So, here it is, the last chapter of this story. I tried to write an atmospheric chapter with two functions: Firstly as an conclusion to this story and secondly, to mark the beginning of something new. The characters need to say goodbye to their old life and start a new one. Hope you like, hope you review.

By the way, Adamas following words are directly taken out of the show. I couldn't possibly have written it better than that!

Chapter 15: So say we all

Their so-called VIP quarter had nothing in common with it's name. It was a small, meager furnished room. Suitable for one person, or maybe two if you really squashed in together. One desk, one chair, one closet and one sink. No windows, just bare and gray walls. It was like being stuck in a submarine. Much to Daniel's regret, there wasn't even a bathroom. It dawned to him that he'd have to use the communal showers and toilets on the deck, always accompanied by one of their grim guards.

At least they had received their new stuff. For each of them the exactly same set. A gray tracksuit, three BDU pants, three black t-shirts, three black muscle shirts, two sweaters, one jacket and fortunately enough underwear. Everything seemed to be part of the crew's normal day to day work clothes, sans the insignia. The toiletries consisted of two towels, a shampoo suitably for washing body and hair, toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush and a piece of greenish curd soap smelling like machine oil. Sam had also received a generous load of special feminine hygiene products. The box was clearly a maxi pack and although they'd seen each other naked a few times, she hastened to tuck the box away in her part of the small cabinet. A red face betraying the fact that she felt embarrassment about it. Not that this part of the female anatomy was foreign to Daniel. After all, he'd been a married man. But he left Sam her privacy. He did wonder, however, if she was ashamed because he'd seen the tampons, or because she suspected that Major O'Neill had hand picket it himself.

Their basic equipment included an additional simple cot, too. Due to his injury, they had agreed that Daniel would take the more comfortable bed until his wound was healed. Then they would take turns with the hard cot, assuming that they were still stuck in this universe by the time his leg was fit again. The plain design of the quarter was completed with the total absence of a computer or a workable access to some kind of network. Also, no books, no pictures, nothing to pass the time. Just a big, clunky monster of something that looked like a phone from the last century. Major O'Neill had clearly been telling the truth when the explained to them that Galactica was about to be taken out of service prior to the attacks. Looking around in their new home, Daniel sincerely hoped that they weren't forced to spend all their time here. And if they had to, it wouldn't take the workaholic in him long to go crazy. His mind needed space, literally.

But in all fairness he had to admit that these people were at least thinking about the basics, considering the food that had accompanied their new clothes. It was nothing special, but still a much welcomed snack. Two slices of bread for each of them. Garnished with something that tasted like goat cheese. And two big plastic bottles with lukewarm water.

Sam and he only realized how hungry they were until they were in the middle of wolfing down their little snacks. After that, it was almost heavenly to be able to dress in clean clothes. His pants were still smeared with crusted blood and Sam's clothes were decorated with a mysterious smelling mixture of chemical extinguishing powder, sweat and soot. Quite the gentleman, Jackson had turned away and waited while Sam changed clothes. He himself had been able to change into a new shirt, but when it came to the pants he needed her help. It was hard and painful for him to move his leg or even bent his knee. When they finally, with joined efforts, got him into his new pants, it was time for Daniel to take his first dose of the painkillers and he was thankful that the effect was quick.

They settled in their, hopefully, temporary new home without exchanging many words. After everything that had happened, the rest was too enticing. Afterwards, they were both dozing on their respective beds. But all too soon a forceful knocking on the door announced the arrival of their guards. It was time to go to the ceremony.

Sam helped Daniel to his feed and handed him the pair of crutches that one of the guards had brought with him. Probably again Major O'Neill's doing. Slowly, they followed their guards through the oppressive corridors and to where the ceremony was held, a largo cargo area two decks below their accommodation.

Thank god there was a freight elevator, Daniel was positive he would've never made it down the steep ladders that connected the different decks by himself. They entered the spacious hall with some of the last late arrivals and found their places at the back. There were no seats, so Sam's supporting arm around his shoulders was a welcome support for his still weakened body.

The hall was filled to the brim. Most of the attendants in uniform. Just a few scattered civilians wearing their own clothes. They were keeping in the background, not mingling with the soldiers and officers. Daniel let his gaze wander. Some soldiers were standing at attention, with stoic countenance staring at the wall in front of them. But more of them were injured. Some had tears in their eyes. Others hid their sadness in a grotesque grimace of stubbornness. They looked like a reflection of the rest of their civilization. Shattered, scattered, desperate and broken, but still willfully clinging to their lives.

The atmosphere was dominated by a strange silence. No clear or loud words were spoken, the undertone was more of a muttered whisper than a real conversation. The front rows housed the officers. All of them looking very important in their blue uniforms. Spiffed up with their golden and shiny medals. Before them stood a speaker's desk. The wall behind was draped with 12 different colored flags. Each of them representing one of the colonies. Another, smaller, flag enthroned at the center, right behind the lectern. It displayed some kind of stylized bird, woven in golden cord on a black background. The animal had elongated, curved wings and reminded Daniel of a phoenix.

A red carped led the way from the entrance to the speaker's desk. To the right and the left, in front of the officers, stood small altar like tables, each of them carrying an aviator helmet. Some of them sill looked quite okay. Others featured scorch marks and damages. One helmet's visor was completely broken. But the depressing atmosphere was mostly ensured by the motionless bodies laying right before of the officers. Wrapped in the flags of their respective colonies, the dead seemed to be waiting patiently for the time to say their last goodbyes to their friends and colleagues. The scene was touching and eerie at the same time.

He could detect Major O'Neill up front. He stood in the middle of his pilots, displaying the spitting image of a stoic leader. His uniform was clean and wrinkle free. Hands clasped behind his back. Looking straight ahead. But the reason why they were here had to leave its mark on him as well, even if he wasn't showing it openly. After all, they weren't just mourning their dead comrades, but also an entire civilization. Their home, friends, culture…simply everything. Daniel suspected, that O'Neill wanted to maintain the control over his feelings in front of his people. If this Jack was just a bit like the Jack that had been his best friend, the man wouldn't give even a hint about the grief and sorrow he had to be feeling on the inside. But later, when he was alone, he would allow himself a brief moment of pain. And afterwards, well….life had to go on and the Major would lead by example . After all, the Jack O'Neill he knew was the perfect example for the well known saying: If you fall down, stand up and try again.

He was flanked by Starbuck to his left and a smaller young, muscular man to his right. If Daniel remembered military protocol for such occasions correctly, Kara Thrace and the young man must have an important position in their squadron, which was why they were standing right next to their CAG.

He could see Colonel Tigh too. He was the only one with his back to the dead, standing on the red carpet and watching the front door. When he suddenly tensed, his grim expression immediately silences all whispers and whimpers.
"Attention on deck!" shouted the almost bald Colonel and stood on attention. The other military personnel present followed his example and the sound of their collectively clacking shoe soles was cutting through the oppressive silence like a whiplash.

The clump of mourners split up in two halves, creating a path in the middle for Commander Adama. He was accompanied by two very different women. One had an aristocratic aura. She had to be in her mid fifties, with some fine wrinkles gracing her otherwise flawless face. She wore a dark pantsuit and nodded respectfully at the people in passing. The other woman had black skin and wore a golden robe. She carried in her hands an equally golden scroll. A bit like the Jewish Torah.

While Adama and the first woman remained standing in the first row, the other woman strode elegantly to the podium. She carefully spread out the scroll and let her gentle eyes wander trough the entire room. Daniel could feel his thirst for cultural knowledge become alive again. For the first time since the Gate had spit him out in this universe. He suspected that Sam and he would be soon witnesses of a religious or spiritual ceremony. Daniel reminded himself to try to memorize and understand as much as possible. You could learn a lot about the culture of a civilization by watching how they treated their dead.

The woman in the robe ran her hands lovingly over the lines of the scroll. She began to gently sway back and forth. When she opened her mouth, the sounds of faint whispering filled the hall. Gradually, her sounds became louder and the archeologist, slash anthropologist, slash linguist noticed that many of the present mirrored her movements. The murmuring of the women, Daniel would call her a priestess in his mind, now evolved into some kind of singing. Only that he couldn't detect a particular melody. Rather, it seemed that she let her feelings determine the flow of her voice.

„Asato mā sad gamaya. Tamaso mā jyotir gamaya. Mṛtyor mā amṛtaṃ gamaya."
She repeated those words over and over again. It was like a chant, a singing that could heal. A mediation, an oath.

Surprised, Daniel furrowed his brows when he recognized that the strange words made sense to him. The more he heard, the more similarities he could identify with languages of earth. He felt someone tugging at his sleeve and met Sam's puzzled eyes.
"What is it?" She whispered to him.
"I think I can translate this."
Her eyes widened. "Really. What does it say?"
He focused once more on the chant, making sure that he canalized the best translation possible.
"Lead us from falsehood to truth. Lead us from darkness to light. Lead us from death to immortality."

Sam bit her lips irritated. He knew exactly what she was thinking now. It surprised him too that he was able to offer such an accurate, and above all, coherent and reasonable sounding translation. But actually it wasn't that illogical as one would might think. They already knew that the many possible realities were very much alike. So, why shouldn't different, but similar, universes develop related languages?

While he pondered this, the priestess stopped singing. She rolled the scroll back together, but left it laying on the desk. When she spoke again, she did it with the same irregular rhythm with whom she'd already sung. For Daniel, the melody sounded messed up. But her voice was clear and strong. As if she had drawn a plethora of strength from her earlier prayer. Plus, her eyes never stood still. As if she possessed the skill to look at everyone at the same time.

"With heavy hearts, we lift up their bodies to you, oh Lords of Kobol, in the knowledge that you will take from them their burdens and give them life eternal."

She made a small pause and Daniel took the opportunity to note two things in his mind. First, these people probably believed in more than one deity or spiritual leader, and secondly, that they believed in some kind of afterlife.

„We also pray that you look down upon us now, with mercy and with love, just as you did upon our forefathers many years ago. Just as you led us from Kobol and found the twelve worlds, so now we hope and pray that you will lead us to a new home where we may begin life anew. So say we all."

The mourners repeated the priestess's words hesitant and uncertain. A murmur of exhausted voices dripping with fragility.
„So say we all."
It had to be the usual way to end a prayer, like the christian amen.

Suddenly, Commander Adama stepped out from the front row. Astonished and somehow challenging, he stared at the line of officers in front of him. The took two steps backwards until he was standing right in the middle of the room. The dead and the priestess behind him, and part of his crew before him. His features were stern and determined.

"So say we all." He said, voice powerful and unyielding.

The grievers repeated. This time a tad louder, but still uncertain. "So say we all."

But Adama wasn't satisfied. If it was even possible, he seemed to grow taller. He stood there like a statue. Unshakable, relentless and steadfast.
"So say we all!" He called again, getting louder with every word.

The voices of the mourners was now enriched with anger, stubbornness and defiance as they yelled the words. "So say we all!"

The Commander strode from right to left in front of his people, passing every single one of them. Then he walked past the dead, stopping in the middle and staring at them, shook his head regretfully, but turning his attention back to the living.

"Are they the lucky ones?" He barked into the room, making his words sound like a rebuke.

His question hit a sore spot among the mourners. There were many of them who avoided his gaze, shame shining in their eyes. No one dared to interrupt Adama as he walked slowly past his dead comrades. Like he was silently saying each of them a farewell.

"That's what you're thinking, isn't it?" Again he paused his speech, heavy with meaning. A slight accusation resonating from the walls surrounding them.

"We're a long way from home. We've jumped way beyond the red line, into unchartered space. Limited supplies, limited fuel…..No allies, and now, no hope? Maybe it would have been better for us to have died quickly, back on the Colonies with our families, instead of dying out here, slowly, in the emptiness of dark space." If he was trying to give them a pep talk, he was definitely choosing the wrong words. Nevertheless, every sentence sounded like a challenge as he verbalized the depressed thoughts everyone of them was harboring anyway.

He passed the priestess, following the red carpet until he stood right at the spot where he'd begun his speech.
"Where shall we go? What shall we do? Life here began out here. Those are the first words of the sacred scrolls, and they were told to us by the Lords of Kobol, many countless centuries ago. And they made it perfectly clear that we are not alone in this universe. Priest Elosha, there's a thirteenth colony of humankind, is there not?"

The priestess, Elosha, nodded nobly like she knew exactly what the Commander was getting at. But she seemed to be the only one with this understanding. Daniel looked around, seeing many blank faces with question marks in their eyes.

"Yes, yes there is. The scrolls tell us of a thirteenth tribe that left Kobol in the early days. They travelled far and made their home upon a planet called Earth, which circled a distant and unknown star."

Sam and Daniel both reacted with a startled breath. They would have expected everything, but not this. Not after GDD agent Forster had called them idiots when they had told him about Earth. On the other hand, they knew for sure that the 12 colonies didn't include Earth. Judging from Commander Adamas words, it seemed that these people, the colonists, came from earth. Or, at least, they believed that their ancestors came form Earth. But, where had their journey started? Where was this thirteenth tribe now? Still on their Earth? If yes, why didn't knew anything about this tribe's fate? And where was this Earth they were talking about located? More importantly, how did it happen that they managed to populate 12 other planets, when they apparently longed for this Earth?

"It's not unknown. I know where it is!" Commander Adama dished up the next surprise, his body vividly trembling with emotion as he tried to give his crew some hope and confidence.

"Earth." He spoke. "The most guarded secret we have. The location was only known by the senior commanders of the fleet, and we dare not share it with the public. Not while there was a Cylon threat upon us. But now, we have a refuge to go to. A refuge the Cylons know nothing about. It won't be an easy journey." Right after he gave hope to his people, Adama immediately prepared them for oncoming pain, effort and sacrifice.

"It'll be a long and arduous way. But I promise you one thing: on the memory of those lying here before you, we shall find it, and Earth shall become our new home. So say we all!"

The rest of Daniel's thoughts were lost in the shouts and cries of those with him in the hall. It seemed that all of their grief and brokenness had vanished into thin air. Instead, they threw their clenched fists up in the air. Acted like they were ready to throw themselves courageously and without regard to their own lives in every fight. Willing to do anything and everything to reach this mysterious planet.

"So say we all!" They hollered with all the confidence and strength they could muster. "So say we all! So say we all! So say we all!" The crowd began to chant over and over again.
Like a prayer, a mantra and Daniel understood that he'd made a mistake. These words were more that the amen in the church. It didn't only mark the end of a prayer. For these people, it seemed to be almost like a magic formula. These four words described everything that lay behind him, all that they were now and everything they would have to endure and suffer from until they could be what they longed to be. It was about the past, present and future. It expressed the essence of their being.

Only the raised hand of Commander Adama could calm the crowd.
"So say we all." He said for the last time. This time quiet but full of strength.
"So say we all." Repeated the priestess Elosha.

Adama gave each of them a last hard look, then he nodded, deeply satisfied with the determination he could see in his people's eyes and ended the ceremony with a "Dismissed!"

No sooner than he'd said this, the crewmembers were in each other's arm. They cheered and raised their hands triumphantly in the air. Clapping shoulders. To outsiders, this might seem strange. But considering the stress and inner turmoil these people had endured with losing everyone and everything they knew and loved, this was probably the first time that they dared to feel some happiness about the fact that they were still alive and together. In spite of everything.

But there were other reactions, too. Up front Daniel could see how Starbuck grabbed her commander's hand deeply touched. Major O'Neill and the young man looked at each other questioningly. And the dark-haired woman in the suit looked anything but overly enthusiastic.

Daniel and Sam had no time to think about the possible reasons for the different responses to the Commander's speech. They found themselves in the midst of a crowd of people wanting to leave the cargo area and had no other option but to go with the flow. At first they could still see the dark clothes of their guard, but then other bodies pushed into their field of vision and they lost sight of the armored man.

"Wow, that was…interesting." Daniel concluded as they had found themselves a quiet spot in one of the corridors some time later. Sam blew a strand of hair out of her face.
"You can say that again. I mean…earth!"
"I know." Agreed Daniel. "At first I thought I misheard, especially after this agent said we were crazy."
Carter ducked her head thoughtfully. "There are so many questions in my head, I don't know where to begin."
"I feel the same way. This is all so confusing. And here I thought our previous encounters with parallel universes were strange. But this here tops it all."
"We have a lot to investigate."
"Absolutely. We should start as soon as possible. If they let us." Daniel agreed, then yawned and looked questioningly around the corridor.

"Say, do you know the way to our room?"
Sam copied his look, but by far not as disoriented as he was. She gestured with her thumb to the right.
"That way."
"Why do you always know your way around ships?"
"It's a gift." She offered as an explanation and together they made their way to their deck before someone could find them. After all, they were under house arrest. They didn't want to get Major O'Neill into trouble because they had lost their guard.

Together, they traversed through the long, gray corridors. They met some crewmembers on their way, but none of them seemed to be bothered about their presence. Sam was pretty sure that the freight elevator was behind the next turn. From there, they'd take the lift up to their deck. Then they had to go left and twice right and they'd be standing in front of their room.

But when they did turn right, they didn't see the elevators, but another corridor. And there was something wrong with this floor. Daniel didn't notice it at first because due to his need to use crutches, he was bending lightly forward and staring at the floor as not to stumble over something. But Sam saw it very well and held her breath when she realized what she was looking at.

Seized with sadness, she stopped and couldn't turn her eyes away from the view. The walls of the long corridor were plastered over and over with photos. There were hardly any empty spots left. She saw colorful snapshots of better times. Family picnics. A little boy happily walking with his dog. A pair of lovers staring totally engrossed in each others eyes and not noticing that they were photographed. A young woman wearing a dark blue robe and standing behind a speaker's desk. A graduation ceremony? A group of men with beer mugs standing in a sports stadium. A bunch of pilots, fully equipped. They had their arms around each other, proudly posing into the camera. At the bottom someone had scribbled "Helo, we miss you".
Such small sayings and wishes could be found on many of the photos. Too often, they were words of farewell.

Sam kept staring, her eyes watering. There had to be thousands of pictures. All of them victims of the disastrous day. People who had died. Or worse, that were still missing. Leaving their relatives and friends back in that damned stadium between hope and fear. Wishing for them being alive, but never knowing exactly. All those people and no one of them would ever come back to their loved ones.
Carter wiped some tears from her eyes. The ceremony hadn't touched her, but this mass of pictures….of memories, forced her own feelings to emerge again, urging Sam to deal with her own loss.

Sure, this wasn't her universe. Not her war, not her world and not her own loss. She had known no one of those people of whom nothing else was left but this pictures. Yet, she was no different from the people here. The emotions were similar, if not identical. More salty tears threatened to stream down her face. Daniel and she, they'd lost their world too. Their home, their friends and family. None of their friends would ever know what happened to them if they couldn't go back. It was quite possible that they would never find a way back home. They too, had lost everything and everyone.

She felt Daniel's hand on her shoulder and when she looked at his face, she could she the same amount of pain in his eyes. Sam allowed herself a short moment of shared sadness, but then wiped her cheeks angrily.
Carter's don't cry. They fight, they win or they lose - She heard the stern voice of Jacob Carter calling to her.

"We should go back to our room before someone notices we're missing." She said, desperately trying to maintain a firm voice, but failing miserably. Daniel held her back when she took a first step away.
"Wait." He breathed and started rummaging through his pants pocket. He held up a folded piece of paper in his hand and eyed Sam, as if he wasn't sure If he should show her. Finally, he held the paper between his index and middle finger, offering it to her. When she accepted it, she felt that it wasn't simply some paper, but a photo. It was folded and some of the paint was already peeling off at the kink folds. A clear sign that someone had folded and unfolded it uncountable times.

When Sam realized what photo it was, she felt her tears falling freely. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the grief. It was the last picture of the original SG-1 team members. Everyone of them was there. Daniel, Teal'c, General O'Neill and she herself. Sam remembered the when and why as if it had been yesterday. They'd made the photo right after General O'Neill had taken over General Hammonds office and after Carter had been made new head of SG-1. Although they were all grinning like crazy, the reason for the picture had been this strange melancholy they'd felt that day. Ironically, it had been Teal'c insisting to make one last team photo.

Smiling, the four of them hand taken position on the ramp in front of the Stargate. Walter had been so kind to make the photo and Sam felt the pain and loss overwhelming her. Teal'c, Hammond, Cassie, Siler and all the others were so damned far away that they might as well be dead for them. They might have lost all of them forever, just like the many happy faces smiling upon them from the countless photos.

Daniel must've have the same thoughts. Wordlessly, he took the picture back and –after some pondering- fixed it at the wall between that of a woman who held a bouquet of flowers in her hand and a man who was lying in a swimsuit on a pool deck. Their picture, the last remnant of SG-1, was almost lost among the other images and the thought made her infinitely sad.

Daniel patted her shoulders reassuringly and she smiled bittersweet. At least, they still had each other. They were friends doing what friends were supposed to do, supporting each other. Being strong for each other. Just like Daniel was doing now, when he noticed that she couldn't break free from the photo. Gently, he let her away and down the corridor.

He was right, they had to get to know everything about this universe. But first, they had to mourn. It this aspect, they were all equal on this ship and that was at least some consolation.

It was late, after midnight, when Commander Adama had the chance to eat a very belated dinner. His body fell tiredly on the comfortable couch in his quarters. Only now, as he inhaled the scent of the bowl of steaming pasta on the table, did he realize how hungry he was.

It had been a damned long day. The longest of his life. Even longer that the day he'd been forced to bury one of his sons. But he didn't want to think about this period of his life now. He'd never been a man who lived in the past. Maybe because he'd already made so many mistakes that it was hurtful to be reminded of the consequences. One of those consequences was now sleeping in his bunk in the crew quarters. Lee. His son. Hopefully, at least one Adama found some sleep. Lee would need it. The path that lay before them was uncertain and many of the men and women who had listened to him during the funeral service, wouldn't survive long enough to witness the end of this journey.

Their future would be difficult and hard. Many hardships. For Lee, too. Especially for Lee. He was the Commander's son. A burden with high expectations. But Adama had no doubt that Lee would meet them all, and more. He was his son. The Commander was just worrying about his difficult relationship with him. The short minutes of reunion between father and son had shown him that the feelings between them were still complicated and chilled. How would this affect the whole ship? Would Lee be able to separate the two roles William Adama possessed? Only time would tell if Lee could manage the loyalty towards his Commander and the complicated feelings for his father.

Adama ate his noodles thoughtfully, when there was a knock at the door. A visit? So late? Hopefully not the next disaster. He swallowed his bite quickly and washed it down with a sip of water.
"Come on in."

One of the marines that was always guarding the Commander's private quarters, opened the door for President Roslin to enter. Laura Roslin stepped into the room, her eyes wandering around curiously and then remained standing undecidedly in the middle of the room.

Adama motioned her to take a seat.
"Madame President, what do I owe the late visit?"
Roslin took her time to sit down. She practically sank into the soft cushions of his favorite chair and closed her eyes with pleasure. William hid a rare smile, because he knew that there was no piece of furniture in the whole fleet that was more comfortable. Being the Commander of a Battlestar had its advantages, even if it was something as marginal as comfortable furniture.

When she'd found a relaxed position, Roslin opened her eyes and looked at him apologetically.
"I don't want to disturb your meal. We can talk later?"
Adama waved off and pushed the half-empty bowl away from him.
"Now's as good a time as any. Can I offer you something, a glass of wine, perhaps?"
"No, thank you. I won't stay long."

An awkward silence settled over them. Adama asked himself if she expected something particular from him, when she suddenly and unexpectedly came straight to the point.
"Firstly, I suppose that I should thank you for deciding to bring us…"
"Listen, you were right and I was wrong. Just leave it at that."Interrupted Adama. He had no great desire to talk about that again. As he'd said before, he didn't want to fiddle away his time with problems that had already been resolved. He'd rather concern himself with things in the future, things he could influence.

Roslin nodded and sighed. "All right. Now to the hard stuff."
The Commander felt that he would get to know the reason for her nocturnal visit right now.
"There's no Earth. You made it all up. President Adar and I once talked about the legends surrounding Earth. He knew nothing about a secret location regarding Earth, and if the President knew nothing about it, what are the chances that you do?"

She was an intelligent woman, that was undeniable. There was no sense in trying to fool her, not that he had planned to do that anyway.
"You're right. There's no Earth. It's all a legend."
Her irritated eyes met him, confronting him and her voice sounded snubbed.
"Then, why? Why lie to them?"

Adama took a deep breath. He didn't expect her to understand his point of view. But that wasn't necessary anyway, it was enough if she accepted it.
"Because it's not enough to just live. You have to have something to live for. Let it be Earth."
"Your crew adores you. They'll never forgive you if they ever find out."
He already knew that. Nothing was further from his mind than playing with his crew's confidence in his leadership. But sometimes it was for the best to lie, because it served for a greater good.
"Maybe. But in the mean time, I've given all of us a fighting chance to survive. And isn't that what you said was the most important thing? The survival of the human race?"

Rosin bristled as he used her own words against her.
"Who else knows?" she demanded to know.
"Not a soul."
She huffed and supported her head on her right hand. He was distributing some part of the load on her shoulders too, albeit unplanned. Laura was sure, if she wouldn't have asked him about Earth, he would've never told her a word about it. Roslin rolled her neck and started to realize that if she wanted this partnership between them to work, she would have to be the active part. And there was no time to lose. Laura knew that Adama didn't trust her judgment and it would take her some time to change that. So, better start now with promising him to keep his secret.
"All right. I'll keep your secret, but I want something in return."
No one said that she couldn't ask for something for her secrecy.

Adama watched her through the glasses of his spectacles.
"I'm listening."
"If a civilization is going to function, it's going to need a government. A civilian government, run by the President of the Colonies."
"Political stability."
"Exactly."

She was content with letting the effect of her words work. She was the rightful President of the 12 Colonies of Kobol. She made the decisions. Roslin would never go so far as acting on her own authority and against the peoples will. But if she was sure of something, she would try everything to follow through with it. And she would support Adama's proposals with the same level of resoluteness. If they proved to be reasonable and sensible. It wouldn't be long before this convoy would encounter the first armed conflicts. The threat of the Cylons still hung over their heads and this wouldn't change anytime soon. They would need strong, capable and above all, loyal elite leaders to prevent them from descending into chaos. The truth was, she needed Adama and his military and he needed her political expertise. Roslin was willing to work with him, but only if he showed her the same amount of respect and support that she was ready to give.

Adama understood what she was getting at. He stoop up, straightened his uniform and held out his hand.
"So, you'll be in charge of the fleet. The military decisions stay with me."
"Yes." She agreed, relieved that he proofed to be a wise man.
"Well, then I'll think about it, Madame President."

They shook hands. This time not as two opponents looking for each other's weaknesses, but for the first time like two people carrying the same burden. Like allies, instead of rivals.

Roslin nodded and wished him a good night, then disappeared through the door. Adama fell back on the soft cushions. The pasta was cold. He stretched out his legs and closed his eyes. Sleep. Finally, but only briefly. So much had to be taken care of. The next day was already lurking. The next bunch of problems. The next life-threatening disaster. But he was ready.

The End…for now.

So, that's that. I hope you liked the story and that you look forward to a sequel. Sorry to say, but I don't know how long it will take me to post new chapters. Although I have some ideas, I need to organize them first and check that everything fits together logically. However, I can tell you that I plan to orientate the sequel along the first season of Battlestar Galactica. I'll adopt some of the episodes like they were actually aired, just with our favorite heroes from Stargate in the lead roles. I'll change some episodes and cancel others. And of course I plan to integrate my own ideas, too. (Plenty of them)

As i said, I already have some very precise ideas what should happen, but I would be open to other ideas too. So if there is something you want to see happen, write me a review or a pm and I'll see if it fits with my own ideas. Doesn't have to be limited to the first season, because I kind of would like to try to go through all four seasons.

PS: But I can already say one thing, I'm about 99,9 % percent sure that I won't include the 'final-five-storyline' into my story. Sorry if you're disappointed about that, but I never really liked that. It was highly confusing (at least for me) and it left me with more questions than answers by the time the final episode aired. Also, it was a little bit too spiritual for my liking. I would've liked it more if the authors would have focused more on the political and social conflicts inside the fleet and the military conflicts with the cylons. And, I don't plan to pick up on Starbuck's special destiny for the same reasons. Too many questions, not enough answers. For example, where the heck did she disappear to for the second time? I guess she wasn't a Cylon after all, but was she even human? And who was this mysterious piano man? What about her drawings?
Again, hope that doesn't disappoint you, but I don't think it's wise to write about something I don't understand and don't find interesting at all.

PPS: I do have a preference for round numbers, so it would be very cool if we could reach 70 reviews for this story. I wouldn't complain about more than that, of course, but 70 reviews (or more)… would be pretty awesome for me. So, pound out those reviews…pretty please!