Earth is a dream...one we've been chasing for a long time. We've earned it. This is Earth.

-Admiral William Adama

150,000 Years ago, settlement of Atlantia in Africa

Fragments came and went, like memories scattered in the winds. They were pieces, really, incoherent on their own, the rest hovering at the edge of his awareness like a dream you desperately tried to hold on to. Saul Tigh's dreams were nightmares, mash-ups of the exodus from the Colonies mixed with the hazy memory of a long-destroyed original Earth. Sometimes it bothered him that Ellen could remember everything, but wasn't inclined to share that knowledge. It must have been something terrible, something worse, even, than the fall of Man.

But it didn't matter anymore, or at least it wouldn't very soon. Their purpose had been completed. Humanity and Cylon had made peace at last, and in all truth there was little purpose in continuing on. He and Ellen had their time together, years upon on this virgin planet, and it was coming to an end. She had gone first, despite her fresher, newer body; she had always been so fragile despite her domineering personality. And now he would join her. Part of him wished he could have seen Adama one last time; their friendship had defined his life in ways even his life with Ellen couldn't. It was a thing that couldn't be explained to anyone, but the old Admiral had saved his life in more ways than one.

As he lay back, prepared to face true death for the first time in millenia, in a way somehow he had always known he didn't face before, he wondered what it would be like... to cease to exist. To not be. That, too, was something the others would never really understand. Saul had always felt old, ancient, more worn out than his body could ever be. Very little surprised him anymore and he supposed after living for so long, even if he couldn't remember much of it, that made sense. There was a reason for mortality, even if humanity rarely agreed with it.

His remaining eye focused on the thatch-weave ceiling above him even as his body began to shut down. There were people around him, new faces and old faces, each come to see the end of on of the Elders of Galactica. But they didn't concern him just now. As his body gave in to death, the floodgates released and a torrent of ancient memories came at him at once. He remembered first meeting Ellen on a warm summer day when he was so young. The war interposed between an exodus that lasted centuries, the creation of the humanoids was there too, his heart full of hope that they would be fresh and new, free of the hatred of the past. In all this time he had no children, and yet he had so many. And there were the stars, as always, a home he could never escape from.

In a sudden flash of insight he knew he could never explain, he saw humanity ascend to the stars once more, but this time awakened to the dangers of their own creations... It was as if he were one with the universe for just a single instant in time. The faces around him faded into blackness, that too fading to a final thought which carried across his mind and to his lips. Ellen had been so sure the Centurions would learn to be peaceful, and Saul suddenly realized the truth of it. But he understood something deeper, too. The cycle of man to machine didn't simply stop at machine... someday, they would repeat the cycle amongst themselves, far away from man. It would always be this way.

"Ellen... You we're right..."

No one in the room understood the meaning of those cryptic words. But they were dutifully remembered. It was the least the Cylons and the hybrid children could do for there fore bearer. His funeral was absolutely silent. There were no words necessary to describe such a man, only a deep, solemn respect.

**

Near Future, Underground Research Facility

Laura didn't know what was stranger, the thought of working for some super secret military cliché or the data that had been made available to her by those same people. General Peterson was certainly friendly enough, and in truth the hidden facility was less fancy and massive as she had first thought, but it was still an odd feeling being in such a situation. As she poured through the photos and samples provided to her, the burning desire to understand dominated her thoughts. She had to know what it all meant.

"Find any space aliens?" Peterson inquired, surprising her with a start.

"Very funny. Sorry, no aliens. In fact everything I can see points to all of these artifacts as being distinctly human." She began, "Sorry to disappoint you."

"No disappointment. We aren't under any false illusions about what all of this may mean. But you must understand why the military is so curious..." the kindly General began, his brow arching slightly in deep thought. "I was just a youngin' when the Apollo astronauts brought home the first artifacts, but even then, the government was strongly interested in figuring out just what they meant. I've been on this project ever since, and I'm just as curious for answers as you are. Unfortunately very few questions have been answered in that time, and most answers are just questions anyway."

"I can tell you this. That artifact, the worn bronze wings, isn't much different from the insignia you wear. Coupled with the fact that some of those artifacts were probably weapons..."

"Yeah, some military force landed here around the dawn of humanity... but the question is, why? And who were they? And, most importantly, are they still here?" Peterson continued.

"They must have made an impression on early man. The eagle-symbol has been a banner of conquerors for as long as this historical record goes back. Furthermore, the wings were found in Istanbul... it would seem they were passed down from Empire to Empire. Kind of like a symbol of supreme power, if you will." Laura explained. "Your instruments here are better, even, than the ones as the Smithsonian. I can tell you that this artifact hasn't just been buried in a hole for 150,000 years. It's been touched by thousands of hands, worn by the subtle erosion of skin on metal..."

"That's something, and quite honestly, why I brought you on board. So to check off what's known... We know they were some kind of military organization and that they made a strong impact on mankind at a very early stage, strong enough to survive over a hundred thousand years of barbarism. That's a lot of generations..." Peterson questioned. "I don't see how even a strong legend could last that long without some kind of substance, some kind of technology."

"Yet we haven't found anything dated later than that..." Laura pointed out as a technician walked in, carrying a report for the general.

"There's one more thing I haven't told you," said the General, skimming over the report. "A few years back, one of our satellites detected something at rather extreme range. Something artificial, and not from Earth. It was huge, bigger than anything we could put up there. Before we could do anything about it, the thing simply vanished..."

"You think whoever it was has come back?"

"Maybe. But if one strange thing can come from deep space... who's to say there's not more out there?" Peterson left that disturbing question hanging in the air as he left Laura to her research. She couldn't fault the general's logic, but it seemed so strange to hear such rational talk out of a military man. He had obviously been leading this project for a very long time and had far more invested in it than she could know. More importantly, she knew when she was being lied to. Oh, certainly the general had been truthful about detecting some large object, but he most certainly knew what it was, and it obviously worried him a lot more than his pet project here.

**

Friend knew what they were, of course. Memory of the entities had been transferred to him from the projection carried by the hybrid woman. At times, he could feel them watching him, in a strangely human sense. It was only strange, of course, because he was a machine. Nonetheless he knew they were watching just now, waiting to see what he would do when he arrived. He felt the awareness of the angels upon him.

The time had finally arrived, through no choice or fault of his own that he could ascertain. Mankind had developed increasingly sophisticated technology and the danger existed that they might continue down the ancient path, the same cycle of death and rebirth which had consumed all he knew. They had to be warned.

In fairness, he had watched them for some time now, picked up their primitive radio transmissions, their increasingly sophisticated television and digital broadcasts and their new network of computers. What he saw was different, somehow. Though these people had long ago forgotten their origins, they maintained a caution other humans and human-forms had not. Their fiction was laced with examples of machine-human warfare, of powerful computers taking over and annihilating men. This was a civilization far more wary of technological progress than any which had preceded it. But it wasn't enough. Human curiosity would get the better of them sooner or later. It always did.

Friend pushed the drive levers forward. The replica of the ship buried in his memory pushed forward slowly, gliding through space just as her ancestor had. Every nut and bolt was just as memory had recorded it. The sounds were the same, the soft thrumming of the core, the sweeps of the DRADIS... Galactica was coming home again.