DECOY : WARRIOR LOST

          As he paced before her, she watched his face.  He was, she thought, an extremely handsome man, standing approximately five seven to eight, his body while muscled, was also lithe, lean, with midnight hair that was showing bluish highlights under the lamplight, and with the most stunning silver eyes, she had ever seen.

          The uniform he wore, the black flight shirt tucked into black pants, that were, in turn, tucked neatly into his combat boots, the scarlet leather jacket, his officer's pins on the color, his viper pilot pin clipped to his chest.  He was, she thought, a man who wore authority well.

          Her eyes returned to his face..."Oh, oh," she said with a touch of amusement.  "I know that expression.  Mark would get it when he had come to a decision.  What are you planning to do?"

          His pacing stopped and he looked at her.  "You wouldn't happen to have a change of clothes that would fit me, would you?"

          She got to her feet, turning to go to a chest in the corner of the room.  "I might.  I think perhaps some of Mark's old clothes might fit.  Why?  What are you going to do?"

          "Did your Mark ever tell you what a Colonial Counter-Intelligence Officer did?"

          She shook her head as she pulled out a well-worn cotton shirt, then dug for a pair of pants.  "No, not really.  He would barely mention his past.  I think it was because he felt like he was failing in his duty."

          "Hum...if he came from a Battlestar that had been destroyed, then they would have either labeled him as killed in action or missing in action.  Of course, with all but three of the Colonial Battlestars destroyed--"

          She turned to face him.  "What do you mean destroyed?"

          "Just over a yahren ago, the Cylons made a surprising Peace offer to the President and the Council of the Twelve.  A ruse, of course.  Betrayed by one of our own, the Cylons were able to launch a two-pronged attack against the Colonial Star Fleet and the Colonies.  It was..." he paused, his expression changing to one she hoped she would never see again, "an annihilation.  Of the eleven Battlestars, only the Galactica, the Solaria, and the Acropolis...though the Acropolis was very badly damaged, and to this day, we are still working on her."

          "And the Colonies?"

          "We are leading...and protecting just over three hundred and fifty ships carrying what is left of our people.  Running from the Cylons, hoping to find a world known only to legend that we can settle on."

          "So how did you end up here?" she asked, closing the trunk, and then taking the clothing she had gathered to him.

          "I was on a deep probe patrol.  A small Cylon patrol found me.  Knowing I couldn't lead them back to the fleet, I turned away..."

          "And ran out of fuel."

          "Yes, I ran out of fuel, but let's put that aside for now.  I need to find out what I can about what is going on here before I can hope to do something about it," he took the clothes.  "That means going into town and asking a few questions."

          She shook her head.  "This isn't your world, why do you care?"

          He paused in the doorway of the room he had been about to enter to change, looking back at her.  "I care, Vella because no one should have to live in fear...to be forced to give up what they need to survive.  I CARE, because that is what I am and because it is my job."