“...But you and I, we've been through that, And this is not our fate.
So let us not talk falsely now, The hour is getting late...”

-The Music

150,000 BC
Galactica, Approaching Earth Orbit

Every journey has a beginning and an end, it is the nature of life, the endless cycle of existence. Galactica groaned, her bones shattered, her life blood escaping into the cold blackness of space. Still, she struggled onward, pressing forward one final time. Armor plates shook loose, entire gun batteries broke their mountings and fell to the moon below as she accelerated one final time. As if released from a slingshot cast from the hands of her final crew, the great battlestar broke free from the moon's gravity and edged ever closer to the final home of humanity and cylon alike.

Saul Tigh groaned along with the ship, realizing the end of his long exodus across the stars was over. The journey across the stars defined his life, his many lives, some forgotten and others barely remembered. From one planet to the next, he had traveled, now to end his days here. Galactica struggled, Adama frowned, and her crewmen held their collective breath as the crippled battleship settled into orbit high over the virgin world below.

The Colonel could only sigh a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Galactica meant something different to all of them. To some, she was a home in exile, the last bastion of the old world. To Adama, she was much more, more than respected comrade, more than family. To Saul, the battlestar was the last of her kind, pushed beyond her limits far beyond her retirement, overworked and overtaxed. Simply put, Galactica was kindred, little different than him. Soon, they would both rest.

Beneath them, the core still lived, the engines still vibrated with energy and life. The DRADIS moved as it always had, back and forth and back again, the sound like a symphony. It was the harmony of the ship, it was the music that had driven him to the realization of his own existence.

“...can't get no relief...” He muttered in the silence.

“What's that you're saying?” Laura asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing. It's nothing.” He croaked as he looked at the DRADIS console. “The Raptor is away. Let's hope they don't break down.” Tigh finished as he watched the Raptor vanish, jumping to inform the fleet of their supremely fortunate discovery. Kara still stood above the FTL console, resolute and unmoving, posed like a statue of Aurora, as if she were the very goddess of dawn in the flesh. The entire sight was unsettling to him somehow, they had never got along and he was beginning to understand why.

“We've come this far...” The Admiral began, the first inklings of exhaustion creeping into his features. Saul saw the shattered man before him and knew he would never see his friend like this again. The great Adama, the one they jokingly called Zeus, was as worn and used up as his command. The only thing holding the old Admiral together was the woman at his side and the deck of the battlestar beneath him.

“We have. The question is, will we go back again someday?” Saul asked rhetorically, leaning against the command console for support. Across from him, Kara smiled weakly.

Near Future
Unknown Military Base in Wisconsin

Laura had given up trying to make demands of her “escort,” they obviously weren't a talkative lot. Her hands stroked the soft hair of her daughter, resting quietly in her lap as the car sped through the farmland of rural Wisconsin. Her thoughts were in turmoil as they exited the main road, ending up on a winding dirt path that jostled her violently back and forth. Why would they take her? Why did they care about the obscure ramblings of a controversial archaeologist? Finally, the car came to a halt in front of a small farmhouse, stirring up dust and grime everywhere as the driver rode the brakes hard.

Without so much as a word, the military men opened the door and ushered them out. With a yawn, her little girl awoke and trudged happily along at her side. She opened the door of the tiny home, expecting some secret facility, like one would find in the cheesy spy movies. Nothing of the sort greeted them, instead she found herself in a home that was as typical inside as it had been outside. The old home looked well worn, with a fire burning gently in the fireplace, paint that had seen better days and a carpet that was matted and musty with age.

An old man sat at a small computer, working diligently next to an obviously highly ranked military official. The old man paid her little mind, but the official stood up, dusted himself off briefly and extended his hand.

“I am General Peterson, and I run this little project.” The man had a friendly nature about him, nothing like the secretive military men from the movies. “Hey look, despite the uniform I don't much care for pomp and circumstance.”

He had a reassuring quality about him and Laura found herself meeting his hand and giving it a weak shake. Composing herself, she began. “Why have you brought me here? You know that you violated an awful lot of civil rights doing that?”

“Yes, I know that. But it was necessary. How about we talk it over dinner? We get some pretty good cuisine up here. No expense spared, and all that.” Peterson added, pointing to the kitchen, where an army cook was putting the finishing touches on some Italian dish. “Your daughter must be hungry too.”

For her part, Catherine just blinked and stared at the kitchen. “Yes, mister. It smells good!” She began, with five-year-old enthusiasm.

“Fine, we'll play it you're way.” Laura answered.

“I'll get straight to the point,” the General spoke in rumbling basso. “That artifact you analyzed isn't the first of its kind we've found. But it is the first we've found on Earth.”

“What are you talking about? Make sense.” She answered as she sat down, accepting a plate of pasta.

“You know the Apollo missions, right? Well they didn't just bring back moon rocks.” The General added, talking with his mouth full.

“Here's the part where you tell me it's all about space aliens and flying saucers, right?” Laura smiled. This was turning out an awful lot like a b-rate drive-in flick.

“Not really. We found large metal objects, some of them not all that different from the types of heavy armor belts found on old battleships, and the wrecked remains of a weapon of some sort, we assume it's some kind of gun.” Peterson continued, wolfing down more food. “Here's where you come in. We dated the stuff. 150,000 years old. Sound familiar?”

Disbelief clouded her mind for a moment as she tried to process this information. An aide came into the kitchen, sliding photos of scorched artificial metal plates and a pile of wreckage with an obvious gun barrel of immense size protruding from it. Denial crept in, only to be replaced with fear and nagging doubt.

“You photoshopped these. This isn't real.”

“Look lady, we wouldn't drag you to the ass-end of nowhere and throw you a bunch of pictures for amusement value. No photoshopping. This is as real as it gets. And here's where it really gets weird... One of the armor plates had writing on it, some kind of identification.”

“Writing?”

“Yes. In something very similar to our alphabet.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“Of course it doesn't. Interesting things rarely do, you should know that better than most. Here, make out the writing for yourself.” Peterson slide another photo across the table. Laura nearly choked on her food as her daughter looked up in innocent wonder. The writing wasn't just similar to the Latin alphabet, it was in the Latin alphabet. There was no mistaking the gloved hand dusting the massive metal chunk, or the Earth rising over the lunar landscape behind it. The words themselves made little sense either. GALACTICA, CAPRICA.

“I don't understand. That's not possible. This has to be some kind of trick.”

“Like I said, not really space aliens and flying saucers. Whatever this is... it came from out there, and judging from your discovery, our own language and every other piece of evidence we can find... they are still here.”

“Mommy, is that the sky people?” Catherine asked as the General's eyebrow arched. He snatched the pictures away from the child's eyes with a look of worry.

“I shouldn't be discussing this in front of a child. In any event, allow me to introduce you to my staff here...” He began, opening the door from the kitchen to the basement. Like those cheesy spy movies of old, an entire complex, filled with technicians and computer equipment awaited below.

“I was wondering when the super secret crap was going to show up.” She smiled weakly, the immensity of everything that had occurred nearly overwhelming her.

“Touche, miss. Now, if you'll follow me... We have work to do.”