"Hold your fire," Apollo said so softly that the warriors could barely hear him.
The Cylons advanced. They were only metrons away now.
"Hold your fire," Apollo said once more.
Then he raised his arm, and lowered it.
The breastworks exploded in a withering web of bright laser blasts, and every Cylon that had advanced was cut down in that single volley.
"It pays to study old military records," Apollo said, as the few remaining Cylons fired wildly in disarray.
"Charge of the Borellian Nomen. Not a single one survived."
"Not this time," came a thundering voice. Apollo turned to see Gar'Tokk and his Nomen companions striding four abreast to the warriors' position.
"Gar'Tokk!" Starbuck cried.
"Your oath is being fulfilled," Gar'Tokk told him. "Join us, Starbuck."
Starbuck looked wildly between Apollo and Boomer, raising his hands in a helpless gesture.
"Join you in what?" Starbuck asked.
"Hunting the metal creatures, Cylons," Gar'Tokk snarled.
Then he and the three Nomen threw back their cloaks to reveal their laser boles.
"This will not take long," Gar'Tokk said.
The warriors watched, astonished, as the Nomen sprang into action. Apollo couldn't believe how fast they moved, despite their enormous height and size.
There were upon the piles of Cylon bodies, and, crouching behind the remains of their enemies, they swung their boles around their heads once, twice, thrice, and released them into the Cylon camp.
The explosions were deafening. The concussion threw the warriors at the breastworks back metrons.
Apollo shrank and covered his ears. None of it seemed to bother the Nomen. No sooner had the smoke begun to clear than they let go another bole volley, with even deadlier precision.
There was no doubting the whines, squeals, and other sounds and signs of vast Cylon destruction.
"That is good," Gar'Tokk intoned, and then he threw back his hood and let out a bone-chilling cry that made the hair on every warrior's neck stand out straight.
Starbuck, seeming to consider something, took off running toward the Nomen. Armed only with his pistol, he crouched and fired into the smoking wreckage of the Cylon assault group.
After a few microns, a form emerged from the cloud of smoke. A single Cylon centurion. Only this centurion wasn't silver, it was made of shining gold. A super-centurion; wily, fast, and the most dangerous enemy ever produced by the Cylon Empire.
He was clearly their leader, but no other Cylon followed. He raised his rifle, and this Cylon's aim was clear.
Laser fire flashed, and one of the Nomen fell, silently.
With another great roar, Gar'Tokk charged. The Cylon fired again before Gar'Tokk could release his boles. With a cry, Gar'Tokk grabbed his arm. But Starbuck was there, in front of Gar'Tokk, protecting him with covering fire.
The Centurion feinted, started again toward them, and without thinking, Starbuck leapt into the corridor, pushing the hulk of a Cylon body into the centurion's way, and rolling twice, getting to his feet and firing into the centurion's mid-section.
The centurion was not destroyed, only slowed. It made a terrible, whining noise, but continued on.
Reaching GarTokk, it grabbed the Noman's injured arm and lifted him.
GarTokk struggled. Starbuck leapt on the centurion's back, but it threw him off as if he was the size of Koren.
The other Nomen leapt forward.
With a great roar, GarTokk twisted his body, and with his free hand, grasped the Cylon's metal jaw.
Gar'Tokk's fingers held tight, and with one violent twist, he ripped the centurion's head right off his shoulders. Both centurion and GarTokk landed on the deck with a crash, barely missing Starbuck.
Despite his injured arm, GarTokk stood, lifting his trophy high.
"These creatures aren't much. I have taken men's heads with much greater difficulty," GarTokk said.
Microns passed.
No more Cylons came. Starbuck peered into the gradually clearing smoke. No more Cylons were likely to come. As far as Starbuck could see, there were only sparks, heaps of twisted metal that had once been whole tin cans, and blackened, pitted walls—death and destruction. But as far as Starbuck could see, the remains were one hundred percent Cylon.
It was done. The warriors and the Nomen had won the battle for Galactica's bridge.
Together, they rushed through the remains of the Cylon attack force, and pushed through the massive pile of smoking, wrecked metal at the door.
"Apollo!" Athena cried.
She and a wounded Tigh came out from behind the main console to greet all the warriors.
Apollo's heart was ready to explode as he gathered his sister in his arms and held her tight. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he surveyed Galactica's bridge.
It was horribly damaged—a disaster area—but it was still the bridge. And it was theirs once more.
Warrior and Noman alike stood, celebrating, on the now-free bridge of the great Battlestar Galactica.
"Athena," Apollo said, stroking her hair.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she said.
"I know," he said. "But the Gods would not allow that."
They joined together, hand in hand, and Apollo turned, holding Athena's arm high.
"Once more, the Galactica is free!" he cried. He found it hard to breathe. As he looked from face to face—all the friends he held so dear—he thought that he should say something. After all they had survived, all they'd endured together.
Although the battle still hung in the balance, for this one moment, Galactica was its own ship again, and they were all free.
As Apollo began to speak, Doctor Salik arrived on the bridge, holding Koren's hand.
"I have to tell you," the Doctor said. At once, everyone turned to stare at him.
"Tell us what?" Apollo asked.
"Commander Cain—what little life signs I could find—they're fading."
"No!" Apollo cried. Agonized looks went between the friends. So Sheba could live, Apollo thought with sudden clarity. It was the same as it had ever been. Cain had given them precious moments of freedom. And given his daughter a second chance at life.
Still, the doctor waited, but it was Koren who spoke.
"The man who saved you, Apollo—Baltar—he's beginning to wake up."
"Yes," Salik said. "That was my other news. Baltar may recover. He's showing strong signs."
Apollo's eyes grew wide. Cain was gone, but Baltar lived? It made no sense; he couldn't fathom it.
"Lords of Kobol!" Tigh cried. "The old wretch is hard to kill."
Despite themselves, there were more than a few smiles and chuckles around the bridge.
"This is sad news about Cain, Doctor," Apollo said. "But I am glad to hear about Baltar."
Koren looked up at the doctor and tugged his sleeve. The doctor looked down at the boy, distracted, then suddenly addressed the crew once more. "Oh, yes!" he said. "The other reason I came. Koren would like to stay with you for a time."
"He should—" Tigh started to say, but Apollo looked quickly over at Tigh, quieting him.
"Yes, of course," Apollo said. And he knelt, holding out his hands. Koren ran into Apollo's arms.
"Koren's father was a brave man," Apollo said, standing and putting his hand on Koren's shoulder. "We fought. We did not agree. But one thing he said, I want us all to remember."
Everyone listened, leaning forward.
"He believed that every life has worth," Apollo said. "And this is true. Let there be no more nameless, faceless ones among us. No matter what happens, let us remember Jinkrat, and what he stood for. An honorable enemy, and for too short a time—a great friend."
They raised their hands in salute to Jinkrat. Koren put his head against Apollo. Apollo heard the boy struggling to hold back his tears, ashamed to cry in front of Galactica's command. Starbuck came close and punched Koren lightly
in the arm, making him smile.
"It's okay," Starbuck said. "We're all one big family."
Apollo started to say more, but the radiation alarms began to scream. "Apollo," Tigh shouted, "someone out there just set off an atomic weapon!"
As Apollo turned to face the prow-port just in time to see the blast of light erupt from the smallest of the Cylon battlestars.
"Gods!" said Athena, "are the Chitain mad? Do they know what they're doing?"
"They're Chitain," said Starbuck. "Don't care about much but number one, you know."
"Iblis had them cornered," said Tigh. "You don't want to corner the Chitain."
As they watched, the majestic Cylon battlestar began to drift into the Ur cloud, the fireball that consumed it growing, growing——
"Look," said Boomer, "the Cylons are no longer working in concert—either Iblis was on that thing, or the explosion has taken out his ability to command."
It was true: the Cylon fighters were moving utterly without coordination—the Chitain were chewing them up.
In a micron, Apollo remembered Troy's cargo, retrieved from the Cylon battlestar, and Baltar's words.
"Trays! Dalton! Get those Cylon fuel cells launched as far as you can into the Chitain sector," Apollo ordered.
Trays and Dalton sprang into action, running from the bridge.
Breathless, they all watched as the Chitain continued their attack, but the tide of the battle turned once again. Iblis once more seemed to hold sway.
Cornered, the Chitain began to mass.
"What are they doing?" Tigh asked Apollo.
Apollo grimaced. "I think they'd rather destroy themselves than allow the Cylons to prevail."
Tigh shook his head.
"I can't believe it," Athena said. Gar'Tokk drew closer. Apollo held Koren's shoulders as they watched the Chitain ships shrink into a smaller and smaller mass until now they looked like a single star, forming from a cloud of glowing dust.
"Come on," Apollo said. "Come on, Trays. Come on, Dalton."
In a micron, Trays' excited voice came over the comm. "It's done, Commander!" he called.
"Get back—now!" Apollo cried.
"Apollo, we have no idea of the force of the blast—if those Jinkrat, formerly of the Rising Star, a ship of hopeless, hapless refugees. Baltar thought about the boy, Koren. He rather liked him. There was an edge of anger and resentment in the child, despite his youth, that Baltar found appealing. Baltar knew what Apollo saw in the child, but Apollo was as yet young, compared to Baltar's years. He didn't have Baltar's sight.
Baltar didn't suppose he was about to be reelected to the Council of Twelve any time soon. He supposed that if he did recover, he would be sent back to the brig, or worse, put to some "constructive" task. That would be about Apollo's speed.
He wondered if anyone had even cared to say, "Thank you, Baltar, for saving us." Perhaps the boy had.
It was a brave new world, with no place for old men like Baltar in it.
How would he be remembered? As the man who betrayed all of humanity, the man who walked with Cylons? Breathed their air? Communed with them?
How would the people of the Galactica remember Baltar? As a hero? Baltar laughed, the pain wracking him. As a villain? Perhaps. Or perhaps, he thought, looking over at Cain, they wouldn't remember him at all.
Did you do all you could, Baltar? He wondered. Wondered until the pain took him again and the dreams returned. Dreams of a new, strange place, and fields to wander. Alone. With not a soul by his side.
EPILOGUE
They found berth in the orbiting drydocks of Paradis, and in those docks they had the fleet remade.
It took sectars—sectars! But in the end, they were sectars well spent.
While the fleet renewed itself, the imam of a local sect called upon Apollo and Athena—there was an ancient book of writings, and it bore the seal of the Galactica.
Someone anciently ago left this book for them to read.
Gar'Tokk—who had grown in some unknowable way—told them what it was before they opened it.
It was written in an ancient script they couldn't decipher, but Gar'Tokk knew what it said. "I can teach you to read it if you wish," he said. "Or I can tell you what it says."
Apollo wanted to know what he meant.
"The book is meant for us. It is from the thirteenth tribe. Coordinates that will show us where next we must go. And with those coordinates is knowledge we will need to cope with the challenges that await us there."
Doctor Salik had discovered that bare traces of something that might and might not be life remained in Cain's body. He was neither dead nor alive, but the imam religious leader said this was in the prophecy, too.
They made plans not to bury Cain in space in the traditional Galactica ceremony, but to bring him here to this planet, where the imam and his people have prepared a place.
Baltar, hooded, watched as they laid Cain's body to rest.
That day, he had thought to find the boy Koren, perhaps teach him some of the lore of Caprica, but Koren was playing—with other children.
This was a new world, whether brave or not, Baltar did not know.
Apollo asked Baltar to be a teacher.
Baltar had not yet given Apollo his answer. It seemed there was no chance for Baltar to be considered for the Council. It seemed that there was no place for Baltar—at all.
He wished that he could join Cain where he rested. But that was for the future. For the time being, Baltar must wander, and ponder his fate.
In their time on the paradise, Cassi found a midwife whose company she adored.
She was a fine local woman—very wise, it seemed to Cassi.
When the moment came for her to give birth, the midwife helped Cassi to deliver the baby—but in the midst of the birth Cassi blacked out.
When she woke, the midwife and the baby were gone.
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