Title: Evolutions
Author: Albert Green Jr.
Contact: g3607273@uic.edu
Series: TNG
Part: NEW 1/? 6-5-2001
Rating: PG
Codes: x-over: Battlestar Galactica
Summary: The survivors of the Battlestar Galactica and its
Fleet have finally made it to the Alpha quadrant. But so
have the Cylons.


---------------------COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE-----------
This story, "Evolutions" by Albert Green and using characters
created by author Louis Miller, is a figment of this author's
imagination. All Characters portrayed in this story, are
fictional and do not reflect actual people, either living or

"Star Trek", "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Star Trek:
Space Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager", and "Star Trek: First
Contact", and all related Star Trek related material, it's
characters and certain technological devices and/or references
to such, from the television shows and movies, may be or
are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted
by Paramount Studios and whatever Corporation it may or may
not be owned by.

"Battlestar Galactica", it's characters, and certain
technological devices and/or references to such, from the
television show, past present of near future, may be or are
registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by
the Universal Studios Corporation and any new owners in the

Neither Studio is responsible for the content of this story.


Synopsis: The Battlestar Galactica and Pegasus, along with
their charges, the remnants of the twelve Colonies have
discovered tantalizing clues of the possibility of humans
located in the Alpha quadrant. With vital equipment slowly
breaking down and a new generation of warriors growing up
knowing nothing but war and flight, the fleet may have
finally found the security they're looking for. However the
Cylon Empire has discovered Earth, its colonies, Bajorans,
Betazoids, Deltans and countless other races whose humanoid
features have marked them for extinction. A Federation task
force, led by Jean Luc Picard, is desperate to avoid another
costly war, but they may not have a choice as the Cylons
prepare for a first strike against Earth. Be careful what
you ask for.

First of all, I have to thank B.J. Thomas who wrote 'Dark Dawn'
and 'Deceptions' in 1994. I had no intentions doing anything
related to Star Trek or Galactica however what I read inspired
me to write this story. When I began I simply couldn't stop
with all the things going on in the various Star Trek histories
and incarnations. Plus the fact that the Galactica tale needed
completion compelled me to add my own take on this. Mr. Louis
Miller's story involving the Khe Sahn and its crew fit so well
with my ideas that I begged him to let me use a few of his
characters, which he graciously consented. Thank you, thank
you, and thank you again.

Several other authors have done variations of this storyline,
so I had to come up with a different perspective that would be
interesting but true to both shows and not repeat what so many
others have so successfully done. I call the story 'Evolutions'
because things constantly change, and not necessarily for the
better. But this is what makes life interesting, or so I've
been told.

This is my first attempt at something like this, so be merciful,
but not too much. If you wish, I would like for you to contact
me with comments, critiques, etc. Next to the story, the biggest
challenge has been typing. Thank God for the PC.

Albert Green Jr.



"I told you this would be wonderful," Q said to his son, Q.
"Nothing beats sun bathing in a sun's core. Those gamma rays
really make the old nuclei tingle."

His son Q merely looked at his father. "We've done this so
Many times before," he replied. "It gets boring after a
while. I don't understand why you find this so relaxing.
It's not like it's different each time," he complained.

Q looked at his son. Like him Q had extended his corporeal
being to circle the star itself. Waves of solar radiation
caressed them both as harmlessly as a mother would hold her
newborn child. Radiation, fire, heat, energy meant nothing
to them. They were Q. The Q were power personified. They
could do anything they wished. To them the past, present,
or alternate futures were merely concepts to play with.
They understood everything. They knew everything. Except
how to raise one obnoxious, spoiled baby, with the powers
of the Q. Now that was beyond them.

"Of course it's different each time," his father countered.
"Each star has its own ambience. But you're young. You
won't be able to fully appreciate that for another thousand
years or so."

"Then why is it that Amanda can't tell the difference?
She's older than I."

"Amanda isn't even thirty yet. Besides she's a not a real
Q, not in the since you are." Even as he said it he realized
that what he'd said wasn't strictly true. She was born of Q
parents and even though she was emotionally bonded to her
human form, she retained all the powers of the Q. The problem
was that she had been around humans too long. Even now she
still thought like them. But there was something about her
that reminded him of his son and it had taken him some time
to understand the truth behind it.

She was young. Just like his son. They were both equal, just
different. The future for those two would be...interesting.
He wondered if anyone else in the Q continuum understood the
possibilities for them all in the future. But Amanda was
stable, maturing both as an adult and a Q equally.

But Q was something else.

"Trelane said he couldn't tell the difference from one star
to another either and he's been around for years," Q retorted.

"Stay away from him," Q yelled, his form slowly condensing
to his preferred humanoid form. He was still transparent but
his energy patterns could be clearly defined by his son.
"He's a bad influence on you. I don't want you on his side
of the block. Trelane's people are almost on our level, but
not quite, so leave...them...alone. We need to maintain the
peace with them."

"I can't play with Trelane," his son growled. "I can't play
with the Borg, can't do this, can't do..."

His son would never understand, but Trelane was to Q as Q was
to Picard. Trelane was an irritant, a pain in the neck,
a kick in the eternal butt, a sore on the lips and anything
else one could think of and you couldn't get rid of him. He
was like a fly. He even had his own Enterprise to play with,
an old one to be sure but a real one nevertheless. Inwardly
though, Q was laughing silently. He wondered if Jean Luc
would appreciate the irony? "Be patient son. All things come
to he who waits."

"You're never patient," his son retorted. "You do anything
you want."

"That's not true," Q replied. "I can't go anywhere without
you. In fact the Q have said that I can't go anywhere without
you. Forever."

That was Q's punishment for acting like a kid. His father,
Q would have to be with him to keep an eye on him for
eternity. Or, until he matured into a responsible Q. Just
like his daddy.

"Father, do you hate me?" his son asked. He was giving him
that look, again.

Q was all-powerful, but when it came to his son he was
completely helpless. Yep, love could really be a curse.
"No. Never. I guess we'll learn to be responsible.
Together. Speaking of which, here they come."

Q pointed to his left. Both he and his son were in their
Chosen humanoid forms, floating effortlessly at the edge of
the star's corona.

"Not the Galactica again," his son groaned. "How many times
and in how many realities have we seen this? They make it
to the Federation, those stupid Cylons start a fight and they
lose," his son said. "And why are they so late in our
reality? Talk about boring." The look he gave his father
radiated a mix between exasperation and nausea. "What is
your obsession with these people?"

"What's your obsession with Voyager and the humans there?"


"Ha." Q felt so smug. "It's called infinite diversity in
infinite combinations. More importantly, this time it's our
reality. What you're about to witness here will change
everything for the Federation and everyone they've contacted
so far. This is the beginning. Oh, how stunned Katherine
and Jean Luc would be if they had a clue as to how the
Galactica and Federation humans were truly related," he
whispered with glee. "Oh the upheaval! Oh the chaos!"

"Tell me another one, father," his son said quietly. "You've
been obsessed with them ever since you saw him and your
counterpart go to war for the fate of humanity in that other
reality. Your counterpart Q almost lost and you've wanted
to try your hand against him ever since."

"True Q, but its more than that," he said. "Humans strive
and fail, they strive some more. No matter how pitiful
they are they continue to strive." That's what frightens
me, he thought. "That's what intrigues me," he said. "Their
future and ours are linked. Think about it, if they had been
defeated just one year later then they would have found Earth
and would have had to deal with the Shadows and Vorlons. It
still amazes me just how much a little dimensional rift can
do," he said absently.

"Look at them," he continued. "Those humans should be
demoralized, just waiting to die, but they're not.
They're fighting back even after all this time, more than
twenty of their years. That need to strive forward is what
the Q lack. But one day," he whispered.

"As you've seen, in a couple of realities," he said, changing
the subject, "the Cylons actually manage to defeat the
Galactica humans. Even compared to Data, Cylons are
technologically equal to forth-generation Terran calculators.
You know the cheap kind that cost so much money when money
was important to humans."

"True," Q said. "But what's your point? The Federation is
safe. Captain Janeway will have a home to come to."

"Maybe not," his father responded. "Understand that events
have been set into motion." His entire aura darkened until
the stars rays reflected off him like some malevolent mirror
created from dark matter. "The Federation is about to undergo
some fascinating developments."

"What's happened? Why did it happen?" This was something
new. His son was clearly alarmed.


"He's done it. Oh, not directly of course. That would be a
violation of the Law."


"I believe it's time," Q said, ignoring his son's question,
"for me to make a counter move. Indirectly, of course. The
question is how? How?"

His son was quiet. His father's mood was dark and getting
darker by the moment. He could feel the agreement of the
entire Q behind his father. He didn't understand what was
going on, not fully. He'd have to be patient. He prepared
himself to wait.

Infinite diversity required infinite patience.

Chapter One
Commander's log yahren 22, day 116, Apollo reporting. Five
sectares have passed since our last contact with Cylon
Hunter-Killers. The people have blessed this time, for we
have found occasion to rest for short periods on several
planets. We grow food, collect supplies and move on. The
Beta quadrant has not been kind to us but we have survived.
We have avoided several new races that we've come into
contact with because of our pursuers' policy of destroying
anyone who offers us help or support. We will not have their
deaths on our hands. Because of that, we are alone.

President Adama, former commander of the Fleet and my father,
is no longer able to lead our people as health problems have
taken their toll. The stress of constantly defending our people
is a burden that no man should bear. But I thank the Gods
that he is still able to give advice when we need it. As
appointed Commander of the fleet I pray that I bear the
pressure half as well as he, my father, has.

If the Cylons attack, we are ready. Our technology has
improved tremendously. Using light speed drive, we can
accelerate past six times the speed of light. And our
ability to detect wave-space pockets has allowed us to travel
much farther than even we thought possible. Our Vipers are
three generations more advanced and we're even building light
cruisers to aid in our defense.

But our people weary. The thirteenth colony may be a fable
after all. We've traveled deep into the Alpha quadrant and
no coherent radio signals have been detected as of yet. But
there was a possibility of life near the far fringes of a
long dead supernova. But possible Hunter-Killer activity has
forced us to abandon the search almost before we could begin.
Since then, there has been only silence. This sector may well
be devoid of life. Only time will tell.

"How's it going, Commander?" Starbuck eased into the chair
next to his old friend. The bridge contained room for four
command seats. On the next level below over twenty command
personnel were on station doing their jobs. From their
position, the command staff could oversee everything.

"I haven't been in command for two yahren and I am tired. I
don't understand how my father dealt with all of this."
Apollo took a sip of his tea. He frowned, almost spitting
it out.

"Yep, the water system is acting up again," Strike Commander
Starbuck, said, answering Apollo's unvoiced question. "Third
time this secton. In fact everything is slowly breaking
down," he whispered, his eyes circling the bridge. "Our old
girl is losing it."

"I'm surprised she lasted this long. She was over a hundred
yahren old before we lost the colonies. Add to that twenty
-two more for non stop travel..."

"And the time-distortion effects of the tunnel shifting, we

"Almost four hundred years of stress on the Galactica, not to
mention the other ships," Apollo continued.

"And they're still following us," Starbuck finished.

Both of them had repeated a variation of this conversation
For a better part of a yahren. After being together for so
long, fighting together, playing together, arguing with one
another, they understood each other's thoughts and feelings.
They were close, as were Sheba, Apollo's wife and commander
of the Battlestar Pegasus, her second, Colonel Boomer and
Bojay, Strike leader of the Battlestar Pegasus's flight
command. Sheba's father, Commander Cain, former Captain of
the Pegasus, survived as a cryogenic patient on life-support,
a victim of fire as a result of a Cylon attack some five
Yahrens ago. He lived, but hope was slim that help would be
found that would allow him some semblance of a normal life.

Jolly another one of the 'old guard' had been lost some two
yahren earlier. It was due to natural causes, but his death
was a tragedy anyway. His daughter. Joliet now an excellent
Cobra-class pilot had taken it really hard and now she was
colder than ever.

In fact, most of the newer generation had become harder and
Much colder than their parents. Even the young Borellian
Nomen had become blood brothers with the other Colonial
factions and when they wanted something few people could
stand in their way. Fortunately, all of them were loyal to
a fault. Most of them grew up knowing little to nothing of
their glorious past heritage. For them, destroying Cylons
had become the great equalizer.

"Where's Boxey now?"

"He's in the lead Cobra about six light centons in from of
us." Starbuck said. "He's pretty good at this now if I do
say so myself. If he needs support, our cover Vipers and
Cobras will be all over anybody who messes with him, as you
well know."

"You know, I can't stand this waiting," Apollo growled. "My
father used to tell me how he felt when we were on assignment.
I thought I understood what he meant, but I never imagined
that it was like this."

"Tell me about it."

"I'm glad you understand, now," a voice said from behind.
It was President Adama, former Commander and savior of the
Colonial remnants. He was frail, but his eyes were still
bright and his mind sharp. He was smiling with that whimsical
smile of his as he sat down next to both of them. "When you
send your children out, not knowing if they'll come back your
heart always, ALWAYS, goes with them. Boxey, in fact all of
them on patrol will be okay. You must have faith, and
patience. That's how you have the strength to go on."

"Father," Apollo said, "we haven't seen a Cylon H-T or raider
in over six sectons. We may have given them the slip for a

"Starbuck?" Adama looked at him, waiting. He understood how
this would play out.

"I concur," Starbuck said.

"Therefore?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer.

"We gather the fleet and go to light speed, tunnel shift
and make sure," Apollo said.


"Starbuck?" said Apollo. "Let the Pegasus and our guard ships
know of our presumed exit point. The Vipers should have enough

"Yes sir. I wish we had engines like those in the old days."

"So do I. So do I."

With the ease of twenty-two yahrens practice, the Galactica
and it's ragtag fleet of over two hundred and thirty five
vessels accelerated to 'light speed', which in actuality was
over six times the speed of light. The Galactica, along with
the Rising Star, a luxury liner, but in truth the third most
powerful ship in the fleet, each began generating 'tunnel
shift' distortion surges, which allowed the ships to enter
artificially created wave-space pockets. Taking the lead,
the Galactica, with the Rising Star, following second then the
rest slipped into the wave space pocket and disappeared. They
would re-enter normal space six centares later, nine hundred
thirty-five light yahrens distant.

At the edge of Romulan space.

A Cylon Hunter-Killer decelerated back into normal space some
seventeen light yahrens distant from an ancient, long dead
star that went nova and took powerful T'kon Empire with it.
There were few remnants left of the once thriving civilization.
There remained a single guardian that even now barred the way
from any who would enter the deceased Imperium. But he was old
and he no longer had true purpose and so was fading slowly
away to rejoin his people once again. A few survivors were
scattered to the far ends of the galaxy and the once glorious
T'kon had faded into footnotes found in obscure history padds.

The Hunter-Killer was designed like the standard Cylon raider,
but almost four times as large with high intensity lasers and
increased armor to match. Standard scanning protocols
attempted to lock in on the source of the signal it had
detected while in FLT transit. The crew consisted of eighteen
class-seven Cylon warriors, designed specifically for
reconnaissance and insertion operations. They were heavily
armored and completely expendable, their programming
sophisticated enough to get them from one place to another
and damage their opponents, but not much else. Communication
between warriors was strictly vocal and minimal. Personal
weaponry consisted of simple laser pistols and the standard
pulse-laser rifle carried by all class-seven Warriors.
Their sole function was to find and facilitate the
Destruction of the Galactica fleet and the life-form known
as Man. Imperious Leader liked its warriors simple and
stupid, especially when they were this far from home.

"Scanners have detected the source of the unidentified
emissions," the sensor centurion said. Its voice was cold
and metallic with no inflections whatsoever that was
associated with living organisms. "The location is the
small moon thirty-three light centons, at coordinates 176 by
120 by 90 on the Imperium scale,"

"Is there evidence of Colonial technology at this moon?"
another, identical voice asked. The centurion commander was
a type six series with command protocols programmed into its
software matrix.

"Negative, however these is evidence that the Colonial fleet
passed through this sector. It is logical to assume that the
fleet stopped to investigate in order to assist in their search
for the thirteenth colony known as Earth."

"It is logical that we may find evidence, also. Proceed to
the moon."

"By your command."

The moon was more of a burned out shell, scorched black,
and partially carbonized by the nova explosion. Two thirds
of its remains in the seconds after the energy wave front
touched crystallized, protecting its dark side from the brunt
of the devastation. It was there that a small T'kon service
station had survived, barely. It was archaic, essentially
obsolete by T'kon standards of the time, having served as an
emergency backup simply because one never knew, and the T'kon
were a thorough people. Although badly damaged it continually
sent a weak automated distress call towards a homeworld that
would never answer anything else ever again.

The H-T landed three hundred hectares from the source and
began performing a more detailed scan. The Cylons had been
tricked many times before and programming now included
procedures that countered known sabotage techniques employed
by humans. One of these was 'never to land on top of a
suspect signal.'

"The area is devoid of life," scanner operator stated.
"Scan has not detected known explosives or energy sources
designed to damage or destroy Imperium personnel."

"Recon one," the Leader said, "proceed to the source of the
signal and identify as necessary. Report when the task is
completed. Evaluation will begin upon the completion of your

"By your command."

Recon one consisted of three seven-foot cyclopean, silver
-colored robots each armed with one light pulse laser rifle,
a communications transceiver and a visual recording device.
Imperious Leader chose not to implement 'internal'
Communications devices because of budgetary concerns. They
exited their craft and fifteen minutes later they reached
the source of the signal deep within the confines of an
artificially constructed cave. The far majority of the
alien equipment was damaged beyond repair and Cylon
restorative technology wasn't up to the challenge. Besides
the equipment and materials had nothing to do with a
Colonial presence. Therefore, the centurions could have cared

The second of three robots lumbered up to the transmission
source, which resembled a simple black box with several,
constantly blinking, multi-colored lights. The Cylon looked
at it then turned away. "There is no evidence of a Colonial
presence. They have not come here. This place is of no
service to the Empire. We must inform our commander and
resume our search for the Galactica."

"By your command," came the reply from the two others. As
one, they turned to leave.


Those were the only words that the badly damaged T'kon
Service computer registered. Most of its higher functions
had been seared away by the massive EM burst and subsequent
heat flash of the supernova but it did remember the word
'Empire'. It serviced the Empire and the mobile equipment
in front of it must be from the Empire. Therefore it had to
be serviced. That was the command. The command had been
given and must be obeyed. An instant later Recon one stood
frozen in place as alien sensors performed a detailed scan
down to their molecular level. With the information gathered
and analysis complete, it began reconstructive surgery on
Recon one.

"Software infiltration detected," Cylon two said, as it tried
desperately to move within the containment field. "Software
protocols are being rewritten by unknown computer system.
Unable to resist. Imperial security data is being extracted.
Implementing self-destruct mode in..."

Nothing. All systems were completely frozen.