"Save,"  Seven

Returning to the Post-Exchange debriefing, Athena asks Gammon, "And after you were incarcerated, how well were the passengers treated?"
   Gammon rubs his chin again, "Our captors apparently wanted undamaged goods, the hanger door was left closed. Once daily two persons were allowed to carry the waste out, and bring the meagre ration they allowed us, back."
  "How well were the passengers holding up throughout this time period?" Colonel Tigh asks benignly.
   Gammon rubs his chin, "Bowdie, me got together with a couple of the passengers that seemed strongest and decided that we needed to keep the spirits of the rest up if we were going to survive. One woman devised a mouth-lyre, we held song-ins to pass time. Preparing food to stretch provisions always kept people distracted. And we devised a fiction..." Gammon pauses.
  "Go on," Athena urges him.
  "I didn't feel right springing this on the passengers," Gammon continues, "but those of us in the know decided when each of us would return from the disposal and retreival trip that we would bring back news that we had been allowed to hear news that the Colonies were busy in negotiations for our safe returns. It wasn't much."
   "But it was all that you had," Athena understands.
   Gammon looks up a little, "Once after everyone else was asleep, I saw Bowdie with her face buried in her sleeve. When I asked her if she was all right, she looks up and her eyes are moist. Bowdie then tells me that she hates to lie to the passengers like that, but that is all she has to offer. That it seems like we have completely disappeared, and that no one even cares."

   Captain Apollo stepped off of the tracked mover onto the flight deck of the Battlestar Galactica. The Battlestar seemed unusually quiet just now. If you listened closely enough you could hear the sounds of maintenance and repair that the Commander had suggested to Colonel Tigh to keep the crew occupied. With the Battlestar's shuttle craft engaged in the search, there was little oppurtunity for the furloughs requested by the crew. The Galactica's crew was somewhere near its rated crew-strength.
  Requests for leave and liberty was diminishing the numbers on other ships. But the Galactica was designated to stand by. There were the expected grumblings by the crew. But the routine clean up and maintenance and any other repairs short of drydock, kept the crew busy enogh not to dwell on the subject.
   As Captain Apollo walked over to the staging area, he wondered about the extra paperwork and loops he'd had to duck through to have a Viper outfitted with a rear seat for an added passenger.
   The Captain entered the staging area where the two Vipers requested were being prepared for launch. Looking up to the Viper that Starbuck would have, Apollo saw Rigel sitting in the rear compartment. Rigel looks up, sees the Captain, then looks down as she is busily making calculation and plotting a course.
   Captain Apollo looks over to Leiutenant Starbuck and gives him a questionning glance.
   Starbuck grimaces, picks up his helmet, "Don't worry, we'll need her."
   Flight clearance and launch is given by Leiutenat Athena.
   The Vipers hit turbo-boost, thunder down the launch tubes, and shoot out into space.
   Apollo pulls up into a position as Starbuck's wingman. The two Viper-pilots busy themselves double-checking systems, and trimming their ships. The Vipers seem headed on a course straight out from the Colonies.
   Then Rigel barks out, "First course correction in five, four, three, two, one."
   Starbuck steadies the controls as the boosters kick in and the Viper banks into Rigel's course correction.
   Apollo half-smiles and then follows Starbuck into Rigel's course correction.
   Even at a cruising speed to apparently conserve fuel, the Vipers seem to be out for a long time.
   There are two more of Rigel's course corrections.
   Apollo knows that long ago, they have left the Colonies in their back-track.
   Apollo comes on the com, "Um Leiutenant, I do not mean to pry, but are we going somewhere in particular? We do have fuel levels to consider."
   Starbuck answers, with a bit less jauntiness, "We should have that answer soon."
   Apollo replies, not entirely in jest, "You know it's a long walk home form here."
   Then Rigel breaks in, "Destination due zero degrees ahead."
   Captain Apollo looks up and sees ahead of them what looks like three sizeable asteroids floating in a triangular mass ahead of them. Around the three reddish rocks float numerous small rocks and chunks of ice.
   "Prepare to initiate landing sequence," Rigel comes back on over the com.
   "Land, Where?" Apollo asks in real innocence.
  "You'll see," Starbuck kicks back in knowingly.
   Then Rigel comes back onto the com again, "Tri-Rocks base, requesting landing for a flight of two Vipers, from the Battlestar Sargasso."
   There is a hesitated pause, then a series of amber beacons light up accross the debris feild, leading into the midst of the three asteroids.
   Then a velvety, feminine voice comes on, "Two Vipers, from the Battlestar Sargasso, you are cleared to land, greetings from Tri-Rocks."
   Captain Apollo is guessing easily that the Battlestar Sargasso is used as slang by Colonial pilots trading at Tri-Rocks.
   Then Rigel comes back on again, her tone is quite instructional, "Follow the Leiutenant's lead, basically it is mostly a matter of staying between the beacon-markers, once past them I think you can handle the rest."
   Apollo holds back a smile, the counsel of skilled personnel was welcome anyways, "Will do."
   Apollo follows Starbuck into the maze of beacon-markers. With a couple deft manuveurs, they negotiate the labyrinth, and are through.
   Once through, the Captain sees the landing way. Modest, but enough to handle a small freighter or two Viper-craft or anything else of appropriate size.
   Each landing-track has five beams running the length of the landing way. The outer two are dark blue, the next two  are light-blue. The middle line is colored red.
   The Velvetty-voice comes back online, "Aim for the center, red line please," She directs Apollo.
   Apollo appreciates the voice of the powerful, and aims for the center red-line. It is reminiscent of a drill from flight acadamey. As the Viper touches down, the beams light up into electro-magnetic slots that straighten the Viper, and begin braking it automatically.
  The Viper lurches to a stop as it is caught by a super-conductive pad at the end of the landing-track.
   "Excellent landing; for a first-timer," the Velvetty- voice commends Apollo.
   The canopy raises and the Captain starts to climb out. He ventures a look back the way they had approached the landing track. The beacon-markers were out, and asteroidal debris had drifted back accross their approach. You would not have known that mere microns ago, the Warriors had come that way.
   "They say that with the drifting debris, the approach routes have to be recalculated sectar to sectar," Starbuck is talking as the Captain climbs down, "It'd take a Battlestar to get into this place any other way."
  "And as the Battlestar comes through the front, the occupants of this address would slip out the backdoor," Apollo makes his appraisel.
   The Captain starts to follow Starbuck to a side entrance. He looks back. The Ground Crew although sparse, are already sliding hydrallic cradles beneath the Vipers in order to move them off the landing track. The Ground Crew do not seem too upset by the arrival of armed Colonial Warriors.
  Apollo starts through the side door and hears the Velvetty-voice saying, "So hello Leiutenant, it's been a while, too long actually."
   "Just here catching up on a little business," Starbuck answers, "Say VelvetLeaf, I must say that you're complexion is really looking good just now."
   "His proprietorship finally broke down and secured me my own ultra-violet booth," the Velvetty-Voice explains.
   Apollo turns the corner to see what pretty much looks like an attractive, normal black-haired woman sitting behind a large counter with multiple computer screens, communications prompters, and miscellaneous bundle-sheaths.
  There does seem to be the slightest limegreen-tinge to her skin. Maybe it is the lighting.
   "Starbuck, who's the New Guy?" the Velvetty-Voice speaks in delight, "Want to catch some UV's with me sometime?"
   Apollo is appraising the offer when he hears Rigel speaking up behind him, "They're with me, VelvetLeaf," Rigel puts in.
   "Rigel!!" VelvetLeaf greets her as a long lost chum, a tone sounds.
   "The Proprietor is able to see you just now," Velvetleaf says again, this time in a much more business-type manner. Then turning her attention back to her chum, VelvetLeaf urges, "So Rigel, how have you been, we have a so much catching up to do."
   "The Real Lords of Kobol," Starbuck coments as he motions Apollo to follow him to a back storage room.
  Apollo arches his brows slightly, "Uh, about the recetpionist."
  "VelveltLeaf?" Starbuck smiles, "She's quite a hybrid," notices that the Captain is still puzzled, "It's a long story."
   Before Starbuck can explain more, they hear a voice approach them from storage.
  "Gentleman, Starbuck, Welcome to my little piece of the Galaxy," the Proprietor greets them. The Proprietor is rather short, more stout than rotund, has sandy red hair, wears a Derbish-style hat, and is smoking a plump stoagie.
  The Proprietor hands out a fumarillo to Starbuck and then offers one to Apollo.
   "Trying to cut back," the Captain politey waves off the offer.
   "So Leiutenant, who's your friend here?" the Proprietor asks Starbuck.
   "Captain Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica," Starbuck makes the introduction, "Commander Adama's offspring."
   The Proprietor sizes up the Captain and then gets a mischeivious grin on his face, pulls out the stoagie, "You know Captain, a long time ago, one of my forefathers sold one of your forefathers a one-cubit chance ticket, even got him to pick the exponential function," the Proprietor sticks the stoogie back between his teeth, "We're still making payouts to your forefather's favorite charity. Names Prawn, glad to reknew the acquaintence."
   Prawn extends a hand in greeting, his workclothes are too greasey to permit an arm-clasp.
  Apollo shakes hands with Prawn, "Quite a little establishment you have here."
  "Everything, here, is completely on the level, your forefather drove a hard bargain," Prawn replies.
  Prawn walks them down through the middle of the storage, "My task in life," he shrugs, "Every so often, somone needs a place to keep a valued family relic or personal treasure, and so I provide a facility."
   Apollo looks over the merchandise, "I didn't realize that a Caprican back-scratcher rated as a family relic," he comments.
   "I don't question people's theology," Prawn offers, "Apparently, some people gots a ritual of some sort where I have to advance them a vouch-safe to establish trust on the relic. When the time comes for them to retreive the relic, they return to me a bigger vouch-safe than I had advanced them. Promotes the spirit of generousity in the Colonies I'd say."
   "And what happens when the benefactor does not return to collect the relic?" Apollo asks nonchalantly.
   Prawn points to the relics, "That is a signal in the ritual that the benefactor wishes for me to find their valued relic a home where it will be valued and treated royally," Prawn says, "And of course the recepient of the treasure returns to me a small amount to demonstrate the trust of generousity at work. Many valuble relics and personal treasures are thus saved in this manner."
   Starbuck and Apollo pause to look down an aisle to where a large worker-drone is about to lift a pallet of heavy goods to a high shelf.
  The drone is hunched over, its long arms are positioned beneath the load. There are three lights vertically on its silver-oval head, red, yellow, green.
   The redlight is on as the drone places his grasp under the load. Then the yellow comes on as the drone shifts to get optimum position. The the green light flashes and the drone exerts and lifts the heavy load up. The drone straightens and continues lifting the heavy load high into the air. It stops when the load is level with the shelf. The redlight comes on.
Then the yellow ight comes on as the drone lines the load up with its slot. Finally the green light flashes and the drone pushes  the load into its proper slot.
   "Some worker-drone," Apollo observes.
   Prawn pulls the Stoagie out of his mouth and looks at Apollo, "Worker-drone? Oh, you mean Gold-Brick. He's no worker-drone, he's my partner on the Tante Mu."
   "Oh?" Apollo starts.
   "Long story," Starbuck motions to where Prawn has pulled up behind a desk.
   Starbuck walks over and pulls a pouch full of cubits from his jacket. Apollo recognizes some of the cubits as coming from last nights Pyramid game.
   Starbuck speaks as Prawn spreads the cubits accross the desk, "These are gifts from some of my friends, as tokens of generousity in return for the trust you have so kindly shown them."
  "These tokens of generousity shall be well taken care of," Prawn assures Starbuck.
   "By the way," Starbuck takes a draw from his fumarillo, "Have you maybe heard anything about that spacebus that has seemed to disappear have you?"
   Prawn leans back in his chair, "Spacebus? Disappear? All new to me."
   Apollo steps forward, "You'd be doing us a real favor if you could ask around."
   Prawn rolls his eyes and leans forward, "Friend in my business, you don't keep customers by asking questions, violates the ritual of trust."
   Just then VelvetLeaf and Rigel walk into the office. VelvetLeaf speaks, "Your Enterprenourialship had better listen to what Rigel here has to say."
   Prawn nods to Rigel.
   Rigel starts, "In the Frontier region of the Colonial system, a space tourist shuttle has disappeared. Searches were begun immediatlely. But as of now, any sign of the vessel or the passengers has yet to be found," Rigel stops and looks at Prawn, "Several families on holiday were passengers on the missing vessel."
   Prawn pauses, there is now a slightly dark, slightly dangerous look on his face just now, "I had me a family once," Prawn says, then swivels to face the three Warriors, then pulls the stoagie out and gestures with it to the three Warriors, "Tell you what, I don't know anything now, but if I run accross anything, I'll be sure to point you that way."
   Rigel steps forward, and nods, "You've got our trust."
   The dealings over they all start back to the landing track. As they approach the landing track, Rigal nudges Starbuck, and points out a disposal-chute. Reluctantly, Starbuck regards the fumarillo one last time before tossing it into the chute.
   Captain Apollo now speaks, "Leiutenant, we've used a good deal of our fuel supply to get here."
   Prawn's gestures generously to the landing track, "While we were conferring, my associates have turned and given your Vipers a complete service."
   True enough, the Vipers are pointed down the track awaiting for the debris to align in order to launch. The Vipers glisten in the arc-lights having even been washed.
  Captain Apollo is uneasy, "You can't put just any fuel into a stafighter."
  Prawn gestures to the Viper with a new, unlit Stoagie, "I know my starcraft, and I garuntee you that we have top-grade Tylium in those Vipers."
   Both Rigel and Starbuck nod, service is known to be a strong-suit of Tri-Rocks.
   "Why thanks," is about all the Captain can think to say.
   "And Gentlemen," Prawn delays the Warriors' departure, "Your receipts," and Prawn then hands the Warriors their perspective bills for the servicing and turning of their Vipers.
   Apollo catches himself and tries not to look surprised when he sees the surcharge recorded on the receipt.
  Starbuck glances over and sees Apollo's bill, "Looks like he included a discount on behalf of your forefather," Starbuck observes.
   Apollo checks for his money-pouch, "We may be slightly short of funds at the moment."
   "Worry not Cap'n," Prawn nods trustingly, "We'll just put it on your tab."