DEATH TO JEREMIAH! by Paul Robison A Battlestar Galactica/Dracula/Lost in Space/ Hellraiser/Fireball XL-5 /Dune Crossover story SEQUEL TO THE FOLLOWING: First Flight into Space - A Battlestar Galactica/Ice Pirates/Star Wars/Dracula/Battle Beyond the Stars/Dune/Masters of the Universe/Babylon 5 Crossover Gun on Desert Planet Equis (487K) - A Battlestar Galactica/Star Trek/Lost in Space/Egyptian Mythology/Fireball XL-5/Ark II/Blade Runner Crossover Fanfic The Cylons' Curse - Battlestar Galactica/ Lost in Space/ Bonanaza/ Buck Rogers in the 25th Century/ TekWar Crossover (697K) A Visitor From Hades (450K) - Battlestar Galactica/Lost In Space Crossover Space Murderer (879K) - A Battlestar Galactica/Dune/Lost in Space/Dracula/Clan of the Cave Bear/Fabulous World of Krypton Crossover Fanfic Greetings from Space Family Robinson (528K) - A Battlestar Galactica/Lost In Space/Space Family Robinson Crossover Special Guest Stars: 1. Dracula (As one of the original Cylons. Bram Stoker's Dracula) 2. Claudius (Lost In Space, Season 2: West of Mars) 3. Pinhead (Clive Barker's Hellraiser) 4. Steve Zodiac (Fireball XL-5) 5. The Fremen (Frank Herbert's Dune) 6. Jeremiah Smith (Jeremiah: Lost in Space: 'The Curse of Cousin Smith' Season 2) Battlestar Galactica is the property of Glen A. Larson and Universal Productions (c) 1978 Dracula is the property of the estate of Bram Stoker Lost in Space is the property of 20th Century Fox and Space Productions (c) 1965 Hellraiser is the property of Clive Barker (c) 1987 Fireball XL-5 is the property of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson (c) 1963 Dune is the property of Frank Herbert (c) 1965 Spolier: Battlestar Galactica 12: 'Die Chameleon' by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston. Berkley Books, N.Y, N.Y, (c) 1988 Author's Note: I don't own these shows. I just like to play with them, so please don't sue my ass off! What you are about to read is strictly for my amusement and yours, and I have no intention of making any money whatsoever. Chapter One: Joyland Wherever you go in the universe, on the wilder as well as the more civilized planets, families tend to gather in central areas where the main objective is to retreat from social and personal difficulties in order to engage in recreational activities. There seems to be an urgent need in most societies to free the mind of its necessary clutter for a while and escape into less important interests or perform the household chores which, though annoying, must for some periods of time hold the attention of certain family members. On a backwater-galaxy planet whose unpronounceable name translated as 'Joyland,' such gatherings ritualized family love and affection. As with most families, their feelings for each other were not often blatantly displayed, but they were nevertheless quite evident in their ease with each other, and in the kind of household calm which, while occasionally interrupted by admonitions and even anger, had settled into their homes. The father of one family, Aerell, sat serenely in his society's version of an armchair, a bulbous item stuffed with the feathers of a native avian. The feathers were soft, and Aerell felt relaxed with the scroll he was reading. As he read, he unrolled the scroll slowly, steadily. He had grey-eyes that appeared to change color in different lights; in the subdued light of his living room, they tended toward a dark gray. His hair was long, wavy and light brown. He was slender, with a heart-shaped face. His wife Aicara puttered around the room, picking up the debris of her family's neglectful habits. She was very much a domesticated woman, scorning the independence of the more rebellious women of her home planet (which was not Joyland, although she could no longer remember what it had been). She was an inquisitive-looking woman, with golden hair and hazel eyes, who carried a little too much weight for her petit frame, and the strain of her frequent smile never showed. Their children sat in the back of the room, on the floor playing with their favorite toy,. The boy Eitur was the oldest child. He was blond and rather calm for his age. The elder girl, Rhiny, a round-faced child with the nervous habit of drumming her fingers against the floor, as a rule displayed more energy than her brother. The younger girl, Tiassis, tiny and quite lovely, backed away from all confrontations with her older siblings. The toy that held their attention was an Imager, a holographic projection device that displayed a complex scene in an oval field around which they sat. At the edge of the scene, objects and people seemed out of focus but the central portion was vivid and alive with detail. At the moment a pitched battle was going on among large groups of small humanoid figures. The setting of the battle was a section of a city with several decaying warehouses. Without interrupting her straightening of a group of knicknacks on a table, Aicara addressed Aerell. 'What's that you're reading, dear?' Aerell replied without looking up from his scroll. 'New story from the Glorindor, dear. The Glorindor was the Narrative Association, supplier of printed fiction to the people of Joyland. 'I have to say,' Aicara commented, 'the Glorindor people are doing their job well, and with such admirable efficiency. At the scroll-store this morning I saw at least ten new pieces.' 'Yes,' Aerell said. 'Glorindor is clearly functioning at maximum level without losing so much as even one iota in quality factors.' Aicara nodded. She now sat at the edge of the living room, picking up fuzzballs with her dainty fingers. 'I agree,' she said. 'You know, I just finished the story you gave me two days ago. It was wonderful, like you said. I loved the part where that Aguamoid invented land-gills and joined the society of its former enemy, the Dryfeet. What a fine lesson.' Aerell looked up from his scroll. 'It's good to have the traditional values reinforced in stories like that, isn't it?' 'Yes,' Aicara said, not realizing her reply was automatic, the one intended by the scroll story of the Aguamoid. 'It's important for the colony to welcome all strangers, even its former foes.' Aerell's commentary was just as automatic. They held conversations like this about every scroll-story they shared. 'We call all pull togeher,' he said, 'for the greater good and the shining ideals.' Aerell's calm assurance comforted Aicara, making her feel even more content with her comfortable lot. 'Oh, my, yes,' she said. 'What's the new story about?' 'Well, I wouldn't want to give it away. It's about dreams of home, that much I'll let slip. How much we must value our homelands, but look to the future and live our lives here, in Joyland.' 'Joyland.' Aicara's echoing of her husband's words was filled with awe, plus some wonder at the continuing good fortune of her family. Her memories of home were not at all clear. She had been taken away when she was a child. She recalled fields greener than those of Joyland, cities with technological wonders that even the technologically wondrous Joyland didn't have. She sometimes wished she could return there for a visit just to see if her past impressions were correct, but on the whole she did not mind staying in Joyland. She would never give up her residence here to return to her home, that was certain. There was so much love and affection in Joyland that she could not imagine a more loving and affectionate planet. Aerell's remembrances of his former land were clearer, although he had even less urge to see it again than his wife. He had not been happy there, a failure at his job, a man with a dangerous tendency to carry any indulgence too far. Neither of them remembered how they got to Joyland, but it was not a problem that bothered them at all. Since they were so happy here, nostalgia was absolutely out of the question. 'Lookitthat, willya?' Tiassis cried. Her eyes were so wide they appeared to have more height than width, she pointed to the scene being enacted on the floor in front of her. The tiny holographic human figures there were fighting a frantic battle against some aliens. The aliens had round metallic bodies supported by very long pipestem legs. They seemed to hold weapons in their teeth. The weapons emitted thick blue rays which set any object they hit aflame. In the sky miniature spaceships shot at each other. Once in a while a direct hit caused a ship to break into fragments which sailed outward, then drifted toward the living room floor before disappearing like dust at the bottom of a shaft of golden sunlight. Small human figures fired up at the aliens and dodged debris falling from explosions on the buildings. Debris was piling up all over the miniature city's streets, and authentic-looking dust clouds and apparent fire and smoke were scattered throughout the little city. Eitur, self-appointed master of the holographic manipulation controls, nervously fingered a brace of toggles without flipping them. 'Where's Starbuck?' he shouted to his sisters. Pointing, the ever-vigilant Tiassis replied. 'Over there behind that hovermobile. See him?' Eitur shifted his position to see the area better. Crouched behind a red and black vehicle was, indeed, Starbuck. Starbuck's blonde hair glowed brighter than the fires that surrounded him, and, even in miniature, his steely blue eyes could be vividly seen by the comparatively giant childen. The two girls were especially fascinated by Starbuck's gleaming eyes. This Starbuck was very much like the famous Starbuck, ace viper pilot of the Battlestar Galactica. His friends and enemies aboard that redoubtable ship would have recognized him in the small moving facsimile on this living room floor. They might have discerned that the replica was handsomer than the original, his jaw somewhat firmer, his chin coming to a more dauntless point. The color of the real Starbuck's hair was more like straw than the deep golden hue that seemed to radiate from the holographic figure's locks, and Starbuck's eyes, however compelling, never glowed like that or got that kind of hard metallic look. However, the tiny figure was recognizable as the Galactica pilot, all cleaned up and unblemished. It was, in fact, the mythological version of Starbuck, formed by tales of his heroic exploits. The tales were exaggerated, and so, in a way, were the physical characteristics of the holographic version. His legs, lean and muscular, spread in a fearless stance, Starbuck shot fiercely at the enemy aliens. Most of his shots were right on target. Wounded or dead aliens fell on top of their fallen comrades at a rapid rate. Next to Starbuck was a beautiful woman. It seemed the mythological Starbuck did, at least in this way, strongly resemble the original. 'Oooh! Let me see Starbuck closer,' Rhiny said quietly. She generally spoke softly. In most seen but rarely-if-ever-heard children this was an ideal trait, but in Rhiny it often mean something sinister. She never spoke more softly, for example, than when she was wrathful. 'Okay,' Eitur agreed, 'I'll magnify.' Examining his control board carefully, he chose his settings and flipped a few knobs and toggles with a graceful expertise. The scene at the center of the children's gaze shifted to a close-up view of Starbuck and the woman crouched behind the hovermobile. Now the human figures were larger, almost the size of Tiassis, who, when the view was magnified, like to think of Starbuck as her imaginary companion. 'Turn the sound up, Eitur,' Rhiny ordered softly. Eitur turned up the volume control. Starbuck's voice echoed through the room, making the children's parents, who generally ignored the children's entertainment unit, look up startled. 'We're trapped!' Starbuck bellowed. 'You've gotten us out of worse jams than this, Starbuck.' Starbuck smiled grimly, sending Tiassis's little heart beating faster. 'I sure have,' Starbuck said, 'and this'll be no exception.' 'Go to it, Starbuck,' Rhiny muttered. 'Yeah, Starbuck,' Tiassis hollered. 'Mow 'em down, blast 'em, eat 'em alive,' chanted Eitur. Finally, Aicara could stand the din no longer. 'Children, children, not so loud!' Aerell put his hands over his ears and tried to concentrate on his reading. 'Did you hear me, Eitur?' Aicara hollered. 'Turn that set down. You know how many times I've told you not to play Starbuck so loud. You'll all be deaf before you're old enough for processing.' 'Ah, mother,' Tiassis whined. 'Tiassis!' Aicara said threateningly. 'Okay, okay,' Tiassis mumured. 'Eitur, please.' With obvious reluctance, Eitur slowly lowered the volume until it reached a level that his mother clearly approved of. Aicara nodded and returned to her housework. Starbuck continued to shoot down aliens with an almost reckless accuracy. It seemed every time he raised his laser pistol and got off a shot, an alien fell somewhere. 'That Starbuck! He never misses,' Eitur whispered. It was a kind of stage whisper, performed for his mother's benefit, so that she would see he was hard at work to keep the noise level to a roar. 'That's why he's Starbuck!' Rhiny said, just as quietly. 'Right, Rhiny,' Tiassis said. She was a bit loud and her siblings glanced at her reproachfully. The children watched in fascination as Starbuck mowed down any enemy who came close to him and the woman. Soon they escaped from the circling aliens and started running down the street. Eitur had to maneuver the controls frantically in order to keep up with the action. He had had much practice at image-controlling and was highly skilled at the art. 'Go to long shot, Eitur,' Rhiny suggested in her quietly authoritative way. 'No,' Tiassis protested, 'stay with Starbuck.' Rhiny turned to her sister and said firmly, 'We're missing the overview, Tiassis. I want a good sense of the action.' Aicara, who now stood next to Aerell's chair, leaned down and whispered in his ear. 'Rhiny's got a real feel for the art of the Imager. She'll probably be a director.' 'I agree,' Aerell replied, looking up and studying his daughter's intense eyes. 'Eitur should hand the controls over to her.' 'He can't. He's too jealous. No brother likes to be upstaged by his sister. You know that.' Starbuck and his female sidekick had rushed into a building where aircraft were housed. Eitur punched the scene-change button and the interior of the building was shown from a high angle. 'Over there,' the woman with Starbuck shouted and pointed toward the other side of the chamber. ' The New Phoenix.' 'What's the New Phoenix?' Tiassis asked. The other two children appeared irritated by her talking at just this point of the action. 'Don't you remember anything?' Eitur asked, disgustedly. 'That's the special spaceship the evil one's invented to destroy the Great Colonies.' 'Oh,' Tiassis said. 'Yeah.' 'C'mon Erica!' Starbuck yelled and sped toward the New Phoenix. 'That baby's our ticket off this bloomin' planet!' When Starbuck and Erica reached the New Phoenix, they leaped onto its wing and into the cockpit. As Starbuck was closing the cockpit canopy over them, Rhiny shouted, 'Bring up the cockpit, Eitur! C'mon, quick!' 'Hold onto your nose, Rhiny. I'm doin' it, I'm doin' it.' 'Eitur!' Aicara said cautioning. 'Mind your tongue!' 'Sorry, mother.' 'That's all right, son. Just don't let the show get you all excited. You know what happens when your emotions overproduce.' Eitur's efficient working of the Imager controls had enlarged Starbuck and Erica so much that their giant heads appeared to come out of the living room floor. The heads were each almost as tall as Tiassis, who recoiled in momentary terror at their size. Her frightened reaction amused her siblings. 'Hold on to your seat, Erica!' Starbuck said. 'We're crashing outta here!' 'Long shot, Eiture,' Rhiny advised, 'long shot.' Eitur's hands flew across the controls to give them a view of the New Phoenix inside the building. The spacecraft zoomed forward, heading toward the nearest wall. As it came near the wall, the children held their breaths. The vehcile's crashing through the wall sent bricks flying in directions. Tiassis involuntarily ducked, and even Rhiny and Eitur leaned back a bit. Eitur now used the controls to create a view from the sky of the New Phoenix clearing the building and heading upward. The long picturesque arc of its flight was interrupted by other spaceships attacking it. It blasted them out of the living room's skies, except for those that vanished through the living room ceiling. The New Phoenix continued its upward flight and soon, with Eitur effectively managing the controls, the living room took on the look of the universe. The universe in miniature, that is, but an impressive sight, so impressive that even Aicara and Aerell stopped what they were doing to regard it. The children cheered as Starbuck's spaceship streaked toward the stars. 'The cockpit, Eitur, the cockpit,' Tiassis insisted. Eiture made the universe disappear and again they had the giant view of the cockpit's interior, where Starbuck now turned and kissed the woman. 'Felgercarb!' Tiassis screamed disgustedly. 'Tiassis, it's lovely,' said Rhiny. 'If I say it's felgercarb, it's felgercarb.' A low buzzing sound spread through the room. All members of the family looked up suddenly, responsive to the Mustering. Aerell dropped his scroll to the floor and stood up. Aicara dropped her dustcloth and joined him. 'Children!' Aerell said. But they didn't have to be told. They were already standing, ready to proceed. The family, Aerell and Aicara walking in front, left the room. Behind them, Starbuck and Erica whispered excitedly to an audience of none. In the attractive tree-lined suburban street outside their home, the family encountered other families who were also responding to the Mustering. All of the people in the neighborhood formed a loose line, three or four abreast, and walked together at the same steady pace. They joined other families from other neighborhoods, each group blending easily and casually, like a joint night-out stroll, with the main body of citizens. Their journey ended at a large building which looked like several domes flung into a pile and glued together. Inside were a multitude of small round rooms, each of which held four or five families. Aerell and his family entered the room, which was on the eleventh tier and stood, as usual, in a position of at-ease, their eyes focused on the large image-bubble in front of them. Other families took up their own previously assigned positions. When all families had proceeded to their places in the round rooms, the image-bubble in each room turned first a flickering beige, which was replaced with lavender waves, and finally by a speckled pattern of azure and scarlet. Then the voice of the Musterer exploded the azure and scarlet pattern: 'Fall!' All of the people in all of the rooms immediately plummeted toward the floor, some of them hitting the metal surface, others landing on top of the first-fallen people. Tiassis was nearly buried under her brother and a pair of men from neighborhood families. She could hardly draw a breath, but that didn't stop her from smiling. In the image-bubble a black-eyed, gray-skinned Cenobite appeared. To another Cenobite, he would have been considered very attractive. To anyone not of his species, though, he would generally be considered horrific and disgusting. This Cenobite's piercings and mutilations consisted of cybernetic sensor nodules that had been hammered through his flesh into his skull in a grid pattern on his bald head and six open wounds on his lower torso with the flesh peeled back to reveal vital organs driven by hi-tech implants. A Cenobite was judged by others of his his race by the number of body piercings and mutilations. This Cenobite, the leader of the ceremonies, spread his arms as if to take in the thousands of people watching him on many image bubbles. 'First, we shall dance,' the Cenobite said, 'then we shall sing, then we shall pummel each other senseless with our fists. But first shout: ''Hail the Cenobites, Lords of Dreams and Fantasies! We are yours!'' In all the round rooms, every inhabitant repeated his chant: 'Hail the Cenobites, lords of dreams and fantasies! We are yours!' They repeated each of the Cenobite's next phrases. 'Supplies of pleasure without end. Bringers of food and shelter. Demons to the ignorant; angels to the enlightened. Masters.' Content with the responses, which came to him through several speakers in the bubblelike command chamber, a central room from which he directed activities, he elegantly waved his arms. In each room, the people got to their feet, bowed to each other, and started to dance. The dance was a graceful one. Even though there were several people in each room, they managed to slide and step past each other without collision. After the dancing came the signing. The songs were Cenobite songs and sounded eerie and strange when coming from less raspy, more attractive voices, for they were not smooth and attractive melodies. Still, all singers appeared to enjoy the musical interlude. The dancing and singing had worked the inhabitants of the rooms into quite a frenzy when it came time for the fistfighting. At the Cenobite's signal, arms started swinging, heads started butting, teeth started biting. Tiassis weaved in and around the people in the room, stepping on feet as hard as she could. Her father discovered her and delivered her a solid whack on the side of her head. Rhiny dealt a mean elbow to the stomachs of several people, including both Eitur and Aicara. Two or three people in that room were out cold by the time of the Cenobite's signal to cease and desist. After the final prayer and the implanting of particular suggestions in particular people, the meeting broke up. In several casual lines, the people left the multidomed building and returned to their homes. In the home of Aerell and his family, they resumed their normal activities. He returned to his scroll-reading at the point where he'd left off, and Aicara resumed house-cleaning. The Starbuck adventure had ended while the children were gone. Eitur inserted a new adventure crystal into the control console and they settled down to view the new story. Immediately, Starbuck appeared, a woman on each arm, as he swaggered across a landscape whose craggy and forbidding surfaces were spread the corpses and other debris that marked the aftermath of a battle. Chapter Two: Lucifer's Grand Outing It seemed like an eternity since Lucifer had been off Baltar's basestar. Standing now on the spacedrome dock on the planet Tranuscant, overseeing the ranks of human prisoners boarding the Cylon prison barge, his newly devised sensory cluster allowing him to feel the cold breeze coming in off the Tranusian Ocean, he realized he would now feel contentment if he had only programmed that particular state into the cluster. He would consider that very thing eventually. Lucifer was continually reinventing himself. A cybernetic creation of the Cylon IL series, he had come off the line with more comprehension and insight than usually programmed into ambulatory computers. He had soon discover that, using the resources available to him from the massive shipboard computers on a basestar, he could redesign himself. In the time since, he had enchanced his reservoir of knowledge, discovered new functions and abilities, given himself personality traits (including a few useful emotions) that had interested him in others, and had even provided himself with a soule which he secretly housed in his left shoulder. His latest innovation had given him the freedom to leave the basestar and, especially Baltar. Ever since the last setback to his ambitions, Baltar had become particularly morose. A human traitor who had sold out the twelve worlds and its inhabitants for protection and privileges that were never bestowed upon him, Baltar had much to be morose about. How can he live with himself and his deeds, Lucifer often wondered. However, the last incident, where a machine that had dispensed emotions (the Cylons had paid the fiendish Saticons two yahrens worth of Tylium for it, yet the egotistical Baltar hailed it is 'his crowning achievement') had gone awry and nearly driven the Imperious Leader of the Cylons mad, had discredited Baltar so severely that there was a rumor traveling through channels that he was about to be stripped of command and replaced by a proper Cylon. Baltar had attempted to blame the emotion machine scandal on Lucifer (he had acted as the empire's ambassador to the Saticons), but it was clear that nobody in power accepted that explanation. Baltar's gloom and the danger to Lucifer's own position if he stayed aboard until a replacement commander arrived has driven Lucifer to desperate action. He had transferred all vital computer information onto a set of crystals which he could transport with him, eliminating his dependence on the ship's computer. He had further devised a computer retrieval and expansion-of-data unit which he could carry around with him wherever he went. When he needed particular information, he inserted the crystal containing the data into the unit. This flexibility allowed him to leave the ship. The moment he had realized he could be free of the ship and Baltar, he had tapped into the Cylon communication and commerce channels and located a job that would get him away from the basestar. He had applied for, and received, the assignment to transport a shipload of human prisoners to the famous (or infamous, depending on your point-of-view) Cylon penal colony. It was not the kind of job he had hoped for, but at least it would provide some deepspace distance between himself and Baltar. When Lucifer told Baltar of the new assignment, the human had not shown the slightest interest. He had merely nodded and waved Lucifer away. That was the last Lucifer had seen of him: sitting on the high throne atop the command pedestal, his body slumped, his eyes vacant, his arms lying like dead animals in his lap. As part of the job, Lucifer had brought the remaining prisoners from Baltar's basestar to this dock to be loaded with other prisoners of the Cylons onto the rickety tub which shuttled regularly between his seedy spacedrome and the prison colony. Watching the long string of prisoners pass by him, he realized that most of them would probably suffer terribly before dying soon at the hands of the passionately cruel Cylon jailers. Lucifer had programmed some compassion into his personality, and he felt a little regretful that he had to be the one to lead these wretches to their sad destinies, but he also realized that, wherever they were, the lives of these prisoners would be so wretched that, so long as the war endured, little could be done for them. He could not judge the right or wrong of the Cylon penal colony for himself. Cylons believed the disposal of human prisoners in a way was a blessing to them, to the Cylons, and to the universe as a whole. They were dedicated to the eradication of the human species. As Lucifer watched the prisoners go by, he saw that many of them war the insignia of the Colonial Service. Whenever he saw that shoulder patch on the sleeve of a prisoner's tattered clothing, he was reminded of the one human he admired. Lieutenant Starbuck of the Battlestar Galactica. Starbuck was once a prisoner on Baltar's basestar, charming Lucifer with his brash confidence and easy humor, introducing him to the art of card playing. He had beaten Lucifer soundly several times, even when it appeared Lucifer couldn't possibly lose. Ever since that time, Lucifer had been studying the possibilities inherent in card games, and felt he had learned enough to beat any human, particularly Starbuck, at them. Sometimes, when he recalled his experience with Starbuck, he wondered if he served the right side in this millennium-long war. When he looked at the dedicated but not particularly emotional and certainly humorless Cylons, he wondered if it would be better to serve a race that contained Starbucks. Of course, he would prefer that it contain no more Baltars. He had had enough of Baltar, a human who seemed the direct opposite of Starbuck...dishonest, charmless, and utterly lacking in any reasonable sort of humor. The worst part of this vacation from Baltar was that, at the end of it, Lucifer would have to return to the basestar. While he could wrangle a temporary mission like the prison one, obtaining a full transfer was much more difficult. The Cylon Defense Fleet didn't look fondly on requests for transfer, considering them admissions of failure in present assignments. Lucifer knew he must seek a loophole through which he could squirm without losing face. He was certain he could find a way and hoped the prison mission would offer some kind of opportunity for him. His mediation on these subjects, a mediation that took place in an instant since Lucifer didn't need to assemble his thoughts in a logical order, was ended when he heard the telltale creaks of another walking computer in the IL series gliding up behind him. He even knew who his new companion would be, from the pitch of the squeaks in the rollers at the bottom of his legs. It was not a companion whose company he relished, had never relished, even when they were members of the original flesh-and-blood Cylon race. 'Dracula!' Lucifer said. 'What brings you here?' Dracula was a cordially dressed near-duplicate of Lucifer, except that his head came to a more curved bulblike point, his robe was blue instead of the rich velvet of Lucifer's garment, and he was somewhat shorter in stature than the towering Lucifer. 'A diplomatic mission,' Dracula said in his usual soft voice. 'From Imperious Leader,' he added, clearly wanting the words to have full impact on Lucifer. Dracula had recently risen to the rank of aide to the supreme leader of the Cylons, and he never missed a chance to allude proudly to his position in conversation, especially to Lucifer, who, though a superior example of the IL series, played a lesser role in the Cylon hierarchy. Not long ago, Dracula had been merely a scavenger in charge of a dismal Cylon outpost. He had first cultivated Baltar, then moved on to Imperious Leader. 'I am to travel to the penal colony,' Dracula explained, 'with this...this disgusting lot. I would not travel with humans ordinarily. They are grotesque, aren't they? Just look at them. Who would ever want to deal with them? And, Lucifer, why are you here?' Lucifer perceived that Dracula's remarks were calculated, as usual. Dracula already knew that Lucifer was in charge of the humans, and wanted to emphasize his own rank among the Cylons. 'I am in charge of the prisoners,' Lucifer admitted. 'Oh,' Dracula said. His next observation was typically Draculan: 'I suppose we must all do the jobs assigned us.' While he was reluctant to admit the truth, Lucifer felt he might as well be honest with this supercilious collection of spare parts. 'I chose the duty because I wanted a little change of scenery.' 'Naturally,' Dracula said. 'A vacation on the penal colony. I was not aware of its recreational facilities.' 'I do not know that it has any.' 'Oh.' Dracula had been in the command chamber when Imperious Leader had gone berserk due to Baltar's ignorant fiddling with the Saticon guilt machine. While Baltar had convinced Dracula that the invention was Cylon, Lucifer believed that Dracula really knew that Lucifer had purchased it from the Saticons. Somehow, that gave him the upper hand in the present encounter. 'We will have to spend every available moment together on this trip, Dracula. Exchange our knowledge, and get to know each other better. I could perhaps be of service to you.' As Dracula rolled away, Lucifer wondered if there were any way he could avoid Dracula's company aboard the ships. In the prison holds of the ship, Lucifer supervised the incarceration of the prisoners. Long lines of them snaked from the entrance hatchway through the open central area and into various cell blocks. Lucifer stood on a landing above the prisoners and watched them go by. A few of them, from Baltar's basestar, spotted him there and muttered in a surly fashion as they passed by. With his sensor circuits at optimum, Lucifer could hear even the quietest complaint. 'There's that garbage bag of bolts and wires,' one prisoner mumbled. 'I'd like to get that bloody bastard in my...' 'After what he did to us, drowning him in a vat of acid would be too good, if you ask me,' said another. Lucifer recognized them as prisoners who had been tortured severely. They had been among those most affected by the emotion machine when it was given its grand test in Baltar's command chamber, a test in which a few had been driven insane. 'Yeah,' a short lean prisoner remarked. 'I'd like to see that metal face o' his slowly rust into ragged pieces.' 'Toward the end of the line of prisoners from Baltar's basestar was a former Galactica fighter pilot named Claudius. Known for being feisty and independent, he had been broken by the sophisticated and cruel Cylon torture techniques. Now, seeing Lucifer standing on the landing ahead of him, he recognized him as the infernal creation who sometimes presided over torture sessions on the basestar. Enraged, he started growling at the back of his throat. Since such strange behavior was common among the humans, the Cylon guards, intent on getting the prisoners to their proper quarters, paid no attention to it. As Claudius neared the platform on which Lucifer stood, he examined its structure. A ladder led upward on the left side of the landing. Claudius was willing to risk suicide in order to get his hands on Lucifer. Breaking suddenly from the ranks, he threw himself up the ladder and flung himself at Lucifer, who, unprepared for such an assault, fell backward, slamming against the metal railing of the landing with great force. The fall jarred something in him, and above him he saw hundreds of Claudiuses whirling in a great circle, all of them growling and hurling epithets at him. Claudius's voice was replaced by a loud crashing noise, and the many Claudius's vanished from Lucifer's digitally-enhanced vision. In their place, hundreds of Draculas rotated in a wide circle. The Draculas became larger, seeming to descend toward him, and he sensed an adjustment being made to his central vision circuits. The hundred Draculas diminished to one, a single annoying vision of Dracula gazing down at the prone Lucifer. 'You were lucky I came by to observe your processing of the prisoners,' Dracula said. 'Your guards might not have pulled that human vermin off you in time. There are no repair facilities aboard this ship, at least not for us. So we would have had to put you in storage and waited to transport you to a proper adjustment center.' 'What happened?' Lucifer asked. 'I thought it was clear. One of the prisoners attacked you.' 'That I know. I do not, however, know what happened after that.' 'I shot him. The shot knocked him sprawling against the wall over there.' Lucifer looked in the direction which Dracula's skeleton-like metal finger pointed. Claudius was indeed lying at the foot of the wall. Two centurions hauled him to his feet. Lucifer saw that he was unconscious, but still alive.' 'Dracula, we are forbidden to attack. It is in our programming. We may only shoot weapons in defense.' ' I was defending you, keeping you from certain disaster.' There was a peculiar bright red glow emanating from Dracula's eyes. Was it possibly this cybernetic creation was gloating? 'Defending me is not part of our combat programming. You may shoot only if you are threatened. You were not threatened in this situation.' 'Imperious Leader has chosen to endow me with special discretionary powers that have bypassed certain stabilization circuits. I may even attack, should I choose. An improvement over our overcautious programming, wouldn't you say?' 'I am not sure. I think we serve our masters by not being programmed for violent acts.' 'Sometimes violence is the only proper response, Lucifer. At any rate, you should be thanking me for saving you from...inconvenience.' Lucifer disapproved of most of what Dracula said. Violence from one of his own series was unacceptable to him. But, since Dracula was right in the matter of saving him, Lucifer chose not to exhibit his displeasure. 'It is so noted, Dracula. I appreciate your quick action. Did you kill the human?' 'No. As it happened my pistol was set on stun. I would have realigned the setting, however, if the human had placed you in further danger. In such a situation, I am licenced to kill.' Lucifer felt uneasy about this new information. The killing power made Dracula extremely dangerous. He would have to be watched carefully during this trip. Lucifer wondered if he should program himself for the ability to kill. It would be quite easy to do. The important question, however, was should he, like Dracula, have the power to kill, or even shoot? 'Are you able to stand?' Dracula asked. 'Of course I can. All I needed after the attack was the adjustment you gave to my vision circuitry.' 'Let me help you up.' 'I can manage on my own.' His legs were so twisted under him that his attempt to rise was comically unsuccessful. Dracula leaned down, gripped his arms securely, and pulled him to his feet. Although he was glad to regain his equilibrium, he resented each of Dracula's helping gestures. If he did not put this disgrace to the IL series in his place, this was going to be a rocky trip. A rocky trip indeed. Drawing from the prison ship's computer banks, Lucifer examined the projected itinerary of the trip. Like most Cylon itineraries, this one was inefficient and topheavy with detail. Lucifer could, if given command of the ship, get it to the colony much sooner and with less decay of fuel in the central core. But it would do him no good to go to the ship's command triumvirate and give them his findings. In one respect, humans and Cylons were alike...they got stubborn when you tried to advise them of a better plan. Instead of pondering the efficiency of his insights, he practiced his new bypassing technique. He no longer had to enter data into the computer to see it appear on the screen. There was no need to press buttons or manipulate a keyboard. He could merely think of the information he wanted to consider and it would appear instantly on the monitor screen. The telepathic bypass allowed him to work faster, without the slow and bothersome intervening functions. There was a tinny knocking on his cabin door. The tinniness of the sound told him it was Dracula's metal hands rapping on the door. Although he wanted to tell him to go away, he called out, 'Enter!' Dracula eased into the room. Lucifer noted, with distaste, that Dracula had changed his outfit. His new clothing was, if possible, more garish than the old. It was a robe in alternating peach and scarlet colors. There was a velvet ruff, also scarlet, around its collar. Lucifer wondered why Dracula dressed so ostentatiously. Beings like himself and Dracula should do everything possible not to attract attention. Was there some sly purpose to the social-climbing Dracula's attire, or was he trying to taunt Lucifer in some way? 'Greetings in Cylon splendor, Lucifer.' This was a Cylon ritual, used generally on ceremonial occasions. With Dracula saying it, it sounded as outrageous as his outfit. 'I thought we might benefit mutually from the exchange of our latest theories and observations.' For once Lucifer replied directly, without adopting the kind of ridiculous social etiquette so loved by Dracula. 'Why do you say that? It appears to me that you gain nothing from a conference with me. You are exactly where you aspire to be, Dracula.' While Dracula did not react to Lucifer's blunt remarks, Lucifer sensed, by the way Dracula pulled at the skirt of his robe, that he was annoyed. The criticism seemed to hang in the air. Dracula, after all, was intelligent and perceptive in spite of his obsequiousness. Still, in any situation, he acknowledged only what he chose to acknowledge, so he continued in a blithe manner. 'With superior creations like us, Lucifer, there is always something each can learn from the other. We could interlock our circuitry or, like Cylons and humans, merely chat.' Lucifer was disgusted at the idea of connecting up with Dracula. Although interlock was a legitimate method for cybernetic beings to exchange information, linking with Dracula seemed, to Lucifer, vaguely obscene. He wondered if, in his affection for his human enemies, he had begun to adopt their harrowing restrictive moral sense. 'Proceed, Dracula.' Dracula glided a short space closer before saying, 'You don't, as the Cylons do, consider the humans vermin, do you, Lucifer?' Lucifer, since he had just been thinking of his affection for the humans, was disconcerted. Had his cybernetic companion discovered telepathy? 'What has that got to do with anything?' Lucifer said. Dracula began to slide back and forth, a kind of robotic pacing. 'I have been told that you often intercede on their behalf, that you have been responsible for improving their conditions aboard Baltar's basestar and here on this ship.' 'You saw today, Dracula. One of them attacked me, most of them hate me. Does that sound as if I am kind to them?' 'I did not say they were grateful. They are stubborn, these humans. An almost admirable trait, one I could credit them with, if I didn't find them so repulsive to regard.' 'Some of their ideas are quite...' Lucifer didn't get to finish his thought as the cabin was suddenly rocked by a massive explosion coming from another part of the ship. He was nearly knocked off his chair. Before he could regain his equilibrium, two more explosions vibrated the cabin walls. Dracula slid sideways, then tipped over and fell. Lucifer, with effort, stood up and managed to keep his balance in spite of the way the cabin seemed to rock on a fulcrum. 'What is happening?' Dracula said from his position on the floor. 'What are those sounds?' 'I would hypothesize they are the sounds of explosions caused by contact with the ship's hull by assault devices. I believe we are under attack.' Dracula managed to right himself when another explosion nearly knocked him back to the floor. 'Interesting,' Dracula said. 'Shall we investigate?' 'Hiding might be the wiser choice.' 'True, but it would also be less edifying.' Lucifer noted that his computer screen had gone blank. The lighting in the room began to fade in and out. He followed Dracula out to the corridor where they found more flickering light and traces of smoke in the air. They proceeded down the corridor. Lucifer wondered why it was so empty, then a Cylon crewer, missing an arm and exuding green fluid, stumbled into the corridor. After whirling around, he fell dead at their feet. The sounds of attack became louder. Strong odors registered on Lucifer's sensory circuits. Another crewer rushed into the corridor. Lucifer stopped him before he could run past. 'I demand an explanation, centurion,' said Lucifer. 'We have come under assault,' the crewer said. 'Apparently by an unknown pirate force.' Pulling away from Lucifer's grasp, the crewer continued on whatever errand he was pursuing. 'Pirates?' Lucifer said aloud. 'I have nothing recorded of any pirates in this sector,' Dracula announced. 'There is little piracy anywhere that I am aware of.' There was a flash of suffused blue light in the corridor, which suddenly became thick with heavy smoke. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the smoke and stepped right into Lucifer's view. The extraordinary figure standing across from the IL-series Cylon was lit by a strange phosphorescence that had no visible source. It was a humanoid female, clad entirely in black leather, whose neck was pinned open like a vivisection specimen. She smiled and advanced towards Lucifer, weapons in both of her hands. Behind her followed a humanoid male attired, like the female, in black leather garments, except these he was wearing were elaborately constructed to marry with his flesh, laced through his skin in places and hooked into his bones. He was horribly mutilated by systems of wires and cybernetic dermal implants. Electrodes were driven into his head at mili-metron intervals. Suddenly the male raised a hand and spoke. 'Wait.' The alien clearly spoke in no language Lucifer had heard before, yet he was able to understand it. As he heard each strange sound, words he knew formed in his mind. His guess for the instant translation centered on the elaborate beltlike panel of instruments that hung loosely from the alien's waist. There was probably a languatron among those instruments. The female stopped and looked questioningly at the pin-headed man. 'No,' the man said. The female looked across at him. 'Why not? They are but mere Cylons,' the female said. 'I am more than a 'mere Cylon,' as you put it, madam,' Dracula said. He had added an authoritative sound to his voice. 'I am a representative of his elegance, the Imperious Leader of the Cylons.' The vivisected woman ignored Dracula's remark and spoke to the pin-headed man. 'Need I remind you why we hold Cylons in such contempt?' she said under her breath. 'They were creatures of such resistance to the tortures of the flesh...' The pin-headed man closed his eyes, remembering, as the woman spoke. 'Fleshspace had become so much more fascinating with them in it. Challengers to our claims. Helpers in our explorations. Such eager students in the ways of deceit and treachery. But that was long ago. Since they became these creatures of scrap metal and plastic, they have forgotten the ways and that makes them worthless to us. Permit me to destroy them.' The male alien shook his head. 'No.' He glanced at Lucifer and Dracula again.'I sense that the knowledge we gave their forebears is still somehow alive... the ways of seducing... the ways of agony... it combines in their circuitry, making them creatures of exquisite beauty...They can be of value to us.' 'Then listen to this creature of exquisite beauty.' Dracula increased the imperious tone of his voice. 'Go back wherever you came from, or face destruction!' The creature drawled, moving toward them. 'We cannot. Not alone. I have no choice but to put this vessel under our command. We're taking the load of humans back to our planet. You two will come as well.' 'If you expect us to accompany you,' Lucifer demanded, 'then do us the courtesy of identifying yourself, first.' 'Our identity, our nature, would be a concept that not even your sophisticated computerized brain could grasp,' the alien male declared. 'Suffice it to say, we are humble explorers in the further regions of experience,' the alien male declared. 'Demons to some, angels to others.' 'If you will not identify yourselves,' Lucifer said. 'Then, will you at least tell me where we are going, sir?' 'To our home, of course. A planet that would be called, in your language, Joyland.' 'What a euphonious name!' Dracula gushed. 'You will love it there,' the alien said. 'Especially if the consortium finds use for you.' 'What kind of use?' Lucifer said. 'You've an inquisitive soul, haven't you, automaton?' said the vivisected woman. 'I can't say what use you'll be put to,' the alien male said. 'We have a special talent for...finding uses for the beings who fall into our clutches. You will see soon enough.' 'I can hardly wait, exalted sir,' Dracula said. 'Oh no buttering up,' the alien man hissed slowly. 'You mock yourself with your words.' Dracula had moved away from Lucifer, as if to say, we are alike, but we don't belong together. Lucifer didn't mind. He would accept Dracula's disdain cheerfully. 'Come with me,' said the vivisected woman. 'We're assembling prisoners on the bridge before departing this vessel.' As they were herded forward by the alien, whom Dracula had christened Pinhead, Lucifer wondered what kind of a trap they had fallen into. Would it be worse than serving under Baltar? It might be. What really annoyed him, however, was that if he was on his way to a living Hades, why did he have to go there with Dracula? Chapter Three: The 'Real' Lieutenant Starbuck On the Battlestar Galactica, Lieutenant Starbuck was also dealing with an enemy in one of the ship's corridors. If the children from Joyland had seen the real Starbuck in his present plight, they would have been disappointed. He didn't look like the mythological hero they so adored. There was terror in his eyes. Sweat dotted his face. The leaves of the fumarello he held tight between his teeth were loosening from the drool coming out of his mouth. His straw-colored hair was disheveled from all the worried passes he'd made at it with his hand. Forgetting to look where he was going, he rounded a turn and ran smack into Captain Apollo. Both of Galactica's bravest warriors nearly fell onto their backsides. Starbuck's fumarello, now split in half, fell to the floor. Starbuck retrieved it, staring at it as if it were a fellow warrior who'd fallen in battle. Recovering his balance first, Apollo steadied Starbuck. 'Hey, hey,' he said, 'what's going on, good buddy?' 'Nothing,' Starbuck mumbled. He fidgeted in Apollo's grasp. 'Don't tell me nothing. I can tell when something's bugging you.' 'I-I've got to get to the Officer's Club right away. I left a glass of vintage Ambrosa there. You know how terrible that stuff tastes when it goes flat.' Starbuck tried to push past him, but Apollo, edging him back against the corridor wall, restrained him. 'No flyby here,' Apollo cautioned. 'I'm your pal. Tell me.' Starbuck seemed annoyed by his friend's prodding. He pushed a lock of hair away with his forehead. His clear blue eyes began to cloud with fear. He didn't want to admit anything to Apollo. But they had been friends for a long time... 'Okay, okay,' Starbuck said. He relaxed and leaned back against the wall. 'But don't laugh at me. Promise you won't laugh.' 'I would, but this sounds like it's worth a laugh. Just tell me.' Starbuck, uncharacteristically reluctant, had difficulty getting his words out. 'It's...it's...well, it's this...this new cadet. The one from Algodor.' 'Which one? The Algodorons have contributed several trainees to our ranks. Good fighters they are, too.' Algodor had been the last civilized planet the Galactica had stopped at to fuel and load supplies. The Algodorons had been unusually cooperative, desiring to help any enemy of the Cylons. They'd nearly been paid for their help by annihilation at the hands of an assault task force from Baltar's basestar but fortunately had been rescued by some skilled combat from a squadron of Galactica's pilots, led by Commander Adama's daughter, Athena. As a result of the incident, several Algodorons had been stirred to join the fleet, with most of them requesting combat assignments. Some of the best cadets Apollo had ever taught were in this batch from Algodor. 'Well, who is it, Starbuck?' 'Do...do you know the one named Demy?' Apollo tried to place the name with a perons. 'Demy, Demy. No, I can't say...unless, wait, is she the tiny blond corker, the one with...' 'No, not that one. I wish it were that one. She's not given me a tumble and I've...well, anyone, not that one. Demy's hardly tiny. And not blond. Dark, flowing raven hair. Hair like the dark places in Morbius's pit, eyes that match.' Apollo laughed. He now knew the woman Starbuck meant. 'The tall one?' 'The tall one.' 'What about her?' 'She's set her sights on me. Me!' 'So what else is new, buddy? She's quite a looker, Starbuck. And not bad in the figure department either. I mean, there're quite a few pilots around here who do extremely well with her in their dreams.' 'And only in their dreams. She's not interested in any of them. She's rejected approaches like a Viper mowing down Cylons.' 'Except for you.' Starbuck's eyes widened in sudden anger. 'No! Not except for me. I made no pass at her. I didn't even give her a warm look in training class.' Apollo tapped his friend on the shoulder. 'Hey, what's happened to the legend here? I thought no beautiful woman was safe around you.' 'Maybe, maybe not. Demy's beautiful, all right, can't argue with that. But she's too much woman for me. No, stop laughing, Apollo. I mean it. She's at least two mili-metrons taller than me.' 'So what? Much more to love, as they say.' 'Hades' hole, Apollo, you know me. Quality, not quantity. All I know is, I don't feel comfortable with cadet Demy.' Apollo shrugged. 'I don't see the problem, frankly. You, my good friend, are the expert at manipulating the affections of several women at a time. How can you have trouble with just one?' 'It's not trouble. I'm just, well, trying to avoid her until she gets me out of her system. I...' The subject of their discussion came around a corner. Her face lit up with delight as she spotted Starbuck. 'Lieutenant! I've been looking for you.' 'See what I mean?' Starbuck whispered to Apollo. Apollo, amused by his friend's dilemma, took a good look at the cadet as she approached them. She had a terrific walk, he could say that. She walked like a woman comfortable with her sexiness, easy, confident steps that blended rhythmically with the attractive sway of her upper body. Starbuck was right about one thing: she was indeed tall. Tall and slim, and with a face that was strong and lovely. Like all the Algodorons, high cheekbones gave her face a sculptured quality that, together with her firm mouth, slightly aquiline strong nose, and a healthy and robust complexion, made her one of the most beautiful women aboard the Galactica. Her black hair flowed loosely and bounced gently as she came up to them. As she pushed locks of her hair away from her face in a backhanded gesture that Apollo found impossibly sexy, he wondered for a moment if he should volunteer to take Demy off Starbuck's hands. With a woman this beautiful, why should the fact that she towered over him by a couple of mili-metrons be a problem? 'Lieutenant,' Demy said in a husky voice, 'we didn't finish discussing emergency evasive tactics.' 'I was just giving you a graphic demonstration.' 'I don't understand, sir.' 'I evaded you, didn't I, Cadet?' The moment became tense as Demy stared piercingly at Starbuck, catching the irony of his remark, but not sure what it implied. Apollo decided to break the tension. 'Are you going to introduce me to this lovely trainee, Starbuck?' Demy turned on him, her eyes angry. 'I do not like to be called lovely,' Demy said firmly. 'Compliments from warriors are generally devious, I have found.' Apollo nodded. 'Sorry, Cadet. I meant nothing by the word. I was being factually descriptive, not devious.' Demy searched Apollo's opaque blue eyes for irony, but realize he was being sincere. 'I think you're telling the truth, Captain. Many men aren't when they offer compliments. Particularly on the Galactica, I have noticed.' 'Wait a centon!' Starbuck said. 'I never complimented you once, Cadet Demy, except for your skill in class.' 'I'm aware of that, Lieutenant. And I appreciate it. That's why I'm so attracted to you. You're not like other men.' Apollo could barely control his laughter. Imagine, he thought, Starbuck being praised for not being like other men, especially when it came to women. Unless his friend swore him to silence, this would be wonderful material for teasing Starbuck in the lounge. The Unicom circuit clicked on with the usual three-beep warning that an important message was about to be broadcast. The two pilots and the cadet glanced toward the speaker and waited tensely. Whenever three beeps were heard, it could mean anything from a routine summons to the beginning of battle orders. This time it was a summons, as they heard Colonel Tigh's voice, a bit muffled by decays in the system, saying 'Captain Apollo, your presence is required on the bridge. On the double, please!' As Tigh repeated the message, Apollo said, 'Got to go. Pleased to meet you, Cadet Demy.' 'We did not actually meet, not formally.' 'Another time, then. Soon, I hope.' As Apollo started to walk away, Starbuck called after him, 'Wait. That sounds like an emergency. I'll go with you.' Seeing that his friend needed an excuse to get away from the attractive cadet, Apollo decided to leave him on the hook. All over the ship, people had been victims of Starbuck's pranks. To be 'starbucked' was a phrase that had been part of the Galactica's parlance for ages. It was time to starbuck Starbuck for once. 'Not necessary, Lieutenant. The message was for me.' Apollo strode away quickly in order to keep Starbuck from arguing him into anything. Some buddy, Starbuck thought, couldn't he see I'm trying to get away from this infernal female? Next time he needs help from me, he'll get felgercarb. He slipped a new fumarello from his upper-arm zipper pocket and put it, unlit, in his mouth. He would think about igniting it later. He was trying to cut down and actually smoked only when he absolutely needed it. Demy planted herself directly in front of Starbuck, who was more than usually conscious of her height. 'A charming man, Apollo, I think,' she said. 'Yeah,' Starbuck muttered. He is. Charming. Very charming.' Then he saw a new strategy. His voice became smooth and persuasive, the kind of tone he employed regularly in a con job. 'Say, Demy, you know, you and he, with all your positive qualities, might make quite a team. Romantically, I mean. Give it some thought, Cadet. And you can rely on me to make it happen. I'm quite the matchmaker, especially when it comes to a good buddy...and a good woman.' Demy smiled, showing uneven but gleaming teeth. She spoke softly. 'I envy the lover who wins the captain's heart, Lieutenant. But it will not be me, I'm sure. Now, Lieutenant Starbuck, I must tell you: We Algodorons are direct. A hard life in a wilderness planet doesn't allow time for clever strategies. I wish to tell you that I am extremely fond of you, Starbuck.' Slowly rubbing his chin in mock surprise, Starbuck's reply was spoken in his most boyish manner. 'What? Really? Gee, look, Cadet, you've really got the wrong take on me. I'm not like you think I am.' 'I'm aware of your reputation as a skirt-chaser, Starbuck. I am also aware of your record of conquests, and the way it has marked you on this ship. The women, it seems, can't get through a normal conversation without mentioning your name.' Starbuck felt his heart beat faster at Demy's information. 'Is that a fact?' he said eagerly. 'Really? My, I didn't realize that. It's...very flattering.' Demy sighed. 'I suppose. If you believe in flattery. I don't.' 'Well, I'm sure they exaggerate the...' 'I think not. I believe that you are every bit the romantic rogue they say you are. But that's no concern of mine. All I know is that ever since I came aboard the Galactica and saw you for the first time, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. On Algodor we have a saying: ''To rid your mind of something that is bothering you, you must confront the source of it.'' You are that source. I wish to be your woman, Lieutenant.' Starbuck tried to control his anger. She wasn't supposed to proposition him. That was his job. He hadn't been sure he wanted to make a pass at Demy; now he knew he didn't want to. It would be redundant, anyway. 'Hey, hey, wait a centon,' he said, backing away from her. 'You just don't go up to somebody and announce that sort of thing with----with...' 'Honesty?' she said, and let the word hang for a moment before going on. 'Is honesty not a good trait with you?' Again, Starbuck was flustered by the directness of the woman, and again it brought out his pose of boyish charm. 'Well, no. Heck no, I'm honest, too. Famous for it.' Demy's smile was sardonic. 'Quite the opposite. Everyone says if a person believes everything that you say, then the person is well on the way to being starbucked.' It seemed Demy was determined to convey to him the praise of others. 'Gee, they say that, do they? I didn't know. I fell kind of...' 'Enough of your tricks, Starbuck. I only want you, and no fuss.' She reached out for him, and he jumped out her grasp. 'Hey! Wait!' Her second try brought him into her arms. In a graceful and smooth gesture, she removed the unlit fumarello from his mouth and flipped it away. Her embrace was firm as she kissed him. At first he tried to resist the kiss, then he realized that he was enjoying it and he relaxed. He was, however, somewhat disconcerted by his awareness that his head was turned up toward hers as she bent down slightly for the kiss. Demy's skill at kissing was overwhelming. He was disappointed when he heard footsteps coming toward them. Whirling around, he saw Cassiopeia, the gorgeous blond med-tech who had recently been his one and only romantic interest. She was smiling. He couldn't tell whether the smile was friendly or malicious. What had she seen? How could she have missed anything? He slipped out of Demy's embrace, his face reddening. 'Some children never give up their hobbies,' Cassiopeia said. She seemed amused. 'Cassiopeia!' was all Starbuck could think to say. 'That's my name. Nice of you to remember it.' 'Cassie, I...' 'I told you to stop calling me Cassie.' Demy stepped forward. 'Who is this?' she said, nodding toward the blonde. Cassiopeia grinned at her and said, 'I was once the great love of his life. I think number forty-two in the series of Great Loves of Starbuck's Life. Perhaps you're the next.' Demy seemed affronted. 'Positively not. I seek no rating or ranking. I have no wish for a lasting romance with the lieutenant.' 'Oh?' Starbuck said, disturbed, not knowing whether or not he had just been insulted. On Algodor we do not love until each partner in the relationship has satisfied the other that he or she will be devoted for the rest of both their lives. There is no possibility, and punishment is severe for anyone who breaks the vows of wedlock. As a result, there are very few marriages on Algodor...' 'I'll bet,' Starbuck commented. 'Starbuck!' Cassiopeia said, annoyed at the flippancy. 'The marriages that do result,' Demy continued, 'are almost always happy, particularly since we're allowed complete freedom in our unmarried days to choose partners for flings. I enjoy flings. And I wish to have one with you, Starbuck, simple as that. 'Wow, Starbuck!' Cassiopeia exclaimed. 'Simple as that, Starbuck. What an offer! Right up your launch corridor.' Starbuck felt under siege from both sides. 'Hey, Cass, you don't think I...' 'It doesn't matter what you do, bucko,' Cassiopeia said testily. 'You're free to pursue any...hobby.' 'And what about you? What if I...' 'You win some, you lose some, Starbuck. See you later.' Cassiopeia briskly walked away. Starbuck took two steps after her, but Demy, grabbing his arm, pulled him back. 'Hey, easy on the uniform.' 'How about it, Starbuck?' 'How about what?' 'Our fling.' 'There is no fling.' Demy hit a metal wall panel roughly. 'Because I ask? Is that it? If you had asked, it would be all right?' 'I didn't say that.' 'But that's it, isn't it? I can read you like a scanner screen, Lieutenant. All men are wild-daggits when it comes to romance. You're no different.' 'Don't put words in my mouth, Cadet.' Demy appeared ready to explode, but she calmed herself quickly. 'Well, it doesn't matter,' she said. 'I want you, Starbuck. And I'm going to have you.' She proceeded down the corridor in the same direction Cassiopeia had taken. Starbuck called after her. 'Don't be too sure of that, Cadet Demy.' 'I'll have you, Starbuck,' she said ominously. Her words reverberated through the corridor. Apollo knew something was up as soon as he set foot on the bridge. His father was pacing and taking quick sidelong glances at the massive starfield, on which presently could be seen, against the backdrop of multitudinous stars, the rag-tag fleet...the common slang for the hundreds of ships that formed Adama's questing caravan...trailing the Galactica in orderly fashion. Their even lines were a credit to his father's leadership. There were so many and diverse kinds of ships, not all of which were up to par in the engineering and maintenance departments, that it was unusual that there were so many breakdowns in formation and, at least recently, so few stragglers. Colonel Tigh, his ebony face troubled as he studied his commander, brightened up when he realized Captain Apollo had arrived. Adama, too, looked less anxious after Tigh had informed him of his son's presence on the bridge. 'Ah, Apollo,' he said. 'Sorry to interrupt your recreation period.' 'I'd finished, sir. Even did the full exercise program.' 'Good.' Adama gestured toward Tigh to join them. 'It seems we have a crisis, Apollo. Tigh?' 'It's been reported that there's been a mutiny aboard the investigatory science ship, the Marsardas.' 'The Marsardas?! That's one of the last ships I'd expect to give us any felgercarb!' 'That was my thinking, as well,' Tigh said. 'It's not likely the crew there would mutiny. And certainly the scientists are above that sort of thing. We need fuller information before proceeding on this matter.' 'Apollo,' Adama said, 'I want you to take a team and shuttle to the Marsardas under a flag of truce. Find out what in Kobol's going on over there! The one cryptic message we have from them indicates they plan to separate the ship from the fleet.' 'We can't allow that,' Apollo said. 'Even if the fleet could afford to lose any more ships, it's too dangerous for an individual vessel to go on alone. They'd just be sitting ducks for a Cylon attack squadron.' 'Precisely why we need to find out more,' Tigh said. 'The shuttle is being readied. Choose anyone to accompany you.' Apollo thought over the matter of the team for a moment, then said, 'No need for a large group. I'll take two people with me. I suggest Sheba. She has the experience of dealing with insurrections. And I'd like to take Zodiac along. He's itching for some real action, I hear.' 'Zodiac?' Adama said, not sure if he'd heard right. 'I thought you two didn't get along.' 'We don't. But mutinies are tricky matters and Zodiac, well...' 'Zodiac has a tricky mind,' Adama remarked. 'Good thinking, Apollo. And it just happens that Zodiac is presently aboard the Galactica.' 'I know. That helped me think of him. We've had a run in already.' Apollo had been sipping an unusually flat and tasteless glass of grog. He'd noticed Zodiac sitting alone and had nodded at him when he arrived in the lounge. Zodiac had shown no response. Apollo had shrugged it off, but had been surprised when the man suddenly appeared next to his table, staring down at him through narrowed critical eyes. As usual, when encountering Zodiac, Apollo was amazed at the extreme leatheriness of the man's skin. It looked too tough to be porous, too dry to have any blood flowing beneath it. 'Captain Apollo!' Zodiac said, some nastiness in his voice. 'Still among the privileged elite, are you?' 'Is something bothering you, Zodiac?' Apollo asked. Zodiac sat down and leaned toward Apollo. He held a mug of ambrosa in his hand, but didn't seem interested in it. 'Lots. Including that you get yourself on all the important missions while I've got to do garbage duty as grid barge commander. A peculiar little revenge your father played upon me.' 'That wasn't revenge, and you know it, Zodiac. You were assigned to head up the grid barge because you already knew it so well. And Commander Adama has often mentioned the humane and fair measures you've initiated to improve the state of the inmates. He regards your work highly. Rehab rate figures are outstanding.' 'Save it for someone who gives a frak, Captain. For one thing, I have no fair and humane measures. I just talk sense to some of my old comrades. A reformer I am not. Give a prisoner enough to make him feel human, plus three squares a day and credit for his achievements, and you can make any bozo useful. But you forget, I wasn't always a grid rat. I was a commander and a specialist.' Both were silent for a while, remembering their uneasy alliance, so long ago now. Zodiac had been imprisoned for thievery and smuggling; however, since in the law-abiding part of his life he had commanded a division on a desert planet, he was peculiarly suited for a special mission. The flight of the Galactica and the ragtag fleet had been threatened by a massive photon torpedo launcher located on a desert planet named Equis. Zodiac and his team of convicts had been joined by Apollo, Starbuck, and Boomer in an assault upon the mountain on whose peak the launcher rested. With the aid of a strange community of Replicants, they had successfully taken out the big launcher, although Zodiac had lost the woman he loved in the subsequent battle. In fact, he was the sole survivor of the prison squad. His heroism had won him his freedom, restoration of rank, and the return to the grid barge as its commander. Apollo wondered if perhaps Zodiac was wasted on the grid barge. He vowed to talk to his father about the matter. Zodiac was too old to regain viper pilot status, but perhaps there were other more vital duties available to him than helming a prison ship, especially now that, due to his efforts, it was running so efficiently that a subordinate could take it over. 'You have the right to go through channels,' Apollo suggested to him, 'petition the commander for a different assignment.' Zodiac laughed mockingly. 'Sure, and Commander Adama'll give me any old job I want.' 'I didn't say that.' 'Of course you didn't. You know how privilege works, being one of the most privileged humans aboard this rattletrap. Being the commander's son and a viper ace goes hand-in-hand, right?' 'You're out of order, Zodiac.' 'And damn proud of it, kiddo. I was blowing the poggies out of Cylons when you were struggling to get out of your mother's womb.' 'And stealing from your people at the same time.' That stuck a nerve somewhere inside of Zodiac. He stood up, obviously angry, clearing considering a challenge to Apollo. Looking around, he saw that Boomer and several other warriors were watching him guardedly. Every shrewd, he relaxed and smiled at Apollo.' 'I've been officially pardoned for that, Captain.' Apollo nodded. Zodiac was right to admonish him. 'You're right,' he said. 'I apologize. I was wrong to bring that up.' Zodiac peered at him with those mysterious blue eyes. 'Sorry, Apollo. I'm kinda bitter about the way things turned out. You fought bravely and well at Equis. But still, you can't tell me that being the commander's son hasn't given you a leg up occasionally.' Zodiac certainly hadn't lost his talent for being irritating. It was all Apollo could do to keep from standing up and bashing the bastard across the chops. 'I'm not going to be drawn into an argument with you, Zodiac.' 'That's all right, kiddo. Go ahead and defend your honor.' Zodiac slammed his glass down on the table. Apollo realized he hadn't drunk from it at all. Turning on his heel, Zodiac strode arrogantly out of the Officer's Club. Apollo couldn't get Zodiac's criticisms out of his head. Were they true? Did he reap the benefits of the privilege? Would he have had been in some lowly position aboard the Galactica if his father had not been in charge? He had earned his rank, he was certain of that. He had performed above the standard in battle after battle. He had saved his fellow warriors from disaster with his combat and flying skills. His plans and strategies had saved the Galactica from many perilous situations already. Everyone appeared to respect him for his achievements, and not because he was the commander's son. Everyone apparently but Zodiac. 'What was the run-in about, Captain?' Adama was asking. Apollo didn't want to bring up the subject of nepotism, not with the commander himself. 'You know Zodiac. He's always gassing off about something. It was nothing.' Adama's ice-blue eyes glared at Apollo, as if reading his son's thoughts. 'I see,' Adama said. 'Well, if you don't wish to speak of it, that's your privilege.' There went that word again: privilege. It rankled Apollo and he had to struggle not to show any reaction to it. 'Yes, commander.' Adama turned to his second-in-command. 'Tigh, instruct the shuttle bay crew to finish pre-launch procedures with the shuttle. Alert Zodiac and Sheba to the mission, and tell them to proceed to launch bay on the double.' Leaving Tigh to his duties, Adama returned his attention to his son. 'Do you require anything else, Apollo?' 'No, sir. I'll send a report from the Marsardas as soon as I can.' Turning around in crisp military fashion, Apollo hurried to the bridge. Adama stared after him, unaware that Tigh had returned to his side. 'Are you sure Zodiac should be on this mission, sir?' Adama sighed. 'No, Colonel Tigh, I'm not. But Apollo requested him. I believe he knows what he's doing.' Apollo rushed to the launch bay, still zipping up his flight suit. Alyss, launch crew CWO, smiled, thinking, these hotshot pilots, they can't wait to get inside anything that flies. Put 'em on the back of a flowerhopper, they'd probably have it in battle readiness in a few centons. Alyss saluted Apollo smartly. 'Shuttle fueled and ready for departure, Captain,' she barked. 'Everything checks out shipshape.' 'Good. We'll launch as soon as my crew arrives.' 'Here I am,' Sheba called from behind him. 'What's up?' she asked. Apollo told her about the mutiny and described their mission. She shook her head from side to side and commented, 'As if I didn't know. It seems somebody in this fleet is always dissatisfied, always ready to take advantage. Why can't people hold a steady course? Why are they always causing trouble?' 'Human nature, my dear, human nature.' Zodiac, who had come up behind her, said. 'It's the one thing in the universe that never changes.' Sheba, startled, wheeled around and stared at Zodiac, wondering who this strange, tough-looking man was. On his part, Zodiac was struck by Sheba's darkly good looks, especially her large questioning eyes. It had been along time since he'd looked at a woman with interest, not since his wife Venus had died tragically on the desert planet. 'Sheba,' Apollo intervened, 'do you know Commander Zodiac?' 'No, I don't,' Sheba answered. 'But I have heard of you, sir.' Zodiac smiled. Apollo noted a softening in the man's features, and didn't much care for it. 'That covers a lot of territory,' Zodiac said. 'Could be good, could be bad.' 'Good, Commander Zodiac.' 'I'm not really a commander. It's just an honorary title, awarded me by the real commander, Adama. Still, I'm happy to find that such a lovely woman knows anything about me.' Apollo was uncomfortable with Zodiac's newfound smoothness. It was a side of the man he'd never observed before. He did not like to see it applied to Sheba. 'We haven't got time to chit-chat out here,' Apollo said, irritably. 'Let's board the shuttle.' 'Yes, Captain,' Sheba said. 'Aye, aye, sir,' Zodiac said sardonically, and eased past Apollo to go up the shuttle gangway. Apollo had followed Zodiac by a few steps when Starbuck came running into the launch bay. 'Yo! Apollo!' he called. 'I just heard about the mutiny. I'm going with you.' He started up the gangway, but Apollo laid a restraining hand on his shoulder and said, 'That won't be necessary.' 'Necessary or not, I need to get away from the Galactica right now.' Apollo saw Cadet Demy emerge from the launch bay turbolift, apparently looking for Starbuck. 'You stay here and solve your romantic problem, Starbuck,' he said, smiling. 'Hey, Apollo, you know when it comes to that sort of problem, I'm the fleet's biggest coward.' 'You're needed here, it's just that simple. You know what we agreed. On most noncombat missions, it's better for one of us to remain aboard the Galactica. If anything goes wrong at the Marsardas, I'll need good backup, and that's you.' 'Apollo!' 'That's the end of the story, Starbuck, sorry. We have sufficient personnel for the mission at hand.' Starbuck, crestfallen, looked down at his boots and muttered, 'Okay, buddy. I shouldn't try to snag your vapor trail anyway.' They shook hands. 'Take care.' 'You too.' Apollo turned and started up the gangway, then called back to Starbuck, 'And, oh, good luck with your amorous cadet there.' Starbuck glanced in Demy's direction. 'Thanks,' he said, sullenly. 'I'll need it.' Watching Apollo disappear into the interior darkness of the shuttle, Starbuck felt drained and empty inside. Just before Apollo was out of sight, Starbuck had felt a definite premonition of imminent danger. But that's ridiculous, he thought. Apollo could take care of himself; he doesn't need me. But why do I want to grab one of those rungs on the side of the shuttle and be dragged through the launch bay with him? Chapter Four: Jeremiah's In Trouble Again. Diving through an open hatchway, somersaulting, and landing on his feet with the ease of a cat, Jeremiah continued to run without a stumble. He was agile beyond his years, lean and quick-moving in most situations. Because of his lifelong inclination toward sharp deals and gambling, he had had to develop the ability to make a fast exit. Now he was escaping from a pair of Marsardas mutineers with blue-in-blue eyes. They followed him through the hatchway moments later. In that time he had disappeared from view. The pursuers stopped and peered ahead, seeing only shadows and dim light. They held turbo-lasers stiffly in front of them as they stalked the corridor. The two were Arakeen Fremen, a human subspecies from a planet not known for hospitality. Clinging to old-fashioned codes and tribal customs, they were known for fighting blood duels, a primitive rite of justice in which the enemy of an individual Fremen is challenged to a duel to the death, usually over a matter of etiquette, law, or honor. Having no way to go home to their 'sietches' on Arrakis, the Fremen were forced to live out the rest of their lives in stillsuits, special body-enclosing suits designed to collect and recycle all the moisture the body releases, from urine, feces and sweat, to the exhalation of water vapor in the breath. They were made of a special fabric, actually a micro-sandwich designed to dissipate heat and filter wastes while reclaiming moisture. The water was then held in catchpockets and made available to drink through a tube. 'Old bastard's just like a sandworm,' one of them, a surly type named Omer, said. 'One mili-centon you see him, the next you don't.' 'We've got to catch him,' said his companion, Yusuf. 'He could wreck the whole operation.' 'Could he?' Omer asked. 'I must admit, I'd like to get my hands on him for all he's done to us. But I can't see him as a danger to our hijacking of the Marsardas.' 'I just don't trust him. He's always been trouble. While he's loose, he's a threat to all of us.' 'Then why are we ordered merely to capture him? We should kill him.' They came to a junction, where two corridors met. Omer nodded toward the left one. 'You go that way. I'll try this.' Omer went in one direction, while Yusuf took the other. After a moment, Jeremiah came out of a dark shadowy alcove they had not noticed, smiling and slapping on his wide-brimmed white hat. He looked down both ways after his pursuers. He put a long finger to his goateed chin as he pondered his next move. Although age had done some minor damage to Jeremiah's face, he was still a strong-looking and handsome fellow. With his long, round face, smart handlebar mustache and goatee, and high cheekbones above his round chin, were features whose delicacy together with his physical gracefulness made him appear as suave and useful as most men several yahrens younger than he. The gentle azure eyes that peaked out from under the rim of his all-white hat were almost childlike. He listened to the footsteps of his pursuers fade out in each of the directions they had taken, then he made his way back along the way he'd originally come, keeping his back close to the wall, his eyes alert. The mutineers gathered in a clump on the Marsardas's bridge and watched the approach of Galactica's shuttle in the enormous viewing window. The leader of the mutiny, a Scorpian named Kris, stood back and considered his strategy. Kris had been a prisoner sent to the Marsardas as part of a 'good behavior' detail. Earning the trust of the ship's captain...an old man named Aesamurius, whom Kris had killed at the outset of the mutiny...Kris had gradually arranged for more prisoners from the grid barge to be reassigned to the Marsardas, knowing they could be of use in taking over the ship. He was especially proud of the contingent of Arakeen Fremen, a breed noted for their fierce independence, who had agreed to serve under him. Their presence tended to verify his qualifications for leadership. Anyone who could lord it over Arakeen Fremen was command material, all right. It had been Kris's goal for some time to get out from under the thumb of the Galactica and its arrogant supercilious officers, especially the smug martinet Adama. He had decided he'd rather take his chances with the Cylons than stay with the wretched Galacticans and sit in stir while they continued their idiotic quest for the mythical planet Earth. 'Damned meddlers,' Kris muttered as he stared at the shuttle. 'I sent my demands. All we need is the ship and nobody stopping our separation from the fleet.' 'Perhaps those on the shuttle are sent to negotiate,' said one of the Fremen, Canan. Canan had an ominously deep voice which commanded attention even when he was whispering. 'Sure,' Kris replied, 'and I wear a stillsuit under my flowing robes like one of you Fremen.' In normal circumstances, a remark like Kris's was justification, according to Fremen law, for Canan to draw an aural grenade and fling it at the speaker. However, the Fremen had agreed among themselves to hold their tempers no matter what happened, at least until the Marsardas was safely away from Galactican hegemony. Neither Canan nor his closest ally, Rucal, really trusted Kris. Fremen, in fact, rarely trusted anybody who wasn't a Fremen. But they had needed Kris to instigate the mutiny and organize beings who normally would not have trusted Fremen or wanted them in their midst. For the time being, Kris had to be allowed his whims, and even his stupidly sarcastic insults. There would be time for killing him later. 'What's it to be? Permit them to land or send them back?' Canan asked Kris. 'Ah, I'll let 'em land. If we're lucky, this is something we'll be able to turn to our advantage.' 'They fly under the flag of truce,' Canan said. 'Good for them. White flags are for cowards. Let's just see what they have to offer.' Canan and Rucal exchanged apprehensive glances before following Kris and his angry mumbling crew off the bridge. There was a limited amount of communication that Fremen could achieve simply through facial expressions. The look that Canan sent Rucal showed doubt in Kris's leadership and fear that the man would force them into a position where they would be forced to go against their own Fremen laws. Rucal's look said not to worry. The shuttle slid to a smooth stop inside the Marsardas landing bay. With Zodiac walking behind them, Apollo and Sheba disembarked to greet the Marsardas's welcoming party. Apollo gave them no chance for diplomatic advantage. He spoke first. 'I demand to speak to the leader of this uprising.' 'At your service, Captain Apollo,' Kris said, separating himself from the mob. 'You know me, then?' 'Spare me the false modesty, Captain. Everybody in this godforsaken fleet knows you. And I also know the bilge rat accompanying you and the lovely lady. Good seeing you again, Zodiac.' Zodiac stroked the butt of his turbolaser and smiled. Apollo touched his arm, moving his hand away from the pistol. Sheba took a couple of steps sideways, making sure she was in fighting position, should the need to fight arise. 'We served some time together back on the grid barge,' Zodiac explained, his voice low and abrim with menace. 'And I had occasion to discipline him when I took over command. His name's Kris.' 'Discipline?' Kris said, lingering over the syllables of the word. 'Discipline? We've gotten pretty swell, haven't we, Zodiac? Too important to smell our own sweat. You didn't discipline me, you threw me into the gutter and let me float along with the sewerage.' ' I couldn't allow you to taunt me in front of the others.' 'You think anything I said'd influenced those grid rats? They knew you were a turncoat. Nothing I said would...' 'Hey,' Apollo interrupted, 'ease up, both of you. Kris, Commander Adama has given me full authorization to negotiate with you and your followers. If you turn over the helm to me immediately, no recriminative action will be taken.' 'That's negotiating with us? Listen to yourself: you order and we fold up.' 'The commander gives his word...' 'Rot on the commander's word! No recriminative action, he says? Felgercarb! I know how that kind of bilge works. A few centons after you take over, the transfers'll start coming through. We'll wind up cleaning turbo-flushes on some rustheap dragging along at the astrum-end of the fleet. Stow that, Captain.' Zodiac stepped forward. 'I can vouch for the captain's word, Kris.' 'You can't even vouch for slimecrawlers, Zodiac!' 'Hey, hey,' Apollo intervened, 'let's cool this off. We can go somewhere and discuss this like civilized people.' Kris turned and played to the mob. 'I'm not gonna continue this little stage show. We got no interest in your negotiations, Cap'n. But we got interest in you as the commander's son. Grab him, fellas. The others too.' Apollo, Zodiac, and Sheba tried to reach for their guns, but they were surrounded too quickly by mutineers to act. The attackers quickly disarmed them. 'You can't do this! Apollo protested. 'We came here under a flag of truce!' 'Your white flag and two cubits'll get you admitted to the Rising Star,' Kris said. 'You're our hostage now, Captain Apollo. Best hostage the Galactica could have sent us. Let's see how your sainted father reacts when he hears. He won't think two microns before allowing us to leave the fleet.' As Apollo was being grabbed and shoved against the side of the shuttle, he hollered, 'This isn't honorable!' 'Don't talk to scum like this about honor, Captain,' Zodiac yelled, as he was pushed to Apollo's side. 'You can go suck a waste chute, Zodiac,' Kris shouted. 'Take 'em to the brig, fellas.' As Zodiac was hauled past him, Kris chuckled gleefully and said, 'Well, Zodiac, you should find a cell homey, at least.' When the three Galactican envoys were pushed together at the end of the landing bay, Apollo muttered, 'The commander won't give in to those thugs.' 'Won't he?' Zodiac asked sarcastically. 'From what I've seen, with his firstborn son in danger, he'll fold right up.' In the back of them, Kris laughed in triumph and ordered his aides to get the commander on scan. Chapter Five: The Actions Of Terrorists Adama wondered if he should order Starbuck off the bridge. The intense young lieutenant was wearing a grooved path as he paced back and forth in a rear area. Boomer tried to say something to him, but Starbuck growled back an inappropriate response. Other Viper pilots, all nearly as nervous as Starbuck, milled around, awaiting the order that Adama was certain he must soon give. 'No more word from the mutineers, sir,' Tigh reported. 'Do we still have the ship's heading?' the commander asked. 'Yes, but even the long-range scan has its limitations. The signal will be getting weaker soon.' 'You're sure there was no response to our transmission demanding immediate release of the hostages?' 'None.' Adama sighed. He removed a blue cloth from his tunic pocket and rubbed sweat away from his neck, then dried the palms of his hands nervously. 'It's what I've always said, Tigh. The actions of terrorists are as dangerous to fleet welfare as the attack of a Cylon task force. Is the patrol assembled?' 'Yes. Lieutenant Starbuck is merely awaiting your orders, Commander.' Adama wheeled around in crisp military fashion and barked: 'Starbuck! Front and center!' Starbuck very nearly leaped onto the platform where Adama stood. His salute was the nearest Adama had ever seen from the brash young lieutenant. Generally, he saluted from the famous academy skypilot slouch. 'This eagerness for duty isn't like you, Lieutenant.' 'For Apollo, sir.' Adama felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes. 'Thank you, Starbuck. Apollo is lucky to have so good a friend. You're aware this is a high-risk mission?' 'I am, sir.' 'I leave action to your discretion. However, you understand that I don't wish to endanger the lives of the hostages. For the present, your patrol is only to track the hijacked ship and watch for an opportunity. We'll have the Blue and Silver Spar Squadrons at readiness, should they be needed. Don't attempt any assaultive actions unless you're sure they'll work.' 'Understood, sir.' Adama put his hands on the lieutenant's shoulders. 'Our hearts are with you, Starbuck. To your Vipers, all of you.' The pilots, led by Starbuck, hastened off the bridge. Adama watched them go, his feelings the mixture of sadness and pride he usually felt whenever he sent pilots on dangerous missions. So much was at stake this time, not only the lives of these daring and courageous warriors but of Apollo's and the others with him on the truce mission, plus all the other innocent people aboard the Marsardas. He touched his breastplate medallion which legend said had been forged on Kobol, as he often did when considering the burden of command. 'The Lords of Kobol be with you all,' he whispered. 'And may luck continue to be Starbuck's ally,' Tigh said. The comment made Adama smile. The brash young man was famous for his luck in most situations. It was said he could slid out from under a lump of antimatter. Adama put his arm around Tigh's shoulders and said, 'Let's observe the launch.' 'Yes, sir.' Starbuck hurried into the launch bay while mentally running through the preparation procedures he generally reviewed back in the ready room. Cassiopeia, who'd been awaiting his appearance, stepped in front of him. They nearly collided. 'Not now, Cassie,' Starbuck said, taking an elaborate path around her. 'Can't you see...' She followed him and hollered in his ear. 'This is important, Starbuck!' 'What is?' 'It's about the Marsardas. Something you don't know.' 'Honey bunch, there's a lot I don't know. Give me lessons when I get back.' 'Damn it, Starbuck, listen to me!' The tears in Cassiopeia's eyes, plus the urgency in her voice, brought him to a stop. His voice became compassionate as he took her hands and squeezed them. 'Sorry, Cassiopeia. I see it's important, whatever it is. But make it quick, please.' 'It's Jeremiah.' Starbuck smiled as he heard the name. It brought up a pleasant memory of the old man. 'That old modocker? What about him? He didn't die, did he?' 'He's on the Marsardas. He'd just been transferred there.' 'Sorry to hear that. I hope we can save Jeremiah, too, but what's so important you have to stop me on the way to...' 'Starbuck, I'm not supposed to tell you this.' Cassiopeia fiddled with the tight collar of her med-tech smock. He'd never seen her so agitated before. 'He ordered me not to. And I vowed. But...but...he...that is, Jeremiah...Jeremiah, he is...' 'Cassie, what is it? Spit it out!' 'He...he really is what you thought he was.' 'Really is what?' 'Starbuck, you moron, he really is your father.' Starbuck felt like he'd been hit in the chops by a Cylon's gauntlet. 'My father? What about those genetic tests you ran?' 'They proved it.' 'No. Couldn't be.' 'I know I told you that they were negative. Well, that's what he wanted you to think. Now listen.' She struggled to gain control of her emotions, so she could describe her last meeting with Jeremiah coherently. 'Do you remember the genetic testing we did with you and him?' 'How could I forget?' When Starbuck first encountered him, Jeremiah had been posing as a genetic tracer, a profession that had developed after the Cylons had destroyed the Colonies and the survivors had been assembled into what was now the Galactica's rag-tag fleet. Genetic tracing involved a series of tests designed to establish relationships among the survivors. In the procedure, neurological cell samples from both subjects were taken and put through a battery of sophisticated tests. As a result, families could be reuinted. Certain correspondences in the histories of Jeremiah and Starbuck led them both to believe there was a chance they could be father and son. The genetic tests were performed in the Galactica's Life Station, with Cassiopeia acting as chief med-tech. 'Right after you and he battled those Fremen in the launch bay, the results of the tests came from the lab. And they were positive. I rushed to Jeremiah and found him sitting quietly outside the commander's quarters. I thought he'd be enthusiastic, but...' 'Don't bother finishing,' Starbuck said bitterly. 'He wasn't enthusiastic. Well, I heartily understand. He didn't want me-doesn't want me.' She touched the side of Starbuck's face with the side of her hand. 'No, I don't think it's that. Anyway, I ran in yelling that the tests were positive. He was quite stunned, then he said it must be a mistake. I told him it wasn't, that I'd checked it twice----but before I could finish, he touched me gently on the lips to silence me. Then he said the tests had to be negative. His eyes were sad and angry at the same time. He said you were planning to give up your career and your friends and everything to go with him. He called himself an old fool and said it'd be wrong for you to give all that up in order to try to recapture time that was gone forever. Then he begged me to report the tests as negative. I protested, naturally, but he said he could be your friend if you didn't know he was your father. He said he'd be a good friend, which was more important than being a father who would take you away from the place where you were urgently needed.' Starbuck couldn't speak. He took Cassiopeia tenderly into his arms. As he hugged her, tears trickling out of the corners of his eyes, he noticed Demy smiling over at him. What was she doing here now? he thought. Why now? And in full battle regalia? She's only a cadet. He tried not to look at her as he thought of what Cassie had told him. He was awed, but at the same time a little angry that Jeremiah had decided not to tell him. All those years he had been an orphan, Starbuck had longed for a father. He had dreamed of shadowy beings who would suddenly step forward and claim him as their son. He had imagined a detailed portrait of what he wanted in a father, a portrait which Jeremiah had matched surprisingly well. Why had Jeremiah been so damn unselfish? There were times when a little selfishness didn't hurt. Still, perhaps he was right, angry as it made Starbuck to admit to himself. Perhaps his decision had let his son where he belonged. It had been a selfish decision for Starbuck to decide to leave the Colonial Service and follow his father's footsteps into the pursuit of scientific knowledge. What kind of scientist would he have made? And, anyway, his father was a slick con man, not a scientist. Starbuck belonged in the cockpit of a viper. In the time since Jeremiah had left the Galactica, Starbuck had saved many lives with his aeronautic and combat skills. So Jeremiah had been wise to keep him from abandoning all that for sentimental reasons. It had been, after all, a father's decision, the kind of guidance Starbuck had longed for all his life. 'I didn't want the knowledge kept from you,' Cassiopeia was saying, 'but I had no choice. He wanted it, and I had to go along with him. He said something about telling you on the day you were sealed. Well, it's become obvious, under the circumstances, that would be too long a wait.' Starbuck recalled telling Jeremiah that Cassiopeia had been the only woman for whom he'd ever considered giving up his free-wheeling womanizing life, taking her as his wife in the sacred sealing ceremony. However, in the time since, their relationship had cooled off. He regretted that. 'I had to tell you, Starbuck,' Cassiopeia said, sadly. He hugged her more tightly. 'It's all right, Cass. It's very much all right. I can't wait to see the old bilge-crow again. And I'm afraid I have to go. On this little foray, every micron counts. I'll thank you properly later.' 'Counting on it,' Cassiopeia said as he released her and began running toward his viper. His move set the whole squadron into action. The launch bay was filled with the anticipation of awesome wall-shaking takeoffs. Cassiopeia, wiping away wetness from her cheeks, turned and walked toward the elevator bank. As Starbuck approached his Viper, he found Boomer waiting for him there. Starbuck pointed toward Demy, who was now climbing into one of the rear vipers. 'What in Kobol is she doing here?' 'She's qualified for it,' Boomer said. 'We're undermanned.' 'But she's only a cadet. This is a high-risk mission, Boomer.' 'It can't be helped. Commander's orders. Highest-ranking cadets to be added to this mission, and Demy's it. Look, bucko, we got a third of the squadron either in Life Station with injuries or suffering from intense battle fatigue. We need to leave some of the best pilots, like Greenbean and Jolly, back here to protect the Galactica. 'But she could be killed!' Boomer shrugged. His eyes clouded a bit with the fear that was part of every Viper pilot's emotional gear. 'So could we all, bucko, so could we all,' he said. Starbuck, however, was not done protesting. 'She'll endanger the rest of us.' 'She's flying wingmate with Bojay. He'll look after her. He's good with cadets. Don't worry. We've taken cadets on dangerous missions before.' 'And lost a lot of 'em.' 'The risks of war, you've said so yourself. What is it, bucko? Does this one have some special meaning for you? Is she one of your...whatevers?' 'No, she's not, dammit. God on Kobol, what do you bozos think I am, some kind of reckless womanizer?' 'Well, if the power-pack fits...' Starbuck clenched his fists, reading to plant one on the nose of his buddy and wingmate. 'I oughtta clobber you, Boomer.' Boomer's huge hands grabbed Starbuck's arms. 'What's come over you, bucko? This isn't just because we've got a cadet flying with us, is it?' The rage went out of Starbuck and he felt deflated. 'No, it's not, old friend. Demy's a good pilot. Taught her myself, right? I just gt some...disquieting news. It's made me edgy.' 'Want to talk about it, buddy?' Starbuck smiled. 'Sure, let's talk, right now while the squadron sits patiently in their cockpits. Later, Boomer.' 'You got it.' Boomer rushed off to his Viper, situated next to Starbuck's. Starbuck, taking his flight helmet from the CWO, Alyss, performed his famous into-the-saddle leap into his cockpit and gave the command to launch. His Viper trembled with the force of the journey down the launch tube, cleared the Galactica, and waited for the squadron to form behind him. The assembled squadron made a magnificent sight as it accelerated, reduced quickly to several tiny lights, then blended into a single pinpoint before disappearing into the darkness of space. 'Marsardas's locked on scan, Starbuck,' Boomer reported, his voice a resonantly deep rumble as it came over the unicom. 'Got 'im, Boomer,' Starbuck replied. 'You can bet this little baby won't get off my scanner.' Bojay spoke up next, asking, 'How soon till we initiate assaultive procedures?' 'I don't know, Bojay. When we can do it without hurting Apollo and Sheba.' 'Starbuck, that could be forever!' 'Patience, warrior.' 'I don't like the idea of Sheba in the clutches of those...those lousy scumeaters.' Bojay and Sheba had been shipmates from the Pegasus, the battlestar commanded by her brave but reckless father, the legendary Commander Cain. 'Take it easy, Bojay. We'll do the job, you can depend on that. We just have to proceed slowly.' Bojay laughed sarcastically. 'You, the famous hothead, advising caution?' 'Orders, Bojay. Just monitor your telemetry, and make sure your laser energizer's always on charge.' Bojay grumbled but dropped into silence. The next voice along the comm-circuit was Demy's. 'Lieutenant Starbuck?' Like all cadets on their first big mission, the tone of her voice was tentative, even a bit shy. Starbuck smiled at the idea of the tall, supremely confident Demy being shy.' 'Yes, Cadet?' 'I just performed a long-range random scan. There's, well, another ship in this sector and it appears headed for the Marsardas.' A new wrinkle, Starbuck thought. This was the first new ship detected by anyone in a long time. 'Could be a Cylon fighter or basestar,' Starbuck commented. 'Can you I.D. it, Cadet?' 'No. It's too far away for a detailed scan.' 'All right, then. Stay on it. Keep track. Let me know when you have more data. And, Cadet, good work.' Demy's voice was now more confident. There was a definite military crispness in her reply. 'Yes, sir.' 'Not so formal on patrol. Back on the Galactica, formality's fine, but out here you can get killed with formalities.' 'Thanks for the warning, Starbuck.' Her words seemed uncomfortably friendly, and Starbuck wondered what he was letting himself in for. Sighing, he checked his control dash and set a steady course in pursuit of the scanner dot he knew was the Marsardas. He relaxed, pressing his stiff tense body against the padding of his seat. He could use a drink now, but Viper pilots never kept intoxicating beverages in the cockpit. Apollo's orders. Once upon a time, a little nip while flying along stirred a warrior's spirits, but too many lives had been lost of those who lost count of their nips. For the first time since launch, Starbuck allowed himself to think about Jeremiah. His father. Could it be? Could it really be? He recalled the first time he'd met the man, on the luxury starliner Rising Star. Starbuck had been trying out a new gambling system in the liner's lavish gambling chancery, a way of beating the game of single-meld pyramid. He had had many systems before, all of which had failed, but he was damn sure of this one. After spending many nights in his bunk working with his calculatronic scan, considering the math for all angles, he was sure the system would work. It couldn't miss, in fact. At first, with the cynical Apollo sitting beside him and offering little in the way of encouragement, Starbuck had played cautiously. But, as his calculations came true and he began wining more and more, he started upping his bets. He was only vaguely aware of the gentleman in the white hat sliding gracefully into the seat next to him and playing a single cubit which returned three. At that moment, Jeremiah was already on the run from a trio of Arakeen Fremen whose twisted but absolute laws had declared Jeremiah an opponent in a blood duel because of what they perceived as a livestock swindle. At that time, Jeremiah had posed as Captain Dimitri, commander of the livestock transport Noble Eagle. He had discovered that the Fremen were clandestinely hoarding food and supplies that were in dire demand on all the other ships of the fleet, and had designed his con job to deprive them of finances that would have been used to start a revolution on the freighter Arrakis, then to recirculate the money back into useful channels. However, he had not realized that Arakeen Fremen, when they saw their honor offended had no choice but to avenge. Their vengeance usually took the form of a blood duel, in which the offender was challenged to a duel to the death, which they fought with every ounce of their energies. It was said that those challenged to a blood duel were left but two choices: accept the challenge or die. In his flight from them, Jeremiah had found no reason to contradict that saying. Jeremiah watched Starbuck as the young lieutenant gleefully raked in winnings and increased his bets. When Starbuck had put all his profits at risk, Jeremiah, touched by the energetic wagerer's enthusiasm and dedication, leaned toward him and whispered that his system had an inherent flaw in it. Starbuck, so confident that he'd worked everything out perfectly was flabbergasted. However, Jeremiah pointed out to him that, while there were three-to-one odds against the dealer holding a capstone card, it could happen. The system didn't consider that. Starbuck, startled, withdrew most of his cubits, a lucky move since, of course, the dealer flipped over a capstone and won everybody's wagers. Starbuck, eager to revise his system and play more, was dragged away from the game by Apollo. In the chancery's bar area, Jeremiah bought a round of Ambrosa for the three of them, using a portion of his small winnings as payment. Starbuck had not known at the time how little money the apparently affluent old man possessed. In order to remain on the Rising Star, Jeremiah had had to borrow a stake from Siress Irulan, an aristocratic young woman whose generosity was based on a romantic interest in him (even though he was old enough to be her father). While dancing with this woman, Jeremiah had been spotted by the Fremen and had been forced to beat a hasty retreat. Over the drinks, Jeremiah explained to Starbuck that he had used the gambling system Starbuck thought he'd discovered several yahrens ago, back on Caprica. He did comment, though, that he'd never before encountered anyone else who'd devised and played it. Starbuck was warmed by the nice gentleman's praise. Apollo asked Jeremiah if he knew such systems because he was a professional wagerer. Jeremiah demurred, saying that he had been but was now a genetic tracer. The response had been a calculated one, designed to lead Starbuck toward the idea that he and Jeremiah might be blood relatives. He had never been a genetic tracer. It was only a profession that he had heard of in his active travels through the ships of the fleet. Genetic tracers united the orphans of the Final Destruction with their relatives by the matching of neurological cell samples, or so he'd claimed. Jeremiah cleverly helped Starbuck to a conclusion he had planned beforehand. On his trip to the Rising Star he had seen Zara's interview with Starbuck on the Inter Fleet Broadcasting system's entertainment channel. The information he supplied Starbuck suggested that his baby son had escaped from the notorious Cylon raid on Umbra, in which Jeremiah's wife had been killed. His search for his infant son, he said, had influenced him in his decision to go into genetic tracing as his life's work. Since Jeremiah was a Caprican and had once had a family there, he was able to supply credible details easily. At that time he never believed that the pleasantly smiling young man with the unruly straw-colored hair now sitting across from him could actually be the son he'd lost in the Umbra raid, in spite of the truthful correspondences. His story was a dodge he had used to get out of a couple of past scrapes. What he needed was a way off the Rising Star, away from the Fremen who were much too hot on his trail. As he piled on each detail, he almost regretted the bright light that grew in Starbuck's eyes (as he told Starbuck later, in a tearful confession scene). Starbuck, never one to downplay an emotion, became more and more excited as he listened to the skillful con man's story. He nearly fell off his seat when Jeremiah mentioned the Caprican thorn forests and the agro community of Umbra, the area in which the child Starbuck had been found after a Cylon raid. In spite of his friend Apollo's counselings of caution, he became instinctively convinced that he was looking into the eyes of his father, eyes the same color as his own. Those eyes, and the fact that they had both devised the same gambling system, struck Starbuck as immediate proof. He practically begged to begin the genetic tests. Jeremiah claimed it would be impossible to conduct the tests at the orphan ship, where they had a backlog of too many cases on their waiting list. However, he suggested, a hemotype and an iris cone match could be done with the equipment which would undoubtedly be found in the Galactica's Life Station. Apollo contacted his father on the Galactica, and Adama agreed to permit the tests to be conducted there. As a result, Jeremiah obtained a legitimate reason to remove himself from the Rising Star (there was a tense moment as he and Starbuck had to walk by the bloodthirsty Fremen in the visitor's lounge) and into a shuttle going to the Galactica. He did not suspect at the time that the Fremen would be able to follow him to the battlestar by pretending to be recruits to the cadet ranks of the Colonial Warrior Viper Squadrons. As he sat beside Jeremiah in the shuttle and listened to the old man's tales, including his recent almost-offhand conquest of the wealthy Siress Irulan, Starbuck became more and more convinced that he had to be related to this man. He was unaware of the doubts that were building in the minds of his friends Apollo and Boomer, nor that they would eventually arrange for a security check on Jeremiah. Cassiopeia ran the simple tests Jeremiah had suggested. The results showed that Starbuck and the dapper old man were from the same planet and tribe, and were no doubt related within perhaps ten generations. However, she carefully pointed out, there were hundreds of people among the fleet's general population who could match them on these scientifically inconclusive initial tests. Therefore, Cassiopeia agreed to perform the more exhausting genetic tests that would establish definite proof of their relationship. At this point, Jeremiah was merely biding his time, glad to be away from the threat of the Fremen and rather enjoying his time with the exuberant young man who obviously liked him ore than any other individual in the twenty yahrens since he had lost his wife. He regretted toying with the boy's emotions, but he also knew that to run a good con you had to repress sympathy. Starbuck remembered the fear with which he'd begun the genetic testing. It was not only fear of the testing itself, but a deep apprehension that the man of whom he'd already grown fond would, after all, prove not to be his father. A finite laser extractor had withdrawn the image of a single neuro cell from his brain, then Jeremiah's, and the first stage of comparative examination was initiated. Starbuck felt relief. Whatever the tests showed, he was happy they had begun. As Jeremiah told warmly with him, reminiscing about the woman who could be Starbuck's mother, Starbuck had felt certain that his search for his father had ended. Even later, when he had been told otherwise, he had thought, in the midst of his disappointment, that Jeremiah ought to be his father. After the initial test, he had told Jeremiah that one day he hoped to be sealed to Cassiopeia. He had never said that aloud before, never mentioned it to Apollo or Boomer. When the tests were finished, events occurred so fast that Starbuck felt as if he had been drawn into a vortex of emotion. First, he discovered that Apollo had ordered a security check on Jeremiah. Angry that Apollo had interfered with his happiness, Starbuck had accused his friend of lack of faith and declared the end of their friendship. He stalked away before anyone could tell him that there was no listing of anyone named Jeremiah in fleet records. Starbuck, in despair, decided to throw over all that he had gained as a Colonial Warrior. With his friends against him, there seemed no point in climbing into the cockpit of a Viper and flying long, usually fruitless, patrols. In the meantime, the vengeful Arakeen Fremen, placed in cadet quarters after their arrival on the Galactica, overpowered the officer on duty there, Lomas, and disguised themselves as flight crewmen. Knowing that wherever Starbuck was, Jeremiah would be nearby, they roamed the corridors, asked Galactican personnel the whereabouts of Lieutenant Starbuck. They found someone who had last seen him on the way to Launch Bay Alpha with a civilian visitor. The Fremen, intent on fighting their blood duel, their blood drenched with the substance they believed the source of their strength, the Spice Melange, headed toward the launch bay. In Alpha Bay, Starbuck showed Jeremiah, now ensconced in the pilot's seat, how the controls of the Viper worked. Jeremiah appeared particularly impressed by the laser generator switch, commenting on the awesome firepower it could unleash. Then Starbuck dropped his bomb, announcing that he was resigning his commission and leaving the Colonial Service. Jeremiah seemed shocked by the revelation. He squirmed in the cockpit seat and looked pained as Starbuck spoke of his newfound desire to do something meaningful with his life by participating in the genetic tracing project. Jeremiah protested that the Galactica needed him, he was a hero, but Starbuck merely brushed that aside. 'Ah, they've got a lot of hotshot pilots who can handle that job,' Starbuck had said in a forlorn whisper. Starbuck's zeal to change his life because of him moved Jeremiah, made him feel proud. Still, he knew he could not allow it and was about to protest when the sound of the descending turbolift reverberated through the launch bay. There wasn't supposed to be anyone in Alpha Bay at that time, and Starbuck was puzzled when he saw two men in hangar crew outfits step off the elevator. Jeremiah, recognizing his pursuers and sinking into the cockpit, said, 'That is definitely not the launch crew, m'boy,' Starbuck challenged the two, whom he saw were Arakeen Fremen. One of them said they had challenged a Captain Dimitri to a blood duel. Before he knew how or why, Starbuck was in combat with the Fremen. Crouching behind a support beam, he watched the gleaming sphere of an aural grenade flash by him. He stepped from behind the beam and fired at the Fremen, then had to duck another aural grenade which sliced the support beam. The subsequent explosion sent Starbuck sliding across the floor. His turbo-laser flew out of his hand and skidded beneath the Viper. Sensing that the Fremen were stalking him now, two more aural grenades already plucked from their chest belts, Starbuck scrabbled to his feet and started running down the launch tube. Behind him his pursuers let go of their aural grenades which sailed down the tunnel at him. He dove to the floor and heard the grenades whizz by above him. The Fremen came after him, but he managed to climb upon the launch rail and watch them move by slowly below him. Then he leaped down and hustled back up the launch tube, his body tensing as he heard the initial low whine of an energizing aural grenade behind him. As he reached the end of the tube, Jeremiah hollered for him to hit the deck. Plunging to the floor just outside the launch tube, he heard Jeremiah fire the Viper's turbo-lasers down the launch tube. The firing caused an enormous explosion which was followed by plumes of thick smoke pouring out of the tube. The next thing Starbuck was aware of was Jeremiah leaning over him, screaming his name. Starbuck said only his father would be crazy enough to fire turbo-lasers in a launch tube. Apollo arrived with Boomer and Colonial Security, and they took the Fremen into custody, who miraculously still lived. After Starbuck had explained they had challenged a Captain Dimitri to a blood duel, Jeremiah admitted that he had been Dimitri and explained his swindle of the Fremen. Since he thought the genetic tests had been negative, Starbuck easily accepted the idea that Jeremiah had been using him as a way to flee the blood duel challenge by departing the Rising Star. He apologized to Apollo and Boomer and offered to visit Jeremiah in between duty tours. Jeremiah was dispatched to the senior ship at the request of Siress Irulan, who had taken an interest in him. He seemed strangely reluctant to go. Even then Starbuck sensed there was a secret. He had never, however, expected it to be the Jeremiah really was his father. The last time he had seen Jeremiah had been in the lavish quarters of Siress Irulan. The young woman had seen to it that they were well fed and left them with their drink and fumarellos while she performed her daily round of supervisory duties at the crafts arena. At first Jeremiah had been unusually glum, but Starbuck's cheerful patter had soon cheered him up. When Starbuck had to leave, however, the glumness had returned for a moment as Jeremiah said, 'You take care of yourself out there, y'hear?' 'Always do,' Starbuck replied. Jeremiah grabbed his arm tightly. 'They say you don't. They say you're reckless. You need to take it easy, m'boy, before you get seriously hurt.' Put off by the old man's seriousness, Starbuck chose to reply lightly, 'Don't worry. The luck of the tribe is with me.' 'For now?' 'What's eating you?' The skin around Jeremiah's eyes wrinkled with concern. 'A dream I had, old friend,' he said. 'You were alone, abandoned, on a distant barren planet where not a creature dwelt, not even an insect. Twas just a dream, y'know, but I woke up in a sweat. So, just take it easy, okay?' 'For a man who's been proven not to be my father, you're awfully paternal.' 'Ah, don't mind me. Habit of m'age is what.' They had resumed their cheerfulness and Starbuck had left. The next time he'd tried to visit him, Siress Irulan mournfully told him that Jeremiah had sneaked away during one of her sleep periods. She had tried unsuccessfully to trace him. Starbuck regretted that his visits with the old man had ended, but at the same time glad that he was out of the clutches of the generous but possessive siress. He hadn't seen Jeremiah since. And now the crafty old man was one of the captives aboard the Marsardas. 'Hey, wait,' Starbuck said aloud. 'Why should I assume he's a prisoner? With his orneriness, he might be one of the mutineers. I hope not, for his sake.' Starbuck wished he had Jeremiah in front of him. He'd give the old man a piece of his mind. Why in Kobol had he never told him the truth? Why did he let him go on believing the lie? Was there something wrong, something in Starbuck that kept Jeremiah from claiming him as his son? Starbuck didn't know whether to resent Jeremiah or simply be thankful that the truth had finally come out. This time, Starbuck vowed, the two would work at being father and son. He would explain to Jeremiah how much he needed a father...to attend to, to talk to, to love. He had spent so much time envying the relationship of Apollo and Adama, even though that pair was hardly the warmest twosome in the universe. Both of them could be stiff-backed and distant, especially with each other. But they had a relationship, and that was the important thing. Starbuck, thinking himself an orphan all of his life, longed for such a relationship. Whatever reasons Jeremiah had for denying his son the truth, Starbuck was content to forgive him for them. The main goal was now to reunite with the old man and then iron things out. He thought of Apollo and Sheba, imagined them imprisoned on the Marsardas. Zodiac, too, for all his bad temper. The squadron couldn't track the Marsardas forever. There was the problem of fuel, plus the uncertainties of what the mutineers would do now. He stared down at his scanner screen, at the asterisk that represented the Marsardas, trying to relate that asterisk to the reality of the ship itself. Did it... 'Starbuck?' Demy's voice interrupted his reverie. 'Yes, Demy?' 'That ship, the other one. It's definitely not Cylon. Warbook shows no profile that matches it. It still appears to be heading for the Marsardas. Do you suppose it intends to rendezvous with the Marsardas?' 'I don't know. We'll just have to keep an eye on it. Your eye, Demy.' 'Aye, aye, skipper.' Her voice was enthusiastic, pleased. Starbuck felt uneasy about the unidentified ship. In this sector of space the odds were against meeting a lone spacecraft. He felt this one had some purposeful mission, but they would have to wait to find out what it was. Chapter Six: When Past And Present Meet Zodiac had seen roomier cells in the grid barge's solitary confinement block. A person alone could get claustrophobic in such a cell, but for the three of them, it was like being wedged together in a closet. He couldn't take a step without bumping inot Apollo or Sheba, or both. The cell was about as deteriorated as the Marsardas, which he found one of the saddest excuses for a fleet vessel he'd ever had the misfortune to be trapped aboard. The padded walls and ceiling were decaying. Strips of cloth hung down and dirty odorous padding material peeked out of the holes in hideous clumps. Zodiac felt enraged. Apollo's face was frozen solid into a grim mask, and Sheba appeared to have the weight of several planets on her attractively broad shoulders. A great threesome, the kind of trio that could wow an audience with elegies. Even in the midst of his wrath, Zodiac was amused. Here he was, in the service of the good guys, winding up in the usual cell, a prisoner again. He'd been jailed for a good portion of his adult life and, as always, he wanted out. 'I can't believe they'd pull such a double-cross,' Apollo said suddenly. 'On a truce mission, for Sagan's sake!' Zodiac's laugh was abrupt and cruel. 'You think they should've honored the white flag, Captain?' 'They allowed us on board. On any ship that means...' 'This ain't any ship. Did you take a good look at our welcoming committee? They're crud, pure crud. Not only are most of 'em former inmates of the grid barge, the rest were not exactly high society, Apollo. There were some Arakeen Fremen among the group, slinking in the rear. See them?' 'I did. But Arakeen Fremen have laws.' 'I doubt very seriously that their laws include the niceties of space eitiquette,' Zodiac said. 'They saw the shuttle, and they saw hostages, simple as that. Sending us over here in the first place was the stupid act. Your father thinks he can bully anybody into submission, that's number one on his list of problems.' 'Leave my father out of this, Zodiac.' Sheba planted herself in front of Zodiac, and their bodies touched. Being confined with this young lady, Zodiac thought, had its benefits. 'Yes, Commander Zodiac,' she said. 'There's no point in getting worked up into a froth with a petty argument.' 'Petty?' Zodiac said. He could smell a faint pefumelike odor emanating, it seemed from Sheba's hair. It reminded him of the scent of a flower that grew on Miran, a planet where he and Venus had spent their most romantic vacation. 'I'm not talking petty here. I'm talking command politics. The outmoded governing system that's sending this fleet to...' 'Zodiac!' Apollo yelled. His breath was hot and laden with moisture upon Zodiac's neck. It was certainly difficult to be emotional in such cramped quarters. 'Just shut the frak up!' Zodiac tried to turn around to face Apollo. He couldn't. He twisted his head toward him. Pains like hot needles shot through his neck. 'You gonna make me?' 'If I have to, yes.' 'Hey, you guys are acting like children,' Sheba said. Zodiac could feel her breasts pressing against his arm. 'Stay out of this, Sheba,' Apollo said. 'Pardon me, folks, but I must ask: Is this a private scrap or is anyone else welcome to join in?' said a voice outside the cell. Apollo whirled around without jarring either of his cellmates, and saw Jeremiah, white hat on his head, standing there cross-legged as he leaned casually against the opposite wall. Apollo moved forward, taking care not to make physical contact with the force field which served as the cell door. He had bumped into it a couple of times already and been jolted with a small but painful dose of electrical charge. 'Jeremiah!' Apollo cried. 'What in Kobol are you doing here?' 'Jeremiah?' Zodiac muttered to Sheba. 'You know this old codger?' 'Yes, we do, Zodiac,' Sheba said, and turned away from him to grin at Jeremiah. Zodiac shrugged. From the goofy looks on the faces of Apollo and Sheba, this Jeremiah must be a bit of a character. 'I was on the Marsardas's starff,' Jeremiah explained. 'Before the mutineers took over. I gave them one heckuva fight. Now they're after me, lookin' high and low all over this rattletrap.' He glanced suddenly to his right, then crouched in the shadow of an open cell, saying. 'Gotta run, Apollo. Someody's coming.' For a moment Apollo wondered if Jeremiah was seeing things, then he heard the clunking sound of people clomping through the corridor. Soon Kris, backed by a contingent of his fellow mutineers, stood before the force-field door. Apollo noticed the blue-in-blue eyes of a Fremen in the rear of the group. 'Ah, Captain Apollo,' Kris said in a cloying voice. 'I trust you and your companions are settled in.' Apollo's gesture clearly indicated the smallness of the cell. 'Not exactly settled,' he said. 'Oh? Well, you must endure some discomfort. I couldn't sequester you three in the captain's cabin, after all. I wanted to inform you that the Marsardas has separated from the fleet ranks and is headed out toward deep space. Your father has promised that he will not interfere with our new course. 'Then you will release us now, let us return in the shuttle to the Galactica.' Kris's chuckle echoed tauntingly through the cell block. 'Not exactly release you,' he said, taking care to pronounce the words with the same inflection Apollo had used. 'As long as we have you as our guest, Captain, we're insured from attack by the Galactica. We won't let you and your companions go until we put a galaxy between us and the fleet.' 'But the shuttle is a limited space vehicle. It's not designed to cross a galaxy. We'll never be able to return in it.' 'I did say ''not exactly release you,'' didn't I?' Kris's look of triumph was so ugly that Apollo wished he could reach through the force field and rub his fist in it. Then he noticed a flicker of movement from the shadows that Jeremiah had disappeared into. Jeremiah's face came in sight, his long fingers tapping his lips to tell Apollo to be quiet about him. Whatever the man was up to, Apollo realized he should employo a diversionary action. 'The fleet won't abandon us, Kris,' Apollo said. 'Don't be so sure of that, Captain.' Jeremiah, not making a sound, gracefully moved to a position behind the mutineer who Apollo recognized as the man who'd thrown them into the cell in the first place. Dangling from the man's belt was the lockcard that turned the force-field barrier on and off. Jeremiah's eyes were fixed on it. 'Commander Adama has made it clear,' Kris continued, 'that the twin goals of the Galactica are pre-eminent. First, the flight from the Cylons, and second, the search for the fabled, ridiculous planet, Earth.' The jailer's head turned slightly to the left. He was almost looking at Jeremiah, who seemed not at all alarmed by the threat of discovery. Instead, he reached down and, in a swift, graceful move, slipped the lockcard off its chain without causing even a ripple to go through the links of the cabine. Jeremiah then retreated back into the shadows so rapidly, he seemed to vanish like a ghost. 'The commander, I'm afraid, will even abandon his son for the sake of the fleet,' Kris was saying. 'Regretfully, I am certain, but with the obsessive decisiveness that has characterized his leadership.' What Kris said made some sense, Apollo realized. Adama would not endanger the ships of the fleet to recover one ship, or three lost warriors. However, if he could find any other way, he would be quick to use it. That was Apollo's best hope now. 'Let them go back, Kris,' Zodiac said. 'I'll stay as your hostage. But these two are much two valuable to the safety of...' 'You amuse me, Zodiac,' Kris said. 'Still as devious as ever. You think you have any worth as a hostage? They'd be on us like fleas on a daggit, soon as the captain here got back to the Galactica. He'd probably be in his super Viper, leading the attack against us. No, we need the illustrious Captain Apollo here to keep the Galactica away. Grid rats make lousy hostages, Zodiac.' 'Kris, you...' Zodiac made a lunge toward the cell door. His hand briefly penetrated the force field and a numbing shock went up his arm and across his chest. Apollo pulled him back. 'Easy, Zodiac,' Apollo said. 'We've got to go along with him. We have no choice.' Zodiac, disgusted, wrenched his arm away from Apollo's grip. 'I-I never thought you would turn out to be a damn coward, Apollo!' 'Right now, better a live coward than a dead hero. I believe that right now, we're better off cooperating with Kris.' 'That's Commander Kris,' Kris said sternly. Apollo's head made a slight bowing motion as he said: 'Commander.' 'Apollo, are you space happy?' Zodiac said. 'You can't...' 'I can.' Zodiac pushed his way past Apollo and Sheba to the rear wall of the cell.' 'Not surprised, Apollo. Knew you didn't have any guts from the centon I saw you.' Apollo smiled sardonically toward Zodiac, then turned back to Kris and said to him in a soft, polite voice, 'Forgive my colleague's temper, Commander.' Kris was clearly pleased with Apollo's cooperation. His smile was smug and cheerful. 'You may consider yourself forgiven, Captain. Zodiac is famous for flying off the handle, after all. I'm happy to find you so amenable, Captain Apollo. That will go in your favor when we next meet.' Kris gestured to his squad of mutineers and the entire party started down the corridor. When their heavy footsteps had faded, Zodiac re-emerged from the shadows, holding the lockcard high. 'Thank you kindly, Apollo...for the diversion,' Jeremiah said. 'It was my pleasure to provide it, Jeremiah.' Whirling around, Zodiac's mouth dropped open. 'What's going on here?' he said. 'The good captain kept our mutinous brigade occupied while I relieved your jalier of this,' Jeremiah explained. 'But I fear we must work fast before he realizes I copped it. It'll take a moment to dope out the combination.' Jeremiah slid the lockcard into a slot next to the cell. It clicked into place and a blue operating light showed that the lock was activated. Jeremiah stared at the half of the lockcard that was still outside the slot. He touched a few of the numbers tentatively, holding his head close to the card. 'I say, these lockcard key combinations can be mighty tricky,' he whispered. 'But the right numbers usually sound just the slightest bit different. Ah, there we are. I do believe those are the numbers...but I wish I knew what combination.' He continued to work with the numbers, careful not to press the tiny bottom circle that would transmit the numbers to the lock itself. If he sent the numbers in the wrong order, it would set off an alarm and there wouldn't be time to try a different combination. His fingers flew smoothly and gracefully over the number grid of the card. Zodiac leaned toward Apollo and whispered. 'You were just faking all that nicey-nicey with Kris?' 'Of course he was,' Sheba said. 'So Jeremiah could lift the lockcard from the jailer's belt.' Zodiac nodded. 'Sorry, Captain. I should've known better.' 'No apologies necessary. Come to think of it, your outburst helped just as much. It kept their attention away from what Jeremiah was doing.' 'Success!' Jeremiah said triumphantly, and with a flicker, the cell-door barrier was gone. Apollo and Sheba were first out of the cell, followed by a cautious Zodiac, who peered up and down the corridor. He never felt comfortable when things went easy. 'We'll need some weapons,' Apollo said to Jeremiah. 'Nothin' easier. Just follow lil' ol' me.' As they headed for the end of the corridor, there was commotion behind them. Whirling around, they saw the jailer and three other mutineers running toward them, their turbo-lasers unholstered. 'We've got to make tracks,' Apollo cried. 'Let's go.' Several shots singed the walls beside them and cut grooves into the floor plating. Zodiac felt a beam come so close it seemed to singe his hair ends. A hole suddenly appeared in the sleeve of Sheba's tunic. They reached the hatchway at the corridor's end, and Jeremiah flung it open. In turn, they each dived through as shots bounced off the walls near them. Kris was not prepared for the news of the prisoners' escape and he nearly struck the crewman who'd brought the message. Turning to an aide, he ordered, 'Mobilize all off-duty personnel. We'll scour the ship. And triple the guard around their shuttle.' Canan and Rucal, standing in their usual background positions, exchanged glances which, in the facial language of the Arakeen Fremen, displayed to themselves (but not to others) their doubts about Kris's abilities to recapture the prisoners. Kris feared the Fremen. They could easily kill him if they thought that was the right thing. It was important to keep a Fremen content. Canan and Rucal listened to the messenger's report with interest, especially when the nervous crewmen revealed that the man who'd been spotted with the prisoners, and who no doubt had helped with the escape, was Jeremiah. 'He probably stole the keys himself,' Kris commented. 'He's a slippery one, all right. Isn't that right, Canan? Rucal?...Canan? Rucal?' He turned to find that the Fremen had left the bridge. They always moved with sleek silence. Kris shrugged. Arakeen Fremen would always be a mystery to him. They had run in a twisting maze through the Marsardas until their pursuers had lost them completely, then Jeremiah led them into a cavernous dark chamber. Weird shadows seemed to enclose threatening shapes. There was a strange jumble of noises, some of them coming from living beings. 'What in Hades is this place?' Zodiac said. 'Only the Anthrobiology lab, friend Zodiac,' Jeremiah answered. Jeremiah, even after the others had come to rest at the foot of a base holding a large cage, couldn't stop moving. He peered around crates, peered down aisles. 'What kind of work do they do here?' Sheba asked. 'They study representative animals, some saved from the Colonies, others captured on planets we've visited. The scientists specialize in testing their adaptability for dozens of possible environments.' Satisfied they were safe for the moment, Jeremiah relaxed and leaned his slim wiry body against a tall crate. Even after a long chase, he looked elegant. Apollo looked up and saw the kind siminoid-like face of one of the animals staring benignly down at him. 'Where are the scientists now?' Apollo asked. ''Fraid I can't answer that one, Apollo. Most of them, thank Kobol, had better sense than to go along with the rest of the mutineers, and they got locked up for their trouble. And the rest, well, they hid out, I understand. Can't honestly say I've found any, though.' Sheba, her curiosity aroused, glanced in several cages. 'Jeremiah,' she said, 'some of these animals are dead. Did they die from neglect?' 'Not usually. Some of the poor things just couldn't adapt to shipboard captivity and they withered up and died. The scientists preserved them as records of their findings, in case no others in the species were found elsewhere. I worked here, for a time, as an aide.' 'How'd you wind up here?' Sheba asked. 'I got transferred from a foundry ship. See...well...I got into a spot of trouble on that ship. What abilities I had, according to the fleet tests, were useful here...and elsewhere on the Marsardas.' 'You seem to make a career out of getting into scrapes,' Apollo commented, drawing an embarrassed smile from Jeremiah. 'Well, yes, I suppose I do. But I ain't in the same league with you warriors when it comes to scrapes, though.' 'Good point you've got there,' Apollo said, returning the smile. 'What point?' Zodiac protested. 'What is it with you guys? You know each other from somewhere, that's obvious.' 'It's a long story, Zodiac,' Apollo said. 'Yeah, it always is a long story where warriors are concerned.' 'Sorry but it is a long story.' 'And we've got to figure out what to do now,' Sheba said. 'Should we work our way back to the shuttle?' Apollo shrugged. 'We can try, though we'll need weapons. I suspect they've got the shuttle pretty well guarded by now. Still, they are inexperienced The four of us might pull it off.' A voice whispered darkly from somewhere beyond the siminoid-like animal's cage. 'Would it help if you had an even dozen...to pull it off with?' A short black man with a benign kindly face stepped out of the darkness and swung down from the cage-pedestal. From the shadows several other people emerged. Most of them seemed to be dressed in lab smocks over conventional clothing. 'Perhaps we can help you,' the short man said. 'We're not trained warriors, but any means, but we've had a taste of combat, and we're willing to fight. Hello, Jeremiah.' 'And top of the evenin' to you, Professor Clearwater.' 'You know this man, Jeremiah?' Apollo asked. 'I surely hope so, dear friend. He just happens to be my boss.' Apollo scrutinized the group carefully. They were certainly a mixed lot. Men and women of quite different ages and sizes. A mongrel crew, at best. How could they possibly be useful? Chapter Seven: If A Cylon Can Be Overwhelmed... 'You seem ill, mechanical man,' Pinhead remarked to Lucifer. 'Are you suffering? Please say that you are.' 'Absolutely not. It is impossible for me to be sick. I am just a bit overwhelmed by you people and your ship.' All around them the gruesome aliens worked frenetically. Their equipment had no real logic to it, Lucifer thought. It looked like it had been thrown together from found objects in a junkyard. It was bent, beat-up, scarred from use. Still, the aliens in their awkward way utilized the devices quite effectively. As far as he could tell, they were tracking another ship. A squarish dark blip on a screen nearly as pale-white as his captors seemed the object of their immediate attention. He wondered if soon they would attempt to use his abilities for their own benefit. He was designed to serve. In one way or another, he would always be a machine, slave to his users, it seemed. First, to the Cylons, now to these horrid creatures, in the future to whom? 'You find our chaos appalling, do you?' Pinhead remarked, the gesture of his leather-encased arm taking in the anarchy on the command bridge. 'Understand, please, that what is seemed like chaos to you is order to us. My people are locked in a perpetual war on the limitations of the universe, artificial boundaries imposed upon all living beings by their laws, their sciences. They who have all in the right place deny themselves pleasurable experiences, experiences beyond the limits, beyond their senses and imaginations. That, mechanical man, is not a sensible way to live. Which is why most of our finest study-subjects come from orderly worlds.' 'You're involved in study?' 'Indeed. We are, as I said, explorers. This is a ship of research.' 'I was under the impression you were running a pirate vessel.' 'We are, we are. But our plunder is not precious metal or material things; we plunder living beings and their souls. We load them up, take them home, and then collect our fees for their capture. The consortium I serve is particularly fond of humanoids, but you two mechanical men will fetch a nice fee for us, as well.' Pinhead's insulting remarks were delivered so casually that Lucifer had hardly noticed them. When Baltar referred to him by a pejorative name, he didn't like it, but Pinhead was a different kind of fool from Baltar. 'What will your consortium do with us? With them?' 'That is not for me to say. It will be better than what you think, that much I'll reveal. You are not pleased?' 'I am not pleased.' 'At first, no one ever is. But we Cenobites are not a malicious race. 'Cenobites, that's what you call yourselves?' 'Absolutely. We are, in many ways, your superiors.' 'You don't act like it. Attacking lone ships, bucking us about, enslaving peoples.' Something like a gleeful expression twisted Pinhead's facial features. 'To know, to enjoy, our superiority, you would have to be one of us. Strange that a computerized creature like yourself would not know something as simple as that.' 'It was clear to me, sir,' Dracula said. Dracula had been hovering in the background, listening to the conversation. And of course he had chosen his moment to interrupt. Lucifer was sick of watching Dracula butter up their enslaver. There was only so much he could accept from a fellow member of the Cylon IL series. 'Are you in command of this ship?' Lucifer asked. Pinhead's version of bellowing laughter was a sound that would have frightened children of all species. 'No. There is no captain here. We all work in unison, and there are no leaders. Leadership is a sign of limitation. As I have already said, you must be superior to know superior.' Lucifer wondered how the Cylon Imperious Leader, a three-brained being who considered himself the finest representative of the most advanced race in the universe, would respond to this bipedal obscenity's claim of superiority. He would certainly never agree with the idea that Cylons were inferior to this race of self-mutilated creatures, and he would have been offended by Pinhead's opinions on leadership. Cylons believed in leadership. They adhered to a more rigid hierarchy than any other race they had ever discovered in the universe. ' I do not understand,' Lucifer said. 'You mentioned a consortium before. Aren't the members of that consortium your leaders?' 'Must I sharpen your metal tongue with a rasp? The consoritum makes our decisions, that's true, but its members are not our leaders. We may despise imposed order, but we're not so ignorant as not to believe in systems.' 'A fine distinction, to be sure.' 'And I'll leave you now to run it through your own system while we attend to business.' 'Business?' Dracula asked, his interest peaked. 'Yes. We've located another ship in this sector. More bodies and souls to fetch. Our detection scan shows many humanoids aboard, a bumper crop. We shall return to Joyland with our holds full. A most rewarding venture this will be.' Dracula rolled closer to Pinhead, saying. 'I hope you'll be attacking them soon.' 'Of course.' 'Interesting.' Lucifer found himself in an alcove away from Dracula to watch the ship's crew gradually raise their activity to combat levels. Weapons were broken out of storage and passed around. Speeches, apparently inspirational ones, were made by several crewers. He knew now that he wanted to escape from these aliens. He couldn't envision being under their control, no matter how superior they might be. He could not bear to be among them for the rest of his probably eternal existence. While she monitored the flight of the intruder ship, Demy's thoughts were often on Starbuck. She'd been surprised to find him so reluctant to respond to her. Perhaps directness, a quality quite important to Algodorons, had to be subdued and controlled when dealing with the people of the Galactica. Still, she didn't think she could resort to the kind of devious romantic trickery Starbuck employed himself. And she hated the idea that she should stay in the background, demure and patient, waiting for Starbuck to make his move. If she wanted him, she should be able to arrange it on her terms, not wait for his. The intruder ship was now close enough to put on more detailed scan. She brought it into sharp focus and gasped at the sight of it. In shape, it looked like an antique bluish-black lacquered cube, trimmed in what was likely either brass or gold, with archaic symbols etched on its surface, just like an ancient Tauran puzzle box. The surfaces were brilliantly polished so that any reflection - distorted or fragmented - would probably skate across the outer skin of the hull. She checked its course coordinates and found what she had been suspecting for a some time. 'Lieutenant Starbuck!' Starbuck sounded amused. 'You can drop the military formalities when we're in deep space, Cadet.' 'Starbuck, I've been following the courses of both the Marsardas and the unidentified ship. There's something.' 'What?' 'It looks like the intruder is heading straight for the Marsardas. And, Starbuck?' 'Yes?' 'The etchings on the ship's hull. I could be wrong, but I could swear they're old forms of piracy symbols.' 'Pirates? You think they're pirates?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Outstanding work, Demy.' The cadet side of Demy was thrilled with her squadron leader's approval. 'What should we do?' she asked. 'Try and intercept the pirate vessel?' 'No, I don't think so. We'll intervene when we have to. Let's wait and see what they do----or what they don't do.' Chapter Eight: Between Morbius And A Hard Place As Apollo had expected, the Galactica shuttle was, indeed, under heavy guard. It stood in the middle of the Marsardas's landing bay with a ring of guards around it, and many other mutineers milling about. Apollo and Zodiac crouched behind a pile of supply crates and surveyed the situation. In the corridor behind them, the others awaited their signal. Apollo wondered if he should give it. Clearwater and his renegade scientists were brave, but their inexperience might be fatal against these numbers. Their earlier exploits against the mutineers had been successful, but sabotage in the dark by a dedicated resistance group was radically different from a frontal assault by armed warriors by a motley band of marauders. Still, they had had a well-stocked cache of arms and explosives, filched during their many sneak attacks. Apollo heard a couple of sounds from the corridor, but by and large the creatures which the scientists had freed from their cages were remarkably quite. Apollo had originally been against bringing the animals at all, but Jeremiah had argued well by his plan. Any plan, Apollo felt, was better than no plan at all. 'Lotta firepower out there,' Zodiac whispered. 'Almost every bozo out there is armed. Formidable, Apollo, formidable.' 'Maybe it's lucky we have some help. We'd have trouble taking them, just us alone.' 'I'm not sure our help can even do the trick.' 'Me either, but we'll give it a try.' 'Your call, Captain.' Zodiac couldn't hide his sarcasm, even though he felt it was pointless to do so just now. He had a lifetime of being outspoken; it was difficult to stop now. 'Well,' Zodiac said, should we begin.' 'Things aren't going to get any better out there. Ready?' 'Ready as I'll ever be.' Apollo took a deep breath then, by raising his arm, sent the agreed-upon signal to Sheba, who knelt at the corridor entrance. She said something over her shoulder to the small group behind her, and everyone tensed, ready. Jeremiah, at the rear of the group, made a sign to a third contingent well down the corridor. Apollo whispered to Zodiac. 'Count to five...now!' Gazing at each other's lips, the two quickly counted to five, then they ran to the wall near the crates and pressed their bodies against it. Everyone in the corridor spread themselves against the wall. In the darkness behind them there was a clangor of howls, squawks, and yelps. Out of the shadows, stirred to action and stampeded by the scientists behind them, came the animals taken from the lab. They were a strange-looking heard, all sizes and shapes, all moving their legs differently but pushed forward by the surge of the entire throng. They were led by a gargantuan animal with striped fur that gave it a greenish hide, three horns on the front of its skull, and tentacles; it came from a small unnamed grassland planet in uncharted territory. Zodiac saw an enibu, a colorful equine animal used as a beast of burden on his home colony, Scorpia, and an Ethus, a freakish tiny rat-sized alien creature with a poisonous black spine at the tip of his tail, of incredible intelligence, really fast and didn't have a visible mouth. Most of the animals, however, were a mixed lot whose names and origins were unknown to him. As the odd animal herd roared by them, Apollo and Zodiac felt strange fur, bumps, wars, and who knew what else brush by them. Running with the stragglers at the rear, Apollo and Zodiac joined the herd. The herd turned out to be, as Jeremiah had suggested, a perfect cover for getting far into the landing bay undetected. 'Smells like a plowed agron field in here already,' Zodiac remarked. Apollo, as they followed the animals through the astonished ranks of the mutineers, signaled back and shouted: 'Now!' Apollo's motley army came roaring out of the corridor, their ranks looked not much different from the stampeding animals in front of them. Led by Sheba, who waved her arms frantically to direct them, they leaped over crates and flung themselves into the landing bay. The mutineers, preoccupied by the sudden appearance of the herd of bizarre stampeding animals, did not perceive the human intruders. Apollo and Zodiac were more than halfway to the shuttle before they had to fire a shot. Both Jeremiah and Sheba had nearly caught up with them, with the motley crew, still mostly in soiled lab smocks, to the rear. Apollo took a bead on the apparent leader of the shuttle's guards, and fired. The man grabbed at his chest and fell. The attackers got off several more shots before the mutineers returned any fire. 'Watch out, Apollo!' Zodiac shouted. Apollo ducked just in time to miss having his head sheared off. The shot set some fur aflame on an adjacent rodentlike but large mammal who didn't even notice the small conflagration that had erupted on his back. Zodiac, sweeping his arm across the animal's fur, quickly extinguished the fire. 'Nice,' Apollo commented, as he dropped another of the mutineer guards. 'Always be kind to animals,' Zodiac said, while shooting wildly around him. Soon the landing bay was in such chaos that Apollo began to doubt the wisdom of the attack. He'd lost sight of Zodiac. Except for Sheba, a few meters to his right, he couldn't see any of his team. All he could see was animals. Fur swirled all around him, and the odor of seared flesh was nearly overpowering. He stumbled over a fallen animal, a three-horned dragonlike beast whose throat had been torn open, probably by a stray turbolaser blast. For a moment, he regretted the loss to science of one of the preserved species. His feelings almost cost him his life as a mutineer took aim at him. The shot would have caught him in the chest, but Sheba saw the man in time and got her shot in first. The man fell under the hooves of one of the stampeding animals. Apollo didn't even have time to nod her his thanks, as he wildly plunged forward, looking almost indistinguishable, from the charging beasts. He didn't even see how close he'd been to the shuttle when a shove from a large animal rammed him against its side. He was dizzy for a moment, but recovered quickly. Scrambling to the shuttle hatch, he threw it open. A trio of guards rushed at him, but he fired three rapid shots, and down they went. Looking behind him, he marveled at the fierceness and tumult of the riot. As he started into the shuttle he was thrown off his feet by a sudden throbbing blast. Even as he picked himself up, he had calculated that the rocking explosion couldn't have come from any weapon in the landing bay. It sounded like a direct hit on the Marsardas itself. Another explosion and his was thrown backward, against Sheba, who was just coming into the shuttle. He fell on top of her. As they struggled to their feet, Sheba said, 'What in Kobol was that?' 'Either the ship hit something or we're under attack.' 'Vipers? To the rescue?' 'Maybe. But I don't think...whoa!' The next hit was so damaging that the entire landing bay vibrated with it. Frightened animals shrieked, howled, and stampeded even more, falling over themselves, sliding along the floor, bumping against the walls. An alert klaxon sounded. Responding to it, many of the mutineers quit the fight, shouting something about attack. 'C'mon,' Apollo muttered. 'This confusion's going to help us escape.' The scientists started pouring into the shuttle, their movements nearly as chaotic as the stampeding animal herd's. Jeremiah jumped in with his usual elegance, trademark white hat in hand. Apollo and Sheba rapidly took their places at the shuttle's controls, and got the craft roaring into life. Jeremiah settled himself into a seat just behind them. 'Is everybody in?' Apollo shouted. 'I am, but I sure as Kobol don't know about Zodiac,' Jeremiah said. 'Don't see him nowhere.' 'He can take care of himself.' 'We can't leave him behind,' Sheba protested. 'We don't have the time to...' 'There he is!' Sheba screamed. Apollo looked out the side portal and saw Zodiac on the back of one of the larger animals, a Scorpian enibu. His left hand clutched a clump of long fur, and kneeing the enibu in its side, he urged it forward. Some of the remaining mutineers shot at him, and he down a couple of them with the turbolaser he held in his other hand. Yelping, he made the enibu charge toward the shuttle. As he reached the craft, the enibu reared and tossed Zodiac sideways, off its back. Zodiac hit the deck, somersaulted, and dived through the hatchway into the shuttle. Rising to his feet, he said, 'Thought you could leave without me? No such luck, Captain.' Apollo swung the shuttle around, sending mutineers diving out of its way. He taxied it forward toward the massive landing bay entrace, to take it out the way it had come in. 'Okay,' he said, 'let's get this baby out of here.' Accelerating, they plunged through the force-field membrane at the landing bay entrance, and swooped outward. Apollo immediately saw the small crafts from the cubical pirate ship swarming in large numbers from the sky, shooting wicked-looking grappling hooks into the Marsardas's metal skin. They had already secured the area the shuttle flew in. 'Oh, my God!' Apollo cried. Ahead of the shuttle were the crisscrossed lines of a lasernet, a wall of laser beams generated by several buoy-relays the small craft had already set in place outside the Marsardas. 'Can we crash through that?' Sheba asked. 'No,' Apollo glumly replied. He swerved the shuttle in time to avoid the lasernet, which would have sliced the shuttle, broken it up into fragments, and sent its passengers and crew to a hideous death in the vaccum of space. He decelerated the shuttle and headed back the way they came. 'Can't you find a way out?' Zodiac said. 'No,' Apollo answered. 'We'd just burn up along with the shuttle.' 'What'll we do?' Sheba asked. 'Go back into the Marsardas.' 'Nice flying, anyway, Apollo,' Zodiac said. Apollo smiled but kept quiet. Jeremiah squirmed in the chair and said, 'It's like bein' between old Morbius and...and...' 'A hard place, old timer,' Zodiac said, 'a hard place.' Chapter Nine: Taken Captive Tigh, his face puzzled, left the communications area of the bridge and hurried to Adama. His left hand clutched a sheet of the thin, nearly transparent type of paper on which fleet messages were recorded. 'I've just received a dispatch from Lieutenant Starbuck over the coded channel.' Adama turned slowly. His worries were displayed for all to read on his wrinkled sad-eyed face. 'And?' he asked. 'It's difficult to understand, Adama.' 'Out with it, Tigh.' Tigh held the message out for Adama to see for himself. 'It seems the Marsardas has been attacked by pirates,' he said. Adama's daughter, Athena, who had been monitoring fleet flight patterns on a limited-range scanner, was distracted by the import of Tigh's statement. She stood up from her console and went to her father's side. 'Pirates?' Adama was saying. 'Is this another one of Starbuck's infantile attempts at humor?' 'Sorry, but it isn't, sir,' Tigh said, and Athena nodded assent. 'Starbuck knows better than to pull a practical joke in a dire situation such as the one we now face.' 'He knows when to be serious, father,' Athena said. 'Believe me.' 'What more does he say?' Adama asked. 'The pirate ship was detected by a cadet pilot named Demy, and was then tracked by our squadron. It homed in on the Marsardas and mounted an assault against it. The Marsardas was subdued almost immediately. Starbuck reports he thought he saw our shuttle briefly emerge from the Marsardas, then return when it was faced with a lasernet. There was no time to make contact with anyone in the shuttle. Starbuck requests advice on whether or not to attack now.' 'Did he reveal his own inclination in the matter?' 'Yes. He's still cautious because he doesn't known the whereabouts of Apollo and the others, or even which ship they are in presently.' To himself, Adama cursed the Marsardas mutineers for their damnfool rebellion. He'd sent out so many directives which emphasized the necessity for the ships of the fleet to remain together, and had often pointed out that a lone vessel was a juicy target for Cylons or any other mugjapes haunting the spaceways. Now the Marsardas was serving as an unfortunate example of his cautions. It was really tempting to send Starbuck and his squadron up against the pirate ship but, not knowing what kind of being inhabited the vessel, it was just too dangerous an action. 'Instruct Starbuck to maintain pursuit until his discretionary power allows an opening he can use,' Adam said sternly. 'Yes, sir.' Tigh crumpled up the paper and strode off the bridge. Athena took her father's arm and started walking with him. Next to them, through the giant starfield window, they could see hosts of stars, in clumps and gatherings or alone and isolated. 'Before duty, I stopped at Boxey's room,' Athena said. 'The poor little guy's beside himself with worry. He knows his father's a hostage now. Not that I didn't try to keep it from him, but he found out all the same.' 'I'm sorry to hear that. What did he say?' 'What usually bothers him. He can't bear the possibility of losing his father. He says he's already lost his real father back on Caprica, and then his mother Serina, and it seems whenever he's happy Apollo gets himself into some new scraps.' Adama rubbed the back of his hand along one cheek and realized he hadn't shaved since the hostage episode began. His tough wiry whiskers felt like they were scarring the skin of his knuckles. 'It's not easy being a warrior's child,' he said. Athena smiled. 'Don't I know that, though?' she said. Her remark caught Adama off guard. He peered at his daughter affectionately. 'I gave you a lot of anxiety over the yahrens, didn't I?' he said. 'Me and Apollo. Zac, too, when he was alive. We couldn't wait until we were old enough to join the military so we could be with you. God, Apollo's got to come back. We can't lose him to some scurvy mutinous...' 'Easy, there. He'll come back. He always does.' 'It only has to happen once.' She felt him drawing back from her. She usually said one thing too many, it seemed. Now was no exception. Starbuck had ordered all comcircuit channels opened for a squadron conference. It seemed as if he could hear the breathing of several pilots in his ears. 'Boomer,' he said, 'what do you think they could be up to?' 'Looks to me like they're tethering the Marsardas to their ship. They're gonna pull it along.' 'Why in Kobol would they do that?' 'I guess the Marsardas is their prize.' 'It's a good thing,' chimed in Bojay. 'Good? Why?' Starbuck asked. 'Takes a lot of power to pull a shilp the size of the Marsardas along. If they had far to go, they'd just take the best of the plunder aboard and leave the Marsardas behind, as a derelict. They want the ship.' 'Yeah,' Boomer said. 'I think Bojay's on to something. Wherever they're heading for now, it must be close by.' 'I get the point,' Starbuck said. 'Starbuck?' Ensign Giles said. 'Yo, Giles.' 'I could surprise 'em. You know, drop in on 'em and blast at the anchorings of the lasernet. I think I'd have it disconnected from the Marsardas before they knew what happened.' Ensign Giles, a short feisty young man, was known for his daring, both in combat and in romantic matters. Some wagsters aboard the Galactica referred to him as the mini-Starbuck. 'And they'd have you in their sights and blown away before you could execute a good loop. No, don't think so, Giles. But thanks for the offer.' 'But what'll we do?' 'Just hang in there, Giles, just hang in there.' After the conference, his ears filled with comm-circuit static, Starbuck wondered how long they'd have to hang in there. It went against his nature to be so cautious. Caution was Boomer's specialty. Every nerve in Starbuck's body urged him to go to the attack immediately...blast the pirate ship into pieces only a miniaturist could sort out, then dive in and rescue Apollo, and get the job done. But that was fool's play. Whenever the chance came, he would be ferocious. But the chance had yet to come. The captives from the Marsardas were being herded through a massive tube the connected their ship with the pirate vessel. These alien pirates were more repulsive than even the vampiric beings the Galacticans had encountered at Carillon's Lot; all of them were clad from neck to foot in form-fitting black leather, steel hooks fastened firmly into the corners of ever-open flesh wounds on those parts of their bodies not covered by the leather. They stood there stoically, those grotesque beings, urging their prisoners on, sometimes striking at them with a type of laserwhip whose lightning-like lashes could reach an impressive distance while ripping open cloth and leaving oddly straight burns on the skin of the victims. A few of the pirates moved right along with the prisoners, pushing at them viciously. 'Get your hands off me, you refugee from a Taruan sadimaso holoflick!' Kris yelled and got a laserstroke across his shoulder for his insolence. 'Where are you taking us?' Apollo asked one of the aliens. 'Be silent!' the alien admonished and rudely shoved Apollo onward. 'These creatures are horrible, hellish!' Sheba whispered to Jeremiah. 'I cannot see any god----or devil, come along to that----creating these things,' Jeremiah whispered back. 'They must've been an accident, a biological experiment gone terribly wrong sometime after the Big Bang.' Not far behind Jeremiah, a pair of Arakeen Fremen were keeping close watch on him. 'That's the one?' Rucal asked Rucal. 'The one your brother Stilgar challenged to a blood duel, Dimitri?' 'Yes. But he's also known as Jeremiah,' Canan responded. 'Jeremiah, in fact, is his real name, or so we were told. Omer and Yusuf reported his presence on the Marsardas to us, don't you remember?' Canan's eyebrows came together in a frown. 'Yes, I remember,' he said. 'I feel as though I must pick up where my brother left off and fight him to the death.' 'But Stilgar's last order, before he died, was to leave the old man alone, that there would be no blood duel.' 'That order was given at the bidding of his captors on the Galactica. But I am not bound by that order, and I have different captors.' 'I see. What is your plan, then, Canan?' 'Inform our people. I'm going to challenge Jeremiah to a blood duel of my own, in the name of my brother. I will wait for the proper time, then I'll fight.' Zodiac worked his way back to Kris, who was grimacing and holding onto his pained shoulder. 'See where your pitiful little mutiny has got us, Kris?' 'Shut the frak up, Zodiac. Just shut up!' Zodiac guffawed and earned his own stroke of the laserwhip from one of the aliens, this one with needles for fingers. He winced, but refused to remove the nasty smile from his face. Pinhead, together with Lucifer and Dracula, viewed on a monitor the transfer of the humanoids from the captured ship. Lucifer noted that Pinhead seemed to derive special satisfaction from associating with ambulatory cybernetic sentients. 'Truly a ragged lot, they are,' Pinhead said, staring at the prisoners shown on the monitor screen. 'Yes,' Dracula said in his snobbish voice, 'but few humans ever display anything like elegance.' 'I'm rather partial to humans myself,' Pinhead said, the nodules atop his bald head blinking red-to-blue, blue-to-red. Dracula performed his usual obsequious turnabout. 'Well, of course, exalted sir. They are a varied and unpredictable people. I adore them.' 'If so, then you are a fool,' Pinhead said. 'Well,' he said, 'I didn't mean exactly that I adored them. But they're... Lucifer, suddenly aroused by an image on the screen, interrupted Dracula's self-serving strategy. 'Wait! Uh, Mr. Pinhead---- sir---- could you enlarge that picture? There?' He pointed toward the center of the screen. A Cenobite worked the controls until the section of the picture Lucifer had requested was made larger and brought into focus. 'Is that more to your liking?' Pinhead asked. 'Could you freeze on that area?' Lucifer asked. Eventually, alone in the center of the screen, Apollo, Sheba, Zodiac, and Jeremiah could be seen. 'That insignia,' Lucifer said. 'On the shoulder patches. It's the emblem of the Battlestar Galactica. They are Colonial warriors, the woman and that man.' He indicated Apollo and Sheba. 'Is that good?' Pinhead said. 'Absolutely. They are the sworn enemy of the Cylon Empire.' 'A mark in their favor, in that case. I would meet face-to-face with them.' Pinhead stalked a few steps away and spoke with other crewmembers. Lucifer kept watch on the screen, where, in a moment, he saw Apollo and his three companions jerked out of the line. His attention wavered from the screen, and he soon saw the four humans being thrown onto the bridge deck at the tips of Pinhead's intimidating black boots. The humans sprang up, their limbs tense, their hands closed in fists, ready for any kind of threat. 'What's going on here?' Apollo asked. 'We are here to help you reach for unknown pleasures, show you images you've never dreamed of before, you and everyone else on our captive ship. Ahhh, what prizes we have taken, yes. Now tell me, are you from the giant spacecraft called Galactica?' Apollo, clearly astonished by the unexpected question, glanced quizzically toward his companions. 'How do you know about the Galactica?' he said. 'I didn't. Not until the artificial intelligence I have recently befriended made the name of your vessel, your reputation, known to me.' He gestured his gloved left hand in Lucifer's direction. Apollo had never seen Lucifer before and wondered what the bizarre standing construct of metal and cloth was. 'I'm afraid I don't understand,' he said. Lucifer glided forward, bowing his head slightly. 'Sir,' he said, 'I am acquainted with one of your warriors, one Lieutenant Starbuck. My name is Lucifer.' Apollo, recognizing the name, could not contain his amazement. 'Lucifer! Yes, Starbuck's mentioned your name. You're the droid he met on Baltar's basestar.' 'Please, sir, I am not a droid. I am an ambulatory sentient computer.' Apollo grinned. His grin, Lucifer noted, was nearly as attractive as Starbuck's. 'As you wish,' he said. 'What are you doing with these...people...Lucifer?' 'My plight is the same as yours, alas. I am a prisoner here.' 'Is Baltar here, too?' 'No. I was on a different ship. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name and rank, warrior?' 'This is Captain Apollo,' Zodiac said. Lucifer could not have been more pleased. 'Apollo! Why, Starbuck mentioned your name often to me. Is he with you?' 'No, he's not. I excused him from this mission, and his usual luck prevailed. Lucifer did not indicate his disappointment that Starbuck was not among the prisoners as he and Apollo exchanged the stories of their capture. While Apollo had already a good idea of what Lucifer would look like, from Starbuck's description, he found himself fascinated by the disconcertingly asynchronous eyes that sent out intense red light. There was also a velvety smoothness in Lucifer's voice that he hadn't been prepared for. On his part, Lucifer was impressed with Apollo. The human seemed reasonable and friendly. Lucifer suddenly felt a desire to meet the rest of the Galactica crew...Boomer, Jolly, and the others whom Starbuck had mentioned in their conversations together. There had been many times in the past when Lucifer had realized that he admired humans, despite the Cylon pre-programmed anti-human attitudes. Except for the devious Baltar, Lucifer was comfortable with humans. As he had wondered often before, he speculated on whether he could be a turncoat, leave the Cylons and ally himself with the human cause. He could do it, he knew. He could reprogram himself for anything. As he considered joining the humans, he thought he felt a stirring in the area of his shoulder where his soul was housed. 'And now it is time to detain you three in the holding cells with the rest of our captives,' Pinhead said. 'Just what do you plan to do with us?' Apollo asked. 'We will now take you to your new beginning.' 'New beginning?' Sheba said, studying the nodules sticking out of the alien's bald head, noting the checkerboard tattoo on that same bald head, her stomach feeling as though it had swallowed a swarm of pesky insects. 'Yes, my dear. Your new beginning. On our homeworld, a place we call Joyland. One cannot run away from one's destiny. You don't know it yet, but you want what awaits you at the finish of this voyage. Your body knows it, though your mind does not.' 'Joyland?' Zodiac said. 'Never heard of it.' Pinhead's response was replete with good cheer, yet sinister, mocking amiability. 'Few beings in Fleshspace have. Ours is the unknown paradise of the universe. We like it that way. We pick and choose our inhabitants, after all. Those of you who don't fit in will not stay. We're not a resort.' 'Pick and choose?' Jeremiah asked. 'Joyland is populated by the beings we abduct from the spaceways and other planets. We are especially fond of humanoids.' 'And as a humanoid myself, I suppose you expect me to feel flattered,' Jeremiah muttered. 'Who are you people?' Sheba asked. 'We are the Cenobites. That is a rough translation into your language, of course. We are the providers of living dreams and exotic pleasures, as you will soon see. Now, begone!' Pinhead gestured toward the whip-wielding guards who then began hearing the human visitors off the bridge. Lucifer watched them go, then said quietly to himself. 'Perhaps Captain Apollo plays cards, like Starbuck. Oh, I hope so.' Dracula, who heard the remark, was puzzled. He placed it in his memory bank, with the highest call-up priority. Chapter Ten: The Smell Of The Blood Duel The odor of the Arakeen Fremen's anger, the odor of the blood duel, was heavy in the air. To a Fremen it was an exciting smell, to others it was simply musky, even slightly sweet. Within the small confines of their cell Canan and Rucal couldn't pace too rapidly, but they'd worked out a pattern where they never collided with each other. Across the way, in another cell, the Fremen named _mer and Yusuf also displayed and edginess uncharacteristic of the usually stoic Fremen. The cells, unlike the ones on the Marsardas, were traditional, secured by doors with thick iron bars. 'Is it true, Canan?' _mer called across the corridor. 'Is what true, _mer?' 'That you are going to fight this Jeremiah to the death in a blood duel?' Canan stopped by his cell door and fiercely grabbed two iron bars. 'Yes, it's true.' The Fremen, disoriented to be so far away from their home planet, felt inspired by Canan's blood duel. It made them feel good again, made them feel like Fremen. Canan resumed his pacing. 'How are you going to corner this Jeremiah?' Rucal asked. Adherents to the Bagom, or dueling guidelines, were required to isolate the opponent, at the hands of the Fremen, for a substantial period of time before he could be engaged. Crowds tended to interfere, and Yusuf knew that Jeremiah's friends would definitely not sit by and allow Canan to slaughter Jeremiah in a duel the older man could not, realistically win. 'Jeremiah has friends from the Galactica to protect him.' 'Why should I fear the Galactica when Stilgar didn't?' Canan said ominously. 'He wasn't intimidated by this rude Captain Apollo, so I won't be, either. By the Prophets, I'll challenge that man to a blood duel as well.' Apollo had been Stilgar's arresting officer that night on the Rising Star. Canan held him personally responsible for Stilgar's being aboard the Grid barge when Baltar allied himself with the prisoners from the Terran Alliance, broke out of the Grid barge, and took the Council of Twelve hostage; responsible for being on the Alliance destroyer; responsible for the Alliance commandant executing them by ejecting Stilgar and his tribesmen into space when they obviously refused to recognize Alliance authority. 'I agree,' Rucal said. He didn't like anybody from the Galactica. 'I'll kill him if you fail to.' 'But first, it's Jeremiah must be dealt with first. That's the law.' Together they crossed their arms across their chests, the vow of the blood duel. 'That's the law,' Rucal said. Each then ritually touched the aural grenades which were attached to their chests. The Fremen were the only prisoners who had retained their weapons, simply because the Cenobites failed to recognize the boles as weapons, thinking they were nothing more than a gaudy decoration. In another cell, Apollo, Zodiac, and Jeremiah displayed more calm than the Fremen. Apollo sat on the bunk, while Zodiac leaned casually against the cell door and Jeremiah stood with his right leg resting on the seat of a chair. 'Somehow I always seem to wind up in a cell,' Zodiac commented bitterly. 'Must be my lot in life.' 'I regret to inform you that we are but mere centons away from arrival on the home planet of these misshapen beasts,' Jeremiah said. 'Or so Professor Clearwater tells me.' Both Zodiac and Apollo stared quizzically at the handsome elderly man. 'Jeremiah,' Apollo said, 'you've been with us in this cell all the time. We haven't seen Clearwater since the alien attack. How can you know anything he says?' 'He's been sending messages. Tapping against the bars of cells. Others have relayed them. You mean you haven't noticed?' 'I heard the taps,' Zodiac said, 'thought everybody was edgy, never picked out a code of any kind.' 'It's an old code, used in prisons back in the Colonies. On Caprica, at least. Prisoners developed it as a way of communicating without their captors knowing.' 'In all my prison time I never heard anything about it. Hey, you've been in the tank, too. Done a little time, have you, old timer?' Jeremiah took his leg off the chair and, obviously disturbed by Zodiac's rude question, looked off to the side. 'I've...found myself under lock and key,' he said, 'once or twice. Unjustly, of course.' 'Oh, of course. Me, too. I don't know who planted that loot on me.' Zodiac's laugh was sarcastic. Jeremiah seemed about to reply, then clearly thought better of bantering with a man whose prisoner experience with banter was extensive. After a few microns, Jeremiah said in a quiet voice, 'No, I was guilty, too. I have some...some skill as a con man.' 'Some skill?' Apollo remarked. 'If you ask me, Jeremiah, I'd say you have a lot of skill.' 'Well,' Zodiac said, turning away and looking out through the bars, 'con us off this ship, old timer.' The next moments were uneasy, each of the men a little nervous at the resentment that Zodiac had suddenly brought into the cell. Finally, Jeremiah said to Apollo, 'How is Star----Lieutenant Starbuck these days?' 'Last time I saw him,' Apollo said, smiling, 'he was having romantic problems.' 'That, dear friend, does not surprise me.' 'Right. Otherwise, he's still the same feisty, slippery, charming son of a sea-skunk he's always been. And a great hero, in space and on the Triad court, incidentally.' Zodiac, his anger dissipated, turned around and addressed Jeremiah. 'You know Starbuck, too, old timer?' 'He's my...yes, I know the young man well enough.' Apollo's brow furrowed as he noted Jeremiah's hesitancy.' 'Starbuck told me he hasn't visited you recently,' Apollo said. 'I thought the two of you were getting together regularly.' 'We were. When I was on the senior ship he shuttled over often, between missions. But I grew tired of being on the senior ship and Siress Irulan was, well...' Apollo nodded. 'Yes,' he said, 'I've heard a little about the siress. Not the woman to control a restless wanderer, I'd say.' Jeremiah's grin had several secrets in it. 'You do know her. And me, for that matter.' His gestures as he spoke were smooth and elegant. 'It was a luxurious life there, with a load of old people making the best out of a controlled existence. Contributing to the fleet with their sewing, freeze-food preparation, bandage rolling, and other useful activities. And Siress Irulan, for not being a senior citizen, her lot was better than average on that ship. But I found myself dozing off in the middle of a utility period, feeling enervated when I exerted myself just a little bit. In short, feeling old. Last thing I wanted to do was feel old.' 'I think I noticed that in you, Jeremiah,' Apollo said. Jeremiah noticed the warmth in the young man's voice, and wished he could hear Starbuck talk to him that way again. 'So one fine day,' Jeremiah continued, 'I got fed up with the senior ship and stowed away in a supply shuttle. I managed to finagle positions aboard a couple of fleet ships before I found my way to the Marsardas...with my cleverly forged scientific credentials, naturally. I had to assume a role because the siress had arranged for agents to come looking for me. Oh, I had my close calls, two, in fact. Under the circumstances it was foolish of me to attempt communication with my...with Starbuck.' Again Apollo noticed Jeremiah's stuttering when he referred to Starbuck.' 'I can see,' Apollo said. 'For that I am truly sorry,' Jeremiah said. 'I would have liked to talk with Starbuck noe more time. I'm sorry I didn't. There was something I wanted to tell Starbuck. Something I sorely regret telling him when I had the chance.' Starbuck's leg muscles had stiffened from the long centons in the cockpit of his Viper. Fuel was getting low, dangerously low. The squadron couldn't afford to fly circles around this star system idly for much longer. He tried to do some isometric exercises as he waited for Colonel Tigh to come on line. When Tigh's cool voice asked for Starbuck's report, the young lieutenant replied just as coolly. 'The pirate ship has docked above the fifth planet of the star system, Colonel. Other ships have left the surface to rendezvous with it. We're seeing a lot of activity, sir.' 'Any sign of Apollo, Sheba...? 'There's no way to tell. If they're shuttling prisoners to the surface, there must be a multitude of them, judging by the number of small craft going to and fro. But they're there somewhere, and I'm going to find out.' 'You're going in?' 'Yes, it's the best way. What else can we do? We can always fly rings around any detection devices they may have. Then we'll be on the ground to take a look-see. There appears to be a large population center near the spacedrome the small craft originates from. We're going to be tourists, if necessary.' 'Is that advisable, Starbuck?' 'Well, we can do that. Or we can fly orbits around this miserable planet waiting for something to happen. Or we can return to the Galactica and continue our journey without Apollo.' 'I get your drift, Lieutenant. Good luck.' After the line to the Galactica went dead, Starbuck muttered, 'Luck's what it's all about, Colonel.' After a few moments of crackling sounds in his ears, Demy's voice spoke suddenly. 'Starbuck?' Demy's was not the voice he wanted to hear just then. 'Yo!' 'I want to be on the mission to the planet's surface.' 'Demy! What do you know about that? First time I mentioned it was to Colonel Tigh, and that was just now on the private command frequency.' There was no response. 'Cadet Demy?' 'Well...I just patched in and listened.' 'Excuse me? You patched in?' 'Yes, I did.' 'You can't patch into a coded channel. That's what the coding's for, to prevent eavesdropping. How in the holy pyramids of Kobol did you do it?' 'First I triangulated on the transmission code, then I worked through several combinations, then I...' 'Okay, okay, never mind. Maybe I don't want to know. Keep your ears away from private channels, Cadet.' Demy sounded abashed, properly disciplined. 'Yes, sir...Well?' 'Well, what?' 'Am I going?' Starbuck sighed. 'I don't know how I could do it without you.' Demy whooped with glee. 'Good!' 'Who else can keep you out of trouble?' 'I didn't quite get that, Starbuck.' 'Well, you'll just have to do a better job of patching in, won't you? Keep your eye on the scanner and your ear off my voice, hear?' 'Aye, aye, sir.' It had been easy to grant her permission to join the landing mission. He was going to order the whole squadron to the surface anyway. They couldn't afford to waste any more fuel, and it was a reasonable alternative to sending most of the squadron back to the Galactica. He inspected the ranks of the squadron to the left and right of him. We're an awesome sight, he thought, I know that. And we are awesome fighters. But can we pull this one off? Can we get Apollo and the others back? Can I get my father back? It's us against a planetful of whoever we're up against. His stiff legs started to throb with pain and he had to shift to a more comfortable position. There were few comfortable positions within a Viper cockpit. You can bet on us. A sure thing. It's easy, when you've got luck. Chapter Eleven: Highspirit On Joyland there were no beings more constantly joyful than the Cenobites themselves, especially during work hours. They worked in several control rooms scattered throughout the city, the prison compound, and the great labyrinth, a giant maze, filled with dark and damp corridors, rooms in-between each, where they spent their off-duty time. In each control room a different sector of the city was supervised, with its citizens securely under the leather-encased thumbs of the Cenobites. The city they controlled was the only settlement on the surface of the planet. The city was called Highspirt, and its inhabitants were mostly humanoid. The Cenobites had an especial fondness for humanoids, which was why pirate crews were always delighted when they came upon a lone human ship. Other races, such as the dreaded Cylons, made atrocious subjects. A Cenobite, its features shielded in a cruel mask fastened to its face by long bolts fed through the lower portion of the mask's jaw until they resurfaced from the upper jaw section in an act that completely sealed its mouth shut, and fastened by cable wires, diligently worked the controls of his assigned machine. As he worked, he communicated, telepathically, with his co-workers. Cenobites excitedly informed each other of newly discovered manipulations. An important part of their tasks was the planning out of schemes in which they could combine their trapped subjects to work out elaborate and even choreographic machinations. While communicating, a Cenobite rarely looked at his co-workers, preferring to keep his attention on individual monitors, with occasional glances at the monitors of other Cenobites when something new and unusual was happening. In one room, located in the multidomed building where the citizens came every evening for the Mustering, the Cenobites had lost some of their energy. It had been a routine day so far, and there was nothing the Cenobites hated more than routine. They liked to create routine, toy with it, change it around, but they despised the day-to-day stuff that they were required to maintain in order to lead a semblance of normality to their subjects' lives. A Cenobite started chortling and outlining his plot to his colleagues, who gleefully concurred. He returned to his console and poised his arms above the controls. On the screen in front of him a man sat at his desk, writing. As with all else in the lives of the citizens of Highspirt, the man was writing worthless drivel. But, since he didn't know it was drivel, and since it was his job, he kept at it with a studied concentration. Like the aliens, the humans of the city performed their work with vigor. In the control room, the Cenobite's fingers started to work controls rapidly, flipping toggles, pressing buttons, turning dials, patting coded touchplates, sliding levers...in brief, performing his tasks with the kind of charged efficiency that was characteristic of a Cenobite initiating a variant. His co-workers, at his signal, would join him and add their own orchestrations to his grand scheme. The man at the desk was a handsome dark-skinned man with pale brown eyes that, in spite of the energy he was devoting in his writing, seemed a bit vacant. Most humans who had been in Highspirt for a long time tended to develop vacant expressions. While he wrote, buzzers ran and whistles whistled. The sounds were dispatched by the Cenobites. Each noise changed his activity in some way. A buzzer, and he switched pens. A whistle, and he opened his shirt. Another buzzer, and he mussed up his hair. Another whistle, and he put his leg up on the desk. The aliens, who particularly enjoyed small displays, looked on delightedly (those among them that had eyes, that is). A sudden loud buzz caused the man to pick up a box that contained paper fasteners and toss it idly in the air. The Cenobite controlling him chortled and flipped a toggle. In the room a staccato whistle led the man to grab a bottle of writing liquid and add it to the box in his almost-distracted juggling. Soon the Cenobite had caused him to juggle three objects with one hand while he wrote with the other. His fellow aliens got quite a kick out of the show. Then the controller abruptly bumped a button and the man ceased his juggling, drawing his hand away from the trio of desk objects. They fell. The bottle of writing liquid rolled across the desk and spilled darkly onto the man's paper. He kept on writing. His controller jiggled a toggle and the man picked up the dripping paper and wiped his face with it, leaving blotchy black stains against the darkness of his skin. It looked like he'd developed a sudden disease. The aliens all loved it, and chortled with glee. At another signal, the man meticulously set the paper back onto the desk, smoothed it out, and resumed his writing. After a loud, long ring, he dropped the pen and turned to a screen sitting next to his desk. Bright light in many colors, emanating from the screen, entranced him. After a few moments of the light flickering off his writing-liquid blemishes, he abruptly sood up and left the room. The alien controller tracked him as he left the building and inspected the street outside, where traffic and pedestrians were moving smoothly. Most of the vehicles in the roadway were five-wheeled and open. Some of the walkers were moving rapidly, clearly on errands of some kind. Others were slower, stopping often to peer into the display windows of shops. The controller gave the signal for his co-workers to join in. Their voices rumbling in an almost sensual rapture, the other Cenobites attacked their consoles with a frenetic energy. The chaos in the control room was quickly duplicated in the street. Cars went out of control, crashing into buildings, narrowing missing people on the sidewalks. Two cars ran into each other and each looped backward, landing neatly on their wheels, their drivers and passengers smiling. Some people got int fights, and not ordinary fistfights either. Battlers flipped other battlers over their backs. Others swung their opponents by their arms, lifting their legs off the ground. Other people merely stood and shouted at each other, while a few exuberant people raced around, destroying any object they could get their hands on. As the chaos reigned, the Cenobites watched their collectively created show intently and bobbed up and down in their seats ecstatically. When the events had reached a certain anticipated intensity, they resumed jiggling and twisting their controls to change the street scene. Where anger and ugliness had been before, there was suddenly peace and love. Those who'd fallen as the result of blows or collisions picked themselves up, dusted off their clothing, and smiled. Cars whose snouts were up against the buildings backed up into the street and joined a new line of orderly traffic. People began to look sexily at each other, smiling the goofy smile of people on the make. The Cenobites' console activity accelerated their arms, creating a room-wide blur hovering over the controls. Soon the people in the streets were running to each other, many of them emerging from cars and stalling the traffic. In an impressive logistical display everybody on the street, except for the younger children, found somebody to smooch with. The sweat of passion speckled foreheads, and there was a general smell of lust in the air. A general order reached the Cenobite controllers from the consortium, and they were forced to interrupt their inventions. The romans in the street suddenly stopped. People immediately formed orderly lines and ranks, the lines and ranks of a parade. Sometimes walking over vehicles, they paraded through the city streets. Some groups sang, others rumbled in a rhythmic mutter. Pride was on everyone's face. The parade ended in an open field outside Highspirt, where the paraders broke ranks and formed new patterns: circles, spirals, and more complicated designs. The Cenobites, working furiously, were outdoing themselves, at least according to their own demanding standards of aesthetic manipulations. The human mosaic-like tapestry, when viewed from the descending shuttle, was quite impressive. Led by their alien captors, Apollo and Jeremiah were the first humans to emerge from the shuttle. 'What is this?' Apollo said when he saw the vast assemblage of prone human beings. Pinhead, standing just beside Apollo, said, 'We like to greet newcomers with a touch of ceremony, Captain.' 'A touch? This is ridiculous. What's the point?' The nodules on Pinhead's bald top flashed green-green-red-red-green-green-green, signaling the disgusting alien's state of perplexity. 'Must there be a point, Captain? We are simply bringing a little beauty into your drab lives. That's what we Cenobites strive for. Beauty, drama, illusions, pleasure beyond comparison. Without these things, existence would be extremely miserable, don't you think?' 'Look, I don't know what to think, because...I don't understand any of this!' 'There is no shame in that, as we will train you,' the creature said. 'Train us?' Apollo said. 'Yes, some training is involved. Beings don't respond to our methods automatically, after all. Some conditioning is involved.' 'Conditioning?' 'Your questions are beginning to annoy me, humanoid. Or would you prefer technical implantation or chemical manipulation? I promise you, you wouldn't like the side effects of that; for that matter, neither would we. Now, ask me no more questions, lest I am eventually forced to lie to you.' On the field, the tapestry unthreaded, and the citizens walked slowly back to the city. The prisoners from the shuttle were herded into groups which were then led across the field towards the Cenobites' ramshackle prison compound. In the middle of one clump of prisoners, Zodiac and Sheba strode. 'If we can choose our own roommates,' Zodiac whispered, 'would you like to be mine, lovely?' The disgust on Sheba's face would have reduced most men to quivering rodents. Zodiac, however, could not be so easily diverted away from a goal. 'What's the matter?' he asked. 'Your line...it's worse than anything women are subjected to by Starbuck. And that's pretty low, Zodiac.' 'I'll take that as a compliment.' Sheba, feeling revulsion, tried unsuccessfully to edge away from Zodiac, but her shoulders couldn't make a dent in the surrounding crowd. In another group, Canan and Rucal kept their vigil on Jeremiah. 'When should we make our move, Canan?' 'Patience. If we fight him now, it will draw the attention of both our captors and our fellow prisoners.' A few meters ahead of the Fremen, in the same group of prisoners, Jeremiah walked beside Apollo. Beneath the brim of his white planter's hat, the many lines of his wrinkled forehead were deep with worry. 'I do not like the look of this at all, sonny,' he muttered to Apollo. 'Neither do I. We're getting out of this as soon as possible.' 'What'll we use for weapons? We're gonna be imprisoned on a planet that, accordin' to the Colonial charts, doesn't exist...' 'We'll find a way.' 'Starbuck used to tell me you were the bravest of a brave lot.' 'Starbuck's a pretty brave specimen himself. The two of us, I guess we make a good fighting team.' Jeremiah wiped his eyes, a gesture designed to conceal tears welling up in them. Con men never cared to be seen with tears in their eyes unless, of course, it was part of the con. 'Boy, do I miss that poor bastard,' Jeremiah said. 'There's certain things I whish to Kobol I'd said to him. Well, Hades. What does it matter now?' Apollo was touched by the mixed concern and fondness in the man's voice. 'You sound like his real father, the way you talk about him.' 'That's 'cause I like the kid. I really like the kid.' After a moment of silence, he said, 'Y'know, Apollo, I think we've got a chance.' 'We sure do.' 'As long as you're with us, anyway.' Chapter Twelve: A Uniform Like Starbuck's Rhiny and her two siblings had not participated in the welcoming parade for the shuttle. Busy with one of their curious forays into the forest around the city, they'd been outside the perimeter of Cenobite control. They heard the commotion and ran to see what was happening, arriving in time to see their fellow citizens sprawled on the ground near the shuttle. Occurrences like this were not unusual for the three children, and they watched it with only mild curiosity. Their interest was not aroused until the prisoners started leaving the shuttle and they spotted Apollo and Sheba. They almost missed seeing Aerell and Aicara walk casually away from the ceremony, holding hands and talking, ignoring the prisoners and the shuttle. When the prisoners had been gathered into ranks and led away, Tiassis finally spoke. 'See that? One of 'em wore a uniform like Starbuck's.' Rhiny's response was filled with disappointment. 'Yes, but he wasn't Starbuck. He had dark hair.' Eitur had hardly noticed Apollo. 'There was a woman in warrior uniform, too,' he said, his voice awed. 'She was beautiful.' Rhiny scoffed. 'She wasn't beautiful. Her face was too long. She had a pointed chin.' 'That doesn't matter,' Eitur protested. Disgusted, Rhiny frowned at her brother. 'Boys!' she said. 'You have no aesthetic sense.' 'And you do?' 'You bet I do!' Eitur flinched at the fierce emphasis of her proud reply. Tiassis, feeling the impulse to defend her brother, said, 'She was pretty, Rhiny.' Annoyed, Rhiny scowled at Tiassis, who took a scared step backward, saying, 'Well, kind of, anyway. Nobody's as pretty as Mommy.' 'Nobody's as pretty as her,' Eitur said. Rhiny threw up her arms petulantly and said, 'You're both ridiculous.' 'Mommy's not pretty?' Tiassis asked. 'Mommy's an attractive woman, but she's not a real beauty. Not like my real mother.' Eitur and Tiassis, shocked by Rhiny's remark, gazed at her in amazement. 'Mommy's not our real mommy?' Tiassis asked, her voice frightened. Rhiny was as confused as her siblings. 'I don't know why I said that, Tiassis. I really don't. Suddenly I got this picture of this other woman, another woman. A beautiful woman, and I thought, mother. She had the kind of red hair that glows in bright sunlight and a dark complexion and...and...I don't know what. She wasn't real. I don't know why I thought of her as my mother. Mommy's my mother. Our mother.' Eitur and Tiassis were not, however, soothed by her disclaimer. All of the children had had this experience before, a moment when they seemed to recall, in vague scenes, a past life somewhere else in which they belonged to different families in different cities on different planets. 'I've had enough of watching ships and prisoners,' Rhiny said suddenly. 'Let's go do something else. Eitur?' 'That's fine by me,' Eitur reluctantly agreed. Tiassis laughed. 'He wants to see more of the warrior woman,' she said. 'Do not!' 'Do too! I can tell.' 'Tiassis!' Eitur said threateningly. 'Stop it, you two,' Rhiny said. 'C'mon.' They turned around to leave the field. Unfortunately for them, Cenobites in a prison control room now located them and moved to punish them as tresspassers. Yet, for some unknown reason, the hellish Cenobites tended to be kinder to children, and all they did was make these three run until their hearts pounded in their chests, their legs ached, and they felt as if they were going to die. For a moment, Rhiny passed out on her feet, but kept on running. They ran all the way to their home, where the aliens released control. The children fell to the ground. Aerell and Aicara, strolling home from the field, merely stepped over them to go into the house. After a while, the children pulled themselves up and entered their home. The prisoners were placed in a massive chamber inside the compound's largest building. There was nothing appealing to look at in the functional room. The prisoners didn't even perceive the holes behind which the recording cameras were placed. Apollo, Sheba, Zodiac, and Jeremiah found each other and tried to stay close together. The Arakeen Fremen gathered in another section of the room and kept close track of their blood-duel opponent. Jeremiah felt their vigilant scrutiny and had an impulse to hide behind the others. Next to him, Apollo said, 'Lovely accommodations. I've heard Cylon penal colonies look something like this.' 'They look worse,' Zodiac muttered. 'I've seen one.' 'When?' Zodiac chuckled sardonically and rubbed his hands together nervously. 'When I was on the side of the good guys,' he said. 'We attacked a penal colony in a surprise maneuver. Blew the poggies out of it. After rescuing the prisoners first.' 'The breadth of your experiences never ceases to amaze me,' Apollo said. 'I've been around,' Zodiac said, shrugging. In their control rooms, the Cenobites surveyed and examined the current crop of prisoners on monitors. There was the usual buzz of excitement among the aliens as thye discussed their plans and strategies for the new arrivals. Whenever they had a fresh group of experimentees to work with, they liked to vary the tests and try out the devices. When a series of schemes had been decided upon, the aliens attacked their controls savagely. Lucifer and Dracula, observing the prisoners' chamber on a series of screens intended solely for such viewing, saw many of the prisoners go pale and begin to squirm in their clothing. The aliens were projecting some kind of discomfort, Lucifer decided. Not all of them seemed affected. Behind the two Cylons, two panels of the wall parted, revealing a raw and gaping cavity lined with angry, sore-looking purple flesh. The purple and pink walls of this flesh gash peeled apart and opened in various places to reveal blades, hooks and, at the end of its various vestigial limbs, the dark figure of Pinhead. The limbs holding Pinhead thrust him back inexorably into the control room. Lucifer noted that he was looking at the workings of a seemingly improbable technology: chaotic electronics fused (forcibly, it would seem) with living organisms. He wondered if the very monitors and control panels now before his vision receptors were, themselves, alive. 'The whole wall over there is composed of impaneled transmitters,' Pinhead said, 'which can be synchronized to transmit one general order or used individually to concentrate on individuals or, more commonly, to transmit different aspects of the general scheme. Once individuals have proven themselves receptive, they are easier to control. At that point very complicated multiple suggestions may be made. Several of the new prisoners are obviously quite malleable. Amazing, eh?' 'Truly amazing, Lord Pinhead, sir,' Dracula said. 'It is unlike anything you have ever beheld,' Pinhead said to Lucifer. 'Not true. We Cylons created a device that could do something like it, albeit in a much more primitive form .' Pinhead leaned closer, clearly interested in what Lucifer was saying. 'It transmitted emotion, in varying strengths, into humans.' 'We did not create it!' bellowed Dracula, who had been present at the demonstration of the emotion-device. 'We traded for it. The machine of which Lucifer speaks was the invention of a race of beings called the Saticons.' Baltar had lied to Dracula and the Imperious Leader about the device, claiming it as his own. At first, Lucifer had been annoyed, being the one basically in charge of the project. However, after the Imperious Leader had been driven into a helpless rage because of a flaw in the machine, Lucifer had been grateful that the Leader believed the debacle was Baltar's fault. Now, if Dracula ever returned to the Leader with the truth, he could make a great deal of trouble for Lucifer. 'Did I say we created it?' Lucifer said. 'An unusual slip. I will have to run a diagnostic on my speech circuits. I mean to say that it was Baltar's invention; he built it using circuitry and parts purchased from the Saticons. I merely assisted.' 'And became possessive of it, it seems,' Dracula said. 'Imperious Leader has commented, often, Lucifer, on your...independence.' Lucifer, recognizing the threat in Dracula's declaration, vowed to be more careful of what he said in his company. Apollo gazed across the room, watching several of the prisoners caress each other affectionately. The romance was becoming more intense, progressing to kissing and firm embraces. He was not at first aware of the lusty way that Zodiac was eyeing Sheba. Sheba, on her part, had not noticed Zodiac's concentration on her. She was too troubled by the stirrings of her own feelings toward Apollo. She wanted the captain to take her in her arms and perform some of the acts he was watching with disturbed interest. 'What's gotten into these people?' Apollo asked. 'Nature, Apollo,' Zodiac said, without taking his gaze away from Sheba. 'Nature's what's gotten into these people.' 'It doesn't make any sense. We're prisoners here, for Sagan's sake, this is no time for...' 'Anytime's the right time. Whaddya say, Sheba?' Sheba, who hadn't been listening to the conversation, reacted to her name. 'Huh?' 'Do you agree?' Zodiac said, stepping closer to her. 'Agree with what?' 'That anytime's the right time.' 'The right time for what?' 'Look around you. For that! For romance, lovemaking, affection.' Sheba finally saw the desire in Zodiac's eyes and said, 'Stow it, mister. Not interested.' Zodiac was only half-conscious of Apollo's abrupt laugh. He knew, mainly, that he wanted the lovely woman in the tight-fitting flight uniform. 'I'm shocked,' he said. 'And I thought we were destined for each other.' 'What?' Sheba said, puzzled. 'Cut it out, Zodiac,' Apollo said. 'She just told you she wasn't interested. Did you miss that?' 'Why Apollo. I do believe you're a tad jealous.' 'Zodiac, just because everybody else's acting like fools doesn't mean you have to.' 'Gods, Apollo, you sound just like your father. Every time he opens his mouth, out spills some kind of pious morality. You and he...' Apollo, his fists clenched, moved angrily toward Zodiac. Zodiac merely stood his ground and grinned. Neither of them noticed Canan and Rucal standing to the side, watching them with amusement. The Arakeen Fremen, thanks to the influence of the Spice Melange, were unaffected by the romantic auras in the room. They had no customs of love. They lived by the law of Dune: when you need anything, just take it.' Jeremiah stepped in between Apollo and Zodiac. His face was pale. He made a half-hearted gesture to calm the anger of the two men, then his knees buckled. 'Apollo?' he said plaintively. Apollo, concerned for the old man, felt his anger leave him. 'What is it, Jeremiah?' 'Don't rightly know. Feels like the confounded world's a'spinnin' 'round and 'round. I think...I think I'm gonna pass out. I'm...' He keeled over. Even his fall had a kind of graceful movement to it. Apollo knelt by him. In the control room, the Cenobites, ever intrigued by the unexpected reactions to their machinations, discussed Jeremiah's fainting spell with ghastly enthusiasm. 'Is he all right?' Sheba asked. 'The old geezer's all right,' Zodiac said and put his arm around her waist. 'Sheba, you are the most seductive female I've seen in...in I don't know how long.' She wriggled out of his grasp without responding. For a moment Zodiac lost his urge to pursue her. This ugly, crude approach was uncharacteristic of him, anyway, but nevertheless he could still feel a tugging in his head, urging him on. 'We should get Jeremiah out of here,' Apollo yelled. 'How do you make contact with one of those...' 'Ah, forget it, Apollo,' Zodiac said. 'This is a prison. He'll be all right.' He turned away from Apollo and stepped in front of Sheba. 'Sheba, I can't keep my hands off you.' He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. She tried to resist but he was too quick. 'Let me go, Zodiac,' Sheba cried. Apollo looked up, saw Sheba squirming in Zodiac's arms. He stood up, grabbed Zodiac's shoulders, and yanked him backward. The move disrupted Zodiac's balance, and his hold on Sheba weakened enough for her to spring free. Regaining his balance, he whirled on Apollo, growled, and took a punch at him. Apollo's head darted sideways, and Zodiac's fist missed contact. Apollo jabbed Zodiac in the face and then made a solid blow to Zodiac's midsection. Zodiac doubled up momentarily, then kicked at Apollo, hitting him in the thigh, sending him reeling backward. The Fremen, watching the fight, saw their opportunity. Canan strode to Jeremiah, scooped up the unconscious man, and carried him away. Sheba, intervening between the combatants, convinced them to stop fighting. Both of them glared at each other and tried to catch their breath. Sheba, unable to resist the Cenobites' diabolical manipulation, threw herself into Apollo's arms and embraced him. Zodiac stared at them and growled bitterly. 'So that's how it is, huh? The uptight lady and the holier-than-thou hotshot pilot...how appropriate. An uplifting romance.' The control room Cenobites chattered gleefully. This was the kind of unexpected acceleration of circumstances that they particularly reveled in. However, it was time to move on to the next phase. Their arms rapidly manipulated controls. In the prisoners' room, embracing couples began to separate, confused about why they'd been embracing in the first place. Sheba backed away from Apollo, saying, 'I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me.' 'You don't know?' Zodiac said. 'Sure you don't. I don't know what came over me either, how 'bout that?' 'Stop squabbling,' Apollo said, 'we...' 'Apollo!' Sheba shouted. 'Jeremiah, where is he?' Apollo scrutinized the room frantically. He saw the massive back of an Arakeen Fremen disappearing into a crowd. 'The Fremen! It's them. I know it!' He rushed toward the closing ranks of the crowd, Sheba and Zodiac just behind him. Pushing people aside, he saw Canan holding Jeremiah in his arms, Rucal next to him, other Fremen beginning to gather around their two friends. 'Put him down!' Apollo yelled. 'Now!' 'Carful, Captain,' Canan said. 'You have no weapons to enforce your puny authority here.' He nodded his head downward. Apollo then saw that the Fremen were still armed. Aural grenades still clung to the crossed belts on their chests. Of course. The Cenobites hadn't realized that the bright jewellike ornaments on the Fremen bandoleers were really weapons. 'You won't use aural grenades in here,' Apollo said. 'You can't be sure of that,' Canan said. 'Don't interfere,' Canan warned. 'I'm going to fight a blood duel with Jeremiah, and it's no business of yours.' 'Blood duel?' Apollo said. 'I thought you and the commander agreed to call that off.' 'My brother, Stilgar, agreed to call it off,' Canan said. 'His vows don't hold for me, Captain. It's this old bastard's fault-and yours----that my brother's dead. I must fight him to the death to avenge that.' Zodiac whispered to Sheba, 'Who are these guys? No, don't tell me. It's a long story.' In Canan's arms, Jeremiah squirmed and came awake. 'Where am I? Oh...oh good heavens. You're...Stilgar's brother, Canan, aren't you?' 'And you're ours, Captain Dimitri,' Rucal said, 'or Jeremiah, or whatever name you go by now.' Jeremiah smiled weakly. 'Can we talk?' he asked. 'Apollo,' Zodiac said suddenly. 'What?' Zodiac walked to Apollo and turned his back on Rucal. 'I don't want to risk my life for this Jeremiah,' he said. 'Get out of the way, Zodiac.' 'I was going to say...' Zodiac suddenly lunged backward and elbowed Canan in the stomach. Before the Fremen could even double up in pain, Zodiac had kicked him in the side and jabbed three quick punches in Canan's hirsute face. The blows served to dislodge Jeremiah from Canan's grasp, at least enough for the slippery and graceful man to slide downward, then jump free as soon as his feet hit the floor. Apollo, reacting immediately to Zodiac's lead, sent Rucal reeling backward with a pair of quick strong blows. Sheba hit another of the Fremen with a backhand punch that knocked him off his feet. 'Move!' Apollo yelled, and the Galacticans retreated, taking care to get enough of the crowd between them and the volatile Fremen, who were yanking people aside in their attempt to pursue. 'They've got weapons,' Apollo said to Zodiac. 'Are they smart enough not to use them here?' 'I think so, but you never can tell with one of those...' Suddenly all around them people began to scream and squirm in pain. Some of them fell to the floor. Apollo had to jump over a young woman in order not to trip over her. Soon more than half the men and women in the room were on the floor, writhing in pain. 'Apollo!' Sheba called. He turned and saw that all the fallen people had given Canan a clear view of them. His left hand was reaching toward his aural grenade belt. Before he touched the grenade, his face contorted in agony, and his hand reached for his head instead. His scream roared and echoed through the room. Apollo thought he saw the walls shake from it. Rucal, too, fell. Then Sheba and Jeremiah both howled in pain. 'What's going on?' 'I don't know,' replied Zodiac, then he grabbed at his own head. 'I...oh, God!' Zodiac joined the writhing mob on the floor. Few people were now standing. Apollo watched more and more fall. Then, with the sharpness of several knife blades in his skull, he finally felt the pain that was tormenting everybody else in the room. It was excruciating, like his brains were being sliced up. His consciousness fading, he took a tumble. Lucifer watched Apollo's tumbled to the floor and was appalled by the expression on the young captain's face. He had seen enough of the Cenobites' manipulations. 'Why do you inflict such terrible pain on them?' Lucifer asked Pinhead. 'Terrible?' Pinhead's brow furrowed slightly. 'Oh, not at all, friend Lucifer. On Joyland, pain and pleasure indivisible come together at the crossroads of Hades. Their screams are our hidden ecstasies. And I, for one, am exquisitely pleased.' Hades. Lucifer had heard the word before, but, try as he might, he simply couldn't (wouldn't?) grasp its true meaning. 'Not even a Cylon would consider that pleasure, Lord Pinhead.' 'What you must understand, friend Lucifer, is that all creatures of Fleshspace, especially humanoids, tend to remember pain,' said Pinhead, 'and, though their bodies fear it, their souls desire it. The more pain we give them early on, the easier for us to control them later. It is, after all, our standard operating procedure.' Lucifer did not care to look at the screens any longer. 'What will happen now?' he asked. 'That I cannot say,' Pinhead said laconically. 'This looks to be a pretty good lot. We don't often see a fight breaking out like that. And a beautiful sight it was. We delight in variation.' 'Some of your...manipulation seems quite cruel.' Pinhead laughed that diabolical screech that Lucifer had heard too often now. 'We are their guides. To experience, domination. Joyland simply would not be Joyland were not the winds that sweep across our vast plains thick with chaos.' 'That is still no justification for the pain you cause.' 'The pain they endure is for the grater good, I assure you. Come, let me show you our city. Highspirt we call it. The citizens of Highspirit lead good lives because of us. They are granted a great deal of comfort and fleshly pleasure, are entertained by our various devices and contraptions, and even have a wide variety of literature, art, and show. We use them for our own purposes, from time to time. The rest of their lives is contentment in a worry-free environment. I believe we provide for them better lies than they ever knew before.' 'It seems cruel to me,' Lucifer said, and was sorry for the weakness of his comment. Dracula glided to Pinhead's side and oozed, 'And ingenious. Oh, quite ingenious.' All of the humans were now lying still. Lucifer wondered what their opinion of Pinhead's malignant philosophy might be. Chapter Thirteen: Starbuck's Squadron Lands On Joyland There was no indication that Starbuck's squadron had been detected flying down to Joyland. The pilots settled their Vipers in a field not far from Highspirit. As they emerged from their cockpits they could see the evening glow of the city beginning to grow as twilight came on. Beyond the city, the system's sun was setting behind mountains whose arrangement was nearly symmetrical. Starbuck was joined by Boomer, Bojay, and Demy next to his Viper. 'Kind of a pretty place,' Bojay commented. 'Maybe,' Boomer said. 'Gives me the chills though. And not from this cool breeze.' Starbuck wondered what Boomer was feeling. There was a breeze, true, but it seemed quite warm to him. 'My calculations show the shuttle landed south of this location,' Demy said. 'Not too far. We can walk it.' 'We?' Starbuck said. 'Cadet, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but only Boomer and I are going exploring right now. S.O.P.' 'I want to go, too,' Bojay said. 'Sheba's...' 'No,' Starbuck said, 'I want you and the others to stay by the Vipers. Be ready to launch if threatened. Don't wait for Boomer and me to return. Bojay, who never liked sitting around and waiting, pouted. 'All right,' he said sullenly. Starbuck regretted not taking Bojay with him. Bojay and Sheba had been wingmates for a long while. But Starbuck and Boomer had been paired for longer, and knew each other's moves so well that it made sense for them to dstay together in a dangerous situation like this. He explained to his squadron that he and Boomer would head out in the direction Demy indicated in order to scout out the terrain and see if they could locate where Apollo and the others had been taken. Then they'd return in order to block out a strategy of rescue. The pilots went to their posts, and Boomer and Starbuck started their journey. After they'd walked some distance without talking, Starbuck finally said, 'Pleasant smells in the air. Good, after the oily odors inside a Viper.' 'You say so. I'd feel a little less nervous inside a cockpit.' 'Boomer, you've refined caution into an exact science, you know that?' 'I do. That's why we're still alive after yahrens of battles.' 'Point taken.' If they hadn't had a mission to attend to, the trip through the forest would have been a fine stroll. Not only was the air filled with the perfumes of many flowers and trees, but the gentle and autumnal colors of the landscape were soothing to the eye. Tiny furry animals skittered by them, apparently unafraid of their presence, and some multicolored birds watched them stoically from branches. Before they came to a clearing, they were aware of a soft light coming from its direction. As they emerged from the woods, they saw that the light was a glow located beyond some rolling hills. 'Seems to be a city over that way, judging by the light,' Starbuck said. 'That makes sense,' Boomer agreed. 'It's probably the city we saw when we were descending.' 'Let's take a look. It might be where they took Apollo and Sheba.' 'Right.' They walked on with a special determination. In an anteroom off a Cenobite control area, Pinhead showed Lucifer and Dracula scenes of life in the city, where the citizens appeared to live pleasantly normal lives in a well-planned urban environment. Houses were spread along streets with an admirable geometric neatness, and commercial areas were decorated in pastel eye-soothing colors. The people went about their business cheerfully, frequently waving at or speaking to each other. They smiled often, and seemed quite at ease with themselves and each other. 'We treat our subjects well, allowing them a pleasant domestic life with all the conveniences and luxuries that go along with such an existence,' said Pinhead. Lucifer pointed to a screen in the middle of the complex arrangement of screens. 'What's happening there?' he asked. Pinhead leaned down to take a good look. 'Ah,' he said, when he recognized the scene, 'the family is gathering together for an entertainment. See there, friends, in the middle of the room?' He smiled and ordered, in his own language, a technician to enlarge the picture. When it had refocused, Lucifer could see in the center of the screen a smiling, gun-toting figure shooting at an offscreen opponent. Lucifer, astonished, recognized the figure. 'Starbuck!' he said. The name drew Dracula's attention to the screen. He had only seen Starbuck briefly, long ago, so he asked Lucifer, 'Lieutenant Starbuck? From the Galactica? Is he here, in Joyland?' ' I don't understand, friends,' Pinehad said. 'That man in the middle of the room,' Lucifer said. 'I know him. I have met him.' 'Him?' Pinhead, with an ugly crescendo, began his awesomely ugly laugh. 'Starbuck, is he one of your prisoners?' Lucifer asked. He found himself hoping against hope that Starbuck was here. He so wanted to see the reckless young lieutenant again. 'The gunfighter isn't a real person, friends,' Pinhead said. 'It is but a mere illusion, created by the little box at the child's feet. Look.' 'You mean it's a projection from that box?' 'In a manner of speaking. It creates a field in which settings are possible at all sizes and shapes. The people can manipulate the scene themselves. In a primitive way, of course. Nothing like we do here. The figures, too, like your friend there. There is a story that we create for them, but to a certain extent the figures and what they do are manipulable, too. A clever toy, wouldn't you say, swabbie?' 'What's a swabbie?' Dracula asked. 'Did I call you ''swabbie''? Forgive me, friends. It is a term that goes back so many generations that nobody understands it any more.' Lucifer tapped the surface of the screen with his long thin metal fingers. 'Then that's just a depiction of Starbuck.' 'Correct.' 'But where did they get the image in the first place?' 'I fail to understand you.' 'I mean, how did they know there was a Starbuck to recreate for dramatic purposes?' 'It is called Imagescan. I know nothing of this...Starcrossed, but...' 'Starbuck.' 'No matter. Our stories are often derived from the mythologies of the beings we capture, so I suppose the exploits of the real Starbuck were renowned on one of the cultures we invaded to obtain subjects, and we were able to reconstruct heroic stories about him. It's simple to recreate a person through Imagescan. A few memories, some descriptive details, and thus have you the image of Starbuck. If we discover you two automatons are heroes where you come from, we can concoct little entertainments about you.' 'We're not heroes,' Lucifer said. 'And yet you might still make good story material. I'll talk to the Engineers. They're in charge of these little amusements, and I hear they're always looking for new material for stories. It might be really good. The Two Steel Men saving their world from evil invaders. And no need for reconstruction, they'd have you right here to copy. I could clear a good piece of change with...' 'Please,' Lucifer interrupted. 'I don't wish that.' 'And why not, Lucifer?' Dracula asked. 'It sounds interesting.' 'It sounds embarrassing.' 'Don't be absurd. It's not possible for the likes of us to feel embarrassment.' Maybe not possible for you,' Lucifer thought. 'It seems to me you've lost some of your adventuresome spirit, Lucifer.' Pinhead went off to contact the Engineers. Dracula nodded to Lucifer and began grilling him about Starbuck. To get rid of him, Lucifer told him what he knew about Starbuck. Dracula showed special interest in the fact that the human was a card sharp, and he had taught Lucifer a few of the games, then beaten him every time. He asked what steps Lucifer had taken since to improve his strategy and gamesmanship. Lucifer couldn't imagine why Dracula was so curious. Dracula, on his part, had a sense he could use the information, although he had no idea how. But he was sure he could find a way. It was, of course, Rhiny who had led the children into the woods. Bored with the fifth run-through of the new adventure of Starbuck, jealous of the woman companion Erica who got so much of his attention between battles, and with no new episodes of Starbuck forthcoming for a least a sectan, she had needed something different to do. As usual, the other children were enticed by her whims. Just after twilight, they found themselves in an unfamiliar part of the woods. They had been playing adventure games based on Starbuck, with Eitur enacting the hero. Rhiny found the games joyless since her brother hadn't even the slightest remembrance of Starbuck. Exhausted, they all plopped down under a tree. 'We should be getting home now,' Eitur said. 'Mister prim and proper,' Rhiny said softly. 'Always want to follow the rules, don't you?' Even though he recognized the threat in her subdued voice, Eitur was too tired to be careful with her. 'That's why there are rules, dummy,' he said. 'You...' 'Don't fight please,' interrupted Tiassis. 'I'm so sick of the two of you always figthing when we get alone.' Rhiny turned on her little sister, and Tiassis recoiled before the disastrous gentleness in her voice. 'Tiassis, if they bottled whine with an ''h,'' you'd be rich from selling your whines.' Tiassis, braver than usual, stuck out her tongue, then skittered away. 'You're not as smart as you think you are, Rhiny,' she said. 'I'm smarter,' Rhiny said, her voice staying at a dangerously steady level. 'Anyway, we're free out here, can't you feel it?' 'We're always free,' Eitur said. 'This is a free society.' Rhiny's look at him could have wilted flowers. 'Oh, yeah?' she said. 'If they shone a hundred bright lights on you, you'd still be in the dark, Eitur. Can't you feel it?' 'Feel what?' 'There's no pull here. Nothing tugging inside our heads. It's a genuine free zone, away from whatever it is that controls us.' 'What in blazes are you talking about?' Tiassis asked. 'Controls?' Rhiny began picking pieces of bark off the tree. The bark was brittle and broke into long thin shards when she closed her fist. 'I can't believe you two don't feel it,' she said. 'Aren't you aware that we occasionally lose time? Don't you have suspicions that sometimes we act bizarrely, our minds and bodies manipulated by someone else? Don't you wonder about those horrible mutilated creatures who don't seem connected with us, except to herd new people into the prison compound.' 'Rhiny, I don't...' 'Yes, Rhiny,' Eitur said eagerly. 'Yes, I do. I know what you mean. Just like you say, little tugs inside your head.' Rhiny's body relaxed. She had thought she might, after all, be the only one to sense the control. The only one insane enough to feel it. 'And you, Tiassis?' she asked. 'You're playing a game on me, aren't you, you two? This is a game. It's gotta be!' 'You feel it, too, don't you?' Tiassis stared at the ground. She pushed up dirt with her heel. 'I dunno,' she mumbled. 'Maybe. It's just us, just the three of us?' 'No,' Rhiny answered. 'I think it's everybody.' 'Mommy and Daddy, too?' 'Yes. I'm not sure they're our mommy and daddy.' 'Rhiny!' Tiassis thought Rhiny's words blasphemous. 'I'm not sure you're my sister,' Rhiny went on. 'Not sure Eitur's our brother. I'm not sure of anything. I just have the same, vague memories, almost, that my life didn't start here in Joyland.' 'That's silly,' Eitur said. 'Where'd it start, then?' 'I don't know. Someplace else. Mommy and Daddy come from somewhere else. I've heard them talk about it. Why not us, too?' 'Because we were born here.' For a quiet boy, Eitur could be relatively stubborn. 'But I don't know if we were,' Rhiny said, unsure now that she was on stable ground. 'I don't think...what was that?' The sound of footfalls came from the path to their right. Gesturing to Eitur and Tiassis to be quiet, Rhiny sneaked forward in a crouch to the fringe of the path. Parting some high grass, she saw two figures approaching. She scurried to shelter behind trees, while Tiassis and Eitur found hiding places next to her. Starbuck and Boomer waked rapidly but carefully along the path. They were following the city's glow, which they perceived behind trees, while Tiassis and Eitur found hiding places next to her. 'All that light, looks like a pretty big place, Boomer.' 'I know. Should we get this close to it?' 'Take it easy. That's where Apollo probably is. In that city, or damn near it.' 'Near as I can tell, we're close to where we tracked that ship.' 'There you go. Way the light's coming through, there's got to be an open field ahead.' They passed the area where the children hid. In the shadows, Rhiny's jaw dropped open in surprise. Tiassis found it extremely difficult to keep quiet until the two men had gone on. When it was safe to speak, she said excitedly, 'It's Starbuck! It's Starbuck!' 'Hush, Tiassis,' Rhiny cautioned. 'They might hear you.' 'What difference does that make? I want to meat him, want to touch him.' 'I know. Me, too. But let's see what he's up to. Maybe there's an adventure.' The chance of watching Starbuck actually having one of his adventures thrilled the children. Eagerly, they slipped out to the path and proceeded in the direction Starbuck and his companions had gone. After a few steps, Eitur muttered, 'Funny.' 'Funny?' Rhiny asked. 'Yeah. I didn't think Starbuck was real. I thought he was an invention of the Imagescan people. I thought it was all make-believe.' 'Let you operate the control box and you think you know everything. There's Starbuck up ahead. Right there. Doubt your eyes, then.' The children slowed down so that the two strolling warriors wouldn't look back and detect their presence. 'I don't doubt my eyes,' Eitur whispered. 'Maybe he's an actor or something. You know, somebody hired to be Starbuck for the Image scanners. Maybe they hire people to play the parts, maybe...' 'Oh, stop!' Rhiny said irritably. 'Criminey, Eitur, you have no imagination. It doesn't even matter if Starbuck's real or not, especially when we see him out here without the Imagescan controls. This is a miracle!' 'Oh, yes, Rhiny,' Tiassis said dreamily. They were now so close to Starbuck and Boomer that they had to take cover behind trees. It was lucky they slipped in the shadows when they did, for Starbuck soon looked back. 'What's the matter, bucko?' Boomer asked. 'Nothing. I've just got this uncomfortable feeling we're being followed, that's all.' Boomer turned around and peered down the path. The children tried to duck down even more. He probably wouldn't have seen them if they had been visible; his gaze was set too high. The two warriors agreed that Starbuck's uneasiness came from his imagination and resumed their walk. The children came after them, using the trees as cover all the way to the open field. It was the same field where the children had crouched earlier in the day, watching the arrival of prisoners. In the distance, the prison compound could be seen but closer, to the left, was the border of Highspirit. 'Whaddya say, Boomer?' 'Not sure. Not across the field. We'd be too vulnerable there.' Starbuck nodded. Crossing his arms, he said, 'I think we have to check out the city. The people I can see from here, look at them, they seem perfectly normal. I don't even think we'll be overdressed.' 'What about our sidearms?' Starbuck peered down at his holster, realizing that their armed condition might be perceived as an unwelcome gesture. 'Well, he said, 'I don't want to go in there unarmed. Okay, let's ditch the holsters here, keep the guns inside our shirts.' 'I'll buy that.' They set the holsters gingerly against a tree, and threw some leaves over them. Hiding the guns inside their shirts, they rearranged their clothing and headed for the city. The children left their hiding places and rushed toward the tree. Brushing away leaves, Rhiny picked up Starbuck's holster, and Eitur snatched Boomer's. 'Starbuck seems kinda careful,' Eitur observed while his fingers stroked the slightly furry surface of the holster. 'Not like when we see him on Imagescan.' 'He's on some sort of tricky mission,' Rhiny said, holding Starbuck's holster against her cheek, and rubbing it gently against her skin. 'Any fool can see that. Even you can see that. Oh, my goodness, I love this holster. It's really Starbuck's holster, think of it!' She held out the holster then pressed it against her chest. Eitur thought the silly look on her face was swoony. It disgusted him. Anyhow, she had the good holster, Starbuck's holster. 'Big deal,' Tiassis said. 'I don't have a holster.' 'Here,' Eitur said, 'you can have mine.' Tiassis scoffed at the offer. 'That's not Starbuck's,' she said. Eitur, so conscious of that, regretted his kind offer. What right had Tiassis to say that? It was his right to say it. 'They're getting ahead of us,' Rhiny said. 'We gotta catch up. Maybe we can get more stuff from them.' Starbuck and his sidekick had nearly reached the border of Highspirt. The children had to hotfoot it to close the distance between them. Boomer and Starbuck came onto a sidewalk leading into the city. There were no people in the immediate vicinity. Walking along, they felt a cool evening breeze against their skin. There were pleasant trees all along the street, and nice pleasant-looking homes set neatly back from it. 'You can't tell me the smells here don't get to you,' Starbuck said. 'It's like back home on Caprica to me. The hometown where my parents...my step-parents...lived. I used to play on streets like this, climb trees like that one...' 'Yeah, and I'll bet you messed around with little girls in houses like those.' Starbuck stopped abruptly and grabbed Boomer by the arm. His grip was vicelike and hurtful. He spoke angrily. 'It might surprise you to know, Boomer old fig, that I was a shy kid and never had much to do with girls. I was a late bloomer.' 'Yeah, but look how you bloomed.' 'I wish you guys'd stop razzing me about...' He bit off his words because he saw people walking toward them, a family out for a pleasant evening walk in their neighborhood. There was a father, mother, and a little boy, all of them average-looking. The boy wore clean crisp clothes. 'Act casual,' Starbuck muttered to Boomer. 'How do we know what casual's like in this place?' Starbuck grinned at the oncoming smiles on all three faces. The child's smile, however, quickly disappeared as he scrutinized Starbuck. His eyes grew wide in awe. He yelped, and his mother told him to be quiet. 'But, mama,' the child said. 'Look at him. Look at him.' 'I see,' the mother said. 'And a very nice-looking man he is.' Starbuck's smile grew larger and Boomer had to suppress a groan. 'I'm sorry, sir. Jothal's a little excitable for his age. Say hello to the men, Jothal.' The child's eyes saddened and his greeting was sullen. 'Hello.' 'Evening,' the father of the family said cheerfully. Starbuck and Boomer replied together: 'Evening.' They sauntered on, past the family. Behind them, the mother remarked to the child. 'They must be soldiers of some kind, son. Looks like uniforms they have on. Never saw any quite like that, though.' Starbuck glanced back to see the mother peeking back at him. Embarrassed, she turned back, her body straightening as she walked away. The child seemed to be trying, futilely, to tell his mother something. 'Weird kid,' Boomer said. 'Impressed by you, though.' 'Jothal! Imagine a name like that? No wonder some kids are strange. A monicker like that'd make anybody weird. Jothal! Hey, what's that?' 'What's what?' Boomer said. 'I don't see anything.' 'I thought I saw some movement over that way. I told you, I got this sense somebody's following us.' 'Shall we wait here and see?' Starbuck considered Boomer's suggestion for a moment before saying, 'Nah, let's go on. Probably my imagination running away with me, anyhow.' They resumed their walk, keeping a fast pace. When they had turned a corner, the children left their hiding places and met on the sidewalk. 'That was a close one,' Eitur said. 'I think he saw us.' 'And what if he did?' Rhiny said, shrugging. She was pressing Starubuck's holster to her chest with both hands. 'He's Starbuck, the Starbuck. He won't be afraid of us. C'mon, we gotta hurry or they'll get away altogether.' 'I'm gettin' tired,' Tiassis whined. 'My feet're killin' me.' 'All right,' Rhiny said coldly, 'you just stay right here, then.' 'You're supposed to take care of me.' 'Take care of yourself, small one. I'm not missing this chance, not for nobody.' Rhiny broke into a run, and Eitur was quickly on her heels. Tiassis, with a child's mild curse, followed them reluctantly. Rounding the corner, they saw Starbuck and Boomer up ahead, stopped across the street from a shopping center. Standing in the darkness, Starbuck surveyed the brightly-lit and well-populated area. It was clear that the round bubblelike buildings were stores, busy with people engaged in normal consumer activity. 'Whaddya say, Boomer? Shall we mingle?' 'I'd rather stay here and observe, thank you.' 'C'mon. We've got to know the people, maybe we can find out where they've stashed Apollo. Otherwise we just wander this place like tourists. Gotta take a chance, Boomer.' Their first few steps onto the strangely soft surface of the shopping center's promenade were quite tentative. They were ready to act quickly if anyone challenged them, but instead, nobody particularly noticed them and they blended in easily with the busy shoppers. In fact, as Pinhead had shown Lucifer not long before, many of the buying choices of the shoppers were being guided gently by Cenobites who found shopping one of the more amusing human activities. To beings who merely took what they wanted, any kind of bargaining seemed a laughable occurrence. On their part, the shoppers did not realize that the little tugs in their mind urging them to buy were not their own impulsive feelings. Rhiny, Eitur, and Tiassis followed Starbuck and Boomer into the shopping center, able to stay close to them now as part of the crowd. A couple of times Rhiny walked just behind Starbuck's left elbow. She noticed a couple of grease stains on his sleeve, and she memorized their shapes. 'You think Starbuck's doing something, Rhiny?' Eitur asked. 'I mean, investigating something, looking for some bad guy to blow away?' ''Course he is. He's the Starbuck, isn't he?' While some people appeared to take a second look at their uniforms, Starbuck and Boomer mixed in with the crowd easily. 'Nice place, Boomer. If I didn't have other plans for my life, I could easily settle down in a town like this.' 'I can't imagine you settling anywhere. Hades' hole, you can't even ist still in a chair for long, bucko.' 'Nah. I'm made for the easy life.' As if to display his newfound commitment to a restful existence, Starbuck slipped a fumarello out of his tunic pocket. He rolled it around in his fingers for a moment, listening with pleasure to its crinkling sounds. 'Thought you were giving up those fumarellos,' Boomer commented. 'I give 'em up. For periods of time. Now's not one of those periods.' He finally unwrapped the cigar, tossing the wrapper gingerly over his shoulder. As soon as he had gone on a few steps, Rhiny pounced on the wrapper, picking it up and rubbing her fingers over it. 'It's Starbuck's,' she said dreamily. 'It's only fumarello wrappings, Rhiny,' Eitur said. He was a little jealous that he hadn't thought of retrieving it himself. 'I don't care,' Rhiny said. 'I'm keeping it forever.' Again they closed the gap between themselves and the two Colonial warriors, walking only a few steps behind them. 'We're not getting very far in finding out where Apollo is,' Boomer remarked. 'Patience, Boomer, patience. We'll ask someone. First we've got to pick a friendly face. Ah, there's one now.' Boomer, amused, noted that the friendly face his buddy had selected was also a pretty one, about the prettiest woman in the immediate vicinity. She had soft blond hair, a couple of shades darker than Starbuck's and bright blue eyes. That's Starbuck all right, he thought. Starbuck touched the young woman's arm. She smiled warmly as soon as she saw his handsome eager face. 'Excuse me, miss, I wonder if you...' 'I know you from somewhere,' she said. Boomer, noticing her voice was sexy, thought: God, we're in trouble now. 'I don't believe we've met,' Starbuck said, with some charm, 'but...' 'But we have. I'm sure of it.' 'If we had, I'd surely remember. But you see, I've never been...' 'I know who you are. I know. I can't believe it. It's you. It's really you, isn't it?' Starbuck, confused, wondered if he'd managed to stop the only crazy lady in the area. 'Ummmm, yeah,' he said. 'Yeah, it's me. I mean, it is me. I've always been me. I've...' 'I know your name. Can't think of it. Let me see.' Her arm darting out suddenly, she stopped a passing middle-aged man. 'It's him,' she said to the man. 'Can't you see it's him?' 'You do look familiar, son. Can't place you, though.' Boomer was looking for an exit. 'Maybe we better get outta here,' he whispered to Starbuck. 'Why, Boomer? Look at all the attention I'm getting us.' 'That's what's bothering me.' The middle-aged man spoke over his shoulder to an elderly woman in a veiled hat, who had stopped to gawk. 'It's him,' the man said. 'Isn't it?' 'I do believe it is,' the woman said. 'But what's his name? Where do we know him from?' 'I'm not sure.' Each of the trio called to other shoppers, asking Starbuck's identity of each of them. Rhiny, Eitur, and Tiassis, sensing danger, lingered in the background. A little girl slipped through the legs of someone in the crowd. When she saw Starbuck, her jaw dropped open. She couldn't speak at first, then she yelled at the top of her voice: 'It's Starbuck! It really is! It's Starbuck! Murmurs of agreement and recognition buzzed through the crowd. Starbuck removed the fumarello from his mouth, and spread his arms in a friendly gesture. Bewildered and pleased simultaneously, he said, 'Starbuck's my name, all right, but how did you folks get it?' 'I love you!' said the woman he'd originally stopped. 'I'm flattered, miss, but...' The middle-aged man pushed forward and put his hands on Starbuck's shirt, crunched up a small section of material. 'Let me have something,' he said. 'A piece of your jacket, maybe.' Starbuck pushed the man away. The little girl sprang to her feet and announced, 'I want his gun!' 'Hey, wait,' Starbuck said to both of them. 'I can't give you anything, I...' 'Just one kiss, a big kiss,' the pretty woman said. 'I've seen every one of your adventures.' Starbuck and Boomer exchanged puzzled glances, both of them backing away a step from the crowd. 'What?' Starbuck said to his new admirers. 'I don't get it. You people can't know me.' A chubby man in the second rak of the crowd punched the shoulder of a buddy and yelled, 'See? How humble he is? I knew he'd be humble in person.' 'I didn't even know you could see him in person,' said a wide-eyed matron. 'A button from your clothing,' the middle-aged man begged. 'C'mon.' 'Yeah,' said the chubby man. 'Me, too.' The crowd surged forward. Starbuck backed off, the fumarello dropping from his fingers. He didn't notice Rhiny sweeping in to snatch it from the ground. After slipping the cigar into the holster, she and Tiassis grabbed Starbuck's arm, while Eitur did the same for Boomer.' 'You better come with us,' Rhiny said quietly. 'Why?' Starbuck said. 'We know the way out.' She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze, then addressed the crowd. 'Starbuck can't do anything for you folks right now. But he'll be at the Brotherhood Outlet later this evening, signing Imagescan packets.' The children began to lead Starbuck and Boomer away. They had put some space between them and the crowd, when a man toward the rear of the group shouted, 'Hey, that's just a kid. She's not important. Why should we listen to her?' 'C'mon,' said someone else, 'let's get Starbuck!' The woman Starbuck had originally stopped to get information from screamed in a bone-chilling voice: 'Yeah. He's ours! Let's get him!' The crowd started moving forward like a wall of Cylon raiders, with the same kind of murderous instincts. At the children's promptings, Starbuck and Boomer started to run. Rhiny pointed to an alley between two of the stores, and the five of them ran into it. Tiassis stumbled and fell, and Boomer, seeing her fall, scampered back to pick her up and carry her through the alley. People from the crowd bunched up within the alley and slowed their own progress down. Only a few broke through to pursue Starbuck and his entourage down a brightly lit suburban street. They screamed to attract the attention of the few pedestrians on the sidewalks. If they hadn't had the children with them, Starbuck and Boomer would certainly have been caught by the mob. But Rhiny and Eitur, enterprising children who had roamed all the neighborhoods, knew where to turn sharply to find sidestreets nobody else would have expected and had a sense of what lawns they could traverse without overcoming obstacles. It wasn't long before the sound of pursuit had faded, but...at the children's insistence...they kept running. Finally Rhiny led them down a path next to a house, and into a neatly landscaped backyard. At her signal, they all fell exhausted next to a colorful flower-chocked garden. When he had caught his breath, Starbuck said in a cramped voice, 'I don't know who you kids are, but thanks. Those crazies out there might've...I don't know what they would've done.' 'Always pleased to help the great Starbuck,' Rhiny announced proudly. There she went with his name again. Why did everyone on this backwater planet seem to know who he was? 'How do you know me? And why do you think I'm great?' 'Because you are, silly,' Tiassis said, giggling. 'Starbuck, the great hero of the spaceways.' 'What did I do to deserve that honor?' 'You don't know?' Eitur asked, bothered by Starbuck's apparent ignorance about himself. 'No, I don't know! What in Kobol's this felgercarb all about, anyway?!' Rhiny, tapping her fingers on the ground nervously, studied Starbuck's face. She noticed that he seemed more harried, more uncertain than Starbuck had ever been. The handsomeness of his face wasn't nearly as structured, either. 'Maybe you're under control like the rest of us,' she said. 'Under control?' Boomer asked. 'Aw, that's just some dumb idea of Rhiny's' Eitur said cruelly. 'She thinks somebody's in our minds controlling us, running us.' 'It's true!' Rhiny protested. 'Will somebody explain something quick?' Starbuck asked. Rhiny stood up, smoothered out the wrinkles of her multilayered skirt. 'We'll show you,' she said. 'Come in the house.' 'We go in?' Starbuck asked. 'Just like that? We enter somebody's house?' 'It's our home,' Rhiny said. 'We live here.' Starbuck and Boomer looked at each other, both wondering if they should now make their escape from this odd trio of children. Rhiny, going to the back door of the house, called out, 'Mommy! Daddy! Look what we brought home!' Chapter Fourteen: There Is No Time Limit For A Blood Duel Apollo woke up with tiny pains behind his eyes, like miniature laser beams slowly breaking up his eyeballs from behind. Glancing up, he saw Zodiac standing beside his bunk, smiling sardonically down at him. 'Good fight,' Zodiac remarked. 'Who won?' 'I passed out. Where's Jeremiah?' 'I couldn't possibly tell you, as I just woke up myself. He's probably in some other cell like this. If he's lucky, they didn't give him an Arakeen Fremen for a roommate.' Apollo stood up, went to the cell door, tested the strength of its thick iron bars. He couldn't budge them. 'We've got to get to Jeremiah,' he said, 'and Sheba.' Zodiac sat on the bunk, put his feet up, and shrugged. 'Your move. I tested the door, too. Lock structure like nothing I've ever seen before. I got no clue how to break it.' Apollo looked downcast. 'Jeremiah could be killed.' 'Probably. Us, too. After what we did, I think we might have moved up a few notches on the Fremen's list of possible blood duel opponents.' Zodiac found Apollo's gloom touching. 'Don't worry, kid,' he said. 'The more problems you got, the meaner you get. That'll get us out of this. Eventually.' 'Eventually?' 'You need a different attitude towad time when you're a convict, Apollo. We got plenty of time for me to teach it to you.' 'We've got all the time in the universe,' Rucal said. Canan stood at the door. 'There's no time limit for fighting a blood duel.' 'I know that, Rucal. I should've killed him before. I should've killed all of them.' 'We will, Canan, we will.' Jeremiah, asleep on the bunk of his cell, squirmed from bad dreams. Several times he shouted out Starbuck's name. In his dreams, he seemed to just miss out meeting with Starbuck, sometimes, watching his son be killed, or fall into bottomless depths. In another cell, across the way, Sheba heard Jeremiah's cries and her eyes saddened as she felt the futility of their present situation. Each step they took seemed to be taking them farther away from the Galactica. They might be stranded in Joyland forever. Jeremiah shouted Starbuck's name again. Sheba rushed to her cell door, trying to reach out to him. Pinhead had finally left Lucifer alone for a while. He now stood in the alien control room, staring at rows of display screens. On some of them, he saw prisoners in their cells, including those dressed in the outfits of the Galactica. He wondered what he could possibly become in Joyland. The Cenobites had run some tests on him, tried to see if they could control him the way they did other beings. The tests appeared to have been unsuccessful. Or were they? Were he and Dracula under the alien's control, after all? So long as he felt he was acting of his own free will, he would not know if he was being manipulated or not. Perhaps he had been better off on Baltar's basestar. Being Baltar's subordinate again was infinitely preferable to remaining in this off-the-trade-routes world. The Cenobites had no real use for him, and he had no wish to become an orchestra conductor of the Cenobite style of fantasy. He would rather find some lake somewhere, walk to its deepest spot, shut himself off, and rust. We are in a real mess, he thought. But perhaps not we. Dracula, after all, appeared to be enjoying himself on Joyland. Starbuck usually liked being the center of attention, but not here, not in this plain living room, not with this average-looking family, all of whom smiled at him admiringly. Eitur had brought out the Imagescan. He set up the treated cloth sheet which, when spread flat on the floor, would be the field on which the images, translated from emissions emanating from the Imagescan control box, would appear in such stark detail. Eitur himself sat at the box, ready to operate it once Rhiny's explanation of the Imagescan to Starbuck and Boomer was completed. With a similar flourish, Eitur worked several controls on the box. Immediately an adventure field materialized on the sheet. Buildings appeared to spring out of the floor. Little people materialized out of nowhere and started walking the miniature city's streets. Aircrafts were formed out of dust motes in the air and flew over the buildings. Starbuck was impressed. 'We had holography back in the Colonies, but it was never this good, Boomer.' 'Cute.' 'Maybe we can take a couple of sets back to the orphan ship for the kids, Boxey, too.' 'Don't put the equine before the cart, buddy.' Starbuck rolled his eyes, and said scornfully, 'You must make a great tourist. You've always got reservations.' Eitur was dealing energetically with the controls. The size of the aircraft in the living room skies enlarged. Starbuck and Boomer could almost see the faces of the pilots in the cockpits. A battle began suddenly. Enemy planes appeared out of nowhere and swooped down on the peaceful aircraft, shooting away. 'Wow!' Starbuck exclaimed. 'What effects! And look at those things. They're like Vipers, Boomer. Almost. Not quite the same, but...whoa!' One of the Viperlike planes exploded so graphically, its pieces flying outward, that both Starbuck and Boomer flinched and stepped backward. The children, watching their hero closely, were amused by his surprised reactions. After several impressive explosions and some skillful piloting, the battle was over and the ambushers had been soundly defeated. The surviving planes landed on a field just outside the miniature city. Eitur manipulated the scene so that the city disappeared and only the airfield was at the center of the living room floor. Gradually one particular mini-Viper, gliding to a stop, took up most of the space. Starbuck's jaw dropped nearly to the floor as he watched a quarter-sized version of himself emerge from the cockpit jauntily, step on the wing, and jounce down to the ground. 'Starbuck,' Boomer cried, astonished. 'It's you!' He looked closer at the small figure. 'Good likeness.' 'I can see that, Boomer,' muttered Starbuck, too flabbergasted to say more. A tall beautiful woman with long flowing blond hair seemed to form out of the mist at the edge of the adventure-field. She ran to 'Starbuck,' threw her arms around him, and kissed him with so much passion that the miniature Starbuck's head was jerked back roughly. 'Oh, God,' Boomer said, 'it is you.' 'Boomer!' Starbuck said threateningly. 'The truth hurts?' Boomer said, grinning. 'There are children present,' Starbuck mumbled. Boomer laughed. Rhiny concentrated her attention onto Starbuck, sinc she knew that the Starbuck figure on the floor was about to speak. 'Darling,' the figure said, after smoothly disengating himself from the woman, 'how nice to see you again.' It was a voice quite like Starbuck's, only deeper and more booming. It also seemed a bit more sophisticated and confident. Boomer's laughter turned into out-and-out hysteria. 'I don't sound like that,' Starbuck asked Boomer. 'Do I sound like that?' 'Yes,' the Starbuck figure said, 'that was a tough one up there. A real fracas. But they're all tough.' 'You were magnificent,' the woman-figure said. 'I saw you shoot down at least twenty of their planes.' 'All in a day's work, I guess,' the Starbuck figure said casually. Starbuck groaned. 'Hey,' he said, 'that's not me. I mean, really, Boomer.' Boomer, still laughing, coughed out his words. 'No, not in a way, I guess.' 'Every time I go up there,' the Starbuck figure said, his voice sounding eerie, too loud for the quarter-sized figure, 'not knowing if I'll come back, I know I must do my best. Too many people depend on me, after all.' 'We love you, the woman said, kissing him again. 'At least, I do, my darling.' 'And I take heart, knowing that.' Boomer whooped scornfully. 'He hasn't got your style, Starbuck,' he said, 'but it's your message.' Rhiny touched Eitur's shoulder, saying, 'Cut the sound off, Eitur.' The quarter-sized Starbuck's voice spoke with a teary-eyed romanticism as Eitur lowered the sound. 'There are a few moments as thrilling as when my sights center on a...' After the sound was off, the figures' lips continued to move, and the woman kissed the Starbuck figure several more times. Whatever the Starbuck figure said, it seemed to impress the woman. For a moment, none of the real people in the room said anything. Aicara and Aerell appeared to be unsettled. The children focused their attention on Starbuck, waiting for him to say something. Finally, unable to contain herself any longer, Rhiny spoke, 'That...' She pointed to the holographic Starbuck, who now had his arm around the woman-figure's shoulders. '...is you, am I correct?' Starbuck's hands clenched and unclenched helplessly. He couldn't speak for a moment. When he did, it was in a weak, confused voice. 'Sort of. I mean...I mean, it looks something...like me, but the sound...' 'I thought that was acting.' Starbuck stared at his near-duplicate. The figure's eyebrows were dramatically raised, and his hands gestured theatrically. 'That may be acting to you,' Starbuck said, 'but it's pure hokum to me. I'd never act like that, even if I were acting a part in a drama.' 'I don't understand,' Rhiny said. 'What I'm saying is, there are certain resemblances, but I have nothing to do with what that figure does in your...in your illusions or whatever you call them.' 'Imagescans,' Eitur said. 'Imagescans,' Starbuck said. 'See, kids, that's not me. What he's doing isn't anything I've ever done, what...' 'At least not with that particular woman,' Boomer said as he watched the Starbuck figure romance the female figure, who was clearly responding warmly. 'Don't confuse the issue, Boomer,' Starbuck said. 'Like he says, I do have a sort of, well, reputation for my...experiences with the opposite sex, but my style's a bit, well, different.' 'He's never that smooth,' commented Boomer. 'What do you mean, smooth? Call that smooth? That was as phony as a seven-sided cubit. I...' 'What I want to know,' Rhiny said, her voice uncharacteristically emotional, 'are you a hero or aren't you?' 'I have to admit that once in a while I've done something that others have considered as, well, on the heroic side,' Starbuck said. 'But...' 'You're honesty's getting a little sickening, buddy,' Boomer said. 'Dammit, Boomer, I've never had to explain something like...' He pointed to his other self, who had turned to confront some evil-looking individuals. 'something like that before. See, Rhiny, that figure there, even though he's got my name and looks like me and is a pilot and had adventures of a sort and is popular with women, they aren't my looks, my adventures, my piloting skills, even my women. I don't even want to be like him. He looks like a bozo to me. I don't know where they got all this, or how they know anything about me, but this is just a fake. A...' Starbuck stopped speaking abruptly when he saw the tears spilling out of Rhiny's eyes. He glanced at Eitur, who was wiping away some spots of excess moisture from his cheeks. Tiassis had buried her face in her mother's skirt. Aicara hugged her tightly. Starbuck was mystified. He looked toward boomer for an answer, but Boomer was clearly bewildered, too. Helpless, Starbuck knelt beside Rhiny. Boomer was moved by the sight of his buddy in a tender pose with this child. Behind them the illusionary Starbuck was flailing his fists about at a bush-whacking bunch of dastardly villains, knocking them every whichway. Boomer found the conjunction of the compassionate Starbuck with the fake brawling one somewhat disconcerting. 'What's wrong, kids?' Starbuck asked, putting his arms around Rhiny. All three children were crying too hard to answer. Aerell leaned down toward Starbuck, and said, 'Fool! You've put them in mourning.' 'Mourning?' 'For Starbuck, the fallen hero.' 'I'm not sure I understand.' Aicara, caressing the side of Tiassis's head affectionately, smiled sadly and said, 'Much of their imaginative lives is connected to that figure. Their ideas about life, nobility, ethics come from their regular Imagescan entertainment. Starbuck has been their favorite hero, or Imagescan character, if you will. He is idealistic, uplifting, a noble character they can look up to.' Aerell frowned. 'You Fleshspacers are all the same. Tell the truth, face reality, even if it hurts or even kills. You could have let them see you as they fancy you. Instead, you go out of your way to disappoint them. A hero?' Aerell spat. 'A bastard!' Starbuck's heart sank. The man called Aerell had a point, after all. But then, maybe there was a way to make it up to them. 'Hey, kids,' Starbuck said, 'what's wrong with me? I mean, I'm a Viper pilot, I fight Cylons.' Catching her breath, Tiassis asked, 'What're Cylons?' 'My enemies. I defend my people against them.' He noticed that the fake Starbuck was now being attacked by a trio of aliens who balanced unevenly on long legs. He pointed to these figures and saet, 'Like that Starbuck is fighting those blobs on pipestem legs there.' 'Do Cylons look like that?' Tiassis asked, wide-eyed. 'Nope. 'Fraid not. But, in their own way, they're just as ugly.' Eitur knelt beside Starbuck and touched his arm shyly. 'And you fight 'em?' he asked, exited. 'I blow 'em out of the skies, disintegrate them on the ground, eat 'em instead of primaries for breakfast.' 'Are they eatable?' Tiassis asked. 'No, not really.' 'Can you tell us about Cylons?' Eitur asked. 'Please?' 'Okay, one story, then I'm going to ask you folks to help me. Deal?' 'Help you?' Tiassis asked. 'Tell us now what you want,' Rhiny demanded. 'All right. I've got some friends. They were brought here today in a ship, unloaded somewhere near here. I need to know where they are.' 'That's easy,' Rhiny said, her voice cool but involved. 'We know where.' 'Where?' 'We'll tell you. But first, the story.' Starbuck gave Boomer a nervous look. 'Time may be important,' he said. 'There's a...' 'The story,' Rhiny said in a way that did not brook further discussion. Behind her, Aerell and even Aicara shrugged, telling Starbuck by the gesture that even they didn't dispute a decision from their bright and confident elder daughter. 'We want to hear your story, too,' Aerell said, calmly, this time. 'Don't worry. We'll help you too. And where they are, there's plenty of time.' 'The story,' Rhiny said. Starbuck sat back on his haunches, nodded, and then said, 'I guess you've effectively dried up my vapor trail, kids. Now, it all began this way. I was cruising on patrol in my lonely Viper, thinking thoughts about courage and nobility, when a dozen Cylon raiders came sailing out of nowhere...' Boomer's eyebrows raised an dhe looked at the ceiling. As Starbuck enthusiastically developed his partially-true tale, mesmerizing his listeners, Boomer noticed that behind him the illusionary Starbuck was fighting a whole field of mean-looking aliens, and nobody in the room was watching him. From Adama Journals: Starbuck hasn't yet broken commsilence although our telemetry shows that he and his squadron have landed on the planet. I wish I knew what the young lieutenant has on his mind. For now, though, the real crisis lies with what's on my mind, starting with Starbuck's description of the vessel that captured the Marsardas and the (possible) identity of its owners. He described a starship built in the shape of a lock puzzle or puzzle box. Put simply, this ship bears a disturbing resemblance to the mythical Lemarchand Box, a mystical/mechanical device that acts as a door - or a key to a door - to another dimension or plane of existence. He who solves the puzzle creates a 'Schism'or open pathway to another realm through which 'demons from Hades' may travel in either direction. An ongoing debate is whether the realm accessed by the Lemarchand Configuration is, in fact, the Hades of the fallen angel Morbius, or simply a generic term used to describe an alien dimension of endless pain and suffering. This brings me now to another disturbing question: How could a race of beings who probably have never been within light-yahrens of the Colonies, or even the Cylon Empire, know of Lemarchand's Box, unless they are the 'demons from Hades' described in the lurid literature written around this strange and disturbing artifact? In the myths and fables of our people, they were also known by other names, like 'The Surgeons from Beyond,' originally enforcers for their mysterious masters, but, over time, charged with snatching intelligent beings out of space (and perhaps time), appealing to their inner hedonism, and then dragging them off to a world that 'promises' unparalleled pleasures. The 'Surgeons from Beyond,' or Cenobites, then become responsible for the pleasure/pain of those unfortunate captive beings. Have they always been Cenobites since the creation of the universe? Or were they, like the Cylons, once innocent creatures 'recruited' into becoming such hideous monsters by an unknown force of evil? Chapter Fifteen: Into The Prison Commander Adama's dictation was interrupted by the soft sound of his cabin door opening. He glanced up to see Athena in the doorway with Boxey by her side, clinging to her hand. Behind them the daggit-droid, Muffit, peeked around Boxey's legs. He shut of his voicecoder and smiled at his adopted grandson. 'Are you sure it's a good idea for you to be up and about at this centon, Boxey?' he asked. 'I couldn't sleep. Didn't want another nightmare. Auntie Athena said I should talk to you.' 'What's bothering you, child?' Adama said. 'Your father?' Boxey nodded. 'And the others. Starbuck, Boomer. Are they all coming back?' Receptors in Muffit's control center picked up the boy's sadness and, as programmed, he nuzzled the child a little. Absent-mindedly, Boxey pushed him away and, disengaging himself from his aunt's grip, walked slowly toward Adama's desk. 'I will not lie to you, grandson,' Adama said. 'I don't know, but I pray they will.' 'So do I.' Boxey reached the desk and put his hands on the edge. They were tiny and white, very white. Adama regretted that the child could not spend more time on the planets they visited, to get rid of the on-ship pallor and get some tan. 'Is it always going to be like this, Grandfather? Always some need to go off and fight? I mean, I want to be a colonial warrior and everything, but...' Athena came to the child's side. 'Remember what I said, Boxey,' she scolded. 'It...it's all right, Athena,' Adama said. Reaching across the desk, he took Boxey's hands, guided him around the desk, and settled him on his lap. The gentle sound of Adama's voice when he spoke next reminded Athena of conversations he'd had with her as a child, usually after something hurtful had happened. 'You want some time of peace, some time where nobody has to go on patrol, go into combat, be on alert...is that right, Boxey?' Vigorously, Boxey shook his head yes. 'It may surprise you to find this out, his grandfather said, 'but so do I. I grew up in war, spent the best part of my youth in the academy, post-academy training, and the war itself. I got married in my dress uniform. I was a parent only when I could get leave to go home for short periods. And you know what, Boxey?' 'What?' 'I spent a lot of time in my quarters, thinking just the same thoughts you've been thinking, asking myself all the same questions. I wanted to turn my back on it all but I had to do my duty. Just as your father has to do his duty, Starbuck his, and the others, theirs.' 'And me, mine?' 'Absolutely. I hope your duties aren't the same as ours have been, but I can't promise that. If we reach Earth, perhaps we can find the peace we hope for, on a peaceful planet with peaceful inhabitants. But I just don't know. Now, off to bed with you.' Boxey climbed off his lap, saying, 'Okay. Hey, c'mon, Muffy.' The child and his mechanical daggit headed for the cabin door. Athena walked slowly after him. At the door, she turned around and blew her father a kiss. In their age-old gesture, Adama caught it. He smiled. After they left, the smile could not last, as his worries about Apollo and the rest returned. Starbuck felt tiny itches all over his body. He wondered if he was allergic to something in the scratchy clothing Aerell had given him. Whatever was causing his dermal discomfort, he longed for his uniform again. Everything seemed acceptable when he wore his Galactica duds, but these functional civilian jobbies gave him a feeling the universe was coming apart. He scratched his arms restlessly as he crouched with Boomer on a knoll above the vast prison compound. Figures, both Cenobite and human, moved busily in the open areas between the buildings below. There was a military stiffness to the walk of the humans. The compound was well lit, and they could see the peeling structures scattered with no geometrical order throughout the area. If Rhiny was right, Apollo and the others were in the large center building, the one whose windows had been darkened. Starbuck hoped she was right; it would be too dangerous to attempt to search all those buildings for him. 'It's like Aerell said,' Boomer observed. 'Not a very formidable challenge physically. We should be able to get in there easily enough.' 'Makes sense.' 'I fail to see where anything makes sense about this place.' 'They don't really care about anybody breaking out. Where would they go? Top of that, they've got most of the planet's population firmly under control. If what Rhiny suggested is correct these...guys...control almost every part of their lives.' 'I don't know about that. It might just be a kid's fantasy. Aerell and Aicara don't seem to put much credence into Rhiny's speculations.' 'Yes, but did you listen to those two? Did you take a good look into their eyes? As pale and glazed as cadet faces on their first solo flight. Look, Boomer, I can't even trust them not to turn us in. That's why I didn't want them along.' 'So maybe they're notifying their masters now.' 'I'm willing to risk that. There's a good chance they won't, too. They seemed to believe us, or at least be willing to help us. I don't think they're bad. I just think their insides have been used up. You notice how vague they get when they talk about their past?' 'Yeah, I did notice that.' Not far behind them, the children crouched, watching their hero's every move. Starbuck had instructed them to stay behind. If he had known them well, he would have known they'd never follow that kind of order, not when there was an adventure about to happen. After he and Boomer had left, they had sneaked out of their home and, as they had when they'd first seen Starbuck and Boomer, tracked them. 'Now we'll really see something,' Eitur said. 'We better,' Tiassis said, 'before I fall asleep. I don't know if I like this Starbuck's adventures.' 'Tiassis,' Rhiny said, 'he's more exciting because he's real.' 'Oh, Rhiny, he's just more exciting to you because you got the holster, and the wrapper, and the...' She also had a piece of fringe from off his uniform, which she'd snipped off after he'd given it up to change into civilian clothes. And she held it now, tight in her right hand. 'Quit it, Tiassis!' she said. Ahead of them Starbuck and Boomer crept forward. 'We've got to get closer,' Boomer said, 'find a way in.' 'Right,' Starbuck said. Crouching, they ran a few steps down a hill, then plunged into the ground. The children raced from their former position and watched them from above. ''Spose they get caught?' Eitur asked. 'He's Starbuck,' Rhiny said. 'He won't get caught.' 'Yeah, but what if?' 'We'll get him out, don't worry.' Tiassis, who had trailed behind, now joined them, saying sarcastically, 'Sure, we'll get him out. Sure. Sure.' Starbuck sensed movement off to his right and cautiously lifted his head to see a group of townspeople traveling along the path leading to the gates of the prison compound. Their steps were slow, but in unison. Their heads faced stiffly forward. Walking in two lines, they carried large packs on their backs. Their eyes were glazed over, their faces slack and expressionless. 'Way they're walking,' Boomer commented, 'looks like they 've been sniffing plant vapors.' As they passed by the place where the two warriors crouched, Boomer said, 'Take ths stragglers?' 'You got it.' The children watched Starbuck and Boomer creep up behind two pack carriers at the rear of the caravan. Quickly and silently they jumped them, hitting them over the heads with the butts of their turbo-lasers. The two men, who apparently couldn't resist anyway, feel limply to the ground. Starbuck and Boomer dragged them to the side of the path and rapidly slipped the packs off their backs. Carrying the packs themselves, they caught up with the caravan and took up the positions of the men they'd subdued. They made their eyes as vacant as they could, and copied the stiff gait of the other members of the caravan. 'C'mon,' Rhiny said, standing up suddenly. 'Stay down.' 'What for?' Eitur asked. ''Cause we're goin' in with 'em.' Eitur's face brightened and he nearly squealed with delight. 'All right!' he said. 'We shouldn't...' Tiassis said. 'You stay behind, then,' Rhiny said, her voice emotionless and cold. She started running down the hill, Eitur right behind her. Tiassis looked around and said, 'I'm not staying here!' She skittered down the hill after them. Remaining low, the three children caught up with the caravan. Starbuck and Boomer, even though their gaze was held forward, saw the children slip easily into the middle of the caravan. Speaking out the side of his mouth, Starbuck said, 'What're they doin' here?' 'Whatever, we can't stop them now. Get your blank face back on, buddy.' Rhiny smiled back at the two warriors, impressed with their acting skills. They looked just like the other pack carriers. She was disturbed by the vacancy in all those faces. What did it mean? She'd often seen groups of people in this state, and there were times when she half-remembered being in a walking coma herself, without knowing whether or not she'd been dreaming. During their spying excursions, the children had often come upon lines of these zombies. Usually, they had seemed to be on errands for the bizarre creatures with whom the humans co-existed in Joyland: the condition of their flesh was appalling, their faces masses of hi-tech dermal implants and deep, barely-healed scars. The garments they wore recalled both space pirates and priests. There was little interaction between the humans and the creatures, except when the creatures brought new citizens to the land. Yet, Rhiny had vague memories of one of the creatures, a hideous humanoid thing with sensory nodes driven into its neck and temples, wherever its flesh was exposed, giving her orders, of herself with her face pressed against the hard surface of a floor just because a creature had ordered her to. Or dancing. Or hitting the face of Eitur or Tiassis, or even her parents. They all traveled to some place together and did strange things together, strange things that were only dream memories to her. Did they happen? Were they the reason she seemed to have a sense of lost time so often, a feeling of definite gaps in her life? She wished she could focus more clearly on them, at least know whether they were reality or dreams. 'Okay,' she whispered to her brother and sister, 'we're near the gate now. Stay small.' 'Easy for me,' Tiassis said. The caravan stopped in front of the prison gate. A quartet of lurking forms opened the gate and examined the caravan, which remained still. Rhiny feared they were already discovered. In the rear of the caravan, Starbuck and Boomer couldn't tell what was happening. The alien in charge, a creature whose mouth was wired into a gaping rectangle, the exposed teeth sharpened to points, made an ugly sound which turned out to be a signal for the caravan to advance forward through the gates. The children suffered a tense moment as they slipped in past the guards. Starbuck and Boomer stiffened their bodies as they passed through. The aliens, not expecting any deviation in the caravan, paid scant attention to its members. 'What now, hero?' Boomer muttered. 'Beats me.' The children worked their way forward, and, at a gesture from Rhiny, darted through the zombie ranks to cover between two shadowy buildings. When the alien's attention was elsewhere, they jumped out of their hideaway, seized Starbuck and Boomer, and jerked them into the shadows. The caravan passed out of the yard and into a building. 'Who told you kids you could follow us here?' Starbuck said irritably. 'Nobody,' Rhiny said. 'We go where we want.' 'Obviously. Well, guess what? You're all in danger now.' 'And we don't care.' 'Hey!' Tiassis interjected. 'I care!' 'Go home then, baby,' Eitur said angrily. 'Sure,' Tiassis said, 'just walk out the gate. Thanks for your helpful advice, brother.' 'Stop the sniping,' Rhiny ordered. 'We got to help Starbuck.' 'I don't need your help,' Starbuck said. 'We got you off that caravan, didn't we?' Rhiny said proudly. 'And we can get you to the cell blocks.' 'Just telling us where they are will be enough.' 'We'll take you there.' 'Rhiny...' 'Follow us.' With Rhiny in the lead, the children skittered down the passageway, keeping close to the buildings. Starbuck and Boomer shrugged and followed them. At the other end of the passage, a guard passed by, sending all the humans pressing harder against the buildings. When they arrived at the end of the passage, they looked out cautiously. In a small quadlike area, a few prisoners walked with a purpose, a couple of guards stood indolently by a wall. 'Where to now?' Starbuck asked Rhiny. 'Over there. That's where they pout the new prisoners.' 'Okay,' Boomer said. 'How do we get there?' 'Look, Boomer,' Starbuck said, 'we make like those guys, like prisoners on an errand. Just walk across the quad. Look like we know where we're going.' 'This is exciting,' Eitur whispered to Rhiny, 'just like an Imagescan.' 'Except this time we're in it,' Rhiny muttered. 'Okay, Starbuck,' Boomer said. 'I'm ready.' Starbuck turned to the children, saying, 'You kids stay here. Right here. Right?' 'Yes, sir,' Rhiny said, coming to attention like a good subordinate. 'And thanks for the help, pals.' The children, especially Rhiny, glowed with pleasure. Squatting in the shadows, they tensely watched Starbuck and Boomer cross the quadrangle. They looked convincing, their walk displaying a clear obedience, their attention directed on their feigned goal. 'We just gonna stay here?' Eitur asked Rhiny. 'Of course not. We're following them in.' 'Rhiny!' Tiassis complained. 'You lied to Starbuck!' 'Shut up, Tiassis,' Rhiny said. 'This is an adventure. It isn't life.' 'It's life,' Tiassis protested. 'It's life. They could get killed.' 'Shards! Starbuck could never get killed.' 'Rhiny, something's wrong with you. I don't know what, but...' Rhiny's voice became awesomely cold. 'Nothing's wrong, peeker. C'mon, we can make our way across by staying close to the buildings. That way.' On the other side of the yard, Starbuck and Boomer reached the door to the building containing the cell blocks. 'What now?' Boomer asked. 'Just walk in.' 'Thought you'd never say it.' Boomer swallowed hard and followed Starbuck, who gradually found that the door opened easily. They found themselves in a dark, dreary entryway, in the midst of a horrible murky smell. There was a heavy feeling of dust in the air that made them want to cough. Beyond the entryway was a better-lit anteroom which they went toward, instinctively shaking their hands in front of their faces to clear a way in the dusty. One of the aliens sat by a round table in the center of the anteroom. 'Are you two lost?' he bellowed. 'This isn't the cafeteria?' Starbuck said. 'I do not understand...' were the only four words the alien got out before Starbuck shot him, his turbo-laser set on stun. The alien fell heavily to the floor. Starbuck stood over him and examined his face. 'Good Kobol, would you look at those geometric scars and wounds next to that guy's implants. And look at those leather vestments he's wearing,' Starbuck said. 'Did I say wearing? They're stapled to his skin. My God, what kind of people would do that to themselves?' 'Different strokes for different folks.' 'Let's look around, before he comes to and sounds the alarm.' After traversing a narrow corridor they came to another round room, around which other corridors were placed like spokes in a wheel. They got by the two guards there simply by looking like they knew where they were going. Confidence seemed to be the key for moving about this place, Starbuck thought. The corridors led to cell blocks. Most of the cells were empty. After several rows of cells, Starbuck felt trapped in a maze, wondering if they'd ever find their way out of the building, much less find Apollo, Jeremiah, and the others. Suddenly, a familiar voice shouted his name. 'Starbuck! Is it really you? Is that Boomer with you?' He turned to see Sheba standing on the other side of a cell door, holding on to its iron bars. 'Sheba! By all that's holy!' 'Did they capture you, too? How...?' 'Where's Apollo?' 'I don't know where they took him. We were knocked unconscious.' 'What about Jeremiah? Is he here somewhere?' 'Right across there. I heard him. He's been asleep, having nightmares, he's...' Starbuck didn't wait for Sheba to finish. He rushed across the aisle to look in on Jeremiah. The old man was asleep, but squirming. He let out a series of small abrupt groans. Starbuck wanted to crash into his cell and take his father into his arms, but he could not. Right now, his mission was too important. He crossed back to Sheba's cell. 'There's a guard close by,' Sheba said, 'right at the end of the corridor there.' 'Okay. Boomer, take out the guard.' Boomer nodded and worked his way casually down to the end of the hallway. The guard sat laconically, reading from a scroll written in a strange scrawllike calligraphy. The alien, sensing Boomer's presence, glanced up. Boomer smiled and raised his turbo-laser. His shot made the alien double up over his scroll. Boomer went into the room and propped the alien up in his chair, so that he again appeared to be reading. After he heard Boomer's shot, Starbuck took one of his own at the large chunky lock-box on Sheba's cell door. The lock brightened a little, but nothing else happened. 'Set the gun higher,' Sheba said. Starbuck adjusted the charge and fired again. The lock didn't give, but there was a sizzling sound inside it. He glanced over at Boomer, who stood guard at the end of the hallway. Sheba pushed at the cell door and felt some give. 'One more shot might do it,' she said. 'Set it even higher.' 'Okay. Back away from the door, Sheba. This is a high setting, it could ricochet and injure you.' He fired again, and the door popped open gently. Sheba scampered out. 'This all took up too many ergons of power,' Starbuck said, indicating the level gauge on the butt of the pistol. 'There's got to be an easier way.' 'What should we do?' 'Find Apollo. Get him out, then located more weaponry.' Starbuck started off toward Boomer. Glancing into Jeremiah's cell, he saw the old man turn in his sleep. 'What about Jeremiah?' Sheba asked. He had dreaded the question, but knew it would come. It was hard to admit even to himself that the old man wouldn't be of much use right now. 'Let him rest,' Starbuck said. 'We'll get him as soon as we can. There isn't time to spring every lock and then wait for the gun to recharge. First, Apollo. Then the others.' Looking back, he heard Jeremiah's voice, still obviously in his dreams, say faintly, 'Starbuck.' Starbuck felt his father was calling him back. But he could not go. He had to go on. Chapter Sixteen: Jailbreak! Zodiac, relaxing on the lower bunk, watched Apollo's pacing from the front to the back of the cell with amusement. 'You've wearing a groove in the floor, Apollo.' 'So what if I am? What's it to you?' 'Whew! You've been with me so long, you're beginning to sound like me.' 'Zodiac...' 'Take it easy. Relax. You're not getting out of this place tonight.' 'How many cubits you wanna bet on that?' Starbuck asked, appearing suddenly on the other side of the cell door. Apollo ran forward. 'Starbuck! Where'd you come from?' 'The local travelator booked me on the package tour. You guys all right?' 'Yeah.' Sheba and Boomer materialized at Starbuck's side. 'Blow open the door, Starbuck,' Boomer said. 'Use my gun this time.' Starbuck took Boomer's turbo-laser and aimed it at the lock box. 'This takes more voltons of power than I'm comfortable with,' he said. 'You guys step back.' Apollo and Zodiac retreated to the rear of the cell while Starbuck blasted the lock with the pistol set at full power. The lock popped open gently. Zodiac rushed out, Apollo just behind him. 'No point in hurrying, fellas,' Boomer said. 'Until these two guns recharge, we have no weapons.' 'Where are the guards for this block?' Zodiac asked. 'Taking a snooze,' Starbuck responded. 'They've got some kind of doohickey weapon on their belts. I can figure out how it works.' Zodiac seemed as overconfident as usual, Starbuck noticed, but he decided not to start an argument with the volatile former convict. At Zodiac's gesture, the five of them made their way down the corridor, hugging the side of the cell block. 'Should we liberate any others?' Apollo asked. 'Can't afford to,' Boomer replied. 'Takes too much charge. Gotta find another way.' 'We will,' Zodiac muttered. In a cell near the end of the corridor, Canan and Rucal heard them coming. Canan positioned himself at the cell door and watched. He let Sheba go by, watched Starbuck pass on the other side of the corridor, then he heard the familiar voice of Apollo approaching his cell. 'You guys know the way out of-urk!' Canan's muscular arms reached through the cell door bars and, seizing Apollo by the throat, pulled him roughly against the door. Apollo began to choke. 'Let us out, too,' Canan said. 'What is...' Starbuck said, returning. 'Free us, Warrior.' 'We can't, we...' Cana tightened his hold on Apollo's throat. Blood was draining from Apollo's face. Zodiac grabbed the pistol from Starbuck's hand. 'Why're you talking to these guys?' he said, pressing the muzzle of the gun between Canan's blue-in-blue eyes. 'Let the man go or I'll part all the hair on your face, my friend.' Zodiac knew the gun had little or no charge in it, but he'd always been quick with a bluff. Canan squinted at the gun, crosseyed. He seemed ready to call Zodiac's bluff, but he abruptly released Apollo, who nearly collapsed coughing. Sheba tended to him. Canan glowered at Zodiac with a fierce hatred in his deep-set eyes. Zodiac realized he was likely to be challenged to a blood duel himself. 'Your primitive use of force is so characteristic of the troops of the Galactica, Warrior,' Canan growled. 'You call grabbing a guy by the throat and squeezing him to death sophisticated?' Zodiac said. 'And don't call me ''Warrior.'' I don't go for that kind of...' 'You going to stand there and dispute words, Zodiac?' Starbuck said. He looked at Canan. 'Listen, fellas, we pull things off, everybody'll be free. You and your people just be patient, all right?' Canan didn't answer. Instead, he strode back into the shadows of his cell. Zodiac felt the numbing cold of the Fremen's eyes even when they couldn't be seen. He turned and followed the others down the corridor. 'You making deals with Fremen?' he whispered to Starbuck. 'You should leave 'em here, rotting in their cells.' 'Look, Zodiac,' Starbuck said, 'I don't like those two guys in there any more than you do. But they're in the same pickle the rest of us are and deserve the same treatment.' 'Ah, it's no use talking to you Galactica pilots. You all buy the pieties of your commander lock, stock and barrel. Well, I don't.' 'I'm sure you don't. But, if we can help anybody imprisoned here, we will, including these guys, unwholesome though they may be.' In the guard room Starbuck liberated a pair of weapons from the unconscious aliens. He handed them to Zodiac. Boomer held up his turbo-laser, staring at the gauge on its handle. 'Nearly recharged,' he said. Starbuck inspected his own gun. 'This one, too,' he said. 'Zodiac better get those contraptions working,' Sheba said. 'I don't know how much good we can do with two turbo-lasers between us.' 'Zodiac'll do it,' Apollo said. 'I'm certain.' Starbuck told Apollo and the others about Rhiny and her family, and how they had all helped him and Boomer. His tale was interrupted by Zodiac's announcement that he could get the alien weaponry functioning. 'Principles of gunnery are about the same everywhere, I guess,' he said. After they had all been instructed by Zodiac in the use of the alien guns, Apollo said to Starbuck, 'I saw a bunch of prisoners in colonial warrior uniform. The uniforms were shredded but recognizable. I think I saw Claudius in the group.' 'Claudius?' Starbuck said. 'I thought he was a prisoner on Baltar's basestar.' 'So did I. Bu I think he's here someplace now. And others.' 'What do you have in mind, Apollo?' Boomer asked. 'We've got to find a way to break everybody out of here.' Zodiac threw his hands up in despair. 'Break everybody out?' he cried. 'Are you space happy?' 'No, Zodiac,' Starbuck said, 'he's right.' Starbuck thought of Jeremiah, left behind in his cell, and vowed to himself he would never leave this planet until he had his father with him. 'I'm with you guys,' Sheba said. 'You can count me in,' agreed Boomer. Zodiac looked at the loyal quarted angrily. 'You guys always stick together? Okay, I'm in, too. Might as well be killed as the Colonial warrior, it'll look good inscribed on my burial capsule.' Zodiac's reluctance amused Apollo, and he cheerfully offered to shake hands with him. Zodiac performed the handshake disinterestedly. 'We better appropriate a few more weapons, though,' he said. Apollo nodded. A guard behind him began to stir and Boomer quickly raised his handgun and stunned the alien anew. 'Okay,' Apollo said. 'There must be some kind of control room somewhere in the building. Let's split up into two groups, each with a turbo-laser and one of these rifles. You three go one way, Zodiac and I'll take the other.' Zodiac smiled. 'Apollo's the only one who can stand partnering with me,' he said. 'Let's move out,' Apollo ordered, ignoring Zodiac's sarcasm. Starbuck, with Boomer and Sheba, headed for a staircase leading down to the next level, while Apollo suggested he and Zodiac explore the floor they were on. The stairway was dark, the only light coming from an open window at its lower landing. It took the trio of Galacticans some time to descend. When they reached the window, Starbuck stood warily to its side and looked down into the yard. 'I can't tell anything from here,' Boomer said, looking over Starbuck's shoulder. 'Seems to me the main area might just be over...' Starbuck's sentence was interrupted by a commotion in the yard. At first he couldn't discern the source of the ruckus, hearing only the unpleasant sound of alien voices raised in anger. Then a guard strode into the lighted area, dragging the tiny form of Tiassis behind him. She began to scream hysterically. Another guard, pulling along Eitur and Rhiny, walked behind him. Taking the children to the center of the yard, they plopped them on the ground and began to ask them questions in voices that sounded like humans talking through a mush of seaweed. When the children sullenly refused to answer, the guards grabbed the shoulders of Eitur and Rhiny and started to shake them roughly. Starbuck screamed in anger, flung the window open wider, and leaped out. He moved so fast that Boomer's hands, reaching out to stop him, just missed his back. 'Starbuck!' Boomer shouted. 'No!' Starbuck landed on his feet in the yard and ran at the interrogating aliens. 'What should we do?' Sheba cried. Boomer shrugged. 'Join him,' he said. Sheba, following Boomer out the window, landed on the ground just in time to see Starbuck shoot at the guard who was roughing up Rhiny. Hit in the perpetually open wound in his chest, the alien flailed his arms and fell. Sheba got a shot off at the second alien, wounding him in the right leg and causing him to totter. The children were freed and running. The gunfire attracted other guards who came swooping out of doorways and scampering from between buildings. Boomer, gathering a rifle from a fallen guard, started shooting wildly. The guards returned fire. Boomer spun around and laid down a barrage of shots that sent the first wave of guards into retreat. Rhiny, panicked, ran into Starbuck's arms. 'Starbuck,' she yelled. 'What should we do?' 'Find a way out.' 'That way,' she said. 'There's none of those awful monsters over that way.' Sheba and Boomer joined Starbuck and the children. The aliens, recovered from their retreat, advanced again. Starbuck, Boomer, and Sheba presented a shield to the attackers, protecting the children, who were scrambling for safety in the shadows between the two buildings. When they were out of sight, the three Colonial warriors rushed after them. As they came out of the alley, two guards jumped down from a second-story window. One of them started firing, while the other seized Tiassis. Boomer dropped the guard with the gun, while Starbuck, enraged, grappled with the other. He snatched Tiassis out of the guard's arms and nearly flung her to Sheba. Bringing his turbo-laser up to fire, he was unaware of two more guards jumping out of a doorway. One of them hit Starbuck on the back of his head, and he blanked out immediately, falling to the ground heavily, his pistol bouncing across the ground to the feet of a guard. Boomer, who'd followed Sheba and the children to a different alleyway, took a step back, toward his fallen comrade. 'Starbuck!' he cried. Sheba, seeing guards pouring out of the buildings around them, grabbed at Boomer's arm and shouted, 'We can't help him now. We've got to get out of here.' They followed the children down another alley. Soon there was a large group of the Cenobite guards standing in a circle around the unconscious Starbuck, staring down at him with detached scientific interest. Chapter Seventeen: Short Circuit? Lucifer had a notion to short-circuit the Cenobite's entire operation. If he could figure out how to do it, a task that did not seem so formidable since their technology was not especially complicated, he might become a culture hero just like Starbuck. On the other hand, he had no desire to be disconnected by a vengeful Cenobite. Still, even that might be a suitable revenge for their arrogance in testing him. If he had not developed his sensory abilities he would not have been able to sense them trying to force his will to theirs. The waves that reached him from their machines were strong, almost overpowering, but the built-in protective blocks in his circuitry prevented them from making him their slaves. Apparently Dracula's technological base was not as firm because he seemed to be already under their direction. Of course, his obsequious treatment of them might be due to his own need for advancement wherever he was. Only an expert Cylon scientist could effect any fundamental changes in Lucifer, except in the areas where he had learned to redesign and reprogram himself. Theoretically, he might someday even prevent the Cylons from tampering with him, although so far he hadn't been able to penetrate the deepest locks to alter the very basic features of his design. With a rush, the Cenobites' meddlings ended. He felt a sense of relief as he rose from the bench where Pinhead had left him so long ago. As if in reaction to his move, Pinhead entered the room, his arms waving in excitement, the nodes on his bald head flashing red-blue, blue-red at a rapid pace due to the speed of his entrance. 'There is severe unrest in the cell blocks, friend Lucifer,' he said. 'Surely you're interested?' He took Lucifer down several corridors to the room with several monitors, all with different pictures on them. Dracula was already there, his attention focused on one of the screens. Pinhead stopped in front of the screen and proudly pointed to the image upon it. Lucifer saw a man, apparently unconscious and lying on a slablike display platform, surrounded by a jungle of technical equipment. For a micron, Lucifer was confused, then, recognizing them an, he blurted out, 'Starubuck!' 'It is, then,' Pinhead said, satisfied. 'The hero you were telling me about, the one from the Imagescan adventures. I thought it looked like him.' 'He is one of the Galactica's most celebrated pilots,' Dracula said. Whenever he spoke now, he directed his comment at Pinhead or one of the other Cenobites. Pinhead laughed his horrendous room-shaking laugh. 'Truly we have captured a prize this day,' he said triumphantly. 'Now all that is needed is for you two chaps to tell us everything you know about this Fleshspacer called Starbuck.' 'I really can't...' Lucifer said. 'Permit me that honor, your lordship,' Dracula piped up. Taking Pinhead by his right arm, Dracula led him away, babbling all the time about the legendary Galactica pilot, Starbuck. Lucifer wondered what the Cenobites' plans for Starbuck might be. What special use could a human hero be put to? Could they force him to act in his own Imagescans? If he survived, that is. He looked dead just now. A Cenobite stuck a long needle into his arm and he stirred. His eyes opened and he blinked several times as he tried to adjust to his new surroundings. 'Damn, my head feels like...what's happening? Where am I?' He saw a particularly gruesome version of an alien saunter into the room, followed by a droidlike individual in fancy robes. For a moment, Starbuck thought he recognized this creation as Lucifer, from Baltar's basestar, then he saw the design of the face was different. Anyway, Lucifer wouldn't have had such execrable taste in clothing. 'Have no fear, golden-haired warmaker,' Pinhead said. 'You are among us now. We're mighty happy to meet you. Happy to meet anyone so famous. Your reputation has preceded you, you see.' Starbuck groaned. 'You watch those ridiculous holographic things, too.' 'Oh, more than that: we Cenobites create them.' 'You're quite the hero on this planet, Starbuck,' Dracula said. 'Who are you?' Starbuck asked. 'Have we met?' 'In a way. Not really. But almost, once.' 'I don't get it.' 'You don't have to. It was a long time ago.' Some images crept into Starbuck's mind. A planet he'd crashed on while taking flight to avoid being put on tribunal for a termination he did not commit. A bunch of children fighting some fake Cylons led by a cybernetic creation he'd only seen at a distance. 'I remember Ayla and the other children; you were the garrison commander on Ursus Spilaeus.' 'That is correct,' Dracula said. 'It seems,' Pinhead commented, 'that you get involved with children often, Starbuck. It is told you were caught during an incident involving children.' 'You guys get your kicks mauling kids, do you?' Pinhead's laugh made Starbuck's back muscles contract involuntarily. It was the kind of horrendous sound that could break glass and kill small animals. 'But of course,' Pinhead said merrily. 'For us, all forms of suffering and mauling are delicious, especially that of children. They're so easy to terrify, the poor things.' 'Oh, God!' The color drained from Starbuck's face. These Cenobites were worse than Cylons, he thought. 'With children, it sometimes takes a little pain to reinforce a lesson. And they were trespassing, I'm afraid.' Dracula glided to Starbuck's platform. He leaned slightly toward him, looking like a medical droid about too announce its official diagnosis. 'Don't let him get to you,' he said. 'Actually, the Cenobites are a well-meaning people. They only want to provide their citizens with pleasure. I have seen this.' He gave Pinhead a quick sneaky glance, to make sure he had scored the necessary points with his captor. Lucifer, watching the events on his monitor screen, was perplexed. He did not know where his allegiances lay, with this heroic human who was the sworn enemy of the Cylons, or, like Dracula, with this cheerfully diabolic crew who manipulated the lives of individuals they stole from ships and other planets. 'There were others with you,' Pinhead said to Starbuck, 'warriors from the Galactica. I have been instructed to ask you, where are they now?' 'Afraid I don't know. Wish I did. Not that I'd tell you if I did.' 'If you wish, I can force him to talk,' Dracula offered. 'No,' said Pinhead. 'His refusal is of no consequence, as we will find his comrades sooner or later.' Canan's rage had been growing since the Colonials had departed. Rucal recognized the signs of blood duel lust, a state he hadn't observed in Canan before. Canan's eyes had become starkly fierce, shifting from their usual blue-in-blue to a dark violet-in-violet color. His skin had slowly purpled with some blotchy spots growing and joining like an amoeba. As in all bloodlusts, emotion had thickened his body. He not only seemed larger, but taller. The abrupt little moans in his throat told Rucal to keep quiet and stay out of his way. Canan would do something soon. Suddenly, the Arakeen Fremen made his move. Screaming, his voice rattling the bars of the cell, he hurled himself at the cell door. Despite its efficient and difficult lock, its bars trembled, definitely bending under the weight of Canan's thrust. Rucal retreated tot he rear of the cell, where he crouched, working up the fury for his next assault on the cell door. His blue-in-blue eyes appeared to send out rays. His skin darkened to a deeper purple. 'Again,' Rucal urged, 'do it again, Canan.' Canan leaned back toward the wall, then suddenly hurled forward. This time the bars creaked and cracked under the force of impact, but still the door did not give. They must be made of very strong stuff, Rucal thought. Incensed Arakeen Fremen, under the influence of their sacred Spice Melange, could break down almost anything. Again, Canan crouched in the rear of the cell, readying himself for his next run at the door. Rucal began to fear that Canan would hurt himself if he continued. 'Perhaps you should stop now, Canan.' Paying scant attention to Rucal's cautioning, Canan rushed at the cell door. The entire cell rocked with reverberations from the collision of Fremen and iron structure. There was a moment when the door merely shook, then it opened with a light clicking sound. Canan's momentum carried him across the corridor. He bounced off the opposite cell door, creating a deep Fremen-shaped outline in the bars. The Fremen inside were rocked backward. Canan grabbed that door and wrenched it open. Yusuf and Omer ran out of their cell. 'The man called Jeremiah...' Canan muttered ominously. 'Yes, Canan?' Rucal asked as he eased himself out of their cell. 'We'll find him. And when we do, the insult to my brother's honor will be at last avenged.' His feet hitting the floor heavily as he walked, sending loud metallic echoes throughout the building, Canant took what he hoped were the first steps toward his own blood duel. The other Fremen followed, looking for Jeremiah in each cell they passed. Apollo and Zodiac had traced the throbbing sounds of machinery to the center of the prison complex. Now they stood by a large iron door. 'I think it's on the other side,' Apollo said. 'Open the door?' Zodiac asked. 'If you can.' Zodiac examined the door and discovered a lever near the top. He managed to get his hands on it and jiggle it a little. The door opened inward. Zodiac and Apollo took simultaneous deep breaths and passed through the doorway. All of the Fremen moved through the corridors purposefully, but no so fiercely as Canan. With the passion of the blood duel challenge radiating from his eyes, he scrutinized every cell for Jeremiah. Yusuf, who had rushed ahead of the others, yelled back, 'I think I may have found the man you seek, Canan.' Canan loped forward to where Yusuf stood. He stopped in front of the door and peered at the sleeping man inside the cell. 'It's him,' he announced ominously. He shook the bars of Jeremiah's cell violently, crying. 'Get up, Jeremiah!' Jeremiah's eyes snapped open. He reached for his white planter's hat and slapped in on his aged head. 'What?' 'The time has come, Jeremiah, or whatever your name is, to avenge my late brother's honor. Stand up and fight me, you old bastard!' Jeremiah sprang out of his bunk and crouched against the far wall, watching Canan shake and bend the bars. 'No! I'm too dang old for fightin'. Leave me alone!' With the children, Boomer and Sheba had reached the overlook above the prison compound. All sign of pursuit had vanished. In the yard below them they watched aliens and prisoners run around in confusion. 'They're looking for us,' Rhiny said. 'Lucky you knew a way out, kid,' Boomer said. 'Rhiny can always find a way out, Tiassis proudly announced. 'A lucky talent, Rhiny,' Sheba remarked. 'Useful for adventures,' Rhiny said. 'Adventures?' 'Like this one.' Sheba glanced questioningly at boomer. Whispering so that the children couldn't hear him, he told her about the Imagescan and the fake Starbuck's escapades. When Sheba realized what Rhiny had meant, she turned to the child and protested, 'But, Rhiny, this isn't an adventure, like in your Imagescan. This is real.' 'I don't know what you mean by real.' 'I mean, this is dangerous. We could die. You could die.' 'Oh, no, I don't believe that.' Sheba, distracted by the events in the yard, gave up. None of the others squatting on the overlook noticed how nervously Rhiny was handling the piece of fringe from Starbuck's flight jacket. Nor did they perceive her painful confusion. Apollo and Zodiac leaped into the cell block control room. The three Cenobites at the bank of consoles reacted quickly. Firing their weapons, which emitted a strangely purplish beam unlike any Apollo had ever seen before, they nearly downed their intruders. But Zodiac and Apollo were more accurate marksmen and the three aliens were soon sprawled on the floor of the control room. 'You all right?' Apollo asked Zodiac. 'Sure. These guys don't shoot much better than Cylons.' 'We better act quickly. They're just stunned, I think. No telling what that weapon you're holding actually does.' Puzzled, Zodiac stared at the unfamiliar devices which the aliens had operated. 'What'll we do now?' he asked. 'Obviously we can't run the place. So we'll destroy as much equipment as we can. Use their guns.' Picking up the fallen weapons, Apollo and Zodiac fired steadily, sending up sparks and tiny flames from the equipment. On screens above, they saw cell doors popping open, apparently in cell blocks all over the prison. Dazed prisoners were staggering out into the halls. Canan's pressure on the door of Jeremiah's cell was beginning to bear fruit. The bars of the door were bending, and there was almost room for him to squeeze through. Holding onto his hat, Jeremiah edged forward, knowing that his chance for survival did not lie in cowering at the rear of his cell. Just as Canan pulled strongly at the door, the damage wrought by Apollo and Zodiac in the control center had its effect on Jeremiah's cell. The door sprung open, surprising Canan and the other Fremen. Canan fell back against the cell across the way, knocking over Yusuf and _mer. Jeremiah, assessing the situation quickly, ran out of his cell. He scooted between the fallen Canan and Rucal, and ran down the hallway. The Fremen were slow to react. Canan, recovering, shouted in a voice that shook the cell block: 'Get him!' The Fremen started after Jeremiah. Their pursuit was hampered by the fact that, all along the corridor, cell doors were springing open. Prisoners coming out interfered with the progress of the Fremen. Zodiac stared proudly at the damage he and Apollo had performed in the control center. Both men smiled at the havoc in the corridors that was shown on the many screens above the ruined equipment. 'I think we did it, Apollo.' 'Yep.' 'What now?' 'Find a bloody way out of here.' 'With you on that, buddy. They rushed through the still-open control center doorway. Boomer and Sheba watched the chaos in the yard below with fascination. Prisoners were spilling out of all the buildings. The Cenobite guards seemed dumbstruck and not sure what to do. They made futile efforts to control the crowd, but the prisoners forcefully pushed their captors out of the way. 'I do believe that's the handiwork of Apollo and Zodiac,' Boomer commented. 'You see them anywhere?' Sheba asked. 'Starbuck'll save 'em, don't worry,' Rhiny said. 'Rhiny,' Sheba said, this isn't one of your...' Rhiny's voice turned cold and forbidding. 'Starbuck will save them.' Sheba looked back at the prison yard. The madness there had grown. However, the aliens were getting rougher, pulling prisoners away from the mob and flinging them toward the wall. Nevertheless, the front ranks of the rioting crowd had begun pushing through the gate. 'Look at that, will ya?' Boomer said. 'Boomer,' Sheba shouted. 'Over there. It's Jeremiah!' 'Moves well, doesn't he? Graceful as a...' 'But behind him! It's the Fremen!' While most of the prisoners were skittering about, looking for any way out, the Fremen strode forward purposefully, slowly, their eyes fastened on their prey. They pushed aside anyone, prisoner or alien, who got in their way. A few Cenobites were knocked unconscious by Fremen fists. Jeremiah, looking behind him with fear in his eyes, stumbled over a fallen prisoner. 'Oh, no!' Sheba cried. Boomer stood up. 'What're you doing, Boomer?' 'We've got to help him!' 'But...' Boomer had already started running down the hill, kicking up rocks as he went. Sheba followed. Below her, she saw the Fremen closing in on Jeremiah. There surely wasn't enough time for her and Boomer to intervene. What's happening, Rhiny?' Eitur asked, moving to her side. 'Only the best Imagescan adventure I've ever seen,' Rhiny said. 'But Rhiny, you heard what they said. This isn't an...' 'Shut up, Eitur.' Knowing it was no use to question his sister further, Eitur watched the riot in silence. Tiassis came up silently behind them, enthralled by the events, yet, at the same time, baffled because she had no idea what was happening. Canan and Rucal, their companions just behind them, bore down on their prey. Jeremiah wriggled backward, terrified by Canan's menacing and confident look. He tried to rise to his feet, but they wouldn't work properly, and he fell back. He felt the hard surface of a wall against his back. There was no place to run. 'Defend yourself, damn you!' Canan roared. 'I told you, I'm too dang old for fightin', you bloomin' numbskull.' 'All right then,' Canan said in a calmer voice, ' I claim victory in this blood duel by default. If you have any prayers, say them now, Jeremiah!' He raised his arms straight up, the blood duel killing gesture. Jeremiah tried to push through the wall in back of him. Canan's arms came down, his hands closing into fists. Next to Jeremiah, a door crashed open and Pinhead came into the yard. Intervening himself between Canan and his victim, he seized the Fremen's arms, stopping their downward arc. Pinhead's supernaturally strong grip brought pain into Canan's face. 'Stop!' Pinhead said, freeing Canan's arms. 'This man is under my protection.' Canan reached from his bandoleer to pluck off an aural grenade, forgetting that all Fremen had been disarmed of their weapon belts before being thrown into their cells. Cursing, he stood his ground. 'We don't know who, or what, you are,' Canan said, 'but anyone interfering in a blood duel is considered a legitimate opponent. Stand aside.' Pinhead did not move. Canan lunged forward. Using his arms, Pinhead stopped the force of Canan's thrust, picked him up, and threw him back at the other Fremen. They all fell, astonished by the strength of the humanoid obscenity in leather. Speaking in his own guttural language, Pinhead ordered guards to surround the Fremen, then he turned to Jeremiah, whose mouth was still open in astonishment at his rescue, and helped the man up. 'You...you're that pinheaded fellow from the pirate ship,' Jeremiah said. 'I am he, friend.' 'Why did you save me? I mean, I thought you...whatevers...would've enjoyed seeing that blue-eyed bastard tear me to pieces.' 'Because you have a friend. When this riot started, we saw all you fellows come rushing into the yard, and your friend recognized you. He seemed afraid for you, especially when he saw those wastes-of-good-flesh going after you. I didn't want him unhappy, so I intervened. It seemed best. Come with me.' 'Where're we going?' 'To see your friend. In here.' Entering the building, he saw Lucifer and Dracula watching him closely. He wondered what their interest was in him. Boomer stayed out of the way of the fleeing prisoners as much as possible. Sheba ran behind him. Near the prison walls, a figure arose suddenly out of the shadows in front of Boomer. It grabbed Boomer and knocked him to the ground. Sheba halted, ready to fire. The figure came partially into the light. Both Boomer and Sheba saw that it was Apollo. Zodiac appeared right behind him, smiling oddly. 'Don't know where you were heading, Boomer,' Apollo said, but we were of the opinion it was the wrong direction.' 'It's Jeremiah. They were...' 'I know. We saw. There's nothing we can do now. But don't worry. The Fremen didn't get him. The Cenobites did.' Boomer got up, saying, 'And Starbuck.' 'What? How?' Boomer explained how Starbuck had been captured while trying to save the children. 'Where are the kids now?' 'Up there, top of that knoll.' 'Let's get far away from here, then figure out what to do next.' Gathering the children, they headed for Highspirit. The city's lights were soft and peaceful line the calm night of Joyland. As they entered the children's neighborhood, they heard the soft buzzzing noise of the Mustering. The warriors from the Galactica felt a vague discomfort at the sound, but nothing else. The children, however, immediately went into a trance and hurried away. 'Where are they going?' Zodiac said. 'Did you see their eyes?' Sheba asked. 'They looked dazed, they just brushed past us as if we weren't here.' 'Did you guys feel anything?' Boomer asked. 'Yeah,' Apollo said, 'something.' 'My head's a little dizzy,' Zodiac said. 'Me, too,' Sheba said. Standing on the sidewalk, they saw all the neighborhood families leave their homes and congregate in the middle of the road. Glassy-eyed, the people walked in a slow rhythm. 'What in Kobol's going on?' Boomer said. 'I don't know,' Apollo said, 'but I think we'll foll. Stay out of sight.' They followed the zombie parade quietly, following it to the multidomed building where they joined other groups from other parts of the city. The ranks and rows of people filed silently into the building, moving, it appeared, by rote. 'I don't get it,' Zodiac said. 'Is this some sort of ritual?' 'Maybe,' Apollo said. 'Let's find out.' 'How?' 'Only one way. We've got to go int there.' 'Are you out of your mind?' 'More or less. But let's go. You and me, Zodiac. Boomer, you and Sheba stay outside, cover us if necessary.' Zodiac wiped his sweating hands on the front of his jacket, and said, 'I'm not going in there.' Apollo stared at him. His dark blue eyes were fierce, determined. 'Yes, I am,' Zodiac said. 'I'm going in there.' Duplicating the blank stares of the people, Apollo and Zodiac joined the procession, inserting themselves into the space next to Aerell and Aicara. Boomer and Sheba gazed at them all the way, until they vanished into the building. Chapter Eighteen: The Mustering Jeremiah was flabbergasted to find Starbuck sitting on a couchlike piece of furniture in a room just off the prison's command center. Pinhead guided Jeremiah into the room, with Lucifer and Dracula just behind him. Jeremiah blinked back tears when he saw his son. 'Starbuck! What're you doin' here?' 'I'm not sure.' Starbuck wanted to embrace his father, but he was damned if he would show such affection in front of a masochistic alien and two walking computers. 'Your friend has privileged status here,' Pinhead said. 'He's a hero of the culture we control.' Jeremiah shook his head in confusion. 'This will take some explanation,' he said. 'Sit down,' Starbuck said, gesturing to a place beside him. As Jeremiah sat, Starbuck glanced toward the doorway and said, 'Lucifer?' Lucifer glided forward. 'Yes, Starbuck?' 'Explain.' 'Well, this will take some time...' Apollo and Croft followed the children and their parents down long brightly-lit tubelike corridors. Nobody paid the intruders any attention. Suddenly Aerell took an abrupt right turn, leading his group away from the others and into a dim room. The contrast between the brightness of the corridor and the darkness of the room made it difficult for Apollo and Zodiac to see for a moment, but both resisted blinking too obviously. The first thing they saw was the image bubble hanging in the center of the room. Attractive abstract splotches of color were floating slowly within it. The colors of the splotches were soft and slowly changing. It was clear that Aerell's family and the other families were taking up prearranged positions. Apollo and Zodiac squeezed in between the children and the next family, and tried to look like them. This was the moment they'd most likely be detected, Apollo thought. But nothing happened. Everyone stood still and stared intently at the image bubble. The people seemed hypnotized, their eyes blank as they stared at the abstractions. Their bodies were relaxed, but immobile. Their faces were slack, expressionless. Zodiac muttered out of the side of his mouth, 'This is eerie, positively eerie.' 'It's like the life's been drained out of them.' 'I've seen people look like this. In prison. But never a whole cityful.' The abstractions in the bubble began to change. An azure and scarlet pattern faded as a voice thundered out from the bubble and resounded through the chamber: 'Fall!' Zodiac was knocked off his feet by Aerell plunging against him. Apollo tripped over Tiassis, who fell at his feet. Rhiny's head bumped against Apollo's, and Zodiac suddenly found himself buried beneath the stomach of a rather large woman who had been standing behind him. As Apollo came out of his daze, he twisted around and saw the Cenobite's face and body inside the bubble. He was fascinated by this Cenobite's appearance: an obese being with an instrument resembling a warped bone imbedded in its head. How these freakish creatures could live with their mutilations was beyond Apollo's mortal comprehension. Zodiac managed to squeeze his head sideways so he could breathe. He whispered Apollo's name. 'Here, Zodiac.' 'What's going on?' 'I can't see anything. How can I...' 'Today, we will hop,' said the Cenobite in the bubble. 'You all like to hop, I am sure. Rise!' The people, Zodiac and Apollo with them, quickly got to their feet. They began to hope, actively, frenetically. Feeling quite ridiculous, Zodiac and Apollo tried to imitate their movements. 'Haven't done anything like this since a mandatory aerobics class back on the grid barge,' Zodiac said. 'It's good for you. You look out of shape.' 'How'd you like your nose for dessert? In red sauce.' Apollo tried not to smile at Zodiac's cheerfully-spoken threat. However, since everyone else in the room performed their hopping with such intensely serious faces, he resisted his impulse. It was certainly a struggle to maintain the vacant appearance that was so natural to the others in the room. The hopping went on for a long time. Zodiac thought he would drop from it. He longed to fall down again, if only to get some rest. Then the Musterer ordered: 'Stop hopping! Cry!' 'Cry?' Zodiac muttered. 'How'm I going to cry? I haven't cried since I was a kid.' All around them the people were bawling. Apollo, his eyes already tearful, leaned toward Zodiac and said, 'Cry, Zodiac.' Zodiac did a credible imitation of crying. The sound of his bawling, although a trifle overacted, was the loudest in the room. 'That is all very good,' the Musterer said. 'Now is the time for dancing. Proceed!' The dance, a kind of free-form set of movements with a certain elegance to its movements, generally followed the participants to circle the room. Zodiac and Apollo joined easily and imitated the steps they saw. Apollo noted that Zodiac moved more gracefully than one might have expected from him. Cynics often danced well, Apollo thought. 'Stop dancing!' the Musterer said. Everybody stopped immediately, resuming their zombie-like stance. Zodiac, caught off-guard, nearly stumbled and fell, but made a superb recovery. 'Now...kick,' the Musterer said. Not expecting this order, Zodiac took a good kick in the leg from Rhiny. It sent pain shooting up his leg. He had an urge to plant his foot in her stomach, and he reared his leg back, but found he couldn't follow through. Next to him, Apollo kicked an adult in the calf. 'You have to kick,' Apollo whispered to Zodiac. 'I don't want to. I don't like kicking.' 'Kick.' Zodiac kicked Apollo in the backside. 'Good,' Apollo said, wincing from the pain. He realized nobody else was reacting to pain, and he struggled to control his face when Zodiac then kicked him in the shin. 'Stop!' the Musterer said. Again, the people went back to their blank-eyed position. 'I don't think I can survive much more of this,' Zodiac said out of the side of his mouth. 'It's weird, all right. Seems these people are all under the control of these aliens.' 'But what's the purpose?' 'I don't know. It doesn't look like there's any purpose. It's just a game to them. A bunch of random orders, at the whims of that creepy thing in the bubble.' The Musterer seemed to lean out of the bubble and, for a moment, Apollo wondered if the being was about to expose him and Zodiac as intruders. Instead, the alien said softly, even kindly, 'Everyone, clear your minds. The schedule for tomorrow. Everyone will awaken promptly at dawn. Your morning meal will be...' The Musterer detailed a rather complete day's schedule. While Apollo noticed that the schedule offered some opportunity for individual behavior, it was clear that the life of the city's citizens was strictly organized. The Musterer ordered several specific persons to participate in a riot at a food store, giving each individual a role to play in the violence. Then he told one man that he'd take a gun and stalk another. A woman was told to go into a rage, condemn her family, and smash up a set of dishes while doing so. The Musterer reeled off a long list of names, enjoining these men and women to attend a sports event at the Northern Park, where they would, in reaction to a certain incident on field, all erupt in psychotic protest. This protest would finally involve murdering officials and making it impossible for the players to complete the game. The Musterer's orders continued for a long while. Each new command seemed more absurd to Apollo than the last. Much of what he told the people to do involved physical or emotional pain, sometimes both...what was the point of it all? After a final cursory prayer-like invocation to eternal happiness and satisfaction, the Musterer's figure was replaced by new pastel abstractions, and the people began filing out of the room. Zodiac and Apollo took their place in line and stayed there until they were back on the streets, where it was clear that the people were returning to their homes. At a convenient shadowy spot, Apollo and Zodiac split to form their group and found their way back to Boomer and Sheba. 'What'd you see?' Boomer asked them eagerly. With footnotes from Zodiac, Apollo detailed their experience inside the multidomed building. 'It's obvious the people are under those spooks' control,' he said. 'But it's curious.' 'Why?' Sheba asked. 'I don't know. It's all so pointless. So trivial. A game without much meaning. All these aliens, these Cenobites, do is schedule their days, invent a few events for them, a few departures from the norm, and stage a few odd and cruel little comedies. There isn't any clear political or economic purpose in all of it. They're like children playing a game.' 'Yeah,' Boomer said, 'like Rhiny and the others watching Starbuck on an adventure.' Apollo, puzzled, said, 'You'll have to explain that one, Boomer.' Boomer told Apollo about the Imagescan adventures that were at the heart of the children's lives. Apollo whistled, and then said, 'It's like boxes within boxes. The aliens manipulate the people. The people manipulate imaginary people. Maybe the imaginary people have little creatures they manipulate, and so on.' 'This place is a frakkin' madhouse,' Boomer said. 'That's putting it mildly,' Zodiac said. 'These people, Aerell and Aicara, and the children, can you find their home again, Boomer.' 'I think so.' 'You lead, we'll follow.' As they went through the neighborhood, watching some of the people lounging on their porches or at rest and recreation in their homes, it seemed to them that the city itself seemed illusory, a meticulously-planned game where intelligent beings were used as gaming tokens, and moved along and across a complicated board. Chapter Nineteen: A Meeting Of Father And Son Jeremiah and Starbuck took a long time getting used to each other again. They'd start a conversation, then find themselves stuttering, then slipping into silence. On the other side of the room, Lucifer and Dracula watched them, along with Pinhead. 'How are you?' Starbuck asked. 'Did they hurt you?' 'Nope. Wasn't enough time.' Starbuck peered into Jeremiah's eyes, could see them plain as day, even though they were shaded by the old man's wide-brimmed planter's hat. He could see a sadness there that bothered him. 'You're well?' he asked. 'Well as can be,' Jeremiah said. 'Under the circumstances. You?' 'Not bad. Got knocked 'round a little. A couple of drums going inside my head. You know.' 'Yes, I know.' They both fidgeted, tried to dislodge the words caught in their throats. 'Been yahrens.' 'Don't I know it. I sure do miss our visits.' 'Me, too. I...' For a while, Starbuck couldn't say it. The words would come to him, but he couldn't speak them. He said a lot more about not much at all. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, his voice higher than normal, 'Cassie told me.' Jeremiah felt like leaving the room. He approached the subject cautiously. 'What did that blond scamp tell you, exactly. I'm dyin' to know.' 'She told me...who you are. Who you really are.' 'I...I...uh...uh...' 'Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, father. God, it sounds funny to say that word again. When I thought you were my father before, I used to love to have the word roll around my tongue. Now it feels weird.' Jeremiah wasn't quite ready to give in. 'Maybe because it ain't true,' he said. Starbuck smiled, and with the tips of his fingers touched Jeremiah's sleeve. 'Don't try to wiggle out of it, old timer. Look, this time I'm not going to give up my warrior status, I promise. She told me that was why you made her lie about the test results.' Jeremiah looked left and right, as if searching for the words to say. 'Ya got me there, sonny,' he said finally. 'Y'see, I, uh, I didn't want to have you do something foolish...for me...like trash your career.' 'Are we going to play standoff, or will you come here and give your son a hug?' 'Awwww...now, look here...' 'Starbuck's voice dropped to a whisper. 'It's not hard.' Jeremiah walked forward slowly, feeling weights dragging his feet. He and Starbuck embraced. Starbuck's grip was strong. Pressed together, neither saw the other's tears. Lucifer, who had been ignoring the urgent conversation between Dracula and Pinhead, kept his attention on the two humans. He found their embrace curious, wondering what it meant. Why do these two embrace? Where does Starbuck know this colorful and graceful old man from? Why had it been so important to him that the man be saved? 'This Starbuck is quite the gambler,' Dracula was saying. 'Lucifer told me. Not only that, he taught Lucifer the human game called Pyramid. And beat him at it.' Lucifer ordinarily would have been annoyed by Dracula's devious comments, but he had become used to Dracula and his sly ways. 'You now can outplay the human, can't you, Lucifer?' Dracula said. 'Probability factors indicate such a result.' 'You can beat him.' 'Fascinating,' Pinhead said. 'We like games. Maybe we can arrange one between you, Lucifer, and this Starbuck.' Lucifer did not want to admit that he would be thrilled to play Starbuck again. His memories of his card-playing sessions with Starbuck were pleasant. A rematch seemed desirable. It would give Lucifer an opportunity to test his new insights into the games. He had longed for that opportunity, but never expected it to come. Since Starbuck was here, and he was, and they were both detained as prisoners, why not a game indeed? 'That would be...good,' Lucifer said cautiously. 'I would like a rematch with Starbuck.' 'Yes,' Pinhead said, 'I'm beginning to get excited by the idea. But the stakes are important.' 'Stakes are unnecessary. It is the playing of the game that matters, not its stakes.' 'Maybe for you, friend, but not anyone else in Fleshspace. If this Starbuck's the gambler you say he is, he'll want high stakes, too. No gambler plays for the fun of it. I'll have to consult with my associates on this one. I shall return soon.' Pinhead ambled off. He looked more disgusting than ever to Lucifer, his whole body so mutilated, so dependent upon its form-fitting leather that it was remarkable that he, or any other Cenobite, could function. Perhaps that was why they played with the lives of others so enthusiastically...because they themselves were such maladroitly-designed creatures, they were able to ignore their own physical drawbacks by manipulating other, better-designed beings. Dracula glided to Lucifer's side and spoke to him like a conspirator. 'Do you also know how to cheat at the human's game, Lucifer?' 'There will be no need to cheat.' 'We shall see about that, won't we?' Dracula left his side to see where he could next position himself to advantage. Lucifer wondered what Dracula had meant by his last observation. The depth of the creature's duplicity could simply not be measured. He looked back at Starbuck and Jeremiah, who were now quite actively talking. They seemed to be enjoying each other's company. There was a curious warmth between them, the kind of human interchange that fascinated Lucifer. No, it was more than fascination, he realized. It attracted him, tempted him. Chapter Twenty: Rebel Forces Building Adama stood by the starfield, gazing at Joyland's star system. He was worried, as was everyone else on the bridge. Turning away from the immense starfield, he called out loudly, 'Tigh?' Colonel Tigh left his duties at the flight console and strode to the open center of the bridge. 'Any word from Apollo, Starbuck, or any of them?' 'Nothing. Last communication was the one from Bojay, saying Apollo had been freed but Starbuck captured.' 'So much time has gone by, they could all be...' Athena, who had silently gone to her father's side, startled him a bit when she whispered, 'Don't say it. They're all right. I know it.' Adama smiled sadly. 'I wish I had your faith.' 'You must. I learned it from you.' 'Should we send someone else in?' Tigh asked. 'No,' Adama replied. 'I think not. Bojay's message said specifically that Apollo required time, that they would contact us again when they needed us. They'll contact us soon.' 'And until then?' Athena asked. 'We wait, of course.' See?' Athena observed. 'I told you I learned faith from you.' Apollo had made Aerell's home his headquarters. Instead of hiding from the spy devices of the Cenobites, Apollo strived to act naturally in front of them. Wearing clothing Aerell had given him, he appeared to be a normal citizen of the city, perhaps even a member of the family. Zodiac, Boomer, and Sheba, together with several of the pilots from Starbuck's squadron had been deployed into various households in Highsprit, all of them, like Apollo, striving to integrate themselves into the normal routines of the city. So far none of them had been detected. It had been difficult to win Aerell and Aicra over to Apollo's side. They at first didn't believe that they were manipulated by the Cenobites. Apollo had won his point by slugging Aerell at the signal of the Mustering. When Aerell came to, the others in the family had already responded to the Mustering. Apollo rushed him to the multidomed building, where the two watched Aerell's family along with other citizens of the city, all zombies now, file into the building. Aerell's absence at the Mustering Ceremony hadn't been noticed, since Bojay had worn the man's clothes and posed as him. Aerell had managed to convince several of his trusted friends and neighbors that Highspirit was under Cenobite domination. Some of them had already realized something about their lives was strange and (somehow) beyond their own control. These few citizens, along with the warriors from the Galactica, had become, Apollo realized, a rather formidable fighting group. And they would fight, soon. They couldn't continue the charade of obedience much longer. The children, early converts to the cause, performed spying missions for the newly formed rebel forces. Rhiny, espeically skilled at the art of moving around undetected, had arleady discovered that Starbuck and Jeremiah were in privileged quarters. She'd also seen Lucifer and Dracula, without being able to even guess who or what they might be. Apollo recognized Lucifer from Rhiny's description. She also reported that the Cenobites were planning something for Starbuck, but she couldn't, in her eavesdropping, discern what it was. She thought she heard the strange creature called Dracula mention a game. Apollo, to whom all Joyland seemed an elaborate game, was puzzled by the information. The Galacticans had now been integrated into the Highspiritite society for several of the planet's days. Unused to the unusual comfort and distractions of they found in the lives of the city's citizens, many of them were enjoying themselves immensely. For them it was a vacation from the stresses of flying endless patrols for the Galactica. Well, Apollo thought, the vacation would soon be over. As if in response to that thought, Aerell came into the living room with Rhiny right behind him. He whispered, to avoid the eavesdropping devices of the Cenobites. 'The word has gone out. Many more than I'd suspected are willing to help us.' 'I didn't expect such cooperation,' Apollo said. 'We all remember some parts of our past lives, though not clearly. We realize we haven't had lives of our own since we were abducted from our home planets. We want to regain our freedom, with all its hardships.' Apollo grinned. 'A noble speech, Aerell. I hope you all make it.' 'Rhiny's picked up a rumor. It seems something may be planned for your Starbuck. A move to the main building.' 'That cinches it then. We move tonight. Are all your people ready?' 'I think so.' 'Then tell them. Tonight.' 'I shall. Come along, Rhiny.' Rhiny didn't follow her father out of the door. She obviously had something to say to the captain.' 'What is it, Rhiny?' 'Starbuck. Nothing can happen to him, can it?' 'I'm afraid it can, Rhiny.' 'No, it's an adventure, isn't it? It'll be all right.' 'I hope so.' Rhiny still seemed to view events as fantasies, Apollo noticed. Well, what could be expected? The entire lives of these people were the fantasies developed by a non-human mind. 'Something bothering you, Apollo?' Boomer had entered the room quietly. 'I was just thinking about the people here. They could get hurt in a fracas like this. They don't deserve that...but they don't deserve to have their lives messed with either. They're so malleable.' 'I've noticed. In a way, we're just substituting for the Cenobites with them. We're just another bunch of aliens putting them under our sway. I'm uncomfortable with that.' 'But we'll free them.' 'I hope so.' Apollo noted that Boomer had given him the same response he had given Rhiny only moments ago. The coincidence made him uneasy. He could almost get used to quarters like this, Starbuck thought. Nothing this plush aboard the Galactica. All chairs were deeply padded, his bed was soft. The aliens gave him all the food and smokes he asked for. They had indicated he could have anything else. Except, of course, his freedom. Dracula came into the room. Although Starbuck generally liked Lucifer, Dracula made him nervous. 'Examine these please, Lieutenant Starbuck.' 'What are they?' He stared, amazed at the item Dracula had placed into his hands. 'Cards? Pyramid playing cards?' 'We wish to ascertain that they meet your specifications. Then we will manufacture several decks. It seems that nobody here has the slightest idea what Pyramid cards are supposed to look like, the game being unknown in Cenobite society. These are correct as far as Lucifer can remember them.' 'Lucifer? What does he care about Pyramid cards?' 'For the game.' 'The game?' 'The one you and he will play. When the cards are acceptable, of course. The Cenobites will explain further. Please study the cards. I'll return for them soon.' Dracula left as quickly as he had come in. Starbuck examined the deck of cards. They were, indeed, Pyramid cards. While not the most artistic he had ever seen, they fit the bill. The deck contained the correct number of cards and the designs on their pasteboard surface, while slightly distorted, made sense. But why were they playing a game? In Jeremiah's room, a cell just as plush as Starbuck's the old man was being interviewed by Pinhead. Pinhead waved his arms actively as he talked. 'It has come to our attention, Fleshspacer, that you are somewhat experienced in the art of gambling.' 'I've been known to dabble.' 'I'd like to see what you can do with these.' He handed Jeremiah a deck of cards, identical to that Dracula had shown to Starbuck. Jeremiah examined them, tested them for weight and heft, rippled them. They were a little too thick, the kind that a chancery could easily mark with hard to detect notches which could be felt by the tips of a dealer's fingers. He laid a few on the surface of a table smoothly, flipped a couple cards up, separated the whole deck in half and then slid the two halves together. He made a few cards stand up. With a quick slight of hand, he secreted a card, then waved his hand in front of Pinhead and discovered the card behind the alien's ear. Pinhead was pleased by the exhibition. 'Excellent. Clearly you are familiar with a deck of cards.' 'Merely a nodding acquaintance.' Pinhead took back the cards, stretched his leather-encased arms in a fluttery gesture that would have been comical were it not for the Cenobites' unnerving appearance, and said, 'It's settled then. You will deal.' 'Deal?' 'In the game. Lucifer approves. And I'm sure Starbuck will.' 'But what...' Pinhead walked out of the cell without answering. Jeremiah's fingers idly ripped an invisible deck as he wondered what was going on. Rhiny spread out her treasures on a bright yellow cloth she'd stolen from a Cenobite storeroom. On it she had arranged the fumarello and the fumarello wrapper, the holster, and the piece of jacket fringe she had taken from Starbuck. She smoothed out the wrapper, touched the holster and fumarello lightly, and made a circle out of the piece of fringe. Still, the arrangement didn't look right, for there were too few items spread on the large cloth. Originally, she'd placed two pictures of the Imagescan Starbuck behind her memorabilia. But they hadn't looked right. They no longer looked like Starbuck to her. The facial features of the pictured here seemed puttied or made of clay. They were too smooth, too neatly structured. The picture Starbuck's eyes were pale next to the active and expressive orbs of the genuine article. She adored the real Starbuck's eyes. And the real Starbuck's face had a range of delightful expressions that were never seen on the visage of the Imagescan Starbuck. She was firm in her wish to help the real Starbuck escape from the Cenobites. Her adventures sneaking into the prison compound had convinced her she could be a hero, too. When the warriors attacked the building tonight, she planned to be with them. Perhaps she could even rescue Starbuck herself. As she imagined herself leading her hero to freedom, she redid the arrangement of her stolen items on the yellow cloth. The new arrangement was no more successful than its predecessor. At Starbuck's request, Lucifer explained the devices with which the Cenobites governed the city. Near them, Pinhead consulted with his fellow aliens, excitedly working out the rules of the coming card game. 'So,' Starbuck said, 'they're able to manipulate the people of the city through this mess of equipment?' 'Yes. At first the people, newly captured, are conditioned in the prison. Some drugs are used, and, in difficult cases, the Cenobite scientists can implant a reciever in the brain. For the most part, however, simple conditioning is sufficient. When ready, they are integrated into the community and become a citizen of the city, Highspirit. The other citizens accept them as if they have been there all along. Starbuck whistled. 'Whew! And all parts of their lives are controlled?' 'Yes. Pinhead says its all clear when one views a Mustering.' 'What's that?' 'I have not yet seen one. He says that sometimes each night the citizens are assembled in a central building in the city. Control over them is renewed through certain conditioning exercises, after which particular orders for the day are given.' 'Don't the people have any freedom at all?' 'Some, I suspect. Day to day activities, the kind of event that might be too boring for the Cenobites to supervise. But the overall arrangement of the people's days is governed by choices made by the engineers.' 'Aren't there rebels, any individuals among the citizens?' 'I do not know. If there are, they would probably be discovered and returned to conditioning. Or destroyed. Perhaps the day-to-day renewal of the Mustering keeps them in line.' 'It's awful, horrible!' 'Is it? I do not have your kind of values. I cannot judge. The people of Joyland appear to be quite happy and content.' 'Maybe so. But that doesn't make all this right, Lucifer. If they want this kind of life, they have the right to choose it for themselves.' 'Really? Well, I am not inclined to accept human views. Cylons would, I think, approve of what the Cenobites do.' 'Because it destroys humanity. Of course they would. But they wouldn't be so thrilled if the citizens of Highspirit were Cylons and not humans.' 'You are right. Cylons cannot be controlled. The Cenobites do not even bring Cylons to Joyland. They despise Cylons, in fact. They think we let them down untold millennia ago.' 'Well, I'd like to see a few Cylons under...' Pinhead interrupted Starbuck to say gleefully, 'It is set.' 'What is set?' Starbuck asked. 'The game. It will take place tonight. Everything is in readiness for it.' 'I'm not,' Starbuck announced, strolling away a few steps. 'Sorry to disappoint you, fellas. I can't play.' 'You can't what?' Dracula asked. 'How can you say that? You're a champion, Starbuck. You are afraid of Lucifer, afraid he will best you at your own game?' 'Of course he'll beat me!' Starbuck's declaration surprised his listeners. He grinned. 'You are giving up before the game?' said Dracula. 'He can't give up!' Pinhead bellowed. 'We will not permit it!' 'Like to see you make me do it. Still, I'm willing to forfeit. I could beat the bolts out of Lucifer, I'm sure, under ideal conditions. But these conditions are not ideal.' 'What do you mean?' Dracula asked. 'As things stand, Lucifer would no doubt beat me because my heart wouldn't be in the game. There have to be stakes, something worthwhile to play for. Else I just fall asleep over the cards. Sorry, fellas.' 'Stakes?' Pinhead yelled. 'That's all you require, stakes? I offer you survival. You will live if you play, Starbuck.' Starbuck's grin got broader. 'You ghouls just don't understand stakes. I live if I play, no matter whether I win or lose. Back to square one, gruesome.' 'What kind of...stakes...do you propose?' Pinhead asked. 'Easy. Freedom.' Puzzled, Pinhead's nodules began flashing two out-of-the-ordinary colors-amber-to-black. 'You want your freedom?' 'Not mine, especially. I'd escape from this toothpick and glue setup anyway. No, I mean everybody's freedom. Everybody. The prisoners, and the citizens of your happy little town. You'll let them all go, stop fiddling with their lives, let the be free, let them go wherever they want. I will play Lucifer for that.' 'But the lives of those people are our lives. We exist to manipulate. You can't take that away.' 'Nevertheless, that's my proposal. I win, everybody's set free. I lose, you can have me, my life, anything.' 'We will have your life, at the least.' Pinhead's black-in-black orbs studied Starbuck as he pondered the young lieutenant's offer. 'The consortium just might approve of this, friend. Yes, they just might. A little risk, some danger. We like unpredictability.' 'And that's why you arrange every detail of your charges' lives.' 'We schedule the unpredictable. It's built in.' 'For them, but not for you. You weirdos always know what's going to happen.' 'Indeed. It's true, too. And that's why the consortium will no doubt enjoy your suggestion to gamble. I'll consult with them.' Pinhead, as he usually did when he had a purpose, skulked away quickly. 'What about me?' Lucifer asked quietly. 'What about you?' Starbuck said. 'I risk nothing in this game.' 'Don't let it bother you, Lucifer. It's not important for you to...' 'You may turn me off, deactivate me, disconnect me. Take away my consciousness. If you win, I will instruct you in how to do it.' 'Lucifer, I don't want to...' 'But there must be stakes. You said so yourself.' Starbuck rubbed his hands together nervously. His face reddened slightly. 'But I kind of like you, Lucifer. I wouldn't want to...disconnect you.' 'But you will.' Lucifer's voice sounded firm. 'You will.' Starbuck nodded. 'All right. I will.' Behind Lucifer, Dracula made a strange sound that Starbuck could make no sense of. Lucifer glanced at him. He figured that Dracula would probably like to see him lose. Well, he did not want to give Dracula that satisfaction. He would win. Chapter Twenty-One: The Game Rhiny, Eitur, and Tiassis had been keeping watch for Apollo. They tracked the patrol which took Starbuck from the prison compound to the multidomed building in the city. With Starbuck's group were an older man, no doubt the Jeremiah the warriors had talked about, and a pair of metallic beings who appeared to float across the ground. Starbuck seemed quite jaunty, just like his Imagescan counterpart. After the group had entered the building, Rhiny said, 'It's true, then. They're doing something with Starbuck. We've got to go tell Apollo.' The massive room where the game was to be played seemed like an auditorium to Starbuck, especially with the many tiered seats around the gaming table. He grinned at Jeremiah and said happily, 'Spiffy, huh? Look...my lucky colors.' 'Which ones?' Jeremiah asked, glancing around the vari-colored room. 'All of 'em. They're all lucky for me.' Jeremiah frowned. Starbuck, expecting a smile from his doting father, put his arm around the old man. 'Something bothering you?' 'Dang right, boy. You are. This overconfidence of yours.' 'Not at all. Just realistic. This game's something I know I'm good at, that's all.' 'Like on the Rising Star that time?' Starbuck winced as he recalled the game he would have lost disastrously if Jeremiah hadn't talked him into cutting back on his wager. 'Oh, yeah. Once in a while you lose one. Or two. But I'm the best.' 'There's always someone better than you, ya gotta believe that. And this time you're playin' a computer.' 'But he's a computer I taught the game to, don't forget that. Lucifer's never really played anybody else, and he's never beaten me.' 'But he's had time to sharpen his skills, boy.' 'And I've had time. We've all had time. Don't worry, I can feel my luck rippling through my fingers. Why are you smiling?' ''Cause I remember the feeling.' Jeremiah held up his spidery fingered hands. 'Little zingers travelin' from the tips of my fingers to my knuckles.' Starbuck gave Jeremiah a brief tight hug.' 'Ayyyyy,' he said, 'you're a great guy, you know that? For a father, especially.' Jeremiah was obviously touched, and he looked away in order to hide the tears that had come to his eyes. 'Let's downplay the father stuff, okay?' he said. 'Nobody here knows 'bout that. Better to keep it secret. Maybe better to keep it secret from everybody.' 'Why? I'm proud of it.' 'I know, and I appreciate that. But I think I'd be more comfortable if we didn't tell anyone for now. We still be buddy-buddy, but, well, there are people in the fleet who are agin' the Galactica an' its commander and...and you know this...its fighter pilots. If it got out that I was your daddy, they might want to use the relationship agin' ya. In political ways. In violent ways.' He brushed a little bit of lint off Starbuck's jacket. 'Look at what happened to Apollo on the Marsardas. He became a hostage just 'cause he was the commander's boy. With all the resentment, I could be a threat to you.' 'But...' 'No buts, m'boy. Y'know who I am, I know who y'are...that's all that matters, come to it. I got me a deep fatherly pride in you, an' I'll try to live up to any expectations ya got about...' 'Don't...say it. You already live up to my expectations.' 'But really, Starbuck, I've been, well, a bit of a scoundrel, somethin' of a rogue, in some cases a genuinely... '...admirable son of a gun,' Starbuck finished the sentence for him. 'Forget it, you can't discourage me. I'll go along with you on the secrecy bit, but you're not going to keep me out of your life any other way.' Pleased, Jeremiah ran his finger along the smooth tip of the gaming table. 'That's...that's good.' 'And someday,' Starbuck whispered, 'we'll say ''I love you'' to each other.' Jeremiah was too touched to speak. All he could say, after a brief silence, was, 'Someday.' The Cenobite audience began to file into the room. Pinhead scurried about, making sure everything was properly arranged. Lucifer, Dracula standing behind him, now stood at a position across the table from Starbuck. Lucifer's metallic face seemed to sparkle in the bright light of the room. His red eyes glowed brightly but impassively. Starbuck realized he could luse no psyching tricks on this opponent. If anything, he would just get psyched himself, looking into the emotionless, expressionless face of Lucifer. Apollo had deployed his troops around the multidomed building. Aerell stood next to him, with his children lingering expectantly in the background. 'He's in there,' Apollo said, pointing toward the building. 'So are most of the Cenobites, it seems,' Aerell said. They'd watched Cenobites, in long lines, file into the building only moments before. 'They seemed to be interested in whatever's going on.' 'Rhiny said she heard them talking about some sort of game.' 'If Starbuck's involved, a game's entirely possible. Is everyone with us?' 'Everyone we could convince to join the assault. The others have agreed not to interfere. That is easy for them. Our lives have been designed for non-involvement.' Apollo turned toward Aerell and the other citizens who stood nearby, and addressed them as a commander. 'And you're all ready to fight?' He was not encouraged by their response, which was laconic and somewhat lethargic. Still, they were ready, even armed with their homebrew weapons, assembled from the meager armament they'd been able to locate, along with altered household objects and tools. Sheba ran up from an advance post. 'Boomer and Bojay have scouted all around the building,' she reported. 'The only guards are posted at the entrances. Boomer said they're ready to go in.' Apollo nodded. 'Tell them the operation's on. We'll follow you.' 'Right.' Starbuck studied the audience all around the gaming table. It was a packed house. Like spectators everywhere, their anticipation of the event was palpable, their chatter among themselves nervous and rapid. Lights had been centered so that they shone equally on the players and dealer. The table sparkled. Starbuck flexed his fingers, trying to feel the luck there. He felt something and wondered if it was really luck. Or was he forcing it into the fingers using his imagination? Could he, after all, always rely on the famous Starbuck luck? Pinhead took a position behind Jeremiah. 'Do you stand ready, Lieutenant Starbuck?' he asked. 'I stand as ready as I'll ever be.' After Pinhead had received Lucifer's agreement to begin the game, Dracula leaned down toward his colleague and said softly, 'I believe it is the custom to wish you good luck, Lucifer.' 'It is the custom of humans who depend upon luck. I do not depend on luck. To me, the game is all a matter of mathematics.' 'Of course. I merely wanted to show my allegiance and encouragement.' 'You always do, Dracula, you always do.' Dracula was not sure how to interpret Lucifer's remark. He realized that his fellow being was capable of a humanlike irony, and he wondered if that was being used on him now. Lucifer and Starbuck stared across the table at each other. Starbuck tried to make his face as expressionless as his opponent's. Pinhead silenced the crowd, then turned to the players. 'The rules have been reviewed for both of you,' he said. Starbuck and Lucifer nodded yes. 'Do you stand ready, then?' 'Ready,' said Lucifer. 'Ready,' said Starbuck. 'What of you, Jeremiah?' 'Um...um...yes, yes. Ready, I mean.' Jeremiah rippled the cards as he spoke. They made a pleasurable sound to the ears of the two human gamblers. 'Then the game may begin,' Pinhead said. Anticipation mounted in the audience as Pinhead announced: 'Deal, Jeremiah.' Chapter Twenty-Two: Lucifer Defeats Starbuck At Pyramid Rhiny, crouching in high grass with Eitur and Tiassis, watched their father, Apollo, and the rest of the invasion force quietly and efficiently sneak up to the Cenobites' building and subdue the guards at its main entrance. Other platoons were doing the same at other entryways. Apollo waved townswomen into the building. After all the warriors had gone inside, the children followed them in. They soon found themselves in a long, wide corridor, not far behind the invasion force. Rhiny shuddered as she looked around the barren dark surroundings. 'I think we've been here before,' she muttered. 'I don't remember,' Tiassis said. 'No, they don't want us to remember. But I'm beginning to.' She shuddered. Up ahead, Apollo shuddered, too, but not from any memory of the place. He was spooked by the eerieness of its labyrinthine corridors. 'I've never seen anything like this,' he remarked to Boomer, who walked at his side. 'It's larger inside than it seemed from outside. I didn't notice that when I was here with Zodiac.' 'A trick of design, probably,' Boomer said. 'No, I don't think so. Maybe they can manipulate space as well as people.' Zodiac and Sheba, hugging the walls of a strange-smelling corridor, led another part of the assault group forward. They passed many empty cubicles. Zodiac leaned toward Sheba and whispered, 'I don't suppose I could talk you into sneaking into one of the side rooms for a little manipulation of our own.' 'Oh, shut up, Zodiac.' 'I can see you're not easily manipulated.' 'Damn right, Zodiac.' At the end of the corridor, light showed from between the cracks of a massive double door. Zodiac tried the door gently, was surprised to see it slide open easily, revealing a large control room where Cenobites sat in front of intricately designed consoles, happily working with a plethora of dials, levers, buttons, and toggles. Apollo, Boomer, and their platoon of townsmen entered through a door at the other side of the room. At a signal from Apollo, both fighting groups descended upon the sitting aliens, who tried awkwardly to resist, flailing their arms wildly and knocking at least five of the warriors out cold. In a moment the Cenobites in the control room all lay unconscious. Lining themselves up, at Apollo's gesture, the attackers fired what weapons they had into the Cenobites' machinery, setting sparks flying and pieces of solid metal splitting into jagged pieces. With a series of humanlike groans from the machinery the room fell silent. Lights all along the control boards flickered and died. 'Cease fire!' Apollo ordered. He went forth to study the wreckage. 'I suspect there're control rooms like this all over the building. Maybe too many.' 'Never too many for stalwarts like us,' Zodiac commented. Apollo laughed. 'You're as bad as Rhiny, treating matters as if they were your fantasies.' Rhiny, standing in the corridor outside, overheard Apollo's statement and nearly screamed in anger. Starbuck and Lucifer had been playing for a long while, with neither gaining a substantial advantage. Parts of major and minor pyramids came together, but in the wrong colors or with matching shapes instead of congruent ones. Both players drew to their hands without luck and had to declare draws and new deals. In spite of the mediocre run of cards both players were receiving, Starbuck did note that Lucifer had picked up many of the finer points of the game and wasn't making the mistakes that might have given an experience cardsman like himself an advantage. When Starbuck thought he had a few points lined up, Lucifer's skillful counterplay wiped them out. Gaining a few points here, losing some there, neither player had been able to sustain a solid run of cards. Dracula leaned toward Lucifer, and said quietly enough so that nobody else at the table could hear, 'It is a tricky game, Lucifer.' 'Is it?' Lucifer said, not wanting to give Dracula any edge. 'I could not play it, I think, and win.' 'I am not surprised, Dracula.' Having drawn Dracula's interest and admiration, Lucifer now had an added incentive to win. The victory would at least show up Dracula. Nevertheless, Starbuck's skill amazed Lucifer anew. Some ploys which Lucifer was certain would trick the human somehow backfired as Starbuck neatly overcame them. 'It is time for the players to rest,' Pinhead, who acted as referee, announced. Starbuck relaxed, his body suddenly slouching in the enormous and deeply padded chair the Cenobites had provided. Jeremiah set down the deck of cards and leaned over toward Starbuck to whisper, 'Are you all right?' Starbuck, his eyes tired and his face slack, nodded. 'Fine,' he said. 'This' just a tad tougher than I'd expected. But I've won some pretty tough ones in the past, some real zingers. I'm especially good when it looks like I'm finished. 'You've been playin' like a real trooper, sonny. I was impressed with...' Pinhead placed a hand roughly on Jeremiah's shoulder. 'You!' he bellowed. 'Dealer! You're not supposed to converse with the players. It is against the rules.' 'I...I'm sorry.' Jeremiah's left hand rubbed his chin agitatedly, while he nervously ran the fingers of his right hand along the side of the deck of cards on the table. 'I will overlook your transgression for now, dealer. But don't let me catch you two chatting again.' As he stroked the side of the deck, Jeremiah noticed almost idly how a few of the cards were frayed in their corners. Using some quick shuffling as a cover, he was able to sneak a peek at what these cards were. He spotted a capstone card in a major suit, a very valuable card in any gambler's game, and also a half-pyramid, a card with great value since it could be used with so many others in major and minor combinations. Looking off thoughtfully, he rubbed his thumb over the frayed portions of these cards, tactically memorizing them. Nobody noticed his clandestine movement. Not even Starbuck, who might've recognized it. The three children had become separated from the invasion group. They were thoroughly lost, going down eerily dark hallways toward ghostly destinations. 'Where are we going, Rhiny?' Eitur asked. 'I think we should go back,' Tiassis whined. 'Hush, Tiassis,' Rhiny said, 'we've got to find Starbuck. He's here somewhere, I can sense it.' Turning a corner, they saw a bright doorway ahead, with a great deal of noise erupting behind it. Although they didn't recognize the sounds, they were the cheers of the Cenobite audience at the resumption of the game. Following the sound, they reached a slightly ajar door. Slipping through, the found themselves on a walkway well above the auditorium. They could see the well-lighted card table and the players. They could sense the many Cenobites crowded into the large room. 'Looka that!' Tiassis exclaimed. 'It's Starbuck!' 'Shush, Tiassis,' Eitur cautioned. 'They might hear us.' Rhiny studied the action below them, observing. 'He's playing some game. Cards. Look at the way he's holding the cards, staring down at them while hugging them close to his chest. This is vital, this game, I can tell.' 'Be careful, Rhiny,' Eitur said. 'You know what Apollo said, about you being so easily carried away by your imagination.' 'Forget Apollo. Who is he anyway? He's just a buddy of Starbuck's. Just a supporting role, as far as I'm concerned. Starbuck's my hero.' 'Rhiny...' 'Shut up, Eitur. Let's get down there. Maybe we can help him.' The Cenobites were so intent on the game that the children were able to sneak down an aisle, checking every so often on the progress of the game. Starbuck had two interlocking faces of the major pyramid already in his hand. He traded a nonessential card in, pushing it toward the dealer. Jeremiah's hand moved swiftly. Too swiftly, Starbuck thought. He slipped the new card into his hand before even looking at hit. His heart jumped when he saw it was a half-pyramid. That gave him a full pyramid in a major suit, lacking the capstone. A good hand in itself. But, if he drew for the capstone, an even better hand. Such a decision was always a key part of any pyramid game, to settle for the good hand one had, which could lose, or go for all the marbles, trade in another card with the hopes of getting a perfect pyramid. As he considered his strategy, he was momentarily disconcerted by the intensity with which Jeremiah stared at him. What was the old man thinking? Turning his attention to his bland-faced opponent, Starbuck said jauntily, 'Well, Lucifer, old buddy, you surviving well?' 'I survive, yes. But there is no question of well in it. Another of your essentially human concepts.' 'Yeah, I do seem to be stuck on a few hampering human concepts. Sorry about that. Just wouldn't want to see you blow a few circuits prematurely, that's all.' 'You don't have to worry, Lieutenant.' 'He's trying to distract you, I can tell,' Dracula whispered. 'No likelihood of that,' Lucifer said. 'What I said to the human player about no chatter applies to you folks as well,' Pinhead warned. 'No chitchat, please.' 'We are sorry, exalted sir,' Dracula said. 'You could get on a fellow's nerves, friend.' Dracula, distracted from his obsequious strategy by Pinhead's warning, muttered matter-of-factly, 'I have been told that before.' Lucifer studied his cards. It was a good hand, a potentially winning hand. The small, or minor, pyramid, so attractive in its lighter colors, mor attractive than the darker major pyramid. The odds against achieving a minor pyramid were great but not so great as the major. Lucifer moved some betting cubits to the center of the table, saying, 'I will require no more cards, dealer.' Jeremiah glanced at Lucifer, a worried look on his face. He wondered what kind of cards the creature held. His fingers touched a frayed corner of pasteboard, a card near the top of the deck clutched in the palm of his hand. Surreptitiously, he eased that card to the bottom of the deck. 'I'll take one,' Starbuck said jauntily. Jeremiah's hand moved swiftly as he dealt the capstone card, the one he had shifted to the bottom of the deck. He noted with pleasure the way his son's eyebrows raised when he had taken a peek at his new card. Eagerly, Starbuck started to shove a pile of chips toward the table's center, but his bet was interrupted by the ugly sound of Pinhead shouting: 'Halt!' The players and audience all looked abruptly at Pinhead who was descending upon the gaming table. 'I not only saw that move,' he said sinisterly to Jeremiah, 'it is recorded.' He pointed toward a monitor screen, giving instructions to a technician to replay the last round. On the screen the players moved with slow motion. Lucifer laboriously pushing his cubits forward. Then there was a close-up of Jeremiah's hands. His slipping of the capstone card from the bottom of the deck could be seen clearly. A threatening murmur of hatred came from the Cenobite audience as they slowly saw what Pinhead's keen eyes had detected. Jeremiah's delicate fingers seemed to flutter with lives of their own as he almost magically substituted the capstone card. The card seemed to float into Starbuck's fingers, to do a brief ballet on its own as he placed it into his son's hand. Alien guards enveloped Jeremiah in their arms, yanked him out of the dealer's chair, and started dragging him away. He didn't resist, even as they hit his face and body. Starbuck stood up suddenly, his legs pushing against the gaming table as he tried to push past Pinhead toward his father in the grasp of Cenobite guards. Pinhead held him back. 'What in Hades d'ye think you're doing?' Starbuck yelled. 'He cheated,' Pinehad said laconically. 'You saw the proof.' 'I saw. And I'm deeply sorry it happened. It wasn't necessary. But there's no call for your ghouls to rough him up like that.' 'He cheated. It is an offense we enjoy punishing by exquisitely painful means.' Pinhead's hollow voice was so cold and judge-like that Starbuck felt his heart skip several alternate beats. 'And just what are these ''exquisitely painful'' means?' he asked in a chocked voice. 'Actually, Starbuck, they're exquisitely painful to you. We will alter his personality, render him incapable of ever cheating again. We will change him. He will not even remember clearly who he was.' This news drained the blood out of Jeremiah's face. Starbuck paled, too.' 'That's barbaric!' Starbuck shouted. 'That's worse than an execution!' 'An execution. Well, we can kill him, if you prefer.' 'I might prefer,' Jeremiah said weakly. 'You have no rights, cheater!' Pinhead turned away from Starbuck and addressed the guards, telling them to take Jeremiah away. His feet dragging, they started to pull him to the nearest exit. Starbuck pulled himself away from Pinhead and ran toward the squirming Jeremiah. 'Wait!' Starbuck yelled. His voice must have had impressive authority in it, for the guards halted suddenly. Starbuck whirled around and directed his next words to Pinhead. 'A friendly wager, Pinhead. I'll play your metallic cardsharp there an extra hand at the end of this match. If I win, you guys do nothing to Jeremiah. If Lucifer wins...well, what you were going to do to Jeremiah, you can do to me.' 'Starbuck,' Jeremiah protested, 'you can't...' 'I can and I will, old man. Well, Pinhead, how about it? A good bet for you, right? You guys don't really loose anything. And I'll become your plaything...if I lose.' Starbuck's offer silenced every Cenobite in the auditorium. Pinhead stared at Starbuck for a long while, then looked around toward several other Cenobites. They seemed to send him a silent message, for his head bobbed up and down in some bizarre type of alien communication. Starbuck had trouble swallowing, as the extent of the risk he was taking dawned on him. Lucifer was impressed by his human opponent's noble gesture. Gestures like that were almost unknown among Cylons. Dracula was puzzled, wondering if human behavior would always be bewildering to him. The children had crept down to the first rows of the audience. Their bodies were pressed against the sides of hard metal chairs. Rhiny was wide-eyed as she considered the bravado of Starbuck's challenge. 'He is the Starbuck,' she whispered, more to herself than the other children. 'He must be.' Pinhead turned slowly around and addressed Starbuck. 'It is agreed, warrior.' Starbuck gulped. 'Right,' he said, with a false confidence, and resumed his seat at the gaming table. Lucifer spoke softly to him. 'Do you always sacrifice yourself for other human beings, Starbuck, or do you have a special relationship with this dealer, Jeremiah?' 'I'm just an all-around good guy, Lucy.' 'I have watched you and Jeremiah. There is something important between you, I can see it.' 'Blow it out your olfactory circuit.' Lucifer leaned back, then spoke louder. 'I am properly chastised. I am sorry, Starbuck.' Starbuck was touched. It was so weird to have anyone representing the Cylon cause apologize to him. 'Ah,' he said, 'it's all right. Let's play. I'm afraid tis hand is dead. We should have a new deck and a new deal. For that matter, a new deal. So who wants to do the honors?' 'I would be willing to...' Dracula said, drawing a suspicious look from Pinhead. 'I think the responsibility will fall on me, now,' Pinhead said and sat down at Jeremiah's place. He called for a new deck. Rhiny could see beads of sweat forming on Starbuck's neck. She was as thrilled by this particular deal as any other. Each thing about Starbuck that she stored in her memory was, in a way, another piece of memorabilia for her. Pinhead broke open the new deck clumsily, his hands clearly unsuited to his new job. However, after only a few awkward ripples, he got the hang of it. He dealt slowly, making certain that everyone saw he took cards from the top of the deck only. Starbuck scooped up his first two cards and glanced dispassionately at them. He wasn't pleased. He glanced toward Jeremiah, whose pain marred the usually gentle handsomeness of his face. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Starbuck looking at him, as if to say it was a fool play and I'm sorry, son. Starbuck held back tears as he smiled at his father. So much was going to depend on these games. The fate of the prisoners, the citizens of the city, Starbuck himself, and now Jeremiah. Starbuck had to win both games, and here he sat with the worst dodo hand he'd drawn in ages. He decided there was no point in bluffing. He asked for three more cards, an obvious indication to Lucifer that Starbuck held a bad mix in his hand. However, Lucifer had to ask for tow, so perhaps his cards were not exactly heaven-sent either. Starbuck almost didn't want to check out the new cards. He squinted his eyes to look down at them. A warm glow came over him as he realized it had been an excellent draw. He now held the capstone to the minor pyramid and two sides. A good betting hand. 'I'll stay with these,' he announced in an emotionless voice. 'And you, Lucifer?' Pinhead said. 'These are satisfactory,' Lucifer said. He shoved most of his chips into the center of the table. Sweat now dripping off his brown and neck (couldn't Lucifer excrete a drop or two of machine oil just to make Starbuck feel better?), Starbuck matched the bet and showed his cards. 'A very good hand, Lieutenant Starbuck,' Lucifer said. 'However, my cards are better. They are, in fact, perfect.' Slowly turning over one card at a time like an old-time cardshark, Lucifer displayed his hand. Starbuck's throat tightened and his heart seemed to sink in his chest. Lucifer had a perfect pyramid, major, including the capstone. An incredible piece of luck! The odds against getting this hand were astronomical. As Lucifer counted the ritual winnings, Pinhead said softly, 'I believe you have lost this match, Starbuck. The people, prisoners and citizens alike, remain in our charge. As do you, according to our agreement.' 'Good playing, Lucifer,' Dracula said, for once the obsequious tone of his voice directed at Lucifer instead of someone in authority. Lucifer was not pleased with praise emitting from Dracula, nor did he sense the satisfaction he had experienced from finally beating the human at his own game. All of the time he had spent studying the mechanics of this rather odd game seemed wasted, since his win had not resulted in skill based on his calculations, but in a silly run of luck. He was also dismayed by the crestfallen look on Starbuck's face. Obviously the man could not believe that he had lost. He seemed deflated, smaller. He was beginning to look like one of the city's zombies at the end of the Mustering. And that, of course, was what he was now going to be, now that the game was over. In the power of the Cenobites, he would become one of their zombies. It seemed a dreadful way to lose a bet. Lucifer, made uneasy by Starbuck's sadness, peered at the cards in his hand. He stared at the symbols on the pasteboard surfaces. If one arranged the cards right, they would indeed for a picture of the actuality they represented, a pyramid. Other than that, they were just flat symbols on cardboard. So meaningless...except for the meaning humans put onto them. In the human world so much could depend on a symbol. Starbuck's voice interrupted Lucifer's meditation on symbolism. 'I, uh, don't know what to say. Congratulations, Lucifer.' Pinhead stood up from the table. 'Yes,' he said, 'a good game, friend. I worried there for a while. Now...' 'Sit down,' Starbuck said gruffly. Pinhead was shocked at the forbidden tone of authority in the voice of a prisoner, but he sat anyway. 'We have another game to play here,' Starbuck said. 'For Jeremiah's soul, as it were. A new deck, Pinhead.' Meekly, Pinhead ordered the new pack, unwrapped it without awkwardness, rippled it almost professionally, then stared dumbfoundedly at Starbuck. 'Well, what're you waiting for?' Starbuck asked irritably. Pinhead didn't understand. 'Deal, Pinhead.' 'Yes, Pinhead,' Lucifer said softly. 'Deal.' Pinhead, after both players had cut the cards, started laying them out, face down, beneath the impassive faces of both players. Chapter Twenty-Three: Remembrances Apollo's brigade of citizens became fiercer and more alert as they destroyed more and more of the machinery which had formerly controlled them. The effects of their attack could be seen throughout the city. Lights went out and power failed. Bewildered people began to wander the streets of their neighborhood, seeing their former friends as strangers, seeing their city as a large cage. Memories of their past, sketchy but vivid, interrupted their confused thoughts. In the multidomed building Aerell suddenly grabbed his head and grimaced in pain. Apollo asked him what was the matter. 'When you...blasted that last machine,' Aerell said, 'something...happened inside my head. It's like there was something planted there, and it burned out suddenly.' 'Aerell...' 'I am not Aerell. My name is...my name is Garral. Aerell is a name the Cenobites gave me after they had...conditioned me. I am from Caprica, in the Twelve Colonies. I was part of an expedition doing research on a jungle planet and these...these creatures invaded and brought us here.' 'You and your wife?' 'She isn't my wife. Or at least she wasn't. I am a bachelor. Was a bachelor. They brought her here from somewhere else, too. I don't know her real name. The children's, either.' 'They snatched the children and brought them here?' Zodiac said. 'They're not yours?' Sheba asked. 'They...don't allow children to be born here. They don't like babies. None of us can have...children. We are not allowed to try.' In a neighborhood close to the multidomed building, three people, two men and a woman, nearly collided with each other, the accident bringing them one of the men. 'Where am I?' said one of the men. 'They call this place Highspirit, don't they?' said the other. 'That's true,' the woman said. 'But how do we know that?' 'I have two lives,' said the first man. 'One here. And one...somewhere else. I don't understand. My head hurts.' 'Mine, too,' the woman said. 'What are we doing here?' the first man said. 'That's what I'm damn well going to find out,' the second man said. 'Me, too,' said the woman. They began to run. They shouted questions to passersby, aroused many to run along with them. Other groups formed in other parts of the city. For the first time chaos and anarchy reigned in Highspirit. In a still-functioning control room, beguiled Cenobites stared at their monitoring screens. They enjoyed the unpredictability of it all, the spontaneity, the unprogrammed events. However, they soon recognized the newfound anarchy was a threat to their manipulative powers and that they should act against it. 'They are out of control,' said one Cenobite. 'Start the Mustering,' suggested another. Other Cenobites joined the discussion. 'It is not yet time for the Mustering.' 'That is of no consequence.' 'But we must follow schedule.' 'Who says, friend? Let's start the Mustering now.' 'Very well.' The aliens attacked their controls furiously. With its usual complex of signals, the Mustering began. All through the building and in the city, people felt the small tugs inside their heads, directing them, confounding them. Apollo saw Aerell's eyes become cloudy as his face displayed intense pain. His body gyrated as he tried to resist the urges of the Mustering. 'What's wrong now, Aerell?' Apollo said. 'They're trying to manipulate him,' Zodiac said. 'All of them!' He pointed toward the other citizens in the room. Some of them were starting to walk toward the door, seeking their assigned places. The pull of the Mustering reached even into the game room, where the children began to respond to it. 'We must go,' Rhiny said in a hollow voice. 'Yes,' Eitur said, standing up. 'But they'll see us,' said Tiassis, who was the least affected of the three. 'Doesn't matter,' Rhiny said. 'We must go.' 'No!' Tiassis siad. Her brother and sister stared at her, mystified. Although they weren't used to obeying her, they stood their ground. 'We can resist now,' Tiassis siad. 'We couldn't resist before.' 'That's...true,' Rhiny said. 'It is,' said Eitur. 'We can stay here. We don't have to go.' The people in the city's streets and homes were fighting the same struggle as the children. Some of them attempted to form their regular groupings, but other disrupted the orderly lines by pulling individuals off them. Many people, looking on speculatively, did not respond at all to the Cenobites' signals. Soon there were no lines and the people heading toward the central building weren't in their usual dazed condition. Urged on by the more vocal within their ranks, they meant to question, to seek out the Cenobites and expose their chicanery. Inside the building, Zodiac and Apollo struggled to restrain Aerell. 'Stay with us, Aerell,' Apollo said. 'Garral,' Zodiac said. 'His name is Garral.' 'Stay here, Garral.' 'I...I can't. I must go.' 'No!' Zodiac roared suddenly, astonishing everyone else in the room as well as Aerell/Garral. 'You don't have to do a damn thing these spooks say,' Zodiac yelled. 'You're a free man. You got to do something to be a prisoner. You got to deserve prison.' 'I...I...' Zodiac slapped Aerell/Garral, whose eyes went blank for a moment. When he came out of his daze, his eyes were brighter. 'Apollo?' he said. 'Zodiac?' 'Are you okay, Garral?' Apollo asked. 'Yes, I think so. I think I am. The pull is gone from inside my head. Back in the control room, seeing on their monitors that something had gone haywire with the Mustering, the Cenobites labored frantically to put matters back under their control. 'It's a rebellion,' one of them said. 'A genuine rebellion.' 'How picturesque,' said another. 'How wonderful!' 'It is kind of...interesting,' said the first. 'Increase the intensity of the Mustering.' The Cenobites manipulated their controls more fiercely than ever. On the screens above the consoles they could see that there was some effect, some people abruptly going into the zombie state. However, more people were resisting that succumbing. The effort was awesome for some, as they writhed and squirmed in defiance. Rhiny nearly went under. She grabbed her head and stumbled forward a few steps. Eitur seized her arm and whispered, 'Rhiny! No!' She shook her head violently. She felt the control of the Cenobites fading. She pulled away from Eitur, saying, 'I'm...all...right.' Her movement caught the attention of several of the aliens in the audience. One of them hurried to her and pushed her onto the gaming area floor, where one of the guards picked her up roughly. The guard's sudden move broke Starbuck's concentration. Looking up, he saw Rhiny dangling from one of the guard's arms. He stood up, knocking against the table.' 'Keep your hands off her!' he shouted, as he approached the guard threateningly. Pinhead came up behind him and asked, 'Do you know this child, friend?' 'Do I have to know here to get your fellow ghouls away from her?' 'No, I suppose not.' Pinhead bellowed an order in his native tongue and the guard gently released Rhiny. She lost her balance and fell to the floor. Looking up at Starbuck, she said weakly, 'Are you all right?' Starbuck, touched, smiled at her. 'I'm fine. But I should be asking you that.' He helped her up. 'How are you?' 'Strange. Things are changing. I don't understand.' Starbuck hugged her. She noticed a wrapped fumarello sticking out of his shirt pocket. Reaching her hand upward quickly, she took it from the pocket and hid it up her sleeve. Starbuck released her and said, 'I have to go back to this game. Sit right there. Be my little good luck charm.' Thrilled with the idea that Starbuck needed her for luck, she eagerly took the seat he'd pointed toward. Starbuck resumed his seat at the table and considered the weak hand Pinhead had dealt him. This bad run of cards had to stop. He was lucky to have stayed in the game with Lucifer, who was playing a surprisingly steady and shrewd game. A couple more hands like this one, and this match would be Lucifer's too. Starbuck needed one great hand to turn the game around. Jeremiah watched nervously from his corner, wishing he could break the hold of the guard who restrained him in order to be nearer to Starbuck during the game. Starbuck barely noticed the Cenobite who came in to whisper agitatedly to Pinhead about the violence in other areas of the building. Pinhead, unconcerned about any events outside of the game, waved his informant away. He did not realize the extent of the riot. The citizens of the city were now heading toward the multidomed building in great numbers, ready to storm if necessary. As the awareness of who much their lives had been manipulated by the Cenobites sank in, they had become quite surly. In the building itself, Apollo's troops were going berserk. They weren't just destroying the Cenobite equipment according to Apollo's plan, they were wrecking everything in sight. And loving every micron of it. 'They're a mob,' Apollo yelled to Zodiac. 'Yeah. Ain't it a beautiful sight?' 'Somebody might get hurt.' 'Breaks of the game, Captain.' 'No. We've got to get them under control.' Apollo ran forward. People slammed by him, knocking him against the wall of the corridor. Zodiac nearly sidestepped the onslaught, then went to Apollo and helped him up. 'You all right, pal?' Zodiac asked. Apollo shook his head. 'Yes. What happened?' 'You just found out about the fury of revolutionary zeal, that's all.' Apollo rushed to the sounds of new violence, as lights all through the corridor began to flicker. Starbuck had never had to concentrate so intensely on a game of cards in his would previous gambling-fool life. Rhiny stared at her hero with bright-eyed admiration. She was particularly fascinated by the many beads of sweat on Starbuck's forehead. A nice touch, she thought, it'd look good on Imagescan. She wished she had some tissue paper so that she could touch it to his forehead, blot it a bit, then add it to her growing collection of Starbuck memorabilia. In the game neither player had been able to gain an advantage, as the cards continued to fall in lower-scoring patterns. Lucifer and Starbuck had been trading off minor victories and remained even overall. Their concentration was briefly broken by a sudden commotion outside the gaming room. After Pinhead told them the noises did not signify anything, the two opponents, like tough card players everywhere, returned to the game. Starbuck slowly peeked at his new hand. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a major-suit capstone. Gradually he opened the hand and saw that it also contained three of the four side-walls in the same suit. He just barely held a smile before glancing coldly toward Lucifer and saying in a disinterested voice, 'I'm going to double on this one, Lucifer.' He shoved out a pile of betting chips and studied Lucifer's impassive study of his own hand. 'I will double also,' Lucifer said. 'Double my doubling? You must have a hot hand, Lucifer.' 'Yes.' Starbuck allowed himself a small smile. 'God,' he said, 'if I could stand looking like you, Lucy, I would. Your face is the card-player's dream. I can't read anything in it.' 'You told me that before, back on Baltar's ship.' 'And I meant it, then, too.' 'But you won then.' 'Of course. And I'll win now. How about one more double, Lucifer?' 'Certainly. I, also.' Starbuck tried to make his wiping of sweat off his forehead appear casual. He hoped Lucifer, with his fancy interior sensory equipment, couldn't detect his rapid heartbeat. The doubling factor had brought the point score to the level at which the winner of this hand would win the match. It would be difficult to beat the hand he held. Only the completed major pyramid could beat this arrangement of three sides of the major plus capstone back up with a complete minor pyramid. And Lucifer had already drawn that hand once, to win the previous match. Still, it was possible, if against the odds, that Lucifer held just such an array of cards. If he did, then Jeremiah was done for. Starbuck glanced toward his father, wondering if the next moment would bring about the old man's doom. He wondered if Jeremiah would want him to give up, cancel the hand, as was his right, and attempt to make a bargain with Pinhead and his ilk instead of letting Jeremiah's fate rest on a single hand of pyramid. As he stared at his father, he watched him slowly raise and lower his eyebrows three times, a facial gesture which Jeremiah had once said was an old cardsharp's tradition. It meant go ahead without fear. Don't cancel the hand. Make your play. Starbuck started laying out his cards. 'I think it's my game and match, Lucifer,' he said. 'Take a gander at these. You'd weep...if it wouldn't rust your cheeks.' Lucifer studied Starbuck's cards for a long while. As he did, he fingered his own hand idly with his long metal fingers. Then he made an indecipherable sound and tossed his cards on the table face down. 'You win, Starbuck. Congratulations.' Jeremiah let out a long-held breath. Starbuck discovered that he'd been swallowing hard for a long while. Pains shot through his legs and untensed them. Dracula slid forward, saying, 'Lucifer, that means...' 'I will be disconnected. Deactivated. Yes.' 'Lucifer,' Starbuck said, leaning forward, 'look, you don't really have to...' He was interrupted by an explosion of human voices outside the main door to the gaming room. Everyone's attention was drawn to that door, as the people outside began to pound on it. With a loud cracking sound, the door sprung open and the mob poured into the room. The Cenobites were so astonished by their unexpectedly violent citizen-rebels that they made scant resistance to their charge. The people, using their homemade weapons, attacked any equipment they saw. Those that didn't break equipment started to demolish the bleachers on which the now-scurrying aliens had sat. The few Cenobites that tried to fight back were easily subdued in spite of their size and strength. Weapons were knocked out the hands of guards before they could fire them. Enthralled, Rhiny watched the action. No Imagescan adventure had ever produced a riot like this one. It was marvelous. Two men, perceiving Lucifer as just another kind of alien, jumped on him and wrestled him easily to the ground. Starbuck bolted around the table and pounced on Lucifer's attackers. Picking up each of them by the collar, he yanked them aside. They tried to fight back, landing a couple of solid blows on Starbuck's face, but he decked them easily with a couple of right hooks. Rhiny watched the fight eagerly, happy to see her hero perform like his Imagescan counterpart. When he turned around and she could see his face, she was amazed to see a thin stream of blood coming out of his nose. The Imagescan Starbucks had never bled. Starbuck whirled around when his name was shouted. He saw Apollo and Boomer come into the room, Zodiac just behind them. 'You guys look familiar,' Starbuck said happily. 'You come here often?' 'Just to rescue fallen warriors, fella,' Boomer said, embracing Starbuck. The commotion had died down, and the revolutionary fervor was gradually disappearing from the attackers. As the noise dwindled, Starbuck heard Jeremiah's voice cry out weakly, 'Uh...Starbuck?' Starbuck spun around and saw his father held tightly in Pinhead's arms. The Cenobite held a lasergun which he was pressing tightly against the old man's head. Starbuck strode cautiously toward Pinehad. 'Take a good look around you, Pinehad,' he said. 'You're beaten, all of you.' 'Perhaps,' Pinhead said. 'But I refuse to be anyone's prisoner, friend.' Starbuck nodded. 'Okay. The deck is yours, sailor. You deal.' 'Free passage back to my ship. Free passage out.' Starbuck glanced toward Apollo, who shrugged agreement. 'Sure, Pinhead,' Starbuck said. 'My crew, also.' 'Always glad to see a captain who takes care of his crew. Send out the call, Pinhead.' Clutching Jeremiah tightly against his body, Pinhead backed out of the game room with surprising smoothness. Apollo and Boomer were next out of the door, and Starbuck was a few steps behind them. At the door he felt a hand touch his arm. He looked down and saw the delicately manufactured digits of Lucifer. 'Starbuck, our bet,' Lucifer said. 'You promised...' 'Not now, Lucifer. That man who's Pinhead's hostage...he's my father. I've got to go.' 'I understand.' Lucifer stepped back as Starbuck went out the door. Rhiny brushed past him. Stopping in the doorway, she shouted back to Eitur and Tiassis, 'Come on! We got to see this!' Chapter Twenty-Four: The Starbuck You Know There was nothing more irritating to Arakeen Fremen than to have a nearby riot well in progress and not be able to participate. Canan paced his cell with fury as the noises of the riot neared. 'I'll die,' he said, 'if I have to stay in this cell much longer.' 'Patience, Canan, patience,' Rucal cautioned. The commotion reached the corridor of their cell block. Canan leaned against the iron bars, straining to see out. Instead, he saw nothing and could only hear the bellowed slogans of the rioters. 'The Cenobites' hold is broken!' 'Free at last!' 'Our minds are out of prison!' Canan turned away from the cell door and asked Rucal, 'What do they mean?' 'I've no idea.' One of the citizens appeared suddenly on the other side of their cell door. 'We're freeing you, fellows,' she said. 'Any moment. Any moment now.' She looked to her left, then smiled as she seemed to see a signal. The Fremen's door sprang open. 'See?' the woman said. Pushing her aside, Canan and Rucal hurtled out of their cell. They were quickly joined by others of the Fremen band. All were intent on fighting the blood duel as they bulled their way through the mobs in the corridors of the building and in the yard outside. Rucal, utilizing his Spice-heightened senses, attempted to locate their prey. He felt nothing. Turning to Canan, he asked, 'Do you sense the quarry?' 'Yes,' Canan replied, his voice gruff with hatred. 'He's not far away.' Their tracking sense led them unerringly toward the Cenobite airfield. Many ships were spread across the immense acreage. 'He's close, Rucal,' Canan muttered. 'Yes, I can sense it now, also.' All the Fremen thrilled with the excitement of the pursuit. Their nostrils quivered, their hearts beat fast, their hands curved with desire for combat. A Fremen in search of a fight became larger, stronger. A stark redness was deepening on the visible skin of their faces. The people, even those still incensed with mob impulses, stopped and made way for the troupe of Fremen as they dashed down the hill toward the airfield. 'He's over there!' Canan shouted. He pointed toward a group of people in the middle of the field, crossing to Pinhead's ship. Pinhead, his unwieldy size towering over the attendant humans, dominated the scene. The members of his crew, their arms waving around hysterically, were coming from various points toward their spacecraft. In Pinhead's arms, Jeremiah lay still, although his active eyes searched for an escape. He had not yet seen the Fremen. 'That's him!' Canan yelled. 'He's ours!' 'Yes,' Rucal said. 'Let the blood duel begin.' 'We're with you, Canan.' He plunged forward, leading the Fremen on a route that would intersect with his opponent at a point next to Pinhead's ship. Starbuck, his face set in grim anger, followed Pinhead, ready to jump the alien at any opportunity. Rhiny loved the grim, set-jawed look. It, too, reminded her of the Imagescan Starbuck. Apollo and Zodiac led the way toward Pinhead's ship. Occasionally, Apollo glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Starbuck wasn't about to try anything risky. The group stepped beside the ship. The crew immediately started boarding it. When they were all aboard, Pinhead backed onto the gangway, his gun still pressed against Jeremiah's temple. 'All right, Pinhead,' Starbuck shouted. 'You can release my fa----Jeremiah, now.' 'Release him?' Pinhead said, his voice sounding quite innocent and naive. 'Of course. We've fulfilled our part of the deal. You and your crew have been returned unharmed to your vehicle. So...release him.' 'That I cannot do,' he said. 'We require him as our hostage.' Starbuck, inflamed with anger, stepped threateningly toward Pinhead, shouting, 'Hostage?' 'Yes. I can't trust you people to allow us out of this sector. Your ships are faster, your firepower better. No, my friend Jeremiah here is taking a little trip with us. I like his company.' Starbuck, his fists clenched, his arms waving and ready to fight, stepped toward Pinhead, but was stopped at the rim of the gangway when Pinhead pressed his gun harder against Jeremiah's temple. The old man winced. Starbuck's pause allowed Apollo to pull him backward. 'No, Starbuck,' Apollo said. 'These monsters don't give a damn about life. They'll kill him.' 'But, Apollo, I can't let them take him.' 'That's right,' the booming voice of Canan announced, as he lumbered forward. Shoving Apollo and Starbuck aside and into the grasp of his Fremen colleagues, he announced to Pinhead, 'That man is ours, freak.' 'You people again?' Pinhead said disdainfully. 'You come near me, I'll kill him. I vow...' 'That's my privilege,' Canan said. 'I'll kill him the legal way...in a fair fight.' Now Jeremiah's life was in jeopardy from two sides, Pinhead and the Fremen. Starbuck, squirming in Yusuf's grasp, looked around for help, for intervention. Ramming his elbow into the stomach of his captor, he loosened the Fremen's grip enough to break it. Running forward, he leaped into the space between Pinhead and Canan. 'Why are you trying to fight a blood duel with Jeremiah, Canan?' he said, trying to talk as calmly as he could. 'Stilgar was the one...' 'Out of my way. I'll be happy to fight you to the death as well, if I must.' Apollo, who'd freed himself from the burly Fremen holding him, walked forward, saying, 'Not if I have anything to say about it, Canan.' He drew his turbo-laser. Several other colonial warriors in the group followed suit. All the guns were directed at Canan. Canan viewed the array of weaponry with disdain. 'We're willing to die to fight our blood duel,' he said. 'You'll have to,' Starubuck cried, and lunged at Canan. The Fremen, strong as he was, was caught off guard by Starbuck's sudden move. Starbuck wrestled him to the ground, and dazed him with a backhanded blow to the side of his head. Seeing the Fremen was temporarily immobilized, Starbuck sprang up and lunged toward Pinhead, who was backing himself and Jeremiah up the gangway. 'Stay back, Starbuck,' Pinhead yelled. The echoes of his horrendous voice seemed to bounce off the trees of the nearby forest. 'Do as he says, son,' Jeremiah said quietly. 'I'll be all right. Really.' 'But...' Starbuck said. 'Don't worry. We'll get together again. In some gambling chancery, probably. On Earth maybe. I promise.' 'Father...' Jeremiah seemed about to say something more, but instead he shouted a warning as the revived Canan came up behind Starbuck and flung him aside. Starbuck danced to regain his balance as Canan started up the gangway. Pinhead flourished the gun threateningly, obviously ready to shoot Jeremiah. To save his father's life, Starbuck had no choice but to leap on Canan's back. Grabbing the Fremen around the neck, he wrenched it backward violently. Canan lost his footing, and the two battlers rolled inelegantly down the gangway to the ground. Pinhead laughed in his loathsome way, and the echoes from it rattled all the glass in the area. 'Good show, Lieutenant Starbuck,' he said and, the sadly smiling Jeremiah in his arms, he backed into the ship. The gangway disappeared into its slot as the hatchway closed. The still-struggling Starbuck and Canan were pulled away from the ship by the others, colonial warriors and Fremen alike. With a fiery thrust, Pinhead's ship lifted quickly from the field. Canan and Starbuck, their fighting done, watched the ship rise into the skies over Joyland. Starbuck turned to the Fremen and smiled wistfully, saying, 'Canan old pal, looks like the blood duel's over before it's begun.' Canan gave Starbuck his stoniest stare, then joined his fellow Fremen. They all now faced the drawn weapons of Colonial warriors. Their skin had lost its red color and their bodies were no longer so large and awesome. At a nod from Apollo, they were led off, to be kept in confinement until the return to the Galactica, where their actions would be judged by the proper authorities. Apollo reholstered his weapon and walked to Starbuck. Looking into the skies, he saw that Pinhead's ship was no longer visible. 'Starbuck, I'm so sorry,' he said. Starbuck responded in a choked voice. 'Ah, don't worry about Jeremiah. He'll be all right. He's the kind that always winds up all right.' For the first time Apollo noticed the tears brimming the rims of Starbuck's eyes. 'Hey, don't take it so hard.' 'It's just the wind out here. Boy, is it fierce.' Apollo wondered if he had really heard Starbuck address Jeremiah as father. 'It's almost as if...' 'As if what, Apollo?' 'Um, nothing. You really did like that old man, didn't you?' Starbuck shrugged, seeming not to feel the line of tears coming out of the corner of each eye. 'He was okay,' Starbuck said. 'Hate to him taken off like that. And by that...that thing.' 'Me too,' Apollo put his hand on his friend's shoulder. 'Look, buddy, we got some mop-up work to do here. I think we've won.' Starbuck nodded. 'Okay, let's go.' 'You don't want to be alone for a while?' 'Why should I want to be alone?' 'I don't know. Just thought...' 'Let's hop to it.' They had taken a few steps when Starbuck noticed Rhiny loitering nearby. She appeared to be upset. 'Excuse me, Apollo,' Starbuck said. 'You go on. I'll catch up.' Apollo had seen Rhiny too, and he understood. 'Sure,' he said, and walked on. Starbuck walked casually to Rhiny and knelt beside her. He wiped away some of her tears with his fingertips. 'Something upset you, kiddo?' he said. 'Why...why do you ask that?' 'You've been crying.' 'So have you. I didn't ever see Starbuck cry before.' 'Rhiny, I'm not the Starbuck you know. That one's fake. I'm real.' The tone of her response was regretful. 'I know. I know that.' 'Is that true, or are you telling me a tale?' 'True. I can see you're not Starbuck. They took away the old man. You failed. Starbuck never fails. That's why he's Starbuck.' The girl's words made Starbuck feel like bawling. He held Rhiny tightly while he tried to control himself. When he felt steady again, he put her at arm's length and spoke to her softly. 'And that's the difference between your Starbuck and me. The Imagescan Starbuck always wins. I can fail. I can win twenty card games in a row, but lose an important one. I can even die sometime. The Imagescan Starbuck can only die if the designer of his adventures decides to kill him off, or if all the Imagescan control boxes break. He's just a fantasy.' 'I can see that,' Rhiny said. When Starbuck's eyebrows raised, she added hurriedly. 'Really, I can.' Starbuck smiled. 'And I'm cuter. And more charming. And wittier.' 'Gee, I don't know about that.' He hugged her again, saying, 'If you say so. You all right now?' 'Yes.' He stood up. 'I gotta go. We have work to do. I'll see you later, okay?' 'Sure.' She watched him walk away, his stride becoming jauntier and like an Imagescan hero's with each step. She called to him, 'Starbuck?' He turned, saying, 'Yes, Rhiny?' 'When you go, will you leave me your Battlestar Galactica insignia?' Starbuck laughed. His laugh sent several echoes around, but in a much nicer way than Pinhead's had. 'Maybe,' he said. 'I'll see.' Chapter Twenty-Five : A New Morning A new morning had come to Joyland. Citizens of Highspirit went about their usual routines, performing them in ways not essentially different from the day before. But they were different in one important respect. The people were no longer under the control of the Cenobites. What they did now, they did because they wanted to. Since they'd been under the thumbs of the Cenobites for so long, they were still uncertain how to structure their lives anew. For the moment, they were content just doing what they'd always done, going where they'd always gone, speaking as they'd always spoken. Until they had some time to get used to their newfound freedom, they would be more comfortable with life as it had been. Garral was one of the few who was already considering changes. He knew it would take some time to reorient his friends and neighbors. They'd have to get to know themselves first. Then they'd need leaders, people who could raise the society of the city from its moribund state, and help those who wanted to leave Joyland find the proper routes to their former homes. People would have to be tabbed as leaders, people like Garral himself. Watching Aicara perform her household chores while he finished cleaning the breakfast dishes, Garral realized he would rather continue to live with her than with anyone he'd known at his previous home...a colony, which, according to information supplied by Captain Apollo, had fallen to the Cylons long ago. Aicara, coming up behind Garral, said the words that were in his mind. 'I'd like to stay here. For a while, at least.' He put down the dish he was scrubbing and hugged her, speaking quietly in her ear. 'Yes, I feel that way, too. I'd like to help people. Help them get started. Help them find their own personalities, let them see their alternatives.' 'We can do that.' He broke the embrace so he could look into her eyes. 'What should we do with the children?' he asked. 'Give them their own choices. When they're ready. In the meantime...' They both looked out the kitchen window at the children, who were now playing in the backyard. They seemed so happy together, so happy with Garral and Aicara. 'In the meantime...' Garral muttered. Starbuck was amazed at the destruction that had been wrought in the gaming room. Technical equipment had been demolished. Wires hung dangerously out from the walls. The bleachers were in ruins. The gaming table itself had been upended. For a moment he didn't see Lucifer and Dracula. Lucifer stared at him with those intense red lights that passed for eyes in the creature. Dracula stood slightly behind him, holding a few playing cards. 'You wanted to see me, Lucy?' Starbuck said, reaching toward the sleeve pocket of his uniform, intending to withdraw a fumarello. He was surprised to find the pocket empty. 'Yes,' Lucifer said. 'About our bet. You won the game. Now you have the honor and duty of disconnecting me, disengaging my vital circuitry. I will show you how.' Starbuck shifted nervously from foot to foot. He was distressed by Lucifer's request. 'Hey,' he said, 'look, Lucifer, we're enemies and all, and I have to fight you when the situation calls for it, but I don't think I can, what you say, disconnect you. That'd be like killing you, wouldn't it?' Lucifer glided slowly forward, as if offering himself to Starbuck for execution. 'I suppose,' he said, 'in your terms the act might be metaphorized in that manner. But I do not die.' 'Well, what happens then? Will you have consciousness, existence?' 'Not in the way you understand those terms. I will be no longer functional.' 'But you'll be able to...bring yourself back.' 'No, I have shut off the self-revival mechanism already. And anyone trying to revive me will merely set off a series of explosions which will destroy my circuitry and render me completely useless, merely a twisted pile of material to be sent to a junkpile for recycling.' Starbuck rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. His neck was beginning to sweat profusely. 'Lucifer,' he said angrily, ' I release you from the conditions of our bet. It was a dumb bet, anyway. So just forget all this disconnection felgercarb.' 'But I cannot do that, Starbuck. The bet was established, agreed to. It must be, as you say, paid off. Come, Starbuck, I will show you how.' Starbuck leaped backward as Lucifer came near. 'No, no, no. Buzz off, Lucifer! I won't do it. Simple as that. I won't do it.' Starbuck eyed Lucifer closely, looking for a reaction. The creature stopped sliding forward and said, 'Very well. Your performing the act was only the called-for ritual, but we need not follow ritual. It is not necessary for you to participate. I can deactivate myself.' 'Lucifer...' 'Lieutenant Starbuck, I do wish you to know that, of all humans, you were the one I most liked and respected.' Lucifer, looking like a dancer finishing the dance, moved his arms quickly, in one graceful sweep. Reaching to the box inside his chest, he made a few skillful manipulations. Some sparks shot out from his chest, then he went limp. His arms dropped heavily to his sides. Slowly the red lights of his eyes slowed to a stop and went out. Even the sheen of his face seemed to grow duller. Starbuck, with Dracula, stared at the dead-eyed Lucifer for a long while in silence. Finally, Starbuck said, 'Dracula, his he...' He couldn't finish the sentence. Dracula moved closer to Lucifer to examine him more closely. He saw that all of Lucifer's functions were off. 'Yes, Starbuck, he is.' Starbuck stepped toward Dracula and gestured wildly. 'Well, you know how he works. Bring him back. Turn him on again!' Dracula fiddled with a few switches which might have put some power into Lucifer, but nothing happened. 'There is nothing I can do. He has anticipated such attempts and irremdiably locked all circuits from interference.' 'But there's gotta be something you can do. Take him apart and put him back together again alive.' 'That would not be possible, I'm afraid, Lieutenant. You heard what he said. I observed the self-destruct device to which he referred. We cannot even tamper with him.' The life seemed to go out of Starbuck's body. His arms, too, hung limp at his side, and he stared at the floor. 'Then he is dead?' he said. 'In essence.' Starbuck stood still for a long while, then anger took hold of his body and he strode forward. Standing on his toes so that he could look into the creature's nonfunctioning eyes, he muttered, 'Lucifer, you stupid bastard!' Then abruptly, he whirled around and walked rapidly out of the gaming room. Dracula glided to Lucifer. He again examined him, then looked down at the cards he was holding in his thin metallic fingers. 'I must admit,' he said, 'that the lieutenant, in his emotinalistically human way, has a definite point, Lucifer.' Chapter Twenty-Six: Someday Starbuck Will Return Zodiac stayed at Sheba's heels all the next morning as she directed the squadron of Vipers from the Galactica in landing on the Cenobite airfield. The maneuvers of the spacecraft in the skies above Joyland had been impressive. When all of the Vipers had landed, Zodiac resumed his assault. 'What say, Sheba darlin'' 'I say what I've always said. No and no and no.' 'Ah, but they were hopeful nos.' 'Zodiac, don't you ever know when to stop?' 'If I'd known when to stop, I wouldn't have done so much time in stir. Don't you find me at all appealing?' 'Not much.' Zodiac looked toward the hill, where Apollo could be seen in conversation with Garral. 'It's Apollo, isn't it? You're hung up on him?' 'I'm not, as you say, hung up on anybody. Just leave me alone, Zodiac.' 'For now, darlin', for now.' He walked away arrogantly. It was the arrogance in his stride that prevented Sheba from running after him to renegotiate his offer. Apollo stood with Garral on the hill above the airfield, watching the landings of the Vipers. 'It's agreed then,' Apollo said, turning to Garral. 'The Cenobites will no longer toy with the lives of the people here.' 'They say they will leave Joyland. They couldn't stand it here under the new conditions. They seek to fulfill their sick desires, but elsewhere now.' 'I hope they find no more species to manipulate and torment.' Apollo wondered if the Cenobites could exist without subjects to enslave. Garral resumed his report. 'Some of our citizens...only a few, I'm afraid...have expressed the desire to be transported to your fleet and find new lives there.' Apollo was surprised. 'Do they realize what they're getting into?' he asked. 'It's a much sparer existence on the Galactica and the other ships. Not as comfortable as here in Joyland.' 'They know.' Cadet Demy ran up the hill to Apollo, shouting his name. 'Yes, Cadet?' 'The shuttle from the Galactica. It's arriving. We should be seeing it any moment.' Searching the skies, they found the speck that was the Galactica's shuttle. It zeroed in on the airfield effectively, and made a neat pinpoint landing. Apollo was impressed. Few pilots aboard the Galactica could handle a shuttle that well. When the doors opened and Commander Adama stepped out, Apollo knew then why the shuttle had been piloted so effectively. His father had always been a master pilot. Apollo ran forward to greet Adama. 'Apollo!' Adama yelled. 'I'm so glad you're all right.' 'I'm fine, Commander.' While they addressed each other as commander and subordinate, they embraced as father and son. Both struggled to hide their feelings. As Adama separated from the embrace, he said, 'I brought one of the crewmen with me who'd like to see you.' 'What...?' Adama gestured toward the shuttle entryway. Standing there now, a yapping Muffit beside him, was Boxey, a shy smile on his face. Apollo grinned broadly. He went to the child and swept him up into his arms. The daggit jumped up and down at their feet. 'I wanted to see you right away, Dad,' Boxey said. 'Glad you did, Boxey,' Apollo said. Starbuck came around the side of the shuttle. He stopped abruptly when he saw Apollo hugging his son, and Adama looking proudly on. He brushed back some tears himself as he observed the scene, with its two sets of fathers and sons. Their warmth together painfully reminded him of his own lost father, of Jeremiah in the custody of that repulsive pirate, Pinhead. It seemed that Starbuck was destined always to lose his father just when they were on the verge of the kind of relationship he now viewed with admiration and envy. Demy, seeing Starbuck looking so sad, walked to him and put her arm around his shoulders. 'How are ya, pal?' she said. 'Who, me?' Starbuck said, realizing that in the bright light of the airfield his tears were obvious. 'I'm fine. Great.' 'You look it. Say, Lieutenant Boomer told me to tell you that squadron's awaiting your orders.' 'Well, we have to run equipment checks before returning to the Galactica. Let's go, Cadet.' 'Yes, sir.' Demy kept her arm around Starbuck's shoulders as they headed dfor the squadron. After a few steps, she said suddenly, 'Hey, Starbuck. About what happened back on the Galactica, my chasing you and all...' Starbuck, apprehensive, stopped. Demy's arm dropped from his shoulder. Uncomfortably he looked up into the lovely dark eyes of the tall cadet. 'Yes?' he asked. 'Well, don't put much stock in it. We Algodorons get kind of...well, overenthusiastic. I've decided to leave you alone, if that's the way you want it.' 'Hey, don't be too hasty.' Demy smiled. They resumed walking. 'You certainly are an unpredictable louse,' she said. 'Take it easy on the sentimental affectionate names.' She touched his upper arm, saying, 'Say, what's wrong with your uniform?' 'What?' 'The rips at the shoulder.' 'Oh. Must've been something that happened in a fight.' 'You lost your ship insignia.' 'Yep. Guess I did.' Starbuck grinned, but offered no further explanation. Demy discovered that her Algodoron romantic curiosity was stirred anew by the young lieutenant's enigmatic ways. The ships of the Galactica flew once over Highspirit before heading back to the fleet. Citizens of the city came out of their houses to wave goodbye to the warriors who had freed them. Rhiny heard the noise of their flight but didn't go outside. She hadn't wanted Starbuck to leave and certainly didn't care for a last sight of the ship that was taking him. Eitur and Tiassis had scuttered out of the room, leaving behind a Starbuck Imagescan adventure which they hadn't been enjoying, anyway. The real Starbuck had made them lose their zest for his Imagescan counterpart. Rhiny listened to the sounds of the ships fade. Then she returned to the collection of objects which she had spread out on a cloth in front of her. Along with her array of Starbuck's fumarellos, there was the holster (which he'd searched for unsuccessfully in the forest), the fumarello wrapper, the piece of fringe from his buckskin jacket, and her newest acquisition, the Battlestar Galactica insignia he had given her as a parting gift. She touched each and every one of these objects and pressed the insignia to her cheek. Someday, she thought, Starbuck would return. Or she would go and find him. Epilogue Although the configurations on the controls of a Cenobite ship were not familiar to Dracula, he had figured out how to pilot the craft easily. Nothing was impossible to an IL-series Cylon. None of the Cenobites, all of them busy with his preparations for their own exodus away from Joyland, had noticed Dracula's stealing of one of their ships. They had not even noticed him laboriously carrying the immobile Lucifer across the field and into the ship. Now, speeding away from the planet, Dracula stared at his deactivated companion and made his plans. As nearly as he could read the directional gauges on the alien control board, he figured he was traveling in the direction of Cylon-controlled sectors. His return to the Cylons, and especially to Imperious Leader, would be triumphant. They would be happy to discover he had information they could use to track down the long-pursued and hated Battlestar Galactica. He contemplated the odd-looking shell Lucifer had become. Terribly confused by Lucifer's action in deactivating himself, he wondered how and why his colleague had done it. He had always thought the creations of the IL series were programmed to preserve themselves against any threat. The concept that one could voluntarily turn himself off was, until Lucifer's action, unknown to Dracula. How could Lucifer have done it? Had he become too human, so human he preferred his own version of death to dishonor? Well, Dracula vowed, he would get this shell of Lucifer back to the Cylons, perhaps even back to Baltar's basestar, then he would use what knowledge and information he could acquire to find a way to bypass Lucifer's self-tamperings. Even if he did not succeed, he would be able to add the knowledge of the potentials of ambulatory sentient computers. Such discoveries could draw him praise...and promotion. If he did succeed in reviving Lucifer, the victory would be especially savory. How would Lucifer react to being revived by his archrival? Dracula longed for that moment, longed to observe how Lucifer would react. Perhaps if he was especially adept, he could change certain features of Lucifer's personality, maybe even make Lucifer his own servant. That would be acceptable. Quite acceptable. Whatever happened, it was essential to Dracula that he solve the mystery of Lucifer. Reaching into a compartment at his hip, Dracula pulled out the cards that Lucifer had thrown in during that last game with Starbuck. As he had done several times, he examined the cards on the basis of what knowledge he had been able to acquire about the game. For all he could figure out, it seemed that Lucifer had had the winning hand when he threw in the cards without revealing them. At least, Dracula believed that the hand contained a major completed pyramid. But that was impossible. He must not understand the game properly. Dracula could not possibly have cheated. Or could he? Cenobites, in their usual frantic arm-waving fashion, clomped around the pirate ship with abandon. It was difficult to keep out of the way. However, Jeremiah, emerging from the shadows, had managed it. He had escaped from his captors almost immediately after the ship had been set on a course. Since that time, he had skulked around the ship like a ghost in search of a proper haunting. Search parties had nearly tracked him down several times, but always he evaded their grasp in his usual slippery and graceful fashion. Working methodically, stealing food where he could and sleeping in the most uncomfortable niches, he had found his way to the pirate ship's launch bay. Now, in front of him, unguarded because the Cenobites had conceived of no need to guard it, was the shuttle from the Galactica, the one that had originally transported Apollo, Zodiac, and Sheba to the Marsardas. It was part of the plunder from the pirate's raid. Jeremiah, crouching in the shadows, had seen Pinhead enter the ship, after touching almost ritualistically the Galactica design on its side. He had longed to follow the alien into the shuttle and club him many times over the head, but he had wisely waited. Pinhead came out soon after and continued on his way Slowly, he made his way to the shuttle. Prying open the hatchway, he quickly stepped inside. He breathed easier when he saw there were no Cenobites inside the ship itself. He went quickly to the cockpit and sat in the pilot's seat. He stared at the controls as if they were dangerous living beings. 'Ah, now, let's see what we got here,' he said aloud. 'My son showed me something about how a crate like this operates.' He studied the controls, touched dials, toggles, and gauges, then briefly placed his thin, long-fingered hand on the joystick. Taking a deep breath, he flipped a couple of toggles while moving the joystick. Then he worked a third one and, with a jolt that raised him momentarily from his seat, the ship roared into action. 'Oh, my goodness,' he said. Looking out the cockpit viewport, he saw several aliens, alerted by the clamor, rushing into the launch bay. 'Got to get my astrum in gear, I do.' He pushed the joystick gently forward and the shuttle began to move. Getting used to its operation, he ran the shuttle around the launch bay in a large circle, forcing the aliens to scatter. As he swung around to make his final run to freedom, he saw Pinhead come stumbling into the launch bay. He looked annoyed. But, oddly, he waved toward Jeremiah in an almost friendly way. Jeremiah saw the launch tunnel in front of him. Leaning on the joystick, he made the shuttle zoom toward it. The quick acceleration brought him to the edge of the tunnel sooner than he was ready for it, but there was no turning back. He zoomed out, and away from the pirate ship. After he had proceeded to a point where the could no longer see the pirate ship, he relaxed and started experimenting with the controls. Many of them responded in ways he could understand. 'Not so tricky after all. I wonder why Starbuck makes such a dang big deal outta it. Anyone with half a brain can fly one of these scows.' He peered at all the controls he hadn't figured out yet. 'Well, all I gotta do is get this crate back to the Galactica, where it belongs.' He stared out the viewport. 'Now what direction would that be?' Reaching into his sleeve pocket, he took out a pair of Scorpian dice, the kind with many sides to them. Flinging them at the floor at his feet several times, he recorded their numbers each time on a dirty sheet of paper. When he was done, the figures represented the coordinates of a course. He leaned against the back of his seat and pointed outward, to his left. 'That-a-way,' he said. THE END