survivors and their ground vehicles. They were a traveling gypsy clan who had fled the fires on the plains, only to find even worse destruction in the city.

That evening found Apollo wishing for the peace of solitude. His quiet cave had been overrun by eight adults, four teens, six young children, and five infants- plus Starbuck. He smiled at his friend across the fire, happy to see him alive and well.

"You know, Pol," Starbuck mused, "we could have left them out there in their caravans..."

Apollo chuckled. "And what a gracious host you make, my friend."

"You're the one with manners." Starbuck flashed a charming grin in the dim light.

"And you're the one who's never managed to learn common courtesy, for all your luck with the ladies..."

Starbuck's grin faded. "Oh frack- I'm sorry, Bucko, I wasn't thinking."

"Nah, it's okay, Pol. I just feel kind of guilty, that's all."

"Guilty? Why?"

"Because I don't really miss her that much."

"Well." There wasn't really anything he could say to that. "It's actually better that way, if you ask me."

"Yeah- I suppose you would see it that way. Get on with my life, and all."

"Yeah."

The two lapsed into silence, while the chaos around them faded slowly into a dull roar.

As though discovery of the gypsy clan had been a catalyst, more survivors began to appear. They had been scattered far from the centers of population, all those people who had no liking for the cities. Many were injured, all were hungry and seeking answers. After a week, numbers had reached nearly fifty, and the cave's resources were becoming strained. Apollo pulled Starbuck to the side as a group of three adults and a child were brought in by a young gypsy.

"We need to have a better place," he said, surveying the overcrowded camp.

"Obviously, Pol. Why? What's up your sleeve?"

"There's a place out there where we would all be safe."

"You mean from that bloody Cylon Death Cult?"

"We can't survive another attack, Bucko." A cult had sprung up which believed the Cylons were right to exterminate humanity, and they were doing their best to finish the job. No one knew much about them, except that three times there had been raids on the stores, with threatening notes left behind. The last time, the supplies had been set on fire. Not much had survived.

"Amen to that. So where is this place?"

"It's in the mountains behind us. We'll need the half-track."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Gotcha." Apollo raised his voice. "All right, everybody, listen up!" A ragged silence fell, as people stopped whatever they were doing and focused on their leader. "We all know that this place isn't good enough anymore." He paused to allow the murmurs of assent. "Starbuck and I are going to go investigate a place which should have survived the Second Destruction completely intact. I want you all to pack what belongings you have-" groans rose from many throats at that statement- "and start making transportation arrangements. My half-track can hold six, plus belongings. We'll be back by sundown."

They left. "You know, Pol, you do this leadership thing well," Starbuck observed.

"You know, Starbuck, I've been a leader for most of my life," Apollo observed dryly in return, as they climbed into the cab of the crawler.

"I know that," Starbuck dismissed the point with an impatient gesture. "I mean, you lead civilians well."

"Why thank you, Starbuck. It's good to know someone thinks I'm doing something right." He started the solar engine with a throaty roar, and they began the long and bumpy journey to the mountain installation.

"Why didn't I know about this?" Starbuck asked as the lift descended.

"There was no need," Apollo replied, only part of his attention on his friend. He was trying to remember exactly what was concealed in this secret installation- was it really the complete facility he thought he remembered?

"I thought you told me everything."

"Not everything, Starbuck." Certainly not everything. The lift arrived at the lowest apparent level, the third sub-basement. Apollo lead the way through innocuous boxes to a carefully concealed staircase. It was narrow and only dimly lit. Their boots clattered on the narrow metal treads as they descended into the bowels of the earth.

"So tell me again about this place."

"Don't you ever listen?" Apollo reached the bottom of the staircase and flipped the lightswitch. The eerie blue glow of bioluminescent lanterns filled the room, scarcely more than a landing with three sets of doors opening off it.

"What the frack? It's blue!"

"Yes, yes- new technology and all. This place was kept top secret. The only reason I know of its existence is because my father needed a trustworthy advisor who was more familiar with Vipers than a techie."

Starbuck snorted. "Techies- think they know it all, but I'd like to see one in the air."

"Exactly." Apollo led the way through the double doors directly in front of them into a vast underground hangar. He heard Starbuck's indrawn breath of astonishment as he saw the ship. "Anyway, this is a research and development installment. It's completely self-contained, probably the best-kept secret in the fleet. That beauty right there is Patrolstar One... the pirate patrol you've heard so many rumors about."

Starbuck approached the sleek and deadly shape. Although large, it was streamlined and gave the impression of great speed and maneuverability. "And this is still flightworthy?"

"I'm sure it is, but right now that's not the main question."

"All right then, what is the main question?"

Apollo led him around the patrolstar. "Is this flightworthy..."

Elegant, yet with an air of danger, the midnight blue craft sat in the shadow of the patrolstar. It was obviously based on a Viper, but it was... different.

"Nice..." Starbuck moved close to it, ran a hand along the sleek side. The paint was so deep blue it was nearly black and absorbed all available light. "Looks fast. When am I going up?" He grinned at Apollo.

"Not yet, Bucko." Apollo couldn't help but smile. He understood perfectly Starbuck's desire to fly again- it was twin to his own. They had been pilots far too long to relish the thought of being grounded for the rest of their lives. "First we need to train up some of these- ahem- survivors as support crew."

"So this is where we're going to bring them. I'd wondered. There doesn't seem to be much living space here."

"Oh, there is- you just haven't seen it yet. Whole damn mountain's pretty much hollow. I just hope we don't have any infiltrators from the Cult."

"I hear that. Where is here, anyway? You never did finish telling me."

"I did too, on the way here. Is it my fault you weren't listening? No..."

"Oh, cut the felgercarb and just tell me already!"

Apollo grinned. "Okay then, come on."

He set off on a tour of the place, refreshing his memory even as he told Starbuck about the facility. "It was intended to be a safe place, a backup retreat in case of disaster..."

"Looks like it's going to serve its purpose then."

"Yes. These are the living quarters-" he opened a door off the main passage, revealing a long hallway with many other doors opening off it. "Not much to see here, the place can support five hundred people all told. Unfortunately, that means roommates and shared facilities, but not with only fifty or so of us. Much better than a cave, wouldn't you agree?"

"Most definitely. How will we get them all here with only the one crawler?"

"Beats me. That's why I set them to figuring it out. Do you want to know about this place or not?" He pushed through the doors into the lab area. "This is where all this stuff is created."

"All what stuff? Yeah, I know- the Patrolstar and that wicked looking Viper, but what else? And why?"

"What else is the training facility... through here." He crossed the lab and entered the next chamber. Study cubicles and flight simulators filled the room. On the other side, a wall of glass windows overlooked the training area.

"Hmm... let's see here..." Starbuck sat on the edge of a table. "Training facility plus flight instructors plus wannabe rebels equals... When is it you plan to strike at the Cylons?"

Apollo met Starbuck's grin with one of his own, equally bloodthirsty. "Give 'em some time, there's no hurry. We'll get our people trained up right. As long as the Cylons think we're all dead, there's no rush. What we need to hurry with is a trip to the colonies, to see if there are any survivors there as well."

"So we will have to rush some training, anyways- I don't think there's one of the sorry lot back at the cave capable of crewing that patrolstar."

"Good point."

"Anything else you've been hiding?" Starbuck's tone was teasing, but his eyes showed that he was a bit hurt.

"No, not really." Apollo looked away. Only the secret he'd kept hidden since he was fifteen, which Starbuck must never guess...