"And fortunately for the families involved, the Cylons were able to contact the trading network," a young woman says as she rearranges the cards in front of her."

"And the Exchange is being brokered by none other than our very own count Baltaar," Boomer looks up from his hand, "My advice Rigel, is that you'd better hold onto your seat-cushion tight before all this is over."

Lieutenant StarBuck takes a fumarillo from his teeth, "And it could be that our metal-coated friends are playing for time. They'll step back, catch their breath, and we'll be right back at it."

 "Well, maybe a break would be good for us too," Morgan puts in.

"We do need to rebuild ourselves," Rigel agrees.

   Lieutenant Starbuck notices that I have taken an interest in the conversation, "Scurridae, more drinks, please."

"On me?' I offer an apology, "I'll have to take it out of my next pay-voucher, but who do I send it to?"

"Address it to: In care of Lieutenant Starbuck, It'll receive special attention," Boomer says knowingly.

The the entire table chuckles. The tension is broken. I promise to remain more attentive to the task at hand.

I am just getting the refreshments set up for the return trip when the hair stands up on the back of my neck. A young lady Warrior is wayching me.

She is of average build, with strawberry-blonde hair running to red. It's not like she is not attractive.

I am surprised that the Warriors are not trying to strike up a conversation with her.

There is an understateed strenght about her. but she picks up her decanter of ambrosia with a light touch. She catches my eye. Embarassed I look down. When I look up, she's gone.

I sigh snd start to porter the tray back to the Pyramid Table. Then a commotion behind me. At first friendly greetings of, "Hey Captain Apollo, Welcome." Then sudden silence.

I turn to see the Captain with his eyes locked on me with a steady glare, "There is a civilian in our Recreation Lounge."

Captain Apollo looks around the entire Lounge, "I don't suppose that anyone here has a logical explanation as to why a civilian is in a restricted area during a mission?" The Silence was deafening. The hair stands up on the back of my neck again. (I shall have very muscular hair before this is all through.)

Then the impasse is broken, "Uh, Captain, Sir," Lt Starbuck is standing.

"What is it?" Captain Apollo asks sternly, "Do you have an explanation for this unregistered civilian?"

"Sure," Starbuck answers simply, "The caterer brought him."

"The caterer brought him?" even Apollo is surprised by the turn of events, "What does a caterer have to do with this?"

Starbuck squares his shoulders as if he is stating the obvious, "Well sir, we are celebrating the Feast of Coriella."

"Feast of Coriella?" Apollo is still recovering.

Boomer stands and sort of pushes Starbuck off to one side,"The Feast of Coriella is celebrated on the second moon of Sagateria when that moon is being eclipsed by the planet. And in keeping with the general fleet policey to honor and respect all creeds and cultures, we are now celebrating the Feast of Coriella."

"And the Porter to serve the Feast is an integral part of the celebration," Starbuck explains, "That's why the caterer brought him."

Apollo eyes the 'feast'suspiciously, "i am aware of the Policey encouraging the respect of all creeds and cultures, even though I beleive the policey is bening stretched quite thin to fit the circumstances," the Captain takes a very tall drinki and seats himself at a table, "Well your Porter had better porter up a sandstorm that would make the very Lords proud..." He didn't need to finish the sentence.

So there I was, portering a feast by myself, while Captain Apollo finished his drink very slowly.

Finally Apollo finished his refreshment and stood up. I thought I'd finally get a break.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Captain Apollo asks, "Isn't it traditional at Sagitarian Eclipse Festivals for the Porter to clean everyone's footwear of every guest present so that they can symbolically travel down clean pathways?"

My jaw almost drops. I look to Lt Starbuck. He seemingly shrugs. He leaves it to me to call the Captain's bluff.

So of course i ask for a towel and a brush. One is found under the counter. I seat myself in the middle of the floor. The Warriors' boots are lined up in front of me. and so I clean.

Captain Apollo has another drink drawn and sits to watch that all the boots are cleaned. Apollo drinks very slowly.

And so I clean boots. And clean. And just as my arm is about to fall off, the last boot is done.

The Captain walks over and along the boots to give them a visual inspection. Fortunately for me, they must have been at least satisfactorilly done.

The Captain turns to face us, definitley in a better mood, "Well gentlemen, I see that this is an honest attempt to honor the Feast of Coriella. so you may proceed as before. But promise me this much; before you embark on one of these cultural enrichment exercuses, next time; please register the Porter."

"Fair enough," Starbuck agrees.

As I painfully rub my shoulder, a question starts to form in my mind of would the Captain really be in the Rec Lounge having Libation, while on duty. But before I can finish the thought, my mind is pulled back to matters at hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"yeah, the Cylons were the last ones the pirates expected to stick their necks out to rescue human-beings," Jolley concedes.

But then a Warrior by the name of Morgan speaks up, "But what about the rescue?"   That has been the one tangible act in this entire mash. The Pirates had grown so bold to kidnap a spacebus fulo  of families on their way to mooncamp and had been holding them for a very expensive ransom. And when things looked bleakest, then Bam! Out of the dark who other than the Cyulons step in to flatten the pirates and free the hostages.

Another veiwpoint suggested that a millenia of warfare had weeded out the most hostile elements of the Cylon population. Perhaps the latest generation saw the war in a different light. A Warrior I take to be Boomer, draws a card and suggests that the Cylons may have a different logic that operates on a trial and error basis. It may have taken a millenia to learn that waging war against humanity was not in their best self-interest. But boomer also added that the Cylons were an alien psychology and that we could never trust ourselves to fully understand it.

Some of the Warriors told of a definite drop-off in the performance of the Cylon Raider-craft. Indeed mechanical autopsies of wrecked machines noted an increase use of second-hand or even antique parts. Stronger pirate activity might have put a crimp in vital ores and manufacturing activity.

There were those who beleived that a millenia of warfare had taken its toll on the Cylon economy. Even the Cylons would fall under the laws of economics at some point, and the attrition of vital materials, machinery, and experienced crews would take its toll.

And some of the talk I was hearing wAs sjupremely interesting. I had heard much of it before as rumors or through back channels. But somehow it sounded a lot more relevant coming fromthje real Warriors.     Most interesting to me were the speculations as to why our ancient enemies, the Cylons, were abiding by a cease-fire, even if unofficial, and even if temporary.

There had been seminars which stressed the need for better cooperation between Registrations and the Services. In particular sincde the piracey and smugglinjg was so rampant. so I was following the Directive. And besides, as the saying goes, "When in the Provincial Capital, make yourself useful."

And of course, as I brought the libations back, I received requests for various bread-meat combinations and other refreshments. I even got to light a few fumarillos, some of which even had revenue bands.

"No problem," I said, trying to keep a straight face. The stage always needed that secondary character who slips on the peel-fruit, or takes the chiffon-pie to the face, or gets squirted with the pfizzer-bottle. Tonight was my night.