Out of the Past

"Where is Lieutenant Starbuck?"

"I have no idea," snapped Apollo. "What's the meaning of this, anyway? Beating in my door, demanding things?" Partly he was sublimating his anger at himself, he recognized that, and partly he was just reacting to the black uniforms, but mostly he was pissed off at the way they were chasing Starbuck around. As if he could be a terminater.

"We're supposed to find Starbuck," the guard said.

"He's not here." And if he'd known where he was, he wouldn't have told them.

"I thought," Boomer put in, "that his alibi put him out of consideration."

Good old Boomer, trust him to put in some facts, seeing as how common sense didn't seem to get very far with the tarboys—vide how they'd arrested Starbuck for terminating Ortega.

"Not for today."

"What happened today?" Apollo demanded.

They exchanged glances; one of them shrugged and the other, the one who'd been doing the talking, said, "You didn't get told? Someone attacked a medtech in the Life Center."

"Attacked—and you think Starbuck?" Apollo couldn't believe it.

"I'm just doing what I was told—"

"Oh, of course, thinking is beyond you—"

"Dad?"

Apollo swung around. Boxey was standing in the doorway to his sleeping room. Thank the Lords of Kobol, he didn't look like he was about to be sick, but he was awake and worried. "Go back to bed, Boxey."

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Go back to bed." Apollo didn't want to be so sharp, but he couldn't deal with Boxey right now. Not on top of this.

"Nothing's wrong, Boxey," Boomer said. "Go on back to bed; we'll explain everything in the morning."

That we had slipped out, but Apollo didn't think the tarboys had noticed it. "Please, Boxey," he said. "Back to bed. Now."

"Are you being arrested?" Boxey didn't move.

"No," Apollo said, giving it up and walking over to pick the boy up. "I'm not. They're looking for somebody else. Everything's okay." He tucked Boxey back into bed. "Just go to sleep, son."

"Okay, Dad," Boxey turned over and closed his eyes.

Apollo looked down at him and smoothed his hair back. Boxey was the most important thing in his life, no doubt, but Boomer and Starbuck ran him a close second... and sometimes Apollo wasn't sure which came first. Right now, it was Starbuck. He straightened up and went back into the front room.

Boomer was standing by the door with his jacket in his hand.

"Where'd they go?" Apollo asked.

"I don't know." He didn't sound like he cared, either.

"Where are you going?"

"To the Life Center," Boomer said.

"I want to go," said Apollo. "I need to find Reese and shake some sense into him. I need you to stay here with Boxey."

"No way, Apollo," Boomer said firmly. "I don't want to get a call saying you're in the brig for swinging at a security guard. I'll go."

Apollo stared at his lover, but those dark eyes were as intransigent as he'd ever seen them. Half worry over Apollo and half worry over Starbuck... not ten centons ago he'd reminded Apollo he loved Starbuck, too. "We'll both go. Hold on a centon." He grabbed his own jacket and went to the next door down.

After a couple of centons, the door opened. "Captain?" The man at the door blinked and ran his hand through his hair. "What's up?"

"Nothing serious, but I've got to go. Arion, please, will you keep an eye on Boxey until I can get someone else down here? He's asleep, but—"

The shuttle pilot yawned while he was nodding. "Sure, no problem. I'll just tell my wife where I'm going. Don't worry about finding someone; I'll sleep on your couch."

"Thanks, Arion," Apollo said sincerely. "The door's open."

Arion nodded again and disappeared inside his own quarters.

"Come on, Boomer." Apollo headed for the turbolift. After a moment it occurred to him to ask, "Did you find out which medtech?"

Boomer nodded heavily. "Cassie."

Apollo felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. "Cassie? Is she all right?"

Boomer shook his head. "They weren't forthcoming, but I think she's pretty bad."

Apollo stared at the wall of the turbolift. "Starbuck would never hurt Cassie." A memory of her miserable face surfaced but he disregarded it. Starbuck might rip you apart with words, but he'd never put his hands on you. Not to injure. "Starbuck would never hurt anyone."

Boomer didn't say anything, just stood in front of the door, lost in his own thoughts. Apollo didn't know where his lover went when he did that, and it bothered him, but he'd learned he couldn't prevent it. Boomer had things he wouldn't share with anyone, and considering how fragile, in some ways, their relationship was, Apollo supposed it was only fair. Just now, though, he hoped Boomer wasn't thinking that Starbuck might...

He couldn't be. The three of them had known each other way too long for that. Of them, Starbuck was the least likely to kill. Well, another human, anyway; Cylons hardly counted, after all. Apollo was well aware of his own darkness, and Boomer had a core of tyllium-edged anger when it came to the people he'd taken into his circle, but Starbuck... The blond loved life too much to take it from anyone, and as for attacking Cassie... as he'd say himself, it just wasn't in the cards.

The door hissed open and Boomer said, "I've got a very bad feeling about this."

Apollo halted. "What do you mean?"

Boomer shook his head. "I don't know. I just... have a very bad feeling. Like before Semtek."

Apollo shook his own head. "If those things came along regularly, you'd be invaluable. Come on."

"I'm serious. Something is going on. How many terminations have we had in a yahren, and now, suddenly, two in three days? Or at least, two attempted? I've got a bad feeling that says Chameleon didn't get killed 'cause he was conning the wrong guy."

"We don't know they're connected," Apollo reminded him. "In the Life Center somebody could have been after drugs. Or it could be about Cassie."

"I suppose." Boomer didn't sound convinced, but he let it drop and followed Apollo down the hallway.

Apollo strode up to the guards outside the Life Center, in no mood to be stopped. "Where's Reese?" he demanded before they could say anything.

"He's inside," one of them said, "but—"

"But nothing," Apollo shouldered past them, Boomer on his heels.

Inside were half a dozen other black uniforms and several med-techs. One of the Security men glanced up when Apollo came in and headed to intercept him. It wasn't anybody Apollo knew, though he recognized the insignia as Fleet Security, not Council, a sergeant. Not good enough. "Where's Reese?" he said as soon as the man got close enough.

The sergeant blinked. "In surgery," he said.

That stopped Apollo. "In surgery?" he repeated.

The sergeant nodded, his face grim. "They don't expect him to make it. What are you doing here, Captain?"

"Your men came to my quarters looking for Lieutenant Starbuck," Apollo said, reining himself in in the face the man's imminent loss. Surely to God no-one could actually miss Reese, but losing a colleague always hit hard.

"Yes. Was he there?"

"No," Apollo said, shortly. "Why are you looking for him, anyway?"

"Because he's obviously involved—"

"The hell he is," Apollo snapped.

"Use your head, Captain," the sergeant said. "His father, his girlfriend—"

"I know him—"

Boomer put his hand on Apollo's arm. "Hang on a minute, Apollo," he said, then looked at the security man. "Maybe it's time to define our terms?"

"Of course," said the sergeant. "I'm sorry—you're thinking perp. I'm thinking motive. And I'd like to find Starbuck before he turns up as number three in the series."

Frack. That hadn't occurred to Apollo, whose mind had been full of words like 'frame-up'. "You think that's a possibility?"

"His father, then his girlfriend? I'd say somebody hates him pretty strongly. You want to talk with us now? Like, is there anybody else—" He broke off as Dr. Varra came out of the interior of the Life Center. "Doctor?"

The doctor shook her head. "I'm sorry, Tycho. He didn't make it."

The sergeant cursed and slammed his fist into the wall. "Bastards." He looked at her. "I don't suppose he said anything."

It wasn't really a question, but she answered it anyway. "No. Not a word."

"What happened?" Apollo hated being in the dark.

"Chief and I came up here to ask that medtech some questions about, well, you." Apollo wasn't sure what his face looked like at that but the sergeant shook his head. "Don't worry, it was the chief's line and he was following it, but you're out of it now. You were at that party in the Rejuv Center, weren't you?"

"At it? I was giving it."

"So you're out of it... We interrupted a rape. Perp took a shot at her, then us, then ran. Chief told me to stay with the vic, he took out after the perp. We found him seven corridors over... I should have gone with him."

"If you had, Cassiopeia would be dead," said Varra.

"You're telling me she's going to survive?"

Apollo winced. He'd been so caught up in thinking Starbuck was in trouble, he really hadn't thought about Cassie more than fleetingly. "How bad is she?"

Varra shrugged tiredly. "Drs. Salik and Paye are working on her; I'm going in now. But it's really in the hands of the gods. All I know is, sergeant, you did what you were supposed to, and being with him wouldn't have made a difference." She stretched. "We'll let you know."

The door shut behind her. "I hate fatalist doctors," said Boomer. "Sorry about Reese."

Tycho nodded. "Where is Starbuck?"

"I honestly don't know," said Apollo. "He said he was going to check on Chameleon's property."

"He knew where the man had been living?"

"No," Apollo said. "He didn't know anything about him at all."

"Then where was he going? He didn't come up to our offices."

"He said the Feriya," said Boomer. "But that's just the termination site, right?"

Apollo said, slowly, "But did he know that?"

"Sure he did," said Boomer. "He was just pissed off."

"What about?" asked Tycho.

"Things in general," said Boomer. "It was touchy, him not knowing the man was his father."

"Did Cassie say anything?" Apollo asked.

Tycho shrugged. "She said, 'Starbuck'."

"He didn't come up here," Apollo insisted. "I know it."

"Your 'knowing' it isn't evidence," Tycho said. "Don't bite my head off; contrary to what you obviously think, we aren't in the business of arresting innocent people and letting the guilty ones walk around free."

"Starbuck didn't kill Ortega."

"We didn't arrest him," Tycho said. "The commander and the Chief Opposer pushed for that. No cop would have arrested him on the evidence they had at the time."

"He damn near got convicted," Apollo pointed out.

"That's not exactly germane to the moment, is it?" Boomer intervened again. "What did you think it meant? When she said his name?"

"I wish it were so that vics name the perps," Tycho said. "It would save us a lot of work. But usually when somebody's dying, who they're calling on is who they love. So, like I said earlier, or started to, is there anybody else around whose death might reasonably be expected to upset Starbuck? Or are we down to him, and him gods-know-where?"

Apollo froze. "Boxey."

"Who?"

"My son... my sister."

"You," added Boomer, "and me."

"We'll put guards on your son and your sister," he said, beckoning to one of the other black-uniformed men. "And you two?"

"We don't need guards."

"Whatever you say." Tycho sighed, scrubbed his hands through his unruly sandy hair. "So you have no idea where he is? Any idea who might hate him this much?"

"Nobody who's in any position to do anything about it," Apollo said, thinking. Not everyone liked Starbuck, but his enemies weren't this caliber. Take shots at him, maybe, but try to rape and kill Cassie? "This isn't even sane."

"Terminaters aren't, by definition, are they?" asked Tycho. "Please try to think where he might be. I mean it, I don't want to find him as number three."

"I really don't know. Boomer, where did he end up last night?"

Boomer shook his head. "He didn't say." He might have added something, but Dr. Salik came out into the waiting room and they all turned towards him.

"She'll make it," the doctor said. "She's in very bad shape, and no, you can't talk to her. Not till tomorrow at the earliest. She's sedated."

"Doctor, she can probably identify a rather vicious killer—"

Salik was shaking his head. "No. She can't. She regained consciousness briefly—and I didn't call you because an interrogation was the last thing she needed. But she didn't see anything, or anyone. She's blind."

"Blind?" Apollo was shocked.

"Yes. I don't know why, and it may clear up, but she didn't see anyone. She did say they were looking for two people."

"Looking for people?" Tycho said, coming to alert like a hunting daggit. "Not just an attack? Looking for who?"

Salik said, "Starbuck—"

"So he's next," Tycho nodded. "Who else?"

"Someone she'd never heard of. Something like a title, or an affiliation: the Gabriyelan."

"The what?" Apollo asked, though he was sure he'd heard correctly.

"Gabriyelan." Salik shrugged. "Sounds religious to me."

"Mean something to you?" Tycho was quick to pick up his reaction.

"I have to talk to my father."

"I want to know."

"I don't know anything helpful," Apollo said. "I don't know who the Gabriyelan is, and I don't know who's looking for him. If I did, I'd tell you. I have to talk to my father. Boomer, stay here, please."

"Apollo—"

"Please. Tell the sergeant anything you can think of. And check on Boxey. Please."

Boomer stared into his eyes and then nodded. Apollo gave his arm a quick squeeze. "We'll talk," he promised, and then left.

Gabriyelan. Unless he was very mistaken, that name meant a lot of trouble.

"So," Starbuck said, "is this... Council Security, this drug?"

"No," said Omega. "How are your eyes?"

"My eyes?" he said, startled. He reached to rub them, except of course his arm didn't move. I hate this. "They're fine."

"Good." The bridge officer leaned back against the bulkhead for a minute, and Starbuck couldn't see him. After a moment he said, "I don't think you'll lose your sight at all. I don't think you got enough of the drug in you. But if you do, it'll clear up."

Something he'd said earlier surfaced in Starbuck's confused mind. "You've been hit with this?"

"Yes," Omega said, and laughed slightly. Then he realized Starbuck couldn't see him and moved to sit cross-legged next to Starbuck's feet, facing him. "My grandfather," he said conversationally, "was a great one for hands-on training. My mother was annoyed with him when we were children, but he insisted."

Starbuck blinked—he could still do that, too. "Your grandfather pumped you full of this stuff when you were a child?"

Omega nodded. "He said you'd never know what you could do when you had to unless you knew what you were up against. I have to say, he probably did save my cousin Artos. He got hit somewhere close enough to make it to too many witnesses. He might have just curled up if it had been new to him." He shrugged. "On the other hand, the rest of us never needed to know."

"What is it?"

"It's called algonarcon. I don't know how to make it, but the Great Houses have been using it for millennia. What I don't understand," there was that flash of fury again, "is why anyone's using it on you. That's against every rule."

"Rule?" It was the question that came out first.

"I shouldn't tell you," Omega said, "but you're involved, for some reason. So I will. Have you ever heard of the Children of Kobol? Or the Great Houses?"

Starbuck tried to shake his head. "No."

"The story is, the twenty-four Great Houses are descended from the original Lords of Kobol. The First Houses, the Children of Kobol, were the six leaders. I know, it should be twelve, but it's six. And twenty-four Great Houses, and not two to a tribe, either. Sagitara, Gemoni, Canceria, and Virgon have one each; Taura and Scorpia, three; and Caprica four. The rest have two... I should say had. Despite our semi-divine origins—" The sarcasm was plain in his voice, which was shocking considering how many times Starbuck had heard him in the midst of chaos and devastation, sounding as calm as anything. "—the Destruction didn't spare us. There are precisely seven Great Houses left, and only two First Houses. Mikhayel and Azrayel..." He shrugged again. "Back in the golden age, before the colonies fell into darkness, the Great Houses ran everything. Nowadays... Well, before the Destruction, they pulled a lot of strings. Politics was part of the Great Game." Starbuck could hear the capital letters, and the disdain. "So was kidnapping, extortion... but it was supposed to be played only among the Great Houses. Commons weren't supposed to be involved. No offense," he added almost automatically.

"They don't come any commoner," Starbuck said cheerfully.

"How old was your father?"

"God, I don't know... Eighty? A hundred? We weren't close."

"Algonarcon combined with physical trauma could have killed him. I think it's probable that his death and this are connected."

"No, really?" That slipped out before Starbuck could stop it.

Omega apparently made allowances. Either that or appreciated the sentiment. Either way, he answered, "I don't know if someone from one of the Houses is after you, or if someone who used to work for them is selling his knowledge on the free market. Chameleon may well have annoyed someone in the black market."

Starbuck said, innocently, "Oh? There's a black market?"

Omega snorted. "Of course. And denying it makes no sense. But it's policy..."

"So this algo-stuff could be in anybody's hands?"

"We haven't seen it before... but some dependent technician could have finally got set up to manufacture it... dependent," he clarified, "is a non-House member who's considered part of a House under the Rules of the Game. Generally it's a long-term relationship. But with seventeen Houses going under, I'm sure many dependents and simple employees were cut loose. If a drug manufacturer was among them..." he shrugged again. "It makes more sense than that one of the remaining Houses is targeting you."

"You want it to," Starbuck discovered.

"Yes," Omega admitted. "I've been arguing that we should disband the Convocation altogether. It's foolishness to waste time and resources on the Game now. Especially since in another twenty yahrens there'll only be two Houses left."

"Why?"

"Because the other five are single-member, and elderly." He hesitated a moment, then a clear 'what-the-hell' crossed those dark eyes. "Tinia's not having any more children, nor are Hathi or Ariana." Starbuck didn't know Hathi, but he had seen both the Siresses mentioned, and agreed. Tinia was one of those who spent cubits hand over fist to look young, but she was well past child-bearing, and Ariana was, frankly and with enjoyment, a terrifying dowager. Although, "Adoption?"

"If your average Colonial is too blood conscious to adopt," Omega said gently, "imagine that on someone who can trace their lineage straight back to Kobol, however imaginative it might be... no House will give its name to an out-blood child. It's possible," he went on after a moment, "that Anton could marry again, or Krytos. But I don't know how much luck Anton would have siring a child... But even saying three Houses in twenty yahrens. It's ridiculous."

"So you're one. Who's the other?" Somehow Starbuck thought he knew. That 'straight back to Kobol'...

Omega confirmed his guess. "Adama."

"I can't imagine Adama involved in... kidnapping and stuff like that." Actually that was less of a stretch than Apollo.

"He's not. I know. He's a House, in fact he's a First House, the House of Mikhayel. But eight hundred and sixty-seven yahrens ago, when it became apparent to even the meanest intellect, of which if our Convocation was any indication, that Convocation was full, that the Cylons were going to be a long-term problem, it was decided that one of the First Houses should be involved in the war. So the Mikhayelan of the time volunteered, and his House was made immune from the Game until the War was over. My grandfather used to complain that Adama never attended a Convocation even when he could. I don't even know if the current Adamans even know who they are... I'm sure the boy didn't, and Apollo's never been to a meeting, nor has Adama's daughter."

Starbuck registered that but said, "I've met some of those people. But I can't imagine that any of them ever met Chameleon."

"Even if they had, they shouldn't be going after him, or you, with the tools of the Game."

"That bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Yes," he acknowledged. "Bad enough we're still playing that stupid Game amongst ourselves. To be breaking the Rules..." He shrugged. "On the other hand, it might give me some ammunition."

"To do what?" Starbuck asked, curious.

"Win over two more votes... I'm sure I could get Adama to come and vote to do away with the whole thing. But, at the moment, though I can hold two of the lesser Great Houses to me for most things, they won't vote to disband."

"Few will," Starbuck said, looking at him. "So your House is one of the First? Azrayel, was it?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm what's left of it..." His eyes grew bleak. But before either of them say anything else, he paused, cocking his head.

Starbuck froze inside, listening. The engines behind the bulkhead were making so much noise he couldn't hear anything else. Omega got to his feet in a fluid movement, picking up the blaster as he did, and moved quietly toward the door.

I really hate this, Starbuck thought. Really, really, really. There is nothing about this I like...

"Damn," Omega said, which didn't add anything likable to the situation. He came back and sat on his heels beside Starbuck. "There's a hunter drone out there. Nothing new... still House stuff. But it means they're after me and took you out since you were a witness. I'm extremely sorry."

"Chameleon?"

"I don't know. I'm going to open that door. The drone will come in, but it'll ignore you. I'll take it out. We can't wait. It will get through no more door than that in maybe twenty centons, and it's sending a beacon. They'll be up here. And once they're here, they will kill you. That they used algonarcon on you proves that. If I hadn't followed you off the shuttle—"

"How much time?"

Omega caught himself. "You're right. Not much. Now." He stood up and headed for the door, adding, "I'm sorry you got caught in this. When I've taken the drone out, I'll wait till you're mobile and then leave you." He raised the bar and then spun the door lock, yanking the door, moving quickly away from it as he did.

Starbuck had no idea what a "hunting drone" looked like, but he wasn't ready for what came through the door. It was small and slim and silver, and a drill bit was receding into its smooth, convex front. A sensor dish, a small antenna, and a needle-gun muzzle were the immediately noticeable features. And the way that it did not veer towards Omega, but instead came straight at Starbuck.

That apparently startled Omega, who lost about three microns before he fired. The shot fried the sensor dish and needle, flipping the drone over on its side. Instead of a taking a second shot, the bridge officer stomped the drone, apparently picking his spots carefully. Then he picked it up, staring in ill-concealed shock.

"I thought it was supposed to go after you," Starbuck said. "Nice shot, by the way."

"Thank you. It should have. They're programmed to go after the Great Houses. Only us. That's why you can use them in a populated place... Someone is modifying these things. This is very bad."

"I don't like the way you said that. I assume I'm back to being the target?"

"So it would seem... I'll be back. I'm going to put this somewhere where it'll lure them off our track." He was out the door before Starbuck could say anything.

Gabriyel... Apollo stared at the doors of the turbolift as it moved along the length of the battlestar towards Senior Officers' country. He wasn't positive, but he was fairly sure that name had been one of the ones his father had mentioned when he'd come to Academy during Apollo's final term. There had been entirely too many names to remember, but that one had been one of the important ones, as he recalled.

The whole conversation had been, well, fantastic. He could remember how his father had swept into the Academy, where everyone was trying to keep up the pretense that the Cosmora Archipelago had been an actual victory, not one of those where you were called winning because you could stagger away under your own power far enough not to get killed when you collapsed... Adama's new commander's pins had made it even easier for him to take his son away in the middle of classes, but he'd brushed aside Apollo's attempt at congratulations. He'd had his driver take them to a public park and they'd gotten out and walked under the pale winter sun, alone in the sweeping meadow.

Adama had informed his eldest child that he was leaving that evening with his new battlegroup. "I've left this information for you in our banking house," he said, "but I thought, as you've nearly attained your majority, and with things as they are... Well, I thought I should take this opportunity to tell you some things about your heritage."

Apollo had listened half in amazement and half in pure disbelief as Adama had explained their position as one of what he'd called the First of the First Houses of Kobol. He'd always known that his bloodlines were alleged, at least, to run to the original leaders of the Colonies, not that it mattered much to him—he'd been a democrat long before he'd met Starbuck, whose lack of pedigree made the whole concept of aristocracy seem a bit farcical, though he knew his father, despite being fond of his son's blond room-mate, didn't agree—but now he was being told he was in fact descended from a Lord of Kobol. It was unreal. He'd even been more than a little repelled by the notion of shadowy conspirators pulling strings behind the scenes, while at the same time finding it more than a little ludicrous. And totally anachronistic. And completely irrelevant to anything he'd ever do in his life or military career.

The humor had vanished for him the day Adama had confirmed to him that Baltar had been a member of the House of Mariyel, Virgon's only House... he'd suspected that Adar's implicit belief in Baltar was due to that, and to believing that Adama, as head of the House which existed in its privileged position due to the war, might be unwilling to see it come to an end. He'd never before the Destruction had anything to do with the Convocation, if he was remembering that term correctly, and certainly hadn't since.

But he knew he was remembering the way his father had said, "You are a Mikhayelan, Apollo, whether you like it or not. We are exempt from the Game but you need to be aware that it goes on." And this Gabriyelan sounded like a player... and Starbuck seemed cast as a game piece. Which made Apollo's blood boil.

He leaned on the door chime, then keyed in the doorcode and went in. He supposed, considering how late it was, that his father might be asleep. But the commander's quarters were empty... of course. He should have realized that someone would have told him about the attack on Cassie, the shooting of a security guard. He called Adama's office, the inside line. "Father," he said as soon as Adama answered, "I have to talk to you."

"Apollo? Can it wait, son? Things are a bit busy just now."

"No, I don't think it can," he said. "It's connected to what happened to Cassie."

Adama was silent for a moment. "Have you spoken to Security about it?"

"No. I wanted to talk to you first, though if you think that's the right move I don't have anything against it... Father," he paused, the habits of secrecy hard to break. "I really think we need to talk."

"Then come up here, Apollo."

"I'm on my way." He flicked off the comm and headed out the door. In the turbolift he took several deep breaths, trying to collect his thoughts and mute the panic he was feeling about Starbuck's being missing... He should have told that sergeant, what was his name? Right. Tycho... should have had him call the shuttle bay, see if Starbuck had caught the run that went to the Feriya. He wasn't sure Boomer was right, wasn't sure that Starbuck actually knew Chameleon hadn't been living there. He hadn't sounded like he didn't know that when he'd said that about going over and checking out "the old man's stuff..." In fact, hadn't actually said "the next shuttle to the Feriya"? Damn... That sergeant thought he didn't want Starbuck turning up as number three in the series? It made Apollo physically ill to think about.

The door opened and he got out. He made his way through the bridge, barely noticing the muted activity. He nodded at Bridge Officer Charis, ICOB for Third Watch... as Strike Captain he wasn't up here very often at this time of night. He reflected for a moment how odd it was, really, that the Fleet still ran on Caprican Standard and even had the concept of day and night, when at least on the battlestar they were operational 24/8... he supposed it was human nature. Then he dismissed the thought as he signalled at the Commander's door.

"Apollo?" Adama rose from behind his desk. "What is it?"

Apollo paused, then leaned against the desk as his father sat down again. "All that stuff that you told me, yahrens ago, when I was a senior... about the Great Houses?"

"Yes?" Adama's face was still, giving nothing away. "What do they have to do with Cassiopeia?"

Apollo remembered that, too; it had been always 'they'. 'We' were Mikhayelan, but 'they' played the Game. Well, they're not playing it with Starbuck, he resolved, adding a bit guiltily, or Cassie. "Did anybody tell you what Salik said Cassie told him?"

"No," Adama said. "I wasn't aware she'd said anything. Security reports that Dr. Salik told them she was under sedation."

"She is, but apparently she came to and told Salik a couple of things about whoever attacked her. I gather it's thought to be the same as killed Chameleon?"

"Yes," Adama nodded. "The method seems to be the same, also," he glanced at a report on his desk, "an unknown drug was found in both of their bloodstreams."

"She said they were looking for Starbuck. And for," he paused, "the Gabriyelan."

Adama stiffened, his eyes widening. "The who?"

"Gabriyelan," Apollo repeated. "Is this the kind of thing that goes on in that Game you told me about all those yahrens ago, sir?"

Adama was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Yes," he answered finally, "and no. As I understand the rules, Chameleon and Cassiopeia should neither of them be involved. And Gabriyel... wasn't Chameleon Caprican?"

Apollo tried to remember exactly what Cassie had said when running the iris cone count. "He and Starbuck are the same tribe," he answered. "From Umbra... I guess that makes them Capricans."

"And Cassiopeia is Gemonese. Gabriyel is Aquarian. They can't have had any connection to Gabriyel at all... and besides, Gabriyel is a dead House. Like most of them."

"Dead?" Apollo asked. "How so?"

"All of its members perished in the Destruction," Adama said. "I attended the first meeting of the Convocation when it was called on board the Galactica. The surviving Children of Kobol, and the dead, all were accounted for."

"If Gabriyel's dead, who's left?"

"Mikhayel and Azrayel," Adama said, "and the Lesser Houses of Mateyel, Astoriyel, Ariyel, Zabdiyel, and Beliyel. In Colonial order," he added.

"None of those sound like Gabriyel... Wait, Father," Apollo said. "She said they were looking for the Gabriyelan. How certain is it one's not still around?"

"I'd have said, absolutely. But..."

"Yes?"

"If one is, it would be of crucial importance to the Convocation." Adama leaned forward. "There are seven Houses now, counting us. Our exempt status makes us a little, well, suspect in the eyes of most of those remaining, but we are among the First. And so is Gabriyel. I don't pay much attention to what they do, nowadays; there are only six of them... I mean, each House but ours is down to one member. It's true three of them are on the Council—"

"Who?"

"Krytos, Tinia, and Anton," Adama answered. "But they're hardly a voting block, and they were elected. And Tinia has some sense."

"Uhm," Apollo avoided commenting on the Siress he had for a while expected to snare his father. For that matter, he wasn't sure she'd given up. "Would this Gabriyelan be a threat to any of them?"

"Only in Convocation. Anton tells me Azrayel has some radical notions, too radical for the others. But if Gabriyel would support him, then it's very likely that Ariyel and Mateyel would fall in with him even in his most radical notion—to disband the Convocation and stop the Game. That would make it four to three, regardless of what Astoriyel—"

"Father, please. Remember I don't know who these people are. Anton and Tinia and Krytos, which Houses are they? Is one of them Azrayel, who sounds like he might have motive for finding a Gabriyelan?"

"No," Adama said. "Anton is Beliyel, Tinia is Astoriyel, and Krytos Zabdiyel. Mateyel and Ariyel are Siress Ariana and a woman named Hathi whom you have probably never met... not all the Houses were Sire-lines."

"Really?"

"No. Most, if not all, were wealthy and well-bred, but not all retained their titles through the changing millennia."

"Interesting but probably not relevant. So, who's Azrayel? Not a Councilor, but another wealthy, overbred egocentric who thinks he can play around with people's lives? Like Starbuck's?"

"Starbuck?" Adama asked.

"Father, I told you. They, whoever they are, are looking for him. He's involved in this, up to his eyeteeth. Sergeant Tycho said it: his father, his girlfriend... somebody hates him. Somebody wants him. This Azrayelan sounds like he's got the best motive, who is he?"

"I can't believe that." Adama shook his head. "Omega is the Azrayelan."

Apollo blinked at him. "Omega? You mean, Bridge Officer Omega? That Omega?"

"Yes, that Omega."

Well, Apollo couldn't believe it, either. He and Omega had never been close, not even before the Destruction, but it was impossible to imagine him as some labyrinthine plotter instigating rape and termination. Shooting you, yes, especially the ice-cold version 2.0 of post-Destruction days, but not the rest of it.

"However," Adama said, "he's not the only one with motive. In fact, I suspect some of the others have even stronger motive. If they found out that a Gabriyelan in fact existed, they would want to take him out of the Game before he could join Azrayel... I sincerely doubt that Hathi would cross two First Houses, and Ariana would yield to three..."

"Us?"

"Vote to put an end to all this nonsense? You wouldn't approve?" Adama asked wryly.

"I would. Especially if they think they can drag just anybody into it—what, Father?" he asked as Adama's brown eyes narrowed.

"Did Chameleon tell you anything about Starbuck's mother? Or Starbuck that he passed on?"

"He told Starbuck she was a blonde," Apollo said, "but he was working his scam, and Cassie... why?"

"Because thirty-five, well maybe more like thirty-eight or so, yahrens ago, there was quite a scandal on Aquaria. The youngest daughter of Count Ruslan ran off with a very undesirable party."

"How undesirable?" Apollo asked. "Chameleon-undesirable?"

"As I recall," Adama nodded. "Now she was reported dead, in a hovermobile accident. But if she wasn't..."

"Frack," Apollo forgot himself. "Are you saying Starbuck could be the Gabriyelan?"

"It's possible. And it would explain, though not excuse, Chameleon and Cassiopeia's involvement, as well. He, certainly, and she, by a stretch of the rules, could be considered dependents of the House of Gabriyel."

"And thus fair game?" Apollo said sarcastically. "Even though they, well, she anyway, hasn't got the first idea what's going on? Any more than Starbuck does?"

"I said it didn't excuse it..." Adama reached out and hit the comm.

"ICOB, sir."

"Yes, Lieutenant. Get me Lieutenant Omega. Now."

"Yes, sir."

Father and son sat in silence until Charis's worried alto spoke again. "Sir, there's no answer from Lieutenant Omega's quarters."

"Find him."

"Sir?"

"Find him, Lieutenant. I want to see him immediately. Use Security if you must."

"Yes, sir. Is he..." she hesitated.

Apollo could see his father gather his patience. "He's not under arrest, Lieutenant. But it is imperative that I speak with him. So, find. Him."

"Yes, sir."

"Where's he gone?" Apollo hated coincidences.

"I don't know. Check with the shuttle bays."

"Yes, sir. Where will you be?"

"Here, or on the bridge. But I think I need to talk to someone from the Convocation."

"Tinia?"

"No. I think Anton. He's the lowest ranking surviving House and the one who already tells me what's going on. Apollo—"

"Yes, sir?"

"Find Starbuck. Whatever the truth is, things are happening he doesn't know anything about. He's in great danger."

"Yes, sir." Apollo left.